note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) the library of work and play outdoor sports and games by claude h. miller, ph.b. garden city new york doubleday, page & company [illustration: a boys' camp] [illustration: title page] contents i. introductory the human body a perfect machine--how to keep well--outdoor sleeping--exercise and play--smoking--walking. ii. the boy scouts of america headquarters--purpose--scout law--how to form a patrol of scouts--organization of a troop--practical activities for scouts--a scout camp--model programme of sir r.s.s. baden-powell scout camp. iii. camps and camping how to select the best place to pitch a tent--a brush bed--the best kind of a tent--how to make the camp fire--what to do when it rains--fresh air and good food--the brush leanto and how to make it. iv. camp cooking how to make the camp fire range--bread bakers--cooking utensils--the grub list--simple camp recipes. v. woodcraft the use of an axe and hatchet--best woods for special purposes--what to do when you are lost--nature's compasses. vi. use of fire-arms importance of early training--why a gun is better than a rifle--how to become a good shot. vii. fishing proper tackle for all purposes--how to catch bait--the fly fisherman--general fishing rules. viii. nature study what is a true naturalist?--how to start a collection--moth collecting--the herbarium. ix. water life the water telescope--how to manage an aquarium--our insect friends and enemies--the observation beehive. x. the care of pets cats--boxes for song birds--how to attract the birds--tame crows--the pigeon fancier--ornamental land and water fowl--rabbits, guinea pigs, rats and mice--how to build coops--general rules for the care of pets--the dog. xi. the care of chickens the best breed--good and bad points of incubators--what to feed small chicks--a model chicken house. xii. winter sports what to wear--skating--skiing--snowshoeing--hockey. xiii. horsemanship how to become a good rider--the care of horses--saddles. xiv. how to swim and to canoe the racing strokes--paddling and sailing canoes. xv. baseball how to organize a team and to select the players--the various positions--curve pitching. xvi. how to play football the various positions and how to select men for them--team work and signals--the rules. xvii. lawn tennis how to make and mark a court--clay and sod courts--the proper grip of the racket--golf--the strokes and equipment. xviii. photography the selection of a camera--snapshots vs. real pictures--how to make a photograph from start to finish. xix. outdoor sports for girls what to wear--confidence--horseback riding--tennis--golf--camping. xx. one hundred outdoor games illustrations a boy's camp a child's may-day party fishing is the one sport of our childhood that holds our interest through life the moth collector and his outfit the exciting sport of ski-running swimming is one of the best outdoor sports in canoeing against the current in swift streams a pole is used in place of the paddle photographs of tennis strokes taken in actual play how an expert plays golf i introductory the human body a perfect machine--how to keep well--outdoor sleeping--exercise and play--smoking--walking suppose you should wake up christmas morning and find yourself to be the owner of a bicycle. it is a brand-new wheel and everything is in perfect working order. the bearings are well oiled, the nickel is bright and shiny and it is all tuned up and ready for use. if you are a careful, sensible boy you can have fun with it for a long time until finally, like the "one hoss shay" in the poem, it wears out and goes to pieces all at once. on the other hand, if you are careless or indifferent or lazy you may allow the machine to get out of order or to become rusty from disuse, or perhaps when a nut works loose you neglect it and have a breakdown on the road, or you may forget to oil the bearings and in a short time they begin to squeak and wear. if you are another kind of a boy, you may be careful enough about oiling and cleaning the wheel, but you may also be reckless and head--strong and will jump over curbstones and gutters or ride it over rough roads at a dangerous rate of speed, and in this way shorten its life by abuse just as the careless boy may by neglect. it is just so with the human body which, after all, is a machine too, and, more than that, it is the most wonderful and perfect machine in the world. with care it should last many years. with abuse or neglect it may very soon wear out. the boy who neglects his health is like the boy who allows the bearings on his wheel to become dry or the metal parts rusty. the chief difference is that when the bicycle wears out or breaks down we may replace the parts or even buy another machine, but when our health is injured, money will not restore it. in order to keep well we must observe certain rules of health. by exercise we keep the working parts in good order. if we are lazy or indolent we are like the bicycle that is allowed to go to pieces from lack of use. if we are reckless and foolhardy we may injure some part of the delicate machinery from excessive exercise or strain. play is the most natural thing in the world but we must use judgment in our play. a boy or girl who is not allowed to play or who is restrained by too anxious parents is unhappy indeed. nearly all animals play. we know, for instance, that puppies, kittens, and lambs are playful. it is a perfectly natural instinct. by proper play we build up our bodies and train our minds. the healthy man never gets too old to play. he may not care to play marbles or roll hoops, but he will find his pleasure in some game or sport like tennis, golf, horseback riding, camping, fishing or hunting. in this book we shall talk about some forms of play and recreation that are not strictly confined to children, but which we may still enjoy even after we have become grown men and women. we shall also talk about some children's games that some of the older readers may have outgrown. while we play we keep our minds occupied by the sport, and at the same time we exercise our muscles and feed our lungs and our bodies with oxygen. it is unfortunate that in school or college athletics those who need exercise the most are often those who are physically unfitted to play on the school teams. in other words, we select our runners and jumpers and football players from among the stronger boys, while the weaker ones really need the benefit of the sport. every boy should take part in school games when possible even if he is not as swift or as strong as some other boys. it is very unmanly of one boy to make fun of another because he is weak or clumsy or unskilful. after all, the thing that counts and the thing that is most creditable is to make the most of our opportunities whatever they may be. if an undersized or timid boy becomes stronger or more brave because he joins in games and sports, he deserves a hundred times more credit than the big, strong boy whom nature has given a sturdy frame and good lungs and who makes a place on the school team without any real effort. if we live a natural, open-air life we shall have but little need of doctors or medicine. many of our grandmothers' notions on how to keep well have changed in recent years. old-fashioned remedies made from roots and herbs have been almost completely replaced by better habits of life and common-sense ideas. we used to believe that night air was largely responsible for fevers and colds. doctors now say that one of the surest ways to keep well is to live and sleep in the open air. in many modern houses the whole family is provided with outside sleeping porches with absolutely no protection from the outside air but the roof. i have followed the practice of sleeping in the open air for some time, and in midwinter without discomfort have had the temperature of my sleeping porch fall to six degrees below zero. of course it is foolish for any one to sleep exposed to rain or snow or to think that there is any benefit to be derived from being cold or uncomfortable. the whole idea of open-air sleeping is to breathe pure, fresh air in place of the atmosphere of a house which, under the best conditions, is full of dust and germs. if we become outdoor sleepers, coughs and colds will be almost unknown. general sherman once wrote a letter in which he said that he did not have a case of cold in his entire army and he attributed it to the fact that his soldiers slept and lived in the open air. [illustration: a child's may day party (photograph by mary h. northend)] one can almost tell a man who sleeps in the open by looking at him. his eye is clear and his cheek ruddy. there is no surer way to become well and strong than to become accustomed to this practice. then you can laugh at the doctor and throw the medicine bottles away. in stating this i know that many parents will not agree with me, and will feel that to advise a boy to sleep in the open when the weather is stormy or extremely cold is almost like inviting him to his death. it is a fact just the same that every one would be healthier and happier if they followed this practice. in a few years i expect to see outdoor sleeping the rule rather than the exception. progressive doctors are already agreed on this method of sleeping for sick people. in some hospitals even delicate babies are given open-air treatment in midwinter as a cure for pneumonia. my own experience is that in the two years that i have been an outdoor sleeper, with the snow drifts sometimes covering the foot of the bed, with the wintry winds howling about my head in a northeaster, i have been absolutely free from any trace of coughs or colds. thousands of others will give the same testimony. according to old-fashioned ideas such things would give me my "death of cold." it rarely happens that one begins the practice of sleeping out without becoming a firm believer in it. one of the children of a friend in connecticut who had just built a beautiful home was taken ill, and the doctor recommended that the child's bed be moved out on the porch. this was in december. the father also had his own bed moved out to keep the baby company. my friend told me that after the first night he felt like a changed man. he awoke after a refreshing sleep and felt better than he had in years. the whole family soon followed and all the beautiful bedrooms in the house were deserted. the baby got well and stayed well and the doctor's visits are few and far between in that household. by all means sleep in the open if you can. of course one must have ample protection from the weather, such as a porch or piazza with a screen or shelter to the north and west. a warm room in which to dress and undress is also absolutely necessary. if your rest is disturbed by cold, as it will probably be until you become accustomed to it and learn the tricks of the outdoor sleeper, you simply need more covers. in winter, the bed should be made up with light summer blankets in place of sheets, which would become very cold. use, as a night cap, an old sweater or skating cap. a good costume consists of a flannel shirt, woollen drawers, and heavy, lumberman's stockings. with such an outfit and plenty of covers, one can sleep out on the coldest night and never awaken until the winter's sun comes peeping over the hill to tell him that it is time to get up. besides fresh air, another important thing in keeping well is to eat slowly and to chew your food thoroughly. boys and girls often develop a habit of rapid eating because they are anxious to get back to play or to school. slow eating is largely a matter of habit as well, and while it may seem hard at first it will soon become second nature to us. remember to chew your food thoroughly. the stomach has no teeth. we have all heard of mr. horace fletcher, that wonderful old man who made himself young again by chewing his food. there is no fun in life unless we are well, and a sensible boy should realize that his parents' interest in him is for his own benefit. it may seem hard sometimes to be obliged to do without things that we want, but as a rule the judgment of the older people is better than our own. a growing boy will often eat too much candy or too many sweet things and then suffer from his lack of judgment. to fill our stomachs with indigestible food is just as foolish as it would be to put sand in the bearings of our wheel, or to interfere with the delicate adjustment of our watch until it refuses to keep time. while we play, our muscles are developed, our lungs filled with fresh air and the whole body is made stronger and more vigorous. some boys play too hard. over-exertion will sometimes cause a strain on the delicate machinery of the body that will be very serious in after life. the heart is especially subject to the dangers of overstrain in growing boys. we are not all equally strong, and it is no discredit to a boy that he cannot run as far or lift as much as some of his playmates or companions. you all remember the fable of the frog who tried to make himself as big as the ox and finally burst. the idea of exercise is not to try to excel every one in what you do, but to do your best without over-exertion. if a boy has a rugged frame and well developed muscles, it is perfectly natural that he should be superior in most sports to a boy that is delicate or undersized. to be in good physical condition and to laugh at the doctor we must keep out of doors as much as possible. gymnasium work of course will help us to build up our strength and develop our muscles, but skill in various acrobatics and gymnastic tricks does not give the clear eye and ruddy cheek of the person whose life is in the open air. outdoor sports, like tennis, baseball, and horseback riding are far superior to chestweights or indian clubs as a means of obtaining normal permanent development. parents who criticize school or college athletics often forget that the observance of the strict rules of training required from every member of a team is the very best way to keep a boy healthy in mind and body. tobacco and alcohol are absolutely prohibited, the kind of food eaten and the hours for retiring are compulsory, and a boy is taught not only to train his muscles but to discipline his mind. before a candidate is allowed to take active part in the sport for which he is training he must be "in condition," as it is called. there are a great many rules of health that will help any one to keep well, but the best rule of all is to live a common-sense life and not to think too much about ourselves. systematic exercises taken daily with setting up motions are very good unless we allow them to become irksome. all indoor exercise should be practised with as much fresh air in the room as possible. it is an excellent plan to face an open window if we practise morning and evening gymnastics. there are many exercises that can be performed with no apparatus whatever. in all exercises we should practise deep regular breathing until it becomes a habit with us. most people acquire a faulty habit of breathing and only use a small part of their total lung capacity. learn to take deep breaths while in the fresh air. after a while it will become a habit. just how much muscle a boy should have will depend upon his physical make-up. the gymnasium director in one of our largest colleges, who has spent his whole life in exercise, is a small, slender man whose muscles are not at all prominent and yet they are like steel wires. he has made a life-long study of himself and has developed every muscle in his body. from his appearance he would not be considered a strong man and yet some of the younger athletes weighing fifty pounds more than he, have, in wrestling and feats of strength, found that the man with the largest muscles is not always the best man. there is one question that every growing boy will have to look squarely in the face and to decide for himself. it is the question of smoking. there is absolutely no question but that smoking is injurious for any one, and in the case of boys who are not yet fully grown positively dangerous. ask any cigarette smoker you know and he will tell you _not to smoke_. if you ask him why he does not take his own advice he will possibly explain how the habit has fastened its grip on him, just as the slimy tentacles of some devil fish will wind themselves about a victim struggling in the water, until he is no longer able to escape. a boy may begin to smoke in a spirit of fun or possibly because he thinks it is manly, but more often it is because the "other fellers" are trying it too. my teacher once gave our school an object lesson in habits which is worth repeating. he called one of the boys to the platform and wound a tiny piece of thread around the boy's wrists. he then told him to break it, which the boy did very easily. the teacher continued to wind more thread until he had so many strands that the boy could break them only with a great effort and finally he could not break them at all. his hands were tied. just so it is with a habit. the first, second, or tenth time may be easy to break, but we shall finally get so many tiny threads that our hands are tied. we have acquired a habit. don't be a fool. don't smoke cigarettes. walking is one of the most healthful forms of exercise. it may seem unnecessary to devote much space to a subject that every one thinks they know all about, but the fact is that, with trolley cars, automobiles, and horses, a great many persons have almost lost the ability to walk any distance. an excellent rule to follow if you are going anywhere is this: if you have the time, and the distance is not too great, walk. in recent years it has been the practice of a number of prominent business and professional men who get but little outdoor exercise to walk to and from their offices every day, rain or shine. in this way elderly men will average from seven to ten miles a day and thus keep in good condition with no other exercise. it is very easy to cultivate the street car habit, and some boys feel that they must ride to and from school even if it is only a few blocks or squares. we have all read of the old men who are walking across the country from new york to california and back again and maintaining an average of forty miles a day. there is not a horse in the world that would have the endurance to go half the distance in the same time and keep it up day after day. for the first week or ten days the horse would be far ahead but, like the fable of the hare and the tortoise, after a while the tortoise would pass the hare and get in first. in walking for pleasure, avoid a rambling, purposeless style. decide where you are going and go. walk out in the country if possible and on roads where the automobiles will not endanger your life or blow clouds of dust in your face. never mind the weather. one rarely takes cold while in motion. to walk comfortably we should wear loose clothing and old shoes. walking just for the sake of exercise can easily become a tiresome occupation, but the active mind can always see something of interest, such as wild flowers, gardens, and all the various sides of nature study in the country, and people, houses and life in the city. a tramping vacation of several days furnishes a fine opportunity to see new scenes and to live economically, but near a city you may have difficulty in persuading the farm-wife where you stop that you are not a tramp who will burn the house in the night. if you intend to live by the wayside, the surest way to inspire confidence is to show in advance that you have money to pay for your accommodations. also try to avoid looking like a tramp, which is quite different from looking like a tramper. there seems to be a great difference of opinion on the question of how fast one can walk. the popular idea is "four miles an hour" but any one who has tried to cover a mile every fifteen minutes will testify that such a rate of speed is more like a race than a walk and that it will require great physical exertion to maintain it for any considerable distance. an eighteen or twenty-mile walk is about all the average boy should attempt in a day, and this is allowing the full day for the task from early morning until sunset. short and frequent rests are much better than long stops, which have a tendency to stiffen the muscles. the walker on a long tramp must pay especial attention to the care of his feet. they should be bathed frequently in cold water to which a little alum has been added. a rough place or crease in the stocking will sometimes cause a very painful blister. mountain climbing is a very interesting branch of walking. it is sometimes very dangerous as well and in such cases should only be attempted under the guidance of some one familiar with the neighbourhood. for rough climbing our shoes should be provided with iron hob nails. steel nails often become very slippery and will cause a bad fall on rocks. cross-country running and hare and hound chases are much more common in england than in america. our runners as a rule excel in the sprints and short dashes, although in the recent olympic sports we have shown that our trained athletes are the equal of the world in nearly all branches of sport. in many of the english schools it is a regular part of the school work for the teacher to organize hare and hound chases. the hares are given a start of several minutes and leave a trail by means of bits of paper or confetti, which they carry in a bag. in this kind of running the object to be sought is not so much speed as endurance. an easy dog trot with deep regular breathing will soon give us our second wind, when we can keep on for a long distance. after any kind of physical exertion, especially when we are in a perspiration, care must be exercised not to become chilled suddenly. a rub down with a rough towel will help to prevent soreness and stiff muscles. the lameness that follows any kind of unusual exercise is an indication that certain muscles have been brought into use that are out of condition. a trained athlete does not experience this soreness unless he has unduly exerted himself, and the easiest way to get over it is to do more of the same kind of work until we are in condition. ii the boy scouts of america headquarters--purpose--scout law--how to form a patrol of scouts--organization of a troop--practical activities for scouts--a scout camp--model programme of a sir r.s.s. baden-powell scout camp the boy scout movement that has recently been introduced both in england and america with such wonderful success is so closely related to nearly all branches of outdoor recreation and to the things that boys are interested in that this book would be incomplete without mention of the object and purposes of this organization. it is a splendid movement for the making of better citizens, and it cannot be too highly recommended. the boy scouts of america is a permanent organization, and it has its headquarters at fifth avenue, new york city. from the central office, patrols and troops are being formed all over the united states. any information with reference to the movement may be obtained by applying to this office. through the courtesy of the managing secretary, mr. john l. alexander, certain facts are presented concerning the organization, which are obtained from their published literature, for which due credit is hereby given. the boy scouts is an organization the purpose of which is character-building for boys between the ages of twelve and eighteen. it is an effort to get boys to appreciate the things about them and to train them in self-reliance, manhood, and good citizenship. it is "peace-scouting" these boys engage in, living as much as possible out of doors; camping, hiking and learning the secrets of the woods and fields. the movement is not essentially military, but the military virtues of discipline, obedience, neatness and order are scout virtues. endurance, self-reliance, self-control and an effort to help some one else are scout objectives. every activity that lends itself to these aims is good scoutcraft. the boy scouts were started in england by gen. sir robert baden-powell. he was impressed with the fact that per cent. of the boys of england were growing up without any knowledge of useful occupations, and wanted to do something that would help the boy to become a useful citizen. he emphatically stated that his intention was not the making of soldiers. in his work. general baden-powell has touched the boy's life in all its interests and broadened a boy's outlook by the widest sort of activities. in two and a half years over half a million boy scouts have been enrolled, and twenty thousand of these have been in parade at one time in london. the scout idea has sprung up spontaneously all over america. in canadian cities the boy scouts number thousands. in the united states, towns and cities are being swept by the idea. gangs of boys are to be seen on every hand, doing their best at scoutcraft, "doing a good turn every day to some one," and getting fun out of it. prominent business men and educators are behind the movement. the aim of the boy scouts is to supplement the various existing educational agencies, and to promote the ability in boys to do things for themselves and others. the method is summed up in the term "scoutcraft" and is a combination of observation, deduction and handiness--or the ability to do. scoutcraft consists of "first aid," life saving, tracking, signalling, cycling, nature study, seamanship and other instruction. this is accomplished in games and team play and in pleasure, not work, for the boy. the only equipment it needs is the out-of-doors, a group of boys and a leader. before he becomes a scout, a boy must take the scouts' oath thus: "on my honour, i promise that i will do my best, . to do my duty to god and my country. . to help other people at all times. . to obey the scout law." when taking this oath the scout will stand holding his right hand raised level with his shoulder, palm to the front, thumb resting on the nail of the little finger, and the other three fingers upright pointing upward. this the scouts' salute and secret sign. when the hand is raised shoulder high it is called "the half salute." when raised to the forehead it is called "the full salute." the three fingers held up (like the three points on the scouts' badge) remind him of his three promises in the scouts' oath. there are three classes of scouts. a boy on joining the boy scouts must pass a test in the following points before taking the oath: know the scouts' laws and signs and the salute. know the composition of the national flag and the right way to fly it. tie four of the following knots: reef, sheet bend, clove hitch, bowline, middleman's, fisherman's, sheep-shank. he then takes the scouts' oath and is enrolled as a tenderfoot and is entitled to wear the buttonhole badge. a second-class scout before being awarded a second-class scout's badge, a boy must pass the following tests: . have at least one month's service as a tenderfoot. . elementary first aid bandaging. . signalling. elementary knowledge of semaphore or morse alphabet. . track half a mile in twenty-five minutes, or if in a town describe satisfactorily the contents of one store window out of four, observed for one minute each. . go a mile in twelve minutes at "scouts' pace." . lay and light a fire using not more than two matches. . cook a quarter of a pound of meat and two potatoes without cooking utensils other than the regulation billy. . have at least twenty-five cents in the savings bank. . know the sixteen principal points of the compass. first-class scout before being awarded a first-class scout's badge, a scout must pass the following test in addition to the tests laid down for a second-class scout: . swim fifty yards. (this may be omitted where the doctor certifies that bathing is dangerous to the boy's health). . must have at least fifty cents in the savings bank. . signalling. send and receive a message either in semaphore or morse, sixteen letters per minute. . go on foot or row a boat alone to a point seven miles away and return again, or if conveyed by any vehicle or animal go a distance of fifteen miles and back and write a short report on it. it is preferable that he should take two days over it. . describe or show the proper means for saving life in case of two of the following accidents: fire, drowning, runaway carriage, sewer gas, ice breaking, or bandage an injured patient or revive an apparently drowned person. . cook satisfactorily two of the following dishes as may be directed: porridge, bacon, hunter's stew; or skin and cook a rabbit or pluck and cook a bird. also "make a damper" of half a pound of flour or a "twist" baked on a thick stick. . read a map correctly and draw an intelligent rough sketch map. point out a compass direction without the help of a compass. . use an axe for felling or trimming light timber: or as an alternative produce an article of carpentry or joinery or metal work, made by himself satisfactorily. . judge distance, size, numbers and height within per cent. error. . bring a tenderfoot trained by himself in the points required of a tenderfoot. the scouts' law . a scout's honour is to be trusted. if a scout were to break his honour by telling a lie, or by not carrying out an order exactly, when trusted on his honour to do so, he may be directed to hand over his scouts' badge and never to wear it again. he may also be directed to cease to be a scout. . a scout is loyal to his country, his officers, his parents and his employers. he must stick to them through thick and thin against any one who is their enemy or who even talks badly about them. . a scout's duty is to be useful and to help others. he must be prepared at any time to save life or to help injured persons, and he must try his best to do a good turn to somebody every day. . a scout is a friend to all and a brother to every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs. . a scout is courteous, especially to women, children, old people, invalids, and cripples. and he must never take a reward for being courteous. . a scout is a friend to animals. killing an animal for food is allowable. . a scout obeys orders of his parents, patrol leader, or scout master without question. . a scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances. . a scout is thrifty and saves every penny he can and puts it into the bank. the scout master is the adult leader of a troop. a troop consists of three or more patrols. the scout master may begin with one patrol. he must have a deep interest in boys, be genuine in his own life, have the ability to lead and command the boys' respect and obedience, and possess some knowledge of a boy's ways. he need not be an expert on scoutcraft. the good scout master will discover experts for the various activities. to organize a patrol, get together seven or more boys, explain to them the aims of the boy scouts, have them elect a leader and corporal from their own number and take the scout oath as tenderfeet. to organize a local committee, call together the leading men of a town or city, teachers, business men, professional men, and all who are interested in the proper training of boys, for a committee to superintend the development of the scout movement. there are a number of divisions to scouting depending upon the place where the boys live and upon their opportunities. for instance, to obtain: _an ambulance badge_: a scout must know: the fireman's lift. how to drag an insensible man with ropes. how to improvise a stretcher. how to fling a life-line. the position of main arteries. how to stop bleeding from vein or artery, internal or external. how to improvise splints and to diagnose and bind fractured limb. the schafer method of artificial respiration. how to deal with choking, burning, poison, grit in eye, sprains and bruises, as the examiners may require. generally the laws of health and sanitation as given in "scouting for boys," including dangers of smoking, in continence, want of ventilation, and lack of cleanliness. _aviator_: a scout must have a knowledge of the theory of æroplanes, ball balloons and dirigibles, and must have made a working model of an æroplane or dirigible that will fly at least twenty-five yards. he must also have a knowledge of the engines used for æroplanes and dirigibles. _bee-farmer_: a scout must have a practical knowledge of swarming, hiving, hives, and general apiculture, including a knowledge of the use of artificial combs, etc. _blacksmith_: a scout must be able to upset and weld a one-inch iron rod, make a horseshoe, know how to tire a wheel, use a sledge hammer and forge, shoe a horse correctly, and rough-shod a horse. _bugler_: a scout must be able to sound properly on the bugle the scouts' rally and the following army calls: alarm, charge, orderlies (ord. corpls.), orders, warning for parade, quarter bugle, fall in, dismiss, rations, first and second dinner calls (men's), reveille, last post, lights out. _carpenter_: a scout must be able to shoot and glue a four-foot straight joint, make a housing, tenon and mortise, and halved joint, grind and set a chisel and plane iron, make a ft. by ft. in., by ft. by ft. dovetailed locked box, or a table or chair. _clerk_: a scout must have the following qualifications: good handwriting and hand printing. ability to use typewriting machine. ability to write a letter from memory on the subject given verbally five minutes previously. knowledge of simple bookkeeping. or, as alternative to typewriting, write in shorthand from dictation at twenty words a minute as minimum. _cook_: a scout must be able to light a fire and make a cook-place with a few bricks or logs; cook the following dishes: irish stew, vegetables, omelet, rice pudding, or any dishes which the examiner may consider equivalent; make tea, coffee, or cocoa; mix dough and bake bread in oven; or a "damper" or "twist" (round steak) at a camp fire; carve properly, and hand plates and dishes correctly to people at table. _cyclist_: a scout must sign a certificate that he owns a bicycle in good working order, which he is willing to use in the scouts' service if called upon at any time in case of emergency. he must be able to ride his bicycle satisfactorily, and repair punctures, etc. he must be able to read a map, and repeat correctly a verbal message. on ceasing to own a bicycle the scout must be required to hand back his badge. _dairyman_: a scout must understand: management of dairy cattle; be able to milk, make butter and cheese; understand sterilization of milk, safe use of preservatives, care of dairy utensils and appliances. _electrician_: a scout must have a knowledge of method of rescue and resuscitation of persons insensible from shock. be able to make a simple electro-magnet, have elementary knowledge of action of simple battery cells, and the working of electric bells and telephone. understand and be able to remedy fused wire, and to repair broken electric connections. _engineer_: a scout must have a general idea of the working of motor cars and steam locomotives, marines, internal combustion and electric engines. he must also know the names of the principal parts and their functions; how to start, drive, feed, stop, and lubricate any one of them chosen by the candidate. _farmer_: a scout must have a practical knowledge of ploughing, cultivating, drilling, hedging and draining. he must also have a working knowledge of farm machinery, hay-making, reaping, heading and stacking, and a general acquaintance with the routine seasonal work on a farm, including the care of cattle, horses, sheep and pigs. _fireman_: a scout must know how to give the alarm to inhabitants, police, etc. how to enter burning buildings. how to prevent spread of fire. use of hose, unrolling, joining up, hydrants, use of nozzle, etc. the use of escape, ladders, and shutes; improvising ropes, jumping sheets, etc. the fireman's lift, how to drag patient, how to work in fumes, etc. the use of fire extinguishers. how to rescue animals. how to salve property, climb and pass buckets. "scrum" to keep back crowd. _first aid to animals_: a scout must have a general knowledge of the anatomy of domestic and farm animals, and be able to describe treatment and symptoms of the following: wounds, fractures and sprains, exhaustion, choking, lameness. he must understand shoeing and shoes, and must be able to give a drench for colic. _gardener_: a scout must dig a piece of ground not less than twelve feet square, know the names of a dozen plants pointed out in an ordinary garden, understand what is meant by pruning, grafting and manuring, plant and grow successfully six kinds of vegetables or flowers from seeds or cuttings, cut and make a walking stick, or cut grass with scythe under supervision. _handyman_: a scout must be able to paint a door or bath, whitewash a ceiling, repair gas fittings, tap washers, sash lines, window and door fastenings, replace gas mantles and electric light bulbs, hang pictures and curtains, repair blinds, fix curtain and portiere rods, blind fixtures, lay carpets, mend clothing and upholstery, do small furniture and china repairs, and sharpen knives. _horseman_: a scout must know how to ride at all paces, and to jump an ordinary fence on horseback. how to saddle and bridle a horse correctly. how to harness a horse correctly in single or double harness, and to drive. how to water and feed, and to what amount. how to groom his horse properly. the evil of bearing and hame reins and ill-fitting saddlery. principal causes and remedies of lameness. _interpreter_: a scout must be able to carry on a simple conversation, write a simple letter on subject given by examiner, read and translate a passage from a book or newspaper, in either esperanto or any language that is not that of his own country. _leather worker_: a scout must have a knowledge of tanning and curing, and either (a) be able to sole and heel a pair of boots, sewn or nailed, and generally repair boots and shoes: or (b) be able to dress a saddle, repair traces, stirrup leathers, etc., and know the various parts of harness. _marksman_: a scout must pass the following tests for miniature rifle shooting from any position: n.r.a. standard target to be used. twenty rounds to be fired at or yards. highest possible, points. a scout gaining points or over to be classified as marksman. scoring: bull's-eye, points; inner, points; magpie, points; outer points. also: judge distance on unknown ground: five distances under yards, between and yards, with not more than an error of per cent. on the average. _master-at-arms_: a scout must attain proficiency in two out of the following subjects: single-stick, quarter-staff, fencing, boxing, jiu-jitsu and wrestling. _missioner_: the qualifications are: a general elementary knowledge of sick-nursing; invalid cookery, sick-room attendance, bed-making, and ventilation. ability to help aged and infirm. _musician_: a scout must be able to play a musical instrument correctly other than triangle, and to read simple music. or to play properly any kind of musical toy, such as a penny whistle, mouth-organ, etc., and sing a song. _pathfinder_: it is necessary to know every lane, by-path, and short cut for a distance of at least two miles in every direction around the local scouts' headquarters in the country, or for one mile if in a town, and to have a general knowledge of the district within a five-mile radius of his local headquarters, so as to be able to guide people at any time, by day or night. to know the general direction of the principal neighbouring towns for a distance of twenty-five miles, and to be able to give strangers clear directions how to get to them. to know, in the country, in the two-mile radius, generally, how many hayricks, strawricks, wagons, horses, cattle, sheep and pigs there are on the different neighbouring farms; or, in a town, to know in a half-mile radius what livery stabling, corn chandlers, forage merchants, bakers, butchers, there are. in town or country to know where are the police stations, hospitals, doctors, telegraph, telephone offices, fire engines, turncocks, blacksmiths and job-masters or factories, where over a dozen horses are kept. to know something of the history of the place, or of any old buildings, such as the church, or other edifice. as much as possible of the above information is to be entered on a large scale map. _photographer_: a scout must have a knowledge of the theory and use of lenses, and the construction of cameras, action of developers. he must take, develop and print twelve separate subjects, three interiors, three portraits, three landscapes and three instantaneous photographs. _pioneer_: a scout must have extra efficiency in pioneering in the following tests, or suitable equivalents: fell a nine-inch tree or scaffolding pole neatly and quickly. tie eight kinds of knots quickly in the dark or blindfolded. lash spars properly together for scaffolding. build model bridge or derrick. make a camp kitchen. build a hut of one kind or another suitable for three occupants. _piper_: a scout must be able to play a march and a reel on the pipes, to dance the sword-dance, and must wear kilt and highland dress. _plumber_: a scout must be able to make wiped and brazed joints, to cut and fix a window pane, repair a burst pipe, mend a ball or faucet tap, and understand the ordinary hot and cold water system of a house. _poultry farmer_: a scout must have a good knowledge of incubators, brooders, sanitary fowl-houses and coops and runs; also of rearing, feeding, killing, and dressing birds for market; also he must be able to pack birds and eggs for market. _printer_: a scout must know the names of different types and paper sizes. be able to compose by hand or machine, understand the use of hand or power printing machines. he must also print a handbill set up by himself. _seaman_: a scout must be able to tie eight knots rapidly in the dark or blindfolded. splice ropes, fling a rope coil. row and punt a boat single-handed, and punt with pole, or scull it over the stern. steer a boat rowed by others. bring the boat properly alongside and make it fast. box the compass. read a chart. state direction by the stars and sun. swim fifty yards with trousers, socks, and shirt on. climb a rope or pole of fifteen feet, or, as alternative, dance the hornpipe correctly. sew and darn a shirt and trousers. understand the general working of steam and hydraulic winches, and have a knowledge of weather wisdom and knowledge of tides. _signaller_: a scout must pass tests in both sending and receiving in semaphore and morse signalling by flag, not fewer than twenty-four letters per minute. he must be able to give and read signals by sound. to make correct smoke and flame signals with fires. to show the proper method of signalling with the staff. _stalker_: a scout must take a series of twenty photographs of wild animals or birds from life, and develop and print them. or, alternately, he must make a collection of sixty species of wild flowers, ferns, or grasses, dried and mounted in a book and correctly named. or, alternately, he must make coloured drawings of twenty flowers, ferns or grasses, or twelve sketches from life of animals and birds. original sketches, as well as the finished pictures, to be submitted. or, alternately he must be able to name sixty different kinds of animals, insects, reptiles, or birds in a museum or zoological garden, or from unnamed coloured plates, and give particulars of the lives, habits, appearance and markings of twenty of them. _starman_: a scout must have a general knowledge of the nature and movements of the stars. he must be able to point out and name six principal constellations. find the north by means of other stars than the pole star in case of that star being obscured by clouds, etc., and tell the hour of the night by the stars or moon. he must have a general knowledge of the positions and movements of the earth, sun and moon, and of tides, eclipses, meteors, comets, sun spots, planets. _surveyor_: a scout must map correctly, from the country itself, the main features of a half a mile of road, with yards each side, to a scale of two feet to the mile, and afterward re-draw same map from memory. measure the heights of a tree, telegraph pole and church steeple, describing method adopted. measure width of a river, and distance apart of two objects a known distance away and unapproachable. be able to measure a gradient, contours, conventional signs of ordnance survey and scales. _swimming and life saving_: a scout must be able to dive and swim fifty yards with clothes on (shirt, trousers, socks as minimum). able to fling and use life-line or life-buoy. able to demonstrate two ways of rescue of drowning person, and revival of apparently drowned. the patrol the simplest way to form a patrol of scouts is to call together a small group of boys over twelve years of age. a simple recital of the things that scouts do, with perhaps an opportunity to look over the manual, will be enough to launch the organization. the selection of a patrol leader will then follow, and the scouting can begin. it is well not to attempt too much at the start. get the boys to start work to pass the requirements for the tenderfoot. _the patrol leader_: each patrol should have a patrol leader--preferably a boy. the choice of this leader has much to do with the success of the patrol. he should be a recognized leader among the boys in the group. do not hesitate to entrust him with details. let him feel that he is your right-hand man. ask his opinion on matters pertaining to the patrol. make him feel that the success of the organization depends largely upon him, being careful, of course, not to overdo it. you will find that this attitude will enlist the hearty cooperation of the boy and you will find him an untiring worker, with the ability to bind the boys closer together than you could ever hope to do alone. points of interest . scouting does not consist in wearing a khaki suit or a lot of decorations. it is in doing the things that are required for the tenderfoot, second-class and first-class scout badges and the badges of merit. . scouts do not wish any one to buy things for them. they buy their own equipment and pay their own way. . scouts do their best to keep the scout oath and law. . the glory of scouting is "_to do a good turn to some one every day without reward_." . scouts regard the rights of others, and do not trespass on the property or feelings of others. . scouting means obedience and discipline. the boy who can't obey will never command. . scouts are always busy and getting fun out of it--at work, at school, at home, at play. _be a good scout._ how to organize a troop _first_: write to headquarters, which is at fifth avenue, new york city, for a scout master's certificate. _second_: either combine three or more patrols or having one patrol, appoint several patrol leaders and enlist boys for the new patrols. _third_: the minimum number of patrols in a troop is three, and the maximum the number a scout master can _rightly_ handle. care should be taken not to organize for the sake of a big showing. _hints on starting_: in actually starting a troop, it has been found better to start in a small way. begin by one or two leader-men making a careful study of "scouting for boys" and as soon as the main ideas have been grasped, get together a small number of boys, and go through with them the initial stages step by step, until the boys bubble over with scouting ideals, and until the notion of a fancy uniform and games in the country have given place to a definite desire to qualify for manhood and citizenship. these boys will make the nucleus round which to form a troop, and should pass on their training and enthusiasm to the boys who are enlisting under them. it has been found better to obtain _distinctly older fellows for patrol leaders_: the scout masters should invariably be men who feel the great responsibility of having boys under their charge, and the possibility of leading the boys from the moment when they enlist in the scouts to the time they pass out again to be fully fledged men. _finances_: the finances necessary to run a troop of scouts should be met by the scouts themselves. it is a main principle of scouting to teach the boys to be self-reliant, and anything which will militate against the constant sending round of the hat will be a national good. _the scout master_: the scout master is the adult leader of a troop. the scout master may begin with one patrol. he must have a deep interest in boys, be genuine in his own life, have the ability to lead and command the boys' respect and obedience and possess some knowledge of a boy's ways. he need not be an expert on scoutcraft. the good scout master will discover experts for the various activities. applications for scout masters' certificates may be made at the headquarters, fifth avenue, new york city. from the outset, the scout master must have the interest of each boy at heart. he must not play favourites with any of the boys in his patrol or troop. while there are sure to be boys in the group who will develop more rapidly than others, and whose keenness will be sure to call forth the admiration of the scout master, he should not permit himself to be "carried away" by the achievements of these "star boys" to such an extent that he will neglect the less aggressive boy. the latter boy is the one who needs your attention most, and your interest in him must be genuine. every effort he makes, no matter how poor it may be, should be commended just as heartily as the better accomplishments of the more handy boy. practical activities for scouts . _scoutcraft_: boy scouts' organization, scout laws, discipline, scouts' secret signs, badges, etc. . _campaigning_: camp life and resourcefulness. hut and mat making. knots. fire lighting. cooking. boat management. judging distances, heights and numbers. swimming. cycling. finding the way. sign posts . do not have in the same patrol boys of great disparity in ages. for instance, the boy of twelve should not be in the same group with the sixteen-year-old boy, if it can possibly be avoided. you must remember that in most cases the things that appeal to the younger boy will have no attraction for the older boy. . do not enroll boys under twelve. if you do you are certain to lose your older boy. the movement is distinctly for boys of the adolescent period and is designed to help them to rightly catch the spirit of helpfulness. . do not try to do everything yourself. try to remember that the boys are always willing and anxious to take hold. let the boys understand that the whole proposition is theirs. it is what they make it. your contract with them should be largely of a big brother nature. . do not burden nor weary the boys with excessive military drills and tactics. the movement is not a military one. the military virtues of obedience, neatness, order, endurance and erect, alert bearing, however, are scout virtues. use everything that develops boys. this is good scoutcraft. . do not confine the activities of the patrols to things of one character. touch every activity as far as possible. do not omit anything. get the proper agencies to cooperate with you for these ends--a military man for signalling; a naturalist for woodcraft; a physician for first aid, etc. . do not permit the boys to fail in the proper keeping of the scout oath and law. . never fail to keep an engagement with your patrol or troop. if something should delay your coming or should you find yourself unable to keep an appointment with them, be sure to notify the patrol leaders beforehand. it might be well to require the same of the boys. . a real danger point is the failure of a scout master to visit the boys in their homes. knowing the boys' parents means much, and their cooperation will be much heartier when they know the man to whose care they entrust their boy, after he has discussed with them the real purpose of the scout movement. . do not hesitate to give a boy a hard task, but not an impossible one. a boy likes to do hard things. . do not attempt right at the start to give the boy every bit of detail regarding the activities of the troop. work out the plans with the boys from time to time, always reserving some things of interest for the next meeting. your attempt to give them everything at one time will cause the whole proposition to assume the nature of a task instead of pleasurable education, as was originally intended. . hold frequent tests for advancement to the classes of scouthood. get your fellows to really win their badges. . as a scout master use good judgment. if there are other scout masters in your town, or a scout council or local committee, cooperate with these. to be a scout master, you must have the spirit of ' , but be sure to work with others. the boys will benefit by the lesson. the scouts' camp to go camping should mean more than merely living under canvas away from the piles of brick and stone that make up our cities. to be in the open air, to breathe pure oxygen, to sleep upon "a bed of boughs beside the trail," to look at the camp fire and the stars, and to hear the whisper of the trees--all of this is good. but the camp offers a better opportunity than this. it offers the finest method for a boy's education. between twelve and eighteen years the interests of a boy are general ones, and reach from the catching of tadpoles and minnows to finding god in the stars. his interests are the general mass interests that are so abundant in nature, the activities that give the country boy such an advantage for the real enjoyment of life over the city lad. two weeks or two months in camp, they are too valuable to be wasted in loafing, cigarette smoking, card playing or shooting craps. to make a camp a profitable thing there must needs be instruction; not formal but _informal_ instruction. scouting, nature study, scout law, camp cooking, signalling, pioneering, path finding, sign reading, stalking for camera purposes, knowledge of animals and plants, first aid, life saving, manual work (making things), hygiene, sex instruction, star gazing, discipline, knowing the rocks and trees, and the ability to do for one's self, in order that a boy may grow strong, self-reliant, and helpful. this is a partial list of the subject in the camp curricula. a model scout camp programme is given here. it takes eight days to carry it out, but there is material enough to run ten times the number of days specified. a sir r.s.s. baden-powell scout camp model programme _first day_: preliminary work: settling into camp, formation of patrols, distribution of duties, orders, etc. _second day_: campaigning: camp resourcefulness, hut and mat making, knots, fire lighting, cooking, health and sanitation, endurance, finding way in strange country, and boat management. _third day_: observation: noticing and memorizing details far and near, landmarks, tracking, deducing meaning from tracks and signs, and training the eyesight. _fourth day_: woodcraft: study of animals, birds, plants and stars; stalking animals, noticing people, reading their character and condition, and thereby gaining their sympathy. _fifth day_: chivalry: honour, code of knights, unselfishness, courage, charity and thrift; loyalty to god, country, parents and employers, or officers; practical chivalry to women; the obligation to do a "good turn" daily, and how to do it. _sixth day_: saving life: from fire, drowning, sewer gas, runaway horses, panic, street accidents, improvised apparatus, and first aid. _seventh day_: patriotism: national geography, the history and deeds that won our world power, the navy and army, flags, medals, duties of a citizen, marksmanship, helping the police. _eighth day_: a summary of the whole course: sports comprising games and competitive practices in all subjects of the course. camp routines . a.m. turn out, bathe, etc. . " breakfast . " air bedding in sun if possible . " scouting games and practice . " swimming . m. dinner . p.m. talk by leader . " water games, etc. . " supper . " evening council around camp fire order of business: opening council roll-call record of last council report of scouts left-over business complaints honours new scouts new business challenges social doings, songs, dances, stories closing council (devotional services when desired) . p.m. lights out. the father of scouting for boys in america, and in fact the inspiration for the movement in england under lieut-gen. sir robert s.s. baden-powell, k.c.b., is mr. ernest thompson seton, the distinguished naturalist and nature student. the official handbook of the organization may be obtained from doubleday, page and company, garden city, n.y., the publishers of this book, or from the national headquarters of the boy scouts of america. iii camps and camping how to select the best place and to pitch the tent--a brush bed--the best kind of a tent--how to make the camp fire--what to do when it rains--fresh air and good food--the brush leanto and how to make it going camping is the best fun in the world if we know how to do it. every healthy boy and girl if given an opportunity should enjoy living outdoors for a week or two and playing at being an indian. there is more to camping however than "roughing it" or seeing how much hardship we can bear. a good camper always makes himself just as comfortable as he can under the circumstances. the saying that "an army travels on its stomach" means that a soldier can not make long marches or fight hard unless he has good food. the surest sign of a "tenderfoot" is the boy who makes fun of you because you try to have a soft dry bed while he prefers to sleep on the ground under the mistaken idea that it is manly or brave. he will usually spoil a trip in the woods for every one in the party. another poor kind of a camper pitches his tent so that his bed gets wet and his food spoiled on the first rainy day, and then sits around cold and hungry trying hard to think that he is having fun, to keep from getting homesick. this kind of a boy "locks the door after the horse is stolen." if we go camping we must know how to prevent the unpleasant things from happening. we must always be ready for wind and rain, heat and cold. a camping party should make their plans a long time ahead in order to get their equipment ready. careful lists should be made of what we think we shall need. after we are out in the woods, there will be no chance to run around the corner to the grocer's to supply what we have forgotten. if it is forgotten, we must simply make the best of it and not allow it to spoil our trip. it is surprising how many things that we think are almost necessary to life we can get along without if we are obliged to. the true woodsman knows how to turn to his use a thousand of nature's gifts and to make himself comfortable, while you and i might stand terrified and miserable under the same conditions. daniel boone, the great wilderness traveller, could go out alone in the untracked forest with nothing but his rifle, his axe and a small pack on his back and by a knowledge of the stars, the rivers, the trees and the wild animals, he could go for weeks travelling hundreds of miles, building his bed and his leanto out of the evergreen boughs, lighting his fire with his flint and steel, shooting game for his food and dressing and curing their skins for his clothing and in a thousand ways supplying his needs from nature's storehouse. the school of the woods never sends out graduates. we may learn something new every day. [illustration: with a head shelter and a sleeping bag he can keep dry and warm] the average city boy or girl does not have an opportunity to become a skilled master of woodcraft, but because we cannot learn it all is no reason why we should not learn something. the best way to learn it is in the woods themselves and not out of books. a party of four boys makes a good number for a camping trip. they will probably agree better than two or three. they can do much of the camp work in pairs. no one need to be left alone to look after the camp while the others go fishing or hunting or to some nearby town for the mail or for supplies. there is no reason why four boys of fifteen who are resourceful and careful cannot spend a week or two in the woods in perfect safety and come back home sounder in mind and body than when they left. it is always better to take along some one who has "camped out" before. if he cannot be found, then make your plans, decide what you will do and how you will do it, take a few cooking lessons from mother or the cook--if the latter is good-natured--and go anyway. first elect a leader, not because he is any more important than the rest but because if some one goes ahead and gives directions, the life in camp will run much more smoothly and every one will have a better time. if it is your first experience in camping, you had better go somewhere near home. the best place is one that can be reached by wagon. if we have to carry our supplies on our backs or in a canoe, the amount we can take will be much less. after you have had some experience near home you can safely try the other way. where you go is of comparatively little importance. near every large city there is some lake or river where you can find a good camping site. campers always have more fun if they are near some water, but if such a place is not easily found near where you live, go into the woods. try to get away from towns or villages. the wilder the place is, the better. you had better make sure of your camping ground before you go by writing a letter to the owner of the land. it isn't much fun after we have pitched the tent and made everything shipshape to have some angry landowner come along and order us off because we are trespassers. in selecting a place to camp, there are several very important things to look out for. . be sure you are near a supply of drinking water. a spring or a brook is best, but even the lake or river will do if the water is pure and clean. the water at the bottom of a lake is always much colder and cleaner than the surface water. when i was a boy, i used a simple device for getting cold water which some of you may like to copy. i took an old-fashioned jug and fastened a strong string to the handle and also fastened this string to the cork of the jug as the drawing shows. the jug was weighted so that it would sink, by means of a piece of stone tied to the handle. we used to go out to the middle of the lake where the water was the deepest and lower the jug over the side of a boat. when it reached bottom we would give the string a sharp tug and thus pull out the cork. the bubbles coming to the surface showed us when the jug was full. we then hauled it on board and had clear, cold, drinking water from a lake that on the surface was warm enough for swimming. [illustration: the jug by which we obtained pure, cold water] . the next important thing in selecting a camp is being near a supply of firewood. a week in camp will consume an amazing amount of wood, especially if we have a camp fire at night to sit around and sing and tell stories before turning in. in most sections there is plenty of dead wood that we can use for camp fires. this does not mean a lot of twigs and brush. there is no use trying to go camping unless some one knows how to use an axe. in another chapter i will tell you something about the proper use of axes and hatchets. for the present it is sufficient to say that an excellent place to practise handling an axe is on the family woodpile. you will thus combine business and pleasure, and your efforts will be appreciated by your family, which would not be the case if, like george washington, you began your lessons in woodcraft on the favourite cherry tree. almost any kind of wood will burn when it is dry, but it takes experience to know the kinds of trees that will burn when they are green. if there is no dry wood in the neighbourhood, and we are obliged to cut a tree down to get our supply, it is very important to pitch our camp somewhere near the right kind of a tree and not be obliged to carry our firewood a long distance. the best "green wood" for the campers' fire is hickory, although birch is excellent. hickory is also the best dry wood. other trees that will burn well when green are cedar, white ash, locust or white oak. there are comparatively few places, however, where dry wood is not available and of course it is always best to avoid such a place. . the camp site should be in a fairly open spot. thick woods and underbrush are either hot or "damp" cool. if you can find a site that is shaded during the heat of the day so much the better. it is unwise to pitch the tent under a tree that stands alone on account of possible danger from lightning. if your tent is shaded by a tree be sure there are no dead limbs to blow off and wreck it during a storm. be sure that the drainage is good, so that in case of heavy rains, the water will run off and not flood the camp. it is very important if your camp is along some river or stream to be high enough to avoid the danger of sudden floods. this can usually be determined by talking to some one who knows the country. you can also tell it by studying the previous high water marks in the trees. in case of floods there are always some wisps of straw, pieces of brush, etc., caught and held by the limbs of trees after the water settles back to its former level. it is a good chance to practise your woodcraft by trying to find them. damp locations are very bad. the higher we can get, the drier it will be. we avoid both fogs and mosquitoes. usually there is some prominent place that will give us a good outlook and where the breezes can reach us. there are both good and bad points in pitching our tent on the site of a former camp. as long as the former campers have not scoured the surrounding neighbourhood for firewood nor have left a place littered up with all sorts of rubbish and garbage to draw flies and vermin, they may have fixed up things around the camp site to save us work and to add to our comfort and pleasure. each case will have to be decided on its own merits. [illustration: a wall tent] the three important things then are the water supply, the firewood supply, and good drainage. next in importance to the camp site is the outfit, and the most important thing is the tent. for a party of four boys on their first camping trip, the best kind will be a wall tent. a tent, x feet will be large enough to provide sleeping quarters and to have every one comfortable. a simple shelter of canvas outside can be provided as a dining-room but this is more of a luxury than a real necessity. canvas or duck is the common material from which tents are made. the standard eight-ounce khaki duck used in the united states army will, for this size tent, cost about twenty dollars. this will include a fly, which is merely a second roof to the tent. the best material for tents is balloon silk. it is much more waterproof than canvas and only weighs a quarter as much. it is also much more expensive. a tent can be made at home, which is of course the cheaper way. they can also be hired from previous campers or from some awning maker who is also usually a tent maker. a canvas tent without a fly will leak in a rain storm if the roof is touched on the inside either by our hands or our clothing. it may be made partially waterproof by a coating of paraffine which has been previously dissolved in turpentine. the simplest and at the same time the warmest tent for an experienced camper who knows the tricks of the trade is a leanto tent, one with one side entirely open, in front of which a blazing fire may be kept burning. this is hardly adapted for boys on their first trip, however. another very good and very simple tent is the "a" tent used in the army. this looks like a "v" turned upside down. we can pitch it without the aid of tent poles by simply hanging it be ween two trees to which a rope has been stretched. [illustration: an "a" tent] the hudson bay tent, trapper's tent, forester's tent, canoe tent, and a dozen others, including an indian tepee and wigwam, are all good tents for special purposes. the pictures show the different styles and all of them are designed for special uses, either for warmth or lightness in carrying or ease in pitching. if we go camping in summer and can have our equipment or "duffle," as the woodsmen call it, carried by team, the wall tent will be the best one to take. tent pegs can always be cut in the woods, but it is far more satisfactory to get them ready at home before we leave. if you do cut your own pegs, select hardwood saplings to make them from and to further harden the points, char them slightly in a fire. if you spend a few winter evenings at home making the pegs, it will save you a lot of time and trouble when you reach the camping ground. the best pegs are made of iron or steel. this is especially true when the ground where they are to be driven is hard or rocky, which is usually the case. steel tent pins may be bought for six cents apiece or possibly the local blacksmith will make them for less. they should be a foot long. a sod cloth is a strip of canvas eight or ten inches wide fastened to the bottom of the tent wall. its purpose is to keep the wind and rain from blowing under the tent. after the tent is pitched a ditch should be dug all around it to catch the rain and carry it away. the earth that is dug from this trench may be thrown on the sod cloth to hold it down. it is an excellent idea, if you are a beginner, to practise pitching the tent at home so that you will understand it better when you are in the woods. besides this, you can try sleeping out a night or two to see how you are going to like it. [illustration: a trapper's tent] when you reach your camping place, the first step is to clear the ground of all rubbish, loose stones, sticks and brush to have a clean floor. then unpack the tent and fit the pegs of the two upright poles through the two holes in the ridge pole. next raise the tent and peg the guy ropes on the four corners first. a little practice will show you how to do this. after all the ropes are pegged at a proper distance from the tent, they should be tightened and the tent made secure. always plan to have a full four hours of daylight to make your camp ready. if the drive is a long one and you are obliged to get up very early in the morning, you will have to do it, that is all. i made my first camping trip when i was twelve years old. we had just reached the camping ground, unloaded our kit and sent the team home that brought us when--bang! over the mountain across the lake from where we were going to camp, a terrific thunder shower came up and in a few minutes it was pouring. there was our whole outfit--tent, bedding and food--getting soaked because, instead of hurrying along during the day, we had fooled away our time trying to catch fish in wayside brooks that had never seen a fish and not realizing how important it is to make haste as well as hay while the sun shines. [illustration: an indian tepee] we quickly pitched the tent, not as it should have been pitched, but in a heap over the rest of our goods to keep out as much water as possible and then ran for a nearby barn where we spent a cold hungry night, wetter but wiser. the next day, out came the sun and dried our things, but if the rain had continued we certainly should have been obliged to go home or at least to a farmhouse to stay until the weather cleared. we soon forgot our unpleasant experience but we have not forgotten the lesson it taught--and that is not to waste time along the road when there is work to be done at the journey's end. next to a good tent, the most important thing for the camper is a good bed. it is even more important than good food because if we sleep well, hunger will furnish the sauce for our grub, but if we spend the night trying to dodge some root or rock that is boring into our back and that we hardly felt when we turned in but which grew to an enormous size in our imagination before morning, we will be half sick and soon get enough of being an indian. a canvas cot makes the best camp bed if it can be taken along conveniently. there is one important thing to look out for in sleeping on a cot. in my first experience of the kind, i nearly froze. i kept piling things on me until all my clothing, and even the camp towels and table-cloth were pressed into service and was thinking about pulling some dry grass to pile on the rest of the stuff. still i shivered until i discovered that the cold was coming up from underneath because there was nothing to keep it out but the single thickness of canvas. when i put one of my blankets under me, i was as warm as toast. very often it is impossible to carry cots on a trip, and that is where a knowledge of woodcraft comes in. the softest, sweetest, downiest bed in the world can be made with no other materials but those which grow in the forest--if we know how. at least the tired camper will think it is soft and will sleep on it like a top and wake up refreshed in the morning. perhaps if we had our choice we would prefer our own bed at home, but in the woods we do not have this choice. most people call this a bed of "pine boughs." [illustration: how the bough bed is made] why i do not know as it never should be made of pine under any circumstances. the best wood for the bough bed is balsam. if this does not grow in the neighbourhood, hemlock, spruce, or even cedar will do. to make a bough bed properly means a lot of work. the first step is to cut four straight sticks. the side pieces should be six feet and a half long and the end pieces three feet and a half. they should be notched on the ends with an axe and either nailed or tied together from saplings or from a tree that you have felled. small balsam boughs should be broken off with the fingers and laid one on the other until the whole bed is filled with them. on this, the rubber blanket or poncho should be spread and the blankets over all. all the boughs should be shingled with the stems down to keep them in the best condition. this kind of a bed will require remaking every day. a better bed for the boy camper is made as follows: take a piece of heavy bed ticking and sew it into a bag about three feet by six feet. when you reach camp you can make a regular mattress by filling it with whatever material is most easily found. dry leaves? grass, hay, even moss or wet filler can be used if nothing dry can be found, but in this case the rubber blanket will be an absolute necessity. of course it is much better to use some dry material. be sure to have a comfortable bed. no matter what ideas you may have about cowboys and soldiers rolling up in their blankets and snatching a few hours' sleep under the stars by lying on the bare ground, a boy who is used to a good bed at home will never have much fun out of a camping trip if he tries to sleep on the ground with a rock for his pillow. for a summer camping trip, one blanket is enough. you must learn to roll up in it. lie flat on your back and cover the blanket over you. then raise up your legs and tuck it under first on one side and then the other. the rest is easy. this beats trying to "roll up" in it, actually. the common summer blankets used at home are not much use for the camper. these are usually all cotton. a camper's blanket should be all wool. you can buy a standard u.s. army blanket, size x inches, for five dollars. they can often be purchased in stores that deal in second hand army supplies for much less and are just as good as new except for some slight stain or defect. a sleeping bag is expensive but is excellent for cold weather camping. it is much too hot for the boy camper in summer. do not sleep in your clothing. unless it is too cold, undress, about as you do at home. if the blanket feels tickly, it would not be a great crime, no matter what the tenderfoot says who wanted you to sleep on the ground, to take along a sheet. i have never done this, however. at the end of this chapter, you will find a list of things to take with you. the camp fire and the cooking fire should be separate. almost any one can kindle a fire with dry materials. it takes a woodman to build a fire when it has been raining and everything is wet. the boy's method of taking a few newspapers, and a handful of brush or leaves will not do. first look around for an old dead top of a pine or cedar. if you cannot find one, chop down a cedar tree. whittle a handful of splinters and shavings from the dry heart. try to find the lee side of a rock or log where the wind and rain do not beat in. first put down the shavings or some dry birch bark if you can find it, and shelter it as well as you can from the rain. pile up some larger splinters of wood over the kindling material like an indian's wigwam. then light it and give it a chance to get into a good blaze before you pile on any larger wood and put the whole fire out. it sounds easy but before you try it in the woods i advise you to select the first rainy day and go out near home and experiment. to make a fire that will burn in front of the tent all night, first drive two green stakes into the ground at a slant and about five feet apart. then lay two big logs one on each side of a stake to serve as andirons. build a fire between these logs and pile up a row of logs above the fire and leaning against the stakes. you may have to brace the stakes with two others which should have a forked end. when the lower log burns out the next one will drop down in its place and unless you have soft, poor wood the fire should burn for ten hours. with this kind of a fire and with a leanto, it is possible to keep warm in the woods, on the coldest, night in winter. [illustration: the frame for a brush leanto] this is the way to build a brush leanto: first cut two sticks and drive them into the ground. they should have a point on one end and a fork on the other. lay a stout pole across the two forks like a gypsy fire rig. then lean poles against the crosspiece and finally thatch the roof with spruce, hemlock or other boughs and pile up boughs for the sides. a brush camp is only a makeshift arrangement and is never weather proof. it is simply a temporary shelter which with the all-night fire burning in front will keep a man from freezing to death in the woods. any kind of a tent is better or even a piece of canvas or a blanket for the roof of the leanto will be better than the roof of boughs. be careful not to set the leanto on fire with the sparks from your camp fire. mosquitoes have probably spoiled more camping trips that any other one thing. the best tents have mosquito net or cheese cloth fronts which may be held close to the ground by a stick on the bottom. perhaps the easiest way to secure protection is for each boy to take along a few yards of cotton mosquito netting and by means of curved sticks build a canopy over his bed. a smoky fire called a "smudge" will sometimes keep the pests away from the neighbourhood of the tent or if we build it in the tent will drive them out, but the remedy is almost as bad as the disease. as a rule they will only be troublesome at night and the net over our bed will enable us to sleep in peace. the most common "dope" used in the woods to keep off mosquitoes is called oil of citronella. it has a very pungent odour that the mosquitoes do not like and the chances are that you will not like it either. at the same time it may be a good plan to take a small bottle along. you may safely count on finding mosquitoes, no matter where you go or what the people tell you who live there. perhaps they have never tried sleeping in the woods and do not know. be sure therefore to take along some netting or cheese cloth to protect yourself against them. everything that you can do at home to get ready for your camping trip will add to your pleasure when you get out in the woods. if any part of your kit needs fixing, fishing rods wound or varnished, your jackknife ground, your camera fixed, or if your clothing needs any patches or buttons, do it at home. no one ever does half that he plans to on a trip like this unless he does not plan to do anything. take along a few books to read for the rainy days and have them covered with muslin if you ever expect to put them back into your library. if you have been putting off a visit to the dentist, by all means do it before you get out where there are no dentists. an aching tooth can spoil a vacation in the woods about as easily as anything i know of. as a final word of advice to the beginner in camping, let me tell you a few things that my own experience has taught me. a felt hat is better than a cap as it is sun and rain proof. wear a flannel shirt and take one extra one. you can wash one and wear the other. be sure to have a new shirt plenty loose in the neck as camp washing in cold water will make it shrink. do not go around in gymnasium shirts or sleeveless jerseys. one of my companions did this once and was so terribly sunburned that his whole trip was spoiled. two sets of underwear are plenty, including the one you wear. take along a silk handkerchief to wear around your neck. wear comfortable shoes. a camping trip is a poor place to break in new hunting boots or shoes. take bandanna handkerchiefs and leave your linen ones at home. if you have to choose between a coat and a sweater take the sweater and leave the coat at home. a coat is out of place in the woods. khaki or canvas trousers are excellent. so are corduroy. an old pair of woollen trousers are just as good as either. a poncho is almost necessary to your comfort. it is merely a rubber or oilskin piece with a slit in it to put your head through. the right size is x inches. with it you can keep dry day or night, either using it as a garment or as a cover. when you are not using it you can cover it over your bed or food supply. take along a good pocket knife and compass. better leave the revolver home. also always carry a waterproof box of matches. you will require some kind of a waterproof "duffle" bag to carry your personal things--tooth brush, extra clothing, mirror, fishing tackle, towel, soap, medicine, in fact whatever you think you will need. if it is your first camping trip you will come home without having had any use whatever for more than half the things you take. that is the experience of every one, so do not become discouraged. if you camp within reach of a post-office, address some stamped envelopes to your home in ink before you leave. then you will have no excuse for not writing a letter home. you can make an excellent pillow by rolling up your trousers. be sure to take everything out of the pockets first, including your knife, and roll them with the top inside so that the buttons or your belt buckle will not bore into your ear. if you fall overboard and come ashore to dry out, stuff your shoes full of dry grass or old paper to keep them from shrinking. when they are dry, soften them with tallow or oil. every one who goes camping at some time or other gets wet. the only advice i can give you is to get dry again as soon as possible. as long as you keep moving it will probably not injure you. waterproof garments are of little use in the woods. they are always too warm for summer wear and by holding the perspiration, are more of an injury than a benefit. never wear rubber boots in the woods or you will surely take cold. better have wet feet. the best foot wear is moccasins. if you wear them see that they are several sizes too large and wear at least two pairs of heavy woollen stockings with them. iv camp cooking how to make the camp fire range--bread bakers--cooking utensils--the grub list--simple camp recipes most boys, and i regret to say a few girls too, nowadays, seem to regard a knowledge of cooking as something to be ashamed of. the boy who expects to do much camping or who ever expects to take care of himself out in the woods had better get this idea out of his head just as soon as possible. cooking in a modern kitchen has been reduced to a science, but the boy or man who can prepare a good meal with little but nature's storehouse to draw on and who can make an oven that will bake bread that is fit to eat, with the nearest range fifty miles away, has learned something that his mother or sister cannot do and something that he should be very proud of. camp cooking is an art and to become an expert is the principal thing in woodcraft--nothing else is so important. we often hear how good the things taste that have been cooked over the camp fire. perhaps a good healthy appetite has something to do with it, but it is pretty hard even for a hungry boy to relish half-baked, soggy bread or biscuits that are more suitable for fishing sinkers than for human food. a party without a good cook is usually ready to break camp long before the time is up, and they are lucky if the doctor is not called in as soon as they get home. there is really no need for poor food in the woods. very few woodsmen are good cooks simply because they will not learn. the camp cook always has the best fun. every one is ready to wait on him _"if he will only, please get dinner ready"_ one year when i was camping at the head of moosehead lake in maine, i had a guide to whom i paid three dollars a day. he cooked and i got the firewood, cleaned the fish and did the chores around camp. his cooking was so poor that the food i was forced to eat was really spoiling my trip. one day i suggested that we take turns cooking, and in place of the black muddy coffee, greasy fish and soggy biscuit, i made some johnny cake, boiled a little rice and raisins and baked a fish for a change instead of frying it. his turn to cook never came again. he suggested himself that he would be woodchopper and scullion and let me do the cooking. i readily agreed and found that it was only half as much work as being the handy man. the basis of camp cooking is the fire. it is the surest way to tell whether the cook knows his business or not. the beginner always starts with a fire hot enough to roast an ox and just before he begins cooking piles on more wood. then when everything is sizzling and red-hot, including the handles of all his cooking utensils, he is ready to begin the preparation of the meal. a cloud of smoke follows him around the fire with every shift of the wind. occasionally he will rush in through the smoke to turn the meat or stir the porridge and rush out again puffing and gasping for breath, his eyes watery and blinded and his fingers scorched almost like a fireman coming out of a burning building where he has gone to rescue some child. the chances are, if this kind of a cook takes hold of the handle of a hot frying pan, pan and contents will be dumped in a heap into the fire to further add to the smoke and blaze. when the old hand begins to cook, he first takes out of the fire the unburned pieces and blazing sticks, leaving a bed of glowing coals to which he can easily add a little wood, if the fire gets low and a watched pot refuses to boil to his satisfaction. when the fire is simply a mass of red coals he quietly goes to cooking, and if his fire has been well made and of the right kind of wood, the embers will continue to glow and give out heat for an hour. of course, if the cooking consists in boiling water for some purpose, there is no particular objection to a hot fire, the fire above described is for broiling, frying and working around generally. [illustration: a type of camp fire that will burn all night] there are all sorts of camp fireplaces. the quickest one to build and one of the best as well, is the "hunter's fire," all you need is an axe. take two green logs about six to eight inches thick and five feet long and lay them six inches apart at one end and about fourteen inches at the other. be sure that the logs are straight. it is a good plan to flatten the surface slightly on one side with the axe to furnish a better resting place for the pots and pans. if the logs roll or seem insecure, make a shallow trench to hold them or wedge them with flat stones. the surest way to hold them in place is to drive stakes at each end. build your fire between the logs and build up a cob house of firewood. split wood will burn much more quickly than round sticks. as the blazing embers fall between the logs, keep adding more wood. do not get the fire outside of the logs. the object is to get a bed of glowing coals between them. when you are ready to begin cooking, take out the smoky, burning pieces and leave a bed of red-hot coals. if you have no axe and can find no logs, a somewhat similar fireplace can be built up of flat stones, but be sure that your stone fireplace will not topple over just at the critical time. if you only have your jack-knife, the best fire is a "gypsy rig". cut two crotched sticks, drive them into the ground and lay a crosspiece on them just as you would begin to build the leanto described in the preceding chapter, but of course not so high above the ground. the kettles and pots can be hung from the crossbar by means of pot hooks, which are pieces of wood or wire shaped like a letter "s." even straight sticks will do with two nails driven into them. these should be of different lengths to adjust the pots at various heights above the fire, depending on whether you wish to boil something furiously or merely to let it simmer. do not suspend the kettles by running the bar through them. this is very amateurish. with a gypsy fire, the frying pan, coffee pot and gridiron will have to be set right on the bed of coals. an arrangement for camp fires that is better and less work than the logs is obtained by using fire irons, which are two flat pieces of iron a yard or so long resting on stones and with the fire built underneath. the whole object of either logs or irons is to furnish a secure resting place for cooking utensils above the fire. there are several kinds of ovens used for baking bread and roasting meat in outdoor life. the simplest way is to prop a frying pan up in front of the fire. this is not the best way but you will have to do it if you are travelling light. a reflector, when made of sheet iron or aluminum is the best camp oven. tin is not so satisfactory because it will not reflect the heat equally. both the top and bottom of the reflector oven are on a slope and midway between is a steel baking pan held in place by grooves. this oven can be moved about at will to regulate the amount of heat and furthermore it can be used in front of a blazing fire without waiting for a bed of coals. such a rig can easily be made by any tinsmith. a very convenient folding reflector oven can be bought in aluminum for three or four dollars. when not used for baking, it makes an excellent dishpan. [illustration: a reflector camp oven] the standard camp oven that has been used by generations of pioneers and campers is the dutch oven. it is simply an iron pot on short legs and is provided with a heavy cover. to use it, dig a hole in the ground large enough to hold it, build a fire and fill the hole with embers. then scoop out a place for the pot, cover it over with more embers and ashes and let the contents bake. for the boy who wants to go to the limit in depending on his own resources, the clay oven is the nearest to real woodcraft. this is made in the side of a bank by burrowing out a hole, with a smoke outlet in the rear. a hot fire built inside will bake the clay and hold it together. to use this oven, build a fire in it and when the oven is hot, rake out the coals and put in your bread or meat on flat stones. close the opening with another stone and keep it closed long enough to give the oven a chance. this method is not recommended to beginners who are obliged to eat what they cook, but in the hands of a real cook, will give splendid results. the reflector oven is the best for most cases if you can carry it conveniently. the kind of a cooking equipment that we take with us on a camping trip will depend on what we can carry conveniently, how much we are willing to rough it and what our stock of provisions will be. one thing is sure--the things that we borrow from home will rarely be fit to return. in making a raid on the family kitchen, better warn the folks that they are _giving_ us the pots and pans instead of merely _lending_ them. very compact cooking outfits can be bought if one cares to go to the expense. an aluminum cook kit for four people, so made that the various articles nest one into the other, can be bought for fifteen dollars. it weighs only ten pounds and takes up a space of x inches. such a kit is very convenient if we move camp frequently or have to carry our outfit with us, but for the party of boys going out by team it is not worth the expense. you will need several tin pails, two iron pots, a miner's coffee pot--all in one piece including the lip--two frying pans, possibly a double boiler for oatmeal and other cooked cereals, iron spoon, large knife, vegetable knife, iron fork and broiler. a number of odds and ends will come in handy, especially tin plates to put things on. take no crockery or glassware. it will be sure to be broken. do not forget a can opener. camp fire utensils should never be soldered. either seamless ware or riveted joints are the only safe kind. solder is sure to melt over a hot open fire. the personal equipment for each boy should be tin cup, knife, fork, and spoons, deep tin plate, extra plate and perhaps one extra set of everything for company if they should happen to drop in. a lot of dish washing can be avoided if we use paper or wooden plates and burn them up after the meal. the main question is "what shall we take to eat." a list of food or as it is commonly known "the grub list" is a subject that will have to be decided by the party themselves. i will give you a list that will keep four hungry boys from staying hungry for a trip of two weeks and leave something over to bring home. if the list does not suit you exactly you can substitute or add other things. it is an excellent plan for the party to take a few home cooked things to get started on, a piece of roasted meat, a dish of baked beans, some crullers, cookies or ginger snaps. we must also consider whether we shall get any fish or game. if fishing is good, the amount of meat we take can be greatly cut down. this list has been calculated to supply a party who are willing to eat camp fare and who do not expect to be able to buy bread, milk, eggs or butter. if you can get these things nearby, then camping is but little different from eating at home. grub list ten lbs. bacon, half a ham, cans corned beef, lbs. cheese, lbs. lard, cans condensed milk, lbs. hard tack, packages soda crackers, packages sweet crackers, - / lbs. of wheat flour, - / lbs. of yellow cornmeal, can baking powder, / bushel potatoes, peck onions, lbs. ground coffee, / lb. tea, sack salt, lbs. granulated sugar, packages prepared griddle cake flour, packages assorted cereals, including oatmeal, lbs. rice, dried fruits, canned corn, peas, beans, canned baked beans, salmon, tomatoes, sweetmeats and whatever else you like. be sure to take along plenty of tin boxes or tight wooden boxes to keep rain and vermin away from the food. tell your grocer to pack the stuff for a camping trip and to put the perishable things in tight boxes as far as possible. if you are going to move camp, have some waterproof bags for the flour. if you can carry eggs and butter, so much the better. a tin cracker box buried in the mud along some cold brook or spring makes an excellent camper's refrigerator especially if it is in the shade. never leave the food exposed around camp. as soon as the cook is through with it let some one put it away in its proper place where the flies, ants, birds, sun, dust, and rain cannot get at it. always examine food before you cook it. take nothing for granted. once when camping the camp cook for breakfast made a huge pot of a certain brand of breakfast food. we were all tucking it away as only hungry boys can, when some one complained that caterpillars were dropping from the tree into his bowl. we shifted our seats--and ate some more, and then made the astonishing discovery that the breakfast food was full of worms. we looked at the package and found that the grocers had palmed off some stale goods on us and that the box was fairly alive. we all enjoy the recollection of it more than we did the actual experience. it is impossible in a book of this kind to say very much about how to cook. that subject alone has filled some very large books. we can learn some things at home provided that we can duplicate the conditions in the woods. so many home recipes contain eggs, milk and butter that they are not much use when we have none of the three. there is a book in my library entitled "one hundred ways to cook eggs" but it would not do a boy much good in the woods unless he had the eggs. if you ask your mother or the cook to tell you how to raise bread or make pies and cakes, be sure that you will have the same ingredients and tools to work with that she has. it might be well to learn a few simple things about frying and boiling, as both of these things can be done even by a beginner over the camp fire. there are a few general cooking rules that i will attempt to give you and leave the rest for you to learn from experience. you use bacon in the woods to furnish grease in the frying pan for the things that are not fat enough themselves to furnish their own grease. condensed milk if thinned with water makes a good substitute for sweet milk, after you get used to it. to make coffee, allow a tablespoonful of ground coffee to each cup of water. better measure both things until you learn just how full of water to fill the pot to satisfy the wants of your party. do not boil coffee furiously. the best way is not to boil it at all but that would be almost like telling a boy not to go swimming. better let it simmer and when you are ready for it, pour in a dash of cold water to settle the grounds and see that no one shakes the pot afterward to stir up grounds--and trouble. a teaspoonful of tea is enough for two people. this you must not boil unless you want to tan your stomach. pour boiling water on the tea and let it steep. good camp bread can be made from white flour, one cup; salt, one teaspoonful; sugar, one teaspoonful and baking powder, one teaspoonful. wet with water or better with diluted condensed milk. pour in a greased pan and bake in the reflector oven until when you test it by sticking a wooden splinter into it, the splinter will come out clean without any dough adhering to it. if you want to make the kind of bread that has been the standard ration for campers for hundreds of years you must eat johnny-cake or pone. it is really plain corn bread. personally i like it better than any of the raised breads or prepared flours that are used in the woods. it should always be eaten hot and always broken by the hands. to cut it with a knife will make it heavy. the ingredients are simply one quart of yellow meal, one teaspoonful of salt and three cups--one and one-half pints--of warm water. stir until the batter is light and bake for a short hour. test it with the wooden splinter the same as wheat bread. it may be baked in an open fire on a piece of flat wood or by rolling up balls of it, you can even roast it in the ashes. a teaspoonful of sugar improves it somewhat and it can be converted into cake by adding raisins or huckleberries. for your butter, you will use bacon grease or gravy. indian meal, next to bacon, is the camper's stand-by. in addition to the johnny-cake, you can boil it up as mush and eat with syrup or condensed milk and by slicing up the cold mush, if there is any left, you can fry it next day in a spider. the beginner at cooking always makes the mistake of thinking that to cook properly you must cook fast. the more the grease sputters or the harder the pot boils, the better. as a rule, rapid boiling of meat makes it tough. game and fish should be put on in cold water and after the water has boiled, be set back and allowed to simmer. do not throw away the water you boil meat in. it will make good soup--unless every one in camp has taken a hand at salting the meat, as is often the case. all green vegetables should be crisp and firm when they are cooked. if they have been around camp for several days and have lost their freshness, first soak them in cold water. a piece of pork cooked with beans and peas will give them a richer flavour. the water that is on canned vegetables should be poured off before cooking. canned tomatoes are an exception to this rule, however. save all the leftovers. if you do not know what else to do with them, make a stew or soup. you can make soup of almost anything. the chinese use birds' nests and the eskimos can make soup of old shoes. a very palatable soup can be made from various kinds of vegetables with a few bones or extract of beef added for body. the length of time to cook things is the most troublesome thing to the beginner. nearly everything will take longer than you think. oatmeal is one of the things that every beginner is apt to burn, hence the value of the double boiler. rice is one of the best camp foods if well cooked. it can be used in a great variety of ways like cornmeal. but beware! there is nothing in the whole list of human food that has quite the swelling power of rice. half a teacupful will soon swell up to fill the pot. a tablespoonful to a person will be an ample allowance and then, unless you have a good size pot to boil it in, have some one standing by ready with an extra pan to catch the surplus when it begins to swell. there are certain general rules for cooking which may help the beginner although they are not absolute. mutton, beef, lamb, venison, chicken, and large birds or fish will require from ten to twenty minutes' cooking for each pound of weight. the principal value of this is to at least be sure that you need not test a five-pound chicken after it has been cooking fifteen minutes to see if it is done. peas, beans, potatoes, corn, onions, rice, turnips, beets, cabbage, and macaroni should, when boiled, be done in from twenty to thirty minutes. the surest test is to taste them. they will be burned in that many seconds, if you allow the water to boil off or put them in the middle of a smoky fire where they cannot be watched. fried things are the easiest to cook because you can tell when they are done more easily. fried food however is always objectionable and as little of it should be eaten as possible. you are not much of a camp cook if a frying pan is your only tool. a bottle of catsup or some pickles will often give just the right taste to things that otherwise seem to be lacking in flavour. in frying fish, always have the pan piping hot. test the grease by dropping in a bread crumb. it should quickly turn brown. "piping hot" does not mean smoking or grease on fire. dry the fish thoroughly with a towel before putting them into the pan. then they will be crisp and flaky instead of grease-soaked. the same rule is true of potatoes. if you put the latter on brown butcher's paper when they are done, they will be greatly improved. nearly every camper will start to do things away from home that he would never think of doing under his own roof. one of these is to drink great quantities of strong coffee three times a day. if you find that after you turn in for the night, you are lying awake for a long time watching the stars and listening to the fish splashing in the lake or the hoot owl mournfully "too-hooing" far off in the woods, do not blame your bed or commence to wonder if you are not getting sick. just cut out the coffee, that's all. v woodcraft the use of an axe and hatchet--best woods for special purposes--what to do when you are lost--nature's compasses the word "woodcraft" simply means skill in anything which pertains to the woods. the boy who can read and understand nature's signboards, who knows the names of the various trees and can tell which are best adapted to certain purposes, what berries and roots are edible, the habits of game and the best way to trap or capture them, in short the boy that knows how to get along without the conveniences of civilization and is self-reliant and manly, is a student of woodcraft. no one can hope to become a master woodsman. what he learns in one section may be of little value in some other part of the country. a guide from maine or canada might be comparatively helpless in florida or the tropics, where the vegetation, wild animal life, and customs of the woods are entirely different. most of us are hopeless tenderfeet anywhere, just like landlubbers on shipboard. the real masters of woodcraft--indians, trappers, and guides--are, as a rule, men who do not even know the meaning of the word "woodcraft." some people think that to know woodcraft, we must take it up with a teacher, just as we might learn to play golf or tennis. it is quite different from learning a game. most of what we learn, we shall have to teach ourselves. of course we must profit from the experience and observation of others, but no man's opinion can take the place of the evidence of our own eyes. a naturalist once told me that chipmunks never climb trees. i have seen a chipmunk on a tree so i know that he is mistaken. as a rule the natives in any section only know enough woods-lore or natural history to meet their absolute needs. accurate observation is, as a rule, rare among country people unless they are obliged to learn from necessity. plenty of boys born and raised in the country are ignorant of the very simplest facts of their daily experience. they could not give you the names of a dozen local birds or wildflowers or tell you the difference between a mushroom and a toadstool to save their lives. [illustration: the wilderness traveller] on the other hand, some country boys who have kept their ears and eyes open will know more about the wild life of the woods than people who attempt to write books about it; myself, for example. i have a boy friend up in maine who can fell a tree as big around as his body in ten minutes, and furthermore he can drop it in any direction that he wants to without leaving it hanging up in the branches of some other tree or dropping it in a soft place where the logging team cannot possibly haul it out without miring the horses. the stump will be almost as clean and flat as a saw-cut. this boy can also build a log cabin, chink up the cracks with clay and moss and furnish it with benches and tables that he has made, with no other tools than an axe and a jackknife. he can make a rope out of a grape-vine or patch a hole in his birch bark canoe with a piece of bark and a little spruce gum. he can take you out in the woods and go for miles with never a thought of getting lost, tell you the names of the different birds and their calls, what berries are good to eat, where the partridge nests or the moose feeds, and so on. if you could go around with him for a month, you would learn more real woodcraft than books could tell you in a lifetime. and this boy cannot even read or write and probably never heard the word "woodcraft." his school has been the school of hard knocks. he knows these things as a matter of course just as you know your way home from school. his father is a woodchopper and has taught him to take care of himself. if you desire to become a good woodsman, the first and most important thing is to learn to use an axe. patent folding hatchets are well enough in their way, but for real woodchopping an axe is the only thing. one of four pounds is about the right weight for a beginner. as it comes from the store, the edge will be far too thick and clumsy to do good work. first have it carefully ground by an expert and watch how he does it. if i were a country boy i should be more proud of skilful axemanship than to be pitcher on the village nine. with a good axe, a good rifle, and a good knife, a man can take care of himself in the woods for days, and the axe is more important even than the rifle. the easiest way to learn to be an axeman is to make the acquaintance of some woodchopper in your neighbourhood. but let me warn you. never ask him to lend you his axe. you would not be friends very long if you did. you must have one of your own, and let it be like your watch or your toothbrush, your own personal property. a cheap axe is poor economy. the brightest paint and the gaudiest labels do not always mean the best steel. your friend the woodchopper will tell you what kind to buy in your neighbourhood. the handle should be straight-grained hickory and before buying it you will run your eye along it to see that the helve is not warped or twisted and that there are no knots or bad places in it. the hang of an axe is the way the handle or helve is fitted to the head. an expert woodchopper is rarely satisfied with the heft of an axe as it comes from the store. he prefers to hang his own. in fact, most woodchoppers prefer to make their own axe handles. you will need a stone to keep a keen edge on the axe. no one can do good work with a dull blade, and an edge that has been nicked by chopping into the ground or hitting a stone is absolutely inexcusable. to chop a tree, first be sure that the owner is willing to have it chopped. then decide in which direction you wish it to fall. this will be determined by the kind of ground, closeness of other trees, and the presence of brush or undergrowth. when a tree has fallen the woodchopper's work has only begun. he must chop off the branches, cut and split the main trunk, and either make sawlogs or cordwood lengths. hence the importance of obtaining a good lie for the tree. before beginning to chop the tree, cut away all the brush, vines, and undergrowth around its butt as far as you will swing the axe. this is very important as many of the accidents with an axe result from neglect of this precaution. as we swing the axe it may catch on a bush or branch over our head, which causes a glancing blow and a possible accident. be careful not to dull the axe in cutting brush. you can often do more damage to its edge with undergrowth no thicker than one's finger than in chopping a tree a foot through. if the brush is very light, it will often be better to use your jack-knife. in cutting a tree, first make two nicks or notches in the bark on the side to which you wish it to fall and as far apart as half the diameter of the tree. then begin to swing the axe slowly and without trying to bury its head at every blow and prying it loose again, but with regular strokes first across the grain at the bottom and then in a slanting direction at the top. the size of the chips you make will be a measure of your degree of skill. hold the handle rather loosely and keep your eye on the place you wish to hit and not on the axe. do not work around the tree or girdle it but keep right at the notch you are making until it is half way through the tree. do not shift your feet at every blow or rise up on your toes. this would tire even an old woodchopper in a short time. see that you do not set yourself too fast a pace at first. a beginner always starts with too small a notch. see to it that yours is wide enough in the start. [illustration: the right way to chop a tree--make two notches on opposite sides] [illustration: the wrong way--this looks like the work of a beaver] when you have cut about half way through, go to the other side of the tree and start another notch a little higher than the first one. a skilled man can chop either right-or left-handed but this is very difficult for a beginner. if you are naturally right-handed, the quickest way to learn left-handed wood chopping is to study your usual position and note where you naturally place your feet and hands. then reverse all this and keep at it from the left-handed position until it becomes second nature to you and you can chop equally well from either position. this you may learn in a week or you may never learn it. it is a lot easier to write about than it is to do. when the tree begins to creak and show signs of toppling over, give it a few sharp blows and as it falls jump sideways. never jump or run backward. this is one way that men get killed in the woods. a falling tree will often kick backward like a shot. it will rarely go far to either side. of course a falling tree is a source of danger anyway, so you must always be on your guard. if you wish to cut the fallen tree into logs, for a cabin, for instance, you will often have to jump on top of it and cut between your feet. this requires skill and for that reason i place a knowledge of axemanship ahead of anything else in woodcraft except cooking. with a crosscut saw, we can make better looking logs and with less work. next to knowing how to chop a tree is knowing what kind of a tree to chop. different varieties possess entirely different qualities. the amateur woodchopper will note a great difference between chopping a second growth chestnut and a tough old apple tree. we must learn that some trees, like oak, sugar maple, dogwood, ash, cherry, walnut, beech, and elm are very hard and that most of the evergreens are soft, such as spruce, pine, arbor vitae, as well as the poplars and birches. it is easy to remember that lignum vitae is one of the hardest woods and arbor vitae one of the softest. some woods, like cedar, chestnut, white birch, ash, and white oak, are easy to split, and wild cherry, sugar maple, hemlock, and sycamore are all but unsplitable. we decide the kind of a tree to cut by the use to which it is to be put. for the bottom course of a log cabin, we place logs like cedar, chestnut, or white oak because we know that they do not rot quickly in contact with the ground. we always try to get straight logs because we know that it is all but impossible to build a log house of twisted or crooked ones. it is a very common custom for beginners to make camp furniture, posts, and fences of white birch. this is due to the fact that the wood is easily worked and gives us very pretty effects. birch however is not at all durable and if we expect to use our camp for more than one season we must expect to replace the birch every year or two. rustic furniture made of cedar will last for years and is far superior to birch. getting lost in the woods may be a very serious thing. if you are a city boy used to signboards, street corners, and familiar buildings you may laugh at the country boy who is afraid to go to a big city because he may get lost, but he knows what being lost means at home and he fails to realize when he is in a city how easy it is to ask the nearest policeman or passer-by the way home. most city boys will be lost in the woods within five minutes after they leave their camp or tent. if you have no confidence in yourself and if you are in a wilderness like the north woods, do not venture very far from home alone until you are more expert. it is difficult to say when we are really lost in the woods. as long as we think we know the way home we are not lost even if we may be absolutely wrong in our opinion of the proper direction. in such a case we may soon find our mistake and get on the right track again. when we are really lost is when suddenly a haunting fear comes over us that we do not know the way home. then we lose our heads as well as our way and often become like crazy people. a sense of direction is a gift or instinct. it is the thing that enables a carrier pigeon that has been taken, shut up in a basket say from new york to chicago, to make a few circles in the air when liberated and start out for home, and by this sense to fly a thousand miles without a single familiar landmark to guide him and finally land at his home loft tired and hungry. no human being ever had this power to the same extent as a pigeon, but some people seem to keep a sense of direction and a knowledge of the points of compass in a strange place without really making an effort to do it. one thing is sure. if we are travelling in a strange country we must always keep our eyes and ears open if we expect to find our way alone. we must never trust too implicitly in any "sense of direction." forest travellers are always on the lookout for peculiar landmarks that they will recognize if they see them again. oddly shaped trees, rocks, or stumps, the direction of watercourses and trails, the position of the sun, all these things will help us to find our way out of the woods when a less observing traveller who simply tries to remember the direction he has travelled may become terrified. rules which tell people what to do when they are lost are rarely of much use, because the act of losing our way brings with it such a confusion of mind that it would be like printing directions for terror stricken people who are drowning. suppose, for example, a boy goes camping for a week or two in the adirondacks or maine woods. if he expects to go about alone, his first step should be to become familiar with the general lay of the land, the direction of cities, towns, settlements, mountain ranges, lakes, and rivers in the section where he is going, and especially with the location of other camps, railroads, lumber camps, and so on in his immediate neighbourhood, say within a five-mile radius. it is an excellent plan to take along a sectional map which can usually be bought of the state geologist. one can by asking questions also learn many things from the natives. such a boy may start out from his camp, which is on the shore of a lake, for example, on an afternoon's fishing or hunting trip. if he is careful he will always consult his compass to keep in mind the general direction in which he travels. he will also tell his friends at camp where he expects to go. if he has no compass, he at least knows that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west and he can easily remember whether he has travelled toward the setting sun or away from it. rules for telling the points of compass by the thickness of the bark or moss on trees are well enough for story books. they are not of much value to a man lost in the woods. suddenly, say at four o'clock, this boy decides to "turn around" and go back to camp. and then the awful feeling comes to him that he doesn't know which way to turn. the woods take on a strange and unfamiliar look. he is lost. the harder he tries to decide which way the camp lies, the worse his confusion becomes. if he would only collect his thoughts and like the indian say "ugh! indian not lost, indian here. wigwam lost," he probably would soon get his bearings. it is one thing to lose your way and another to lose your head. when you are lost, you are confused, and the only rule to remember is to sit down on the nearest rock or stump and wait until you get over being "rattled." then ask yourself, "how far have i gone since i was not sure of my way?" and also, "how far am i from camp?" if you have been out three hours and have walked pretty steadily, you may have gone five miles. unless you have travelled in a straight line and at a rapid pace, the chances are that you are not more than half that distance. but even two or three miles in strange woods is a long distance. you may at least be sure that you must not expect to find camp by rushing about here and there for ten minutes. we have all heard how lost people will travel in circles and keep passing the same place time after time without knowing it. this is true and many explanations have been attempted. one man says that we naturally take longer steps with our right leg because it is the stronger; another thinks that our heart has something to do with it, and so on. why we do this no one really knows, but it seems to be a fact. therefore, before a lost person starts to hunt for camp, he should blaze a tree that he can see from any direction. blazing simply means cutting the bark and stripping it on all four sides. if you have no hatchet a knife will do, but be sure to make a blaze that will show at some distance, not only for your own benefit but to guide a searching party that may come out to look for you. you can mark an arrow to point the direction that you are going, or if you have pencil and notebook even leave a note for your friends telling them your predicament. this may all seem unnecessary at the time but if you are really lost, nothing is unnecessary that will help you to find yourself. as you go along give an occasional whack at a tree with your hatchet to mark the bark or bend over the twigs and underbrush in the direction of your course. the thicker the undergrowth the more blaze marks you must make. haste is not so important as caution. you may go a number of miles and at the end be deeper in the woods than ever, but your friends who are looking for you, if they can run across one of your blazes, will soon find you. when you are certain that you will not be able to find your way out before dark, there is not much use of going any farther. the thing to do then is to stop and prepare for passing the night in the woods while it is still daylight. go up on the highest point of ground, build a leanto and make your camp-fire. if you have no matches, you can sometimes start a fire by striking your knife blade with a piece of flint or quartz, a hard white stone that is common nearly everywhere. the sparks should fall in some dry tinder or punk and the little fire coaxed along until you get a blaze. there are many kinds of tinder used in the woods, dried puff balls, "dotey" or rotten wood that is not damp, charred cotton cloth, dry moss, and so on. in the pitch pine country, the best kindlings after we have caught a tiny blaze are splinters taken from the heart of a decayed pine log. they are full of resin and will burn like fireworks. the southerners call it "light-wood." dry birch bark also makes excellent kindlings. a universal signal of distress in the woods that is almost like the flag upside down on shipboard is to build two smoky fires a hundred yards or more apart. one fire means a camp, two fires means trouble. another signal is two gunshots fired quickly, a pause to count ten and then a third. always listen after you have given this signal to see if it is answered. give your friends time enough to get the gun loaded at camp. always have a signal code arranged and understood by your party before you attempt to go it alone. you may never need it but if you do you will need it badly. sometimes we can get our bearings by climbing a tree. another aid to determine our direction is this: usually all the brooks and water courses near a large lake or river flow into it. if you are sure that you haven't crossed a ridge or divide, the surest way back home if camp is on a lake is to follow down the first brook or spring you come across. it will probably bring you up at the lake, sooner or later. on a clear night you can tell the points of compass from the stars. whether a boy or girl is a camper or not, they surely ought to know how to do this. have some one point out to you the constellation called the "dipper." it is very conspicuous and when you have once learned to know it you will always recognize it as an old friend. the value of the dipper is this: the two stars that form the lower corners of its imaginary bowl are sometimes called the "north star pointers." the north star or polaris, because of its position with reference to the earth, never seems to move. if you draw an imaginary line through the two pointers up into the heavens, the first bright star you come to, which is just a little to the right of this line, is the north star. it is not very bright or conspicuous like venus or mars but it has pointed the north to sailors over the uncharted seas for hundreds of years. by all means make the acquaintance of polaris. vi the use of fire-arms importance of early training--why a gun is better than a rifle--how to become a good shot whether a boy of fifteen should have a gun or a rifle is a question that parents will have to settle for themselves. there is no question but that a careful boy who has been taught by some older person how to handle a gun is more to be trusted than a man who has never learned the proper use of fire-arms and who takes up the sport of hunting after he is grown up. most of the shooting accidents are caused by inexperienced men who have never been accustomed to guns in their younger days. once or twice i have just missed being shot by friends who had never been hunting before, and who became so excited when they unexpectedly kicked up a rabbit or walked into a flock of quail that they fired the gun without knowing whether any of their friends were in range or not. when a boy is allowed to have a gun it should be a real one. air rifles and small calibre guns are all the more dangerous, because they are often looked upon as toys. in handling a gun, always treat it as though it were loaded, no matter if you _know_ it is empty. by this means it will soon become second nature to you never to point the gun at any one even carelessly or in fun. a guide once said to me, "a gun is a dangerous critter without lock, stock, or barrel, and if a feller ever points one at me i think he means business." [illustration: a double barrelled hammerless shot-gun] a gun can never be trusted. accidents happen so quickly that it is over before we know it and the terrible damage is done. sometimes the trigger will catch on a coat button or a twig, and, bang! an unexpected discharge takes place and if you were careless just for an instant, it may cost some one his life. especial care must be taken in loading and unloading a gun. it is at this time that a gun is most likely to go off unexpectedly. the best way to learn how to handle a gun is to watch the methods of an old hand. never fire a gun when you are standing behind another person. you may know that you are not aiming at him, but the concussion of the air near the end of the barrel is terrific, and your friend may have a split ear drum as a result. a shot-gun is better for a boy than a rifle, for the reason that most real shooting except for big game is done with a shot-gun, and besides, it takes a lot of practice to shoot well with it. a shot-gun is not a weapon for play but a real tool. in almost every section of the country there is some small game to be hunted and there is usually also an opportunity to practise at clay pigeons. no one would think of hunting quail, ducks, or rabbits with a rifle, and even if you were an excellent rifle shot at a still mark you might not be able to hit moving game at all. a shot-gun is less dangerous for the reason that its range is limited to a little over a hundred yards, while a rifle may carry a mile. a cheap shot-gun is far more dangerous than a cheap rifle. until it is possible to buy a good one it is better to have none at all. a good american-made gun can be bought for about twenty-five dollars. a gun suitable for its owner should fit just as his clothing fits him. when a gun is quickly brought to the shoulder in firing position, there is no time in actual hunting to shift it around. when you buy a gun, remember that your canvas or corduroy hunting coat makes more of a bulge at the shoulder than an ordinary suit and accordingly see that the stock is the proper length. the "drop" of a gun is the number of inches that the stock falls below the line of the barrel. if the stock is bent too much you will shoot under your game. if it is too straight the tendency will be to shoot over game. the average stock is made to fit most people and will probably answer most purposes unless you can afford to have a stock made especially. the principal thing is to do all your practising with your own gun until it becomes second nature to bring it up quickly and have the eye find the barrel instantly. a shot-gun is not aimed in the same way as a rifle. the method of good shots is rather to keep their eye on the game and when they "feel" that the gun is pointed right to fire. a skilful shot can tell whether he is shooting too high or too low just as he pulls the trigger. the brain, head, and eyes and trigger-finger must all work in harmony or you will never be a good shot. never flinch as you shoot. this is a very common fault of beginners and it is fatal to becoming a marksman. the first lesson in handling a gun is to understand perfectly how it works. if it is a hammerless gun, remember that it is always cocked. when you open the barrels you cock the gun automatically. for this reason there is some kind of a safety device provided, which should always be left at "safe" except at the actual instant of firing. it is just as easy to learn to push the safety off when you fire as it is to learn to pull the trigger, if one starts right. never carry your gun with your finger on the trigger. wait until you put the gun up as you are ready to shoot. don't forget the safety. a great many shots are missed because the hunter forgets whether he has left it on or off and in his anxiety to hit the game will tug and pull on the trigger until, just as the game disappears out of range, he will remember that he did not release it. this shows the importance of acquiring the proper habit at first. it is harder to correct bad habits in handling a gun than to teach the beginner the proper way at first. on your first lesson in the field, walk on the left side of your teacher so that your gun will be pointing away from him. if you come across any game, try to take your time before you fire. nearly every one shoots too quickly. as most shot-gun shooting is what is called snap shooting, there isn't much time at best, but a good shot will be sure that he has covered his game before he fires, while a beginner will trust to luck. this will be the hardest fault to correct. consequently a beginner should if possible hunt alone for a while, as the presence of another gun alongside of him makes him too anxious to get in the first shot, and gets him into bad habits. if your teacher also has a gun, he must assure you that he does not intend to shoot and then you will try harder to get the game and run less chance of missing. always unload a gun before going into a house, under or over a fence, or in or out of a boat or carriage. if you leave your gun, even for a minute, unload it. never rest a loaded gun against a tree or building. never pull a gun loaded or empty toward you by the muzzle. in unloading always point it toward the ground. a jar will sometimes discharge a gun and very often a discharge will take place when closing the breech on a tight shell. always be ready for game. in hunting, we never can tell at what instant it will rise up in front of us. "be ready" does not mean having the muscles and nerves constantly on a tension. it is simply to carry your gun in such a position that you can quickly bring it to the shoulder at any time. it is a good plan to practise aiming at various objects as you go along until you gradually overcome your awkwardness. it is difficult to say what makes a good shot with a gun. there is no question but that practice will make any one a better shot than he would be without it, but some people are better shots with very little practice than others with a great deal. one very important thing is to do your practising under conditions similar to the actual hunting. if the cover is thick where you hunt, a swamp or brush lot for example, you will not derive much benefit from practising entirely in the open. a pigeon trap is an inexpensive way to learn to shoot. some experienced hunters will say that practice at clay pigeons does not help in the field, but at the same time a good brush shot is almost always a good trap shot and if you can become skilful enough to break an average of eighteen to twenty clay pigeons out of twenty-five at sixteen yards rise, you may be sure that you will get your share of game under actual hunting conditions. the most difficult part of bird hunting is to learn to give the game a start. the average shot-gun will kill quail at sixty yards and duck at forty. the farther the game is away from us, provided it is within range, the more the shot will spread. i once saw a half-dozen hunters fire at a covey of quail that rose in an open field before they had gone thirty yards and every hunter scored a clean miss. any one of these men could bring down his bird under the same conditions nine times out of ten if he had taken his time. on this occasion when their guns were empty another hunter who had withheld his fire said, "are you all done, boys?" and shot a bird with each barrel at a measured fifty-eight yards. to kill a bird that another man has shot at is called "wiping his eye," and it is the chief joy of an old hunter to do this with a beginner. if you do not want to let the old hunter wipe your eye, take your time. learn to shoot with your head well up and with both eyes open. when the game rises, keep your eye on it and at the instant that you see it on the end of your gun barrel, fire. the greatest joy of hunting is to see the game appear to tumble off the end of your gun barrel when it is hit. if there is a doubt as to whose bird it is, and this happens constantly as two people often shoot at the same time at the same bird, do not rush in and claim it. remember you are a gentleman, but if you are sure that you hit it, at least stand for your rights. so much of the pleasure of hunting depends on our companions that we must be considerate of the feelings of others as well as our own. always hunt if possible with experienced hunters. you will not only have more fun, but you will run much less risk. in rabbit hunting, one is especially at the mercy of the beginner who fires wildly without any thought as to whose life he may be endangering, so long as he gets the rabbit. if you hunt with some one who owns the dogs, be very careful not to interfere with them by giving commands. as a rule the owner of a well-trained dog prefers to handle him without any help, and, while he may not tell you, you may be sure that he will resent it if you try to make the dog do your bidding when his master is around. the pattern of a gun, as it is called, is the number of shot it will put within a circle at a given distance. as a rule the factory test pattern will be found on a tag attached to the gun. if not, you can easily get the pattern yourself. the usual distance for targeting a new gun is thirty yards, and the standard circle is thirty inches. make a circle on the barn door with a piece of chalk and string fifteen inches long. first drive a nail into the wood and fasten the string to it with the chalk on the loose end. then describe and measure ninety feet from the target. fire as nearly as you can at the centre of the circle and count the shot that are inside the chalk mark. in order not to count the same shot twice mark them off with a pencil. perhaps a surer way would be to fire at the door first and in the centre of the load of shot drive the nail and describe a circle afterward. the chief advantage of studying the pattern of your gun is to know just how much it scatters and how far it may be depended upon to shoot and kill. in a choke-bore gun, the end of the barrel is drawn in slightly and made smaller to keep the shot together. guns that are used in duck and goose hunting are usually full choked as most of the shots are long ones, but for ordinary brush and field shooting a gun that has a full cylinder right barrel and a modified choke on the left will be the best for general purposes. the best size is -bore or gauge. ten gauge guns are entirely too heavy for general use and the smaller bores, such as sixteen or even twenty gauge, while they are very light and dainty, are not a typical all around gun for a boy who can only afford to have one size. the smaller bores, however, have become very popular in recent years and much may be said in their favour. the standard length of barrels is either twenty-eight or thirty inches. the shorter length will probably be just as satisfactory and makes a much better proportion between the stock and barrels. you can easily test the amount of choke in a -gauge gun. a new ten-cent piece will just go inside the end of the barrel of a full cylinder gun and just fail to go into one that has been slightly choked. while it is impossible to give any written directions for shooting that are as valuable as actual practice, the important thing for a beginner is to get his form right at first, just as in golf or horseback riding, and then to make up his mind that every shot has got to count. rifle shooting is entirely different from shot-gun shooting and skill in one branch of the sport of marksmanship does not mean much in the other. a boy may be an excellent rifle shot at a stationary target and still not be able to hit "a flock of barns," as the country boys say, with a shot-gun. skill with a rifle is chiefly of value to those who are interested in military affairs and more rarely to those who are fortunate enough to have an opportunity for hunting big game. in settled communities there is a strong feeling against allowing boys to have rifles. practically the only game that can be hunted will be our little friends, the song birds, and no self-respecting boy will shoot them. a small calibre rifle such as a -calibre flobert will afford considerable pastime at target practice and is also excellent to hunt snakes and frogs along some brook or creek, but generally a boy with a rifle is a public nuisance, and as a rule is liable to arrest in possessing it. if we fix up a rifle range where there are no dangers of damage from spent bullets or badly aimed shots it is well enough to practise with a small rifle. a real sporting rifle, such as is used for big game, is a very dangerous fire-arm and cannot be used with safety anywhere but in an absolute wilderness or on a target range. such guns will kill at a mile and go through a tree a foot or two in diameter; to use such a weapon in even a sparsely settled section is very dangerous indeed. if a boy has any chance of going hunting for deer or moose, he will surely need practice and for this purpose a range will have to be selected where there is absolutely no danger to any one within a mile or two. a good practice range is across a lake or river with a bank of earth or clay to stop the bullets. big game hunting is done so frequently from canoes that it is well to get practice from a boat, both moving and stationary. to shoot successfully from a sitting position in a canoe is a very difficult feat. just as with a shot-gun the universal tendency is to shoot too quickly, with a rifle it is to shoot too high. the reason is that we hold our head so high up in looking at our game that we fail to see the rear sight at all. be sure your head is low enough to see both sights. [illustration: the modern sporting rifle that will kill at a mile. an unsafe weapon for boys] always hold your breath while you are taking aim. learn to shoot from all sorts of positions, lying, sitting, kneeling, and standing. if the shot is a long one, be sure that your rear sight is properly elevated for the distance. most of the shots at big game are stationary shots and within a hundred yards; consequently accuracy counts for more than quickness. with a magazine or repeating rifle be sure that you have emptied your magazine before you leave the gun. with a shot-gun there is a possibility that the "person who didn't know it was loaded" may not kill his victim outright. with a sporting rifle it is practically sure death. the general rules of care apply to both rifles and shot-guns. always clean the gun after you have taken it into the field. this is necessary whether you have fired the gun or not, as a gun barrel will always collect a certain amount of dampness. it is an excellent practice to keep a gun covered with oil or vaseline except when it is in use. it not only prevents rust, but the grease also discourages visitors and friends from handling the gun, snapping the trigger, or otherwise damaging it. in this chapter, i have not said anything about revolvers or pistols, because i do not believe that any sensible boy will care to own one. a revolver is a constant source of danger owing to its short barrel, and as it has no practical value except as a weapon of defence, and as there is a severe penalty for carrying a concealed weapon, i should not care to recommend any boy to own a revolver. the final question whether we may have a gun and what kind it should be, will depend very largely on the place we live. any kind of a gun is very much out of place in cities or towns. the boy who does not really have an opportunity to use a gun should be too sensible to ask for one, for surely if we own it we shall constantly want to use it even at some risk. it will be far better to ask for something we can use and leave the gun question until the time when we have a real opportunity. finally we must remember that the one who has the gun in his possession is rarely the one that is accidentally shot. we should therefore avoid companions who do own guns and who are careless with them. no amount of care on our part will prevent some careless boy friend from risking our lives. the safer way is to stay home. vii fishing proper tackle for all purposes--how to catch bait--the fly fisherman--general fishing rules fishing is one sport of boyhood that we never outgrow our love for. some of the most enthusiastic fishermen are gray-haired men. we often hear about the boy with the bent pin and the piece of thread who catches more fish than the expert fisherman with modern, up-to-date tackle, but i doubt if it is so. as a rule the better our tackle the more fish we shall catch. if the country boy catches the most fish, it is simply because he is better acquainted with the places where the fish hide or feed. he knows their habits better and the best kind of bait to use. a lover of fishing should take a personal interest in his equipment and should desire to have the best he can afford. the chief requirement of a successful fisherman is patience. next to that is a knowledge of the waters fished in and the habits of the fish and how to attract them. a man or a boy who will sit all day in the hot sun waiting for a bite is not always a good fisherman. he must use common sense as well as patience. a game fish may be defined as one that will make a good fight for its life and that is caught by scientific methods of angling. almost any fish will struggle to escape the hook, but generally by game fish we understand that in fresh water the salmon, bass, or trout family is referred to. pickerel and pike are also game fish, but in some sections they are considered undesirable because they rarely rise to the fly, which is the most scientific method of fishing. a fisherman who is a real sportsman always uses tackle as light as he can with safety and still have a chance of landing the fish. if the angler will take his time he can, with skill, tire out and land fish of almost any size. tunas and tarpon weighing over a hundred pounds are caught with a line that is but little thicker than a grocer's twine, and even sharks and jewfish weighing over five hundred pounds have been caught in the same way. sometimes the fight will last all day, and then it is a question whether the fisherman or the fish will be exhausted first. [illustration: fishing is the one sport of our childhood that holds our interest through life] in selecting our tackle, we must always keep in mind the kind of fish we expect to catch. for general, fresh-water use, except fly casting, an eight-foot rod weighing seven or eight ounces will fill most purposes. a fly rod should be a foot longer and at least two ounces lighter. the best rods are made of split bamboo, but cheap rods of this material are not worth having. the best cheap rods (i.e., costing five dollars or less) are either lancewood or steel. see that your rod has "standing guides" and not movable rings. most of the wear comes on the tip, therefore it should if possible be agate lined. a soft metal tip will have a groove worn in it in a very short time which will cut the line. the poorest ferrules are nickel-plated. the best ones are either german silver or brass. to care for a rod properly, we must keep the windings varnished to prevent them from becoming unwound. spar varnish is the best for this purpose but shellac will answer. in taking a rod apart, never twist it. give a sharp pull, and if it refuses to budge, it can sometimes be loosened by slightly heating the ferrule with a candle. if a ferrule is kept clean inside, and if the rod is taken apart frequently, there is no reason why it should stick. a multiplying reel holding sixty yards is large enough for most fishing. the raised pillar reels are the best, one of good quality costing about four dollars. a cheap reel soon goes to pieces. silk lines are better than linen because greater strength is obtained with the same thickness. always dry a line every time it is used, or it will soon rot and be worthless. the back of a chair is excellent for this purpose. never tie a knot in a line that you expect to use with rod and reel. the knot will always catch in one of the guides just at the time when you are landing your "biggest" fish. [illustration: actual sizes of hooks] hooks come in a great variety of shapes and models but there are none better than the standard "sproat." it is the general favourite of fishermen everywhere, although of course the other leading models, carlisle, limerick, pennell, aberdeen, sneck and a number of others all have their friends. a great many fishermen make the mistake of using hooks that are too large. the hook sizes that are commonly used are numbered from / , which is the largest, to no. , which is a tiny thing about right to catch minnows. where we expect to catch fish a pound or two in weight, the no. size is about right. such a hook will catch much larger fish if they happen to come along. i have caught a twelve-pound lake trout on a no. sproat hook and the hook did not show that it had bent in the least. our tackle box should contain an assortment of sizes however. snelled hooks are better than ringed hooks and those of blued steel better than black enamel. no matter how inexpensive the rest of the equipment is, be sure that your hooks are of good quality. keep the points sharp. a tiny bit of oil stone, a file, or a piece of emery cloth are all good for this purpose. it takes a sharp point to penetrate the bony jaw of a fish. always inspect your hook after you have caught it on a rock or snag. fishing is generally divided into four classes: fly casting, bait casting, trolling, and still fishing. the average boy is a still fisherman, which means not only that he must keep still, but that his bait remains in one place instead of being trolled or cast about. the usual strings of fish that boys catch, such as perch, sunfish, bullheads, catfish, and whitefish, are called pan fish. this is not entirely a correct name as i have seen some catfish that it would take a pretty big pan to hold. one caught in the mississippi river weighed over a hundred pounds. fly casting is the most scientific method of fishing and gives the greatest pleasure to the fisherman after he has once become an expert. no matter what method we follow in fishing, we must never try to catch fish by any method which the laws may prohibit, such as spearing, set lines, or nets. each state has its own laws which the fisherman must learn and obey. worms are the best all around bait for fishing. they are as a rule easily obtained and may be kept for a long time. the boy's method of placing them in a tin can with a mixture of mud will soon kill them, however, especially if the worms are exposed to the sun for a time. a half-buried soap box makes a very good place to keep a supply of worms which will be ready for use at any time without the necessity of digging them. worms may be fed on the white of a hard-boiled egg, but if given plenty of room they will usually find enough food in the soil. by placing worms in sand they will soon scour and turn pink when they are far more attractive as bait. the large worms, or "night walkers," can be caught at night with a lantern. these large worms are best obtained after a rain or on lawns that are sprinkled frequently, when they will be found moving about on top of the ground but always with one end in the hole from which they have emerged and into which they can dart if they are disturbed. for big fish, the best bait is minnows. in trolling with them it will make but little difference whether dead or alive, but for still fishing the minnows must not only be alive, but, to attract the fish, lively as well. the regulation minnow bucket consists of one pail fitted inside of another, the inner one being made of wire mesh to permit the free circulation of the water. this enables us to change the water frequently without handling the fish. when we reach a place where fresh water is obtainable, we simply remove the inner pail, pour out the stale water from the other pail, and fill it as quickly as possible. to keep bait alive in warm weather we must change the water frequently. another method where fresh water is not available, as on a long drive, is to aerate it by pouring from one pail to another. it is an excellent plan to place a piece of ice on top of the minnow pail. with this arrangement, it will not be necessary to give them fresh water for a long time. [illustration: an excellent device for catching minnows] the simplest way to catch minnows is with a drop net. take an iron ring or hoop such as children use and sew to it a bag of cotton mosquito netting, half as deep as the diameter of the ring. sew a weight in the bottom of the net to make it sink readily and fasten it to a pole. when we reach the place which the minnows frequent, such as the cove of a lake, we must proceed very cautiously, lowering the net into the water and then baiting it with bits of bread or meat, a very little at a time, until we see a school of bait darting here and there over the net. we must then give a quick lift without any hesitation and try to catch as many as possible from escaping over the sides. the minnow bucket should be close at hand to transfer them to and care must be used not to injure them or allow them to scale themselves in their efforts to escape. the common method of capturing minnows is to use a sweep net, but it takes several people to handle one properly and for our own use the drop net method will probably supply us with all the bait that we need. fish are very fickle in their tastes. what will be good bait one day will absolutely fail the next and sometimes even in an hour this same thing will take place. why this is so no one has been able to explain satisfactorily, but that it is a fact no fisherman will deny. we should therefore have as great a variety of bait in our equipment as possible. worms, crawfish, minnows, frogs, grasshoppers, grubs and helgramites are all good at times in fresh water, as well as various kinds of artificial baits, spoons, spinners, and rubber lures. [illustration: a trolling spoon] sometimes fish will take very unusual baits. black bass have been caught on young bats. the famous old trout in the beaverkill river in new york state, which had refused all the ordinary baits and flies that were offered him for years and that on bright days could be seen in a pool lying deep down in the water, finally fell a victim to a young mouse that was tied to the hook with pink silk. fly fishing is the most expert and scientific method of angling. it is the poetry of fishing. the fly fisherman usually wades in the brook or stream where he is fishing, although it is sometimes possible to cast a fly from the bank or a boat. it is useless to go fly fishing while there is snow water in the brooks but just as soon as the first warm days of spring come, then fishing is at its best. the whole idea of casting a fly is to drop it in the most likely-looking places and to strike the fish just as soon as he seizes the hook. to do this we must always have the line under perfect control, therefore do not attempt to cast a line too great a distance. if we do not fix the hook into the fish's mouth at the instant that he seizes the fly, he will very soon find that what he thought was a nice fat bug or juicy caterpillar is nothing but a bit of wool and some feathers with a sting in its tail, and he will spit it out before we can recover our slack line. it is a common mistake to use flies that are too large. ordinary trout flies are the proper size for bass and the smallest size trout flies are plenty large enough for trout. there are hundreds of kinds of flies of various combinations of colours and no one can say which is the best. this question has been argued by fishermen ever since the days of izaak walton. the universal rule of trout and bass fishermen who use a fly is to select small dark flies for bright days or when the water is very clear or low and the more brightly coloured ones when the day is dark or the water dark or turbid. the fly book should contain a varied assortment to meet these conditions. the best lines for fly fishing are made of braided enamelled silk. some fly lines are tapered but this is not necessary and is a needless expense. twisted lines are much cheaper but very unsatisfactory. fly fishing is not only the most scientific and sportsmanlike method of fishing but it is also the most difficult to acquire skill in. it is of course possible to catch trout and salmon on other bait than flies. in fact, there is really no better bait for brook trout than common fish worms that have been scoured in sand. the use of a fly, however, is more satisfactory where the pleasure derived in fishing is more important than the size of the string. [illustration: an artificial fly; used for salmon] in learning to cast a fly, you can practise at home, either in an open space or wherever there is room to work the line. it is not necessary to practise with the actual hooks or flies on the line. simply tie a knot in it. hold the rod lightly but firmly in the right hand. point your thumb along the line of the rod and start by pulling out a little line from the reel with the left hand. with a steady sweep, cast the end of the line toward some near-by object and with each cast pull out a little more line until you reach a point when you are handling all the line you can take care of without effort or without too much of a sweep on the back cast. you must not allow the line to become entangled in trees or other obstacles. the wrist does most of the work in casting. the elbow should be close to the side. if you find that the line snaps like a whip on the back cast, it is because you start the forward cast before the line straightens out behind. when you can handle twenty-five or thirty feet accurately, you can safely get ready to go fishing. the most successful fly fishermen use a short line, but they use it with the utmost accuracy and can make the flies land within a foot of the place they are aiming at almost every time. when a trout strikes your fly, you must snub him quickly or he will surely get away. if the flies you are using do not cause the fish to rise, and if you are certain that it is not due to your lack of skill, it will be well to change to some other combination of colours; but give your first selection a fair trial. bait casting is much easier than fly casting as the weight of the bait will help to carry out the line. it is the common method of fishing with minnows, frogs, small spoons and spinners, and other artificial lures. some fishermen practise the method of allowing the line to run from the reel. the principal point in this way of fishing is to stop the reel by using the thumb as a brake at the instant that the bait strikes the water. this prevents the reel from spinning and causing the line to overrun. neglect of this precaution will cause a very annoying tangle that is sometimes call a "backlash" but more often characterized by much harsher names by the impatient fisherman who has the misfortune to experience it. in live bait casting, start with the line reeled to within fifteen inches of the end of the rod, holding the thumb on the reel spool. with a rather strong overhead sweep, bring the rod forward. at the proper instant, which is just as the point of the rod goes over your head, release the pressure of your thumb and the bait will go forward as the line runs out rapidly. when the bait lands, reel in slowly and with various motions try to give to the bait as life-like an appearance as possible. if you have a strike, allow the fish sufficient time to obtain a secure hold of the bait and by a sudden jerk fix the hook in his mouth. bait casting is as a rule a very effective method of catching fish, especially in shallow lakes and where fly fishing is not practised. in deep water, trolling or still fishing are usually the best methods of catching fish and often the only methods that will be successful. trolling consists simply in rowing or paddling slowly with the bait or spoon trailing behind. it is not a scientific way of fishing and requires but little skill. when the fish strikes, it usually hooks itself and all that remains is to reel it into the boat and land it. the conditions on large lakes often make it necessary to follow one of these methods of trolling or still fishing, especially during the warm weather when the big fish have left the spawning grounds and are in deep water. there are trolling devices called spinners that have several gangs of hooks, sometimes as many as fifteen. no real fisherman would use such a murderous arrangement which gives the fish practically no chance at all and in many states their use is properly prohibited by law. a single hook, or at most a single gang of three hooks, is all that any one should ever use. [illustration: a raised pillar multiplying reel] every boy knows what still fishing is. it is the common method of baiting our hook, casting it from the shore or from a boat and waiting for a bite. in still fishing it is customary to use a light sinker to keep the bait near the bottom and a float or "cork" which serves the double purpose of keeping the bait away from snags, stones, or weeds on the bottom and also of showing us when we have a bite. the more expert still fishermen never use a float, as they prefer to tell by the pull on the line when a fish has taken the bait. a fishing boat should be thoroughly seaworthy and also have plenty of room. flat-bottom boats make the best type for fishing, provided that we do not have to row them far or if the place where we use them is not subject to sudden squalls or rough water. the middle seat should contain both a fish well and a minnow box with a dividing partition and with two hinged lids fitted into the seat. such a boat can be built by an ordinary carpenter and should not cost over ten or twelve dollars. it should be painted every year to keep it in good condition. use clear white pine or cedar for the sides. the bottom boards should not be fitted tightly together but left with cracks fully a half-inch wide to allow for the swelling of the wood when the boat is launched. the best oarlocks are fastened to the oars and fit in the sockets with a long pin. this arrangement permits one to fish alone, and if trolling to drop the oars quickly and take up the rod without danger of losing them. [illustration: a landing net should be a part of every fisherman's outfit] a landing net should be a part of every fishing outfit. more fish are lost just as they are about to be lifted from the water than at any other time. a gaff is used for this same purpose with fish too large to go into a landing net. a gaff is a large hook without a barb fastened into a short pole. if you have no net or gaff and have succeeded in bringing a large fish up alongside the boat, try to reach under him and get a firm grip in his gills before you lift him on board. if it is a pickerel, look out for his needle-like teeth. the best time to fish is either in the early morning or just before sundown. during the heated part of the day most game fish stop feeding and seek the cool, deep places in the lake or river. in many states, fishing is prohibited by law until after the fish are through the spawning season. in all kinds of fishing, the rule is to keep as quiet as possible. talking does not make so much difference, but any sudden noises in the water or on the bottom of the boat are especially likely to frighten the fish. never fish in your own shadow or that of your boat. try to have the sun in front of you or at your side. never be in a hurry to land a big fish. remember that some of the so-called "big game fish" of the ocean will take all day to land. you must use skill to tire your fish out or by keeping his gills open to drown him. the rod and line are not intended as a lever to force the fish to the landing net but merely as a guide to lead him about and by his struggles to force him to become exhausted. a very interesting experiment has demonstrated that a skilful fisherman can with a fly rod and light line in a very short time tire out a strong swimmer to which the line has been attached and force him to give up the struggle and come to the side of a boat. methods of fishing differ so much in different localities that aside from the ordinary equipment of rods, reels, lines, leaders, and hooks, the fisherman going to a new locality had better first ascertain what the general methods of fishing are, or else, if possible, secure his equipment after he reaches his fishing grounds. viii nature study what is a true naturalist?--how to start a collection--moth collecting--the herbarium there is nothing in the world that will bring more pleasure into the life of a boy or girl than to cultivate a love for nature. it is one of the joys of life that is as free as the air we breathe. a nature student need never be lonely or at a loss for friends or companions. the birds and the bugs are his acquaintances. whenever he goes afield there is something new or interesting to see and to observe. he finds-- "----_tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones and good in everything_." to love nature and her mysteries does not necessarily mean to be some kind of a queer creature running around with a butterfly net or an insect box. a true naturalist is simply a man or boy who keeps his eyes and ears open. he will soon find that nature is ready to tell him many secrets. after a time, the smell of the woods, the chirp of a cricket and the rustling of the wind in the pines become his pleasures. the reason that people do not as a rule know more about nature is simply because their minds are too full of other things. they fail to cultivate the power of accurate observation, which is the most important thing of all. a practical start in nature study is to go out some dewy morning and study the first spider web you come across, noting how wonderfully this little creature makes a net to catch its food just as we make nets to catch fish, how the web is braced with tiny guy ropes to keep the wind from blowing it away in a way similar to the method an engineer would use in securing a derrick or a tall chimney. when a fly or bug happens to become entangled in its meshes, the spider will dart out quickly from its hiding place and if the fly is making a violent struggle for life will soon spin a ribbon-like web around it which will hold it secure, just as we might attempt to secure a prisoner or wild animal that was trying to make its escape, by binding it with ropes. a spider makes a very interesting pet and the surest way to overcome the fear that many people have of spiders is to know more about them. there is no need to read big books or listen to dry lectures to study nature. in any square foot that you may pick out at random in your lawn you will find something interesting if you will look for it. some tiny bug will be crawling around in its little world, not aimlessly but with some definite purpose in view. to this insect the blades of grass are almost like mighty trees and the imprint of your heel in the ground may seem like a valley between mountains. to get an adequate idea of the myriads of insects that people the fields, we should select a summer day just as the sun is about to set. the reflection of its waning rays on their wings will show countless thousands of flying creatures in places where, if we did not take the trouble to observe, we might think there were none. there is one very important side to nature that must not be overlooked. it consists in knowing that we shall find a thousand things that we cannot explain to one that we fully understand. education of any kind consists more in knowing when to say "i don't know and no one else knows either" than to attempt a foolish explanation of an unexplainable thing. if you ask "why a cat has whiskers," or why and how they make a purring noise when they are pleased and wag their tails when they are angry, while a dog wags his to show pleasure, the wisest man cannot answer your question. a teacher once asked a boy about a cat's whiskers and he said they were to keep her from trying to get her body through a hole that would not admit her head without touching her whiskers. no one can explain satisfactorily why the sap runs up in a tree and by some chemical process carries from the earth the right elements to make leaves, blossoms or fruit. nature study is not "why?" it is "how." we all learn in everyday life how a hen will take care of a brood of chicks or how a bee will go from blossom to blossom to sip honey. would it not also be interesting to see how a little bug the size of a pin head will burrow into the stem of an oak leaf and how the tree will grow a house around him that will be totally unlike the rest of the branches or leaves. that is an "oak gall." if you carefully cut a green one open you will find the bug in the centre or in the case of a dried one that we often find on the ground, we can see the tiny hole where he has crawled out. did you ever know that some kinds of ants will wage war on other kinds and make slaves of the prisoners just as our ancestors did in the olden times with human beings? did you ever see a play-ground where the ants have their recreation just as we have ball fields and dancing halls? did you ever hear of a colony of ants keeping a cow? it is a well-known fact that they do, and they will take their cow out to pasture and bring it in and milk it and then lock it up for the night just as you might do if you were a farm boy. the "ants' cow" is a species of insect called "aphis" that secretes from its food a sweet kind of fluid called "honey dew." the ten thousand things that we can learn in nature could no more be covered in a chapter in this book than the same space could cover a history of the world. i have two large books devoted to the discussion of a single kind of flower, the "orchid." it is estimated that there are about two hundred thousand kinds of flowers, so for this subject alone, we should need a bookshelf over a mile long. this is not stated to discourage any one for of course no one can learn all there is to know about any subject. most people are content not to learn anything or even see anything that is not a part of their daily life. the only kind of nature study worth while is systematic. it is not safe to trust too much to the memory. keep a diary and record in it even the most simple things for future reference. all sorts of items can be written in such a book. as it is your own personal affair, you need not try to make it a work of literary merit. have entries such as these: first frost--oct. rd first snow-- inches thanksgiving day skating--december rd weather clear and bright on candlemas day, feb. nd and therefore ground-hog saw his shadow heard crows cawing--feb. th. last year--jan. th saw first robin--march th last snow--april th there is scarcely anything in nature that is not interesting and in some way useful. perhaps you will say "how about a bat?" as a matter of fact a bat is one of our best friends because he will spend the whole night catching mosquitoes. but some one will say "he flies into your hair and is covered with a certain kind of disgusting vermin." did you ever know of a bat flying into any one's hair? and as for the vermin science tells us that they are really his favourite food so it is unlikely that he would harbour a colony of them very long. the subject of snakes is one in which there is more misinformation than any other common thing. there are only three venomous kinds of snakes in america. they are the rattlesnake, copperhead and moccasin. all of them can be distinguished by a deep pit behind the eye, which gives them the name of "pit vipers." the general impression that puff adders, pilots, green snakes or water snakes are poisonous is absolutely wrong, and as for hoop snakes and the snake with a sting in his tail that all boys have heard about, they are absolutely fairy tales like "jack and the bean stalk" or "alice in wonderland." we have all heard about black snakes eight or ten feet long that will chase you and wind themselves around your neck, but of the many hundreds of black snakes that a well known naturalist has seen he states that he never saw one that did not do its best to escape if given half a chance. why so much misinformation about snakes exists is a mystery. nature study has recently been introduced into schools and it is a very excellent way to have the interesting things pointed out to us until our eyes are trained to see for ourselves. the usual methods of nature study may be roughly divided into, . keeping pets. . bird study. . insect study. . systematic study of flowers and plants. . wild animal life. the basis of nature study consists in making collections. a collection that we have made for ourselves of moths or flowers, for instance, is far more interesting than a stamp or coin collection where we buy our specimens. if we go afield and collect for ourselves, the cost is practically nothing and we have the benefit of being in the air and sunshine. one kind of collecting is absolutely wrong--that of birds' eggs, nests or even the birds themselves. our little feathered songsters are too few now and most states have very severe penalties for killing or molesting them. a nature student must not be a lawbreaker. the outfit for a butterfly or moth collection is very simple and inexpensive. we shall need an insect net to capture our specimens. this can be made at home from a piece of stiff wire bent into the shape of a flattened circle about a foot across. fasten the ring securely to a broom handle and make a cheesecloth net the same diameter as the ring and about two feet deep. [illustration: the cyanide bottle] it is very cruel to run a pin through insects and to allow them slowly to torture to death. an insect killer that is generally used is called "the cyanide bottle." its principle ingredient, cyanide of potassium is a harmless looking white powder but it is the _most deadly poison in the world_. unless a boy or girl knows fully its terrible danger, they should never touch it or even breathe its fumes. one of your parents or the druggist should prepare the cyanide bottle for you and as long as you do not look into the bottle to watch the struggles of a dying bug or in any way get any of the contents of the bottle on your fingers, you are safe. take a wide-mouthed bottle made of clear glass and fit a cork or rubber stopper to it. then wash the bottle thoroughly and dry it, finally polishing the inside with a piece of soft cloth or tissue paper. place one ounce of cyanide of potassium into the bottle and pour in enough dry sawdust to cover the lumps of poison. then wet some plaster of paris until it is the consistency of thick cream and quickly pour it over the sawdust, taking care that it does not run down the sides or splash against the bottle. place the bottle on a level table and very soon the plaster of paris will set and harden into a solid cake. sufficient fumes from the cyanide will come up through the plaster to poison the air in the bottle and to kill any living thing that attempts to breathe it. as you capture your specimens of moths, bugs or butterflies afield you place them into the bottle, and as soon as they are dead, you remove them; fold them carefully in stiff paper and store them in a paper box or a carrying case until you get home. they should then be mounted on boards or cork sheets, labelled carefully with the name of the specimen, date and place of capture and any other facts that you may wish to keep. [illustration: how insects are spread to dry them in a natural position] considerable skill is required to mount insects properly and in a life-like position. if they are out of shape you must "spread" them before they dry out. spreading consists in holding them in the proper position by means of tiny bits of glass and pins until they are dry. as moths are, as a rule, night-flying creatures the collector will either obtain them in a larval stage, or will adopt the method of "sugaring," one of the most fascinating branches of nature study. a favourable locality is selected, a comparatively open space in preference to a dense growth, and several trees are baited or sugared to attract the moths when in search of food. the sugar or bait is made as follows: take four pounds of dark brown sugar, one quart of molasses, a bottle of stale ale or beer, four ounces of santa cruz rum. mix and heat gradually. after it is cooked for five minutes allow it to cool and place in mason jars. the bait will be about the consistency of thick varnish. just before twilight the bait should be painted on a dozen or more trees with a strip about three inches wide and three feet long. you will need a bull's-eye lantern or bicycle lamp and after dark, make the rounds of your bait and cautiously flash the light on the baited tree. if you see a moth feeding there, carefully bring the cyanide bottle up and drop him into it. under no circumstances, clap the bottle over the specimen. if you do the neck of the bottle will become smeared with the bait and the moth would be daubed over and ruined. you will soon have all the specimens that you can care for at one time and will be ready to go home and take care of them. the moths are among the most beautiful creatures in nature and a reasonably complete collection of the specimens in your neighbourhood will be something to be proud of. [illustration: the moth collector and his outfit (photograph by f.w. stack)] the plant and flower collector should combine his field work with a study of botany. like most subjects in school books, botany may seem dry and uninteresting but when we learn it for some definite purpose such as knowing the wild flowers and calling them our friends, we must accept the few strange words and dry things in the school work as a little bitter that goes with a great deal of sweet. a collection of dried plants is called an herbarium. it is customary to take the entire plant as a specimen including the roots. separate specimens of buds, leaves, flowers and fruit taken at different seasons of the year will make the collection more complete. specimens should be first pressed or flattened between sheets of blotting paper and then mounted on sheets of white paper either by glue or by strips of gummed paper. after a flower is properly identified, these sheets should be carefully numbered and labelled and a record kept in a book so that we can readily find a specimen without unnecessarily handling the specimen sheets. the sheets should be kept in heavy envelopes of manila paper and placed in a box just the size to hold them. the standard or museum size of herbarium sheets is - / x - / inches. specimens of seaweed or leaves can be kept in blank books. a typical label for plants or flowers should be as follows: common names yellow adder's tongue date collected, may th, dog tooth violet botanical name erythronium americanum remarks: john burroughs family lilies suggests that the name where found rockaway valley near be changed either to beaver brook fawn lily because its leaves look like a spotted fawn or trout lily because they always appear at trout fishing season. a boy or girl living in a section where minerals are plentiful, can make a very interesting collection of stones and mineral substances, especially crystals. this should be taken up in connection with school work in chemistry and mineralogy. to determine the names of minerals is by no means as easy as that of flowers or animals. we shall need to understand something of blow-pipe analysis. as a rule a high school pupil can receive a great deal of valuable instruction and aid from one of his teachers in this work. mineral specimens should be mounted on small blocks or spindles using sealing wax to hold them in place. there are unlimited possibilities in nature for making collections. shells, mosses, ferns, leaves, grasses, seeds, are all interesting and of value. an observation beehive with a glass front which may be darkened will show us the wonderful intelligence of these little creatures. the true spirit of nature study is to learn as much as we can of her in all of her branches, not to make a specialty of one thing to the neglect of the rest and above all not to make work of anything. we see some new side to our most common things when we once learn to look for it. not one person in ten thousand knows that bean vines and morning glories will twine around a pole to the right while hop vines and honeysuckle will go to the left and yet who is there who has not seen these common vines hundreds of times? no one can give as an excuse that he is too busy to study nature. the busiest men in national affairs have had time for it and surely we with our little responsibilities and cares can do so too. i once went fishing with a clergyman and i noticed that he stood for a long time looking at a pure white water lily with beautiful fragrance that grew from the blackest and most uninviting looking mud that one could find. the next sunday he used this as an illustration for his text. how many of us ever saw the possibility of a sermon in this common everyday sight? ix water life the water telescope--how to manage an aquarium--our insect friends and enemies--the observation beehive the eggs of so many insects, toads, frogs and other interesting creatures are laid and hatched in water that a close study of pools, brooks and small bodies of water will disclose to the nature student some wonderful stories of animal life. to obtain water specimens for our collection, we shall need a net somewhat similar to the butterfly net described in the previous chapter but with a much stronger frame. one that i have used for several years was made by the village blacksmith. the ring or hoop is of quarter-inch round iron, securely fastened to a stout handle and bent to a shape as shown in the drawing. to this ring is fastened a regular landing net such as fishermen use, with an extra bag of cheesecloth to fit inside to capture insects too small to be held by the meshes of the outside net. for frogs, turtles, and minnows, the single net is all that is necessary. this device is almost strong enough to use as a shovel. it will scoop up a netful of mud without bending. this is important as muddy ditches and sluggish ponds will yield us more specimens than swiftly running brooks. in addition to the net, the collector will require a small pail to hold his trophies. a fisherman's minnow bucket is excellent for this purpose and the water can easily be freshened and the contents of the pail reached by simply lifting out the inside pail from the water, which will drain out. [illustration: a heavy net is useful to capture aquarium specimens] to study the animal life under the surface of a clear and shallow lake, a water telescope is a great aid. it is simply a wooden box a foot or so long and open at both ends. the inside should be painted black to prevent cross reflection of light. a square of clear glass should be fitted into one end and puttied tight to keep out the water. to use the water telescope, we simply shove the glass end under water and look into the box. a cloth hood or eye piece to keep out the outside light will make it more effective. the best way to use a water telescope is to lie in the bottom of a boat which is drifting about, and to look through the telescope over the side. as you study the marvellous animal and plant life that passes along under you like a panorama, see to it that in your excitement you do not fall overboard as a boy friend of mine once did. the care of an aquarium is a never ending source of interest to the nature student. if a boy is handy with tools he can build one himself. it is by no means an easy task however to make a satisfactory water-tight box with glass sides, and my advice is not to attempt it. glass aquaria may be bought so cheaply that it is doubtful if you can save any money by making one at home. if you care to try it, this is the way it is usually done: use a piece of seasoned white wood - / inches thick for the bottom. if you wish your aquarium to be, say, inches wide and inches long, this bottom board should be x to give a margin at the edge. the size of a home-made aquarium can be anything that you desire. it is customary to allow a gallon of water to each three-inch gold fish that will inhabit it. by multiplying the three dimensions, length, width and height of your box and by dividing your result, which will be in cubic inches, by (the number of cubic inches in a gallon) you can tell how many gallons of water it will hold. of course the rule for gold fish is not absolute. the nature student will probably have no gold fish at all. they are not nearly so interesting as our native kinds. besides nearly all varieties of fresh water fish will either kill gold fish or if they are too large to kill will at least make life so miserable for them that to keep them together is cruelty to animals. if we keep in our aquarium the specimens that we collect in our neighbourhood, beetles, newts, crawfish, snails, and tiny sunfish the number may be greatly increased. overcrowding however is very bad. the ideal we should strive for is not "how many specimens" but "how many kinds" we can have in our collection. the white wood board should have three or four hardwood cleats screwed to the bottom to prevent warping. the corner pieces of our glass box may either be made of sheet copper or heavy tin, or of wood, if we cannot work in metals. the wooden strips and the bottom board should have grooves ploughed in them to hold the glass. all the woodwork should be given several coats of asphalt varnish and to further waterproof it and as a final coat use some kind of marine copper paint that is used to coat the bottoms of vessels. never use the common white lead and linseed oil paint for an aquarium. you can sometimes buy aquarium cement or prepared putty at a "gold fish" store. this you will need to putty in the glass. if you cannot buy it, make it yourself from the asphalt varnish and whiting. be sure that the paint and putty of an aquarium is thoroughly dry before you fill it with water. perhaps the most satisfactory way to study fish and insect life in water is to use all glass boxes and globes. so many kinds of fish and insects are natural enemies, even though they inhabit the same streams, that they must be kept separate anyway. to put them in the same aquarium would be like caging up two game roosters. if we were studying the development of mosquitoes, for instance, from the larvae or eggs to the fully developed insect, we should not get very far in our nature study if we put them in an aquarium with fish. a fish will soon make short work of a hundred mosquito wigglers just as a large frog will eat the fish, a snake will eat the frog and so on. rectangular glass boxes such as are commonly used for aquaria cost less than a dollar per gallon capacity. goldfish globes cost about the same. white glass round aquaria are much cheaper and those made of greenish domestic glass are the cheapest of all, a glass tank holding eight gallons costing but two dollars. [illustration: a self-sustaining or balanced aquarium] any transparent vessel capable of holding water, even a mason jar will make an aquarium from which a great deal of pleasure may be derived. the old way of maintaining aquaria in good condition required a great deal of care and attention. the water had to be changed at least once a day if running water was not available, and altogether they were so much trouble that as a rule owners soon tired of them. modern aquaria are totally different. by a proper combination of fish and growing plants we can almost duplicate the conditions of nature and strike a balance so that the water need never be changed except when it becomes foul or to clean the glass. these are called "self-sustaining" aquaria and they are the only kind to have unless we can furnish running water from a public water supply. self-sustaining aquaria are very simple and any boy or girl living near a brook can stock one at no expense whatever. the method is as follows: first cover the bottom of the aquarium with a layer of sand and pebbles to a depth of about two inches. then plant in the bottom some aquatic or water plants that you have collected from a near-by lake. any kind of water plants will do--the kind of plants boys always call seaweed, even a thousand miles from the sea. in collecting the plants, choose small specimens and obtain roots and all. if you can find it, the best plant is fanwort. other good kinds are hornwort, water starwort, tape grass, water poppy, milfoil, willow moss, and floating plants like duckweed. even if you do not know these by name they are probably common in your neighbourhood. fill the tank with clean water. that taken from a spring or well is better than cistern water. after two or three days, when the plants seem to be well rooted, put in your fish. you may keep your aquarium in a light place, but always keep it out of the sun in summer and away from the heat of a stove or radiator in winter. the nature student will not attempt to stock up his aquarium immediately. he should always leave room for one more fish or bug. one year i started with a lone newt and before the summer was over i had thirteen sunfish, pickerel, bass, minnows, catfish, carp, trout, more newts, pollywogs or tadpoles, five kinds of frogs, an eel and all sorts of bugs, waterbeetles and insects. i soon found that one kind of insect would kill another and that sometimes my specimens would grow wings over night and fly away. but to learn these things, even at our own disappointment is "nature study." if we knew it all in advance, we would not have much use for our experimental aquarium. always keep a few snails and tadpoles, for they are the scavengers and will eat the refuse stuff and keep the glass free from greenish scum. boys and girls are almost sure to overfeed fish. this is a great mistake. the best standard feed is dried ants' eggs that can be bought for a few cents a box at any bird and fish store. do not feed pieces of bread and meat. study what their natural food is and if possible get that for them. if your fish seem sickly, give them a five-minute bath in salt water every day for a week. the kind of an aquarium above described is intended to fill an entirely different purpose from the usual gold fish globe. in your excursions you will find all sorts of queer looking eggs and specimens. some of the eggs are so tiny that they look almost like black or white dust on the water. another kind will be a mass like a jellyfish with brown dots in it, still others will be fastened in masses to the under side of a leaf in the water or perhaps on the bottom. what are they? that is just the question and that is why you will carefully collect them and take them home to await developments. always keep an accurate note-book with dates and facts. also keep a close watch on your specimens. sometimes they will hatch and be eaten by the other bugs before you could read this chapter. a nature student will need some part of the house that he may call his very own. here he can keep his specimens, his aquarium, his herbarium and what not. around the wall he can hang the twigs with their cocoons, oak galls, last year's wasp and bird nests and other treasures. he should also have a work table that a little glue or ink will not injure and a carpet that has no further use in the household. usually one corner of the attic or cellar is just the place. see to it that you do not make other people uncomfortable in the pursuit of your hobby. you will find that almost every one is afraid of bugs and toads and that most people live in a world full of wonderful things and only see a little beyond the end of their noses. there is a very practical side to nature study and the principal way that we can make it really pay, is to know our friends from our enemies in the animal and insect world. there are insects that chew, suck and bore to ruin our orchards and grain crops. they are our enemies. if we know their life story, where they hide and how they breed, we can fight them better. for every dollar's worth of crops that a farmer grows, it is estimated that his insect enemies eat another dollar's worth. a little bug called the "san josé" scale has nearly ruined the orchards of some of the eastern states. to fight him, we must know how he lives. that is nature study. by study we learn that the hop-toad is our best garden friend. he will spend the whole night watching for the cutworms that are after our tomato plants. when we see a woodpecker industriously pecking at the bark of our apple trees, we know that he is after the larvae of the terrible codling moth and we call him our friend. after we learn that a ladybug lives almost entirely on plant lice and scale insects, we never kill one again except perhaps to place a specimen in our collection. naturalists say that without ladybugs, our orchards would soon be entirely killed off. the dragon fly or mosquito hawk as well as "water tigers," water striders and many kinds of beetles are the natural enemies of mosquitoes and as they never harm our crops we should never harm them. nearly every living creature has some enemies. you have perhaps heard the famous verse of dean swift: "so naturalists observe, a flea has smaller that upon them prey and these have smaller still to bite 'em and so proceed _ad infinitum_." [illustration: an observation beehive] among our insect friends the leading place belongs either to the honey bee or the silkworm. as silkworms are not especially successful in this country and as their principal food, mulberry trees, are not common, the nature student who cares to study our beneficial insects had better devote his attention to honey bees. an observation beehive is simply a glass box or hive instead of a wooden one. when we are not engaged in studying our bee city, the hive must be covered with a blanket as bees prefer to work in the dark. a boy or girl living in the country can also keep bees profitably and thus combine business with pleasure. a single hive will in a few years produce enough swarms to give us a good start as "bee farmers." x the care of pets cats--boxes for song birds--how to attract the birds--tame crows--the pigeon fancier--ornamental land and water fowl--rabbits, guinea pigs, rats and mice--how to build coops--general rules for pets--the dog in this chapter on pets, i regret exceedingly that i cannot say much in favour of the family cat. like nearly all children, i was brought up to love kittens and to admire their playful, cunning ways. when a kitten becomes a cat my love for it ceases. cats will do so many mean, dishonourable things, and will catch so many song birds and so few rats and mice that it simply has become a question whether we shall like the song birds or the cat. so many people do like cats that it is unfair perhaps to condemn the whole race for the misdeeds of a few. if a cat is carefully watched or if we put a bell on its neck, these precautions will to a certain extent keep the cat from catching birds, but most people have something better to do than to act as guardian for a cat. the fact is that a cat is a stupid animal seldom showing any real affection or loyalty for its owner and possessing but little intelligence. it is very difficult to teach a cat even the simplest tricks. we never know when a cat will turn on its best friend. they have the "tiger" instinct of treachery. a cat which one minute is contentedly purring on our lap may sink its claws into us the next. the only way to force a cat to catch mice is to keep it half starved. then instead of catching mice, it will probably go after birds if there are any in the neighbourhood. i have shut a cat up in a room with a mouse and it is doubtful whether the cat or the mouse were the more frightened. the cat does more damage to the song birds of this country than any other enemy they have. if kept at home and well fed, cats sometimes become so fat and stupid that they will not molest birds but this is due to laziness and not to any good qualities in the cat. in normal condition they are natural hunters. the habits of a cat are unclean, its unearthly cries at night are extremely disagreeable and altogether it is a nuisance. a famous naturalist, shaler, once said "a cat is the only animal that has been tolerated, esteemed and at times worshipped without having a single distinctly valuable quality." a few years ago a quail had a nest under a rock opposite my house. quail raise their young like poultry rather than like robins or wrens or the other song birds. as soon as the tiny quail chicks are hatched, the mother takes them around like a hen with a brood of chickens. this mother quail was my especial care and study. she became so tame that i could feed her. finally she hatched out ten tiny brown balls of feathers. our cat had been watching her, too, but not from the same motives and one day the cat came home with the mother quail in her mouth. she ran under the porch just out of reach and calmly ate it. the little brood were too small to look out for themselves so of course they all died or fell an easy victim to other cats. the mother was probably an easy prey because in guarding the young, a quail will pretend to have a broken wing and struggle along to attract attention to her and away from her little ones, who scurry to high grass for safety. i have never been very friendly to cats since i witnessed this episode. it has been estimated that the average domestic cat kills an average of one song bird a day during the season when the birds are with us. in certain sections a cat has been known to destroy six nests of orioles, thrushes and bobolinks in a single day. the worst offenders are cats that live around barns and old houses in a half wild condition. many people who say they "haven't the heart to kill a cat" will take it away from home and drop it along the road. a thoughtless act like this may mean the death of a hundred birds in that neighbourhood. it takes less heart to kill the cat than to kill the birds. so much for the cat. [illustration: a bird house] birds make splendid pets, but in keeping them in captivity, we must be sure that we are not violating the game laws of the state we live in. nearly everywhere it is unlawful to keep in cages any native song birds or those that destroy harmful insects--the so-called "insectivorous birds." this includes thrushes, wrens, robins, bluebirds, orioles or, in fact, practically all birds but crows, blackbirds and kingfishers. it does not cover canaries, parrots, or any birds that are not native. it is an excellent law and every boy or girl should act as a special policeman to see that his friends and companions do not molest either birds or their nests. it is cruel to cage a wild bird anyway for a cage is nothing but a prison. there is no law against taming the birds or making friends of them and after all this is the most satisfactory way. if we build houses for the birds to nest in, provide feed for them and in other ways do what we can to attract them, they will soon learn that we are their friends. we must study their habits and always avoid frightening them. next to a cat, the worst enemies of our song birds are the english sparrows. a sparrow is always fair game for the boy with a slingshot or rifle. in many places these sparrows have driven practically all the other birds out of the neighbourhood, have robbed their nests and in other ways have shown themselves to be a public nuisance. until there were no sparrows in this country and now they are more numerous than any other variety of birds, and sooner or later, the government will have to take steps to exterminate them or we shall have no song birds at all. the usual size of a bird house is six inches square and about eight inches high. it should always be made of old weather-beaten boards in order not to frighten away its prospective tenants by looking like a trap of some kind. the chances are that the sparrows will be the first birds to claim a house unless we keep a close watch and drive them away. one way to keep them out is to make the entrance doorway too small for them to enter. a hole an inch in diameter will admit a wren or chickadee and bar out a sparrow, but it will also keep out most of the other birds. the usual doorway should be two inches in diameter. it is surprising how soon after we build our bird house we find a tiny pair making their plans to occupy it and to take up housekeeping. sometimes this will happen the same day the bird house is set up. always provide some nesting material near at hand; linen or cotton thread, ravellings, tow, hair and excelsior are all good. of course we must not attempt to build the nest. no one is skillful enough for that. nearly all of our native birds are migratory, that is they go south for the winter. the date that we may look for them to return is almost the same year after year. some few birds--bluebirds, robins, cedar birds and song sparrows will stay all winter if it is mild but as a rule we must not expect the arrival of the feathered songsters until march. the phoebe bird is about the first one we shall see. in april look for the brown thrasher, catbird, wren, barn, eave and tree swallows, martins, king birds and chipping sparrows. in may the principal birds of our neighbourhood will return--thrushes, vireos, tanagers, grosbeaks, bobolinks, orioles. the game birds--quail, partridge, meadowlarks and pheasants do not migrate as a rule. at least they do not disappear for a time and then return. when they leave a neighbourhood, they rarely come back to it. all the song birds begin nesting in may. consequently we should have our bird houses "ready for occupancy" may st. it will take about twelve days for most birds to hatch their eggs. some varieties will hatch three broods in a season, but two is the usual rule. we shall require a great deal of patience to tame the wild birds. some bird lovers have succeeded in teaching birds to feed from their hands. a wild bird that is once thoroughly frightened can probably never be tamed again. a crow is a very interesting pet. crows are especially tamable and may be allowed full liberty around the dooryard. we must get a young one from the nest just before it is ready to fly. crows are great thieves and are attracted by bright objects. if you have a tame crow, and if any member of your household misses jewellery or thimbles you had better look in the crows' nest before you think that burglars have been around. the chief difference between tamed wild animals, such as squirrels, birds, owls, foxes, crows and so on, and the domesticated animals and birds, dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, pigeons and chickens, lies in the possibility with the latter of modifying nature and breeding for certain special markings, colours or size. all breeds of chickens from the little bantams to the enormous brahmas have been bred from a wild species of chicken found in india and called the jungle fowl. all the great poultry shows held throughout the country annually are for the purpose of exhibiting the most perfectly marked specimens of the breeders' skill. this is decided by judges who award prizes. the competition is sometimes very keen. in barred plymouth rock chickens, for example, there are sometimes a hundred birds entered to compete for a single prize. the breeders are called fanciers. the principal breeders of certain animals such as rabbits, pigeons or poultry, form an association or club and agree to an imaginary type of the animal called the ideal or "standard of perfection." for example, the breeders of white fantail pigeons agree that perfect birds shall be of certain shape and size, with the head resting on the back just at the base of the tail; the tail should be spread out like a fan and contain at least twenty-eight feathers. these feathers should be laced on the ends. the model fantail should have a nervous jerky motion and never be at rest. each of these points is given a certain value on a scale of marking and in judging the birds they are marked just as you may be in your lessons at school. the fancier tries to breed a bird that comes the nearest to this model. the prizes are sometimes of great value. there is an enormous list of breeds in nearly all varieties of animals and poultry. in pigeons alone there are carriers, pouters, tumblers, baldheads, beards, dragoons, barbs, jacobins, antwerps, turbits, owls, orientals, damoscenes, capuchins, fantails, trumpeters, swifts, lahores, burmese, scandaroons, magpies, nuns, archangels, runts and so on. these birds are very different in appearance, the pouter, for example, has the power of inflating his crop until it puffs out in front as large as a baseball. jacobins or as they are commonly called, "ruffle-necks," have an immense ruffle of feathers like a feather boa. dragoons have a huge wart on the bill as large as an almond. the tumblers are so named from their habit of turning backward somersaults during flight. almost every one who starts keeping domestic pets either soon tires of the sport or becomes a fancier. the care of common pigeons is a very simple matter. the principal thing is a good loft or cote for them in the top of a barn or house. they will practically take care of themselves and after a few years greatly increase in numbers. a model pigeon house for breeding fancy pigeons requires separate mating boxes, nests and other appliances. it would be impossible to make much of a success with fancy pigeons if they are allowed their liberty to fly about and mate at will. the best nest boxes for pigeons are rough earthenware pans, eight inches across, which may be bought cheaply at a bird store. the floor of the cote should be covered with sawdust or gravel to the depth of half an inch. pigeons that are confined should be fed regularly on a mixture of small grains and cracked corn. they should also be given cracked oyster shells, grit and charcoal occasionally. a pigeon loft should be rat proof and clean. it is very doubtful whether there is any money in raising pigeons or squabs for market. fanciers never sell their output for market purposes unless it is to get rid of surplus or undesirable stock. a breeder who is successful in winning prizes with birds of his "strain" as it is called will find a ready market with other breeders for all the birds he cares to sell. prize winning birds sometimes bring a hundred dollars a pair. it is by no means easy to breed prizewinners and the chances are that the beginner will be a buyer of stock rather than a seller. homing pigeons or as they are commonly called, carriers, are not bred for special markings like fancy pigeons but because of their power and speed in flight. a carrier has the "homing" instinct more fully developed than any other animal. in some homing pigeon races, the birds have made speed records of over a mile a minute for many hours and have flown over a thousand miles. if a well-bred homing pigeon fails to return to his home loft it is almost a certainty that he is either forcibly detained or that he has been killed by hunters or hawks. never try to capture a pigeon that may stop for a rest at your loft. he may be in a race and his owner may be waiting for his return five hundred miles away when every minute counts in winning a prize. another large class of birds that make fine pets although they are not strictly in the class of birds bred by the fancier are the ornamental land and water fowl. the chief objection to these birds as pets is the expense of buying them. the list of birds in this class is very large. in swans the leading varieties are mute, american whistling, black australian, white berwick and black-necked swans. the largest class are the pheasants. they are exceedingly beautiful, especially the golden, silver, lady amherst, elliott, reeves, green japanese, swinhoe, english ring neck, melanotis, and torquatis pheasants. the common wild geese are egyptian, canadian, white-fronted, sebastopol, snow, brant, bar-headed, spin-winged and many others. in ducks, there are mallards, black, wood, mandarin, blue and green winged teal, widgeon, redhead, pin-tail, bluebill, gadwell, call and many others. beside pheasants, ducks and geese there are also the various storks, cranes, pea-fowl and herons in the "ornamental fowl" list. these are all wild fowl. the commoner varieties will cost from six to fifteen dollars a pair and the rare ones several hundred. to keep the semi-wild birds from flying away they are usually pinioned, a process of taking off the end joint of one wing. the colours of some of the ornamental fowl are more beautiful than any birds in nature. pheasants especially are easily cared for and make interesting pets. they can be tamed and if kept outdoors they will seldom be subject to disease. most of these birds are as easily cared for as chickens. [illustration: a home-made rabbit house] rabbits make fine pets for boys and girls. they are clean in their habits, hardy and gentle. the common kinds are white rabbits with pink eyes or albinos, and brown rabbits or belgian hares. with rabbits also there is a "fancy." the fur fanciers' association recognizes the following distinct breeds: belgians, flemish giants, dutch marked, english, himalayan, silvers, tans, polish, lops, and angoras. a rabbit hutch or coop is easily built from old packing boxes. one third of the coop should be darkened and made into a nest, with an entrance door outside and the rest simply covered with a wire front, also with a door for cleaning and feeding. the hutch should stand on legs above ground as rabbits do not thrive well in dampness. they will, however, live out all winter in a dry place. a box four feet long and two feet wide will hold a pair of rabbits nicely. rabbits will become very tame and may often be allowed full liberty about the place if there are no dogs to molest them. the drawing shows a standard type of rabbit hutch. a boy who is handy with tools can easily build one. we can always dispose of the increase in our rabbit family to friends or to dealers. guinea pigs or cavies are similar to rabbits in their requirements. the chief difference is that guinea pigs cannot stand excessive cold and will not do well if kept outside in severe winter weather. rabbits and cavies will eat almost anything and eat constantly. the usual feed is hay, clover, wheat, corn, carrots, turnips, cabbage, lettuce, celery, potato parings, or any green food or grains. cavies are especially fond of bread and milk. the three classes of cavies are peruvians or angoras, with long silky hair; abyssinians, with coarse hair in tufts or rosettes, and the common guinea pig or smooth, cavy. a pair of cavies will cost about two dollars. a dry airy cellar is a good place to keep them as they are cleanly in their habits. neither cavies nor rabbits are especially intelligent but they do learn to know their master or at least the one who feeds them. pet rats and mice are in the same class as rabbits but they should always have a coop that they will not gnaw out of. there is even a mouse club. it is in europe and has over a thousand members. an interesting example of skill in breeding is seen in dutch belted varieties of cattle, in hogs, rabbits, cavies and mice. in all of these animals the same markings have been bred by careful crossing and selection. in all lines of "fancy" it is important to stick to a few varieties. we shall never make much of a success if we have half a dozen kinds of chickens, pigeons or rabbits. by far the most important "fancy" is with chickens, but this subject will be considered in the chapter on the care of poultry. among other pets are tame squirrels, turtles, snakes, lizards and toads. a tame gray squirrel makes a splendid pet. after a while we can give our squirrel full liberty and find him back in his nest at night. i once had a tame owl but i found that because of his habit of flying and feeding at night he was a very stupid pet. besides that his powerful beak and sharp claws or talons were dangerous. i also once had a pair of flying squirrels but they also only appear at night and were consequently uninteresting in the daytime. we must always study the natural habits of our pets and try to give them coops and food as much like nature as possible. my flying squirrels were given soft feed in place of the usual hard-shelled nuts. consequently their teeth grew so long that they were a positive deformity. we finally liberated them but before they could get to a place of safety one of them was caught and killed by a chicken. the poor little creature was so fat from overfeeding and lack of exercise that he had all but lost the power of using his legs. coops for pets may be as elaborate as our pocketbook will allow. the important things to remember are to construct a coop so that it may be cleaned easily, and to provide plenty of ventilation. it must also be dry. fresh air is as important for animals as for people. the larger we can make a coop, the better it will be. be careful not to overfeed pets. regular and frequent meals of just what they will eat up clean is better than an occasional big meal. rabbits require very little water. usually they will obtain enough moisture from the green food they eat. it is a mistake, however, to think that water will kill rabbits. change the straw in the nest boxes frequently. when they make fur nests do not disturb them. for squirrels and other small animals, the coop may be made entirely of wire except the baseboard, which should be a piece of seasoned wood. be sure that there are no sharp wire points or projecting nails in a coop to injure the animals. the whole secret of taming wild creatures is patience. we must try to show them that we are their friends. the most direct way to an animal's heart is through his stomach, which is another way of saying that the owner should personally feed his own pets if he wishes them to know him. there is really no reason why a country boy or girl should have any caged pets at all. in the city it is different. perhaps the best pet for the unnatural conditions of city life is a canary. the real spirit to develop a love for the little creatures that inhabit our woods and fields is to feel that they are our friends rather than that they are prisoners. by all means cultivate the acquaintance of your "small country neighbours." the dog every boy should own a dog. he is the friend and companion of our youth. for a boy to grow up without a dog is to be denied one of the real joys of life. senator vest once said: "the one absolute, unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world; the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog. he will sleep on the cold ground where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely if only he can be near his master's side. he will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will guard the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. when all other friends desert he remains." the breed makes but little difference so long as the dog is intelligent and kind. mixed breeds and mongrel dogs are often the most intelligent. a thoroughbred dog will give us more satisfaction possibly than a mongrel because he will make a better appearance. but at the same time, he is far more likely to be stolen. there are so many breeds to select from that it is almost impossible to give much advice. as a rule, the dog we shall like is the one we can get. the very heavy dogs such as saint bernards, mastiffs and great danes are clumsy and will require outside quarters, as they are too bulky to have in the house. on the other hand the small toy breeds such as pomeranians, black and tans and king charles spaniels and pugs, are too delicate to be a real boy's dog. a list from which you may safely select a dog would be bull terriers, airedale terriers, scotch terriers, irish terriers, cocker spaniels, pointers and setters, either irish or english. this is by no means a complete list. i prefer a setter because my first dog, "old ben," was a setter, and he shared in most of my fun from the earliest recollections that i have. when he died i lost a true friend. it was the first real sorrow i ever had. a dog should not sleep in the same room with his owner, but should have a warm dry kennel and be taught to regard it as his home. do not make the mistake of overfeeding a dog. he does not need three meals a day. one is sufficient, about nine in the morning, when he should have all he wants to eat. if you insist on a second meal give him a dog biscuit or a bone to gnaw on in the evening. keep your dog free from fleas, in spite of what david harum says that "a reasonable amount of fleas is good for a dog, because it keeps him from brooding over being a dog." a thorough bath with carbolic soap and water will rid a dog of fleas, but this treatment should be repeated at weekly intervals to kill the eggs which hatch in the meantime. fresh insect powder or scotch snuff if dusted thoroughly in a dog's coat will cause fleas to leave. this treatment should be done out of doors. a good plan is to place the dog on a sheet or piece of white paper and work the powder well into the hair, especially around his neck and behind the ears. be careful not to injure his eyes. a dog will soon recognize his master, and there is no quicker way to show that you are his master than to enforce obedience when you attempt to make him mind. whether a whipping is necessary depends on the dog. with most dogs a good scolding will be sufficient. never whip a dog when you are angry and never overdo the matter. it is possible to "break a dog's spirit," which simply means to make him afraid of you. a dog so frightened is ruined until you regain his confidence, a very difficult thing to do. never cuff a dog with your hand. always use a whip or switch. let the whipping be a definite ceremony with a plain object in view. some dogs will prove to be headstrong and others will try to do whatever their master wants. there is an amazing difference in dogs and their intelligence seems to have no limits. a dog must never be allowed to annoy our neighbours or friends. one of the most annoying habits that a dog cultivates is that of running out and barking at passing carriages or people. a few lessons in discipline early in life will break him of this habit, but once acquired it is practically unbreakable. another very annoying habit is that of allowing a dog to put his paws on us. we may not mind it when we are dressed in old clothes but friends or callers are possibly not so considerate. nearly every bad habit that a dog learns is usually the fault of the owner rather than of the dog. the training of a dog should be done as a puppy. therefore we must secure our dog as young as possible. in training hunting dogs the first step is called "yard-breaking." with ordinary dogs a thorough course in yard-breaking by teaching the simple command is all that will be necessary. first of all, teach your dog to lie down and come to you at call. the usual word for the former is "charge." a dog can be taught this in a very short time. take him by the neck and back, and at the word, force him to lie down. do not use any other words, or even pet him. simply impress on his mind that when he hears "charge" it means lie down. as a rule a puppy is taught to come by snapping the fingers or by making a noise with the lips similar to that by which we urge a horse. it is almost natural to say "come here." after a puppy learns to follow us at the command "heel in" and to run ahead when we say "go on," we must also teach him to come when we whistle. most boys can make a whistle with the fingers sufficiently penetrating to call a dog for a long distance but a small metal whistle to carry in the pocket is the best way. after a dog has acquired the simple lessons of training we shall find that he learns to understand us and to do our wishes very quickly. there should be a complete understanding between a dog and his owner. he will know our ways and we shall know his. i have hunted in virginia with a dog so intelligent that merely by watching him his master could tell whether he was on the trail of a rabbit, wild turkey, or deer. for each kind of game he had a different manner of barking and what is more remarkable, he was a thoroughly broken quail dog with the best "nose" or scent i have ever known and of course did not bark under these circumstances. such a dog would be a mystery to any one who did not know his ways. this dog "old doc" would hunt with any one on quail, but if the hunter did not succeed in killing game the dog would soon show his disapproval in every way, sulk along behind, and if the poor shooting continued, finally leave for home. a friend who took him out told me, "first i missed the birds and then i missed the dog." he had left in disgust. no matter what breed our dog is we shall surely become greatly attached to him and almost look upon him as a friend rather than as an animal. a boy should never encourage a dog to fight. it is a cruel, unmanly thing and one that a real dog lover will never do. dog fighting is a form of brutality second only to tying tin cans and other things to a dog's tail for the "fun" of seeing him run. i once saw a poor beast lose his tail as a result of this brutal joke. some one had tied a string tightly around his tail and the dog ran until completely exhausted. he then kept out of sight for a few days. in the meantime the string caused his tail to become fearfully sore and finally to fall off. can any one see a joke in this? xi the care of chickens the best breed--good and bad points of incubators--what to feed small chicks--a model chicken house a pen of chickens gives a boy or girl an opportunity for keeping pets that have some real value. whether there is much profit in poultry is a question, but it is at least certain that the more care you give them the better they pay. there is but little difference in the results obtained from the various breeds of chickens, but there is a great difference in the people who take care of them. it is very difficult to make poultry pay on a large scale. nearly every poultry farm that has started as a business has failed to make a success. the surest way to make chickens pay is to have only a few. then the table scraps and the worms and weed seeds they can pick up will supply them with practically all their feed and the time you give them need not be counted as expense. there are sixty or seventy distinct breeds of poultry recognized by expert fanciers and from three to ten colours or varieties in many of these breeds. new ones are being added constantly. for example, a breed called orpingtons was recently introduced from england and now has ten varieties or colours that are "standard." at the new york poultry show a record price of $ , was paid for the prize-winning hen of this breed. there is a style in chickens as well as in anything else. a new breed will always have a great many admirers at first, and great claims will be made for its superior qualities. the poultrymen who have stock and eggs to sell will secure high prices for their output. very soon, however, the real value of a new breed will be known and it will be on the same basis as the older breeds. a beginner had better start with some standard recognized breed and leave the experimenting to some one else. one thing is certain: thoroughbreds will pay better than mongrels. their eggs are of more uniform size and colour, the stock will be healthy and as a rule weigh a pound or two more than birds of uncertain breeding. thoroughbreds do not cost any more to feed or care for than the mongrels and in every way are superior. breeds of poultry are usually divided into three separate classes, depending on the place where the breed originated. they are the american, asiatic, and mediterranean strains. the leading american breed is the barred plymouth rock and for a beginner will probably be the best to start with. another very excellent american or general purpose breed is the white wyandotte. they are especially valuable as broilers, as they make rapid growth while young. the leghorns are the leading breed for eggs. they are "non-sitters" and, being very active, do not become overfat. their small size, however, makes them poor table fowls and for this reason they are not adapted to general use. the asiatic type, which includes brahmas, langshans, and cochins, are all clumsy, heavy birds, which make excellent table fowl but are poor layers and poor foragers. brahma roosters will frequently weigh fifteen pounds and can eat corn from the top of a barrel. a beginner should never attempt to keep more than one kind of chickens. to get a start, we must either buy a pen of birds or buy the eggs and raise our own stock. the latter method will take a year more than the former, as the chicks we hatch this year will be our layers a year later. sometimes a pen of eight or ten fowls can be bought reasonably from some one who is selling out. if we buy from a breeder who is in the business they will cost about five dollars a trio of two hens and a rooster. the cheapest way is to buy eggs and hatch your own stock. the usual price for hatching-eggs is one dollar for fifteen eggs. we can safely count on hatching eight chicks from a setting, of which four may be pullets. therefore we must allow fifteen eggs for each four pullets we intend to keep the next year. the surplus cockerels can be sold for enough to pay for the cost of the eggs. if we have good luck we may hatch every egg in a setting and ten of them may be pullets. on the other hand, we may have only two or three chicks, which may all prove to be cockerels; so the above calculation is a fair average. if we start with eggs, we shall have to buy or rent some broody hens to put on the eggs. a good plan is to arrange with some farmer in the neighbourhood to take charge of the eggs and to set his own hens on them. i once made such an arrangement and agreed to give him all but one of the cockerels that hatched. i was to take all the pullets. the arrangement was mutually satisfactory and he kept and fed the chicks until they were able to leave the mother hen--about eight weeks. it is also possible to buy one-day-old chicks for about ten or fifteen cents apiece from a poultry dealer, but the safest way is to hatch your own stock. the easiest way to make a large hatch all at one time is with an incubator. there are a number of very excellent makes advertised in the farm papers and other magazines and the prices are quite reasonable. an incubator holding about a hundred eggs will cost ten or twelve dollars. there are many objections to incubators which we can learn only from practical experience. we shall not average more than per cent. hatches as a rule. that is to say, for every hundred eggs we set we must not count on hatching more than fifty chicks. incubators are a constant care. the most important objection to an incubator is that it is against the rules of most fire insurance companies to allow it to be operated in any building that the insurance policy covers. if the automatic heat regulator fails to work and the heat in our incubator runs up too high we may have a fire. at any rate, we shall lose our entire hatch. the latter is also true if the lamp goes out and the eggs become too cool. i have made a great many hatches with incubators of different makes and my experience has been that we must watch an incubator almost constantly to have success with it. the sure way to hatch chickens is with a broody hen, but at the same time incubators are perfectly satisfactory if run in a room where the temperature does not vary much (a cellar is the best place). with an incubator there is always a temptation to attempt to raise more chickens than we can care for properly. overcrowding causes more trouble than any other one thing. it is better to have a dozen chickens well cared for than a hundred that are neglected. eggs for incubators will cost about five dollars a hundred. of course if they are from prize-winning stock the cost will be several times this amount. before placing any eggs in an incubator it should be run for two days to be sure that the heat regulator is in working order. the usual temperature for hatching is degrees and the machine should be regulated for this temperature as it comes from the factory. full directions for operating, as well as a thermometer, will come with the machine and should be studied and understood before we begin to operate it. as the hatch progresses, the heat will "run up," as it is called, and we shall need to understand how to regulate the thermostat to correct this tendency toward an increased temperature. the eggs in an incubator must be turned twice a day. to be sure that we do this thoroughly it is customary to mark the eggs before we place them in the machine. the usual mark is an "x" on one side of the egg and an "o" on the other written in lead pencil. in placing the eggs in the trays we start with all the "o" marks up, for instance, and at the time of the first turning leave all the "x's" visible, alternating this twice every day. in order to operate an incubator successfully, we shall also need a brooder, which is really an artificial mother. there is a standard make of brooder costing five dollars that will accommodate fifty chicks. brooders are very simple in construction and can be made at home. a tinsmith will have to make the heating drum. the rest of it is simply a wooden box with a curtain partition to separate the hot room from the feeding space. ventilating holes must be provided for a supply of fresh air and a box placed at the bottom to prevent a draught from blowing out the lamp. in a very few days after we place the chicks in a brooder they should be allowed to go in and out at will. in a week or two we shall be able to teach them the way in, and then by lowering the platform to the ground for a runway we can permit them to run on the ground in an enclosed runway. on rainy days we must shut them in. there is always a temptation to feed chicks too soon after they are hatched. we should always wait at least twenty-four hours to give them a chance to become thoroughly dry. the general custom of giving wet cornmeal for the first feed is wrong. always feed chicks on dry food and you will avoid a great deal of sickness. an excellent first food is hard-boiled egg and corn bread made from cornmeal and water without salt and thoroughly baked until it may be crumbled. only feed a little at a time, but feed often. five times a day is none too much for two-week-old chicks. one successful poultryman i am acquainted with gives, as the first feed, dog biscuit crushed. all the small grains are good if they are cracked so that the chicks can eat them. the standard mixture sold by poultry men under the name "chick food" is probably the best. it consists of cracked wheat, rye, and corn, millet seed, pinhead oatmeal, grit, and oyster shells. do not feed meat to chicks until their pin feathers begin to show, when they may have some well-cooked lean meat, three times a week. there is quite an art in setting a hen properly. they always prefer a dry, dark place. if we are sure that there are no rats around, there is no better place to set a hen than on the ground. this is as they sit in nature and it usually seems to be the case that a hen that steals her nest will bring out more chicks than one that we have coddled. eggs that we are saving for hatching should be kept in a cool place but never allowed to freeze. they should be turned every day until they are set. hens' eggs will hatch in about twenty-one days. the eggs that have failed to hatch at this time may be discarded. when we move a broody hen we must be sure that she will stay on her new nest before we give her any eggs. test her with a china egg or a doorknob. if she stays on for two nights we may safely give her the setting. it is always better when convenient to set a hen where she first makes her nest. if she must be moved, do it at night with as little disturbance as possible. it is always a good plan to shut in a sitting hen and let her out once a day for feed and exercise. do not worry if in your judgment she remains off the nest too long. the eggs require cooling to develop the air chamber properly, and as a rule the hen knows best. young chickens are subject to a great many diseases, but if they are kept dry and warm, and if they have dry food, most of the troubles may be avoided. with all poultry, lice are a great pest. old fowls can dust themselves and in a measure keep the pest in check, but little chicks are comparatively helpless. the big gray lice will be found on a chick's neck near the head. the remedy for this is to grease the feathers with vaseline on the head and neck. the small white lice can be controlled by dusting the chicks with insect powder and by keeping the brooder absolutely clean. a weekly coat of whitewash to which some carbolic acid has been added will keep lice in check in poultry houses and is an excellent plan. hen-hatched chicks are usually more subject to lice than those hatched in incubators and raised in brooders, as they become infected from the mother. some people say that chicks have lice on them when they are hatched, but this is not so. the first two weeks of a chick's life are the important time. if they are chilled or neglected they never get over it, but will develop into weaklings. there are many rules and remedies for doctoring sick chickens, but the best way is to kill them. this is especially so in cases of roup or colds. the former is a very contagious disease and unless checked may kill an entire pen of chickens. a man who raises , chickens annually once told me that "the best medicine for a sick chicken is the axe." a very low fence will hold small chicks from straying away, but it must be absolutely tight at the bottom, as a very small opening will allow them to get through. avoid all corners or places where they can be caught fast. the mesh of a wire fence must be fine. ordinary chicken wire will not do. [illustration: a home-made chicken coop built on the "scratching-shed" plan] a brooder that will accommodate fifty chicks comfortably for eight weeks will be entirely too small even for half that number after they begin to grow. as soon as they can get along without artificial heat, the chickens should be moved to a colony house and given free range. they will soon learn to roost and to find their way in and out of their new home, especially if we move away the old one where they cannot find it. a chicken coop for grown fowls can be of almost any shape, size, or material, providing that we do not crowd it to more than its proper capacity. the important thing is to have a coop that is dry, easily cleaned and with good ventilation, but without cracks to admit draughts. a roost made of two by four timbers set on edge with the sharp corners rounded off is better than a round perch. no matter how many roosts we provide, our chickens will always fight and quarrel to occupy the top one. under the roost build a movable board or shelf which may easily be taken out and cleaned. place the nest boxes under this board, close to the ground. one nest for four hens is a fair allowance. hens prefer to nest in a dark place if possible. a modern, up-to-date coop should have a warm, windproof sleeping room and an outside scratching shed. a sleeping room should be provided with a window on the south side and reaching nearly to the floor. a hotbed sash is excellent for this purpose. the runway or yard should be as large as our purse will permit. in this yard plant a plum tree for shade. the chickens will keep the plum trees free from the "curculio," a small beetle which is the principal insect pest of this fruit. this beetle is sometimes called "the little turk" because he makes a mark on a plum that resembles the "star and crescent" of the turkish flag. whether we can make our poultry pay for the trouble and expense of keeping them will depend on the question of winter eggs. it is contrary to the natural habits of chickens to lay in winter, and if left to themselves they will practically stop laying when they begin to moult or shed their feathers in the fall, and will not begin again until the warm days of spring. when eggs are scarce it will be a great treat to be able to have our own supply instead of paying a high price at the grocer's. the fact that it is possible to get really fresh eggs in midwinter shows that with the proper care hens will lay. the average farm hen does not lay more than eighty eggs a year, which is hardly enough to pay for her feed. on the other hand, at an egg-laying contest held in pennsylvania, the prize-winning pen made a record of eggs per year for each hen. this was all due to better care and proper feed. the birds were healthy pullets to begin with, they had warm food and warm drinking water throughout the winter, their coop was a bright, clean, dry place with an outside scratching shed. the grain was fed in a deep litter of straw to make them work to get it and thus to obtain the necessary exercise to keep down fat. the birds in this contest were all hatched early in march and were all through the moult before the cold weather came. most of the advertised poultry feeds for winter eggs are a swindle. if we give the birds proper care we shall not require any drugs. it is an excellent plan to give unthreshed straw to poultry in winter. they will work to obtain the grain and be kept busy. the usual quantity of grain for poultry is at the rate of a quart of corn or wheat to each fifteen hens. a standard winter ration is the so-called hot bran mash. this is made from wheat bran, clover meal, and either cut bone or meat scraps. it will be necessary to feed this in a hopper to avoid waste and it should be given at night just before the birds go to roost, with the grain ration in the morning, which will keep them scratching all day. always keep some grit and oyster shells where the chickens can get it; also feed a little charcoal occasionally. a dust bath for the hens will be appreciated in winter when the ground is frozen. sink a soap box in a corner of the pen and sheltered from rain or snow and fill it with dry road dust. have an extra supply to fill up the box from time to time. the best place for a chicken house is on a sandy hillside with a southern slope. a heavy clay soil with poor drainage is very bad. six-foot chicken wire will be high enough to enclose the run. if any of the chickens persist in flying out we must clip the flight feathers of their wings (one wing, not both). do not put a top board on the run. if a chicken does not see something to fly to, it will seldom attempt to go over a fence, even if it is quite low. it is much better to allow chickens full liberty if they do not ruin our garden or flower beds or persist in laying in out of the way places where the eggs cannot be found. xii winter sports what to wear--skating--skiing--snowshoeing--hockey if one is fortunate enough to live in a part of the country where they have old-fashioned winters, the possibilities for outdoor sports are very great and the cold weather may be made the best part of the year for healthful outdoor exercise. to enjoy winter recreations properly we must have proper clothing. an ordinary overcoat is very much out of place, except possibly for sleighing. the regulation costume for almost any outdoor sport in winter is a warm coat, a heavy sweater, woollen trousers and stockings, and stout leather shoes. if in addition we have woollen gloves or mittens and a woollen skating cap or toque, we shall be enabled to brave the coldest kind of weather, provided of course that we have warm woollen underwear. various modifications in this costume such as high hunting boots, or leggings and a flannel shirt worn under the sweater are possible. in the far north, the universal winter footwear is moccasins. we must be careful not to dress too warmly when we expect to indulge in violent exercise. excessive clothing will render us more liable to a sudden check of perspiration, a consequent closing of the pores and a resulting cold. rubber boots or overshoes are very bad if worn constantly. the rubber, being waterproof, holds in the perspiration and we often find our stockings damp even when the walking is dry. rubber boots also make our feet tender and cause cold feet. tight shoes are also bad for the reason that they check circulation. the best footwear for a boy who lives in the country will be indian moccasins or shoepacs worn with several pairs of lumbermen's woollen stockings. such footwear would not do for skating, as they have no soles, but for outdoor tramping in the snow they are just the thing. no leather is thoroughly waterproof against snow water, but by frequent greasing with mutton tallow, neatsfoot oil or vaseline, shoes can be kept soft and practically waterproof as long as the soles and uppers are in good condition. [illustration: a shoepac] in all winter sports, especially in canada, the custom is to wear gaily coloured goods. a mackinaw jacket made from the same material as a blanket, with very prominent stripes or plaids, is often worn. closely woven goods are better than a thicker loose weave as they are lighter, warmer, and more waterproof. chief among winter sports is skating. there is no healthier recreation, provided that the ice is safe. even in the coldest weather with the ice a foot thick or more we must always be sure to be on the lookout for air-holes or thin places over springs. it is said that ice an inch thick will hold the weight of a man, but it is better to be sure than to be sorry, and three or four inches are much safer. [illustration: the club skate model] a few years ago the height of the skater's art was so called "fancy or figure" skating, but recently the tendency has been for speed rather than for grace and the old-fashioned club skates have been replaced by racing or hockey skates with much longer runners. fancy skating for prizes is governed by rules just as any other game or sport. the contestants do not attempt figures of their own invention but strive to excel in the so-called "compulsory" figures. a fancy skater can practise from diagrams and directions just as one might practise moves in a game of chess. in printed directions for fancy skating the following abbreviations are used for the strokes: r--right l--left f--forward b--backward o--outside i--inside t--three lp--loop b--bracket rc--rocker c--counter supposing the figure to be executed to be the well-known "figure eight." it would be described as follows: r-f-o l-f-o. r-f-i l-f-i. r-b-o l-b-o. r-b-i l-b-i. by referring to the above table the skater can easily determine just what strokes are necessary to produce the figure properly. racing skates should be attached to shoes of special design either by screws or rivets. the most important thing is to have the blades carefully ground by an expert. they should be keen enough to cut a hair. to become a fast skater, practise if possible with an expert. have him skate ahead of you and measure your stroke with his. by keeping your hands clasped behind your back your balance will not only be greatly improved but your endurance will be doubled. the sprinting stroke is a direct glide ahead with the foot straight. a trained skater can go very long distances with very little fatigue but one must carefully measure his speed to the distance to be travelled. when you can cover a measured mile in three and one-half minutes you may consider yourself in the class of fast skaters. [illustration: a hockey skate] hockey skates are somewhat shorter than racing skates although built on the same general lines, the standard length being from nine and one-half to eleven and one-half inches. hockey is one of the best winter games either outdoors or in a rink. the game of shinney or "bandy" as it is called in england has been modified in this country by substituting a flat piece of rubber weighing a pound called a "puck" for the india rubber lacrosse ball, which weighs but four ounces. the best hockey sticks are made of canadian rock elm. the whole idea of hockey is to shoot the puck through your opponents' goal and to prevent them from shooting it through yours. in practice almost any number can play hockey and have plenty of exercise. the less experienced players should when securing the puck always shoot it as quickly as possible to a more experienced player on their own side to attempt shooting the goal. skilful passing is the most important branch of hockey and consequently good team work is absolutely essential to success. [illustration: the hockey player's costume] a regulation hockey team consist of seven players called goal, point, cover point, right centre, left centre, right wing, left wing. the position of goal tender is the most difficult to acquire skill in. he stands directly in front of the goal and is expected to stop the puck with hands, feet, and body. while the position of goal does not involve much skating, a goal tender should also be a good skater. his position requires more nerve and cool-headedness than any other position on the team because the final responsibility of all goals scored against his team is up to him. his position is largely a defensive one and his work at times very severe. the goal keeper must very rarely leave his position but must depend upon the two other defensive men the "point" and "cover point" to stop the puck when it away from the direct line of the goal. the defensive men on a hockey team should not by any strategy or coaxing on the part of their opponents allow themselves to leave their own goal unprotected. the forwards have most of the work of shooting goals and advancing the puck. of course such a man must be very active and a good all round player. hockey is a poor game in which to display grand-stand playing. the player's whole idea should be to shoot the puck so that either he or some member of his team may score a goal. the rules of hockey are comparatively few and simple. the game consists of two twenty-minute halves with a ten-minute intermission between. in case of a tie at the end of a game it is customary to continue until one side secures a majority of the points. a standard rink must be at least one hundred and twelve feet long by fifty-eight feet wide. nets are six feet wide and four feet high. one of the most exciting of winter sports is skate sailing. the same principles that are applied to sailing a boat are brought into play in sailing with skates. while considerable skill is necessary to handle a skate sail well, any one who is a good skater will soon acquire it. the direction that you go is determined by the angle at which the sail is held. when you wish to turn around or stop you simply shift its position until you run dead into the wind. a skate sail should be light and strong. a limit of five pounds' weight is all that is necessary. the sail is a very simple device. there are a great many kinds but one of the simplest is made from a t-shaped frame of bamboo with a v-shaped piece of canvas or balloon silk sewed or wired to the frame. the best skate sails are made with a jointed frame like a fishing rod so that they may be taken apart and easily carried. while an expert can handle a sail eight or ten feet wide and twelve feet high it is better for the beginner to start with one much smaller. the construction of the sail and the method of holding it are shown in the diagram. [illustration: a skate sail] snowshoeing is another winter sport that will furnish a great deal of pleasure and will enable us to be outdoors when our less fortunate friends may be cooped up in the house. there are a number of standard shapes in snowshoes, but probably the "canadian" model will be found to be the most satisfactory generally. snowshoes should be from twenty-four to forty-four inches long depending on the weight to be carried. in order to enjoy snowshoeing we must use moccasins. the proper method of attaching the snowshoes is clearly shown in the diagrams. the beginner will find that snowshoeing is a very simple art to acquire, being far less difficult than skating and with far less danger of having a bad fall. [illustration: four types of snowshoes] the sport of "ski-running" or skiing is practised more generally abroad than in this country. a number of winter resorts owe their popularity largely to this sport. skis are simply long flat pieces of wood fastened or strapped to the shoes. the best type are the so called "norway" pattern. various lengths are used from four to eight or nine feet long, but for a beginner the shorter ones will be better. [illustration: to throw the lumberman's hitch, start this way] [illustration: then across the toe with both ends and under the loop] ski-running is simply coasting down steep inclines on the snow with the skis used in much the same way as a sled. the longer they are the greater the speed obtained, but the longer ones are also correspondingly hard to manage. [illustration: draw the ends tightly forward to fasten down the toe] [illustration: then tie the ends together in a bow knot back of the heel] in norway and sweden skis are made to order just as we might be measured for suits of clothes. the theory is that the proper length of ski will be such that the user, can, when standing erect and reaching above his head, just crook his forefinger over it as it stands upright. ski shoes should be strong, with well blocked toes. a pair of heavy school shoes are just the thing if well made. [illustration: the straps over the toe remain buckled] [illustration: this is the "thong" hitch but it is not as good as the lumberman's hitch] to learn skiing we should select the slope of a hill not very steep and with no dangerous rocks or snags to run foul of. the best snow conditions are usually found two or three days after it has fallen. fresh snow is too light to offer good skiing and snow with a crust is also bad. in running with skis on the level ground a long, sweeping stride is used somewhat after the fashion of skating. the strokes should be made just as long as possible, and the skis kept close together. in going up an incline the tendency to slip backward is overcome by raising the toe of the ski slightly and bringing the heel down sharply. one foot should be firmly implanted before the other is moved. in going up a steep hill a zigzag course will be necessary. [illustration: front and side view of a ski] as an aid in ski-running it is customary to employ a pair of ski poles, which are fastened to the wrist by leather thongs. they are usually made of bamboo or other light material with a wicker disk near the end to keep the pole from sinking into the soft snow. ski poles should never be used in attempting a jump, as under these circumstances they might be very dangerous. ski coasting is the sport that most boys will be interested in. to make a descent, begin at the top of a hill as one would in coasting with a sled and lean well forward with the skis parallel and with one foot slightly ahead of the other. the knees should be bent and the body rigid. the weight should be borne by the ball of the foot that is behind. as the start forward begins, the impulse will be to lean back, but this impulse must be overcome or you will take a tumble in the snow as you gain speed. [illustration: a ski pole] in jumping with skis an abrupt drop is necessary. for the beginner a few inches is sufficient. the start is made by coasting down an incline, and just before the take-off is reached, the runner assumes a crouching attitude and then straightens up quickly, maintaining an erect attitude until he is about to land, when, as in jumping, the knees are bent slightly to break the force of landing. during the flight the skis should be kept perfectly parallel but drooping slightly behind. [illustration: the exciting sport of ski running] the various forms of coasting with toboggan sleds and bobsleds are all well known to boys who live where there are snow and hills. a sled can be steered either by dragging the foot or by shifting the sled with the hands. sleds with flexible runners have recently been introduced and are a great improvement on the old type. one branch of carpenter work that nearly all boys attempt at some time in their lives is to make a bobsled or double runner, which is a pair of sleds fastened on either end of a board long enough to hold from three to twenty or thirty people. [illustration: a bobsled or double runner] coasting, especially with a bob, is somewhat dangerous sport, especially in cities or where the turns are sharp and there is danger of upsetting. a good bob is broad between the runners and low to the ground. the drawing shows one that almost any boy can make at little cost. various devices are used as brakes on a bob. most of them are found to be out of order or frozen when the time comes to use them. a brake that is made from a piece of iron bent in an angle and fastened to the side of the runners on the rear sled is the best arrangement to have. a bobsled should not cost over ten dollars complete with steering wheel, bell, and necessary iron work, which should be made at the blacksmith's. xiii horsemanship how to become a good rider--the care of a horse--saddles so many branches of outdoor sport depend on a knowledge of horsemanship that every boy or girl who has the opportunity should learn to ride horseback. when once acquired, we shall never forget it. the first few lessons will make us feel discouraged, because the jolting and jarring every one receives in learning to ride almost make it appear that we can never acquire the knack, but remember that even the cowboy has had to go through the same experience. a beginner should only ride a gentle horse. in case we do take a tumble, it is well to take our first lesson on soft ground or in a tanbark ring. there are three types of saddles generally used: the english saddle is simply a leather seat with stirrups, and while it is the most refined type and the one used for fox hunting and all expert riding in england, it is not the best kind to learn on. the army saddle and the mexican or cowboy saddle with a pommel or box-stirrups are far safer and less expensive. if you know of a dealer in second-hand army equipments you can buy a saddle and bridle of excellent material at less than half the retail price of the stores. [illustration: mexican saddle, army saddle, english saddle] before mounting your horse always examine carefully your saddle and bridle to see that the girths are tight, that the bridle is properly buckled, and the stirrups are the proper length. the latter is sometimes determined by placing the stirrup under the armpits and touching the saddle with the finger tips. a more accurate way is to have the straps adjusted after you are in the saddle. a beginner will prefer a short stirrup, but it is a bad habit to acquire. in mounting, stand on the left side and place the left foot in the stirrup. swing the right leg over the horse and find the right stirrup with the toe just as quickly as possible. do not jerk a restless horse or otherwise betray your excitement if he starts. let him see by your calmness that he too should be calm. so much depends on the kind of horse you are riding that it will be difficult to say just how to handle him. a horse that is "bridle wise" is not guided in the customary way; that is, by pulling on the rein on the side you wish him to turn as one does in driving. a bridle-wise horse is guided by pressing the opposite rein against his neck. such a horse is much easier to handle on horseback and we should try to teach our horse this method as soon as possible. there is very close understanding between a horse and rider that does not exist when a horse is driven to a carriage. a horse can be guided simply by the leg pressure or spur. the proper seat is well back in the saddle with the toe pointing almost straight ahead. in order to learn to ride quickly we must overcome any strain or tension of our muscles and try to be flexible above the waist. in this way we soon accommodate our own motion to that of the horse. the most difficult gait to ride is the trot. there are two distinct styles of riding--to trot in english style of treading the stirrups, which necessitates rising from the saddle at every step of the horse, and the army style of simply sitting back in the saddle and taking the jouncing. either method will prove very difficult for the beginner. a partial treading or easing up but not as extreme as the english style will probably be the best to acquire. so much depends upon the gait of a horse that we learn to ride some horses in a very few days, and would be several times as long with some others. [illustration: the wrong way to mount a horse--facing forward] a horse that habitually stumbles is very dangerous. we must be sure our saddle horse is sure footed. in using english stirrups never permit the foot to go through the stirrup and rest on the ball. the toes should be in such a position that the stirrups can be kicked off at an instant's notice in case the horse falls with us. [illustration: the right way to mount--facing toward his tail] in tying a saddle horse in the stable for feeding or rest always loosen the girth and throw the stirrups over the saddle. a saddle horse should always be spoken to gently but firmly. the horse can tell by your voice when you are afraid of him. the canter is the ideal gait. after we once learn it, the motion of a good saddle horse is almost like a rocking chair and riding becomes one of the most delightful of outdoor pastimes. the boy who expects to go on an extended trip in the saddle should learn to care for a horse himself. a horse should never be fed or watered when he is warm unless we continue to drive him immediately afterward. neglect of this precaution may cause "foundering," which has ruined many a fine horse. the art of packing a horse is one which every one in mountain countries away from railroads should understand. packing a horse simply means tying a load over his back. there are a great many hitches used for this purpose by western mountaineers, but the celebrated diamond hitch will answer most purposes. hunting and steeplechasing, leaping fences and ditches, are the highest art of horsemanship. it is difficult to teach an old horse to be a hunter, but with a young one you can soon get him to take a low obstacle or narrow ditch, and by gradually increasing the distance make a jumper of him. [illustration: jumping fences is the highest art of horsemanship] the popularity of automobiles has caused the present generation partially to lose interest in horseflesh, but no automobile ever made will furnish the real bond of friendship which exists between a boy and his horse, or will be a substitute for the pleasure that comes from a stiff canter on the back of our friend and companion. we do not really need an expensive horse. a typical western or polo pony is just the thing for a boy or girl provided that it has no vicious or undesirable traits such as kicking, bucking, or stumbling, or is unsound or lame. it is always better if possible to buy a horse from a reliable dealer or a private owner. there is a great deal of dishonesty in horse trading and an honest seller who has nothing to conceal should be willing to grant a fair trial of a week or more. to enjoy our horse to the fullest extent we should take entire care of him ourselves. he should be fed and watered regularly and groomed every morning until his coat shines. if we neglect a horse and allow his coat to become rough it is almost as bad as to neglect feeding him. never trust the care of your horse too much to another. even if you keep him in a public stable or have a man of your own to care for him, it is well to let them see that you are interested in giving your horse close personal attention. xiv how to swim and to canoe the racing strokes--paddling and sailing canoes it has been said that the human being is the only animal that does not know instinctively how to swim without the necessity of being taught. if we take a dog or a horse or even a mouse and suddenly place it in the water it will immediately begin to swim, even though it has never seen a body of water larger than the source from which it obtains its drink. with a man or boy it is different, for the reason that with all the other animals the motions necessary to swim are those by which they walk or run; with a human being it is entirely an acquired stroke. after one becomes an expert swimmer he will find that he can keep afloat or at least keep his head above water, which is all there is to swimming anyway, by almost any kind of a motion. by a little practice we can learn to swim "no hands," "no feet," "one hand and one foot," by all sorts of twists and squirms and in fact to propel ourselves by a simple motion of the toes. the first stroke that a self-taught small boy learns is what is called "dog fashioned." this name accurately describes the stroke, as it is in reality very similar to the motions by which a dog swims. no amount of book instruction can teach a person to swim, but a clear idea of the best general strokes will be of great assistance. swimming is probably the best general exercise among athletic sports. practically every important muscle in the body is brought into play, and measurements show that swimmers have the most uniform muscular development of any class of athletes. after we learn to swim, the distance that we are capable of going is largely dependent upon our physical strength. almost any man can swim a mile if he begins slowly and with the same regard for conserving his strength that a runner would have in attempting a mile run. [illustration: swimming is one of the best outdoor sports (photograph by a.r. dugmore)] however skillful one is as a swimmer, a proper respect for the dangers of the sport should always be present. to take unnecessary risks, such as swimming alone far beyond reach of help or jumping and diving from high places into water of uncertain depth is not bravery; it is simply foolhardiness. a good swimmer is a careful swimmer always. the beginner must first of all try to overcome his natural fear of the water. this is much harder to do than to learn the simple motions of hands or feet that makes us keep afloat and swim. nothing will help to give us this confidence more quickly than to take a few lessons from some one in whom we have confidence and who will above all things not frighten us and so get us into danger. with a good teacher, a boy should be able to learn how to swim in two or three lessons. of course he will take only a few strokes at first, but those few strokes, which carry with them self-confidence and which make us feel that swimming is not so hard an art after all, is really half the battle. after we are at least sure that we can get to shore somehow, we can take up all the finished strokes which make a fancy swimmer. there are a number of strokes used in swimming and especially in racing. the common breast stroke is the first one to learn. in this the swimmer should lie flat on his breast in the water and either be supported by the hand of his teacher or by an inflated air cushion. the hands are principally used to maintain the balance and to keep afloat. the real work should be done with the legs. we learn to use the hands properly in a very short time, but the beginner always shows a tendency to forget to kick properly. for this reason swimming teachers lay great stress on the leg motion and in a measure let the hands take care of themselves. in swimming the important thing is to keep our heads above the water, a simple statement, but one that beginners may take a long time to learn. the impulse is not only to keep our heads but our shoulders out of the water also, and this is a feat that even an expert can not accomplish for very long. if we can allow ourselves to sink low in the water without fear, and if we can also remember to kick and, above all, to make our strokes slowly and evenly, we shall very soon learn to swim. i have frequently seen boys learn to swim in a single afternoon. another tendency of the beginner is to hold his breath while swimming. of course we cannot swim very far or exert ourselves unless we can breathe. we should take a breath at each stroke, inhaling though the mouth and exhaling through the nose, which is just the opposite to the hygienic method of land breathing. whatever may be our methods, however, the main thing is not to forget to breathe, which always results in finishing our five or ten strokes out of breath and terrified. a great deal may be learned about swimming strokes by practice on land. in fact some swimming teachers always follow the practice of teaching the pupil ashore how to make the stroke and how to breathe correctly. a small camp stool or a box will give us the support we need. the three things to keep in mind are the leg motion and the taking in of the breath through the mouth as the arms are being drawn in and exhaling as they are pushed forward. it is better to learn to swim in salt water, for the reason that it will support the body better. an additional advantage is that we always feel more refreshed after a salt-water bath. if we take up fast swimming, we must learn one of the various overhand or overarm strokes. the chief difference between these strokes and the simple breast stroke is that the arms as well as the legs are used to propel the body through the water, and this power is applied so steadily and uniformly that instead of moving by jerks we move with a continuous motion and at a greater speed. the single overarm is easier to learn than the double overarm or "trudgeon" stroke. this latter stroke is very tiring and while undoubtedly faster than any other when once mastered, it is only used for short sprints. most of the great swimmers have developed peculiar strokes of their own, but nearly all of them have adopted a general style which may be called the "crawl." there are many fancy strokes in swimming that one may acquire by practice, all of which require close attention to form rather than speed, just as fancy skating is distinguished from racing. one of the simplest tricks to learn is called "the rolling log." we take a position just as we would in floating and then exerting the muscles first of one side and then the other we shall find that we can roll over and over just as a log might roll. the idea in performing this trick successfully is not to show any apparent motion of the muscles. swimming on the back is easily learned and is not only a pretty trick but is very useful in giving us an opportunity to rest on a long swim. diving is also a branch of swimming that requires confidence rather than lessons. a dive is simply a plunge head first into the water. a graceful diver plunges with as little splash as possible. it is very bad form either to bend the knees or to strike on the stomach, the latter being a kind of dive for which boys have a very expressive though not elegant name. somersaults and back dives from a stationary take-off or from a spring-board are very easily learned. we shall probably have a few hard splashes until we learn to turn fully over, but there is not much danger of injury if we are sure of landing in the water. [illustration: a perfect dive] water wings and other artificial supports are very useful for the beginner until he has mastered the strokes, but all such artificial devices should be given up just as soon as possible, and, furthermore, as soon as we can really swim, in order to gain confidence, we should go beyond our depth, where it will be necessary to swim or drown. a swimmer should always know how to assist another to shore in case of accident. it is not nearly so easy as one who has never tried it might think. a drowning person will for the time being be panic-stricken and the first impulse will be to seize us about the neck. always approach a drowning person from the rear and support him under an armpit, meanwhile talking to him and trying to reassure him. every year we hear of terrible drowning accidents which might have been avoided if some one in the party had kept his head and had been able to tell the others what to do. i have placed canoeing and swimming in the same chapter because the first word in canoeing is never go until you can swim. there is practically no difference between the shape of the modern canoe and the shape of the indian birch bark canoes which were developed by the savages in america hundreds of years ago. all the ingenuity of white men has failed to improve on this model. a canoe is one of the most graceful of water craft and, while it is regarded more in the light of a plaything by people in cities, it is just as much a necessity to the guides and trappers of the great northern country as a pony is to the cowboy and the plainsman. the canoe is the horse and wagon of the maine woodsman and in it he carries his provisions and his family. [illustration: a typical indian model canoe] while a canoe is generally propelled by paddles, a pole is sometimes necessary to force it upstream, especially in swift water. in many places the sportsman is forced to carry his canoe around waterfalls and shallows for several miles. for this reason a canoe must be as light as possible without too great a sacrifice of strength. the old styles of canoes made of birch bark, hollow logs, the skins of animals and so on have practically given way to the canvas-covered cedar or basswood canoes of the canadian type. [illustration: a sailing canoe in action] it will scarcely pay the boy to attempt to make his own canoe, as the cost of a well-made eighteen-foot canoe of the type used by professional hunters and trappers is but thirty dollars. with care a canoe should last its owner ten years. it will be necessary to protect it from the weather when not in use and frequently give it a coat of paint or spar varnish. sailing canoes are built after a different model from paddling canoes. they usually are decked over and simply have a cockpit. they are also stronger and much heavier. their use is limited to more open water than most of the rivers and lakes of maine and canada. cruising canoes are made safer if watertight air chambers are built in the ends. even if a canoe turns over it does not sink. some experts can right a capsized canoe and clamber in over the side even while swimming in deep water. the seaworthiness of a canoe depends largely upon its lines. some canoes are very cranky and others can stand a lot of careless usage without capsizing. one thing is true of all, that accidents occur far more often in getting in and out of a canoe than in the act of sailing it. it is always unsafe to stand in a canoe or to lean far out of it to pick lilies or to reach for floating objects. canoes may be propelled by either single or double paddles, but the former is the sportman's type. it is possible to keep a canoe on a straight course entirely by paddling on one side and merely shifting to rest, but the beginner may have some difficulty in acquiring the knack of doing this, which consists of turning the paddles at the end of the stroke to make up the amount that the forward stroke deflects the canoe from a straight course. [illustration: in canoeing against the current in swift steams a pole is used in place of the paddle (photographs by a.r. dugmore)] [illustration: a type of sailing canoe] an open canoe for paddling does not require a rudder. a sailing canoe, however, will require a rudder, a keel, and a centreboard as well. canoe sailing is an exciting and dangerous sport. in order to keep the canoe from capsizing, a sliding seat or outrigger is used, upon which the sailor shifts his position to keep the boat on an even keel. the centreboard is so arranged that it can be raised or lowered by means of a line. xv baseball how to organize a team and to select the players--the various positions--curve pitching baseball is called the national game of america just as cricket is regarded as the national game in england. the game received its wide popularity directly after the civil war by the soldiers who returned to all parts of the country and introduced the game that they had learned in camp. almost every village and town has its ball team, in which the interest is general. it is not a game for middle-aged men to play, like golf, but if one has been a ball player in youth the chances are that he will keep his interest in the game through life. baseball is largely a game of skill. it does not afford nearly as much opportunity for physical exercise as tennis or football, and because of the professional games it is not always conducted with as high a regard for sportsmanlike conduct, but it has a firm hold on the american public, and the winning of a championship series in the professional leagues is almost a national event. every boy knows that a baseball team consists of nine players, the positions being pitcher, catcher, first base, second base, third base, and shortstop, which are called the in-field, and right-field, centre-field, and left-field, which positions are called the out-field. the umpire has a very important position in baseball, as his decisions in a close game may result either in defeat or victory for a team. an umpire should always be some one who knows the rules thoroughly and who is not too greatly interested in either team. he should always try to be fair, and having once made a decision be sure enough of himself to hold to it even if the whole opposing team may try by "kicking" to cause him to change. much of the rowdyism in baseball can be attributed to this cause. a good ball player is first of all a boy or man who shows himself to be a gentleman under, all circumstances. in baseball, like many games where winning is sometimes the important thing rather than fair play, the real benefits of the game are lost sight of in the desire to have a higher score than one's opponents. probably the most clean-cut games are played by school and college teams, which should always be strictly amateur. the pitcher has the most important position on the team. if by his skill he is able to deceive the opposing batsmen and cause them to strike out or to make feeble hits, the rest of the team will have but little to do except of course to bat when their turn comes and try to score runs. baseball has become a very scientific game in recent years and the sustained interest in it year after year is largely due to the fact that the regular attendants at a game have learned to understand and to appreciate the finer points of the game almost as well as the players themselves. while it might appear to a beginner that the battery does all the work in a game, as a matter of fact every man on the nine is supposed to do his part in backing up every play and to be in the right place at the right time. [illustration: the in-curve] [illustration: the out-curve] a good pitcher must be able to pitch a curved ball. this art will only come with constant practice. until about forty years ago a curve was unknown. in the old days the number of runs scored in a game was very high, it being a common thing for a winning team to make twenty to thirty runs. the rules of baseball are changed frequently and almost every change has been made with a view to restricting the batsman. as a consequence, in modern games the scores are very low and sometimes neither side will score a single run in a tie game of ten or twelve innings. [illustration: the drop] [illustration: the out-drop] in modern baseball a team that plays together frequently has a prearranged code of signals that are understood by each member of the team. it is very important for every player on a side to know whether the pitcher intends to deliver a high or a low ball or one that may either be batted well into the out-field or probably be a grounder that will be taken care of by some one on the in-field. of course these things do not always work out as is planned. the pitcher may not have good control of the ball or pitch wild, the catcher may make a bad "muff" and let the ball get by him, or what we expect to be a bunted ball may be a home run, but all of this is part of the sport and helps to make baseball one of the most interesting and exciting of games. in any case there is no question that nine boys who are accustomed to play together and who understand each other's methods of play and signals will have a better chance of winning a close game than nine other players who may have a shade the better of it in individual work but who do not play together. most games are won or lost in a single instant at a crucial moment when some one fails to make good, or who, usually in the case of a pitcher, lets up on his speed or accuracy just at the critical time. the national championship of was decided in favour of chicago because one of new york's players in the deciding game of the season failed to touch second base when the last man was out. the game had been won by new york except for this mistake, and the result was that another game was played, which chicago won before the largest crowd that probably ever assembled to witness a game of baseball. when a baseball team is organized, the first thing to do is to elect a captain from one of the players, and after this is decided every boy on the team should give him absolute support and obedience. a team should also have a manager whose duties are to arrange games with other teams of the same class, to arrange for the transportation of players and, in fact, to attend to all the business duties of games that come outside of actual playing. usually a boy is chosen for manager who is not a ball player himself, but who has shown an interest in the team. the captain should be a boy who first of all knows the game and who has the respect and cooperation of the other players. the position that he may play on the team is not so important, but usually it is better to have some one from the in-field as captain, as he will be in a better position to keep close watch on the progress of the game and to give directions to the other players. in case of a disputed point it is better to allow your captain to make a protest if such is necessary. observance of this rule will prevent much of the rowdyism that has characterized the game of baseball. no boy should ever attempt to win games by unfair tactics. the day of tripping, spiking, and holding is gone. if you are not able by your playing to hold up your end on a ball team you had better give up the game and devote your attention to something that you can do without being guilty of rowdyism. strict rules of training are not as necessary for baseball players as for some other branches of sport, because the game is not so strenuous nor does it involve such sustained physical exertion, but any boy will make a better ball player as well as a better man if he observes the rules of training, such as early hours for retiring, simple food, and regular systematic exercise. the battery of a team is an exception to the rule regarding strict training. both the pitcher and catcher should be in the best physical condition. a pitcher who stands up for nine innings is obliged to do a tremendous amount of work and if he becomes tired or stiff toward the end of the game he will probably be at the mercy of the opposing batsmen. usually the pitcher of a team is a boy who is physically strong and who can stand hard work. the other positions, however, are usually assigned because of the build of the individual player. the pitcher, however, may be tall or short, fat or thin, so long as he can pitch. the pitcher is the most important member of a ball team. most of the work falls to him, and a good pitcher, even with a comparatively weak team behind him, can sometimes win games where a good team with a weak pitcher would lose. a good pitcher must first of all have a cool head and keep his nerve even under the most trying circumstances. he must also have good control of the ball and be able to pitch it where he wants it to go. after that he must have a knowledge of curves and know how by causing the ball to spin in a certain way to cause it to change its course and thus to deceive the batsman. the art of curving a ball was discovered in . before that time all that a pitcher needed was a straight, swift delivery. the three general classes of curved balls used to-day are the out-curve, the in-curve, and the drop. there are also other modifications called "the fade away," "the spitball," and others. curve pitching will only come with the hardest kind of practice. in general the spin is given to the ball by a certain use of the fingers and the method of releasing it. it is necessary to conceal your intentions from the batsman in preparing to deliver a curve or he will divine your intention and the effort may be wasted. all curves are produced by a snap of the wrist at the instant of releasing the ball. excellent practice may be had in curving by pitching at a post from a sixty-foot mark and watching to see the effect of various twists and snaps. pitching is extremely hard on the arm and practice should be very light at first until the muscles become hardened. even the best professional pitchers are not worked as a rule oftener than two or three games a week. a good baseball captain always tries to develop several pitchers from his team. it is of course very desirable to have a "star pitcher" who can be depended on, but if the star should happen to be ill or to injure his fingers on a hot liner or for some reason cannot play, unless there is a substitute, the effect of his absence on his team will be to demoralize it. for that reason every encouragement should be given to any boy who wants to try his hand at pitching. if a game is well in hand it is usually safe to put in a substitute pitcher to finish it. this is done in college teams for the reason that no amount of practice is quite like playing in an actual game. it may be said to guide the beginner that the method of producing curves varies greatly with different pitchers, but that in general the out-curve is produced by grasping the ball with the first and second fingers and the thumb. the grip for this curve should be tight and the back of the hand turned downward. the out-curve can be produced either with a fast ball or a slow one. for the in-curve a swinging sidearm motion is used, the ball being released over the tips of the first two fingers with a snap to set it spinning. it may also be produced by releasing the ball over all four fingers. the grip of the ball for the drop is very similar to the out-curve, but in delivery the hand is brought almost directly over the shoulder. in all curves the pitcher must have extremely sensitive fingers and be able to control them with almost as much skill as one requires in playing a piano. we must keep in mind which way we desire the ball to spin to produce the required curve and then to give it just as much of this spin as we can without interfering with our accuracy. no two pitchers will have the same form or manner of delivery. in learning to pitch, the main thing is to adopt the delivery that seems most natural to you without especial regard to form, and with no unnecessary motions. a pitcher must always be on the alert and keep a close watch on the bases when they are occupied. he must not, however, allow the remarks of coacher or spectators to cause him to become rattled or confused. baseball at best is a noisy game, and a pitcher who is sensitive to outside remarks or joshing will never be a real success. the catcher is usually a short, stocky player with a good reach and a quick, accurate throw. he is usually the acting general in a game and signals to the whole team. the principal test of a good catcher is to be able to make a quick, swift throw to second base without being obliged to draw his arm fully back. such a ball is snapped from the wrist and should be aimed to catch the base runner who is attempting to steal the base. this play is very common in ball games, and as there is only a difference of an instant in the time that it takes a runner to go from first base to second, who starts just as the pitcher delivers the ball, and the time it takes a pitched ball to be caught by the catcher and snapped to second, a game may be won or lost just on this play alone. if the opposing team finds that it can make second in safety by going down with the pitcher's arm, it will surely take full advantage of the knowledge. to have a man on second is disconcerting to the pitcher as well as a difficult man to handle. it therefore follows that a catcher who cannot throw accurately to the bases becomes a serious disadvantage to his team. in the old days a catcher had to be able to catch either with bare hand or with a light glove, but the modern catcher's mitt, mask, chest-protector, and shin-guards make the position far safer, and almost any boy who is quick and has nerve can be trained to become a fairly good catcher so long as he has a good throw and is a good general. the first baseman is usually a tall boy who is active and who can cover his position both in reaching for high balls and in picking up grounders. of course in a baseball score the first baseman will score the largest number of "put outs," because practically all he is obliged to do is to cover the base and to catch the ball before the runner gets there. it is in fielding his position and in pulling down balls that are thrown wildly that the first baseman can show his chief skill. the positions of second base and shortstop are practically the same, and these two players should understand each other perfectly and know just when to cover the base and when to back up the other. neglect of this precaution often results in the most stupid errors, which are discouraging alike to the team and the spectators. both players should be quick and active, with an ability to throw both over and under handed as well as to toss the ball after picking it up on the run. the shortstop is often the smallest man on a team, due no doubt to the theory that his work is largely in picking up grounders. the shortstop is often led into habits which are commonly known as "grand-stand plays"; that is, he attempts to make difficult plays or one-handed stops with an unnecessary display of motions, to bring the applause of the spectators. no ball player was ever made by playing to the audience. good form is not only very desirable but very necessary, but the main thing in ball playing is to play your part and to forget that there is such a thing as an audience or applause. if your form is good so much the better, but if by paying too much attention to it you miss the ball and score an error, your team may suffer defeat on account of your pride. the main thing is to get the ball and after that to to do it as gracefully as possible. one-handed stops are well enough when you cannot get both hands on the ball, but an error made in this way is not only the most humiliating kind but also the most inexcusable. it must not be inferred that grand-stand playing is confined to the shortstop. any member of the team can be guilty of it. no player, no matter how good he may be, should be allowed to hold his position on a team unless he is willing to do his best at all times and unless he feels that the game is not lost nor won until the last man is out. many experienced players consider that the most difficult position to play well is third base. this player has to be ready for slow bunts as well as hard drives; he must cover a lot of ground and try to get every ball that comes near him. at the same time he must cover his base to stop the base runner from advancing home. he will be obliged to stop hot liners with one hand and often while on the run to make an accurate throw to first base. out-fielders are usually chosen because of their ability to bat as well as to be quick on their feet and catch fly balls on the run. fielders should practise if possible to catch the ball in a throwing position, so that no unnecessary time may be lost in getting the ball back to the in-field. of the three fielding positions, right-field is by far the most important. he must be sure of ground balls as well as flies and also, in common with all the fielders, be a good judge of the batsmen and try to be where the batted ball is going. the centre-fielder must be especially quick on his feet, as he is expected to back up both shortstop and second base as well as to run in for line hits that just go over the in-fielders' heads. the ability to start quickly when running for a ball can be greatly developed by practice and will greatly improve the player's game. very often a fly ball will fall in such a position that the out-fielders will be in doubt who is to take it. the result is usually a collision, a missed ball and a chorus of groans from the spectators. the remedy for this is to arrange beforehand for the second baseman to call out who in the case of a doubtful ball is to take it. all of these things are part of the finer points of the game and will only come from practice. a boy who really desires to become proficient in his position will try to avoid changing from one position to another, but decide which position he likes to play best or is best fitted for and try to get all the practice possible. an excellent opportunity will come from studying the methods of a good player in the same position, noting carefully what he does on each play, how he backs up the other players and how he fits in the general plan of team work. it is a great advantage to any player to learn as much as he can about the skill and methods of his opponents. some men cannot hit a low ball or a high one, some will flinch when the ball comes close to them, giving the pitcher a chance to deliver a straight, swift ball over the inside of the plate, which the umpire will call a strike even though the batsman devotes all of his energy to getting out of the way. a left-handed thrower will seldom make a success as a ball player except as pitcher or on first base. left-handed batsmen, however, are a distinct advantage to a team, as nothing will so disconcert a green pitcher as to have batsmen standing first on one side of the plate and then on the other. every boy who plays baseball must know the rules thoroughly to be a success. it is in this way that advantage of every fair opportunity can be taken. nothing is so disheartening to a team as to lose a closely contested game on a technicality of rules. batting and base running are two departments of the game where one member of the team is as important as another. a good batsman must have a quick eye and a quick brain. when he decides to strike at a ball he must not change his mind and simply swing at it feebly after it is in the catcher's hands. the best batters are not those who hit the ball the hardest. judgment in placing hits is far more important than trying to knock out a home run every time you are at the bat. you must remember that the pitcher is studying your batting methods and you must try just as hard to deceive him as he is trying to deceive you. many a game has been won by a man who knew how to wait at the bat instead of swinging wildly at everything just for fear of having strikes called. when you hit the ball there is only one rule--run. you will very soon find out whether the ball is fair or foul or whether there is any chance of making first base. a base runner should never stop trying to make a base until the ball is in the hands of the baseman. one never can tell when a ball may be fumbled or muffed. a baseball diamond should be a part of a town just as is the public square or a town hall. the distance between the bases should be ninety feet and the four base-lines should form a square and all the angles should be right angles. the three bases should be canvas bags filled with sawdust and fastened to their positions by pegs that are driven into the ground. the home plate should if possible be a piece of whitened rubber. a board securely fastened will do. [illustration: how to lay out a baseball field] the pitcher's box should be denoted by a strip of wood or rubber inches long and inches wide. this and home plate should be buried so that they are flush with the surface of the field. the pitcher's box on a full-sized field is exactly - / feet from home plate. the standard baseball is the kind used by professional players. it is covered with horsehide, and is warranted to last an entire game without ripping or getting out of shape. baseball bats are made of a variety of woods, the common materials being ash, willow, and hickory. a bat must not exceed - / inches in thickness at its thickest part. there are a great many shapes and models named after the professional players who use them. the shape of a bat does not make as much difference as some poor batters are inclined to think. the manufacturers of sporting goods make all the accessories for playing baseball both in men's and boys' sizes. every ball player should own his own mitt or glove and become accustomed to it. the same is true of his bat. the art of becoming a good ball player depends largely on the boy himself. no one plays ball naturally. it all comes with practice, and it follows that the more practice we can get the better ball players we shall become. it is a game where a loss of nerve is absolutely fatal to good work. a player must keep his head no matter how trying the circumstances may be. cool-headedness is especially important and the surest way to develop it is to be just as indifferent to the criticism of the crowd or your fellow-players, so long as you know that you have done your best, as you should be to their applause. just play the game for all there is in it, and you will be sure to become a moderately good player even though you may not be a star. in field practice, when some one is batting out balls to you, try just as hard to stop and field each ball that comes within reach as you would if the result of the game depended on it. it is only by this means that you can hope to become a finished ball player. you can never learn by lying around in the shade and telling your friends how good you are going to be in the coming match game. a regularly organized ball team should always adopt some club colours and be provided with uniforms. very good ones complete with shirt, pants, stockings, belt, and cap can be purchased of sporting goods outfitters for two or three dollars a suit (when ordered in lots of nine or more). they can also sometimes be made more cheaply at home if mothers and sisters are willing. the shirt should always be lettered with the name or initials of the team. baseball shoes are usually provided with steel plates or leather knobs. spikes are very dangerous and should not be permitted. the regulation baseball shoe reaches just under the instep. the rules of baseball are too long and complicated to be published here. almost every year many important changes are made to improve the sport and to make it harder for the batsmen to make runs. all of this tends to make the game more interesting and to develop it from a scientific side. when a team is playing away from its home grounds the choice of innings--i.e., who is to bat first--goes to the home team. a game consists of nine full innings unless called by rain, darkness or for some other cause. if five complete innings have been played when the game stops, the score always stands and the team ahead is declared the winner. in case of a tie at the end of the game the play continues until at the completion of a full inning one team is ahead. that ends the game and the team ahead is the winner. in arranging games with visiting teams it is customary to make some arrangement as to expenses, share of gate receipts or other guarantee. it is very important in order to avoid unpleasant disputes to have this matter fully understood and agreed upon by the managers of each team before the game starts. on account of fences, houses, and other obstacles that some baseball fields have it is customary for the umpire to decide what are called "ground rules" before the game starts. the principal thing that mars a good game of ball next to kicking and wrangling is the tendency of the crowd to get on the field and to interfere with the players. an easy remedy for this is simply to call the game until the spectators take their proper places. baseball is a good game if it is properly played. it is unfortunate that so many amateur games are spoiled because some of the players lose their tempers in their anxiety to have their wrongs righted. no matter how good a ball player a boy is he will never get the real benefit of the game unless he remembers that it is not the one who loses his temper but "he who ruleth his spirit" that is really entitled to the respect of his fellows. make up your mind to abide by the decision of the umpire just as a soldier obeys the orders of his superior officer. it is the easiest thing in the world for an umpire to make a mistake, but he will be far less likely to correct his errors if nine angry boys are all talking to him at once than if your captain quietly goes to him with the rules or the facts behind him and states the case. it is an old saying but none the less true that "oil catches more flies than vinegar." a boy who has developed a healthy interest in baseball while young will probably never lose it in after life even though his opportunities to play or even to see a game are few. i once met a mining man in the interior of mexico, a hundred miles from a railroad and in a town where only three people spoke the english language, and this man had not been to his home town in ten years, but he had followed his baseball team through the papers all those years and could tell you more about the players than many a man living in the town where the team played. such a man is what the newspapers call a "fan," which is an abbreviation of the word "fanatic." there is no harm in being a baseball enthusiast, provided that we do not allow it to interfere with our work or allow our desire to witness games to take the place of systematic exercise for ourselves. xvi how to play football the various positions and how to select men for them--team, work and signals--the rules football is usually played in the fall of the year because the exercise that it involves is so violent that to attempt it at any other time would probably result in injury to the players. the cool, frosty days of october and november make baseball out of season, and such weather is ideal for football. so much has been said and written about the dangers of football as a sport that many parents have strong objections to permitting their sons to play. there is no question that it is a hard game and not suited to weaklings, but a strong, healthy boy can play football under proper conditions and with proper training quite as safely as he can do many other things to which parents raise no objections, such as wrestling, climbing trees, playing hockey, or even performing difficult feats of gymnastics or acrobatics in a gymnasium. every year there are a number of serious accidents from football, but there are also injuries from other games, and people are injured who play no games at all, so it simply is a question whether we are willing to take the chances of a sprained ankle or broken bone for the love of one of the best of outdoor sports. [illustration: the lineup] the recent changes in rules have made football a much safer game than it was in the early nineties, when such plays as the "flying wedge" and line bucking were practically all there was to the game. to any one who does not understand football it seems as though it were played with practically no science and with but few rules. as a matter of fact a well-coached college team will sometimes have sixty or seventy separate plays each of which has been carefully practised and which requires each man on the team to do something to help make the play successful, while on the other hand each man on the opposing team is doing his best to cause the play to fail. the result to any one not understanding the game is simply a confused mass of struggling men and a final tumble with a pile of legs and arms flying about. the american game of football called rugby is a development of the english game, but the present game is very different from the english game of soccer or association football, in which kicking predominates and where a round ball is used instead of the oval-shaped american football. numerous efforts have been made to introduce the game of soccer into this country, but the long popularity of the american game and the strong support that has been given to it by the colleges have prevented soccer from gaining much of a foothold. football is played by two opposing teams of eleven men each. the positions are right and left end, right and left tackle, right and left guard, centre rush, quarter-back, right and left half-backs and full-back. the manner in which they line up is shown in the accompanying diagram. l.e. l.t. l.g. c. r.g. r.t. r.e. q. l.h.-b. r.h.-b. f-b. the weight and size of the men on a football team largely govern the positions where they play. the centre rush and the two guards are usually the heaviest men on the team, as extra weight in the centre of the line is important to prevent what is called "bucking the centre." the two tackles should be strong, stocky players, not too tall, but still with sufficient weight to enable them to keep their feet in a mass play and to offer strong resistance to a united attack on their position. they should also be quick and agile and be able to advance the ball by rushing when called upon. the two ends must be fleet of foot and quick, sure tacklers. with the constant changes in football rules the position of end has become more and more important, until now a team with weak, slow ends is almost like a baseball team with a poor pitcher. many people regard the position of quarter-back as the most important on the team. he is virtually the field captain. a good quarter-back must be an all around player of the highest order. he must first of all have a good head and be able to run off the plays of his team without confusion. he must keep his head under the most trying circumstances. he must watch for weak places in the opposing team and direct the play of his men against them. he must offer encouragement to his own team and be always on the alert to capture a fumbled ball, stop a runner who has eluded the tacklers or to catch a punt that may come within his reach. in nearly all the big college games the quarter-back is one of the star players. the nature of his many duties is such that he is forced to be a grand-stand player and to be conspicuous even though he may not desire to. in running back punts the quarter-back will often be used because he is sure in catching them, which is a matter of the greatest importance. and all of this work is required of a man who is usually the smallest, lightest man on the team and who alongside of the giant guards and centre sometimes looks like a pigmy. there is no higher honour in football than to be a good all around quarter-back. the half-backs are chosen because of their speed and their ability to advance the ball and to elude the tackling of the opposing team. they come in for a very large share of the work and must be boys of superior strength and agility. next to the quarter-back the player of the greatest importance is full-back. his duty first of all is to attend to the kicking end of the game. for that reason he must practise constantly both with punts and drop kicks and be able to put the ball between the goal-posts from all angles and distances within reason. a great many games are won by a good drop kicker making a field goal at a critical time, and such a man is of the highest value to a team. as drop kicking, like pitching in baseball, comes largely from practice, the captain or manager of a team should see to it that any member of his team who shows any ability at all in this department should be given every opportunity and encouragement to develop his skill. a good drop kicker can be used temporarily from almost any position in the line, whether he be guard, tackle or end. as a rule, however, the full-back is the player who does most of the kicking. he must also be a good line bucker and be able to gain the required distance when called upon. in general, then, we choose the three centre men because of their weight, the tackles and ends for speed and ability in tackling, the quarter-back for his all around ability and his generalship, the half-backs because of their skill in rushing the ball, and the full-back for the kicking department. any man on the team may be chosen captain. as his work is largely done in practice and in perfecting plays, unless a team is in the hands of a coach it is better not to add the duties of captain to the already overburdened quarter-back. otherwise he is the logical and ideal man for the position. [illustration: a football gridiron] there is no game in which team work is more important than in football. eleven boys of moderate ability and comparative light weight who can execute their plays with skill and precision can beat a team of heavier boys or superior players who may lack their skill and organization. in the case of a school team it is almost always possible to secure the services of a coach from among the graduates. if such a one has had experience on a college team so much the better. a football field is feet long by feet wide. at each end are goal posts set feet inches apart, with a crossbar feet above the ground. the field is marked off in chalk lines similar to a tennis court, these lines being yards apart. the centre of the field where the play starts is yards from either end. it is usually customary to run lines parallel to the sides of the field, also yards apart, but as a field is but feet wide the first and last of these lines are but feet from the side lines instead of yards. the lines on a football field make a checkerboard effect and have given to the field the name of "gridiron." football is a game where eleven men try to force the ball back of the opposing players' goal line by various efforts in running with it or in kicking, while the opposing team meanwhile, by throwing the runner or by pushing him back, try to prevent any gain being made. each team is allowed a certain number of attempts to make a certain distance and, if they fail to do this the ball becomes the property of the other team to make a similar attempt. each of these attempts is called a "down," and, according to the rules, after three attempts, if the runners have failed to gain the required distance, the ball is given to their opponents. in practice it is customary for a team to kick the ball on its last down and thus to surrender it just as far from its own goal line as possible. the distance that must be made in three downs according to the present rules is ten yards. sometimes a team will not kick on its last down because the distance remaining to be gained is so little that the quarter-back feels sure that one of his men can make it, but this is an exception. when ten or more yards are gained the ball becomes at first down again and the team has three more attempts to make another ten yards figured from where the ball was finally downed. the ultimate object of "rushing the ball," as this play is called, is to place it on the ground behind the enemy's goal line, which is called a "touchdown." sometimes a team will succeed in getting the ball almost over the goal line and then because of the superior resistance of its opponents will find that it can advance it no further. it is then customary for one of the players who has had practice in drop kicking to attempt to kick what is called a "goal from the field" or "field goal." this play counts less than a touchdown in the score, counting but three points, while a touchdown counts five, but many a game has been won by a field goal. football scores between evenly matched teams who play scientifically are usually low, one or two scores in a game being all that are made. it frequently happens that neither side will score, but, unlike baseball, the game does not continue after the time limit has expired, but simply becomes a tie game. the game is divided into four periods of fifteen minutes each. there are resting periods of three minutes each between the first and second and third and fourth periods, and fifteen minutes between the second and third periods. at the beginning of the game the two opposing captains toss up a coin and the winner of the toss has the choice of goals or of the ball. his decision will be governed by the position of the sun and the wind conditions, two very important things in football. after each score the sides change goals, however; so the choice is not so important unless the game happens to be scoreless. at the first play the ball is placed in the centre of the field and is kicked off, a man on the opposing team trying to catch it and to run back as far as possible before he is tackled and the ball "downed." the next lineup takes place at this point and the game proceeds until a score is made. after each score the ball is put in play just as at the beginning of the game. the quarter-back calls out a series of numbers and letters called "signals" before the ball is put into play. these signals will tell his team what the play is to be, whether a run around end, a kick, or a mass play on centre, for example. the matter of thorough coaching in signals is very important and must be practised by the team until it can tell in an instant just what the play is to be when the play starts. the centre stoops low and holds the ball in an upright position on the ground between his feet. the quarter-back is directly behind him with outstretched hands ready to receive it. after the signal is given the team must be ready to execute the play, but must not by look or motion permit its opponents know what the play is to be. at a touch or word from the quarter-back, the full-back snaps the ball back and the play starts. the position of the men on a team is generally as the diagram shows but for various plays other formations are used, provided that they do not violate the rules, which specify just how many men must be in the lineup and how many are permitted behind the line. the first requirement of signals is to have them simple. in the heat and stress of a game the players will have but little time to figure out what the play is to be, even though it may all have seemed very simple on paper. to begin a code of signals each position on the team is given a letter. the eleven positions will require eleven letters and no two must be alike. it would be possible of course to simply start with the letter "a" and go to "k," but this system would be too simple and easily understood by your opponents. a better way is to take a word easily remembered in which no letter occurs twice, such as "b-l-a-c-k-h-o-r-s-e-x" or any other combination. "buy and trade" "importance," "formidable," and many others are used. the same principle is used by tradesmen in putting private price marks on their goods. take the words "buy and trade" for example. their positions right and left end, abbreviated (r.e. and l.e.), right and left tackle (r.t. and l.t.), right and left guard (r.g. and l.g.), centre (c.), quarter-back (q.), right and left half-backs (r.h. and l.h.), and full-back (f.b.), would be assigned letters as follows: l.e. l.t. l.g. c. r.g. r.t. r.e. q. l.h. f.b. r.h. _b u y a n d t r a d e_ the letters denote not only players but holes in the line, as the spaces between the players are called. the quarter-back always adds to his signal a number of other letters or figures which have no meaning, simply to confuse the opposing players. for example the signal given is " -e-n- -x." the figures and mean nothing, nor does the "x." the signal says "e will take the ball and go through n," or right half-back through right guard. any number of other plays can be denoted by letters or numbers, for example all punts by figures which are a multiple of ten, as - , - , and so on. the beginner in football should first of all be provided with a suitable uniform; there is no game in which this is more important. the game is rough and many and harsh are the jolts we receive; consequently we must use whatever padding and guards we can to provide against injury. the custom is to wear a tight jersey with elbow pads, a tight-fitting canvas jacket and well-padded canvas khaki or moleskin trousers. the appearance of our uniform is of little consequence, as football players are not noted for the beauty of their costumes. heavy woollen stockings and football shoes complete the outfit. the shoes are the most important part of the uniform. they should lace with eyelets and be well provided with leather cleats to prevent slipping. [illustration: football shoes] a beginner at football can gain a lot of valuable points by carefully watching the practice of his team from the side lines. he is then in a position when called upon to fill a given position which he may be trying for, without obliging the coach or captain to give him instruction in many rudiments which he can just as well learn from observation. he must also be thoroughly familiar with the rules and their interpretation. a violation of the rules in football carries with it a severe penalty for the team, provided of course that the referee sees it, consequently, a beginner must be especially careful not to permit his anxiety to make a good showing to result in being offside when the ball is put in play, interfering with a man about to make a fair catch or in doing many other things which the excitement of the game may occasion. the moment of putting the ball into play is called a "scrimmage" and the scrimmage continues until the ball is downed. a ball is "down" when the runner is brought to a standstill or when he touches the ground with any part of his body except his hands or feet. at this point the referee will blow his whistle and a lineup for a new scrimmage will take place. [illustration: the football uniform] when the ball is kicked, a member of the opposing team who raises his hand and stands in one spot is entitled to make a catch without interference, which if successful gives his team a free kick. in a free kick his opponents may not come within ten yards of where the ball was caught and some member of his team may kick either a drop kick, punt or place kick as he sees fit. after a touchdown, which counts five, a place kick for goal is attempted. if the ball goes between the goal-posts and above the crossbar it counts one point additional for the team making the touchdown, or six in all. a score of one alone cannot be made in football, as the attempt for goal cannot be made until after a touchdown. this of course does not apply to a field goal, which may be attempted at any time while the ball is in possession of the team and which counts three. the smallest score is from a "safety," which results when a member of a team is forced to touch the ball down behind his own goal or is downed there by the opposing team. this play counts two for his opponents and is an evidence of weakness of the team. it has the advantage, however, of permitting the ball to be brought out twenty-five yards to be put into play. the rules of football were practically unchanged for a number of years, but the game developed so many dangerous features that nearly all the colleges recently agreed to certain important changes especially directed to abolishing mass play and line bucking. for that reason the rules for the present game may be changed considerably within a few years. a boy taking up football should therefore acquaint himself with the latest rules governing the sport. football requires careful training, but the best training will come from actual play itself. in the beginning of the season a period of ten minutes' hard play is all that a boy should be called upon to do, unless he is in excellent physical shape. after that the time of practice should be lengthened until a candidate can go through a game of two full halves without being exhausted. one reason for many football injuries is that the players become so completely winded that the ordinary power of resistance is lost. besides actual play the best training is in taking long runs to improve the wind, one of the most essential things in football. in the colleges training for nearly all athletic events is done in this way and a candidate who cannot go out with his squad and run four or five miles at a stiff dog trot will have but little chance of making his team. xvii lawn tennis how to make and mark a tennis court--clay and sod courts--the proper grip of the racket--golf--the strokes and equipment the steady growth in popularity of lawn tennis as well as the splendid exercise that results from playing this game has given it a sure place in the field of athletic sports. it is a game that requires a great deal of skill, and as no one realizes this fact more than those who are experts, a beginner should not be deterred from playing tennis simply because he may fear the criticism of the more experienced. the only way to learn the various strokes and to be able to play a good game is to practise at every opportunity. it is better to play against some one who is more skilful than ourselves and who will keep us on our mettle to make a good showing. the eye and the muscles must work automatically and with precision. no amount of written instructions can give us this skill. the personal outfit for playing tennis is of course very simple. every player should own his racket and become accustomed to it. they cost almost any price up to eight dollars, which will buy the very best rackets made. the weight and size of the racket will depend on our strength. the average weight for a man is about fourteen ounces and for a boy an ounce or two lighter. a skilful player becomes so accustomed to the feeling and weight of his own racket that often he will play an indifferent game if he is forced to use any other. the game of lawn tennis was first played on a lawn or grass court, and many players still prefer this kind of a court, but the difficulty of obtaining a good sod, and after having obtained it the greater difficulty of keeping it in good condition, have increased the popularity of a skinned or clay court, which is always in fair condition except immediately after a heavy rain. the expense of maintaining a tennis court is more than most boys or most families would care to undertake. as a rule, tennis courts fall in the same general class with golf links in that they lend themselves readily to the joint ownership of a club or school, where the expense falls on a number rather than on an individual. in a great many places the boys of a town or village have clubbed together and have obtained permission from some one owning a piece of vacant ground that is not likely to be sold or improved within a few years and have built a tennis court on it. this arrangement helps the appearance of the land, that should be secured at a very low rental, or none at all if the owner is public spirited and prefers to see the boys of his town grow up as healthy, athletic men rather than weaklings who have no place for recreation but in the village streets, where passing trucks and automobiles will endanger their lives, or at least cause them to be a nuisance to the public. [illustration: the dimensions of a tennis court] to build a tennis court properly means a lot of work and it should only be attempted under the direction of some one who understands it. the things most important are good drainage, good light, and sufficient room. a double court is feet wide by feet long, but in tournament games or on courts where experts play it is customary to have an open space about feet wide by to feet long, to give the players plenty of room to run back and otherwise to play a fast game. a court should always be laid out north and south or as near these points of the compass as possible. in courts running east and west the sun is sure to be in the eyes of one of the players nearly all day; this is of course a very serious objection. while it is very pleasant to play tennis in the shade of a tree or building, a court should never be located under these conditions if it is possible to avoid it. a properly placed court should be fully exposed to the sun all day. first of all it will be necessary to decide whether a grass or "dirt" court is to be built. if the grass is fine and the place where the court is to be happens to be level, there is little to do but to cut the sod very short with a lawn-mower and to mark out the court. if, on the contrary, there is much grading or levelling to be done, a dirt court will be much cheaper and better in the end, as constant playing on turf soon wears bare spots. the upkeep of a grass court will be expensive unless it is feasible to move its position from time to time. whatever the court is to be, the first question to consider is proper drainage. if the subsoil is sandy the chances are that the natural soakage will take care of the surplus water, but on the contrary, if the court is at the bottom of a hill or in a low place where clay predominates, it is necessary to provide some means of getting rid of the surplus water from rainfalls or our court may be a sea of mud just when it would be most useful to us. to level a court properly we shall need the services of some one expert with a levelling instrument of some kind. it is not safe to depend on what seems to be level to our eye, as our judgment is often influenced by leaning trees, the horizon, and other natural objects. with a few stakes driven into the ground, the tops of which are level, we are enabled to stretch lines which will give us our levels accurately. a court should have a slope of a few inches from one end to the other to carry off water. after the level is determined, all there is to making a court is to fill in or cut away soil and earth until the proper level space is obtained. as a rule it is better to dig away for a court rather than to fill in, as we thus obtain a better bottom and one that will require but little rolling. in the case of a slope, it is well so to locate the court that the amount of earth excavated from one end will be just about sufficient to fill in the other. the final surfacing of a court is done by means of clay and sand in the proportion of about four or five to one, the clay of course being in excess. to mix clay and sand thoroughly, the former should first be pulverized thoroughly when dry and the mixture sifted over the court carefully and evenly. the next step is rolling and wetting, and more rolling and wetting until finally the whole is allowed to dry and is ready for play. the slight irregularities and roller ridges that often appear in a court will soon be worn off by the players' feet, but playing of course will not change the grade. a new court will be greatly improved by use, but no one should be allowed on a court except with rubber-soled shoes. heeled shoes will soon ruin a court, and it is bad practice even to allow any one to walk over a court unless with proper footwear. the preliminary levelling of a court can be accomplished with a rake and a straight-edged board, but after the clay has become packed and hard it will be necessary to use considerable force in scraping off the inequalities. a metal cutting edge, such as a hoe or scraper, will be found useful. a court should be swept with a coarse broom to distribute the fine material evenly. another very good sweeper can be made from a piece of wood about six or eight feet long to which several thicknesses of bagging have been tacked or fastened. the final step in making a court consists in marking it out. most courts are marked so that they will be suitable either for singles or doubles or so that either two or four people can play at a time. where tape markers are to be used, the proper distances will appear on the tape without measuring, but if lime is used for marking a careful plotting will be necessary to secure the proper distances, after which the corners should be indicated by angle irons, so that the court may be re-marked at any time without re-measuring. [illustration: a game of doubles in lawn tennis] considerable difficulty is often experienced by beginners in marking out a court, and, in fact, it is not a simple matter. the first thing of importance is to determine generally one corner of the court and to get a base line and a side line at a true right angle of ninety degrees. the same principle may be employed that is used by builders and surveyors in "squaring a building," as it is called. you will need a ten-foot pole with marks for the feet indicated on it in lead pencil, and in addition to this a few -penny spikes and a ball of stout twine. drive a nail into the ground where you want one corner of the court and fasten the line to it; then stretch the line to another nail to mark either a side line or back line. you will then have one side and the corner fixed, and the problem is to get another line at right angles to it. boys who have studied geometry know that "in a right-angle triangle the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides." it isn't necessary to understand this, but it is the principle employed in "squaring." you next stretch another line and have some one hold it. on the fixed side line you measure eight feet from the corner nail and mark it with a piece of twine tied around the line. you also make a six-foot mark on the line to be at right angles to it, the exact direction of which is yet to be determined. both of these measurements must be accurate. the boy on the end of the loose line moves it until the distance between the two pieces of twine is exactly the length of your ten-foot pole. the angle thus formed is exactly ninety degrees, or a right angle. having obtained one side and one end, to finish marking is simply a matter of making the necessary measurements of a court as shown on the diagram and marking each intersecting point with a nail driven into the ground. [illustration: how to mark out a tennis court] another way to lay out a court is to drive two stakes or nails into the ground feet apart. (the line of these stakes should be the position of the net.) then take two pieces of twine, one feet inches long, and the other feet. fasten one line to each of the spikes that you have placed feet apart. where the two lines meet as they are pulled taut are the true corners of the court, as there are only four points where they can meet. the various measurements can then be marked as above by referring to the diagram. it is customary to mark a double court and to indicate the lines for singles afterward. the game of tennis may be played either by two or four persons, or sometimes an expert player will stand two beginners. the ball used is rubber filled with air and covered with white felt and is - / inches in diameter. it is necessary to play with two balls, and to save time in chasing those that go wild it is customary to play with three or four. one of the players begins by serving. the selection of the court is usually chosen by lot or by tossing up a racket in a way similar to tossing a cent. the side of the racket where the woven gut appears is called "rough," and the other side "smooth." this practice is not to be recommended, as it injures the racket. it is better to toss a coin. the game of tennis consists in knocking the ball over the net and into the court of your opponent, keeping up this volley until one side or player fails to make the return properly or at all, which scores his opponent a point. while a game in tennis consists of four points, the simple numbers from one to four are not used. the points run , , , game, when one side makes them all. or it may be " - ," " all," and so on, the score of the server being mentioned first. where one side has nothing their score is called "love." when one side has scored four points the game is won--with this exception: when both sides are tied at , or "deuce," as it is called, the winners must make two points more than their opponents to win. in this way the game may be continued for a long time as the points are won first by one side and then by the other. the score at deuce, or " all," will be denoted as "vantage in" or "vantage out," depending upon whether the server's side or the other wins one of the two points necessary to win from "deuce." if first one side, then the other, obtains one of these points the score will be "vantage in" or "out," as the case may be, and then "deuce" again, until finally when two points clear are made it is "game." a set of tennis consists in winning six games, but in this case also there is a peculiar condition. where each side wins five games it is necessary in order to win the set to obtain a lead of two games. the score in games is then denoted just as in a single game, "deuce" and "vantage" games being played until a majority of two is won. [illustration: photographs of tennis strokes taken in actual play] [illustration: (a) the right and (b) the wrong way to hold a tennis racket] to learn the game of tennis, first obtain a proper grip of the racket. it should always be held firmly and as near the end as possible, the leather butt being inside the hand. a loose grip will absolutely prevent a player from becoming expert, as the accuracy and quickness that are a part of tennis can never be obtained unless we have the racket under perfect control. the various backhand, high and low strokes will only come from constant practice. the most important stroke to master as well as the most difficult is a swift, accurate service. a player who is otherwise a fair player can easily lose game after game by not having mastered his service stroke, and thus he beats himself without any effort on the part of his opponent. the various "twist" services have almost passed out of use. even the best players employ a straight, swift overhand ball. to fail to serve the ball over the net and in the proper place is called a "fault." the player has two chances and to fail in both is called "a double fault." a common mistake is to attempt a swift smash on the first ball, which may fail half the time, and then to make sure of the second ball by an easy stroke which a skilful opponent can return almost at will and thus either extend us to the utmost to return it or else make us fail altogether. it is better to make sure of the first serve than to attempt a more difficult serve than our skill will permit. golf the game of golf, while of comparatively recent introduction in this country, has sprung rapidly into popularity. it is hard to say just why it should be such a popular game except that it combines a certain amount of healthful outdoor exercise with an unlimited opportunity for skill, and in addition to this, unlike the more violent games, it can be joined in by old as well as young. the proper construction and maintenance of a golf course is an expensive proposition. a private course is altogether out of the question except for the very wealthy. a club in starting with a limited amount of money will find it more satisfactory to begin with the construction of a nine-hole or even a six-hole course rather than to attempt a full course of eighteen holes which will be indifferently constructed or kept up. the average eighteen-hole course is about three miles long and is built according to the general lay of the land. a hole in golf consists in the stretch between the "tee," from which the ball is knocked off, and the "putting green," where the player "putts" the ball into the "hole"--a can sunk into the ground which has about the same diameter as a tomato can. the score consists in the number of strokes required to make the hole, and of course the player making the fewest number of strokes is the winner of the hole or match. [illustration: addressing] [illustration: at the top of the swing] [illustration: just before the ball is struck] golf has but few rules. the secret of playing well consists in being able to swing the clubs with accuracy and precision. there is no game where proper form counts for more and none in which more careful preliminary instruction by an expert is so important. if one can at the very outset obtain the services of a professional or a skilful player for a few lessons, it will do far more good than ten times as many lessons after we have contracted bad habits which will have to be unlearned. [illustration: how an expert plays golf] the surest way to be a poor golfer is first to think that it is a sort of "old man's game," or, as one boy said, "a game of knocking a pill around a ten-acre lot"; then when the chance to play our first game comes along to do it indifferently, only to learn later that there is a lot more to the skill of a good player than we ever realized. another very common mistake is to buy a complete outfit of clubs, which a beginner always improperly calls "sticks," before we really know just what shape and weight of club is best adapted to our needs. [illustration: a good outfit of clubs for golf] the common clubs in most players' outfits consist of a driver, brassie, cleek, iron, and putter. we can add to this list almost indefinitely if we wish, as there are all sorts of clubs made for various shots and with various angles. the game of golf consists in covering a certain fixed course in the fewest number of shots. we shall have to practise both for distance and accuracy. the first few shots on a hole of average length will give us an opportunity for distance. this is especially true of the first shot, or drive, but after that we make what are known as approach shots--that is to say, we are approaching the putting green where we complete the hole by "putting" the ball into the tin cup sunk into the ground. on the green we shall need to be very careful, as a stroke wasted or poorly played counts just as much against our score if the ball goes only a few feet as if we sliced or "foozled" our drive. in scoring for golf there are two methods: either the score of each hole is taken and the winner of a majority of holes wins the match, or the total score in counted as in "medal" or "tournament play." "bogie score" is a fictitious score for the course that is supposed to denote perfect playing without flukes or luck. the mysterious "colonel bogie" is an imaginary player who always makes this score. xviii photography the selection of a camera--snapshots vs. real pictures--how to make a photograph from start to finish aside from our own pleasant recollections, an album of photographs can be the most satisfactory reminder of the good times we have had on some vacation or outdoor trip. photography has been made so easy and so inexpensive by modern methods that every one should have some kind of a camera. small instruments capable of taking really excellent pictures within their limits can be bought for five dollars or even less. of course we cannot hope often to obtain pictures that will be really artistic with such a small outfit, but sometimes the inexpensive cameras will give remarkably good results. snapshot pictures seem to fill such an important place in our outdoor life that no vacation or excursion trip seems to be complete unless some one takes along a camera. the modern way of taking pictures, which is simply pressing a button and sending a film to the professional to "do the rest," including developing, printing and mounting, is really not photography. almost any one can take pictures with a small hand camera. the manufacturers have perfected instruments so complete for this kind of work that there is very little for us to do beyond being sure that we have an unexposed section of film in place and that we have sufficient light to obtain a picture. of course we must have the focus right and must be sure we are pointing at what we wish to take. real photography is quite different from snapshot work. it is a hobby so fascinating and with such great possibilities that there is scarcely anything that will give a boy or girl more real pleasure in life and a better opportunity to be outdoors than to become an expert outdoor photographer. unfortunately it is a rather expensive pastime, but even with a moderate priced instrument we can obtain excellent results under the right conditions. i have seen a prize-winning picture in an exhibition that was made with a cigar box, with a pinhole in one end for a lens. even though one does not care to become an expert photographer, by all means get a camera and make snapshots. it is quite a common idea for an amateur to attribute his failures to defects in his material or outfit. you may be sure when you fail it is your own fault. dealers in photographic supplies constantly have complaints from customers about defective materials, and certainly nine out of every ten of these cases are simply due to the carelessness of the operator with perfectly good material. it is well for a beginner in photography to start with a simple snapshot camera. they can be bought for three or four dollars up to twenty-five. such cameras are used with films, and simply require the operator to expose his film in plenty of light and with the proper attention to the distance that the object to be photographed may be from the camera. until we can accurately estimate distances, such as , , or more feet, it will be far safer to pace off the distance, remembering that a long step for a boy is about equivalent to three feet. some cameras have a universal focus and require no adjusting, but an adjustable camera will usually give better results. some cameras are so constructed that they may be used either as a hand machine or on a tripod for view work. they can also be adapted either to films or plates and be operated with the ground glass for focussing, or if desired, the focussing scale and view finder may be used. the size of our camera will depend largely upon our purse. the cost of the camera itself is not the only thing to consider. all the plates and supplies increase in proportion to the size of our instrument. a good all around size is x , or if we really wish to become photographers the x is a standard. a number of new sizes have recently been introduced and have proven very satisfactory. perhaps the best size for a snapshot camera is - / x - / . there are a great many makes of cameras on the market, but even at the risk of advertising one firm more than another it is only fair to say that there is really nothing better in pocket snapshot machines than the kodaks. in view cameras it is different. there are instruments of a dozen makes any of which will produce excellent results. the tests to apply in selecting a view camera are its workmanship, compactness, and the various attachments and conveniences it has. the salesman from whom you purchase will explain fully just what its possibilities are, especially if you take some experienced person with you who can ask questions. suppose you begin photographing with a simple "snapshot" outfit. the first thing to remember is that there is absolutely no excuse for the large percentages of failures that beginners have in making pictures, and which are due solely to their own carelessness and inattention to simple details. first of all, immediately after making an exposure, be sure to form the habit of turning the key until a fresh film comes into place; then you will never be troubled with the question whether you have exposed the film or not. every professional photographer who develops for amateurs handles many films in which some of the negatives are blank and some are double negatives with two pictures on one film. this is solely the fault of the photographer, who was never quite sure and would first make the mistake of exposing a film twice, then turning the roll without exposing it at all. if you are really in doubt, it is better to turn the roll to the next number, as you thus simply lose a film but preserve both negatives; if, on the other hand, you make a double exposure, you will lose both pictures. the snapshot photographer should never take a picture unless he really wants it and unless he is pretty certain of making a picture. snapping here and there without a proper condition of light, focus, or subject is a very bad habit to contract. until you can make at least eight good pictures out of ten you are not a photographer. no average lower than this should satisfy you. do not blame the lens for your failures. in recent years the art of making lenses has advanced wonderfully, and while the one in your camera may not be an expensive one or capable of a wide range of use, it is at least adapted to the purpose of your instrument or you may be sure that the manufacturers would never have used it. we should not consider the snapshot expert who merely presses the button as a real photographer, even though he obtains fine pictures. no one deserves this name who does not understand the operations of the dark room. one who has experienced the wonderful sensation of working in a faint yellow-ruby light and by the application of certain mysterious chemicals of seeing a picture gradually come into view on the creamy surface of a dry plate will never again be satisfied to push the button and allow some one else "to do the rest." however, if you do not wish to go into photography extensively you may at least learn just what limits your hand camera has, and at the end of the season in place of a lot of ill-timed pictures you can have an album full of creditable prints for which no apology will be necessary. it is quite beyond the limits of this chapter to go into photography fully, but some of the simple principles may be of use to the boy or girl who has taken up the subject. the modern snapshot camera even of small size has great possibilities. with a clear negative we can have an enlargement made on bromide paper that will be a source of great satisfaction. the actual making of enlargements is usually beyond the limits of an amateur's outfit. in this part of photographic work it will be better to patronize a professional. to become an expert photographer and one whose work will be worth while, we must really make a study of the subject. the modern outfits and chemicals make it very easy for us if we do our part. the basis of successful work is a good lens, which is really the eye of the camera. in selecting it we should get just as good a one as we can afford. there are a great many excellent makes of lenses on the market and even the stock types that are supplied with moderate-priced cameras are of very good quality. the two distinct types of lenses are the "rapid rectilinear" and the "anastigmatic," which names refer to their optical properties in distributing the light. for our purpose all we need to know is that the higher price we pay the better our lenses will be, and in addition to this the further fact that the best kind of results can be obtained by any lens provided that we do not try to force it to do work for which it is not adapted. to understand photography we must first of all get a clear notion of the use and purpose of the stops, as the various openings or apertures are called that the lens is provided with. a "fast" lens is one that will give a sharp picture at a maximum opening, and such lenses are both the most expensive and the most universal in their application. lenses of this class are used in making instantaneous pictures with very rapid exposures, and for ordinary view or portrait work will produce no better results than much slower and less expensive types. perhaps the best way to understand photography as an art rather than a "push the button" pastime is to take up the process of making a picture step by step. to begin with, the real photographer will use plates instead of films, as much better pictures usually are possible by their use. dry plates come a dozen in a box, usually packed face to face--that is, with the film or sensitive sides facing. the plate-holder must be loaded in a dark room or dark closet, with absolutely no exposure to daylight or any artificial light whatever except a very faint light from a dark-room lantern, a combination of ruby and yellow glass or paper. we should always test our dark room and light by means of a plate before we trust them to actual working conditions. take a fresh plate and cover it half with a piece of cardboard, or if it is in a holder draw the slide half way out and allow the dark-room light to strike it for five minutes, then develop the plate just as you would an exposed negative, and if the test plate shows the effect of the exposure and darkens, we shall need to make our light safer either by adding a sheet or two of yellow or ruby paper or we must examine our room carefully to stop up any cracks where rays of white light may enter. we must remember that a plate sensitive enough to record instantaneous exposures of - of a second must be sensitive to any tiny ray of outside light also. almost any room will make a dark room, especially if it is used at night. by drawing the shades and by doing our work in a far corner of the room away from outside light we are comparatively safe. of course an electric street lamp or other bright light would have to be shut out, but this can easily be done by pinning up a blanket over the window. when we have loaded our plate-holders we are ready to make a picture. suppose, for example, it is to be a house or a vista of some kind such as a group of trees or a bit of water: the first thing of importance is to obtain a point of view that will not only give us the picture we desire but that will leave out any undesirable features that we do not care to take. some cameras are provided with a small view finder for snapshot work, and this may often be used to get a general idea of what the picture will be. successful photography consists largely in knowing just what to take and what to omit. sometimes an ugly piece of fence or a post will spoil an otherwise excellent picture. we must also remember that in a photograph our colours are expressed in black and white, and therefore a picture that depends on its colour contrast for its beauty, such as autumn foliage or a sunset, may be disappointing as a photograph. when we have decided upon our subject, the next step is to set our camera in the proper position to permit the plate to take in what we wish. usually it will be necessary to shift our position several times until we find the proper position. the tripod should be firmly set on the ground and the camera made as level as possible. the camera should then be focussed with the stop or diaphragm wide open. the fact that the image is inverted as it appears on the ground glass will at first be confusing to a beginner, but we soon become accustomed to it and never give it a thought. our focussing cloth should be tightly drawn about the head to keep out as much outside light as possible. at first we have some difficulty in seeing the image on the ground glass, but after we learn to look at the glass and not through it we should have no further trouble in this respect. by moving the lens backward and forward we finally strike a position where the principal image to be photographed will appear sharp and clear. the camera is then in focus, but we shall discover that other objects more in the background or foreground will appear blurred and confused. often it is desirable to have a blurred or "fuzzy" background, but if we desire to bring the indistinct objects in focus we must "stop down" our lens first by trying the no. stop, and if this does not accomplish the results the no. , and so on until we get what we wish. as we look at the image on the ground glass, it will be evident that as we stop down our lens, the more remote objects are gradually brought into view with a sharp outline, we shall discover that the image on the ground glass becomes less and less distinct, which shows very clearly that we are admitting less light, and the lesson to be learned is that when we make the exposure we must give a corresponding increase in time as the amount of light admitted decreases. an exposure that would give a perfect picture at no. may be very much under-exposed at no. diaphragm. having focussed our camera and set the stop, we then close the shutter, insert the plate-holder in the back of the camera and carefully draw the slide. omitting to pull the slide is a common mistake with beginners. we are now ready to decide just what exposure to give our plate. rules for exposure are almost useless, but in general it may be said that the modern plates are lightning fast and that in bright sunlight at midday the average exposures will not be over - of a second. an "exposure meter" will prove to be of great assistance to a beginner, but such arrangements are not often used by experts except in doubtful cases. we soon find that we can guess at average exposures with considerable accuracy, especially if we adopt a certain brand of plate and become accustomed to its working qualities. of course all of these speeds must be indicated on the shutter, and all we can do is to set our shutter at this point and squeeze the bulb. correct judgment in exposure will only come after experience. in taking interior views or making pictures on dark days we shall be less likely to make a mistake than in bright sunlight. i have made two interior views, to one of which i gave ten minutes and the other an hour, with practically the same result in the negative. an over-exposed plate is flat, which means that the print will lack contrast and be unsatisfactory as a photograph. after the bulb is squeezed and the exposure made we are ready to develop our plate and to see what result we have obtained. of course in practice we make a number of exposures before we begin to develop. some photographers use numbered plate-holders and keep a record of the pictures, time of day and of exposure, stop and any other items of interest. we now take the plate-holder in our dark room and prepare our developer. there are a great many developers on the market and we can scarcely make a mistake with any of them. probably the best of all is "pyro," but the fact that it stains the fingers is a serious objection to it for amateur use, and almost any other developer, such as metol, eikonogen or hydroquinon will be better. these stock developers usually come in dry salts, which must be dissolved and mixed. all of this work must be done in the light so we can see that we are getting the proper proportions and that the chemicals are thoroughly in solution. the developing trays should be washed thoroughly and placed conveniently at hand so that we can find them in the dark. in addition to developers we must have what is called the "hypo" fixing bath. this is a solution of hyposulphite of soda, a chemical which is used in development and which renders the plate no longer sensitive to light, but dissolves that part which has not been acted upon by the developer. the hypo should be in a tray or box placed conveniently at hand but not so located that it will be liable to become mixed with the developer or in any way to splash or spot the plate. we must always wash the hands thoroughly after immersing a plate in the hypo before handling a fresh plate, as a very few drops will ruin a negative. after we have prepared the hypo and the developer we are ready to develop the plate. place it face side up in the tray and quickly pour the developer over it, being sure that the solution covers the surface immediately, to avoid unequal development. while we should not develop in a strong red or yellow light we can at least place our tray in such a position that we may watch the process of bringing up the image out of the creamy surface of the plate. this is the most fascinating part of photography. first the high lights will appear and then the shadows, and then after an instant the whole image will come into view and then begin to fade away. to know at what point development should stop will only come by experience with negatives of all sorts of classes. generally speaking, when the image fades from view and begins to appear through the film on the glass side we should wash it quickly and immerse it in the hypo. the "fixing" in hypo will take probably five minutes and should be continued until the white coating is thoroughly dissolved. the plate may then be brought safely to the light and should be washed thoroughly either in running water for half an hour or in at least twelve changes of fresh water. care must be taken not to touch the film side of the plate during development or fixing, as the gelatine coating becomes very soft and will show the slightest scratch or abrasion. we must dry the plate away from dust, sunlight, or artificial heat. after it is dry we are ready to make a print. photographic printing papers are of two classes--those which are used in direct sunlight and upon which the image gradually appears, and those which are similar to plates and which are given a very short time exposure in artificial light and the picture developed just as we should a plate. the beginner will probably have more uniform success with sunlight paper after the simple process of toning and fixing is learned, although the developing papers are extremely simple to handle and give better results. the final step of trimming and mounting the print is too simple to require explanation. there are a great many things that might be said about photography, but in a book of this kind only the most simple facts are stated. if you become a photographer you will soon learn many of the fine points. our negatives should all be kept carefully in labelled envelopes and a record kept in a book of some kind. when we really become expert as a photographer, there are many opportunities to make our hobby pay. the publishers of nearly all the magazines experience the greatest difficulty in securing the kind of pictures they wish to reproduce. this is remarkable when so many people are taking pictures. if one wishes to sell pictures, it is important to study the class of materials that the magazines use. then, if we can secure good results, we can be almost sure of disposing of some of our work and, in addition to the money, have the satisfaction of seeing our pictures published. xix outdoor sports for girls what to wear--confidence--horseback riding--tennis--golf--camping a generation ago the girl who joined her brother in his sports would have been considered a "tom boy," but in recent years girls have discovered that with comparatively few exceptions they can join in the sports and recreations of their brothers and in some cases attain a remarkable degree of skill. girls' schools have done much to spread this idea. a rational outdoor costume and a desire to be physically well also has helped "the outdoor girl" to be regarded as the highest type of womanhood. only her grandmother sighs over tanned cheeks and muscular arms. the girl who is not a good sport is the exception rather than the rule. besides, our grandmothers worked at their gardening, which is out-of-door exercise, and a preventive, as kipling tells, of the "hump" we get from having too little to do. he says: _"the cure for this ill is not to sit still, or frowst with a book by the fire, but to take a large hoe and a shovel also, and dig till you gently perspire."_ from a feminine standpoint the first question must be, "what shall i wear?" there is no need to be handicapped by skirts, at least when one's exercise is taken in company with a crowd of girls. the bicycle introduced the bloomer girl and this costume is now generally regarded as proper for outdoor girls. in camp one should in addition wear a sailor blouse, and a pair of sneakers, which though rather heating for the feet are very comfortable and very satisfactory for long tramps through the woods. the rubber soles give a firm footing on slippery moss and dead leaves, while high heels might cause a wrenched ankle or a bad fall. it is perfectly allowable for a girl to wear a broad-brimmed hat to avoid sunburn, which might be so serious as to spoil a vacation. a gradually acquired coat of tan is much more desirable. the hat prevents headaches or sunstroke, neither of which may be dared with impunity by a delicate girl, unless she wears her hair on top of her head. in regard to hair, which is of great importance to its owner, though very much of a nuisance after the age when it may be worn boyishly short, the one word is that it must be fixed to stay without re-pinning or tucking back at frequent intervals. for bathing, a girl must either be willing to have her hair well soaked or else to put a cap on so tightly that it cannot be loosened. to hesitate to try a dive for fear of getting wet hair spoils much of the sport of swimming. each moment of hesitation makes her more convinced that perhaps, after all, she had better not try that dive, because she probably would not be able to do it anyway. the lack of confidence is disastrous. i have known girls who could swim perfectly well in the shallows but could not keep up at all in water out of their depth. and yet they have not been touching the bottom in the shallow water, but they _could_ if they wished. learning to swim in water that is over your head is really better, though it is more "scary" at first. if you do learn in that way you can thereafter look upon the deepest water with confident scorn. confidence is a necessary possession for the beginner in almost any sport. it is so much easier to do anything if we are quite positive that we can. probably, because you are a girl and are modest, you will have to assume this attitude, but in horseback riding, for example, an instant of fear while on the horse's back will "give you away" to the beast. since he is as keen as a dog to know when you fear and dislike him, he will undoubtedly take advantage of it. if you are quite positive that you can learn to ride and that the horse under you is harmless, you will keep a firm hold on the reins instead of clinging to the saddle horn in a panic. the trying part of learning to ride is that the first day's experience is painfully stiffening. this applies to almost any unusual exercise. but to withdraw on account of that you may as well resign yourself to taking exercise no more severe than that afforded by a rocking chair. it does not pay to stop when you are stiff. sticking to it is the only way that will train those hitherto unused muscles to perform their duties with no creaking of the hinges. a good night's rest is the utmost limit of time that should intervene between each trial. a girl has the physical disadvantage of less endurance than a boy, and she does have to care for herself in that respect, and leave untried some forms of exercise that would be overexertion for her. a girl may "paddle her own canoe," of course, without risk of overstraining herself, but when it comes to moving it from place to place out of the water, the feather-light canoe of poetry becomes heavy reality. two girls can carry a canoe between them for a short distance without much difficulty, but if one is alone it is far better to drag the canoe over the ground, which is not particularly hard on it, unless the ground is rough. the boy's way of carrying it balanced upside down on his shoulders requires considerable strength. devotees of tennis will claim first place for that among girls' sports. the amount of practice and quickness of thought and motion that maybe acquired in a game of tennis is remarkable; the fascination of the game itself rather than the benefits to be derived from it will hold the attention. the main trouble is in the learning, which requires unflagging energy and constant practice. an overmodest beginner will make the mistake of playing only against her likewise beginning friends; the result is that she takes a discouragingly long time finding out how to use her racket properly and never gets a chance to return a really good serve. it is really just as well at some point in your practising to see some well-trained athlete do the thing you are trying to learn. a girl can accomplish a great deal with her brain as well as with her muscles in athletics. some one once remarked that he learned to swim in winter and to skate in summer. he meant that after he had in its proper season practised skill in the winter sport, his brain, during the warm months, kept repeating to the muscles those directions until by the next winter they had a very fair idea of what they had to do, and responded more quickly and easily. it is rather consoling to think you do not lose time, but rather progress, between seasons. the girl who goes camping with a crowd of boys and girls realizes how much depends on the mere strength of the boys; at the same time she herself has an opportunity of showing not only her athletic proficiency and nerve, but also her superior common sense. she will really have to leave the heavy work of pitching the tents and chopping the wood to the boys, but she cannot sit down and fold her hands meanwhile. she can be collecting materials for the beds of balsam on which they hope to sleep in comfort, or she may gather chips for the fire, or she may be helping to unload the wagon or canoes in which they have come. when the tents are pitched she has a woman's prerogative of "putting the house in order," and during the time of camping keeping it so. if there is actually a case of nothing for her to do, far better for her to sit down and keep quiet than to get in the way of the boys and bother them. a young man who in his first season as a guide in the canadian woods took out a party of girls from a summer school on a camping trip told me that he would never do it again, because they gave him no relief from a continual rain of questions. a case where zeal for knowledge outruns discretion. after the tents are pitched and the fire made by the boys, it is plainly up to the girls to get supper. let us hope they have practised cooking for some time before they went camping. every one gets so desperately hungry in the outdoor life that meals are of first importance, as tempers are apt to develop unexpectedly if many failures are turned out. if the girls are good cooks, however, and wash the dishes after each meal the division of labour will be fair to all concerned. a girl is more or less dependent on her boy friends for instruction in sports and considerably anxious for their approval. even if she has a woman instructor, in nine cases out of ten she requires some kind of praise from some man before she is satisfied with her performance. sister may tell her that she steers her canoe with beautiful precision, but unless brother remarks carelessly that "the kid paddles pretty well" she will hesitate to take her canoe in places where expert paddling is required. when you know that you can do some things as well as any boy you still have to rest content with the grudging assurance that "you do pretty well for a girl." xx one hundred outdoor games the following games are described in this chapter: all-around athletic championship archery association football badminton balli-callie bandy baseball basket ball bean bag best college athletic records blind man's buff boulder on bull in the ring call ball cane rush canoe tilting cat, or cattie counting-out rhymes court tennis cricket croquet curling dixie's land duck on the rock equestrian polo fat feather race foot-and-a-half football garden hockey golf golf-croquet hab-enihan haley over hand ball hand polo hand tennis hat ball hide and seek high kick hockey hop over hop scotch hunkety hunt the sheep intercollegiate amateur athletic association of america i spy jack fagots jai-a-li japanese fan ball kick the stick king of the castle knuckle there lacrosse lawn bowls lawn bowling lawn hockey lawn skittles lawn tennis last tag luge-ing marathon race marbles mumblety peg names of marbles nigger baby olympic games one old cat over the barn pass it pelota plug in the ring polo potato race prisoner's base push ball quoits racquets or rackets red line red lion roley boley roque rowing record rubicon sack racing scotland's burning skiing soccer spanish fly squash stump master suckers tether ball tether tennis three-legged racing tub racing volley ball warning washington polo water water race wicket polo wolf and sheep wood tag yank while all the games and sports described in this chapter are not absolutely confined to outdoors, almost any game in which violent physical exercise results is better if played in the open air rather than in a house or gymnasium. in fact, we should only play indoors when the weather makes it impossible for us to be outside. there are very few indoor games that cannot be played in the open air with proper apparatus or rules. it is also equally true that many of our outside sports may be played indoors with certain modifications. all-around athletic championship this contest was instituted in america in to give athletes an opportunity to demonstrate their ability in all-around work. the contest is rapidly becoming the blue ribbon championship event in america for track athletes. the following ten events are contested for: -yard dash high jump long jump vault throwing -pound hammer putting a -pound shot throwing -pound weight -yard hurdle race half-mile walk one-mile run the system of scoring in the all-around championship is complicated. each contestant has his score made up independently. the world's best amateur record is taken as a basis and , points are allowed for it. for example, the best record (amateur) for the -yard dash is - / seconds and for each / of a second more than this that the runner in the all-around championship contest makes in his trial points are deducted from this score. the same method is used in all the events. in the ten events the maximum score where the contestant equalled every world's record would be , points. the contest was won in by the remarkable score of , points. archery archery is the art of shooting with a bow and arrow. it is especially adapted as a lawn game for ladies and gentlemen, but boys and girls can practise archery and become proficient with bows and arrows just as the indians were or the boys in england in the days of robin hood. of course the invention of gunpowder has practically done away with the bow and arrow either as a means of warfare or as a weapon to be used in the chase, but it is still used by savages. the modern bow used in archery is made of lancewood or yew and for men's use is usually feet long and for women and children inches shorter. the strength or pull necessary to bend the bow, given in pounds, determines its classification. the arrows for men's use should be inches long and for women to inches. the target is a straw-filled canvas disk painted in bright colours. there are usually five circles and the object in archery, as in shooting with firearms, is to hit either the centre ring or "bull's-eye" or as near to it as possible. in scoring, a shot in the inner gold centre counts nine; red ring, seven; inner white ring, five; black ring, three, and outer white ring, one. targets are of various sizes from inches in diameter to feet, depending on the distance of the range. a common distance will be from to yards. each archer should have some distinguishing mark or colour on his arrows. standard lancewood bows will cost two or three dollars, arrows from one to two dollars a dozen, and targets from two to five dollars each, with three dollars extra for the target stand. in championship matches in archery the customary range for men is yards with arrows, and the same number of arrows at yards for women. a recent match championship was decided for men with hits and a total score of , and for women with hits and a total score of . association football or soccer a game similar to rugby football except that it more closely resembles what its name implies and kicking predominates. a round, leather-covered ball is used and the game is considered to be much safer than our college football. efforts consequently have been made to introduce the game into american colleges because of its less dangerous character. as there is practically no tackling or falling, the "soccer" uniform does not require the same amount of padding as a rugby player's uniform. the game is ordinarily played in running trousers with a full sleeved shirt and special shoes with leather pegs or cleats. the stockings are rolled down just below the knee. the association football goal net into which the ball is kicked is fastened to the ground and is made of tarred rope. thus far, the game has not been very popular in america, although a number of exhibition match games have recently been played by visiting english teams which attracted considerable attention. as a game, soccer is fast and exciting, and splendid opportunities are given for team work; but for some reason it has not succeeded in displacing our american game of rugby, although possibly it is more interesting for the spectator. badminton an english outdoor game similar to lawn tennis but played with shuttlecocks. the net is five feet above the ground. the shuttlecock is a cork in which feathers have been inserted. the shuttlecock is served and returned as in tennis and either two or four may play. a badminton court is feet wide and feet long. bandy a game very similar to hockey, except that it is played out of doors instead of in a covered rink and a ball is used in place of a puck or rubber disk. the name "bandy" is sometimes applied also to shinney or shinty and in england it is also applied to our american game of ice hockey. baseball the national game of america. (see chapter on baseball.) the game is played by eighteen persons, nine on a side, called "nines." the positions are pitcher, catcher, first base, second base, third base, shortstop, right-field, left-field, centre-field. the first six positions are called the in-field, and the last three, the out-field. the diamond or field where the game is played is a square plot of ground with sides ninety feet long. at each corner of the square are bases called first, second, third and home plate. a game consists of nine innings, in each of which both teams have an opportunity to bat the ball and to score runs. the players bat in turn and attempt to reach the various bases without being put out by their opponents. each year the rules are changed in some slight particulars, consequently a beginner in baseball must be thoroughly familiar with the rules of the game before attempting to play. the pitcher attempts to pitch the ball over the home plate to the catcher and the batsman endeavours to hit it. if the ball after being hit is caught by one of the opposing players, or if it is thrown to the base to which the batsman is running before he reaches the base, he is "out." otherwise he is "safe" and will try to make the next base. if he completes the circuit of the four bases without being put out, he scores a run for his team or nine. when a player makes the entire circuit without being forced to stop for safety he makes a "home run." a hit which gains him a single base only is called a "base hit." similarly if he reaches second base it is a "two-bagger," and third base, a "three-bagger." after three players are put out, the other side has its "innings," and at the completion of nine full innings the side having scored the greatest number of runs is the winner. the game of baseball has become very scientific and the salaries of professional players are almost as high as those of the highest salaried men in business life. the ball used in the game is made of the best all wool yarn with a horsehide cover and a rubber centre. baseball bats are usually made of ash. basket ball a game of ball which may be played either indoors or out, but which is especially adapted to in-door play when weather conditions make out-door sports impossible. two baskets suspended on wire rings are placed at the two opposite ends of a room or gymnasium and the players strive to knock or pass the ball from one to another on their own side and to throw it so that it will fall into the basket. it is not permissible to run with the ball as in rugby football. the ball used is round, but in other respects resembles the ball used in football. it is made in four sections of grained english leather and is inflated by means of a rubber bladder. the players use rubber-soled shoes with peculiar knobs, ridges, or depressions to prevent slipping. the conventional uniform is simply a gymnasium shirt, running trousers, and stockings which are rolled down just below the knees. the game of basket ball is especially adapted to women and girls and consequently it is played very largely in girls' schools and colleges. any level space may be used for basket ball. a convenient size is by feet. the baskets used for goals are inches in diameter and are fixed feet above the ground or floor. the official ball weighs about ounces and is inches in circumference. five players constitute a team. the halves are usually twenty minutes, with a ten-minute intermission for rest. it is not permissible to kick, carry or hold the ball. violation of a rule constitutes a foul and gives the opponents a free throw for the basket from a point fifteen feet away. a goal made in play counts two points and a goal from a foul one point. bean bags this game is known to every one by name and yet its simple rules are often forgotten. a couple of dozen bean bags are made in two colours of muslin. the players stand in two lines opposite each other and evenly divided. at the end of the line is a clothes basket. the bags are placed on two chairs at the opposite end of the line and next to the two captains. at a signal the captains select a bag and pass it to the next player, who passes it along until finally it is dropped into the basket. when all the bags are passed they are then taken out and passed rapidly back to the starting point. the side whose bags have gone up and down the line first scores a point. if a bag is dropped in transit it must be passed back to the captain, who starts it again. five points usually constitute a game. best college athletic records these records have been made in the intercollegiate contests which are held annually under the intercollegiate amateur athletic association of america. -yard dash - / seconds made in -yard dash - / seconds made in -yard dash - / seconds made in half-mile run min. seconds made in one-mile run min. - / seconds made in two-mile run min. - / seconds made in running broad jump feet - / in. made in running high jump feet - / in. made in putting -pound shot feet - / in. made in throwing the hammer feet in. made in pole vault feet - / in. made in -yard high hurdle - / seconds made in -yard hurdle - / seconds made in one-mile walk min. - / seconds made in blind man's buff this game is played in two ways. in each case one player is blindfolded and attempts to catch one of the others and to identify him by feeling. in regular blind man's buff, the players are allowed to run about at will and sometimes the game is dangerous to the one blindfolded, but in the game of "still pon" the one who is "it" is turned several times and then announces, "still pon no more moving," and awards a certain number of steps, which may be taken when in danger of capture. after this number is exhausted the player must stand perfectly still even though he is caught. bull in the ring in this game the players form a circle with clasped hands. to be "bull" is the position of honour. the bull is supposed to be locked in by various locks of brass, iron, lead, steel, and so on. he endeavours to break through the ring by catching some of the players off their guard. he will then run until captured, and the one who catches him has the position of bull for the next game. in playing, it is customary for the bull to engage one pair of players in conversation by asking some question such as "what is your lock made of?" at the answer, brass, lead, etc., he will then make a sudden rush at some other part of the ring and try to break through. call ball in this game a rubber ball is used. one of the players throws it against a wall and as it strikes calls out the name of another player, who must catch it on its first bounce. if he does so he in turn then throws the ball against the wall, but if he misses he recovers it as quickly as possible while the rest scatter, and calls "stand," at which signal all the players must stop. he then throws it at whoever he pleases. if he misses he must place himself against the wall and each of the others in turn has a free shot at him with the ball. cane rush this contest is usually held in colleges between the rival freshman and sophomore classes. a cane is held by some non-contestant and the two classes endeavour by pulling and pushing and hauling to reach the cane and to hold their hands on it. at the end of a stated time, the class or side having the most hands on the cane is declared the winner. it is a very rough and sometimes dangerous game and in many colleges has been abolished on account of serious injuries resulting to some of the contestants. canoe tilting this is a revival of the ancient game of tilting as described in "ivanhoe," except that the tilters use canoes instead of horses and blunt sticks in place of spears and lances. the object is for the tilter to shove his opponent out of his canoe, meanwhile seeing to it that the same undesirable fate does not fall to his own lot. in singles each contestant paddles his own canoe with one end of his pike pole, but the sport is much greater if each canoe has two occupants, one to paddle and the other to do the "tilting". cat a small block of wood pointed at both ends is used in this game. the batter strikes it with a light stick and as it flies into the air attempts to bat it with the stick. if the cat is caught the batter is out. otherwise he is entitled to a score equal to the number of jumps it will take him to reach the place where the cat has fallen. he then returns to bat again and continues until he is caught out. counting-out rhymes almost every section has some favourite counting-out rhyme of its own. probably the two most generally used are: "_my mother told me to take this one_," and that old classic-- "_eeny, meeny, miny, mo._ _catch a nigger by the toe;_ _if he hollers, let him go._ _eeny, meeny, miny, mo._" this is also varied into "_ena, mena, mona, mite._ _pasca, laura, bona, bite._ _eggs, butter, cheese, bread._ _stick, stock, stone dead._" the object of a counting-out rhyme is to determine who is to be "it" for a game. as each word is pronounced by the counter some one is pointed at, and at the end of the verse the one last pointed at is "it." court tennis this game, though very similar to rackets and squash, is more scientific than either. the court is enclosed by four walls. a net midway down the court divides the "service" side from the "hazard" side. the rackets used in court tennis have long handles and a large face. the balls used are the same size as tennis balls, but are heavier and stronger. in play, the ball rebounds over the court and many shots are made against the roof. while somewhat similar to lawn tennis, the rules of court tennis are extremely complicated. the game is scored just as in lawn tennis, except that instead of calling the server's score first the marker always announces the score of the winner of the last stroke. cricket a game of ball which is generally played in england and the british provinces, but which is not very popular in the united states. there are two opposite sides or sets of players of eleven men each. at two points yards apart are placed two wickets inches high and consisting of three sticks called stumps. as in baseball, one side takes the field and the other side is at the bat. two men are at bat at a time and it is their object to prevent the balls from being bowled so that they will strike the wickets. to do this a broad bat is used made of willow with a cane handle, through which are inserted strips of rubber to give greater spring and driving power. the batsman will either merely stop the ball with his bat or will attempt to drive it. when the ball is being fielded the two batsmen exchange wickets, and each exchange is counted as a run, and is marked to the credit of the batsman or striker. the batsman is allowed to bat until he is out. this occurs when the ball strikes the wicket and carries away either a bail, the top piece, or a stump, one of the three sticks. he is also out if he knocks down any part of his own wicket or allows the ball to do it while he is running, or if he interferes with the ball by any part of his person as it is being thrown, or if one of the opposing players catches a batted ball before it touches the ground, as in baseball. when ten of the eleven men on a side have been put out it constitutes an inning, and the side in the field takes its turn at the bat. the game usually consists of two innings, and at its completion the side having scored the greater number of runs is the winner. the eleven positions on a cricket team are called bowler, wicket-keeper, long stop, slip, point cover-slip, cover-point, mid-off, long-leg, square-leg, mid-on. the one at bat is, as in baseball, called the batsman. the two lines between which the batsmen stand while batting are called "popping creases" and "bowling creases." croquet a game played with wooden balls and mallets, on a flat piece of ground. the game consists in driving the ball around a circuitous course through various wire rings called "wickets" and, after striking a wooden peg or post, returning to the starting place. any number may play croquet either independently or on sides. each player may continue making shots as long as he either goes through a wicket, hits the peg or post, or hits the ball of an opponent. in this latter case he may place his ball against that of his opponent and, holding the former with his foot, drive his opponent's ball as far as possible from the croquet ground. he then also has another shot at his wicket. a croquet set consists of mallets, balls, wickets, and stakes and may be bought for two or three dollars. experts use mallets with much shorter handles than those in common sets. they are made of either maple, dogwood, or persimmon. in place of wooden balls, championship and expert games are often played with balls made of a patented composition. all croquet implements are usually painted in bright colours. the game of "roque" is very similar to croquet. croquet can be made more difficult by using narrow arches or wickets. hard rubber balls are more satisfactory than wood and also much more expensive. as a rule the colours played in order are red, white, blue and black. according to the rules any kind of a mallet may be used, depending upon the individual preference of the player. curling an ancient scotch game played on the ice, in which the contestants slide large flat stones, called curling stones, from one point to another. these points or marks are called "tees." in playing, an opportunity for skill is shown in knocking an opponent out of the way, and also in using a broom ahead of the stone as it slides along to influence its rate of speed. at the present time the greatest curling country is canada. curling is one of the few outdoor games that are played without a ball of some kind. dixie's land this game is also called "tommy tiddler's land." it is a game of tag in which a certain portion of the playground is marked off as the "land." the one who is "it" endeavours to catch the others as they invade his land. when a player is tagged he also becomes "it," and so on until the game ends because all the invaders are captured. the game is especially interesting because of the variety of verses and rhymes used in various parts of the country to taunt the one who is "it" as they come on his land. duck on a rock this game is also called "boulder up." it is not customary to "count out" to decide it. for this game usually some one suggests, "let's play duck on a rock," and then every one scurries around to find an appropriate stone, or "duck." as fast as they are found the fact is announced by the cry, "my one duck," "my two duck," etc. the last boy to find a stone is "drake," or "it." the drake is larger than the ducks and is placed on an elevated position such as a boulder. then from a specified distance ducks attempt to hit the drake and to knock him from his position. if they miss they are in danger of being tagged by the drake, as it is his privilege to tag any player who is not in possession of his duck. if, however, the drake is knocked from his perch, the ducks have the privilege of rushing in and recovering their stones, but unless they do so before the drake replaces his stone on the rock they may be tagged. the first one tagged becomes "it" and the drake becomes a duck. fat this is the universal game of marbles. it is sometimes called "yank," or "knuckle there." a ring is scratched in the ground a foot or two in diameter. it is then divided into four parts by two lines drawn through the diameter. the first step is for each player to "lay a duck," which in simple language means to enter a marble to be played for. this is his entrance fee and may be either a "dub," an "alley," a "crystal," or sometimes a "real," although this is very rare as well as extravagant. about ten feet from this ring a line is made called a "taw line." the first player, usually determined as soon as school is out by his having shouted, "first shot, fat!" stands behind the taw line and shoots to knock out a marble. if he is successful he continues shooting; if not he loses his turn and number shoots. number after his first shot from the taw line must then shoot from wherever his marble lies. if number can hit number he has a right to claim all the marbles that number has knocked out of the ring. in this way it is very much to the advantage of each player to leave himself as far from the taw line as possible. feather race the contestants endeavour to blow a feather over a certain course in the shortest time. the rule is that the feather must not be touched with the hands. out of doors this game is only possible on a very still day. foot and a half this is a game of "leap frog" also called "par" or "paw." one of the boys is chosen "down," who leans over and gives a "back" to the rest, who follow leader, usually the boy who suggests the game. he will start making an easy jump at first and over "down's" back, then gradually increase the distance of the point at which he lands, and each of those following must clear this line or become "it" themselves. the leader must also surpass his previous jumps each time or he becomes "down" himself. in this way the smaller or less agile boys have a more equal chance with the stronger ones. football the present game of football as played in american schools and colleges is a development of the english game of rugby. there are twenty-two players, eleven on a side or team. the game is played on a level field, at each end of which are goal posts through which the team having the ball in its possession attempts to force or "rush" it, while their opponents by various means, such as tackling, shoving or blocking, strive to prevent the ball from being successfully forced behind the goal line or from being kicked over the crossbar between the goal-posts. a football field is feet long by feet wide. it is usually marked out with white lines five yards apart, which gives the field the name of "gridiron." the various positions on a football team are centre rush, right and left guards, right and left tackles, right and left ends, quarter-back, right and left half-back, and full-back. as in baseball, the rules of football are constantly being changed and the game as played ten or fifteen years ago is very different from the modern game. the various changes in rules have been made with a view to making the game less dangerous to the players and more interesting to the spectator. the principal scores in football are the "touchdown" and the "field goal." in a touchdown the ball is carried by one of the players and touched on the ground behind the opponents' goal line. in a field goal, or, as it is often called, "a goal from the field," the ball is kicked over the crossbar between the goal posts. in a field goal the player executing it must not kick the ball until after it has touched the ground. such a kick is called a "drop kick" as distinguished from a "punt" where the ball is released from the hands and immediately kicked before touching the ground. a team in possession of the ball is allowed a certain number of attempts to advance it the required distance. each of these attempts is called a "down." if they fail to gain the necessary distance, the ball goes to their opponents. it is customary on the last attempt, or down, to kick the ball so that when the opposing team obtains possession of it it will be as far as possible from the goal line toward which they are rushing. in this play a "punt" is allowed. there are also other scores. a safety is made when a team is forced to touch the ball down behind its own goal line. the ball used in american football is a long oval case made of leather and inflated by means of a rubber bag or envelope. the football player's uniform consists of a heavily padded pair of trousers made of canvas, moleskin, khaki or other material, a jacket made of the same material, a tight-fitting jersey with elbow and shoulder pads, heavy stockings, and cleated shoes. players will often use other pads, braces and guards to protect them from injury. football is usually played in the fall months after baseball has been discontinued on account of the cold weather. a full game consists of four fifteen-minute periods. garden hockey this game is played between two parallel straight lines, feet inches apart and marked on the lawn with two strips of tape. at the opposite two ends of the tape are two goal posts inches apart with a crossbar. the length of the tapes should be feet when two or four players engage in the game, and may be extended for a greater number. the game is played with balls and hockey sticks. the game is started by placing the ball in the centre of the field. the two captains then face each other and at a signal strike off. if the ball is driven outside the tape boundaries it must be returned to the centre of the field opposite the place where it crossed the line. the object of the game is to score a goal through your opponents' goal posts as in ice hockey. if a player steps over the tape into the playing space he commits a foul. the penalty for a foul is a free hit for his opponents. golf a game played over an extensive piece of ground which is divided into certain arbitrary divisions called holes. a golf course is usually undulating with the holes laid out to afford the greatest possible variety of play. the ordinary course consists of either nine or eighteen holes from to yards apart. an ideal course is about yards long. the holes which mark the termination of a playing section consist of tin cans inches in diameter sunk into and flush with the level of the surrounding turf, which is called "the putting green." the game is played with a gutta-percha ball weighing about - / ounces and with a set of "clubs" of various odd shapes and for making shots under various conditions. usually a boy accompanies each player to carry his clubs. such boys are called "caddies." the clubs are peculiarly named and it is optional with each player to have as many clubs as he desires. some of the more common ones are called "driver," "brassie," "cleek," "iron," "mashie," "niblick," "putter," and "lofting iron." the game, which may be played by either two or four players, consists in endeavouring to drive the ball over the entire course from hole to hole in the fewest possible number of strokes. at the start a player takes his position on what is called the "teeing ground" and drives the ball in the direction of the first hole, the position of which is shown in the distance by a flag or tin sign with a number. before driving he is privileged to place the ball on a tiny mound of earth or sand which is called a "tee." the players drive in order and then continue making shots toward the hole until finally they have all "holed out" by "putting" their balls into the hole, and the lowest score wins the hole. golf is a game in which form is more essential than physical strength and which is adapted for elderly people as well as the young. the wooden clubs are usually made with either dogwood or persimmon heads and with split hickory handles or shafts. the handles are usually wound with a leather grip. golf clubs of good quality will cost from two to three dollars apiece and a set for most purposes will consist of four to six clubs. the caddy bag to carry the clubs is made of canvas or leather and will cost from two dollars up. standard quality golf balls will cost about nine dollars a dozen. almost any loose-fitting outdoor costume is suitable for playing golf and the tendency in recent years is to wear long trousers in preference to what are known as "golf trousers." a golf course--sometimes called a "links," from a scotch word meaning a flat stretch of ground near the seashore--should be kept in good condition in order to enjoy the game properly. the leading golf clubs maintain a large force of men who are constantly cutting the grass, repairing damages to the turf, and rolling the greens. for this reason it is a game only adapted to club control unless one is very wealthy and can afford to maintain private links. golf-croquet this game may be played either by two or four persons. wickets are placed at irregular distances, and the object of the game is to drive a wooden ball - / inches in diameter through these wickets. it may be played either as "all strokes," in which the total number of strokes to get through all the wickets is the final score, or as in golf, "all wickets," in which the score for each wicket is taken separately, as each hole in golf is played. the mallet used is somewhat different from a croquet mallet. the handle is longer and a bevel is made on one end to raise or "loft" the ball as in golf. the size of a golf-croquet course will depend upon the field available. a field yards long will make a good six-wicket course. hab-enihan this game is played with smooth stones about the size of a butter dish. a target is marked on the sand or on any smooth piece of ground, or if played on the grass the target must be marked with lime similar to marks on a tennis court. the outside circle of the target should be six feet in diameter, and every six inches another circle described with a piece of string and two pegs for a compass. the object of the game is to stand at a stated distance from the "enihan," or target, and to toss the "habs" as in the game of quoits. the player getting the best score counting from the inside ring or bull's-eye wins the game. haley over the players, equally divided, take positions on opposite sides of a building such as a barn, so that they can not be seen by their opponents. a player on one side then throws the ball over the roof and one of his opponents attempts to catch it and to rush around the corner of the building and throw it at one of the opposing side. if he succeeds, the one hit is a prisoner of war and must go over to the other side. the game continues until all of one side are captured. hand ball a game of ancient irish origin which is much played by baseball players and other athletes to keep in good condition during the winter when most outdoor sports are impossible. a regulation hand ball court has a back wall feet high and feet wide. each game consists of twenty-one "aces." the ball is - / inches in diameter and weighs - / ounces. the ball is served and returned against the playing wall just as in many of the other indoor games and is similar in principle to squash and rackets. hand polo a game played with a tennis ball in which two opposing sides of six players each endeavour to score goals by striking the ball with the hands. the ball must be struck with the open hand. in play, the contestants oppose each other by shouldering and bucking and in this way the game can be made a dangerous one. the goal is made into a cage form feet inches square. at the beginning of the game the ball is placed in the centre of the playing surface and the players rush for it. the umpire in hand polo is a very important official and calls all fouls, such as tripping, catching, holding, kicking, pushing, or throwing an opponent. three fouls will count as a goal for the opponents. hand tennis a game of lawn tennis in which the hand is used in place of a racket. a hand tennis court is smaller than a regulation tennis court. its dimensions are feet long and feet wide. the net is feet high. the server is called the "hand in" and his opponent the "hand out." a player first scoring twenty-five points wins the game. a player can only score when he is the server. a foul line is drawn feet on each side of the net, inside of which play is not allowed. in all essential particulars of the rules the game is similar to lawn tennis. hat ball this game is very similar to roley boley or nigger baby except that hats are used instead of hollows in the ground. the ball is tossed to the hats and the first boy to get five stones, or "babies," in his hat has to crawl through the legs of his opponents and submit to the punishment of being paddled. high kick a tin pan or wooden disk is suspended from a frame by means of a string and the contestants in turn kick it as it is drawn higher and higher until finally, as in high jumping, it reaches a point where the survivor alone succeeds in touching it with his toe. hockey hockey is usually played on the ice by players on skates, although, like the old game of shinney, it may be played on any level piece of ground. the hockey stick is a curved piece of canadian rock elm with a flat blade. instead of a ball the modern game of ice hockey is played with a rubber disk called a "puck." in hockey, as in many other games, the whole object is to drive the puck into your opponents' goal and to prevent them from driving it into yours. almost any number of boys can play hockey, but a modern team consists of five players. hockey skates are of special construction with long flat blades attached to the shoes. the standard length of blade is from - / to - / inches. they cost from three to six dollars. the hockey player's uniform is a jersey, either padded trousers or tights, depending upon his position, and padded shin guards for the goal tenders. hop over all but one of the players, form a ring standing about two feet apart. then by some "counting out" rhyme some one is made "it." he then takes his place in the centre of the circle, holding a piece of stout string on the end of which is tied a small weight or a book. he whirls the string about and tries to strike the feet or ankles of some one in the circle, who must hop quickly as the string comes near him. if he fails to "hop over" he becomes "it." hop scotch hop scotch is a game that is played by children all over the world. a court about feet long and or feet wide is drawn with chalk, coal, or a piece of soft brick on the sidewalk or scratched with a pointed stick on a piece of level ground. a line called the "taw line" is drawn a short distance from the court. the court is divided into various rectangles, usually eleven divisions, although this varies in different sections. at the end of the court a half circle is drawn, variously called the "cat's cradle," "pot," or "plum pudding." the players decide who is to be first, second, etc., and a flat stone or piece of broken crockery or sometimes a folded piece of tin is placed in division no. . the stone is called "potsherd." the object of the game is to hop on one foot and to shoot the potsherd in and out of the court through the various divisions until they are all played. he then hops and straddles through the court. whenever he fails to do the required thing the next player takes his turn. hunt the sheep two captains are chosen and the players divided into equal sides. one side stays in the home goal and the other side finds a hiding place. the captain of the side that is hidden or "out" then goes back to the other side and they march in a straight line to find the hidden sheep. when they approach the hiding place their own captain shouts, "apple!" which is a warning that danger is near. when he is sure of their capture or discovery he shouts, "run, sheep, run!" and all the party make a dash for the goal. intercollegiate amateur athletic association of america this association controls the field athletic contests between the colleges known as the "intercollegiates." it is generally known as the i.c.a.a.a.a. to win a point for one's college in this contest is the highest honour that a track athlete may obtain. in these games, which take place annually, the following thirteen events are contested for: mile run shotput -yard run -yard hurdles -yard dash running high jump two-mile run -yard run -yard low hurdles pole vault broad jump -yard dash hammer throw i spy this game is sometimes called "hide and seek," one of the players is made "it" by any of the familiar counting-out rhymes. the rest then secure a hiding place while he counts fifty or one hundred. a certain tree or fence corner is considered "home." "it" then attempts to spy his hidden playmates in their hiding places and to run "home" shouting, "i spy" and their names. if the one discovered can get home before "it," he does so, shouting, "in free!" with all the breath that is left in him. the game is especially interesting just at dusk, when the uncertain light makes the "outs" brave in approaching home without detection. if "it" succeeds in capturing all the players the first one caught is "it" for the next game. jack fagots this game is the same in principle as jackstraws except that fagots or sticks of wood two feet long are used in place of jackstraws. they are removed from a pile with a crooked stick and must be taken out one at a time without disturbing the rest. the number of sticks removed constitutes a player's score. when any stick other than the one he is trying for is moved he loses his turn. the next player must attempt to remove the same stick that the other failed on. the game is won by the player having the greatest number of sticks to his credit. japanese fan ball this game is especially adapted for a lawn party for girls. either japanese fans or the ordinary palm-leaf fans will do for rackets. the balls are made of paper and should be six or eight inches in diameter and in various colours. at opposite ends of a space about the size of a tennis court are erected goal-posts similar to those used in football, but only six feet above ground. these may be made of light strips of wood. there is also a similar pair of posts and a crossbar midway between the goals. the game is played by two contestants at a time. each takes an opposite end of the court and tosses the ball into the air. then by vigorous fanning she endeavours to keep it aloft and to drive it over the opponent's goal-post. at the middle posts the ball must be "fanned" under the crossbar. if the ball falls to the ground it may be picked up on the fan and tossed aloft again, but it must not be touched by the hands. the winner is the one who first drives the ball the length of the court and over the crossbar. kick the stick one player is chosen to be "it" and the rest are given a count of twenty-five or fifty to hide. a stick is leaned against a tree or wall and this is the home goal. as soon as the goal keeper can spy one of the players he runs in and touches the stick and makes a prisoner, who must come in and stand behind the stick. if one of the free players can run in and kick the stick before the goal tender touches it, he frees all the rest and they scurry to a place of hiding before the stick can again be set up and the count of twenty-five made. as the object of the game is to free your fellow-prisoners, the free players will attempt all sorts of ruses to approach the stick without being seen or to make a dash for it in hope of kicking it ahead of the goal keeper. the game is over when all the players are captured, and the first prisoner is "it" for the next game. king of the castle this can be made a very rough game, as it simply consists in a player taking a position on a mound or hillock and defying any one to dislodge him from his position by the taunting words: "_i'm the king of the castle,_ _get down you cowardly rascal._" the rest try to shove him from his position and to hold it successfully against all comers themselves. the game, if played fairly, simply consists in fair pulls and pushes without grasping clothing, but if played roughly it is almost a "free-for-all" fight. lacrosse a game of ball played by two opposing teams of twelve players each. the lacrosse field is a level piece of ground with net or wire goals at each end. the players strive to hurl the ball into their opponents' goal by means of a lacrosse stick or "crosse." this is a peculiar bent stick with a shallow gut net at one end. it somewhat resembles a tennis racket, but is more like a snowshoe with a handle. the game originated with the indians and is much played in canada. in playing, the ball must not be touched with the hands, but is hurled from one player to another by the "lacrosses" until it is possible to attempt for a goal. it is also passed when a player is in danger of losing the ball. lacrosse sticks cost from two to five dollars each and are made of hickory with rawhide strings. the players wear specially padded gloves to protect the knuckles. the usual uniform for lacrosse is a tight-fitting jersey and running trousers. lawn bowls this is a very old game and of great historic importance. the famous bowling green in new york city was named from a small park where the game was played by new yorkers before the revolution. the game is played with wooden balls five inches in diameter and painted in various gay colours. usually lignum vitae is the material used. they are not perfectly round but either slightly flattened at the poles into an "oblate spheroid" or made into an oval something like a modern football. each player uses two balls, which are numbered. a white ball, called a "jack ball," is then thrown or placed at the end of the bowling green or lawn and the players in turn deliver their balls or "bowl" toward the jack. the whole game consists in placing your ball as near to the jack as possible and of knocking away the balls of your opponents. it is also possible to strike the jack and to drive it nearer to where the balls of your side are lying. when all the players have bowled, the two balls nearest the jack each count a point for the side owning it. the game if played by sides is somewhat different from a two-handed contest. the main point first is to deliver the ball as near to the jack as possible and then to form a barrier or "guard" behind it with succeeding balls to block those of your adversaries. sometimes the jack is placed in the middle of the green and the teams face each other and bowl from opposite ends. a green is about seventy feet square with closely cropped grass. four players form a "rink" and are named "leader," "second," "third," and "skip" or captain. the position from which the balls are delivered is called the "footer." it is usually a piece of cloth or canvas three feet square. lawn bowling this game is similar in every respect to indoor bowling except that no regular alley is used. a net for a backstop is necessary. the pins are set upon a flat surface on a lawn and the players endeavour to knock down as many pins as possible in three attempts. the scoring is the same as in indoor bowling. to knock down all ten pins with one ball is called a "strike," in two attempts it is a "spare." in the score, the strike counts ten for the player and in addition also whatever he gets on the next two balls. likewise he will count ten for a spare, but only what he gets on one ball for a bonus. as a consequence the maximum or perfect score in bowling is , which is a series of ten strikes and two more attempts in which he knocks down all the pins. in lawn bowling the scores are very low as compared with the indoor game, where good players will often average close to on alleys where they are accustomed to bowl. lawn bowling is a different game from lawn bowls, which is described in a preceding paragraph. lawn hockey this game is played on a field a little smaller than a football field, being yards long and from to yards wide. the ball used is an ordinary cricket ball. the goals are two upright posts feet apart and with a crossbar feet from the ground. eleven men on a side constitute a full team, but the game may be played with a fewer number. the positions are known as three forwards, five rushes, two backs or guards, and the goal tender. the object of the game is very simple, being to drive the ball between your opponents' goals. the ordinary ice hockey stick will be satisfactory to play with. the principal thing to remember in lawn hockey is not to commit a "foul," the penalty for which is a "free hit" at the ball by your opponents. it is a foul to raise the stick above the shoulders in making a stroke, to kick the ball (except for the goal tender), to play with the back of the stick, to hit the ball other than from right to left, and any form of rough play such as tripping, pushing, kicking, or striking. lawn hockey is an excellent game and is really the old game of "shinney" or "shinty" played scientifically and with definite rules. lawn skittles from a stout pole which is firmly fixed in the ground a heavy ball is suspended by means of a rope fastened to the top of the pole. two flat pieces of stone or concrete are placed on opposite sides of the pole. the game is played with nine-pins, which are set up on one stone, the player standing on the other and endeavouring by hurling the ball to strike down a maximum number of pins. usually he has three chances and the number of pins knocked down constitutes his score. lawn tennis (see chapter on tennis) a game of ball played on a level piece of ground, called a court, by two, three, or four persons. when two play the game is called "singles," and when four play it is called "doubles." the game is played with a rubber ball, and rackets made by stringing gut on a wooden frame. the dimensions of a tennis court are by feet. in addition to this, space must be allowed for the players to run back, and it is customary to lay out a court at least by feet to give plenty of playing space. the court is divided into various lines, either by means of lime applied with a brush or by tapes. midway between the two rear lines and in the centre of the court a net is stretched, supported by posts. in playing one of the players has the serve--that is, he attempts to strike the ball so that it will go over the net and into a specified space on the opposite side of the net. his opponent then attempts to return the serve--that is, to strike the ball either on the fly or the first bound and knock it back over the net somewhere within the playing space as determined by the lines. in this way the ball is volleyed or knocked back and forth until one of the players fails either to return it over the net or into the required space. to fail in this counts his opponents a point. four points constitute a game except where both sides have obtained three points, in which case one side to win must secure two points in succession. the score is not counted as , , , and , but , , , game. when both sides are at it is called "deuce." at this point a lead of two is necessary to win. the side winning one of the two points at this stage is said to have the "advantage," or, as it is expressed, "vantage in" or "vantage out," depending upon whether it is the side of the server or his opponents, the server's score always being called first. a set of tennis consists of enough games to permit one side to win six, or if both are at five games won, to win two games over their opponents. last tag there are a great many games of "tag" that are familiar to boys and girls. one of the common games is "last tag," which simply means that a boy tags another and makes him "it" before leaving the party on his way home. it is the common boys' method of saying "good-bye" when leaving school for home. the principal rule of last tag is that there is "no tagging back." the boy who is "it" must not attempt to tag the one who tagged him, but must run after some one else. it is a point of honour with a boy not to be left with "last tag" against him, but he must try to run some one else down, when he is then immune and can watch the game in safety, or can leave for home with no blot on his escutcheon. luge-ing a form of coasting very much practised in switzerland at the winter resorts where the sled used is similar to our american child's sled with open framework instead of a toboggan or the more modern flexible flyer which is generally used by boys in america. marathon race a long distance race, held in connection with the olympic games and named from a famous event in greek history. the accepted marathon distance is miles, yards. the race was won at the olympic games held in england in by john hayes, an american, in hours minutes - seconds. olympic games the olympic games are open to the athletes of the world. the following events are contested for: -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre hurdles -metre hurdles -metre hurdles -metre steeplechase -metre steeplechase -metre steeplechase running long jump running high jump running triple jump standing broad jump standing high jump standing triple jump pole vault shot put discus throwing throwing -pound hammer throwing -pound weight marathon race weight lifting, one hand weight lifting, two hands dumb-bell competition tug-of-war team race team race miles five-mile run throwing stone throwing javelin throwing javelin held in middle penthathlon -metre walk -metre walk -mile walk throwing discus greek style marbles there is a large variety of games with marbles and the expressions used are universal. boys usually have one shooter made from agate which they call a "real." to change the position of the shooter is called "roundings," and to object to this or to any other play is expressed by the word "fen." the common game of marbles is to make a rectangular ring and to shoot from a line and endeavour to knock the marbles or "mibs" of one's opponents out of the square. a similar game is to place all the mibs in a line in an oval and to roll the shooter from a distance. the one coming nearest to the oval has "first shot" and continues to shoot as long as he drives out a marble and "sticks" in the oval himself. reals are often supposed to have superior sticking qualities. playing marbles "for keeps" is really gambling and should be discouraged. the knuckle dabster is a small piece of cloth or leather that boys use to rest the hand on when in the act of shooting. the best kind of a "dabster" is made from a mole's skin. names of marbles the common marbles used by boys everywhere are called mibs, fivers, commies, migs, megs, alleys, and dubs. a very large marble is a bumbo and a very small one a peawee. glass marbles are called crystals and those made of agate are called reals. the choicest real is supposed to be green and is called a "mossic" or "moss real." mumblety peg this game is played with a penknife. a piece of turf is usually the best place to play. various positions for throwing the knife are tried by each player, following a regular order of procedure, until he misses, when the knife is surrendered to the next in turn. when he receives the knife each player tries the feat at which he failed before. the last player to accomplish all the feats has the pleasure of "pulling the peg," the peg consists of a wedge-shaped piece of wood the length of the knife blade which is driven into the ground by the back of the knife and must be pulled by the teeth of the unfortunate one who was last to complete the necessary feats. the winner has the honour of driving the peg, usually three blows with his eyes open and three with them closed. if he succeeds in driving it out of sight the feat is considered especially creditable and the loser is greeted with the cry, "root! root!" which means that he must remove the sod and earth with his teeth before he can get a grip on the peg top. there are about twenty-four feats or "figures" to be gone through in a game of mumblety peg, throwing the knife from various positions both right and left handed. in each feat the successful result is measured by having the knife stick into the ground at such an angle so that there is room for two fingers to be inserted under the end of the handle without disturbing the knife. one old cat this is a modified game of baseball that may be played by three or four. generally there is only one base to run to, and besides the batter, pitcher, and catcher the rest of the players are fielders. any one catching a fly ball puts the batter out and takes his turn at bat, or in another modification of the game, when one is put out each player advances a step nearer to batsman's position, the pitcher going in to bat, the catcher becoming pitcher, first fielder becoming catcher, and so on, the batsman becoming "last fielder." pass it this game may be played on a lawn. four clothes baskets are required as well as a variety of objects of various sizes and kinds, such as spools of thread, pillows, books, matches, balls, pencils, umbrellas, pins, and so on. two captains are chosen and each selects a team, which stands in line facing each other. two of the baskets are filled with the various articles and these two baskets are placed at the right hand of the two captains. the empty baskets are on the opposite ends of the line. at a signal the captains select an object and pass it to the next in line. he in turn passes it to his left and finally it is dropped into the empty basket. if the object should be dropped in transit it must go back to the captain and be passed down the line again. two umpires are desirable, who can report the progress of the game to their own side as well as keep an eye on their opponents. pelota a game similar to racquets, sometimes called "jai-a-li," that is much played in spain and in mexico. the game is played with a narrow scoop-like wicker basket or racket which is fastened to the wrist. the players catch the ball in this device and hurl it with terrific force against the wall of the court. pelota is a hard, fast game, and sometimes serious injuries result from playing it. plug in the ring this is the universal game that boys play with tops. a ring six feet in diameter is described on the ground and each player puts a top called a "bait" in the centre. the baits are usually tops of little value. the "plugger," however, is the top used to shoot with and as a rule is the boy's choicest one. as soon as the players can wind their tops they stand with their toes on the line and endeavour to strike one of the baits in such a way as to knock it out of the circle and still leave their own tops within the circle and spinning. if they miss, the top must be left spinning until it "dies." if it fails to roll out of the ring, the owner must place another bait top in the ring, but if it leaves the circle he may continue shooting. it is possible to play tops for "keeps," but, like marbles for "keeps," it should be discouraged, as it is gambling. polo or equestrian polo a game played on horseback, which originated in eastern countries and was first played by the english in india. it has been introduced both into england and america. polo is a rich man's game and requires a great deal of skill in horsemanship as well as nerve. a polo team consists of four men, each of whom must have a stable of several horses. these horses, or "polo ponies," are trained carefully, and a well-trained pony is as essential to good playing as a skilful rider. the game is played with a mallet, the head of which is usually ash, dogwood, or persimmon, and has a handle about inches long. the ball is either willow or basswood. the principle of the game is similar to nearly all of the outdoor games played with a ball: that of driving it into the opponents' goal, meanwhile preventing them from making a score on one's own goal. potato race in this game as many rows of potatoes are laid as there are players. they should be placed about five feet apart. the race consists in picking up all of the potatoes, one at a time, and carrying them to the starting point, making a separate trip for each potato. at the end of the line there should be a basket or butter tub to drop them into. the game is sometimes made more difficult by forcing the contestants to carry the potatoes on a teaspoon. prisoner's base two captains select sides. they then mark out on the ground two bases, or homes. they also mark out two "prisons" near each home base. then each side stands in its own home and a player runs out and advances toward the enemy's home. one of the enemy will then run out and endeavour to tag him before he can run back to his own base, and one of his side will try to tag the enemy, the rule being that each in turn must have left his home after his opponent. if a player is tagged, he becomes a prisoner of the other side and is put into the prison. the successful tagger may then return to ids home without danger of being tagged. a prisoner may be rescued at any time if one of his side can elude the opponents and tag him free from prison. the game ends when all of one side are made prisoners. push ball a game usually played on foot but sometimes on horseback, in which the object is to push or force a huge ball over the opponents' goal line. a regulation "push ball" is six feet in diameter and costs three hundred dollars. in push ball almost any number may play, but as weight counts, the sides should be divided as evenly as possible. quoits a game played with flattish malleable iron or rubber rings about nine inches in diameter and convex on the upper side, which the players endeavour to loss or pitch so that they will encircle a pin or peg driven into the ground, or to come nearer to this peg than their opponents. the peg is called a "hob." a certain form of quoits is played with horseshoes throughout the country districts of america. a quoit player endeavours to give the quoit such a position in mid-air that it will not roll but will cut into the ground at the point where it lands. the game is remotely similar to the ancient greek game of throwing the discus. iron quoits may be purchased for a dollar a set. the average weight of the quoits used by experts is from seven to nine pounds each. sixty-one points constitute a game. the distance from the peg shall be either , or yards. for a space three feet around the pin or peg the ground should be clay. in match games, all quoits that fall outside a radius of inches from the centre of the pin are "foul," and do not count in the score. racquets or rackets one of the numerous court games similar to lawn tennis that is now finding public favour, but played in a semi-indoor court. a racquet court is feet inches wide and about feet long. the front wall, against which the ball is served, has a line or feet from the floor, above which the ball must strike. the server, as in tennis, takes his position in a service box with a racket similar to a lawn tennis racket except that it has a smaller head and a longer handle. either two or four players may play racquets. a game consists of fifteen "aces," or points. red line in this game, also called red lion, the goal must be a straight line, such as the crack in a sidewalk or the edge of a road. the one who is "it" runs after the rest as in tag, and when he has captured a prisoner he brings him into the "red line," and the two start out again hand in hand and another is captured, then three together, and two pair, and so on until all are prisoners. the first prisoner is "it" for the next game. roley boley this game is also called roll ball and nigger baby, and is played by children all over the civilized world. a number of depressions are hollowed in the ground corresponding to the number of players and a hole is chosen by each one. a rubber ball is then rolled toward the holes, and if it lodges in one of them the boy who has claimed that hole must run in and pick up the ball while the rest scatter. he then attempts to hit one of the other players with the ball. if he succeeds a small stone called a "baby" is placed in the hole belonging to the boy struck. otherwise the thrower is penalized with a "baby." when any boy has five babies he must stand against the wall and be a free target for the rest to throw the ball at. roque this game may be called scientific croquet. a roque mallet has a dogwood head - / inches long, with heavy nickel ferrules. roque balls are made of a special composition that is both resilient and practically unbreakable. a skilful roque player is able to make shots similar to billiard shots. the standard roque court is feet long, feet wide, with corner pieces feet long. the playing ground is of clay and should be as smooth as it is possible to make it. a very light top dressing of sand is used on the clay. the wickets, or "arches," are driven into blocks of wood to secure firmness and buried into the ground with the top of the arch inches above the surface. the roque balls are - / inches in diameter and the arches only - / wide, which gives an idea of the difficulty of playing this game. to be an expert requires an accurate eye and a great deal of practice. there is a national roque association, and an annual championship tournament is held to determine the champion. the home of roque is in the new england states. rowing record the best amateur intercollegiate record for the eight-oared race of four miles is minutes - / seconds, made by cornell, july , . rubicon this game may be played with any number of players, and is especially adapted for a school or lawn game. two players are chosen as pursuers and the rest are divided equally and stand two by two facing each other in two columns. the two pursuers stand at the head of each column and face each other. when ready they say, "cross the rubicon," and at this signal the rear couple from each line must run forward and try to reach the rear of the other line. the pursuers must not look back, but as soon as the runners are abreast of them must try to tag them before they reach the place of safety. the captured runners become pursuers, and the one who was "it" takes his or her place at the rear of the other line. sack racing a form of sport where the contestants are fastened in sacks with the hands and feet confined and where they race for a goal by jumping or hopping along at the greatest possible speed under this handicap. a sack race should not be considered one of the scientific branches of sport, but is rather to afford amusement for the spectators. scotland's burning this game is based upon the song of the same name. the players form a ring, with three judges in the centre. each player with appropriate gestures in turn begins the song, "_scotland's burning. scotland's burning,_ _look out! look out!_ _fire! fire! fire! fire!_ _pour on water! pour on water!_" the whole party are soon singing, but each four are singing different words. the object of the judges is to detect some one in the circle either making gestures that are not appropriate to the words or to be singing out of order. the penalty is to turn around and sing with the back to the circle. the three who are facing in last then become judges. skiing this sport has recently received wide popularity in sections of the country where the winters make it possible. skis--or, as they are sometimes spelled, skee,--are a pair of flat runners from five to ten feet long which are attached to the feet in such a way as to be easily cast off in case of accident. by means of skis a ski-runner may either make rapid progress over level snow or may coast down sharp declivities and make jumps of great extent. skis are usually made of ash and the standard lengths are from six to eight feet. they cost from five to seven dollars a pair. in skiing it is customary to use a pair of steel-shod poles with leather wrist straps, but in ski-running or coasting the use of poles is very dangerous. spanish fly in this game of leap frog various tricks are attempted by the leader, as in the game of "stump master." each of the boys following is expected to do as the leader or to drop out and become "down" himself. "torchlight" is to jump with one hand only, using the other to wave his cap as if it were a torch. in "hats on deck" each jumper in turn is supposed to leave his cap on "down's" back. naturally the last one over may have a large pile of hats to clear. if he disturbs any of them or knocks them off, he is "it." "hats off" means for each jumper in turn to take his own hat without knocking off any of the others. in all games of leap frog it is considered proper for the jumper to direct "down" to give him the kind of a "back" he desires. consequently he will say high or low back, depending upon whether he wishes "down" to stand almost upright or to bend close to the ground. squash this game is similar to racquets, but is less violent or severe on a player. it is played in a court feet inches wide. the front wall must be feet high. the service line above which the ball must strike on the serve is feet from the floor. below this line and feet from the floor is the "tell tale," above which the ball must strike in play. a squash racket is similar to a tennis racket, but slightly smaller. in squash, a game is "fifteen up." at the score of a player may "set the score" back to or , after which the player first winning either or points, or aces, as they are called, is the winner. the object of this is to endeavour to overcome the advantage that the server may have. in a regulation squash court the spectators' gallery is above the walls of the court, and the game is played in the pit below the gallery. stump master in this game one of the players is chosen master. it is usually the one who first suggests the game by saying. "let's play stump master." he then leads the line of players, going through various "stumps," or, as we should call them now, "stunts," such as climbing fences and trees, turning somersaults, crawling through narrow places, or whatever will be difficult for the rest to copy. the game is capable of all sorts of variations. suckers this can scarcely be called a game, but the use of the sucker is so familiar to most boys that a description of it is surely not out of place in this chapter. a piece of sole leather is used, three or four inches square. it is cut into a circle and the edges carefully pared thin. a hole is made in the centre and a piece of string or top twine is knotted and run through the hole. the sucker is then soaked in water until it is soft and pliable. the object of the sucker is to lift stones or bricks with it. this, too, is of especial interest in new england towns, where there are brick sidewalks. the sucker is pressed firmly on a brick by means of the foot, and it will be found to adhere to it with sufficient force to lift it clear of the ground. tether ball the same as tether tennis, which see. tether tennis this game has been developed out of lawn tennis. a wooden pole extending feet above the surface is placed in a vertical position and firmly imbedded in the ground. the pole must be - / inches in circumference at the ground and may taper to the top. six feet above the ground a black band inches wide is painted around the pole. the court is a smooth piece of sod or clay similar to a tennis court, but a piece of ground feet square is sufficient. at the base of the pole a circle is described with a -foot radius. a line feet long bisects this circle, and feet from the pole on each side are two crosses, which are known as service crosses. an ordinary tennis ball is used which has been fitted with a tight-fitting linen cover. the ball is fastened to the pole by means of a piece of heavy braided line. ordinary heavy fish line will do. the ball should hang - / feet from the top of the pole or - / feet from the ground. regulation tennis rackets are used. the game consists in endeavouring to wind the ball and string around the pole above the black mark in a direction previously determined. the opponent meanwhile tries to prevent this and to wind the ball in the opposite direction by striking it as one would volley in tennis. each player must keep in his own court. the points are scored as "fouls." eleven games constitute a set. a game is won when the string is completely wound around the pole above the black mark. the penalty for a foul, such as stepping outside of one's court, allowing the string to wind around the handle of the racket or around the pole below the black mark, provides for a free hit by one's opponent. three-legged racing a race in which the contestants are paired off by being strapped together at the ankles and thighs. remarkable speed can be obtained by practice under this handicap. there are definite rules to govern three-legged races, and official harness may be bought from sporting goods outfitters. as a race, however, it is like sack racing, to be classed among the sports designed to afford amusement rather than as a display of skill. tub racing these races are often held in shallow lakes. each contestant sits in a wash tub, and by using his hands as paddles endeavours to paddle the course first. as a wash tub is not a particularly seaworthy craft, and spills are of frequent occurrence, it is well for the tub racers also to know how to swim. volley ball this game is extremely simple and may be played by any number of players, provided that there is space and that the sides are evenly divided. the best dimensions for a volley ball court are feet wide and feet long, but any square space evenly divided into two courts will do. the game consists of twenty-one points. the ball is made of white leather and inflated with a rubber bladder. a net divides the two courts and is feet high. the standard volley ball is inches in circumference and weighs between and ounces. the whole object of the game is to pass the ball back and forth over the net without permitting it to touch the floor or to bound. in this way it somewhat resembles both tennis and hand ball. volley ball is an excellent game for gymnasiums and has the decided advantage of permitting almost any number to play. warning the "warner" takes his position at a space called "home" and the rest of the players stand some distance from him. he then clasps his hands and runs out, trying to tag an opponent with his clasped hands. this would be practically impossible except that the players endeavour to make him unclasp his hands by pulling at his arms and drawing temptingly near him. as soon as he has tagged a victim he runs for home as fast as possible. if he himself is tagged before he reaches home he is out, and the tagger becomes "warner." if both the warner and the one tagged reach home safely they clasp hands, and finally the line contains all the players but one, who has the honour of being warner for the next game. the game receives its name from the call, "warning!" which the warner gives three times before leaving home. washington in this game a player stands blindfolded and another player comes up and taps him. the one who is "it" then gives a penalty, such as "climb a tree or run to the corner and back," and then tries to guess who it was that tapped him. the one tapped must answer some question so that he may be recognized by his voice or laugh. if "it" is correct in his guess, the player must do as directed, but if his guess is wrong he must do it himself. the result of this game is that the blindfolded player will measure the severity of his "forfeits," or "penalties," to his certainty of guessing correctly the name of the player. water polo this game is played in a swimming pool. a white ball made of rubber fabric is used. the ball must be between and inches in diameter. the goals are spaces feet long and inches wide at each end of the tank and placed inches above the water line. six men on a side constitute a team. it is a game in which skill in swimming is absolutely essential. it is also a very rough game. the player endeavours to score goals by swimming with the ball, and his opponents are privileged to tackle him and to force him under water or in other ways to attempt to secure the ball from him. meanwhile the other players are blocking off opponents, and in general the game resembles a football game in its rudiments. water race in this game the contestants run a race carrying a glass or tin cup full of water on top of the head, which must not be touched by the hands. the one finishing first with a minimum loss of water from his cup is the winner. wicket polo a game played by two teams of four players each. the ball used is a regulation polo ball. a wicket polo surface is feet square, in which sticks or wickets are set up. the object of the game is to knock down the wickets of one's opponents by a batted ball and to prevent them from displacing our own. a crooked stick feet in length and a little over an inch in diameter is used. each player has a fixed position on the field or surface. wolf and sheep in this game "it" is the wolf. the sheep choose a shepherd to guard them. the wolf then secures a hiding place and the sheep and shepherd leave the fold and endeavour to locate him. when this is done the shepherd cries, "i spy a wolf!" and every one stands while he counts ten. then the sheep and shepherd scatter for the fold, and if tagged before they reach it the first becomes wolf for the next game. wood tag in this class are also "iron tag," "stone tag," and "tree tag." they are all simply the game of tag with the additional rule that when a player is in contact with iron, stone, trees, wood, and so on he is safe from being tagged by the one who is "it." the game of "squat tag" is similar, except that to be safe the one pursued must squat quickly on the ground before "it" catches him. in cross tag, "it" must select a victim and continue to run after him until some one runs ahead and crosses his path, when "it," who may be breathless by this time, must abandon his victim for a fresh one, who may soon be relieved and so on until some one is tagged, or "it" is exhausted. the country life press, garden city, n.y. collection of the library of congress note: images of the original pages are available in the american memory collection of the library of congress. see http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/index.html there is no harm in dancing by w. e. penn with an introduction by rev. j.h. stribling, d.d. st. louis, mo. lewis e. kline, publisher and bookseller. "buy the truth and sell it not; also wisdom and instruction and understanding."--prov. - . "there is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death."--prov. - this little book is respectfully and kindly dedicated to all husbands, fathers and brothers, who love their wives, daughters and sisters, by the author. preface. during the past seven years i have delivered the substance of the foregoing lecture on dancing, as a part of my work as an evangelist, before not less than one hundred thousand people. i have been requested by hundreds of fathers and mothers, young men and girls, husbands and brothers, and pastors of churches to publish the lecture in the form of a book, that its influence may be extended to fields i shall never visit. it is in compliance with these requests that the little book is written, with the hope that at least some good may result in begetting and fostering a better state of morals in our day and generation, and in checking the terrible increase of crime which is rolling over the earth like a mighty wave of the ocean. if i shall ever hear that this little book has had some humble part in stopping one poor soul from taking one more step down the "broad road," _or that it has done any good in the world_, i shall feel well paid for all the time and trouble it has cost me in getting it into the hands of the printer. most of persons speaking or writing on the subject of the dance, are "_hear-say_" witnesses, but i profess to having been an "_eye-witness_," which i propose to prove by all the _bad_ men, or those who have been _bad_ men, who may carefully read this book. their verdict will be: "he has been there." while i believe that hundreds of thousands of fathers and mothers, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, and pastors, and christians, will bless the day this little book was written, and will offer many earnest prayers for the author, i shall expect many othellos to curse me with all the bitterness of their souls, because i hope it may be said wherever the book is read: "othello's occupation is gone." the author. introduction. major w.c. penn, the author of the following treatise on the modern dance, has requested the writer to pen a few thoughts introductory to a theme he has presented with such pith and power to listening thousands in his travels as an evangelist. various inquiries have been made as to how major penn, a lawyer in a lucrative practice, and with all the attractions of wealth and of fame before him, and in a quiet, lovely and elegant home, with a wife who has ever been as a guardian angel to his pathway, was led to change his vocation to that of a wandering evangelist, and how it is that he now stands before the world beside knapp, and earle, and moody, and other world-renowned evangelists of the th century, in leading multitudes to christ as a savior? it is answered and centered in the sublime truth: "the love of christ constraineth us." as the stars are dimmed and lost sight of in the brilliancy of the rising sun, so earthly pleasures, riches and honors fade and dwindle in the glory of the cross. as god was pleased to use the writer as an instrument in getting brother penn into this work, so it seemed proper that a few incidents and facts which led to it, as remembered in our associations together, should be stated. it was in jefferson, texas, where our brother then resided, that i first saw him, in may, , during the session of the southern baptist convention, at that place. but it was in june, the year after, at his own home and during a series of meetings in the baptist church, that i began to know more of him, as he brought up in our social interviews a review of his life religiously--as he told of the time when, in the ardor and vigor of youth, in tennessee, at a meeting, he sought to defy and brave a gospel message from the venerable brother james hurt, by taking a front seat; and then how his soul was convulsed and his heart melted, as god's message wrenched the bolted door of that heart; how he struggled with the agonies of conviction for sin, during the long, weary hours of night; and how the joys of pardoning love through christ came to his soul with the brightness of the morning. as these conversations were reviewed, he told of frequent backslidings, and how far away from god he had been. then he told of some things he had done in the sunday school and in the church, and then at times gave his opinion as to the best way of conducting a series of meetings and other things pertaining to christ's kingdom. during these conversations the question was asked: "bro. penn, are you satisfied and sure that you are in full discharge of your duty?" after a pause he replied, as if conscience was awakened: "no sir. i am not satisfied, and have not been for years past." then said he: "you are the first man that ever asked me that question." then the writer made known some impressions about him that must have been made by the spirit of god, for he never had just such an interest to burden his heart previously, and that was that god had a peculiar and wonderful work for him to do. "but," said bro. penn, "at my age, in my profession and in my condition, i cannot believe it to be my duty to preach the gospel"--his age being at that time forty-two years. among other things said at this time by the writer, as he now remembers them one was: that the spirit of god leads and teaches us in strange ways, often, as to what god would have us do, and that our methods of holding meetings seemed to the writer as being deficient in some things, and that the good of the cause required a change from the ruts and grooves in which these meetings had been run, and that we were making our services monotonous and chilling out spirituality by common methods of conducting divine service, in protracted meetings. another thought was: that he and men like himself, as lawyers, that were given to talking and that knew much of men and the world, if the love of christ was burning in their souls, might do a great work in going out and helping in such meetings, even if they never engaged regularly in the ministry. but it was in tyler, texas, at a sunday school institute, in july, , that a new era was to dawn on major penn. it was a fixed impression in the mind of the pastor that there ought to be a change in our manner of conducting revival services; that the time had come to begin the work, and that bro. penn was the man to inaugurate such a change. in prayer this matter was carried to the lord for his direction. it was a settled impression in the heart of the writer, as pastor of the baptist church, that the church and community needed a series of meetings at this time. there were preachers present of experience, piety and ability, and he had no doubt they would remain and aid in such services if invited to do so. but contrary to what was a common practice at the close of such meetings, and after imploring the lord to direct him, he could not, from his heart, ask any of these preachers to stay and aid in a meeting. while singing the last song, at the close of the service on sunday night, the writer approached major penn, who had been aiding in the singing, and said to him: "bro. penn, i am going to appoint a prayer meeting at o'clock in the morning, and as your train does not leave until o'clock to-morrow evening, i shall expect to see you at the meeting; will you come?" to which he replied. "i have some business with the clerk of the federal court, and if i get through in time, i will try and be here." a prayer meeting was announced for o'clock the next morning. at the appointed hour a fair congregation had assembled, and a few minutes after o'clock maj. penn came in and took a seat not far from the door. the writer approached him and said: "i want you to conduct this meeting." he replied: "you must excuse me, i am a lawyer, and do not believe in mixing things in this way. you conduct the meeting or get one of those preachers sitting there to do it, and i will help in singing or lead in prayer, if desired." to which the writer replied: "if all the preachers in the world were here i could not permit one of them to conduct this meeting, and i am not physically able. you _must_ do it." to which he answered. "very well, i will conduct a prayer meeting." the meeting was opened as is usual, when brother penn arose and read a portion of the th chapter of john, and then talked about fifteen minutes, which seemed to awaken a very deep interest throughout the entire congregation. at the close of this talk quite a number of wives, fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters arose one after another and in great earnestness asked prayer for their loved ones. while singing the last song, the writer asked brother penn to remain and conduct a service at night, which he positively refused to do, saying that he must go home. whereupon the writer publicly entered a protest against his leaving. sister penn and others of the company from jefferson consenting, he agreed to remain one more day. at night the house was crowded, and great interest manifested by christians and by many unconverted. a prayer meeting was announced for o'clock the next morning. at this meeting the house was well filled, with a decided increase of interest. one or two conversions-and a number of inquiries were made. at the close of this meeting the writer said to brother penn, "you cannot leave this meeting, it will never do, there never has been such an interest in this town since i have been here." to which he replied "i am bound to go home, i have no partner and no one to attend to my business." the writer then arose, and in the name of the lord jesus christ entered another solemn protest against his leaving, saying: "i believe before god that it is bro. penn's solemn duty to remain here and carry on this meeting, and it is my firm conviction that if he leaves he will commit the great sin of his life, and i call upon every member of this church and of this congregation, who will join me in this protest, to stand up." the entire congregation were standing in a moment. he then said to the writer privately: "i tell you i am bound to go home; i promised my wife yesterday that i would be certain to go home with her to-day, and i know that she is bound to go home." the writer said: "bro. penn, you are mistaken; sister penn would not have you leave this meeting to go home with her. she will go with the young people." he then went to where his wife was sitting and said to her: "i promised you yesterday that i would go home with you to-day, and i am going to do it." sister penn looked up in his face with tearful eyes and trembling lips, and said, as only a true, noble hearted christian woman could have said: "i can go home with the young people, i do not think you ought to go." this seems to have been the last hair that broke the camel's back. we have seen many striking photographs of the major as taken by artists in his travels, and in various attitudes, but a picture delineating his features on this occasion would be preferable to all others. as he rose to respond to the protest of the pastor, church and congregation, with his head thrown back, his eyes dilated, his lips quivering, his voice stammering and tears coursing their way down his cheeks, he tried to give expression to his astonishment and the deep emotion of his heart; he seemed to realize that it was _god's call_, and that he could not resist it. it was circulated through the town that a _lawyer_, and not a _preacher_, was to conduct services at the baptist church. some thought it a strange freak in the pastor to suggest, and in the church to approve such a thing. various opinions were freely expressed as to the leader in these services. then it was spoken in low tones of voice among some good people, in substance, after this fashion: "did you ever hear of such a thing? here are preachers all over the country that we know, good men, who can preach the gospel, and here they've called in a _lawyer to carry on the meeting_. lord have mercy on us, what are we coming to any how?" at every street corner and place of business, in the saloons, offices and homes throughout tyler, maj. penn and the services were discussed, while his satanic majesty and his allies were busy in trying to cripple and crush the good effects. a mighty and irresistable attraction drew crowds to the house of god. at times it was apparent that the leader was embarrassed; now and then fretted and and chafed; then at a loss what to say or do; and more than once was he tempted to say he would leave the meeting; and that he had not remained there to be slandered and persecuted. but he was reminded that the best of men had thus suffered, that god had furnaces through which we must pass, to burn up the dross, and that in the midst of this state of things the church was being revived, wanderers brought back, souls awakened and converted from day to day, and that he had the sympathy, prayers and co-operation of many pious, devoted hearts. again the new leader, after wrestling in prayer for grace and direction, took courage and was renewed by the spirit of god to go on in pulling down the strong-holds of iniquity. but satan was not yet overcome, he made another powerful assault upon him. when the meeting had been in progress about ten days, abuse, misrepresentation, lying, together with the basest and most contemptible slanders, were hurled at him with unmeasured severity. it was a new ordeal, and he was tempted stronger than ever to lay off his armor and leave the meeting. he decided to go home, and so stated to the pastor, saying: "you have already kept me here longer than any man on earth could have done, and now i am determined to go." "well," said the pastor, "i am sorry to hear it, and believe you will commit a great wrong, and will incur the displeasure of almighty god in leaving here at this time, and still further, i beg you to bear in mind this truth, that duty never points in two ways. if it is your duty to be in jefferson practicing law, then it is not your duty to remain here and carry on this meeting. god only can guide you aright." this conversation occurred in the afternoon. at night the major was in his place, and said to the large congregation: "my friends, i have heard to-day of so many slanderous reports about me that i determined to go home, but remembering that so persecuted they the prophets, which were before me, and that they persecuted my master even unto death, i have only to say: 'father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?' i shall go on with the meeting, 'looking unto jesus, the author and finisher of my faith,' to sustain, protect and guide me in all things." it was, perhaps, the drinking of this cup of persecution that passed our brother across the rubicon, that burned all the bridges behind him and caused him to bow in humble submission to the will of almighty god. "'tis ever so thy faithful love does all thy children's graces prove; 'tis thus our pride and self must fall that jesus may be all in all." as the meeting continued, and as the scores and hundreds came together "at the sound of the church-going bell," from day to day the leader seemed to develop in power from god to move, melt and sway the hearts of the listening crowds, as he sung and prayed and talked "of jesus and his dying love." after more than five weeks' continuance, the services closed. scores were converted, many valuable additions were made to the church, christians were renewed and developed in piety of heart and life, and the leavening and saving power of the gospel was extended through the town and surrounding country. this meeting was the beginning and earnest of the blessings and success that has attended bro. penn's labors for more than nine years past, while in his life we see that, "defects thro' nature's best productions run. the saints have spots, and spots are in the sun, and that he, with all of adam's race, are only 'sinners' saved by grace." yet we rejoice and praise god for what has been manifested in his growth and development in his work mentally and spiritually, for the life, power and efficiency infused into our churches by his ministrations--for his rebukes, exposures and denunciations of sin, in and out of the church; for holding up christ at all times, as the only hope of lost sinners; for tearing away the mask of a heartless formality in the profession and practice of religion; for the thousands of all classes and ages in the forests and prairies of texas, where he has pitched his great gospel tent, and in the cities of galveston, houston, san antonio, dallas, ft. worth, mobile, memphis, louisville, st. louis, and in the cities of california, in scores of crowded places of worship; in smaller towns and in the country, who have been brought to christ as lost sinners through his instrumentality; and that at all times and through his whole ministry he has declared "the whole counsel of god," and made no compromises with error and heresy. as to the disquisition of maj. penn, which frowns on the modern dance, we ask for it a careful reading and an honest and practical application of its facts, arguments and illustration, as the prize, practical essay of the age on this subject, so far as is known. that it is clear, pointed and overwhelming in its exposures of the evils and crimes, the corruptions and abominations of the modern dance is confirmed by experience and observation. let every lover of the dance, every friend of morals and of religion, and each professing christian, read and circulate this production among all classes of men and women. and may the blessings of god attend it's circulation, as it may be scattered into thousands of homes, and an increasing blessing attend its author and his labors. j. h. stribling, rockdale, texas. october , . "there is no harm in dancing." "every good tree bringeth forth good fruit, but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit."--matt. , . if "there is no harm in dancing," it must be a good tree, and if it is a good tree, we shall be certain to find that it bears good fruit, and if we find the fruit hanging on its boughs to be sound and wholesome food for the _physical, mental_ and _spiritual_ man, we should strive to have these trees planted in all our homes, our churches, sabbath-schools, school-houses, colleges, seminaries, or other institutions of learning. but if we find the fruit injurious, to either the physical, mental or spiritual, to such a degree that its injurious effects are not overcome and destroyed by the benefits conferred upon us by the other two, it should be condemned by every friend of humanity. every tree should be cut down, and every dealer regarded as an enemy to his race. some trees are very tall and _graceful_, and dressed in beautiful foliage, but the fruit is deadly poison. some trees are not comely to look upon, but the fruit very good and wholesome. so it is not the tree, but the fruit, to which we must look. some fruit may be very bad but not dangerous to society, because of the very small quantity on the market, and because it is not good to the _taste_, but little, if any, of it is used. but this is not the case with dancing, for there is a large quantity of it on hand all the time, and a great deal of it is used, because it is _palatable_ to the _natural_ taste of men and women. the demand is always far greater than the supply. this fruit being so very popular, of such great demand, we must conclude that, as it is bound to be either good or bad, it must be _very_ good, or _very_ bad. now, reader, before we proceed to examine this fruit, please do the author and yourself the justice to sign your name to the following vow: "i do _solemnly vow_ that i will carefully read the following pages as nearly as possible free from all _prejudice_ and _partiality, with a desire to know the truth_, and that i will a true verdict render, according to the honest conviction of my own mind and heart. "(here sign name.)________________" when and where are the trees of dancing to be found? they grow in the night and generally perish with the darkness when the morning light appears. "this is the condemnation that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. for every one that doeth evil hateth the light; neither cometh to the light lest his deeds should be reproved."--john - - . the trees are to be found in many private residences, dancing schools, dancing academies, seminaries and colleges, where our girls are educated; in public halls, in side shows, in some of our _so-called_ churches, in beer shops, beer gardens, variety theatres, music halls and houses of ill-fame. in the five last-mentioned these trees grow much taller, larger and more luxuriant than anywhere else, because it is supposed by _naturalists_ that they are more indigenous to this kind of soil. in these places those are the favorite trees, the trees admired above all others, because of the fruit they bear. why the virtuous and the vulgar are so fond of the same fruit, i shall not try to explain. i must leave this knotty, ugly problem to be solved by _wiser_ and more experienced heads than mine. i asked the proprietors and proprietresses of these last-mentioned places where they procured the sprouts from which all these great trees had grown; these trees that have grown so tall and strong, and the bark so thick, that they do not vanish with the darkness when the morning light appears, but grow and flourish in the brightest day, _even better on_ sundays _than any other time_. they all, without a dissenting voice, made answer and said: "_the seeds_ were planted in the decent, respectable parlors, generally among the polished and refined people of the towns and cities--were watered and cultivated by the fathers and mothers, and then transplanted into the dancing schools, church festivals, and then they are removed to the public halls, and here they are kept until the bark on _some_ of them becomes hard enough to be carried to the beer gardens, masquerades, variety theaters, music halls and other towns and cities in sodom and gomorrah." without the fascination for dancing, which is _germinated_ and _cultivated_ in the private parlors among the _nice, respectable, refined_ people, many of the largest towns and cities of sodom and gomorrah would soon be depopulated. we next come to enquire who it is that attends dancing parties, balls, hops, etc., and when they usually break up. but one answer can be given, viz.: young men and young women, together with young married people, with an occasional _sear and yellow leaf repainted_. with a very few exceptions, dancing parties, balls and hops are made up of young men and girls of every grade of society, from the poorest to the wealthiest in the community. now it must be admitted that there is as great a desire in the hearts of the poor young men, and as great a desire in the hearts of the girls of poor parentage to make a favorable impression in society, as there possibly could be with the wealthier classes. as a rule, it may be said that not more than one in twenty of all who participate in dancing parties have a sufficient "cash balance" to gratify their pride in the purchase of the supposed necessary outfits in clothing, jewelry, etc., without any misgivings as to the future comforts and necessaries of life. when we consider the large number of young men, young husbands and fathers and mothers who are not able, in justice to themselves and those looking to and relying upon them for a support, to keep pace with the rich in their extravagance, and that all must come together on the same floor, in the same room and pass in review before the merciless critics always to be found in the ball room, and find that the weakest and most vulnerable points in human nature are here attacked by three of the devil's most powerful armies, under command of three of his most stratagetic and experienced generals--envy, jealousy and wounded pride--we may at once proceed to examine the fruit of dancing. nearly all of our young people are in love with some one, and not unfrequently two or three or more are in love with the same one, or the lover imagines that he or she has from one to a half dozen rivals, which is the same to them as if it were true. it is often the case that an engagement exists, or there is grave suspicion of its existence. a dancing party or ball is in prospect. the same preparation must be made by rich and poor. one young man who chanced to be born of rich or well-to-do parents, and one young lady the same, order their outfits, and they are paid for not unfrequently out of the usurious interest wrung from the fathers and mothers of the poorer young men and girls. now the poorer and less able to purchase the necessary all outfits, which are always costly, _must go_. they must go, because they _love_ the dance. they are passionately fond of it. they must go, or it may be said they could not go on account of their poverty. they must go, in order to keep pace with their rivals, so as to keep an eye on them, lest they be supplanted in their affections. these are three powerful inducements. without divine aid they are irresistible when brought to bear on the young. they must go! they will go! they do go! here thousands of fathers and mothers have been compelled to yield to the entreaties of their daughters, and sometimes their sons, in purchasing costly apparel, jewelry, etc., when they knew they were not able, outfits that never would have been needed but for the dance. hundreds of thousands of young men, with small salaries, in moderate circumstances, have been induced, under this heavy pressure, to resort to many dishonest devices in order to make the necessary preparations. clerks have sold goods above the market price and put the excess in their pockets. they have often _borrowed_ money from their employer, _without his knowledge_, small amounts, from day to day. they have borrowed from friends by telling them they had money coming from an estate, or friend or a debtor, which they knew to be false, and in the same way, or by other false statements, have bought articles of clothing, made large livery bills, which they knew would never be paid. many conceive the idea they can raise the desired amount at the gambling table, and here do _their first_ gambling. where one succeeds, at least one hundred fail. some raise the required amount by transferring a few cows, yearlings, steers, a horse or a mule, to distant pastures; some are caught and some are not. those not caught are in a far worse condition than those in the jail or in the penitentiary, because they have been checked in their mad career, and the others are emboldened by their escape to commit other and greater crimes. "be sure your sins will find you out." yes, inexorable, unerring justice is on the track of all evil-doers, and will be certain to overtake them sooner or later. hundreds of thousands of fathers and mothers, and young married people, have been brought to poverty and misery; some, within my knowledge, to alms-houses, by the heavy draws made upon them by their sons, daughters and wives, in preparing for dancing parties and balls. for weeks before the ball comes off--and here let it be understood that i mean the ball to cover hops, dancing parties and all manner of dancing--the young people are wild with excitement; they are almost wholly incapable of any kind of business. all manner of domestic affairs are almost entirely neglected by the girls and young wives. the bright anticipation of great pleasure in the near future, turns some of their little shallow brains up-side-down, and they are often seen in a sort of deep reverie, wearing a blank gaze, having very much the appearance of poor unfortunate idiots. if the father, mother, husband, brother or teacher speaks to them, unless it be on the subject of the ball, they grin like a baboon and snap like a mad dog. if we run on at the rate we are now going, it will not be a great while until it may be found to be cheaper to build a few asylums for the sane, and let the idiots and lunatics run at large. the ball. the hop. the dance. it is all the same. well, the long looked for day has come; it is now p.m., and the boys, girls and young wives are in their rooms donning their new and costly apparel, which has been bought, borrowed or _stolen_ in divers and sundry ways. some have been paid for, some will be paid for, and some will remain open accounts until judgment day. the wealthy and those who never pay their bills will be dressed in the costliest, richest apparel, because only these classes can afford these luxuries. extremes will meet. the young men go and bring in their girls, and when they get to the door, they are met by the committee of reception, who politely show the ladies a side room where they will go and lay off their wraps. the young men go out into the corner of the yard or in the woods and lay off their _wraps_--in the nature of a bottle of whiskey or brandy--or they have left them in a buggy or carriage, or a room has been set apart for this purpose, and the wraps have been provided before-hand, or they are to be found in a convenient drinking saloon. the wraps are there. the girls wear their wraps around them. the boys _wear_ themselves around their wraps. these _wraps_ are brought into requisition as the physical man begins to weaken under the excessive and unnatural exercise. unnatural, because the hours designed by god, our maker, to be used in rest and sleep are appropriated to another and very different purpose. here the tempter discovers another weak point, and he makes the attack. the great draw made upon the physical forces makes it necessary--the tempter says--to use an artificial stimulant, which is here often taken the first time, and which is not unfrequently repeated, until many are so much under its influence and some get so drunk--no, become so suddenly _indisposed_, that they have to be carried home. these entertainments seldom break up until the light of the morning begins to appear, but i will compromise on o'clock, a.m. at or o'clock, p.m., the performance begins, and i propose we shall _candidly_ and _honestly_ examine this basket of fruit. whether designed or not, it is simply a fact that many of the girls and women are dressed in such a way and manner as best and most successfully to excite the baser passions of men. if the style of dress often, yea, nearly always, seen at the _fashionable_ balls and dancing parties is wholly without any evil design--innocently following a fashion--and if those who thus dress are really ignorant of the effect it has upon the opposite sex, it is high time their eyes were being opened. if this be only a fashion, and i want to believe it is nothing more, but when i remember distinctly that this manner of dressing for balls and dancing parties has been the fashion for forty years and that it has never changed, _except to become a little more so_, and that all other fashions have changed at least twenty times, my belief staggers and hangs its head for very shame. this fruit alone has sent hundreds of thousands of men, women and girls to premature graves, dishonored graves, felons' cells, and to an endless hell. that this semi-nude condition, in which many girls and women are seen in the dance, has been productive of a vast deal of sin and crime, no honest man certainly will deny. in the whirl of the gay and giddy dance, we see: strong men and women fair are now within the tempter's snare, with arms around each slender waist, each woman held in _close embrace_. if all the _thoughts_ could be made known of seeds of crime which here are sown, 'twould cause the _hardest_ cheek to blush and every _virtuous_ heart would crush. but so it is, and ere must be, while men and women thus agree _to tempt themselves, and others too_, to sins and crimes of deadly hue. the following is the experience of a lady whose name is withheld, but who has distinguished herself in literature, and made a world-wide reputation: "in those times i cared little for polka or varsovienne, and still less for 'money musk' or 'virginia reel,' and wondered what people could find to admire in these slow dances. but in the soft floating of the waltz i found a strange pleasure, rather difficult to intelligibly describe. the mere anticipation fluttered my pulse, and when my partner approached to claim my promised hand for the dance, i felt my cheeks glow a little sometimes, and i could not look him in the eye with the same frank gayety as heretofore. "but the climax of my confusion was reached when, folded in his warm embrace, and giddy with the whirl, a strange, sweet thrill would shake me from head to foot, leaving me weak and almost powerless, and really obliged to depend for support on the arm which encircled me. if my partner failed, from ignorance, lack of skill or innocence, to arouse these, to me, most pleasureable sensations, i did not dance with him the second time. "i am speaking openly and frankly, and when i say that i did not understand what i felt, or what were the real and greatest pleasures i derived from this so-called dancing, i expect to be believed. but if my cheeks grew red with uncomprehended pleasure then, they grow pale to-day with shame when i think of it all. it was the physical emotions engendered by the magnetic contact of strong men that i was enamored of--not of the dance, not even of the men themselves. "thus i became abnormally developed in my lowest nature. i grew bolder, and from being able to return shy glances at first, was soon able to meet more daring ones, until the waltz became to me and whomsoever danced with me, one lingering, sweet and purely sensual pleasure, where heart beat against heart, hand was held in hand and eyes looked burning words which lips dared not speak. "all this time no one said to me, 'you do wrong;' so i dreamed of sweet words whispered during the dance, and often felt, while alone, a thrill of joy indescribable, yet overpowering, when my mind would turn from my study to remember a piece of temerity of unusual grandeur on the part of one or another of my cavaliers. "married now, with home and children around me, i can at least thank god for the experience which will assuredly be the means of preventing my little daughters from indulging in any such dangerous pleasure. but if a young girl, pure and innocent in the beginning, can be brought to feel what i have confessed to have felt, what must be the experience of a married woman? she knows what every glance of the eye, every bend of the head, every close clasp means, and knowing that, reciprocates it, and is led by swifter steps and a surer path down the dangerous, dishonorable road." i read in the scripture, in that ever memorable sermon on the mount, this significant declaration: "whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." some may not receive this as sound doctrine, because it is the language of jesus christ; but this will not give relief, because the _corrupting_ influence would be just the same if christ had never said one word about it. christ only gave the great sin a name by calling it adultery. it was in this way the seed was sown in the heart of the psalmist david that caused him to commit one of the greatest crimes ever committed on earth. see samuel, ch. in the same way the seed has been sown in the hearts of thousands of men in the ball room, in the dances and in the private parlors, which has ripened into disruptions of the marital relations--has ripened into husbands murdering their wives, has ripened into husbands losing their wives by elopement, has ripened into husbands being murdered, has ripened into young men killing each other; and last, though not least, has resulted in the utter ruin of hundreds of thousands of the fair daughters of our land and country. taking the declarations of jesus christ as true, and no honest man can doubt it, _there never was and never will be a dancing party or ball that the great sin he referred to was not and will not be committed in the hearts of some men_. here permit me to ask an important question, and solemnly charge every reader to make answer as upon oath: with whom is this great sin committed? if common honesty compels fathers, husbands and brothers to admit these things to be true, will you ever again permit your wives, your daughters or your sisters to be found at one of these places, however decent the people may be, while they are under your control? if you do, after your attention has been called to the hideous deformity of the dance, god, man and your own conscience will condemn you. whatsoever of evil or crime may be committed, unyielding justice, unmixed with mercy, will certainly hold you responsible. this last objection to the dance will hold and be just as good against the theaters and operas, because no one will deny but that a special effort is generally made at these places to excite the passions of men and women by an indecent exposure of their persons. to say the least of it, christians have no business at these places. a christian has no business at any place where he cannot go in the name of jesus christ, because the scripture says: "they shall walk up and down in his name."--zach., ch. v. micah, ch. v.--"his name shall be on their foreheads."--rev., ch. v. "ye are my witnesses."--isa., ch. v. can a christian, a true follower of the lord jesus christ, "walk up and down" in a ball room in his _name_? can a christian go into a ball room with the name of jesus christ written on his or her forehead? if a man has his name written on his forehead, and he goes into a ball room, theater, opera, or a drinking saloon, does he not, by that act, hide the name of jesus christ? can a christian be a witness for god in the ball room, theater, opera, or drinking saloon? _if not, his testimony is false, and he is a perjured man!_ i have no doubt some very nice people--_society people_--will be terribly _shocked_ at the developments herein made. i was raised in the country, and i remember a varmint got to visiting our poultry yard and carrying off those _roosting nearest the ground_, which were generally our _improved blooded (society)_ chickens, and whenever we would get after him, he would run down through a _very muddy_ place, and take refuge in a hole in the bank of a creek. we rather dreaded the task of following him through all this _mud and filth_; but, as a last resort, rather than let him have all the poultry, or allow him to continue his depredations at pleasure, we waded through the mud down to his den and dug into his hiding place; and when he was struck on the head with the back of a hoe, he too was _terribly shocked._ now this little animal was not, as may be supposed by some, one of the "common or unclean," but he was one of the elite, a regular _society_ mink. he was covered with very fine fur, but had his stomach filled with stolen chickens. i leave the application to all to whom these presents may come, greeting. _when i want to buy a hat, i never take one unless it fits me_. more or less of the girls participating in the dance are engaged to be married, and great effort is made to keep this a profound secret, so she very naturally has every man for a partner except her intended. here is music in the back-ground, if her intended is present, and he is sure to be there if he is in striking distance--if he is not down with typhoid fever or in prison. this music is in his heart, in the nature of clamoring for blood, by a legion of different sized devils. it may be there is not one man in the room that would have his girl under any consideration whatever, but he imagines that they all want her. the female outfit for the ball consists of girls and a number of young married women, and some a little older, and some old women, forty to fifty years old, with grown children, false teeth, false hair, and bloats to swell out their wrinkled cheeks, and they, too, are dressed in the _fashion_ with red ribbons, and blue and green; these furnish the _disgust_ for the occasion--and one of them has been known to furnish disgust enough for a city of ten thousand inhabitants, and of the very best quality. let us return to the basket containing the young married people, and examine the fruit therein. reader, did you ever see the young married woman watching her husband as he glides up and down in the merry dance, _with an old sweetheart in his arms?_ if you never did, the first opportunity you have, take a good look at a cat's eyes in the dark and in imagination transfer them to the young wife's head, and you will have a very correct idea of how _sweet_ and _amiable_ she looks. who among the living will ever forget that poor unfortunate girl, in the state of georgia, who was assassinated in the ball room by a jealous young wife? the civilized world was shocked by the announcement of this terrible tragedy, which was purely the fruit of the ball room. these parties were not of the low and vulgar, but were of the society people of the age. how many husbands have in the same way and for the same cause had all the baser, brutish passions aroused to such an extent as to have their reasoning faculties dethroned, and have been driven by the raging devils within to commit many of the greatest, most shameful and most disgraceful crimes that ever blackened the records of a criminal court? how many have cursed and abused their wives while on the way home from the ball room? how many, after their arrival at home, have used their superior physical strength in abusing their wives in a most shameful and disgraceful manner? how much of all this was the result of a frenzied imagination, and not for any real misconduct? how many of all these cruel wrongs and outrages are never known except by the parties themselves? how many fathers and mothers have neglected their children by leaving them in incompetent and unsafe hands, while they spent the night in the ball room? how many husbands have left their wives, in poor health, sometimes sick in bed, with two or three little children crying around them, while they have spent the night in the ball room dancing with other women? how many men and women, and especially women, from physical and mental causes superinduced by the effects of the ball room, have been driven to madness, and have thus become inmates of insane asylums, or have deliberately taken their own lives? o! for the pen of a milton or a pollock! but this would not suffice, because these questions can only be answered at the judgment bar of god, when the secrets of all hearts shall be made known. they will be answered then. how many girls have innocently and _ignorantly_ killed themselves, or have sown the seed of some terrible lingering disease, by checking the course of nature, by bathing or otherwise, in their preparation for the ball room, which they would not have done to attend any other place? how many women, all over the country, are suffering the pangs of death from this cause alone? one of the handsomest and most accomplished girls i ever knew, at the age of eighteen, ignorantly killed herself in this way. i know through physicians of many others who have wrecked their health in the same way. let the invalids among the women tell their physicians the _truth_, and then let the physicians and the _graves_ speak out, and the world would be horror-stricken at the awful report. whiskey has slain its thousands, but the ball, the hop, the dance, its tens of thousands. in this connection i wish to give young men some wholesome advice, which, if observed, will keep them out of a great deal of trouble, and save the payment of a great many bills. whenever you hear that an old clock, an old carriage, an old saw-mill, an old steamboat, or a woman or girl who is _passionately_ fond of dancing is on the market, be certain to remain in bed or get the sheriff, which is much safer, to put you in jail until these articles are disposed of. i respectfully refer to all who have had any of these articles _knocked off on them_. when the ball closes, the young men take the girls to their homes. in a little while the girls--darling angels--are in the land of dreams, but they certainly never dream that they have been "sowing the seeds of eternal shame, sowing the seeds of a maddened brain." they never dream _that they are responsible for all the sins and crimes that flow from the ball room_, but they certainly are, because if they would not go to these places, there never would be another ball or hop or dance upon the face of all the earth. men will not dance by themselves. if they do, they will not injure any one but themselves, and they will be certain not to keep late hours. while the girls are dreaming, the young men are assembling at some favorite room or corner down in town. if jim gets there first he waits for bill, and then they wait for jack, bob, ben, charlie and the balance of the club. when they are all in, one or two of the older ones propose to go across the way and take a drink at the corner saloon, which is still in blast; yes, running at a full head of steam, or rather mean whiskey. now here is a very strange thing. i have never heard of but one first-class saloon closing until after the ball closed, and in this case the owner was very sick and the bar-tender had skipped with the cash balance. some of these boys have been taught by their old-fogy fathers and mothers that such things are not to be found on the straight and narrow road, because there is no _room_ for them along this road, _and no use for them either_. i have carefully examined my way-bill to heaven, and it was made out by one who knows every foot of the way, but i find no mention made of drinking saloons, ball rooms, theaters, operas, houses of ill-fame, and _such like_ places as being on or near this road. the same one has furnished me a way-bill to hell, and i find all these places mentioned as being on the line of this road. whenever you find yourself, dear reader, at one of these places, you may know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are not in the narrow road; and with equal certainty you may know you are in the broad road. now these boys are evidently on the broad road, because the devil's sutler-shops are not to be found anywhere else, for the very good reason that he cannot get a permit to put them up on the narrow road. he would put them in the very center of heaven if he possibly could. his impudence and daring is only equaled by his fathomless corruption. the man or woman who will dare to say that these places are found on the road to heaven, certainly has a very poor idea of heaven and its inhabitants. if they are to be found along the straight and narrow way, and the travelers along this way are to enter and participate in the things therein going on, then they are certainly designed of god to _aid in the salvation of immortal souls_. if this be true, on entering the narrow way the first refreshments we shall get are to be found in one of these places, having this sign over the door; "first chance," and the last thing we pass in this life, just before we enter heaven, will be another one of these houses with this inscription over the door: "last chance." some of these boys don't understand it this way; they have been raised to think that "_there is no harm in dancing_," but were never told that the dancing shops of all kinds are on the same road with all the drinking saloons and other places of a like character. no, the same parents told their sons that the drinking saloon is next door to hell, and these are the ones we read about in the bible, who "strain at a gnat and swallow a camel." that is to say, in those days when christ was on earth, there were some people so peculiarly constituted that they strained at a gnat and swallowed a camel; but we live in an age of improvement, an age in which some people strain at a gnat, and swallow a jumbo with perfect ease and in the most graceful manner. i know an advocate of the woman's christian temperance union, who often dances all night, most _gracefully_, and in the morning she turneth up her little nose, just as _gracefully_ as the elephant turneth up his snout when peck's bad boy has thrown him a piece of tobacco, _at the awful drinking saloon and saloon keepers_. the private parlor dance is the beginning, the first depot on the great air-line route from this world to the city of destruction; here the boys and men are drawn into the coaches by the general passenger agents: the mothers, wives, daughters, sisters and sweethearts. this line is advertised as the finest and best equipped road beneath the sun. fine sleepers; all the way through, without change. special guarantee against accidents. this road is laid with smooth, glass rails, and the wheels are made of india rubber. drinking saloons, beer gardens, and some other places i'll not mention, are the wood yards and tanks, where fuel and water is procured which gets up the steam that draws the train with increasing velocity down to the great city of destruction. when the train stops for wood and water, all the passengers are expected to take part in the very interesting and social performance. but here are same boys who beg to be excused. "can't excuse you," cries the brakesman. "come along, you can take a small _stick_ in the way of a cigar;" and so these boys, not wishing to appear ugly and incur the ill will of the brakesman, walk into a saloon for the first time. they first take a cigar, but soon the brakesman (an old stager) laughs them to scorn and confusion, and not being able to stand the fire, they throw down the cigar and take their _first drink in a drinking saloon_. after the drinks have been repeated a few times, one of the brakesmen, well under the influence of whiskey or wine, takes a careful look at all present, and if satisfied there is no relative or sweetheart in hearing, he then and there tells an _anecdote_ on one of the nice girls or married ladies with whom they have been dancing, that certainly would bring the blush of shame to the cheeks of the blackest devil that inhabits the world of outer darkness. the drink, and anecdotes of the same character, _only worse, if possible_, are repeated until interrupted by the appearance of a half-witted looking young man, entering from a back door, who seems to have something of great importance to tell the bartender. he talks low, but sufficiently loud to be heard by the boys, for it is really for their ears. "have you heard the news?" "no, what news." "why, about bill jones; he went in back here to-night with only five dollars for a stake, and he has just now gone home with _five hundred dollars_ in his pocket." then the boys slide out, and as soon as out in a dark corner, they begin to enquire to see if a stake can be raised among them, finding none, one or two being confidential clerks, go to the store, bank or other place of business, and _borrow_ fifteen or twenty dollars, having no doubt of their ability to win a few hundred dollars in a little while, and then replace the _borrowed_ money without it ever being known. soon the _borrowed_ stake is in the hands of the dealer. they repeat the drinks, and then _borrow_ some more in the same way, which goes into the same hands as the first, and thus they continue until the appearance of day-light, and then reeling to and fro under the influence of the mean whiskey they have been drinking, and the ponderous weight of their sins and crimes, they go to their rooms, cursing the day on which they were born. they have lost all self-respect. they are now at sea without chart or compass. when a man or woman loses their self-respect, they are moral wrecks. "wandering stars." there is nothing left to build upon. it is from this cause that thousands commit suicide, both men, women, and girls. it is the continual gnawings of the conscience over the secret sins and crimes they have not the moral courage to confess. like the hidden spark of fire in a bale of cotton, it continues its ravages until the whole bale is reduced to ashes. this will account in great measure for the hundreds and thousands of _unaccountable_ suicides of to-day, which are principally confined to the young of both sexes. i do not mean to say that all the young men go to drinking saloons as soon as they carry their girls home, or as soon as the ball or dance is over. no, many of them go to other places, such as are described in the th chapter of proverbs. _men will not deny this_. who caused these men to go to these places? shall i answer? shall i tell the truth? if i do, i must say it is the virtuous wives, daughters, sisters and sweethearts, who have been participating in the dance. _every man knows that this is true_. let every honest physician send in a report of all his male patients, giving the disease of each and the cause, and then let us have a correct report from the dead of the same kind, and i am confident that no husband, father or brother would ever permit his wife, daughter or sister to be seen at a ball or dance. husbands, fathers, brothers, your wives, daughters and sisters do not know these things, _but you do know them_, and now that your eyes are open, will you, can you, as a husband, father or brother, ever permit the females under your care to even take the chance of being recruiting officers for these sinks of perdition, these ante-chambers of hell. these places, dripping with the blood of hundreds and thousands of young and middle-aged men, who, but for their enchantment, might have been good and true men, and have filled honorable graves. these places have broken the hearts of thousands of wives, mothers and: sisters, when they have seen their loved ones bound in the fetters and chains of eternal death. these funnels, through which thousands and millions of souls of both men and women have been poured into an endless hell. i have tried to furnish fair samples of the fruit of dancing, if i have failed, it is an error of the head and not of the heart. it may be said by some that i have occupied forbidden ground in writing a book to be read by the public generally. in reply i can only say that i have simply _followed the varmint to his hiding place_. i have not used any stronger or more indecent language than was used by jesus christ, and god forbid that i should ever be guilty of the sacrilege of saying or even thinking that jesus christ was _vulgar_ or wanting in _refinement_; that ever i should say of and concerning him: "_i am holier than thou_." if the things i have herein mentioned have flowed from the ball room, if i have stated facts, and _i know that i have_, you should not get mad at me, but get mad at the _facts_. if a man lends a helping hand in removing a _dead dog_ from the yard, it is not the man that is indecent, _it is the dead dog_. the man shows his decency and kindness by condescending to give aid in removing the stench from the premises, and no one but a contemptible _snipe dude_ would stand off and turn up his nose and call the man indecent and vulgar. if i am wrong, i rejoice to know that i am in the best company on earth, for the whole religious world, with a _few_ exceptions, regards dancing as an enemy to good morals, and as _destructive to all spirituality_, because it is productive of so much evil and no good. who upon all the earth has the opportunity of knowing the true inwardness of dancing like the catholic priests and bishops? who ever held and used such a _probing instrument_ as the confessional? who on this earth can come as near knowing all the acts and deeds, yea, and the very _thoughts_, that do pass through the minds and hearts of men, women, boys and girls, as the catholic priests and bishops can know of and concerning those under their charge? arch-bishop j. henry william elder, co-adjutor to the arch-bishop of cincinnati, has issued a circular letter to the clergy in his diocese, from which i take this very significant clipping: "there must be no round dancing at any time, and no dancing of any kind after dark." what meaneth then this blating of the sheep in mine ears, and the lowing of the oxen which i hear? why does arch-bishop elder inhibit the round dance even in _day-light_? mr. and mrs. echo and their girls and boys will please answer _why_? and why has he inhibited _all kinds_ of dancing after dark? will some member of the same family please rise and explain? "oh wad some power the giftie gie us, to see oursels as ithers see us." while this circular letter has an existence upon earth, let all _so-called_ protestants and their friends, who say "_there is no harm in dancing_," and who participate in dancing of _any kind at any time or place_, or who simply attend such places, or who remain at a place after it has been turned into a dance, (for the aiders and abettors of crime are just as guilty as their principals), hang their heads for very shame, as poor old dog tray hangeth his head when caught in company with sheep-killing dogs, and especially when some wool is found in his teeth. paul was present when stephen, the first christian martyr, was put to death; he only held the clothes of those who cast the stones, but he was just as guilty of murder as though he had cast the fatal missile, _by his presence, and making no objection he was consenting to the crime_. to have relieved himself of the blood of stephen, he should not have gone to the place where the murder was committed, if he knew, or had good reason to know, that a crime was to be committed. if he had gone there with the belief that it was an _innocent, harmless_ gathering, and after getting there he saw their murderous intent, he should at least have left immediately and thus have withdrawn all his influence and supposed sympathy with the criminals. the holding of their clothes did not make him guilty, but was only _cumulative_ evidence of the murderous intent in his heart. reader, if you go to a ball or dance, knowing it to be such, you are a participant in all the sins and crimes which would not have been committed, if such ball or dance had never been. so if the gathering be for a _sinless, harmless_ purpose, and you find, after arriving at the place, that there is to be a dance, and you do not leave immediately, you will be just as guilty as though you had gone with full knowledge of what was to be. the encouragement and endorsement of your presence makes you just as guilty as those who join in the dance. there is no difference, except in degree, between the select parlor dance and the masquerade ball, because the one is the stepping stone to the other. not one in ten thousand have done their first dancing at the masquerade ball, just as not one in ten thousand ever took their first drink of whiskey in a drinking saloon. but let it be remembered that hundreds of thousands have taken their first drink of wine or whiskey at a ball or dance. one of the greatest sins committed by children and young people is _disobedience to parents._ it is one of the greatest, because it is one of the first, and because if cultivated it becomes a cesspool of iniquity. it is a pandora box, out of which ten thousand troubles, trials, difficulties, sins and crimes will come. i claim that the _love_ of dancing is the most fruitful source of _disobedience to parents_ to be found beneath the sun, because it becomes a _ruling passion_. if anything will cause a child to disobey its parents, it is to forbid them going to a ball or dance when their heart is set upon it. _they go and then deny it_. for all the disobedience brought about in this way, the parents are generally far more to blame than the children because it is the parents' fault that they have ever learned to dance. some parents have an idea that dancing is a necessary branch of education, that it makes their children _graceful_, but never look far enough down the line to see that they are opening the way to _graceful_ disobedience, _graceful_ liars, _graceful_ thieves, _graceful_ gamblers, _graceful_ drunkards, _graceful_ prostitutes, _graceful_ whoremongers and to every sin and crime that men and women can commit beneath the sun. they are opening the very gates of hell to their own children. many, if not all, of the following sins and crimes are committed at _every dance, hop or ball,_ and every one present, whether participating in the dance or not, is equally guilty with the perpetrators of all the sins and crimes, which would not have been committed if there had been no such gathering: samples of fruit found on the tree of dancing: envy. jealousy. pride. deceit. disobedience to parents backbiting. strife. hatred. lasciviousness. emulation. sedition. lying. theft. drunkenness. sabbath breaking. gambling. embezzlement. suicide. vulgarity. fornication. adultery. obscenity. extravagance. divorce. lunacy. wantonness. cruelty. idolatry. perjury. seduction. prostitution. abortion. infanticide. assassination. murder. "and such like." every honest man is compelled to admit that these sins and crimes are the _natural fruit of dancing_; that these things do flow from the dance. i frankly admit that all these sins and crimes may and do come from other sources, but i challenge the world to point to any _one_ thing that produces as many of these sins and crimes as the dance. the drinking saloon is a prolific source of evil, but not one-half as much as the dance, for it must be borne in mind that _men only_ attend the saloons, and that many of them are sent there _from the ball room_, and many, who never would have seen the inside of a drinking saloon but for the ball or dance. _the ball is a feeder for drinking saloons, gambling saloons, and houses of ill-fame._ i have delivered this lecture on dancing in seven states, before about one hundred congregations, numbering from three hundred to ten thousand people. i have called on all the men, old and young, saint and sinner, at nearly every place, to give an expression of opinion from what they had seen themselves, or what they had heard from those who had attended balls, hops, and such like places, as to the correctness or incorrectness of my charges against the dance, and out of i think not less than fifty thousand men, i have never found but seven who stood up, thereby saying they did not believe that the sins and crimes i had mentioned had ever flowed from the ball room, while nearly all the balance stood up before their wives, daughters, sisters, and sweethearts, saying that they do believe, from what they _know, and have seen_ and have heard from those who attend balls and hops, that these sins and crimes are the natural fruit of all kinds of dancing, where the sexes dance together. a few, perhaps one in twenty, kept their seats, not expressing their opinion either way. of this class i think i may safely say that _four-fifths_ failed to understand my proposition, or thought it not necessary to rise; but if they had stood up, they would have been with the affirmative. while i am not an apologist for saloon keepers and gamblers, i want to record the fact right here that i have had more or less of them in my congregations, at nearly every place where i talked on this subject, and i have never known one, no, not one, to keep his seat when an expression of opinion was called for, and not one was found among the _immortal seven_. there are many men worse at heart than gamblers and saloon keepers. if they and their families were treated by the christian people with more kindness, and less like they were outcasts, hundreds and thousands of them would become christians. i do not claim that all who attend dancing parties, balls, and hops are ruined, but i do claim that _all who attend such places take part in the eternal disgrace and ruin of others._ there is not a man or woman among the living, or the dead, who has made a practice of attending such places, but that has the blood of one or more _lost souls_ upon their garments, _and there it must remain throughout the ceaseless ages of_ eternity, _unless it be washed away_ by the blood of jesus christ. my sainted mother and my wife have attended and participated in the dance, but, like hundreds and thousands of girls and women of to-day, they never had the most distant idea that the dancing party or ball was a cesspool of iniquity, for, had they known the things brought to light in this little book, they never would have made one step in that direction. i believe that god has forgiven them, because, like paul, they did it ignorantly. "i obtained mercy, because i did it _ignorantly_."--i. tim. - . reader, if you ever go to one of these places after your eyes have been opened, as they must be now, you cannot plead _ignorance_, but you will sin _wilfully_ and _knowingly._ see heb. : , . those who are turned into the paths of shame, of vice, and of crime, are described in the bible in the following terrible language, and where could a better description be found? "woe unto them! for they have gone in the way of cain, and ran greedily after the error of balaam for reward, and perished in the gainsaying of core. these are _spots_ in your feasts of charity when they feast with you, _feasting themselves without fear._ clouds they are without water, _carried about of winds_, trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots. _raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own_ shame; _wandering_ stars to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever."--jude, , , . mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, if there is a doubt left in your minds as to the charges made against dancing, will you do yourselves, and those under your influence, the justice to ask your husbands, fathers and brothers to read this little book, and give you their _honest opinions_? * * * * * verdict. this is to certify that i have carefully read this little book, and give it as my honest conviction--from what i have seen and what i have heard from those who have attended dancing parties, balls and hops--that the charges and specifications are true, and believing them to be true, i here promise to use all my influence against _all kinds_ of dancing, while i live on earth. (here sign name.)............................. try and get four others to sign with you. * * * * * if this little book should be of benefit to any one, i would like to know it. as it is my intention to get out a second edition, i desire to collect all _the facts_ i can in support of the charges and specifications against dancing. ministers of the gospel, physicians, and fathers and mothers, can render me great assistance if they will. _names of correspondents will not be published without special permission_. there is no harm in dancing. single copy, paper cover, cts. single copy, cloth cover, cts. liberal discount to pastors and dealers. * * * * * harvest bells, no. . a new sabbath school song book, just published. suitable also for revivals. the _most popular_ song book ever offered to the public. single copy, $ . . per dozen, . . liberal discount to dealers. address: w. e. penn, palestine, texas. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) school, church, and home games compiled by george o. draper secretary for health and recreation county work department of the international committee of young men's christian associations community recreation rural edition association press new york: madison avenue dedicated to my father herbert edward draper _whose happy contact with the folks of the country, through his duties as a county official, won for him their esteem; who found recreation in the open country, where the birds, the flowers, and all wild life were his friends and reflected their charm in the life he lived--simple, happy, friendly--true to himself, his family, his neighbors, and his god._ contents part i. games for schools chapter page foreword vii i. school room games for primary pupils ii. school room games for intermediate pupils iii. school room games for advanced and high school pupils iv. school yard games for primary pupils v. school yard games for intermediate pupils vi. school yard games for advanced and high school pupils part ii. sociable games for home, church, clubs, etc. i. games for the home ii. ice breakers for sociables iii. sociable games for grown-ups iv. sociable games for young people v. trick games for sociables vi. stunt athletic meet vii. competitive stunts part iii. outdoor games i. outdoor games for older boys and young men ii. outdoor games for boys iii. games of strength part iv. games for special occasions i. games at dining table ii. a county fair play festival iii. games for a story play hour iv. an indoor sports fair v. racing games for picnics foreword we should all be prospectors of happiness. there are those who discover it in the solitudes of the mountains where freedom is breathed in the air that touches the lofty peaks. others find it in the depths of the forest in the songs of the birds, of the brook, of the trees. most of us must find it in the daily walks of life where the seeking is oft-times difficult. nevertheless, there it is in the manufactured glory of the city, in the voices of children, and in the hearts and faces of men. happiness becomes a habit with some; with others it is a lost art. some radiate it; others dispel that which may exist. happiness can be produced by means of exercising certain emotions, by causing experiences which allow instinctive expression; the song, the dance, the game are examples. all enjoyed activity may be classified as play. play is that which we do when free to do as we like. play produces happiness. work is the highest form of play. the great artist is playing when his imagination finds expression on the canvas in color. if he did not love to paint he would never have become a great artist. the engineer is playing when he produces the great bridge; the financier when he masterfully organizes his capital. the imagination of the child leads him into all kinds of adventure. he becomes the engineer on the locomotive; he becomes the leader of the circus band; he is a great hunter of terrible beasts; an indian, a cowboy, and a robber. in fact, he tries his hand at all those careers which interest him, and we call it play, or may even call it nonsense. in fact, some think play is but nonsense. play is the expression, the exercising of the imagination. should the child be denied the privilege of play, should its visions never find expression, should its mental adventures fail to find adequate physical experience, a great musician, a great engineer, a great statesman, or a master of some great art may be sacrificed. play is not only essential to the child, but, as joseph lee says, play _is_ the child. the natural environment of the child is a play environment; if we are to lead the child or educate the child we have first to enter into his environment and into fellowship with him therein, and adapt our methods to that environment. the processes of education which have taken to themselves those things which are natural to children will meet deserved success. the schoolroom, the sunday school room, or home in which a play atmosphere is experienced, small though this experience may be, is operating on a sound basis. play is nature's method of education. as a kitten in chasing the leaves in the road is playing, it is also learning to catch the bird or the mouse essential for the maintenance of life. so the child, by nature, learns to live by play. activity is life. directed activity means directed life. the body is but the means of activity and is developed only in accord with the activity demands of the individual. character is but the trend of the activities of an individual. so the activities are more the individual than is the flesh and bone which we see. if we recognize that in play the child is under the tutorship of nature, we should seek to encourage rather than discourage the process. by directing the play we are training for life--yes, more, we are creating life. as play creates in the child, it re-creates in the adult. activity is essential to growth. having attained physical growth, the adult does not demand as much physical activity as does the child and as years increase the tendency toward physical activity decreases. there is real danger in this becoming too meager to maintain efficiency, and we recognize more and more the necessity for vacation periods when some of the old spirit of play or of joyful activity may be indulged in and a re-creation process be set up. this recreation is simply reawakened activity, making for greater abundance of life. the spirit of play and the spirit of youth travel hand in hand. if we allow the spirit of play to depart from our life, we lose our grip upon life itself. every man and woman should cultivate and vigorously maintain a play spirit. this might be done through some hobbies, games, or art into which they can throw themselves with abandon for periods of time, frequent, if brief. they should thoroughly enjoy the experience. for the wealthy, to whom all things are possible, this may be hard to find. to those of limited means and of little free time, opportunity is more abundant. to them joy shines forth from even the so-called commonplace things of life. the joy on the faces of those who are playing games, the merry laughter, the jest, the shouting, place this type of activity on a pinnacle among those producing happiness. this volume has been prepared, in order that the young and old may find greater opportunity for joyful activity, and experience the good fellowship, the kindly feeling, the exhilaration and life resulting from playing games, and that those fundamental agencies of civilization, the church, the school, and the home, may be better equipped to serve mankind and to add to the sum of human happiness. acknowledgment this collection of games has been selected from material sent in to the author, by y.m.c.a. physical directors, playground directors, and school and college athletic directors, to which has been added some original material and games that have been seen by the author in his travels about the country. bibliography the author would suggest the following books on games: games for the playground, home, school and gymnasium, jessie bancroft, macmillan co., n.y. games for everybody, hofmann, dodge publishing co., n.y. social games and group dances, elsom and trilling, j.b. lippincott & co., philadelphia. icebreakers, edna geister, the womans press, n.y. social activities, chesley, association press, n.y. play, emmett d. angell, little, brown & co., boston. handbook for pioneers, association press, n.y. camp and outing activities, cheley and baker, association press, n.y. community recreation, draper, association press, n.y. part i games for schools chapter i schoolroom games for primary pupils cat and mouse one pupil is designated to play the role of cat, another that of mouse. the mouse can escape the cat by sitting in the seat with some other pupil. thereupon that pupil becomes mouse. should the cat tag a mouse before it sits in a seat, the mouse becomes cat and the cat becomes mouse, and the latter must get into a seat to avoid being tagged. aviation meet three pupils constitute a team. two are mechanicians, one the aviator. each team is to have a piece of string about feet long, free from knots. a small cornucopia of paper is placed upon each string. the mechanicians hold the ends of the string while the aviator, at the signal to go, blows the cornucopia along the string. the string must be held level by the mechanicians. the aviator first succeeding in doing this, wins for his team. button, button the pupils sit or stand in a circle with their hands in front of them, palms together. the one who has been selected to be "it" takes a position in the center of the circle, with his hands in a similar position. a button is held between his hands. he goes around the circle and places his hand over those of various individuals, dropping the button into the hands of one. he continues about the circle, still making the motions of dropping the button in the hands of others, so as to deceive those making up the ring. after he has taken his place in the center of the circle, those in the ring endeavor to guess into whose hands he has dropped the button, the one succeeding in doing this takes the button and continues the game. bee some object is determined upon for hiding, such as a coin, a button, a thimble, etc. a pupil is sent from the room. during his absence the object is hidden. upon his return the children buzz vigorously when he is near to the object sought and very faintly when he is some distance away. the object is located by the intensity of the buzzing. hide in sight in this game all of the pupils except one are sent from the room. the one left in the room hides a coin, or some similar object, somewhere in plain sight. it must be visible without having to move any object. when hidden, the rest of the pupils are called back and start the search. when a pupil finds the coin, after attempting to mislead the others by continuing his search in different quarters, he returns to his seat without disclosing its whereabouts. as it is found by others, the group of seekers will gradually diminish until there is but one left. when he finds it, the coin is again hidden by the one first finding it. colors a certain color is determined upon. each pupil in turn must name some object which is of that color. failing to do this he goes to the foot of the line, provided some one beyond him can think of any object of that color. if no more objects can be thought of, a new color is selected. i see red one pupil is given the privilege of thinking of some object in the room, of which he discloses the color to the rest of the pupils. for example, if he sees a red apple he says, "i see red." thereupon the other pupils endeaver to guess what red object in the room is thought of. the one succeeding, next selects the object to be guessed. hide the clock this is a good quiet game for the schoolroom. a loud ticking clock is necessary for the game. all of the pupils are sent from the room. one of their number is selected to hide the clock. the others, upon coming back, try to locate it by its ticking. the one succeeding has the privilege of next hiding the clock. poison seat the children all endeavor to shift seats at the clapping of the hands of the teacher. have one less seat than pupils, so that one may be left without a seat. this can be arranged by placing a book on one seat and calling this "poison seat." the child sitting on this seat is "poisoned" and out of the game. add a book to a seat after each change, so as to eliminate one player each time. the one left after all have been eliminated, wins the game. should the teacher clap her hands twice in succession, that is the signal for all of the pupils to return to their own seats. aisle hunt some object--a coin will do--is selected to be hidden. the children of one of the aisles leave the room, the others determine upon a hiding place and hide the coin in plain sight. those out of the room are called back and look for the hidden object. as soon as it is found, the first one finding it goes to his seat and calls, "first." he is not to call until he is actually in his seat. the second one to find it returns to his seat and calls, "second," and so on until it has been found by all in the aisle. if there are six aisles in the room, the occupants of the first six seats in the aisle seeking the hidden object determine which aisle leaves the room next. for illustration,--if the pupil in the second seat is the first one to find the object, then the second aisle of the room will be the one to leave the room for the next hunt. likewise if the pupil of the third seat is the first to find the object, the third aisle will be the one which next has the privilege of enjoying the hunt. if there are more pupils in the aisle than there are aisles in the room, the pupils in the last seats do not count. new orleans the pupils of the room are divided into two groups. one side decides upon some action it will represent, such as sawing wood, washing clothes, etc., and thereupon represents the action. the other group has five chances to guess what the first group is trying to represent. failing to do this, they must forfeit one of their players to the second group and the same side again represents an action. when a group presents an action to the others, the following dialogue takes place: first group: here we come. second group: where from? first group: new orleans. second group: what's your trade? first group: lemonade. second group: how is it made? the first group then represents the action. birds fly this is an attention game. the teacher stands before the class and instructs them that if she mentions some bird or object which flies and raises her arms sideward, imitating the flapping of the wings of a bird, the pupils are to follow her example. but if she mentions some animal or some object which does not fly, she may raise her arms sideward and upward, imitating the flying position, but the pupils are not to follow her example. if they are caught doing so, they must take their seats. for example,--the teacher says, "owls fly". thereupon she and all the children raise their arms sideward and upward. she says, "bats fly" and raises her arms. she next says, "lions fly" and raises her arms, thereupon the pupils are supposed to keep their arms at their sides. music rush a march is played on the piano and the children march from their seats in single file around the room. as soon as the music stops, all rush to get into their seats. the last one in, must remain in his seat during the second trial. if there is no piano in the room, drumming on the top of a desk will do as well. change seat relay the teacher claps her hands. this is the signal for all to shift one seat back. the one in the rear seat runs forward and sits in the front seat. the first aisle to become properly seated wins one point. again the hands are clapped and the pupils shift one seat back, and the one then at the rear runs forward and takes the front seat and so the game continues until all have run forward from the back seat to the front. the aisle scoring the largest number of points wins. charlie over the water this is an old game and is always popular. the children form a ring, joining hands. one is selected to be "it" and takes his place in the center. those in the ring then dance around, singing, "charlie, over the water, charlie, over the sea, charlie, catch a blackbird, but can't catch me." having completed these lines, they all assume a stooping position before "charlie," who is "it," can tag them. if he succeeds in tagging one, that one takes his place in the circle and the game continues. tap relay the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. all bend their heads forward, placing their faces in the palms of their hands on the top of the desk. at the signal to go, given by the teacher, the one in the last seat in each aisle sits up, claps his hands and taps the back of the one in front of him, which is the signal for the one in front to sit up, clap, and tap the one next in front of him, and so the tap is passed until it reaches the one in the front seat of the aisle, who, upon being tapped, stands up, clapping his hands above his head. the first to stand and clap hands above head wins the race. rat-a-tat race similar to the preceding race with the exception that upon the signal to go the one in the back seat knocks with the knuckles of his right hand on the top of the desk a "rat-tat, rat-tat-tat," as in a drum beat, and then taps with the knuckles the back of the one next in front of him, who repeats the performance, tapping off the one in front, and so on. the race ends when the individual in the front seat of an aisle taps the "rat-tat, rat-tat-tat" and stands up. bowing race a book is handed to the pupil in the last seat of each aisle. at the signal to go the pupils holding the book step into the aisle at the right hand side of their desks, holding the books on the tops of their heads with both hands, and make a bow. then returning to their seats, hit the book on the top of the desk and pass it on to the next one in front, who repeats the performance, as does every one else in the aisle. the one in the front seat of the aisle finishes the race by bowing with the book upon his head, then running forward, and placing the book upon the teacher's desk. spin around race a boy is selected from each aisle to take his place at least six feet in front of the aisle. upon the signal to go, the last boy in each aisle runs forward to the right of his desk and links his left arm in the right arm of the boy standing in front of his aisle, and in this position spins around twice, returning to his seat, and tagging off the boy next in front of him, who repeats the performance. the last boy in the aisle to spin around ends the race when he has returned to a sitting position in his seat. chapter ii schoolroom games for intermediate pupils initial tag a pupil who is "it" is sent to the board. he writes thereupon the initial of some other pupil in the room. that pupil is to try to tag "it" before he can return to his seat. if successful, he becomes "it" and continues the game by writing some one else's initial on the board. magic music one pupil is sent from the room. thereupon the remaining pupils hide some object agreed upon. the pupil sent from the room is recalled. the teacher or one of the pupils plays the piano loudly when the seeker approaches the hidden article and softly when some distance from it. the seeker determines the location by the volume of the music. hunt the rattler all of the players in the room are blindfolded, except one, who is given a tin can in which is placed a loose pebble. he is known as the "rattler." the blindfolded players attempt to locate and tag the rattler by the rattle. the one successful takes the place of the rattler. sticker the pupils stand in a circle in the center of which is "it" blindfolded, holding in his hand a blunt stick about or inches long. those in the circle dance around two or three times, so that the blindfolded player may not know their position. at the command "stand," given by the one blindfolded, all must stand still. thereupon, by feeling with his stick, "it" tries to discern an individual in the ring. "it" is forbidden to use his hands, in trying to discover who the individual is. if he succeeds in guessing, the individual guessed must take his place. otherwise he proceeds to some other individual in the circle whom he tries to identify. name race the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. a slip is handed to the one in the first seat in each row. at the signal to go, he writes his full name thereupon and passes it immediately to the one next behind him, who writes his name and passes it on. when the one in the last seat in the row has added his name to the slip, he rushes forward and places the slip upon the teacher's desk. the aisle first succeeding in accomplishing this task, wins. frogs in sea one pupil sits in tailor fashion in the center of the playing space. the others try to tease him by approaching as closely as they dare, calling him "frog in the sea, can't catch me." if the frog succeeds in tagging any of the other players, that player must take his place. the frog is not allowed to change from his sitting position in his effort to tag the other players. corner spry the pupils in the room are divided into four equal teams. each team is assigned to a different corner. a leader stands in front of each team with a bean bag, cap, or ball. at the signal to start the leader tosses to and receives from each member of his team in turn the bean bag. having received the bag from the last one in his line, he takes his place at the foot of the line, and the one at the head of the line becomes leader and proceeds to toss the ball to each member as did the preceding leader. the group, in which all have served as leaders and which successfully completes the game first, wins. flag race the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. flags are given to the pupils in each front seat. on the signal to go, each pupil holding a flag steps out on the right hand side of the seat, runs around the front of his own aisle, back on the left hand side, around the rear seat, returning to his own seat up the right hand aisle, and hands the flag on to the one next behind him, who continues the race. when all the pupils in the aisle have circled their row of seats with the flag, the last one, instead of returning to his seat, runs forward and holds the flag above his head in front of his aisle. the one first succeeding in reaching the front, wins the race. in this race it is often better to run two aisles at a time and thus avoid the possibility of pupils bumping into each other in their attempt to race through the aisles. in this way the various winners can race against each other, making an interesting contest. seat vaulting tag a pupil is selected to be "it." he attempts to tag any other pupil in the same aisle in which he stands. the pupils avoid being tagged by vaulting over the seats. no one is allowed to run around either end. "it" cannot reach across the desk in his effort to tag another. he must be in the same aisle or tag as one is vaulting a seat. a pupil becomes "it" as soon as tagged. jerusalem, jericho, jemima this is a simple game of attention. the three words in the title are near enough alike to require close attention on the part of the pupil to distinguish between them and to act accordingly. have the pupils turn in their seats facing the aisle. if the teacher says "jerusalem", the pupils stand. if she says, "jericho", they raise their arms momentarily forward and upward. if she says, "jemima", they sit down. any child making a mistake sits in her seat and faces to the front. compass an attention game. the pupils stand in the aisle beside their seats. in starting the game, the teacher asks them to face to the north, then to the south, then to the east, and to the west, so that they have the directions fixed in their minds. she then proceeds to tell a story or to make statements such as the following, "i came from the north." at the mention of the word "north" all the pupils must turn and face towards the north. "but since i have arrived in the south,"--at the mention of the word "south" they all turn and face the south, etc. if the teacher should say "wind," the pupils imitate the whistling of the wind; if "whirlwind" is mentioned, all must spin about on their heels a complete turn. failing to do any of the required turns, the pupil takes his seat. geography the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. those in the front seats are number , those next behind them, number , and so on back. the teacher calls some number. the pupils having that number race to the board and write thereupon the name of some river, returning to their seats. the first one back wins one point for his team. the game continues until all the numbers have been called, the team having the most points wins. spelling words have the pupils in aisle face those in aisle , those in aisle face , those in aisle face . appoint a captain for each aisle. the captain of one team starts spelling a word containing more than three letters. the captain of the team facing his, adds the second letter, not knowing what word the captain of the other team had in mind. the second man of the first team adds a third letter; the second man of the second team adds a fourth, each team trying to avoid completing the word. the team completing the word loses one point to the other team. for example, the first man of team a says "g," the first man of team b says "o," thinking of "gold." the second man on team a says "o," thinking of "goose." the second man on team b can only think of "good" and contributes "d," ending the word. team a thereupon scores a point. the third man of team a continues the game by starting another word. when the ends of the aisles are reached the word, if uncompleted, is passed to the head of the line and continued. if there are four aisles in the room, there will be two groups playing at the same time; six aisles, three groups; eight aisles, four groups. the captains of opposing teams keep a record of the score. rhymes this game stimulates quick thinking. some one is selected by the teacher to start the game, and thereupon gives some word to which the first pupil in the aisle must give a rhyming word before the former can count ten. failing to do this, the leader continues and gives a word to the second one in the aisle. the rhyming words are to be given before the leader has completed his count of ten. then the one succeeding in giving the word replaces the leader. clapping song a pupil is selected by the teacher to clap the rhythm of some familiar air. the rest of the children in the room endeavor to guess the song clapped. the pupil succeeding in doing this is given an opportunity to clap another song. indian trail a pupil is blindfolded and placed in the front of the room. other pupils, one or two at a time, are given the opportunity to stealthily approach the one blindfolded, in an endeavor to take some object, from before his feet, such as a flower pot and saucer, or a tin can with a loose pebble in it, without being detected by the one blindfolded. if a pupil succeeds in taking back the object to his seat without having been heard, he wins a point for his aisle. where two pupils are sent forward at the same time, two similar objects must be placed at the foot of the one blindfolded. the aisle scoring the largest number of points in this way wins the game. number relay the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. they are numbered, beginning with the one in the first seat. the teacher describes some mathematical problem she desires done and calls certain numbers. all the pupils having those numbers rush to the board and compute the problem. the first back to his seat wins a point for his team, the aisle gaining the largest number of points wins the game. multiplication race the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. the teacher decides on a multiplication table which is to be placed upon the board. a piece of chalk is handed to the first pupil in each aisle. at the signal to go number goes to the board and writes the first example in the multiplication table thereupon. returning to his seat, he hands the chalk to the one next behind him, who puts the next step in the multiplication table on the board, and so the race continues until the one in the last seat has returned to his seat, after adding his part to the table. the one first back to his seat wins for his aisle. history race similar to the preceding, with the exception that the pupils are requested to write upon the board the name of some historical personage or some historical event, date, etc. poem race the pupils having learned some poem may use it in a game in the following way: the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. at the signal to go the last pupil in each aisle stands up and recites the first line of the poem, returns to his seat and taps the one next in front of him, who stands up and repeats the second line of the poem, sits down and taps off the third pupil, who repeats the third line, and so the game continues. if the poem has not been completed after the one in the front seat has said his line, he taps the one next behind him, and that one is supposed to give the next line and so on back. the aisle first completing a poem wins the race. if the poem be a very small one, words of the poem instead of lines may be used. if it be a long one, verses instead of lines may be used. last man this is a good active game thoroughly enjoyed by the children. the teacher selects one pupil to be "it," and another to be chased. the one chased can stand at the rear of any aisle and say, "last man." thereupon the front pupil in that aisle is subject to being tagged by "it" and leaves his seat. all the other pupils in that aisle advance one seat and the first man chased sits down in the last seat in the aisle. "it" tries to tag the man who left the front seat before he can go to the rear of any of the aisles. should he succeed in doing so, he can immediately be tagged back if he does not hurry to the rear of some aisle and say "last man." (caution: should any child appear fatigued when "it," substitute another child in his place). change seats this is a good relaxation game. the teacher says, "change seats left." thereupon all the pupils shift to the seats to their left. the children who are in the last aisle on the left must run around the room and occupy the vacant seats on the right hand side. should the teacher say, "change seats right," the reverse of the proceeding is necessary. the teacher can also say, "change seats front," or "change seats rear," and the pupils are expected to obey the commands. those left without seats must run to the other end of the room and take any seat found vacant there. relay run around the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. the pupil in the last seat in each row, upon the signal to go, steps out in the right hand aisle, runs forward around the front of his row of seats, back on the left hand side, circling the rear seat, and sits down, touching off the next pupil in front of him, who repeats the performance. the aisle first accomplishing the run, wins. chapter iii schoolroom games for advanced and high school pupils geography the group is divided into two equal teams. a leader is chosen for each. the leader of team a begins the game by giving the name of a country beginning with the letter "a" (austria). the leader of team b gives another country beginning with "a". the second member of team a, another; the second member of team b, another; until one of the teams cannot think of any more countries beginning with "a". that team last thinking of a country wins one point. the other members of the team can help their team mate, whose turn it is, by suggesting other countries. the member of the team failing to name a country beginning with "a", starts with the letter "b" and the game continues, until one team has won ten points. the names of rivers, mountains, states, cities, etc., can be substituted for the names of countries. seeing and remembering fifteen or twenty articles are placed upon a table under a sheet, in front of the pupils. the sheet is removed for a space of seconds and the pupils are given a good chance to study the articles on the table. after the sheet has again covered the articles, each pupil is requested to write as many of the articles as can be remembered, on a sheet of paper. the one remembering the largest number wins. definitions the teacher selects some word from the dictionary, which is written upon the blackboard. each pupil then writes the definition of that word on a slip of paper. after this is done, the teacher compares the definition with that in the dictionary. the one giving the definition nearest like that in the dictionary wins, and gives the next word to be defined. jumbled words the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. each pupil in the aisle is given a number. the one in each front seat is number , the one behind him number , and so on back. the teacher has prepared a different sentence for each aisle with just as many words in it as there are pupils in the aisle. one of these slips is handed to number of each team. number takes the first word of the sentence as his word, number the second, number the third, and so on. when the last one in the aisle has learned the last word in the sentence, the slips are returned to the teacher. competition can be added to this phase of the game by seeing which aisle can return the slip to the teacher first. when the slips have all been turned in, the teacher calls any number. thereupon the pupils in each aisle having that number, go to the blackboard and write distinctly their word from the sentence. for example, the teacher calls number . number of aisle had the word "money"; number of aisle "can," etc. next the teacher calls number . all the number 's go to the blackboard and write their words directly after those written by their previous team mate. when all the numbers have been called there is a jumbled sentence on the board for each aisle. the pupils of the various aisles then try to guess what the sentences of the other aisles are. each one guessed, counts points. descriptive adjectives an historical personage is selected, such as columbus, george washington, etc. the first pupil called upon must describe the subject with a descriptive adjective beginning with "a". the second, third, and fourth, etc., adding to this description by using adjectives beginning with the letter "a". this continues until the adjectives beginning with the letter "a" have been exhausted. then the letter "b" is used and the game continues. it is well to change the subject after every fourth or fifth letter. this is a good game for adding to the vocabulary of the pupil. a little fun can be had by using, instead of an historical subject, one of the pupils of the room for description. store the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. the one in the front seat in each aisle is number , the one behind him, number , etc. the teacher has a number of cards upon each of which appears a letter of the alphabet. the teacher holds up one of these letters so that it can be distinctly seen by the pupils. number of each aisle must name some article sold in a grocery store, beginning with the letter held up by the teacher. (for example,--the teacher holds up the letter "f"; number of the second aisle calls, "flour"). the pupil first naming an article of that letter is given the card containing the letter. the next card held up, the number 's of each team are to name the article, and likewise the winner to be awarded the card. the aisle having the most cards at the end of the game wins. the letters can be written on the blackboard if the cards are not available for the game and points awarded to each winner. the game can also be used with birds, animals, and other subjects in place of articles sold in a store. this is a good game to stimulate quick thinking. distinguishing sounds this game is good training for the ear. various noises, such as the shaking of a pebble in a tin can, in a wooden box, in a pasteboard box, in a large envelope; knocking on wood, on tin, on coin (as silver dollar), on stone, on brass, on lead,--are made. the pupils are allowed to guess just what the noise is caused by. laugh this is a good relaxing game and one in which the practice of self control is a factor. an open handkerchief is tossed into the air. while it is in the air the pupils are to laugh as heartily as they can, but the instant the handkerchief touches the floor, all laughing is to stop. guessing dimensions the ability to measure with the eye is well worth cultivating. each pupil is to guess the distance between various points indicated on the blackboard, the height of a door, the width and the height of a school desk, the height of the schoolroom, the thickness of a book, etc. each of the guesses is written on a slip of paper. the pupil with the best guesses wins. mysterious articles an article is concealed under a cloth on the table. each pupil is given an opportunity to feel the article through the cloth and guess what it is, educating the sense of touch. distinguishing by smell various articles invisible to the eye, with distinctive odors, such as vinegar, rose, mustard, vanilla, ginger, clove, tea, coffee, chocolate, soap, etc., are placed before the pupil. the one able to distinguish the largest number of articles by the smell, wins the game. art gallery pictures of a number of famous paintings by the masters are placed on exhibition. the pupil guessing the largest number of masters and titles, of the various pictures, wins. drawing animals the teacher whispers in the ear of each pupil the name of some animal, whereupon the pupil proceeds to draw that animal, each pupil being given the name of a different animal. drawings are made and put on exhibition. all try to guess as many as possible of the animals represented in the drawings. the drawing securing the largest number of correct guesses wins for the artist. historical pictures a long sheet of paper is given to each pupil, with instructions to draw thereupon a picture representing some historical event. after completing the drawing, each paper is passed about the room. each pupil writes underneath the picture what he thinks the picture represents. his subject is folded under, so that the next pupil to receive the picture cannot see what his guess has been. at the end of the game, the picture having the largest number of correct guesses wins. train of thoughts a word is suggested by the teacher. this is written at the top of a sheet of paper by each pupil. the pupil then writes beneath that word various thoughts that are suggested to him by the word. for instance, the word suggested by the teacher is "aeroplane". pupil a has suggested to him by the word "aeroplane", humming. he writes that on his list. humming suggests bees. bees suggest honey; honey, clover, clover summer, summer swimming hole, etc. when all of the pupils have written fifteen or twenty thoughts which have suggested themselves to them, each is called upon to read his train of thoughts to the rest of the class. bowknot relay the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. a piece of string is given to each pupil in the front seat. at a signal to start each pupil with the string runs forward and ties it in a bowknot on some article placed in front of each aisle. after tying the bow, he returns to his seat and touches the one in the seat next behind him. thereupon the second member of the team runs, unties the bowknot, returns with the string; and hands it to the third, who runs forward, and ties it in a bowknot, as did the first, and returning touches off the fourth, etc. the aisle in which each pupil has accomplished the required task first, wins the race. cooking race this is a good game for the class in domestic science. the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. a piece of chalk is handed to the one in each front seat. at the signal to go, the chalk is passed back until it reaches the one in the last seat in the row. every one in the aisle must have handled the chalk in passing it back. upon receiving it, the last one in the row runs forward to the board and writes thereupon an ingredient necessary in the making of cake. returning, the chalk is handed to the one in the front seat and again passed back until it gets to the one in the next to the last seat, who rushes to the board and writes another ingredient necessary in cake making. and so the race continues. when the last pupil at the board, namely the one from the front seat, has written upon the board and returned to her seat, the race is ended. the race is won by the aisle first completing this task. spelling game the group, if numbering or more pupils, is divided into two teams. the contestants of each team are given a different letter of the alphabet. the teacher gives a word. thereupon the pupils in both teams whose letter occurs in the word named, run one to the front and one to the rear of the room, as assigned by the teacher, and take their places in the order in which their letter occurs in the word. when the pupils have taken their proper position, they call out the letters they represent, spelling the word. the group first accomplishing this, wins one point for their team. if the letter occurs twice in the same word, that pupil representing that letter takes his place where the letter first occurs in the word and shifts to the second position, so as to help complete the word. if the group be too small for two alphabets the game can be played by having but one and seeing which of the various words given is formed in the quickest time by the single group. grammar race the pupils of each aisle constitute a team. a piece of chalk is given to the one in each front seat. at the signal to go, the one with the chalk rushes to the board and writes the first word of a sentence on the board and returns to his seat, passing the chalk on to the second one, who writes the second word for a sentence. the third writes the third, and so on until a complete sentence has been written upon the board. the one in the last seat must complete the sentence and return to his seat, ending the race. twenty-five points is awarded the team finishing first; twenty-five points to each team with correct spelling; twenty-five points for the team with the best writing; twenty-five points for the best composition of the sentence. schoolroom tag a three foot circle is made with a piece of chalk in the front of the room. each pupil in the room is given a different number. the teacher selects one to be "it," who must stand at least ten feet from the circle and be touching a side wall. "it" calls a number. the pupil whose number is called tries to run through the circle in the front of the room and get back to his seat without being tagged by "it". the one who is "it" must run through the circle before he can tag the one whose number he called. if the pupil is tagged he becomes "it". directions an attention game. taking for granted that the pupils have a general knowledge of the directions of various towns or cities in their state or the surrounding states, the following game can be played. all are requested to stand in the aisle beside their seats. the teacher then proceeds to make statements or tell some story, mentioning the names of various cities and towns. at the mention of these the pupils face in the direction in which said cities or towns are located. failing to turn correctly when a city is mentioned the pupil is required to take his seat. chapter iv schoolyard games for primary pupils chase the rabbit the group kneels in a circle with their hands on each other's shoulders. the one selected to be rabbit runs around the circle and tags some individual. thereupon that individual must get upon his feet and run to the left around the circle. the rabbit runs to the right around the circle. the rabbit must tag the one who is running around in the opposite direction, and then both endeavor to get back to the hole left in the circle. the one failing to do this becomes the rabbit for the next play. steps one of the group is selected to be "it". he stands with his back to the group and counts five, at the end of which he turns rapidly around. if he sees any of the group moving, that one seen must go back to the starting line. while the one "it" is counting, it is the object of the group to progress toward him as rapidly as possible. statues this game is similar to the game "steps," above described, excepting that the players standing behind "it" assume the poses of statues. "it" upon turning around endeavors to detect some movement on the part of the statues, in which case that player takes the place of "it". progression the players stand behind a line. each in turn must cover the space between said line and another line twenty yards distant by a manner of progress different from that used by any of the previous players. for example, the first one called upon to cover the intervening space between the lines walks, the second one runs, the third hops, the fourth crawls, the fifth walks backward, etc., and so on until all of the players have reached the far line. this game taxes the ingenuity of the last players to be called upon, as they have to initiate new methods of progress. squirrel in trees players stand in groups of three--two facing one another with hands joined to form hollow trees, and the third within the tree hollow to represent the squirrel. there is also one odd squirrel outside the tree. the teacher or leader claps her hands, when all squirrels must run for other trees, and the odd squirrel tries to secure a tree, the one left out being the odd squirrel the next time. players' positions may be reversed frequently to give all an equal chance to be squirrels. shadow tag this game is similar to ordinary tag, with the exception that "it" endeavors to touch or step on the shadow of one of the players. succeeding in doing this, that player becomes "it". handkerchief tag a player is selected to be "it". a knotted handkerchief is given to the rest of the players. "it" can only tag the player holding the handkerchief in his hands. the players endeavor to get rid of the handkerchief by throwing it from one to another. should the handkerchief fall upon the ground, there is no one for "it" to tag until it has been picked up by one of the players. puss in corner the players are distributed about the playing area, and given goals, such as trees, fence and building corners, etc. one player is selected to be "it". the other players endeavor to change places. "it" can either tag one of the players who is off his corner, on goal, or step into the goal vacated by one of the players. in the first case, the player tagged becomes "it"; in the second, the player left without a goal becomes "it". back to back this is a tag game in which "it" may tag anyone who is not back to back with one other player. peggy in ring a blindfolded player takes his place in the center of the group which has joined hands, forming a ring. the ring begins to dance around in a circle until "peggy", who is blindfolded in the centre, pounds three times with a stick upon the ground or floor. this is the signal for everyone to stand still. "peggy" then holds out the stick to some one in the circle. the one nearest to it must grasp the end. "peggy" then asks the one at the other end three questions. the questions may be answered by grunts or groans and "peggy" endeavors to guess who is thus answering the questions. succeeding, the one questioned takes "peggy's" place in the center of the circle and the game proceeds. chapter v schoolyard games for intermediate pupils link race the group is divided into two teams, and a leader appointed for each. a large square is marked upon the ground and the opposing teams line up upon opposite sides of the square behind their leader, each locking his arms about the waist of the man in front of him. at a signal to go both groups endeavor to tag the rear end of the group in front of them by running about the square, keeping on the lines. should a group succeed in tagging the rear of the line in front, but it is found that their own line is broken through the effort, it does not count. but the broken line can be tagged by the rear of the line and it will count. so it is up to that part of the line which has broken loose at the rear to catch up with the rest of its team. maze tag all but two of the players stand in parallel lines or ranks, one behind the other, with ample space between each player and each two ranks. all the players in each rank clasp hands in a long line. this will leave aisles between the ranks and through these a runner and chaser make their way. the sport of the game consists in sudden changes in the direction of the aisles, brought about by one player who is chosen as leader. he stands aside, giving the commands, "right face!" or "left face!" at his discretion. when one of these commands is heard, all of the players standing in the ranks drop hands, face in the direction indicated and quickly clasp hands with the players who are then their neighbors on the right and left. this brings about a change of direction in the aisles and therefore necessitates a change of direction in the course of the two who are running. [illustration: _maze tag_] the success of the game depends largely upon the judgment of the leader in giving the commands, "right (or left) face!" these should be given quickly and repeatedly, the leader often choosing a moment when the pursuer seems just about to touch his victim, when the sudden obstruction put in his way by the change in the position of the ranks makes necessary a sudden change of direction on his part. the play continues until the chaser catches his victim, or until the time limit has expired. in either case two new players are then chosen from the ranks to take the places of the first runners. it is a foul to break through the ranks or to tag across the clasped hands. turtle tag one player is selected to be "it" and chases the rest. in order to avoid being tagged, a player may lie upon his back with both feet and hands off the ground. roly poly this game must be played in groups, not larger than . holes are dug in the ground with the heels of the shoe. these holes are placed about inches apart in a line. they should be about inches in diameter and at least one inch deep. a line is drawn feet from the first hole. the one who is "it" must stand behind this line and roll a soft ball so that it will drop into one of the holes. if he misses, he continues to roll until he succeeds. if he succeeds, the one, into whose hole the ball rolls, runs forward, picks it up and endeavors to hit any other player from the position in which he picked up the ball. the rest may run in their effort to get away. should he miss, a goose egg--(a small stone)--is placed in his hole. should he succeed in hitting a player, a goose egg is placed in the hole of that player. the one to whom is awarded the goose egg is the next to roll the ball from the dead line in the endeavor to get it into a hole. any player getting three goose eggs has to run the gauntlet, which is the name given to running between two lines of players while they slap at his back. the faster he runs the lighter the slaps. no player is allowed to hit from the front. antony over a group is divided into two teams, a and b. the game is played around a small building, such as a small school house or wood shed, around which there is free running space. to team a is given a soft ball, such as a tennis or yarn ball. the ball is thrown over the building to team b. if it is caught by one of the players of team b, the whole team slips around the building, all going in the same direction, and trying to hit with the ball some one on team a before they can get around to the opposite side of the building. team a tries to escape being hit by dodging and running around the building to the opposite side. if a player is hit, he goes to b side. the teams keep their new places and b throws the ball over to a. if the ball is not caught, it is thrown back and forth over the building until caught. the team which first hits all of its opponents wins, or a time limit may be agreed upon and the team having the greatest number of players at the end of that time, wins. snake and bird two lines are drawn in the schoolyard about fifty feet apart. the group is divided into two teams. the one team links hands and takes a position between the two lines, and the leader calls, "birds run". the other team, which is lined up behind one of the lines, endeavors to run across the space between the two lines without being caught by the snake, which endeavors to circle around as many of the second team as it can. a record is kept of the number of boys caught. then the other team becomes snake and endeavors to coil around as many of the opponents, when they attempt to cross the space between the lines, as possible. in and out the group grasp hands, forming a circle. two individuals are selected, one to be "it", and the other to be chased. these two are placed on opposite sides of the circle. then "it" endeavors to tag the other. the one chased may go in and out under the hands of those forming the circle, cut through or run around the circle and "it" has to follow the same course in the pursuit. when "it" succeeds in tagging his partner, two other players take their places. fox and rabbit the group link hands and form a circle. two players are selected, one to be "it" and the other to be chased, as in the preceding game. in this game, however, it is not necessary that the fox follow the same course the rabbit pursues, in his endeavor to tag him, but both can go in and out of the circle at will. the players in the circle endeavor to assist the rabbit and impede the fox in his chase, as much as possible. when the fox has caught the rabbit, two other players are selected to take their places. chicken market one player is selected to be a buyer, another to be the market man. the rest of the players are to be chickens. they stoop down in a row, clasping their hands under their knees. the buyer inquires of the market man, "have you chickens for sale?" the market man says, "yes, plenty of them". thereupon the buyer goes along the line and examines the chickens. he finds one too tough, one too fat, etc., until at last he comes to one which suits his fancy, and he so informs the market man. he takes one arm and the market man takes the other and between them they swing the chicken back and forth. if the chicken maintains the grasp of its hands beneath its knees, it is accepted by the buyer and is led off to the home of the buyer, marked upon the ground. the game continues until all the chickens are sold. chickidy hand the player who is selected to be "it" interlocks the fingers of his hands and holds them against a post, which is known as the goal. the other players fold their hands in the same way and place them against the post. to start the game, "it" counts ten, whereupon the players leave the goal and "it" endeavors to tag one of them. the hands must be kept folded until tagged. the one tagged joins hands with "it" and continues with him in an effort to tag others. the players endeavor to keep from being tagged by the line and try to break through the line. succeeding in this, the individual towards the head of the line, next to the break, drops out of the game. those in the line cannot tag a player who has rushed in and succeeded in breaking the line until the line reforms. pass ball the group form a circle and are counted off in 's. the number 's are given a ball or some other object easily tossed, at one side of the circle and the number 's a like object on the other side of the circle. then competes against in an endeavor, by passing the object around the circle, to have it overtake that passed by the other team. when the object passed by one team has overtaken and passed that of the other, it counts one point and the game starts over, with the objects on opposite sides of the circle. poison the group forms a circle, linking hands. in the center of the circle is placed on end a short log about a foot long. (a tall bottle may be used in place of the log). by it is lying a soft playground baseball or a yarn ball. the circle begins to rotate around the log, the object being to keep from knocking the club over, on the one hand, but to force some one else in the circle to knock it over. the instant it falls, the circle dissolves and all the players except the one who knocks over the club run, while he picks up the ball and throws it at the running players. if he succeeds in hitting some one, the one hit is out of the game. if he fails, he is out. so the game continues until but two players are left. fox trail [illustration] a large circle is drawn upon the ground. this should measure from to feet in radius. another circle is drawn within this first circle and should have a radius feet less than the first. eight or spokes are drawn from the center to the circumference. where these spokes intercept the outer circle a small circle is drawn. these small circles are known as "dens". a player is placed in each one of these dens. another player is known as the hunter and stands at the hub of the wheel. the players in the dens are known as foxes. there is to be one more fox than den. this odd fox can stand anywhere else on the rim, where he tries to get a den whenever he can. the object of the game is that the foxes run from den to den without being caught by the hunter. the method of running, however, is restricted. both foxes and hunter are obliged to keep to the trails running only on the lines of the diagram. it is considered poor play to run from den to den on the outer rim, as there is practically no risk in this. foxes may run in any direction on the trail, on the spokes or on either of the rims. they may not turn back, however, when they have started on a given trail, until they have run across to the intersection of another line. if the hunter succeeds in tagging a fox, the two exchange places, the fox becoming the hunter. this is a good game to play in the snow marking the trails in the snow. weavers race a group forms a circle which is counted off by 's. the number 's in the circle constitute team a, and the number 's team b. two captains stand side by side in the circle. each holds a small stick. at a signal to go both start racing in opposite directions around the circle, going to the rear of the first player, to the front of the second, to the rear of the third, etc., weaving their way in and out. when they meet at the further side of the circle they must join hands and spin around once in the circle before continuing to weave their way back and forth from the point in the circle from which they left. thereupon number of a team tags the next player on his team in the direction in which he ran. number of b team tags the next one on his team who starts in the direction in which the first ran. the race continues until everyone in the team has completed his run around the circle in the required way. circle chase the group forms a circle and counts off by 's. the leader takes his place in the center of the circle. he calls any number from to , and all of the men holding that number step back and run around the outside of the circle to the right, endeavoring to tag the man who is running just ahead of him. the leader blows a whistle, which is the signal for the men to return to their original places in the circle, with the exception of those who have been tagged out. the latter are supposed to take a position within the circle. the leader next calls another number and they proceed as did the first. as the game continues, the circle grows smaller. the individual wins who succeeds in tagging out all those of his number. reuben and rachel the group forms a circle, joining hands. one of the players is blindfolded and placed in the center of the circle. all the rest in the ring dance around him until he points at some one. that one enters the circle and the blind man calls out, "rachel". the other must answer, "here, reuben", and move about in the circle so as to escape being tagged by reuben. every time reuben calls out, "rachel", she must reply, "here, reuben", and so it goes on until she is caught. reuben must guess who she is and if he guesses correctly rachel is blindfolded and the game goes on as before. if not, the same individual continues as reuben and he points out a new rachel to come into the circle. channel tag the group forms a circle, faces to the right and assumes a stride position. the one selected to be "it" takes his place in the center of the circle. the others pass a ball or bean bag either backward or forward between their legs. the one in the center tries to capture the ball or bag. if he succeeds, the one last touching it must take his place in the center of the circle. every one must touch the ball or bag when it passes by them, either forward or backward. soak 'em a sock stuffed with straw is used in this game. a circle is drawn upon the ground. the group is divided into two teams. one team takes its place in the center of the circle, the other lines up around the circumference. those on the outside of the ring endeavor, without stepping over the line, to throw and hit those within. succeeding, the one hit must lie upon the ground within the ring. the others endeavor to avoid being hit by dodging here and there. when all of the first team in the ring have been hit, they take their position outside of the ring and throw at their opponents. the team succeeding in hitting all of the opponents in the _quickest_ time, wins. the dummy one of the group, known as the "dummy", must take a position feet in front of a line and stands with his back to the rest of the group. a soft ball is thrown at him and he endeavors to guess who hit him. if he succeeds, that one must take his place. oriental tag similar to ordinary tag, except that the one "it" cannot tag any one who has his forehead to the ground. ball tag the one who is "it" is armed with a soft ball. he attempts to tag another by means of hitting him with the ball. the one who is hit becomes "it". couple tag similar to ordinary tag, except that the group is arranged in couples. couples must lock arms. the couple which is "it" endeavors to tag some other couple. if either of the men making up the "it" couple succeeds in tagging either man of another couple, that group is "it". chapter vi schoolyard games for advanced and high school pupils dresden tag the group forms a circle with at least three feet space between each individual in the circle. one individual is selected to be "it", another to be chased. those in the circle are to place their hands upon their knees and assume a stooping position, as for leap frog. "it" endeavors to tag the individual he is to chase before said individual can leap over the back of any one forming the circle. should he leap over the back of some one, the one over whose back he jumped is then subject to being tagged by "it". should "it" tag the one chased, then "it" must leap over some one's back to escape from being tagged. after leaping over a back, the individual who made the leap takes the position of the one who left that place in the circle. fox and geese one player is chosen to be fox, another to be gander. the remaining players all stand in single file behind the gander, each with his hands upon the shoulders of the one next in front. the gander tries to protect his flock of geese from being caught by the fox and to do this stretches out his arms and dodges around in any way he sees fit to circumvent the efforts of the fox. only the last goose in the line may be tagged, unless the line be very long, then the last five or ten players may be tagged, as decided beforehand. it will be seen that the geese all may co-operate with the gander by doubling and redoubling their line to prevent the fox from tagging the last goose. should the fox tag the last goose or one of the last five or ten, if that be permissible, that goose becomes fox and the fox becomes gander. plug the hole the players form in a circle with their legs in a stride position, their toes touching those of the next player. the one who is "it" takes his place in the centre of the circle. a partner to "it" takes his place on the outside of the circle. "it" is given a salt bag stuffed with saw dust or an old basketball cover stuffed with rags or some similar object. "it" endeavors to throw the stuffed bag between the legs of any of the players making up the circle. the players in the circle must keep their hands upon their knees until they see the bag coming towards them. they can then intercept it with their hands but are not allowed to move their feet. should "it" succeed in throwing the bag between the legs of any player, his partner on the outside may capture it and endeavor to throw it back into the circle by the same method by which it came out, while the one between whose legs the bag was thrown takes "it's" place. should "it's" partner on the outside succeed in throwing the ball into the circle between the legs of any player, that player takes the partner's place on the outside. partner swat tag form a circle in pairs, partners linking arms together. two stuffed clubs (made by stuffing stockings with waste or rags), are placed in the hands of one of the couples selected to be "it". this couple runs about the circle and hands the clubs to another set of partners in the circle. thereupon the others, receiving the clubs, chase the couple at their right around the circle, beating them with the clubs until they have reached their original place in the circle. the couple holding the clubs then go around the circle and hand the clubs to another couple, who proceed to chase the others at their right and so the game continues. freight train tag the boys are divided into groups of three's. each three line up, one behind the other, with their arms locked around the waist of the man in front. the first man in the group is the engine, and the last man the caboose. one man is selected to be "it", another to be chased. in order to avoid being tagged by "it", the man chased endeavors to hitch on the rear of a freight train by locking his arms around the caboose. thereupon the engine, or the man at the front of the train, is subject to being tagged by "it" until he can hitch on to some other train. those individuals making up a train endeavor to keep any one from hitching on to their caboose. "it", having tagged another, is subject to being tagged back immediately, provided he has not hitched on the rear of some train. roll ball the players form in a circle, grasping the hands of their neighbors. the one selected to be "it" takes his place in the center and is given a basketball or a stuffed sack, which he endeavors to kick outside of the ring. the players in the circle endeavor to prevent same by interfering with their legs. should "it" succeed in kicking the ball outside the circle, the player between whose legs it went or to whose right it went, must take "it's" place. take away the group is divided into two teams. one team is given a ball or some other object which can be easily caught. the object of the game is to keep the ball away from the opponents as long as possible. should the opponents capture the ball, they in turn endeavor to pass it among themselves, keeping it away from the other team. red, white and blue two lines are marked upon the ground, about fifteen feet apart. the group is divided into three equal teams; one team is known as the red, the other the blue, and the third the white. the blue team takes its position between the two lines, with the red team beyond one line and the white beyond the other. a ball or some other soft object easily thrown is given to the red team. any member of that team may try to hit a member of the blue team, with the ball, without stepping over the line. should he succeed, it counts one point for the red. should he miss and the ball go across to where the white team is stationed, any member of the white team endeavors to hit one of the blue and scores a point if successful. should the ball fail to return to either the red or the white team, a member of either of those teams may run into the blue territory to recover it, but must return or toss the ball back to his team beyond the line before it is again in play. the playing time of the game is divided into thirds. the reds change places with the blues in the second third, and the whites with the reds in the last third. only the team between the lines is subject to being thrown at. the team having the most hits to its record at the end of the game, wins. pin ball this game is played with the same rules as basketball, except that in place of the baskets a foot circle is drawn in the center of each end of the playing space, and in the center of each circle a short flat end log about inches long and inches in diameter stands upon its end. seven players constitute a team. a pin guard is placed within each circle, with the pin and he is the only one that is allowed to step inside the circle. the object of the game is to knock down the opponent's pin by hitting it with the ball. it is a foul to carry the ball or to hold an opponent. where basketball rules are known to the players, use the same rules for this game. in case of a foul, a foot line measured from the pin in the circle is used as a free throw line. in a free throw the guard is not allowed to interfere with the ball hitting the pin. a stuffed sack can be used in place of a ball in this game. kick ball an inflated ball about the size of a basketball is best for this game, but a bean bag can be used. the group is divided into two teams. one team is at the bat and the other in the field, arranged as in regular baseball with the exception that there is a short stop on both sides of the pitcher. the home base is marked upon the ground in form of a rectangle feet long and feet wide. the ball is tossed with an underhand toss, so that it passes over the base not higher than the level of the knee of the batter. three strikes and four balls are allowed, as in baseball. three men out retire a side. the principal difference is that the batter kicks the ball and may be put out by being hit with the ball when running between bases. hand baseball this game is like regular baseball, with the exception that a tennis ball or soft rubber ball is used for a ball and the hand is used for a bat. the pitcher throws the ball so that it bounds just in front of the batter. if on the bound it passes over the home plate above the knees and below the shoulders of the batter, it constitutes a strike. the home plate is marked upon the ground and is feet square. the batter hits the ball with the open palm of his hand and runs bases, as in regular baseball. four balls and strikes count as in regular games. last couple out this is an old swedish game and one which can still be played and thoroughly enjoyed. the players are arranged in double file. one player is selected to be "it" and takes a position about feet in front of the file, with his back to it. he calls, "last couple out". thereupon the last two in the double file run forward, one on either side of the line and endeavor to join hands in front of "it", without being tagged. "it" cannot look behind or start to chase until the last couple are on a line with him. the couple are allowed to circle as far out from the double line as they wish in their endeavor to avoid "it", and may join hands in any position, so long as they are in front of "it's" original position. should "it" tag one of them before they have had an opportunity of joining hands, the one tagged becomes "it", and the one who was "it" unites with the extra player at the head of the double column. otherwise "it" remains "it". spanish fly this is an old leap frog game. one player is chosen to be "down". the others follow the leader in taking frog leaps over the back of the one downed. at the first leap the leader says, "spanish fly". all the others must repeat those words upon taking their leap. at his second leap, the leader says, "handlings", and squeezes his fingers into the back of "down". the others must do as he did. the leader next says, "knucklings" and doubles his knuckles up on the back of "down" in leaping over. the next command is "spurrings", and the leader hits "down" with the heel of his right foot in making the leap. the next command is "dump the apple cart", and the leader grasps the clothes of the boy in going over and endeavors to pull him forward. the next is "hats on deck", and the leader places his hat on the back of the boy as he passes over him. the next boy after the leader places his hat upon that of the leader and so on until all of the boys have their hats on the back. the next command is "hats off deck", and the last boy to place his hat upon the back is the first to leap over, endeavoring to pick his hat off without knocking any of the others off. should any of those following the leader fail in accomplishing the trick they are supposed to do, they become "down" and the boy who was downed becomes the leader. tony says this is a good game to follow formal gymnastic exercises, maintaining the same formation. the players are lined up in open order upon the playing space. the leader asks for a number of exercises for the arms and legs. the players execute these upon command provided the words "tony says" precede the command. for example, tony says "attention"; tony says "raise arms to side horizontal"; tony says "arms down." if the leader fails to say "tony says" before the command, the players are not to execute the command. should a player execute the command at the time when he is not supposed to, he is required to run to a given point behind the leader and return to his original place. this is required of every player making a mistake. part ii sociable games for the home, church, club, etc. chapter i games for the home these games have been selected for the use of small family groups. in many of them parents and children will find an opportunity for entertainment during the long winter evenings in the home. twenty questions this is a quiet, entertaining and instructive game. one member of the family is given the privilege of thinking of some specific object anywhere in the universe. the others endeavor to guess what that object is and are only allowed to ask twenty questions in doing so. the one who thinks of the object to be guessed, only answers the questions asked by yes or no. it is exceptional when the object is not guessed, no matter how difficult it may be, before the twenty questions have been asked. example,--the king of belgium is selected by the player. the first question asked by another player is, "is it in the animal kingdom?" this question is answered by "yes". second question: "is it in a menagerie?" answer: "no." third question: "is it a man?" answer: "yes." fourth question: "is it an historical character?" answer: "yes." fifth question: "is he an american?" answer: "no." and so the questions and answers continue. any one has the privilege of asking a question at any time. the one who is thinking of the subject keeps a record of the number of questions asked. if any one has guessed within twenty questions, he has the opportunity of thinking of the new object to be guessed. you know me one of the group is given the privilege of starting the game by assuming he is some well known character, and makes the statement, "i am the man who invented the lightning rod". the others of the group endeavor to guess who he is. the one first guessing benjamin franklin is given the opportunity of continuing the game by assuming he is some other prominent character. come-she-come one member of the group is given the opportunity to select some object in plain sight in the room, to be guessed by the others. that individual says, "come she come". another individual says, "what does she come by?" the first individual answers, "by the letter----", and gives the first letter of the name of the object he has selected to be guessed. the others thereupon endeavor to guess what that object is. the one succeeding determines the next object to be guessed. hide the thimble all of the group leave the room, except one, who hides somewhere about the room a thimble. the others are then called back and endeavor to find it. if the thimble is hidden in a very difficult place, the one who hid it can inform the searchers if they are "warm" or "cold"; "warm" indicating that they are near, "cold" that they are not seeking in the right place. tit tat too a diagram similar to the illustration (fig. ) is drawn on a sheet of paper. two players only can participate. the first player marks a cross in any of the spaces between the lines; the next player makes a circle in any other space. the object of the game is to have one of the players succeed in placing three of his marks in a straight line, vertically, horizontally, or diagonally, upon the diagram. if neither succeeds, a new diagram is drawn and the game continues. the player making the crosses has won the game in (fig. ) as he has three crosses in a line. [illustration: | | x | o | ---+---+--- ---+---+--- | | | x | o ---+---+--- ---+---+--- | | | | x fig. . fig. . ] last match three piles of matches are placed upon the table. each pile can contain anywhere from ten to twenty matches. the object of the game is to make your opponent pick up the last match, two players playing. playing proceeds by each player taking up from any one pile as many matches as he wishes. he may take all in the pile if he so desires. each takes matches in turn, endeavoring to make it so that the opponent has to take the last match left on the board. your house, my house a piece of string about three feet long is tied to the end of a slender stick of about the same length. a slip knot is tied in the end of the string. a loop about two inches in diameter is made with the slip knot on the top of the table. all of the players excepting the one holding the stick then place the point of their index fingers on the table within the loop. the one holding the stick, as a fish pole says, "your house" or "my house". if he says "my house", he jerks the stick endeavoring to capture the forefinger of any of the players. he does not jerk the stick when he says "your house". he endeavors to fool the others by saying abruptly, "your house", several times before saying "my house" and pulling the string. the player avoiding being caught next takes the stick. catechism of states q.--which is the best state for fresh pork? a.--new ham, sure. q.--which is the best for an early summer hotel? a.--may inn. q.--in which should surgeons dwell? a.--connect-a-cut. q.--in which should laundrymen prosper? a.--washing done. q.--in which do impudent people dwell? a.--can sass. q.--which is the best for deer-hunting? a.--collar a doe. q.--which is the best for locksmiths? a.--new brass key. q.--in which would you look for a morning attire? a.--day coat, eh! q.--in which is one likely to fail in getting a drink? a.--miss-a-sip. q.--in which can you find a red letter? a.--florid a. q.--in which does the hustle make one sick? a.--ill o' noise. q.--in which is one likely to use his farming implements? a.--i'd a hoe. q.--in which can one acquire an estate by marriage? a.--mary land. q.--in which is one letter of the alphabet taller than the others? a.--o higher. q.--in which are bodies of land surrounded by water given a ride? a.--rhode island. q.--which is called to your mind by holding two $ bills? a.--tenn i see. q.--which would a woman rather have if she can't get a new sealskin sack? a.--new jersey. q.--which does the farmer's wife mention when she asks you to partake of apple sauce? a.--take sass.--_capper's weekly (topeka)._ step by step a bean bag or soft ball is needed for this game. all of the group excepting one who is selected to be leader sit on the bottom step of the stairs. the leader tosses the ball to the one at the right end of the line and receives it back. he tosses it to the second and third. should any of the players miss catching the ball, all the other players move up one step, except the one missing; he remains on the first step. the leader then continues passing until all have been served; he then starts again at right of line. he passes the ball last to the one on the lower steps. should any of the players on any step miss the ball, all the other players advance one step. the ones who advance from the lower step take a position at the right of the one who missed the ball on the step above. should the leader miss the ball at any time, the one at the right on the highest step takes his place. the game continues until the top of the stairs is reached by one or more players. if more than one player reaches the top step then the progress continues down the stairs, a step for each miss by any of the players. when one player holds the most advanced step alone, the game starts over with that player as leader. spin the platter all of the players in the room are given a number. a tin plate is spun in the centre of the room by one of the players who calls some number. the one whose number is called endeavors to catch the plate before it has stopped spinning. if successful, he calls another number after again spinning the platter. should the player fail to catch the platter before it has stopped spinning, a forfeit is demanded. all the players having forfeits are demanded to pay their forfeits by performing some stunt suggested by one of the group selected to determine the penalty. board and nail puzzle [illustration: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . o . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] a rectangular board inches broad and inches long has holes bored into it in the design herewith illustrated. nails are stuck loosely in all of these holes, excepting the centre one. the puzzle is to jump all of the nails off the board so that only one nail is left, and that in the centre-hole on the board. the nails are jumped off in the same manner that men are jumped in the game of checkers. jumping is allowed either forward, backward, or sideward, but not diagonally. spinning for a wooden top is made by sawing off the end of a large spool and sticking a match or small stick through the hole in the centre. four concentric circles are drawn upon a sheet of paper which should be about twelve inches square. inside of the smallest circle, which should have a diameter of inches, the number is placed. the next circle outside of this one, having a diameter inches greater, should be numbered , the next circle numbered , and the next . the players spin the top in turn. should it cease spinning so that the point of the pin lies within the centre circle, a score of is made. should it fall outside of the last circle, no score is made. the player first gaining points wins the game. red triangle ring toss [illustration] a triangle is drawn upon a board and nails are driven in, as indicated in the accompanying diagram. six rubber mason jar rings are used. the triangle is hung on the wall at a height equal to the height of the shoulders of the intended players. the players stand from ten to fifteen feet distant from the triangle and attempt to toss the rings over the projecting nails. each nail is numbered according to the diagram. each player tosses six rings at a turn. any number of players can play. the player first securing a total of points wins the game. floor baseball (_game invented by t.a. coates_) a diagram is marked with chalk on the floor, as per accompanying diagram. round wooden disks six inches in diameter, one inch thick at the centre tapering to a quarter of an inch at the circumference, in the form of a discus, are used. rubber quoits may be used instead of disks, if available. a player "up to bat" slides disks from a line thirty feet away from the baseball diamond until he has four balls, three strikes, or has earned one or more bases. if the disk, upon being slid forward, lies so that any part of it lies over any line, it constitutes one ball for the batter. if it should lie in the space marked "strike", it constitutes a strike and the batter has one ball and one strike. the next slide, the disk lies in the space marked " ". this means that he places his disk on first base and the next player on his side comes to bat. the second player continues sliding the disks until he has made a base or is put out. should he make a base, the player of the first disk is advanced one base. should he make more than one base hit, the player on the base advances as many bases as the batter has made. the side continues at bat until three men are out. thereupon, the other team comes to bat. should the disk land in "sacrifice", base hit, home run, or should the one at bat gain first by four balls, the man or men on base or bases advance. any man or men reaching home constitutes a run for that team. should the disk land three times within the space marked "strike" during the time at bat, the batsman is declared "out". [illustration: floor baseball] two players can play this game as well as nine, each taking as many slides of the disk as is necessary to reach a base or get out. then the other player does the same until the team has three out. blocks or stones can indicate the position of players on bases if only one disk is used in the game. chic-a-dee this is a good game to be played in the loft of a barn. one player is blindfolded and sits on the floor with legs folded under him, chinese fashion. the other players creep up and say "chic-a-dee" as near his ear as possible. he tries to hit said player before he can get beyond his reach, using a salt bag stuffed with leaves, or some type of padded stick. should he succeed, the one he hits is blindfolded and the game continues. captain kidd's gold this is a good game in which all the members of a family may find pleasure. it develops one's power of observation and memory. a small coin is hidden somewhere about the yard or in the woods, wherever the game may be played, by one of the players. all of the other players must be either blindfolded or placed in a position where they cannot see the player who is hiding the coin. the player having hidden the coin returns to the group and describes just how they are to find same. for illustration:--he gives the following description of the course to follow. "walk twenty paces in a direct line towards the apple tree at the far end of the garden. there you will find a small stone upon a larger one. under the small stone you will find an arrow scratched upon the larger one. follow the directions of this arrow fifteen paces. then turn sharply to the left, go ten paces, and underneath a stone will be found captain kidd's gold." the players may ask him to repeat the directions once. after repeating, however, they must follow the direction without further questioning. the one successful in finding the coin next hides the same. this game can be made simple enough for small children to enjoy or difficult enough to prove a problem for adults. chapter ii ice breakers for sociables bird hunt names of different birds are written on small slips of paper and pinned upon the backs of all the guests. a small card and a pencil are given to each guest and they are instructed to go on a bird hunt. they proceed to try to read the names on the backs of twenty other players. the one first succeeding in getting the names of twenty birds wins the game. each player endeavors to avoid having the slip on his own back read as he endeavors to read those on the backs of the others. my month twelve placards with the name of a month of the year on each are posted about the room, and the players are instructed to gather around that placard bearing the name of the month in which they were born. then each group in turn is called upon to select some activity typical for that month and to act it out. the others endeavor to guess the month by the activity represented. poison circle the group marches in couples around the room while a march is being played intermittedly on some instrument. small rugs are placed in the path of the marchers or circles are drawn on the floor, through which the marchers must pass. if any couple is left on a rug or within a circle when the music stops playing, that couple drops out of the march. all march forward again when the music starts and try to avoid being caught on a rug or in a circle. the last couple in wins. shoe hunt advertisements of shoes are cut out and the illustrations of pairs of shoes are halved. these are hidden around the room. the individual finding the largest number of pairs of shoes wins. players are allowed to trade with each other in order to complete their pairs. matching advertisements advertisements are cut from magazines and each advertisement is divided by irregular cuts into two halves. one half is placed in the pile to be distributed among the men; the other half to be distributed among the ladies. these halved advertisements are distributed among the guests and the men seek their partners by finding the other half of the magazine advertisement matching their own. matching proverbs familiar proverbs are divided into groups of three or four words. these are distributed among the guests. there should be at least two words, and preferably more, on each slip. each individual then seeks to find those others holding the words which complete his proverb. example--the proverb, "a stitch in time saves nine", is chosen. on one sheet of paper is put "a stitch"; on another "in time"; and on another "saves nine". when the individuals necessary to make the complete proverb have gathered together, they represent their proverb by pantomime to the others. mixing march the group, arranged in couples, forms a circle with the ladies on the inside facing their partners. when the music starts playing, the partners separate, both going to the right about the circle. this means that the ladies go in one direction and the men in the other. when the music again stops, the men will be opposite new partners and these partners must face each other and converse on some subject suggested by the leader. when the music again starts the conversation ends and both groups again continue their march in opposite directions and so the game continues. it is suggested, if the group be large and not well acquainted, that each time a new partner is faced for conversation, hands are shaken and names and places of residence given. musical medley this game is similar to the game entitled "matching proverbs", except that different lines of songs are distributed among the guests present and each seeks to find the individuals holding the lines necessary to complete his song. when all are located they get together and practice their song in preparation to sing it to the rest of the group or act it in pantomime. puzzled words words are written out on slips of paper and then cut into single letters. each letter going to make up a word is given the same number. for example, in the word "battle", number each letter of "battle" no. . all of the number 's are told to get together, discover what their word is and when their number is called, act it out for the group to guess. trip around the world various articles are distributed around the room, each representative of some country. for illustration, a package of tea, representing china; a shamrock, representing ireland; a maple leaf, representing canada. a slip of paper and a pencil are given to each member of the group, who endeavors to guess what country each article suggests. bean penalty each guest, upon entering the room, is given ten beans and instructed to ask questions of each other. should a question be answered by either yes or no, the individual so answering must surrender a bean to the one asking the question. at the end of the playing period, the individual having the largest number of beans is the winner. chapter iii sociable games for grown-ups biographic cartoons each individual is given a cardboard Ã� inches, an old magazine, containing numerous ads, a pair of scissors, and is instructed to write the biography of his right hand neighbor, using the advertisements cut from the papers to illustrate the same. in writing the biography as few words should be used as possible. the biographical sketch should be placed upon the cardboard. mucilage should be available for the purpose of sticking on the illustrations, and pens and pencils for the necessary writing. some award can be given to the one making the best biography. illustrated songs each member of the group is given a sheet of paper and a pencil and is instructed to draw thereupon a picture or pictures illustrating the title of some song. (illustration: one individual decides to illustrate the title of "home, sweet home". he proceeds to draw the picture of a house, a sugar bowl, and another picture of a house.) when sufficient time has been allowed for all to complete their illustrations, they are numbered and placed on exhibition. each member of the group endeavors to guess as many of the illustrations as he can, placing his guess after the number of the illustration. the illustration which is guessed correctly by the largest number, wins for its artist. smiles the group forms in couples and marches around the room. they are then subdivided into from four to eight smaller groups. these are stationed in various parts of the room and the ladies are lined up facing the men. they try in every conceivable way to make the men smile or laugh. any one who does so must take a place in the ladies' line. after a few minutes of this, every man in the ladies' line must pay a forfeit, and the men must endeavor to cause the ladies to laugh. tea pot one member of the group is selected to be "it" and leaves the room. the others decide upon some object or word which "it" is to guess. "it" is called back into the room and each member of the group is to make a sentence including the name of the object to be guessed, using in the sentence the word "tea pot" as a substitute for the name of the object. illustration--the object determined upon by the group is the piano stool. the first member of the group says, "by turning the 'tea pot' it grows higher". as soon as "it" guesses the correct object the one whose sentence disclosed what the object was, becomes "it". muddled words the group is divided into two teams. each individual is given a slip of paper and takes the name of some animal, bird, or fish, and muddles up the letters so as to make it difficult to recognize the name. illustration--g fold chin, for goldfinch. any member of the opposing team has the opportunity to guess what the name is. the time it takes for the opposing team to guess is recorded. any member of the opposing team who has correctly guessed the muddled word can give a muddled word for the first team to guess. the team which succeeds in guessing the muddled word in the shortest time wins one point. the team having the most points at the end wins the game. who are they? photographs of prominent individuals are numbered and placed on exhibition about the room, with the wrong title beneath them. each member of the group is given a card and pencil. he goes around the room and writes upon his card the proper name of each individual with the number which is on that individual's photograph. the individual making the largest number of correct guesses wins. photos of men like lincoln, lloyd george, robert e. lee, obregon, etc., should be used for this game. who is it? a sheet is hung up in a doorway. the group is divided into two teams. one group goes behind the sheet. a small hole is cut in the sheet. the members of the group behind the sheet take turns in sticking their noses through the hole in the sheet. the group on the inside attempts to guess whose nose protrudes through the sheet in the order in which they are exhibited. one member of the group behind the sheet keeps a record of the order in which individuals of that group display their noses, so that this can be checked up with the guesses of the other team. after all the noses have been displayed the group returns to its place in the room and listens to the guesses. then the other group goes out and they display their noses. the group making the largest number of correct guesses wins. a modification of this game is made by showing the eye through the hole in the sheet instead of the nose, and the group in front of the sheet endeavors to guess whose eye it is. trades the men are lined up on one side of the room. to each is given three or four buttons, a needle and thread, and a piece of cloth. they race to see which can sew the buttons in a straight line on the piece of cloth, securely, in the quickest time. the women are lined up on the opposite side of the room before a plank. to each is given a hammer and six or eight nails. they race to see who first can drive the nails into the plank without bending them over. rooster ten or twenty are as many as can well play this game. the group is arranged in seats around the room. the leader starts the game by saying, "my father had a rooster". his left hand neighbor says, "a what?" the leader answers, "a rooster". the left hand neighbor then turns to his left hand neighbor and says, "my father had a rooster", and that neighbor says, "a what?", and his answer is "a rooster". this question is asked of each left hand neighbor until it has travelled around the room. when it becomes the leader's turn, he again says, "my father had a rooster", and his left hand neighbor says, "a what?". he answers, "a rooster". the left hand neighbor says, "could he crow?" and the leader answers, "crow he could". this dialogue is passed on around the room, each repeating the exact words of the leader to his left hand neighbor. when it again becomes the leader's turn, he repeats the dialogue previously used and his left hand neighbor inquires, "how could he crow?" and the leader replies, "cock-a-doodle-do", imitating a rooster. this is passed around the room. no one is supposed to laugh during the whole game. whoever does may either pay a forfeit or is out of the game. it is well to have a player who knows the game sit next to the leader, so that it may start correctly. poor pussy the group is arranged in a circle around the room. one player is selected to be "pussy" and takes his place in the centre of the group. he takes a position on all fours before each member of the group, in turn saying "meow". thereupon the one before whom he is kneeling must stroke the back of his head and say, "poor pussy". pussy meows three times and in return for each meow has the back of his head stroked and is addressed, "poor pussy". should the one patting pussy laugh during the performance, he must take pussy's place. gossiping the group is arranged in a circle around the room. the leader whispers some information to his left hand neighbor, remembering the exact sentence or sentences. his left hand neighbor is expected to whisper the same information to the next left hand neighbor and so it is passed around the circle until it is returned to the leader. the leader then tells what the original sentence was, and tells what it is after passing from ear to ear about the group. analogues a member of the group thinks of some object, and without disclosing to the other members of the group what he is thinking about, he addresses in turn all of the others, asking, "what is my thought like?" the first one addressed, without having any idea as to what the leader has in mind, says, "like a star". the second in answer to his question, says, "like a book", and so every one is given an opportunity to state what they think his thought is like. then the leader tells the group the thing he had in mind, which, we will say for illustration, was a fountain pen. he then asks the one who suggested that it was like a star why his fountain pen was like a star. thereupon that one must give some reason why he thought it was like a star and replies, "your fountain pen is like a star because it can enlighten the world". the next one says, "the fountain pen is like a book because it has the possibility of conveying thoughts", and so every one in the group must give the why of his previous answer. this demands quick thinking and initiative on the part of the players. ghost the group sits in a circle about the room. the leader starts the game by giving a letter of the alphabet. the one at his left adds a letter to the first with the view of making a word. the third adds another letter and so the game continues. illustration--the leader gives the letter "a". the one at his left, thinking of the word "adds" adds "d". the third one, thinking of the word "advertisement", adds "v". the fourth, thinking of the word "adversity" adds "e", and so the word continues to grow. if one finishes the word or completes a word without realizing it, that one is given the title of "half-ghost". anyone speaking to the half-ghost, becomes a half-ghost. should a half-ghost chance to finish another word when it again becomes his turn to add a letter to the spelling of a word, then the half-ghost becomes a full-ghost and is out of the game. any one speaking to a full-ghost becomes a full-ghost. full-ghosts and half-ghosts naturally endeavor to get as many others into their class as possible, so between thinking of letters to complete the word in turn and avoiding becoming ghosts, the group is kept in a very difficult frame of mind. the game continues until there are no players who have failed to qualify as half-ghosts or full-ghosts. charades five of the group are selected to act out a charade. these five act out a word in pantomime. while they are doing this a second group of five is selected and prepares to act out another word, immediately following the presentation by the first group. the audience is given three minutes to guess each charade. should it succeed in doing this, then the members of the group each choose a substitute for themselves, thus making a third group of five. while this last group is preparing a charade, the second group is putting on its pantomime, and so the game continues. if the audience fails to guess the word within the required time, then the same group is given an opportunity to act another word. good charade words are as follows: aëroplane air-oh-plane antarctic aunt-ark-tick buccaneer buck-can-ear charlatan char-lay-tan falcon fall-con handicap hand-eye-cap handkerchief hand-cur-chief microscope my-crow-scope automobile ought-oh-mob-eel pilgrimage pill-grim-age sausage saw-sage stiletto still-let-toe bandage band-age stationary station-airy feline fee-line rainbow reign-beau bookworm book-worm handsome hand-some penitent pen-eye-tent cribbage crib-age broomstick broom-stick infancy in-fan-sea hornpipe horn-pipe eyelash i-lash forswear four-swear masquerade mass-cur-aid melancholy melon-collie pantry pan-tree tennessee ten-i-see antidote aunt-i-dote definite deaf-in-ate knight of the cracker the ladies are lined up on one side of the room. each is provided with a cracker. the men are lined up on the opposite side. at the signal to go the men rush forward and try to secure a cracker from one of the ladies. they then return to their original line and devour the cracker. having succeeded in doing this, they return and whistle a tune which must be recognized by the lady. match boxing competitors are divided into equal teams and the teams are arranged in parallel lines. the outside cover of a small safety match box is given to the first man on each team. he slips this over the end of his nose and holds his hands behind his back with the box on his nose. all other players must hold their hands behind their backs. at the signal to start the players having the box on the end of the nose transfer the same to the nose of their neighbor without the use of their hands. the box is passed in this way to the far end of the lines and back. should it fall upon the floor it is picked up by the one from whose nose it fell, placed on his own nose again, and the game continues as before. chapter iv sociable games for young people what animal? the leader whispers the name of a different animal or object to each individual. when called upon each must try to represent the noise or action of the animal or object. the rest of the group guess what is represented and write the same on a slip of paper. the one guessing the most wins. rhyming verbs half of the group leaves the room while the others decide upon a verb. the group which left the room is then called back and tries to guess the verb from the clues which are given by those who determined the verb. these clues are given in the form of sentences containing words rhyming with the verb. should the group which is to guess think they have found the right verb, they retire from the room without stating it and returning act out the verb. if they have been successful in guessing the verb, then the other group is given an opportunity to guess a verb in the same manner. fruit basket the group is seated in a circle and counted off in 's. the number 's are given the name of oranges, number 's lemons, number 's bananas, number 's apples. one of the individuals is selected to be "it". he takes his place in the centre of the group and one chair is taken out of the circle, leaving one less chair than there are players. "it" then calls the name of two fruits, for example, oranges and lemons. thereupon all of the oranges must exchange places with all of the lemons and "it" endeavors to capture one of the seats. succeeding, the one left without a seat is "it" and calls two other kinds of fruit. these two must change places and "it" endeavors to capture a seat. should "it" say "fruit basket", instead of naming two fruits, all must change seats. exchange the group is arranged in seats around the room. "it" takes a place in the centre. all of the players are given a different number. "it" is blindfolded. the game is started by "it" calling two numbers. thereupon the numbers called must change seats. "it" tries to either tag one of the players seeking to change seats or occupy one of the vacant seats, in which case the one without a chair becomes "it". barnyard chorus each player in the group is given some barnyard noise to represent. the leader takes his place in the centre of the room. if he holds up his left hand, all is quiet; if he holds up his right hand, they all imitate their various noises in concert. should one of the players make a noise while the leader is holding up his left hand, that player must stand up before his chair and imitate the noise he has been given to imitate, until some member of the group can guess what the noise is supposed to represent. donkey solo this is a good game to follow immediately after the barnyard chorus. the leader announces that he is to whisper to each member of the group the name of some animal that is to be imitated by that member in chorus with the others. he then goes about and whispers in the ear of every member of the group that he is to keep perfectly quiet, excepting to one individual to whom he suggests that he is to imitate the braying of a donkey. he then takes his position in the centre of the group and instructs the players to give as much volume to their imitation as possible. he gives the signal to start. naturally, all are quiet except the poor donkey who brays his solo, to the amusement of the other members of the group. shifting seats the group is seated in a circle. there is one more chair than there are players. one individual is selected to be "it" and takes his place in the centre of the room. "it" gives the command to shift right. thereupon, the one at the left of the vacant chair moves into the vacant chair, leaving his own chair vacant. the one at the left of his chair, moves into that, each one trying to get into the vacant chair to the right before "it" can succeed in touching him. "it" can give the command "shift left" at any time, which means that they must move into the vacant chair to the left. should "it" succeed in sitting in an empty chair, the one who should have occupied that chair becomes "it". guess the sound the group is arranged in a circle. the one selected to be "it" is blindfolded and takes a position in the centre of the circle. after the blindfolded player has been spun around a few times so that he does not know his location, he is given a wand or short stick. he holds this stick out in front of one member of the group. that member must grasp the end of the stick. then "it" names some animal which the player on the other end of the stick must imitate by some sound. thereupon, the blindfolded player tries to guess who has hold of the other end of the stick. succeeding, the player guessed is blindfolded. rapid transit the players form in a circle. to each is given some article to be passed. these articles should vary in size anywhere from a peanut to a flat iron. the game starts by the leader commanding them to pass to the right. he then passes his article on to his right hand neighbor and receives in turn from his left hand neighbor the article coming to him. the passing continues until the leader gives the command "change". then the articles are passed in the opposite direction. should a player drop one of the articles to be passed or should any one of the players have in his possession more than two articles at one time, that individual drops out of the game, taking one article with him. the game continues until but one is left in the circle. the passing can be complicated, if so desired, by having one or two of the articles passed in the opposite direction. feather tag the group sits in a circle in the centre of the room, holding a large sheet stretched tightly between them. a fluffy feather is placed in the centre of the sheet. one of the group who is "it" endeavors by running about, to catch the feather. those sitting around the edge of the sheet keep the feather from "it" by blowing it beyond "it's" reach. should "it" capture the feather, the one sitting at the edge of the sheet nearest to the feather becomes "it". birds all the players sit in a circle. each is given the name of a bird. the keeper takes a position in the centre of the room and begins to tell a story about birds. when a bird's name is mentioned, that bird must stand up and turn around once in front of his chair. failing to do this, he must pay a forfeit. when the keeper utters the word "migrate" in his story, all of the birds must change seats and he tries to get one of the seats. succeeding, the one left without a seat, continues the bird story. otherwise the first keeper continues his story. simple simon's silly smile the group is arranged in chairs around the room. the one who is selected to be "it" goes from one to another asking questions. all questions must be answered by "simple simon's silly smile", without laughing. should the one questioned laugh, he must take the place of the one who is "it". wink chairs are arranged around the room in a circle, with the boys standing behind each chair. there should be one more chair than there are girls in the group. the boy standing behind the empty chair winks at one of the girls who endeavors to get to the vacant chair before the boy in whose chair she is sitting can tag her. if she succeeds, the boy behind the chair last vacated continues the game by winking at another girl. hush the group sits in a circle in a room which is semi-dark. the leader goes around inside of the circle and slips a button in the hands of one of the players. he does this after making an offer to do it to several others, so as to disguise where he finally deposits the button. all then have a turn to guess in whose hands the button lies. the one who guesses right becomes the leader, and the leader becomes a ghost. the game then continues as before. the ghost asks questions of any of the players, and they are not supposed to answer any question asked them except by the leader. should they do so, they also become ghosts. as the ghosts multiply the game becomes more difficult. the game continues until but two are left of the circle. jack's alive the group sits in a circle in the room. a lighted splinter is handed to one of the group in the circle. it is then passed around the circle, still lighted. should the flame become extinguished, the one in whose hand the splinter rests at that time must pay a forfeit. the forfeit sometimes demanded is that a mustache be made on the upper lip of that individual with the charred end of the splinter. in passing the splinter the player must say jack's alive; failing to do this the splinter is returned to him and should it become extinguished before he can say this, it counts against him. going to jerusalem the chairs are arranged in a circle in the center of the room, with the seats away from the center. there should be one less chair than there are participants in the game. the participants form a line around the outside of the chairs and march forward around the chairs, while the piano, phonograph, or some other musical instrument is being played. the instant the music stops each player tries to sit in a chair. the one failing to get a chair drops out of the game. a chair is taken from the circle and the group starts marching again with the music. when the music stops they seek chairs as before, the one failing to secure one dropping out. a chair is taken out of the circle after each scramble and so the group diminishes until all are eliminated except one, who is crowned king of jerusalem. if the group be large more than one chair can be eliminated at a time. chapter v trick games for sociables hindoo blind reading slips of paper are given to all of the guests and they are instructed to write thereupon a brief sentence of three or four words and to carefully fold the paper. these messages are then collected, and the hindoo mystic proceeds to amaze his auditors by rubbing the messages, still folded, one after another across his forehead and telling what is written on the folded paper. the trick--the message reader has an accomplice who is instructed to acknowledge that he wrote the first note read by the mystic, no matter what that note may be. the mystic makes up in his mind a brief sentence after rubbing the first slip of paper on his head. this sentence is acknowledged by the accomplice. the mystic, after having the note acknowledged, opens it apparently to corroborate his reading, but in reality he is reading the note written by someone else. upon rubbing the next slip of paper across his forehead, he announces the contents of the note last read, which naturally is acknowledged with wonderment on the part of the individual who wrote it. he then apparently looks at this slip of paper, but in reality he looks at the paper which he next intends to read. mental telepathy the group is told that if enough people think hard enough about one object they can communicate the thought to a person who knows nothing about it. one or two "unwise" persons are asked to leave the room and nothing is decided upon. but the group is told that when each "unwise" person comes in in turn, the second thing that is named must be admitted to be the right object. great disappointment should be shown at his failure to get the right object the first time and he should be heartily congratulated on his success the second time. this continues until he realizes that he is duped. the paper artist a sheet of newspaper or any other kind of paper can be used for this game. the accomplice is sent from the room. the one performing the trick then holds the paper in front of the face of one of the individuals in the room. returning to his seat, the accomplice is called into the room and handed the sheet of paper. the accomplice then studies the paper carefully and announces to the group whose photograph he sees thereupon. the trick--the one who takes the impression of the individual assumes the same sitting position that the individual photographed has assumed, thus portraying to the one who left the room whose photograph is on the blank paper. magic answers an accomplice is sent from the room. those remaining in the room determine upon some object, this object to be recognized by the accomplice. when the object has been selected, the accomplice is called back. the one who is to deal with the accomplice asks if several objects in the room are the thing which has been suggested. the accomplice answers, "no," but answers correctly when the object selected is mentioned. the trick--the one asking the questions of the accomplice names some black object immediately preceding the object which is the correct one, thus giving the clue. clairvoyant the one who plays this trick must have an accomplice. the accomplice is sent from the room. it is announced that the accomplice will name the person pointed to. the demonstrator points at an individual and the accomplice on the outside of the room gives the name of the individual pointed at. the trick--the accomplice knows that the one last speaking before he left the room will be the one pointed at by the demonstrator. in pointing at an individual, the one doing the pointing asks of the accomplice, "does the spirit move?" the one on the outside answers, if he knows who is being pointed at, "it does." the first speaker then says, "whom am i pointing at?" the accomplice then gives the individual's name. scissors crossed a simple catch game. the group is seated in a circle. it is best to have two of the company know how to play the game. one of these hands a closed pair of scissors to the other, who takes it and says, "i received these scissors uncrossed and give them crossed" (opening the scissors as he says, "and give them crossed"). he passes them to the player on his left, who should say, "i received these scissors crossed and give them crossed"--(if they are left open; if closed, "uncrossed"). if the players do not know the game, they will cross and uncross the scissors in an attempt to pass them correctly. each one is given a turn and the game continues until some bright player notices that the scissors are called "crossed" when they are open and "uncrossed" when they are closed, and that the player who started the game crossed his feet if the scissors were crossed and, if not, his feet were uncrossed. thus, the object of the game is to change the words and the position of the feet in accordance with the position of the scissors. knights of the sacred whistle one or two of the group are informed that they are to be initiated into the order of the knights of the sacred whistle. they are shown a whistle and told that to become a member they must find this whistle. it is then pretended that the whistle is handed to one of the members of the party. an apron is hung around the shoulders of the victim and the whistle is attached to the back of the apron on a piece of string. the trick is for some of the players to blow the whistle behind the person's back, immediately dropping it and when he turns the person on the other side will blow. as all are standing in a circle, with the person who is being initiated in the centre, he is kept guessing for some time before he finds out where the whistle is located. hay stack chairs are piled to a considerable height in the centre of the room and the person to be initiated is instructed to take off his shoes and jump over them. the leader insists that this is possible, but the uninitiated remonstrates, "it can't be done." the catch is that the individual is supposed to jump over his shoes instead of the chairs. boots without shoes the leader asks one of the players to say as he directs and then asks him to say, "boots without shoes." the player immediately says, "boots without shoes." the leader says, "that is not correct," and goes to the next. the next one also says, "boots without shoes," and so do most of the other members of the group, until one bright individual, discovering the trick, simply says, "boots," which is the correct answer. newspaper touch two individuals are instructed to stand upon a sheet of newspaper, so as not to be able to touch each other. this seems impossible and the individuals taking their places upon the paper endeavor to maneuver in impossible positions, but find they still can touch each other. the trick is to spread the newspaper over the sill of a door. one individual stands on one side of the closed door upon the newspaper, while the other takes his position on the other side of the door. coin and card snap a card is balanced upon the end of the middle finger of the left hand, flat side down. a quarter or some small coin is placed upon the card, directly over the end of the finger. the trick is to snap the card from under the coin so that the coin will remain on the end of the finger. blind blow a lighted candle is placed upon a table. the players are blindfolded in turn, spun around, and instructed to blow out the candle. the time of each player is recorded and the one succeeding in blowing out the candle in the quickest time wins the game. tricks with matches six matches are given to an individual and he is requested to make with them four equilateral triangles. the trick--three matches are laid upon the table, forming an equilateral triangle. the other three are held above the three on the table in the form of a pyramid, with the triangle on the table as a base. [illustration] twelve matches are placed upon the table as herewith illustrated. then those trying to accomplish the trick are instructed to illustrate what matches are made of by moving two matches. the trick--it is natural that the ones trying to solve the trick endeavor to make the word "wood" out of the combination of forms, but by taking the top match off the first square, a "v" can be made by adding it to the third figure. by taking the right hand side off the first square, the letter "e" can be made by adding it to the last figure, spelling the word "love." pigs in pen a farmer has six pigs and five pens. he desires to place the pigs in the pens so that there will be an odd number of pigs in each pen. how can he accomplish this? the trick--he places a pen within a pen. then he places a pig in each of the other pens, and two pigs in the one which encloses the pen, and another pig in the enclosed pen. number trick how can four be made out of three 's? - / penny wise the players are provided with a bright new penny, a piece of paper and a pencil. on the paper have been written the following requirements, each player being expected to write the answers, the one having the largest number of correct answers, winning the game: find on the penny the name of a song. (ans. america.) a privilege. (ans. liberty.) a part of indian corn. (ans. ear.) a part of a hill. (ans. brow.) something denoting self. (ans. i (eye).) part of a door. (ans. lock (of hair).) a weapon of war. (ans. arrow.) an act of protection. (ans. shield.) a gallant. (ans. beau (bow).) a punishment. (ans. stripes.) part of a plant. (ans. leaf.) a piece of jewelry. (ans. ring.) a nut. (ans. acorn.) a musical term. (ans. bar.) an occupation. (ans. milling.) a foreign fruit. (ans. date.) trimming for a hat. (ans. feather.) what ships sail on. (ans. sea.) a perfume. (ans. scent (cent).) a religious edifice. (ans. temple.) a messenger. (ans. one sent (one cent).) a method of voting. (ans. ayes and noes (eyes and nose).) a chinese beverage. (ans. tea (t).) a gaudy flower. (ans. tulips (two lips).) comfort. (ans. ease (e e).) a small animal. (ans. hare (hair).) a term of marriage. (ans. united state.) an ancient honor. (ans. wreath.) one of the first families. (ans. indian.) reading temples the group is told that thoughts can be transmitted through the temples. the demonstrator of the game has to have an accomplice knowing the trick, who leaves the room. the others decide upon a number, not greater than ten. the accomplice is called back into the room, and by placing his hands upon the temples of the demonstrator after having requested every one to concentrate their thoughts upon the number selected, he tells what the number is. the trick--he is told the number by the demonstrator, who clinches and relaxes his jaw, which gives a movement of the temple which can be felt by the accomplice. aeroplane ride the player selected to take the ride is sent from the room and blindfolded. a strong board is held a few inches from the floor by several of the players. the blindfolded player is then called back into the room and invited to step into the aeroplane and is aided in stepping upon the board. his hands are placed upon the shoulders of two other players for support. as soon as the individual has stepped upon the board, it is raised a few inches and the two individuals upon whose shoulders rest his hands slowly and together bend their knees, so as to lower their shoulders, giving the impression to the rider that he has been lifted some distance from the floor. the rider is then told to jump down, but not to fear, as mattresses have been placed upon the floor, so that he is in no danger of injury. the fear of jumping from so great a height as the blindfolded aviator has been caused to feel he has attained, and the surprise of striking the floor in so short a distance after the jump, are very amusing. egg smash several players of the group are blindfolded and take a kneeling position upon the floor. each is given a fake egg and is told to knock it upon the floor to summon the good spirit. they do this very carefully the first time, thinking they have an egg. the eggs are taken away and the group waits to see if a spirit appears. as it does not appear, the eggs are again handed to the players. this time they are not so careful in hitting the eggs down upon the floor, their first experience telling them they are fake. again the eggs are taken from them and the spirit waited for. failing to appear the second time, the eggs are returned to the blindfolded individuals for the third time, but this time instead of fake, they are the real article, much to the surprise and grief of those who break them vigorously upon the floor. musical notes this trick is easily played where a group is sitting around a bare wooden table. the player knowing the trick, pricks the prongs of a fork with his finger nails, causing it to vibrate as a tuning fork. he then makes his audience think that he pulls music from the nose of another player by reaching with his free hand and touching the nose of said player, and to the surprise of his auditors, music is heard. the trick--the instant the one who plays the trick touches the nose, he unobserved allows the end of the fork to come in contact with the hard surface of the table. the vibration of the fork is inaudible until its end comes in contact with the table. siam club players are invited to join the siam club, for which certain rites and ceremonies are necessary. those to be initiated into the club then kneel in a circle in the centre of the room and after bowing forward so that their foreheads touch the floor, they repeat after the leader the following sacred secret words, which they are instructed not to disclose to anyone else, under any conditions: "o whattagoo siam." they repeat this over and over again until they begin to realize that they are saying, "oh, what a goose i am." divesting the trick is to remove the vest of one of the players while he is still wearing his coat. to accomplish the trick one must stand in front of the subject, unbutton the vest, loosening the buckles on the strap behind. next he runs his left hand under the coat, raises the lower end of the back of the vest, while with his right hand he grasps the end of the vest around the neck of the person, who is instructed to hold his arms high above his head. the back of the vest may then be pulled over the head of the subject. one of the lower ends of the vest is then pushed down the coat sleeve. the operator then runs his hand up the coat sleeve and pulls the vest down the sleeve until the arm hole is free from the subject's hand. the vest is then drawn back up the sleeve and pulled through the sleeve and over the hand of the other arm. it can then easily be removed either by pulling down or up the sleeve. chapter vi stunt athletic meet standing broad jump the group is divided into competing teams. each team lines up behind the starting line. each is instructed to see how many feet he can have credited to him in this event. the first player on each team is then instructed to heel the starting line with his right foot and to place his left foot immediately in front of and in line with his right foot, so that the heel touches the toe. the second player on each team then places his right foot in front of and in line with and against the advance foot of number , and places his left foot in front of his right. all of the players take this position. the team having the longest feet wins the game by measuring the greatest distance in front of the starting line. standing high jump doughnuts are suspended by means of a string, so that one hangs about eight inches above the head of each contestant. the one first succeeding in eating his doughnut without the use of his hands, wins the event. bawl game competitors are lined up and directed to bawl. the one doing this the best, in the judgment of the judges, wins. peanut relay a bowl full of peanuts is placed before each competitor. an empty bowl is placed at some distance opposite each. each competitor is given a table knife. at the signal to go, keeping his left hand behind his back, he takes one or more peanuts on the flat of his knife from the full bowl and deposits it or them in the empty bowl. he returns for more peanuts. he is not allowed to use his free hand in helping the peanuts on to the knife, or keeping them thereupon. the player first succeeding in transferring the peanuts wins the event. shot put competitors endeavor to throw a handkerchief unknotted from a given line for distance. lucky a number of bags are suspended in such a way as to hang four feet above the heads of the competitors. one bag contains candy; one contains flour; another peanuts; another water, etc. an individual is blindfolded, given a short stick and headed in the direction of the bags. he then endeavors to strike one of the bags. succeeding in knocking the bag of candy, that shall be his prize; likewise the peanuts, flour, or water. peanut throw each contestant is given an equal number of peanuts. the one succeeding in dropping the largest number of peanuts into the mouth of a jug, wins. the peanuts must be dropped from a distance equal to the height of the shoulders. head toss a salt bag is filled with sand. competitors heel a given line and place the bag of sand upon the back of their necks and without the use of the hands, endeavor to throw the bag as far back into the line as possible. duel tug of war two opponents are given a piece of rope about three feet long. each takes a position on the opposite side of a line drawn upon the floor. one tries to pull the other across the line by means of the rope. if successful in drawing the opponent so that both feet are on his side of the line, that player wins. discus throw contestants are given some object like a quoit, a block of wood, etc. a small circle about eighteen inches in diameter is drawn upon the ground. the contestant places the object to be thrown between his feet and endeavors to throw it forward from the circle as great a distance as possible. both feet must work together in making the throw and neither can touch the ground outside of the circle. ring the bell in the centre of a hoop eighteen inches in diameter--(an ordinary barrel hoop)--is hung a bell. the hoop is suspended from the ceiling or a door, so that it will be five feet above the floor. the group is divided into two teams. one team lines up on one side, one on the other. each is given two bean bags. the first player on each team endeavors to throw his two bean bags through the hoop without ringing the bell. succeeding or failing, he takes his place at the rear of the line and the next player repeats his performance. the players on the opposing team are expected to recover and to use the bags thrown through the hoop by the opponents, for their throw. a point is scored for the team by each player successfully tossing a bean bag through the hoop without ringing the bell. chair tilting opponents are placed upon chairs and must stand thereon upon one foot. each is armed with a long pole, the end of which is padded with a wad of cloth. the object is to dislodge the opponent from the chair. dropping the pole or putting the foot down counts the same as being forced from the chair. as soon as one member of a team has been dislodged, another may take his place and the game continues until all of one team have been eliminated. hammer throw an inflated paper bag tied on the end of a yard of string is used as the hammer for this event. each contestant by swinging the bag from the end of the string tries to throw it as great a distance as possible. twenty yard dash contestants carry an egg to the distance line and return with a spoon held at full arm's length from the body. running broad grin have each competitor grin as broadly as possible. the judges measure the grins with a tape measure. light weight race contestants carry a lighted candle in one hand and a glass or bowl brim full of water in the other. if the water is spilled over or the candle blows out, the contestant is out of the race. javelin throw contestants endeavor to throw a short stick through a rolling hoop. one mile run contestants are required to add a column of figures, the total of which will be . long glum the player who can keep from smiling the longest in spite of the jeers and efforts to make him laugh, on the part of the others, wins. turtle race contestants lie flat upon their backs and throw an object over their heads with their two feet, for distance. elimination race an equal number of chalk marks are made upon the floor in front of each contestant. a damp rag is then handed to each, and at the signal to go they are to run to and rub off the chalk mark on the floor. after erasing each mark, they must return to the starting line. when the last mark has been erased and the contestant crosses the starting line, the race ends. chapter vii competitive stunts suitable for sociables and entertainers these stunts may be used as a means of amusement at social functions. in order to avoid calling for volunteers to come forward to participate in the various stunts, cards may be distributed among those who are expected to take part in the stunt program. on these cards are numbers or letters. the one who has prepared the program has determined beforehand how many participants he wants in each stunt. if, in the first stunt, he desires six participants, he will have prepared six letter a's to be distributed. if, for the second stunt, he desires two participants, he will have prepared two letter b's. then when he is ready to put on his program he calls for all the individuals holding the letter a, etc. if there are certain individuals whom he is particularly anxious to have take part in certain stunts, he can instruct the distributor of the letters to this effect. brick relay have four contestants to a team and as many teams as there is space for. two lines are drawn upon the floor about ten yards apart. two members from each team line up opposite to and facing each other, behind each line. two brick bats are placed upon the starting line in front of each team. at the signal to go, the first contestant on each team stands on the two brick bats. bending forward he grasps the front end of each brick with his hands. shifting his weight to one foot, he slides the other foot forward, drawing the brick bat with it by means of his hands. he then shifts his weight to that foot and draws the other foot forward with the brick bat and in this way proceeds to the far line, behind which he turns the bricks over to the second member of his team who races back in the opposite direction by the same method of progress. the third member takes the bricks from the second and covers the intervening space between the lines, and when the fourth member, following the example of his team, has crossed the starting line, the race ends. chair-i-ot race competitors stand on the starting line. two chairs are given to each. they place the chairs behind the starting line, side by side, with the backs of the chairs forward, and stand upon the seats of the chairs. at the signal to go they grasp the backs of the chairs with their hands and shifting the weight from one foot to the other, slide the chairs forward until the distance line has been crossed. chair stubbing each contestant sits upon a chair with his legs straddling the back and his toes on the bottom side round. keeping his feet off the floor, he advances the chair forward by jerking it with his body until it has crossed the distance line. this race can be made a relay by having four men on the team, two men placed behind each line. aviation meet each team is made up of two mechanicians and four aviators. the two mechanicians hold stretched between them a piece of string upon which have been placed two funnels of paper made in the form of cornucopias, point to point. the first aviator on each team, at the signal to go, blows the cornucopia across the string from one mechanician to the other; the second blows it back across; the third blows it in the same direction as the first and the fourth ends the race by blowing it in the same direction that the second aviator blew it, until it touches the hands of the mechanician. equal pieces of string should be used, a loop having been tied in each end through which the mechanicians may slip their fingers for the purpose of holding the string. mechanicians must keep the string level at all times. feather blowing relay four contestants constitute a team. a feather is placed on the starting line and is blown by the first member of each team to the distance line. then the second member of the team blows it back to the starting line and after the third contestant has completed his blow, the fourth blows it back across the finish line. balloon race an inflated rubber balloon and a palm leaf fan must be provided for each team. four players constitute a team. a balloon is placed on the starting line before each team and a fan handed to the first competitor. at the signal to go the balloon is blown forward by means of the fan across the distance line, blown back by the second player, forward again by the third and back across the finish line by the fourth. the team first succeeding wins the honors. lobster race each competitor gets down on the starting line on all fours and at the signal to go travels backward on all fours to the distance line and returns. prune tug of war prunes are tied in the middle of a piece of string, three yards long. opponents are placed opposite each other, each with an end of the string in his mouth. at the signal to go they are to chew the string towards the prune. the one first reaching the prune may eat his prize. whistle race contestants take a deep breath and whistle. the one who can whistle longest on one breath, wins. cracker relay six players to a team. the players on each team sit in a row. four crackers are given to each player. the one on the rear of each team starts the race by standing up and eating the crackers. when he has eaten all four crackers and is able to whistle, his whistle is the signal for the man next in front of him to stand up and eat his crackers, while the first man resumes his seat. so each in turn eats four crackers. when the last, or front man on each team is able to whistle after devouring his crackers, the race ends. blindfold obstacles obstacles, such as vases of flowers, china ware, chairs, etc., are placed in four or more long rows. each contestant is given a row and is requested to try distances before being blindfolded. they then are all blindfolded, placed at the starting point, and told to race down through the line of obstacles without touching anything. in the meantime the objects have been removed. candle roll over four players are chosen for each team. two are lined up in front of the starting line and two opposite on the distance line. one of the players on the starting line is given a lighted candle. a mat is placed half way between the starting and the distance lines. at the signal to start the player holding the candle advances to the mat, executes a forward roll on the mat, holding the candle in his hand. should the candle go out during the roll, he must go back to the starting line and start over after lighting the candle. when he has succeeded in making the roll without extinguishing the candle, he proceeds to the distance line where he passes on the lighted candle to the second member of his team. this one returns to the starting line, rolling on the mat as did his predecessor. should the candle in his hand become extinguished, he must go back to the line from which he started, light his candle and start over. this continues until all four men have covered the required distance, each having rolled over without having extinguished the candle. boat race two players constitute a team in this race. one of the players on each team sits upon the floor. his knees are raised so as to allow his feet to rest flat upon the floor. the other member of the team then sits upon his teammate's feet, facing him, and places his feet and legs in a similar position to that of his teammate, so that each may sit upon the other's feet. they then place their hands upon each other's shoulders. to race in this position, number , the player whose back is in the direction to be traveled, leans well forward so that his weight is well on his own feet. this makes it possible for his teammate, number , to slide his feet forward along the floor, carrying number backward upon them. number then leans forward so that his weight is well on his own feet, which allows number to draw his feet towards him and number slides forward with them. by swaying backward and forward in this way, the two members of the team, by alternating the sliding of their feet, progress across the floor to the distance line. upon reaching the same, they reverse their direction without turning around. the race ends when they have crossed the starting line. necktie race two players constitute a team. each team may stand opposite each other at different ends of the room. at the signal to go number runs forward to number , who must wear a four-in-hand necktie. number unties number 's necktie, takes it off his neck and reties it in a four-in-hand knot. number then runs back to his former position with number following him. when behind the starting line number starts to untie number 's necktie, takes it from his neck, replaces it and ties it in a four-in-hand knot. when he has accomplished this, he races back to his original position. the first team accomplishing this, wins the game. part iii outdoor games chapter i outdoor games for older boys and young men push cross line three parallel lines are marked upon the ground about six feet apart. the group is divided into two teams. each team lines up behind one of the outside lines, facing the opponents. at the signal to start, both groups rush forward and endeavor to push their opponents back over their own base line. should they succeed in pushing the opponent so that both of his feet are behind the base line, that opponent is out of the game and retires to a position behind his own base line. at the end of thirty seconds the team having pushed the greatest number of opponents back across their own base line, wins. fortress this game is similar to the preceding game. three parallel lines are made around a hollow square not less than to feet in dimensions. this square is known as the fortress. a small space is marked off in the centre of the fortress for a prison. two captains are selected. these two choose the members of their own teams, in turn. one team is known as the defenders, the other as the attackers. the defending party takes a position within the fortress and the attacking party is scattered around the outside of the fort. both are under the command of their captains. the attacking party may charge the fort as a group or may use any tactics the captain may decide upon. he may feign an attack on one side to draw the defenders' attention, while his principal attack may be directed towards another point of the fortress. the methods of engagement are as follows: opponents endeavor to push, pull, or carry each other across the guard line. the defending players seek to force as many of the attacking players in across the inside line as possible. succeeding in this, such players as have been drawn beyond the inside line are prisoners and must take their place in the prison. the attacking party seeks to force as many of the defenders beyond the outside line as possible. succeeding in this, all those so forced are placed in a small area, which constitutes the prison of the attacking army. the captain should seek to direct the strong against the strong as much as possible in personal combat. the captains may exchange prisoners if they so desire. the battle is won by either party making prisoners of all the opponents, or it may be won by the besiegers, if one of their number enters unattacked the prison within the fortress. should the player accomplish this, he shouts, "hole's won," whereupon the defenders must yield the fortress and the two armies change places, the defenders becoming the attackers, and vice versa. if an old fence is used for one side of the fortress, the other guard line should be drawn five feet inside of the fence line. the attacking captain may withdraw his forces at any time for rest or consultation. either captain may use a flag of truce for similar purposes. under such conditions they arrange for an exchange of prisoners, etc. forcing the city gates this is an old chinese game. two captains are selected, who in turn choose all the other players. the two teams are first formed in two lines, facing each other and about ten feet apart, with the players grasping hands. each line represents a city gate. the captain should arrange the players so that the weakest may be between two strong players. the play begins when the captain of one of the teams sends forward one of his men. this man can make three attempts to break through the opponent's city gate. he can do this, either by breaking the grasp of two of the players or by dodging underneath their arms or between their legs. should he succeed in doing this, he takes back to reinforce his own line the two players who are responsible for his getting through. should he fail, he enlists his efforts with those of his opponents by joining their line. the game is won when one team has succeeded in taking over all of the opponents. hare and hound this is an old game which is always popular. two or three players are designated as hares. each is given a large bag filled with paper torn into small bits. the hares are allowed a few minutes' start ahead of the rest of the players, who are known as hounds. the hounds follow the hares by means of the torn bits of paper scattered on the ground, in an effort to overtake them. when the hares have used up all of their paper they hide their three bags near the end of the trail and race back from that point to the place from which the run started. when the hounds have discovered the bags, they also race back to the starting place. the game is won by the first player reaching said place. human targets an old flour or salt bag stuffed with straw or cloth may be used for this game. one player is selected to be the target. the others endeavor to hit the target by throwing the bag. the target may run or dodge in any way he desires, but the one who holds the bag cannot advance towards him in making his throw. if he is not near enough to hit the target, he can throw the bag to some other player who is nearer. when the target has been hit, the leader selects some one else to act as target. sling the sack either a good sized sack well stuffed with rags or straw, or a small cloth sack filled with sand, may be used for this game. the game can be played on a level stretch of road or in a good sized field. the group is divided into two equal teams. a starting line is marked near the center of the playing space. a player from each team takes a position behind this starting line and in turn, with his left foot on the starting line and with his shoulders at right angles to it, slings the sack with his right arm straight at the elbow, over his head as far as possible. a left-handed player may reverse this position. the spot where the sack hits the ground is marked. the player from the opposing team stands in the same position at the starting line, as did the first player, and makes his throw in the same direction, and his throw is marked. these two throws are made in order to measure what constitutes a good throw of the sack. a line is drawn parallel to the starting line at the point where the farther of the two preliminary throws landed. the starting line and this other line are now known as goal lines. a centre line is drawn parallel to the goal lines and half way between them. a coin is flipped up between the two captains for the choice of goals. the captain who wins the toss can choose either the first throw or the goal he desires to have. when this is determined, each team scatters about on the territory in the vicinity of its own goal line, and the captain of the team which has the first throw designates which player on his team he desires to sling the sack first. this player (team a) must take a position with his advanced foot on the goal line and sling the sack with a straight arm over his head towards the opponent's goal line. the opponents (team b) endeavor to catch the sack before it touches the ground. succeeding, the one catching the sack advances three paces and from that position slings the sack over his head towards team a's goal line. team a players endeavor to catch the sack and if successful, that player succeeding advances three paces towards team b's goal line and slings the sack as before. should any member of the team fail to catch the sack when it is thrown into their territory, the player first touching the sack in an effort to catch it, or the player nearest to where the sack lands, must make the sling from the point behind where the sack is picked up from the ground. the players may move anywhere about in their territory. the captain should endeavor to place them in a position so as to cover as much space as possible. side boundaries can be used if desired, in which case the team supposed to receive the sack which gets out of bounds may advance three paces whether the sack is caught or not, from the point in line with where it first hits the ground. a score is made each time the one member of a team catches the sack with both his feet on the opponent's side of the centre line. in making the catch, should he step back with one or both feet on or across the centre line, or be driven back by the impetus of the sack, it shall not constitute a point. after each point is made, goals are changed, the losing team puts the ball into play. the team having the largest score at the end of thirty minutes wins. game of goose a good sized level field should be used for this game. two gander poles, five feet high, are erected, one at each end of the field, each having two forks at the top, opposite each other. stout tree crotches may be used. the goose is made from a stout cloth bag, such as a ham cover, stuffed, leaving the ends which can be easily grasped. midway between the gander poles a large circle is marked upon the ground, its size being determined by the number playing. mark a circle six feet in diameter around each gander pole to designate the safety limit. the group is divided into two equal teams. these two teams are arranged with their men placed alternately around the circle in the centre of the field. the gander man stands in the centre of the circle with the goose in his hand. at a given signal he swings around and tosses the goose in the air to be received in the arms of some lucky player, who immediately dashes off with it towards his goal. the opponent players endeavor to intercept him and get the goose away from him. when the man carrying the goose is in danger of losing it, he tosses it to some one on his own side, if he can, and the player catching it runs towards his goal. if the second player cannot succeed in making his goal or gander post, he tosses it on to some other member on his team. the player who succeeds in getting both feet inside of the safety circle around the gander pole must not be molested, unless he lets the goose fall to the ground in his attempt to hang it in one of the crotches of the gander pole, in which case he or his team mates may recover it or any one of the opposing team may seize the bird and dash away with it towards his own pole. there must be no scrimmage over the possession of the bird, for as soon as an opponent gets hold of the goose, the player holding the latter must let go his hold. one must not trip an opponent or interfere by body, arm, or leg contact without forfeiting one "honk." three honks count one goose (or goal) for the opposite side. clock games the group forms a large circle. if it be a large group, the circle is counted off into 's or 's, if small into 's. if they be counted into 's each group of six constitutes a team. number in each case is to act as captain. if it be desired to elect captains, the man elected takes number 's place in the group. the captain wears a sash or some other distinguishing mark. in this formation a number of competitive races can be used. illustration--the group numbers sixty individuals. it is counted off into 's. that means that we have ten teams of six men each making up the circle and ready to compete. the leader takes a position in the centre of the circle. the following five games may be played with the teams arranged in clock formation: walking race see clock games above. at the signal to go, the number man steps out of his place in the circle and walks to the right around the circle, until he gets back to the point in the circle he left, and tags off the number man on his team, and this man walks around the circle. this means that all the number men from all the different teams are walking around the outside of the circle in a race, at the same time. numbers , , and follow in turn after . number , after completing the circle, tags off number , the captain of the team, wearing a sash. the captain walks about the circle until he gets to the hole in the circle which he left, enters through the hole, bringing his sash to the leader, who stands in the centre of the ring. the first sash to reach the leader decides the winner of the race. a running race can be substituted for the walking race and various modifications used, such as backward walking, hopping, frog leap, etc. chariot race see clock games above. similar to the preceding walking race, except that instead of running around the ring singly, the competitors go in pairs, as follows: at the signal to go number locks his left arm in the right arm of number , and the two of them so linked together proceed around the circle. having completed the circle, number takes his original place, while number links arms with number and the two travel around the circle. then links with , with , and the race ends when and have completed the distance around the circle and have brought their sash to the leader in the centre. flathead race see clock games above. similar to the preceding. a small block of wood or flat stone is given to number on each team. at the signal to go he places the block on the head of number and follows number , who walks around the ring. number must keep his hands upon his hips. should the block of wood fall from the head of number , he must stand still until it has been replaced by number . the two continue walking around the circle until they reach the point which they left. then number takes his place in the circle and number takes the block from his own head and places it on the head of number , and follows around the ring to replace the block should it fall off. the race ends when number , followed by number , has completed the distance around the circle, still balancing the block of wood on his head, and presents himself to the leader in the centre. spin around race see clock games above. similar to the preceding race, except that each captain takes a position about four feet outside of the circle near his own team. at the signal to go, number steps out of his position in the circle and runs to his own captain, linking his right arm in the right arm of the captain, who spins him around twice. he then runs around the circle and returns to his original place in the circle, and tags off , who repeats the performance of . when has completed his round of the circle, he tags off his captain. the captain must run, without spinning around, clear around the circle on the outside, and enter through the point of the circle he originally held, and tag the leader in the middle. leap frog race see clock games above. similar to the preceding. in this race, number will take the place of the captain outside of the ring. at the signal to go, number leaves the ring and proceeds around the circle, leaping with frog leaps over the backs of the number men from each team. returning to his original position, he tags off number . number 's turn will come after that of number , and when number has completed the circle, leaping over the backs of all number men, he tags off the number of his own team. the latter runs about the circle once, enters the circle at the point where he originally stood and tags the leader in the centre. riding the snail a group is divided into two equal teams. these two teams line up in parallel lines about six feet apart, back to back. a safety line is drawn at each end of the field about twenty-five yards from where the teams line up. one team is designated as the "head" team; the other as the "tail" team. the leader tosses a coin. if the coin falls with head up, he calls "heads." thereupon tails run across their safety line while heads endeavor to tag them before they succeed. succeeding in doing this the man tagged has to carry the tagger upon his back to the original place of line-up and the coin is again flipped. should it fall with tail up, tails chase heads to the safety line at the other end of the playing space. chapter ii outdoor games for boys treasure hunt this game is a very adaptable one and can be run in a great number of different ways. it can be as simple or as complex as any leader may desire. a mysterious letter may be read to the group or a letter in code posted where the group can see it. the contents of this letter will direct any one to a place where he will find detailed information as to the exact location of a buried treasure. by following instructions or working out the code, a boy will discover a second letter in hiding, or a time limit may be allowed to find letter number . at the end of that time the information contained in the second letter may be given to the entire group, so that all may hunt for letter number . this method keeps everybody in the game. as many letters may be hidden as desired, using the treasure as the last. this game can be used to teach observation, trailing and tracking. letters using identification of trees, flowers, marks on trees, birds' nests, etc., may be used. map and chart reading make the game more difficult. letters may be written in morse and continental codes, or easy codes may be made. a good book on trees or flowers, a small ax, or any useful article may be the hidden treasure. hide and seek one boy is chosen to be "it." he blinds his eyes while the others hide. he counts by 's, then says, "ready or not, you must be caught." he then endeavors to find the hidden players. succeeding he must tag the goal and call the name of the player observed. should he, in seeking a player, pass the spot where one is hidden, that player can race in to the goal and say, "in free." the one who is "it," however, can tag that player or the goal. when all the players have been discovered, the one first discovered or caught by "it" must blind his eyes for the next game. one who succeeds in getting "in free" is not subject to being "it" in the next hide. look out for the bear all of the players hide their eyes, except one, who is the bear. he hides. when sufficient time has been given for him to find a hiding place, the others seek him. when a player finds the bear he calls out, "look out for the bear." thereupon all of the players race back to the home base. the bear endeavors to tag as many of the players before they can reach the home base, as he can. all of the players tagged become bears and hide in the next round of the game, which is the same as the first. all of the bears try to tag as many as possible before they return to the home base. the game continues until the last seeker is caught. he has the privilege of being the bear for the next game. still-a-feet this is a simple tag game. the player selected to be "it" starts the game by saying, "one, two, three, still-a-feet, one, two, three, still-a-feet, one, two, three, still-a-feet, one, two, three; no more moving of the feet, feet, feet." while "it" is saying this, the players can endeavor to get as far away from him as they desire, but when he has completed the statement, they cannot move their feet. should he see one of the players moving his feet, he may chase that player until captured. thereupon, that player helps him chase any of the others. a player cannot be tagged until one of the "its" has seen a movement of his feet. the first player caught is "it" for the next game. "it" does not need to chase the first player whose feet he sees moving unless he so desires. he may chase any one of the players whose feet he has seen move. hang tag this is a good game to play around a barn or in a grove where there are low limbs. a player is selected to be "it." he may tag any player who is not hanging with feet clear of the ground. the player tagged immediately becomes "it" and may tag back the one who tagged him after that individual has taken five steps. fox in hole any number of players may participate in this game. the playing area should not be too large. a four foot circle is marked upon the ground as a base. one player is selected to be the fox. while the fox is on the base he may stand on two feet, but when he leaves the base to catch any of the other players he must hop on one foot. should a player become tagged, he becomes the fox, and the other players may slap him on the back until he is safe on the base. should the fox put the other foot down, he must return to the base, and every player may slap him on the back until he succeeds in doing this, but no player can block his path to the base. fence tag this is a simple active game which can be played where there is a low fence or bar, over which the players may easily climb or vault. a player is selected to be "it". he takes his place on the opposite side of the fence from the other players and must climb or vault over and endeavor to tag someone who fails to get over the fence in time. "it" cannot tag anyone whose feet are off the ground, in an effort to get over the fence. neither can he tag anyone who is standing on the other side of the fence from him. this is a very active game, as it keeps the players leaping back and forth over the fence in an effort to avoid being tagged. a player tagged immediately becomes "it". he cannot tag back the one who tagged him, until after that one has a fair chance to get on the other side of the fence. body guard a small space is marked off at one end of the ground as a base or goal. one player is chosen to be the chief, an important personage requiring two body guards. the game starts with these three players in the goal and the balance of the players at large. the three come forth, and the two players who act as body guards clasp each other by the hand, and preceding the chief as a shield, endeavor to prevent the other players at large from tagging the chief. the chief himself may avoid being tagged by moving around the guards. whenever a guard succeeds in tagging a player, the chief and his guards return home, whereupon the player tagged changes places with the man who tagged him. any player succeeding in tagging the chief becomes the chief. sardines one of the players in the group hides, while the other players seek to find him. should a player succeed, he endeavors to get into the hiding place unobserved by the others and hides with the first player. as the game continues, and other players succeed in finding the hiding place, the number of hiding players continues to increase until they are packed in like sardines, hence the name. it is difficult for them, crowded together, in this way, to keep from disclosing the hiding place to the remaining players. the game continues until the last player has discovered the hiding place. the first one to make the discovery hides in the next round. this is a good game to be played around a farm house where there are a number of hiding places, or in the woods where there are trees, boulders and ravines. shinny this is a good game for boys and girls. it has furnished amusement for many generations of children. each player must secure a stick about - / feet long. an alder stick with a small bend at one end furnishes an ideal implement for this game. an old baseball or where this is not procurable, a tin can or a block of wood, may be used. the players are divided into two teams. two stones, placed about five feet apart at each end of the playing space, serve as goals. the playing space should be about to yards in length. a level stretch of road can be used, or an open field. the game starts by each team taking a position anywhere in the half of the field nearest the goal they are defending. the ball is placed in the centre of the playing space. two opposing players, known as centres, take a position on opposite sides of the ball, within a distance of two feet of it, with the end of their clubs on the ground. the process of putting the ball into play is called "facing off". in facing off, the two centres raise their clubs from the ground and hit them together above the ball. they do this three times and after hitting them above the ball for the third time, they are allowed to hit at the ball, endeavoring to knock it towards their own players or towards the opponent's goal. the game is now on and each player endeavors to knock the ball, by means of his club, towards and through the opponent's goal. swinging the club higher than the shoulder is barred. should the ball be knocked outside of the playing space, it is brought back in and faced off by any two opposing players at a point well within the playing space, opposite to where it went out of bounds. a goal counts one point and after each goal the ball is faced off in the centre. goals should be changed in the middle of the game, so that no team may have an advantage over the other because of location of goals. one step off and all the way across two goal lines about fifteen yards apart are marked upon the playing space. this game can be played on the road, using the opposite curb stones as goal lines. a player is selected to be "it" and takes his place between the goal lines. he starts the game by saying, "one step off and all the way across". thereupon, all the players who may be behind either goal line, upon stepping over the goal line, must run across the space between the goal lines towards the opposite goal. "it" endeavors to tag the players as they run between the goal lines. each player tagged, helps "it" in tagging the others. after the game starts the players may run back and forth between the goal lines at will. the game continues until all the players are tagged. the first player tagged becomes "it" for the next game. wheel away this game is similar to the preceding game except the players must be behind the same goal line, and the one who is "it" says, "wheel away", which is the signal for all of the players to run across the space to the other goal. those tagged by "it" in their effort to do this, help him to tag the other players. all of the players are expected to run immediately upon hearing "wheel away". otherwise "it" may cross the goal line and tag them. the one first "it" is the one to say "wheel away" each time, until all of the players have been caught. the one first caught is "it" for the next game. bombardment this is a game enjoyed by boys. it is necessary to have half a dozen soft yarn balls or indoor baseballs or bean bags for this game. a large number of players can participate. a playing space is marked off on the ground with a line drawn through the centre. the group is divided into two equal teams. the teams take positions on opposite sides of the center line. the balls are divided equally between the two teams. at the signal to start the balls are thrown at such opponents as may hold one of the balls. the players may move around in their playing space, but are not allowed to step over the centre line. any player can recover a ball, but so long as he holds the ball in his hands, he is the target for the fire of the opponents. each time a player, holding a ball, is hit by an opponent, he drops out of the game. the team first retiring all of the opponents wins. bombardment no. this game is similar to the preceding, except that each player must secure a stick not over two feet long, which can be stuck loosely into the ground in a vertical position. a Ã� block of wood, about inches long, with a flat end which can be balanced upon the ground, can be used in place of the stick if desired. each player sticks his stick up near the back end of his playing space. they must be at least three feet distant from any boundary line and from each other. each player takes a position in front of his stick. the object of the game is to knock over the opponents' sticks. should a player knock over his own stick accidentally, or that of any player on his side, it counts as though it were knocked over by the opponent. when a player's stick is knocked over, that player is dead and takes his stick and leaves the game. the side first succeeding in knocking over all of their opponents' sticks wins the game. the players are not allowed to step over the centre line. chapter iii games of strength taking the heights this is a good rough and tumble game for boys. a bank, a low platform, a pile of dirt or some elevated position is necessary. the object of the game is for the players to strive to get upon the bank and maintain their position thereupon to the exclusion of all other players. hitting, kicking, or the grasping of clothing is barred. wrestle tug of war opponents are so arranged on opposite sides of a line marked upon the ground that those of equal size and strength are facing each other. each player puts his right hand on the back of his opponent's neck and his left hand on his opponent's right elbow. each tries to pull the other over the mark. at the end of the pull, the side having the most players on its side of the line wins the game. referee's hold opponents take the same position as in the preceding event, but instead of attempting to pull across the line, each endeavors to make the other move one or both feet. the best two out of three are used to determine the winner. finger wrestling opponents are arranged as in the preceding game on opposite sides of a line. holding their hands well above their heads, opposing players grasp each other's hands, interlacing fingers, and each endeavors to bend the opponent's wrist backward. succeeding in this, the vanquished drop out of the game. one leg tug of war opponents are arranged as in the preceding game on opposite sides of a line. they turn their backs towards each other and standing upon their right foot, raise their left leg to the rear and hook the foot in that of the opponent. each endeavors to pull his opponent across the line in this position. hog tie two players of equal strength are each given a piece of quarter-inch rope or a strap. each endeavors to tie together the other's ankles. cumberland wrestling players face each other and take a waist hold, arms around opponent's waist, and stand close up. at the signal to "go" each player tries to lift his opponent off his feet. no throwing is allowed. three tries are permitted. greco-roman wrestling opponents face each other and may take any legitimate wrestling hold in their effort to secure a fall from the other. should any part of the body other than the feet touch the ground, it constitutes a fall. shoulder and arm push opponents face each other with a line marked upon the ground between them and place their right hand on the other's left shoulder and their left hand on the opponent's upper right arm. in this position they endeavor to push the opponent back from the centre line, so as to get on the opponent's side of the line. a modification of the preceding may be made by allowing the use of but one hand--the right placed against the opponent's chest, with the left held behind the back. squatting tug opposing players sit upon the ground facing each other, with the soles of their feet flat against each other's. they then bend forward without bending the knees any more than necessary and grasp the opponent's hand. in this position they endeavor to lift the opponent from the sitting position on the ground. neck tug of war opponents interlace their fingers behind each other's necks and endeavor in this position to pull the other across a center line. hand tug of war opponents grasp each other's hands and each endeavors to pull the other across a center line. cane wrestling opponents are given a stick, like a broomstick, which is grasped with both hands. each endeavors to break the grasp of the other upon the stick. part iv games for special occasions chapter i games at the dining table banquet games oysterette race those sitting on one side of the table constitute team "a", those opposite them, team "b". the two captains should be sitting opposite each other. at one end of the table place a dish containing ten to twenty oysterette crackers, in front of the men on the opposite end of each line from the captain, and an empty dish in front of every other man. the opponents having the dish of crackers in front of them are given a spoon, and at the signal to "go" they pass the crackers by means of the spoon from their dish to that of the next on their team. when the last cracker has been transferred, the spoon is handed to the next man on the team, who repeats the performance of the first. (dishes cannot be moved from their original position). the team first succeeding in getting the crackers to the dish of the captain wins. passing the drink teams are arranged as in no. . a glass of water is given to the man at one end of the table. the glass should be filled to the brim. with the signal to "go" it is passed to the far end of the table and immediately returned. the glass which returns first to the one who started the passing determines the winner, provided that the glass has as much or more water in it at the finish than the opponents' glass. if the winning team has less water in it, the result is a tie game. rat-a-tat-tat teams arranged as in previous games. a plate or glass must be placed in front of each contestant. two spoons are handed to contestants at the head of each line. at the signal to "go" the opponents beat on the plate rat-tat-rat-tat-tat, as a drum beats. he then passes it on to the next. rat-tat-rat-tat-tat is passed on to the far end of the line and back. when the one who started the race has beaten his last rat-tat-rat-tat-tat, he stands up holding both spoons above his head. earth, air, fire and water teams are arranged as in previous games. a member of team "a" is given an object, which can be conveniently passed or tossed across the table. the game starts by his passing the object to any member of the opposing team. in passing the object, he says one of the four words: "earth, air, fire or water." if the word "earth" is used, he must name some animal; if the word "air" is used, the one receiving the object must name some bird; if the word "water" is used, he must name some fish, and keep quiet if the word "fire" is used. if the word used requires an answer, the one to whom the object is passed must give the name before the one who has passed the object can count ten. failing to do this, one point is scored by team "a". the one on team "b" to whom the object was passed, passes same back to any member of team "a" and says any of the four words. note.--if the word "air" is used, the opponent must name some bird, such as robin, thrush, etc. if "water" is used, shad, salmon, etc. if "earth" is used, lion, cow, etc. around the chair the teams are arranged as in previous games. the opponents at the head of the line are handed an orange. at the signal to "go" they must stand up, push their chair back from the table and run around the chair twice, return to the table, sit down and pass the orange to the next one in line, who repeats the performance of the first. the race ends when the last one in the line has circled the chair twice, sat down and held the orange above his head. jenkins up divide the company into two sides. one division sits around the table on one side, the other on the opposite side. the members of the division "a" put their hands under the table and a small coin, dime or quarter, is passed from one to the other. when division "b" thinks they have had enough time, the captain calls out, "jenkins up!" and the players of "a" hold up their closed hands; and when "jenkins down!" is called, they must place their open hands, palm down, on the table. the players of "b" must guess under which palm the coin is. every player may guess, but only the captain is to be obeyed when he orders an opponent to lift a hand. if a player can succeed in finding the whereabouts of the coin by causing an opponent to raise his hand, it is legitimate. the object is to have the hand containing the coin remain on the table last. every hand left with the palm on the table when the hand hiding the coin is lifted, counts a point for the team holding the coin. the teams alternate the guessing. malaga grapes one who knows the game takes a spoon in his right hand, then taking it in his left hand, he passes it to the one sitting at his left, saying, "malaga grapes are very fine grapes, the best to be had in the market". he tells his neighbor to do the same. the spoon is thus passed from one to the other, each telling the same grape story. if anyone passes the spoon with the right hand, which is the natural thing to do, a forfeit can be claimed. the trick must not be told until it has gone around a table once or twice. table football an egg is blown and the shell used as the football. two captains are selected, each choosing his side. teams take places on the opposite sides of the table and endeavor to blow the egg shell over a goal line which is made two inches from and parallel to their opponents' side of the table. after each goal the egg is placed in the centre of the table and the blowing begins with the sound of a whistle. no player can leave his place, and the "football" must be moved entirely by blowing. if the table be long, more than one egg may be used. spearing peanuts a number of peanuts are placed in the centre of the table. each guest is armed with a hat pin. a few of the peanuts have black spots marked upon their end. these peanuts count points. all other peanuts count point. the player succeeding in scoring the highest number wins. the pin must be stuck into the shell. showing the nut is not allowed. string winding race those seated at one side of the table compete against those on the opposite side. a ball of string is given to the two players sitting opposite each other at one end of the table. at the signal to go the two players maintaining their hold on the loose end of the string pass the ball to the players next to them. each player must hold the string in one hand and pass the ball on, unwinding it, as it progresses to the next player. when the ball has reached the last player he immediately starts rewinding the ball. when he has wound up his share, he passes it back to the next, who continues the winding. by the time the ball has returned to the player at the head of the table, it must be entirely wound. the team first succeeding in accomplishing this, wins the race. the string must be wound upon the ball and not snarled. name writing race the teams are arranged on opposite sides of the table. a long slip of paper and a pencil are handed to two players sitting opposite at the head of the table. at the signal to "go" the two players holding the paper write their last names upon it and pass the slip on to the next player on their side. the second player on each team must write the first name of the preceding player in its proper place on the slip and write his own last name directly under that of the preceding player and then pass the slip on to the third player, and so it continues until it reaches the last player. he follows the example of the other players, leaving space for his first name. the slips are then passed back to the head of the table where the first name of the last man must be written down by the player at the head of the table. when this is done they stand and hold the paper above their heads. the team first succeeding in this wins. each player must give to the player next following him his first name. the last player on each team will have to shout his name, so that the one at the head of the table may be able to fill it in before ending the race. candle and plate race the teams are arranged on opposite sides of a table. the two players at the head of the table are given a plate and a candle and a box of safety matches. at the signal to "go" the candle is placed on its end on the plate and lighted by the first player. the candle is then balanced upon the plate, as it is passed to the next player, who receives the plate endeavoring to maintain the balance of the candle. should the candle fall over, the player in whose hand the plate rests must place the plate down upon the table, again stand the candle on its end and pass it on to the next player. should the flame on the candle become extinguished, the player, in whose possession it is, must place the plate down upon the table, and using the box of safety matches which is on the plate, relight the candle. in this way the candle is passed to the far end of the table and back. the team first succeeding in accomplishing this task wins. this can be made more difficult by requiring each player to keep one hand in his lap during the passing, balancing and lighting of the candle. in lighting, the next neighbor on the team may hold the box of matches while his teammate strikes the match necessary to relight the candle. chapter ii a county fair play festival play programs with everybody in the games, old and young, large and small, are replacing the fakers and chance-men in some of our county fairs. instead of a lot of disgusted individuals with empty purses winding their way on the long home trail we want to hear the laughter of the family group, still exhilarated as a result of a pleasant afternoon spent in happy, healthful recreation. everybody loves to play but few will admit it. in fact a great many do not realize that it is true. in order to get everybody in the game, it may be necessary to use unusual methods. a heterogeneous group can be led into the play program unconsciously if the leader uses the proper approach; and before old deacon hasbrook knows it, he and his good wife, neither of whom have played in nigh on to thirty-five years, will be laughing and frisking about with the rest in a way that you would have said impossible if you had known this sedate dignitary for the past twenty-five years. the grand march here is one way that it can be done. while the band is playing a lively march at one end of the field which is to be used for the games, have the leaders, who have been previously instructed, get all of the folks lined up in couples around the field for a grand march. a couple trained for the occasion leads the march when everybody is in line, marching about the circumference of the field. the leaders start their fancy marching. at one end they turn and march down the center of the field to the far end where the couples separate, the ladies going to the left and the gentlemen to the right. they reunite at the other end of the field. the march continues with numerous variations such as change of formation from double to formation of fours, marching diagonally across the field, crossing at the middle, etc. the march should end with the group arranged in couples around the circumference of the field with the ladies nearest the center. have both groups face the center and have the ladies take one step forward and the men take one step backward. the games for all one american flag on a short stick is handed to the leaders of both lines, that is, the leading lady and the leading gentleman, and at the signal to start the flags are passed about the circle (over the head), the ladies competing against the gentlemen to see which can pass the flag from hand to hand all the way around the circle in the quickest time. the race ends when the flag returns to the leader, who waves the same above his head, indicating the close of the race. if the group is less than in number, the following game can be played: a ball of string is handed to the leader of each team. upon the signal to start, the leaders, holding the end of the string, pass the ball to the next one on the team, who passes it to his neighbor, unrolling it as it goes, and so on from hand to hand, each one on the team keeping hold of the string with his right hand. there should be string enough in the ball to reach all the way round the circle. the ball diminishes as it is passed along. when the ball reaches the last one in the circle he starts rewinding the string upon the ball, passes it back to the next one, who winds on the slack, and so the ball is passed, each one winding until the ball returns to the captain. each team will try to get the ball properly wound back into the captain's hands first. no one can leave his regular position in the line during the race. if the ball has been properly wound, it will be possible to throw the same twenty-five feet to the judges, who take a position within the circle and about this distance in front of the captain. the first one to get the ball into the hands of the judge, by means of this throw, wins the race. in the next race five or six flags of the allies are passed about the circle in the same way. the flags are stuck in the ground in front of the leaders. upon the signal to start, the leaders pick up the first flag and start it on its way, then immediately pick up the second and start it about the circle and so on until all of the flags are in motion. the american flag should be passed last. when all of the flags have been returned to the leaders they run to the center of the ring. the first one to stick the american flag up in the receptacle there placed to receive it wins the race. (careful instruction should be given that the flags in being passed about the circle must be handed from one individual to the next so that every individual passes the flag. throwing is not allowed.) see chapter on racing games for picnic for other suggestions. following these passing games the group can be broken up into smaller circles, each under the direction of a leader who has been previously instructed in the type of game he is to give to his group. the activities of the smaller groups are to be arranged according to the age of the participants. in dividing a group into smaller groups according to age, the leader should first have all children under twelve years of age step forward. these should be placed in the charge of group leaders. next all the boys and girls from twelve to eighteen should be asked to step forward and next all those young men and women who can participate in active games. when this last group has been called forward, those remaining will form the fourth group. it is difficult for one leader to handle more than fifteen individuals. if any of the groups contain more than this number, they should be subdivided, with a leader placed in charge of each subdivision. try as far as possible to have the two sexes equally divided in each group. the games should be carefully selected in advance and the various leaders should have been trained for their task. no active play program for large groups should be planned for a longer period than one hour and then frequent rest periods allowed for adults. games which will be found adaptable for the various groups contained in this volume are suggested below: for the children under twelve--schoolyard games for primary and intermediate pupils. for those from twelve to eighteen--schoolyard games for advanced pupils. for the young men and women--outdoor games for the older boys and young men. for the middle-aged--a selection of games from chapter on "games for picnics, and social games for adults". chapter iii games for a story play hour the story--"paul revere" following the reading of longfellow's poem the listeners are given the opportunity to give expression to their imagination in the following games,-- "the red coats" divide the group into two equal teams. one team is called the farmers, the other the red coats. a goal is marked off on the ground in the form of a hollow square large enough to contain all the members of one of the teams. all of the red coats take a position inside of the goal with eyes closed while the farmers hide. after sufficient time has been given to the farmers to hide, the red coats are released and each seeks to discover a farmer. upon being discovered the hiding farmer must remain in his hiding place until tagged by the red coat then they both race back to the goal. the first one to cross the goal line becomes a farmer and the other a red coat in the next hiding. after returning to the goal both farmer and red coat must remain therein until all of the farmers have been discovered. if the last red coats find it difficult to locate the hiding farmers they can call to their assistance such other red coats as they may need, in which case the red coat first discovering the farmer points him out to that red coat who enlisted his help, thereupon said red coat tags the farmer and races with him to the goal. after all of the farmers have been discovered those who are to be farmers in the next round hide and the game goes on as before. in case two red coats discover the same farmer the one first tagging him shall count and shall race with him for the goal. in case the red coat discovers more than one farmer he may choose the one he wishes to tag, but he is not to disclose the other to another red coat. "yankee doodle tag" the group is divided into two equal teams. two lines are marked upon the playing space parallel to each other and about yards apart. these lines should be long enough to allow all of the expected number of players to form line upon, shoulder to shoulder. each team lines up on a goal line facing in the same direction, team a facing the center of the playing space, team b facing away from the center. team a marches forward whistling "yankee doodle" maintaining a straight line until a leader who takes a position near the center of one side of the playing space raises a hand above his head. this is a signal for team a to stop whistling, break ranks and run back to their goal line. team b, whose backs are toward the advancing column, upon hearing the whistling stops, turns about and chases after team a, trying to tag as many of them as possible before they get back to their goal line. every member of team a who is tagged becomes a member of team b. team b next marches forward whistling as did a, while a waits on their goal line until the whistling stops, thereupon they turn about and chase b. the game continues in this way. at the end the team having the most players is declared the winner. note--the leader giving the signal for the whistling to stop should take a position where the signal cannot be seen by the team waiting to chase the whistlers. "paul revere race" the group is divided into teams of from to each. these teams are placed on the field in parallel columns of file with a distance of feet between each team. the players on each team are then arranged in the line at a distance of from to feet apart. the lightest member of each team is selected as the rider for that team and takes his position behind the player at the back end of his line. at the signal to start he leaps upon the back of the last man who carries him forward to the next man of his team in front of him in the line, and the rider must change from the back of the first steed to the back of the second without touching the ground. the second steed carries him to the third, and he is passed on from steed to steed until he reaches the last steed at the end of the column who carries him across a finish line. the first paul revere to cross the line wins the game for his team. "the midnight ride"--quiet games two teams of equal numbers are chosen and arranged in two lines facing each other. if the game is played in-doors place the teams on opposite sides of the room. a pad of paper and a pencil is given to the two players at the head of each line. the leader then reads a number of lines from longfellow's poem "the midnight ride of paul revere", requesting that all of the players endeavor to remember as much of the poem as possible. when a sufficient number of lines have been read the player at the head of each team, at a signal to start, writes the first word of the poem on the sheet and passes it along to the next player in line who writes the second word. and so it is passed until it reaches the end of the line. if a player does not remember the right word he writes his surname in place of the word and passes it on to the next player who either fills in the proper word or writes in the surname. the team which passes the pad to the other end of the line first wins, provided that every one has either written a word from the poem or a name thereupon, and scores points. the team having the fewest names written into the poem also scores points (an error counts the same as a name). in case of a tie, the score race is repeated. modification.--read several verses and require the paper to be passed up the lines and back as many times as are necessary to write down all of the verses read, using the same method used in the other race. the team first getting all of the verses written, wins. those who cannot add the right word to the verse must write their surname in every time the paper passes them. forfeits can be required from them whose names appear above a certain number of times on a sheet. if the group is very large increase the number of teams. the above games are supposed to be played after the reading of longfellow's poem--"the midnight ride of paul revere". chapter iv an indoor sports fair they are still talking about the indoors sports fair that the welfare league of ashton gave last spring, and ranking it as the best thing the town ever did to raise money for their united welfare funds. when the doors were opened on the first night it was not surprising to see a crowd all ready to push in and enjoy the sports prepared for them. no admission was charged, but each sport, exhibit and event had its price plainly marked in black on a bright blue sign at the entrance. that first evening it seemed as if the golf course was patronized as freely as any of the sports. it took up one large corner of the hall, where a miniature nine-hole course had been laid out on dark blue denim. the "holes" were marked out with rings of white paint, and there were a few hazards of sandbags and a very low brick wall. for the most part it was a putting game, a putter being handed to the player after he had paid his admission to the "caddie" at the turnstile gate. they say the boys had the time of their lives at the baseball diamond, and some of their fathers too, to judge from the receipts. back on a large piece of canvas bill simons had "dashed in" with cold water paints a baseball diamond, with trees in the background and bleachers on each side, all in a queer perspective which didn't hurt the game any. in the curtain bill had cut holes just a little larger than a baseball, so that throwing the ball through these holes was not any bush-league business. on the diamond he had marked under the holes, first base, second base, third base, and home run at the plate. back of the plate were two holes quite close together, one marked strike and the other ball. two holes in the outfield and two "over the fence" were also arranged in pairs to make pitching difficult. regular baseballs were sold, four shots for a nickel. the ruling of the game was simple: three strikes out, four balls a chance to try first base, or one of the "over the fence" holes for a home run; after first base, second and third had to be hit successively before a home run could be scored, and to make it harder there was a "grounder" hole near third base which put one out of the game; balls which merely struck the curtain were counted as fouls, four fouls being out. back of the curtain bill had hung an old mattress against which the balls bounded to the floor. this was covered with a black cloth to make the holes in the diamond visible. seeing the old home town down the line next to the baseball diamond came the bowling alley, where everyone who was not a fan or a golf fiend was taking a hand at the sport. this alley was laid on a long board table, and the game played with tenpins and small wooden balls. six balls for a nickel they sold here, and because the sport needed something to speed it up a bit they linked it with the food table next door. the best cooks in town presided over this. you paid your money for your tenpin balls, and proceeded to run up a score by counting the numbers on the pins you knocked down; the pins were set far apart to make it difficult. then you took your score to the food table, where certain numbers of points brought you a glass of jelly, a can of mince-meat, a box of cookies, or a jar of mayonnaise. that bowling alley certainly did appeal to the women! and if there was ever a more successful grab bag for the children than the quoits game, the ashton welfare committee wants to hear about it. they called it a good luck booth for it had a horseshoe-shaped opening with a row of numbered pegs across the back. the kiddies bought the quoits, little wooden horseshoes cut from cigar-box wood, and tossed them over a peg. the number of the peg corresponded to a numbered tag which was handed out to be redeemed at the parcel-post window near the aërial mail plane. this aviator, by the way, was an official of the cupid airline, so he advertised on his aëroplane, which was painted on a large curtain with a hole cut out where the seat would be, and the wheel of an electric fan poked through at the front and set going for a propeller. his mail bag hung over the side of the car inside of which he stood in aviation uniform, and for ten cents you could get your fortune in a small white envelope out of the mail bag if you were a man, or in a pink envelope if you were a girl. but say, for a real scream, you had to take a sight-seeing trip in the auto! it was worth twice the toll. dottie earle had charge of it, and she made one of the funniest guides you ever heard. "this way, ladies and gentlemen," she would shout through her megaphone; "get your tickets for a tour of the city in the most magnificently equipped sight-seeing autos that ever ran on three wheels and one cylinder! only twenty-five cents, two bits a ride! see the birthplace of ashton's mayor, the history of ashton's past, its chief industries," and so on. when her tourists assembled in front of her machine, which was a real car, at least the front half of one, an old relic which the garage had just about decided to scrap, its latter half hidden behind a dark curtain, dottie led them back of the curtain where the sights of ashton were hidden. in another black curtain were a series of holes not any larger than a quarter, and behind each was one of the sights, a cradle, a picture of the town dump, a scrubbing brush and a large pen-knife for the sights already mentioned. for the home team she had a snapshot of the warren twins, for the competitor of the herald, a telephone, and so on with eight other "hits" on town topics and characters. so many guffaws and squeals of laughter came from behind the curtain that they had to call in a "traffic cop" to keep the crowd outside quiet. the "traffic cops," by the way, were boy scouts. they had dark blue costumes of cheap drill, trimmed with white braid, and wore white cotton gloves and shiny badges. they really did have power invested in them by the committee to preserve order and keep the crowds moving. at one point they were allowed to stand with a semaphore and hold up the crowd, not allowing anyone to pass who could not show a certain number of tags from the various booths. this tag system was to insure that all would play fair, for there was so much fun just watching other folks spend money that the tightwads might never have taken their hands out of their pockets or opened their purses. a racket around the candy booth mrs. peterson, who sells the best bread in town, had charge of the cake archery. you bought arrows for this, three for ten cents, but you could not shoot until a dollar's worth of arrows had been sold. then you took your turn at the bow and arrow. the arrow which hit nearest the bull's-eye got the cake, of course, and it was some cake, if it happened to be one of abbie southerland's angel foods. the girls' club had drawn the candy table for their share of the fair, and a pretty booth they made of it, using all the tennis nets they could beg, borrow or steal to drape it with and putting up all the candy in ten-cent packages wrapped in white waxed paper to look like tennis balls. someone got funny and asked why there was such a racket around the candy booth! the fair lasted three days. what with changing the attractions, keeping fresh food on the refreshment tables, making special attractions for children in the afternoons after school by offering prizes for sports events like sack races, obstacle races, and so on, getting up interest in golf tournaments and baseball series, the place was kept packed from three in the afternoon until midnight. in the ladies' home journal, jan., . published with the permission of the author, claire wallis, and the ladies' home journal. chapter v racing games for picnics in these games participants are divided into a number of equal teams. each team is lined up in single file behind a base line. a distance line parallel to the base line and about ten yards from it is indicated on the field. egg and spoon race a basket of eggs, apples, potatoes or stones is placed in front of each team and a spoon given to the first member of each team. empty baskets are placed on the distance line opposite the position of each team. at the signal to go the first player on each team, keeping the left hand behind the back, takes one egg from the basket by means of the spoon and carries it on the spoon to the basket from the distance line. returning to the base line the spoon is handed to the second member of the team who repeats the performance of the first. the game continues until the last player on each team, after carrying the egg forward, returns across the base line. the team first succeeding wins. should a player drop an egg, he must gather up as much of the egg as possible and carry it to the far basket and there deposit it before returning with the spoon to the next member of his team. pea shelling race a basket containing peas and an empty dish are placed on the distance line opposite each team. there should be at least six peas contained in each basket for every player on the team. at the signal to go the first player on each team runs forward, shells his peas into the dish and lays the six empty pods in a straight line behind the dish. accomplishing this, he returns and tags off the next player on the team who repeats the performance of the first. the team first succeeding in shelling all of the peas and having each player's pods lined up in a straight line, wins. needle threading race an individual holding a needle and a short piece of thread is on the distance line opposite each team. at the signal to go, the first player on each team runs forward, takes the needle and thread, threads the needle, hands it back to the individual and returns and tags off the next player on the team. the individual holding the needle unthreads it, ready for the next player to repeat the performance of the first. when the last player crosses the starting line after threading the needle the race ends. button sewing as many buttons as there are players on each team are placed on the distance line opposite each team, a strip of cloth, a needle, and as many short lengths of thread as there are players. at the signal to go, the first member of each team runs forward, threads the needle with one of the pieces of thread, sews a button on the strip of cloth, using up all of the thread in his piece. he leaves the needle stuck in the cloth at the distance line and returns and tags off the next player, who repeats the performance of the first, as do all other team members. rope skipping relay a piece of rope is necessary for each team. at the signal to go, the first member of each team skips rope forward to the distance line. from the distance line he runs back and hands the rope to the next one on the team, who repeats the performance of the first. each player must skip the rope at least six times in each direction. the last member of the team, after skipping the rope forward to the distance line, returns across the base line, ending the event. rope skipping contest a piece of rope is needed for each team. at the signal to go, the first individual skips rope ten times, in place, hands the rope back to the next individual who skips ten times, and so the rope is passed on until it gets to the last one in the line, who skips twenty times and passes the rope back to the one next in front of him in the line. the rope is passed until it gets to the first member of the team, each one skipping ten times upon receiving it. when the one in the front of the line has skipped ten times, he ends the race by running forward across the distance line. dizzy izzy a cane or stick is given to the first player on each team. upon the signal to go he places the end of the stick upon the ground, holding the stick in a vertical position, and places the centre of his forehead on the upper end of the stick. in this position, he circles around the stick three times and then runs forward to the distance line and returns, handing the stick to the next player on his team behind the base line. the second player places his forehead upon the stick and repeats the performance of the first, as does every other player on the team. the last man ends the race by crossing the base line. caterpillar race the players on each team sit upon the ground in single file, with the head of each team behind the base line. the knees are bent so that the feet are near the hips. each player reaches back with his two hands and grasps the ankles of the player next behind him. at the signal to go, the entire column moves forward, endeavoring to keep from breaking the column by any one losing his grip on the ankles of the next member of the team, behind. the caterpillar creeps forward across the distance line and returns. when the rear end of the column crosses the base line, the race is completed, provided the column is unbroken. potato race two peach baskets and two potatoes, stones or blocks of wood for each contestant are needed for each team. one basket is placed before each team on the base line and one directly opposite on the distance line. the potatoes are placed in the basket on the base line. the first player takes a position on the right hand side of the basket behind the base line, with a potato in his hand. at the signal to start, he runs around the basket on the distance line, dropping his potato therein. he returns, running around the basket on the base line, picks up the second potato, which he carries and drops into the far basket, as he circles it. he then returns and tags off the next player on the team, who, after being tagged, picks up the first potato and carries it to the far basket, returning for his second. each player in turn carries two potatoes, one at a time. both baskets must be circled in carrying the potatoes forward. the player is not allowed to touch the basket in running around it. if his potato fails to go into the basket, he must pick it up and put it in before he goes for his second potato or touches off the next runner. the last player on each team ends the race by crossing the base line after having properly deposited his two potatoes in the far basket. apple race* a strawberry basket full of small apples is handed to the first member of each team. at the signal to go the basket full of apples is passed back over the heads of the players until it reaches the last player in the column. the last player, upon receiving the basket full of apples, runs forward on the right hand side of his line to the distance line, where an empty basket has been placed. he pours the apples from his full basket into the empty basket, leaving the basket which is now empty on the distance line. he returns with the full basket to the front of the column and starts passing the basket full of apples back over his head. when it reaches the individual who is then at the rear of the column, he runs forward, repeating the performance of the first. the race ends when the last man on the team to run returns across the base line after having changed the apples on the distance line. apple race no. * a basket full of apples and an empty basket are placed upon the distance line opposite each team. at the signal to go the first man on the team runs forward, empties the apples from the full basket into the empty basket. should he spill any, he must pick them up. all of the apples must be in the basket before he leaves them. he leaves the empty and full baskets on the distance line and returns, tags off the next member on his team and takes his place at the rear of the line. when all members of the team have done this and the last member crosses the base line, the race ends. apple race no. * peach baskets containing an equal number of apples (fifteen makes a good number) are placed at the front of each team. an empty basket is placed at the rear of the column. at the signal to go the first man on the team picks the apples out of the full basket, one at a time and passes them to the rear as rapidly as possible. every man in the line must receive and pass back every apple. the last man in the column deposits the apples in the empty basket as rapidly as he receives them. when the last apple has been passed back, the man in front of the column passes back the empty basket. when the empty basket reaches the last man in the column, he picks up the full basket, places the empty one in its place and runs to the front of the column with the full basket, places it in front of him on the ground and starts passing the apples back, one at a time, as before. the race continues until the last man on the team runs forward and places his full basket of apples on the distance line in front of his team. judges should count the apples to see that there are as many in the basket as the team started with, before rendering a decision as to the winner of the race. apple race no. * a peach basket is placed opposite each team and ten feet beyond the distance line. the first member of each team is handed a good sized apple. at the signal to go he runs forward to the distance line, and standing behind the same, endeavors to toss the apple into the basket. failing to do this, he may run forward and recover the apple, but must return to the distance line in his endeavor to toss the apple into the basket. when he has succeeded in tossing the apple into the basket, he picks the apple out of the basket and runs back, handing it to the next member on the team, who does the same as he did. the race continues until the last member of the team has properly tossed the apple into the basket, recovered it and has run across the base line. * stones may be used in place of apples in these races. apple toss a basket containing four apples is placed on the ground in front of each team. an empty basket is placed on the distance line opposite each team. the first player on each team takes a position beside the empty basket on the distance line. at the signal to go the second player on the team, who stands by the basket containing the apples, picks up the apples, one at a time, and tosses them to the first player who stands on the distance line. the first player, upon catching the apples, drops them into the empty basket until he has received all four. he then carries the full basket back and places it on the ground in front of his team, while the player who tossed the apples to him runs forward to the distance line with the empty basket. the third player on the team then picks up the apples, one at a time, and tosses them to the second player, who is now beside the empty basket on the distance line, while the first player takes his position at the rear of the line. the race continues in this way until it becomes the turn of the first player to toss the apples forward. after having tossed the four apples, he picks up his empty basket and runs with it across the distance line, ending the race. no player can have more than one apple in his hand at a time and the player tossing the apples forward must stand behind the base line and cannot pick up the basket to run forward with it until he has gotten rid of the fourth apple. roll over relay at the signal to go, the first player on each team runs towards the distance line. somewhere between the base line and the distance line, he must take a forward roll upon the ground. he then runs across the distance line and back, tagging off the next player, who repeats his performance. spin around relay one member of each team takes a position on the distance line, opposite to and facing his team. at the signal to go the first man on each team runs forward, locks his right arm in the right arm of the man on the distance line and in this position spins twice around, using the man on the distance line as a pivot. completing his second spin, he remains on the distance line while the man who was there returns and tags off the next member of his team, who repeats the performance. the race ends when the last man to spin around the pivot crosses the base line. this race can be modified by having two or even three individuals distributed at equal distances between the base and the distance line to spin around, instead of one. chair relay a chair is placed on the distance line opposite each team, with the back of the chair towards the team. boxes may be used instead of chairs in this race. at the signal to go the first player on each team runs forward, sits in the chair, lifting both feet clear of the ground, then running around the chair, returns and tags off the next player, who does the same. where folding chairs are available, the chair can be folded and left upon the ground on the distance line. then each contestant is required to open the chair, sit upon it, then fold it, lay it upon the ground and return to tag off the next player. chair passing race a box can be used instead of a chair in this event. all of the players are asked to face to the right. a chair is given to the man at the right hand end of the line to sit upon. all of the others remain standing. at the signal to go, he picks up the chair, and passes it to his left hand neighbor who receives it and passes it on to his left hand neighbor and so the chair is passed until it gets to the player at the left end of the line. he, upon receiving it, places it upon the ground and sits upon it, lifting both feet from the ground. then, picking up the chair, he runs to the rear of his line until he gets to the other end. there again he sits upon the chair, raising both feet from the ground, and then starts passing it to the left. so when every man in the line has run to the right with the chair in turn, the last man ends the race when he sits upon it at the right hand end of the line. chair sitting race a box can be used for this event instead of a chair. if a chair is used, it is well to have a very sturdy one. this race starts with the players in the same position as in the preceding race, the player on the right hand end of the line sitting upon the chair. at the signal to go, he picks up the chair, passing it in front of him to the neighbor on his left, who, after sitting upon the chair and lifting both feet from the ground, passes it in front of him to the next player to the left and so the chair is passed towards the left hand end of the line, each player in turn sitting upon it and then passing it in front of him to the next player on the left. the race ends when the man on the far left end of the line sits upon the chair with his feet off the ground. squash race one crook-neck summer squash, a short stick, a piece of twine and a strawberry basket are needed for each team in this race. the strawberry basket, containing the squash with its neck projecting over the edge, is placed on the distance line. a slip noose is made in one end of the twine. the other end is tied to the end of the stick. this fish pole arrangement of twine and stick is handed to the first man on each team. at the signal to go he runs forward to the distance line and proceeds to fish for the squash in the basket by slipping the noose of string over its neck. he is not allowed to touch the string or squash with his hand in his effort to do this. he must use his stick as a fish pole. when he has succeeded in capturing the squash, he picks up the basket and carries the squash swinging from the end of his fish pole to the next player on his team. the second player, upon receiving the squash, the fish pole, and the basket, runs forward, slipping the noose off the squash. he places the squash in the basket on the distance line and proceeds to fish for it as did the preceding player. each player does this in turn. poison club small logs of stove length, flat on one end, are lined up between the base and distance lines in front of each team. there should be at least five of these for each team and they should not be placed more than three feet apart, set on their flat end in a straight line. at the signal to go the first member of each team hops forward across the distance line, hopping to the right of the first club, to the left of the second, to the right of the third and so on in and out until he has cleared all the clubs. he then completes the distance, hopping to the distance line. from there he may run back and tag off the next member on his team. should he knock over any of the clubs, he must stop and set it up without touching more than one foot to the ground, before he can proceed to the next club. the race ends when the last individual runs across the base line. club change two small circles are drawn on the base line opposite each team. three short logs similar to those in the preceding game are balanced on end in the right hand circle opposite each team. at the signal to go the first player runs forward, picks up the logs, one at a time, and changes them to the empty circle. when he has changed all three logs, he can then return and tag off the next player on his team. the second player runs forward and proceeds to change the three logs back to their original circle. so each player changes the three logs from the full to the empty circle. when the last player, after having accomplished this, crosses the base line, the race ends. fan and bag race a small paper bag well inflated with air, and a palm leaf fan are given to the first player on each team. the bag is placed on the base line in front of the team. at the signal to go, the first player proceeds to blow the bag forward by means of the fan, until it has crossed the distance line. he then picks up the bag, returns, places it on the base line in front of the next player to whom he hands the fan. the second player repeats the performance. the race ends when the last player blows the bag across the distance line. quadruped race the first two players on each team stand back to back behind the base line, with the first player facing the distance line. the two lock arms behind them. at the signal to go the first player bends forward, lifting the second player so that his feet are clear of the ground and carries him forward on his back in this position. when he has crossed the distance line, he lowers the player upon his back, without changing their relative position and that player, upon getting his feet upon the ground, bends forward, lifting the first player upon his back, and runs back with him in this position across the base line. when the first couple has crossed the base line, the second couple on each team proceeds with the race, copying the first. centipede race the players of each team lock their arms around the waist of the player next in front of them and race in this compact position across the distance line, turning around without breaking their formation, and end the race when the last man on the team crosses the base line. blind chariot race several teams can be used in this race. the distance line is pointed out before blindfolding each team. each team is made up of two horses and a driver. all three are blindfolded, facing in the same direction. the horses' inside arms are locked together. the driver takes hold of the outside arms. each team is turned around three times and at a signal, race to the goal. hoop race a wooden hoop is placed on the distance line opposite each team. at the signal to go the first player rushes forward and picks up the hoop and passes it down over his head, body, and legs, steps out of it, while it is lying on the ground. he then steps back into it, and lifts it up, passing it over his entire body, legs, trunk and head. when he has lifted it over his head, he places it on the distance line and runs back to tag off the next player, who repeats the performance of the first as do all the others in turn. rainy day race the players on the team are grouped in pairs. each team is given an umbrella, two raincoats, one pair of gloves and one pair of rubbers. this equipment is placed in a pile upon the ground in front of each team. at the signal to go the first couple on each team go to the pile of clothes; one puts on one glove, one the other; they do the same with the rubbers; each puts on a raincoat and opening the umbrella link arms and run to the distance line and back removing the rubbers, gloves, coat and closing the umbrella. they then tag off the next couple who repeat the performance of the first. this continues until the last couple crosses the base line ending the race. index games for schools schoolroom games _for primary pupils_ aisle hunt aviation meet birds fly bee bowing race button, button cat and mouse change seat relay charlie over the water colors hide in sight hide the clock i see red music rush new orleans poison seat rat-a-tat race spin around race tap relay _for intermediate pupils_ compass corner spry change seats clapping song flag race frogs in sea geography history race hunt the rattler indian trail initial tag jerusalem, jericho, jemima last man magic music multiplication race name race number relay poem race relay run around rhymes seat vaulting tag spelling words sticker _for advanced and high school pupils_ art gallery bowknot relay cooking race definitions descriptive adjectives directions distinguishing by smell distinguishing sounds drawing animals geography grammar race guessing dimensions historical pictures jumbled words laugh mysterious articles schoolroom tag seeing and remembering spelling game store train of thoughts schoolyard games _for primary pupils_ back to back chase the rabbit handkerchief tag peggy in ring progression puss in corner shadow tag squirrel in trees statues steps _for intermediate pupils_ antony over ball tag channel tag chicken market chickidy hand circle chase couple tag fox and rabbit fox trail in and out link race maze tag oriental tag pass ball poison reuben and rachel roly poly snake and bird soak 'em the dummy turtle tag weavers race _for advanced and high school pupils_ dresden tag fox and geese freight train tag hand baseball kick ball last couple out partner swat tag pin ball plug the hole red, white and blue roll ball spanish fly take away tony says sociable games for the home, church, etc. _for the home:_ board and nail puzzle captain kidd's gold catechism of states chic-a-dee come-she-come floor baseball hide the thimble last match red triangle ring toss spinning for spin the platter step by step tit tat too twenty questions you know me your house, my house ice breakers for sociables: bean penalty bird hunt matching advertisements matching proverbs mixing march musical medley my month poison circle puzzled words shoe hunt trip around the world social games for grown-ups analogues biographic cartoons charades ghost gossiping illustrated songs knight of the cracker match boxing muddled words poor pussy rooster smiles tea pot trades who are they? who is it? sociable games for young people barnyard chorus birds donkey solo exchange feather tag fruit basket going to jerusalem guess the sound hush jack's alive rapid transit rhyming verbs shifting seats simple simon's silly smile what animal? wink trick games for sociables aeroplane ride blind blow boots without shoes clairvoyant coin and card snap divesting egg smash hay stack hindoo blind reading knights of the sacred whistle magic answers mental telepathy musical notes newspaper touch number trick penny wise pigs in pen reading temples scissors crossed siam club the paper artist tricks with matches stunt athletic meet bawl game chair tilting discus throw duel tug of war elimination race hammer throw head toss javelin throw light weight race long glum lucky one mile run peanut relay peanut throw ring the bell running broad grin shot put standing broad jump standing high jump turtle race twenty yard dash competitive stunts aviation meet balloon race blindfold obstacles boat race brick relay candle roll over chair stubbing chair-i-ot race cracker relay feather blowing relay lobster race necktie race prune tag of war whistle race outdoor games for older boys and young men chariot race clock games flathead race forcing the city gates fortress game of goose hare and hound human targets leap frog race push cross line riding the snail sling the sack spin around race walking race for boys body guard bombardment bombardment no. fence tag fox in hole hang tag hide and seek look out for the bear one step off and all the way across sardines shinny still-a-feet treasure hunt wheel away games of strength cane wrestling cumberland wrestling finger wrestling greco-roman wrestling hand tug of war hog tie neck tug of war one leg tug of war referee's hold shoulder and arm push squatting tug taking the heights wrestle tug of war games for special occasions at the dining table around the chair candle and plate race earth, air, fire and water jenkins up malaga grapes name writing race oysterette race passing the drink rat-a-tat-tat spearing peanuts string winding race table football a county fair play festival the games for all the grand march games for a story play hour paul revere race the midnight ride the red coats yankee doodle tag an indoor sports fair a racket around the candy booth seeing the old home town racing games for picnics apple race apple race no. apple race no. apple race no. apple toss blind chariot race button sewing caterpillar race centipede race chair passing race chair relay chair sitting race club change dizzy izzy egg and spoon race fan and bag race hoop race needle threading race pea shelling race poison club potato race quadruped race rainy day race roll over relay rope skipping contest rope skipping relay spin around relay squash race transcriber's note: the following anomalies have been left as found in the original page images: spelling: both 'sangatte' and 'sangette' both 'armpit' and 'arm pit' chilled; always swim around and 'excercise' journalists who 'acompanied' punctuation: water; at the same time double the body up.[,] championship for many years by following his teachings[.] can[,] throw your arm around his neck thirdly.[,] continue swimming scientifically taught [illustration: frank eugen dalton] swimming scientifically taught a practical manual for young and old by prof. frank eugen dalton, p.s.a. _instructor in scientific swimming at the dalton swimming school, and originator of the dalton method_ and a chapter on advanced strokes by louis c. dalton _of the dalton swimming school_ _with numerous illustrations_ fifth edition [illustration] funk & wagnalls company new york and london copyright, and , by funk & wagnalls company (_printed in the united states of america_) revised edition, published may, copyright under the articles of the copyright convention of the pan-american republics and the united states, august , to my father the late capt. davis dalton who swam the english channel from cape grisnez near boulogne, france, to folkestone, england, august - , ; whose enthusiasm and unflagging interest in all matters pertaining to swimming and life-saving have been excelled by none, and who was a faithful practitioner of the methods herein set forth, this book is affectionately dedicated by his son, the author part i--introduction page the importance of swimming learning by the book part ii--various kinds of strokes the back stroke the dalton stroke the back and dalton stroke the breast stroke changing from back to breast stroke new part ii--advanced strokes by louis c. dalton the side strokes the trudgeon stroke the single over-arm strokes the english racing stroke the double over-arm stroke the crawl stroke part iii--floating, diving and scientific swimming treading water floating diving swimming like a dog plunging sculling swimming backward on the chest the washing tub the propeller the torpedo the catherine wheel rolling swimming like a porpoise the pendulum somersaults double somersaults with one leg out of water swimming with clothes on with hands and feet tied over and under swimming under water monte cristo sack trick notable feats by celebrated swimmers part iv--water polo water polo part v--cramps, how to save life, resuscitation, etc. cramps how to save life resuscitation after rescue hall's method of resuscitation sylvester's method illustrations page frank eugen dalton _frontispiece_ fig. . the back stroke--first arm movement fig. . the back stroke--second arm movement fig. . the back stroke--third arm movement fig. . the back stroke--first leg movement fig. . the back stroke--second leg movement fig. . the back stroke--third leg movement fig. . floating position fig. . the dalton stroke fig. . the breast stroke--first arm movement fig. . the breast stroke--second arm movement fig. . the breast stroke--third arm movement fig. . the breast stroke--the leg movement exemplified out of the water the breast stroke--teaching with trolley and instructor fig. . the breast stroke--the leg movement fig. . the breast stroke--the start fig. . the breast stroke--second position fig. . the breast stroke--third position louis c. dalton fig. . the side stroke--first position fig. . the side stroke--second position fig. . the side stroke--third position fig. . the trudgeon stroke--first position fig. . the trudgeon stroke--second position fig. . the single over-arm stroke--second position fig. . the single over-arm stroke--third position fig. . the english racing stroke fig. . the double over-arm stroke fig. . the crawl stroke fig. . the crawl stroke--bent knee position fig. . the crawl stroke--legs first position fig. . the crawl stroke--legs second position fig. . the crawl stroke--breathing position treading water floating position incorrect floating position easy floating position teaching diving to a beginner a bad dive correct position in mid air correct position on entering the water mrs. frank eugen dalton--position for a dive the standing-sitting dive the back dive the dolphin dive the australian splash the neck dive swimming like a dog correct position for long plunge in water swimming backward on chest the washing tub the propeller the torpedo the catherine wheel rolling swimming like a porpoise the pendulum forward somersault double somersault one leg out of water over and under monte cristo sack trick water polo water polo--diagram the best method of saving life sylvester's method--figure sylvester's method--figure sylvester's method--figure tail-piece part i introduction the importance of swimming that all persons ought to know how to safeguard themselves when in deep water is becoming more and more recognized as time passes. while swimming is probably the oldest pastime known to man, and has had, and still has, its votaries in every country, civilized or uncivilized, it is curious that this most useful science should have been so much neglected. for an adult person to be unable to swim points to something like criminal negligence; every man, woman and child should learn. a person who can not swim may not only become a danger to himself, but to some one, and perhaps to several, of his fellow beings. children as early as the age of four may acquire the art; none are too young, none too old. doctors recommend swimming as the best all-around exercise. it is especially beneficial to nervous people. swimming reduces corpulency, improves the figure, expands the lungs, improves the circulation of the blood, builds up general health, increases vitality, gives self-confidence in case of danger, and exercises all the muscles in the body at one time. as an aid to development of the muscular system, it excels other sports. every muscle is brought into play. in other important ways it is a useful, and even a necessary accomplishment; no one knows when he may be called upon for a practical test of its merits. the _slocum_ steamboat catastrophe in the east river, new york, several years ago, gave a melancholy example of what better knowledge of swimming might have done to save the lives of passengers. that awful tragedy, which plunged an entire city into mourning, was too appalling to have its details revived here, but, regardless of the fact that the life-preservers on board were found unfit for use, the loss of life would have been made much smaller had the unfortunate passengers known how to keep their heads above water until help arrived. millions of people are transported yearly by river craft, and just for lack of knowledge of how to swim a repetition of the _slocum_ disaster might occur any summer. only about per cent. of the entire population of the united states know how to swim. a visit to any of the beaches along the atlantic coast will convince any one of this fact. there is no excuse for this ignorance, especially in a city like new york, with miles of water front and fine beaches at its very door; nor is there excuse in other places where an ocean, lakes and rivers afford opportunities for swimming. swimming is a tonic alike for muscle and brain. the smallest child and the weakest woman can enjoy it equally with the strongest man. when slaves of the desk and counting-house are looking forward for an all too brief vacation and seek the mountains or seashore to store up energy for another year's work, they should know how to swim. poor, indeed, is the region which can not boast of a piece of water in which to take an invigorating plunge. the importance of being able to swim was very generally recognized in ancient times, notably by the romans. roman youth, as early as the republican era, when trained to bear arms, were made to include in their exercises bathing and swimming in the tiber, where competitions were frequent. cassius in his youth became renowned as a swimmer. shakespeare, in a familiar passage, describes a race between him and julius cæsar, cassius being made the speaker: "i was born free as cæsar; so were you: we both have fed as well, and we can both endure the winter's cold as well as he. for once, upon a raw and gusty day, the troubled tiber chafing with her shores, cæsar said to me, 'dar'st thou, cassius, now, leap in with me into this angry flood and swim to yonder point?' upon the word, accoutred as i was, i plunged in, and bade him follow; so, indeed he did. the torrent roared; and we did buffet it with lusty sinews; throwing it aside and stemming it with hearts of controversy; but ere we could arrive the point propos'd, cæsar cried, 'help me, cassius, or i sink.' i, as Æneas, our great ancestor, did from the flames of troy upon his shoulder the old anchises bear, so, from the waves of tiber did i the tired cæsar: and this man is now become a god." macaulay, in one of his "lays of ancient rome," describes the scene which followed after horatius had been left alone to face the troops of lars porsena, his codefenders having escaped across the bridge: "never, i ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case, struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing place, but his limbs were borne up bravely, by the brave heart within, and our good father tiber bore bravely up his chin." it was not until the nineteenth century that swimming really became a science. in fact, it was only within the last half-century that a real awakening to its importance occurred. at the present day swimming has come to be regarded as an indispensable adjunct to the education of the young. in many parts of europe it forms part of the school curriculum. of such paramount importance is it there held to be that, on entering the army, the first thing taught a young recruit is swimming. on this side of the atlantic its importance is becoming more evident daily. that the benefits to be derived from it have manifested themselves to municipalities is evidenced by the fact that, in addition to free swimming baths on the water front of new york in summer, there have been established several indoor bathing pavilions which are open and accessible all the year round. swimming, aside from its importance as a possible means to self-preservation in case of shipwreck, the upsetting of pleasure-boats, or any of the numerous accidents that so frequently happen on the water, and also, on occasion, as a means of saving life, is not only one of the best physical exercises known, but when one swims for exercise he is also conscious of receiving great pleasure. most other forms of exercise, after they have been participated in for some time, are apt to become something like efforts, or even hardships. swimming, on the other hand, continues to be exhilarating. unfortunately, those who have been best able to teach the science of swimming, because of having technical knowledge and proficiency, have not made systematic attempts to disseminate knowledge through scientific methods. in this respect the author claims to differ with most other instructors. he has endeavored, in this work, to treat the subject scientifically and to use simple and concise language. his success as a teacher is attested by thousands of pupils who have acquired the principles of a system long known as the dalton system. learning by the book the question is often asked whether it is possible for a person to learn to swim by studying a book or a series of articles. much depends on the person. in the case of a very nervous person, it is improbable that this may be satisfactorily accomplished, for it is then absolutely necessary that a pupil must have an instructor, in order, at the start, to obviate dread of the water. where this dread of water or nervousness does not exist in any marked degree, study of a work such as this may be of unlimited advantage. by carefully following its instructions it will be possible to become a very fair swimmer without the aid of an instructor or any second person. naturally, it is not claimed that a majority of such self-taught swimmers will ever become experts at the art, altho even this is possible in a great many cases; but there is a moral certainty that, with the exception of the aforementioned nervous beginners, a fair knowledge of the science of swimming may be attained in this manner. numbers of very good swimmers have had no other tuition than which came from study of a book. especially is this true when following the directions outlined in this book in the matter, first, of practising keeping the eyes and mouth open under water, which will eliminate all nervousness; and, second, in practising the movements used in the breast and back strokes, which are of inestimable aid when actually taking to the water. of course, where the swimmer desires to attain true scientific knowledge of the art, the beginner needs the aid of an instructor who may watch for and correct any faults noticeable, for the simple reason that bad habits once contracted are more difficult to eliminate later on. if the lessons herein set forth are carefully followed, there is no reason why, with the exceptions before mentioned, one should not become a good swimmer. part ii various kinds of strokes the back stroke it may seem odd to the beginner (and to a great many proficient swimmers, for that matter) that in teaching swimming by the dalton system, i always begin by having pupils swim first on the back. most instructors do just the reverse; but during nineteen years of a successful career in teaching, the proficiency of the graduated pupil has justified the method. there are a number of very good reasons why learners should begin by first swimming on the back. more especially is this true of nervous or timid pupils. in the first place, the body floats more naturally and much easier on the back. in the breast stroke, which is the first one taught by most instructors, the head has to be kept out of the water and must be supported as dead weight by the rest of the body, as explained later on. on the contrary, in the back stroke, or swimming on the back, the head rests on the water and needs no support from any other member of the body. for the same reason the face, being up and away from the water, the beginner encounters no difficulty in breathing, and there is no danger of the water entering the mouth, which is often the cause of much annoyance to new pupils. then, again, while on the back, as the face is turned upward, the beginner, especially in the case of a nervous person, gains confidence from the very fact that he is not constantly looking into the water. and also, in contradistinction to all other strokes in swimming, the arms and legs move together--both arms and legs performing practically the same movements at the same time. thus the pupil, realizing the comparative easiness and the absence of any difficulty in, having mastered this stroke, is imbued with such confidence that it becomes simply a matter of time and practise to acquire all other forms of swimming that he may wish to learn. * * * * * [illustration: figure ] the first thing i do with a beginner, after he or she has donned a bathing suit (a suit in one piece is preferable, as it will not interfere with breathing) is to get the pupil to lie on the back, at full length on the marble, with the heels together, the toes out, the hands at the side of the body. placing myself back of the pupil's head, the hands are drawn, with the fingers bent, up along the body till they touch the shoulders (fig. ), the elbows being well turned out. then the arms are straightened out horizontally from the shoulder, the palms of the hand down (fig. ). then the arms, being rigid, are brought down sharply to the side of the body (fig. ). these movements should be repeated several times until the pupil gets accustomed to them. [illustration: figure ] next the leg movements are shown. the heels are drawn up toward the body as far as possible with the knees well turned out (fig. ); the pupil then kicks the legs apart as far as possible, the toes being pointed out straight (fig. ). next the pupil brings the legs sharply together until the heels touch, the toes being turned out (fig. ). after these movements have been repeated several times the pupil can try the arm and leg movements together. the arms and legs are drawn up together as in figs. and , then the pupil straightens out the arms and legs, as in figs. and , finishing the stroke by bringing the arms and legs sharply together, as in figs. and . [illustration: figure ] when these movements have been mastered by the pupil, i take him or her into the water, waist deep, putting one hand under the back, the other under the chin, forcing the pupil backward until the ears are under the water, then bringing the pupil's hands to the sides, and slowly starting the movements. after the arm movements are mastered, i take up the leg movements, care being taken that the knees do not come out of the water. [illustration: figure ] to teach pupils how to regain their feet, i show them how to bend forward from the waist until the face is under water, then the pupil will find his or her feet slowly sinking; when the toes touch the bottom the head can be raised out of the water. to accustom pupils to the water i teach them to open the eyes and mouth under water. this is much simpler than non-swimmers imagine. care is taken not to open the eyes too wide. at the first few attempts the pupil will feel amazed, on opening the eyes the first time, at the distance of the vision under water. this is a very good thing to know, and helps beginners to overcome fear of water. [illustration: figure ] to teach pupils to open the mouth under water i place a rubber ring six inches from the surface and have the pupil bring it to the surface with the teeth. by being careful not to attempt to breathe while under water, the mouth may be opened to any extent without the least danger of swallowing water. it is wonderful the amount of confidence instilled in a novice on realizing his ability to open the eyes and keep the mouth open under water. [illustration: figure ] a preserver tied around the waist obviates the necessity of an instructor holding the pupil, and he can, therefore, better direct the movements, so that the pupil, while being held up by a preserver, makes headway, care being taken to do the movements slowly and together. then the pupil is shown how to turn around. the knees should be drawn up, as in fig. , and then to turn to the left, use the right arm only, the left arm should be held in a straight line with the shoulder; then continue to use the three arm movements with the left arm, until one has turned completely around in the water. to turn the other way, use the other arm. [illustration: figure ] next the pupil is shown how to float. the knees are drawn up and turned out, the arms extended back beyond the head, as in fig. ; the hands, about six inches apart, are kept under water. deep breaths should be drawn through the mouth and forced into the lungs. the pupil will notice that, at each inflation of the lungs, the body will rise in the water, and sink correspondingly when the air is expelled. this practise shows how buoyant the body is. the more limp one lies, the more buoyant the body becomes. since i started the dalton swimming school twelve years ago, at west th street, new york city, i have always shown my method of teaching swimming scientifically, which is exactly the reverse of the methods of other instructors; that is, teaching pupils how to swim on their backs first, before teaching them the breast stroke, which i contend is the hardest stroke of all, when done correctly. another innovation of mine is the use of the dalton nose-clip, a clip that pinches the nostrils tightly together, keeping the water out of the nose and forcing the pupil to breathe through the mouth, which is the correct way of breathing while swimming. the more air one gets into the lungs the lighter one is in the water, making swimming easier. that is the reason so many would-be swimmers, simply because they try to breathe through the nose, get winded very quickly. the main thing about breathing in all the strokes is to keep the mouth open all the time. with the mouth open, air can come in and out of its own accord and the pupil does not have to worry about the breathing. the dalton stroke [illustration: figure ] in my next lessons i teach pupils my own stroke--that is, the dalton stroke. this is employed when on the back, only instead of going head-first through the water, as in the back stroke, the pupil goes feet first. the legs are held out, perfectly straight, then one leg is dropt down in the water, the upper half of leg from knee to thigh remaining stationary (fig. ). then, as that leg is drawn back to its original position, the other leg is brought down in precisely the same manner, the dropping of both legs alternately in much the same way as when walking. to do this effectively, pressure must be applied to the positive stroke; that is to say, while the foot is being drawn down. the reverse movement, or straightening of the leg, must be made gently. the knees should be brought to the surface of the water each time; this is in a slow but restful movement. the arm movements consist of having arms straight alongside the body, the palms of the hands being turned out, the thumbs down, making small circles with the hands and wrists, as in fig. , propelling one's self ahead with small scoops. it is hard at first to combine the two arm and leg movements, but practise makes perfect; and after the movements are accomplished in unison the pupil will find this a very easy and restful stroke. the back and dalton stroke in teaching this stroke i revise both the back and the dalton stroke with the life-preserver on. after the pupil has covered a distance with the back stroke, instead of making a turn to retrace, i show the pupil how to revert to the dalton stroke, thus avoiding the necessity of turning around. when changing from the back stroke to the dalton stroke the legs should be brought together and the hands put straight to the sides of the body; then either stroke can be continued. the next move is to let a little air out of the life-preserver. the pupil then begins again on the same strokes. after several trips up and down the pool more air is let out, with more trips up and down the pool, and so on until there is no air left in the preserver. so slight will be the difference that the pupil will hardly notice it. as long as the back is well hollowed, the upper part of the body will float, but directly the body is doubled up the head and feet begin to sink, so that the teacher must follow close after the pupil to make the pupil keep the back well hollowed and the chest expanded. beginners will be surprized at the ease with which back strokes propel the body through the water without any undue effort. to one who has never been used to swimming without support it gives a wonderful feeling of exhilaration to propel one's self through the water and then, when tired, to slowly bring the arms back under water until the thumbs come together behind the head and the knees are drawn up to the floating position, while the pupil inhales deep breaths through the mouth, thereby sustaining the body well up in the water. the breast stroke [illustration: figure ] the breast stroke has been handed down from an early roman period. it is the oldest of all strokes, but it is the hardest to learn properly, as the head has to be supported clear of the water. any part of the body when held above water is dead weight, and as the head is all bone, muscle and brains, it is the heaviest part. this is why, in using the breast stroke, it is much harder to keep the mouth and nostrils above water. the breast stroke is so universally identified with swimming that every beginner wants to learn it. it is only on this account that i teach the breast stroke. [illustration: figure ] [illustration: figure ] [illustration: figure ] in order to make this stroke clear to beginners i have divided it into four movements each, for the arms and legs. it is a good plan to practise these movements first out of the water. get the pupil to stand behind, or by the side of, the instructor, and so follow the arm movements. let him start by having the palms of the hands together, just below the chin, the elbows dropt down and within a few inches of each other, as in fig. . in the first movement shoot the arms straight ahead, holding the hands together, as in fig. . in the next movement turn the hands till the palms are turned slightly out, with the thumbs touching and pointed downward. in the third movement bring the straightened out arms around in line with the shoulders, as in fig. . in the fourth movement bring the hands together till the palms touch, the elbows being dropt, and the wrists touching the chest, as in fig. . when the pupil has become accustomed to using the arms, the leg movements are taught, each leg separately. the heels are brought together and the toes turned out. then the left leg is drawn up to the body, the knee turned out, as in fig. . this leg movement is simultaneous with the arm movement, as in fig. . then the leg is kicked straight out sideways from the body and brought smartly back alongside the other leg, as in fig. . these two movements of the leg are performed while making the one movement of the arm, as in fig. . the arm movements from fig. to fig. are accomplished while the legs are stationary, as in fig. . then the left knee is drawn up, as in fig. , while the hands are brought back to the chest, as in the same figure. after a little practise with the left leg, the same movements are practised with the other leg and arms. it is hard to practise the arms and both legs together out of water, as in order to do so one has to lie on a piano stool or bench. i discourage this method because the pressure on the abdomen is injurious. after some practise of these movements out of water, we then take the pupil into the water. when the beginner enters the water, it is best for him to be held in a horizontal position by an overhead trolley attached to a belt strapped around the waist, or else held up in the water by the instructor, as per illustration. the four arm movements are tried first, care being taken that the hands do not come out of the water. at the same time they should be kept as near the surface as possible without splashing, care being taken that, on the last movement, the elbows are dropt and the hands kept up in the water. this movement keeps the head up in the water. should the hands be dropt, the head will sink. the pupil should keep his mouth open all the time, not worrying whether the water enters or not. by this means breathing becomes natural. [illustration: the breast stroke--teaching with trolley and instructor] the leg movements are then taken up. the best way is for the pupil, with the left hand, to hold onto the rail that lines the pool and to use the palm of the right hand lower down in the water, against the side of the pool, as in fig. , thereby holding the body and legs up in the water, if the back is arched. the legs should be drawn up, the knees and toes well turned out, and the legs then kicked straight out and brought smartly together. this combined movement forces a wedge of water to be shot behind the legs, forcing the body ahead. the legs are kept stationary for a moment and then drawn up to the starting position. [illustration: figure ] [illustration: figure --the leg movement] [illustration: figure ] after practising these movements it is a good plan for the pupil to throw himself gently on the water with his face submerged, and so do the leg movements alone, the arms being held straight in front a couple of inches below the surface. as long as the head is under water the legs will not sink. it is surprizing the confidence one gets in doing these leg movements with the face under water. it takes away all fear, especially if the eyes are kept open. when the pupil's breath gives out, he or she should bend backward by hollowing the back, bringing the arms around in line with the shoulders, when the feet will slowly sink and the pupil can easily regain a standing position. [illustration: figure ] when the arm and leg movements are to be done together, the pupil has to concentrate his mind on the four movements. to start, one must have the legs straight behind, keeping them motionless till the pupil gets to fourth movement of the arm stroke, when the arms and legs should be the same as in fig. . on the first and the second movements, which form a continuous movement for the legs, shoot the arms straight out and hold them there until the straightened out legs come together, as in fig. . then the legs should be kept rigid, while the hands are turned and the arms brought around in a straight line with the shoulders, as in fig. . finish the stroke by drawing the legs up and the hands in to the starting position, as in fig. . these combined movements will be difficult at first, as the movements do not go together, as in the back stroke. when the rhythm begins to assert itself, the best way to practise is with the head under water. then the pupil can think of his arm and leg movements without the bother and exertion of holding his head above water. changing from back to breast stroke the change from back to breast or _vice versa_ is simple if done slowly. let us assume the pupil while swimming is using the breast stroke and wishes to turn over. when in position as in fig. , the pupil should roll over on the left side, lifting the right arm out of the water; he will then be in the second back stroke position, ready to continue. to turn from the back to the breast the movement is a little quicker, to prevent the legs sinking too low. from position on the back as in fig. , roll over on the right side, lifting the left arm out of the water so that the hands meet straight in front. then quickly snap the legs straight together and bring the arms around in line with the shoulders and resume your regular breast stroke. these turns should be practised by rolling on either side. the pupil may also bend forward when on the back, as in standing up, and continue with the breast stroke. [illustration: louis c. dalton] new part ii advanced strokes by louis c. dalton the side strokes the side stroke is used for long distance swimming and is easy to learn on either side. the pupil should count the movements and be deliberate while doing the strokes. splashing and fast strokes always denote an indifferent swimmer. easy and graceful swimming can only be acquired by taking slow strokes and keeping the hands under the surface, thereby obviating all tendency of pushing the arms through the air instead of the water. while practising these movements the head must be kept down so as to be supported by the water. _right side._--practise these movements on the floor. _arm strokes._--the beginner extends the right arm until it straightens in front, keeping it in this position, thus making it easier to acquire balance. place the left hand at the left side. movement i.--draw the left arm slowly up to the chest, palm out. movement ii.--extend the left arm as far forward as possible. movement iii.--draw the left arm down to the side of the upper (left) leg, being careful not to bend the elbow. _leg strokes._ movement i.--bend both legs back together from the knees down. movement ii.--extend the left leg backward from the hip as far as possible, and the right leg forward from the hip as far as possible. [illustration: figure ] movement iii.--snap the legs, which should then be perfectly straight, together. now combine both movements i. as in fig. , then movements ii. as in fig. , and movements iii. as in fig. . after the pupil is more advanced he may use his right arm by extending it out from and bringing it back to the right side of the body. _breathing._--inhale as the left arm is swept alongside the body. exhale when left arm is extended forward. _left side._--the same procedure as for the right side may be followed lying on the left side. this is important to learn as the pupil should swim equally well on either side. it will also help him to acquire good form. _arm strokes._ movement i.--draw the right arm forward close to the chest, palm out, elbow at the side. movement ii.--extend the right arm forward as far as possible, keeping the hand about six inches below the surface. movement iii.--sweep the right arm sharply down to the right side, then rest. the left arm is not used, but held straight in front to help balance the body. when the pupil is proficient the left arm may be extended out and brought back as on the right side. [illustration: figure ] [illustration: figure ] _leg strokes._ movement i.--bend both legs back, from the knees down. movement ii.--spread the legs as wide apart as possible, the right back from the hip and the left forward from the hip. movement iii.--snap the straightened out legs together. _combine the arm movements with the leg movements._ movement i.--draw the right arm close to the chest, palm out; bend both legs back, from the knees down. movement ii.--extend the right arm forward and spread the legs wide apart. movement iii.--sweep the right arm down to right side and snap the legs together, then rest while your body is being propelled through the water. hold the head so the mouth is above the surface, and breathe as on the right side. the trudgeon stroke [illustration: figure ] this was one of the racing strokes before the advent of the crawl, and was considered by some swimmers the fastest stroke. it is quite tiring and should only be used for short distances. a great many swimmers modify this stroke to suit themselves, but there is only one scientific way. the arms are held perfectly stiff, and lifted well above the water on every stroke. first practise with the arms alone. lie on right side with the right arm extended forward at full length, left arm perfectly rigid at left side. draw the right arm sharply down through the water to the right side, turning the body at the same time, lifting the left arm out of the water and extending it straight in front. the legs should be drawn up, heels together, knees spread as the right arm starts to come forward (fig. ). then spread the legs apart as the right arm is extended forward. snap the legs together as the right arm is swept below the surface to the right thigh. these three leg movements must be done very quickly. the head rests on the water, the mouth just above the surface for breathing. [illustration: figure ] when the left arm is brought forward and later down to the side, the legs remain motionless (fig. ). for racing purposes, the arms may be bent at the elbows. the single over-arm strokes pupils after mastering the side and trudgeon strokes take to this stroke very quickly, because in reality it is a combination of both. _right single over-arm stroke. arm strokes._ movement i.--lie on the right side, right arm drawn in toward the body, hand pointing forward, left arm resting at the left side of body, palm out. movement ii.--lift the left arm out of the water and extend forward, but at arm's length, away from the head, the right arm motionless. movement iii.--sweep the left arm sharply down to the side and extend the right arm straight ahead. _leg strokes._ movement i.--bend both legs back from the knees down, keeping the knees and ankles together. movement ii.--place the right leg back from the hip, and the left leg forward from the hip. be sure the legs are perfectly rigid. movement iii.--snap both straightened out legs sharply together, then rest. _combine with the arms._ lie on right side. movement i.--hold the left arm down to the side, palm out, right arm drawn in toward the body, hand pointed forward, legs bent back from the knees down. movement ii.--lift the left arm out of the water, at the same time spreading the legs apart, keeping the right arm motionless (fig. ). movement iii.--this movement must be done sharply. draw the left arm down to the side, extending the right arm straight ahead, while snapping the legs straight together as in fig. . [illustration: figure ] _left single over-arm stroke. arm strokes._--lie on left side. movement i.--place the right arm at right side of body, palm out, the left arm held close to the side. movement ii.--lift the right arm out of the water, being careful to hold it as far away as possible to avoid splashing, the left arm motionless. movement iii.--sweep the right arm sharply down to the right side, and extend the left arm straight ahead. _leg strokes._ movement i.--bend the legs back from the knees down, knees and ankles together. movement ii.--bring the right leg back from the hip, and extend the left forward from the hip. movement iii.--snap the straightened out legs sharply together. [illustration: figure ] _combine the arms and legs._ movement i.--hold the right arm at full length to right side, palm out; the left hand should be held well in toward the body, pointing forward; bend both legs back from the knees down, knees and ankles together. movement ii.--lift the right arm out of the water and spread the legs apart; while doing this movement the left arm is motionless. movement iii.--bring the right arm sharply down to the right side, extending the left arm forward, and snapping the legs quickly together. _breathing._--inhale through the mouth, at the moment when each arm is performing the downward stroke on either side, as the mouth will then be clear of the water. exhale immediately the arm is extended forward. anybody who is ambidexterous will find it easier to learn the left single over-arm stroke before the right. the english racing stroke [illustration: figure ] the english racing stroke is a great deal more difficult to learn than any of the advanced strokes that we have reached so far, but once the student is proficient, it is one of the prettiest strokes. my brother, prof. f.e. dalton, swims this stroke faster than some swimmers do the crawl, and in action he does it most gracefully (fig. ). _the arm movements_ should first be learned. lie on the right side (but if the pupil prefers it can be done equally as well on the left). hold the left arm at the left side. then raise it out of the water, bending the elbow; the hand should enter palm out, and about six inches below the surface, then extending it as far forward as possible. next sweep the left arm down to the side sharply. extend the right arm straight ahead, drawing it in toward the body with a semi-circular scoop. the leg movements are very difficult and a great deal of practise is necessary before the pupil will be ready to combine with the arms. the legs are spread apart and snapped together as in the side stroke, but instead of stopping with this scissors kick make an extra small circle kick. _breathing._--inhale by turning the head as the left arm is swept down to the left side; exhale under water when the left arm is extended forward. pay great attention to breathing on each stroke, as this is a great deal more essential than acquiring a little speed, if you wish to swim any distance. because of improper breathing people who can not swim very well complain more about getting winded quickly, than they do of anything else. the double over-arm stroke the double over-arm stroke, while difficult to master, will not prove so for the student who has learned the english racing stroke. learn the double over-arm to acquire form. for racing the crawl will answer. _arm strokes._--place the left arm at the left side, then lift it out of the water, bending the elbow and stretching it as far forward as possible; now draw the hand down through the water so it is swept to the side. the right arm should be at the right side in position to come forward perfectly rigid at third movement of left arm. there must be enough roll of the body to allow the right arm to come out of the water to insure proper breathing. sweep the right arm down through the water as the left arm is raised out of the water. hold the face under the water excepting when you inhale after the left arm has passed the mouth; exhale when under as the right arm comes forward. _leg strokes._--the legs perform the regular scissors kick at the same time with left arm action, then cross them over and make a smaller scissors kick in conjunction with right arm action while the body is rolling, as in fig. . the arms and legs should be relaxed except when the arms are making their sweep and the legs are snapping together, otherwise the pupil will be under a constant strain which is not conducive to good form in swimming. the pupil may find it very difficult at the start to time this stroke. [illustration: figure ] the crawl stroke the crawl and trudgeon crawl are by all means the fastest strokes for propelling the human body through the water up to date. the crawl stroke as originally introduced was a combination of the trudgeon arm stroke with a leg drive used by the natives of the south sea islands. this stroke has since been so changed by leading swimmers, it is probably entirely different from that originally introduced. a great many amateur and professional coaches advocate the teaching of the crawl to beginners. i would have the pupil note the difference between a coach and swimming instructor. the coach's pupil knows how to swim, but the instructor must first teach his pupil. the coaches are so much in favor of the crawl they advocate everybody being taught it when first learning. on the other hand, the instructor knows that it would take twice as long to teach the crawl to a nervous beginner. [illustration: figure ] i have had, in consequence, a deluge of requests from novices that they be taught the crawl, so i wish to spread broadcast the fact that it is _absolutely_ essential for pupils to acquire confidence by first learning the simple back and dalton strokes. the principal reason for this is the fact that beginners, % of whom are nervous, extremely so, will naturally not immerse their faces, and as this stroke must be swum with the face under water it will readily be seen why i differ with the coaches referred to. the crawl, like all other strokes in swimming, must be done slowly to attain speed, and the body relaxed. bend all your efforts to acquiring form; speed will come later with constant practise, patience and perseverance. the crawl may be done correctly with varying details, depending on the physique of the swimmer, and ability of the coach to apply the proper methods to his pupil. i have swum the crawl in all its various details, and will explain the method i have found fastest and easiest for the pupil. the crawl, except for short distances, is not the stroke used for racing. the trudgeon crawl is the stroke par excellence for racing purposes. _leg strokes._--extend the arms at full length in front of the head with face under water, while practising with the legs. while doing this hold the breath, but not after you have learned the completed stroke. when practising these movements you must kick the legs a trifle faster than will be necessary when combining with the arm movements. the legs must be relaxed, especially at the hips, kicking them up and down alternately; in doing this do not open them more than from about ten to fifteen inches as in fig. . this will depend a great deal on the physique and buoyancy of the swimmer. the toes should be pointed behind and the feet turned inward. be careful that you do not make the mistake of kicking them too high or opening them too much, also that they do not come out of the water. in doing this thrash stroke you will readily know if you are making these mistakes, because the legs will become tired and cramped very quickly. some fast swimmers bend their legs at the knees as illustrated in fig. , others take a sort of pedalling motion by bending the ankles back and forth. [illustration: figure ] this is done by bringing the toes up as the leg rises, and pointing them down as the leg snaps back. at the present time the fastest sprinters swim without the great bend in the knee; some bend them slightly to help relax the legs. the trudgeon crawl kick is a combination of the crawl and the trudgeon, and the reason it is used for sprinting in preference to the crawl is because it is less tiring, thus affording greater speed for long distances. this may be swum in either two, four, six, or eight beats. the eight-beat is not used very often. the six-beat is used by most of the fastest swimmers, but the four-beat is the easiest for pupils to learn and time; it also is very speedy. the legs should be kept close together at all times and after taking two, four, six or eight beats, whichever the case may be, the kick should be formed that the first and fourth kicks amount to narrow scissors kicks, then follow with the regular thrash kick, which is straight up and down, as illustrated in fig. . point the legs and turn the feet in slightly. quite a few swimmers believe their legs are of little assistance, but you will find, if you practise the movements alone the way i suggest, the legs will play a very prominent part in your stroke. you will be able to make good speed without using the arms. when these movements are thoroughly mastered, after trying all the different variations to discover which suits your particular need, you may then turn your attention to learning the arm stroke. [illustration: figure ] _the arm strokes._--the arms should be practised with the face under water, moving the legs only sufficiently to prevent them sinking too low, and also so you can obtain the correct position in the water. the arms should be bent at the elbows after they are brought out of the water. the reach should be straight out from the shoulders, placing the hands as far forward as possible before entering the water; by so doing you will conserve your energy. hold the hands like a scoop; they should be about six inches below the surface before taking the sweep. while doing this the elbows must be perfectly stiff, sweeping the arms with considerable force under the surface as far back as the thighs, the body being propelled forward by the powerful force. swing the arms from the shoulders and just lift them enough so they clear the water. relax the arms at all times excepting when they take the sweep through the water. [illustration: figure ] some swimmers draw the arms under the stomach, others use the arms entirely straight, a few place the arms in close to the head and extend to full length under water. as in the leg stroke, if the pupil tries the different methods he will find which stroke is the easiest to accomplish. having mastered the arms, combine with the legs before attempting to breathe, as this in itself is quite difficult. _breathing._--the breathing must be done entirely through the mouth. on the crawl the head and not the body must be turned, and just sufficiently to allow the mouth coming above the water as the left arm passes the head, and a deep breath can then be taken. when the left arm comes forward, turn the face under the water and exhale; repeat on every stroke. [illustration: figure ] do not raise your head when breathing or hold your breath for a consecutive number of strokes. constant practise will loosen the muscles of the neck, when you will find it much easier. in the trudgeon crawl there is a greater roll to the body, and you breathe when rolling toward the right side, as in fig. . having learned the arm and leg movements with the breathing, it is now essential that the position of the body be correct (see fig. ). do not make the mistake of burying your head too deep or the legs, either; hollow the back so as to present a slight slant to the water. if the legs and back come too high raise the head a trifle. part iii floating, diving and scientific swimming treading water treading water is a very useful and necessary adjunct to swimming, especially so to the person who either falls overboard or goes to the rescue of a drowning person, or when trying to remove one's clothes. in the game of water polo, also, this method of swimming is practised a great deal. to tread water is like running up-stairs rapidly; the legs have to be brought up and down all the time; the hands should be kept on the surface of the water, the palms continually pressing against the water, and thereby helping the legs to hold the body up. it is possible to stand perfectly still in deep water, it being merely a question of balance. stand perfectly still, with the arms in line with the shoulders and the head kept well back in the water. the head will sink below the surface once or twice until the proper balance is reached. when this is attained try breathing through the mouth. the swimmer can stand still for an indefinite period. [illustration: treading water] floating floating on the surface of the water is enjoyed immensely by all good swimmers. this feat may seem quite simple, but it is not very easily accomplished. there are many persons who are fairly good swimmers, and yet are unable to float properly. the best of swimmers have often attained this feat only after long and persistent practise. it is possible to learn to float without being able to swim, but in that case only by persons not subject to the least nervousness. as a means of securing rest during exercises in the water, floating gives an ideal position. without the ability to float one lacks the absolute self-confidence in the water so necessary in order to perform numerous aquatic feats. as a rule, women learn to float more quickly than men, because their bones are lighter. oftentimes women are able to float the first time they enter the water. strange as it may seem, while this accomplishment is a very difficult matter for some men to master, with women it is almost natural. nothing is more enjoyable to a good swimmer than floating. especially is this true while bathing at the seashore, when the sea is often rough and the breakers high. [illustration: floating position] the positions for floating or for swimming on the back is practically the same, the only difference being that in floating the body lies perfectly motionless, while in swimming on the back the limbs are constantly in motion. there is no position more comfortable to a swimmer than floating; it is the position of rest, and no bed is so soft as the ocean. to be able to lie perfectly at ease with only the toes and the lower part of the feet peeping above the water is one of many pretty accomplishments in swimming. yet it requires considerable practise to become perfect in the art. [illustration: incorrect floating position] after the novice has mastered the back stroke, it is essential that he should learn how to float in different positions. begin then by extending the arms above the head, thumbs locked, and back hollowed; then bend slowly backward until the back of the hands and head rest in the water, when, by giving the feet a slight push forward, the legs will rise slowly to the surface. keep the mouth open and breathe deeply, as the more air injected into the lungs the higher the body will float. the head, being the heaviest part of the body in the water, should therefore be kept well back. should the legs show a tendency to sink, extend the straightened out arms under the surface in line with the body above the head; this will counterbalance the legs. [illustration: easy floating position] another method is to draw the heels up close to the body, spreading the knees wide apart so that the heels will touch each other. should the body roll from side to side, spread the arms until the body is steadied; sometimes a slight stroke from the side which is rolling is sufficient to maintain the balance. as women float much easier than men on account of the smallness of their bones, stout persons are more buoyant in floating than slim ones. floating in fresh water is more difficult than in salt water. few male swimmers can float in fresh water at all. to regain the feet in floating seems to be a difficult thing for beginners, and yet it can be done with comparative ease and little splashing if the arms are brought in front, using the hands as a scoop while pulling the body forward from the waist up. by bringing the body and the head forward until immersed, the legs will be forced to the bottom. one thing beginners should always remember is to keep the lungs well inflated and the head well back in the water; in fact, everything should be kept under water with the exception of the mouth and the nose. another important thing to remember in floating is to keep the body limp, and breathe naturally and regularly. diving after a person has mastered the first rudiments of swimming, such as the back, breast, and floating strokes, he is naturally anxious to learn to dive. there is nothing more fascinating to a swimmer than a sharp, clean plunge into cool water. the whole secret of diving is the possession of plenty of pluck and self-confidence. one need not be an expert swimmer to be a good diver. in fact, some persons can dive very well and at the same time are mediocre swimmers. as in other branches, practise makes perfect. while in ordinary swimming diving is indulged in merely for the pleasure derived therefrom, in racing diving is a very important factor. frequently races are won mainly from the ability of the contender to dive properly; in other words, to get away with a skimming plunge, thus securing a good start and getting into a stride that carries him to victory. this form of swimming is also of the utmost importance in the matter of life-saving. as a luxury in sea-water bathing nothing equals a plunge from a good height. i advise beginners to practise from a float or springboard, the latter being preferable, as the spring naturally throws the legs up into the air, thereby preventing the diver from landing flat on his stomach, as most beginners usually do. the essential points to be considered in diving are to keep the head well tucked in between the extended arms, the thumbs locked, the arms forming an arch above the head. in standing, preparatory to the dive, the knees should be slightly bent, so that the spring comes from the bended knees and toes. [illustration: teaching diving to a beginner] in teaching diving to a nervous pupil, at first i generally hold up the left leg as he is bending over to dive. the farther over he bends, the higher i raise the leg, as per illustration. then it is impossible for the swimmer to fall flat on the water; the upraised leg prevents that. this is the way that i advise all would-be divers to make their first attempt. after a while the diver will throw up both legs in the air behind him. to obviate entering the water with the knees doubled up, as so many do (see illustration), the toes must be pointed straight up, back arched. pointing the toes tends to straighten the legs out (see page ). another method i use in teaching a diver to spring well out is to hold a long stick across the water, about four feet away and three feet above the diving-board. this makes the diver spring well out and throw his legs up behind him. it is well to impress the diver always to keep his thumbs interlocked. otherwise, if he should be diving in a shallow place, the hands would spread and the head would strike bottom; locking the thumbs prevents this. after deep and shallow dives have been mastered, the pupil can take up various fancy dives, such as the "side dive," "standing-sitting dives," "standing, sitting-standing dive," "back dive," "jack-knife dive," "front-back dive," "back somersault," "front somersault," "sitting jump," and numerous others. [illustration: a bad dive] [illustration: correct position in midair] [illustration: correct position on entering the water] the side dive is made by standing sideways on the diving-board, the forward foot turned so that the toes grip the edge of board. when springing out, the back should be well hollowed and the face turned up, the head well tucked in between the arms. the "standing-sitting dive" must be made from a good springboard. the diver stands at the edge of the springboard, the arms straight down, with the hands at right angles with the arms, the palms downward. with a slight spring the pupil drops to a sitting position, the palms flat on the springboard, and the legs straightened out rigidly in front. thus the impact, assisted by a push-off with the hands, will jerk the diver head foremost into space. the diver then turns over, straightening the body and entering the water as in an ordinary dive. in the "standing-sitting-standing" dive from a standing position the diver assumes a sitting position as in a "sitting" dive, drawing the knees under to regain the feet again and pushing off for the dive. [illustration: mrs. frank eugen dalton position for a dive] [illustration: the standing-sitting dive] [illustration: the back dive] the back dive requires a depth of at least five to six feet. the toes should be well up to the edge of the pool and the back well hollowed. this is the main essential; one also must point the toes out well. this is a very difficult dive and requires plenty of nerve and practise. the "jack-knife dive" is made from the back-diving position by springing up in the air, doubling the body up from the waist, and throwing the legs up behind, trying to enter the water as clean as possible facing the springboard. the "dolphin dive" is the straight front dive, only the body must be turned sharply in the air from front to back. the easiest way is to practise this from a springboard about six feet above water. the back somersault from the springboard requires the swimmer to double up while in the air; the arms should be lowered from the shoulder and bent up from the elbow, and the knees drawn up, so as to make the body ball-shaped, when the turn-over can be made easier. the front somersault is exactly the same, only with the face forward instead of backward. [illustration: the dolphin dive] for the australian splash one stands in the regular diving position, springing well out and doubling the body in the air, with the hands clasping the knees. one must keep the head well forward with the toes pointing down. [illustration: the australian splash] the "neck dive" must be done from a springboard well above the water. grip the front of the board with the hands, with the head well over the edge, throwing the legs in the air, turning the body over, and back somersaulting into the water, feet first. when a swimmer has improved and added speed to his racing stroke, he should practise shallow racing dives and how to turn sharply in a tank. this is very important, as many a race has been lost through the inability of the racer to turn sharply when reaching the end of a tank. to practise this, swim slowly to the end of the tank, gage your strokes, so that the right hand grasps the bar which is usually placed around the tank a little above the water. throw the left arm over the right arm against the marble side of the bath under water; at the same time double the body up, switch around, gathering yourself well together, and shoot forward with the arms extended. ten to twenty feet can be covered on a good push-off. the method usually followed by swimmers in america is to double up and turn to the left when they are within a foot of the end of the bath without touching with the hands, but pushing off with the feet. in races in england this turn is not allowed, as the racer must touch the end of the bath with his hands. [illustration: the neck dive] a racing dive is a very shallow dive. the quicker the swimmer gets to the surface the less time is wasted in getting into his stroke. both these things are very important and should be well practised. when training in a tank, the racer should never go the full distance, but reserve his speed for the day of the race. in a tank it is a good plan to count the number of strokes required to do the length, so that you know just when the end of the bath is reached without turning the head. a straight course is always advisable. this can be kept by swimming parallel with the side of the bath. it is good practise to get a friend to time your lengths, and get used to diving at the word "go." the best position for a racing dive is with the hands in front of the body, the knees bent, and the mouth open, so that you get all the air possible before striking the water. always spring out as far as you can. never mind if it is a flat dive. this is much better than a deep, clean dive, and less time is lost. swimming like a dog children generally manage to swim like a dog in their initial attempts. this is a very easy and simple method of propulsion, mainly for the reason that the arms and legs are never lifted above water. [illustration: swimming like a dog] legs are kicked out straight to the rear, sole of each foot striking the water squarely and alternately, instead of working together. hands are placed in front of the body, with palms down, and are successively brought down under the body and up again. plunging to become a good plunger the swimmer, first of all, has to have good lungs. he must be able to hold his breath for at least one minute under water. ability to float face down, as in the dead man's float, is also essential. many would-be plungers find that their feet sink after having gone about feet, the reason being lack of practise in floating. when practising for plunging the take-off should be about three feet above the water. the thumbs should be locked, the knees slightly bent, and the edge of the diving-board gript well with the toes. empty the lungs by exhaling, then fill again with a long, deep breath, and at the last inhalation spring forward, with all the force possible, taking care not to go deep in the water; about two feet down is sufficient. keep the head well down and the toes pointing up. the back should be arched and the legs bent up from the knees; this will counteract the tendency of the legs to sink. unless one makes a straight dive by pushing off equally strong with both legs, the body will go sideways to the side of the pool. floating on the back and chest is mainly a question of balance, and comes only after considerable practise. [illustration: correct position for long plunge] the time limit allowed in a plunge is seconds without raising the face out of the water. the record is over feet, inches, and was made in england by h.w. allason. sculling this is one of the simplest methods of swimming on the back, the forearms and hands alone being in motion during the performance. the swimmer turns on the back with the legs straight out and together, or crossed, the arms being flexible and near the body. the hands, with palms downward, must be in line with the thighs, with the fingers slightly raised. the hands are worked from the wrists, from right to left, in addition to a slight movement (right to left) of the forearm. this forces the body, head first, very gracefully through the water. swimming backward on the chest [illustration: swimming backward on chest] in performing this trick of backward on the chest, the body is placed in position as in the breast stroke, the legs and arms together, outstretched in line with the body. the feet must be moved slowly from the knees, each leg separately. the feet are alternately pushed backward and the toes extended to the rear. the feet must not come above the water. the action of the hands is performed with the palms facing outward, each hand being pushed alternately forward. another method of using the hands is the reverse of the breast-stroke movement; in other words, the breast stroke movement is done backward. begin with the arms out straight in front, the palms together, and then draw the arms backward until the wrists touch the chest. next throw out the arms horizontally in line with the shoulders, the palms turned out, thus sending the body backward by bringing the outstretched arms straight together until the palms touch. if the performer be an expert swimmer he can, by using this arm movement, dispense with the leg movements. this is a "stunt" well worth practising, as it looks very effective in the water. the washing tub [illustration: the washing tub] this is a very simple performance and requires little practise. the swimmer turns on his back, doubles the body by bringing the knees up to the chin, with the legs crossed. the body is kept in position by working the hands the same as in sculling. as soon as the swimmer has obtained his balance, he pushes the water away from his body with the right hand and uses the left hand in the opposite manner, or, as it were, pulls the water toward the body with the left hand. the propeller this is a very graceful movement and never fails to excite admiration in onlookers. to do it properly requires considerable practise. one must be able to float well. there is always a tendency to raise the head above the proper level, which in turn causes the feet to sink. [illustration: the propeller] to begin, the swimmer should turn on the back, placing the hands at the side of the body, keeping the head back and the feet together. slight movements of the hands from the wrists will keep the body floating. then make a long sweep of the arms from the body, under the surface of the water, until they are at full length beyond the head. thus the body will be propelled with the feet foremost. as soon as the body is in motion, the hands should be moved by the wrists and forearms only, in a scoop-like manner, with the palms turned outward. the body may be turned round by lessening the movement of one hand and increasing that of the other, the body turning to the side on which the lesser movement is taking place. bringing the arms to the side again as in the original position will bring the body to a standstill. this trick, seemingly very simple, is somewhat difficult of accomplishment, and requires considerable practise. the torpedo this is a rather difficult performance. it requires a great deal of practise. the movements are almost identical with those in the "propeller," the main difference being that in this trick the head is kept under water. [illustration: the torpedo] to begin, the performer should lie flat in the water on his back, with his arms stretched out beyond his head. the palms should be turned upward. then the legs should be raised from the hips, and kept rigid. this will cause the body to become submerged, all but the ankles and feet. one then must work the hands the same as in "propeller," but at the end of each stroke make a slight upward pressure with the palms, so that the body may retain its position below the water. the movement of the hands will cause the body to move forward, feet first. the swimmer should at all times keep his eyes open in order to guide himself in a straight line. the catherine wheel [illustration: the catherine wheel] this is a very effective "stunt." after assuming the floating position, turn on the right side, with the arms at full length, the hands close to the body, and the knees drawn up. begin by moving the legs sideways; that is, bring each knee up alternately, straightening out the legs and making a wide sweep with each leg before bringing it up again. the legs are used the same as paddles on a side-wheeler, as in the illustration. this should be practised on both sides. one hand is made to scoop the water toward the body in front, while the other is manipulated the same way at the back. with a little practise one thus may simulate a catherine wheel--at least when the act is done rapidly and efficiently. rolling to roll in the water one has to be able to float well; to roll easily the body must float as high in the water as possible. no movements of arms or legs are required at all, the balancing being done with the head. [illustration: rolling] first get into a floating position, the arms extended beyond the head, the ankles crossed as in the illustration. then fill the lungs well with air, and gently rock the body from side to side, increasing the motion until the body rolls nearly over on its side. having reached this position, turn the face well over on the right side, and the body will roll over and turn up again on the other side. after the first complete roll, once momentum is started, the second becomes easier. several rolls can be made before stopping, provided the breath holds out. always finish in the floating position. when one has learned how to roll over on the right side, rolling on the left side should be practised, until that movement becomes as easy as the other one. after practise the rolls can be made very easily and gracefully, without splashing. the legs must always be kept crossed and together, never letting the hands come out of the water. swimming like a porpoise this trick, very interesting and pretty, is quite mirth-provoking to the onlooker, especially if indulged in by a number of swimmers. unlike the vast majority of tricks performed in the water, it does not call for ability to float well, the only qualification being that one must be a fairly good swimmer. begin by lying flat on the water with the face downward. then take a deep inspiration after having cleared the lungs. as the chest begins to inflate, the body must be allowed to sink under water. at the end of the inspiration the head should go below the surface. after a couple of breast strokes under water, turn the head upward. by executing a strong kick with the legs, the head will rise out of the water. as the body rises, make one stroke with the arms, and, as soon as the head comes up, the arms should be recovered to the first position of the breast stroke and pushed together downward through the water from its level to the side of the body. simultaneously, as the hands are moving toward the body, the legs should be straightened with a sharp kick. this will force the head and shoulders out of the water. [illustration: swimming like a porpoise] a sudden inclination of the head toward the chest will assist the body in rolling over, when the back and legs will become visible after the head is again under water, the legs being the last to sink. by carefully regulating the breathing, this movement can be effected a number of times. the pendulum this is another very clever trick, requiring considerable practise; the main essential is ability to float. the "pendulum" is primarily a balancing feat, a well-inflated chest being the main requisite. the body should first be allowed to float on the water, with the arms stretched out beyond the head and in line with the body. the head must be thrown well back while the body is kept perfectly still. then take a deep inhalation, bringing the head well forward, as if to look at the feet. simultaneously with this movement draw hands toward the head. these combined movements will cause the body to sink, and thus assume a perpendicular position in the water. when the body has assumed a perpendicular position, the arms must be brought to the front of the body, stretched well out, and at the same time the head must be sunk between the arms until the face and arms lie on the surface of the water. when the arms and head are down, the feet will rise and the body float on the surface with the face down. [illustration: the pendulum] to come back to the first position, the head must be tilted backward and the hands drawn to the back of the head. again the feet will sink and the body be swung back to a perpendicular position with the face above water. one must then stretch the arms at full length behind the head, with the palms upward, gradually inclining the head backward until the legs once more rise to the surface, and the body floats face upward. repetition of these movements produce a swinging similar to that of a pendulum. the movements must be accomplished with regularity, at all times keeping the legs straight and together. somersaults this is one of the easiest and simplest tricks. with very little practise it can be mastered by most ordinary swimmers. of course, this statement refers to the ordinary somersault, either backward or forward, which is nothing more than a turning over of the body while in the water. [illustration: forward somersault] in the back somersault the head is tilted back as far as possible, the legs well drawn up, and the arms thrown out horizontally from the shoulders. then the body is turned on the back and a stroke taken with the arms and hands. as the body is doubled up, this action causes it to turn completely over, the head going under first. in the forward somersault, the head is prest down upon the chest, the legs doubled up, the same as in the back somersault, the arms at right angles with the body, and the palms downward. the stroke is made similar to that in the back somersault, but the movement is started in front. if there are a number of these motions to be made, the lungs should be well filled before beginning, as there is no time for proper breathing. double somersaults as this trick requires two swimmers, it makes necessary a great deal more practise. to begin, the swimmers stand on the bottom of the pool, one in front of the other. the forward swimmer throws out his arms at a right angle with the body, even with the shoulders, and spreads his legs until his feet are about twelve inches apart. then the second swimmer, after taking a deep breath, dives under water and places his head between the legs of the other, bending his legs backward until they come close to the head of the forward swimmer, who in turn tilts his head backward so that it may be grasped by the legs of the other. when in this position, the swimmers begin to turn backward, using the arms the same is in the backward (single) somersault. the head of each swimmer should be tilted well backward. as the head of the forward swimmer disappears below the surface, the head of the other should appear. after several turns the grip of the legs may be released and the swimmers rise to the surface in their original positions. [illustration: double somersault] with one leg out of water in this act the swimmer should lie on his back, the same as in sculling, raise one leg until it is at right angles with the body, keeping the other leg straight and rigid. the action of the hands will propel the body forward. [illustration: one leg out of water] when becoming proficient in this movement, the swimmer can practise raising the other leg. this requires considerable more force in the working of the hands, so that both legs may be kept in position. by performing the motion of the hands directly under the legs, less difficulty will be experienced. swimming with clothes on this is an accomplishment that should be learned by all swimmers. in addition to the sense of security given in time of accident, it is productive of great amusement at race meets and exhibitions, and never fails to excite admiration and wonder in the onlooker. of course, this can be practised with an old or cast-off suit. practise first with a coat, then with a coat and waistcoat; next add trousers, and last the shoes and stockings. this will gradually accustom the beginner to the extra weight of the clothes. in case of an immersion in clothes, with no help in sight, the sooner the swimmer removes his clothes the longer he can support himself. the easiest way is to float on the back and remove the coat, taking out one arm at a time, using the legs as in the dalton stroke; next remove the vest, still lying on the back; then unbutton the trousers and pull the right leg down with the left hand. to remove the left leg, use the left hand and kick out with the right leg. to remove the shoes, lie on the back and draw up one leg at a time, crossed over the other leg, and so try and undo the laces. if a knife is handy, cut the laces and kick the shoes off. this is one of the most effective feats practised at exhibitions. with hands and feet tied this trick is most frequently performed with the wrists and ankles tied with a rope. the performer should plunge into the water as for a shallow dive and rise to the surface without making a stroke. the legs are then drawn up until the heels are quite close to the back of the thighs, then the legs are kicked out together. the arms are drawn down through the water, in front of the body, and then shot out. care must be taken that too much force be not employed, or much of the beauty of this movement will be lost. naturally, the pace will be slow, but this does not detract from its neatness, nor lessen the admiration that this trick always calls forth. this work is often performed by experts, having their arms tied to their sides or behind their backs. when performing in this manner, one must swim on the back, and the legs only can be used for propulsion. in this instance better progress is made, as it is much easier to swim on the back with the hand and feet tied than it is to swim on the breast under the same conditions. one of the main essentials in the performance of this trick is ability to float. these performances, also, are much easier in a tidal river or stream than in still water, as the body is carried forward with the motion of the water, and less exertion is necessary to remain on the surface. over and under [illustration: over and under] this is one of the prettiest exhibition tricks that can be accomplished in the water. if performed by a lady and gentleman it never fails to elicit great applause. the swimmers begin with floating alongside of each other. then one slowly paddles ahead of the other with his hands until his toes are in line with the shoulders of the other. when in that position, the first grasps the neck of the other with his toes. then the other slowly brings his or her arms back under water and catches hold of the ankles of the first. after balancing for a moment, the other dips his or her head below the surface, at the same time giving a strong pull at the ankles of the first, which draws the first directly over him. the first one allowing his arms to float straight behind him. while the first is slowly sailing over the other submerged, the latter watches the former, and when the neck of the first is in line with the feet of the other, the latter raises his feet and grasps the neck of the former, who allows his body to rise to the surface. the performance is then repeated by the first grasping the ankles of the other, and continuing as before. these movements must be done slowly and gracefully, each swimmer allowing the other time to inflate the lungs before the next pullover is made. after these movements have been gone through about a dozen times, and when in position for the final pull, the forward one should loosen the grip on the neck and propel himself ahead to the side of the other swimmer, when both can bend forward in unison, making a very neat and graceful finale. swimming under water to be able to swim under water is quite an accomplishment and often may be of very valuable service, but as an achievement in competition or for exhibition purpose it is not to be encouraged because of the danger of prolonged immersion, and the fact that many competitors do not know when to desist. under-water swimming should be practised by experts only, but care must be taken not to prolong the immersion in order to reach a definite point or to accomplish a certain distance before rising to the surface. it often happens that swimmers, in order to achieve a certain distance, remain under water after pains in the back of the neck give warning of oncoming unconsciousness, in which case they may lapse into a state of insensibility, and there is grave danger of drowning. when these contests take place in baths, it is not a pleasant sight to watch a swimmer struggling on, against odds, in the hope of beating a rival for the coveted prize. the action of the arms and legs become slower and slower, until at last, from sheer exhaustion, the body rises toward the surface for a short distance and then sinks to the bottom motionless. one of the advantages of being able to swim under water is the ability it imparts to the swimmer to reach the body of a drowning person, or to bring the body of a drowned person to the surface. in swimming under water, the ordinary breast stroke is the one used. to swim downward, the head is prest down toward the breast, and when wishing to rise the head is deflected backward. if swimming under water for a long distance, the body should be kept near the surface, for the reason that the pressure is greater in the corresponding depth. care should be taken to fill the lungs before starting, and as soon as the first symptoms of asphyxiation are noticeable, the swimmer should rise to the surface. among the notable feats accomplished under water may be mentioned that of james finney, in england, in , who accomplished a distance of feet. william reilly, of salford, an amateur, swam feet under water. the time limit for under-water swimming is about a minute and a half. at the crystal palace, london, england, in , in a diver's tank feet deep, prof. f.e. dalton picked up plates in a single immersion. monte cristo sack trick this is one of the most sensational performances of the professional swimmer. from a spectacular point of view it is very effective. to do this trick one must be an adept at under-water swimming; an assistant is necessary in order to tie the knots properly. [illustration: monte cristo sack trick] the sack to be used must be large enough to allow plenty of room for the swimmer to move about. at the bottom of the sack place a number of heavy weights. a hole must be cut at the top to allow the rope to be passed through. the swimmer gets into the sack, taking firm hold of the loosened ends of the doubled rope and that part of the sack close to it. the assistant then takes hold of the ends of the rope and ties them around the sack. the knots must be made on the other side of the sack from that on which the ends have been passed through. after warning the swimmer, so that he may inflate his lungs, he is thrown into the water. the weights at the bottom of the sack will cause him to sink feet first. after remaining in the sack a few seconds the performer releases the ends of the rope held by him and pushes the sack open with his hands, when he is free to rise to the surface. this appears to be a very dangerous feat, but in reality is a very simple one for a good swimmer. notable feats by celebrated swimmers considerable interest was aroused in the early part of august, , when the statement was made that captain matthew webb, an englishman who had served as second mate on several ships in the indian and north atlantic trade, intended to attempt the remarkable feat of swimming across the english channel. his first attempt resulted in failure. this took place on august , . after swimming for hours minutes and seconds, during which period he covered - / miles, webb was compelled to leave the water owing to having drifted - / miles to the eastward of his course by a northeast stream and stress of weather. webb started from dover hours minutes before high water on a tide rising feet inches at that port. when he gave up no estimate could be formed as to the probable distance he would have gone west on the tide. in his second and successful attempt, on august of the same year, webb started from dover - / hours before high water on a -foot -inch tide, which gave him one hour and three-quarters of the southwest stream. his point of landing was - / miles from dover, as the crow flies, but the actual length of the swim was - / miles. very little rest was taken by webb on the way. when he did stop it was to take refreshment, and then he was treading water. during the whole time he had no recourse to artificial aids. of this there is indisputable proof. the journalists who acompanied him across in a boat were careful in their observations, and were men whose accuracy could be depended on. the temperature of the water was about degrees. webb never complained of cold. for the first hours the weather was fine. the sea was as smooth as glass, the sun obscured during the day by a haze, so that the heat did not affect webb's head, and in the night a three-quartered moon lighted him on his way. the worst time began at a.m. on august th, as drowsiness had to be overcome and rough water was entered. at this hour he was only some - / miles off cape grisnez, france, and altho he was not then strong enough to strike out a direct course athwart the new northeast stream for land, he was fetching well in for sangette, where he would undoubtedly have landed between and a.m. had adverse weather not set in. he finally landed on the calais sands after having been in the water hours minutes. after performing this feat, webb for some years gave exhibitions of diving and swimming at an aquarium in london and elsewhere. in july, , he came to america for the purpose of swimming the rapids and whirlpool at niagara, and in this attempt lost his life. on september , , miss agnes beckwith, then only fourteen years of age, swam from london bridge to greenwich, a distance of five miles. beginning her journey at eight minutes to five, miss beckwith covered the first mile and a half in minutes. limehouse church--a trifle over halfway--was passed in minutes, and greenwich pier was reached in hour minutes seconds. on september , , miss emily parker, who had previously undertaken to swim the same distance as miss beckwith, not only equalled but excelled the performance of miss beckwith. she went on to blackwall, a distance of seven miles, the time being hour minutes. on december, , captain davis dalton swam for hours continuously at the latchmere public baths in london, england. on august , , captain dalton left folkestone for boulogne with the intention of swimming back across the channel to folkestone, a distance of miles. dalton exprest his conviction that he could perform the journey in hours, and if successful would beat the time of captain webb. he entered the water at four o'clock on sunday afternoon, and accomplished the journey, without any remarkable incident, at half-past three the following afternoon. in july, , captain dalton swam from blackwall to gravesend in the river thames, london, covering the entire distance on his back. in december, , captain dalton swam for hours continuously at the dover baths, england. on august , , after several brilliant attempts, montagu holbein swam the english channel, but was compelled to desist when only two miles from the finishing point, after staying in the water for - / hours. the following feats have been recorded as accomplished during the year : william t. burgess, of yorkshire, england, crossed the english channel from south foreland, dover, england, to la chatelet, two miles east of cape gris nez, france. burgess started at . a.m., september , and finished at . a.m., september . time, hours minutes. the distance is miles. burgess is said to have covered nearly miles, owing to changes in the tide and currents. on june th martin m. harris, in an attempt to swim from chester, pa., to market street, philadelphia, pa., a distance of - / miles, was forced to retire at greenwich, after covering - / miles in hours minutes. on june th charles durburrow swam from the million dollar pier, atlantic city, n.j., to ocean city, about miles, in the open sea in hours minutes. on july d jabez wolffe, in an attempt to cross the english channel from sangatte, france, had to retire when within a mile of st. margaret's bay, england, owing to adverse tides, after hours' swimming. on july d charles durburrow, in an attempt to swim from the battery, new york city, to sandy hook, was forced to give up, owing to adverse tides, when - / miles from sandy hook, after swimming about miles in hours minutes. about this time joseph o'connor swam from watertown, mass., in the charles river, to cambridge bridge, boston, a distance of about miles, in hours minutes. on august th samuel richards swam from charlestown bridge, boston, to boston light, a distance of about miles, in hours minutes. on august th noah marks swam from chester, pa., in the delaware river, to walnut street, philadelphia, pa., a distance of - / miles, in hours minutes. miss rose pitonoff swam from east twenty-sixth street, new york city, to steeplechase park pier, coney island, a distance of about miles, in hours minutes. on august th miss a. akroyd swam from charlestown bridge, boston, to boston lightship in hours minutes seconds. on august th miss elaine golding swam from the battery, new york city, to steeplechase park pier, coney island, a distance of about miles, in hours minute. raymond frederickson finished first in a swim of the u.s. volunteer life saving corps from the battery to coney island in hours minutes seconds. on september d miss adelaide trapp swam from north beach to st. george, staten island, new york, a distance of about miles, in hours minutes. william d. mcallister won a long-distance swim from l street bath, boston, to spectacle island and return in hours minutes. all of these swims were made with aid from tide or current. part iv water polo as a pastime water polo has become one of the most popular and fascinating of all water sports. it can be indulged in by very good swimmers only. it affords abundant opportunity for the exhibition of skill and endurance. for the following account of water polo the author is indebted to a volume from spalding's athletic library, entitled "water polo," written by l. de b. handley, permission to use it having kindly been granted by the publishers: the value of an athletic game or contest is determined by four things: its physical-culture merits; its utility; its attractiveness as a pastime, and its spectacular features. water polo has few equals as a means of developing the body. the swimming alone in it would insure general and symmetrical development, but the player wrestles besides, during a game, and every part of the body is given its proportionate share of this gruelling work, developing all muscles in a uniform way. as to its utility, it is self-evident. swimming has come to be looked upon as a necessity, simply because it may be the means of saving life, and in this water polo is the most practical of teachers. a player is coached on how to free himself from every kind of a tackle, how to assist an exhausted team-mate and how to apply the best methods of resuscitation when any one is knocked out. then these teachings have to be practised frequently while the team is at work, and one becomes proficient insensibly and as a matter of course. it is a revelation to see an expert player handle a drowning person, and more especially a frantic one. the rescue is performed in such an easy, matter-of-fact way as to lead one to wonder at the halo of heroism that surrounds most cases of life-saving. hardly a player but has several rescues to his credit, which he looks upon as a series of trifling services rendered to a fellow mortal, and no more. as a pastime water polo is among the leaders. hard and exhausting it may be, but there is an exhilaration in dashing about the pool, fighting one's way to goal, that no other game gives. and it has a feature that appeals strongly to the man who has attained manhood and its numerous responsibilities--the rarity of accidents. bruises and knockouts one gets a-plenty, but those serious injuries which mar football, hockey and lacrosse are totally unknown. its evolution in america there is a belief that a game similar to water polo was played by the ancients, but no actual proof of it has been found. rules were first formulated in england in , and we adopted them in america about , but our present game bears absolutely no resemblance to the one that was then played. in the latter, points were scored by throwing an inflated rubber ball nine inches in diameter through an open goal marked by uprights and a cross-bar; and passing was the feature of the game. americans found it unsuited. the few available tanks were so small that there was no place for action, and the outdoor season was too short to be satisfactory. the idea was then conceived of changing the goal into a solid surface, four feet by one in size, and to oblige the scorer to touch the ball to the goal while holding it, instead of passing it. the innovation met ready favor, but, as may be imagined, transformed the game. from an open passing one water polo became one of close formations and fierce scrimmages. these, at first, were disorderly scuffles, where weight and brute strength reigned supreme, but little by little strict rules were formulated to eliminate rough tactics, and then science became an important factor. in a man entered the field who was destined to revolutionize the system of play. harold h. reeder, of the late knickerbocker athletic a.c., besides being a good leader and a brilliant individual player, knew how to handle men. he realized that in a growing sport new ideas would mean development, and he made it possible for the members of his squad to experiment with those they had. the system he used is worth a few words of explanation, because it was accountable for the wonderful strides made since , and because every team will profit by its adoption. reeder, well aided by prof. alex. meffett, began by teaching every candidate the rudiments of the game; veterans and greenhorns alike were put through the mill. each was schooled in the principles of swimming, diving, catching, passing, scoring, interfering, tackling and breaking, until these points had been thoroughly mastered, and only then did the team practise begin. but again, no player was allowed in unprepared. reeder instituted blackboard practise and saw that every one attended it. placing before his assembled squad the possible formations, he made players selected at random explain the duties of every position in each formation. by this system he obliged every player to use his brains, and he found out the amount of water-polo intelligence that each possest. he also imparted to each the ideas of all the others, he taught them how to fill every position and he brought to light many new plays. the progress which the innovation was responsible for no one realized until the aggregation of yearlings from the knickerbocker athletic club defeated the formidable array of champions representing the new york athletic club. reeder abandoned the game two years later, but his good work lived after him, and some of his team-mates held the championship for many years by following his teachings. how the game is now played water polo as played to-day in america is rather dangerous for outdoors, and indoor pools are generally used. it is a contest between two teams of six, having as object the touching of the opponent's goalboard with an inflated rubber ball seven inches in diameter, which the referee throws into the water at start of play. in order to score, the ball has to be touched to the goal while in the hand of a player; it can not be thrown. the goals are spaces four by one foot, situated at each short end of the playing area, eighteen inches above the water level. the size of the playing area is optional, tho the recognized dimensions are x feet or x feet, with a uniform depth of seven feet of water. imaginary lines are drawn across the tank (see fig. t), parallel to the short ends, at four and fifteen feet from them. the first, called four-foot line, serves as protection to the goal-tenders and can not be crossed until the ball is within; the other is the foul line, and serves to mark the spot on which the forwards line up on being given a free trial. the four-foot line also marks the goal section, a space x feet, in which indiscriminate tackling is allowed when the ball is within. each team of six is divided into a forward line (center, right forward and left forward) whose duty it is to attack the opponent's goal; and a backfield of three (half-back, right goal-tender and left goal-tender), upon whom devolves the defense of the home goal. at the start of play the two teams line up their respective ends, the referee places the ball in the middle of the playing area and then blows a whistle. at this signal the twelve players dive in, the forwards to make a dash for the ball, the backs to take up their positions. the forward who first reaches the ball tosses it back to the defense men, who hold it until the line of attack is formed and then pass it back. immediately a fierce scrimmage takes place and either a score is made or the ball changes side and a scrimmage occurs at the other end. after the score the teams line up as at start of play. [illustration: courtesy of "spaulding's athletic library." water polo] time of play is sixteen minutes, actual, divided into two halves of eight minutes each, with an intermission of five minutes between halves. only two substitutes are allowed, and they can only be used to replace an injured or exhausted player. preparatory work no man should attempt to play water polo who is not in the best possible physical condition. before joining the squad, every candidate, be he a novice coming to learn the game, or a veteran resuming training, should prepare himself for the hard work in sight. i don't mean that he should be down to edge, but in good ruddy health. as a matter of fact, a man is far better off if he can start the season with eight or ten pounds of extra avoirdupois; and four or five pounds above "pink of condition" may be carried throughout the season with good results. they will prevent one's getting cold while in the water and keep one from going stale, a very easy matter in water polo. preliminary exercise should be taken daily for a week or two in anticipation of starting practise. long swims are advisable at this early date, but should be abandoned while preparing for a contest, as one sprints only in a game. the best system to follow is a very simple one. a few minutes in the steam-room (not more than five) or some calisthenics to warm up the blood, then a fast hundred. this done, rest until you have regained your breath. taking the water-polo ball next, pass it to given points of the tank to secure accuracy, and sprint after it each time. then get against the side of the tank, and placing the ball ten or twelve feet away, try to secure it with one hand on a push-off. this, done half a dozen times daily, will insure accurate passing, catching and obviate fumbling. another excellent exercise is to place the ball fifteen or twenty feet from you and then swim after it under water, trying to get it without coming to the surface. this has the double object of getting you used to under-water work and accustoms you to looking for the ball while submerged in a scrimmage. gymnasium work is not advisable unless one's physical condition is badly in need of building up, and even then only the lightest kind should be taken. it has too great a tendency to harden the muscles; a swimmer's should be soft and pliable. breathing exercises can be highly recommended; there is nothing better for the wind. a good system is to take it while walking in the open air. by inhaling for the space of six steps, and exhaling for six, the lungs are properly worked. in cold weather breathe through the nose. how to develop the new player the game of water polo is such a strenuous one that even the best of men often tackle it with misgivings. the new player should on no account attempt to take part in a scrub game until he has thoroughly mastered the rudiments. the man who goes in against an experienced tackler, ignorant of the means of protecting himself, receives punishment so severe as to give him a completely erroneous idea of the game. if the candidate has followed the suggestions given above he will be physically able to stand the gruelling, but more is needed; he should be able to take care of himself. to teach him how, he must be taken in hand alone, and shown the various tackles and breaks. this is best done on _terra firma_; in the water the man will be thinking of the ducking in sight and his mind will not be in receptive mood. it is also essential to make him understand a hold thoroughly before proceeding with another. once a man has the movements learned, he can be put in the water with a skilled player and allowed to practise on the latter, who should let him secure the holds without opposition at first, but gradually increase the resistance until he becomes proficient. if there is no one to coach and no good player to practise against, the new men should work on each other. water-polo holds are a good deal a matter of individuality; each man builds up a set of his own, but one tackle and one break will serve as a foundation for all. to learn the tackle, give your coworker the ball and let him come toward you. when he's a couple of feet off, take a good, hard stroke, lift yourself as high out of the water as you can throw your arm around his neck, and pulling his head down until it is jammed hard against your chest, wind your legs around his body. then you have him at your mercy, and you can proceed to take the ball away from him. this tackle should be learned by forwards and backs alike; all need it. the best break known is the following: we will suppose that you carry the ball in the right hand. on approaching your opponent throw your left shoulder forward, presenting a three-quarter view. to tackle you effectively he must use his right arm, as you could easily repel a left-handed one in your position. as soon as his right arm goes up, place your left hand squarely under his armpit and let yourself sink, twisting around, face toward him, as you pass under, and as soon as you are on your back force his body over you. then plant both feet on him and shove off. in most cases, if you succeed, you will find yourself between your opponent and his goal, where all you have to do is to touch the board for a score. to use the legs at every possible chance should be a principle of the player. once an opponent is caught in a good leg-hold he is rendered helpless. incidentally, the wise player ceases struggling when he recognizes that he is caught beyond freeing. it is an excellent rule also to avoid being tackled uselessly; if a body encounter is liable to let you out best, or will help your side, go into it heart and soul, just as hard as you know how, but never make a senseless sacrifice. passing and catching are all important factors in water polo and should be practised constantly. in passing it is well to bear in mind that the object in view is to give the ball securely to one's team-mate. pass high and carefully; a low throw may be intercepted and a hard one fumbled. specially in close quarters high passing is essential. to cover one's opponent when the other side has the ball and get away from him when one's own has it, should be the religion of every player. in covering him, always stay back of him, where you can watch him, and tackle him just in the nick of time if the ball is passed to him. many new men have an idea that one knows intuitively how to score, but it is not so. the various ways must be learned. one only does in a game what one has become used to in practise, for there is little time or chance to think in the excitement of a keen contest, and it is those things which have been ground into one by dint of repetition that stand by one. to get used to scoring, place yourself three or four yards from goal and then sink yourself, or let some one else put you under, and try to come up and hit the board with eyes closed; you will soon find what a difference practise makes. you must also learn how to hurdle by letting some one tread water between you and goal and score by placing your free hand on his shoulder and lifting yourself over. a short course of the above, and you will be ready to line up. a few points on entering the tank for an important game, every player should forget his individuality and submit passively to the orders of the captain. there must be only one head for a team to succeed, and an order should be executed without hesitation and without questioning; right or wrong, the best results come through blind obedience. the man giving the orders often sees an opening that the other does not. let no personal difference affect your game; play to win, not to pay off an old score. it is the goals made, not the men disabled, that give one victory, and victory is what every player should seek. to the forward, discrimination is a valuable asset. when caught in a tackle so far away from goal that getting free will not help you pass the ball at once, don't allow your opponent to punish you. but if you are nailed within easy reach of goal, fight as long as there is breath of life in you. never mind how helpless the task may seem, a team-mate may come to the rescue at any moment, and then you'll score. the forward should always play the ball in preference to the man and keep free as much as possible. and above all--play fast and hard. american rules . the ball shall be the regulation white rubber association football not less than nor more than inches in diameter. . the goals shall be spaces feet long and inches wide marked "goal" in large letters. one shall be placed at either end of the tank, inches above the water-line equally distant from either side. . to score a goal the goal must be touched by the ball in the hand of an opposing player and the greatest number of goals shall count game. . the ball shall be kept on or as near the surface of the water as possible, and shall never intentionally be carried under water. no goal shall be allowed when scored by an under-water pass. . the contesting teams shall consist of six a side, with two reserve men who can be substituted at any time when the ball is not in play. a player withdrawn can not return to play. only six prizes shall be given to the winning team. . time of play shall be minutes actual time, divided in two halves of minutes each and minutes rest between halves. time occupied by disputes, free trials for goal, repairing suits, and lining up after a goal has been scored shall not be reckoned as time of play. . the captains shall be playing members of teams they represent and shall toss for choice of ends of tank. the ends shall be changed at half time. . the referee shall throw the ball in the center of the tank and the start for the ball be made only at the sound of the whistle. . a ball going out of the tank shall be returned to the place from which it was thrown and given to the opposing team. . a mark shall be made four feet from each goal on the side of the tank and an imaginary line between these marks shall be called the four-foot line. no man will be allowed within this line until the ball is within it. the goal-tenders, limited to two, of the defending side are alone exempt from this rule. when the ball is within the goal-line the goal-tenders shall not be allowed any artificial support other than the bottom of the tank. . no player is allowed to interfere with an opponent unless such an opponent is within four feet of the ball, except when the ball is within the goal section, when indiscriminate tackling will be allowed in the goal section, the goal section to be a space of four feet by eight feet within the goal-line and between two parallel lines drawn at right angles to the goal-line and distant two feet from either end of the goal. . upon a goal being gained, the opposite teams shall go to their own end of the tank, and the ball shall be thrown by the referee into the center and play started as at beginning of game. . each team shall have two judges, one at each goal-line, who, upon a goal being made, shall notify the referee and announce the same. only in case the judges disagree shall the referee have power to decide whether a goal be fairly made or not. . the referee shall decide all fouls, and if in his opinion a player commits a foul he shall caution the team for the first offense and give the opponents a free trial for goal at each succeeding foul. a free trial for goal will be given by lining up three backs of the defending team within the -foot line and giving three forwards of the opposing team the ball on the -foot line, when they may try for a goal until a goal is scored or the ball goes outside the -foot line. only three men from each side will be allowed within the -foot line, until the ball goes outside that line or a goal is scored. fouls.--it shall be foul to tackle an opponent if the ball is not within four feet of him or to hold him by any part of his costume. it shall be a foul to cross the -foot line ahead of the ball, unless forced over by an opponent, or to hang on to the sides of the tank except for the purpose of resting. unnecessary rough work may, within the discrimination of the referee, either be counted a foul or the referee may put the offender out of the tank until a goal is scored or the half ends. +------+ | goal | +------------------------------------------------+ | | goal | | | | section | | |------------------------------------------------| | ft. line | | | | | | | | | | | |------------------------------------------------| | ft. line | | | | | | | | | | | |------------------------------------------------| | center line | | | | | | | | | | | |------------------------------------------------| | ft. line | | | | | | | | | | ft. line | |------------------------------------------------| | | goal | | | | section | | +------------------------------------------------+ | goal | +------+ part v cramps, how to save life, resuscitation, etc. cramps to be suddenly seized with cramps is a thing liable to happen to most expert swimmers; it is caused by various reasons--staying too long in the water and getting chilled, going in after a heavy meal, stiffening the legs too much, and varicose veins. preventive: never remain in the water after feeling chilled; always swim around and exercise yourself; twenty minutes is long enough for any one to remain in the water; always turn over on the back when getting a cramp, and float, at the same time working toward the shore with the hands, and don't lose your presence of mind. don't attempt to rescue a person from drowning unless you are a good swimmer yourself; remember that a drowning person is generally insane for the time, and is liable to drag you to your death unless you are capable of swimming with a heavy load. how to save life to the person who accidentally falls overboard, or who is compelled to leap into deep water, as was the case with many victims of the _general slocum_, the first essential is to keep one's presence of mind. do not feel alarmed if your head should sink below the surface once or twice--you are bound to come to the surface, and will be able to sustain yourself for a considerable time, even if you are not a swimmer, if you will but keep your hands under water. the reason so many people drown is because directly they come to the surface they raise their hands above their head and shout for help. this is fatal. the moment the hands are raised out of the water the body will sink below the surface. another thing to remember is to keep the mouth closed until the body attains the floating position; then try and breathe naturally through the mouth and help propel yourself with your hands. should you be able to swim, try and take off your outer clothing, as the latter, when water-soaked, tends to drag the body down, besides retarding the movements of the drowning person. to risk one's life in order to save a fellow being from drowning is one of the most heroic acts that one may be called upon to perform, yet how many of us have the presence of mind and courage to act in such an emergency? to rescue a person from drowning is no child's play, even for the best swimmers; it requires pluck, nerve and stamina. of course, i allude to rescues which take place some distance from shore. many a daring swimmer has been clutched and dragged down to death simply because he did not know the safest way to approach a drowning person. of the many different ways of saving life, the safest and best method is to swim as near the person as possible, then dive under and come up behind him; otherwise he is liable to grab you around the neck with a death clutch, from which it is extremely difficult to escape. when swimming up behind the person, grab his biceps and force him on his back; the more he struggles the more he helps himself to keep afloat. to prevent being clutched by a drowning person the following rules should be carefully studied. every action, however, must be prompt and decisive, otherwise this method will be of no avail. [illustration: the best method of saving life] . if grasped by the wrists, turn both arms simultaneously against the drowning person, thumbs outward, and attempt to bring your right arms at right angles to your own body. this will dislocate the thumbs of the drowning person and he must let go his hold. . if clutched around the neck, immediately take a deep breath, lean well over your opponent, place the left hand in the small part of his back and draw your right arm in an upward direction until in line with his shoulder, and pass it at once over his arm. then with the thumb and forefinger catch his nose and pinch the nostrils close, at the same time place the palm of your hand on his chin and push firmly outward. this will cause him to open his mouth for breathing purposes, and he, being under you, will swallow water. choking ensues, and not only is the rescuer let go, but the other is left so helpless as to be completely under control. . if clutched around the body and arms, take a deep breath, lean well over your opponent and throw the right arm in an upward direction at right angles to the body, or draw it up between your body and that of your opponent. then with the thumb and forefinger catch the nose and pinch the nostrils close, and at the same time place the palm of the hand on the chin and bring the right knee as high as possible up between the two bodies, placing it, if possible, against the lower part of your opponent's chest; then, by means of a strong and somewhat sudden push, stretch your arms and legs out straight, at the same time throwing the whole weight of the body backward. the sudden motion will press the air out of the other's lungs, as well as push him off, no matter how tightly he may be holding. should the drowning person act sensibly and not try to grab his rescuer, he can be brought in by placing his hands on his rescuer's shoulders and kicking out his legs behind him while the rescuer swims in toward shore. another method is to pull the person on his back by holding him under the right arm-pit with your right hand and using the left hand and legs to swim with. should the rescue be close to shore, swim behind the person and help by pushing him in toward shallow water. should the drowning person have sunk for the third time watch when the air-bubbles rise to the surface. at once dive down perpendicular to the bottom when the air-bubbles show, seize the drowning person and bring him to the surface by pushing off from the bottom and using your legs to send you upward to the surface. before trying to rescue any one get rid of as much clothing as possible, if time will permit. resuscitation after rescue after bringing a drowning person ashore your work is only half done; the main thing is to bring him back to life should he be unconscious. there are several methods for resuscitating the apparently drowned. the method adopted by the royal humane society of england is, to my knowledge, the simplest of all. it is as follows: begin treatment in the open air as soon as you have brought the unfortunate ashore. meanwhile send for medical assistance, blankets and dry clothing. expose the patient's throat and chest to the wind, except in very severe weather. remove all tight clothing from neck and chest. take off suspenders. the points to be aimed at are: first and immediately the restoration of breathing, and, secondly, after breathing is restored, the promotion of warmth and circulation. the efforts to restore breathing must be commenced immediately and energetically, and persevered in for one or two hours, or until a medical man has pronounced that life is extinct. efforts to promote warmth and circulation beyond removing the wet clothes and drying the skin must not be made until the first appearance of natural breathing, for if circulation of the blood be induced before breathing has recommenced the restoration of life will be endangered. hall's method in resuscitation to clear the throat, place the patient on the floor or the ground with the face downward and one of the arms under the forehead, in which position all fluids will more readily escape by the mouth, and the tongue itself will fall forward, leaving the entrance into the windpipe free. assist this operation by wiping and cleansing the mouth. if satisfactory breathing begins, use the treatment described below to promote warmth. if there be only slight breathing, or no breathing, or if the breathing fail, then, to excite breathing, turn the patient well and instantly on the side, supporting the head, and excite the nostrils with snuff, hartshorn, and smelling-salts, or tickle the throat with a feather, etc., if they are at hand. rub the chest and face warm, and dash cold water, or cold and hot water alternately, on them. if there be no success, lose not a moment, but instantly, to imitate breathing, replace the patient on the face, raising and supporting the chest well on a folded coat or other article of dress. turn the patient very gently on the side and a little beyond, and then briskly on the face, back again; repeating these measures cautiously, efficiently and perseveringly about fifteen times in the minute, or once every four or five seconds, occasionally varying the side. (by placing the patient on the chest, the weight of the body forces the air out; when turned on the side this pressure is removed, and air enters the chest.) on each occasion that the body is replaced on the face make uniform but efficient pressure, with brisk movement, on the back between and below the shoulder-blades or bones on each side, removing the pressure immediately before turning the body on the side. during the whole of the operations let one person attend solely to the movements of the head, and of the arm placed under it. the result is respiration, or natural breathing, and, if not too late, life. while the above operations are being proceeded with, dry the hands and feet, and as soon as dry clothing or blankets can be procured, strip the body and cover, or gradually reclothe it, but take care not to interfere with the efforts to restore breathing. sylvester's method rule . _to adjust the patient's position._--place the patient on his back on a flat surface, inclined a little from the feet upward; raise and support the head and shoulders on a small, firm cushion or folded article of dress, placed under the shoulder-blades. remove all tight clothing from about the neck and chest. [illustration: sylvester's method--figure ] rule . _to maintain a free entrance of air into the windpipe._--cleanse the mouth and nostrils; open the mouth; draw forward the patient's tongue, and keep it forward; an elastic band over the tongue and under the chin will answer this purpose. (fig. .) rule . _to imitate the movements of breathing._--first, _induce inspiration_. place yourself at the head of the patient, grasp his arms (at the elbow-joints), raise them upward by the sides of his head, stretch them steadily but gently upward, for two seconds. by this means fresh air is drawn into the lungs by raising the ribs. (fig. .) [illustration: sylvester's method--figure ] secondly, _induce expiration_.--immediately turn down the patient's arms, and press the elbows firmly but gently downward against the sides of the chest, for two seconds. by this means foul air is expelled from the lungs by depressing the ribs. (fig. .) thirdly, _continue these movements_.--repeat these measures alternately, deliberately, and perseveringly fifteen times a minute, until a spontaneous effort to respire be perceived. by these means an exchange of air is produced in the lungs similar to that effected by natural respiration. [illustration: sylvester's method--figure ] when a spontaneous effort to respire is perceived, cease to imitate the movements of breathing, and proceed to induce circulation and warmth, as described on following page. rule . _to excite respiration._--during the employment of the above method, excite the nostrils with snuff or smelling-salts, or tickle the throat with a feather. rub the chest and face briskly, and dash cold and hot water alternately on them. friction of the limbs and body with dry flannel or cloths should be had recourse to. when there is proof of returning respiration, the individual may be placed in a warm bath, the movements of the arms above described being continued until respiration is fully restored. raise the body in twenty seconds to a sitting position, dash cold water against the chest and face, and pass ammonia under the nose. should a galvanic apparatus be at hand, apply the sponges to the region of the diaphragm and the heart. _to induce circulation and warmth._--wrap the patient in dry blankets, and rub the limbs upward energetically. promote the warmth of the body with hot flannels, bottles or bladders of hot water; heated bricks to the pit of the stomach, the arm-pits, and to the soles of the feet. on the restoration of life, when the power of swallowing has returned, a teaspoonful of warm water, small quantities of wine, warm brandy and water, or coffee should be given. the patient should be kept in bed, and a disposition to sleep encouraged. during reaction, large mustard-plasters to the chest and below the shoulders will greatly relieve the distrest breathing. note.--in all cases of prolonged immersion in cold water, when the breathing continues, a warm bath should be employed to restore the temperature. [illustration] project, http://www.lawsonsprogress.com base-ball: how to become a player with the origin, history and explanation of the game by john montgomery ward of the new york base-ball club preface. the author ventures to present this book to the public, because he believes there are many points in the game of base-ball which can be told only by a player. he has given some space to a consideration of the origin and early history of the game, because they are subjects deserving of more attention than is generally accorded them. his principal aim, however, has been to produce a hand-book of the game, a picture of the play as seen by a player. in many of its branches, base-ball is still in its infancy; even in the actual play there are yet many unsettled points, and the opinions of experts differ upon important questions. the author has been as accurate as the nature of the subject would permit, and, though claiming no especial consideration for his own opinions, he thinks they will coincide in substance with those of the more experienced and intelligent players. to messrs. a. h. wright, henry chadwick, harry wright, and james whyte davis, for materials of reference, and to goodwin & co., the scientific american, and a. j. reach, for engravings and cuts, acknowledgments are gratefully made. john m. ward. contents. introduction. an inquiry into the origin of base-ball, with a brief sketch of its history chapter i. theory of the game--a chapter for the ladies. chapter ii. training chapter iii. the pitcher chapter iv. the catcher chapter v. the first baseman chapter vi. the second baseman chapter vii. the third baseman chapter viii. the short-stop chapter ix. the left-fielder chapter x. the centre-fielder chapter xi. the right-fielder chapter xii. the batter chapter xiii. the base-runner chapter xiv. curve pitching introduction. an inquiry into the origin of base-ball, with a brief sketch of its history. it may or it may not be a serious reflection upon the accuracy of history that the circumstances of the invention of the first ball are enveloped in some doubt. herodotus attributes it to the lydians, but several other writers unite in conceding to a certain beautiful lady of corcyra, anagalla by name, the credit of first having made a ball for the purpose of pastime. several passages in homer rather sustain this latter view, and, therefore, with the weight of evidence, and to the glory of woman, we, too, shall adopt this theory. anagalla did not apply for letters patent, but, whether from goodness of heart or inability to keep a secret, she lost no time in making known her invention and explaining its uses. homer, then, relates how: "o'er the green mead the sporting virgins play, their shining veils unbound; along the skies, tost and retost, the ball incessant flies." and this is the first ball game on record, though it is perhaps unnecessary to say that it was not yet base-ball. no other single accident has ever been so productive of games as that invention. from the day when the phaeacian maidens started the ball rolling down to the present time, it has been continuously in motion, and as long as children love play and adults feel the need of exercise and recreation, it will continue to roll. it has been known in all lands, and at one time or another been popular with all peoples. the greeks and the romans were great devotees of ball-play; china was noted for her players; in the courts of italy and france, we are told, it was in especial favor, and fitz-stephen, writing in the th century, speaks of the london schoolboys playing at "the celebrated game of ball." for many centuries no bat was known, but in those games requiring the ball to be struck, the hand alone was used. in france there was early played a species of hand-ball. to protect the hands thongs were sometimes bound about them, and this eventually furnished the idea of the racquet. strutt thinks a bat was first used in golf, cambuc, or bandy ball. this was similar to the boys' game of "shinny," or, as it is now more elegantly known, "polo," and the bat used was bent at the end, just as now. the first straight bats were used in the old english game called club ball. this was simply "fungo hitting," in which one player tossed the ball in the air and hit it, as it fell, to others who caught it, or sometimes it was pitched to him by another player. concerning the origin of the american game of base-ball there exists considerable uncertainty. a correspondent of porter's spirit of the times, as far back as , begins a series of letters on the game by acknowledging his utter inability to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion upon this point; and a writer of recent date introduces a research into the history of the game with the frank avowal that he has only succeeded in finding "a remarkable lack of literature on the subject." in view of its extraordinary growth and popularity as "our national game," the author deems it important that its true origin should, if possible, be ascertained, and he has, therefore, devoted to this inquiry more space than might at first seem necessary. in , within a dozen years from the time of the systematization of the game, the number of clubs in the metropolitan district and the enthusiasm attending their matches began to attract particular attention. the fact became apparent that it was surely superseding the english game of cricket, and the adherents of the latter game looked with ill-concealed jealousy on the rising upstart. there were then, as now, persons who believed that everything good and beautiful in the world must be of english origin, and these at once felt the need of a pedigree for the new game. some one of them discovered that in certain features it resembled an english game called "rounders," and immediately it was announced to the american public that base-ball was only the english game transposed. this theory was not admitted by the followers of the new game, hut, unfortunately, they were not in a position to emphasize the denial. one of the strongest advocates of the rounder theory, an englishman-born himself, was the writer for out-door sports on the principal metropolitan publications. in this capacity and as the author of a number of independent works of his own, and the writer of the "base-ball" articles in several encyclopedias and books of sport, he has lost no opportunity to advance his pet theory. subsequent writers have, blindly, it would seem, followed this lead, until now we find it asserted on every hand as a fact established by some indisputable evidence; and yet there has never been adduced a particle of proof to support this conclusion. while the author of this work entertains the greatest respect for that gentleman, both as a journalist and man, and believes that base-ball owes to him a monument of gratitude for the brave fight he has always made against the enemies and abuses of the game, he yet considers this point as to the game's origin worthy of further investigation, and he still regards it as an open question. when was base-ball first played in america? the first contribution which in any way refers to the antiquity of the game is the first official report of the "national association" in . this declares "the game of base-ball has long been a favorite and popular recreation in this country, but it is only within the last fifteen years that any attempt has been made to systematize and regulate the game." the italics are inserted to call attention to the fact that in the memory of the men of that day base-ball had been played a long time prior to , so long that the fifteen years of systematized play was referred to by an "only." colonel jas. lee, elected an honorary member of the knickerbocker club in , said that he had often played the same game when a boy, and at that time he was a man of sixty or more years. mr. wm. f. ladd, my informant, one of the original members of the knickerbockers, says that he never in any way doubted colonel lee's declaration, because he was a gentleman eminently worthy of belief. dr. oliver wendell holmes, several years since, said to the reporter of a boston paper that base-ball was one of the sports of his college days at harvard, and dr. holmes graduated in . mr. charles de bost, the catcher and captain of the old knickerbockers, played base-ball on long island fifty years ago, and it was the same game which the knickerbockers afterward played. in the absence of any recorded proof as to the antiquity of the game, testimony such as the foregoing becomes important, and it might be multiplied to an unlimited extent. another noticeable point is the belief in the minds of the game's first organizers that they were dealing with a purely american production, and the firmness of this conviction is evidenced by everything they said and did. an examination of the speeches and proceedings of the conventions, of articles in the daily and other periodical publications, of the poetry which the game at that early day inspired, taken in connection with the declarations of members of the first clubs still living, will show this vein of belief running all the way through. the idea that base-ball owed its origin to any foreign game was not only not entertained, but indignantly repudiated by the men of that time; and in pursuing his investigations the writer has discovered that this feeling still exists in a most emphatic form. in view of the foregoing we may safely say that base-ball was played in america as early, at least, as the beginning of this century. it may be instructive now to inquire as to the antiquity of the "old english game" from which baseball is said to have sprung. deferring for the present the consideration of its resemblance to base-ball, what proof have we of its venerable existence? looking, primarily, to the first editions of old english authorities on out-door sports, i have been unable to find any record that such a game as "rounders" was known. i may have been unfortunate in my searches, for, though i have exhausted every available source of information, i have not discovered any mention of it. the first standard english writer to speak of rounders is "stonehenge" in his manual of sports, london, . since then almost every english work on out-door sports describes the "old [with an emphasis] english game of rounders," and in the same connection declares it to be the germ of the american base-ball; and yet, curiously enough, not one of them gives us any authority even for dubbing it "old," much less for calling it the origin of our game. but in base-ball had been played here for many years; it had already attracted attention as the popular sport, and by was known in slightly differing forms all over the country. to all these later english writers, therefore, its existence and general principles must have been familiar, and it is consequently remarkable that, in view of their claim, they have given us no more particulars of the game of rounders. are we to accept this assertion without reserve, when an investigation would seem to indicate that baseball is really the older game? if this english game was then a common school-boy sport, as now claimed, it seems almost incredible that it should have escaped the notice of all the writers of the first half of the century; and yet no sooner does base-ball become famous as the american game than english writers discover that there is an old and popular english game from which it is descended. many of the games which the earlier writers describe are extremely simple as compared with rounders, and yet the latter game is entirely overlooked! but upon what ground have these later writers based their assumption? many, doubtless, have simply followed the writings from this side of the atlantic; others have been misled by their ignorance of the actual age of our game, for there are even many americans who think base-ball was introduced by the knickerbocker and following clubs; a few, with the proverbial insular idea, have concluded that base-ball must be of english origin, if for no other reason, because it ought to be. it is not my intention to declare the old game of rounders a myth. there is ample living testimony to its existence as early perhaps as , but that it was a popular english game before base-ball was played here i am not yet ready to believe. before we accept the statement that base-hall is "only a species of glorified rounders," we should demand some proof that the latter is really the older game. in this connection it will be important to remember that there were two english games called "rounders," but entirely distinct the one from the other. johnson's dictionary, edition of , describes the first, and presumably the older, as similar to "fives" or hand-ball, while the second is the game supposed to be allied to base-ball. "fives" is one of the oldest of games, and if it or a similar game was called "rounders," it will require something more than the mere occurrence of the name in some old writing to prove that the game referred to is the "rounders" as now played. and if this cannot be shown, why might we not claim, with as much reason as the other theory has been maintained, that the "old english game of rounders" is only a poor imitation of the older american game of base-ball? up to this point we have waived the question of resemblance between the two games, but let us now inquire what are the points of similarity. are these, after all, so striking as to warrant the assumption that one game was derived from the other, no matter which may be shown to be the older? in each there are "sides;" the ball is tossed to the striker, who hits it with a bat; he is out if the ball so hit is caught; he runs to different bases in succession and may be put out if hit by the ball when between the bases. but with this the resemblance ceases. in base-ball nine men constitute a side, while in rounders there may be any number over three. in base-ball there are four bases (including the home), and the field is a diamond. in rounders the bases are five in number and the field a pentagon in shape. there is a fair and foul hit in base-ball, while in rounders no such thing is known. in rounders if a ball is struck at and missed, or if hit so that it falls back of the striker, he is out, while in base-ball the ball must be missed three times and the third one caught in order to retire the striker; and a foul, unless caught like any other ball, has no effect and is simply declared "dead." in rounders the score is reckoned by counting one for each base made, and some of the authorities say the run is completed when the runner has reached the base next on the left of the one started from. in base-ball one point is scored only when the runner has made every base in succession and returned to the one from which he started. in rounders every player on the side must be put out before the other side can come in, while in base-ball from time immemorial the rule has been "three out, all out." the distinctive feature of rounders, and the one which gives it its name, is that when all of a side except two have been retired, one of the two remaining may call for "the rounder;" that is, he is allowed three hits at the ball, and if in any one of these he can make the entire round of the bases, all the players of his side are reinstated as batters. no such feature as this was ever heard of in base-ball, yet, as said, it is the characteristic which gives to rounders its name, and any derivation of that game must certainly have preserved it. if the points of resemblance were confined solely to these two games it would prove nothing except that boys' ideas as well as men's often run in the same channels. the very ancient game of bandy ball has its double in an older persian sport, and the records of literary and mechanical invention present some curious coincidences. but, as a matter of fact, every point common to these two, games was known and used long before in other popular sports. that the ball was tossed to the bat to be hit was true of a number of other games, among which were club ball, tip cat, and cricket; in both of the latter and also in stool ball bases were run, and in tip cat, a game of much greater antiquity than either base- ball or rounders, the runner was out if hit by the ball when between bases. in all of these games the striker was out if the ball when hit was caught. indeed, a comparison will show that there are as many features of base-ball common to cricket or tip cat as there are to rounders. in view, then, of these facts, that the points of similarity are not distinctive, and that the points of difference are decidedly so, i can see no reason in analogy to say that one game is descended from the other, no matter which may be shown to be the older. there was a game known in some parts of this country fifty or more years ago called town-ball. in a club was regularly organized in philadelphia to play the game, and it is recorded that the first day for practice enough members were not present to make up town-ball, and so a game of "two-old-cat" was played. this town-ball was so nearly like rounders that one must have been the prototype of the other, but town- ball and base-ball were two very different games. when this same town- ball club decided in to adopt base-ball instead, many of its principal members resigned, so great was the enmity to the latter game. never, until recently, was the assertion made that base-ball was a development of town-ball, and it could not have been done had the writers looked up at all the historical facts. the latest attempt to fasten an english tab on the american game is noteworthy. not content to stand by the theory that our game is sprung from the english rounders, it is now intimated that baseball itself, the same game and under the same name, is of english origin. to complete the chain, it is now only necessary for some english writer to tell us that "in a number of english gentlemen sojourning in new york organized a club called the knickbockers, and introduced to americans the old english game of base-ball." this new departure has not yet gained much headway, but it must be noticed on account of the circumstances of its appearance. the edition of chambers' encyclopedia just out, in its article on "base- ball" says that the game was mentioned in miss austen's northanger abbey, written about , and leaves us to infer that it was the same game that we now know by that name. it was not necessary to go into the realm of fiction to find this ancient use of the name. a writer to the london times in pointed out that in the family of frederick, prince of wales, were represented as engaged in a game of base-ball. miss austen refers to base-ball as played by the daughters of "mrs. morland," the eldest of whom was fourteen. in elaine's rural sports, london, , in an introduction to ball games in general, occurs this passage: "there are few of us of either sex but have engaged in base- ball since our majority." whether in all these cases the same game was meant matters not, and it is not established by the mere identity of names. "base," as meaning a place of safety, dates its origin from the game of "prisoners' base" long before anything in the shape of base-ball or rounders; so that any game of ball in which bases were a feature would likely be known by that name. the fact that in the three instances in which we find the name mentioned it is always a game for girls or women, would justify the suspicion that it was not always the same game, and that it in any way resembled our game is not to be imagined. base- ball in its mildest form is essentially a robust game, and it would require an elastic imagination to conceive of little girls possessed of physical powers such as its play demands. besides, if the english base-ball of , , and were the same as our base-ball we would have been informed of that fact long ago, and it would never have been necessary to attribute the origin of our game to rounders. and when, in , the american players were introducing base-ball to englishmen, the patriotic britain would not have said, as he then did, that our game was "only rounders with the rounder left out," but he would at once have told us that base-ball itself was an old english game. but this latest theory is altogether untenable and only entitled to consideration on account of the authority under which it is put forth. in a little book called jolly games for happy homes, london, , dedicated to "wee little babies and grown-up ladies," there is described a game called "base-ball." it is very similar in its essence to our game and is probably a reflection of it. it is played by a number of girls in a garden or field. having chosen sides, the "leader" of the "out" side tosses the ball to one of the "ins," who strikes it with her hand and then scampers for the trees, posts, or other objects previously designated as bases. having recovered the ball, the "scouts," or those on the "outs," give chase and try to hit the fleeing one at a time when she is between bases. there must be some other means, not stated, for putting out the side; the ability to throw a ball with accuracy is vouchsafed to few girls, and if the change of innings depended upon this, the game, like a chinese play, would probably never end. it is described, however, as a charming pastime, and, notwithstanding its simplicity, is doubtless a modern english conception of our national game. to recapitulate briefly, the assertion that base-ball is descended from rounders is a pure assumption, unsupported even by proof that the latter game antedates the former and unjustified by any line of reasoning based upon the likeness of the games. the other attempt to declare base-ball itself an out-and-out english game is scarcely worthy of serious consideration. but if base-ball is neither sprung from rounders nor taken bodily from another english game, what is its origin? i believe it to be a fruit of the inventive genius of the american boy. like our system of government, it is an american evolution, and while, like that, it has doubtless been affected by foreign associations, it is none the less distinctively our own. place in the hands of youth a ball and bat, and they will invent games of ball, and that these will be affected by other familiar games and in many respects resemble them, goes without saving. the tradition among the earliest players of the game now living, is that the root from which came our present base-ball was the old-time american game of "cat-ball." this was the original american ball game, and the time when it was not played here is beyond the memory of living man. there were two varieties of the game, the first called "one-old-cat," or one-cornered-cat, and the other "two-old-cat." in one-old-cat there were a batter, pitcher, catcher, and fielders. there were no "sides," and generally no bases to run, but in every other respect the game was like base-ball. the batter was out if he missed three times and the third strike was caught, or if the ball when hit was caught on the fly or first bound. when the striker was "put out" the catcher went in to bat, the pitcher to catch, and the first fielder to pitch, and so on again when the next striker was retired. the order of succession had been established when the players went on the field by each calling out a number, as "one," "two," "three," etc., one being the batter, two the catcher, three the pitcher, four the first fielder, etc. thus, each in order secured his turn "at bat," the coveted position. sometimes, when the party was larger, more than one striker was allowed, and in that case, not only to give the idle striker something to do, but to offer extra chances for putting him out, one or more bases were laid out, and having hit the ball he was forced to run to these. if he could be hit with the ball at any time when he was between bases he was out, and he was forced to be back to the striker's position in time to take his turn at bat. this made him take chances in running. no count was kept of runs. two-old-cat differed from one-old-cat in having two batters at opposite stations, as in the old english stool-ball and the more modern cricket, while the fielders divided so that half faced one batter and half the other. from one-old-cat to base-ball is a short step. it was only necessary to choose sides, and then the count of runs made by each would form the natural test of superiority. that base-ball actually did develop in this way was the generally accepted theory for many years. in an article in the nation, from a. h. sedgwick, commenting upon the features of baseball arid cricket as exemplifying national characteristics, said: "to those other objectors who would contend that our explanation supposes a gradual modification of the english into the american game, while it is a matter of common learning that the latter is of no foreign origin but the lineal descendant of that favorite of boyhood, 'two-old-cat,' we would say that, fully agreeing with them as to the historical fact, we have always believed it to be so clear as not to need further evidence, and that for the purposes of this article the history of the matter is out of place." without going further into a consideration that might be greatly prolonged, i reassert my belief that our national game is a home production. in the field of out-door sports the american boy is easily capable of devising his own amusements, and until some proof is adduced that base-ball is not his invention i protest against this systematic effort to rob him of his dues. the recorded history of the game may be briefly sketched; it is not the object here to give a succinct history: in a number of gentlemen who had been in the habit, for several years, of playing base-ball for recreation, determined to form themselves into a permanent organization under the name of "the knickerbocker club." they drew up a constitution and by-laws, and scattered through the latter are to be found the first written rules of the game. they little thought that that beginning would develop into the present vast system of organized base-ball. they were guilty of no crafty changes of any foreign game; there was no incentive for that. they recorded the rules of the game as they remembered them from boyhood and as they found them in vogue at that time. for six years the club played regularly at the elysian field, the two nines being made up from all the members present. from other clubs began to be organized, and we find the washington, gotham (into which the washington was merged), eagle, empire, putnam, baltic, union, mutual, excelsior, atlantic, eckford, and many other clubs following in the space of a few years. in philadelphia town-ball was the favorite pastime and kept out base- ball for some time, while in boston the local "new england game," as played by the olympic, elm tree, and green mountain clubs, deferred the introduction of base-ball, or, as it was called, "the new york game," until . base-ball grew rapidly in favor; the field was ripe. america needed a live out-door sport, and this game exactly suited the national temperament. it required all the manly qualities of activity, endurance, pluck, and skill peculiar to cricket, and was immeasurably superior to that game in exciting features. there were dash, spirit, and variety, and it required only a couple of hours to play a game. developed by american brains, it was flaw to us, and we took to it with all the enthusiasm peculiar to our nature. in a convention of delegates from sixteen clubs located in and around new york and brooklyn was held, and a uniform set of rules drawn up to govern the play of all the clubs. in a second general convention was held, at which twenty-five clubs were represented. a committee was appointed to formulate a constitution and by-laws for a permanent organization, and in accordance with this "the national association of baseball players" was duly organized. the game now made rapid strides. it was no boys' sport, for no one under twenty-one years of age could be a delegate. each year a committee of men having a practical knowledge of the game revised the playing rules, so that these were always kept abreast of the time. during a series of three games between picked nines from new york and brooklyn was played on the fashion course, long island. the public interest in these games was very great and the local feeling ran high. the series, which terminated in favor of new york, two to one, attracted general attention to the game. in a similar game was played called "the silver ball match," on account of the trophy, a silver ball, offered by the new york clipper. this time brooklyn won easily, and it is said some , people were present. at the second annual meeting of the "national association" in , seventy clubs had delegates present, representing new york, brooklyn, boston, detroit, new haven, newark, troy, albany, buffalo, and other cities. during this year the first extended trip was taken by the excelsior club, of brooklyn, going to albany, troy, buffalo, rochester, and newburgh. all the expenses of the trip were paid from the treasury of the traveling club, for there were no inclosed grounds in those days and no questions as to percentage or guarantee were yet agitating the clubs and public. the excelsiors won every game, and their skillful display and gentlemanly appearance did much to popularize the game in the cities visited. already in the game was coming to be recognized as our national pastime, and there were clubs in all the principal cities. philadelphia had forsaken her town-ball, and boston's "new england" game, after a hard fight, gave way to the "new york" game. washington, baltimore, troy, albany, syracuse, rochester, buffalo, all had their champion teams. from detroit to new orleans, and from portland, maine, to far-off san francisco, the grand game was the reigning out-door sport. with the outbreak of the civil war came a very general suspension of play in the different cities, though the records of occasional games in camp show that "the boys" did not entirely forget the old love. in the friendly contests were resumed, though the call of the rolls showed many "absent" who had never been known to miss a game. more than one of those who went out in ' had proven his courage on the crimson field. during the seasons of ' , ' , and ' amateur base-ball, so-called, was in the height of its glory. at the annual convention of the national association in ' a total of two hundred and two clubs from seventeen states and the district of columbia were represented; besides, there were present delegates from the northwestern and pennsylvania associations, representing in addition over two hundred clubs. in the trip of the "nationals" of washington was the first visit of an eastern club to the west, and helped greatly to spread the reputation of the game. for a number of years, however, certain baneful influences had crept into the game and now began to work out their legitimate effect. the greatest of these evils was in the amount of gambling on the results of games. with so much money at stake, the public knew that players would be tampered with, and when finally its suspicions were confirmed, it refused further to patronize the game. the construction of inclosed grounds and the charge of admission proved another danger. no regular salaries were paid, so that the players who were depending on a share of the "gate" arranged to win and lose a game in order that the deciding contest might draw well. doubtless there were more of these things existing in the public imagination than in actual fact, but distrust once aroused, there was no faith left for anything or anybody. very early in the history of the association the practice prevailed among certain clubs of offering inducements to crack players in order to secure them as members. the clubs which could afford this grew disproportionately strong, and in the face of continual defeat the weaker clubs were losing interest. in a rule was made forbidding the participation in any matches of paid players, but it was so easily evaded that it was a dead letter. in the rule was reworded, but with no improved effect, and in the national association decided, as the only way out of the dilemma, to recognize the professional class of players. by making this distinction it would no longer be considered a disgrace for an amateur to be beaten by a professional nine. for the professionals the change was most beneficial. it legitimized their occupation and left them at liberty to pursue openly and honorably what they had before been forced to follow under false colors. the proud record of the cincinnati "reds" in ' proved that professional base- ball could be honestly and profitably conducted, and from that time forth it was an established institution. but with the introduction of professionalism there began a great competition for players, and this brought in a new evil in the form of "revolvers," or, as they were sometimes called, "shooting stars." players under contract with one club yielded to the temptations of larger offers and repudiated the first agreements. it became evident that a closer organization was necessary to deal with these affairs. in the professional and amateur organizations concluded to dissolve partnership. two distinct associations were formed, and the first regular championship contests were engaged in by the professional association. after a few years the amateur national association passed out of existence. in eight clubs of the "professional national association" formed an independent body, calling themselves "the national league," and this is the present senior base-ball organization. in a new body of professional clubs, the american association, entered the field, and is now, with the national league, one of the controlling factors of the game. there have been a number of other base-ball associations formed from time to time, but, unable to compete with the larger leagues, and despoiled of their best players, they have been forced to withdraw. under a new regime there are at present quite a number of these minor organizations, and some of them are in a most flourishing condition. in the national league, american association, and northwestern league entered into what was called the "triparti agreement," which the following year was developed into the "national agreement." the parties to this document, which is become the lex suprema in base-ball affairs, are now, primarily, the national league and the american association. it regulates the term of players' contracts and the period for negotiations; it provides a fine of five hundred dollars upon the club violating, and disqualifies the player for the ensuing season; it prescribes the formula necessary to make a "legal" contract; the clubs of each association are to respect the reservations, expulsions, blacklistments, and suspensions of the clubs of the other; it declares that no club shall pay any salary in excess of two thousand dollars; finally, it provides for a board of arbitration, consisting of three duly accredited representatives from each association, to convene annually, and, "in addition to all matters that may be specially referred to them," to have "sole, exclusive, and final jurisdiction of all disputes and complaints arising under, and all interpretations of, this agreement." it shall also decide all disputes between the associations or between club members of one association and club members of the other. to this main agreement are tacked "articles of qualified admission," by which the minor base-ball associations, for a consideration and upon certain conditions, are conceded certain privileges and protection. these articles are an agreement between the league and american association, party of the first part, and the minor leagues as party of the second part. the most important feature of the national agreement unquestionably is the provision according to the club members the privilege of reserving a stated number of players. no other club of any association under the agreement dares engage any player so reserved. to this rule, more than any other thing, does base-ball as a business owe its present substantial standing. by preserving intact the strength of a team from year to year; it places the business of baseball on a permanent basis and thus offers security to the investment of capital. the greatest evil with which the business has of recent years had to contend is the unscrupulous methods of some of its "managers." knowing no such thing as professional honor, these men are ever ready to benefit themselves, regardless of the cost to an associate club. the reserve rule itself is a usurpation of the players' rights, but it is, perhaps, made necessary by the peculiar nature of the base-ball business, and the player is indirectly compensated by the improved standing of the game. i quote in this connection mr. a. g. mills, ex-president of the league, and the originator of the national agreement: "it has been popular in days gone by to ascribe the decay and disrepute into which the game had fallen to degeneracy on the part of the players, and to blame them primarily for revolving and other misconduct. nothing could be more unjust. i have been identified with the game more than twenty-five years--for several seasons as a player--and i know that, with rare exceptions, those faults were directly traceable to those who controlled the clubs. professional players have never sought the club manager; the club manager has invariably sought--and often tempted--the player. the reserve rule takes the club manager by the throat and compels him to keep his hands off his neighbor's enterprise." it was not to be expected that club managers of the stamp above referred to would exhibit much consideration for the rights of players. as long as a player continued valuable he had little difficulty, but when, for any reason, his period of usefulness to a club had passed, he was likely to find, by sad experience, that base-ball laws were not construed for his protection; he discovered that in base-ball, as in other affairs, might often makes right, and it is not to be wondered at that he turned to combination as a means of protection. in the fall of the members of the new york team met and appointed a committee to draft a constitution and by-laws for an organization of players, and during the season of the different "chapters" of the "national brotherhood of ball-players" were instituted by the mother new york chapter. the objects of this brotherhood as set forth by the constitution are: "to protect and benefit its members collectively and individually; "to promote a high standard of professional conduct; "to foster and encourage the interests of 'the national game.'" there was no spirit of antagonism to the capitalists of the game, except in so far as the latter might at ally time attempt to disregard the rights of any member. in november, , a committee of the brotherhood met a committee of the league, and a new form of players' contract was agreed upon. concessions were made on both sides, and the result is a more equitable form of agreement between the club and players. the time has not yet come to write of the effect of this new factor in base-ball affairs. it is organized on a conservative plan, and the spirit it has already shown has given nothing to fear to those who have the broad interests of the game at heart. that it has within it the capacity for great good, the writer has no manner of doubt. and thus the erstwhile schoolboy game and the amateur pastime of later years is being rounded out into a full-grown business. the professional clubs of the country begin to rival in number those of the halcyon amateur days; and yet the latter class has lost none of its love for the sport. the only thing now lacking to forever establish base-ball as our national sport is a more liberal encouragement of the amateur element. professional base-ball may have its ups and downs according as its directors may be wise or the contrary, but the foundation upon which it all is built, its hold upon the future, is in the amateur enthusiasm for the game. the professional game must always be confined to the larger towns, but every hamlet may have its amateur team, and let us see to it that their games are encouraged. chapter i. theory op the game. a chapter for the ladies. on account of the associations by which a professional game of base-ball was supposed to be surrounded, it was for a long time thought not a proper sport for the patronage of ladies. gradually, however, this illusion has been dispelled, until now at every principal contest they are found present in large numbers. one game is generally enough to interest the novice; she had expected to find it so difficult to understand and she soon discovers that she knows all about it; she is able to criticize plays and even find fault with the umpire; she is surprised and flattered by the wonderful grasp of her own understanding, and she begins to like the game. as with everything else that she likes at all, she likes it with all her might, and it is only a question of a few more games till she becomes an enthusiast. it is a fact that the sport has no more ardent admirers than are to be found among its lady attendants throughout the country. whoever has not experienced the pleasure of taking a young lady to her first game of ball should seize the first opportunity to do so. her remarks about plays, her opinions of different players and the umpire, and the questions she will ask concerning the game, are all too funny to be missed. she is a violent partisan and at once takes strong sides, and if her favorite team fails to bat well she characterizes the opposing pitcher as a "horrid creature;" or when the teams have finished practicing she wants to know, with charming ingenuousness, "which won." but as she gets deeper into the principles of the game her remarks become less frequent and her questions more to the point, until her well-timed attempts to applaud good plays and the anxious look at critical points of the game indicate that she has at last caught the idea. unfortunately, some men are not able to intelligibly explain the theory of base-ball, while others are so engrossed with the game that they do not care to be disturbed. for the benefit of those ladies whose escorts either cannot, or will not, answer their questions, i will attempt to set forth as clearly as possible the fundamental principles of the game. there are always two opposing teams of nine players each, and they play on a field laid out in the shape of a diamond, as seen in time diagram on the following page. at each corner of the diamond is a base, and these are known respectively as home base, first base, second base, and third base. one of the teams takes "the field," that is, each of its nine players occupies one of the nine fielding positions shown in the diagram, and known as pitcher, catcher, first base, second base, third base, short stop, left field, centre field, and right field; the other team goes to "the bat" and tries to make "runs." a run is scored in this way: one of the nine batting players takes his position at the home base and endeavors to hit the ball, thrown to him by the opposing pitcher, to some part of the field where it can neither be caught before touching the ground, nor thrown to first base before the batter himself can run there; if he can hit it far enough to allow him to reach not only first base, but second or third or even home, so much the better, for when he has made the complete circuit of the bases his side is credited with one run. if he cannot make home on his own hit he may be helped around by the good hits of succeeding batsmen, for each one of the nine takes his regular turn at the bat. this batting and running goes on until three of the batting side have been "put out," whereupon the batting side take the field and the other team comes in to take its turn at bat and make as many runs as possible. when three of a batting side have been "put out," that side is said to have had its "inning," and each side is entitled to nine innings. a player is "put out" in various ways, principal among which are the following: if he strikes three times at the ball and misses it and on the third strike the ball is caught by the catcher; a ball which passes over the plate between the height of the knee and shoulder and not struck at, is called a strike just as though it had been struck at and missed. the batsman is also "out" if the ball which he hits is caught by some fielder before touching the ground; or if, having touched the ground, it is thrown to time first-baseman before the batter himself can reach that base. he is out if, at any time after having hit the ball, he is touched with it in the hands of a fielder, when no part of his person is touching a base. there are lines drawn from the home base through the first and third- base corners and continued indefinitely into the field. these are called "foul lines," and any hit ball falling outside of them counts as nothing at all, unless, of course, it be caught before touching the ground; in which case it puts the striker "out." outside of the nine players on each side there is another important personage, known as "the umpire." he is not placed there as a target for the maledictions of disappointed spectators. he is of flesh and blood, and has feelings just the same as any other human being. he is not chosen because of his dishonesty or ignorance of the rules of the game, neither is he an ex-horse thief nor an escaped felon; on the contrary, he has been carefully selected by the president of the league from among a great number of applicants on account of his supposed integrity of character and peculiar fitness for the position; indeed, in private life he may even pass as a gentleman. his duties are arduous; he must decide all points of play, though taking place on widely separated portions of the field; he determines whether a ball has been fairly pitched over the home-base, whether a hit is "fair" or "foul," or whether a player has been put out in accordance with the rules. in brief, he is expected to see all parts of the field at once and enforce all the principal and incidental rules of the game. it would not be strange, therefore, if he made an occasional mistake or failed to decide in a way to suit all. i have given thus concisely, and with the use of as few technical terms as possible, the first principles of the game. many things are purposely left for the novice to learn, because any attempt to go into detail would prove confusing. for the instruction of those who wish to master the technical terms generally used, i subjoin some definitions. they are intended for beginners, and though not in all cases covering the entire ground, will yet convey the idea. definitions. a batsman, batter, or striker is the player who is taking his turn at bat. a base-runner is what the batter becomes instantly after having hit a fair ball, though for convenience of distinction he is often still called a batter until he has reached first base. a fielder is any one of the nine fielding players. a coacher is one of the batting players who takes his position within certain prescribed limits near first or third base to direct base- runners and to urge them along. a fair hit is, generally speaking, a ball hit by a batsman which falls within the foul lines. a foul hit is one which falls without the foul lines. a base hit is a fair hit by a batsman which can neither be caught before touching the ground nor fielded to first base in time to put out the striker. it may be either a two-base hit, a three-base hit, or a home run, according as two or three or four bases have been made on the hit without an intervening error. an error is made when a fielder fails to make a play that he should fairly have been expected to make. a fly is a hit caught before touching the ground. a muff is made when a "fly" or thrown ball, striking fairly in the hands of a fielder, is not caught. a grounder is a hit along the ground. a steal is made when a base-runner gets from one base to another without the assistance of a base hit or an error. a wild pitch is a ball thrown by the pitcher out of the fair reach of the catcher, and on which a base-runner gains a base. a passed ball is a throw by the pitcher which the catcher should stop but fails, and by his failure a base-runner gains a base. for the purpose of distinction, the nine fielders are subdivided into the battery, the in-field, and the out-field. the battery means the pitcher and catcher, the in-field includes the first, second, and third basemen, and the short-stop; and the outfield is composed of the left, centre, and right fielders. as for the theory of the game, remember that there are opposing sides, each of which has nine turns at the bat, i.e., nine innings, and the object each inning is to score as many runs as possible. a run is scored every time a player gets entirely around the bases, either by his own hit alone or by the help of succeeding batters, or by the errors of the opposing fielders, and the team making the most runs in nine innings is declared the winner. an inning is ended when three of the batting side have been "put out," and a player may be put out in various ways, as before enumerated. the umpire is not trying to be unfair, he is doing the best he can, and instead of abuse he is often deserving of sympathy. chapter ii. training. some one has truthfully said, that ball players, like poets and cooks, are born, not made, though once born, their development, like that of their fellow-artists, may be greatly aided by judicious coaching. of what this training shall consist becomes then a question of much importance. the only way to learn base-ball is to play it, and it is a trite saying that the best practice for a ball player is base-ball itself. still, there are points outside of the game, such as the preliminary training, diet, and exercise, an observance of which will be of great advantage when the regular work is begun. the method and style of play and the points of each position are given in the subsequent chapters, so that i shall here speak only of those points which come up off the field and are not included in the game proper. but first of all, let me say, that no one will ever become an expert ball player who is not passionately fond of the sport. base-ball cannot be learned as a trade. it begins with the sport of the schoolboy, and though it may end in the professional, i am sure there is not a single one of these who learned the game with the expectation of making it a business. there have been years in the life of each during which he must have ate and drank and dreamed baseball. it is not a calculation but an inspiration. there are many excellent books devoted exclusively to the general subject of training, and a careful reading of one such may be of much service in teaching the beginner the ordinary principles of self-care. it will show him how to keep the system in good working order, what are proper articles of diet, how to reduce weight, or what exercises are best calculated to develop certain muscles; but for the specific purposes of a ball player such a book is entirely wanting, for the reason that the "condition" in which he should keep himself, and therefore the training needful, differ from those for any other athlete. to perform some particular feat which is to occupy but a comparatively brief space of time, as to run, row, wrestle, or the like, a man will do better to be thoroughly "fit." but if the period of exertion is to extend over some length of time, as is the case with the ball player, working for six months at a stretch, his system will not stand the strain of too much training. working solely on bone and muscle day after day, his nervous system will give way. he will grow weak, or as it is technically known, "go stale." this over-training is a mistake oftenest made by the young and highly ambitious player, though doubtless many of the instances of "loss of speed" by pitchers and "off streaks" by older players are really attributable to this cause. the "condition" in which a ball player should keep himself is such that his stomach and liver are in good order, his daily habits regular, his muscles free and firm, and his "wind" strong enough to allow him to run the circuit of the bases without inconvenience. he must not attempt to keep in what is known as "fine" condition. he should observe good hours, and take at least eight hours sleep nightly; and he may eat generously of wholesome food, except at noon, when he should take only a light lunch. there are many players who eat so heartily just before the game that they are sleepy and dull the entire afternoon. the traveling professional player needs to pay particular attention to the kind and quality of his food. the sudden changes of climate, water, and cooking are very trying, and unless he takes great care he will not get through a season without some trouble. especially should he avoid under or over ripe fruit, for it is likely that many of the prevalent cases of cholera morbus are due to indiscretions in this particular. if he finds it necessary to take some light stimulant, let it be done with the evening meal. never take any liquor at any other time: i do not favor the indiscriminate use of any drink, but, on the contrary, oppose it as a most harmful practice; i do believe, however, that a glass of ale, beer, or claret with one's meal is in some cases beneficial. a thin, nervous person, worn out with the excitement and fatigue of the day, will find it a genuine tonic; it will soothe and quiet his nerves and send him earlier to bed and asleep. the "beefy" individual, with plenty of reserve force, needs no stimulant, and should never touch liquor at any time. if taken at all, it should be solely as a tonic and never as a social beverage. the force of the above applies with special emphasis to the young professional player. knowing so well the numberless temptations by which he is surrounded, i caution him particularly against indiscriminate drinking. in no profession in life are good habits more essential to success than in baseball. it is the first thing concerning which the wise manager inquires, and if the player's record in this respect is found good it is the most hopeful indication of his future success. keep away from saloons. the amount of work necessary to keep a player in the proper form must be determined in each particular case by the individual himself. if he is inclined to be thin a very little will be enough, and he should not begin too early in the spring; while if prone to stoutness he may require a great deal, and should begin earlier. it is scarcely necessary to say that all exercise should be begun by easy stages. commencing with walks in the open air and the use of light pulley weights or clubs or bells, the quantity of exercise may be gradually increased. never, however, indulge in heavy work or feats of strength. such exercise is not good for any one, but especially is it dangerous for ball players. they do not want strength, but agility and suppleness; besides, the straining of some small muscle or tendon may incapacitate one for the entire season, or even permanently. right here is the objection to turning loose a party of ball players in a gymnasium, for spring practice. the temptation to try feats of strength is always present, and more than likely some one will be injured. the best preliminary practice for a ball player, outside of actual practice at the game, is to be had in a hand-ball court. the game itself is interesting, and one will work up a perspiration without noticing the exertion; it loosens the muscles, quickens the eye, hardens the hands, and teaches the body to act quickly with the mind; it affords every movement of the ball field except batting, there is little danger from accident, and the amount of exercise can be easily regulated. two weeks in a hand-ball court will put a team in better condition to begin a season than any southern trip, and in the end be less expensive to the club. but whatever preliminary work is found advisable or necessary to adopt, the player should be particular in the following: having determined the amount of exercise best suited to his temperament, he should observe regular habits, keep the stomach, liver, and skin healthy, attend carefully to the quality of food taken, and if he takes any stimulant at all let it be with the evening meal. chapter iii. the pitcher. of all the players on a base-ball nine, the pitcher is the one to whom attaches the greatest importance. he is the attacking force of the nine, the positive pole of the battery, the central figure, around which the others are grouped. from the formation of the first written code of rules in down to the present time, this pre-eminence has been maintained, and though the amendments of succeeding years have caused it to vary from time to time, its relative importance is more marked to-day than at any preceding period. in a normal development of the game the improvement in batting would unquestionably have outstripped the pitching, and finally overcome this superiority; but the removal of certain restrictions upon the pitcher's motions, the legalization of the underhand throw instead of the old straight-arm pitch, the introduction of "curve" pitching, and, finally, the unrestricted overhand delivery, have kept the pitching always in the lead. at several different times, notably in the rules of , an effort has been made to secure a more even adjustment, but recent changes have undone the work, and the season of will see the inequality greater, if anything, than ever. the qualities of mind and body necessary to constitute a good modern pitcher are rarely combined in a single individual. first-class pitchers are almost as rare as prima donnas, and out of the many thousand professional and amateur ball players of the country not more than a dozen in all are capable of doing the position entire justice. speaking first of the physical requirements, i will not discuss the question of size. there are good pitchers of all sizes, from madden and kilroy to whitney and mccormick, though naturally a man of average proportions would have some advantages. the first thing necessary before one can become a star pitcher is the ability to throw a ball with speed. the rules, which at present govern the pitching, place a premium on brute strength, and unless one has a fair share of this he will never become a leading pitcher. there are a few so-called good professional players whose sole conception of the position is to drive the ball through with all possible speed, while others whose skill and strategy have been proven by long service, are forced out of the position because they have not sufficient speed for the modern game. next, one must be possessed of more than an ordinary amount of endurance. it is by no means a simple task to pitch an entire game through and still be as effective in the ninth inning as in the first; and when, as sometimes happens, the contest is prolonged by an extra number of innings, the test is severe. this being true of a single game, how much more tiresome it becomes when continued regularly for an entire season, during the chilly days of the spring and fall, and under a broiling july sun, can be appreciated only by one who has gone through it. and what with all day and all night rides from city to city, broken rest and hasty meals, bad cooking and changes of water and climate, the man is extremely fortunate who finds himself in condition to play every day when wanted. only a good constitution, a vigorous digestion, the most careful habits, and lots of grit, will ever do it. besides force and stamina, there are certain mental characteristics necessary. a pitcher must be possessed of courage and of self-control. he must face the strongest batter with the same confidence that he would feel against the weakest, for it is only so that he can do himself entire justice; and he must be able to pitch in the most critical situations with the same coolness as at any other stage. he must control his own feelings so as not to be disconcerted by anything that may happen, whether through his own fault, that of a fellow-player, or through no fault at all. he should remember that all are working for a common end, and that the chances of victory will be only injured if he allows his attention to be diverted by unavoidable accidents. and then, too, it is more manly to play one's own game as best one can, no matter what occurs, than to continually display an ugly temper at the little mishaps sure to occur in every game. the next point is to acquire a correct position in the "box," and an easy, yet deceptive, style of delivery. the position is, to a great extent, prescribed by the rules, and so much of it as is not can be learned by observing the different pitchers. the position which seems most natural should be chosen. the ball should be held in exactly the same way, no matter what kind of curve is to be pitched. being obliged by rule to keep the ball before the body, in sight of the umpire, any difference in the manlier of holding it will be quickly noticed by a clever batter, and if for a particular curve it is always held in a certain way, he will be forewarned of the kind of ball to expect. some batters pay no attention to these little indications; but the majority are looking for them all the time, and once they detect any peculiarities, they will be able to face the pitcher with much greater confidence. the correct manner of holding the ball for every kind of delivery is between the thumb and the first and middle fingers, as shown in the accompanying cut of clarkson. it is true there are some curves which may be better acquired by holding the ball differently in the hand, but this fact is outweighed by the other considerations of which i have just spoken. pitcher shaw might still be a "wizard" had he not neglected this precaution; by noticing his manner of holding the ball the batter always knew just what was coming; and there are other pitchers yet in the field who would find their effectiveness greatly increased by a closer observance of this point. as for the style of delivery, it should be remembered that the easiest movement is the best. a long, free sweep of the arm, aided by a swing of the body, will give more speed, be more deceiving to the batter, and allow of more work than any possible snap or jerky motion. facing the striker before pitching, the arm should be swung well back and the body around so as almost to face second base in the act of delivery; this has an intimidating effect on weak-nerved batters; besides, not knowing from what point the ball will start, it seems somehow to get mixed up with the pitcher's arm and body so that it is not possible to get a fair view of it. it will be understood what motion is meant if there is an opportunity to observe whitney, clarkson or keefe at work. next comes the knowledge of how to throw the different curves. i have yet to see an article written on this subject which is of the least value in instructing a complete novice. in the chapter on "curve pitching" will be found the theory of the curve, but as for describing intelligibly the snap of the wrist and arm by which the various twists are imparted to the ball, i am convinced it cannot be done, and will waste no effort in the attempt. to curve a ball is not a difficult feat, and a few practical lessons, which any schoolboy can give, will teach the movement. but, while not attempting myself to tell how this is done, to one already possessed of the knowledge, i may offer some valuable suggestions. not only must the ball always be held in the same way before pitching, but in the act of delivery the swing of the arm must be identical or so nearly so that the eye of the batter can detect no difference. all this means that the pitcher must not give the striker the slightest inkling of the kind of ball to expect, so that he will have the shortest possible time in which to prepare to hit. i advise against the use of too many different curves. the accomplished twirler can pitch any kind of curve, but there are some which he seldom employs. it is impossible to be accurate when too many deliveries are attempted, and accuracy is of far greater importance than eccentric curves. almost all professional pitchers now use the overhand delivery and pitch only a fast, straight ball and a curve. the fast ball, on account of its being thrown overhand and the twist thereby given, "jumps" in the air, that is, it rises slightly, while the curve, pitched with the same motion, goes outward and downward. the curve will necessarily be slower than the straight ball, and this will give all the variation in speed needed to unsettle the batter's "eye" and confuse him in "timing" the ball. some pitchers are able, keeping the same motions, to vary the speed even of the curve and straight balls, but, as before said, this is apt to be at the expense of accuracy, and should not be attempted by the young player. occasionally, say once an inning, a pitcher may make a round arm or underhand motion simply to mislead the batsman, and if the game is safely won he may use an underhand delivery if he finds it rests his arm, but these are exceptional instances. i have already spoken of the importance of accuracy, but it cannot be too strongly emphasized. the more marked the control of the ball the greater will be the success, for no matter how many wonderful curves he may be able to get, unless he has perfect command he will never be a winning pitcher; seasoned batsmen will only laugh at his curves and go to first on balls. to acquire thorough control requires long and patient practice. a pitcher should always pitch over something laid down to represent a plate, and if possible get a batter to stand and hit against him. let him practice with some method, pitching nothing but a straight ball, and trying to put it directly over the plate every time. he should not be annoyed if the batter hits him, as he is only practicing. when a pitcher is able to cut the centre of the plate eight times out of ten he may begin with his curve and work it in the same way. finally, when he can also control the curve, he should try to alternate it with a straight ball. he will find that he cannot do this at first and retain command of each, but he should keep at it, an hour or more regularly every day, till he can. up to this point he has been learning only the mechanical part of pitching, and if he has learned it well he is now ready to try his skill and mettle on the field of actual contest. and here comes in an element not before mentioned, which is called strategy, or "head-work." it means the attempt to deceive the batter, to outwit him so that he cannot hit safely. this may be accomplished in many ways, though the particular way best suited to each case can only be determined at the time by the pitcher himself. it depends, therefore, upon his own cleverness and wits, and it is not possible for any one else to supply these for him. an intelligent catcher may help him greatly, but there will still remain many points which he himself must decide. i may be able, however, to furnish some hints which will indicate the process of reasoning by which the pitcher may arrive at certain conclusions; i can point out some things he should notice, and describe what these generally mean. signaling. but first as to the question of "signs." every battery, by which is meant a pitcher and catcher, must have a perfectly understood private code of signals, so that they may make known their intentions and wishes to one another without at the same time apprising the opposing players. the first and, of course, most important of these is the signal by which the catcher is to know what kind of ball to expect. there is no necessity of more than one "sign" for this, because all that any experienced catcher asks is to know when to expect a fast, straight ball; not having received the signal for this, he will understand that a curve is to be pitched, and the difference in curve or speed will not bother him after a few moments' practice. until within a few years this sign was always given by the pitcher, but now it is almost the universal practice for the catcher to give it to the pitcher, and if the latter doesn't want to pitch the ball asked for he changes the sign by a shake of the head. i think the old method was the better, because it is certainly the business of the pitcher not only to do the pitching, but to use his own judgment in deceiving the batsman. he should not act as a mere automaton to throw the ball; moreover, the catcher has enough of his own to attend to without assuming any of the duties of the pitcher. of course, if the pitcher is young and inexperienced, while the catcher is seasoned and better acquainted with the weak points of batters, the latter will be the better one to signal. it may be thought that the right of the pitcher to reverse the sign by a shake of the head practically gives him the same control as though he himself gave the signs, but this is not strictly true; it is impossible for the pitcher not to be more or less influenced by the catcher's sign, and he will often pitch against his own judgment. at least i found this to be true in my own experience, and therefore always preferred myself to do the "signing." if the pitcher gives this sign he must be careful to choose one that will not be discovered by the other side, for there are certain players always watching for such points. some years ago the chicago club gave me the roughest kind of handling in several games, and kelly told me this winter that they knew every ball i intended to pitch, and he even still remembered the sign and told me what it was. chicago finished first that year and we were a close second. that point which they gained upon me may have cost providence the championship, for they beat us badly in the individual series. when i suspected a club of knowing my sign i used a "combination," that is, i gave two signs; either one of them given separately was not to be understood as a signal at all, but both had to be given together. i found this to work admirably, and it was never discovered by any club, so far as i know. if it be agreed that the catcher is to give this sign, it is still not necessary that the pitcher be entirely influenced by him. the pitcher should rely upon his own discretion, and not hesitate to change the sign whenever his judgment differs from that of the catcher. there are certain signs which the catcher gives to basemen when there are runners on the bases, and with these, too, the pitcher must be perfectly familiar, so that he may be able to pitch the ball in accordance with what is about to be done. for instance, if the catcher has signaled to the first baseman that he will throw there, he will probably ask the pitcher for an out curve. in order, then, to help him out with the play and give him plenty of room, the pitcher will not only pitch the out curve asked, but he will keep it well out and wide of the plate, so that it can't possibly be hit, and he will pitch it at the height where it may be best handled by the catcher. so, too, if there is a runner on first who is likely to attempt to steal second, he will "pitch for the catcher," and he should shorten his pitching motion so as to give the catcher as much time as possible to throw. when runners "steal" on a catcher it is oftener not so much his fault as the pitcher's. it is almost impossible to make a clean steal of second, even with a very ordinary thrower behind the bat, if the pitcher will not give the runner too much "start." the pitcher should also receive a signal from the catcher notifying him when to throw to second base to catch a runner leading off too far. this point will, however, be noticed more appropriately under the duties of "the catcher." as for the other bases, first and third, the pitcher should look after them himself without any signal from the catcher. i could always stand in the pitcher's position facing the batter and still see out of "the corner of my eye" how much ground the runner on first base was taking. as the baseman is already on the base, there is no necessity of notifying him of an intention to throw, so, watching the opportunity, i would throw across my body without first having changed the position of my feet or body at all. the throw is, of course, not so swift as by first wheeling toward the base and then throwing, but it will catch a runner oftener. "smiling mickey" welch plays the point to perfection, and last season caught many men "napping" in this way. its advantage is that it is entirely legitimate. some pitchers, in order to catch a runner at first, make a slight forward movement, visible to the runner but not to the umpire, as if about to pitch. this, of course, starts the runner, and before he can recover, the pitcher has turned and thrown to first. notwithstanding the strictest prohibition last season of any motion even "calculated" to deceive the runner, there were umpires weak- kneed enough to allow these balks. the easiest men to catch are the best base-runners, because they are always anxious to "get away," and they take the most chances. an ambitious runner will keep moving up and down the line trying to get his start. the pitcher should not appear to notice him, pretending to be interested only in the batter, but watching the runner closely all the time. suddenly, and without the least warning, he should snap the ball to the baseman. if the pitcher will choose a time when the runner is on the move away from the base the batter will be off his balance and may be caught before he can recover. for the third base it may be advisable to have a signal with the baseman to notify him of a throw. it is very seldom possible to catch a runner off third by a throw from the pitcher, though it may sometimes be done. clarkson and galvin both accomplish it at times, though they always do it by the aid of a "balk." clarkson's method is this: with a runner on first and one on third, the man on first will usually try to steal second, and if the ball is thrown there to catch him, the runner on third tries to score. in this situation clarkson makes a slight forward movement of the body as though about to pitch, and the runner on third, being anxious to get all possible ground, moves forward. with the same motion, and before the runner can recover, clarkson, by a prior understanding with the third baseman, throws to the base, the baseman meets the ball there, and before the runner has quite realized what has happened, he is "out." i have reason to know the working of this little scheme, because i was caught by it in chicago last season in a very close game. the "balk" was palpable, and i made a strenuous "kick," but the umpire refused to see it that way. a pitcher should not be misled by what i have said into too much throwing to bases. he should throw only when there is a fair chance of making the put-out; for all other purposes, as to hold the runner close to the base, a feint will answer just as well and does not entail the possibility of an error. strategy. a strategic pitcher is one who depends for success not simply on speed and curves, but who outwits the batsman by skill, who deceives his eye, and plays upon his weaknesses. what will be the best method for a particular case must be decided in each instance by the pitcher himself, and his success will depend upon his judgment and cleverness. but while no general rule can be laid down, i may still be able to offer some useful suggestions. assuming that a pitcher has never seen the batters whom he is about to face, there are certain points to be noted as each of them takes his place at the bat. first, his position and manner of holding his bat should be observed. if he carries it over his shoulder and in an almost perpendicular position, the chances are that he is naturally a high ball hitter and is looking for that kind of a pitch, because that is the position of the bat from which a high ball is most easily hit. if, on the contrary, he carries his bat in a more nearly horizontal position, he is ready either to "chop" over at a high ball, or "cut" under at a low one, the chances being that he prefers the latter. of still more importance is his movement in hitting, and this the pitcher must try to discover before the batter has hit the ball at all. an out-curve should be pitched just out of his reach; being so near where he wants it, it will draw him out and he will make every movement, except the swing of the bat, as in hitting. this movement should be carefully noted. if, in stepping forward to hit, he also steps away from the plate toward the third base, it is at once a point in the pitcher's favor. the batsman is timid and afraid of being hit. if, however, he steps confidently forward, almost directly toward the pitcher, he is a dangerous man and all the pitcher's skill will be needed to outwit him. again, if in stepping forward he makes a very long stride, it is another point for the pitcher, because it shows that he is not only anxious to hit but means to hit hard, and such a man is easily deceived. but if he makes a short stride, keeping easily his balance and standing well upright, he is more than likely a good hitter, even though he steps away from the plate, and if in addition to stepping short he also steps toward the pitcher, the pitcher should look out for him. without going into too much detail i will try to illustrate: if my batter is one who steps away from the plate i will pitch a fast, straight ball in over his shoulder too high and too far in to be hit. the next time he will step still further away, but this time i should put a fast, straight one over the outside corner of the plate. from his position he will probably not be able to reach it at all, or if he does he will hit with no force. i might pitch the next ball in the same place, and then i should consider it time to drive him away from the plate again and i would send the next one in over his shoulder as before. he may hit at one of these high "in" balls, but if he does he will probably not touch it; at any rate, another fast, straight one over the outside corner ought to dispose of him. it will be observed i have not thrown a single curve, nor would i to such a batter except occasionally, say two or three during the game, and then only to keep him "guessing." taking another kind of hitter, suppose that he steps up in the best form, making a short stride toward the pitcher, keeping his balance well and his form erect. as already said, he is a dangerous batter and likely to hit in spite of my best efforts, but i must do the best i can with him. i therefore observe his manner of holding the bat and note whether he prefers a high or low ball, and we will say that it is a low one. i send a couple of low drop curves just out of his reach. it is just what he wants if he could only get at them, and the next time he steps well in toward the plate. this time, however, i send a fast, straight, high ball over the plate, and if he hits it at all, it will be in the air. another fast, straight, high one might not escape so easily, but i have two balls called and can't take the chances of giving him his base. i therefore try it again. if he has missed that i now have two strikes, and only two balls, and can afford to throw away a ball or two, which i do as before by pitching a couple of low drop curves out of his reach, until his mind is again fixed upon that point. then i would probably again try a fast, high ball on the inside corner of the plate. these two cases, are given merely to illustrate the line of reasoning, and in practice each would be governed by its own particular circumstances. to avoid confusing details, i will add only a few observations: a batter who steps away from the plate, should be worked on the outside corner; one who steps in, on the inside corner; one who makes a long, vicious swing at the ball, will be easily deceived by a slow ball, much more readily than one who "snaps" or hits with a short, quick stroke; one who strides long must necessarily stoop or crouch, and is in bad form to hit a high ball; if he swings his bat always in a horizontal plane, he will not be able to hit a shoulder or knee ball as well as one who swings in a perpendicular plane, i.e., who "cuts" under at a low ball and "chops" over-hand at a high ball; there are some batters who prefer to hit only at a fast, straight ball, while others wait for a curve, and in such a case the pitcher may get a strike or two by pitching what he will not care to hit at; some are never ready to hit at the first ball pitched, so that by sending this in over the plate a strike may be secured; some are known as great "waiters," who will only hit when forced, and these should be forced to hit at once; others are anxious and cannot wait, and may be safely "worked" wide of the plate. then occasionally there will be found a batter who betrays by his manner when he has made up his mind to hit, and in that case he will let go at anything within reach; therefore a ball should be pitched where he will be least likely to hit it. if the pitcher finds a batter facing for a hit to right field, he should not give him the ball out from him, but crowd him with it, keeping it on the inside corner, and it will be almost impossible for him to succeed. it does not do to work the same batter always in the same way, or he will discover a pitcher's method. sometimes the pitcher must "cross" him and at times it is even advisable to give him a ball just where he would like to have it, but where, for that very reason, he least expects it. finally, a pitcher should not be in a hurry to deliver the ball. as soon as the catcher returns the ball the pitcher should assume a position as though about to pitch and stand there; he should take all the time the umpire will give him. this will allow him to give and receive any necessary signal from the catcher, it will rest him and thus enable him to hold his speed, and, finally, it will work upon the nerves and eyesight of the batter. the batter will grow impatient and anxious, and unless his eyes are very strong the long strain in a bright light will blear his sight. fielding the position. some pitchers seem to harbor the impression that nothing else is expected of them but to pitch the ball, and the effect of this opinion is to diminish their worth to a very great extent: a pitcher is just as much a fielder as any of the other players, and may render his side efficient service by his ability to properly care for this part of his work. i have already spoken of throwing to bases to catch runners, and it is unnecessary to say anything further except to again caution against too much of it. a pitcher should throw only when there is a chance of making the put-out. in fielding ground-hits he must exert considerable activity on account of the very short time allowed him. he should have the courage to face a hard hit, because on account of the position of the second baseman and short-stop such a hit will generally be safe if he does not stop it, or at least turn its course. it is his place to get all "bunted" hits. it is a mistake to break up the in-field by bringing a third baseman in close to get hits which a live pitcher should be able to field. when a batter who is likely to bunt the ball comes to the bat, the pitcher must be ready at every ball pitched to move in the direction of the third base line, where such hits are always made. there are some pitchers, such as galvin and van haltren, against whom it is not safe to try a bunt, but, as i have said, many others seem to think they are expected only to pitch. on a hit to the first baseman the pitcher should cover the base, and if the hit is slow or if the baseman fumbles it he may still have time to toss the ball to the pitcher. the pitcher should not wait until he sees the fumble before starting, but the instant the hit is made go for the base; he will then be there and ready to receive the ball and not be forced to take it on the run. so, too, the occasion may arise when he should cover second or third, where some combination of play has taken the baseman away and left the base uncovered. in all cases where a runner is caught between bases the pitcher must take part in the play. if the runner is between first and second, the pitcher will back up the first baseman, leaving the short-stop to back the second baseman; if between second and third, he will back up the third baseman; and if between third and home, he will back the catcher. the pitcher must back up the catcher, the first and third basemen, on all throws from the out field. he must not wait until the throw is made before getting in line, but the moment the probability of such a throw arises, he should get there, and then he can see the entire play, and will be sure to get in a line with the throw. in backing up he must not get too close to the fielder he is backing, otherwise what is a wild throw to him will be likewise to the pitcher. he should keep from fifty to seventy-five feet away. with runners on bases he should be sure that he understands the situation perfectly before pitching, and he must keep it in mind; then, if the ball is hit to him, he need lose no time in deciding upon the proper place to throw it. if his play is to try for a double by way of second base, he should not wait until the baseman gets there and then drive the ball at him with all his might; but he should toss it to the baseman as he runs for the base, timing the speed of the throw so that the baseman and the ball will reach the base together. thus no time will be lost, and the throw being easy, may be much more quickly and safely handled. in short, a pitcher should make himself useful wherever he can, and use his wits in fielding as well as in pitching. he should not be disheartened by poor support or unavoidable accidents, but should keep up his courage, and the entire team will be infused with his spirit. there are some pitchers who are not hit hard and yet seldom win because they display such a lazy disposition in the box that they put all the other players to sleep; and, again, there are others not so successful in the matter of base hits, who yet win more games, on account of the aggressive spirit they impart to their fellow-players. let the pitcher be alive, then, and if he has any "heart" let him show it; let him keep up his spirits, have a reason for every ball pitched, and use his brain as well as his muscle, for it is only in this way that he, can ever take a place in the front rank. chapter iv. the catcher. next after the pitcher, in regular order, comes the catcher. though the negative pole of "the battery," his support of the pitcher will largely influence the latter's efficiency, and he therefore becomes an important factor in the attacking force. were it not for the extreme liability to injury, the position of catcher would be the most desirable on the field; he has plenty of work of the prettiest kind to do, is given many opportunities for the employment of judgment and skill, and, what is clearer than all to the heart of every true ball player, he is always in the thickest of the fight. moreover, his work, unlike that of the pitcher, always shows for itself, and is therefore always appreciated. a pitcher's success depends upon many circumstances, some of which are beyond his own control, so that, no matter how faithfully or intelligently he may work, he must still suffer the annoyance and mortification of defeat. but the catcher has almost complete control of his own play, he is dependent upon no one but himself, and, in spite of everything and everybody, the nature of his work remains the same. there are some cases in which a steady, intelligent catcher is of more worth to a team than even the pitcher, because such a man will make pitchers out of almost any kind of material. bennett, the grandest of every-day catchers, has demonstrated this fact in many instances, and i have no doubt that much of the success of the st. louis pitchers has been due to the steady support and judicious coaching of bushong. there are certain qualifications necessary to produce a good catcher, and if a person has any ambition to play the position, he should first examine himself to see whether he is the possessor of these. here again the size of the candidate seems not to be of vital importance, for there are good catchers, from the little, sawed-off bantam, hofford, of jersey city, to the tall, angular mack, of washington, and ganzell, of detroit. still, other things being equal, a tall, active man should have an advantage because of his longer "reach" for widely pitched balls, and on account of the confidence a big mark to pitch at inspires in the pitcher. besides, a heavier man is better able to stand against the shocks of reckless runners to the home plate. more important than size are pluck and stamina, especially if one contemplates becoming a professional catcher. in every well-regulated team nowadays the pitchers and catchers are paired, and the same pair always work together. perfect team work involves a perfect understanding by each man of all the points of play of the others, and it is believed that a battery will do better team-work where its two ends are always the same. but to be able to work regularly with one pitcher through an entire season, catching every day when he pitches, a catcher will more than once find his powers of endurance strongly taxed; and if, for real or fancied injuries, he is often obliged to lay off, then, no matter how brilliant his work when he does catch, he will lose much of his value to the team. certain injuries are inevitable and necessitate a rest, but there are others of minor importance to which some men will not give way. i do not laud this as pure bravado, but because it sets an example and infuses a spirit into a team that is worth many games in a long race. i have the greatest respect and admiration for the bennetts and the bushongs of base-ball. but there are other features necessary before a person can hope to become a first-class catcher. as before said, he has many chances offered for the employment of judgment and skill; and to make the best use of these he must be possessed of some brains. the ideal catcher not only stops the ball and throws it well, but he is a man of quick wit, he loses no time in deciding upon a play, he is never "rattled" in any emergency, he gives and receives signals, and, in short, plays all the points of his position, and accomplishes much that a player of less ready perception would lose entirely. two of the best catchers in the country are neither of them remarkable back-stops nor particularly strong and accurate throwers, and yet both, by their great generalship and cleverness, are "winning" catchers. i refer to kelly, of boston, and snyder, of cleveland. ewing, of new york, combines with wonderful skill and judgment the ability to stop a ball well and throw it quicker, harder, and truer than any one else, and i therefore consider him the "king" of all catchers--when he catches. in learning to catch, the first thing, of course, is to acquire a correct style, that is, an approved position of body, hands, and feet, the best manner of catching a ball, the proper place to stand, how to throw quickly, and the best motion for throwing. after this comes the study of the different points of play. there are as many different styles in detail as there are individual catchers, and yet, through all, there run certain resemblances which may be generalized. as to the position of the body, all assume a stooping posture, bending forward from the hips, in order better to get a low as well as a high pitch. some, like daily, of indianapolis, crouch almost to the ground, but such a position must be not only more fatiguing, but destroy somewhat the gauging of a high pitch. a catcher should not stand with his feet too widely apart. it is a mistake some players make, but a little reflection will convince a catcher that a man in such an attitude cannot change his position and handle himself as readily as if he stood with the feet nearer together. besides, on a low pitched ball striking the ground in front of him, it is necessary to get the feet entirely together to assist the hands in stopping it, and this he cannot do if he is too much spread out. these things may appear to be of minor importance, but it is their observance which often makes the difference between a first-class and an ordinary catcher. a catcher should not stand directly back of the plate, but rather in line with its outside corner; and when he gets (or gives) his sign for the kind of ball to be pitched, he should not, by any movement out or in, indicate to the batter what is coming; there are some batters who glance down at the plate to see, from the corner of the eye, where the catcher is standing. he will have ample time to move after the pitcher has begun his delivery and when the batter's attention is wholly occupied with that. if an out-curve is coming, he should be ready to move out, or if an in-curve, or fast, straight ball, he should be ready to step in. he should not anchor himself and try to do all his catching with his hands, but in every instance, if possible, receive the ball squarely in front of him. then if it breaks through his hands it will still be stopped by his body. in catching a high ball the hands should be held in the position shown in the following cut of bushong, the fingers all pointing upward. some players catch with the fingers pointing toward the ball, but such men are continually being hurt. a slight foul-tip diverts the course of the ball just enough to carry it against the ends of the fingers, and on account of their position the necessary result is a break or dislocation. but with the hands held as in this cut there is a "give" to the fingers and the chances of injury are much reduced. for a low ball the hands should be held so that the fingers point downward, and for a waist ball, by crouching slightly it may be taken in the same manner as a high ball. some catchers throw more quickly than others because, having seen the runner start, they get into position while the ball is coming. instead of standing square with the plate, they advance the left foot a half step, and then, managing to get the ball a little on the right side, they have only to step the left foot forward the other half step and let the ball go. to throw without stepping at all is not advisable, because, on account of the long distance, there would not be sufficient speed; to take more than one step occupies too much time, more than is gained by the extra speed obtained; so that the best plan and the one used by the most successful catchers is the one just described. it is not however the speed of the throw alone that catches a base-runner, but the losing of no time in getting the ball on the way. some very ordinary throwers are hard men to steal on, while others, who give much greater speed to the ball, are not so dangerous. a ball may be thrown under-hand, round-arm, or over-hand. experience has proven to me that a ball may be thrown a short distance, as from home to second, most accurately by a swing of the arm, half way between a round- arm and over-hand delivery. my natural style was over-hand, but i have cultivated the other until it now comes without difficulty. i was influenced to make the change by noting the styles of other players, particularly of ewing and o'rourke. i found that they both got great speed and accuracy, and i also noticed that they seldom complained of "lame arm." by being a more continuous swing, it is a more natural motion, less trying on the muscles, and gives greater accuracy on account of the twist such a swing imparts to the ball, much on the same principle as does the twist to a bullet from a rifled gun. i therefore recommend it for trial at least. when practicing with the pitcher the catcher should be just as careful about his style as he would be in a game, for it is while practicing that his habits are being formed. in returning the ball to the pitcher each time, he should learn to catch it and bring the arm back, with one continuous motion of the hands, without making any stops or angles. a word about high foul flies, since many of the catcher's put-outs are from these hits. a ball thrown directly up into the air by the hand will descend in a direct line, and may be easily "judged," but a pitched ball hit directly up is given a tremendous twist by its contact with the bat, and, in descending, this twist carries the ball forward sometimes as much as ten, or even twenty feet. consequently we see catchers misjudging these hits time after time because they either do not know this, or fail to take it into consideration. it is also necessary to know the direction and force of the wind, and this should be noted from time to time during the game by a glance at the flags, or in some equally sure way. there is one more point in fielding the catcher's position upon which a few words will not be amiss, that is, as to touching a runner coming home. there is a difference of opinion as to the best place for the catcher to stand when waiting for the throw to cut off such a runner. the general practice is to stand a couple of feet from the plate toward third base and in front of the line. but this necessitates the catcher's turning half-way round after catching the ball before he can touch the runner, and many an artful dodger scores his run by making a slide in which he takes, at least, the full three feet allowed him out of the line. many a run is scored when the catcher seemed to have had the ball in waiting. i believe the best place to stand is a couple of feet toward third and just back of the line. the pitcher saves the time of turning around and has the additional advantage of having the play in front of him, where he can better see every movement of the runner. when the game is depending upon that one put-out the best place of all to stand is a few feet toward third and directly on the line. from there the catcher can reach the runner whether he runs in front of or behind him, and if he slides he will come against the catcher and may therefore not be able to reach the plate, or, at least, the catcher may delay him long enough to make the put-out. it is an extremely dangerous play for the catcher, however, and one that he will feel justified in attempting only when the game depends upon the put-out. brown saved the new yorks a game in new orleans last winter by this play, though powell, the base-runner, came against him with such force as to throw him head-over-heels ten feet away. the object in standing a few feet toward third is to avoid close plays, for then if the put-out is made at all there can be no possible chance for the umpire to decide otherwise. signaling. under the heading of "the pitcher" i have spoken of the necessity of a private code of signals between pitcher and catcher, and i also said it was the general practice now for the catcher to signify the kind of ball to be pitched, though it is my own opinion that the pitcher should do this, unless there are special reasons why it should be otherwise. in giving this sign the catcher, standing with his hands resting on his knees, makes some movement with the right hand, or a finger of that hand, or with the right foot, to indicate an "out" ball, and some similar movement with his left hand or foot for an "in" ball. of course, this may generally be plainly seen by every one on the field except the batter, whose back is turned, and this fact has been taken advantage of by some teams. the coacher, standing at first or third, makes some remark with no apparent reference to the batter, but really previously agreed upon, to notify him what kind of ball is going to be pitched. this known, the batter has nothing to do but pick out his ball and lay on to it with all his weight. some of the new york players had great sport the past winter in this way at the expense of the california pitchers. it is therefore advisable that some sign be used that is not easily detected. there are other signals which a catcher must give to basemen to apprise them of his intention to throw. when there are runners on any of the bases, he should not give the sign to the pitcher to pitch until he has glanced quietly around and seen whether any of the runners are leading too far off the bases, and if so, by a prearranged signal notify the baseman that he will throw. this signal should be known also to the pitcher and by every other fielder who may be interested in the play. the pitcher will now send the catcher the ball wide of the plate and at a height where the catcher can handle it easily. the moment he moves to pitch the baseman starts for his base and the proper fielders get in line to back up the throw, if by accident it should be wild. it is very necessary that the pitcher keep the ball out of the batter's reach, otherwise it may be hit to a part of the field left unguarded by the fielders who have gone to back up the throw; and the fielders must understand the signal or they will not be able to get in line to back up. the complete success of all these plays lies, therefore, in every one knowing and doing his part, and in all working together. a mistake by one, as if the pitcher allows the ball to be hit and it goes safely to a field that would have otherwise been guarded, demoralizes the entire team, and several such mistakes destroy the confidence of the men in team work. in some cases the basemen themselves signal to the catcher for a throw, but in order that every one interested may see the signal and be prepared for the play, it is manifestly better that the catcher alone should give it. a tricky runner on second will sometimes lead well off for the express purpose of having the catcher throw down, whereupon, instead of returning to second he goes on to third. whenever a catcher has reason to suspect a runner of this intention he should make a feint to throw to second, and if the runner starts for third the catcher then has him between the bases. the feint must be well made and no time lost afterward in getting the ball either to second or third, according to circumstances. the importance of a play such as this rests not only in the single put-out made, but in the respect for the catcher with which it inspires subsequent runners. they will be exceedingly careful what liberties they attempt to take. a very quick-witted runner, seeing himself caught in this way between the bases, will, of course, try by every means to extricate himself. he may, in turn, make a feint as if to return to second, and when the catcher throws there he will still go on to third; or, he may feint to go to third and manage to return to second. to catch such a man it is necessary to make a second feint to throw to the base nearest him, and this will almost invariably force him to go in the opposite direction. besides, with each feint the catcher has stepped quickly forward and by the time he has finished the second feint he is almost down to the pitcher's position. the runner is then completely at the catcher's mercy and only an error of some kind will allow him to escape. there are not more than a half dozen catchers in the profession who know how to make this play properly, but there are some, as i have learned by sad experience. when there are runners on first and third with second unoccupied, and the runner on first tries to steal second, there are several possible plays. the catcher may throw to second to catch the runner going down; or he may feint to throw there and throw to third to catch that runner leading off; or he may actually throw toward second, but short of the base, so that the baseman will have a less distance to return the ball home, in case the runner on third starts in. which one of these plays is to be made the catcher must decide beforehand and notify the basemen by signal, and he will be governed in his decision by the circumstances of the case. if the situation of the game is such that it will make little difference whether the runner on third scores or not, the catcher will, of course, throw to second to make that put-out. but if one run is vital there are other things to be considered. if the runner at third is very slow or one not likely to attempt to run home, he may still throw to second to catch the man from first. but if the runner at third is one who will attempt to score, the catcher must either throw short to second or else feint and throw to third. whatever he is going to do must be understood thoroughly by all the fielders interested, and to this end he will give the proper signal. as the second baseman and shortstop may also take an important part in this play, it will be spoken of later. in conclusion let me say, that in order to accomplish anything by these private signals the catcher must have them in such thorough working order that no mistake can possibly occur. this may come only after long and patient practice; some fielders find it almost impossible to work with signs, but they must be kept at it every day until the code becomes perfectly familiar to them. chapter v. the first baseman. from the fact that the first baseman has more "chances" to his credit than any other player, it might seem to the casual observer that his is the most difficult position to play; but as a matter of fact most of his chances are of a very simple nature, involving merely the catching of a thrown ball, and an examination of the official averages will show him leading in the percentages year after year. the possibilities of the position, however, have been developing. for many years, and, indeed, until he retired from the diamond, "old reliable" joe start was the king of first basemen; but, unquestionably, the play of such basemen as connor, commisky, and morrill is a steady improvement, along with the rest of the game. especially has there been an advance in the direction of fielding ground hits, and it is now not an unusual sight to see a first baseman getting a hit in short right field, and assisting in the put-out at first or second base. the position demands a tall man. such a one, by his longer reach, will not only save many wide throws, but, because he is a good mark to throw at, will inspire confidence in the throwers. he must be able to catch a thrown ball, whether high, low, or on either side. as to the surest way of catching, opinions differ; but as to the best way, everything considered, i hold the same conditions to be true here as in the case of the catcher; that is, for a high thrown ball the fingers should point not toward the ball, but upward, and for a low thrown ball, just the reverse. if the throw is off to either side, the baseman must shift his position so as to be able to reach it, and if it is so far wide that he must leave the base, he should not hesitate to do so; he should not imagine that he is tied to the bag. start was the first man i ever saw who knew how to leave the base for a wide throw. he never took the chance of a long reach for the ball, unless, of course, the game depended on that one put-out and there was no time to leave the base and return. he believed, and with reason, that it was better to first make sure of the ball and then touch the base, than, by trying to do both at once, see the ball sailing over into the side seats. it is a difficult play when the throw is to the baseman's left, in toward the runner, because of the danger of a collision with the latter. to the average spectator who may never have had much experience on the field, these collisions between players may seem trifling affairs, but they are not so regarded by the players themselves. in the history of the sport many men have been seriously injured in this way, and a few killed outright. for two weeks once i was obliged to sleep nights in a sitting posture as the result of a shock of this kind, and it was months before i recovered entirely from its effects. to avoid a collision when the ball is thrown in this way many good basemen stand back of the line with the right foot touching the base, and allow the runner to pass in front of them. there was one first baseman who used simply to reach in his left hand and pick the ball from in front of the runner with as much ease and safety as though it were thrown directly to him. i mean mckinnon, poor al mckinnon! what a flood of affectionate recollections his name brings back. kind-hearted, full of fun, manly, honest, and straightforward to the last degree, he was one whose memory will always be green in the hearts of those who knew him well. in picking up low thrown balls which strike the ground in front of the baseman, some become much more expert than others. one of the best, i think, is phillips, who played last season with brooklyn, and is now with the kansas city club. when the bound is what is called a "short bound," that is, where it strikes but a few inches in front of the hands, the play is really not a difficult one if the ground is at all even; but where it strikes from one to three feet beyond the hands, it requires considerable skill to get it, especially if the ground cannot be depended upon for a regular bound. in this latter case the bound is too long for a "pick-up" and too short for a long bound catch; so that the only thing to do is to calculate as nearly as possible where the ball should bound and then try to get the hands in front of it. it will be found easier to reach the hands as far forward as possible and then "give" with the ball, that is, draw the hands back toward the body in the direction the ball should take on its rebound. a player should never turn his face away, even at the risk of being hit, for by watching the ball all the time, he may be able to change the position of the hands enough to meet some slight miscalculation as to the direction of the bound. in fielding ground-hits, the same rule applies to the first baseman as to every other fielder; that he should get every hit he possibly can, with the single qualification that he shall avoid interference with other fielders. but as between a possible interference and a failure to go after a ball that should have been stopped, the interference is much to be preferred. there are some basemen who seem to think there is a line beyond which it is forbidden them to go; they act as though they were tied to the base-post by a twenty-foot lariat. having fielded a ground-hit, the baseman will usually himself run to the base; but sometimes the hit is so slow or so far toward second or he fumbles it so long that there is no time left for him to do this. in such case he will toss the ball to the pitcher, who has covered the base. in making this play a baseman should not wait until the pitcher reaches the base before throwing, as it loses too much time, and he should not throw the ball at all, because it makes a difficult catch; but he should pitch the ball easily in front of the pitcher so that he and the ball will both meet at the base. a little practice will make this play plain and simple, and the advantage of doing it in this way will easily be seen. there are times when, with runners on the bases, the play will not be to first, but to second, third, or home. with a runner on first, many batters try to hit into right field, because with the second baseman forced to cover second for a throw from the catcher, the space between first and second is left almost unguarded. but if the first baseman will be on the alert for such a hit, and throw the runner out at second, he not only balks the play but frightens following batters from attempting the same hit. with a runner on third and not more than one man out, all the in-fielders will play closer to the bat, so as to throw the runner out at home on an in-field hit; in such case if the batter should strike out, and the third strike be dropped, the first baseman should not go to his base to receive the throw from the catcher, but meet it on the line as near as possible to the plate. he is then able to touch the runner on his way to first and to throw home if the man on third attempts to score on the throw to first. it may be possible to make a double play by first touching the runner to first and then throwing home; but if the runner to first holds back and there is danger of the man from third scoring, it is obviously best to throw home and cut him off, ignoring entirely the runner to first. another point in which many basemen are remiss is in backing up. on all throws from left or left-centre field to second base he should get in line with the throw, and on all throws from the same fields to the plate he should also assist in backing up, unless there is some special necessity for guarding his own base. there is a prevalent belief that it matters little whether a first baseman can throw well or not, but a moment's consideration will show the fallacy of this. there are some plays in which he needs to be a hard and accurate thrower; with a runner on second and a ball hit to the in- field the runner will sometimes wait until it is thrown to first, and then start for third. in such case only the best kind of a return by the first baseman will head him off. so also in long hits to extreme right field he may have to assist the fielder by a throw to third or home. it will thus be seen that there are points of play at first base which, in the hands of an ambitious fielder, may be developed into very considerable importance. chapter vi. the second baseman. second base is the prettiest position to play of the entire in-field. in the number of chances offered it is next to first base, and in the character of the work to be done and the opportunities for brilliant play and the exercise of judgment, it is unsurpassed. it is true the second baseman has more territory to look after than any other in- fielder, but on account of the long distance he plays from the batter he has more time in which to cover it. the last moment allowed a fielder to get in the way of a ball is worth the first two, because one will be consumed in getting under headway. then, too, the distance of his throw to first is generally short, and this allows him to fumble a hit and still get the ball there in time. so that while much of his work is of a difficult kind, he is more than compensated by certain other advantages, and, so far as the percentage of chances accepted is concerned, he generally leads every one except the first baseman. the position should have a man of at least average physical proportions. there are in every game a number of throws to second from all points of the field, and with a small man there many of them would be "wild," on account of his lack of height and reach; moreover, a larger man offers a better mark to throw at, and the liability to throw wildly is decreased because of the increased confidence on the part of the throwers. then, too, a small man is not able to stand the continual collisions with base-runners, and as a number of his plays are attempts to retire runners from first, he grows timid after awhile and allows many clever sliders to get away from him. on the other hand, the position requires a very active player, and for this reason, too large a man would not be desirable on account of the large field he has to cover, he must possess the ability to run fast and to start and stop quickly; he must be able to stoop and recover himself while still running, and be able to throw a ball from any position. not all his throws are of the short order; sometimes he is expected to cut off a runner at third or return the ball to the catcher for the same purpose, and in these cases speed and accuracy are of the utmost importance. because of the number and variety of plays that fall to his lot, he must be a man of some intelligence. with runners on the bases, the situations of a game change like the pictures in a kaleidoscope, so that there is not always time to consider what is the best play to make; there are times when he must decide with a wit so quick that it amounts almost to instinct, for the loss of a fraction of a second may be the loss of the opportunity, and that one play mean ultimate defeat. the exact spot to play, in order best to cover the position, will be determined by the direction in which the batter is likely to hit, by his fleetness, and by the situation of the game. if there are no runners on the bases the consideration of the batter will alone determine; if he is a right-field hitter the second baseman will play more toward the first baseman, the entire in-field moving around correspondingly; and if he is a left-field hitter he will play toward second and back of the base, in either case playing back of the base line from fifteen to fifty feet, depending upon whether the batter is a very fleet or slow runner. if there are runners on the bases this fact will have to be taken into consideration; for example, with a runner on second the baseman must play near enough to "hold" the runner on the base and not give him so much ground that he can steal third; or if there is a runner on first and the baseman is himself going to cover the base in case of a steal, he must be near enough to get there in time to receive the catcher's throw. on the other hand, he must not play too close or he leaves too much open space between himself and the first baseman; and, though playing far enough away, he should not start for the base until he sees that the batter has not hit. it is not necessary that he be at the base waiting for the throw, but only that he make sure to meet it there. pfeffer, of chicago, plays this point better than any one, i think, and in all respects in handling a thrown ball, he is unexcelled. to catch a runner attempting to steal from first, most second basemen prefer to receive the ball a few feet to the side of the base nearest first and in front of the line. the first is all right because it allows the runner to be touched before getting too close to the base and avoids close decisions; but i question the policy of the baseman being in front of the line in every instance. from this position it is extremely difficult to touch a runner who throws himself entirely out and back of the line, reaching for the base only with his hand. with a runner who is known to slide that way, i believe the baseman should stand back of the line; it demoralizes the runner when he looks up and finds the baseman in the path where he had expected to slide, and it forces him to go into the base in a way different from what he had intended and from that to which he is accustomed. the veteran bob ferguson always stood back of the line, and more than once made shipwreck of my hopes when i might have evaded him if he had given me a chance to slide. the time taken in turning around and reaching for the runner is often just enough to lose the play, whereas, standing back of the line, this time is saved, and, in addition, the baseman has the play and the runner's movements in front of him. with a runner on third and not more than one out, the batter may try to hit a ground ball to the in-field, sacrificing himself but allowing the runner from third to score. to prevent this the in-fielders will generally play nearer the bat, so as to return the ball to the catcher in time to cut off the runner, and how close they must play will depend, of course, upon the fleetness of the runner. even then the ball may be hit so slowly or fielded in such a way as to make the play at the plate impossible, in which case the fielder will try to retire the batter at first. with runners on first and third the one on first will often try to steal second, and if the catcher throws down to catch him, the one on third goes for home. to meet this play on the part of the runners is by no means easy, but it can nevertheless be done. if the one run will not affect the general result of the game, it may be well to pay no attention to the runner from third and try only to put out the one from first, thus clearing the bases. but if it is necessary to prevent the run scoring, the second baseman must be prepared to return the ball to the catcher in case the runner starts for home. in order to gain as much time as possible, he should take as position to receive the catcher's throw ten feet inside of the base-line; keeping one eye on the ball and the other on the runner at third, if he sees the runner start for home, he must meet the throw as quickly as possible and return the ball to the catcher; if the runner does not start, the baseman should step quickly backward so that by the time the ball reaches him he will be near enough to the base-line to touch the runner from first. the play is a difficult one and requires more than the ordinary amount of skill and practice. there is another and, i think, better way of making this play, which will be spoken of under "the short-stop," because that player is principally interested. before the enactment of the rule confining the coachers to a limited space the coacher at third base sometimes played a sharp trick on the second baseman. when the catcher threw the ball, the coacher started down the base-line toward home, and the sec-mid baseman, seeing only imperfectly, mistook him for the runner and returned the ball quickly to the catcher. the result was that the runner from first trotted safely to second, the runner at third remained there, and everybody laughed except the second baseman. in fielding ground-hits the second baseman, because of his being so far removed from the bat, has a better chance to "judge" a hit. he is able either to advance or recede a step or more to meet the ball on a high bound; and on account of the short throw to first he may take more liberties with such a hit; it is not absolutely necessary that he field every ball cleanly, because he may fumble a hit and still make his play. in general, however, he should meet a hit as quickly as possible, so that if fumbled he may have the greatest amount of time to recover and throw. he should also, if possible, get squarely in front of every hit, thus making his feet, legs, and body assist in stopping the ball in case it eludes his hands. when not possible to get directly in front of the ball he must still try to stop it with both hands or with one, for he may then recover it in time to make the play. having secured the ball, he should wait only long enough to steady himself before throwing. he should not hold the ball a moment longer than is necessary. in some cases he has not time to straighten up before throwing, but must snap the ball underhand; and where he gets the hit near enough to the base he should not throw at all, but pitch the ball to the baseman; this makes the play much safer. when there is a runner on first and the ball is hit to the second baseman, he tries for a double play, and there are four ways in which it may be made. first, if he gets the ball before the runner from first reaches him he may touch the runner and then throw to first base before the batter gets there. second, if the runner from first stops so that he can't be touched, the baseman drives him back toward first as far as possible and throws there in time to put out the batter; the other runner, being then caught between the bases, is run down, completing the double. third, if the hit is near enough to the base he may touch second and then throw to first to head off the batter. and, fourth, he may first pass the ball to the short-stop, who has covered second, and the latter throws to first in time to put out the batter. in nine cases out of ten the last is the safest play; it makes sure of the runner to second and is more likely to catch the batter, because the short-stop is in better shape to throw to first than the baseman would be if he attempted to make the play unassisted. the second baseman should take not only all fly hits in his own territory, but also all falling back of the first baseman, and back of the short-stop toward centre field. in all these cases he gets a better view of the ball than either of the other players named, because, instead of running backward, as they would be obliged to do, he runs to the side, and the catch is thus easier for him. if the hit is one which can be reached by an out-fielder, and the latter calls that he will take it, the second baseman will, of course, give way, because the fielder has the ball in front of him, in a better position even than the baseman. with a runner on second he must be on the lookout for the catcher's signal to the pitcher to throw to second, and on seeing this he must start at once for the base to receive the pitcher's throw. he must also watch for the catcher's sign to the second baseman notifying him of an intention to throw, and while the ball is passing from the pitcher to the catcher, get to the base to receive the throw. he should "back up" throws to the first baseman whenever possible, leaving his own base to be covered by the short-stop. he should assist the right and centre fielders in the return of long hits, running well out into the field to receive the out-fielder's throw. when plays arise other than those here mentioned his judgment must tell him what to do, and, without neglecting his own position, he must not hesitate to take any part to advance his team's interests. chapter vii. the third baseman. in the early days of the game, when the pitching was slower and "fair- foul" hits were allowed, the third base position was the busiest and most difficult to play of the in-field. but the changes in the rules, which did away with "fair-foul" hitting, and those which introduced the present pace in pitching, have taken away much of the third baseman's importance. most of the in-field hitting now is toward short-stop and second base, and the best of third basemen are not able to average over three or four chances to a game. but, though the amount of his work has been diminished, it still retains its difficult nature. the length of the throw to first, and the short time given him in which to make it, occasion many wild throws, and if he fumbles the ball at all, the opportunity is lost. fleet runners who hit left-handed, and others who merely "bunt" the ball, can be caught only by the quickest and cleanest work; so that, everything considered, it is not surprising to find the third baseman generally at the foot of the in-field averages. a third baseman, like a second baseman, should be a man of at least average size, and denny, who is by long odds the best in the profession, is a large man. he will have a longer reach for both thrown and batted balls, he will be a better mark to throw at, and, by reason of his superior weight, he will have more confidence in the face of reckless base-running. but not every player of proper size who can stop a ball and throw it accurately to first is capable of becoming a good third baseman. the new york team of demonstrated the odd fact that a man who seemed entirely unable to play second base, could yet play third in good style, while another who was but an average third baseman could take care of second equal to any one. the explanation probably lies in the fact that the positions require men of different temperaments. at second base a player of nervous tendency grows anxious waiting for the ball to come, and by the time it reaches him is unable to get it in his hands, while at third base, where the action is much quicker, such a man is perfectly at home, because he is not given time to become nervous. the same curious fact is seen when an infielder is changed to an out- field position; he finds it impossible, at first, to stop ground-hits, because they seem never to be going to reach him, and he is completely "rattled" by the long wait. for the same reason the most difficult hits which an infielder has to handle are the slow, easy, bounding balls that under ordinary circumstances a child could stop. the proper place for a third baseman to play must be governed by the nature of the case. for an ordinary right-hand batter, likely to hit in any direction, and no one on the bases, he should play from fifteen to twenty feet toward second and several feet back of the base line. for a very fast runner he should move nearer the batter, and, if there is danger of a "bunt," he may even have to play well inside the diamond, though, as before said, all such hits should be attended to by the pitcher. for a batter who hits along the foul-line, he will play nearer his base, and for one who invariably hits toward right-field, he will move around toward second base, going, in some instances, even as far as the short-stop's regular position. for left-hand hitters he will generally have to play nearer the bat, because these players always get to first quicker than right-hand batters. they are five or six feet nearer first base, and by the swing of the bat they get a much quicker start. if there is a runner on third and not more than one out, he will have to play near the base before the ball is pitched, the object being to give the runner as little start as possible, so that he cannot score on a sacrifice hit. when the ball is pitched the baseman runs off to his proper position, unless, of course, he has received a signal from the catcher to expect a throw. the third baseman should go after not only all hits coming within his position proper, but also all slow hits toward short-stop, for the latter is sometimes unable to field such hits in time to make the putout, on account of the longer distance he plays from the home base. the baseman should, however, avoid useless interference with the short- stop, and he should not put down one hand or otherwise balk that player on a hit plainly within the latter's reach. having stopped a batted ball, he should throw it as quickly as possible after having regained his balance, so that if the aim be slightly inaccurate the first baseman may have time to leave the base and return. if there is a runner on first, the baseman's throw will be to second; this will, at least, cut off the runner from first, and possibly a double play may be made, if the ball can be sent to first ahead of the striker. if there are runners on both first and second at the time of the hit, he may either throw to second for the double play as before, taking the chance of catching two men, or he may make sure of one man by simply touching the third base, forcing out the runner from second. finally, there may be a runner on third and not more than one out, in which case, if the runner on third starts home, he will usually try to cut him off by a throw to the catcher, though possibly he may still deem it best to throw to some other base. in any case, what is the best play he must determine for himself, and he will expedite his decision by having a thorough understanding of the situation before the play arises. the third baseman should receive a signal from the catcher when the latter intends throwing to him to catch a runner "napping." the runner always takes considerable ground in order to score on a slow hit to the in-field, or on a short passed ball. by a signal, received before the pitcher delivers the ball, the baseman knows that the catcher will throw, and during the delivery he gets to the base to receive it. and here, again, the best base runners are oftenest caught because they take the most ground. if the batter hits at the ball the runner takes an extra start, and a quick throw to the base will very often catch him before he can get back. it should, therefore, be understood that, in every case when the batter strikes at the ball and misses it, the catcher will throw to third, whether or not he has previously given the signal. in touching a runner the baseman must not run away from him; he must expect to get spiked occasionally, for, if he is thinking more of his own safety than of making the put-out, he will lose many plays by allowing runners to slide under or around him. chapter viii. the short-stop. originally, it is said, the short-stop's chief function was as tender to the pitcher, though this soon became an unimportant feature of his work. the possibilities of the position as a factor in field play were early developed; such fielders as george wright and dick pearce soon showed that it could be made one of the most important of the in-field. but the same legislation which almost crowded the third baseman out of the game, affected materially the short-stop's work, and it is only within the past couple of years that he has regained his former prominent place. during there was more hitting to short than to any other in-field position; though the second baseman averaged more "total chances," on account of a greater number of "put-outs," the "assists" were in favor of the short-stop. the conception of the position has also undergone some changes, and when, therefore, i say that the position is now played more effectively than ever, it is not to assert that the players of the present are better than those of the past, but simply that these changes have been in the line of improvement, that the short-stop now makes plays never thought of in former years--in short, that the development of the position has kept pace with the rest of the game. in the early days short-stop was played on the base line from second to third, or even several feet inside the diamond; now it is played from ten to twenty and sometimes thirty feet back of the line. the result is a vast increase in the amount of territory covered; hits are now fielded on either side which once were easily safe; short flies to the outfield, which formerly fell between the in and outfielders, are now, many of them, caught; the shortstop backs up the second and third bases, helps "hold" a runner on second, and, on a throw from pitcher or catcher, the second base is covered by him almost as often as by the baseman himself. playing so much further from the batter, he will make inure errors; he can seldom fumble a hit and still make the play; his throw to first is longer, and must therefore be swifter and more accurate; but for these disadvantages to himself he is repaid many fold by an increased usefulness to his team. all these features together make the position very different from what it was some years ago, and in point of effectiveness it has undoubtedly been improved. a short-stop should be a player of more than ordinary suppleness and activity. he has a large amount of ground to cover; he has to field sharply hit balls on either side, and must therefore be able to start and stop quickly; he is often obliged to stoop, recover himself, and throw while running, and so has no time to get his feet tangled. moreover, his presence is often required at widely separated portions of the field, with very brief intervals allowed him for making the changes. he may have to field a hit to first from near second base, and at once, in continuation of the same play, back up third on the return of the ball from first base. or, from a close in-field position one moment, he may be called the next to far left-field to assist in the return of a long hit. so that he needs to be awake all the time and able to transfer himself without delay to that part of the field in which his services are required. on account of the length of his throw to first base, and because he is often expected to assist in the return of a long hit to the out-field, he should be a good, hard thrower. he should also be able to throw from any posture, because there are occasions when he has no time to straighten up and pull himself together before throwing. in chances for skillful plays and the employment of judgment, short-stop is second to no other position on the in-field. he is tied to no base, but is at liberty to go anywhere he may be most needed, and he is thus able to make himself very useful at times, in plays altogether out of his position proper. but to make the best use of these advantages he must be possessed of some intelligence and a wit quick enough to see the point and act before the opportunity has passed. brains are as much a necessity in base-ball as in any other profession. the best ball players are the most intelligent, though, of course, natural intelligence is here meant and not necessarily that which is derived from books. the proper place for the short-stop to play will be governed always by the particular circumstances, as explained in the preceding chapters with reference to other in-fielders. if there are no runners on the bases, regard for the batter alone will determine, but if there are runners, this fact, and the situation of the game, must be taken into consideration. a glance at the diagram of the field given in chapter i will show the usual position of all the fielders, but from these points they may greatly vary. if the batter generally hits along the left foul- line, the short-stop will play nearer the third baseman, and if, on the other hand, the batter hits toward right-field, the short-stop will move toward second, even going so far as to be directly back of the pitcher, the entire in-field, of course, moving around correspondingly. if the batter is a heavy runner, the short-stop may play a deep field, because he will still have sufficient time to get the ball to first; and so, also, if there is a runner on first, he may play well back, because his throw then, on a hit, is only to second base. if he is covering second base either to catch a runner from first or to hold a runner on second who has already reached there, he must play near enough to the base to be able to receive the throw. or, if the attempt is to be made to cut off at the plate a runner trying to score on a sacrifice hit, he will play on the base-line or a few feet inside the diamond. all in-fielders, as well as out-fielders, should be willingly guided as to the position to play by a signal from the pitcher. the latter, knowing what kind of ball he is going to give the batsman to hit, is best able to judge beforehand of the direction of the hit. the short-stop should cover second base in all cases where there is a runner on first and the batter is one likely to hit to right-field. this allows the second baseman to guard the territory between second and first, which he would not otherwise be able to do, and if the ball is hit to him, he throws to the short-stop at second, forcing out the runner from first. he should also guard second when there is a runner on that base and the baseman is obliged to play well off for a hit toward right-field. of course, he does not play on the base, but near enough to be able to reach it if the pitcher or catcher wishes to throw there. another instance in which he may take the base is when there are runners on first and third and the runner on first starts for second. one way of making this play was described in speaking of "the second baseman," but it is believed that it may be much better done with the assistance of the short-stop. with runners on first and third, the catcher signals whether he will make a long or short throw toward second. when the runner on first starts down, the second baseman runs inside the diamond to a point in line with the base, and the short-stop goes to the base. if the throw is long, the short-stop receives the ball and touches the runner, or returns it quickly to the plate if the runner on third starts in. if the throw is short, the second baseman receives the ball and returns it to the catcher; or, if the runner on third does not start home, the baseman may still have time to turn and toss the ball to the short-stop to catch the runner from first. in deciding to give the signal for a short or long throw, the catcher is guided by the circumstances of the case and the situation of the game. if one run is going to materially affect the result of the game, the throw will be short, so that the ball may be surely returned to the catcher before the runner from third scores. if the run is not vital, the throw may still be short if the runner at third is speedy; but if he is slow and not likely to chance the run home, the throw will be all the way to the shortstop to put out the runner from first. the success of the play lies in the fact that the runner on third can never tell, until too late, whether the throw is to be short or long. the play was first made in this way by gerhardt and myself in , and during the past two seasons it has been tried in the new york team many tunes with the best results. each player must, however, understand his part and all work together. in a recent game against philadelphia, on the polo grounds, crane, who had never taken part in the play before, gave fogarty a ball within reach and he hit it through the short-stop position, left unguarded by my having gone to cover second base. on all hits to left and left centre-fields, the shortstop should take second, allowing the baseman to back up the throw, and on all hits to right and right centre the baseman will take the base and the shortstop attend to the backing up. in fielding ground hits the short-stop should observe the general principles for such plays. he should, if possible, get directly and squarely in front of every hit, making his feet, legs, and body assist in stopping the ball, in case it gets through his hands. if the ball comes on a "short bound," he should not push the hands forward to meet it, hut, having reached forward, "give" with the ball by drawing back the hands in the direction the ball should bound. in this way if the ball does not strike the hands fairly, its force will at least be deadened so that it will fall to the ground within reach of the player; whereas, if he pushes his hands forward and the ball does not strike fairly, it will be driven too far away. he should meet every hit as quickly as possible, so that if fumbled he may still have time to recover the ball and make the play. in running in to meet the ball, he must not forget the importance of steadiness, and to this end should get himself in proper form just before the ball reaches him. what is meant by "good form" may be seen by the above cut. the feet, legs, hands, arms, and body are all made to assist in presenting an impassable front to the ball. if base-ball diamonds were perfectly true the bound of the ball might be calculated with mathematical precision, but unfortunately they are not, and these precautions become necessary. there should be an understanding between the short-stop and third baseman that the latter is to take all slow hits toward short, and as many hard hits as he can fairly and safely field. the effect of the baseman's covering ground in this way is to allow the short-stop to play a deeper field and farther toward second base. some players do not like the idea of another fielder taking hits which seem more properly to belong to themselves, but this is the correct way for a short-stop and third baseman to work, and between two men, playing only for the team's success, there will never be any dispute. it is always best, when possible, to use both hands to stop or catch a ball; but sometimes a hit is so far to either side, or so high, that it can only be reached with one hand. therefore, a short-stop should practice one-hand play so that he may be able to use it when the emergency requires. he should never attempt it at any other time. having secured a batted ball, he should throw it at once, waiting only long enough to regain his balance and make sure of his aim. the practice of holding the ball for a moment and looking at the runner, whether done to demonstrate the fielder's perfect sang froid, or to make a swift and pretty throw for the benefit of the grand stand, is altogether wrong. generally, the throw will be to first, though sometimes there will be an opportunity to put out another runner, in which case it will be to some other base. in throwing to second or third, if he is near the base, he should pass the ball to the baseman by an easy, underhand toss. it is a difficult play to catch a thrown ball when the thrower is quite near; besides, in making double plays by way of second base, any time lost in tossing the ball will be more than regained by the quicker handling, and there is the additional inducement of safety. in making double plays to second it is almost always better to pass the ball to the baseman and allow him to throw to first, than for the short- stop to attempt to make the play alone. in , a couple of weeks before the season closed, the providence club reached chicago with the pennant all but won; one game from chicago would have made it sure. in about the sixth inning of the last game, with the score four to two in our favor, the first two chicago batters reached their bases. kelly then hit to george wright at short, who passed the ball to farrell, retiring the runner from first, but jack threw a little high to start and missed the double. with runners on first and third, the next man, anson, hit hard to wright, so that he had plenty of time again for a double. but, this time, instead of passing the ball to farrell, as before, george attempted to make the play alone. he touched second, but, by the time he was ready to throw kelly came against him, and the result was a wild throw, and, to complete the disaster, the ball rolled through a small opening under a gate and both runners scored. we were beaten finally six to five, and lost the championship. it should be added that the game would have been won again in the eighth inning but for the unpardonable stupidity of one of the providence base-runners. by far the most difficult catch on a ball field is that of a ball hit high to the in-field, because of the great "twist" to the ball. the slightest failure to get the ball fairly in the hands will result in a miss, and yet this is always greeted by derisive howls from certain among the spectators. there are various styles of catching these hits, but the position of the hands shown in the accompanying cut is believed to be the best. the hands should be reached well up to meet the ball and then brought down easily in the line of its course. if the hands and arms are held stiff, the ball will rebound from them as though it had struck a stone. the use of a glove on one hand may be found helpful in counteracting the effect of the twist. the short-stop is expected to try for all such hits falling in his own position, and also all falling back of the third baseman and in short left-field. with runners on bases, a double play may sometimes be made by allowing such a hit to first strike the ground. in order that the ball may not bound beyond reach, it should be caught or "picked up" on the short bound, and to do this safely requires a great deal of skill. it is a pretty play, and often of invaluable service, and it should therefore be practiced carefully until it can be made with approximate safety. the short-stop must not betray beforehand his intention, but pretend that he is going to catch the ball on the fly. with all signals given by the catcher to the different in-fielders the short-stop must be perfectly familiar, in order that he may be prepared to do his part. if there is to be a throw to second or third he should know it, so that he can be ready to back up in case the throw is wide or breaks through the baseman's hands. so, too, he must know when to expect a throw if he himself be covering second. in all cases where a runner is caught between bases, the short-stop must take part. if the play is between first and second or between second and third, he and the second baseman alternate in backing one another up on one side of the runner, while the other baseman and the pitcher do the same on the other side. if it is between third and home, he and the third baseman attend to one side, while the catcher and pitcher look after the other. in every case the base runner should be run down as quickly as possible, and always toward the base farthest from the home plate, so that if an error is made the runner will gain no advantage. in backing up other fielders a short-stop may be of great service, and he should do this in every possible case, no matter where the play may be. but the positions which he is specially bound to back up are the second and third bases, not only on all throws from the catcher, but from any other fielder, where it is possible for him to get in line with the throw. he must not get too close to the baseman but keep a sufficient distance back of him to make sure of getting in front of the ball. chapter ix. the left-fielder. the simplest of the three out-field positions is the left-field, and one evidence of this is seen by the fact that a left-fielder almost invariably leads in the averages. if fielding were the only consideration, the man who was the surest catch, who could run the fastest and throw the longest, would be the best man for the left-field position; but other points enter into the question. a team, to win, must have hitters as well as fielders, and it is therefore usual to fill up the outfield with good batters, even at the expense of a slight weakness in fielding. considered simply as a fielder, the occupant of the left-field should have a good "eye" to "judge" a ball hit in the air. the moment the hit is made he must be able to tell its direction and locate the place where it is going to fall. the best fielders acquire a remarkable skill in this respect and are able to decide these things at a glance. the fielder who is obliged to keep his eye on the ball all the time it is in the air will not cover nearly so much ground as the one who is able to put down his head and run until near the ball. particularly is this true of a fly hit over the fielder's head. the player who attempts to run backwards or sideways for the ball, or who turns his back to the ball but keeps his head twisted around so as to see it, will not begin to get the hits that a man will who is able to locate the hit exactly and then turn and run until he has reached the spot where the ball is going to fall. if the eyesight is good any fielder can learn to do this, all it requires being sufficient practice and plenty of confidence. another qualification for a fielder is the ability to start quickly and run fast. the player who excels in these respects will, of course, get more hits than one who starts and runs slowly. next, he must be a sure catch on a batted ball, no matter in what shape he may be obliged to take it, whether running toward or with the ball, and whether it be high, low, or on either side. many fielders are sure of a ball if they can get it in a particular position or at a certain height, but this is not enough, for it is not always possible to do this. a player who feels himself weak on any point should practice and practice upon that particular thing until he has mastered it. if he can catch hits on his right better than on his left side, let him practice catching only on the left; if he is weak on hits over his head, he should have some one bat to him thus, until he has overcome the weakness. any failing of this nature may be corrected by practice. a fly ball should never be caught holding the hands and arms rigid. the fielder should reach up to meet the ball and then bring the hands down easily with it. there are some balls hit to the outfield, as well as to the in-field, which the fielders cannot possibly reach with both hands but may be able to get with one. in a game played to-day (may th), between new york and indianapolis, hines, of the latter club, made a marvelous one-hand catch of a hit that would otherwise have been good for three bases; and the effect of that one play off the first new york batter was so bracing to the rest of the indianapolis team that it probably accounted for the strong and winning game they afterwards played. so that, while discountenancing one-hand plays when two hands may be used, i still think every fielder should practice one-hand catches, to be prepared for such a play when it becomes necessary. in fielding balls hit along the ground, the fielder should not wait until the ball comes to him, but run in to meet it as quickly as possible. then, if fumbled, he may still have time to get it back to the infield before base runners can take an extra base. the instant an out-fielder gets a ball in his hands he should throw it to some point in the in-field. the habit of holding a ball is extremely dangerous. if the bases are clear and a single base-hit is made the ball should be sent at once to second base. if there is a runner on first, it should be thrown to third base, because if sent to second a bold runner will sometimes keep right on to third. if there is a runner on second when the hit is made and the left-fielder secures the ball quickly, he should throw it to third, because most runners will over-run that base in order to draw the throw to the home plate, and a quick throw to the base will catch them before they can return. the left-fielder is expected to back up the second and third bases on a throw from first base or right-field. he should also back up third on a throw from the catcher, and to this end must be on the look-out for the catcher's signal. he must also back up the centre-fielder when that player runs in to meet a hit, for, though he may not be able to get in front of the ball, he will still be able to recover it quicker than the centre-fielder in case it gets by the latter. he should also get near the centre-fielder when the latter is trying for a high fly, so that if the ball is missed he may assist in sending it quickly to the in-field. as soon as a fielder has decided that he can get to a hit and has made up his mind to take it, he should call out loudly and distinctly, "i'll take it." that gives every one else warning to keep out of the way, and avoids the chance of collisions. on the other hand, if he is running for a hit and hears some other fielder call out, he should reply, quickly and clearly, "go ahead." that gives the other fielder confidence, and he need not hesitate or take his eye from the ball to learn the location of other fielders. if this very simple rule is observed there will never be any collisions, nor will any hits that should be caught be allowed to drop between fielders. on all long hits out of the fielder's reach he should go after the ball with all possible speed and return it to the in-fielder, who has gone out to help him back with the ball. if he misses a fly he should get after the ball at once and send it to the proper point on the in-field, and not walk after it simply because he has missed it. andy leonard, of the old bostons, was, in his day, one of the best of left-fielders. he was particularly strong on balls hit over his head, which he always took over his shoulder while running with the direction of the hit. he was also a remarkably bard and accurate thrower. chapter x. the centre fielder. much of what has been said with reference to the left fielder is applicable also to the occupant of the centre field. as a fielder only, it is necessary that he should possess the same powers of "judging" a hit quickly, of starting the instant the hit is made, of running fast until he has reached it, and of catching the ball in any position; but as a fielder and batter as well, his fielding qualities are often overlooked, to a certain extent, in favor of his power as a batter. many fielders prefer to catch a ball while they are running and so regulate their speed as to be still on the move when they meet the ball. some of them do this because they can catch a ball better in that way, and others because they think it looks prettier and pleases the grand stand; they are continually making what appear to be difficult catches, and they occasionally fall down and roll over to add to the effect. but while this may deceive the average spectator, it never escapes the other players, and they soon grow extremely weary of such gymnastics. and after awhile the spectators, too, discover his tricks, and then the player will not get credit even for the really good work he may do. another thing to be said against this grand-stand style of play is that these players sometimes miscalculate the direction or force of a hit just enough to lose it, whereas if they had run hard at first the ball would have been easily caught. the safest plan is to get under the hit as quickly as possible and then there will be time to correct any slight misjudgment. in fielding balls hit along the ground, the outfielder should run in quickly to meet the ball and return it instantly to the proper point on the in-field. i have seen games lost by out-fielders stupidly holding a ball or returning it lazily to the in-field. there is absolutely nothing to be gained but everything to be lost by such plays. in throwing to any point on the in-field, if the throw is at all a long one, the fielder should line the ball in on the bound. an out-fielder should never attempt a long throw on the fly, to first or third or home. a throw on the first bound will reach there just as quickly, more accurately, and with less chance of getting by the fielder to whom it is thrown. the centre fielder must back up second base on all throws from the catcher, and also on throws from any other position, whenever possible. on throws from the direction of first base he will be assisted by the left fielder and from the direction of third base by the right fielder. when a runner is stealing second base and the catcher's throw is wild, the centre fielder must meet the ball quickly so as to prevent the runner from going on to third. in a case of this kind a crafty runner will often make a feint to run to third in order to force the fielder to throw the ball in the hope that he may throw it wild. if there is a probability that the runner actually intends to go to third, there is nothing left the fielder but to throw and take the chance. but if the fielder has good reason to suspect the honesty of the runner's intentions, a quick throw to second, instead of to third, will often catch him before he can return. the centre fielder should also back up the left and right fielders on all hits along the ground which either-of them runs in to meet. it gives one fielder more confidence to go in quickly after a ball if he knows there is another fielder behind him to stop it in case it passes himself. even on an in-field hit to the second baseman or short-stop the out- fielder should move in at once, so as to be able to recover the ball quickly if it gets through the in-field. when a runner is caught between first and second or second and third bases, the centre fielder should get in line with the play, back of second base. for, while only four players take an active part in such a play others should back up to provide for the possibility of a wild throw. the necessity of "calling" for a fly hit applies with particular force to the centre fielder. as soon as he has seen that he can get to a hit and has decided to take it, he calls out loudly so that every one must hear, "i'll take it," and all the other fielders near him respond, "go ahead." this will avoid all danger of collisions to which he is specially exposed by having a fielder on either side. on all high flys to another out-fielder he should go near the fielder who is attempting to make the catch, so that if the ball is missed and bounds his way, he can recover it quickly and prevent runners from gaining extra bases. chapter xi. the right fielder. the right field, when properly played, is the most difficult of the out- field positions. a ball hit in that direction by a right-handed hitter always describes a curve and is therefore very hard to judge. a good right fielder should also throw out many men at first base during a season, and this means that he must possess all the qualifications of an in-fielder. a few years ago it was not an unusual thing to see a batsman thrown out at first on a hit into right field. one of the best fielders for this was george shaffer, who for several seasons played with the cleveland club. another good man was "jake" evans, of the troy club, and when with the providence club, dorgan seldom let a game go by without catching one or more men in this way. of late this is not done so often, for the reason that the right fielder plays a much deeper field now than he did a few years ago. then, when the "curve" was still a novelty, there were very few hard hits made to right field by right-handed batters. still, even now, there are many batters for whom there is no reason to play a deep right field, and such a batter should often be thrown out at first. yet the only player whom i have seen make the play this season was brown, of boston, who threw out titcomb twice in one game on the polo ground. all that has been said about the other out-fielders as to judging a hit, starting, running, and catching, may be said of the right fielder. equally with them he must locate a hit instantly, start quickly, run speedily, and be able to catch the ball in whatever form he may reach it. in judging a hit the fielder always takes into consideration the force and direction of the wind--with the effect of which he has become familiar in the preliminary practice--and the curve which the ball is likely to take if hit by a right-hand batter. in fielding ground-hits he meets the ball quickly, and, where possible to catch the batter at first, he throws there on the fly. the reason for throwing so in this instance is, that if he is near enough to catch the man at all, he is near enough to throw accurately on the fly. but to third base or home he should always throw on the bound. he should back up first base on all throws from the catcher. he also should assist the centre fielder in backing up second base, and to this end run back of the centre fielder when the latter goes in to meet the ball; so that if it passes one, the other will still be there to stop it. he should also back up the centre fielder on all ground-hits to the latter, and on all fly hits to him he should go near so as to quickly recover the ball if it be missed. he should "call" for the ball the moment he has decided to take it, and as between an out-fielder and an in-fielder the former will take any hit he can reach. he is running in for the ball and has it before him all the time, while the in-fielder, running out, is apt to get twisted up and in bad shape to make the catch. out-fielders, like in-fielders, must change position to correspond with the direction the batsman is likely to hit. for instance, there are some men who are never known to hit to right field, and for such the entire out-field moves toward the left field, the right fielder going almost to centre, the centre fielder to left centre, and the left fielder close to the foul-line. when the fielder knows the batsman, he will change without direction; but in any case he should respond quickly to any signal from the pitcher, because the latter may be going to force the batter to hit in a particular direction. the best fielders make the greatest difference in the positions they play for different batsmen. the right fielder must be on the look-out for the catcher's signal to throw to first or second base, because, in order that he may get in line with the throw, it is necessary that he shall start when the pitcher begins to deliver. he cannot wait until the catcher throws or he will be too late to get in line. chapter xii. the batter. the most unsatisfactory feature in base-ball to the player himself, is batting. in theory it is so simple, yet in practice so difficult, that one is forever finding fault with himself and thinking, when too late, of what he might have done if only he had not done as he did. of course, the element of chance or "luck," as it is called, enters largely into the question. the hardest hit will sometimes go directly into the waiting hands of a fielder, while a little "punk" hit from the handle or extreme end of the bat may drop lazily into some unguarded spot. but, in the course of a season, these chances should about equalize one another, and, though fate may seem to be against a man for a half dozen or more games, he will be found finally to have benefited as much by "scratch" hits as he has lost in good, hard drives. the theory of batting is simplicity itself. all that is necessary is to wait until the ball comes over the plate and then hit it on a line back into the field. from the grand stand, nothing could be easier. to sit back of the catcher and see the balls come sailing over the plate, one will wonder why they are not hit out of creation, and when some player, who has allowed a couple of balls to pass directly over the plate without making the least attempt to hit at them, finally lets go at one that he could scarcely reach with a wagon tongue, much less with a - inch bat, the spectator is likely to question the fellow's sanity. it is amusing to sit in a base-ball crowd and hear the remarks. there are more good batters and umpires and all-round ball players in the grand stand within one's hearing, than are to be found in both the contesting teams. it would be more amusing still if some of these prodigies could be lifted out of their seats and taken down into the field, and, with a bat in hand, made to face some first-class pitcher until they had hit the ball just once. they would be surprised to see how differently it looks. at a distance of only fifty feet from a man who can throw a ball like a streak of lightning, or with the same apparent motion, send it so slowly that one will think it is never going to reach him, who can curve it in or out, up or down, the question of hitting the ball at all becomes one of some doubt, to say nothing of "base hits." and then, add to this the danger of a swift, wild pitch carrying away an arm or burying itself in the batsman's stomach, and the difficulty is greatly increased. just think of it for a moment. a player who can throw a ball, say one hundred and sixteen and two-thirds yards, goes into the pitcher's box and from a distance of only sixteen and two-thirds yards throws the ball to the batter with all speed. if the throw is wild and the ball hits the batter it strikes him with a force that would have been sufficient to carry the ball one hundred yards further. it would be interesting to know just how many mule power there is behind such a blow. there are a few moments after a man has been hit during which he wishes he had never seen a base-ball, and for the next couple of games, at least, he will think more of escaping a recurrence of the accident than of hitting the ball. hines, of indianapolis, has already been hit on the head this season by one of the chicago pitchers, and the result is a long, ragged-looking scar that he will always carry. an inch lower, and the blow might have cost him his life. the first consideration in learning to bat is to acquire the proper form. by this is not meant the position to be assumed while waiting for the pitch, because each batter may, and generally does have his distinctive style. but when in the act of hitting there is a certain form to be observed, and this, in its salient points, is the same with all good batters. standing within easy reach of the plate, the batter should hold his bat ready to hit a breast-high ball. it is easier to hit a low ball when expecting a high one than to hit a high ball when a low one was expected, for the reason that it is easier to drop the bat quickly and swing underhand than it is to elevate it and chop overhand. when the ball is pitched be should not move until he has seen where the ball is going. not until in the act of swinging his bat should he step forward, and then his step should be short, and, generally, directly toward the pitcher. when he hits, the body should be held erect and flung slightly forward, so that when the bat meets the ball the weight is principally on the forward foot. if he steps too soon, his position is taken and he cannot change it to suit any slight miscalculation he may have made in the speed or direction of the ball. neither should he make too long a stride, for the same reasons given in the preceding paragraph, and also because it puts him in bad form to hit at a high ball. he should generally step directly toward the pitcher, unless he has special reasons for doing otherwise. for instance, if a right-hand hitter wishes to hit to left-field, he had better step so as to face slightly in that direction; and if he wishes to hit to right-field, he will stand farther from the plate and step in with the left foot so as to face somewhat in the direction he intends to hit. the object in standing erect is to keep well the balance and be in a position to cut under or over at a low or high ball. the body is thrown slightly forward so that the weight and force of the body may be given to the stroke. it is not necessary to hit hard, but solidly, and this is done not so much by the swing of the arms as by the push and weight of the shoulder behind it. the accompanying cut of ewing is an excellent representation of a batter, in the act of hitting. he not only swings the bat with the arms, but pushes it with the weight of the shoulders. the position is a picture of strength. in hitting at a high ball the bat should be swung overhand, in an almost perpendicular plane, and so, also, for a low ball, the batter should stand erect and cut underhand. if the bat is swung in a horizontal plane the least miscalculation in the height of the ball will be fatal. if it strikes above or below the centre line of the bat, it will be driven either up into the air or down to the ground. whereas, if the bat is swung perpendicularly, the same mistake will only cause it to strike a little farther up or down on the bat, but still on the centre line, and if it misses the centre line it will be thrown off toward first or third, instead of up or down. there are two classes of good batters whose styles of hitting are so different that they may be said to be distinct. the one, comprising such hitters as connor, brouthers, tiernan, wise, fogarty, whitney, ryan, denny, and fred carroll, use the full length of the bat, and in addition to the push of the shoulders make a decided swing at the ball. in the other, in which are anson, kelly, dunlap, and a few others, the motion is more of a push than a swing. anson, who, if not the best batter in the country, is certainly the surest, seldom does anything but push the bat against the ball, only occasionally making what might be called a swing. many of the latter class grasp the bat up short, and some of them keep the hands a few inches apart. if i were advising a novice which style to learn i should say the latter, because it is the surer, though such batters seldom hit as hard as the others. every ball player who pretends to play the game with his brain as well as with his body, should be able to hit in whatever direction he wishes. it may not be always possible to hit in the exact direction desired, and, of course, he cannot "place" the ball in any particular spot, but he can and should be able to hit either to left field or right, as the occasion demands. the advantage of this to the player himself and to his team cannot be overestimated. for example, there is a runner on first who signals to the batter that he will try to steal second on the second ball pitched. when he starts to run the second baseman goes for his base and the entire field between first and second is left open. now, if the batter gets a ball anywhere within reach and taps it down toward right field, the chances are that it will be safe, and the runner from first will keep right on to third. oftentimes, too, the batter himself will reach second on the throw from right field to third to catch the runner ahead of him. here, now, by a little head-work, are runners on third and second, whereas, an attempt to smash the ball, trusting to luck as to where it should go, might have resulted in a double play or at least one man out and no advantage gained. many a game is won by such scientific work, and the club that can do the most of it, day after day, will come in the winners in the finish. when a batter is known as one who will attempt a play of this kind, it is usual for the second baseman to play well over into right field, allowing the second to be covered by the short-stop. when the batter discovers such a scheme to catch him he should continue to face toward right field, in order not to betray his intention, but when the ball is pitched, he should turn and hit toward left field. if the short-stop has gone to take the base, the space between second and third is left open just as the other side was. a great fault with many batters is that they try to hit the ball too hard. this is especially true of the younger players, the "colts," as they are called. a young player with a reputation as a hitter in some minor league, goes into a big club and at once thinks he must hit the ball over the fence. the result is that he doesn't hit it at all, and unless he corrects his fault, he goes on "fanning the atmosphere" until he is handed his release. and yet the same player, if he would steady himself down and once get started hitting might do just as well as he did in his former club. and this brings up the reflection that there is a great virtue in confidence. the player who goes timidly to the bat with his mind made up that he can't hit, anyhow, might just as well keep his seat. but the one who walks up, saying to himself, "other men hit this ball, and i can, too," will be inspired by his own confidence, and for that very reason he will be more likely to hit. so it is that batting goes so much by streaks. a nine that has not made a hit for several innings will suddenly start in and bat out a victory. one player leads off with a good hit and is followed by another and another, each benefited by the confidence and enthusiasm the preceding batters have aroused. it goes without saying that the player's eyesight must be perfect or he can never hope to be a good batter. it requires the keenest kind of an eye to keep track of the ball and tell when it is over the plate and at the proper height. so, too, the nerves must be kept in good condition or the player will be unable to resist the temptation to hit at wide balls. a nervous batter is easily "worked," because he is so anxious to hit that he can't wait for a good ball. but the most important attribute of all in the composition of a good batter is courage. in this term i include the self-control and the resolution by which a man will force himself to stand before the swiftest and wildest pitching without flinching, the fearlessness that can contemplate the probability of a blow from the ball without allowing the judgment to be affected. out of ten poor batters nine are so because they are afraid of being hit. it is often asked, "why are pitchers, as a rule, such poor batters?" and to this the answer in my own mind has always been that it is because they know so well the danger which the batter incurs. there is perhaps no such thing as absolute fearlessness; the batter who has once been hit hard--and all of them have--will never quite forget the occurrence, and he will forever after have the respect for the ball that a burned child has for the fire. but some men will not allow this feeling to overcome them. it is absolutely necessary, then, to first conquer one's self, to fight down fear and forget everything except that the ball must be hit. to some, this seems not a difficult matter, to many it comes only after the most determined effort and schooling of the nerves, while to a few it seems to be an utter impossibility. the instinct of self-preservation is such a controlling power with them that unconsciously they draw away from the ball, and, try as they will, they cannot stand up to the plate. the player who cannot overcome this feeling will never be a good hitter, though when he finds that he is a victim he should not give up without a struggle. some players have broken themselves of the habit of running away from the plate by stepping back with the rear foot, instead of forward with the forward foot, when in the act of hitting. thompson, of detroit, who is a remarkably good hitter, steps backward instead of forward. others, like hecker, of louisville, step neither way, but hit as they stand, simply throwing the body forward. every expedient should be tried before the case is given up as incurable. in my own case i was forced to change from right to left-hand hitting. i had been hit so hard several times that i grew afraid of the ball and contracted the habit of stepping away from the plate. it was a nervous fear over which i had no control, and the habit became so confirmed that i resolved to turn around left-handed. i thought that in learning to hit the new way i could avoid the mistakes into which i had before fallen. it took time and practice to learn, but the result, i think, has been an improvement. while not able to hit so hard left-handed, because the muscles are not yet so strong, i make more single hits, reach first base oftener, and score more runs. chapter xiii. the base-runner. of the four departments of play, batting, base-running, fielding, and battery work, the most interesting is base-running. it is the most skillful, it calls into play the keenest perception and the soundest judgment, it demands agility and speed, and it requires more daring, courage, and enthusiasm than all the others combined. its importance as a factor in winning games cannot be estimated. we only know that a team of base-runners wins game after game in which it is out-batted and out-fielded by its opponents. no system of scoring has been or can be devised by which a full record of this kind of work can be kept. the system now in vogue, crediting the number of bases stolen, is all right so far as it goes, but it covers only a small part of the ground. stealing bases is a part of base-running, but it is a very small part, and to say that the player who steals the most bases is therefore the best base-runner, is an altogether unwarranted statement. a quick starter, speedy runner, and clever slider might easily steal the most bases, and yet in general usefulness fall far behind some other player. beginning with the more mechanical features, the first qualification for a base-runner is the ability to start quickly. the distances on a ball field have been laid out with such marvelous nicety that every fraction of a second is valuable. almost every play is close, and the loss of an instant of time is often the loss of the opportunity. but to start quickly means more than a quick action of the muscles; it means also that the brain and body must act together. the base-runner who must wait to be told what to do will always be too late. by the time the coacher has seen the point and called to the runner and the latter has gotten himself into action, the chance has long passed. the player must be able to see the play himself and act upon it instantly, without waiting to be told. different runners adopt different methods for getting a long start from a base. some take as much ground as possible before the pitch and then start the moment they see the first motion to deliver. others stand near the base, and when they think it about time for the pitcher to pitch make a start. if they happen to guess aright they get a running start, which is, of course, a great advantage. and if they guess wrong, the pitcher is so taken by surprise that it is always possible to return to the base before he can throw. of the two methods i prefer the latter. remaining near the base disarms suspicion, and the runner is not tired out, by repeated feints to throw, on the part of the pitcher. in either case the practice of standing with the feet wide apart is altogether wrong and in violation of every principle of quick starting. unlike a sprinter, a base-runner must be in shape to start in either direction, and this can be done best and quickest by standing upright with the feet almost together. a second qualification is speed. while, as before said, mere speed will not make a base-runner, in the full sense of the term, yet, other things being equal, the faster runner will be the better base-runner. straight away running is something to which ball players do not devote sufficient attention. while, to a certain extent, it is a natural gift, yet every man can improve himself greatly by practice, and if the spring training of players included more of this work, the result would certainly be an improvement in the base-running. notwithstanding the importance of starting and running and sliding, there is absolutely no attention given these matters, and, consequently, the majority of players seem to be entirely ignorant of the proper "form." it would be a good investment for some clubs to employ a professional sprinter to teach their men how to stand, in order to start quickly, and how to put one foot in front of the other in the approved form. an important aid also to successful base-running is the knack of sliding well. a player skillful in this respect will often save himself when he seems caught beyond escape. every runner should know how to slide if he expects to accomplish anything at all, and every man will slide who has the proper interest in his work. some players do not do so because they have never learned and are afraid to try, while others seem to care so little for the team's success that they are unwilling to take the chances of injury to themselves. as for the former class, a half hour's practice on sawdust or soft earth will show them how easily it is learned, and as for the latter, they should be made to slide, even if it be found necessary to persuade them through their pockets. sliding, as an art, is of recent growth, though it has long been the practice of base-runners to drop to avoid being touched. in view of its present importance it is amusing to read, in an article written on the subject some years ago, an argument against the practice indulged in by a few players of sliding to the base in order to avoid being touched by the ball. the old style of sliding was with the feet foremost, but there are now various methods employed. many runners now slide head foremost, throwing themselves flat on the breast and stomach. some keep to the base-line and slide direct for the base, while others throw the body and legs out of the line and reach for the base with a hand or foot. among those who always slide feet first and direct for the base, hanlon is the most successful. he doesn't go down until quite close to the base, and then does not at all slacken his speed. connor also slides feet foremost, but instead of throwing himself at full length, he maintains a sitting posture, and each of his slides is the signal for a laugh from the crowd. on account of his size and the weight behind his spikes, he is always given the entire base-line without dispute. williamson is a very successful slider. he runs at full speed until near the base and then throws his body away from the baseman and his feet at the base. the successful runners who slide flat on the stomach are fogarty, tiernan, miller, andrews, brown and others. of those who go in head foremost but throw the body out of the line and away from the baseman, are ewing, glasscock, pfeffer, dalrymple and some others. an expert base-runner will confine himself to no particular style, but, being familiar with all, will use, in each instance, the one best suited. sometimes one style is best and sometimes another, depending upon where the ball is thrown and the position of the baseman. i consider kelly the best all-round slider in the league, because he can, and does, use every style with equal freedom. the american association has some of the finest runners in nicoll, latham, stovey, purcell, and many others, but i have, unfortunately, not seen enough of their work to speak accurately of their methods. though stealing bases is only a part of base-running, yet even this requires considerable skill, and it is by no means always the fastest runner who succeeds the oftenest. much depends on the start, and much, too, on the slide. i may be permitted to outline my own method: having reached first, i signal to the next batter when i am going to steal. then, standing near the base, well upright and with my feet together, i try to get a running start on the pitcher; that is, when i think he is about to pitch, though he has yet made no motion, i make my start. if he does pitch i get all the ground that i would have had by playing off the base in the first place, and i have, besides, the advantage of being on the move. every one who knows anything of sprinting will appreciate the advantages of such a start. if the pitcher does not pitch i usually manage to return to the base in safety. having secured my start, i expect that the batter will hit the ball, if it is a good one, into right-field, in which case i will keep right on to third base; or, if it is a bad ball, the batter will at east hit at it, in order, if possible, to blind the catcher and help me out. in any event i put down my head and run direct for the base, and in no case do i attempt to watch the ball. it is a foolish and often fatal mistake for a runner to keep his head turned toward the catcher while running in another direction. if the ball is hit i listen for the coacher's direction, but if it is not, i keep my eye on the baseman, and by watching his movements, the expression of his face, and the direction he is looking, i can tell as certainly just where the throw is going as though i saw the ball. if he stands in front of the line i run back of him, and if he is back of the line i slide in front. in every case, and whether i go in head or feet foremost, i throw my body away from the baseman so as to give him the least possible surface to touch with the ball. there is an advantage in sliding head foremost, in that the runner, by falling forward, gains the length of his body and the reach of his arm, whereas in sliding feet foremost, he loses this. but if one always goes in head foremost, the baseman, knowing what to expect and standing in no fear of injury, will block the base-line. it seems necessary to occasionally throw the spikes in first in order to retain one's right to the line and command a proper respect from opposing basemen. in order that the runner may not be continually cut and bruised by gravel or rough ground he should protect his hips and knees by pads. some have the padding stitched to the inside of the pants, and for the knees this is the better plan, though it interferes somewhat with the washing of the uniform. but for the hips i prefer the separate pads, which may be bought at any store for the sale of base-ball goods. the best make is buttoned to a strap which hinds tightly the lower portion of the body, and this latter feature is itself of great advantage; not only as a matter of comfort and safety, but also for the sake of decency, every player should wear one of these straps, the same as athletes do in other branches of sport. but, after all, the important factors in successful base-running are yet to be spoken of, and the foregoing points are merely mechanical aids. there is no other department of play in which intelligence plays so important a part, and no matter how clever the player as a starter, runner, or slider, these faculties will be of little value unless directed by a quick perception and sound judgment. indeed, they will often serve only as traps to lead him into difficulty. by its very nature a quick perception is an inborn faculty of the mind, and while it may be developed by constant use, no amount of coaching can create it. there are some players who are no more capable of becoming good base-runners than of living under water, so unfitted are they by nature. the power of grasping a situation and acting upon it at once is something which cannot be taught. in order, however, to know when a fair opportunity presents itself, the runner must be familiar with the chances of play, and this comes only from experience and close observation. a runner who is thoroughly alive to all the possibilities of the game will see a chance and gain a point where another of less ready perception would find no opening. the former has learned to marshal at a glance all the attendant probabilities and possibilities and to estimate, in the same instant, the chances of success or failure. it is not, however, always best to accept an opportunity when presented, even where the chances of success are largely in the runner's favor. the stages of the game must be taken into consideration, and what may be a perfectly commendable play in one situation may be altogether reckless and foolhardy in another. therefore, the most important faculty of all, the pendulum which regulates, and the rudder which guides, is judgment. an illustration may make my meaning clear. in the ninth inning, with a runner on first base and the score a tie, it may be a good play for the runner to attempt to steal second, because from there a single hit may send him home. but suppose that, instead of the score being a tie, the side at bat is four or five runs behind, of what possible use will the steal be now, even if successful? one run will do no good, and the only chance of victory is in the following batters also getting around the bases. but the hits or errors by which this must be accomplished will also send the first runner home without a steal, so that in attempting to steal he takes a chance which is of no advantage if successful, and perhaps a fatal mistake if not. again, suppose there is a runner on third and none out and the batter hits a short fly to the out-field, on the catch of which it is doubtful whether the runner can score. if the next batter is a good hitter, he will not make the attempt, trusting to the next hit for a better chance. but if the next batter is weak and not likely to offer as good a chance he may decide to try for the run on the small chance already presented. these are only given as examples and they might be multiplied, because the same problem will always present itself in a more or less imperative form every time the runner has a play to make. the question he must always decide is, "is this the best play, everything considered?" it goes without saying that he must answer this for himself. in conclusion, i will describe some plays that may arise and venture some observations, running through which the reader may discern the general principles of base-running. there is an element in base-ball which is neither skill nor chance, and yet it is a most important factor of success. it is the unseen influence that wins in the face of the greatest odds. it is the element, the presence of which in a team is often called "luck," and its absence a "lack of nerve." it is sometimes spoken of as "young blood," because the younger players, as a general rule, are more susceptible to its influence. its real name is enthusiasm, and it is the factor, in the influence of which, is to be found the true explanation of the curious standing of some clubs. between two teams of equal or unequal strength the more enthusiastic will generally win. the field work may be slow and steady, but at the bat and on the bases there must be dash and vim. if, for example, it be found that a catcher is a poor thrower, or a pitcher slow in his movements, every fair runner reaching first should immediately attempt to steal second, and even third. this style of play will demoralize an opposing team quicker than anything else, and even if unsuccessful at first, and the first few runners be caught, it should still be kept up for a couple of innings, because it will, at least, affect the nerves of some of the opposing players, and if a break does come, the victory will be an easy one. every batter should be ready to take his place quickly at the bat, and hit at the first good ball; every runner should be on the move; and with plenty of coaching, and everybody full of enthusiasm, it is only necessary to get the run-getting started in order to have it go right along. this is the game that is winning in base-ball to-day, as every observant spectator knows. base-running begins the moment the ball is hit. there are some players who don't know how to drop their bats and get away from the plate. some stand until they see whether the hit is safe, and they run to first with the head twisted around to watch the ball. the instant the ball is hit, no matter where it goes, the batter should drop the bat and start for the base; leaving the ball to take care of itself, he should put down his head and run, looking neither to the right nor the left. every foot gained may be of vital importance, for in most cases the runner is thrown out by the distance of only a few feet. some runners make a mistake in jumping for the base with the last step. it not only loses time but makes the decision so plain to the umpire that the runner fails to receive his fair share of benefit from close plays. a runner to first on a base hit or fly to the outfield should always turn first base and lead well down toward second, so that if the ball is fumbled or handled slowly or missed, he may be able to reach second. and by hurrying the out-fielder he increases the probability of an error. a runner should always run at the top of his speed, except in the single case where he feels himself to be clearly within reach of his base and then slackens up in order to draw the throw. at no other time is there anything to be gained by slow running, and often there is much to be lost. in the game spoken of elsewhere in this book, between providence and chicago, which virtually decided the championship for , hines was on first when joe start hit what looked like a home-run over the centre-field fence. the wind caught the ball and held it back so that it struck the top of the netting and fell back into the field. hines, thinking the hit perfectly safe, was jogging around the bases when the ball was returned to the in-field. start had run fast and overtaken hines, and the result was that instead of a run scored, a man on third and no one out, both runners were put out and we lost the game by one run, and the championship by that one game. a player has no right to "think this or that;" his sole duty is to run hard until the play is over. when a runner is on first and a hit is made he should run fast to second, and if possible force the throw to third. every such throw offers an opportunity for error, and the more of these the runner can force the more chances there will be in his favor. by getting quickly to second he is in a position to go on to third if the ball is fumbled or slowly handled, or returned to the wrong point on the in-field. so, too, a runner on second, when a hit is made, should always force the throw to the home plate, even if he does not intend to try for the run. in order to do this he must run hard to third and turn the base as though he really meant to go home. any hesitation or looking around will fail of the object. the throw home gives the player who hit the ball a chance to reach second base. in a game where there is plenty of hitting runners should obviously take fewer chances than where the hitting is light. it is usually advisable for a good runner, who leas reached first with two men out, to attempt to steal second, because then one hit will likely bring him home; whereas if he stays on first it will require two hits, or two errors in succession, and these are not likely to come, with two men already out. the only times to steal third are, first, when there is only one out, for then a hit, a sacrifice, or a long fly will score the run. if there is no one out, the chances are that a runner on second will eventually score anyhow, and if there are two out there is little advantage gained by stealing third. it still requires a hit or an error to score the run, and the same would probably score it from second as easily as from third. second, it may sometimes be advisable for a runner on second base to steal third, even when there are two out, provided there is also a runner on first. because, if successful, the runner on first also gets to second, and the result is two stolen bases front the one chance, and a hit will now likely score two runs instead of one. when there is a runner on second or third with no more than one out, and the batter makes what is apparently a long, safe hit, the runner should hold the base until he has seen, beyond a doubt, that the hit is safe. if safe, he will still have ample time to reach home, while if, by any chance, it be caught, he will nevertheless get third or home, as the case may be. a couple of seasons back a new york runner was on third, with no one out, when the batter made what looked like a home-run hit. the runner on third, instead of waiting to make sure, started home; the ball was caught and, though he managed to return to third, he did not score, as he otherwise might easily have done. the next two batters went out, the score was left a tie, and we finally lost an important game. succeeding base-runners should have private signals so that they may communicate their intentions without apprising the opposing players. a runner on first who intends to steal second should inform the batter, so that the batter may hit the ball, or at least strike at it. a runner on second should notify a runner on first of his intention to steal third, so that the other may at the same time steal second. when there are runners on first and third each should understand perfectly what the other purposes doing so they can help one another with the play. in such a situation the runner on first will generally attempt to steal second, and if the catcher throws down to catch him there are several things which the runner on third may do. first, as soon as he sees the throw to second he may start for home, and if he has previously decided to do this, he should take plenty of ground front third base. second, he may not start for home on the throw, but if the runner from first gets caught between first and second, it will then be necessary for him to try to score. for this purpose he carefully takes as much ground from third as possible, while the other player is being chased backward and forward. finally, when the ball is tossed by the second baseman to the first baseman, he makes a dash for home. the idea of waiting until the ball is thrown to the first baseman is because the latter has his back to the plate, and not only cannot see the play so well but must turn around to throw. third, if the circumstances are such that he thinks best not to try to score on the throw, he should, at least, on seeing the throw to second, make a strong feint to run in order to draw the second baseman in and allow the runner from first to reach second. there is a pretty play by which one run may be scored when there are runners on first and second. it is, however, a desperate chance and should only be resorted to in an extremity. the runner on first leads off the base so far as to draw the throw from the catcher, and, seeing the throw, the runner on second goes to third. then, while the first runner is playing between first and second, the runner now on third scores as described in the preceding play, waiting until the ball is passed to the first baseman. if the second baseman is a poor thrower it may be best to make the dash for home when the ball is thrown to him. a runner on second may receive a signal from the batsman that the latter intends to try a "bunt," in which case the runner will try to steal third. if the bunt is made the runner reaches third, but if the bunt does not succeed, the attempt draws the third baseman in close and leaves the base uncovered for the runner. without particularizing further, it will be seen that a base-runner must not only have some wits but he must have them always with him. exactly the same combinations never conic up, new ones are continually being presented, and in every case he must decide for himself what is best. in view of all the circumstances, he makes a quick mental estimate of the chances and acts accordingly. sometimes for-time will be against him, but if his judgment is sound he is sure to be successful in the majority of attempts. chapter xiv. curve pitching. curve pitching is a scientific fact, the practice of which preceded the discovery of its principle. for a long time after its existence was familiar to every ball-player and spectator of the game, there were wise men who proclaimed its impossibility, who declared it to be simply an "optical delusion," and its believers the victims of the pitcher's trickery. it was only after the curve had been practically demonstrated to them, in a way which left no room for doubt, that they consented to find for it a scientific explanation. the discovery of the curve itself was purely an accident. during the years from to the theory was held by many pitchers that the more twist imparted to a pitched ball, the more difficult it would be to hit it straight out. it was thought that even if it were struck fairly, this twist would throw it off at an angle to the swing of the bat. one writer on the game declared strongly against this practice of the pitchers on the ground that, though this twist did do all that was claimed for it, it at the same time caused the ball, when hit, to bound badly, and thus interfered with good fielding. of course, both of these theories become absurd in the light of the present, but it was doubtless the belief in the former that led to the introduction of the curve. in arthur cummings, pitching for the star club, noticed that by giving a certain twist to the ball it was made to describe a rising, outward curve, and his remarkable success with the new delivery soon led to its imitation by other pitchers, and finally to the general introduction of curve pitching. the philosophy of the curve is, in itself, quite simple. a ball is thrown through the air and, at the same time, given a rotary motion upon its own axis, so that the resistance of the air, to its forward motion, is greater upon one point than upon another, and the result is a movement of the ball away from the retarded side. suppose the ball in the accompanying cut to be moving in the direction of the arrow, b c, at the rate of feet per second. suppose, also, that it is rotating about its vertical axis, e, in the direction of i to h, so that any point on its circumference, i h d, is moving at the same rate of feet per second. the point i is, therefore, moving forward at the same rate as the ball's centre of gravity, that is, feet per second, plus the rate of its own revolution, which is feet more, or feet per second; but the point d, though moving forward with the ball at the rate of feet per second, is moving backward the rate of rotation, which is feet per second, so that the forward motion of the point d is practically zero. at the point i, therefore, the resistance is to a point moving feet per second, while at d it is zero, and the tendency of the ball being to avoid the greatest resistance, it is deflected in the direction of f. in the scientific american of august th, , a correspondent gave a very explicit demonstration of the theory of the curve, and, as it has the virtue of being more scientific than the one given above, i append it in full. "let fig. represent a ball moving through the air in the direction of the arrow, b k, and at the same time revolving about its vertical axis, u, in the direction of the curved arrow, c. let a a a represent the retarding action of the air acting on different points of the forward half or face of the ball. the rotary motion, c, generates a current of air about the periphery of the ball, a current similar to that caused by the revolving flywheel of a steam engine. "if, now, at a point on the face of the ball we let the arrow, r, represent the direction and intensity of this rotary current of air, and if at the same point we let the arrow, a, represent the direction and intensity of the retarding action of the air, then we will find by constructing a parallelogram of forces that the resultant or combined effect of these two currents acts in the direction indicated by the dotted arrow, t. in other words, we have a sort of compression, or force of air, acting on the face of the ball in the direction indicated by the arrow, t. this force, as we can readily see, tends, when combined with the original impetus given to the ball, to deflect or cause time ball to curve in the direction of the dotted line, b p, instead of maintaining its right line direction, b k. if the ball rotate about its vert axis in the opposite direction, the curve, b n, will be the result." to the above demonstrations it is only necessary to add an explanation of one other feature. the question has arisen why it is that the ball apparently goes a part of its course in a straight line and then turns off abruptly. one might suppose at first thought that the greater speed at the beginning would create the greater resistance and consequently cause the greatest deflection. this, however, is not true. the difference between the resistance upon opposite points of the ball in the circumference of its rotation always remains the same, no matter how great the force of propulsion, and therefore the increased force of the latter at the beginning has no effect on the curve. but while the force of the twist itself is not affected by the rate of the forward movement, its effect upon the ball is greatly nullified. the force of propulsion being so great at first, drives the ball through the air and prevents it from being influenced by the unequal resistance. it is only when the two forces approach one another in strength that the latter begins to have a perceptible effect. as soon, however, as it does, and the course of the ball begins to change, the direction of the dotted arrow, t, begins to change likewise. it follows the course of the ball around, and the more it curves the more this resultant force tends to make it curve, and this continues until the ball has lost either its twist or its forward motion. having established the fact that a ball will curve in the direction of the least resistance, it is only necessary to alter the direction of the axis of rotation in order to change the direction of the curve. thus, if in the cut first given the ball were rotating in the direction of d h i instead of i h d, the ball would curve, not toward f, but to the right. so, also, if the axis of rotation is horizontal instead of vertical, and the greatest resistance is made to come on top, the ball will curve downward, or "drop." and in the same way, by imparting such a twist that the resistance falls on some intermediate point the ball may be made to take any of the combination curves known as the "outward drop," the "rising out-curve," and so on through the entire category. project. digitization effort dedicated to enid fiatte. the story of paul boyton voyages on all the great rivers of the world, paddling over twenty-five thousand miles in a rubber dress a rare tale of travel and adventure thrilling experiences in distant lands, among strange people. a book for boys, old and young. to my beloved and gentle wife, whose patience and help have enabled me to present the public the story of my life. --paul boyton contents. chapter i.-on the allegheny. first attempt at navigation. the grey eagle. voyage on a coal fleet. chapter ii.-college days. bruce's dam. the fort of the wild geese. chapter iii.-in the u. s. navy. a voyage to the west indies. diving for treasure. chapter iv.-wrecking with captain balbo. in the hull of a slaver. a swarm of sharks. joining the mexican revolutionists. chapter v.-entering the life saving service. grateful people. in the franco-prussian war. failure of the cuban expedition. chapter vi.-as a submarine diver. the diamond fields of africa. a floating hell. an escape at malaga. chapter vii.-the rubber dress. overboard from the steamer queen. landing on the coast of ireland. chapter viii.-arrival in queenstown. the first lecture. in dublin. appearance before queen victoria. chapter ix.-voyage across the english channel. pigeon dispatches. landing in england. chapter x.-in germany. a voyage down the rhine. through the whirlpool of lurlei. the press boat. chapter xi.-a short run on the mississippi. the funny negro pilot. down the danube and the po. attacked by fever. lucretia borgia's castle. chapter xii.-voyage on the arno from florence to pisa. narrow escape over a fall. down the tiber to rome. across the bay of naples. knighted by king victor emmanuel. chapter xiii.-the straits of messina. attacked by sharks. whirlpools of scylla and charybdis. lake trasimene. chapter xiv.-quick voyage down the rhone. the smugglers' chain. the gambling palaces of monte carlo. down the loire. in the quicksands. chapter xv.-on the mysterious tagus from toledo to lisbon. over great falls and through dark canons. ancient moorish masonry. the villianous brigands. chapter xvi.-from europe to africa, across the straits of gibraltar. preparing for sharks. contrary currents and heavy overfalls. landing at tangier. chapter xvii.-paddling in the ice floes on the allegheny. down the ohio to cairo. queer characters. on the mississippi. strange sights and sounds. the comical darkies. alligators. "dead man in a boat." chapter xviii.-voyage on the merrimac. some peculiar people. a rough trip down the connecticut. lost in a snow storm. a winter in florida. chpater xix.-off for south america. an officer in the peruvian service. placing torpedoes. caverns of the sea. inca tombs. an escape from prison and rescue from a lonely island. chapter xx.-the upper mississippi. the german doctor and the negro boatman. arrival at cairo. hunting and fishing. chapter xxi.-the longest voyage. down the yellowstone and missouri. thrilling adventures through the western wilds. in the tepees of the indians. caving banks, snags and mud sucks. camp of the rustlers. arrival in st. louis. chapter xxii.-hunting in southern bayous. an interesting voyage down the arkansaw. haytien insurgents. down the sacramento. a night on great salt lake. down the hudson. in the ice on lake michigan. catching seals. chapter xxiii.-boyton to-day. chapter i. one bright day in july, , two women carrying well filled market baskets, were crossing the old hand street bridge that spans the alleghany river between pittsburgh and alleghany city, penn. "oh, mrs. boyton, do look at that child in the middle of the river paddling around on a board." "well," said the one addressed as mrs. boyton, "i'm glad it is none of mine. my son paul, loves the water dearly, but i took the precaution to lock him up before i started for market." after observing the child, who was evidently enjoying his aquatic sport, for some time, the two women proceeded on their way. on reaching home, mrs. boyton, with a feeling of remorse for keeping her young son so long in captivity, went up stairs to release him, and to her consternation found that he had escaped. three minutes later an excited woman stood on bank of the alleghany, vigorously waving her hand and hailing the youthful navigator. the forward end of the one by twelve inch board was reluctantly headed for shore, and slowly idled in. as the child reached land, he was grasped by the angry and anxious mother, who beat a merry tattoo on a tender portion his body with a shingle. this was not the first time that the young hero had received punishment for loving the water. his home was within one block of the clear and swift flowing alleghany; and whenever he could escape the vigilant eye of his mother, he was found either on the bank or in the water. one day, mrs. boyton, who had a continual dread of his being drowned, was going on a visit, and she determined to secure paul against accident. she took him upstairs, undressed him and removed his clothes from the room. she locked the door and went away content. the day was lovely; the water lay clear and blue in sight and paul could hear the delighted cries of the boys as they plunged into its refreshing depths. the temperature was too strong. paul searched the room carefully and to his joy, discovered a pair of his father's drawers. he got into them and tied the waist-string around his neck. then forcing a window, he slid down the convenient lightning rod like a young monkey, and was found in his usual haunt by his astonished mother some hours later. from this time on, she gave him more liberty to follow his natural bent. from early may until late in october, when not at school, paul spent most of his time in the water. in those days, driftwood, consisting of slabs, logs and boards, were continually floating down the river from the headwaters, where the great forests were being cut down. when he saw a nice piece of wood, paul would cut through the water like a young shark, and swim with it ahead of him to the shore, where his lumber pile was a goodly sized one. he kept his mother's cellar well supplied with firewood and sold the surplus to the neighbors; the proceeds of wich were devoted to gingerbread and even at that early age to the abominable roll of tobacco known as the "pittsburgh stogie." great rafts of lumber were coming down the river daily and a favorite amusement when he saw one, was to run up the river bank about a quarter of a mile, swim off and board it. in this way he became acquainted with many of the hardy "buck-tail" boys who piloted the huge rafts down the river. his knowledge of the different bars that were formed by the bridge piers was utilized, and often proved of great assistance to his friends, the raftsmen. one day, he boarded a raft, the captain of which was evidently a stranger to the channel in the vicinity of pittsburgh, and paul saw that it was certain to run aground. he told the captain and was so earnest in his manner, the course was ordered changed. less than yards further down, the ugly bar showed up not five feet from the side of the raft, as it went gliding by. the raftsman insisted on keeping the little fellow by his side until he was safely moored to the pittsburgh shore; then as a reward for his services, presented paul with a little flat boat about twelve feet long by five feet wide and ordered two of the crew to tow it with a skiff to the alleghany side. the generous present was most joyfully and thankfully received, for paul's sole and only ambition for a long time had been to own a boat. as the two sturdy oarsmen with the boat in tow, neared the alleghany shore, paul stood erect in the stern, his eyes shining with triumph and satisfaction, and loudly hailed his playmates to come and see his prize. it is safe to say, that no commander of a vessel, ever viewed his craft with more pride, than paul did his little flat-bottom boat. he named her "gray eagle." he was ever tired of overhauling, scrubbing and cleaning her. all the money realized by the capture of drift-wood, was devoted to the purchase of paint. he selected and shipped a crew from among his playmates. they were soon able to drive her where they liked upon the river with long poles and paddles, and many a successful battle royal was fought with their old enemies across the river, the pittsburgh boys. the "gray eagle" was generally half loaded with nice, round stones that served as ammunition. the "eagle" would be carefully poled up the alleghany shore against the current, then headed out and vigorously paddled towards the pittsburgh side. nearing the enemies' headquarters a skirmish would be opened by a shower of stones sent into their ranks. if the pittsburghers were not sufficiently numerous to repel the invasion, the "gray eagle" was landed. the majority of the crew pursued the flying enemy up the back streets, while the balance remained and hastily loaded up the best of the driftwood from the piles gathered by their antagonists. when their cargo was secured, the skirmishers were called in. all leaped aboard, and the "eagle" headed for alleghany, where the wood was carefully stored, far beyond the reach of a probable invasion by the pittsburghers. about this time a new enterprise opened for the commander and crew of the "gray eagle." the city commenced to pave the streets with large round stones called "pavers," many of which were found in pockets at the bottom of the river. one day a contractor met paul on the bank and said: "say, son, could not you boys gather a lot of pavers? i will buy them from you and give you thirty cents per hundred." the offer was eagerly accepted. next day the "eagle" was anchored with a piece of rail-road iron, over a pocket, and the crew engaged in diving through the transparent water to the bottom, where they would gather one or two pavers, return to the top, and drop them into the boat. paul had much difficulty in teaching his companions to keep their eyes open while under water. this occupation was pursued with varying success during the summer months of ' . the contractor came down every week to cart the "pavers" away; and many a dispute the boys had with him over the count. the dispute was generally decided by the carts driving off, and the contractor paying whatever he pleased. the boys discovered a rich pocket right near the old aqueduct bridge. they worked it enthusiastically and were loath to leave such a find, until they had overloaded the eagle. when all the divers climbed aboard, the additional weight almost swamped her. the strongest swimmers were compelled to go overboard and resting their hands gently on the gunwale, they propelled her by swimming toward the shore. they had not proceeded far when the bottom of the well-worn "eagle" fell out and the cargo disappeared. while the boys hung on to the framework of their wrecked craft, their enemies across the river observed their predicament and sallied forth in a skiff to chastise them. the alleghany boys swam for their own shore as rapidly as possible. on gaining shallow water, they faced about on their assailants and a battle was fought that was long remembered by the inhabitants on both sides of the river. in the meantime, the wreck of the "gray eagle" floated gently down to the ohio, where the powerful current caught it and hurried it off to the southward. after the loss of the "eagle" the boys resumed their old sport of swimming and gathering wood. about this time, owing no doubt to the complaints of the riverside inhabitants, the city authorities determined to stop all further rows and displays of nudity. the orders against naked bathing were strictly enforced by a constable named sam long. before the boys got thoroughly acquainted with him, he often captured an offender's clothing, which he detained until the boy came ashore. then sam would escort him to the mayor's office to receive a stern reprimand, or his parents would be compelled to pay a small fine. paul was never caught, for he was always on the outlook for the watchful sam. on the constable's approach he would swim rapidly to his wardrobe which always lay conveniently close to the water. as it was neither weighty nor large, he would pile it on his head, tie it with a string under his chin; then swim swiftly off to the first pier of the bridge. this was fully fifty yards out in the stream, and here paul would sit on the abutment rocks until sam's patience was worn out and he would depart. then paul would swim leisurely to the shore, dress himself and go home. paul's elder brother, michael, was a studious sedate boy who took no pleasure in the sports and adventures of his aquatic brother. but paul's glowing descriptions of the pleasures of plunging and paddling in the cool, clear river, at last induced michael to join in the watery gambols. one warm afternoon he accompanied his brother to the riverside. paul slipped out of his clothes and was soon disporting himself in the refreshing water, while he shouted encouraging remarks to his hesitating brother to follow his example. michael slowly disrobed and cautiously stepped into the water. he was no swimmer; but being surrounded by paul and his companions, he grew bolder, waded farther out from shore, where he was soon enjoying himself as heartily as any of them. suddenly the cry of "sam long" was raised. many of the boys seized their clothing and disappeared in the direction of their homes. the hardier swimmers, with paul, struck out for the abutment on the pier in their usual way and poor michael was left alone. sam gently gathered up michael's clothes, and retired to a lumber pile where he leisurely seated himself and waited for the owner to land. michael had often heard of the terrible sam long so he did not go ashore, though sam called him frequently. at last growing weary, the constable walked away with the captured wardrobe. as he disappeared, michael started on a dead run for home. his clothes were recovered; but it was some time before michael was inclined to calculate how many cubic feet of bread paul would consume in a week, or to reckon how much time he lost from his studies by going into the water, as had been his custom. it is needless to add that it was many moons ere michael went swimming again. it was the custom then, as it is at present, to run enormous tows of coal barges, propelled by a powerful tug, from pittsburgh to new orleans. these grim and heavily loaded fleets had an intense fascination for young paul. many and many a day he spent in assisting the inland sailors in lashing boat to boat and diving overboard after spars, etc., that had slipped into the river. he often dreamt of the time when he would be large enough to go down the mighty ohio and the great mississippi. he made many friends among the coal men and eagerly devoured their stories of danger, of voyages down the river and of the comical "darkies" in the far off south. time after time he implored permission from his mother to go away on one of those barge trips, but she would never consent. one day while assisting as usual on a fleet that was about to depart, a great, dark whiskered man named tom, who was his particular friend, said: "why don't you come with us, paul? we will take good care of you and bring you safe hme again." the temptation was strong, but the thought of his anxious mother deterred him. tom still urged and the wonderful stories he told about brilliant new orleans and the mighty "father of waters" rapt paul's attention so that he did not at first notice that the tug "red lion" was driving the huge fleet of barges ahead of her. would he jump into the river and swin ashore or would he go ahead? "he who hesitates, is lost." "paul remained on board. tom took him to the lookout far ahead on the tow and paul forgot all about home and gave himself up to the delight of watching the swiftly passing banks while he listened to the swish, swish of the water as it beat against the bows of the barges. he was seated with the men on the watch, who passed the time telling stories and laughing at rough jokes. when it was getting late his big friend tom, said: "now paul, it's time you turned in. there's your bunk," pointing to a shelf in the dark and damp look-out house. paul prepared to retire while the men continued their stories. the river-men of that time were rather given to profanity, so their yarns were freely interspersed with oaths. suddenly tom said in a loud whisper: "dry up! don't you see the youngster is saying his prayers?" a hush fell on the group, all looked around. paul, kneeling on the damp, dirty beam alongside his bunk, was repeating the prayers learned at his mother's knee. with the return of daylight, the remorseful feeling of a runaway boy came strongly upon him and paul thoroughly realized how cruel he had been to his dear mother. he begged his friend tom to get him back or to send a letter home. tom dissuaded him from returning, but helped him write a letter which was posted at wheeling, va. this informed his mother that he was safe and would be taken good care of. much relieved in mind, paul was soon enjoying again the beautiful scenery and bright sunshine along the ohio. his work was to carry the coffee to the forward men on the lookout, and to help in many other little ways. when nearing evansville, indiana, about seven hundred miles below pittsburgh, a great shock was felt on the fleet, and a shower of coal was sent flying into the air. the cry "snag! snag!" was heard on all sides, the big engines of the "red lion" were stopped and reversed and the headway of the fleet was checked, as it slowly swung to the shore. all hands rushed to the damaged barge and found that a snag, a sunken log, had penetrated the bottom. fearing that she would go down and drag other barges with her, she was detached and a line passed to the shore, then luckily near. a crew shoveled the coal from the ugly rent. the snag was cut away and vain attempts were made to pass a tarpaulin under and so stop the hole. paul stood near his friend tom, and suggested that he dive under, take a rope with him, and so enable them to pass a canvass below. "do you think you can do it without drowning?" said tom. "i am certain," was the response. tom handed him the end of a rope. without hesitation paul sprang into the water and dove under the then sinking barge. the rope was hauled up and another passed to him with which he repeated the operation. two ropes were fastened to the tarpaulin, two more fastened to the other corners. the canvas was lowered into the river and the men on the opposite side hauled it under the ragged hole. as the canvas covered it, the inflow of water was instantly checked. with a loud cheer, the crew sprang to the pumps. when the water got low enough, the carpenters nailed planks over the hole. the barge and the valuable cargo of coal were saved. in less than three hours from the time the snag had struck, the injured barge was again lashed to the fleet and on her way down the ohio. paul was the hero of the hour. the captain of the "red lion" solemnly transferred him from his damp and grimy quarters on the head to the comfortable cabin and pilot house. he confessed to the kind captain that he had run away from home and how anxious he was about his mother. that day the captain wrote a glowing letter to mrs. boyton and posted it at paducah, kentucky. from that time, he took great pleasure in teaching paul how to steer, and many other arts in river craft. paul keenly enjoyed this first voyage down the mississippi. the strange scenes on the river were of deep interest; but he never tired of watching the slaves, either at work in the fields, or at play on the banks of an evening. at last the "red lion" and her tow were safely moored at new orleans. the captain found a letter waiting from mrs. boyton requesting that paul be sent back by the first mail packet. while waiting her departure, the captain took paul out to see the great city. among many places of interest they visited that day, the slave mart at the foot of the fine statue erected in honor of henry clay, lived long in paul's memory. numbers of slaves were to be sold. the captain and paul pushed their way well to the front, so that they stood near the auctioneer. with feelings hard to describe, paul saw slaves disposed of, singly and in parties. fathers, mothers, sons and daughters were bid for and sold, and the critical purchasers examined them as if they were prize cattle. while the sale proceeded, paul spelled out the inscription on the monument which said "that if he (henry clay,) could be instrumental in eradicating this deepest stain, slavery, from our country, he would be prouder than if he enjoyed the triumphs of a great conqueror." even to his childish mind this seemed sadly inconsistent with the surroundings. the auction concluded with the sale of three boys, who seemed to be brothers, or at least close friends for they wept bitterly when parted. as they moved away, paul's eyes were full of tears at the agony of the unhappy creatures, and turning to the captain he said: "do you think this is right?" "no," responded the captain, "i'm darned if i do. it is an outrage and a shame that human beings should be sold like cattle, but--great scott! did you notice what big prices they brought?" then added reflectively; "i'm blessed if it wouldn't pay me better to run a cargo of them down from pittsburgh, than a tow of coal barges!" late that evening the captain and paul returned. as they approached, they saw an excited crowd, pushing their way through near the boat. they met the mate on the gang-plank keeping the people back. "what's the matter?" demanded the captain. the mate explained that there had been a fight on the levee, and that big tom had been stabbed, he feared fatally. paul rushed into the cabin where his friend lay helpless and gasping. "tom, tom!" he wailed. "ah! paul, my boy," faintly responded tom, "i fear i'm about to slip my cable. i want you lo help me say a few prayers. just ask the good lord not to be hard on me. i've been rough and careless all my life, but i never meant to be really bad. you talk for me." the doctor came in and pushed the weeping paul aside. one half hour later tom had quietly floated out to eternity. no one knew his full name or where his people were, so next day they buried him, the entire crew attending the funeral, and fervent were the prayers poured out then and often afterwards by little paul for the friend so much beloved and so deeply mourned. the captain secured passage for paul on a northern bound boat and bought him many little presents ere wishing him god speed. among them and prized most highly, were two red birds and a young alligator. at five o'clock that evening came the order: "all aboard! haul in your gang- planks!" just then a weird musical chant was struck up by the slaves working on the levee, which was answered by the boat's crew, as she backed out into the river and headed away on her long northern trip. paul had snug quarters and spent much of his time feeding the red birds and playing with his alligator. he saw great fun ahead in the tricks he hoped to spring on his sisters and friends with the cunning little reptile. whenever the boat made a landing, he was always on deck watching the negroes, as they rolled bales of cotton down the steep bluffs or struggled with the refractory hogs who refused to come aboard. the loud commands and fierce oaths of the mate made him feel very grateful that he was not a roustabout. about five weeks from the time he had so thoughtlessly embarked on the coal fleet, he stood hesitatingly half a block from his mother's home, holding in his hand the cage containing his red birds, while snugly stowed away in the bosom of his shirt was his much cherished pet, the alligator. he was not sure of the reception he would receive; but at length he steeled his nerves for whatever was in store and made a rush for the house. the delighted mother folded him in her arms and covered his face with kisses. his brothers and sisters grouped around with words of welcome for the prodigal. "thank god that you are safe home again, dear paul," exclaimed his mother, as she embraced him again and again. "but what's this?" she started back, for she had felt something squirming inside of his shirt. "oh, that's my dear little alligator," and paul put in his hand and pulled out his pet. his sisters ran screaming away. his mother gazed sternly at him and said: "put out that ugly reptile!" paul placed it tenderly on the floor beside the red birds' cage and received from his fond mother a well merited castigation. that evening, however, all was forgotten and paul entertained his family with stories of his adventures and was doubtlessly looked upon by the little group, as a wonderful traveler or a hardened young liar. paul's father, a traveling man, came home a few days after this. he had a long consultation with his wife regarding the escapade of their venturesome son. they came to the decision that they had better move from the vicinity of the river and so wean him from his unnatural love of the water. a week later found the family at the head of federal street, about as far as they could get away from the river and still remain in the city. paul spent his last night before moving on one of his friends' woodpiles; (his own had been pirated during his absence,) and bitterly bemoaned the fate that took him so far away from his beloved element. a rigid discipline was now pursued in regard to paul. he was given a certain space of time to go and return from school. after that he was expected home and made to stay there. he studied hard all winter and advanced rapidly. but he had to cross a bridge going to and coming from school. he would always stop to gaze into the water he loved so well, even if had to run to make up for lost time. spring came on and the longing increased to enjoy again the piney smell of the newly arrived rafts, to dive into the clear depths, and revisit his old friends the "pavers." he took off his shoes and felt the water's temperature. "in two weeks," he thought with rapture, "in two weeks i can take a plunge." in less than two weeks he enjoyed this plunge and finally remembering that he had to be at home by four o'clock, he scrambled onto a raft and discovered that his body was covered with some unknown, greasy, tar-like substance. he could not get it off, and at last asked a raftsman, who stood by, what it was: "why, son," answered the lumberman; "that is petroleum. don't you know that they struck oil at the head of the river and great quantities are pouring into the alleghany above. it will be a long time before the river will be as clear as she used to be, and you, my little man, will have a nice job getting that off your skin." when paul reached home, his mother's scrutiny revealed the fact that something was wrong. "have you been swimming again, despite your promise?" paul murmured something that might be either "yes" or "no." his hat removed, showed his hair quite damp further investigation revealed the fact that his shirt was on wrong side out, while round his neck was a well defined dark line from the oil cakes he struck while swimming against the stream. his sister teresa revenged herself that evening for many a raid on her dolls by scrubbing him into the appearance of a boiled lobster, so that he would be neat and presentable for school next day. even this lesson did not teach him. one warm day while on his way to school, he lingered so long on the bridge that the tower clock struck ten, and then he argued that it would be useless to go until the afternoon session, when he could easily hoodwink his teacher with an excuse. but the afternoon came, and the wild boy was still in the water, too deeply interested in the navigation of a plank to realize that he was playing "hookey" and risking its shady consequences. about two o'clock he heard loud cries from the st. clair street bridge. looking up, he saw an excited crowd gathering. the object of their excitement was a little boy who had waded out on a shallow bar above the bridge until he had stumbled into deep water and was being carried away by the strong current. paul caught one glimpse of him as he disappeared and springing from his plank he swam out with a strong, steady stroke to his assistance. the crowd on the bridge shouted loud cries of encouragement. as paul reached the spot where the body went down, he could find no traces of him. a man on the bridge shouted: "a little farther down! a little farther down! i can see him at the bottom." paul swam in the direction indicated and at the cry, "there, there," dove to the bottom like a seal. he came directly on the body which was doubled up against a large boulder. he grasped it by the arm and rose with it to the surface. loud ringing cheers from the crowd above, encouraged him. he swam with one arm, supporting the body with the other. they were being rapidly carried away down the stream, when a boat which had been sent out, reached the almost exhausted boy. paul and the unconscious boy were taken ashore and conveyed to the back room of a saloon where a doctor soon revived both. he then proposed that, some token of recognition should be presented by the assembled crowd to the brave little fellow who had made the rescue. paul's hat was taken and soon filled to the brim with silver. then the two boys were loaded into an express wagon and escorted by a policeman, they started for home. when the wagon reached the house of the boy who had been rescued, the policeman lifted him out carefully and carried him in, while the mother's affrighted cries alarmed the neighborhood. the officer assured her that there was no danger, so she grew calmer and helped to roll her son into a warm blanket and tuck him snugly in bed. the old grandmother, who was blind, heard the story and asked that paul be brought to her. her trembling hands were passed over his face and head. she blessed him fervently and then to the delight of the grinning urchins, looking in at the door and to paul's intense embarrassment, she kissed him several times. at last the policeman told him to come on and paul and his silver continued their homeward journey. when mrs. boyton saw her truant son under police escort, she turned pale, but the officer called out, "don't be frightened, ma'am, he's all right. you ought to be proud of this boy," and he told her the story of the rescue and handed over the silver. the mother's eye's beamed with pleasure as she listened. she praised her gallant little son and thanked the officer for his kindness. after he was gone she put the silver carefully away and interviewed the hero, as often before, with a shingle. "not only for playing hookey," she said; "but for going into the water at all." the little fellow rescued that day is thomas mccaffery, now a member of the alleghany city fire department. many years afterwards he gave paul a gold medal in remembrance of their first meeting. in vacation paul started out to look for work, for with all his wildness he was industrious. he secured a place in a paper box factory at the princely salary of fifty cents a week. his business was to lower great packages of boxes from the upper story to the ground floor. he thought how delightful it would be to go down himself on the rope. one day he induced a small boy who worked near, pasting, to mind the windlass while he descended by hanging on above the usual pits of boxes. the sensation was novel and pleasing and it became exciting when the boy above leaned over and shouted: "the boss is coming, look out for yourself. i'll have to go." an instant later paul and the boxes crashed together on the bottom floor. the proprietor dragged him out of the ruin he had made and assisted him energetically to the street, without even the hint of a recommendation. as paul slowly and painfully wended his way home, a lady called him: "little boy, do you want a job?" paul said he did and was put to work. he had to sprinkle the street and keep the brick sidewalk clean in front of her house. he was happily aided by a long hose, so that he thoroughly enjoyed his new work and gave entire satisfaction. about ten days after, mrs. c., his employer sent him to escort her son to the house of a relative living in lawrenceburg, a village a few miles up the river from pittsburgh. she warned paul to be careful of her little boy, who was a delicate child about his own age and gave him street car fare to pay his way up and down. her last instructions were to leave harvey at his aunt's and return as soon as possible. when paul was about to take the car back, he thought of a pleasanter way, one in which he could save his car fare, too. so he went to the river where he selected a large sized plank and a piece of driftwood for a paddle. then he piloted himself down in safety and was back in time. a few days later, the trusty little messenger was sent to lawrenceburg to bring harvey home. instead of taking the cars as instructed, paul induced his charge to go with him to the river. the little boy was very timid and refused to embark on a steering oar that paul found near the shore. a steering oar consists of a plank securely pinned into a spar about thirty feet long and used on stern and bow of a raft to guide it. paul at last half forcibly seated him on a block of wood on the steering oar and procuring a pole they started on their voyage. all went well until they had passed under the old aqueduct bridge. then a crowd of pittsburgh boys who were in a skiff recognized paid as the leader of their enemies from alleghany and opened up hostilities. paul bravely kept them off with his pole and whenever the chance offered propelled it nearer and nearer to his own side of the river. when almost ashore they rammed the steering oar with the bow of their skiff, struck paul with the oar and tumbled poor harvey into the river. paul never thought of himself; but seizing the son of his aristocratic mistress, he swam in for the shore, then only a few feet away. the pittsburgh boys were satisfied with the prize they had captured in the steering oar and towed it away to their own side of the river. they were followed, however, by a shower of rocks hurled by the infuriated paul. a sad looking pair greeted the maid who answered their ring. paul turned young harvey over to her, then sneaked around to the alley to await developments. hearing loud lamentations coming from the direction of mrs. c.'s room, he started for home where he told his mother that the work was too severe for him and fearing the lady would refuse to let him go, he left without bothering her for a reference. about this time the war of the rebellion broke out and the fever burned fiercely in pittsburgh and vicinity. paul longed to join the great bodies of troops that were being hurried to the front, especially so, when he saw boat loads of his old friends, the gallant "buck-tail" boys coming down the river to enlist. he spent all his spare time hanging around the headquarters of the forming regiments. one day he asked a recruiting officer if he needed a drummer boy. "you are pretty small, sonny," said the soldier, "can you drum?" "no," said paul, "but i can learn mighty quick." pleased with the answer, the soldier took him to his headquarters and said: "here is a little volunteer." paul was closely questioned and untruthfully assured the officers in charge that his mother would be glad to get rid of him. that night he was enrolled in colonel cass' regiment. next day he began his drum practice, an exercise that was rudely interrupted by the appearance of his mother, who lead the "warrior bold" home by the ear. chapter ii. his parents now decided to send paul away to school. the college they selected was situated in the heart of the alleghany mountains about four miles from the pennsylvania railroad. it was far from any water course or river, and surrounded by a dense forest of pines. paul's mother accompanied him to the college. she told the faculty of his peculiar passion for the water and the dread she had of losing him. mrs. boyton was assured that her boy would be taken good care of. paul was permitted to escort her as far as the village where she took the stage for the rail road again. their farewell was most affectionate. paul cried bitterly, not only for the parting from his mother whom he loved so well, but for the feeling that he was being exiled for all his crimes and misdemeanors. the fall session had not yet begun so he had ample time to become acquainted with the few boys who were already at the college and to explore the dark pine woods that seemed a new world to him. paul inquired eagerly if there was any water in the vicinity. the boys told him there was a place called the "swimming hole" about two miles from the college. next day he coaxed some of his companions to show him the way. he found a pond, little larger than a hole, surrounded by heavy vegetation and inhabited by a colony of frogs. he was soon swimming in its depths and had induced two or three of the boys to follow his example. day after day he visited the hole and made out to enjoy a swim; but he always thought longingly of the far off, bright alleghany. one day a teamster who sometimes came to the college, told paul of a sheet of water that was much larger than the swimming hole. he called it "bruce's dam." next morning paul and a philadelphia boy named stockdale, who was his particular chum, obtained permission to go out of bounds. they had managed during breakfast to appropriate a sufficient supply of bread and butter for all day. they started out to find bruce's dam. a long and weary tramp they had over the mountains. they turned aside often to chase the gray squirrels that abounded in that country, and they wasted much time in a fruitless attempt to dig out a red fox, that had crossed their path and shot down a hole in the ground. they were so long reaching the dam that they thought they must have been misdirected. they were about to return, when paul suddenly said, "hark! i think i hear water!" they listened intently for a few seconds. a sound again came through the woods. they struck out a little to the right and were soon at the long-sought, dam. it was a body of water about one hundred yards wide and five hundred yards long. enormous pine stumps protruded through the surface. there was a miserable looking saw-mill situated at the lower end. two men were employed in drawing out logs and ripping them up into boards. paul tittered a joyful cry as he perceived that the water was both clear and deep. hastily he divested himself of his clothing and "stockie" slowly followed his example. as they stood naked on the bank, before their plunge, a snake shot out almost from under then feet, and swam gracefully over the surface to a stump a little distance off. that was enough for "stockie," who resumed his clothes. paul did not like the idea of snakes in the water, still he had traveled far for a swim and he was resolved to have it and so he plunged headlong in. round and round among the stumps he swam. he saw several snakes and also a number of water lizards. after his bath, paul and "stockie" went down to the mill and had some talk with the men engaged there. the latter assured them that the snakes and water lizards were perfectly harmless. this restored "stockie's" courage. he agreed to try the water before leaving, provided paul would go in with him. the two chums had a long, delightful swim and finally, as sunset approached, they suddenly thought that they might be needed at the college. it was dark when they got back. they both received a severe lecture for their long absence. bruce's dam was several times revisited and always with great enjoyment. at last vacation was over and these pleasant pilgrimages came to an end. paul kept the promise made to his mother. during study time he applied himself with all his energies to the task before him and so rapidly increased his store of knowledge; but, he was also learning many things outside the school room. the loneliness and surroundings of the college increased the natural wildness of his nature. when recreation time approached, paul would pass the sign to the ever ready "stockie." then he would obtain permission to leave the room on some pretext, and the other, by some clever maneuver, would soon be after him. then down to the dark, cool pine woods to visit their "figure four" traps which they had set in different places to catch squirrels. this trap consisted of a square box placed on a piece of board and set with a little wooden trigger. when a squirrel would enter to get the walnut fastened inside, he would spring the trap and would not succeed in cutting his way out before his young captor's arrival. they would slip a pillow-case, furnished unconsciously by the college, under one corner of the box, turning it off the bottom board until a little opening was made into the bag. the squirrel of course would jump in, and was grabbed and twisted until it was squeezed down to one corner. then his captors would get a firm grip on the back of his neck. if the squirrel proved to be a young one, they would put on a collar and little chain, that they had always ready, and keep him to train for a pet. once paul caught a gray squirrel kitten so small and young that he had to feed it on milk and crushed walnuts. he called it may. the tiny creature lived in his pocket and desk and shared his bed at night. it would sit on the off page of his book whilst he studied and comb its little whiskers and brush its tail in perfect contentment. every one marveled at the affection of his pet and at the control he had over it. paul would let it loose in the woods, it would run up a tree and at his call, "come may," it would return at once and with a chuckle drop into his pocket. paul kept this squirrel until after he had left college. the crowded streets of the city seemed to bewilder it, and it jumped from his pocket to the sidewalk. a man passing struck it with a cane and killed it. paul grieved long over his pet; but from this experience he acquired a great control over animals and always had a supply in hand to train. he carried snakes and bugs and mice and lizards in his pockets and at one time had a white rat that came very near to filling the place of the lost may. if the boys captured an old squirrel, they generally let it go; but sometimes it was retained for another purpose. it would be taken back to the college and that evening put down through a knot hole in the study-hall floor. the hole was carefully covered by a small piece of board with the leg of paul's desk to keep it down. next morning when all would be deep in their studies and a profound silence filled the hall, paul would quietly slip the board away from the hole. attracted by the light, the squirrel would soon come out. the studious (?) boys who were posted, kept one eve on their books and one on the hole. when the squirrel appeared, as it usually did in a short time these would start up with well feigned cries of alarm. in a moment the entire study-hall was in an uproar, all pursuing the bewildered squirrel. the first or second time this occurred, the staid professor took active part in the exciting chase. the frequent recurrence of squirrel hunts in the study-hall awakened suspicion in the minds of the faculty. an investigation was made, paul and stockie were called to the president's room and interviewed regarding squirrels and their habits. after this, the study-hall was no longer disturbed by these little denizens of the forest. about the last time that paul went swimming to bruce's dam, a decayed thorn was driven into his foot, a portion of which he was unable to remove. this troubled him occasionally. during the month of november the foot commenced to swell in an alarming manner. he had to remain in the dormitory for over a week. while he was still an invalid, a box arrived from home full of cakes, candies, preserves and many other goodies dear to a school-boy's heart. in the box was also a present from his younger brother. it had been packed in without the knowledge of his mother. it was a large chinese firecracker. paul carefully concealed this precious gift until a grand occasion would come to fire it. at recess many of the boys came up to see him, and incidentally to share in the delicasies he had received. stockie came also and told paul that their crowd had discovered a tale-bearer in the person of a youth from johnstown, penn. he wound up by adding: "and how are we to fix him?" paul answered mysteriously: "leave it to me. i have it; bring me all the string you can find." from day to day stockie produced liberal supplies of the desired article. no doubt most of it belonged to the boy whose innocent pastime was that of flying kites during recess. paul wound this string firmly and tightly around the chinese cracker until it had assumed considerable proportions. he argued on the principle that, if paper resisted the force of the explosion, the additional binding of string would cause a much louder one. the bomb was at last completed and stockie received a hint to keep his ears open for music that night. the little iron bed of the doomed talebearer was not far distant from paul's, and between them was a stove in which burned a brisk fire every night to drive out the chill mountain air. when all were asleep, paul slipped from his bed, and touched the fuse to the red hot side of the stove. then he placed the ignited bomb under the tell-tales bed and hastily scrambled back to his own. he had just time to roll himself up in the blankets, when there was a flash and terrible explosion. the bed of the tell-tale turned a complete somersault, while the entire building trembled with the concussion and a shower of broken glass was scattered around. no serious damage was done; but paul was horrified and frightened half to death at the result of his first essay with explosives. the boys in the dormitory were only too glad of an excuse for excitement. they immediately began the usual battle with pillows accompanied with the wildest yells and whoops, until they were suddenly quieted by the entrance of the officials. no one could find out the culprit, so the investigation was postponed until morning. classes were suspended next day. every student, including the invalid, was present in the study-hall. the entire faculty sat in judgment. the president opened the meeting with a severe lecture, during which he quoted that it "was better that ten guilty ones should escape rather than that one innocent person should suffer." he called urgently upon the guilty ones to stand up and declare themselves. his invitation was not accepted. "now boys, you know that it is a strict dormitory rule that no one there shall speak above a whisper. the noise you made last night was heard distinctly in the village a mile away. all of you who did not break the rule last night put up your hands." every boy's hand in the study hall was at once raised. the president looked perplexed, and said: "perhaps you misunderstood me. to make it plain to you, i want every boy who did not raise his voice above a whisper after retiring last night to stand up." the first on their feet were paul and stockie, whose good example was followed without any exception by every boy in the school. the president was dumbfounded. he shook his head sadly. after a brief consultation with the professors he remarked. "the young men now before me are grievously lacking either in understanding or veracity." numerous were the mishaps that befell paul and his companion stockie, owing to their love of wandering through the woods. when they were missed, a professor was generally sent after the fugitives. in visiting their squirrel traps they often separated, stockie examining one trap, paul another. they would appoint a place of rendezvous, close to some well known giant pine. the one to arrive first would call the other by a loud whistle in close imitation of a quail. the other would answer by a similar whistle. one day when about to mount the tree and give his usual signal of recall, paul discovered the professor, who had been sent after them, approaching. quickly he climbed into the tree and concealed himself in the dense foliage. at this moment he heard stockie's familiar signal quite near the rendezvous, and to his dismay, the professor, hidden behind a tree close by, repeated the quail call, thus leading the unsuspecting stockie to his doom. as stockie neared the tree in which paul was hidden, he shouted: "i've got two!" the professor stepped forward and said: "i have one!" paul could distinctly over-hear the professor question stockie in regard to his chum's whereabouts, all knowledge of which the latter loyally but untruthfully denied. he had grasped the situation at a glance. the professor with his captive remained a long while and the latter was compelled to repeat the quail call time after time in hopes that the other victim would respond. but the moaning of the pines was the only answer. finally the professor and his prisoner started for the college. paul slid down the tree and taking a shorter cut, was deep in his books when they entered. though strongly suspected, he escaped that time, the poor captive receiving a double dose. stockie was generally unfortunate enough to get more than his share of punishment, but he was thoroughly loyal to his friends and never murmured. it was customary, when a boy had misbehaved himself or broken any rule, to send him to the president's room where either reprimand or a thrashing awaited him. one day a professor called stockie during recess and said: "as you are a good, swift runner, i want you to go over to the president's room and ask for his letters. i want to put them in the mail bag. the coach will be starting in a few minutes." the president was not in his room and stockie availed himself of the chance to view the pictures hanging around the walls. the president had just made the discovery that several of the boys had utterly ruined some growing tobacco that he had been experimenting on, so he was in bad humor when he entered his sanctum. "what! you here again?" and without permitting the astonished stockie to speak he began to administer a severe thrashing. the door was opened by the professor who wanted the mail. "has he been in mischief already? why i told him a few moments ago to come here and get your letters." "oh," exclaimed the president, "i thought he had been sent here as usual, for punishment. well, if he does not deserve it now, he certainly will before the week is out." paul had organized a company of choice spirits who were known by the title of the 'wild geese'. each member named himself after his own particular hero, such as dick turpin, jack shepard, capt. kidd and other distinguished gentleman freebooters. the headquarters of the association was in an abandoned log house about three miles from the college. on half holidays the company would escape out of bounds by different ways and assemble at headquarters. the cabin consisted of one large earthen floor room with a loft above. the stairs leading up to this loft had been cut away and a light ladder that could be easily hauled up, substituted. the aperture closed down by a rough trap door made for the purpose. this was done to afford concealment, in case any of the professors should come looking for them, or protection against a rival organization of larger boys, known as the "wild hens." when the company assembled, it was customary for paul, who was their chosen chief, to detail parties to different duties. while some would be cutting and collecting wood to burn in the huge fire-place in the lower story, others would be off through the surrounding farms on a forage for chickens, potatoes, apples, etc., etc. all the money in the society would be entrusted to a committee of the most reliable members. these would be dispatched to the village store to purchase cheese, crackers, ginger-bread and other delicacies for the banquet. the village store was owned by an old fellow by the name of philip hardtsoe. he had expelled both paul and stockie from his territory on account of an incident which had happened some time previous. the two chums went in one day to buy a few cents worth of candy. they were difficult to please and insisted that philip should hand them some from a jar on an upper shelf. while his back was turned paul reached far into a barrel where a few nice, red apples lay on the bottom. as he balanced on his stomach over the chime of the barrel, stockie saw his opportunity for mischief and gave him a push that toppled him down on his head. the noise caused old philip to turn around. he thought the lads only intended to fool him when they asked for the candy. he rushed from behind the counter, easily capturing paul, who was helpless in the barrel, while stockie dashed through the door roaring with laughter. this was the reason that philip would never allow either boy in his store, so paul and stockie had to buy their candy by proxy. but to return to the "wild geese." as the various committees reported, they would find a roaring fire and everything ready for cooking. the banquet table was generally prepared in the upper story or loft and consisted of two long boards on trestles. the seats were round blocks of wood. the chief luxuries of the banquet itself, besides the store supplies, were chicken and potatoes. the chickens had been prepared by rolling them in mud; then baking them. when fully cooked the feathers came off. a sharp knife ripped them open and the baked entrails were easily removed. the potatoes were simply roasted in the hot ashes. the commoner articles of the banquet menu, such as bread, butter, salt and pepper were always appropriated from the college table. the first banquet that ever took place in the old log cabin followed the election of officers. paul was unanimously elected chief and escorted to the head of the table. stockie and billy o'meara, of washington, as first and second lieutenants, sat on either side. it is doubtful if ever a pirate captain looked with more pride on his gallant crew, or if a real banquet was ever more thoroughly enjoyed by the participants. several times during the winter the "wild geese" were attacked by the "wild hens." they were always repulsed excepting one day when the latter were re-enforced by an alien crowd. the "wild geese" defended their cabin bravely, but, were driven foot by foot, until they wore compelled to retreat to the loft and draw up the ladder. the lower portion of the cabin was in full possession of the besiegers, who demolished everything they could lay their hands on, with much gusto. they did their utmost to pry up the trap door, but were beaten back. suddenly to the "wild geese's" surprise, the lower part of the cabin was abandoned by the hens. they thought it a ruse to draw them out, so i they lay quiet for some time. there were no windows in the loft. bye and bye paul knocked a hole through the shingles of the roof. protruding his head he saw the hens in a wild flight towards the forest. he could see no cause for this until he knocked a hole through the other side of the cabin roof. what he beheld was not calculated to cheer his heart. eight or ten of the professors were almost on the cabin. there was no time or chance to escape. paul commanded all hands to lie down and keep still while himself and lieutenants sat on the trap door. the house was quickly entered by the professors. remarks such as "they must be here," "the fire is still burning," "see the chicken feathers," etc., etc. ascended to the trembling urchins above. "is there no loft or upper story?" said one finally. "i don't think so," responded another; "there is no means of getting up there. they have all left. here is their trail in the snow leading to the woods." all would have been well with the "wild geese" had not the unlucky stockie at this moment, given a loud sneeze. at which some of the minor members of the company giggled. the chief looked sternly at the culprit. he saw stockie about to repeat the involuntary sneeze and grabbed him by the nose and throat. too late! the noise had been heard below and the imperative command was given to "come down." slowly the trap-door was opened and the ladder descended. then a scuffle ensued to see who would go down last. the consequence was that two or three of the geese went down at the same time. slowly and sorrowfully the prisoners marched to the college where to add to their misery they beheld the faces of the smiling and triumphant "wild hens." these had regained "bounds" without being discovered and their loud cackling grated discordantly on the nerves of the late banqueters. that evening, singly and in pairs were the "wild geese" called over and interviewed by the president. on their return to the study hall their flushed faces and reddened eyes accompanied by rapid, mysterious signals, gave warning to the waiting ones of the wrath to come. paul and stockie were the last to be summoned. they found the president and the prefect of studies in the star chamber. "be seated" was the brief command. "do either of you know anything about a secret organization called the 'wild geese'?" the culprits saw that the customary denial of everything would not answer in this case. they acknowledged that they had heard of such a society. the president was satisfied that he had learned from the other members about all the information that he needed, and that the present interview would not add much to his knowledge, so he turned to the two boys with a kindly smile and gave them a fatherly lecture on the error of their ways. he urged them to promise that in the future they would be more faithful to study and more obedient to the rules of the institution. his kind tones made paul and stockie feel ashamed and inspired them with the hope that this gentle lecture would be their only punishment. they glanced congratulations at each other out of the corners of their eyes. "now boys," said the president in conclusion, "you have promised me faithfully to mend your conduct. to keep this promise fresh in your memory, i have something to give you. my motto is to leave the best for the last, so master paul will retain his seat. take off your jacket, stockdale." disappointment and dismay were depicted on the two faces. stockie made many fruitless attempts to unbutton his jacket, unbuttoning two buttons and buttoning one. at last the president's patience gave out and he rushed on his victim with the strap. now, in the room was an old- fashioned bed, in which ropes were fastened from side to side, in lieu of slats. to escape the strap, stockie dove under this bed. the president, who was somewhat rheumatic, could not reach him very well, so he called upon the prefect and paul to assist him in removing the bed. they moved it from side to side around the room in vain, for stockie was holding on to the bed cords. paul felt like an executioner to his friend; but life is sweet. he glanced furtively at the prefect and saw him convulsed with smothered laughter. the president made frantic attempts to dislodge stockie and paul dashed through the door to liberty. later, stockie appeared and cheered paul with the information that his punishment would come when he had gone to bed. paul looked the situation over and at last thought of a plan of escape. he sent stockie into the hall to call out an unsuspicious youth whom he named. this boy soon appeared and paul told him all about the tribulations of the "wild geese." he said he was certain he knew the informer, the villain who had brought all this dire disaster. he had a plan to punish the tale-bearer. he would like to exchange beds that night with his listener, so that he would be near the villain's bed. then he would put a handful of red pepper over the mouth and nose while he snored. was his friend willing? his friend thought the cause a just one and readily agreed to the proposed arrangement. that night the innocent youth slipped into paul's bed and the avenger joyfully nestled in his, at the other side of the dormitory. about an hour after the boys had retired, a tall figure, with stealthy step passed in the direction of paul's bed. there was a suppressed scuffle and the clear sound of a strap coming in contact with its victim, while a low, stern voice was heard saving: "not a word sir; not a word. don't dare to raise your voice above a whisper. you deserve it all and more." after a few moments professor justice retired with the same stealthy step. there was convulsive sobbing in chief paul's bed, and the other boys covered their heads with their blankets in dread of a similar visitation. the boy who suffered that night is now a brilliant judge and well known politician. but he always believed that he had been punished for changing beds and wondered not a little that his companion had escaped similar castigation. the boys were obliged to rise very early in the morning. the first duty of the day was to proceed to the chapel for prayers, and religious instruction. but many of the lads preferred to gather around the red hot stove of the study hall where they could tend to their devotions with more liberty and comfort than in the chilly chapel. if they were missed, a professor was sent to ascertain their whereabouts. he was generally discovered in time by the boy detailed by his companions as look out. the study hall and dormitories formed a building separate from the rest of the college. as the professor approached from the main building, the boys would leap from the low windows of the study hall into the snow. sometimes the professor was suspicious and would reconnoiter outside the study hall; but the boys were alert and as he passed around a corner, they would get around another and so they often escaped to the chapel. one morning the president missed several of his jewels and started himself for the study hall determined to capture them. as usual, the boys clambered through the windows and escaped in different directions always keeping the hall between them and their pursuer. stockie, billy o'meara and paul adopted the old rule of sneaking away from one corner of the hall, while the president advanced around another. the pursuit was very close, for the president was sure from the tracks in the snow, that some of the boys were dodging him. stockie and o'meara broke for the shelter of another building; but paul continued to dodge around the study hall. once the president failed to appear at the expected corner. paul feared that he might be doubling on him and so crept cautiously on all fours back to the corner he had left to take a look around that side of the building. as he warily put his head out to take the observation it came in hard contact with that of the president, who had adopted paul's own tactics to catch him. the situation was so ludicrous that even that austere gentlemen burst out laughing and paul scampered away to the chapel. a favorite resort for the boys during winter weather was a barn where they had rare sport tumbling over the great quantities of hay in the loft. a party of them were one day enjoying this pastime, when a stern voice below commanded them to "descend immediately," supplemented by the ominous and oft repeated expression, "i know you all, i, have your names." some of the boys descended, but paul and four companions clambered out on the roof of a wagon shed. this roof was very steep and was covered with about three feet of snow. here they squatted down and awaited results. the professor took the names of the boys who had descended and ordered them to the study hall. this gentleman, by the way, was very successful in discovering culprits, and was known facetiously by the boys as the "blood-hound." he was sure he had not found all the truants, but he saw they were not in the loft, so he began a tour outside of the barn to ascertain how they had escaped. slowly he walked around the wagon shed carefully scrutinizing every place in which he thought they might be concealed. the snow, loosened by the heat and extra weight of the unlucky boys, gave way and precipitated them over the head and shoulders of the astounded professor. one form of punishment inflicted by the faculty was termed "corrence." the culprit was deprived of his meals mid compelled to remain at study in the hall while the others enjoyed their repast. this was a severe punishment to healthy, growing boys, whose appetites were whetted by the keen mountain air. on the "corrence" list one day appeared the names of william o'meara and paul boyton. this was no infrequent occurrence. these boys did not seem much distressed. there was a secret understanding among the then suppressed "wild geese" that none of their number should suffer the pangs of hunger while provisions could be obtained from the table. the faculty must have found out this fraternal understanding, for on the day in question every boy was examined as he left the refectory and everything eatable in his possession confiscated. the day was hard for billy and paul. by night they were wild with hunger and vowed to make a raid on the kitchen or die. the kitchen in question was in the deep basement of the main building, lit up by small windows fully six feet above the floor. when the cooks had retired, billy and paul made their way to one of these windows. they pried it open. paul persuaded his companion to crawl into the window head first, while he lowered him by holding on to his legs and feet. he instructed billy that when the floor was reached he could with the aid of a chair easily pass out the much needed supplies. billy began his descent. when lowered as far as paul could reach he said: "i can't feel the floor, pull me up." just then there was a deep growl heard in the kitchen and footsteps approaching from the outside. paul did not have time or strength to haul billy up again, so letting him go by the run, he started to his feet and disappeared in the darkness. billy was seized by a large newfoundland dog that held him fast until discovered by the cooks who came down to find out the cause of the noise. the refectory of the college was a long, narrow room with a table extending its entire length. each boy was supposed to stand in his place with folded hands and bowed head, while grace was being said by the professor at the end of the table. but such keen appetites could hardly wait for the blessing to be called. while one hand was devoutly raised, in case the professor would look down along the table, the other grasped a fork and all eyes were fixed of the dishes of meat. smothered exclamations of "that's my piece with the fat;" "the middle piece is mine," "i like the lean," etc., passed along the line. as the amen rang out, every fork was darted into the longed for meat, as a harpoon is sent into a whale. not far from the college lived an irascible old gentleman who owned a rich farm and some very fine horses of which he took great pride. paul and his chums looked on these lovely animals with envious eyes, and often wished that they could capture one and enjoy a ride. one day stockie and paul went to the woods at the bottom of a field that led by a gentle ascent to the farm house. they had with them a pillow-slip half full of oats. they were trying to induce a magnificent looking colt to approach them. the colt was shy, but the oats were tempting. he came near enough to taste them and submitted gently to the boy's caresses and even permitted them to lead him around by the forelock. "now stockie," said paul, "i will hold him by the nose and mane. you jump from that stump and take the first ride." with a spring, stockie mounted the animal's back. the colt broke from paul and dashed madly away, stockie clinging to him like a cat. the creature never stopped in its mad career until it had reached the farm yard. with a terrific leap it unseated stockie, who tumbled uninjured but paralyzed with fear, into a pile of manure from which he was dragged by the enraged farmer. as his friend disappeared, paul made a beeline for the college. soon after poor stockie was brought in by the farmer and delivered into the hands of the president. it was some time before the victim was able to sit at his desk with any degree of comfort. with such adventures as these, two years of college life glided by and then the parting came. paul had progressed rapidly in his classes for his was a character that applied itself to books, as devotedly as it did to play. his best loved study was navigation, and he often surprised the gray-haired old professor by his knowledge in this quarter. his open, fearless nature had endeared him to his teachers and despite the punishments; he had learned to love the college life so his going was viewed with regret by both sides. the college was in its infancy when paul's name was on the pupil's roll. he returned to visit it some years ago, to find it grown into one of the great educational institutions of the land. many of our brightest and best men lovingly roll it their alma mater. the venerable president received him with open arms. he put paul's picture in his gallery of the boys who were a credit to the institution, and both talked over old times and life's many changes with emotion, and laughed heartily over certain well remembered experiences. paul felt a deep pang of remorse at the praise and the welcome, for his memory bore another record. during paul's sojourn at college, his family had moved from alleghany to new york. his father was an importer of sea-shells, corals, marine curiosities anal oriental goods, of which he made annual sales in the chief cities of the country. he took paul with him and gave him the first lesson in business. travel suited paul immensely; but business was irksome and the civil war was still raging. stirring accounts of the conflicts in the south, and the martial air that pervaded the entire country, filled paul's soul with longing to go to the front. chapter iii. on the morning of april th, , young boyton presented himself at the brooklyn navy yard, and was enrolled in the united states navy as a sailor before the mast. after a few weeks drilling he was transferred to the united states steamer, hydrangea, captain w. rogers in command. paul was now in his fifteenth year. he had no difficulty in passing the scrutiny of the enlisting officers. he was of a powerful build and very muscular. his outdoor life in the woods and on the river made him look older than he really was. the hydrangea was ordered to fortress monroe, and paul received his baptism of fire while the steamer was running up the james river past malvern hill, where a confederate battery was stationed. much has been written about the war, and as this is simply a story of adventure, it will be left to better writers to record war history many of whom have already described scenes enacted in that vicinity during the year . the last engagement paul was in, was the memorable assault on fort fisher. when the war closed, he was mustered out. at that time he held the position of yeoman. mr. boyton discovered that paul did not have much aptitude for commercial pursuits, so he sent him to the west indies for the purpose of collecting and shipping all kinds of marine curiosities. paul's companion was a submarine diver whom his father had engaged. they took passage on the bark, "reindeer," bound for the barbadoes. they had all kinds of the latest dredging apparatus, including submarine armor and pumps in their outfit. after a tedious voyage of twenty-seven days, the "reindeer" cast anchor in bridgetown. paul and the diver, whose name was tom scott, were kindly welcomed by the merchant, an old friend of mr. boyton's, to whom they carried letters of introduction. his father's instructions were to charter a fishing boat, or some suitable vessel at bridgetown for a six month's cruise among the keys and islands surrounding, for the purpose of fishing up coral, shells and other curios that he could gather. a few days after his arrival, paul engaged a staunch little sloop commanded by a negro, who was assisted by four strong sailors also colored, as crew. the first cruise was around the island of barbadoes. several curios were collected and purchased and a goodly shipment sent back by the "reindeer." when he received them and read paul's accompanying letter, mr. boyton was satisfied that his son was now engaged in a business that thoroughly suited him. the cayosa, for such was the name of the little sloop, was then provisioned for a voyage to the group of islands that lay to the westward, and where it was said rare shells would be found. for a small consideration the captain had agreed to bunk forward with crew, leaving tom scott and paul his little cabin all to themselves. this cabin was thoroughly scrubbed and cleaned by the pair, after which they fitted it up and placed therein their baggage, rifles, fishing gear, plenty of reading matter and their private stores. while in port, paul remained the guest of mr. c., the merchant, whose home was a beautiful villa situated a little way out of town. the merry, bright-eyed daughters of his host made sad havoc in the susceptible heart of young boyton. at last all the stores were aboard and everything was ready. one bright morning the anchor was weighed, and the sloop stood away on her cruise to the island of vincent, which lay about one hundred miles to the westward. during this voyage a heavy tornado tested the little sloop to her utmost. she was driven far out of her course. it was four days ere they reached kingston on the southward of the island, instead of richmond whither they were bound. they spent a few days in the quaint, old town and picked up several curiosities. the sloop was then headed for the cariacou islands, a large group which dot the ocean between st. vincent and granada. many of these islands are uninhabited by human beings. they are low and loaded down to the water's edge with rich, tropical vegetation. the sloop spent six weeks in this group. every available part of the boat was packed with coral and all kinds of curiosities. a run was then made to charlottetown, granada, where the collection was discharged, cleaned and packed in hogsheads all ready for the first boat that would call, bound for new york. here the sloop was again provisioned, then she set out for tobago about one hundred miles southeast. a cruise was made around the entire island, but the collection was not remunerative. the sloop was then headed to trinidad, and along the north coast, valuable specimens were picked up. in this same locality they struck on a reef of exquisite brain coral, with which they loaded the sloop. sail was then made for port of spain, the principal town of the island. in going through the dragon's mouth, a narrow, dangerous passage between the mainland of south america and trinidad, the cayosa was nearly wrecked. a sudden change in the wind when they were rounding the point drove her into the breakers. her mast was badly sprung and only with the utmost difficulty was she saved. under shortened sail she entered port of spain, a curiously picturesque old town. here the collection was discharged as before and the cayosa beached for an overhauling. among those employed to assist in the repairs were three english sailors who were held prisoners on the charge of mutiny. the prison regulations in trinidad were very lax, so much so that the three mutineers were permitted to come down daily and take a hand in the sloop's overhauling. they were from liverpool and hard characters. the captain of their vessel delivered them over at trinidad preferring to go shorthanded rather than have them aboard. on the shady side of the sloop, that was then high up on the beach, they entertained scott and paul with their varied adventures. one day paul expressed astonishment that being prisoners, they were allowed such unusual liberties. one of them, dick harris by name, answered: "we are a burden to the authorities here. they would be glad to be rid of us without the trouble and expense of sending us to england, where, no doubt, we would get the rope's end of the law. last night when you paid us off, we stayed out late. when we got back at the jail we had to knock again and again. at last the jailer called out: 'who's there?' we gave our names, when he exclaimed: 'now if you blasted shell-backs can't get home at a reasonable hour, you can stay out. this is the last time i will be disturbed from my slumbers to let you in.'" the three worthies implored paul to take them away on the cayosa. i referred them to the negro captain. the latter earnestly assured them that, he would sooner run a cargo of scorpions than risk himself and crew to the tender care of the mild mannered liverpool tars. when the sloop was fully repaired, she started on a trip around the island, but the breakers were too heavy for successful work. she directed her course northward and soon reentered the cariacon group. a couple of months were spent in those lovely islands. the great breakers that swept in along the coast of trinidad, tobago and granada were missing. in the tranquil bays and inlets, they pursued their occupation of bringing up the natural treasures of the deep with more profit and less risk. they would anchor the cayosa as near shore as possible, in some well sheltered bay. here soundings wouid be taken, and the vicinity thoroughly inspected. when the bay gave promise of shells and coral, a camp was made on the silver-like beach under the shade of the towering cocoanut trees. the mainsail was detached and carried ashore to serve as an awning. the large sheet-iron boilers were also landed. while two of the crew gathered wood and decayed vegetation for fuel, the others were busy erecting a crude fire- place with rocks, over which the boilers were set. the shore camp being ready, the submarine pump would be lowered into the yawl and with tom scott, encased in his diving armor, would be conveyed to the most likely place on the bay. when this was reached, a kedge anchor was dropped, the face piece of the armor screwed on, the pipes attached and tom quietly slipped over the side and descended to the reef. two of the crew turned cranks to force air down to him, while paul seated in the stern held the life line. when the diver reached bottom, he gave the signal to shift the boat wherever his explorations led him. when a lot of shells or curious objects were found, several pulls on the line were given indicating, "to anchor and send down the bucket." this bucket was a huge iron affair, holding about five bushels. it was sent to the bottom. tom soon filled it with living and dead specimens of brilliant and beautiful shells. then it was hoisted and the contents transferred aboard. in the clear waters on the coral reef, paul, by hanging over the stern, could distinctly see tom on the bottom moving around in his ponderous dress. he longed for the day when he could go down and behold the strange sights below in the green, transparent water. at last, the yawl was loaded. tom came up and the helmet of his suit was removed and he enjoyed the pure, salt air once more. the boat was headed for shore and the treasures landed. all living shells were quickly transferred to the boilers full of hot water. they were left to simmer over the fire for a couple of hours, after which they were dumped on the sands. the thoroughly cooked inhabitants were easily removed and the shells sweet and clean and glowing with all the beautiful tints of the rose and lily, were placed in piles under the shade of the awning. while the crew was engaged in this latter occupation, scott, and paul, armed with rifle and shotgun, would saunter through the heavily perfumed tropical forests in search of any game they could find. in expeditions of this kind, they captured three young monkeys and a couple of parrots, who were soon trained pets on the cayosa, furnishing all hands with amusement. scott and paul shot many iguanos. these are huge lizards that abound in the tropics. the captain and crew considered this game a great delicacy and broiled and ate them with relish. it was a long time ere scott or paul would touch the reptiles. one day the black captain offered all a young lizard, daintily broiled. he assured them that it was as sweet and tender as an angel's dream. they tasted it and found it really excellent, and from that time on partook heartily of the dish, whenever it was on the table. at night they frequently stretched their hammocks from tree to tree for their cabin was uncomfortably hot. after a refreshing bath in the cool phosphorescent water and a scamper up and down the level sands in lieu of a towel, they would turn in and enjoy a sound sleep. they were generally awakened before daylight by the shrieking and chattering of the parrots and monkeys. then with a spring from their hammock, they would dash merrily in to the reviving water. after this they donned their white canvas suits and were ready for another day. breakfast was taken on shore. this consisted of fresh fish, coffee, cocoanuts, pineapples and bread fruits. abundance of this fruit was found on all the islands they visited. on some of the islands they could not enjoy their nights in the cool hammocks, owing to the attacks of the malicious jigger spider and ferocious mosquitoes. one day while at anchor over a coral reef at the southern part of vequin, torn scott agreed to give paul his first lesson in diving. tom had been feeling sick and feverish for some days so it made him willing to let paul take his place for once. he gave paul full instructions how to act, especially warning him not to gasp in the compressed air, but to breathe naturally and easily. when the helmet was screwed on, paul felt a smothering sensation but it soon passed. encouraged, he stepped down n the rope ladder over the side of the sloop and slowly slipped to bottom about five fathoms below. the descent was easy, but bewildering. when his heavily leaded feet struck on the coral, it seemed to him as if the top of his head was being lifted off. for the moment he wished to regain the surface, but scott's advice to keep cool and steady came back to him and he quickly regained control of his nerves. he peered through the heavy plate glass visor curiously around at the strange sights under the green water. the bottom was as white as snow drift and the powerful sun lit lip the water so that he could distinctly see all objects within twelve or fifteen feet of him. he signaled "all right" to scott with the line and started to walk around. the signal line and hose were played out to him, so that he could take a wide scope around and under the sloop. notwithstanding the enormous weight of lead attached to the diving dress, paul found that he had to walk as easily and lightly as if there were egg shells under his feet; the least little pressure on the bottom had the tendency to send him up. after a half-hour below, during which he thoroughly enjoyed his novel surroundings, he felt an oppression on his chest and signaled "to haul up." the strong arms of the crew helped him regain deck, the helmet was removed and his flushed and eager face exposed. he remarked to tom that "diving was glorious." after a rest of two hours, the sloop having been shifted to another anchorage, he again descended. this time the bottom had a different aspect. it was full of dark rocks over which grow great masses ofsea weeds. a few feet from where he descended, sprang up a reef of branch coral which extended as far as he could see on either side. this coral grew like shrubbery. it was hard to believe that, all this was the product of an invisible insect, instead of being a miniature forest turned into pure white stone. the scene was surpassingly beautiful; coral branches ran up to a height of eight or ten feet from the bottom, where they locked and wove together like vines. paul walked to the edge of this reef and gazed with delighted eyes into its liquid depths. schools of bright colored fish were swimming gracefully in and out through the delicate coral branches. some, more fearless than their companions, swam round and round paul's copper helmet, and looked into the thick glass at the front. when paul made a sudden move of his hand, they darted away; but returned soon again to satisfy their curiosity and ascertain what strange monster had invaded their fairy land. three sudden jerks of the life line held in the hands of the anxious tom, recalled paul to his work. the three pulls meant, "where are you? is everything right?" he then signaled for the bucket to be lowered. taking his pry he broke off some exquisite specimens of the undergrowth coral, which he loaded in and sent up. he then explored on the side of the coral forest until he came to a small portion of the bottom, covered with sand and surrounded with rocks. under the growth of marine vegetation, he passed his hand, and pulled from the rock a living shell. paul had been fully instructed by his father in the science of conchology, so he recognized this specimen as very rare and much sought after. it was the shell called "voluta musica." this was the first one of those shells found during the expedition. after a careful search he found twenty-three more of the same kind, and several large shells known as "triton's trumpet." the bucket was filled. paul followed it to the surface well satisfied with his first day's work as a submarine diver. scott was not enthusiastic over the "volute musica", but the captain of the cayosa was delighted. he knew the value of the shell. he told paid he had sold many of them to the tourists and collectors in barbadoes receiving from fifty cents to a dollar and a half apiece. he also said that where one of those shells was found there was generally many in the vicinity, and advised paul not to move the sloop that night, but to descend again the next day. when the sun was sufficiently high the next morning, paul again donned the armor and resumed his search for the voluta. not thirty yards from where he had discovered the first one, he found a basin in the rocks filled with sand. from around this basin he took out two hundred and forty specimens of the desired shell. afterwards it was ascertained that no greater find of this species had ever been made. scott was not pleased with paul's success. he grew more sullen every day. several times he tried to resume his position as chief diver, but his strength was not equal to the strain, and paul gladly took his place, which only made scott furious. the abuse and curses he heaped upon captain and crew would have resulted in something serious only for paul. the captain wanted to maroon the growler, that is, to place him on an island with some provisions and sail away. to this paul answered that he would blow off the head of the man that attempted such a thing. he then tried to restrain scott but with poor success. there was no other way out of it, so paul decided to end the cruise. the sloop had a pretty fair cargo so he ordered the captain to make sail for bridgetown, barbadoes. they arrived there a month before the charter expired. mr. c. settled to the satisfaction of the cayusa's captain and scott was placed in the marine hospital. three weeks later, after intense suffering from fever, the poor fellow died. then paul understood all his growls and abuse and was sincerely sorry. the collection was boxed ready for shipment and paul had a pleasant time on the island, while waiting for a northern bound vessel. one day while sitting at the mole, fishing, he saw a staunch little schooner with dilapidated sails bear into the harbor. when her anchor was let go, a boat was lowered into which two sailors and a man evidently the captain, entered. paul, folding his fishing line, sauntered down to find out who the new arrivals were. a custom house officer standing by, hailed the stranger as he came ashore with, "why, captain balbo. i am delighted to see you." "shure it does me eyes good to see yureself," said the new arrival, in a rich irish brogue. "me papers air all right, so we'll have no trouble. o'ive just called in to get a bit av fresh wather, an' if the lord's willin' somethin' a little stronger." "you're always welcome," responded the officer, "even if you do neglect to get your clearances. you know there is no love lost between you and the custom house." the schooner captain way a stout, thickset man with a face bronzed to the color of mahogany and a head of hair as red as a pittsburgh furnace at midnight. his blue eyes sparkled with good nature and merriment, and a continual smile hovered over his massive mouth. after several hearty greetings to acquaintances on the landing, the captain proceeded to the warehouse of the merchant, where mr. c. soon afterward introduced paul to the jolly old sea dog. when captain balbo learned that paul had come down after seashells and curiosities, he was delighted and invited the boy to come aboard. "o'im in the same line meself. but instead of lookin' afther dirthy, bad-smellin' sea shells, it's afther the shells of ould vessels oi am." paul gladly promised to go aboard that afternoon. the captain purchased a supply of provisions and made arrangements for his casks of fresh water and "stronger stuff," but in vain mr. c. entreated him to remain over and take dinner with himself and paul. the captain declared he could "fill himself up at the hotel with more liberty and less embarrassment." mr. c. told paid that captain balbo was a good natured old wrecker and treasure hunter, well-known in all the west india islands. late that afternoon paul rowed out to the schooner, and received an enthusiastic welcome from the captain, who had evidently been enjoying himself "without restraint or embarrassment." he took paul into a roomy cabin, and introduced him to his wife, a very obese yellow woman, who was reclining on a sofa. the woman was undoubtedly of negro blood; but to paul's profound astonishment, she had as fine a brogue as her husband. after some conversation paul ventured to ask the captain how this happened. the latter laughed heartily and answered: "me wife wuz born far enough away from dear ould ireland. oi'll tell ye how it wuz. many years ago a parthy of immygrants left county kerry for nassau, new providence oisland. their ship wuz driven far out av her way in a sthorm an' wrecked on a small oisland in flamingo bay. a few av thoze thet survived, settled on the oisland, an' soon had foine homes on its fertile soil. they found only a few nager inhabitants, an' shure they tuk thim fur servants. me parents were among the survivors from the ship an' oi wuz born about a year afther the wreck. as toime went on, the nagers gradually acquired the accent of their masthers. whin oi grow up oi shipped on a tradin' schooner in which we wus cast away near nassau. there oi joined an english ship; n' fur foive years put in the loife av a sailor forninst the mast. me heart always longed fur the sunlit, happy oisland an' me people an' at lasht oi got back there, an' there oi married betsy thet ye will see on her beam ends on the sofia. soon afther, in company with others, oi bought fur a trifle, a schooner that wuz wrecked on the keys. afther hard wuerk we got her afloat, an' re-masted. we did good wuerk in her as a wrecker. wan be wan oi bought me comrades out, until to-day oi am masther av the good little craft that's under yez. me wife is always the companion av me voyages. ehen she has the will to shake hersel', she can put more weight on a rope then the balance av the crew. an' there's not a cook in the gay city of paris that equal her. me business is tradin' and wreckin.' mr. c. tould me that ye had submarine armour an' some improved dredgin' appyratus. now oi know where both will be useful to ye an' to me. there's many a wreck that oi know, that's out av me reach wid the appliances oi have. wid your appyratus we can get treasure in abundance." his stories of wrecks and treasures were of deep interest to paul. gladly would he have joined the captain, but his father owned the submarine armour and apparatus and he felt that he ought to consult him first. but he promised to answer captain balbo later on. a was about to leave the schooner, he remarked, "your good lady sleeps very soundly, but she is very fat." "that fat, me b'y," responded balbo, "is av great valey to me. the english law makes us to give wan fourth av all treasure trove; but it's devilish little they find on board the 'foam' afther me wife lands. they ofthen remark to me, that it's queer how fat betsy is whin she goes ashore an' how much flesh she loses afther a short sojourn. now, me b'y, oi'll meet ye to-morrow. oi loike ye an' oi hope ye'll jine me. ye'll niver regret the day ye do. an' now ye black devils," he said, turning to the boat's crew, "set this young gintleman safe ashore, er be the port bow av noah's ark. oi'll break ivery bone in yer black shkins. good night, god bless ye, me son," was shouted over the dark waters as the boat shot away to the landing. that night paul entertained mr. c. with an account of his visit to the "foam" and his interview with the captain. mr. c. assured paul that balbo was reliable and thoroughly honest in his dealings. at the same time he strongly advised him to take passage in the brig that had just arrived in the offing bound for new york and consult his father before embarking in the enterprise proposed by the wrecker. the next day mr. c., the captain and paul dined together. paul promised the captain, that if he would consent to his gathering curiosities during the voyages they would make together and give him a share of all treasure recovered, he would lay the matter before his father on his arrival in new york. if mr. boyton consented he would join him in nassau, with all the improved apparatus he could secure for the business. the form of agreement was drawn up and a bargain concluded subject to the approval of paul's father. three days later paul sailed for new york on the brig saco, and after a quiet voyage arrived safely at home once more. the collection of curios he had with him and the previous shipments he had made convinced his father that in no other position would paul be so valuable to him. he was delighted with his success and allowed him a liberal sum for his labors. paul was glad to be with his family once more and proved to his much loved mother that he had not forgotten her in all his wanderings as he had a splendid collection of the richest, rarest and most beautiful specimens he had gathered during his voyage as a present for her. the liberal supply of money obtained from his father's generosity was recklessly divided between his sisters. a few days after reaching home, he broached the subject of captain balbo's proposition to his father. mr. boyton did not like the idea of wrecking or treasure hunting, but he was perfectly content that paul should join the captain for the purpose of collecting curiosities, and was willing to supply him with money and all the improved apparatus required for that purpose. paul promised his father that the outlay would be applied according to his directions; but made the firm resolve to himself that he would tackle the treasure ships mentioned to him by balbo. chapter iv. a month after he reached home, young boyton started again for nassau where had sent several letters to the captain of the "foam" informing him as to when he might be expected to arrive. he sailed on a trading schooner, and when they entered the harbor at nassau, he was glad to find the "foam" at anchor there. as the schooner glided past the "foam," paul loudly hailed her. captain balbo protruded his red head through the gangway. when he recognized paul, he greeted, him with a burst of semi-nautical and semi-scriptural eloquence and shouted: "oi'll sind a boat afther ye. come aboard quick as ye can." as paul could not leave the schooner without first having his effects passed through the custom house, the captain himself came ashore. he nearly dislocated paul's arm with his vigorous hand shaking and said that he had been waiting at nassau a week for him. the apparatus being duly passed, all embarked in the captain's yawl and were speedily conveyed aboard the "foam." there he received the same warm welcome from the captain's good natured wife, who had a neat little cabin prepared for him. after supper the captain and paul had a long talk on deck where they sat smoking cigars under the brilliant starlight. paul described fully his father objection to his embarking in the wrecking business, though he was willing to enter into the arrangements, providing his share would be the shells and curiosities, which the captain regarded as so much trash. "now, paul, me b'y," said balbo, after listening intently to his proposition; "oi'm an old man an' oi consider meself an honest wan. ye can have all the shells an' other things ye consider curiosities that we pick up; but ye must also have share in anything valuable we recover, an' ye can depind on me to give you a shquare dale. as fur that paper mr. c. drew up, there is no occasion fur it. oi'm not fond o' papers av ony koind fur oi've always had more or less throuble wid im. oi give ye me wurrd an' oi've yure wurrd an' that is sufficient. the paper can go to the shaarks where it belongs." he then descended into the cabin and returned with the paper they had signed, which he tore in two and cast into the sea. the next morning the captain and paul went ashore for the clearance papers and that afternoon anchor was weighed and the "foam" stood away for the south. island after island was visited in the great bahama group. many wrecks well known to the captain were visited and worked successfully. anchors, chains, windlasses, etc., were found in abundance until the "foam" was well loaded and sail was made for kingston, jamaica. off morant point they picked up a negro pilot in his little canoe far out at sea. the pilot wore a pair of blue pants, white shirt and stove-pipe hat, given him no doubt by some passenger or captain of a merchantman. he gravely saluted all on deck as he passed his bare feet over the bulwarks and turning to the captain said in the peculiar dialect of the jamaica negro: "does yo want er pilot, sah?" "no," responded the captain, "oi know this coast well enough, but oi think ye had bother hoist that craft av yure's on boord an' come wid us into port royal. there is signs av a cyclone if oi'm not mishtaken;" an invitation which the pilot gladly accepted. his outlandish attire and quaint english greatly amused paul, who after supper, sat beside him on the deck and plied him with questions about jamaica. the pilot told him many interesting tales, among them one of a famous shark known as "port royal tom" who was supposed to inhabit the waters of kingston's beautiful bay. "tom, sah, was a pow'ful shahk, 'bout thirty feet long; but nobody know how ole he was. in de ol'en times big fleets ob english men-ob-war use to anchoh off port royal, an' dat shahk got fat on de refuse dat was frown ovahboahd. sometimes de sailors would heah de yallow gals laughin' an' dancin' on de shoah at night an' dey longed fur to jine dem. dey wasn't 'lowed to go of'en in dose days 'cause de yallow fevah was dere; but when de sailor boys got a chance dey would slip sof'ly down de side an' strike out fur de shoah. tom, he know dis custom, an' he kep sharp eye on de boys, an' i 'shure yo' sah, dat dat shahk gobbled up moah seamen dan 'uld fill de bigges' ob de queen's men-ob-wah. as lots ob de sailors went ashoah fur 'sertion as well as fur 'musement, de navay people winked dere lef' eye at de tricks ob ole tom. after a while de sailors got to belibe dat he wah under de pay ob de gove'ment, an' many a red-hot cannon ball ware sec'etly dropped ober de side to tom, yafter firs' temptin' him wid nice pieces ob salt junk. i nab neber seen ole tom myself, sah, but dey say dat he is 'round heah yet. lucinda nelson, de great fortune tellah an hoodoo 'oman done tole me dat tom's now livin' in a big ware-house down in ole jamaica an' dat he sel'om comes out 'cause he's getting' quite ole. ole jamaica, yo' mus' remembah, sah, is fifteen fathom below de ocean now. great earthquake come up one night an' swallowed de whole town an only a few yeahs ago, when de watah was right cleah, yo' could see de tops ob some ob de houses still standin' at de bottom. i belibe lucinda nelson, sah, fur she's a great 'oman an' known a heap ob tings. niggah folks all go to her fur hoodoos an' chahms an' i reckon she mus' be close on two hun' yeahs ole." captain balbo who was laying close by did not seem to pay much attention to the story of port royal tom. he had heard it often before; but he pricked up his ears when lucinda was mentioned and eagerly questioned the pilot as to her present whereabouts. turning to paul, he said: "oi've heard a good dale about, this fortune-teller, an' oi intind to visit her; she may be able to put us onto somethin' good" paul laughed at the idea of her knowing anything about wrecks or sunken treasure; but the captain persisted in his determination to find her when they landed. the wind having dropped, the schooner was becalmed and lazily pitched around on the gentle swell. the captain called loudly to his help- mate betsy to bring up some fresh cigars and a bottle of grog and settled himself more comfortably on deck to enjoy the pilot's stories. "have you ever seen port royal tom?" paul asked the captain. "no," responded the captain; "but a frind av moine did an' ye may rest ashured that he is around here somewhere. oi wouldn't be surprised if he were in the ould ware-house that our frind, the pilot mintioned." "i guess yo' see a great many shahks in yoah time, massa cap'in:" said the pilot. "yis," responded the captain, "oi saw lots av thim." he nudged paul with his foot and a merry twinkle lit his eyes. "they're curious brutes an' not built like human bein's." the pilot and paul were now all attention as the captain seemed inclined to spin a yarn. "whin oi wuz a shtrapping young fellow about eighteen, oi wuz sailin' aboord a trader. wan day we were layin' becalmed, as we air now, off turk's island. while we were quietly sittin' on the bulwarks, we saw a monstrous shaark off our starboard beam. the ould mon at the toime was snorin' away in his cabin, an' it was a foine chance to have a little fun. we out wid the shaark hook and havin' baited it wid a temptin' piece av junk, attached it to a shtrong line which we rove troo the davitts. afther smellin' round it, the shaark turned on its side an' swallowed it. all hands clapped on to the rope an' we hoisted him clear out av the wather. a bowline wuz passed over his tail an' we got him on boord an' a few blows wid the axe along the spine quited him down. his floppin' on the deck niver woke the skipper, so we cut him open. we shlit him from close under the mouth to near the tail and overhauled everything that wuz in him. in the stomach we found a collection of soup an' bouillon cans an' bottles enough to shtart a liquor house. as we wuz examinin' the stuff, the ould man came on deck an' thundered out:" "'what the blazes are ye doin' there messin' me decks up! get that brute overboord quick an' wash down.' we histed the carcass av the gutted shaark an' passed it over the side. we watched the body as it struck the wather. it remained still fur a few minutes, thin, to our amazement, turned over an' began swimmin'. he casht his eye inquiringly up at the crew, who were all standin' along the rail lookin' at him, as though he wanted somethin'. the skipper himself was so overcome at the shtrange soight that he furgot, fur the toime bein', all about the disgustin' state av the deck. quickly recoverin' himself, he hoarsely ordered the crew to git the stomach and internals av that shaark overboard and git cleaned down. three av us grasped the shaark's insides an' liftin' thim to the rail, cast thim into the say. whin they shtruck the wather they were grabbed be the shark an' swallowed. as his belly was cut wide open, they went through him an' came to the surface. three times he done this, but did'nt succeed in holdin' thim in their proper place. at this toime all hands were on the rail watchin' the sport an' ivery wan laughed loud at his maneuverin'. the shaark seemed to grow more vexed at each failure an' to resist the merriment of the crew for he cast many furious and malicious glances at the vessel. once more he backed off fur a charge to swallow thim an' this toime succeeded in holdin' thim in be a nate trick. instid av turnin' partly on his side an' showin' his dorsal fin afther he had swallowed he kept bottom up and swam slowly away waggin' av his tail with a gratified air while a huge grin spread over his repulsive countenance." "great lo'd, sah," said the pilot, "dat was wonderful indeed!" the captain gazed sternly into the pilot's eye to see if there was the glimmer of a doubt therein, while paul tumbled into the cabin to suppress his fit of convulsive laughter. during the night the threatened cyclone made its appearance and the "foam" let go her anchor in kingston harbor just time to escape the full fury of the storm. after some considerable trouble at the custom house, the cargo of the "foam" was landed and disposed of; except the shells and curiosities gathered in the months' run through tint islands. those as usual were cased and left in the hands of a merchant for shipment to new york. the sale of the wreckage amounted to three hundred and twelve dollars. after deducting the stores consumed on the vessel, the captain offered half the balance to paul, who refused, as the shells obtained were equal in value to the wreckage. the captain insisted that he should at least accept one hundred dollars. all business was concluded and the "foam" provisioned; but the weather was still stormy and unsettled so they decided to remain over until it cleared up. the captain and paul made many excursions around kingston. one of them was to the camp of the english soldiers. it was situated on a plateau above the town about four thousand feet from the sea level. to reach this camp they had to charter jackasses. captain balbo was not at home on this stubborn craft. all went well on the plains below; but when they reached the steep path up the mountain side the captain could not hold his seat. his fat body would continually slip down on the flanks of the donkey, who would begin to practice as though he wanted to kick a hole in the sky. three times the captain was unseated but finally he struck a plan of holding on to the donkey's tail and in this manner was towed up the mountain. the magnificent sight from the camp amply repaid them for their arduous ascent. they could distinctly see every part of kingston as it lay stretched along the shore of its superb bay, while on the other side, a long tongue of land covered with cocoanut trees reached out and almost made the harbor a lake. at the extreme point was the entrance out into the ocean, where immense naval store-houses covered the beach and off them were moored great hulks belonging to the british government. they thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful view and did not regain the town until almost nightfall. instead of going aboard, the captain proposed to have dinner at a hotel; after which he persisted in making a visit to the fortune teller. the pilot was easily found and consented to act as a guide to the cabin of the dark seeress. along tramp through the narrow streets and a little out in the country brought them to the habitation of this famed dealer in "black art." the house was almost buried by banana trees and heavy vines. in response to the captain's impatient knocks, the door was opened by a little girl, who said: "gran won't see any one to-night, no use in trying." "we must see her fur we're goin' away to-morrow an' won't have another chance," urged the captain. a querulous voice from the inside was heard saying: "come captain, come in if you insist," an invitation which was quickly accepted by the captain who was followed by paul and the pilot. on entering the back room, a curious sight presented itself. the seeress looked far different from the picture paul had formed of her in his mind. she was not over five feet high and so thin and wrinkled that she resembled a mummy rather than a human being. on her head she wore a turban formed of some bright colored cloth, while the balance of her apparel consisted of a dark robe embroidered with snakes and other reptiles. the room was adorned with skins of serpents, bunches of herbs, and many weird looking objects. "so, captain balbo, you came to see me at last," exclaimed the old crone; "and who is that young stranger from the far off north that i see at your side?" the captain was dumbfounded at hearing his name announced by a person whom he had never seen before, but shrewdly remarked: "if ye know me, why is it ye don't know this young stranger?" "ah," responded the fortune-teller, "if he sought me i would know him. he has simply accompanied you as a sightseer. now, captain, what can i do for you?" "how ye know me, lucinda, is morn than oi can comprehend, oi've often heard av ye. as ye know me ye must be aware av me business an' can also tell phat oi'm here fur." "yes, captain, i know both and the yellow curse you are after lays in a little bay in sufficient quantities to satisfy you on the most southern island in a group of three that bear the same name." the captain pondered for a while, then said, "it must be the caicos, for they're the only three islands in a group that bear the same name that oi know of." she then went on in a mysterious way to describe to the captain a rock- locked bay, giving him points and descriptions by which he easily recognized the island of east caicos. she ended the conversation abruptly and ordered them out. before leaving the captain placed a sovereign in her hand and came away deeply impressed with what the fortune-teller had revealed to him. for quite a distance he remained profoundly silent, then turning to paul he said: "oi know the exact place the old devil manes. though she didn't name the island she described it so closely that it is impossible to mishtake it. it is east caicos, oi know the bay well an' it has a great reputation of bein' a resort fur pirates in olden days; an' mark me wurrd, b'y, the visit to that old black will be the means av makin' our fortune. instead av headin' fur little cayman to-morrow mornin', we'll pint her fur east caicos. it is over fure hundred miles north by east from here; but it will pay us to make the run." next morning being fair, the "foam" left jamaica and stood off in the direction of the island. they had good weather and fair winds. in four days they passed cape maysi, the most easterly point or cuba. here they met head winds that caused them to tack four more days, then they got under the lee of the great inagua island. the weather was very threatening and every indication pointed to another cyclone, so they decided to run the sloop into one of the sheltered bays that abound on those coasts. here they lay for two days while the wind whistled and shrieked through the naked rigging. as they were about to get under way the third morning after the dropped anchor, a native came off in a canoe containing pineapples and cocoanuts which he exchanged for a few biscuits. the captain questioned him closely in regard to wrecks around the island and was told about a large spanish ship that went down years ago on the southeast coast and it was a legend among the inhabitants that she contained a vast amount of treasure. none of her crew ever reached shore so the information was rather vague. nevertheless, the captain determined to make a try for it. the indian swore that he knew about the exact location and for the promise of a dollar a day he agreed to pilot them to the place. after a cruise of about thirty miles eastward, they came to the place where the indian said the wreck had occurred and taking sounding they found bottom a little over nineteen fathoms. the weather being fine they hove to and the yawl containing the diving pump was lowered. "this is a pretty deep dive," remarked the captain to paul as he was equipping himself in his armour. "it is," responded paul, "the deepest i ever made; but nothing risk, nothing win. fasten on the face piece and you yourself attend to the signal line." he dropped overboard and commenced descending slowly, while the captain anxiously and watchfully plied out the signal line and hose. he reached bottom which was full of rocks covered with a slimy growth of marine vegetation; the pressure on him was something enormous. it was very dark and he groped for some time without discovering anything. he signaled the boat to move with him as he pursued his explorations. at last his heart was gladdened by the sight of a wreck overgrown with a heavy mass of weeds and sea plumes. after a closer investigation he was disappointed to find that she was not nearly as large as the vessel described by the indian; but by her appearance he judged she must have been under water many, many years. all the iron work was eaten away and the timbers badly decayed. he gave the signal, "kedge and buoy." the answer from above was "all-right," and soon after he grabbed a kedge that slowly and silently descended near him. having fastened it to the wreck, he signaled "haul away," and was soon to the surface and helped aboard the yawl. when the helmet was removed he was very much exhausted. the captain was enthusiastic over his discovery, but was rather disappointed when told of the dimensions of the wreck. the schooner was then hailed to come alongside and all sails were lowered. one of the largest dredges was sent down and paul descended after it. he used the dredge to clear away the masses of vegetation which covered the wreck. he fastened the claws in the decayed wood and signaling them to haul away, an entrance was at last effected into the hull. he found nothing there to reward him for his trouble and work except long white rows, which on examination proved to be grinning skulls and bones and the traces of rusty iron chains that bound them together in life. paul was horrified at his ghastly discovery and signaled "haul away." on reaching the dock be informed the captain of his find. "a slaver, be the mizzen top av the ark," he exclaimed. "there's no use av huntin' through that fellow. they would have no cash aboard if the skeletons are there. they'd have to sell the nagers before they'd have anything av value." three days were now spent in looking for the phantom treasure ship, but the captain lost patience finally and unceremoniously kicked the indian overboard into his canoe and the "foam" bore away with a fair wind to the island of east caicos. the second morning after, east caicos lay under their port bow. it towered high and forbidding far up in the mist. they beat around to the bay which the captain supposed was the one described by the fortune- teller. the schooner was anchored to the lee of a reef, while the captain, paul and two of the crew embarked in the yawl on a tour of investigation. they pulled close under the cliff and into an inlet between two great jaws of barnacle-covered rock that towered high above them. paul was astonished to see the exact reproduction of the word picture painted by the black fortune-feller of jamaica before his eyes. they rowed through the inlet on the swell and entered a bay that was perfectly landlocked. all around it to the height of a couple of hundred feet arose a mass of irregular rock, out of which great flocks of gulls and other sea birds flew and angrily circled around the intruders. "this is the place shore enough, paul. there's no other place loike it on the oislands, oi could'nt be mishtaken." at this moment one of the oarsmen exclaimed: "almighty lord, captain! look over there! see the sharks!" a short glance was sufficient to reveal the fact that the water was full of these wolves of the deep and they commenced to gather around the yawl in alarming numbers. "be careful there, paul," cautioned the captain, "keep yure hands in boord," as he hurriedly ordered the crew to swing around and pull out. by this time fully a hundred pair of hungry eyes were following in the wake of the boat. as she retreated, the sharks grow bolder and approached closer; many of them diving from side to side under the boat, while one of them made a snap at the oars. it did not require much encouragement for the black sailors to pull, as their eyes were standing out of their heads at the time and the muscles showed up on their arms like whip cords as they sent the boat flying to the schooner. they reached the side in safety and then every fire-arm and harpoon on the "foam" was called into play on the ferocious brutes. many and fervent were the prayers that the captain sent up for the welfare of the black witch at jamaica, whom he swore he would kill on sight. after this adventure the schooner was headed to the northwest and for four months the islands and keys wre thoroughly worked. during that time, three trips had been made to nassau and valuable cargoes of recovered articles discharged. no treasure of any account was found, with the exception of one enormous piece of coral, in which were embedded a number of old spanish dollars. this object was sold to a tourist at nassau for the suns of $ . experience convinced paul that the tales of vast treasure in the indies were more fabled than real; still, strange to say, old balbo firmly believed in them. every time the water closed over paul's copper helmet, his sanguine nature firmly expected that untold wealth was about to be opened up to them. during this cruise paul had neglected no opportunity to secure rare specimens of shells and other marine novelties. in a letter he received from his father during his last visit to nassau, he was informed that his share of the goods shipped had covered the cost of the submarine armour, dredging apparatus, etc., and that he had placed eight hundred and sixty dollars to his credit in a new york bank. this letter he showed to balbo who to use his own expression, was "thrown on his beam ends" with astonishment. paul now persuaded him to give up the dredging of wreckage and treasure hunting and devote the whole time to seeking curiosities. the old man was loth to give up his pet ideas of treasure-hunting and of making long, useless voyages in quest of phantoms. paul assured him that there was more chance of finding treasure ships by systematically working one locality, so he agreed to turn the schooner into a "shellhunter" as he sarcastically termed it. everything was ready for another cruise through the keys and small islands, when the captain, who had secretly been interviewing another fortune-teller, announced his intention of sailing to the coast of mexico. the first point sighted was cape catoche, the northeast point of yucatan. along this coast they were most successful and soon filled the schooner with a large and valuable collection of curios with which they sailed to campachie where they were transferred to a vessel bound for new orleans. while at campache, news came in of the wreck of a mexican brig that occurred on the alakranes bank. the daughter of a rich planter living near merida, yucatan, was one of the lost passengers and her father offered one thousand dollars reward for the recovery of her body. an agent was sent down from sisal to negotiate with captain balbo, with the result that the "foam" bore away to the north taking along one of the surviving sailors of the brig. they sailed to the alakranes bank that lay about eighty miles off the mainland. they arrived there on a saturday night and soon found anchorage. sunday morning the sea was as smooth as a pond of quick- silver. when they embarked in the yawl and commenced their search, the mexican sailor was confused owing to different conditions of the water. when he been there last, a wild sea broke over the reefs. in the afternoon they discovered a dark object below, which proved to be the ill-fated brig. her bottom was almost completely torn out by her contact with the reef so that she sank instantly to the leeward. through the clear water they could distinctly see her two masts standing while her shattered sails lay thick and tangled through the rigging. next morning the schooner was taken out and anchored close by and paul descended to the wreck. as he struck the bottom a few feet from her, he found her heavily canted to star-board. he walked around taking care that his hose pipe would not become entangled in the rigging and clambered over her side. two good sized sharks shot away from the deck when they heard the hissing of the air escaping from his helmet. he could see very clearly all around, owing to the direct rays of the sun reflecting on the coral reef. on gaining the deck which lay at an angle of about degrees he discovered the iron pumps detached from their place and pinning to the bulwark the body of a dead sailor, or rather part of a body as his legs and stomach had been eaten away. this sight rather unnerved paul, but he worked his way aft to the cabin hatch which he found securely fastened. a few blows with his pry forced it open and descending the gangway he found himself in a cabin with four state rooms on each side. the rooms on the tower side were rather dark but he opened each door and carefully felt the bunks and bottoms for the body he was in quest of. finding nothing in the first four state- rooms, he tried the upper ones. there was much more light in these as the sun shone down through the green, clear, water and in through the glass port holes. everything buoyant in the staterooms had floated up against the deck so that he had to haul and pull them down for examination. the third door he reached he could not open. it was fastened by a bolt on the inside, but with the aid of his pry he soon shot it back. then swinging the door impatiently toward him, the eddy brought out the upright body of a young woman in her nightdress. her hair floated around her head like golden sea-weed as it came forward and fell against the glass face-piece of his armour. for a moment he was paralyzed with the shock, but, he quickly regained his nerves, and gently placing his arm around the dead body, he reverently bore it to the deck. her hands were clasped as though in last supplication to the great power above, while her eyes protruded with terror at the fate she had met. hastily signaling those above to lower a line, he laid the body carefully against the shattered rigging while he went to grasp the rope. passing it under her arms and putting two secure half hitches on it, he signaled again to haul away. it gently ascended through the clear water, while a school of fish played around her as though sorry to see her go. paul followed after and found all on deck solemn and silent, while the captain's good-natured wife was in the cabin wrapping the corpse in a sheet. that night a rude coffin was made in which the remains were placed and the schooner headed for sisal, where she sailed in with her flag at half-mast. the father faithfully paid the promised reward and the schooner under charter, returned to resume her work at the wreck. out of this job the captain and paul made about nine hundred dollars each. a cruise was then made around the gulf of campechie which was most successful. the catch was landed at vera cruz whence it was shipped to new york. sometime before this, paul had informed his father of the changed condition of his contract with captain balbo and requested him to forward the captain's one-half of the proceeds of the goods shipped. at vera cruz they found letters, one containing a robust check for captain balho, which so pleased that worthy individual, that he determined to spend at least one week ashore and enjoy hotel quarters for which he had a weakness. the gamblers, who abound in vera cruz, found a rich victim in the captain, who parted with all the money he could conceal from the watchful eyes of his wife, betsy, with the guilelessness of a boy ten years old. a cruise was now made along the coast of mexico; but the collection of curiosities did not pay for the time engaged, so they concluded to abandon it and stand away again to the islands. at tuxpan, where they landed for fresh water, they received information of a steamer that had been burned and sunk near tampico, so they headed the schooner for that port. the steamer had been burned about three weeks before and the hull lay on a bank in eight fathoms of water. the agent offered to engage them to recover the safe for which he would pay them five hundred dollars, or they could have the usual salvage, ten per cent. as it was reported around the port that the safe contained over thirty thousand dollars, besides a number of valuable packages belonging to the passengers, they concluded to take ten per cent. for four days they worked hard on the wreck, removing the confused mass of iron, which was twisted into fantastic shapes by the action of the fire. on the forenoon of the fifth day, paul sounded something solid and heavy with his pry, far down through the debris near the keel, and after about an hour's hard work sent up the joyful signal: "i've got it," which was received on deck with loud cheers. the chain hooks were now sent down and after a lashing was placed around the safe, the order to "haul away" was given. all hands manned the windlass and the safe was soon suspended between the bottom and the surface. paul now went up to assist in getting it aboard. sail was then made and with light hearts they stood in for the port. the safe was locked and to all appearances uninjured. "there is three thousand dollars there fur us, paul me b'y," said the captain as he patted the safe affectionately. on arriving at the dock, the safe was transferred to the ware-house, where it was forced open and to their dismay and disgust found that it contained nothing of any value. it was subsequently found out that the purser, seeing the ship in danger, had quietly transferred the safe's money to himself and when he landed had vanished and so all the hard work of raising the safe was in vain. paul laughed at their bad luck, while the captain swore picturesquely in several languages. preparations were again made for the voyage to the islands which had been postponed on account of this misadventure. one evening the "foam" stood away to the east. three o'clock the next morning a furious gale set in and increased hourly until the vessel was under bare poles and scudding for the coast. it was impossible to attempt to beat against the storm, so they stood away helplessly before it, running on to a very dangerous coast. at six o'clock that evening, she stuck in the breakers on the beach opposite pueblo viego. enormous seas poured over her and swept everything from the decks. a boat was lowered but immediately smashed to atoms. in this critical position, the coolest person aboard was betsy. she a life preserver strapped firmly around her and was covered with one of the captain's oil-skins. "i guess it is a matter of swim for it," roared paul to the captain, "as she won't stand this very long." at this instant the mainmast went and as it swung clear, the stays were hastily cut by the captain and paul. the captain frantically motioned betsy to grab one of the lines attached to the mast. the next moment a sea broke over her that carried the three of them, with two of the crew hanging on to the mast, which, clear of the wreck, was rapidly driven towards the shore. once a great sea broke paul's hold and he found himself unaided swimming in the mad surf. he was fortunate enough to catch a hatch that was floating near which supported him to the shore where he was thrown with considerable violence and half stunned. he managed to stagger up the beach and in a few minutes discovered betsy dragging the insensible form of the captain out of the reach of the sea. the captain was not dead, but very near it. one of the crew had an arm broken while the other landed without injury. the three men left on the wreck were lost. when the skipper recovered consciousness he was inconsolable at the loss of his craft. that night the party found shelter in a house about half a mile from the beach where they were hospitably entertained. at the break of day the captain and paul were on the beach. the sea was still breaking heavily and all that was left of the staunch little "foam" were her timbers scattered far up and down on the sands. among them were found the bodies of two of the men, the other was never heard of. so sudden and unexpected was the loss of the vessel that paul never thought of his money he had safely stowed away in the cabin and he stood on the beach that morning without a cent in his pocket. the loss of his armour and apparatus grieved him deeply but he felt a keen sorrow for the distress of his old friend balbo. yet in a way, the captain was more fortunate than himself as betsy had carried all their earnings safely ashore, stowed away in the voluminous folds of her dress. all day long the captain, betsy and paul and the uninjured seaman, patrolled the beach in the hope that something valuable might wash up. but outside of a few articles of clothing and some casks, nothing came ashore. in the evening they gave it up in despair and returned to the house that had sheltered them the previous night. the next morning after another visit to the beach a conveyance was obtained for tampico, where they arrived the same evening. for some days they were at a loss what to do until a vessel appeared in harbor bound for new orleans. on this the captain, betsy and the two seaman procured passage and they vainly urged paul to do the same; but he had a lingering hope that he might yet recover his apparatus with the aid of the primitive dredgers of the mexican fishermen, so he refused to leave. he saw them on board the ship and took an affectionate farewell of his old friends. before parting, the captain insisted on his accepting a small loan which he said he could return to nassau whenever he felt like it. there was a suspicious dimness in his eyes as he crushed paul's hand in his own, while betsy cried outright as she heartily kissed him good-bye. when the weather became mild again, paul engaged a small fishing craft and went down the coast to the vicinity of the wreck but his efforts were in vain. his armour by that time was buried far below in the quicksand so he abandoned the search and went back to tampico. while sitting disconsolately on the piazza of the little hotel in tampico, he was approached by an american: "well young fellow i've heard that you have had pretty hard luck. what do you intend to do?" "that's just about what i would like to know myself." "well, i think i can post you," said his new acquaintance as he leisurely seated himself and hoisted his heels on the rail. "there is a good chance for active young fellows just now. i presume you never did much soldiering, but i guess you can fire a gun." "why yes," responded paul, "i think i could manage that." the stranger then told paul that he was connected with the revolutionists, whose headquarters were then at palmas and assured him that he would be well taken care of. paul, who was at the time, open for anything that would turn up, quickly accepted the proposition. the next morning he and fourteen others mounted on mules, and conveying a pack train were pursuing their way up the mountain road in the direction of the headquarters. his filibustering friend furnished paul with a pretty good rifle and revolver, and informed him that they were on their way to join a party under the command of general pedro martineze. he also told him that his own name was colonel sawyer; that he had been born in texas, but had spent most of his life on the frontier and was concerned in many of the revolutions that disturbed the republic of mexico. his principal occupation was running arm and ammunition from the coast to the revolutionists in the interior. for three days they pursued their journey, camping every night. about ten o'clock on the morning of the fourth, they were stopped by the cry of "halts, halta." looking up from where the hail came, they saw the muzzles of thirty or forty rifles pointed at them. colonel sawyer loudly cried in answer to their command, "amigos." in a few moments they were surrounded by a skirmishing party of revolutionists and conveyed to the camp. here paul found several americans, all soldiers of fortune, none of whom gave him very encouraging accounts of the prospects. two weeks were spent in the camp from which small expeditions were sent out every day. paul accompanied one of these to the national road running from tampico to monterey, and between the villages of liera and maleta. they had a skirmish and succeeded in capturing a carriage, hauled by four horses which contained some person of importance as he was treated with the utmost respect by the commander and conveyed a prisoner to the camp. the horses were unhitched from the carriage which was left on the road. soon after paul and a party under the command of sawyer, were sent to the town of bagarono where a cargo of arms had been landed. these by the aid of pack mules were safely transferred to the camp. soon after there was a heavy engagement in which the entire body of revolutionists participated near ciudad victoria. the revolutionists were badly repulsed and retreated to the mountains. after this it was nothing but a series of raids which were both laborious and unsatisfactory. paul was fast tiring of this semi-barbarous mode of warfare so that he and four of his companions decided to discharge themselves on the first favorable opportunity. it came sooner than they expected. they were sent under command of sawyer and others to metamoras for ammunition. on reaching there, they found the schooner with the promised supply had not arrived. after waiting for some days news came that the revolutionists had again been repulsed and were all in retreat. this decided sawyer, who said: "boys, the jig is up and the best thing we can do is to get across the river and into the united states." that night they crossed the rio grande in an old tub of a boat that they expected would go to the bottom every moment and landed in safety at brownsville, on the american shore. here paul wrote letters home and requested his father to send him a remittance to galveston. with the little money they bad, mustangs and provisions were purchased and they started on a long ride to corpus christi. it was a wild journey through the chaparral, over the burnt and dried grass of the prairie, across swamps and rivers; but they made the two hundred miles in eight days. here they separated. while his companions sought employment with the ranchers, paul for consideration of his mustang, rifle and revolver, induced the captain of a coaster to give him passage to galveston. he arrived in galveston and found himself without a cent. he opportunely remembered that his father had a friend there in the person of ex-governor lubbock, whom he hunted up. he was cordially received by the governor, who not only supplied him with all he wanted, but insisted upon his remaining in his house until his correspondence should arrive. in ten days the long looked for letter and remittance came to hand, and paul lost no time in securing a passage on the steamer haridan for new orleans, and from there to new york, where he arrived june d, . chapter v. he was warmly received by his family and found that his father had a smug sum to his credit in the bank. paul was now in his nineteenth year; he was strong and so bronzed with the sun that he looked fully twenty-five. for some time after his home coming he was unsettled what to do, and once or twice was on the point of investing in a new outfit and re-embarking for the west indies. but the pleadings of his mother to abandon the wandering life he liked so well, and to settle down to a steady business prevailed, and his father assisted him to open a store in philadelphia for the sale of curiosities and oriental goods. a branch at cape may was also opened. it was very successful and disposed of large quantities of goods to the visitors there. for two years he successfully pursued this mercantile life and was establishing a good business; but while at cape may during the summer time his old love for the water drew him continually to the beach, where his magnificent and fearless swimming attracted the attention of all. at times he would swim so far out in the cool, dancing waves that the people could not see his head. his extraordinary power in this line, proved of great value to many unfortunate bathers who were carried out by the under tow and were in danger of drowning. paul always swam to their assistance, and the first season he spent on the beach, he succeeded in saving fourteen who would certainly have lost their lives had it not been for his help. many testimonials were presented to him for his bravery. he became very popular with the visitors, but not so with the native boat men who looked upon life saving and the perquisites attached, as their own, and wondered how a volunteer dared to do better than they. his second season on the beach was still more successful in both life-saving and business, and he met with many curious individuals in the persons whom he had saved. one day an excursionist swam far out over the breakers. when he turned to come ashore, he was alarmed either at the distance he found himself out, or feeling the under tow against him, he lost his courage and cried loudly for help. paul was on the beach at the time, and, quickly divesting himself of his clothing, he sprang away through the breakers to his assistance. the man was very difficult to handle, for he was thoroughly frightened. he would obey none of paul's injunctions, but persisted in clambering on his back. after extraordinary difficulty paul succeeded in landing him. the man was unconscious and paul himself thoroughly exhausted. the same afternoon, while paul was standing talking to a group of gentlemen, the rescued excursionist appeared, and, calling him to one side, said: "say, mister, i hear that you are the man who saved me this morning, and i tell you i am very much obliged to you. i am going home now, and if you ever catch me in that darn water, i'll give you leave to drown me. before going, i wish to present you some token of my esteem and regard." paul assured him that he required nothing, stating that the knowledge he had saved his life was sufficient reward in itself. the persistent individual was not satisfied. he slipped his hand in his pocket and drew forth a pocket-book, from which he extracted a dilapidated looking fifty-cent note. fervently pressing it into paul's hand, he said: "you take that and remember me." paul was surprised at the liberal present, but quickly recovering, he said to the departing excursionist: "hold on, my friend, you are forgetting something." carefully counting forty-nine cents from a handful of change he drew out of his pocket, he handed it to the rescued man and remarked: "i could not think of taking a cent more than your life is worth." on another occasion, paul succeeded in rescuing a young lady who was being rapidly carried out to sea and who would certainly have been drowned but for his aid. in his struggles to get her ashore, he was compelled two or three times to grasp her roughly by the hair. when landed, she was unconscious and in that state was conveyed to her hotel. paul met a friend of the lady on the beach and inquired, how miss -- -------- was getting along. "oh very well," was the response; "but she is a very curious young lady." "how is that?" asked paul. "well, when i visited her this morning i remarked that she ought to be very grateful to you for saving her life. 'i am,' she hesitatingly answered. 'but i think he might have acted a little more gentlemanly and not caught me by the hair. i have a frightful headache.'" there is an old saying, "that if you wish to make enemy of a man, just save his life or lend him money." paul's experience convinced him that the saying was true. many and many a person has he saved from a watery grave, who never even took the trouble to seek him out and thank him. in the fall of paul lost everything he had in the world by a great fire at cape may and he left there heavy hearted and disgusted with business. soon after, his father died and the home was very, very lonely. when the estate was settled up, paul's old love for travel and adventure came strongly back to him. the franco-prussian war broke out. he believed that it was the opportunity that he was looking for. he embarked from new york to liverpool, thence to havre, where he presented himself at the hotel de ville and offered his services as an american volunteer. at this time the french military authorities were not accepting volunteers as readily as they did later on, so paul had much difficulty in getting rolled in the service as a franc-tireur. a few days after he had landed in havre, he was marching away with a chassepot rifle on his shoulder and a knap-sack and blanket on his back. his uniform consisted of a black tunic with yellow trimmings, blue pants with wide red stripe along the side, a red sash bound around the waist, over which circled the belt which supported his sabre, bayonet and revolver. it also held an arm, the only one of the kind in his company, viz: a bowie knife which he had carried from america. shoes, leather gaiters and kepi or cap completed the uniform. the company was about sixty strong, all picked men and paul was the only foreigner in the lot. it was known as la deuxieme compagnie franc-tireurs du havre. the only visible difference between the regular and the irregular army was the lack of regulation buttons on the latter, and that they had no commissary department and had to provision themselves as they went. their pay was thirty sous (cents) per day and they received their salary every morning. out of this they were supposed to support themselves. notwithstanding this small pay it was the highest given to any body of troops in the french army, as the regulars received but six cents per day, but the government furnished them with provisions. the company was divided into six messes of ten men each. one of the ten had to act as cook when it came his turn, while others were told off to visit the farm houses in the vicinity of the camp to purchase the necessary provisions. at this time paul's knowledge of french was very limited; but the marschal de logis, a petty officer and a havre pilot named vodry could speak english after a fashion. they acted as interpreters for him and gave him instructions in french. in the few weeks the company was camped near havre, paul acquired a little knowledge of the most necessary words and learned thoroughly to understand the commands given in french. he was instructed in the manual of arms by the marschal de logis. the command from his instructor such as "portez armes," "armes a gauche," "a droit" sounded strangely in paul's ears. during his previous military career with the freebooting revolutionists of mexico, there had been no drill whatever. before the orders arrived to proceed to the front, he was sufficiently acquainted with the commands and terms to pass muster with any in the company. while still in camp, the news of the fall of sedan was received and the tireurs were hurried forward to the vicinity of paris on which the prussians were rapidly advancing. their first engagement was at creteil. they did skirmishing for the army of general vinoy, who had about fifteen thousand men. this was on the th of dec., . the engagement opened early in the morning by the franc-tireurs and skirmishers on the hills of mely. they were soon dislodged by the powerful artillery fire of the enemy and retreated to charenton. five of paul's company were killed in the engagement and several wounded. after this they were engaged almost daily in skirmishing and light engagements around paris. during those stirring times all was pleasant confusion. paul knew nothing of what was going on, except through the reports of his comrades and they were but half understood; but that they were being slowly and surely driven back was apparent to him. in many of the engagements with the enemy, while several of their skirmishes were successful, he noticed that the tireurs never pursued them in the direction in which they retired. one day near evereux the company to which paul belonged saw a balloon coming towards them and a cloud of dust on the road far below showed them that a party of uhlans were pursuing. at the time the balloon was rapidly descending. the company was ordered into ambush on each side of the road, while the uhlans with upturned eyes and the occasional popping of a carbine at the balloon, dashed along the road unconscious of the hidden enemy. as they rode past the ambush, the order was given to fire. twenty riderless horses dashed madly up and down the road, while the balance of the uhlans sought safety in flight. the balloon descended but a short distance from thee scene of the engagement and was found to contain a man named du norof. he had with him dispatches from paris which was then besieged. their next engagement was at martes. they were then under command of general mocquard, a brave soldier who was always seen well to the front mounted on a little wiry arab steed. soon after this engagement the company, to which many new faces had been added to fill up the gaps caused by the shot and shells of the enemy, was joined to the arme de la loire. on the th of october, the franc-tireurs skirmished and opened the engagement at tourey. this struggle lasted from seven in the morning until noon and many of their number bit the dust. here for the first time paul saw the turcos, a french-african regiment, who distinguished themselves during the fight. forty-seven prisoners were conveyed from the field by the survivors of paul's company. on the th of october the great battle of orleans commenced, which lasted for two days. the battle was a desperate one, and losses on both sides were great. the enormous armies engaged in this battle, the marching and counter-marching so rapid, and the deafening roar of the artillery, all added to confuse paul, and he did not know that the army was in retreat until told by one of his companions. from that time until january, ' , the franc-tireurs were engaged in many skirmishes and harassed the enemy whenever an opportunity presented itself. but they were slowly and surely driven back by the great and well disciplined army of germany until they crossed the seine and found themselves in the department of seine inferieure, that was then invaded by the advance corps of the enemy. notwithstanding all the scenes of carnage that paul witnessed, and the dangers surrounding them, he has remarked that those were the happiest days of his life; free from all business troubles and with no property on earth except that contained in his knapsack. the old spirit of mischief that deeply imbued his nature was continually asserting itself, and he was always happy, no matter how somber were his surroundings. notwithstanding all the dangers he had passed through, he only received two slight wounds, which quickly healed on his healthy body. in the part of france they were now encamped the peasants were rich though very economical. they had a holy horror of the franc- tireurs, and when they heard of a company approaching, orders were given to the sturdy servant girls to convey all poultry to a place of safety. the place selected was generally the bedroom of the farm house, where the fowls roosted in tranquility on the head and foot of the bed while the disappointed franc-tireurs searched in vain for material for their soup. as before stated, when the franc-tireurs camped, parties were detailed to purchase provisions for the different messes. two would go after bread and beef, two after coffee, sugar, etc., and yet another two after potatoes and vegetables. the last detail was always the favorite of paul and his friend vodry, the pilot. the majority of french peasants generally believed americans were wild indians. paul and his friend utilized this belief to their own advantage in this fashion: taking a sack with them they would depart for one of the surrounding farm houses; concocting a scheme on their way that invariably met with success. before reaching the house they separated, vodry going in advance with the sack. when he entered the kitchen of the spotlessly clean normandy farm house, he would politely remove his cap and in a most courteous and insinuating manner inform the inmates that he was from the franc-tireur's camp, and came for the purpose of purchasing some pommes de terre (potatoes). at the announcement that he was a franc-tireur, his reception was never cordial; but knowing that they were compelled by the government to sell provisions to this branch of the army, as a general thing they sullenly complied with the request. vodry's good manners and pleasing address usually caused them to relent. while the potatoes were being gingerly measured out, he would have them interested in some story of the war, which would invariably end up with the query: "by the way, did you know that we had an american in our company?" this information immediately aroused their curiosity and they showered questions on him in regard the customs of the wild creature. vodry then entertained them with the tale of how paul had left his distant home, thousands of miles away and crossed the ocean to fight for la belle france. he generally finished by saying: "perhaps you would like to see him; he accompanied me on my way over, but as a general thing he does not like to come into a house so he remained outside while i came in." then without waiting for an answer he would step to the door and loudly hail the american. paul would quickly appear from around some out-house or hay stack. hi appearance would be far different from that which he presented at roll call. a slouch hat filled with feathers waved around his head in graceful confusion, a silver gray poncho blanket covered his uniform, outside of which was wrapped his revolver and bowie knife. several daubs of wet brick dust and blue pencil marks adorned his face. in response to vodry's call he would bound in with a yell that made the windows in the farm house rattle. he saluted the farmer with a vigorous shake of the hand and gracefully kissed the hand of the good dame of the house and her daughters, if she happened to have any, then stolidly walking around the kitchen he would examine all different utensils and instruments with an absorbing interest as if he never saw such things before. while observing him both with awe and admiration for his devotion to france, they would exclaim, "what a good child, what a brave fellow," etc., etc. finding that the time for action had arrived, paul would approach the farmer and while ringing his hand, would say in broken french: "cognac bon, cognac bon." the enthusiastic and sympathetic mistress of the house would immediately say: "ah, the poor boy wants a drop of cognac! get him some father!" the reluctant farmer procured a big bottle and a very diminutive glass known as the "petit verre," which held about a thimbleful. paul would congratulate the good dame on her keen perception. at this period vodry would generally object saying: "it is not good to give him cognac as the americans can not control themselves when they take liquor." his objections were over ruled and the farmer presented paul with a miserable little glass full to the brim. this paul insisted that the matron should drink first and on its being replenished he more emphatically insisted that the farmer should drink before him. while the farmer was drinking, paul generally secured the bottle as if to relieve him from its charge while drinking. the moment he secured it he gave a wild whoop and placing it to his lips took a seemingly long swig, after which he executed a fantastic war dance around the kitchen to the alarm of the farmer and his worthy family who were only to glad to see him disappear through the door, vodry remaining to remonstrate with them in regard to their folly in having given fire- water to this untutored child of the forest. he assured them that if he could procure the liquor he would return it, and then shouldering his bag of potatoes expressed the most profound sorrow at the occurrence. he would not proceed far until he was waylaid by paul who was concealed in some hedge or dyke and the two conspirators resumed their way to the camp. that evening paul's mess enjoyed the much cherished coffee and cognac so dear to every french heart. the gardes mobiles, a large number of which were in this part of france, were regiments formed of clerks, lawyers, merchants and other citizens, many of whom volunteered and were formed into an army to assist the regulars and franc-tireurs in repelling the invasion. they were brave fellows but unsophisticated in the ways of war. they were well supplied with nice blankets and abundance of provisions as they were never camped far from their native places. this branch of the service was looked upon by the fight-worn and weather beaten franc- tireurs as their lawful prey. to be camped near one of them was looked upon as a direct gift from above. at such times the franc-tireurs never thought of cutting wood for themselves. they frequently changed their dirty and dilapidated blankets for the fresh warm ones of the inexperienced mobiles. hares abound in this part of france and many of them helped to make soup for the freebooters. so frequently had the shots been heard and needless alarms raised that a strict order was given out that there was to be no firing unless at an enemy. one day paul was doing duty as a sentinel on an outpost, when a large, fat hare appeared on a little hillock not thirty yards from where he stood. before he remembered about the order he had raised his rifle and sent a bullet crashing through its body. paul had no time to pick up the hare before he saw the relief advancing on "double quick." so he stood on his post, saluted the officer in command, and in reply to his inquiry said that his gun had gone off accidentally. the officer scrutinized him closely, then looking around soon discovered the cause of the accident. he sent a soldier for the hare, examined it, and placed paul under arrest, at the same time remarking "that for an accidental discharge of a gun it had a most remarkable effect and that only an american could cause such an accident." after a few hours detention in the guard house, paul was allowed his liberty. being the only foreigner, he was a favorite in the company and many of his escapades were overlooked, if a frenchman had been guilty of the same he would have been severely punished. the captain of paul's company at this time was an officer whose voice was very weak, and he could never finish a command in the same pitch he had started. he invariably broke down, and the command which was commenced in a stentorian voice was ended in a hoarse whisper. this peculiarity often caused the franc-tireurs to smile. one morning the company was ready to march; the captain, mounted on a powerful horse, was at their head. wheeling about and drawing his sword he gave the orders: "attencion compagnie! en evant." he then suddenly broke down and paused to recover his breath and paul in a low undertone and in exact imitation of the captain, added the word that ought to follow, "mar-r-che!" this drew forth a smothered laugh from the whole company. the captain turned fiercely around and demanded to know who it was that mimicked him. dead silence prevailed. he gave them a lecture on the respect due to an officer and stated that the next offender of this kind would be severely punished; then added: "i can't find out who it was, but on my soul i believe it was that sacre american." after this the company took part in many engagements through normandy, principally at st. roumain, beuzeville, yvetot, rouen and bulbec. the company suffered severely and in the last battle were a mere handful. there they lost their brave lieutenant boulonger, who was shot through the breast. paul and a party of his companions were detailed to convey the body to havre, his home, where he was well known and respected. here paul saw for the first time in his life the french military burial mass. this was the most solemn ceremony he had ever witnessed. the great cathedral was draped in crape, which added to the already somber appearance of the surroundings. the coffin of the lieutenant was carried on the shoulders of four franc-tireurs and deposited on a bier near the altar. the soldiers then retired and joined their comrades. every gun was polished and every bayonet shone as the franc-tireurs and about four hundred of the mobiles and regulars marched with military precision into the cathedral. no soldier's cap was removed, while the citizens stood around with bare heads. an officer occupied a position on the steps of the altar and with unsheathed sword faced the soldiers, then standing in the body of the church. he gave orders in a loud voice at intervals during the service and his commands sounded strangely through the echoing arches of the cathedral. at the order "restez armes," the iron shod butts of the muskets dropped together on the stone floor, reminding those present of the stern realities of war and the sweet consolations of religion. at the elevation of the sacred host, came the orders "portez armes," "presenter armes," "a genoux." every soldier's right knee touched the floor and remained there while the muskets were held "a presenter." the solemn tones of the gong floated through the cathedral. when they ceased, the sharp order of "debout" rang out and all were on their feet in an instant. at the conclusion of the ceremony, the body was again carried out; a line was formed while the band struck up a mournful dirge, and they marched to the cemetery as escort of their lost and well loved officer. the survivors of the company to which paul belonged were now drafted into the regular army in the section known as "bataillon des tirailleurs." paul did not relish the change from the free and easy life of the franc-tireurs to the strict discipline of the regular army. the company to which he was joined had two "gatling guns" or "mitrailleuses" as the french called them. it was drill, drill all day long and as the pay was now only six cents a day and payments only once a week, they had but little chance to play their favorite game of "petit paquet," a game that had been more regular than prayers in the camp of the "franc-tireurs." having become thoroughly drilled in the use of the "gatling gun" the company was ordered to the front. one evening a comrade said to paul: "we will have bloody work to-morrow. general menteuffel's army is advancing and all the out posts have been driven in." but the expected battle was never fought. that night news came that caused a heavy gloom to settle on the camp. no longer the laughing joke passed from comrade to comrade. no longer the patriotic songs were heard through the camp. bronzed heads were bowed in sorrow and tears trickled down many a cheek. paul anxious to know the cause of the general depression, asked an officer what was the matter and received the answer: "paris has fallen." soon after came the news of the armistice and that no more fighting should take place for thirty days. notwithstanding the armistice and the conditions that neither army should move, the "mitrailleuses" were advanced to a favorable point nearer the enemy and the heavy and constant drill resumed. all expected that hostilities would continue at the close of the armistice. the two armies lay within plain sight of each other. discipline was strictly enforced; several french soldiers were executed for neglect and disobedience of orders. one cold night paul stood two hours guard over a gatling gun that was placed in a shed with no sides and the fierce, cold wind whistled and penetrated his very bones. he was worn out with a heavy day's drill and concluded that he could watch the gun as well above in the shelter as by standing alongside. he mounted the beam and stretched himself out on a board. he knew, that it was instant death to be caught sleeping on guard, but he could not refrain from closing his eyes and was soon in a fretful slumber from which he was awakened by the crunching of the frozen snow under the feet of the advancing relief. quick as lightning he dropped to his post and sang out the hail: "halt, who comes?" the answer sounded, "france." on being questioned by the officer why he did not hail them sooner, according to orders, he assured him that, "the words had been frozen down his throat and he could not get them out sooner." the gay frenchman laughed at his unique excuse and relieved him; but it was a close call for paul. before the armistice was ended, the news of the peace declared arrived in camp and soon after orders were given to march for havre. the discipline of the regulars was never enjoyed by paul, neither was their commissary department. horse flesh was served out three times a week. on other days they received pork and beef. coffee, sugar, rice, bread and wine were served every second day. the two day's rations of wine never lasted over fifteen seconds. the trade in tobacco is monopolized by the french government. who ever bore an order from his commanding officer could receive a certain amount by simply paying for the tax stamp. on railroad trains the regulars could ride for one third and gain admission to theatres and amusement halls at about the same rate, so that the munificent salary they received of six cents per day enabled them to enjoy themselves in a very limited manner. every barracks and military building in havre was overflowing with soldiers; and when paul's company arrived they could find no place to sleep. so they received a document entitled a "billet de logement" that entitled them to a bed in the house on which it was drawn. sometimes they received an order on the houses in the poorer part of the town and again in the most aristocratic mansions. as a general rule, when a billet carried by two war-worn franc-tireurs was presented at the door of a chateau, the proprietor would gracefully excuse himself with many suave and flattering expressions. he would present the soldiers with two francs each and request them to get a room at the hotel, at the same time expressing regret at his inability to oblige the gallant defenders of le belle france. his house was just then filled by the unexpected arrival of some relatives. feigning sorrow at being deprived of the supreme honor of sleeping under his roof, the franc-tireurs would make their adieux. as the door closed they kicked each other for joy because they had obtained what they appreciated more than a nice soft bed. they could sleep as soundly in any of the parks or on the lee side of hogsheads, or on bales of cotton on the quay, after they had enjoyed spending the proceeds of the "billet de logement." the army was now quickly disbanded and paul found himself once more a citizen. he still retained his uniform, for without it he would have been devoid of clothing. at this time the communes were causing the government great trouble in paris and regiment after regiment was being hurried thither. with one of these regiments paul managed to reach the capital. being left to his own resources he was greatly bewildered. the nature of the stirring and exciting scenes he little comprehended. one evening while passing along the boulevard near the madeleine, a soldier wearing the uniform of the foreign legion peered into his face and eagerly inquired if he could speak united states. paul answered, "yes." the soldier seemed delighted and said, "have you got any money? i am from baltimore," all in the same breath. paul told him that he had a few francs and that he was perfectly willing to divide and invited him to take dinner. "i will take dinner gladly with you," responded his new acquaintance, "but we had better strike some cheaper quarters than our present surroundings." so the two turning off the boulevard, pursued their way along the narrow streets until they struck something more in keeping with their financial standing. here they entered a modest looking cafe and ordered a ragout. while seated at the table they continued their conversation in english. the sour looking landlord after taking their order eyed them suspiciously for a few moments, while trying to understand their conversation. rushing to the door of an adjoining room he loudly called: "corporal, come here. prussians!" the room was quickly invaded by a corporal and one of his friends with drawn sabres in their hands. paul and his companion, who saw that they were about to be attacked, grabbed chairs and backed into a corner, where they defended themselves against the onslaught. paul asked them in his best french what they meant and assured them that they were not prussians but american volunteers. on receiving this information the sabres were lowered and their assailants put them through an examination. receiving satisfactory answers to all their questions and convinced that paul and his friend were what they represented themselves to be, the frenchmen gravely begged to be pardoned and warmly invited them into the adjoining room to take supper in their company. during supper paul ascertained that their entertainers were officers in the communes that were organizing in all parts of paris. they were invited to join the ranks of the "liberators" as the called themselves; after the reception they had received from the gentlemen they wisely thought they had better acquiesce, so they were duly enrolled. that night they had a good lodging provided for them and were told to report at ten o'clock next morning. during the night paul and his baltimore friend had a long talk over the situation but they were far from satisfied. leonard, the baltimorean, suggested that before they took arms up against the government; they had better investigate a little further. with this intention they rose very early and started for a more respectable quarter of the city. on turning the corner they were amazed to meet the gentlemanly corporal, who was trying the night before to slit their throats. he wanted to know where they were going. they plausibly assured him that "as they could not sleep in their lodgings on account of fleas they had decided to take a mouthful of fresh air." "well" responded the corporal, "you better take a mouthful of something else. come with me and have a 'petit verre'." they accompanied him to the café and pretended to enjoy themselves, which however, they were far from doing. after some conversation the corporal said: "mes enfants you must be around here at ten o'clock". they assured him that they would be on hand and to have no fear. when he had departed they quietly stepped out of the café and resumed their walk towards the tuilleries. they wandered round and round through the narrow streets until they utterly lost their bearings. they came at last to a wide avenue in which there seemed to be great excitement. the cafés were all full of men and women, the sidewalks were thronged with a mad crowd, while cries of "vive la commune" were heard on all sides. through the crowds on the sidewalks and cafés they observed many soldiers of the "gardes nationales" who were well under the influence of liquor. the names of "lecompte," "thomas" and "darboy," paul heard frequently, mentioned by the half drunken and excited crowd. then a fierce cheer echoed along the street. the women of monmartre with long ropes attached to cannons came streaming up the boulevard. it was a wild and never to be forgotten sight. many of the women wore army coats over which their hair floated loose. while one upraised hand grasped a naked sword or sabre the other held a rope that dragged the cannon. through such exciting scenes as these, paul and his baltimore friend lost all count of the hours. it was noon before they thought about their ten o'clock engagement. even had they desired they could not have found the place owing to their bewilderment. wandering round, they came to the boulevard near the rue de la paix. in this vicinity they saw the first engagement which took place between the communists and a body of citizens called "les hommes d'ordre." while the firing was going on they stepped in a door way that sheltered them from the flying bullets. shortly afterwards they found themselves on the rue rivolo. here they saw great bodies national troops. as they were marching past a large building, paul noticed an officer whom he recognized as his former marechal de logis in the franc-tireurs. calling to his companion he quickly entered the same building, where they were confronted by a sentinel. they were permitted to pass in, when they informed him that they wished to see the officer who had just entered, but they failed to find him. as they we about to retire they were stopped by the sentinel, who refused to permit them to leave. he called for the corporal du garde who placed both of them under arrest and marched them into a room where many officers were seated. among them, paul discovered the one he sought, who also immediately recognized him and advancing asked him how he came to be in paris. paul told him he had come to paris simply through curiosity and if necessary to take a hand in anything that was going on. paul and his friend were then introduced to the officers present. one of them, a gray headed old fellow said: "well boys, i think we will find something for you to do; but as this is a quarrel among frenchmen, i don't like the idea of any foreigners being mixed up in it. however as you are here we might as well use you." paul and his companion looked at each other with perplexity for they did not really know what they were about to join. turning to his friend the marechal de logis, he told him in english of their adventures of the night before and asked him if this was the same army as the other. the officer laughed heartily and translated the story for the benefit of the others, who all joined him in his mirth. the gray haired man who had first spoken to paul and who was evidently an officer in high rank said in pure english: "sons, i think you have done enough for france and it is best for you to leave paris and go home." then calling an orderly he gave instructions that they should be taken to the rail road station and sent to havre. before leaving, he presented each with twenty-five francs and instructed the orderly to secure them transportation to the seacoast. the orderly who accompanied them to the station was an enthusiastic admirer of everything american. he had a brother in quebec, which city he thought was about fourteen miles outside of new york. so vehement was the hospitality he had pressed on paul and his companion that when he entered the station his military dignity was lost and nothing remained but his idea of treating his american friends to the best in the land. he placed them in a first class compartment against the remonstrance of the guard, whom with drawn sabre, he defied to eject them. as the train rolled out of the station cries of "vive la france," "vive l'amerique," were exchanged. at rouen, then held by the germans who had military guards all around the station, the train was detained for over half an hour owing to an accident. while waiting, paul and his companion left the station to procure some tobacco. they passed a german soldier on guard at the gate who did not intercept them. on returning, the sentinel stubbornly refused them permission to enter notwithstanding the fact that they showed him their pass-ports and transportation; but they could not persuade him either in french or english to let them pass. at this moment a german officer arrived, when paul advancing told their situation in french. taking the transportation card from paul's hand he showed it to the sentinel, and after many harsh sounding remarks in german he struck him with his open hand across the face. the soldier, still presenting arms to his superior officer showed no sign of resentment; not even a flush mounted to his cheek. the officer passed them in and paul remarked to him: "no french soldier would have stood that treatment." "possibly not," answered the officer, "but german soldiers know what discipline is." on arriving in havre, paul found many volunteers placed in the same position as himself. all were waiting a chance to return to america; most of them looking to the french government to assist them home. while waiting for these orders that were very tardy in coming, paul made the acquaintance of a danish count who had served all through the war. his quiet, gentle manners and evident embarrassment at being surrounded by the rough crowd of adventurers and soldiers of fortune with whom fate had thrown him, appealed to paul's sympathy, he said to the count: "come with me and i will take care of you." they secured lodging together on the upper story in a house in the rue de l'hospital for the princely consideration of one franc a week, which the landlady informed them must be paid in advance. with the air of a millionaire, paul paid the rent for the first week and cheerfully intimated to the landlady that they would require the best room in her house as soon as their remittances arrived. their room was a miserable affair in the attic, lit up with one small window. the scant bed clothes often compelled them to sleep in their uniforms of a cold night. when they reached their apartment they compared notes and found that all the money they had between them amounted to eight francs and seventy five centimes, (about $ . ). "we must sail close to the wind now, count," said the ever cheerful paul to the despondent dane. "with good management we can live high on a franc a day." they did not live high, but they subsisted. paul had entire charge of the household affairs and he drove hard bargains with those whom he favored with his patronage. the little square, two cent cakes of sausage were eagerly scrutinized while he weighed the one cent loaves of bread in his hand. every two cent herring was examined as closely as a gourmand would a porter-house steak or some rich game. when the provisions were secured, paul returned to their apartment where he generally found the count with his head between his hands, seated near the window. "now for the banquet," he would exclaim as he lit up a sou's worth of wood with which to fry the herring. the little squares of sausage would be placed on the soap dish. at times he prevailed on the count to go down and get the cracked pitcher full of water, which made up their morning drinking cordial, while paul was frying the herring. after it was cooked, it was scrupulously divided into two equal parts and they seated themselves. after meals they generally went out to ascertain news from the government in regard to sending them home. some days they treated themselves to a regular table d'hote dinner at a little eating house kept by a widow on the quay. the cost of this dinner was thirteen sous and they could not often indulge in such a luxury. as time advanced things were getting more and more desperate. the count was so gloomy and despondent that paul feared he would end his life as he had threatened to do several times unless something turned up. they were now indebted to the landlady for two weeks' room rent. she had a very sharp tongue and used to fire a broadside at them every time she would meet them. in passing her door while ascending or descending, they generally removed their shoes as they did not wish to disturb her ladyship for whom they entertained great respect. things continued to grow worse and worse until at last paul spent the few last sous they had on two small loaves and a herring. they did not have even wood to fry the herring and were compelled to use the stump of a candle, which remained, to cook it with. before retiring that night, paul suggested to the count the necessity of their trying to get some work, to which the count replied that he would prefer death any time to the idea of going to work. long before daylight paul slipped quietly out of bed, dressed himself in his old uniform and proceeded in the direction of the docks. near one of the bridges he saw a large group of men standing. he joined them and learned that they were all waiting for work, and that they expected the contractor along in a few minutes. the boss soon made his appearance and commenced reading from a slip of paper: "i want ten men at such a dock, five men at another place, eight men at another place and twenty-five men at the dry docks." the crowd separated itself into gangs, paul joining the one that was called last. as the men passed the contractor, each one was handed a slip. when paul's turn came to get his slip, the contractor looked at him curiously and said: "why, you are an american volunteer, what do you want here?" "i want work," answered paul, "and pretty badly too." "well," said the contractor: "i am sorry that i have no better job to give you today, but by to-morrow i will have something better." paul followed the gang to the dry docks where a large steamer had been hauled up. on exhibiting his piece of paper to the foreman, he received a three cornered scraper, a piece of sharp steel with a handle about eighteen inches long. he was told off to a certain plank suspended by ropes down the side of the vessel in company with two old dock rats who eyed him rather sullenly as though he was an intruder. paul quickly slipped down the rope and seated himself on the plank, while the two professors climbed leisurely down and took a seat on either end, he occupying the middle. the side of the ship was thickly studded with barnacles and other shell fish. she had just returned from a long voyage to the tropics and was very foul. the air was chilly and raw down on the dark, damp stone dock. paul was anxious to warm himself, so made a furious onslaught on the barnacles and soon had them flying in every direction. he stopped for breath and found his companions, instead of following his example, were gazing at him with looks of disgust and astonishment. one of them exclaimed: "regard him, look at him!" while the other, with feigned pity, tapped his forehead with the tips of his fingers, as much as to say, "he is crazy, my brother." one of them then placed his hand on paul's arm and asked him how long he had been engaged in scraping ship's bottoms. "this is my first day," answered paul, thinking he might have done something wrong. "i thought so," responded his questioner. "a few more mad men like you would ruin our work in the dock. why, at the way you are going the ship's bottom would be clean before night fall. this is the way to do it," and he put his scraper against the side of the vessel and slowly and laboriously removed a single barnacle. then he laid the scraper on the plank beside him and drew out his pipe which he leisurely filled with tobacco and lighted. after taking a few whiffs he asked paul where he was from and what caused him to seek work there. paul fully explained his position and the cause that compelled him to work. after this, his two companions seemed to thaw out and entertained him with words of advice, instructing him in many methods of killing time when the foreman was not around. at noon all hands were called up out of the docks and each received a card to the value of two francs, which the foreman told paul he could have cashed at the canteen by purchasing a dish of soup or a small piece of bread. paul indulged in a five cent dinner and deeply regretted that the count was not there to share it with him. he received one franc and seventy five centimes which he carefully stowed away. after dinner the plank was shifted and they resumed work at the barnacles. before the six o'clock bell rang to cease work, paul and his two preceptors were quite friendly. they told him that if he intended to pursue the business he should remember one thing: "never do what you did this morning, that is slip down the ropes first, particularly when there are three men to work on a plank, for," they gravely explained, "the two coming down last would occupy seats close to the ropes that net only act as a back brace when resting yourself, but would also be a means of saving your life in case the plank broke; when you could grab hold on the rope and the man in the middle would drop to the stones below and be killed. of course the two clinging to the rope could be hoisted to the deck or be carefully lowered to the bottom." at six o'clock paul received a ticket for two more francs. to get it cashed, he purchased a glass of wine for two sous and then started on a run for his lodgings where he fully expected to find the count dead. he ran the blockade of the landlady's door without the formality of taking off his shoes. dashing into the room he exclaimed: "count! count, where are you?" "here i am," exclaimed a faint voice from the bed. "well, i'm glad you are not dead, we dine at the widow's to-day. look at this." the count started up and gazed on the seventy-three cents paul exhibited with eager eyes, then looking reproachfully at him he said: "paul, i hope you have not taken to the highway." "no," said paul, "i worked for that and hard too, so come on and we will have such a dinner as we have not had in two weeks." under the genial influence of the banquet, the count confessed to paul that he had retired to bed in the hope of dying quietly of starvation, providing the landlady had not disturbed him as he felt convinced that paul had abandoned him. that night the landlady received one week's room rent and graciously gave them three days more to settle up in full. paul was out again before daylight and sought out the contractor. this day he got a job on the ship fanita of san francisco, discharging grain. it was much cleaner and easier than scraping the steamer's bottom. his job was to guide the sacks of grain out of the hold while a horse on the dock attached to a long line passed over a block hoisted them up. while at this work the two mates of the ship stood near the hatchway and commenced making remarks about paul whom they thought was a frenchman. "there is one of those french soldiers," said one. "yes," added the other; "he looks pretty hungry and thin; it is no wonder the dutch licked them." paul smiled, but said nothing until a better opportunity presented itself, when he entered into conversation with the mate, who was much surprised to find that he was an american. at dinner time he was invited into the galley and regaled with a sea-pie until he was scarcely able to hail "allons" to the driver of the horse on the dock, when he resumed work in the afternoon. that evening he was engaged by the captain of the vessel to keep tally on the sacks at five francs per diem. a few days later an order was issued from the hotel de ville that all foreign volunteers should assemble there. a hundred and twelve responded to the call and a motley group mustered from all quarters of the globe, representing every branch of the french service and wearing every conceivable kind of a uniform. notwithstanding the fact that some of them were from norway, sweden, denmark, ireland, belgium, etc., they all wanted to be sent to america. the mayor informed them that arrangements had been made to transport them there at the expense of the french government. he also said that he was authorized to give each volunteer the sum of twenty-five francs, a mattress, blanket and a supply of tin-ware. this joyful news was received with loud cries of "vive la france! vive la republique!" and three hearty cheers were given for the mayor. as the volunteers joyously dispersed, an officer informed paul that the mayor wished to see him in his private office. when he entered, his honor informed him that he desired him to take charge of the men on their passage over. "i know they are a pretty wild lot, and no doubt will not obey orders, still i will depend upon you to do your utmost to keep them quiet, and not have them disgrace the uniform they wear." he then gave paul a strong letter of recommendation commending him for his courage and service to france, also presenting him with the arms he bore in the service. to this day paul retains his chassepot as a memento of the happy, careless days he passed, while serving under the tricolor of france. two days after, all the foreign volunteers were mustered to embark on the steamer stromboli, the authorities taking the precaution not to give them the promised twenty-five francs until they had passed up the gang- plank. as the steamer moved out of havre the citizens turned out in large numbers to bid them god speed. and when the bows of the steamer were kissed by the waves of the channel, the boys were all pretty hoarse shouting "vive la france" in exchange for the cries of "vive l'amerique," that was sent over the water to them from the mighty crowd on shore. the voyage to liverpool was an uneventful one and the volunteers behaved well with the exception of emptying a cask of wine which they conscientiously filled again with water. this was the property of two french passengers who spent most of their time playing cards on deck and whose amazement when they discovered that their wine bad turned into water, knew no bounds. when the volunteers arrived in liverpool they found that the steamer england of the national, which was to convey them to the united states was broken down, so they were compelled to remain in liverpool several days at the expense of the steamship company, until the virginia of the same line was ready to sail. while in liverpool they were treated very well and aroused a great deal of interest owing to their varied uniforms and war-stained appearance. while paul and three of his companions were slowly sauntering one morning watching the sights, they beheld smoke proceeding from the basement of a rubber store from which the affrighted employees were madly rushing. paul grabbed one of them and asked him if there was water anywhere around, and was informed that there was both water and hose attached in the basement, but that he would be smothered if he attempted to reach it. without hesitation, paul plunged into the basement, and fortunately came on the hose. turning on the water he pushed his way back through the thick smoke and soon had the fire under control. it was a heap of rubbish and scrap rubber that emitted far more smoke than flame. when the fire engines arrived, it was found that they had nothing to do and the proprietor was so well pleased that he gave paul five pounds. when the virginia was ready to sail, all the soldiers were transferred off to her in lighters. on reaching the deck they were all examined for revolvers and other weapons that when found were immediately placed in the charge of the quarter-master to be returned on reaching new york. there were a number of german emigrants and the steamship officers thought there might be some trouble. besides the soldiers, there were eight hundred emigrants from different parts of europe, mostly from ireland and about fifty cabin passengers. the voyage was very rough and occupied twenty-one days. many a wild trick was played in that steerage. many a skirmish was nipped in the bud through the watchful care of the officers of the virginia, which otherwise might have led to bloodshed. the favorite amusement was cutting down hammocks. dark forms might be seen on all fours making their way on the greasy and slippery deck in the direction of selected victims. the sharp blade of a knife would be drawn across the taut cord that supported the hammock. then an uproar that awakened the entire steerage would take place. if the one who was cut down happened to be an irishman, he would loudly challenge all the passengers to come up and fight him, not caring whether they came in ones or hundreds. his invitation not being accepted he would generally pounce upon some unfortunate swinging near, and a scuffle would ensue in which the contestants were encouraged by hundreds of yells and cat-calls that would bring every steward on the ship into the steerage. during the long voyage the soldiers suffered greatly from want of tobacco. the ship's doctor, a little irishman from dublin, often supplied them with the much needed article, and he had more influence over them than all the other officers on board. his quick wit one day prevented a fight that threatened to end most seriously. it was one of the few fine days that they experienced in the passage and all the hatches were being removed for fresh air. a german emigrant drew a knife on one of the soldiers and made a vicious slash at him. sides were immediately formed between the soldiers and emigrants and the fight commenced right under the main hatch. it was interrupted by loud cries from above: "here you are! here is what you want. stop that fighting!" looking up they perceived the little doctor seated above with a large supply of tobacco, which he was throwing among the contestants. the fight stopped immediately, all scrambling for the much coveted weed. before the supply was exhausted their good humor was restored and the fight forgotten. on arriving in new york the volunteers scattered in every direction. paul and his friend the count started for his home. their odd uniforms and equipments attracted much curiosity and comment. at this time, paul's mother and elder brother owned a store on broadway near thirteenth street, and when he entered in his french uniform, his mother did not know him. on recognizing him she almost fainted. she had been told nothing about his being in the french army and believed he was off on one of his usual voyages. paul discarded his uniform and was once more attired as a citizen. while in new york, the count received a heavy remittance from denmark. he insisted that paul must share in remembrance of the dark days when he had stood his friend, in havre. he also consulted paul as to what enterprise or adventure they should next embark. at this time expeditions were being secretly sent out from new york to aid the cubans in their struggle for liberty. paul thought this the most promising enterprise in which to engage and the count readily acquiesced. they secured the address of an agent in the lower part of the city with whom they had a consultation and it was agreed that they should leave on the next expedition under general jordan; but the expedition never sailed. the schooner was captured off sandy hook. they returned in company with a lot of others as violators of the neutrality law and spent two days in the tombs. while there they were recipients of generous supplies of pies and other delicacies and beautiful flowers from fair cuban sympathizers, and looked upon their discharge as a misfortune. after this the count requested paul to go to california with him, but the latter refused as he had decided to take another trip to the west indies and pursue his former occupation of diving. he had sent letters to his old friend captain balbo with whom he often corresponded, and impressed the count so with the description of the life they should lead among the sunny islands that he consented to join in the enterprise. they commenced negotiations for the purchase of the submarine armour and necessary appliances and only waited to hear from captain balbo before purchasing them. a letter from nassau at last arrived informing paul of the death of his old friend which caused him sincere regret and of course changed their plans. while still hesitating about what to do, a letter was received by the count requesting him to return immediately to denmark. it was so urgent and of such importance that he sailed by the next steamer. chapter vi. after the count's departure paul joined a submarine company in new york and pursued the occupation of diver for over six months. he was wonderfully successful and when he resigned he had the largest salary of any diver in their employ. the cause of his resignation was the reports he had had heard about the diamond fields in south africa. he determined to cast his fortune with the diamond hunters that were going from different parts of the world to the promised "eldorado," having secured a supply of implements and stores that he considered necessary, he took passage on the tall rigged ship albatross, commanded by a friend of his. the albatross was bound for china by way of cape town, and the captain promised to land him there. they had a long, pleasant voyage, during which paul spent his time shooting at sharks over the side and trolling for fish. one day in the vicinity of the equator his hook was snapped by a dolphin, which he succeeded in bringing to the deck. it was laid on the shady-side of the galley and the sailors watched with great, curiosity the innumerable tints which radiated from its body. this transition in color was considered by the on-lookers as a visible evidence of the pain which it suffered. picking up an ax paul quickly dispatched it. in passing the equator the usual tom-foolery of receiving neptune and baptizing those who had never crossed the line before, was enjoyed with one slight exception. the imitation of the god neptune when coming out of the fore chains over the bow, missed his footing and fell into the sea. fortunately for him the ship was becalmed at the time. with the aid of a line and a boat hook which one of his mates fastened firmly to his collar, he was drawn aboard. his appearance was certainly far from god-like. paul often enjoyed the conversation of sun old sailor named joe clark. he was a misanthropist at the unjust inequality that existed in the conditions of life, and often sung a verse of his own composition which gave him intense satisfaction, as he chanted it while sewing sails or making sennet. it consisted of a few lines, the import of which was, that no matter how rich or gorgeous the outer apparel might be, all alike have to eat, drink and die. he was a typical tar and proved a source of continual amusement to paul. he had sailed a long time with the captain of the albatross on different ships, and the captain told paul that he never made a voyage but that he did not express his determination that it would be the last one; and no matter what occupation he could get ashore, either street cleaning or farming he would take it in preference to going to sea again. after three days of shore life old joe was tired of it and always headed for some outward bound ship. once when paul and joe were leaning over the bulwarks and gazing out on the glass-like surface of the equatorial waters in which they were then sailing, old joe reflectively exclaimed: "mister boyton, i wish i had a hundred thousand dollars. you may be sure that i would never make another voyage and it would save me from the fate of many an old shell-back that is dying around now." joe's firm belief was that every old sailor who died, turned into a sea- gull. prompted by curiosity, paul said: "now, joe, what is the first thing you would purchase supposing you had one hundred thousand dollars?" "a quart of good scotch whisky," promptly exclaimed joe with a string of oaths to confirm his assertion, and he smacked his lips in satisfaction as though already enjoying it. about two months after leaving new york, table rock was sighted and the same day anchor was let go off cape town. during this long voyage paul improved the opportunity in studying and getting more practical ideas of navigation. by the time they cast anchor at cape town the captain assured him that he was as competent as himself and begged him to keep on with him to china as the man holding the position of first mate was very unskillful and he wished to get rid of him. paul, however, had the diamond fever and no amount of persuasion could change his mind. he landed and secured quarters in cape town. with his usual happy-go-lucky disposition he had never inquired before leaving new york in regard to the location of the diamond fields, and he presumed that they were situated thirty or forty miles from the cape. in cape town he became acquainted with an officer of the steamer cambrian, named john lord, who also had the diamond fever and intended going to the fields. their pursuits being similar they naturally drifted into acquaintanceship. after a little conversation, paul asked him how he was going up. "well," responded lord, "i would go upon the regular wagon but my finances will not permit me. it costs twelve pounds and one is only allowed twenty pounds baggage." "twelve pounds? sixty dollars? why, good heavens, how far is it? i was thinking about walking up." "a little over seven hundred miles," was lord's reply. paul nearly fell over in his astonishment but said: "we are here and will get up no matter how far it is!" on comparing notes they found that they could not afford to take the regular wagon that generally consumed twelve days in reaching the fields. they were told about another town named port elizabeth by going to which they could save three hundred miles of overland travel. owing to the enormous fares charged in those times, they found it would be cheaper to go from cape town direct by ox trains. it took one of these trains from fifty to sixty days to get up and was anything but a comfortable trip. while waiting in cape town very much perplexed as to how they would get up, paul made the acquaintance of an agent of cobb & co., who were engaged in the transportation business from the coast to the diggings. after some conversation, paul was engaged to go as assistant superintendent of a heavy train which was about to start. on their long and tedious trip, the average time was about fifteen miles a day, when the order for outspanning would be given. this order meant to unhitch, dismount and camp for the night. as there were very few restaurants or hotels on the way, a large quantity of provisions was carried and like an army the train was made up in messes and did their own cooking. the hottentot drivers and assistants made one mess, the passengers another, while those in command formed a third. lord was also fortunate in getting transportation with the same train. this opening was looked upon as a godsend as they not only got up themselves with their tools but had their provisions free. the train consisted of fifteen immensely long covered wagons of the stoutest build. each wagon had between seven and nine thousand pounds made up mostly of provisions and for which the moderate price of nine dollars per hundred pounds was made for transportation. to each wagon was hitched a long line of oxen, harnessed to a strong chain. the hottentot drivers were artists in handling their terribly long whips. besides the oxen and fifteen wagons, was a mule team with the officers in charge. three days after leaving cape town, the train drove into wellington, fifty miles north. soon after they entered the mountain, bain's kloof. they had great difficulty passing over this road through the mountains. frequently they were obliged to double the ox teams on a single wagon in order to climb some steep ascent. the scenery through the mountains was exceedingly wild and picturesque, and the hottentot driver with whom paul was conversing, assured him that far away in the mountain tops were leopards and fierce baboons. the mountains being passed after a hard day's travel they entered the little village of ceres where they outspanned for the night. from ceres they passed on over a level plain occasionally passing a kail or cottage. at some places on the road the natives sold them hot coffee and cakes. the country over which they traveled was thinly populated. occasionally a tramping adventurer or two would come with the wagons, all heading in the same direction. about ten days later the train entered caroo port, a vast desert, horribly desolate and forbidding. it was dead level and lay like a sea asleep. the heat was overpowering. before entering the desert, a large supply of water was laid in and the order of travel was changed so that they ran at night instead of in the day time. this wilderness is about sixty miles wide and it took them five days to cross it. whenever a wind rose on this desert the mouth, eyes, ears and nose were filled with dust, making life miserable. at durands, a solitary farmhouse stood like an oasis. they got a fresh supply of water there. after leaving the caroo they entered a desert called kope. in crossing this waste, they stumbled on many and many a skeleton of poor fellows, who had no doubt succumbed on account of the heat and lack of water. the crossing of these two deserts cost them many oxen. these were replaced at beaufort by a relay that was in reserve for such an emergency. after leaving beaufort they struck into a thickly wooded country that was a relief. sometimes during the day, while the train was slowly wending its way onward, the superintendent and paul would ride ahead for a hunt. they got some antelope and a large number of partridges. paul was much surprised to find that game was much scarcer than he had been lead to believe by reading about south africa. they now entered a country where there were many ostrich farms, a business which was very remunerative. ostrich chickens cost from twenty- five to fifty dollars apiece. in three years they will furnish plumage worth from twenty-five to thirty dollars each year. a hottentot told paul that many of the ostriches that then stood around in sight had been hatched by fat old hottentot women who took two or three eggs away from the hens and lay with them in feather bed until they were hatched. the truthfulness of this story, paul never verified. after passing victoria they wended their way slowly through great plains covered with a stumpy herbage. here they saw large numbers of secretary birds and bustards and maramots and springbok antelope. several of the latter were shot and added greatly to the comfort of the mess. every few days they met the up or down carts, going or coming from the diamond regions. these would sometimes stop and give the news of above or below. it did not take much penetration to know the successful from the disappointed, coming from the mines as they got out of the train to stretch themselves. forty days after leaving the cape, they outspanned on the banks of the orange river, into which paul, without any ceremony, plunged with eagerness and enjoyed his first swim in africa. here they had to ferry and a slow and tedious occupation it was. about a week later they entered pneil to which place the freight was consigned. the village was a small one, more like a camp. down a steep ravine tents were pitched on every available spot, where a level surface afforded a floor. they were raised without regard to symmetry or order. paul and his friend lord looked around the camp and secured lodging with an old californian who agreed to board them during their stay for ten shillings a day. at the same time he assured them that he did not intend to remain long there as the diggings were nearly played out and he was going to shift the following week to dutoitspan. after prospecting for several days and finding that they could not get a claim unless it was for an exorbitant price, they decided to adopt the californian's idea and start over for the "dry diggings" at dutoitspan. on arriving there they met a sorter who assured them that he was fully posted in regard to claims, the value of the stones found and everything else and agreed to enter partnership providing they purchased the outfit. after some hesitation and examination, they agreed to this. they bought a sieve, sorting table, and tent with cooking apparatus, etc., and started for a claim. they were fortunate in getting one about thirty feet square. there they erected their tent, under the supervision of the sorter who unceremoniously made himself head of the camp and who did more talking than work. then they began the digging of the trench around their claim. their sorting table was set up and they went to work with a will that was backed with enthusiasm and hope. the result of their digging was turned into the sieve, which was suspended by a rope from a cross bar, with handles on one side. the digger would swing it backwards and forwards until all the loose fragments of earth were broken off and nothing remained but the small stones like line gravel. these were then carried over and dumped on the sorter's table, who examined them carefully and placed anything promising to one side. but for three weeks nothing of any value was found. the small specimens that were obtained were disposed of to the dealers who daily visited every camp and digging. the amount derived from their sales barely kept the diggers in provisions. about this time lord fell ill of dysentery, which was prevalent in all the camps in this vicinity, and paul had to do double work to give the gentlemanly sorter, who refused to do any digging, occupation. being tired and worn with the two-fold labor, paul was tempted many times to abandon the claim and take a rest, and was prevented only by the fear that jumpers would take advantage of the work already done. the unwritten law at that time was that if a miner ceased working his claim for a certain length of time it could be "jumped" by others. about this time paul also began to suspect the honesty of the sorter and kept a close eye on him. these suspicions he communicated to lord, then recovering and found that lord entertained the same ideas. so one evening after a hard day's work they grabbed the sorter and held an inquest on his pockets after calmly seating themselves on his head and knees. their suspicions were verified by discovering stones on him that were valued the next day at one hundred and ten pounds. the frightened sorter willingly surrendered all they found, and confessed under the pressure of a revolver that he had been systematically robbing them for some time. though pleased that they had discovered so much, paul and his friend were both discouraged and disgusted with the diggings and they agreed that the first good strike they made they would leave it. after that they acted as their own sorters but with indifferent success. a couple of weeks later, lord who had been out to purchase provisions returned with a speculator who was willing to purchase the claim. a long talk followed. at last they disposed of it to him with all their outfit for the sum of fifty pounds which left them not much richer than when they had started for the diamond fields. a short time after that they were in cape town once more, smelling the fresh, salt air. here lord obtained a position on one of the union co.'s line of steamers, while paul remained in the hope of finding some ship going to china or japan. paul remained in cape town three weeks; but no chance opened to go to the eastward. he embarked on a french vessel that came in shorthanded, bound for marseilles. he went before the mast as there as no other position on her and he had had enough of south africa. after a quick passage along the west coast of africa they reached the straits of gibraltar and stood across the blue mediterranean to marseilles. while there, assisting to discharge a cargo, paul fell through a hatch and was badly wounded on the leg by coming in contact with the ragged edge of a roll of copper. at first he did not think he was much injured but as his leg kept on swelling, the captain strongly advised him to go to the marine hospital and conveyed him there in a cab. the ward in which paul was placed contained about one hundred and fifty little iron beds filled with unfortunates like himself. the hospital authorities ran the institution on the principle that the less they gave the patient to eat, the sooner he would recover and get out. breakfast consisted of a slice of bread and a little cup of very weak wine; dinner of some very feeble soup, bread and the same kind of wine. the supper was a repetition of the breakfast. after a couple of day's sojourn in the hospital, paul was ravenous with hunger and would have willingly left if he had been able to do so. in vain he assured the good sister in his best french that it was his leg and not his stomach that was ill. in response she would smile sadly as she placed the meager allowance on the little stand at the head of the bed. paul was in bed number eleven. number twelve was occupied by a frenchman, who was fast dying, and number thirteen by an english sailor with a leg and arm broken. the frenchman was so far gone that his appetite had failed so that he could neither eat nor drink. notwithstanding this, his rations were always left on his stand at the head of his bed. the invalid and his provisions were watched by the english sailor and paul with deep interest. two or three times by the aid of his good leg paul succeeded in confiscating the major portion, before the sailor could reach his unbroken arm out. one day after a consultation, the doctor shook his head slowly and told the sister that number twelve would not much longer remain a charge in her hands. this news was gladly listened to by paul and the sailor. his dinner was placed as usual at the head of the bed but the frenchman paid no attention to it. his labored breathings showed plainly to the watchers that the end was near. a few convulsive heavings followed, then the english sailor remarked: "i think he has slipped his cable." paul got quietly out of bed to ascertain the truthfulness of the sailor's remark and made a grab for the soup and bread at the same time the sun- bronzed arm of the sailor reached out for the wine. soon afterwards the nurse discovered that the patient had passed away and his body was carried to the dead house. a couple of weeks later paul was discharged from the hospital thoroughly cured, and eager to embark in anything that promised adventure. he was anxious if possible to secure some ship bound for america, and for this purpose haunted the docks and watched every new arrival closely. while sauntering around one morning he was accosted by a rough looking man who inquired if he was a sailor and wished to ship, paul answered yes but that he wanted to ship on a vessel bound for the united states. "well," said the stranger, "i am the captain of the bark pilgrim and am bound for valparaiso, why not that trip?" paul absolutely refused to go around the horn. the captain then told him that they intended to start that night; but on the way out would stop at malaga where he could land, and by going to gibraltar get a ship much easier. he promised to pay him well for the run, so paul consented to go. the pilgrim was then laying in the offing and when paul went to the landing to take the small boat to go to her, he found two other sailors belonging to her, who were going to malaga on the run, the same as himself. one of them confidentially informed paul that she was a floating hell and that he might expect lively times on the run down. paul responded that he could stand it if the rest could. the row boat containing the sailors ran along side and the line was passed down. one of the sailors jumped lightly into the chains and took hold of his mate's bag. he tossed it on the deck without looking where it was going. his own was then passed up to him which he mounted the rail and jumped on deck. he had no sooner reached it than he was struck a powerful blow on the face and knocked on his back. his companion jumped on deck and found his comrade lying bleeding and half stunned. over him, as if about to kick him, was the form of a powerful looking man who proved to be the first mate. "what's the matter," exclaimed the sailor last landed. "what's this?" "perhaps you would like the same kind of a dose my hearty," exclaimed the mate as he came towards him with clenched fists. "well, no," was the response, "i don't intend to take any, but i will give you one that will teach you not to bill sailors in open port," and he drew his sheath knife and made a lunge that would certainly have disemboweled the first mate had he not quickly dodged the thrust and retreated to the cabin. while the sailor who had drawn the knife was bending over his wounded comrade, the captain appeared, and exclaimed: "this kind of work won't do! what's the meaning of this row?" the sailor who had been struck explained to the captain how he had accidentally hit the mate while throwing his bag aboard, and that his partner had only come to his assistance when he thought he had been killed. "go forward, boys, go forward," the captain said. "i'll see that no more of this occurs." this scene had been witnessed by paul as he sat quietly on the rail. when the men went forward he stepped down and approached the captain, saying: "captain, i have been informed that your ship is a pretty wild one and by what i have seen i think she bears out her reputation all right. now i consider myself fully competent to do my duty and will do it; but i want to give you fair warning that if i am molested by either of your bully mates, as i presume you have two of them, i will take good care of myself. the days when an officer can treat sailors with impunity are a thing of the past." to which the captain responded: "you'll be all right, go away forward and stow your things." when paul entered the forecastle he found that the crew consisted of nine men seated on their sea chests and bunks, holding a council of war. they all agreed that it was a pretty bad ship and they determined to stand by one another. the council was broken up by a gruff voice: "come my hearties. turn to with a will. get your hand spikes and man the windlass." all hands sprang out and quickly the clanking of the windlass chain was heard coming in. "look over the head, young fellow," said the mate to paul, "and see how she is." paul complied and reported, "straight up and down." soon after a tug came alongside, the line was passed over to her, the anchor catted and the pilgrim stood away on her voyage. all hands were sent aloft to shake out sail and everything was ready to sheet home when the tug slacked up and cast off the cable. as the tug came around and returned to port she passed close alongside and the captain saluted the commander of the pilgrim who was then showering oaths on the quarter deck and said sarcastically: "my brave and gentle captain, the lord have mercy on the unfortunate sea-infants who have trusted themselves in your hands." paul, who stood near by, overheard the tug captain's farewell and it convinced him that the pilgrim's commander bore an unsavory reputation with sea-faring men. every sail being set and lines coiled the decks were washed down. the crew, except paul, who was at the wheel, were called up and ranged in a line along the deck. the two mates then advanced and tossed up a coin for first choice. the first mate won and said, "i'll take the man at the wheel." the second mate's choice then fell to a sailor at the right end of the line. then they selected men alternately until they were divided into two equal parts. the first mate's watch being known as the starboard and the second mate's as the port watch. one watch was then ordered below while the other remained on deck. soon after paul was relieved from the wheel by another seaman and walking forward met the sailor who had been knocked down by the first mate as he came aboard. this man called him aside: "did you notice that the first mate selected myself and mate in his watch? he evidently intends to do my friend some mischief for the slash he made at him." he also informed paul that he had a strong suspicion, which was shared by his mate that it was the captain's intention to take them all out to valparaiso and not allow any to land at malaga. this suspicion was confirmed next day in paul's mind by the captain who sent for him to come aft. when he entered the cabin the captain said: "young fellow, i like your appearance and wish you would change your mind and come on out with me to valparaiso, i carry no boatswain, but i will give you that position and a pound a month extra, providing you can induce those two shell-backs who came aboard with you to do the same." to gain time, paul answered that he would speak to them and report in the evening. it was at that moment the farthest thought from his mind. after a consultation with his shipmates, both of whom assured him they would never consent, it was agreed that they should feign willingness to go. they knew that the captain had the power to hold them in the offing and prevent their landing so they determined to escape at the first opportunity at malaga. the captain was so delighted with paul's report that he insisted on his having a glass of grog, and was in such good humor that he went on deck and amused himself by smashing the nose of an unfortunate norwegian, who was then at the wheel. this was a favorite pastime of both captain and mate's, but it was generally practiced on those whom they knew would never resist their cruelty. the pilgrim was a brute to steer and a very slow ship, notwithstanding they had a fair wind it took them ten days to reach malaga, where they anchored well off the shore. she then commenced to receive the balance of her cargo of wine by means of lighters. the crew were closely watched during the day. at night the oars were removed from the gig, swinging at the stern and as an extra precaution a heavy chain and padlock were passed around it. for three days the lighter came alongside but no chance presented itself to paul and his companions to get ashore. seeing that the cargo was about completed and that it would only take a few more lighters to fill her, paul determined to leave that night. a large plank that acted as fender was stretched along the side. this he concluded to use for the purpose of getting his companions and bags ashore. he advised them to have everything stowed away in as small a space as possible and to have as large a supply of sea-biscuit and salt meat as they could secure. it was paul's anchor watch that night, from one to two. when he came on deck he found it a clear, brilliant star-light night and the sea as smooth as a cup of milk. after walking around for about a quarter of an hour he stepped softly in the direction of the after cabin and listened intently. he was satisfied that all aft were sound asleep. coming forward to the forecastle he found the two sailors all ready to join him. their clothing and provisions were firmly lashed up in pieces of tarpaulin. the three silently and cautiously crept to the side; a sharp knife severed the rope that held up one end of the fender and the other was lowered quietly until the plank was afloat on the surface. a couple of turns were taken in the rope that held it over a belaying pin, and paul said: "now is the time, one of you slip down the rope and deposit the bags on the planks. then get in the water and rest your hands on the side." the water was very phosphorescent and the fish left trails of light after them as they dashed hither and thither below. just as one of the sailors was about to step over and descend, either a porpoise or some large fish shot from under the vessel and left quite a trail of light in its wake. the sailor hesitated: "that must be a shark," he said, "if we get in that water we are bound to be eaten up." time pressed and paul remonstrated with him in vain to get down. any moment either the captain or the mate might wake up and discover them. to show an example that there was no danger paul grasped the rope and slipped silently into the sea. he was followed by one of the sailors, but the other could not overcome his fear and decided to remain. his decision was irrevocable for he cast off the line and said: "good-bye boys, i am sorry that i can't go, i dare not risk it." paul and his companion pushed out and quietly passed under the stern and until sufficiently far away from the vessel, they were very gentle in their movement. feeling more secure they struck out with powerful strokes driving the plank that supported their bags, ahead. the mountains that surround malaga on all sides and tower far up in the starlit sky seemed only a few hundred yards away; but it was a full mile before the end of the plank grated on the shore and the sailors scrambled out on the slippery and weed covered rocks. they landed a little to the north of the city and grasping their bags commenced the ascent of the mountain. this was very steep and rough and exceedingly dangerous work as it was not yet daylight. having gained a good height up the side they rested. a faint glimmer was just then tingeing the sky and everything around them was still as death. the gentle lapping of the waves against the rocky shore, the barking of the dogs in malaga, and the occasional crow of a rooster rang out with wonderful distinctness. the anchor light of the ship about one mile away twinkled as though only a little distance off. not yet feeling secure they began climbing upwards. the progress was arrested by a hoarse sound coming from the direction of the ship. as they sat on the rocks to listen, they heard the voice of the mate baying out oath after oath, calling the watch and asking: "who was the last on watch? where is the watch? turn out all hands!" then oaths from another voice came floating up and they had no difficulty in recognizing the choice maledictions of the captain as he rushed on deck to ascertain the cause of the disturbance. after this a confused murmur arose from the deck through which they fancied they could hear the blows of massive fists rained down on the heads and faces of the unfortunate seaman. they distinctly heard the sharp order: "lower away the gig!" the click, click of the cleat as the rope ran through the blocks sounded alarmingly near to them. soon after, advanced daylight revealed to them the boat as it was swiftly rowed to the shore. they recognized the captain seated in the stern and laughed heartily over the thought of the great rage of the commander whom they knew was eating his heart out. they surmised that his mission was to go to the consul and report them as deserters and also start the carbineros in search of them, by means of a reward for their capture. but they felt secure in the place they had selected, far up on the mountain. they quietly enjoyed the scenes below and watched the lighters as they carried out the last of the cargo. they laughed as they saw the captain's gig shoot fretfully from ship to shore many times during the day, while they enjoyed their pipes and ate with relish their salt beef and sea-biscuits. late in the afternoon they observed with glee the last lighter leave the side of the pilgrim, the captain's gig hoisted on board, and the heavy sails loosened and dropped down. the clanking of the anchor chain was joyful music as it was taken on board and the pilgrim under full sail soon glided away on a tack to the eastward. that night they decided to camp in the mountains, but it proved so chilly and uncomfortable that when the hour of three boomed out from the clock below, they decided to move. they carefully descended the mountain side until they found a road. this they followed until they entered the town which they passed through without molestation. they took the road to the south which they thought led to gibraltar. by daylight they were well out of malaga and walking rapidly along. during the day they met many peasants and exchanged the "buenos dias" and proceeded on their way undisturbed. that night they came to a monastery, where a peasant assured them they could find rest and supper. they were hospitably received in the traveler's quarters. the assistant did not seem to comprehend the mexican-spanish which paul brokenly spoke. he finally succeeded in making the monk understand that he could speak french and that if there was any one around who could understand that tongue he would be more at home. in response to his request the assistant disappeared and soon returned with a venerable looking priest who spoke french fluently. paul explained to him that they were seamen en route from malaga to gibraltar and that they wished to get some information as to the road, also hospitality for the night. their request was complied with and they were assured that they were perfectly welcome. paul then questioned the priest in regard to the carlos revolution and said that he would just as soon join that as join a ship. the priest, who proved to be an ardent admirer to don carlos, assured them that it was impossible, as the seat of the revolution was away in the north and too far for them to hope of reaching it by foot. he advised them to continue on their way. next morning after breakfast they resumed their march and two days after entered the gates of gibraltar. here they proceeded to a sailor's boarding house, where they were assured they would have no difficulty in getting a ship. next day while hesitating over an offer they had from the captain of a fruiter to run down to the grecian islands where he intended to load with dry fruit and return to new york, a little english bark entered the bay. her first mate was so ill that they decided to land him and leave him in the hospital. paul sought out the captain and after a close examination was engaged in the position vacated by the sick man. the bark was the george, of north shields, england. paul induced captain moore also to ship his companion before the mast. the same day she weighed anchor and stood away on her course to alameira. the crew of this little bark was a happy family. the captain was an easy, quiet humane man and a thorough sailor; the second mate was the owner's son who came out more to gain experience than to do duty as an officer. this was a far different craft from the blood-stained and wild pilgrim that was then ploughing her way to the westward. an oath or an angry word was newer heard on the decks of the george, and the sailors seemed to do more work than the sullen and harassed seamen on the pilgrim. they sailed up the beautiful coast of andalusia and close in to the foot of the mountains that towered from the clear blue, waters of the mediterranean far above the clouds, where their snow-white caps were cool and refreshing to look at from the burning deck below. the bark was laden with coal consigned to a firm in alameira and the captain's instructions were to bring back a cargo of spanish grass and copper ore. at alameira they had to anchor in an open roadsted and the george's cargo was discharged into lighters. the method of discharging coal where there are no steam engines or docks to run alongside, is rather primitive and is known as "jumping." an upright stairs or ladder is made on the deck by lashing spars together. a block is fastened far above in the rigging over the hatch through which a rope is rove leading down into the hold. the end of this rope is fastened to a long spar just the height of the ladder and terminating in a number of lines called whips. these are grasped by six or eight sailors who climb the ladder, made of spars, that has been set over the hatch. when the large bucket is filled with coal below, the order is given to jump. the seamen simultaneously spring from the spar while banging on to the whips, and their combined weight brings up the huge tub of coal, which is grasped by the lighter men and dumped over the side into their boat. when the cargo of coal was discharged they commenced taking in copper ore until she was sufficiently ballasted to proceed up the coast to motril to finish her cargo with spanish grass. this article is a coarse grained material something like a rush and of the nature of willow and bamboo combined, and is used extensively in england in the manufacture of mats, chair bottoms, etc. it was put up in bales and proved a most disagreeable article to stow away in the hold. the cargo being completed, anchor was weighed to the cheerful sound of "homeward bound" and the george started on her voyage to newcastle, england. owing to head winds the bark had to tack all the way to gibraltar. sometimes close under a mountain and again far out in the mediterranean, she beat her way down the coast. the weather was clear and beautiful and the crew did not have much to do outside of cleaning her down, mending and making sails. all who could handle the needle well were engaged in that occupation. they sat on the quarter deck and sewed industriously while the boatswain chalked and cut the lines for them. good natured captain moore spent his watch on deck, chatting away with them and listening to their yarns. he thoroughly enjoyed their jokes and superstitions with winch many of their quaint stories were intermingled. while doing so he usually smoked a long clay pipe and being a very forgetful man the moment he laid it out of his hands he never remembered where he had left it. he was also a very short sighted man and the boys often had a quiet joke on him by shifting the pipe from place to place while he was looking for it. once the boatswain, named smith, who was as mischievous as a monkey, thought he would play a good joke on the captain. seeing him lay his pipe on the lattice work aft of the wheel and run down into the cabin to get his glasses, smith jumped up and threw his pipe overboard and sketched one in chalk in the same place. on mounting the deck the captain took a long look at the stranger that had just hove in sight over the starboard bow; then laid his glasses on the skylight and looked around for his pipe. when he saw the sketch he reached forth his hand to pick it up. being convinced by the suppressed murmur of merriment he heard among the sail-sewers that they knew of the joke, he quickly disappeared down the hatchway. the sailors drove sail needles into each other in their hilarity. as he captain made no remark, the incident was forgotten. the following sunday morning the captain called paul down and told him to order all hands on deck and get the chain hooks. this order surprised paul as it was very unusual for any work to be done on sunday except to stand watch, steer and trim sail. he made no remark, however, but proceeded to the deck and ordered all hands out. the men let their washing, sewing, and other domestic duties to which they generally devoted their attention on sunday, and came on deck more astonished than paul was. he then told the boatswain to get out the chain hooks. the captain now appeared and gave the order to "hoist away that starboard chain and trice it along the deck." this was a terrible job as fully sixty fathoms of the heavy anchor chain lay stowed away in the chain locker below. the men sprang to work and fathom after fathom of the chain was pulled up with the aid of the hooks and tried in lengths along the deck. when the boatswain reported "all up, sir," the order was given, "get up the port chain." the men groaned, but complied without a murmur and link after link of the heavy chain from far below was drawn up through the iron bound hole in the deck. it was almost noon when the perspiring and worn out sailors had it all up. again the report, "it is all up, sir," was given to the captain: "that's impossible mr. smith, look down and see if you can't find more." in compliance with the order, smith applied his eye to the hole and again assured the captain that it was taut. "look again and see if you can't find it." "find what?" irritably enquired smith. "why, my pipe to be sure. you can now let the crew go below." notwithstanding their fatigue, the boys had to laugh and all agreed that that was one on the boatswain. the crew was great on debating and many and many a foolish question came up in the forecastle. after long argument, paul was generally made referee. one evening during the dog watch he could hear a violent debate in the forecastle and wondered to himself what ridiculous question would now be presented to him for decision. he was quickly enlightened by seeing two of the sea-lawyers approaching the quarter deck. one of them was named hiram young, a very ignorant but positive american sailor, the other named daniel sneers, an englishman equally ignorant and if possible more positive. when they neared the quarter deck paul asked: "well what is it?" "we want you to decide a question sir," said young, "this 'ere sneers says and maintains as what england put in a challenge in the paper and kept it in for six months, offering to fight any country on the face of the earth, and i argues as she never put it in a american paper or she would a' been snapped up like that," demonstrating his remark by snapping his forefinger and thumb. paul tried to show them the difference between nations and prize fighters, but neither of them seemed thoroughly satisfied with the explanation given. as they walked back to the forecastle, paul overheard young remark, that "she might a put it in french or a italian paper, but he was d--d if they ever put in a american paper!" when they reached gibraltar a heavy west wind was blowing in through the strait. under lowered top-sails they were compelled to beat up and down under the shelter of the rocks. a large fleet of weather bound vessels kept the george company. it is too deep to anchor here, so the vessels are compelled to keep moving up and down until they get a fair wind to go through the straits into the adriatic. while cruising about, the vessels passed so closely that the crews could hold conversation with each other, and many a friend was recognized and hailed. their second morning under the lee of the rock during paul's watch the large bark culpepper, commanded by a very irritable old mariner was slowly passing. the angry voice of the captain, as he heartily cursed his crew was plainly heard on the george. in a lull in the torrent of abuse an irish sailor who was leaning over the george's rail, said derisively: "hould on, hould on captain, till the waters bile and oi'll go over and shave ye." the remark was overheard by the captain of the culpepper who cried loudly and angrily: "bark ahoy, there! bark ahoy, there." "what do you want?" responded paul coming to the side. "are you the captain?" demanded the infuriated ruler of the culpepper. "no," said paul, "he is below." "then call him up," he thundered. at this moment, captain moore, who had heard the conversation, protruded his head through the hatch and paul informed him that the captain of the culpepper desired to speak to him. he hailed the culpepper and desired to know what was wanted. "why one of your ----- shell-backs insulted me," was the answer that floated across the water. "what did he say?" inquired captain moore. "why he told me to wait till the water boiled and he would come aboard and shave me," thundered the angry captain of the culpepper. "and why the blazes don't you wait, it would add to your personal appearance considerably," said captain moore as he disappeared down the gangway. about noon the wind changed and the long looked for easterly breeze came rippling over the waters of the mediterranean. all sail was made and the fleet stood away through the straits. the culpepper stood side by side for about five miles during which time the crews keenly enjoyed the broadside of compliments that was hurled from vessel to vessel by the two commanders. the george made a fair run and in due time entered the mouth of the tyne and was soon after moored at the docks at newcastle where paul left her. he was loth to do so as it was the pleasantest vessel, captain and crew he had ever shipped with. he then engaged himself as first mate on the ship campbell, a nova scotia boat bound from north shields to philadelphia with a cargo of chemicals. when a couple of days out he discovered that the second mate was more brutal than either of the worthies on the pilgrim. he was always below during the second mate's watch on deck so he had no chance of witnessing any acts of brutality, but he was posted on the subject by the men in his own watch, whom he always treated with kindness and consideration. he informed the captain about the reports he had heard. the latter agreed that it was wrong to maltreat sailors; but paul felt sure that he closed his eye to many strange doings on his ship and that when a man representing himself to be a sailor came aboard and proved incompetent, there was no punishment considered severe enough for him. three such unfortunates were aboard this ship, one in paul's watch and two in the second mate's watch. paul soon discovered that the man was unskillful. he could neither steer, reef nor splice so he set him to scrubbing, and by a few encouraging remarks got him to work harder than any one on the watch. the unfortunate would-be sailors in the second mate's watch did not fare so well. he instructed them in the mysteries of navigation through the agency of his fists. while the watches were being relieved, paul noticed their blackened eyes and swollen cheek that evidenced all too plainly the effect of the second mate's bad temper. one night during the second mate's watch, the vessel was struck by a number of baffling squalls that seemed to come from every direction. this necessitated constant trimming of the sails and the men were kept hard at work. every few minutes one could hear the hoarse orders given as the men scampered hither and thither to man the ropes. the oaths, blows, and fighting on this watch, kept both the captain and paul awake. seeing the captain turn out of his bunk and light his pipe, paul remarked: "they are having a pretty warm time on deck." "yes," responded the skipper, "i presume stanley is drilling some of those landmen." at eight bells, when paul's watch on deck commenced, he relieved the second mate, who was in a towering rage at the stupidity of his watch. the vessel was then under reefed topsails only and prepared for the uncertain squalls that were driving all around. at daylight paul ordered hands aloft to shake out the reefs and set top gallants. as the top sail was raised he noticed dark blotches all across it and hailing the man aloft he asked him what caused them. "blood, sir," answered the sailor. paul well understood the meaning of it and knew it to be the work of the second mate, who had beaten the men over the head with a belaying pin while they were reefing. shortly after the captain came on deck, paul called his attention to the blood-stained sail and said: "this work has got to be stopped." the captain shrugged his shoulders. "what can we do?" "that's for you to say," answered paul. "you're in command here." "well, i'll have to talk with stanley when he turns out." at seven bells the order: "pump ship, call the watch," was given. the watch was called but failed to respond. the sailor sent to call it again reported that port watch did not intend to turn out. it was now eight bells and time for paul's watch to go below. the captain came on deck followed by the second mate, with whom he had been remonstrating. paul reported that the watch had been called out but refused to come. the second mate with a terrible oath started forward saying: "i'll have the dogs on deck mighty soon." he reached the forecastle door and flung it back. the same moment both paul and the captain saw him stagger and fall to deck. he bellowed lustily for help. the captain and paul rushed to his assistance and found him bleeding profusely from knife wounds in the breast and abdomen, while the port watch with drawn knives stood sullen and determined looking in the forecastle. this sight staggered the captain who exclaimed: "mutiny by the eternal!" and called loudly for the steward to bring him his revolver. paul ordered some of his watch to carry the mate, who was groaning, aft, then advancing to the forecastle door said: "boys, this is not right. this must not be. put up those knives. if you have any grievances come out like men and give them to the captain." "oh, we have nothing to say against you or the captain," responded the leader, "but we have determined to die before we turn to under that man again." paul requested the men to keep calm and cool and he would speak to the captain who, during this interval, had slipped back to the cabin to arm himself. paul advised the captain, as he met him coming out of the cabin with a revolver in each hand, not to go to the men in that shape. "i am sure those men are determined. their bloodshot eyes and frenzied manner convince me that they have not slept a wink during the watch below and have deliberately planned this outbreak and mean mischief. i cannot guarantee that my watch will not join them as they are all heartily sick of the second mate's inhumanity." the captain thought it over for a few minutes and said, "you go forward and find out what they want." when paul returned to the forecastle he informed the men that the captain was anxious to hear their complaint and see that they were righted, and advised them to walk aft in a body and speak for themselves, assuring them at the same time that they would receive justice. after some hesitation they agreed to go aft. paul preceded and told the captain that they were coming and he could hear their complaints for himself. at first the captain seemed inclined to bully the men and assert his authority; but the determined look caused him to change his mind, and he was very diplomatic in his treatment of them. "boys," he said, "i have sailed the seas for many a year and always like to treat my men well. one thing i object to and that is murdering mates. now you are all in open mutiny and i am authorized by law to shoot you." here the men laughed derisively. "now," he continued, "i am against bloodshed and i want to know just what you men want and what i can do for you." they looked at each other and to the one whom they regarded as leader. he was a sturdy, powerful scotchman who stepped forward and said: "if you were against bloodshed, why didn't you come out last night when the second mate tried to kill some of us. we are willing to turn to again; but not under that hound. we meant to kill him, he deserved it and if he is not dead it is not our fault. we are well aware that there is no law for a sailor before the mast, so at times the sailor has to take the law in his own hands. now me and my mates are willing to work ship under you and the first mate but you must keep that brute out of sight providing he recovers." the captain made another speech to the sailors in which he promised them that they would not again be molested by the second mate. he also stated that paul could take the port watch and he would take the starboard watch. the men appeared well satisfied with this arrangement and turned to with a will. the captain and paul walked up and down the quarter deck talking over the situation. the determined attitude of the men seemed to have caused a change in the captain's opinion, so much so that he gave paul a long lecture on the duty of superior officers to treat their men kindly. an examination of the second mate proved that he had been cut in five different places. all the simple remedies in the sea-chest were applied to relieve him from his sufferings. neither the captain nor paul had sufficient medical knowledge to know whether he was seriously wounded or not. they ad the steward wash the cuts which they covered liberally with plasters to stop the bleeding. the captain then insisted on giving the wounded man a tumblerful of strong whisky, saying "that it was the best thing in the world to kill a fever." they came to the conclusion that there was no danger of the mate passing away quickly owing to the savage kick he made while laying in his bunk, at the head of the inoffensive steward who was doing all he could to help him. but his wounds proved so severe that he was not able to leave his bunk until the vessel reached philadelphia. owing to the new arrangement, everything went well. there was no more fighting, cursing, or driving and the work on board was done promptly and cheerfully. in a conversation with one of the two young fellows who were the special victims of the wounded mate's ferocity, paul ascertained that he was a delicate and well educated youth from hartford, connecticut, whose romantic dream for years had been to go to sea. he ran away from home and fell into the hands of the master of a sailor's boarding house who robbed him of all he could and put him aboard a ship bound for hull. the captain and officers of this ship proved humane, and though not absolutely ill-treated or beaten, his life was a misery. from hull he went up to the tyne on a coaster, where he joined the campbell. he assured paul with tears in his eyes, that several times before the outbreak in the forecastle he had concluded to dive overboard and swim far down in the sea to end his misery. he is a type of the many boys who think there is nothing but pleasure and romance in connection with life on the sea. about this time heavy westerly winds set in against the campbell and drove her far out of her course and for weeks she beat about in the most horrible weather. to add to their discomfort some of the water casks were stove, so that the crew were placed on short allowance until they were relieved by a barkentine named, the girl of the period. she was from palermo with fruit, sixty-three days out and bound for new york. in exactly seventy-one days after the campbell had made sail out of the mouth of the tyne she tied up at the docks at philadelphia. paul left this ship thoroughly satisfied with his experience and with the firm resolution never again to tread the plank of a ship either as sailor or officer. chapter vii. while in philadelphia he met the president of the camden & atlantic railroad company, who was desirous of negotiating with him in regard to taking charge of the life saving service at atlantic city, a great watering place at the ocean terminus of the road. after a few interviews, the arrangements were made and the contract signed. paul was installed as captain of a station built out on the beach and equipped with all kinds of life saving apparatus. during the seasons of and he held this position and so careful his watch and so efficient his system that not a single life was lost, and when he left the service he had the glorious record of having saved seventy-one lives. he also spent much of his time perfecting his appliances. it was while in this service that his attention was first attracted to the life saving dress in which he afterwards became so famous. as this dress will often be alluded to in the pages to follow, it may be well at this time to give its description: it was invented by c. s. merriman of iowa, and consists of a pants and tunic made of highly vulcanized rubber. when the pants are put on the tunic is pulled over the head and down over a steel band at the upper part of the pants where it is firmly secured by a rubber strap. all portions of the body are covered except the face. there are five air chambers in the costume; one at the back of the head which acts as a pillow and when fully inflated it draws the thin rubber around the face so that no water can wash down. the other chambers are situated in the back, breast, and around each leg from the hip to the knee. the entire dress weighs about thirty-five pounds. when in water, the wearer of this suit can be horizontal or perpendicular on the surface. when standing upright, the water reaches to about the breast. when voyaging, he propels himself by a light double bladed paddle six feet long. he assumes the horizontal position feet foremost and some times uses a sail to help him along. during the winter of and spring , paul devoted much of his time to experimenting in this dress and became very expert in its use. his fearlessness in the water was no doubt of great aid to him. many a fine, warm summer night he spent far out at sea in his dress and dreamed of the many voyages he would make in the future; but he never for a moment imagined the fame he would acquire in after years or the extraordinary voyages he would make through its means; but he thought of the thousands of lives that would be saved by this dress if properly introduced to the world. with the confidence of youth and the strength of manhood he was willing to take any chances to attain this object. at this time his passion for life saving amounted to a craze. he studied long and deeply on the best method to attract the world's attention. at last he struck upon a plan which he considered a good one and which he determined to put into execution at the close of the life saving season. in the fall of he proceeded to new york. he spent a week with his mother, to whom, however, he did not confide his intention, fearing that it might worry her. his plan was to take passage on an outward bound vessel and when two hundred miles off the american coast to drop overboard and make the best of his way back to land. for this voyage he secured a rubber, water-tight bag with air chambers sufficient to support about fifty pounds of provisions. it also contained a compartment for fresh water. into this bag he packed sufficient provisions in a condensed form to last him ten days; also two dozen signal lights with striker for same, some rockets, compass and a knife. besides this his baggage consisted of his suit, a strong double bladed axe to be used for protection against sharks or sword fish. he innocently boarded several vessels and confided his intentions to the captains. they unanimously agreed that no attempt at suicide should be made off their vessel, for such they termed his enterprise. the newspapers at this time got hold of the plan and made it a subject of fun. tired at failure to get a captain to take him off shore, paul decided to adopt another plan. so on saturday, october th, , he quietly walked up the gangplank of the national line steamship company's steamer the queen. he carried his little store of baggage as if it was the property of one of the passengers. he walked forward and deposited his stuff; then mingled among the crowd. it was not his intention to cross the ocean so he neglected the necessary form of purchasing a ticket. when the queen steamed away from her dock, paul descended into the steerage and stowed away his outfit in an unoccupied bunk. from that time until sunday evening, he kept very quiet and no one on board knew of his intentions. about eight o'clock he slipped on deck and under the shelter of a life boat commenced to dress himself in the suit. the weather had been fair and the steamer was making good headway so he calculated she was at that time two hundred and fifty miles out. he was quickly dressed in his armor, and with the rubber bag in one hand and the paddle in the other he was about to make a leap into the sea, when a hand was laid roughly on his shoulder and a gruff voice said: "here, where are you going?" paul mildly explained that he was going ashore. the deck was all excitement in a moment as the deck hand loudly reported to the officer on the bridge. "bring him aft," was the command. equipped in his strange looking dress, bag in one hand, paddle in the other and an ax strapped to his side and firmly gripped by two sailors, paul was ushered back. they were followed by a crowd of curious passengers. on the captain perceiving him he exclaimed: "ah! boyton you are aboard of me. take off that suit and pass it over to the steward." paul remonstrated and told the captain that he had no ticket to liverpool. he thought this confession would excuse him and cause the captain to assist in his return to america; but the captain would not even let him put himself off. paul was compelled to undress and his entire outfit was turned over to the steward with orders to place it in the captain's cabin. the latter then took paul into the chart room, where he had a long conversation with him. all paul's pleadings and excuses that he was not prepared and that he would get safely back on shore were made in vain. the captain told him not to worry about his ticket, and requested the steward to give him an unoccupied bunk in the officer's quarters. paul's disappointment could not be described in words. he was in no way prepared for the enforced voyage to europe having but one suit of clothing and only fifty dollars in cash. he had presented his entire salary with the exception of the money he had, to his mother before leaving new york, with the excuse that he was simply going down the coast and did not need it. the quarters given to him by captain bragg were very comfortable and his treatment was of the kindest. the next day the captain sent for paul and they had a long talk. the captain drew from him many of his former experiences and adventures and was favorably impressed by the frank, open nature of the young fellow. he sympathized with him in his too apparent disappointment and shared his earnest desire to introduce an apparatus that would be the means of saving the lives of many sea-faring men. the captain promised that should they reach the irish coast in good weather, he would allow paul to go off and thus carry out his original idea on the european coast, which he assured him would be just as effective as on the american side. during the trip across, paul spent much time with the captain in the chart room. while they studied over the charts, the captain pointed out to paul one place off the irish coast and several in the irish sea where he could make a landing in either ireland or england. the place selected by paul was off the coast of ireland in the vicinity of cape clear, as he was assured he could get under the lee of the island in case of a high wind from any direction. the news of the captain's permission to boyton to leave the vessel when off the irish coast, was spread among the passengers and every one, both fore and aft, manifested the most lively interest in the experiment. some of the officers protested vigorously against it. captain bragg was a determined man and when he gave the word the only course was to obey him. on the evening of tuesday, the st, the captain called paul into the chart room and said: "we are now nearing the irish coast and the barometer is as low down as i have seen it for many a year and there is every indication of a gale. the coast you intend to land on acts as a breakwater for all northern europe and the waves that pile up on it during a storm are something astounding. the cliffs that resist them are from one hundred and eighty to three hundred feet high and they are as straight up and down as a mainmast in a calm. cape clear that i expect to sight soon lays several miles off the mainland. on it is a powerful light that will guide you. the gale may not break for some time yet if you can make the cape, you can drop around to leeward and land on it. and when the weather clears you can cross to the main." having thus explained the nature of the coast they were then rapidly approaching and the possibility of a gale which might dash him to pieces against the cliffs, the captain requested paul to defer his experiment until they reached some part of the irish sea where a landing could be made with more safety to himself. paul was anxious and eager to get overboard and firmly held the captain to his word. "as i have promised i will stand by it," said the captain. at nine o'clock that night paul fully prepared, with ax, paddle and bag securely lashed to him, was ready to leave. it was a wild, dark night. great swells caused the queen to roll heavily. in a few moments the cry of "a light on the port bow, sir" rang over the decks. "that's cape clear," said the captain, "now, boyton, if you are ready, i'll stop her." "ready and willing," was paul's response. at this moment the first officer approached and earnestly remonstrated with the captain saying: "this will cause us all trouble. this man will surely lose his life." the answer to his protestation was: "on the bridge there, stop her." the great screw ceased to beat the foaming water behind and the queen glided along with her own impetus. "good night captain! good night ladies and gentlemen," said paul as he stepped over the rail and grasping a rope commenced to descend the side. the vessel rolled heavily to port; he felt the sea around his feet, then up to his armpits. he let go the rope and kicked himself vigorously off the side. a loud cheer of farewell echoed over the waters. the vessel driving rapidly forward soon left paul behind. he stood upright in the water and shouted cheerfully. "all right captain, i'm all right." his cheery call was echoed by the command "all right, go ahead." a few moments after the lights of the queen disappeared, and paul was alone on the dark, rolling sea. from his position on the deck before going overboard, he could distinctly see the gleam of the cape clear light; but on the sea far below he could not find it. he knew the direction of the wind, that was then south west and guided his course accordingly. on every mighty swell that lifted him high up, he looked eagerly in the direction of the light and soon discovered it ahead. perfectly content and without a fear of danger he kept paddling along occasionally cheering himself with a few snatches of a sea song as he drove his paddle strongly in the water and propelled himself toward the light which he observed more frequently when raised high up on the swells. the wind was steadily increasing and soon burst into terrible gusts. the long lazy roll of the sea changed and sharp, snapping waves continually broke over him. these grew larger and more powerful every moment. about two hours after he left the queen the gale was on him in all its fierceness and the light was lost to his view. the heavy rain that accompanied the gale almost blinded him, and the seas grew so high that he abandoned paddling and sought only to keep his head against the overpowering waves that then drove down on him. an indescribable feeling of loneliness came over him. once his paddle was wrenched from his hand by a heavy sea, but he fortunately recovered it. at times a great wave would completely submerge him. then he would shoot to the crest where he would have time to breathe before he was again hurled down a sloping mass of water that seemed to him fully a hundred feet to the bottom. during this terrible ordeal, he has since confessed that he firmly believed that his last hour had come. he thought of all his transgressions. to use his own words: "i recalled every mean trick i had ever committed against god and man in my reckless life and i did my utmost to remember the best and most effective prayer that i was taught when a boy." for hours, that seemed weeks to him, he was driven along before the mighty seas. about three o'clock in the morning the water became more agitated and a booming sound struck paul's ear. coming to an upright position, he peered eagerly to leeward thinking he might be close to cape clear. he saw what seemed to him to be a dark mass of clouds banked up against the morning sky along which ran flashes of white. he quickly realized that he was nearing the cliffs and the flashes were the mighty waves that broke in fury against them. knowing that to approach them would be certain death, he unlashed his paddle and made a frantic endeavor to back off through the enormous waves that were driving him slowly but surely to destruction. notwithstanding his almost superhuman efforts he was carried in by an irresistible force closer and closer to the death dealing cliffs. at the same time he noticed by the changing head lands that the currents were driving him to the southward and hoping for an opening in the threatening wall of rock, he redoubled his efforts to gain more sea room. at times the enormous waves seemed to lift him almost to the surface of the cliffs, then again he sank far below while they seemed to raise like a cloud against the sky. closer and closer he was driven in until their frightful roar almost deafened him. a streak of early daylight now showed through the black cloud of rock that was gradually approaching. he thought that this might be some cut in the cliffs and reversing his paddle propelled himself cautiously toward it. while hesitatingly examining the entrance a sea struck him. another and another followed in quick succession and nearly in a senseless state, he was hurled into a little ravine. to save himself from the retreating wave he grasped a piece of rock. the next moment he was struck by another sea that sent him high up, and gaining his feet he rapidly reached a position in which he was safe from the surging breakers. he discovered that the cleft into which he was washed was the course of a fresh water creek which flowed into the sea. after resting himself for a short time on the rock, he examined his bag and found that it was all right. he then commenced to ascend the cliffs and on reaching their top the force of the gale almost blew him off his feet. he struck a signal light. this is a light made of chemicals which burns with intense brilliancy. bracing himself against a rock he held it above his head. the flare lit up the surrounding cliffs. while it was still burning he turned to windward and looked down on the huge breakers that made the cliff on which he stood tremble as they dashed in against it. while gazing down on the mad water, he realized for the first time the terrible danger he had passed through in safety and recognized in his escape, the hand of the great pilot above. and as the flare died out and the beating gale struck him fun in the face, he sank to his knees and fervently thanked the good god who had so miraculously steered him to safety. he had struck the light in the hope of attracting some coast guard's attention. he was not sure whether he was on the island of cape clear or on the mainland. receiving no response, he started inland over the cliffs and found a well worn road. this he followed for some distance until he came to a place where it branched off, one road leading to the coast and one leading into the country. he chose the one running to the coast and soon afterwards entered the street of a village. no light was visible. the furious gale tore along the street carrying slates from off the roofs of the low houses. these crashed around him in an uncomfortable and dangerous manner. rounding a bend to the village street he observed a light burning brightly in a window. to this he made his way hoping to find some one up. in answer to his repeated knockings a man appeared at the cautiously opened door. at this moment the force of the wind pushed paul suddenly forward and carried the door and man bolding it heavily in. the affrighted expression of the man as he gazed on the strangely clad figure was ludicrous. while braced against the door he hesitated whether to close it or to let go and expel the intruder. paul turned and helped him close the door against the fierce gusts of wind pouring in. the man recovered himself and inquired: "phere air ye frum?" "new york," responded paul. "phat air ye doin' here? how did ye come?" paul explained to him that he had left a ship that night when off cape clear. "phat did ye lave her fur?" questioned the perplexed life-guard for paul had noted at once that he was in a life-saving station. "well, just to come ashore," said paul. "an' d'ye mane to say that ye came ashure in this gale?" "i do." "how many came ashure wid ye?" "no one." "phere's ye're ship now?" "god knows, i don't." question after question followed; but paul was unable to convince the coast-guard that he had left the ship voluntarily and had landed in safety. the guard could not understand why any man should leave a vessel and come in on the coast of ireland in such a gale unless he was shipwrecked. he thought paul's brain had been injured by concussion with the rocks and a pitying expression came over his face as he said: "well, me poor fellow, 'ts no matther where ye're frum. it's me duty to help ye and yure mates an' if ye'll only tell me phere they air oi'll collect the b'ys an' have thim out. now tell me as calmly as ye can, how many is drohwned besides yureself?" paul saw his mistake and positively assured the guard that he was the only person to land, and that there had been no wreck and that the steamer had proceeded on her way to queenstown. notwithstanding all his protestations the coast guard could not realize the situation. the man before him was, however shipwrecked and in distress, so with the proverbial hospitality for which the irish are famous, the guard said: "niver moind me lad how ye came ashure. ye look tired enough. come in here an' lay near the fire." when paul entered the warm room he removed his uncouth costume. he was thoroughly worn out buffeting the waves and with his long tramp down the road, so he gladly accepted the proferred bunk close to the fire and was soon in a sound sleep from which he was awakened by a kindly voice saying: "here me poor fellow, take this, 't will do ye good." before paul could realize it he had poured a glass of whiskey down his throat, the strength of which raised every individual hair on his head. it was then about eight o'clock in the morning and the coast guard house was full of the villagers, men and women who curiously crowded around his bunk. they were a wild looking lot. paul noticed the women particularly. they looked strong and rosy. they all wore long cloaks with a hood covering the head, and their feet were naked and as red as a pigeon's. from the expressions he overheard, he concluded that the coast-guard man had drawn on his imagination in explaining the stranger's appearance in the station. "did he railly swim from new york?" he heard time and again. "oh, thin he's not human if he could do that," and many other exclamations of like nature greeted the astonished paul as he drowsily turned out of the bunk. the coast-guard man now approached and driving the curious villagers out of the station, he invited him to breakfast in a little tavern across the way. the entire village was out. crowds blocked their way as they crossed the street. while eating breakfast paul learned that the most of the excitement was created by a report that he had swam all the way from new york. in conversation with the guard, he found out that the village was called baltimore, a little coast town about thirty miles from where he had left the steamer; and also that there was no telegraph office nearer than skibbereen, a distance of nine miles. there was but one conveyance in the village and as the driver was a very eccentric character, it was doubtful if he could be induced to go out on such a stormy morning. paul requested that this man be sent for. soon afterward he appeared pushing his way through the villagers. he was a strange looking man. the coast guard introduced him: "here is andy," said he. the latter acknowledged the introduction, by pulling his head forward with a lock of hair and exclaiming, as he eyed paul curiously: "did ye railly swim from new yark'" paul laughed, saying: "i hear you have a horse and i am anxious to get over to skibbereen and send off a telegram. i would like to have you take me over there." "it's no harse oi have," he solemnly responded, "but oi've wan av the finest mares in the south av ireland an oi'll drive ye over for six shillin'. but did ye railly swim from new yark? shure it's not natural." paul urged him to get his animal as quickly as possible and the driver rushed through the door only to be surrounded by a group of wild looking villagers, who questioned him both in irish and english. soon after andy re-appeared coming down the village street driving a sorry looking nag. as he approached the tavern and saw paul and the guard at the door, he shouted loudly to the crowd to separate, as though wishing to show paul the blood in his favorite mare. he punched her with a little stick from which the sharp point of a nail protruded and by a dexterous movement dodged the flying hind feet that were aimed at his head. "phat de ye think o' that, sur? there's blood fur ye." a murmur of admiration stirred the crowd. "but where is your cart? hurry up and get her hitched," urged paul. soon after andy drove up to the door of the coast guard station with his jaunting car. the mare was hitched to the car with a curious combination of harness composed of twisted hay, rope, cords and leather. as nearly every one knows, a jaunting car is a two-wheeled affair. over each wheel runs a seat, fore and aft, and in the centre is a little receptacle for small baggage, called the well. a car generally carries four passengers, two on each side. on such occasions, the driver sits on a little seat over the well, looking to the front, while the passengers' backs are turned toward each other. having only one passenger, andy decided to sit on the opposite side of the car to ballast her evenly. after paul bid good-bye to the coast guard and thanked him for his hospitality, he placed his rubber suit on the forward part of the seat and sprung up behind. andy seemed in no hurry to get under way. a multitude of knots in the harness required attention and he carefully scrutinized every part of the car while the villagers kept up a volley of comments such as: "shure it's a quare customer ye have this mornin', andy my b'y. the lord betune ye an' harrum, andy avick. shure it's no human bein' ye're drivin' away wid." and many other remarks made in irish, no doubt, of the same encouraging character. "come, come," exclaimed paul impatiently, "let us get off?" andy reluctantly clambered on the opposite seat and commenced driving slowly up the village street, followed by a loud huzza. he seemed ill at ease and was loth to leave, driving so slowly that paul had to urge him on. reaching the last house on the straggling village street, he stopped the car and turning to paul said: "oi want to get a light fur my pipe, sur." after a little time, during which paul heard a vehement conversation going on inside, andy re-appeared holding a coal of fire on the bowl of his clay pipe. he remounted again and slowly drove away followed by the shrill blessings and good wishes of the barefooted woman that stood at the door. their way now lay along the cliff-road and squall after squall came bearing in from a roaring sea outside. at times andy would reach across when the booming of the breakers could be heard coming up through ravine on the cliffs and say: "shure no human bein' could live in that sea, sur. did ye come on top of the wather er under?" "oh, drive on, drive on," was the impatient response, "never mind." seeing one more than usually severe squall coming down on them from the sea, paul, who was facing windward, thought he would be more comfortable if he would slip the rubber tunic over his head and shoulders. this he did without attracting the attention of andy and he leaned forward pointing the comical shaped head-piece to the rapidly advancing squall. the head-piece not being inflated, the aperture for the face hung down like a great mouth. the car suddenly gypped and paul felt his side sink a little. turning around find the cause and pulling the head-piece from over his eyes, he saw the affrighted andy about twelve yards away in a ditch. his eyes filled with terror, seemed to protrude from his head while he rapidly made the sign of the cross over his face and breast. "what's the matter? what are you doing there?" thundered paul. "come on, get up, get up. what's the matter with you?" "och, shure, it's well oi knew that it was no christian oi had wid me this mornin'." "come on now, or i'll drive on without you," angrily exclaimed paul, "don't you see that this is only a rubber dress that i put on to protect me from the rain." after considerable persuasion, andy was induced to remount and they continued through the heavy rain in silence. soon after paul asked: "andy, how far is it yet to skibbereen?" "about fure miles, ye're honor, and oi wish it was only fure feet," in, added in an audible undertone. shortly after the houses on the outskirts of skibbereen began to appear and andy brightened up wonderfully and became quite communicative. he informed paul that a friend of his had a hotel there and that it was a good one and that he would drive straight to it. "con sullivan kapes the foinest hotel that mon er beast iver shtoped at," he concluded. there were few on the streets as they drove up to the hotel. paul dismounted and taking his suit into the hotel, asked for a private room. he then inquired of the landlord where the telegraph office was and started for it. he wrote a telegram, one to the captain of the queen and one to the english office of the "new york herald," fleet street, london. the lady operator scanned over the dispatch to london, then closely scrutinized paul. seeing her hesitation about accepting the telegram, paul demanded to know what was the cause of it. "excuse me, sir," said she, "but we have to be very careful about the nature of the telegrams we send out from here. i must first call the superintendent, before i can accept this." when that individual appeared he looked it over and asked paul if the contents were all true and correct. "they assuredly are," impatiently exclaimed paul, "i want you to get it off as quickly as you can," and he followed this up by several remarks not over complimentary to their methods of doing business. paul then returned to the hotel where he found andy surrounded by a crowd to whom he was relating his adventures and giving a history of his eccentric passenger in his own way. when they saw paul he was an object of the wildest curiosity. the crowd poured into the hotel after him and invaded the dining room, so he had to remonstrate with the landlord who unceremoniously shouldered-them out. the news of paul's arrival on the coast seemed to have spread with the rapidity of a prairie fire all over skibbereen, and people commenced gathering from all parts of the town around the hotel. one of the gentlemen who insisted on coming in was the superintendent of the telegraph, mr. jolly. he apologized for his seeming discourtesy at the office and assured paul that the dispatch he had written seemed so improbable that he could not in justice blame them for not receiving it. he proved to be a very friendly, sociable gentleman and gave paul all the assistance and information he desired. he informed him that he would have to leave skibbereen by stage which would depart in a couple of hours. this stage would convey him to the first railway station, some ten or twelve miles away where he could get a train in the afternoon for cork. he urgently requested him to remain over for a few days and enjoy the hospitality of skibbereen. paul, being anxious to reach cork, declined. he requested the landlord to send andy in to settle up. as the hero was ushered in, it was easy to observe that the people had been filling him as well as pumping him. "here are your six shillings, i believe that is what you asked me." "that's roight, sur," said andy as he reached his hand, "that's fur meself, but how about me mare?" "what have i got to do with your mare?" "shure, sur, ye don't want the poor baste to starve to death." "certainly not, she is yours and you ought to feed her." "but, sur, oi niver had a traveller yet as didn't pay fur the mare's eatin' an' drinkin' as well as moine." paul was amused at this new rule, but was informed by mr. jolly that such was the custom in that part of ireland. "well, andy," said he, "how much do you think it will take to keep your mare from starving until you get back to baltimore? here's your two shillings more." andy accepted the two shillings with evident satisfaction on behalf of the mare. "that's the eight shillin' ye gave me fur the mare an' meself, an' oi think yure honor ought to give me two more in consequince av the fright ye gave me. shure it'll be a long day befure oi git over it! whin oi turned an' saw that ingia rubber thing over ye oi thought it was the very divil himself." paul laughed and handed him over the other two shillings, with: "now, that's all you get." "well, good luck an' may the--" here his flow of blessings were cut off by mr. jolly who threw him out of the room. when the stage coach drove up to the door almost the entire population of skibbereen was out. lusty cheers were given for paul as he mounted the outside of the coach, in answer to which he fastened the american flag to his paddle and waved it to the cheering populace as he drove out of town. on reaching dunmanway, paul entered the train and started for cork. chapter viii. soon after paul left the queen, the gale that almost cost him his life, broke down on that gallant vessel. the captain put her nose in it and headed her off for sea. all night she ploughed against it while the huge seas burst over her and whitened her smoke stacks with salt to the very top. not a soul on board believed that paul would last in the gale half an hour after she broke out, and the captain blamed himself keenly for letting him go. the steamer did not succeed is reaching queenstown harbor until noon next day. when the lighter came along side for the mails a man passed a telegram up to the captain. he feverishly tore it open and found with great relief that it was from paul. "thank god that he is safe," he exclaimed, and he then read it aloud to the passengers. cheer after cheer went up as the news was spread along the decks. having discharged her mail and passengers for ireland, the queen resumed her way to liverpool, while the lighter steamed into queenstown. evidences of the ravages of the storm were visible on all sides. dismantled ships, unroofed houses and vessels ashore told the story of its force in that vicinity. it was afterwards ascertained that fifty-six vessels were lost in the same storm on the southern coast of great britain that night. when the lighter reached queenstown, the passengers were full of excitement in regard to paul's wonderful feat and they spread the story broadcast both in queenstown and cork. to their disgust, they found that the people disbelieved them and laughed at them saving: "this is a fine yankee yarn you are springing on us now." to convince the skeptical people of cork, a party of them telegraphed all over the coast to see if they could not find paul, to verify their story and from skibbereen they learned that a man answering that description had passed through there and was now on his way to cork. when paul arrived at the station he found himself surrounded by many of his late fellow passengers, who enthusiastically received him and escorted him to the hotel. the news of his remarkable adventure spread over cork as rapidly as it had over skibbereen, so that the hotel was thronged with eager people, the newspaper fraternity being well represented. it was late that night before he got through with his persistent interviewers and before he woke next morning, the story of his extraordinary adventure and daring was all over america. the cork papers contained columns, describing his struggle with the ocean. before he could dress himself, cards came showering into his room and when he went down he found the hotel packed with people eager to see him. for a few days paul enjoyed the extravagantly warm hospitality of cork. he was taken everywhere worth visiting, entertained with dinners, parties and receptions until his head swam with the whirl of attentions that he was so unaccustomed to. during his stay in the hotel a large party of huntsmen who came to cork to participate in a grand hunt nearby, had a banquet to which he was invited. paul was made the hero of the evening and so many were the toasts drank in his honor that he looked anxiously for a chance to escape the profuse but reckless hospitality. when an opportunity presented itself he slipped out and took a long walk in the night air. as he returned to the hotel and was about to ascend to his room, he could hear his late companions in one of their hunting songs enjoying themselves. observing a stalwart porter connected with the hotel, laboriously bearing one of his late red-coated entertainers on his back as he mounted the stairs, paul, thinking some accident had occurred ran to the porter and asked: "why, what is the matter with the gentleman? is he killed? has there been a fight?" "oh, no sur, it's wan of the gintlemen, he's only a little overcome. oi put thim all to bed this way, yure honor, and moight ave had the pleasure av puttin' yureself to bed if ye had remained." with sailor-like recklessness, boyton never thought of how all this would end and he spent what money he had freely. one morning before rising from his bed, he began thinking the situation over. as he examined it closely and counted what money he had left, the outlook took on a most gloomy hue. he was confident that he did not have coin enough to pay half his hotel bill alone, not to think of getting home. after studying the matter over for some time he came to the conclusion that the only course he could pursue was frankly to confess to the landlord how he was situated and offer to leave his rubber suit until he could return home and send for it. then he would go to queenstown and see if he could not procure a position on some vessel bound for america. just as he came to this conclusion he was interrupted by a knock at the door. "ten to one it's the landlord with my bill," thought paul. when he opened the door he was confronted by an energetic, little man who talked with great rapidity. "captain paul boyton, i believe, sir. here is my card, i thought i would bring it up myself to save time. i have a great scheme for you. go on, proceed with your dressing and i will talk about it. i am the manager of the opera company now playing at munster hall and i have a scheme by which you and i will make a considerable amount of money. i presume you are not averse to making money?" looking inquiringly at paul. "well, no," responded paul. "it's very useful at times." "well, sir, i have a great scheme. a great scheme, indeed." "what is it?" "you know all cork is wild to see you, and my idea is that you shall give a little lecture. we can fill munster hall from pit to dome." paul looked at the man curiously for a few moments and made up his mind that he was crazy. "why, my dear sir, i am not a lecturer. i could not lecture. i never even made a speech in my life." "that's nothing, that's nothing," responded the nervous and energetic little manager, "so much the better. i will do the lecturing for you. all you will have to do will be to stand there and exhibit your dress." "well, under those circumstances," responded paul, who still considered the manager a little off, and seeing a probable means of paying his hotel bill, "what terms will you give me if i consent?" "one half the house and i will do the advertising." "and the lecturing too, remember," said paul. "yes, yes, that's all right, we'll sign the contract immediately." "but hold on," said paul, "there is another question i want to ask you. how much do you suppose my share will be?" "between thirty and forty pounds. i am almost certain." "are you positive it will be twenty-five pounds?" "absolutely positive, confident my dear fellow." "then," said paul "i will sign this contract on condition that you will pay me five pounds in advance." paul thought this stroke of policy would end the interview and rid him of his visitor. to his intense surprise, the five pound note was laid on the table without any hesitation. it was quickly transferred to paul's pocket. "now make out your contract and we will sign it." "have done so, have done so; did it last night when i thought of the scheme. have it all made out. sign here." paul carelessly glanced over the contract an affixed his signature; after which the manager shook him warmly by the hand and congratulated him on having entered on such a brilliant enterprise, and said "i will now go and attend to the printing. we will dine together," he added as he disappeared through the door. "and remember you do the lecturing," paul called after him as he rushed down stairs. when he left, paul locked the door, drew out the five pound note which he carefully examined to convince himself that it was genuine. he then in his great joy took two or three handsprings and made such a noise that the chambermaid rapped on his door and desired to know if the gentleman was knocking for anything. during the day, the manager visited paul frequently and gave him encouragement. by evening the report of the intended lecture had circulated pretty well and paul was frequently stopped on the street by acquaintances who assured him of their pleasure at having a chance to hear him speak. paul took pains to tell all who questioned him in regard to it that it was not he but mr. murphy who was going to give the lecture. next day cork was covered with great bills announcing the lecture for the following evening and a feeling of nervousness overcame paul as he beheld his name in such enormous letters. this nervous feeling was in no way allayed when he perused one of the bills and found that the enterprising manager, had not only promised that he would give a description of his landing on the irish coast but that he would relate many thrilling adventures he had passed through in the american, french and mexican wars; would describe time methods of life-saving in america, and compare it with the british method of life-saving service, and many other things that paul did not dare to read, as he had sufficient. he sought out the plausible mr. murphy and vehemently went for him for deceiving the public. "never mind, my boy, never mind, the people all understand how it is. you will have nothing to do except to make a few remarks." but paul was not satisfied. he tried to commit to memory the few remarks he supposed he would have to make when he was introduced; but he would no sooner get them in ship shape than they would disappear again. the night of the, to him, terrible ordeal arrived. manager murphy took him to the hall in a carriage. great crowds surrounded the building and the manager assured him that it was already full inside. the arrangements were that paul was to appear between the acts of the opera, which that night was "madame angot." murphy took paul to his own private office in the second story and encouraged him in every way he could. paul listened to the music of the first act, as it rolled by with fearful swiftness. never before in his life did he experience the feeling of nervousness which now seemed to possess him. once during murphy's absence from the office he raised the window and looked down into the river lee that ran alongside the building and wondered if he could drop into the water without breaking his leg. all that deterred him was the thought of the five pounds that had been advanced. the fated moment arrived; the manager said: "your suit and paddle and appliances are out on a table on the stage. the curtain is down and the moment it rises you walk boldly out to the side of the table and i will follow you. don't be afraid, the audience is most kindly disposed toward you and will give you a warm welcome." up went the curtain, murphy's hand was laid on paul's shoulder as he said: "now, my boy, step right out." paul braced himself and with his heart as near his mouth as he ever had it before during his existence, walked over to the table on which lay his suit, paddle, etc., etc. the deafening roar of applause that greeted him set him more at his ease. he looked around for mr. murphy, but failed to see that worthy gentleman. so making a few steps towards the foot-lights he thanked the audience, in a trembling voice, for their kindness. he told them that he was no speaker and that mr. murphy had promised to do the lecturing part of the business. at this moment cries broke out all over the house: "brace up, captain, never mind murphy, its yourself we want to hear," and many other similar good-natured remarks. this encouragement had the effect of steadying paul's nerves and he calmly proceeded to give a vivid account of the terrible adventure he had passed through a few days before. he grew more confident as he proceeded and the frequent outbursts of applause gave him ample time to collect his thoughts and express himself with ease. his mind flew to what he had read on the bill and he traveled over the ground in a very thorough manner. when he concluded and bowed his thanks, the applause was as warm and loud as any ever heard in the hall. when he reached the wings he was embraced by the enthusiastic murphy, who was vehement in his congratulations and easily smoothed paul's feelings against him. to his intense surprise, paul found that he had been speaking over one hour and he could not persuade his acquaintances but that he was an old hand at the business. next morning paul read his speech in the papers and it caused him as much surprise as it did manager murphy when he read it. his portion of the proceeds amounted to thirty-two pounds. when manager murphy paid him over the balance after deducting the advanced five pounds, he felt more like a gentleman traveling in europe for his health. on the same day he received three telegrams from dublin all offering engagements to lecture; also an offer from the cork steamship company to appear in queenstown harbor in his suit where they would run excursions. the dublin offers he left in the hands of manager murphy while he accepted the offer of the steamboat company. a couple of days after he appeared in queenstown harbor and every steamer in cork was loaded on that occasion. from this appearance he realized a little over ten pounds. in the meantime the story of his remarkable adventure on the irish coast had been commented on by the english press and so many doubts cast on it, that prominent english papers sent their correspondents to cork to investigate the matter thoroughly. these gentlemen questioned paul closely and got his whole story. then they went to baltimore and got the testimony of the coast-guard. they thoroughly examined the coast and under the guidance of the coast-guard discovered the exact place be made his miraculous landing. they learned that the place he came ashore was the only available landing for miles, the coast being formed by precipitous rocks and that if he had drifted one mile to the southward lie would have been cut to atoms on the sharp and dangerous reef known as the "whale rocks." thoroughly satisfied with their investigation they returned to london and confirmed the story in every particular. paul next went to dublin where he had a week's engagement to lecture in the queen's theatre. his reception was if possible more enthusiastic than in cork. he cut his lecture out of one of the newspapers and studied it, so on that point he felt more easy. he appeared every night at the theatre, which was filled to its utmost capacity. at the conclusion of his lecture, he would bow his acknowledgements to the audience and retire behind the curtain, where a tableau was arranged. it represented the scene of his landing, and he standing with uplifted paddle on which was tacked the american flag. a supe threw a bucket of water over him, previous to his mounting the imitation cliffs, the curtain would roll up and behold the hero as he just emerged from the sea in his glistening rubber suit. the applause was tremendous. the last night, every one being paid off and feeling good, paul stepped behind the curtains in his suit to receive his customary ducking. the bucket of water was missing. the stage hand who was very mellow exclaimed: "i had it here a moment ago but i can't find it now. ah, here it is," and he drew a pail from under a table and deluged paul. up went the curtain, the audience screamed, paul looked down on his armor in dismay, instead of water he was covered with white calsomine, when a voice from the gallery roared: "that's the first rale white-washed yankee i've ever seen." a white washed yankee is an irishman who has spent about two years in america and returning to his own country apes the accent and eccentricity of the down east yankee. before leaving dublin, paul gave an exhibition in the lake in the zoological garden, phenix park and so intense was the desire to see him in the water that the sum of seventy pounds was received from admissions. he also made a run down the liffy through the heart of the city, during which time it is estimated that over a hundred thousand people turned out to see him. on november th paul made a swim from howth head to the historic island of dalkey, a distance of about ten miles. the following day he was presented with an illumined address signed by many of the most prominent people in dublin, also with an elaborately worked american flag and gold medal. the address concluded with the following words: "the subscribers desire that captain boyton will regard this presentation as a reminiscence of his visit to ireland and as a token of the high estimation in which they hold him as a fearless experimentalist in bringing under public notice the most valuable life saving apparatus that has yet appeared." paul made many good friends during his stay in dublin and visited almost every point of interest in that historic city. he discovered a very original character in the car-driver who conveyed him to the theatre every evening. whenever he had a leisure hour always spent it driving around he quaint old city with the driver, pat mullen, who entertains him with his stories and witicisms. while driving along the, liffy one day pat said: "would ye loike a little devarsion, captain? if ye do, oi'll take ye through pill lane; but ye must look out fur yure head, sur." pill lane he described as a street mostly inhabited by fish-women who displayed their stock in trade on a tray on the head of a barrel, these ladies, like their sisters in billingsgate, london, bad a great reputation for their vigorous use of the english language and the choice epithets that they often hurled at the heads of passers by who did not purchase from them. pat explained that his method was to drive down the lane at a good gait and by picking out two or three of the star performers he would arouse them by a method peculiarly his own. that consisted in driving quite close to these barrels and so near some of them that the step projecting from the side of the jaunting car would send the barrel and fish flying all over the sidewalk. of coarse this was presumably quite accidental. paul consented to try the experiment, being assured that there was no danger in it. as they drove into the head of the lane, he soon discovered that pat was well known in that locally. the cries of: "there's the the dirtily blaguard agin. look out there, mrs. murphy, etc." all these salutations were received by the imperturbable pat with smiles and bows and a cheery remark, as he dodged a dead fish or some other missile aimed at his head. when little farther down the lane, pat said: "look out now, captain, do ye see the fat woman down there? she's a beauty an' oi'n goin' to shtir her up. ye'll hear a flow av iloquence such as ye niver heard in yure loife, sur. oi'm sorry she's on yure side as the car, sur. droivin' up, sur, ye wud not be so liable to get hit." at this moment, by a dexterous twist of the horse's head, the iron step struck the barrel and scattered the contents, while pat leaned across and said: "ye'll excuse me, mrs. olahan, that was an accident." "oh it's ye," exclaimed the lady addressed, as she hurled the cup that she was drinking tea out of at pat. then a torrent of language burst forth which could be heard far down the lane as they drove quickly through; but not fast enough to escape the fusillade of decayed fish and every other missile, even to the head of a barrel, which could be hurled by mrs. olahan and her sympathizing friends. when they emerged from the lane, pat turned around and said: "air ye bruised, captain?" "no," said paul, "but i don't want any more of that kind of diversion." a long time afterwards, while in london, paul read of a dublin driver who was taking a party of women home one night and either through accident or design drove them all into the middle of the canal. their loud outcries attracted people to the rescue and when they arrived on the scene, they found the driver seated high up on the seat trying to control the mad struggles of his steed, while he calmly requested the rescuers to "niver moind the women but to save the harse." at the time paul thought this must certainly be his old friend, pat mullen, and afterwards ascertained that he was correct in his surmise. when his engagements in dublin terminated, paul went to london, where he found that interest in his exploit on the irish coast was still manifested. he then began a series of experiments down the thames and in the waters in the vicinity of london. the london papers were teeming with accounts of him and his adventures. about this time he formed the resolution to cross the channel from england to france and was busying himself in preparations. one morning he was surprised to receive an order from osborne to appear before the queen. paul's friends assured him that this was a great honor and one which would be of much advantage to him in england. the order was for him to appear before her majesty on the river modena, east cowes, isle of wight. he left london, having made his preparations saturday morning and went to portsmouth, where he was entertained by the mayor, american consul and members of the yacht club. the same night he crossed over to modena on the isle of wight, where he took rooms in the hotel. sunday morning he went aboard the royal yacht alberta, and introduced himself to the captain, whom he found to be a jolly old sea dog. from a letter written home by paul about this date, the following extract is taken: the yacht i boarded seemed as big as a man-of-war. a marine stopped me on the gang plank with the question: 'whom do you wish to see?' 'why the captain of course.' the sentry called to a petty officer, who escorted me to the captain. he conducted me to a gorgeously furnished cabin. when i introduced myself, the weather beaten tar grasped me warmly by the hand. he invited me to be seated and accept some refreshments. while discussing them, we also talked over my exhibition before the queen the next day. i was anxious to acquit myself in the presence of royalty in a creditable manner, so i plied the captain with questions to obtain all the information possible. he told me that to please the queen anything i did had to be done quickly. in answer to my question, how will i hail her, he said: 'in addressing her majesty, you must say first, your majesty. after that you can continue the conversation with the word madame.' well that won't be very difficult thought i, and i can get through with it all right. before leaving the captain, i requested him to send down a few men in the morning to help me get traps aboard. returning to my hotel i spent most of the afternoon writing. i was interrupted by a waiter, who informed me that general ponsonby, private secretary to the queen, and two ladies desired to see me. i ordered them shown right in. the general, a fine, dignified old gentleman came in followed by two very handsome ladies. he introduced himself and the ladies saying: 'captain, this is the hon. lady churchill and this is the hon. lady plunkett. the ladies curiosity was so great to see you that we came down from the castle to have a little talk.' i invited them to sit down and consider themselves at home. the general then put a number of questions in regard to my former life and irish coast adventure. in a brief manner i gave them a story in the best way i could. it seemed to entertain them considerably as the ladies often laughed heartily. as they were about to leave the thought occurred to me, 'these are my guests, i ought to offer some hospitality. so backing up to the fire-place i took hold of the bellrope saying; 'general and ladies i hope you will mention what you will take.' at this both the ladies laughed merrily and the general said: `no, captain, thank you. the ladies and myself have already been entertained handsomely.' by the twinkle in the ladies' eyes i think they would have accepted my invitation and taken a drink if it had not been for the austere presence of the general. during the conversation i confided to them my trepidation about meeting the queen, but they assured me that her majesty was a very kind lady and that i need have no fear, whatever, of any breach of court etiquette. after a warm handshaking, they bade me good-bye and said they would see me on the morrow. after their departure i resumed my writing when i was again interrupted by the re-appearance of the general, who explained to me in behalf of the ladies that much as they would have liked to accept my hospitality, i must not feel hurt by their refusal. they were ladies of honor to her majesty and it would be a terrible scandal if they accepted any hospitality in the hotel. 'but that won't prevent you and i, captain, from drinking the ladies' good health.' the general and i passed some time together and he gave me many useful hints. the next morning about twenty able-bodied british tars presented themselves at the hotel to transfer my effects on board the royal yacht. by their united efforts they succeeded in getting it aboard; but i could much more easily have carried the whole outfit myself. when on board i descended to the captain's cabin where i donned my suit and got the appliances in the rubber bag. all this time carriages were rapidly driving up to the side of the yacht, which was moored at the dock; depositing their loads of courtiers, who came aboard and promenaded up and down the decks. i was standing forward with the captain at the time and he told me the names of several noted personages and high officers who were pouring up the gang plank. one venerable looking man attracted my attention. i said: 'holy blue, captain, look at that man coming aboard now without any pants on.' 'that gentleman,' said the captain, 'is john brown, her majesty's most faithful servant and that is the national scottish costume he wears.' as i was gazing on john brown with considerable curiosity, the captain said: 'stand by now. her majesty is coming. when i tell you, you walk aft, bow to her and get over the side and do your work.' the crowd on board obstructed my view so that i could not see the queen come aboard. in a moment the captain returned from the gang-way where he had been to receive her, and said: 'walk right aft. her majesty is waiting for you.' i might as well confess to you that my idea of a queen had been formed by seeing the play of hamlet, where the queen of denmark comes on the stage with long white fur robe, covered with pieces of cat's tails and a crown on her head. i certainly did not think that the queen of england would dress in this exact way, but i thought she would have something to distinguish her from the coterie of ladies that surrounded her on deck. so i walked aft, paddle in one hand, rubber bag in the other and dressed in my suit. i came to a group of ladies, a little separate, around whom bare headed courtiers stood and was about to pay homage to a fine, grandly dressed maid of honor, when turning around i observed the face of the queen which was made familiar by the thousands of photographs, which grace the windows in nearly every store in london. she is a stout, motherly woman, more plainly dressed than any one around her. i looked at her for a second and said: 'your majesty, i believe.' with a kindly smile she answered, 'yes.' 'will i take the water, your majesty?' i was confused by the mistake i came near making, in taking the maid of honor for the queen. 'if you please,' she responded with the same kindly and encouraging smile. it didn't take me long to get over the side of that vessel, you can rest assured. remembering the captain's injunction not to keep her waiting long, i drove through all the exhibition i could give and as i clambered aboard again the perspiration stood all over my forehead. on gaining the deck, i bowed to the queen again and was about to go forward. the queen stopped me and said: 'captain boyton, i am both delighted and astonished at your wonderful work in the water; i believe that dress will be the means of saving numbers of valuable lives.' she asked me how old i was and many other questions. a handsome young lady who stood at her side said: 'don't you feel very much fatigued after such an exertion and are not your clothes wet under your dress?' 'oh, no, miss, not the least.' at this answer of mine a laugh went up from the royal group and i suspected that i had made some mistake. i added. 'to prove to your majesty that i am perfectly dry underneath the suit, i am, with your permission going to take it off. you need not be afraid, i am perfectly dressed underneath.' seeing that she did not object, i quickly unbuckled the tunic and hauled it over my head cast it on the deck and kicking off my rubber pants, i stood in my stocking feet before them. the queen examined the mechanism of the dress with much interest and said: 'i would like to have a suit made for the use of this yacht, and i wish you a safe journey across the channel.' seeing that the interview was about closed i said: 'now, your majesty, i hope you will excuse any error i have made, for you see that you could not naturally expect me to be posted in court etiquette.' the queen laughed heartily in which she was joined by the surrounding crowd and said: 'you did very well, captain.' when she left i again joined captain welch, of the yacht, who told me that her majesty was well pleased. 'you may be sure of a handsome present.' i then asked him what was the cause of all the laughter. he said: 'why that was the only mistake you made. you should have addressed princess beatrice as your royal highness; but that is all right.' soon after, paul received an elegant chronometer gold watch with motto and heavy chain by general ponsonby from the queen and with the request that he would send her his photograph. chapter ix. paul now commenced plans for his channel trip. he visited boulogne, calais, folkestone and dover and decided on taking a course from folkestone to boulogne. m. l'onguety, the president of the boulogne humane society, offered to give him the best french pilot on the channel and his lugger to steer him across. the steamer rambler was also engaged to accommodate the press representatives and invited guests. the most intense interest prevailed not only in europe, but in america. letters and telegrams came pouring in on paul to reserve space for the special correspondents of the most noted newspapers in the world. mr. mcgarahan, the brilliant and lamented correspondent of the new york herald, who was one of the party on the rambler, wrote the following account of this memorable trip. "the start was to be made at o'clock on the morning of april th, , from dover, that hour being set on account of the tide favoring. in order to be up in time, the newspaper correspondents and friends who were to accompany the intrepid voyager on the tug, did not go to bed at all, the hours intervening being spent in the parlors of the lord werden hotel. the morning was cold and raw and when the sound of a bugle apprised the crowd that the time for starting had arrived, there was a hustling for warm wraps. at the quay from which the start was to be made, a great number of people had gathered regardless of the unseasonable hour and the chill air. there was a most horrible din and confusion, caused by the shouting and rush of the people, the whiz of rockets, the puffing of steamboats and the hoarse sound of speaking trumpets, all amid the glare of bengal lights and burning pitch. the firing of the tug's gun announced the start. a black figure, like a huge porpoise, could be seen in the cold, grey water and then disappear in the darkness. those on the tug thought they would lose him; but at length his horn was heard far out on the water and the tug immediately headed in that direction in order to take the lead and show him the way. pursuing slowly forward he was kept within hail, as the lights of dover gradually grew dim in the distance and the lighthouse on the goodwin sands shone clear and bright like the star of morning." "the pilot was one sent over from boulogne by the french societe humaine, said to be the best on the french coast. the course agreed upon was as follows: take the tide running northeast from dover at three in the morning, which would carry them seven or eight miles in that direction somewhere off goodwin sands. here the tide turns about six 'clock and runs southeast down the channel. they would follow this tide to a point considerably below boulogne, where the current sweeps again to the east and flows into boulogne harbor, which they hoped to reach about three in the afternoon, making a distance of sixty miles." "at five o'clock in the morning, when daylight came, everything was going well and the exact course indicated by the pilot had been followed, except that the start been about twenty minutes late. boyton now paddled alongside and called for his sail, which he adjusted to his foot by means of an iron socket without getting out of the water, lit a cigar and struck out again. the little sail instantly filled and commenced pulling him along in fine style, making a very appreciable difference in his rate of speed. at six o'clock they were off goodwin sands, a little short of the point that it had been planned to reach. the tide now commenced turning and they were soon running down the channel under a very favorable breeze; but a nasty sea and thickening weather. nearly in the middle of the channel, there is a sand bank called the ridge or, by the french, the colbart, which splits the current in two, throwing one along the french coast and the other along the english. it was, of course, the intention of boyton and the pilot to get into the french current; but either because the swimmer did not get far enough to the east, with the tide running out or what seems more probable, because the pilot, owing to the thick weather, which hid both the french and english coast, missed his reckoning, they were swept down the english side of the ridge and all chance of reaching the french coast before night was lost. paul resolutely attacked this ridge, hoping to get over it and reach the french current in time. it proved to be a terrible struggle. the sea here was foaming and tumbling about in a fearful way for the voyager. it was not a regular roll or swell, but short, quick, chopping waves, tumbling about in all directions, that whirled him round and round, rolled him over and over, rendered his puny sail utterly useless and blinded him with foam and spray. it was a strangely fascinating spectacle to watch him in his hand to hand struggle with the ocean. the waves seemed to become living things animated by a terrible hatred for the strange being battling with them. sometimes they seemed to withdraw for a moment, as if by concert and then rush down on him from all sides, roaring like wild beasts. for two hours the struggle continued, during which time he did not make more than a mile; but at last he came off victorious and reached the current running along the french coast, where the sea, although nasty, was not so unfavorable. but it was now one o'clock and instead of being several miles south of boulogne, as he had hoped, he was almost opposite and the current had already turned again to the north, thus carrying him far past the place. he determined, however, to push on and endeavor to land at cape grisnez, about ten miles north of boulogne. he did not seem tired although he had eaten scarcely anything since taking to the water. the weather grew rainy, foggy, cold and miserable. boyton worked steadily forward; but the pilot began to grow anxious. it was evident that he would not make the french coast before dark, and he expressed his determination to push on all night if necessary. the wind and sea were both rising, promising a bad night. it would be impossible to follow him in the darkness and fog. he would inevitably be lost and if he should miss cape grisnez, he would be carried up into the north sea. at length, towards six o'clock, the pilot declared that he would not be responsible for the safety of the ship, so near the coast in the darkness and fog. the captain was, of course, unwilling to risk his ship, and it was decided that the attempt would have to be given up. paul and his brother, who was on the tug, both protested against this resolution in the most energetic manner. the former maintained his ability to finish his undertaking, declaring that he was not in the least fatigued, and to prove it swam rapidly around the ship. it was agreed that he had thoroughly demonstrated his ability to cross the channel and that it would be folly to risk the ship, the life of everybody on board, as well as himself by cruising along the coast all night in the fog and darkness. he at last agreed to go aboard and give it up maintaining, however, his ability to stay in the water all night. it was just half past six o'clock when he set foot on the deck of the tug, after having been a little more than fifteen hours in the water." paul felt keenly the disappointment at the failure of his first attempt to cross the channel, notwithstanding the telegrams of congratulation from the queen, prince of wales and many high personages on both sides of the atlantic. he firmly resolved to attempt it again. he was young then, only twenty-seven years of age and did not know what fatigue or fear was. when he returned to london, he received many offers to exhibit himself in his dress. he at last closed with a well known manager for the sum of fifty guineas per day, about $ . at this time he did little more than paddle around in the water, fire off a few rockets and his exhibition would not last more than, perhaps half an hour. he has often laughed heartily since, to think of the miserable apologies for a exhibition that he then gave, when compared with the magnificent show that himself and company of water experts give at the present day. notwithstanding his lack of knowledge of the show business, he always succeeded in pleasing the public, who gathered in enormous crowds wherever he was announced. his managers reaped a rich harvest through his work. their share for three days' exhibition in birmingham alone, amounted to over six hundred pounds, $ . invitations showered in on him from every quarter for dinners, banquets, receptions and society gatherings of every description. hundreds of these he was compelled to decline, on account of press of business. notwithstanding all this flattering attention and flood of prosperity, he never lost his head or changed in either action or speech. he looked upon it as a matter of course and felt just the same as he did when diving with captain balbo, or bush-whacking under colonel sawyer. towards the end of may he had his arrangements completed for his second attempt to cross the channel. this time he determined to reverse the course. instead of starting from england, he decided to leave from cape grisnez, france, and land on any part of the english coast he could. a couple of days before the attempt, he went to boulogne. it was arranged that he should leave at three o'clock in the morning, when the steamer containing the english correspondents would arrive. john laty, a well known london newspaper man wrote the following account of his second attempt: "as we draw near cape grisnez light, aboard the earnest, capt. edward dane, preparations are made by mr. m. boyton for proceeding ashore to assist in his brother's departure. a boat is lowered from the davits. it is soon manned, your artist slipping down the rope with the agility of a sailor. he is the last straw. the boat is pulled off. the earnest steams slowly on, for three o'clock is close at hand and that is the hour fixed for captain boyton's start from the cran aux anguilles, el chine, about two hundred yards to the east of the grisnez light. "three a.m.--a rocket rushes up from the boat sent ashore. it is the signal of captain boyton's departure. it is answered by a display of fire-works from the earnest. a gun is fired and grisnez light flickers and goes out. day is breaking; but captain boyton is not discernable yet. over the gray waters one sees through a good glass, the white fringe of surf breaking on the sandy beach, which is lined by a black mass of people behind whom is burning a large bonfire. a speck is at length made out to the right of the boat, 'three points off,' as the white haired old salt on board remarks. the sky gets lighter, the sea deep blue. we can now plainly see the dauntless captain paddling actively away toward us, riding buoyantly over the swelling waves, and making good progress in his gray suit of india-rubber. his brother comes on board soon, with the news that the boat can not venture through the surf that foams up the beach. the stout little craft now receives a compass which is placed in the stern, where the mate takes his place to act as pilot. off the boat puts once more, to act thence forth as captain boyton's guide. "four a.m.--we give the captain a ringing cheer as he paddles alongside the earnest. he answers that there are some people on shore who want to come aboard and that his sail too has been left behind. his message delivered, he paddles away again. in a few minutes he shouts out that if a boat is not sent off for those on shore he will turn back himself. "if you don't do it," he says, "they will have to walk back to boulogne, thirteen miles." a crew having volunteered, mr. michael boyton determines to brave the surf. the earnest steams back as near as she can safely go to cape grisnez. a second boat is lowered. before it can reach the shore a fisherman's skiff makes from the beach, and transfers to the boat of the earnest the three or four drenched passengers invited by captain boyton to accompany him on his voyage. they are baron de la tonche (sub-prefect of boulogne) mr. merridew, pilot mequin and others. it is a quarter to six by the time the earnest overtakes captain boyton. he gives a cheery trump of satisfaction from his foghorn, when he learns that his sail and his guests have been fetched from land. he does not have recourse to his sail yet as the wind (w. n.-w.) continues unfavorable. he has nevertheless paddled to such good purpose by six o'clock that he has covered seven miles from cape grisnez, albeit he is but five miles from the french coast, having been carried up channel by the current. his plan is totally opposite from the one followed by him in his last voyage. whereas he then went with the tide, he is now endeavoring to cut across the tides, in accordance with the advice of captain dane and the counsel of an eminent hydrographer, who had most courteously made out an elaborate chart and entered into the minutest details as to the channel currents, for captain boyton's guidance. "quarter to eight:--boyton calls for his sail. the staunch little lath of a mast is fixed into the socket attached to one of his feet. the tiny sail fills; but sends him on a wrong tack, wind still blowing w. n.-w. nothing daunted, boyton paddles onward for another hour. he then sends the laconic message, 'all right!' by the first pigeon post of the folkestone pigeon club. wind w.s.-w. captain boyton hoists sail again at twenty-five minutes to ten and now scuds along beautifully, like some large sea-bird skimming over the blue waves. a critical time for him approaches. captain dane relieves the mate as pilot. when he is pulled out to boyton, the daring voyager is paddling mechanically. he is very drowsy. captain dane's quiet, calm encouragement revives the failing boyton. he feels greatly invigorated by the plain breakfast. no liebig mess, this time, taken to him by dr. benjamin howard, honorary secretary of the new york humane society. this morning meal and the two other meals taken by boyton during his arduous undertaking cannot be considered very epicurean. each frugal repast consists of nothing more than half a pint of good strong tea, green with a dash of black, and a couple of beef sandwiches. the tea wakes him up directly. inspirited by the cup that cheers, he is roused to fresh vigor, and zestfully plies his paddle with wonted dexterity. "quarter to twelve.--captain dane says that boyton is now in mid- channel. the tide has swept him north-easterly. the french cliffs are dim. the white cliffs of dover are not yet visible to the naked eye. in half an hour the coast line of england looms in sight. clearer and clearer the cliffs grow out of the haze as the afternoon wears away. at twenty minutes from two a steamboat full of excursionists from folkestone, decked with flags from stem to stern, sends a volley of rattling cheers across the water, and fair hands flutter handkerchiefs in honor of captain boyton, who runs up the stars and stripes in acknowledgement of their hearty encouragement. another steamer proceeding across the channel is cheering captain boyton and dipping her ensign in his honor. more and more distinct grow the dover cliffs. the outline of the castle is clearly defined. 'thou art so near and yet so far' might be appropriately struck up by the captain, whose voice is strong and cheery whenever he exchanges a shout with us. " : p.m.--a calm and beautiful evening. boyton sailing with a faint wind and in slack water. he has by this time crossed two tides. the flood up channel still. p.m.--the ebb down channel to the varne, being carried many miles north and south respectively by each, and is now in a fair way to reach england, being only four miles from dover castle, according to the encouraging news of captain dane. so clear is the air that cape grisnez and the varne buoy are still in sight. the last pigeons are now dispatched. twenty-nine in all have gone during the day. the longest three miles ever known are now entered upon. hour after hour passes and three miles is ever the distance from shore, so says captain dane. the south foreland lights flash out in our face. dover lights shine brightly a little distance to our left. the interminable three miles are not lessened a jot. the crew of the royal wiltshire life boat, specially sent by the national life boat association, warmly cheer the plucky boyton. he again asks the distance. "three miles", shouts back captain dane. "ah," grimly answers boyton, with a spice of the mark twainish humor peculiar to him, "that's about it. they've just told me from the life- boat its five miles, and, as your steamer is two miles long, we're right in our reckoning all around; but i don't care if it's twenty-five, i'm going to make it." "quarter to nine.--boyton takes supper, lights a cigar and paddles perseveringly along, although he has now been close on eighteen hours in the water. bravo heart! he is now paddling more strongly than he was in the morning. the three miles shrink, at last into two and three quarters and about this time the one sensational incident of this voyage happens. "captain boyton's own words best describe the episode: 'about an hour before i got on land, i heard a tremendous blowing behind me. it startled me for the moment, for i guessed it was a shark. i instantly drew out my knife, but while i was in the act of doing this, a second snort came closer to my head. i out with my knife and instantly threw myself into a standing position, ready to strike if i had been attacked; but simultaneously with this movement of mine a tremendous black thing leaped completely over me and darted away like lightning. it was a porpoise.' "the earnest slowly steaming, captain dane casting the lead every few minutes, creeps so near to the towering south foreland by a.m. that one might almost throw a biscuit ashore. the feat is on the eve of being accomplished. the ebb is not yet so strong that he cannot make palpable progress through the tide. the curlews up in the cliffs are shrilly heralding the dawn, or welcoming boyton, which you please. a fisherman's skiff has put off to show the safest landing place. the intensest interest is felt by the group on the bridge of the earnest. though day is breaking, the sea is still so dark that only the two boats can be discerned close to the shore. a cheer comes over the waters at half past two. our hearts give a bound. we know the young hero has accomplished his daring task, and we send back our heartiest cheers to him. a rocket rushes up and curls in triumph over the cliffs. no one on board can be more exultant than mr. michael boyton. yet he coolly calls through the speaking trumpet, 'come back now. that will do for to- night!' "the rocky strip of beach on which the captain has landed is in fan bay, a hundred yards or so west of south foreland lights. there from he is speedily rowed to the steamer. receiving a fresh round of british hurrahs on nimbly embarking, he is warmly shaken by the hand, his comely, bronzed face lighting up with a modest smile, albeit his eyes and skin must be smarting terribly from the continual wash of the salt sea waves for twenty-three hours and a half. "captain boyton is sufficiently recuperated before folkestone is reached, to receive anew the homage which englishmen are ever ready to pay to heroic pluck and endurance. dover honors him with a salute of eleven guns as the earnest glides by. folkestone harbor is gained at last. our adieux paid to captain boyton, no one seems loth to land." paul received congratulatory telegrams from the queen, the prince of wales and president grant. dover gave the captain a dejeuner. folkestone, or rather the south eastern directors, entertained him at a banquet on saturday evening, when he felicitously thanked captain dane and others for their generous services during his channel voyage. after his successful attempt, which caused the wildest excitement over all the world, he rested a few days before resuming work, under his managers. medals, flags, jewelry, addresses and presents of all kinds poured in on him. the humane society at boulogne voted him their massive gold medal representing the first order of french life saving. all during the summer, paul appeared in the different towns and watering places in england, getting his regular pay of fifty guineas a day, equal to $ , per week. in september his agent accepted of two week's engagements for exhibitions in berlin at lake weissensee. the business that was done there was simply stupendous, and paul's treatment by the inhabitants of berlin will never be forgotten by him. for the first time in his life he fell in love. his inamorata was a blue-eyed young german lady, the sweetest and loveliest girl in berlin; he carried her colors in many a lonely voyage in after years. but it never amounted to anything more than warm friendship, as his love for his free and adventurous life was much stronger than any chains cupid could weave. chapter x. at the close of his berlin engagement, paul determined to make a voyage down the rhine. with that intention he started for basle, switzerland. several correspondents of french, german and english papers desired to accompany him on his trip. as the river is very rough and swift between basle and strassburg, they decided to join him at strassburg when he arrived there. in october, , he started on his first long river voyage, four hundred miles, to cologne. at five o'clock in the morning he stepped into the rapid rhine, with nothing but his bugle and paddle. his first run was to strassburg, seventy miles below. news did not travel along the upper rhine fast in those days and the peasantry did not know of his trip. his unexpected and strange appearance caused no little fright among the people along the banks. at one point he came on three workmen, engaged in mending an embankment. while approaching them on the swift current, he raised himself up in the water and blew a blast on his horn. the workmen looked around and seeing a strange figure standing in the water blowing a trumpet, perhaps thought it was old father rhine. they did not wait to investigate; but disappeared up the bank in a hurry. about noon paul arrived at breisgann, where he got some refreshments. the course of the river now ran along the black forest, and is much narrower there. the scenery is weird and somber and although the region is interesting, it is somewhat monotonous. people of the black forest are a dreamy and superstitious race; they would stand and look at the uncouth figure in the water for a moment and then run. one old man who was gathering driftwood was so surprised and frightened that he sprang from his boat and ran up the bank without waiting to secure it. at nightfall paul was still driving along. he heard a peasant whistling and singing on the bank, he hailed him and inquired in german, how far strassburg was below. "eine stunde," (one hour,) was the reply. he afterwards found out that it was the custom in that part of the country to give distance by time. in half an hour afterwards the lights of the bridge at kohl showed up. there were two bridges there, one for the railroad and one a low pontoon bridge. while watching the high railroad bridge, as he was rapidly approaching on the current, he struck on one of the pontoons and was whirled under. on coming to the surface, he hauled for the shore and landed. it was then eight o'clock and no one was visible. knocking on a door a woman opened it. she saw the dark figure all glistening with water and sent forth a series of yells that caused the entire neighborhood to turn out. a german policeman approached, took paul in charge and conducted him to a hotel near by. he said: "i recognized you, captain, and your friends are all in strassburg and do not expect you till to-morrow. the city is about three miles from the river. i will send immediately for a carriage." when it arrived, he found that it contained three of his friends, who had been apprized of his landing. they drove to a hotel in strassburg. the next day was spent in hunting for and purchasing a flat bottom boat for the reporters. the berlin press was represented by count von sierasowsie, an invalid officer with both legs cut off. he had to be carried around in a perambulator. he had a private soldier, which the german government allowed him, as a servant. the balance of the reporters were from france and england. a boat about forty feet long and eight feet wide was purchased and two men, who professed to know something about the channel of the rhine, engaged to navigate it. it was nothing more than an open craft; no roof, so the correspondents put in straw and chairs to make themselves comfortable. a place was reserved in the bow for the count's perambulator. the following day all the baggage was placed aboard. paul had three trunks which had been forwarded from berlin. dr. willis, the english correspondent, observed that paul passed a strong line through the handles of his trunks and secured each firmly one to the other. then he tied a buoy to the end of the line. the doctor inquired why he did so. "oh," answered paul, "i always like to be prepared. in case this boat sinks i can easily find my baggage by means of this buoy which will float on the surface." this remark had not a very encouraging effect on the doctor. that afternoon the voyage was resumed and they ran all night on a swift current. great danger and difficulty were experienced from the floating mills. they kept the crew busy guiding the unwieldy boat out of danger. the reporters did not rest much. the only one on board who slumbered with pleasure was simnick, the count's servant, who seemed to take to sleep as naturally as a duck to water. paul kept well ahead of the boat and warned them of dangers. next day came out clear and warm. as the approached worms, they were met by gaily decorated steamers and large parties of ladies and gentlemen in small crafts. the burgomaster in an official boat was rowed off to paul's side. his boat contained a liberal supply of the famous lieb frauenmilch. he presented paul with a magnificently chased goblet saying: "captain, you must accept the hospitality of worms even if you do not stop," and filling the glass to the brim, also his own and the officials' who accompanied him and gave a "lebenhoch." the fairest and most interesting part of the rhine was now reached, that which teems with historic and legendary associations; the part too, that possesses a population second to none in the fatherland for generosity and hospitality. the whole voyage was now a continuous fete. at almost every place they passed the burgomaster with his friends came out and invited them to drink a cup of wine for which every part of the rhine is famous. all day they continued down the blue and rapid water and at three o'clock the next morning landed at mayence, where they woke the sleepy inhabitants with rockets and bugles. the run from strassburg lasted thirty-six hours; they were glad to get warm comfortable beds in the hotel where they rested till monday. before leaving mayence, telegrams poured in from every point on the river below. one was signed elizabeth, princess of schaumburg-lippe, congratulating paul and inviting him to stop at wiesbaden. the party left mayence on monday and continued dropping down the river. from this place on, the banks presented a very thronged and lively appearance. perhaps no other river in the world could be found to equal that from mayence to cologne in the variety of its life and the multiplicity of its associations. reception after reception was tendered the voyager and his party and every place seemed to vie with the others in the warmth and good will of its welcome. at geisenheim, the committee who met paul on the river, insisted that he must come ashore as a reception was prepared for him. they landed and found a number of americans, including consul general webster. about twenty lovely girls dressed in white and carrying baskets of flowers met the party at the bank. they all implored paul to come up with them and see their picturesque town and insisted that he must join in the parade. paul was anxious to continue his way down the river; but the bright eyes and the sweet, soft tones of the beautiful daughters of the rhine made him an easy victim, so a procession was formed, the young ladies leading and paul and his party were marched to the hotel, where an informal reception was held. when they left geisenheim, the press boat was literary loaded down with hampers of delicious wine. that same evening they reached bingen. here the captain was warned to beware of bingen loch and the lurlei. he took but little stock in the stories about their dangers and secretly determined to dash right into the legendary whirlpool. that whirlpool which has been the theme of heine's song, has also been the dread of rhine boatmen from time immemorial. legend says it is presided over by a fairy maid who lures hapless fishermen to the spot by her syren voice and rejoices in their destruction. the beauty of this part of the rhine is indescribable. mountains tower directly up from the water's edge, here and there dotted with historic castles. time after time was paul's bugle salute answered on the ramparts far above and many a fair hand waved a handkerchief. when they approached the lurlei, the boatmen used superhuman efforts to get away from the dreaded whirlpool and hugged the opposite shore. their cries of: "this way captain, the lurlei," were unheeded by paul who kept directly for the jutting rock which causes the eddy known as the whirlpool. "where are you going?" thundered out one of the members of the press, "come to this side of the river!" "oh, i'm going to visit the mermaid," responded paul and a few minutes afterward he was in her embrace; or rather in the embrace of the noted lurlei. instead of swallowing him up, as had been anticipated, it only whirled him around a few times; he soon succeeded in getting away with a few strokes of his paddle and rapidly overhauled the terror-stricken occupants of the press boat. he dashed alongside and with a dexterous twist of his paddle, sent a shower of water over the astounded and horror-stricken simnick, who was sure that the voyager must be crazy to take such risks. "why," said paul, "there are a thousand more dangerous eddies in the mississippi that have never been heard of," and he laughed heartily at the danger he had passed. at coblentz the strassburg boatmen refused to go any farther so they were sent home. the guiding of the press boat was now left to the tender mercies of simnick. some of the press men occasionally volunteered to help him. his erratic steering brought him showers of abuse, the occupants of the boat became so nervous that they earnestly desired paul to remain as near them as possible. paul knowing that his baggage was aboard, did not require a second invitation. once simnick landed the party on a bar, before they got the boat afloat again, all excepting simnick's master, the count, were compelled to take off their shoes and shove her off. shooting pontoon bridges was the greatest danger. on approaching one, all were aroused and the press men's-hearts were kept pretty close to their mouths. the count, seated forward in his little carriage, was almost knocked over board, while the boat grazed some spar or bridge. on each of these occasions, the imprecations of the count, both loud and deep, fell harmlessly around the stolid simnick. the count adopted new tactics when approaching a place where bad steering would be likely to cause serious trouble. he would, by the aid of his hands, get down from his carriage and seat himself in the bottom of the boat with the expression of his face, saying: "well, if i have to die, i will not have my brains knocked out." the fifth day after leaving strassburg, the party reached cologne, where they were received by the booming of cannons and ringing of bells. the greatest excitement prevailed in the quiet old town and paul was the recipient of many honors and presents. several poems were dedicated to him, good, bad and indifferent. one very persistent poet, whose knowledge of english was rather limited, bored him considerably. he got so inflated over paul's feigned praise, who had tried this ruse to get rid of him, that he had his poem put in a german paper and printed in english at his own expense. it was as follows: hall my boy! coming to us with a ton full of reason, bringing that, what now is most of season: the best of these we did meet since years in a period of apprehensions and fears. you are, no doubt of those good hearted fellows, who like to lead the men through friendly meadows; god bless always your noble, humane aim, and give to it the success you do claim. the people by his loud acclamation, may prove to you that it feels no temptation to cut the throats, to break the necks around and make a grave of all european ground. it is a sort of cry that's rising, to prove that there are men enough despising armstrong and krupp etcetera with dyrose, snyder, mauser, yea. are you returned to uncle sam's cottage, then make aware your countrymen of every age: your finding the german people sorry for human life, but not for scorn and war and strife. and now, farewell, my boy, with your ton of reason, may god you bless at every season. the trip on the rhine concluded, paul in company with doctor willis visited several cities in germany, holland and belgium, where he gave exhibitions till the ice stopped his work. he then crossed to england and took a steamer to new york on a flying trip home, where he arrived december th, . he had been gone about sixteen months. chapter xi. after spending a few weeks with his family, captain boyton received an invitation to visit a friend in st. louis. while there the swift current of the mississippi, which was then flowing with ice, tempted him and he made a voyage from alton to st. louis, about twenty-five miles. a boat containing newspaper reporters was to accompany him down; but the weather proved too cold for them and they abandoned him after a few miles. the thermometer was below zero, and a man was frozen to death that morning in a wagon at alton. his reception in st. louis was something extraordinary. the deafening noise made by the steamers and tug boats as they passed the bridge was heard far beyond the city limits. before he left st. louis he gave a lecture for the benefit of st. luke's hospital, and on that occasion was presented with a massive silver service. general sherman made the presentation speech. from st. louis he went to new orleans where he decided to feel the waters in the stronger currents of the lower river. he concluded to take a run of a hundred miles and gave himself twenty-four hours in which to make the voyage. several members of the press intended to accompany him on the trip and a row boat was procured for their accommodation. this boat was placed on board the steamer bismarck that was bound to st. louis. it was arranged with the captain to drop them off at bayou goula exactly a hundred miles above. as the steamer, to get ahead of an opposition boat, started an hour before the advertised time, all the newspaper reporters except one, were left behind. at six o'clock the next morning, paul and the reporter were landed on the levee at a miserable looking little louisiana village. they breakfasted at the solitary hotel; after which they made enquiries in regard to a pilot. all agreed that a colored man named gabriel was the best. they sauntered forth on the levee to hunt up gabriel. they were followed by a large crowd of negroes, young and old who had heard about the wonderful man- fish. paul was informed that gabriel was out in the river catching driftwood, and the entire colored population appeared to join in yelling for "gabe" to come ashore. gabriel, who was a tall, sad looking negro, was called on one side by paul who explained that they desired his services for twenty-four hours, he stated that there was plenty of provision aboard for him and that he would send him back from new orleans by steamer, so that his trip would not cost him a cent. gabriel received the communication in stolid silence. he then retired to a log where he seated himself in the centre of a number of his darkey friends. after a consultation, he returned and announced that the figure would be twenty-five dollars. "why, what do you mean, you black rascal!" exclaimed paul, "it will really be only one day's work. how much do you make a day gathering driftwood?" "two an' foah bits a day sah." "and you want twenty-five out of me for one day's work? i will give you three dollars." "all right, boss, all right, sah," responded gabriel without a moment's hesitation. soon after, paul and the newspaper man were approached by a darkey, who introduced himself as mr. brown. he said: "i heah dat yo' hab engage gabe fur pilot ye' down to new yorleans. dat niggah don' know nofing 'bout de riber, sah, no sah, me do dough, an, me'll go down fur nothin' sah." "are you sure you understand the channel down the river?" asked paul. "deed i do, sah, i knows mos' oh the cat-fish tween heah an' dere." "consider yourself engaged, providing you can get the boat away from gabriel." "dats all right sah, lebe dat to me," mr. brown answered. a liberal supply of hay for the comfort of the reporter was placed in the row boat. as the hour approached for them to depart, the levee was thronged with darkies of all sizes and ages, who gazed in open mouthed astonishment, when they saw the dark form in rubber appear and step into the mississippi. by a clever ruse mr. brown got charge of the boat and shoved her off, much to the discomfiture of gabriel. he returned gabriel's maledictions with bows and smiles. they shot rapidly away on the yellow flood and were soon far below bayou goula. as night came on, paul requested brown to light his lantern and get ahead. brown lit the lantern, but insisted on keeping behind instead of taking the lead. to all paul's remonstrances he would reply: "yo' doin' all right, capen, jus' go right 'long, right 'long, sah." paul soon discovered that the negro knew far less about the river than he knew himself and so he threatened that if mr. brown did not keep up, he would be tempted to dump him overboard, where he could renew his acquaintance with his old friends the cat fish. all night they glided between the dark forests on either side of the river. paul frequently amused himself by startling a camp of negro fishermen. they spear fish by the light of a fire they build close to the bank. all he had to do in order to break up a camp was to float down quietly until the glare of the fire played on him, then stand up in the water and utter a few howls to attract the darkey's attention. one sight of so hideous a figure in the rubber dress was enough. their fishing was adjourned for that night. about three in the morning, paul found himself far ahead of the press boat and made the forest ring with the echo of his bugle to wake mr. brown up. two or three times he had to wait for the boat. at last he decided that there was no use in dallying or he would never get to new orleans in twenty-four hours; so he shot ahead and let the boat take care of itself. before daylight in the morning he heard the roar of a great crevasse that had been formed near bonnet carre. the river bank there had been washed away for about four or five hundred yards and a great volume of water was being swept into the forests and swamps below. without much difficulty he passed this dangerous break and at daylight his bugle called the early risers in the village to the river bank. here without leaving the water, he got a cup of hot coffee and while he was drinking it, those on the bank informed him that there was a white boat just coming around the bend in the distance, so he concluded to wait for it. soon after, mr. brown, pulling lazily along, arrived. paul rated him soundly for his tardiness. the reporter was sound asleep, doubled up in a pile of hay at the bottom of the boat. at five o'clock that evening, exactly twenty-four hours after they started, they tied up at the levee in new orleans where they were received by about ten thousand people, who covered the levee and crowded the deck of the steamers. while resting in new orleans after his run, paul was waited on by a party of gentlemen, who announced themselves as a committee appointed to call on him and see if they could induce him to give an exhibition in......, an interesting little town up the river. "have you got any water that can be enclosed?" paul inquired. they said they had a beautiful little lake right back of the town that could be properly fenced, so that no one could look on without paying. they promised that captain boyton should have the entire receipts, and that they would make it a gala day providing he would come up, and assured him of the warmest kind of reception. "we'll have music too," added one of the committee men. being so assured, paul promised to be on hand. the committee started for home where they commenced to rouse the country. one morning paul, accompanied by mr. brown stepped off a steamboat at .........., and was received by the committee who were waiting for him and who immediately escorted him to the hotel where he was cordially invited to "limber up." after breakfast, the voyager was escorted to the lake and saw to his annoyance that there was no fence or enclosure around it. he remonstrated with the committee and said that they could never get a fence around it in time. the answer was, "never mind, captain, never mind. we'll guarantee that no one stands around that lake without paying." all the morning crowds kept pouring into town. by noon, the main street was filled with wagons, ox-teams and mules with vehicles of every kind, shape and color, all carrying crowds of whites and negroes. paul dined with the mayor, at the hotel and after dinner commenced to dress in his suit. the mayor informed him that there would be a parade to start from the hotel door and that he would be escorted to the lake by the guard and the band. when the hour arrived, paul was led from the hotel by his honor and was mounted on a cart to which two white mules were hitched in tandem. the mayor mounted with him. behind this cart, drawn up in military array were fifty men armed with shot guns. in front of the cart rode the grand marshall of the occasion followed the band which consisted of a solitary hand-organ. order for advance being given, the parade started for the lake. when they reached the water-side, paul was requested to step into the little tent which had been erected for him and to be seated until the fence was made. the grand marshal then ordered all the people to fall back, while he stationed the guards with loaded shot guns at intervals around the entire lake. then riding his horse wildly up to the crowd he informed them that "this line of guards was the fence and that any person coming within one hundred yards of the line would be shot." "this," pointing to two of the committee men, who stood with shot guns near an old soap box in which a slit was cut to receive the money, "is the entrance gate. niggers twenty-five cents, whites fifty cents. now get right in or get off this prairie." the whole exhibition was unexpectedly successful. there was not a dead- head around the lake. paul took for his share two hundred and thirty dollars, beside spending one of the pleasantest days he remembers. this town is now a smart city and paul withholds the name because the citizens may not relish this reminiscence. soon after, paul went to louisville, ky., where he made a run over the falls of the ohio. this feat caused the most intense excitement in louisville and vicinity. he then went to europe and commenced his exhibition season at amsterdam, holland, in may, for by this time he was well launched in the show business. he exhibited with much success all through holland and germany. august d, , he found himself in the town of linz, austria. here he met with an accident from which he almost lost his right eye, by the premature explosion of a torpedo. he was an invalid in the hotel on the banks of the danube for two weeks. the constant sight of the inviting water of the danube started the desire in his heart for another voyage, and it did not take him long to make up his mind to take a run to buda pesth, about four hundred and fifty miles below. when he announced his intention to take this voyage, it was quickly telegraphed all over the country bordering on the river. almost the whole city of linz turned out to bid him goodbye as he stepped into the danube. the current was very swift; but the river was greatly cut up by islands and bars. he could see nothing blue about the danube. that river was almost as yellow as the mississippi. like all rivers it has its bug-bear. the struden is the terror of the upper danube. it consists of a sharp and dangerous rapid, picturesquely surrounded by high wood covered hills. great crowds were gathered here to see paul make his plunge. he passed under two or three heavy waves that completely submerged him. as he was hurried away on the wild current, he held his paddle high up in acknowledgment to the cheers. his reception in vienna was most enthusiastic. from presburg he was accompanied for about two miles by the swimming club and he was made an honorary member by a vote taken while he was paddling in the river surrounded by his swimming friends. he was then left alone and all that day he traveled through a barren and desolate country. he occasionally ran across parties of gold dust hunters who were at work on the sand bars. they were a wild looking lot of people and all wore white shirts and baggy trousers. his appearance as he skimmed along on the current never failed to produce the utmost consternation among the groups who had possibly never heard of him. it was a very warm day and the sun burned his face cruelly. in the evening the mosquitoes hovered around him in clouds and made his life miserable. that night he was drowsy and fatigued in consequence of his hard work all day. about eleven o'clock, in spite of himself, he went to sleep, though well aware of the danger he ran from the mills. the danubian mill consists of two great barges fastened together by beams and decked over with a large wheel between them. they are anchored in the swiftest part of the current which drives the machinery. he was awakened from his nap by hearing a tremendous crashing noise and found himself just passing in between two barges and in a second or two would be under the rapidly revolving wheel. the current hurled him against it. before he could recover one of the planks struck him over the eyebrows and the next struck him on the back of the head driving him completely under. his paddle was smashed in two and one half of it gone, while he could feel the warm blood running down his forehead. with the broken piece of the paddle he managed to gain the eddy back of one of the barges. the miller was awakened by his cries for assistance and the stalwart hungarian appeared on the deck with a lantern and threw a rope to the almost fainting man. paul grasped this firmly and was hauled up till the light of the lantern revealed his blood covered face and glinting rubber head piece. the miller uttered a cry of terror, let go the rope and ran into the mill where he securely fastened himself, thinking no doubt that some evil sprit of the danube had appeared to him. when the terrified miller loosened his hold on the rope, paul now almost entirely exhausted dropped back into the current and floated away in a semi-conscious condition. with his half paddle he succeeded in keeping clear of the mills and drifted till day light. his eyes were almost closed by the swelling of his forehead. soon after he discovered a castle high up on the banks on one side of the river, the inhabitants of which he stirred up by a blast on his bugle as he was drifting helplessly. a boat shot away from shore and picked him up. the boat contained an austrian officer and two soldiers. the officer informed him that the castle to which he was being conveyed, was the fortress komorn. his wounds were quickly dressed by the surgeon and in two days he was sufficiently recovered to resume his trip. from komorn he ran all day and the following night to make up for lost time. about daylight next day great mountains towered up each side of the river that was there narrow and rapid. about eight o'clock he arrived at a little village and was informed that it was nagy, about forty miles above buda pesth. here he got some refreshments and started on his last run. a few miles below he saw a very high mountain, surmounted by a cross, up which ran a zig-zag road. at each bend of this road was erected a grotto containing some scene from the passion of our lord. this way of the cross is a celebrated place of devotion to the pious people of buda pesth. as he passed the mountain he saluted a party of ladies and gentlemen standing on the shore. one of the gentlemen hailed him in german with the request to slack up a little and they would come off in a boat. paul complied with their request and stood upright in the water and drifted quietly along. the boat was soon beside him: it contained two ladies, evidently mother and daughter, and two gentlemen. the daughter, about eighteen years of age, was, in paul's estimation, the most lovely girl he had ever seen. he gazed with a look of admiration on her wondrous beauty and paid but little attention to the shower of questions that were put to him in hungarian-german by the male members of the party. in his best german, he asked her what he already knew, that was, "how far it was to buda pesth?" she smiled and answered in french, "about thirty-five miles. i presume you can speak french better than german?" this was just what paul wanted. she now acted as interpreter for the whole party and her sweet voice drove away all feeling of fatigue. as the current was driving the party rapidly down, the mother suggested that it was time that they should say good-bye. before going, one of the gentlemen asked through the young lady, "if m. le capitaine would take a glass of wine?" paul responded, "that it was pretty early in the morning for a toast, but if he was permitted to drink to the health of hungary's fairest daughter, he would sacrifice himself." with a musical laugh she handed him a glass filled with sparkling tokay. a general hand shake all around followed and as paul's rubber-covered, wet hand grasped that of the young lady, he begged her to present him with the bunch of violets she had pinned to her breast, as a memento of the pleasant moments he spent in her company. she complied with his request, he gallantly kissed them and pushed them through the rubber opening of the face piece, down into his breast. as he resumed paddling, the thought occurred to him, that the frank cordiality of the male occupants of the boat had undergone a decided change, and their farewell was a little more formal than their introduction; but he paid little attention to that and struck away for buda pesth with a strong steady pull, while he hummed: "her bright smile haunts me still." the news of his approach had been telegraphed to buda pesth. when he arrived at the hungarian capital both banks and the bridges were black with people and the cry of, "eljen boyton, eljen america," re- echoed on every side. the warmth of his reception in buda pesth was simply indescribable. in narrating the story of his voyage down the danube, he mentioned the fair vision he had encountered at visegrad. this was duly published with his other adventures. from buda pesth he returned by railroad to vienna, where he had an engagement to give an exhibition for the boat club. this contract being filled and free to go anywhere he wished, he followed his fancy and took the first train for buda pesth again. here he gave many successful exhibitions; one of largest was for the benefit of a girl's home at was a favorite charity in buda pesth. at the close of the exhibition he was bewildered by the shower of flowers and bouquets thrown on him in the water. next day he received a letter addressed, as follows: sir captain paul boyton a buda pesth, hotel europa. the contents of the letter were: sir!--accept our hearty thanks for your generous complaisance, having succored foreign interest in a foreign land. we assure you, that your name and the remembrance of your noble action never leave the hearts of these young girls, whom we can help through your beneficence to instruct them useful professions. let me render you our thanks, we do never forget your gentlemanlike conduct. i remain very much obliged, your esteemer elma hentallerf, secretary; mrs. anna kuhnel, president of the union of ladies. buda pesth, , sept. . during all this time paul kept his eyes wide open in the hope of again meeting the beautiful young lady, who had made such an impression on his heart. one day a hungarian officer met him on the street and said "captain wouldn't you like to be presented to the young lady you met on the river at visegrad?" "would a duck swim?" the officer told him to be ready that evening and he would take him around to their private box in the national theatre. paul was ready a couple of hours before the appointed time. they entered the box and the object of paul's dreams arose and advancing with a charming smile, said in english: "i'm so delighted to see you, captain." "not any more than i am to see you. why didn't you speak english to me on the river?" "well," she exclaimed, "i was a little confused and did not remember that americans spoke english, but let me present you to my mother and the gentlemen." paul was then introduced to an austrian officer and a count who with her mother were occupants of the box. little attention was paid to the play going on by paul, who kept up a running conversation in english mixed with french, with the charming girl at his side, but wily diplomat that he was, he got in an occasional remark to her mother in german. at the close of the performance, paul offered his arm to the young lady, while the austrian officer took the mother in tow. the other gentlemen in the party took the lead at the door. they walked leisurely home through the narrow streets and the officer who was escorting the mother clinked the scabbard of his long sword in a savage manner on the cobble stones. before they parted at the door of her home, paul had asked for and obtained permission to call the next day. he then turned away accompanied by the officer and walked in the direction of his hotel. the officer asked him how long he intended to remain in buda pesth. paul did not give him very much satisfaction as he was running free at the time and had no course mapped out. on arriving at the hotel, the captain invited the officer to take some refreshments. while seated at the table, the latter introduced the subject of dueling and asked paul questions in regard to the code in america. paul easily seeing the drift of his thoughts, entertained him with accounts of hair-raising combats with bowie knives, revolvers, shot guns and cannons, assuring him they were of frequent occurrence in the part of the states where he came from. he told the officer that he did not know one of his friends who would not rather participate in a duel than be invited to a banquet. when the warrior parted from paul he was stuffed fell of harrowing yarns, all of which he seemed to believe, at least his demeanor was much more gentle than when he had entered the hotel. paul remained in buda pesth two weeks longer than he expected, during which time he was a frequent visitor at the home of the fair irene, where he was always welcomed by herself and parents. then followed a trip through the principal cities of hungary. he then went to italy where on the th of november, , he started on a long voyage down the po from turin to the adriatic, a distance of about six hundred and seventy miles. he was determined to make this trip in one continuous run, intending it as a feat to test his endurance. paul's knowledge of italian was very limited and his knowledge of the river he was about to embark on, less. all the inhabitants of turin seemed to have turned out to see him start. to carry his provisions, map, etc., he had a little tin boat made about two feet, six inches long and eight inches wide. this little craft bore the name, "irene d'ungeria," irene, belle of hungary, and was the model from which his well known "baby mine" was the evolution. the weather was cold and the water intensely so. its source was the alps, then in plain view and covered with snow. he started on a saturday morning at nine o'clock. the current was exceedingly strong, rushing over gravel beds on which he frequently grounded. the country in the vicinity was very beautiful with high ground on each side. at every little village and hamlet, he was received with enthusiastic "vivas" and many were the kind invitations he was tendered to stop and take refreshments. all these he declined as he had ample provisions in his little boat for a four day's run. this boat he had attached to his belt by a line about three yards long. she behaved very well; but when he reached very violent rapids he was compelled to pick her up and place her on his legs before him. about nightfall a lady and gentleman came off in a small boat and requested him to stop for the night assuring him that the danger in the river below was very great. it contained many mills under which he might be carried; but his mind was made up and he went steadily along on his perilous voyage. the night was very cold and the struggling moon occasionally lit up the valley. he struck many times heavily on the rocks and frequently entered false channels. about three o'clock sunday morning, he heard a loud roaring noise and supposed it to be some freight train passing over the bridge at casale, a village below, which he considered was then near. about the same time a thick, white fog peculiar to the po, settled over the river. through this he picked his way cautiously and as the current swept in around the bend of the river, the noise he heard before seemed to be no great distance away. the speed of the current seemed to increase and in a few minutes afterwards, he was shot over a dam and hurled in the tumbling water below. before he could extricate himself, the little boat had been upset and was about sinking when he grabbed her. the current soon drove him far below the dam, where he landed on a bar and emptied his tender of water. he knew her contents were ruined; but it was too dark to examine, so he kept on his voyage until sunrise, when he landed and found that all his provisions were converted into a kind of pudding, dotted with cigars instead of fruit. the small flask of cognac and a bottle of oil were the only things uninjured. a pull at the cognac flask served him for breakfast and he paddled away on his voyage with vigorous stroke. the sun rose that morning in a deep red color and as the rays illumined the snow clad alps, that looked so near him, the valley of the po and the remnants of the fog were bathed in a soft red light, so that even the very water seemed turned to blood. a sight more beautiful and peculiar than this, paul never witnessed since or before. the river now seemed to shoot from the hills into the low land. on either side was a heavy growth of willows. he saw no one until about nine that morning, when sweeping around a bend he came on a boat containing two men with a swivel gun, after ducks. both men were greatly excited and one of them turned the swivel in his direction. paul shouted vigorously at him not to fire, and fortunately he did not. he ran along side and held a conversation in the best italian he could muster. they informed him that he was nearing the village of frassinetto and offered him provisions. he accepted a piece of bread which he ate and again started on his journey. a couple of hours afterward he came to a flying bridge, an institution peculiar to many european rivers. it consists of a long line of small boats strung together on a heavy cable, anchored in the centre of the river. the boats supported the cable. the last boat on the line is the ferry or bridge. this is much larger than any of the others and has a steering oar. when cast away from one shore, the ferry is steered diagonally against the current to the opposite side while the line of boats supporting the cable swing with it. paul often found these bridges exceedingly dangerous, particularly at night time. then the ferry is always tied and the line of small boats lead from the centre to the side for about a hundred yards below. the bridge men at frassinetto were notified of paul's approach by his bugle and never having heard of him before, rowed out in a skiff and were very indignant when they found that he would not be rescued. all day sunday he drove ahead on the rapid current. by consulting his maps, which he fortunately saved and dried on the deck of the irene, he found that he could not make the run in four days as he had expected when he started. sunday evening he obtained some provisions from a miller and though feeling very sleepy and much fatigued, he kept driving along all night. the roar of the waters as they dashed against the mills, put him on the alert. monday morning he was faint and fast becoming exhausted; but was encouraged by the hope of soon reaching piacenza. there he expected to meet his agent, get a little rest and a full supply of much needed provisions. the agent in question, was a scotchman, he had met in milan, before going to turin. his occupation was that of a tenor singer; but he failed to make a success of it, he was open for anything that turned up. finding that he was a good italian scholar, paul engaged him. he was not exactly paul's idea of what an agent ought to be, as he showed too much fondness for the good things of this life. when seated with a dish of cutlets and truffles flanked by a generous sized bottle of wine, he was apt to make statements that were rather unreliable. before leaving milan for turin, paul told him, as the po was to him an unknown river, he could not tell at what time he could make on it, so that he must use his judgment from the reports he would get from above, in regard to the progress he was making down the river. he then instructed him to go to piacenza on saturday as he expected to be able to reach that point on sunday evening. paul afterwards learned that instead of waiting until saturday; his courier, full of self importance, started for that city the same day paul left on his way to turin. on arriving there he introduced himself to the sindaco and newspaper men, by whom he was feted and ample opportunity was given him to indulge in his favorite dishes. on his own responsibility, he informed the journalists that captain boyton would be sure to arrive on sunday evening, and at that time almost every man, woman and child in piacenza was on the banks of the river two miles away from the town. finding that the captain did not appear at the time he announced and that the crowd was getting angry, the agent slipped away and got back just in time to catch a train for ferrara much farther down the river. most of the crowd waited on the banks until dark, then returned and commenced to hunt for the agent; not finding him, they satisfied themselves by burning his effigy in the public square. monday broke on paul, chilly and uncomfortable. once in a while a faint gleam of sunshine would light up the river and he took advantage of any long reach before him, free from mills, to take a nap. he woke from one of these naps by hearing a cry on the banks and saw a fisherman gazing intently at the floating object. he half opened his eyes, but never made a move, curious to see what effect his presence would make on the peasant. at this time the current was setting him into the shore. the fisherman ran down along the bank to a point and there stood, pole in hand, waiting to capture what he no doubt thought was a dead body. as he was thrusting the pole out, paul quickly assumed an upright position in the water and saluted him with the words: "buon giorno." the pole dropped from his hand and with one frightened shriek he rushed up the bank and disappeared. about one o'clock the bridge at piacenza came in sight but instead of being full of people, as he expected, paul saw only a few working men and some soldiers. no sight of the agent was visible, so he decided to run through and stop at cremona about thirty miles below. he saluted the workmen and soldiers as he was carried under the bridge with frightful velocity. at this time his strength was almost gone and he was heart sore that he should fail in his self-imposed task; but felt that he was able to continue on as far as cremona, about twenty-five miles below. the day grew more dreary and it seemed to him as if it would soon commence to snow. he continued working slowly and stubbornly along, when he was arrested by a cry behind him. coming upright and wheeling around, he saw a young officer standing in a boat pulled by about twenty pontoneers. as he shot alongside, the officer stretched forth his hand to shake paul's and said in french: "you must come on board and go back to piacenza. the public are greatly disappointed. your agent said that you would be here yesterday and a great reception was prepared for you." paul thanked him but firmly declined to return. the officer then asked him if he desired anything and paul informed him that he was badly in need of provisions and some oil for his lamp. he had missed the little light on the head of the irene during the long, lonely nights on the river. "there is a village a couple of miles below," said the officer, "and if you will slack up a little, i will run ahead and have all you need by the time you come opposite." the pontoneer's boat shot away and paul followed quietly after them. when he arrived off the village, the boat again pulled out into the stream with not only the supplies desired, but a most excellent meal, consisting of boiled eggs and other nutritious edibles, along with a bottle of fine old barolo, the sparkling red wine of that country. while eating the food, paul, with the boat alongside, drifted slowly with the current and during that time, he ascertained that the young officer, who had manifested so much interest in him, was the son of general pescetta, minister of marine. shortly before being overtaken by the friendly italian, boyton was beginning to feel terribly fatigued and had serious thoughts of throwing up the trip; but under the influence of the hearty meal and the invigorating wine, his courage was renewed and he felt he could easily complete the journey. all that day he passed through lonely and miserable looking country. swampy lands and rice fields bordered either side of the river. about five o'clock he saw two men on the bank and called out to them, asking how far it was to cremona: "motto, signor; motto," was the answer which means, "very much, very much." it is the usual reply of all italian peasants when asked regarding distance. paul was so refreshed that he did not mind the discouraging answer. he was on buoyant spirits and to it seemed to him as though he could dash along forever without tiring, his strength was so great. he felt there would be no difficulty in completing his undertaking in time. this unusual animation and feeling of wondrous power, he could only attribute to the effects of the food and wine. pulling gaily along, he suddenly felt a tremendous pressure in his head, and apparently without the slightest cause, blood spurted from his mouth and nostrils. it occurred to him that he had burst a blood vessel. brilliant lights seemed to be burning in front, behind and all around him, with the intensity of electric search lights. a village appeared on the bank and he concluded to stop. pulling in shore, he was bewildered to find only the mud bank. this discovery startled him into a realization that something was wrong with his brain. the mind was wavering between the hallucinations of a fever, and lucidity. vagaries occasioned by a high temperature, would suddenly vanish as the struggling mind briefly asserted itself. as he resumed paddling, some swaying willows became three ladies attired in the grecian bend costume, then a fad in america, smiling and bowing to him. his mind told him they were only willows; but his eyes would not be convinced. darkness fell about him. he had no idea of where he was going, and the lights burst on him again with increased brilliancy. no matter where his eyes turned, the intense rays would shine into them. he thought he had arrived at cremona, and that some men were turning the reflector to annoy him. "keep those lights off," he shouted, "don't you see they are blinding me?" reason came for an instant and told him there was no town and no lights. he knew he must call for help, but several minutes elapsed before he could remember the proper italian word. then he cried: "soccorso, soccorso!" but only the echo responded from the lonely shore. he again reached the bank, formed by a dyke which protects the lowlands from the floods. he climbed to the top, carrying the little tender in his arms. then he could hear the tack, tack, tack, of some one pounding, and through an open door he saw a shoemaker hammering away at the sole of a boot on his knee. attempting to enter, he staggered against a tree. the shoemaker appeared in another direction and the sound of the hammer was continually with him. almost overcome with fatigue he decided to sit down, and then his paddle assumed the character of a companion, remonstrating with him and advising him to move on. "i think i'll sit down here," boyton would say. "indeed you won't," answered the paddle. "but i must." "if you do you will die. come on." endeavoring to obey the commands of the paddle he continued to stagger on, falling at every few steps; but regaining his feet and pressing forward. intense thirst consumed him and he went often to the brink of the river and drank quantities of water, burying his face in the muddy stream; the paddle all the while urging him to move on. along the top of the dyke he came upon three posts placed for the purpose of keeping cattle from getting off the road. these posts became sneering, laughing men, wearing cloaks flung across their breasts, italian fashion. they were insolent, and he challenged them to fight; but they only ridiculed him. "you are the fellows that have been bothering me all night," he shouted, and dropping on one knee, he took a sheath knife from the tender and plunged it into the breast of one of the men. in a flash of reason he saw the knife quivering in a post. again the fevered voyager started, the paddle all the while telling him that he would soon strike some town or village. two or three times the overwhelming desire for water compelled him to return to the river and drink. every time he descended or climbed the dyke he grew weaker and finally decided to lie down at all hazards and sleep. the paddle earnestly remonstrated: "it is death. death if you lie down. keep on," it said. fatigue obtained the mastery and he sank on the ground determined to sleep. scarcely had he stretched his limbs on the muddy dyke, than he was partially aroused by the "dong, dong, dong," of a great bell clanging on the still night air. he counted twelve strokes. "ah, that is another illusion," he thought; but it brought him to a sitting posture, just as a bell of different tone sounded "ding, ding, ding," and again he counted twelve strokes. the second sound convinced him that he was near a village, and heeding the commands of the paddle, he struggled to his feet and entered a road which he followed, passing under an old arch that spanned the highway, but he was afraid to touch it, thinking that it too, would disappear. shortly the cobble stones of a street were felt through the rubber soles of his dress. he saw houses on each side, but kept on under the impression that if he approached them they would vanish, and he also conceived the idea that he must tread lightly or he would scare them away. as he advanced through the village street, arguing with the paddle that no real village was in sight, a light shining through a transom over the door of some outbuilding, attracted his attention, and he thought he might be in the vicinity of human beings. hearing the sound of voices he approached the door, listening. then another mad thought came to him, that he must make a desperate rush at the door and get inside before it melted away. he did so, and the frail barrier gave way before the pressure of his shoulder and he stumbled headlong into the place. he disturbed several men who were drinking and playing at some game and as he regained his feet he observed two of the men trying to escape through a window, while the others seized chairs and benches to repel an attack of what they imagined to be the evil one. "molto malado!" cried boyton. at hearing this, the men gained confidence and put down their weapons. "medico? albergo?" inquired the voyager. one of the most intelligent of the party, said: "ah, he wants a doctor and a hotel. he is sick," and they went out with him into the street which was then lighted by the moon. the men advanced in a group while paul brought up the rear and in this way they proceeded until the hotel was reached, when some of the party began to throw pebbles against the upper window to awaken the landlord. while they were doing that and shouting, paul counted them and found they numbered twelve. he concluded they were the twelve apostles. "pedro, pedro, come down," shouted one of the apostles, "a frenchman wants to get in." pedro at last appeared at the door with a light in his hand; but on seeing his strange visitor in the black dress covered with mud, he exclaimed: "no room, no room." boyton said "vino," a touch of reason coming to his aid. "yes," replied the landlord, "you can have wine." he opened the door and the entire crowd entered a large room with an earthen floor and ranged around were several common board tables polished to a snowy whiteness, while on shelves were bright colored vessels and measures. on ordering the wine, paul noticed the landlord eyeing him suspiciously, so he took from the little boat which he still carried, a book, among the leaves of which was some italian paper money. throwing a ten lire note ($ . ), to the landlord, he ordered wine for the full amount, and the twelve apostles were soon enjoying it. boyton sat down and mechanically took the measure every time it was handed to him and drank. he tried to listen to the conversation of his strange comrades, but found himself dozing. the uproar made by the twelve, who had seldom experienced such a windfall, awakened the landlord's wife who entered the room and began to question the roysterers in a very emphatic manner. going to boyton, she lifted the rubber from his forehead and turning angrily to men, exclaimed: "can't you understand? this man has febbre del fuoco." taking the measure of wine away from paul, she ordered her husband to build a fire and began to take off the rubber dress, in which she was assisted by some of the men. when the tunic was off, steam arose from the voyager's body as from a boiler, and when the pantaloons were removed, the good hostess unceremoniously ordered the twelve apostles into the street. she procured a chicken which was soon broiling, and brewing some kind of tea, she compelled paul to eat and drink, after which he was escorted to a room and snugly covered up in a big, canopied bed. he was no sooner stretched on the mattress than he was sound asleep, not waking until the sun shone through the window next day. he then heard the murmur of voices in the street. jumping up, his feet struck a cold tiled floor which sent a chill over him. peering through the curtain, he discovered a crowd of people looking up at his room and a buzz of voices was heard all about the house. not remembering where he was, he pulled a bell cord and the summons was answered by the landlady, who greeted him kindly and hoped he felt better. she also informed him that two gentlemen were below who wished to see him. "let no one up but a doctor," answered paul; but in a few moments three men were ushered in. boyton was unreasonably suspicious and testily told the men that he only wanted a doctor. one of the gentlemen explained in french that he was the mayor of meletti; that one of his companions was a doctor and they had come to take care of and entertain him. such gracious answers to rough and suspicious questions, disarmed paul and they were soon on friendly terms. the mayor informed him that a carriage was at the door to convey him to his own house, where better care could be had. it was explained that the patient had nothing to wear except his underclothing, and the mayor immediately procured him a suit of clothes and escorted him through a gaping crowd to the carriage, nor would he permit paul to settle the hotel bill. after an hour's drive the voyager was comfortably installed in a mansion, under the ministrations of a distinguished physician. no one could have been better treated. he afterward learned that his host, beside his official position, was a large landed proprietor, owning most of the village, and was a member of the great family of gattoni de meletti. reports that the man in the rubber dress had been attacked by the fever, spread all over italy, and great numbers of people came from surrounding towns to see him and inquire as to his condition. the fire fever with which paul was attacked (febbre del fuoco), is peculiar to the districts along the lowlands of the po, and he had been eighty-three consecutive hours in the water when it overcame him. for more than a week the doctor was in close attendance and then boyton was sufficiently restored to health to go about. he was treated with the utmost consideration. the mayor took pains to show him everything of interest. among his other possessions, the hospitable italian owned great droves of cows. the cows of that vicinity are known all over the world, the famous parmesean cheese being made there. the mayor's herd wintered in long sheds and were so near of one size that looking along the stalls over their backs they seemed as even and as level as a floor. the stalls and everything about the sheds were as clean and as sweet smelling as could be. the notoriety given to the town of meletti by the presence of boyton created much jealousy in the breasts of the people of castlenuovo bocco d'adda, the town in which he first appeared. they became impressed with the idea that their village had been cheated out of considerable fame by reason of the action of the mayor of meletti in taking him away; so in order to even things up they formed a boyton club and promoted a big banquet in his honor. this was followed by a more stupendous entertainment given by the people of meletti, and thus there was great rivalry between the villages to honor the distinguished guest. at the meletti banquet people were present from cremona, and boyton gave an exhibition in the lake for the benefit of the poor. when thoroughly restored to health, paul continued his voyage and was tendered an ovation all the way. on the fourth day he ended the journey at ferrara. when he landed he found that the enterprising agent before alluded to, had pursued the same tactics there that had distinguished him at piacenza. he had told the people that boyton would surely be down on a certain day, while at the time he was ill at meletti. on the day set by the agent for his arrival, great crowds gathered on the bridge and along the banks. a log floating down on the current was hailed by the agent as the voyager, much to the disgust of the people who strained their eyes until darkness sent every one home. the agent having reached the limit of his credit in ferrara, as he had at the town up the river, secretly disappeared to the shades of milan, where it is supposed that he resumed his operatic career. chapter xii. after leaving ferrara, boyton gave many exhibitions through the interior towns of italy; and finally made arrangements for a voyage down the arno from florence to pisa, a distance of about one-hundred kilometers. all florence was worked up to a state of great excitement when it became known that the intrepid american, as he was called, was going to start on a voyage from that city. the banks of the arno were literally jammed with people to witness the start. the river, which is fed by mountain streams, was rising rapidly owing to recent heavy rains above and many were the exclamations of doubt regarding his ability to accomplish the undertaking. a dam, called the pescaia, spans the river diagonally in the midst of the city and it was looked upon as a dangerous obstacle by the people. the start was made shortly before two o'clock in the afternoon and the rapid current, assisted by the powerful strokes of his paddle, soon carried paul beyond sight of the crowds and he went over the dam in safety. at nine o'clock he arrived at san romano where an immense crowd, including the notables of the district, together with the municipal junta of montopoli, awaited patiently as possible his arrival. torches blazed along the bank to show him where to land and loud huzzas rolled up from the multitude when he stood on the shore. he was escorted to a small inn where his only refreshments were two cups of tea. the crowd demanded a speech, and to quiet the yelling, paul stepped to the porch of the inn and delivered most of the italian words he knew: "signori, taute grazie di vostra accoglienza, arrivederie, ciao!" the speech was greeted with great applause and the crowd was satisfied. he remained at san romano but a short time and again entered the water. at some little distance below the village, there is a weir which is considered a most formidable spot by the inhabitants. they endeavored to persuade boyton to remain until morning and not attempt its passage in the darkness, especially as the river was now much higher than when he started. paul laughed at their fears and amidst the plaudits of the spectators, disappeared in the darkness. the weir so feared by the people, proved a mere toy for him. a demonstration in his honor was prepared at pontedera, where he arrived at o'clock. regardless of the late hour, the banks were crowded and torches gleamed along the entire length of the town. the whole population seemed to have turned out. as paul came opposite, he stood up in the water, saluting the assemblage. as he resumed his recumbent position, his hand came in contact with the upturned face of a dead woman. for a moment he was horrified; but fastening the body to a line, he carried it to shore, while the band played and the people cheered, little suspecting that the voyager had such a ghastly object in tow. he called out that he had the corpse of a woman with him. some of the authorities took charge of it; but the crowd gave it no heed as they followed up the street, cheering and tumbling over one another in their anxiety to see him. one enthusiast, who thought he was being unduly crowded, rammed his torch down another's throat. boyton was compelled to repeat the speech he made at san romano. the banquet was a noble success; but very trying to the landlord who appeared to be completely upset at having such unusual trade. instead of heeding orders for edibles, he would rush into the banqueting hall every few moments and nervously count the empty wine bottles. the guests yelled at him to hurry; but those bottles were counted several times before anything was set on the table to eat. paul remained at pontedera until morning, simply because he did not wish to reach pisa until the following mid-day, which was the time appointed. consequently it was o'clock in the morning when he resumed the voyage; he was escorted to the river by the same enthusiastic crowds. at noon he arrived at pisa. a unique reception had been arranged. the mayor and all the authorities were out to meet him in those peculiar looking boats that are seen nowhere else in the world, called lancia pisana. those boats are of ancient make; none of them being manufactured at the present day. they are about thirty feet long, richly carved and gaudily painted. under the escort of these gay boats, containing the notabilities, paul landed and again great crowds tendered him an ovation. under the impression that boyton could neither speak nor understand the italian tongue, the officials had engaged a man who was supposed to be a great english scholar, to act as interpreter for him at the feast to be given in the evening. the fellow was a burr, sticking to the outer skirts of respectable society, and when he was engaged to act as interpreter on such an occasion, he felt himself to be a great man. he was over weighted with his importance. at the banquet he sat at boyton's right hand and at every toast proposed, he would rise and bow in the most gracious manner. this rather embarrassed paul, who understood about all that was being said and could speak enough italian to make himself understood. he mentioned the fact to one or two of his entertainers, at the same time expressing a desire to be rid of the interpreter. the fellow was having too much pleasure to be easily disposed of, and it was not until some very vigorous words were passed, that he concluded to abandon the scene. in the meantime he had been honoring every toast with copious draughts of wine, and was very much intoxicated when he left the hall. he wandered about the streets and the more he thought of his dismissal, the deeper became his wrath and he concluded that he had been insulted. a few more measures of wine, partaken of at the café, determined him to wipe the insult out in blood. having made up his mind to write boyton a challenge, he entered a hotel with an air of great importance, and called to a waiter in a voice that could be heard all over the place: "waiter; a pen, ink and paper. i wish to write to captain paul boyton." the materials were given him and the following is a verbatim copy of the challenge sent by the accomplished english scholar to paul: [image of obviously illegible gibberish] next morning boyton returned to florence and that evening while entertaining some friends in his room, one of the guests looked out at the window and remarked how much higher the river was than it had been when he started for pisa. some of the guests advanced the opinion that it would be impossible for him to go into the river while it was in such a flood. paul, overhearing them, said: "ladies and gentlemen, if you will step out on the porch and wait a few moments, i will enter the river and paddle through the city in order to show you that i am equally as safe in such water as i would be were it as smooth as glass." while he was preparing for this short trip, the news spread over the city like wildfire and by the time he was ready, people lined either shore. when he proposed the trip, he had forgotten about the dam before alluded to, and did not know that the water was pouring over it in such torrents that it was extremely dangerous. he entered the raging current and was rapidly carried toward it. when he realized the danger he was approaching, it was too late to retreat, owing to the terrific power of the current that was bearing him to the falls. as he went over the sloping volume of water, he was met at the bottom by an immense back wave which drove him under. where the clashing waves embraced each other, he was checked and held, being rolled like a log that is caught between a back and an undertow. thousands of people crowded the banks in the vicinity of the pescaia and they gave boyton up as lost. men turned pale and women fainted. now and again they could see an arm protruding from the dark, angry waters; then a leg and an end of his paddle which he had the presence of mind to retain. it was impossible to get a rope to him and certain death to attempt a rescue with a boat. "only god can save him now," yelled some excited italian, "no man can do it." the multitude felt there was nothing to be done but to stand helplessly by and watch him drown. and what were boyton's thoughts? he stated afterwards: "i thought of it being christmas eve. the news of my death would be telegraphed to new york, my mother would hear of it and it would make a sad christmas for her." the voyager straggled with all the strength he possessed against the awful power of the contending waters and fortunately succeeded in throwing himself out on a big wave and was carried down. a great sigh of relief went up from the crowd which sounded like the rush of distant wind. soon after paul was pulled from the river insensible. when he recovered from that adventure, king victor emanuel gave permission for him to appear in the jardin boboli. the excitement was so great during that appearance and the crowd so large that ticket takers were carried away from the gates, and though many thus entered free, several thousand francs were realized. paul was now the fashion in italy. songs were composed and sung in his honor at the theatres, brands of cigars and other articles were given his name; business men had their calendars for the new year printed with his adventures detailed on them, and the citizens of meletti christened a lake after him. managers of places of amusement advertised that he would be present at their entertainments in order to draw crowds, and everywhere could be heard the praises of the wonderful american. from florence paul went to rome, where he visited general pescetto, italian minister of marine, with whom he had a pleasant conversation, during which the meeting with his son on the po was mentioned. "what can i do for you?" cordially asked the general. "well," answered 'paul, "my business is introducing my life-saving dress, which will be the means of preserving many lives on the coast as well as on the men-of-war you are now constructing." "ah, you have proved the value of your dress. i have no doubt of its efficiency; but our government has expended vast sums of money already for the benefit of shipwrecked mariners and we are not as rich as we would wish to be. the means we now have for saving life on the coast are considered sufficient, and in regard to adopting your dress on our men-of-war, i fear you do not understand the nature of the italian sailor. if we placed a number of your dresses on the duelio, for instance, or on any of our men-of-war, the sailors would reason that the vessels were not seaworthy and we would have much difficulty in persuading them to enlist." "suppose i could prove to you that it would be possible to slip under one of your men-of-war on a dark night and blow her to atoms. how would that be?" "ah," responded the general earnestly, "that is a different question. if you can prove that to me, i will call a commission to examine into it." ample proof was given as to the efficacy of the dress in the torpedo service, and to-day there are many drilled experts in the italian navy, which serves to show how much more interest is manifested in life taking than in lifesaving. arrangements were made for an exhibition in the bano del poplo. in preparing for this entertainment, paul first experienced the manner most of the european artisans have of doing business and their original way of preparing bills for services rendered. it was necessary for him to engage a carpenter to build several small boats for use in the exhibition. paul asked the landlord to assist him in making a contract with a workman. with the accommodating host's help, an agreement was made with a skilled worker in wood to build six little boats according to specifications given, for the sum of five lire each. the carpenter had the boats ready on time, and during the exhibition, constituted himself a sort of major domo, making himself very busy and very much in the way about the place, as though he had charge of the entire affair. at the close of the entertainment, he presented a bill for seventy-five lire, when according to his contract, it should have been but thirty lire. paul refused to pay until the landlord should examine the account and pronounce it correct. when it was shown to that gentleman, he vigorously protested against its payment, pronouncing it robbery and compelling the carpenter to render an itemized account. following is a copy of the itemized bill, which will be of interest to business men and artisans of other countries: to six boats, per agreement................ lire. wood for building.......................... nails....................................... labor and making........................... pieces broken in bending.................... carrying boats to the bano.................. time lost while at exhibition.............. wine for poor boy who fell overboard........ total lire the above is a fair sample of how contracts are adhered to in many european countries. paul paid the fellow the thirty lire that were due him, receiving the profane blessing of the irate builder. boyton was just in time for the great roman carnival and had the pleasure, if such it may be called, of witnessing the spectacle of barbrie barbrie. this was cruel and dangerous sport--a horse race along the corso, the principal thoroughfare in rome; which is a narrow, winding street. the race was contested by five or six thoroughbred horses, nearly wild and very vicious. they were turned loose in the street without bridle or any other harness with the exception of a surcingle, from the sides of which hung like tassels, steel balls, with sharp, needle-like points projecting from their surface that served to prick and goad the animals to a frenzy of speed. the streets were lined with people and it was all the enormous force of guards could do to drive them out of danger to the sidewalks. the balconies and windows of the houses were also crowded. the start was made near the upper end of the city at the place del popolo, where anxious grooms held the struggling horses; until, at the firing of a cannon, the bridles were slipped and the frightened animals dashed madly down the street, with those wicked steel balls swinging in the air and cruelly beating their sides, spurring them to a terrific pace. each horse bore a number and as immense sums of money are wagered, cannons were placed at intervals along the route which were fired a number of times to correspond with the number borne by the horse in the lead, thus indicating to the betters the number of the horse in front at the different stations. perfect pandemonium reigned during this wild dash down the corso. men and women yelled as though they were mad, and the shrill voices of children were also heard above the roaring of the cannon. at the end of the corso a net was dropped across the street, into which the frenzied steeds plunged and were flung to the ground, a tangled and bleeding mass of noble horse-flesh. some were killed outright and others were so maimed that they had to be dispatched to put them out of misery. more or less people were always killed at these barbarous races; but for some years the barbrie has been abolished. while in the ancient city, paul determined to make a voyage down the tiber. he went up the river as far as he could get, to orte. the distance from that town to rome is about one hundred and ninety miles by river. news of his determination to try the tiber having preceeded him to orte, he was royally received by the authorities and populace. when the start was made, the mayor escorted him to the river, lustily blowing a horn all the way, like a fish peddler trying to attract attention. the tiber is an uninteresting stream, running through the roman campagna, and is made up of great bends. he left orte in the afternoon, and night came on terribly cold. now and then he would get a cheer from people along the banks; but in a moment it was lost. he drove rapidly along all night without an adventure worth recording. about six o'clock next morning he was caught in an awkward manner in the branches of a tree that had washed into the stream and he only freed himself by cutting away the limbs with his knife, causing considerable delay. all day he drove energetically along, and the stream turned and twisted so much that he frequently passed the same village twice in swinging around great bends. at nightfall he came near frightening the life out of a shepherd. not knowing where he was and hearing the bark of a dog he climbed up the bank to ascertain, if possible, his locality. he met the shepherd on top of the bank, who looked at him a moment and then scampered away across the plain as fast as his legs would carry him. that night paul was met by the canottiere del tevere, the leading boat club of rome, and was accompanied by them for the rest of the journey. next morning, when they neared rome, they hauled up at a clubhouse for breakfast. for some miles before they reached the city, people came out on horseback and on foot, saluting them with vivas. at three o'clock they pulled into rome and were welcomed by thousands of people, and paul was agreeably astonished at hearing a band play yankee doodle in a house which was profusely decorated with american flags. in fact, the reception was something indescribable. people were crowded into every available space. a barge upset in the river, but all the occupants were saved. boyton landed at ripetta grande and so great was the pressure of the throng that the iron band about the waist of his dress was crushed like an eggshell. no end of fetes followed, the citizens seeming to vie with one another as to which could give the most splendid entertainment. naples was next visited with the intention of crossing the famous bay. paul arrived in that city in time for the carnival, and enjoyed seeing victor emanuel, that grim but good natured old king, open the festivities by driving through the streets and submitting to the bombardment of confetti. his majesty smiled and bowed as he passed along, throwing some of it back at those who were standing near. the confetti is made of plaster of paris and easily crumbles to powder, as flour and it is thrown everywhere and at everybody by the gay, laughing people. on the afternoon of february th, , boyton crossed on the steamer to capri, having decided to start from that point. while on the island that afternoon, he visited the blue grotto, an opening in the island leading into a cave of rare beauty, which is daily visited by tourists. a boat passes through the entrance and directly the visitor is enshrouded in intense darkness; but the moment anything touches the water, the phosphorus causes it to light up a vivid, silver-like color. paul put on his dress and paddled all through the wonderful grotto, the rubber appearing like a bright, silver armor as he agitated the water with his paddle. at three o'clock next morning he started on his trip across the bay from the steamboat landing. notwithstanding the early hour, all the inhabitants of the island were on hand to witness the start. to his surprise he found the effect of the water of the bay in the dark, the same as had been observed in the blue grotto. even the fish darting about, would leave a phosphorescent trail. when the sun rose that morning, mt. vesuvius loomed up before paul in the clear atmosphere. it seemed very near and he thought he would reach naples before time. about nine o'clock, the bay became very rough and soon the blue waves covered him. he kept paddling on and on, yet the grim, smoke-covered mountain seemed no nearer. at three o'clock in the afternoon, he sighted a felucca bearing down on him. when near enough, he stood up in the water and hailed her. the occupants of the little vessel came to the rail, pointed at the unusual object in the water and then the great sail was veered around and they scudded swiftly away. sailors on that bay have a superstition about picking up a dead body and they either supposed paul was a drowned person or some mysterious denizen of the deep. at any rate they were too badly frightened to investigate. at five o'clock, the voyager was nearing naples in a rough sea. the excursion boats went out but almost missed him. sounding the bugle, he attracted their attention. he landed at the city at about seven o'clock before an enormous crowd, among whom were king victor emmanuel, the sindaco with the other authorities of naples. the usual banquet was prepared and it was a late hour that night before the ceremonies were concluded. the fishermen of the city presented paul with an address signed by over four thousand people connected with the water, and marianne aguglia, comtesse desmouceaux published a poem commemorating the event. victor emmanuel invited paul to exhibit before him in the arsenal, or military port. the king was accompanied by his morganatic wife, the countess of miraflores. he was delighted with the performance, more particularly with the torpedo display. one of the pieces of timber from the explosion fell near his feet; he laughed merrily about it, while the countess drew away in alarm. after the exhibition, boyton divested himself of the rubber dress and stood clad in a well-worn naval uniform. he was escorted to the presence of the royal pair by admiral del carette. the king asked paul many questions in his quaint, piedmontese french, and then observing that the voyager was fatigued, he ordered two goblets of wine to be brought in, which good health and fortune were pledged. then an officer was ordered to bring the cross, which the king himself pinned on paul's blue shirt, knighting him with the cross of the order of the crown of italy saying: "you are a brave man and deserve this token of our appreciation." chapter xiii. in several engagements about naples, enormous sums of money were taken. then boyton proceeded to messina. before leaving naples, he had made up his mind to attempt the dreaded straits of that name, and dare the dangers of the noted whirlpools of scylla and charybdis. every one cheerfully assured him that the attempt would result in death, for beside the dangers of the whirlpools, the straits were infested with sharks. arriving at messina, he determined to test the report of sharks. at early morning he went to the market place and procured a large piece of meat which he took out near the fort, where the sharks were said to be numerous. he threw a piece of the meat into the water and it slowly sank. paul, as he saw it going down, believed that the stories of the sharks were exaggerated; but suddenly it was drawn out of sight. another piece was thrown in and had scarcely touched the surface when there was a rush and a swirl and the meat was snapped up in a twinkling. an old hat was thrown in next and it was torn to shreds in a second. this undeniable proof that sharks were plentiful in the straits, made paul feel very blue, as he did not fancy giving up an undertaking after once setting his mind to it. it was noised about that boyton would attempt to swim the straits. the people of the city and surrounding country grew excited, and all manner of bets were made on the result. one night as boyton sat gloomily at a small table in the corner of a café, he overheard a man wager his oxen that the american would not attempt the passage and that he could not cross if he did. though much disheartened, when paul heard this, as well as many more doubts expressed as to his ability to accomplish the feat, he determined to attempt it at all hazards. an old legend is extant among the fishermen and peasants of the locality that the only human being who ever crossed the straits without the aid of a boat, was st. francisco, who, being pursued by his enemies, spread his cloak on the water and stepping on it was wafted across without harm and escaped. so the proposed attempt of boyton was looked upon as certain death. after deciding to try the passage, paul engaged a felucca, owned by the most expert spearsman in those waters, to accompany him, and another for the invited guests and newspaper men. these boats were ready on the morning of march th, , and sailed from messina for the coast of calabria, from which point the start was to be made. they arrived there at seven o'clock the same morning. the party consisted of several prominent men of messina, among them the editor of the gazette. everybody was armed for sharks, the editor being especially well equipped for slaughtering these wolves of the deep and very bold in his assertions of how he would protect boyton from their attacks. at a small, scattered village on the calabrian side, the felucca containing paul and his guests landed. the dress and those on board were put ashore and preparations were at once made for the start. a sirocco was blowing at the time, setting a heavy tide in the direction of the whirlpool of scylla, or the faro, as they call it there. the sea grew rougher while the little party stood on the beach and as boyton was dressing the most anxious one in the group was the enthusiastic editor. his nerve was slowly oozing out at his finger ends. the inhabitants of the village began crowding down to the shore and when they learned what was going on, an old white-haired man approached the voyager, and in the most earnest manner, addressed him in the calabrian dialect: "don't go, don't go," he cried. "i had a boy such as you, who was lost out there and the devils of the straits will get you." the appeal of the old man was interpreted to paul and was the only occurrence of the day that had a tendency to upset his nerves. the expert spearsman had arranged a place on his boat where he could stand and harpoon any sharks that might attack the adventurer, while the guests on the other craft thought they were pretty well fixed to keep the monsters off. everything being ready, the felucca backed in from her cable to get the guests aboard. all were safely on except the bold editor. he was pale and his knees were knocking together. his courage was gone and he persisted in remaining on shore, until one of the sailors lifted him bodily aboard. the sea was very rough when boyton stepped into it. he struck away as fast as he could and both feluccas kept a sharp lookout. he reached mid- channel without encountering any danger, and stopped to look about and take his bearings. he perceived that he was nearing charybdis. on looking around, just as the foremost boat rose on a huge wave, he saw what he thought to be a shark directly under it. he pulled his knife and prepared for an attack. he was rather nervous, and the feluccas seemed an awful distance away. he called out that a shark was in sight. immediately, as paul was afterward informed, the brave editor dropped on his knees and began to pray that they might not all be swallowed up. the shark was darting from side to side of the boat, but spying boyton's black figure, it turned on its side and swam for him. paul braced for the attack, and when the monster was close enough he ripped it under the mouth, and in going down it struck him a severe blow in the side with its tail, then disappeared, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. boyton made away as fast as he could, glad to escape the monster so easily. he was not attacked again. the tide was carrying him right to the place where he had first discovered the presence of sharks; but a number of boats came off from messina, their occupants yelling and splashing the water, which served to frighten the brutes away. on the outer edge of the whirlpool of charybdis, which is a great eddy caused by a jutting point of land on which a fort is built, and on the ebb tide strong enough to swamp a boat, paul worked for one hour without advancing a single yard; the people all the while expecting to see him swallowed up. he held out, however, and at last landed safely at messina. the american ships laying there dipped their flags in salute, and the entire population was filled with astonishment at the successful termination of the feat. the valiant editor of the gazette, after feeling himself safely ashore, became quite a lion, graphically picturing the adventures of the day to admiring crowds. from the wharf to the city hall, where a reception had been arranged, the streets on both sides were lined with troops to protect paul from the crowds. on arriving at the hall, he fainted and an examination showed that three of his ribs had been broken by the shark's tail and that the steel band of his dress was bent close to his body by the great force of the blow. he was conveyed to his hotel where he remained for two weeks until he was quite strong again. for some time after the attack by the shark, boyton took life easy. he visited mt. etna, catalana, syracuse and other places of interest in sicily. at syracuse, he spent a lazy week. it is one of the dirtiest town in the world; but paul enjoyed everything he saw. when on the street, he was generally followed by a crowd of boys who were trying to sell all sorts of little trinkets. one of them especially, was very persistent in trying to dispose of an ancient coin of the ceasars, which he guaranteed to be very valuable and for which he would take the paltry sum of ten lire. boyton finally told him that he knew all about the coin, and would give two lire to find the man who made it. the young villain mysteriously whispered the information, which later on was found to be correct. some of the boys would get him ten fine oranges for one cent on being given an extra penny for going on the errand. it was a favorite amusement for paul and his agent to go out on the road in hope of encountering brigands, who were reported numerous and bold. they would enter some low cabriolet that was suspected of harboring these knights of the mountains. with carbines concealed under their coats, they would make an ostentatious display of rolls of italian paper money, expecting that some of the robbers would follow them out on the road and stir up a little excitement. the brigands were either too busy at something else, or they regarded the american as rather too dangerous a customer to attack for they never materialized. before leaving the old town, the authorities induced him to give an exhibition, which was witnessed by the entire population, brigands included. just before the entertainment, boyton hung his rubber-suit on a stone wall in the sun, to dry. when the crowd had gathered, he hurried on with the dress; but flung it off with much greater rapidity, when he found it was full of the little green lizards which abound on the island. when the p. & o. steamer arrived, paul and his agent embarked for malta, where they had their first clash with the authorities. there is a peculiar law in that sleepy old town which prohibits the posting of any bills larger than a small sheet, about the size of note paper. the night after their arrival, they plastered the town with one sheet posters, which looked to the natives bigger than one hundred sheet stands would in this country. next morning the inhabitants stood aghast at the audacity of the americans in doing such an unheard of thing. they were summoned before the governor and the enormity of their offense solemnly revealed to them; but owing to the plea of ignorance of the law, they were discharged, and ordered to take down the bills as quickly as possible. in obedience to the mandate of the governor, they employed a sleepy-eyed native to do the work, with instructions to take his time. it required two days to undo the work of one night, but the authorities were satisfied and the exhibition was the best advertised of any that had been in malta for years. paul was a great favorite with the boatmen and fishermen of malta, and spent all of his leisure time with these acquaintances, going fishing with them almost daily. the boatmen are peculiar and their boats are queer affairs, every one having a large eye painted on each side of the bow. paul asked a fisherman why eyes were painted on the boats, and he gravely replied: "how could the poor things see without eyes?" not one of these men could be induced to go out in a boat that had no eyes painted on her. from malta, paul went to tunis, and on landing there, was genuinely surprised. the passengers and their baggage were loaded into boats for transfer to shore, nearing which, they were met by crowds of bare legged natives who waded out as far as they could and when a boat was near enough, they grabbed the baggage and trotted off with it, regardless of the remonstrances of the owners. at the custom house, the luggage was found; each native sitting stoically on whatever he had chanced to capture, with an air of absolute proprietorship. after it was passed by the custom authorities, it was carried to the hotel by the howling mob, where, with many kicks and cuffs administered by the landlord, it was reclaimed. paul gave an exhibition at this place on which the awe stricken moors gazed in wonder. he then returned to italy in which country he gave exhibitions with extraordinary success. while working north, he received an invitation to visit lake trasmene, celebrated in roman history. all the villages about the lake joined in a demonstration that was to take place at pastgnano. boyton's program was to cross from the old town of castiglioni de lago to the former place. the mountaineers living near the lake came out in queer boats loaded to the water's edge, in which they followed him across. he observed the wind rising and knowing that the heavily laden boats would not live in any kind of rough weather, he warned them and begged them to go ashore; but very few heeded him. scarcely had he landed when an italian officer rushed in to where he was undressing, excitedly shouting: "oh, go back. go back. they are drowning out there." as quickly as possible, paul returned to the lake and saw that one of the boats had swamped. the three men who occupied it were drowned and could not be found. the accident put a damper on the festivities of the day. the bands of music were hushed and much sorrow expressed for the unfortunates. the syndaco, however, invited boyton to a dinner, and they were enjoying themselves very well, considering the circumstances, when a delegation of the people called and made the statement that a majority of the crowd was dissatisfied. many were from a great distance, and demanded to see l'uomo pesce, a name they had given to boyton, meaning "man fish." some of the leading men of the town advised paul that it would be better for him to give some kind of an entertainment, otherwise there might be a riot. so much against his will, he went out and gave an exhibition, before the bodies of the poor fellows were recovered. the mountaineers were satisfied, however, and went to their homes with all sorts of ideas of the "man fish." that night after sundown, the bodies were found and the weird cries of the relatives rang dismally through the streets until morning. next day paul and his agent remained over to pay their last respects and attend the funeral. they witnessed the peculiar ceremonies of the misericordia, a society that has for its object the burial of the dead. they wear long, white robes, covering their entire person, with holes cut for the eyes, nose and mouth. they formed a grim looking procession, and as they turned those expressionless faces toward one, they sent a cold shiver down the spine. regardless of this uncanny feeling, boyton and his friend followed the procession into the church and by so doing, gained the good will of the villagers, who assured them that they were in no way to blame for the accident. the entire receipts of the entertainment, with a liberal addition, were presented to the families of the drowned men. chapter xiv. exhibitions followed in milan, turin, genoa and other cities of northern italy, then the travelers passed into france, to the headwaters of the rhone. paul had selected this river for his next voyage. with the intention of making the entire stream from its source to the mediterranean, he visited geneva, in switzerland. here he discovered that it would be impossible to start from the lake, as by doing so he would be carried into the great cavern known as per du rhone, in which the entire river disappears and makes a mysterious and unexplored passage under the mountain. he was anxious to try the underground current through the cavern and did not give up the idea until several experiments had convinced him that it would be foolhardy to make the attempt. he stationed one of his assistants at the point where the rhone again comes to the surface and with the help of others, miles above at the mouth of the cavern, he sent in logs of wood, bladders and other buoyant objects, none of which were observed to pass through by the watcher below. the last and deciding experiment, was sending in a pair of live ducks and these, also were lost. he then concluded to start below the cavern and selected the little village of seyssel as the best point to prepare for the voyage. the rhone when high is one of the most rapid rivers in the world, and paul's trip from seyssel to the mediterranean was the swiftest he ever made. the entire distance is five hundred kilometers, or three hundred miles, and his actual running time was sixty hours. he was enabled to push along at this unusual rate on account of the freshets swelling the river to a flood. he passed in safety the perilous rapids of the saute du rhone; but near the frontier of france he had a marvelous escape from a frightful death. the authorities on the frontier are kept busy watching for smugglers who work contraband goods from switzerland into france. a quantity of goods were smuggled through the lines by floating them down the river at night, and in order to catch such articles the officers of the duane stretched a strong gate of chain work across the river just at the border. this gate is thickly set with sharp iron hooks which hold the packages that float against them. paul was not informed of this dangerous bar to his progress. as he neared the frontier village he noticed the utmost excitement amongst the crowds congregated on the banks. from their wild gesticulations, he could see they were shouting; but he thought they were simply cheering him and continued his rapid approach on the swollen stream. when near enough he saw that their faces were pale and they were making motions for him to stop; but the current was so swift that such a thing was impossible. he was irresistibly carried along by the terrible force. he next noticed several guards rush out on the bridge, who, throwing off their coats, began quickly to turn heavy cranks, and then he saw the sheet of glistening hooks rising slowly from the water. now he understood why they had tried to stop him. to be thrown with all that force against those hooks meant not only certain death, but fearful mutilation. swiftly he drew near the wicked looking points and slowly, oh, so slowly they rose above the water. the people watched with nervous dread. could they be hoisted high enough before he reached them? many a silent prayer was murmured that the guards would be successful. bravely those men strained every muscle; but the thing was unwieldy and the work was slow--fearfully slow. the terror of the people was depicted on their faces. they now saw that the last row of hooks was nearing the surface, but boyton was almost upon them. the panting and perspiring guards redoubled their efforts. paul swept under and the lower line of hooks barely allowed him to pass unscathed. a great shout went up from the crowd. the current at that point was running fully twelve miles an hour. boyton was asked how he felt when going so rapidly: "such lively motion," he said, "greatly excites you. your heart beats fast; you feel as if you had enormous power, whereas you have no power at all. there is something in the danger that pleases and thrills you." after passing under the smuggler's chain gate, his course ran between lines of hills which fringe the banks of the river. he could see here and there on the slopes, an old woman with a cow. every cow seemed to have a woman attendant in that country. now and again one of them would catch sight of paul as he sped along. for a second she would gaze at the unusual object and then move off--she and her cow. one old dame happened to be nearer the water's edge than the others, the voyager saluted by standing up in the water and shouting: "bon jour" she crossed herself, and fled. next morning he was nearing the rapids of the saute du rhone, and inquired of the people he saw: "how far is the saute? "about two kilometers," was the answer. "which side shall i take for safety?" "the left." the next one told him to take the right, and at last he was advised to keep in the middle. finding he could gain no reliable information, he stood upright and looked about to see, if possible, what the danger was. ahead of him was a rapid, running amid big, black rocks and crossed by a bridge which was crowded with people. it was too late to think of stopping himself and be swept into and through it like an arrow; but at the bottom he was carried against a wall of rock and nearly blinded. he hung there for a few moments to recover himself, and again felt the current bearing him away almost as fast as he approached. he was kindly received all along, and had he accepted one-third of the invitations to entertainments, some months would have been required to finish the voyage. on one lonely stretch, he saw a solitary countryman standing on the bank. "ho, ho; my good friend," he shouted. "who is there?" asked the startled farmer. "the devil." "where are you going?" "to lyons." "well, get along, then; you are going home." probably the farmer had visited lyons, and was not pleased with that city. paul entered lyons at two o'clock, having been twenty-four hours under way. he was tendered a splendid reception and presented with several rich souvenirs. resuming the journey, he traveled at the rate of fifteen miles an hour and many people accompanied him in boats for quite a distance down the stream. at places along the route, the banks were broken, the river flooded the lowlands, and he was frequently carried among groves of trees, requiring no little exertion to keep from being pounded against them by the force of the current. he paddled that night and all the next day and night without meeting unusual adventure, when he reached pont st. esprit, with its long stone bridge, through one arch of which, the river rushes with much force. the next day ended this rapid voyage, as he landed at arles in safety. the entire population was out to receive him. not thinking of his exhausted condition, a force of gendarmes who had been sent by the mayor to escort him to the hotel de vine, turned a deaf ear to his demands for a carriage, but insisted on his marching through the hot, dusty street, encased in the heavy rubber dress, carrying his little boat and paddle so the people would have a good chance to see him. the gendarmes meant everything in kindness; but in that case, kindness coupled with ignorance, resulted in paul's arriving at the hotel barely able to walk; he expressed his gratitude in rather vigorous terms. from arles, boyton visited monaco on the invitation of monsieur blanc, who was then at the head of the great gambling institutions of that place. at the instance of this world-famous gambler, paul gave an exhibition for which he was presented with two-thousand-five-hundred francs by his host and his agent received five-hundred francs. the evening after the exhibition, monsieur blanc escorted the voyager through the sumptuous gambling palace. thinking to please monsieur, who had been so generous with him, paul thought he would wager a few francs at one of the numerous rouge et noir tables and was proceeding to put down a napoleon, when he was observed by his host whose attention had been distracted for a moment. "don't you do it," said he quickly, grasping paul by the arm, "there are fools enough here without your becoming one." monsieur drew his guest away from the table and took him into the private office where rouleaux of gold were stacked in great piles about the walls. one of the queer superstitions of gamblers was vividly impressed on boyton at this place. leaving monsieur blanc's office he sauntered about through the rooms, deeply interested in the exciting scenes before him. it became noised around that he was in the place, and some one pointed him out. he was immediately besieged at almost every step by ladies who had been playing with ill success. they represented almost every nationality, french, american, russian, english and italian. looking upon him as a lucky man, they tried to persuade him to play for them. "ah, captain boyton," one would say, "you are a man of great luck. if you put this bet down for me, i know i shall win." that was the request made by several, when they had an opportunity to speak to him. one or two assistants would have been needed to accommodate all of them. leaving monaco, paul gave successful exhibitions in the principal cities of southern france and was honored with several decorations. at lyons he gave an entertainment for the benefit of the poor in the park of the golden head, at which fifteen thousand francs were realized. one of the handsomest ladies of the city, donned a suit and went into the water with him. as a mark of appreciation, the people presented him with a magnificent poinard, sheathed in a richly carved scabbard, ornamented with a handle of artistic design, weighing, with the exception of the blade of fine steel, ten pounds solid silver. exhibitions were given through belgium until november th, , in brussels they took one thousand dollars a day for four days, and at a benefit for the poor given in the lake of the bois de cambrai, under the patronage of king leopold, at which the royal family was present, an enormous sum resulted. the king bestowed on paul the medal of the first order of life savers of belgium. november th, he began a voyage down the somme, which occupied two days. he started at amiens. on the evening of the first day, just before reaching ponte remy, where he intended to stop for the night, he was surprised at receiving a charge of shot. while he was drifting around a point above that place, a duck hunter who was concealed in the bushes mistook his feet for a pair of ducks and fired at them. luckily the shot struck the heavy rubber soles of his dress and no damage was done. boyton rose up in the water with a torrent of forcible comments in english, and the frightened sportsman rapidly disappeared in the darkness. starting early next morning, he arrived at abbyville in the evening, where the customary generous reception awaited him. next day he returned to amiens where he gave an entertainment, and thence to paris. he had a new tender built in the latter city, in anticipation of a voyage down the loire. he christened the new tender the isabel alvarez du toledo, in honor of a fair maid of italy. he began the voyage of the loire, december th, , at orleans, to make a run to nantes, a distance of four hundred and nine miles. the weather was cold and miserable. the river is bad, numerous shifting sand bars making it difficult to keep the channel, and added to this are many beds of treacherous quicksands. the lowlands, through which the course of the river runs, leave a free vent for the wind to strike its surface, making it desirable for sail boats to navigate. they are mostly wood and provision boats, flat bottomed and built somewhat on the plan of canal boats. they carry an enormous square sail on a single mast, larger than any sail used on the greatest ships. at nine o'clock in the morning the start was made from orleans and paul arrived at blois in the evening, where he came very near having his arm broken by coming in contract with a pile as he was leaving, so instead of running all night as he had intended doing, he hauled up and remained at blois, much to the satisfaction of the citizens who entertained him in the most pleasant manner. the following afternoon he started for an all night run, in order to make up for lost time. at nightfall the weather grew intensely cold and ice soon covered all exposed parts of his dress. a small, but powerful lamp on the bow of the tender, gave him plenty of light and that evening furnished the means of some amusement. along the frozen road which follows the river bank for quite a distance, he heard the clattering of the sabots of a belated peasant, who was singing to keep his courage up. paul darkened the lamp by putting a piece of rubber over it, and when the profile of the peasant stood clear between him and the sky, he suddenly removed the rubber and turned, the light full on the man, at the same time sounding an unearthly blast on his bugle. the startled peasant uttered no sound; but the distant clinking of his sabots down the road, told how badly he was frightened. about four o'clock that morning, paul felt his dress touching bottom, the current slackened, and he knew he had wandered into a false channel. with some difficulty, he assumed an upright position and the moment he did so, found his legs grasped as in a vise. he was caught in the quicksand. with a feeling of horror he felt himself settling, settling in the treacherous sands, until he was slicked down nearly to the neck, his face almost even with the surface, the dark water gliding by him like some slimy serpent into the night. the tender swung round with her bow pointing toward him, the strong light from the bull's eye glaring him in the face with its blinding rays. the little boat seemed to realize the awful situation and she tugged at the cord which fastened her to the dress, as though struggling to free him. from the moment the sands were felt, he' had worked to free himself, only to find that the effort sunk him deeper. he began to think he was not going to get out; that his time had come and not a trace on earth would be left to tell of his dreadful end. but his was not a nature to give up until the last gasp. the thought struck him that there was some chance for life by fully inflating the dress which, would have a tendency to lighten and give him more buoyancy. he seized the air tubes and in the desperation of a final hope, he blew for his life. he could feel himself lighting as the chambers filled. he had the dress inflated almost to bursting and with a powerful effort, he threw himself on his back. he was lifted clear and moved away on the gliding water, continuing the lonely journey with a prayer of thanksgiving in his heart. at ten o'clock next morning he arrived at tours, with nerves considerably shattered, and he accepted the invitation of that municipality to stop for refreshments. the kindness of the citizens and the officials was overwhelming, but he remained only long enough to become thoroughly rested when he again sought the river. at every village during the entire trip, he was given a warm reception. the weather being cold, the mayors insisted on his drinking hot, highly spiced wine, and he was also invariably greeted with the question asked in all countries and all towns, american as well as european: "are you not cold?" the little boat was loaded down with supplies and invitations were continuous from chateau and cottage to stop and partake of refreshment. sometimes he would run far into the night before hauling up, but usually his rest was broken by bands of music turning out to serenade him, and at one place, where there was no band, an enthusiastic admirer blew a hunting horn most of the night under his window. it was a frightful but well intended serenade. when he reached ancenes he was met by a crowd, headed by the mayor with a liberal supply of hot wine. from this point a boatman who was employed in placing stakes indicating the changes of current, for the guidance of navigators, insisted on accompanying paul. he had been on a protracted spree and proved annoying. "i know the river well," he said, "and will pilot you down." "i assure you there is no necessity for a pilot," paul answered, "i have journeyed so far without one and can go the rest of the way." he could not get rid of the fellow that easily, so he concluded to try some other plan. after they had proceeded a short distance boyton asked the persistent boatman to have a drink, at the same time handing him a bottle of very strong wine that had been given him to use in case he needed a stimulant. the fellow, already half intoxicated, absorbed most of the contents and was soon maudlin. he ran his boat around and across boyton to the latter's great annoyance. he became drowsy, however, and finally fell into a deep sleep. that was the opportunity paul desired. he seized the anchor that was in the bow of the fellow's boat and dropped it in the stream. the boat swung around and hung there, and paul paddled away. when quite a distance down he heard faint cries of "captain, captain, where are you?" the boatman thought he was drifting; but boyton never saw him again. below ancenes paul was met by jules verne, the distinguished novelist, who came up the river on a boat rowed by some of his sailors. he accompanied the voyager all the way to nantes, where the trip terminated. the two men became great friends, the navigator enjoying the novelist's hospitality on his yacht and also at his residence in nantes. monsieur verne afterward made use of the life-saving dress to illustrate scenes in a novel entitled "the tribulations of a chinaman." nantes was reached eight days from the time of starting. excursion steamers met them and fired salutes, the hospitaliers des sauveteurs bretons, the leading life-saving society of france, elected paul an officer of the first rank and gave him diplomas and medals. chapter xv. until january th, paul remained in nantes, then he went to madrid. the weather was very cold. it was his intention to make a voyage on some of the spanish rivers. on looking over the country, he selected the tagus as being the least known and promising more adventure than any of the others. when it was announced that he was going to attempt that river, several of the-leading residents of madrid endeavored to dissuade him; he received letters from many prominent people telling him that the river was not navigable, running as it did, through a wild, mountainous country, and full of waterfalls. he concluded to take a look at the stream himself and so form his own opinion. for this purpose he went to toledo and found there a narrow, turbulent river, rushing over great masses of rock. he hired a mule and rode several miles down its banks and discovered no improvement. in making inquiries of the natives about the character of the river, the invariable answer was, "mucho malo, senor; mucho malo." "very bad, sir; very bad." boyton was far from liking the looks of the river; but made up his mind to try it anyhow, especially as everyone told him he could not do it. after deciding on a course, he returned to madrid and witnessed the fetes attending the marriage of king alfonso and queen mercedes. the young king took great interest in the proposed voyage; he sent word over the country that the american was the guest of all spain, and requested his people to receive him hospitably. before leaving madrid to begin the perilous undertaking, the minister of the interior gave boyton maps of the river and all the information concerning it he possessed, which was surprisingly little: the maps were glaringly incorrect, as was afterward learned. many towns that the maps located on the river were not near it. when all was ready paul's agent and baggage were sent to lisbon to await the termination of the voyage. paul returned to toledo to make final preparations for the trip, which was one never before attempted. in fact, as far as was known, the river had never been navigated from source to mouth. it is three thousand five hundred feet above sea level at toledo, which accounts for its rapid descent. on his return to the famous old city, boyton was met by an aid-de-camp of the governor, who tendered the hospitality of that official, which was gratefully accepted for one day. that day was spent in visiting interesting points. the next morning, thursday, january st, , paul drove to the river through the gate of the sun, and found a crowd of people assembled to see him start. in a few moments he was in the water, and the people cheered lustily as he began energetically to ply his paddle. as he turned the bend at the end of the first half mile, he took his last look at the stately alcazar, away on the crest of the hills, and at the ruins of the moorish mills on the riverside below. onward, and the bright, sunlit vision faded from his view. "now that i was started," said paul, detailing an account of the wondrous journey, "i felt easier and stopped at noon to partake of a light dinner. i knew i was in for a tough job and made up my mind to go through with it. the river ran all over the country and was as changeable in temper as a novelist's heroine. sometimes it was a mile wide, running slowly, with as calm and smooth a surface as a lake. again, at the next bend it would dart toward a range of hills, and instead of going around them as its previously erratic course led me to expect, it would plough straight through the solid rocks. then it would become as narrow as a canal, deep and rapid as a mill race, and in some places hurried along with the speed of an express train. the country was utterly wild, and it was not an unusual thing to paddle from morning until night without seeing a human being. as i knew nothing of the river except that i was bound for lisbon, it may be imagined that i was not perfectly easy in my mind, i did not know but that the next angle in a canyon might land me in a whirlpool or over a fall. "a great majority of the peasants do not read and were therefore ignorant of my undertaking. they are somewhat superstitious and my first adventure was with two of them. it was some hours after i left toledo that i spied these men. they were great, hulking fellows, engaged in rolling a large stump up the steep hill, rising from the bank of the river. slipping quietly along the surface, i got close behind them without their seeing me. when i hailed them, they gave me one startled look, released their hold on the stump which crashed down to the river, while they ran up and disappeared in the recesses of the hill. they never stopped to look the second time. "i thought i would reach peubla the first night; but owing to the extraordinary bends of the river, nightfall found me in a terribly rough portion of the country. i kept dashing from waterfall to waterfall, from rapid to rapid, until two o'clock in the morning, when the barking of a dog caused me to haul in. it was intensely cold and i was very tired. i blew a blast on my bugle and some very rough looking men came down to the bank. they proved to be shepherds and very kindly took me to their hut, which was not far from the water. they had the queerest way of keeping fire i ever saw. it was made of straw, the embers banked in such a way that there appeared to be only a black mass; but when they blew on the mass, a red glow would blush from it, throwing out considerable heat. over this fire, they cooked a little soup for me. i remained in the hut until morning, stretching out on the floor for a little rest, while they stood about, speaking their mountain patois which i could not understand. i left them early in the morning, passing through wild mountain scenery and seeing no signs of habitation. no railroad or telegraph lines cross the river until near lisbon and there was no way for me to get word to my friends. i arrived at peubla at twelve o'clock and owing to the fact that i ran on to an old, broken bridge which cut my dress, i was compelled to haul up. the alcalde was out in his high, picturesque cart, drawn by a tandem team of mules. i accepted his invitation, and was driven up through the olive groves to his house, followed by crowds of people. that night there was a sort of entertainment given in my honor and having no clothing with me except the heavy suit of underwear; i had to borrow a suit from the alcalde in order to be presentable. the women of that place were most gracious and the girls as pretty as pictures. the alcalde's little daughter took an interest in me. she talked to me a great deal, and in fact i could understand her spanish much better than i could the adults. what a pretty little thing she was--a perfect type of spanish beauty. she tried her best to deter me from continuing my voyage; but next morning she went to the river to see me start. in fact the entire village was there. when i was about to step into the water and was bidding her adieu, she pressed a small religious medal into my band, saying: "oh, i am so afraid you will never get to lisbon. take this, it will help you through, the blessed madonna will protect you from danger." "i kissed the little one good bye and slipped into the water amid the vivas of the crowd. i was much grieved to hear, on reaching lisbon, that the little girl died a few days after my departure. "nothing of interest occurred during the day except that it was very cold and rough and a snow storm was raging. on sunday morning i arrived at talavera, where the kindness of the people was so great i was compelled to leave the water and rest for awhile. from there the river ran through a lower country; but wound about so that i could never see more than a quarter of a mile ahead anywhere. there was a continual change of current, now very rapid and again sluggish and smooth. just below the town is a water fall of considerable proportions and a great crowd had gone down there to see me shoot over. in a spirit of bravado, i stood up when near the brink and was hurled over head first. had i hit a rock, it would have killed me. the people cheered, thinking that was the way i always went over them, but i tell you i made up my mind never to try the experiment again. "it was not long until the land began to rise higher and higher, or rather, as it appeared to me, the river seemed to sink lower and lower and settle down among the great hills. i could not tell from the maps how i was working and i was anxious to see anyone in the hope that i could get some information. during monday i swept on a flying current around a point of rock and was glad to catch sight of two men on the bank. one stood on the ground surrounded by a group of sheep, the other was up in a tree with a knife, lopping off the young limbs, throwing them to his companion who distributed them to the sheep. i hailed them with the cry of 'hey, brother.' the man in the tree looked around and on discovering my black figure in the water, helplessly let go all holds and fell to the ground. his companion was startled; but when, recovering from the shock, i was pointed out, he ran to the bank, yelled something that seemed to be a warning and then both disappeared. as i passed on, i saw why he had shouted. a young, gipsy-like girl stood on a shelf of rock surrounded by goats. as the current was carrying me toward her, she gave a cry of alarm and faced me, the long-bearded goats doing the same. they formed a beautiful picture. not wishing to frighten her, i called out some reassuring word in spanish, and to show that she was not frightened, as were her male protectors, she seized a big stone and raising it defiantly over her head, awaited my approach. as i passed, i waved her an adieu and then she dropped the stone and fled up the mountain followed by her goats. "all day i picked my way cautiously along, using every energy to avoid the varied shaped boulders which filled the river. at one time i appeared to shoot down a very steep hill. i was hemmed in by huge rocks that rose like a high wall on either side and there was no possible way to get out. the thought struck me that i was going into some subterranean passage, the perpendicular walls seeming to close in and swallow up the entire river. i was swept down by the mighty, though narrow current, and was beginning to feel sure that i was being carried into some underground rapids, when i was suddenly dumped into a deep pool, where the course of the river was running smooth and placidly along almost at right angles with the rapids above. at this abrupt turn, evidences of former floods were plain. immense rocks were cut and carved in spiral columns as skillfully as any sculptor could have chiseled them. great flocks of wild black ducks peculiar to the tagus, were continually rising at my approach. "at ten o'clock that night, hearing the heavy roar of rapids below and the river becoming wilder, i decided to stop until daylight. i crept cautiously in shore until i found an opening and there landed. there was no wood to build a fire and i laid for several hours in my dress. at daybreak i resumed the voyage and it looked as though i was penetrating the very bowels of the mountains, whose crests loomed high in the sky. i soon discovered the cause of the roar that had arrested my progress the night before. it was an ugly rapid, madly fighting sharp, broken rocks and i was dashed in amongst them. in trying to make a passage to escape a back water, something like that i had gone through on the arno, at florence, i turned so quickly that the little tender was thrown into the vortex on one side, tearing loose from my belt, while i was rapidly carried down the other. i never saw her again and what was more, i was left without provisions of any kind. "that afternoon the river increased in speed and, dashed along at a mad rate. once in a while, as i wheeled around some sharp bend, i could hear a sullen roar that plainly indicated the presence of falls below; but it seemed so far away that i paid but little attention to it. i kept driving steadily along, enjoying the exhilaration of the rapid pace, when my attention was attracted by the report of a gun. looking up i saw a guarda civil, the gendarme of spain, who held his carbine aloft and vigorously waved his hat with the other hand as i shot by. the current increased and the roar below became more audible. going around another bend i saw a number of people on the bank waving their hats with a downward motion. that is the signal used in spain when you are desired to approach. i misunderstood it, and thought it meant for me to take the other side, which i did and found i was in a current from which i could not extricate myself. another sharp, turn and the village of puente del arzobispo came into sight with the heavy spray from the falls rising high in the air. the roar was like the deep rumbling of thunder when near at hand. i paid no attention to the shouts of the people to stop, for i saw could not possibly get out of the current, so i exerted myself to pass the falls safely. i saw where the water sank on the brink and i knew that was the course of the channel, and i also knew that my only chance of safety was to reach that point. all my energies were directed to it and in an instant i was on the brink of, a series of falls, tumbling from ledge to ledge like the steps of a colossal staircase. fortunately i struck the deep channel--my only safe course. i was covered with foam and spray and could not see. all i could do was to trust to providence and the depth of water, and i shortly found myself twisting around in a great pool below. half stunned and almost smothered by frequent submerging and the weight of the volume of water that had fallen on me, i drifted helplessly toward the bank. the next thing i remembered was hearing sounds above me and a hand reaching down and grasping me, while a voice in french said: "you live!" "it's about all i do," was my answer. then strong arms hauled me out on the bank. the one who had addressed me was a priest, and through the midst of a madly excited crowd he escorted me up the street to the palace of the archbishop, a quaint old building, almost in ruins. here every possible kindness was extended from the civil, military and religious authorities. at the banquet tendered me i was dressed in a suit of clothes half clerical, half military; but i enjoyed it as well as my tired bones would permit. i excused myself as early as i could and went to bed with the intention of making a start in the morning; but when morning came i felt so broken up and sore that i concluded to remain over and rest a day. i was taken in hand by some of the prominent people and shown the places of interest in the village. among those visited and one that greatly interested me, was the olive mills. the town is noted for the production of a superior olive oil; but the mode of producing it is most primitive, being almost the same as that used by the moors hundreds of years ago. they first place the round, green olives in sacks that are then set in a large stone bowl into which a flat cover lifts. an old time screw with beam attachment presses on the stone cover, and as an ass, hitched to the end of the beam, tramps wearily round and round the screw presses the stone tight on the olives, squeezing the oil into cemented grooves at the bottom of the bowl through which it flows into casks. the refuse, or pummies, as we would call them, is fed to the hogs and cattle. it struck me at the time that with our improved american machinery, we could extract about four times as much oil out of the pummies thrown away, as they got out at the first pressing. "another place i visited under the escort of the good padre and an officer, was the prison. this prison contained as choice a collection of murderers as ever drew a knife across a helpless traveler's throat. the news of my coming had preceded me and these free knights of the mountains stood in rows along the corridors to receive me, backed up by several well armed carbineros. the worthy padre would point out the most distinguished of these gentlemen. 'that one,' he'd say, 'is in for killing two travelers at such or such a pass. this one abducted a wealthy man and demanded ransom from his family, to whom he sent the ears of the unfortunate, and the ransom not coming, his throat was slit. the one over there, killed four men before he was caught,' and so on down the line, such cheerful histories were told. i politely saluted each artist of the knife and carbine as i passed, and on leaving, one of them stepped up and addressed me in a patois which the padre translated. the request he made, struck me as being so ridiculous, that i could scarcely refrain from laughing. it was to the effect that they all had heard of my voyage down the river and all of them were anxious to witness my departure on the morrow and knew if i would kindly intercede with the governor, they would have that happiness. "the request was so absurd, that i had no thought of saying anything to the governor about it. in going out, the governor invited us into his private apartments, and while being entertained there, i jokingly told him of the queer request the brigands had made. i was more than ever astonished at his replying: "como no? senor" "why not, sir?" "when starting, next morning, i was frequently warned that the river was very bad; but could get no information of any consequence, except that it wound through many canyons. the whole town turned out to see me off and as i was feeling very much refreshed, i was soon ready. going to the bank, what was my astonishment to see all those gentle murderers standing in a row with carbineros on either side, guarding them. one of the brigands, the spokesman of the day before, stepped forward and addressed me thus. "'illustrious captain. we would like much to form your escort down the river as a protection against the lawless characters which we are aware infest the mountains below; but being detained here against our will, we are unable to offer you that homage. but as a mark of our pure regard, on behalf of myself and worthy companions, i present you with this purse, a specimen of our own handicraft and may you never lack means to keep it full.' "the purse was a long, knit affair in colored yarns, looking like an old fashioned necktie. i thanked them and regretted the cruel circumstances which prevented their accompanying me, while secretly rejoicing that such a disreputable looking set of villains was closely guarded. "i took to the stream again and the mountains once more looked as if they were closing in on the river. at times i would sink into quiet pools, requiring incessant paddling to push through and then emerge into rapids that would necessitate the utmost labor to keep from being dashed on the rocks. i ran all that day without meeting any one. about ten o'clock at night, i noticed a light down the stream and sounded my bugle. i was tired and chilly and glad to hear a hail from the direction of the light. i landed at a sort of ferry and found a man and woman awaiting me with a lantern. they escorted me to a little cabin and the woman bustled about, building a fire out of weeds and other stuff, wood being very scarce. their patois was of the mountains and i could not understand their speech nor they mine. by signs, however, we understood each other very well and i intimated to them that i would stretch out before the fire all night. but they refused to allow me to lie on the floor. i understood them to mean for me to take the bed as the man was going away somewhere. this i did and was soon sound asleep. at one o'clock in the morning, i was awakened with an impression that some one was in the room near me. i looked up and by the dim rush light saw a tall figure standing by the bedside, upright and stiff, a three cornered hat on his head, a carbine strapped across his back and a sword by his side. in answer to my look of wonder, he simply raised his right hand and gave a military salute. i asked: "que esta, senor?" "what is it, sir?" "his reply was: 'by order of the king, i am here to offer you protection and assistance.' "thanking him for his courtesy, i turned over in bed and went to sleep again. "after breakfast of wild boar bacon, which was the sweetest meat i ever tasted, the guard and my host accompanied me to the river. i carried a good supply of gold and silver with me; but all offers of money throughout the entire eight hundred miles of this voyage, were peremptorily refused. it was impossible to spend a cent. in fact, the money wore through the little bag i carried it in and i found it loose in my dress. the only place i used a cent on the trip was at talavera. a boy who had done an errand for me, accepted a peseta. when it was found out, he was sent back with it and apologized for his conduct. "the river now began to get very narrow and to bury itself in canyons, so that during the day the sun scarcely ever shone on the water except at noon when it was directly overhead. since losing my little tender, i had no way to carry provisions except in a small oil cloth strapped on my breast. the host of the cabin had insisted on my taking some of the wild boar bacon with me; but seeing their stores were low, i took but very little, which i easily devoured at noon. for three days i continued the voyage through canyons and during the entire time the only signs of human life i saw was an occasional glimpse of people far up in the mountains, passing along, but too distant to attract their attention. my progress was slow owing to the long stretches of dead water i would strike, it was silent and lonely. the wild black ducks i would scare up were the only signs of life on the river. all the sleep i took was during daylight. i would haul up on some dry rock near the shore and in a moment be buried in profound slumber. at night i dare not sleep, for i could hear the howling of the wolves that are fierce and plentiful along that part of the tagus, and their dismal yells warned me to keep to the river. "on the morning of the third day in the canyons, i was stiff, sore and hungry, having eaten nothing but wild olives, gathered near the banks, for two days. that morning the idea struck me that i must have wandered into some false channel, or some branch from the tagus, as i could make no headway. i came to an upright position and with every sense sharpened by hunger, listened to hear, if possible, the ringing of a bell, the barking of a dog or any sign of life; for i had about reached the conclusion that it was time for me to leave the water and climb the mountain in search of some house or village; but not a sound broke the deathlike stillness, except the distant rumbling of rapids i had passed over or those below that i must soon encounter. as i wearily sank back in the water and grasped the paddle in the hope that farther down some opening in the mountain might give me a chance to escape, something familiar struck my senses. i could not tell what it was. it was intangible, yet i felt there was something about that belonged to human beings. again i came to an upright position, peered in every direction and listened. it was then discovered what it was that had so affected me. it was the smell of smoke which the breeze was gently carrying up the river. i pushed down on my course with all my strength in hope of finding the fire, and on rounding a sharp bend was rewarded by seeing a thin, blue streak curling up from the mountain side. i landed a little above it and commenced clambering over great, detached rocks, until i gained a terrace on a level with the line of smoke. i paused to listen and heard the muffled sound of voices near me. the voices came from the other side of a small promontory around which i crawled. my soft rubber boots made no sound, and as i rounded the rock i was surprised to find myself almost alongside of two shepherds. one of them was stooping over the fire stirring something in a stew pan, while the other was rolling cigarettes in corn husks, their backs turned toward me. previous experiences with these simple people of the mountains had taught me how superstitious and easily frightened they are, and wishing to gain some information from them as well as something to eat, i let the point of my iron shod paddle strike a rock, at the same time saluting them with 'buonos dias mis hermanos,'--good day, my brothers. the men sprang to their feet and turned around at the unexpected salutation. then a wild yell rang through mountain top and ravine and they dashed away like a pair of frightened deer. at every hail for them to stop they only redoubled their efforts to escape and soon disappeared up the ravine. i sat down and made a breakfast off the provender they had left behind and enjoyed it as i never enjoyed anything before. i also absorbed a pig skin flask of spanish wine which afforded me great consolation in my exhausted condition. i then took off the dress and dried myself before the fire and rising sun, in hopes the shepherds would take courage and return; but they never came back. before dressing i left a spanish dollar on the upturned bottom of the stew pan, and returned to the river much refreshed and all traces of hunger gone. "i had not proceeded more than a league when i observed a man seated on a mule, occupying a point of rock overlooking the river. the man, on seeing me, raised a bugle to his lips and sounded a merry blast, which was, answered by loud cheers further down. on arriving opposite the lookout, i was informed that the governor of caceres and a party of ladies and gentlemen were waiting for me at a short distance below, and in a few moments i sighted the party and landed. i was warmly received by a numerous gathering. the governor informed me they had driven across from caceres the day before, to intercept me; that he had had a message from king alphonso to see that i wanted for nothing. he pleasantly remarked to me in french, that it was an old spanish custom to say to a guest, 'my house is yours,' but he would change the saying to 'my country is yours.' "the place at which i landed was a ford or ferry. the governor and his party were sheltered under a large tent which had been erected for the occasion, and were attended by a troop of servants and cooks. the latter had prepared a regular banquet and oh, how i wished i was so constituted that i could take enough food aboard to last me some days. as it was, the bounteous feast deserted by the shepherds, had filled me to repletion and i could do but scant justice to the load of luxuries they spread before me. i spent the day pleasantly with them, however, and parted that evening with many kind wishes and warnings. the governor's engineer, who was one of the party, told me all he knew about the river and said i would soon reach the terrible rapids known as the salto del gitano--the gypsey's leap. "after leaving the delightful company, i bowled away on a flying current and ere long heard a roar below warning me that i was approaching a dangerous point. i prepared to take it, no matter what it was. the river closed in between two natural walls, as narrow as a canal, and danced away at a lively pace. the water dashed over the rocks that obstructed its passage, and was churned into foam and spray that leaped high into the air. as the roar below grew more terrible, i lost some courage and endeavored to check up, fearing to encounter backwater. in attempting to stop myself, i grasped a rock as i was being carried by; but did not have strength enough to resist the force of the current, and so was hurled along. the current ran about thirty kilometers an hour, and the rocks were so high on either side that only a small strip of sky was visible overhead. the stream took on an abrupt turn about every hundred yards and was running in the most peculiar currents. i was tossed repeatedly from one side of the river to the other by sortie unseen action and bumped against the rocks. i dashed through two or three rapids and then came to a fall that almost deafened me with its roar. i saw the water in front of me rushing together in big waves and then jumping, leaving nothing but white foam to show where it disappeared. i was drawn down and whirled and thrown about; how i came out i can't tell. i do know, however, that i was puffing and trying to breathe. it was quite a while before my head became clear after that shaking up; but i kept right along. "all that night i ran through another series of canyons until about two o'clock in the morning, i saw in the moonlight what seemed to be a thin string across the river, but on drawing closer, it proved to be the bridge at alcantara. it is a queer stone bridge, with two abutments and one arch stretching across from one mountain to another, high up in the air. there was no one out and i climbed up to the level of the bridge. by calling and making a lot of noise, i succeeded in rousing the bridge tender, who took me to the house of the alcalde where all turned out and welcomed me. i stopped there over sunday and thoroughly enjoyed myself. at night i went to a theatrical entertainment and was called on for a speech, to which i responded to the best of my ability. i was presented to many ladies and thought them the handsomest i had seen in any part of spain. "i started early next morning and a short distance below, came to the point where the river is bordered on one side by portugal, and i soon noticed a portuguese flag flying from a mast and heard loud vivas from the crew of a flat bottomed boat with a cabin, which i ran alongside of and was informed that the boat had been sent by the portuguese government to meet me. the captain also carried a letter from the minister of marine stating that the boat had been placed at my disposal. at this i felt wonderfully relieved. the hard work was now all over, as i simply followed the government craft for the remainder of the journey. it was quite a novelty at first to begin taking my meals regularly again and as there was an abundance of everything, i began to thoroughly enjoy the trip. we would tie up every night and i occupied the cabin. "at portes de rodas, the first town we struck in portugal, i met with a peculiarly portuguese reception. every person was supplied with detonating rockets which were fired off in showers and that was the manner of showing good will at every place in the country. there were no rocks in the river now. the stream broadened majestically and the tides from the atlantic began to be felt. at abrantes and santarem, the receptions accorded me took the wildest form of enthusiasm and i there heard for the first time the peculiar name given me in portugal 'homen das botas',--'the man with the boots'. this name grew out of an ancient story connected with the tagus. many years ago the government officials wished to pass a law which was obnoxious to the people, who made a terrible clamor against it. a shrewd politician, to distract the people's attention from the proposed law, circulated the report that a man in boots was going to walk on the surface of the tagus from santarem to lisbon. this was such a wonderful thing that the people lost sight of the political question, in watching the river and discussing the performance. in the meantime the law was passed. for years the people talked and at last joked about the 'man with the boots,' and so when i came down, there was some reason for their cries of 'here comes the veritable homem das botas.'" as paul approached lisbon, he had to work tides. the river ran through a very low country and stretched into so wide an expanse, as almost to form a bay. he arrived in lisbon just eighteen days from the time of starting, which included nine night's paddling. the welcome he received there was something tremendous. it was estimated that one hundred thousand people were out to see him land. just before going ashore, a steam launch put out to him with dispatches of congratulations from the king of spain and his minister of marine. a company of horse guards took charge of him and escorted him to a hotel. the usual banquets and entertainments followed this winding up of one of the hardest voyages he ever made. the fact that the tagus had been navigated, created a profound sensation throughout spain and portugal, and boyton was kept busy acknowledging telegrams of congratulation. the governor of toledo sent the spanish consul at lisbon a telegram which, translated, read as follows: "i beg you to heartily congratulate captain boyton in my behalf for the happy termination of his difficult voyage on the river tagus, which has once more shown his intelligence and courage." "before leaving madrid to begin the journey," remarked paul to an american friend, "the foreign colony warned me not only of the dangers of the tagus, but also against the people along the river, who were wild and ignorant, and would kill me. on the contrary i found them kind, hospitable and generous, both in spain and portugal." the geographical society of lisbon requested the navigator to deliver a lecture. though the members of the society lived right on the banks of the river, they knew comparatively little about it, and boyton's lecture was of great scientific importance to them. among other things, he told them of the abutments and ancient masonry he had seen while going through some of the wildest canyons, that could not be approached in any way. this masonry, he thought, must be the remains of ancient moorish structures which stood there before the great earthquake had shaken up and changed the surface of the country through which the tagus flows. an expedition sent out by the society soon afterward, verified boyton's words and opinions. paul remained in lisbon during carnival week, and was entertained until he grew weary of so much pleasure. he gave an exhibition in the arsenal de marinha before the king and queen of portugal, and received numerous presents and decorations. chapter xvi. paul next went to gibraltar. on arriving there, he expressed his determination to cross the straits; but was given very little encouragement. he was repeatedly warned against sharks which were reported numerous in those waters. an english officer took him to the rear of the place where cattle are killed for the army. this building abuts on the water, and there, in the clear depth, they could see big, blue sharks laying for the offal that is thrown from the slaughter house. even this sight did not intimidate paul and he began preparations for the trip. at first it was his intention, to paddle from gibraltar to ceuta, which is almost on a straight line across; but on account of the currents, that course was changed and tarifa, the lowest land in europe, was selected as the starting point, from which place he was confident he would be able to strike the african coast somewhere. two gentlemen of gibraltar agreed to accompany him and the spanish felucca, san augustine, was chartered for their accommodation, manned by a captain and crew of five sailors. on thursday, march th, they sailed from gibraltar. as they neared the spanish side, carrying the american flag, a spanish gunboat put out and overhauled them, under the impression they were tobacco smugglers. it was some time before the officials could be made to understand the object of the voyage; but finally allowed them to proceed. they arrived off tarifa at eleven o'clock at night, and lay to for a couple of hours, when, as the captain of the felucca refused to start across without clearance papers, they landed and went into the old, moorish looking town and woke up one sleepy official after another; but it was not until seven o'clock in the morning that clearance was procured. the danger of this undertaking was by no means confined to sharks alone; the wind and currents are usually variable. through the middle of the strait a current may be considered to set constantly to the eastward, but on each side, both flood and ebb tides extend to a quarter of a mile or to two miles from the shore, according to the wind and weather, and are consequently very irregular. at : o'clock boyton had donned his dress and was ready to take the water. for the first time in the history of his voyages he took the unusual precaution against sharks, of screwing sharp steel sword blades on each end of his double bladed paddle. with these he felt confident that he could stand up in the water and rip open any shark that approached him. he also carried a large dagger fastened to his wrist. he jumped into the sea amidst the enthusiastic cheering of quite a crowd that had assembled on the beach to see him start. he paddled out to a rock close by tarifa lighthouse, said to be the extreme southern point of europe, which he touched, turned and waved an adieu to spain. he was then fairly launched on his journey, steering southwest in a smooth sea and calm weather. he was in excellent spirits and fully confident of success. the southwestern course was taken as he expected to meet the current setting eastward, which would carry him toward malabata, the point he determined to make his port of destination. his calculation, however, proved to be false, for the current turned out to be setting from the opposite direction and therefore gradually conveyed him toward the westward. shortly after o'clock paul was singing as he paddled along and came very near running into a school of porpoises. a couple of shots were fired into them from the felucca in order to frighten them away, as it is generally supposed that sharks are following them up. a few moments afterward another school appeared astern, when the operation was repeated with the desired effect. paul finding that the current was setting too rapidly westward, turned his course due south and as the wind was beginning to rise, a small square sail was handed to him; but as that did not seem to increase his progress to any perceptible degree, he put it back in the boat after about ten minutes' trial. as he was passing over cabezes shoals the breeze freshened; but he was still being carried westward. at that stage of the journey, about : , he hauled up for a moment and partook of a little bread and cheese, and before resuming work with the paddle he attached a white pocket handkerchief to a cord about eighteen feet long and fastened one end to the belt of his waist, allowing the handkerchief to drift astern. this was another precaution against sharks, as it is well known that their malevolent impulses are more likely to be excited and their attacks directed against white objects than any other. his idea was that a shark attacking the white handkerchief would jerk the cord and thus give warning of its presence in the rear, in time for him to be ready with his sword blades. the wind increasing from the east, paul again tried the sail, still steering south, toward malabata point; but again found it ineffectual. he was then about nine miles from tarifa and though having paddled constantly, he did not show the slightest signs of fatigue. the westward current continuing, it looked for a time as though he would be carried into the atlantic. he turned his course southeast and fought against it. at two o'clock, he was passed by the british steamer, glenarn, eastward bound, and was loudly cheered by the people on her deck. at two-thirty o'clock, a very strong breeze with a rapid current setting eastward, caused a high sea and boyton had great difficulty in keeping near the boat, his distance from her increasing every moment until he disappeared from view altogether. but by dint of hard pulling on the part of the sailors, for about twenty minutes, he was sighted more than half a mile to the leeward and sail was hoisted on the felucca in order to get up to him, which was done after much trouble and anxiety. the master and crew of the boat then advised him to give up the attempt to cross, as from their long experience of the straits, they believed it to be impracticable under existing circumstances; but boyton positively refused to give up the undertaking, and forged ahead, undismayed and in the most hopeful spirits. as it was found impossible to keep up with him with the aid of the oars alone, the boat's sails were reefed and hoisted and by steering close hauled, was enabled to keep nearer him. at three o'clock, he was about half way across, steering south south east. the wind continued to increase, and it again seemed as though he would be carried into the ocean. the sea broke over him constantly and he suffered greatly from the salt encrusting on his eyebrows and causing his face to smart. it was nearly five o'clock when he was off boassa point, bearing south and only distant about three and one half miles from the african coast. he made another attempt to use the sail but the wind was too strong and he was compelled to give it up. the current with heavy overfalls, caused him to be constantly taken under water, and also proved very trying to those in the boat. the overfalls are caused by two currents rushing in opposite directions, meeting with a great crash and making a tremendous wave. paul bravely continued to paddle despite such dreadful obstacles and at five-thirty o'clock, he was bearing due south off alcazar point two and one half miles. one hour later, the current was setting to the west again, driving the voyager and the boat further and further away from the african coast. it began to grow dark with increasing wind and every sign of a gale coming on. the boisterous sea and wind, in conjunction with the rapid currents and heavy over-falls, again caused boyton to drift away from the boat, so that those on board soon lost sight of him altogether. after cruising about in all directions and hailing at the top of their voices, his friends on board the st. augustine were relieved by hearing a distant hail which proved to be a guide to his whereabouts and by proceeding in the right direction they got up to him; but not without great risk and very hard work. on reaching him, the crew became very violent in their language and conduct and insisted on his getting aboard, as they were all drifting into the atlantic ocean. boyton, however was firm in his resolve to keep on until he reached the african coast. seeing no other way to stop him, three of the crew leaned over the boat's side and endeavored to drag him on board by main force. that movement caused paul to become greatly excited in his turn. he stood up in the water and with the sword blade raised and pointing at the crew, he glared at them with blazing eyes and told them he would rip open the first man that dared to touch him. the men took to their oars again. boyton began to sing, with the intention of encouraging the men and dissipating their apprehensions. at seven-thirty o'clock, he was again lost sight of in a heavy overfall, the current setting to the eastward at a place commonly known as la ballesta. he was sighted after the lapse of about twenty minutes. the increasing darkness and bad state of the weather necessitated harder work on the part of those on board the boat in order to keep near him. clouds gathered fast and a heavy mist partly obscured the moon, which wore a large circle, called by the sailors a "weather band." directly after finding boyton, those on board of the felucca, were startled by his cry of "watch; oh, watch!" in answer to excited inquiries from on board, he directed that they should stand by with arms, at the same time calling attention to the weather side of the boat, where was observed a great commotion in the water causing a bright, phosphorescent glow, which left no doubt of the unpleasant proximity of a shark, or some other huge denizen of the deep. fears for the safety of boyton, however, were quickly dispelled by the disappearance of the creature, whatever it may have been, and all preparations to give it a warm reception proved needless. bonfires were at that time seen at long distances from each other on the african coast. it was subsequently ascertained that they had been built by order of colonel mathews, the american consul general at tagier, as beacons for boyton's guidance. a current setting to the westward was encountered, which drove them in a northwesterly direction and the wind increased to a gale with a heavy sea. in answer to a hail from the boat as to whether he had been attacked or needed anything, boyton replied: "no, thank you, all's right." it began to rain and the boat labored, rolling heavily. at : o'clock malabata point was distant about four miles. the crew was again losing heart, as matters bore a very serious aspect. for the fourth time they were obliged to go about and pull in various directions in quest of boyton, whom they missed for more than a quarter of an hour. after nine o'clock the most exciting and anxious moments of the entire trip were experienced by all concerned. with the wind blowing violently, the current driving fast to the westward and a high sea increasing every moment, paul was lost sight of for nearly forty minutes, in an unusually heavy overfall. it is not to be wondered at that under these most trying circumstances, the boat's crew, having nothing to eat, and exhausted by the fatigues of the day, after pulling about for a considerable time, should have dropped the oars accompanying the action with language more forcible than elegant. happily the cessation of their labor was of short duration, for they soon yielded to the admonitions and entreaties of boyton's friends, who sought by every possible means to buoy up their spirits, although they, as well as the crew, were of the opinion that any further attempt to find paul would be utterly futile. the joy of all may easily be imagined when they heard the echo of a distant hail, amid the roaring of the wind and hissing of the seething water, that once more restored their hope and confidence in him and announced after all that he had not been lost beyond, recovery. a little more pulling in the right direction brought the boat alongside of him, when, despite the entreaties of the crew and the great risks he was running, he refused to get on board, but continued with undaunted courage and characteristic firmness in his endeavor to accomplish the daring task. boyton was missed for the last time and found again about : o'clock. at that time the severe strain he had imposed upon himself began to be felt, for when within hearing distance he stated that he had fallen asleep for a few moments and had been unceremoniously awakened by a sea breaking over him with such force on the side of the head as almost to stun him. the crew now expressed their thorough appreciation and admiration for boyton's intrepidity and powers of endurance, and declared he had done as much as to cross the straits three times over in point of distance; but he persistently turned a deaf ear to their entreaties to get into the boat. at : o'clock the bay of tangier opened ahead and the force of the current began to abate. they were rapidly approaching tangier reef, which was a source of uneasiness to the boat's crew, who were afraid of being driven on it. they passed the headland between tangier and cape malabata and were inside the bay before one o'clock. when within one hundred yards of the outside of a reef of rocks, forming a natural breakwater, and the landing place at tangier, the impracticability of the boat clearing the reef (toward which the current was driving her) with the aid of the oars alone became manifest. they therefore advised boyton to take a line as they were going to set sail and would tow him around the point, for otherwise they would inevitably be dashed against the rocks. on further representing to him that as the tide was high he ran the risk of fracturing his leg or arm in passing over the slippery obstruction, he acceded to the request, particularly as he considered that his feat was accomplished. he accordingly took the end of a line and discontinued paddling for a short while until they arrived opposite the town, within three-quarters of a mile from the landing, when he let go and shaped his course for the beach, the boat standing to the southward and anchoring. boyton emerged from the surf and stood on the beach at . o'clock. the moon was shining. some of the native soldiers were aware that a man was paddling across the straits; but many were not. one of the guards on the wall surrounding the city, seeing him come out of the water, set up a terrific cry in the arabic tongue. soon the bells were ringing from the mosques and a great commotion was evident within the walls of the city. paul, not knowing what the natives might do with him, walked down the beach a short distance and coming upon the upturned hull of a wrecked vessel, crawled under it. he had scarcely done so, when the gate to the city opened and a crowd of soldiers and citizens carrying torches, rushed out. they soon got on his trail and followed it to the old hulk which they surrounded with wild and discordant cries. in the midst of all the hubbub, paul heard a voice calling in english, and he stepped out to be met by the son of the american consul, colonel mathews, who explained the cause of boyton's appearance to the natives. it was afterward learned that the peculiar cry of alarm given by the guard on the wall, was: "awake, awake. 'tis better to pray than to sleep, for the devil has landed in tangier." all the explanation, however, did not prevent one of the natives from running back into the city with the statement that, he had actually seen a christian walking on the sea. when those on the boat heard all the commotion ashore, their anxiety for paul was great. they rightly apprehended that the superstitious feeling of the moorish guard had been excited at the apparition of so strange an object emerging from the sea at that advanced hour of the night, and might lead them to resort to violence. in answer to mr. matthew's invitation to enter the city as his guest, paul told him that he must first paddle back to the boat and mr. mathews agreed to meet him there. as soon as he returned to the boat, he was divested of his rubber dress, when it was found that his under clothing was completely saturated with salt water. he accounted for it by the fact that having been so frequently drawn under by the overfalls, the water had entered at the sides of the face. as soon as he had been provided with a change of clothing, he began to display evidences of the most complete prostration, coupled with acute pain in the wrists and hands which were covered with large blisters, while he was almost blinded by the action of the salt water on his eyes. a fire was lighted in the cooking stove on board, but it was long ere paul could obtain sufficient warmth to stay the violence of his shiverings. in due time they were all gladdened by the arrival of the pratique boat alongside, with colonel mathew's son, who took the party to the landing stage, where boyton was highly honored by the presence of several officials who were waiting to offer him a welcome and their congratulations, for which purpose they had exposed themselves to the discomforts of a cold and cheerless morning. the time was half past two. accommodations were provided for the party at the house of colonel mathews. in company with the consul general next day, paul visited the old sheriff of tangier, to whom he was introduced as the water god of america. the superstitious old moor looked at boyton with great respect and remarked, colonel mathews interpreting: "i am well pleased that the water god has made his appearance on these shores as there has been a terrible drought here for sometime, and we are sadly in need of a rainfall to moisten the parched lips of our soil and i hope the great water god of your country will deign to favor us." boyton had been noticing the clouds since morning; his sailor training told him it would not be long before rain would fall, so he answered the sheriff's appeal with a sly wink at the colonel, as follows: "the request of the sheriff is well. i promise that rain will come before a great while." before they left the house, luckily for paul, it did begin to rain and the old man was absolutely bewildered with astonishment, having not the least doubt that the rain had been called by the american. to this day, the moors of tangier tell the story of how the drought was ended by a wonderful american who came out of the sea one night. on returning to the colonel's house, boyton was waited on by a delegation of distinguished moors; old, white bearded fellows, in turbans and burnouse. each of them offered a present of some kind. one of them brought a beautiful pair of barbary pheasants, another a young wild pig in a crate; others, quaint arms, and one had a chameleon of a rare species, which he carried on the twig of a tree. an address of welcome to morocco was read by one of their number and then they asked paul he would not kindly walk on the water in the daylight for them as the soldiers had seen him do when he landed, so that all the people might behold him. in response to the request, boyton promised to favor them and on the following day, he gave a demonstration of what he could do in the water, much to their enjoyment and surprise. after the exhibition, he was shown the pleasures of the city. one of his most interesting experiences was in encountering the great dangers afforded by a wild boar hunt. early one morning the hunting party, headed by colonel mathews, mounted on wiry little arab horses, and carrying bamboo sticks pointed with a sharp spear, rode over the hills back of the quaint old city and descended to the desert. they proceeded for a long distance and chanced on no signs of game. they were beginning to get somewhat discouraged, when they met a camel train from fez. "i will ask some of these people if they have seen any boars on their way hither," said colonel mathews, "but you can place very little dependence on what they say. they are naturally inclined to exaggerate." he rode up to the leader of the train and the following conversation which the colonel's son translated, took place: "mahomet protect my brothers. you came from afar; but your journey will soon be ended and you will have blissful rest," said the colonel. "allah bless you, master. we are weary and glad to approach our journey's end," replied the head of the caravan. "have you seen the wild boar in your last day's journey?" "we have, my master, in great numbers, not far from here." "good ones?" "as large as an ass, my master." "in which direction?" the moor responded by raising his hand and solemnly pointing to the south-east. after riding in the direction given for an hour or more, the party halted on the crest of a hill, scanning the desert for game, and discovered two sickly looking little pigs running across the valley below. "those are not the ones the moor saw?" said paul. "oh yes, they are. it's a wonder he imagined them so small as an ass, for it is their national characteristic to exaggerate." there was rather meager sport in running down and spearing the skinny little wild pigs, but after it was done the party returned to the city, as the experienced hunters knew there would be no use looking further that day. one place in the queer old moorish city which paul never tired of visiting, was the market. there the moorish women with covered faces, squatted on the ground displaying their little bowls of beans, peas, etc., for sale. the tired camels from the desert were laying with their noses buried in the sand, taking much needed rest, while their owners stood about and bartered the goods of which they were possessed. once, while walking around the market place with colonel mathews, paul saw a man seated cross-legged on the ground in the midst of a circle of merchants, who were deeply interested in the discourse and gestures of the central figure. "i'll wager something that i can guess what that fellow is, though i do not understand arabic," remarked paul to the colonel. "well, what is he?" asked the colonel. "an auctioneer," triumphantly asserted boyton. "wrong. he is a professional story-teller. he is as imaginative as scheherazade and the merchants here are so busy that they always have time and inclination to listen to his long fairy tales." after each story the listeners dropped a small coin, valued at one- twentieth of a cent, into the story-teller's hat. another thing that amused paul was the indiscriminate use the guides made of the stout sticks they carried, whacking the natives who got in their way in the narrow streets as mercilessly as they did the asses they drove. the women were all heavily veiled, their faces jealously hidden from the eyes of men, except when some giddy girl with a taste for flirtation allowed her veil to slip down as if by accident, and one then, as a general thing, beheld a very pretty countenance. returning to gibraltar, boyton visited cadiz, seville, and the principal cities of southern spain, with extraordinary success, and was the recipient of continued ovations. while giving exhibitions in those cities, he concluded to take a run on the guadalquivir, from st. geronime to seville. it was an uneventful though pleasant trip. his only adventure was that of being driven back into the water after going ashore to take observations, by one of the famous andalusian fighting bulls that was feeding close by. he completed the journey in three days--march , and . madrid was again visited on the invitation of the king, and preparations began for a grand exhibition at casa de campo, the royal garden, which contains a beautiful little lake. a tent was erected on its bank and every assistance rendered boyton in preparing for the entertainment. several small boats were built for him with which to illustrate torpedo work in naval warfare. the king took great interest in the work and in fact in everything american. he treated paul in the most affable manner; among other attentions, showing the royal boat house and was astonished when told that boats, such as his mahogany ones, that required four men to lift out, were made in america out of paper, so light that a man could take one of them under his arm and carry it where he pleased. on the morning of the exhibition, the finest military band in madrid was present. the affair was private, only the notables of the city being there. when the king, queen, and members of the royal household arrived, a signal for the exhibition to begin, was given. in one part of the entertainment, pigeons are used to illustrate the sending of dispatches. on that occasion, paul had procured a pair of beautiful white doves. one of them when loosed flew away, while the other, bewildered, circled about and finally lit at the feet of the queen. the princess of asturas, the king's sister, caught it and handed it to the queen, who held and petted it during the rest of the time. the exhibition was a complete success and at its termination, the king summoned paul to land where the royal party was seated, when he congratulated the hardy navigator, as did also the queen. as she thanked him for the pleasure he had given her, paul said, referring to the dove that had gone to her feet: "i hope it will prove a good omen, your majesty." turning her wondrously beautiful, though melancholy black eyes on him, she replied, with a sad smile: "i hope so; i hope so." she then conferred on paul the order of hospitaliers of spain, making him for a second time a knight. he is the only foreigner ever knighted by mercedes during her short reign. the king also presented him with the marine cross of spain and photographs of himself and queen. before he left spain the beautiful young queen was dead. might not the erratic action of the dove have been an omen? leaving madrid, paul appeared in the principal cities of the northern division of the country and was everywhere received with the usual cordiality. at barcelona, he gave an exhibition for the benefit of several families of fishermen who had been lost in a gale but a short time before. the fishing folk of barcelona, as well as those of northern france are unlike those in any other part of the world. they are peculiar in their costumes and characteristics and form a little world unto themselves. after paul had given the benefit exhibition, he was surprised one morning to be summoned from his room. he found the courtyard of the house full of fisher folk dressed in their holiday attire, who had appeared to tender him their thanks. an address was delivered, and he was also presented with a curious, pear-shaped iron locket, inlaid with gold and silver, that had been made by one of their number who was a cripple. it was suitably inscribed and of ingenious workmanship. he values it among his most cherished possessions. toulouse, france, was next visited and a voyage made from that city to bordeaux on the garonne, which occupied six days, from may th to the th. there was nothing but pleasure on the trip down that beautiful river, which winds through the rich wine valleys of france. the greatest hospitality was shown paul and when his little tender was not loaded down with flowers, it was filled by his admirers with provisions and rare wines. after the garonne he went to paris, where his steam yacht, the paul boyton, which he had ordered before departing for the tagus, was delivered to him. she was a magnificent little vessel, in which he intended to sail and steam to india, china and japan. this was during the paris exposition of , and he remained on board the yacht, whose dock was at the exposition grounds, most of the time. the little vessel was always full of distinguished visitors, and many pleasant excursions were taken up and down the seine. during that time paul became acquainted with the ex-president of peru, don nicholas de pierola, then in banishment. they became fast friends, the ex-president taking much interest in torpedo work, and they frequently made quiet experiments at isolated places down the river. before they separated he assured paul that if he ever regained his position in peru, he would remember their pleasant times aboard the "paul boyton," and their torpedo experiments. august th, paul began a voyage down the seine from nogent-sur-seine to paris, a distance of two hundred miles, which he accomplished in four days, landing at the exposition buildings, champs de mars, before an immense concourse of people. the crowds that lined the banks of the seine were estimated at half a million by the figaro. as he passed under pont neuf he stood up and dipped the stars and stripes in salute. a mighty shout went up from thousands of throats, "vive l'amerique, vive boyton." during november of the same year, he voyaged the orne from lou to caen, occupying two days. the trip was an uneventful one, and soon after he returned to america. chapter xvii. for some weeks paul remained in new york, much to the delight of his mother and family and he was also feted and entertained by many of the prominent citizens of the metropolis. during his stay at home, he amused himself by paddling from the battery around to hunter's point and one night crossed down the bay through the narrows, and came near losing his life in the ice off staten island. on an invitation from a member of congress, paul visited washington and was cordially received by president hayes and his cabinet, all paying him high compliments for the daring things he had performed in the interest of life saving. during the afternoon of february st, , at the instance of the president, he gave an exhibition in the navy yard, before the members of the senate and house of representatives. while in washington, paul received an invitation which highly pleased him. it was signed by leading citizens, asking him to revisit his former home, pittsburgh. he was glad to have the chance of seeing the old river of his boyish gambols, and cheerfully promised to go. after a day or so in washington he went to pittsburgh, where met with the most cordial greeting on the part of the citizens and was also happy to see many of his playmates of former years. on the evening of his arrival, while resting in his room at a hotel, he was visited by a man wearing the uniform of the fire department, who grasped his hand with more warmth and enthusiasm than ordinary visitors were wont to do, at the same time remarking: "i don't suppose you know me, captain boyton?" "my memory certainly fails me in that respect," replied boyton "i am thomas mccaffery, whose life you saved more than twenty years ago. of all men in the world, i most desired to meet you," and paul returned the warm hand pressure of the fireman. an evening most agreeable to both was passed in recounting their adventures of other days. before paul left pittsburgh, mr. mccaffery presented him with a gold medal, commemorating the important event in his life, which, but for boyton, would have terminated so disastrously. some time was spent about pittsburgh, while preparations were made for a voyage down the alleghany and ohio rivers, which he had decided on making. it was the first intention to start on the alleghany at kittanning, but on looking over the ground, paul selected oil city as the starting point, distant above pittsburgh about one hundred and forty miles. there was great excitement at oil city when it became known that boyton had arrived and contemplated paddling down the river. many people believed the attempt would not be made on account of the extremely cold weather. these were astonished when boyton appeared on the morning of february th, equipped for the dreary voyage, and he was given an enthusiastic send off. his progress the greater part of the first day, was slow, owing to, the blocks of floating ice. at black's riffles he struck on a rock, with such force as to turn him completely over and almost knock him senseless. fortunately his dress was not punctured by the blow and he continued the journey to emlenton, forty three miles from oil city, where, on account of the accident and the fact that he was almost frozen, he decided to remain over night instead of rushing on to kittanning as had been his intention. at all towns he passed, crowds of people lined the banks and offers of hospitality were numberless. there was great rivalry between some of the towns as to which would get the voyager to stop off, and the arguments used by the inhabitants to induce him to favor them, were very funny. a citizen of parker come to the front with a statement which he thought would surely be a winner. "tell boyton," he said to one of the newspaper men who followed by train from one station to the other along the river, "that he should stop off at parker instead of kittanning, because parker is an incorporated town and kittanning is not." paul was not greatly refreshed by his rest at emlenton. he arose in the morning, stiff and swollen, his hands and face very much so, being slightly frost bitten and very painful. he was somewhat depressed in spirits and said he could not reach pittsburgh until sunday. he bravely entered the water, however, and that day he shot over parker's falls. before he reached mahoning, a big crowd lined the bank awaiting his approach. in the crowd was one of those wise bodies who are never to be fooled and who knows a thing or two about the ways of the world. this individual made himself exceedingly conspicuous in the gathering and confidentially told everybody that would listen to him, that he was smart enough to size up the whole affair and that they were all fools to be taken in by the report that a man was going to swim down such an icy current. "i'm on to the whole thing," he said, with a real knowing look, "this is gotten up by the newspaper men. they have a block of wood dressed up in a rubber suit and let it float down, while this 'ere boyton sneaks along the river with the reporters. they can't close my eye, not much." he was one of the front line on the bank when paul arrived. he had made up his mind to grab the rubber covered chunk of wood and expose the whole thing to the public, and then it would be seen that he was "jest a leetle smarter than the rest of mankind." as boyton drew in at that point and walked up on the land, the clever fellow's eyes looked as though they would burst from their sockets, and he beat a precipitate retreat, followed by the derisive shouts of the crowd. paul was much interested during a great part of the cold, cheerless trip, in the immense pillars of fire that belch from the natural gas wells that are numerous along the river, which runs through the famous oil country of pennsylvania. a reception was tendered him at kittanning, notwithstanding that little city's misfortune in "not being incorporated," and the mayor delivered a warm address of welcome. from the moment paul neared pittsburgh's suburban places there was a continued ovation until he completed the voyage at the point, where the confluence of the alleghany and monongahela forms the ohio. thousands of people jammed the bridges and thousands lined the shores to salute the intrepid voyager. he was picked up at the point and quickly placed in a carriage in order to avoid the crowd and hurriedly driven to a hotel. he was half frozen and his worn appearance showed how trying had been the trip, which was accomplished in a little less than four days. after a brief rest, he made ready to resume the voyage. the start was made from the foot of seventh street, february th. the ohio was so full of ice that it was difficult to forge ahead. the first day's run was to rochester, where he hauled up for the night. owing to his being behind time the band and many people who had been waiting for him, went away, while those who remained occupied their time in patronizing a convenient bar. mr. james creelman, of the new york herald, who had been assigned to write up the voyage, and another newspaper man, accompanied boyton, making their way in conveyances along the shore. when they arrived at rochester, paul was tired and wanted to sleep, so they repaired to a hotel as quickly as possible, and all three were put into one room. it became, noised around that the travelers had arrived and crowds gathered at the hotel. they demanded a speech and the landlord waited on paul with the information. he was sent back to tell the people that boyton was in bed and did not wish to be disturbed. then they wanted him to fire off just one rocket. that was also impossible, because the "baby mine," the name of the little tender, had struck a piece of ice before reaching the town and sprung a leak, wetting all the fireworks. the landlord, however, thought he could touch off one of the rockets anyway, so he seized a large detonator and with a red hot poker tried to see how it would work. finding the fuse, as he thought, too wet, he threw the rocket on the floor and left the room. directly after, paul heard a hissing noise and realized that the landlord had succeeded in leaving a live spark in the fuse. he simply drew the bedclothes around himself and let the rocket sizz. it went off with a terrible report, shaking the whole house and frightening his companions out of their wits. the landlord rushed into the room with a "hip, hooray," much delighted. "that's it," he cried, "that's good," and he yelled again, regardless of the fact that his carpet was on fire and the room terribly littered up. between rochester and wellsville, paul had an awful time in an ice gorge. he could hear it cracking and grinding below as though warning him of danger. he succeeded in climbing on a cake which saved him from being carried under, and made his way to clear water on the other side. below steubenville, a native from the west virginia side rowed frantically out to him. "hold on, stranger, i'll resky yo' in a minit," he yelled. when he drew nearer and paul spoke to him, he appeared as tickled as a boy at a monkey show. "wal, ef yo' aint jus' th' cutes' little cuss i ever seed paddlin' aroun' out here in the ice like a beaver." however, he expressed much disgust, not to say contempt, when boyton refused to land and take a drink of "virginia's own mountain dew." after hard work through the ice gorged river, paul reached wheeling and rested there until the next morning. on resuming the voyage he was frequently compelled to mount an ice cake to look for the best place to strike open water, where he could get at least enough paddling to keep up his temperature. while on one of those lookouts he heard the clear, ringing sound of an ax on the frosty morning air, wielded by the powerful arm of some hardy chopper. looking along shore paul discovered the wood cutter just about the same instant that worthy discovered him. the tall, lank west virginian eyed the strange looking creature far a second, dropped the ax and started in a lope for his cabin. suspecting that the curious landsman was going after his rifle, as it is customary for them to shoot at anything in the water they cannot understand, boyton sounded a lusty blast on the bugle to attract the chopper's attention from the shooting iron. the man returned to the water's edge, loosened a flat bottomed boat from the ice and with an iron shod pole pushed out from shore toward paul, who was rapidly approaching with the floe. as boyton neared the woodcutter he thought, "here comes another lantern-jawed individual who wants to ask me if i'm cold." to his surprise the man never opened his mouth, but ran his boat as close as he, could get it to the object of his curiosity and after a long stare turned his craft and began poling back to shore. when about twenty yards away he stopped as though he had forgotten some important matter, and seriously inquired: "say, mister, be yo' stuffed wuth cork or wind?" "wind," tersely answered the captain. he waited for no further reply, but poled solemnly and silently back to his cabin. below pomeroy, boyton, making his first all night run and feeling drowsy was moving along mechanically, when he was startled by hearing the paddle wheels of a steamer, which proved to be the telegraph, bearing right on him. with all his energy he rose up and shouted: "port, port, or i am a dead man." instantly the wheel was put over and the steamer glided by, barely missing him. at six o'clock next morning, as he was nearing gallipolis, he observed a boat putting out from one of the floating houses, or jo-boats that are frequently met along the ohio and mississippi, containing two river gypsies. boyton paid no attention to them until they were close behind. then he stood up expecting to ask the time of day. he made that movement just in time, for one of the men, pale with excitement, was taking deliberate aim at him with a musket. boyton yelled out a warning as the trigger was about to be pressed, and saved his life. the river pirate was profuse in his apologies. "great etarnal jeehosophat, straanger; i wouldn't a shot yer 'fur two dollars an' a half, i wouldn't, by golly, fur i'm loaded bang up ter th' muzzle with slugs fur geese. it were a narry escape fur me." when nearing the mouth of the big sandy river, which forms the boundary between west virginia and kentucky, paul was met by the steamer fashion, loaded with ladies and gentlemen, who gave him a hearty welcome to the shores of old kentucky. at cattlettsburg, a banquet was spread on shore, of which he partook and slid back into the water. he arrived at ironton at nine o'clock that night where he remained until morning. from that point to cincinnati, every town turned out to greet him. the banks were lined with people and bonfires were built at night. a short distance above cincinnati he was met by an excursion steamer containing notables of that city and newspaper representatives. madame modjeska, who was with the party, presented him with a handsome silk flag. the river at cincinnati was crowded with excursion boats. a large barge loaded with people, was driven against a pier and was barely saved from sinking with all on board. he made a brief stay in cincinnati, and continued the voyage accompanied by a boat load of reporters, among whom was also oliver byron, the actor. the ice was then disappearing though the water was very cold. he averaged about five miles an hour on the lower river, and the rowing of the newspaper men to keep their boat up with him, was something beautifully scientific. at delhi the two experienced oarsmen, who had been engaged to row a short distance, went ashore, leaving creelman, byron and two cincinnati newspaper men to manage the lumbering boat. it was fortunate for their reputation as oarsmen, that spectators were directing most of their attention to boyton, for such pulling was never seen before on the ohio and will probably never be seen again. paul felt like shedding tears every time he looked around to see how they were getting along. his own safety had something to do with his watchful care, for they came near running him down several times. the enthusiastic oarsmen first removed their overcoats; their undercoats followed and then collars were unbuttoned. one of them said it wasn't the length of the river that bothered them so much as the breadth. they worked independently of each other, and it was pretty hard to tell which was the bow and which the stern of the boat. a ragged urchin rowed out from shore to see what they were doing and sarcastically inquired if they were rowing over stumps. that was an unkind allusion to the extreme height at which they elevated their oar blades from the water between strokes. there was no revolver or shot gun in the party, or there would have been a funeral in that lad's family. row boats would pull out from shore all along, and the questions asked by the parties pulling them were ridiculous, and painfully monotonous. a sample of some of them: "have you springs in your arms?" "blow your horn. how far can it be heard?" "are you going to travel all night?" "are you going back to cincinnati to-night?" "let me sit on you." "don't you get tired?" "are you cold?" when the press boat was not trying to climb the kentucky hills, paul would cheer himself by running alongside and converse with the boys; but as a rule he was wary of getting too close to them. nearing louisville, a fleet of excursion steamers ran up to meet him. there was a heavy fog and the excursionists were so eager to see him, the boats pushing close around, that before he could bear into the city, he was carried over the falls, and was picked up five miles below. the newspaper men were also carried over and rescued by the life saving crew. leaving louisville next morning, he intended to make the run to cloverport, over one hundred miles below, without leaving the water. there was a strong head wind all day, turning the yellow waves of the ohio over his face, and night closed in with dark, low hanging clouds. an electric storm began to rage about him. flashing sheets of lightning ran over the surface of the water, cracking and sputtering as though angry at his presence. it was a grand, though fearful sight. tree after tree along the shore was splintered by the sharp flashes and peals of thunder added to the terrific grandeur of nature's display. fearing that his copper bugle would attract the lightning, he lowered it as far under the water as he could. all night he ran through that fearful storm, arriving at cloverport very tired. he rested there several hours and ran to owensboro. the mail boats, idlewild and morning star, steamed up from evansville to meet him, lashed together for the occasion, carrying a large crowd of people, and flying boyton's colors, the geneva cross, which is the international life saving standard. miss maggie morgan, one of evansville's fair daughters, stepped off the idlewild into the press boat and presented paul with his colors. an amusing incident occurred just as the flag was being presented. the commander of the steamer hotspur, with an eye to business in running a little speculation of his own, loaded his steamer at so much per head, holding out the inducement that boyton would give an exhibition up the river and that would be seen better from the deck of the hotspur than from any other boat. as the young lady finished her presentation, the hotspur steamed up, her deck black with people eager to witness the exhibition. boyton had been told about the hotspur by his agent who was on the other steamers and so, despite all the efforts of the captain and pilots of that boat, paul kept the idlewild and mayflower between himself and her, in such a way that the people aboard of her could see nothing. for an hour or more, this amusing dance around the two steamers continued, until the hotspur's captain, swearing and tramping his decks in a rage, ordered the boat back to evansville, and to make matters worse with him, he could not collect a cent from the people he had inveigled aboard, having lost his sunshade during the night, his eyes were almost blinded and his face scorched by the intense heat. he reached cottonwood at o'clock in the evening and through sheer exhaustion was compelled to leave the water for rest, after a continuous run of thirty-two hours. about o'clock the next afternoon he met a heavy head wind and a high sea. he kept up a pretty good rate of speed, however, until he was struck by a storm off hale's point. the rain descended in torrents and darkness became so intense that he could scarcely tell whether he was going up, down or across. his matches were wet and he could not strike a light. he determined to go ashore, and if he could find no habitation, at least to remain along the bank until the storm had abated. a landing was effected in a thick woods, and there he found that he had not bettered the situation, because he was in danger of the lightning. he was debating whether to return to the water or not, when he caught the tiny glimmer of a light among the trees and he struck out for it, leaving the "baby mine" under a log near the shore. the light guided him to a lone negro cabin and he unceremoniously pushed the door open and entered, frightening the inmates, a newly wedded couple, half out of their wits, until he had explained who he was. the negro took it all good humouredly, however, saying: "yo' done scart de life mos' out o' us. i knows who yo' is now, do boss." "how about a little fire, my friend," asked boyton. "all right boss, all right, sah, yo' kin have a fiah quicker 'n yo' kin skin er cat," and the negro began tearing boards off the side of the cabin. it was too much trouble to gather fuel in the woods or cut down a tree and besides, the boards burned more easily. they soon had a roaring fire and paul, divested of the rubber dress, was drying and thoroughly enjoying himself. the negro was so tickled at having such a guest that he disappeared in the recesses of the forest for some time and returned with a whole delegation of his relatives, including his mother. by the time they had arrived, paul was dry and prepared to re-enter the water. the old woman was not perfectly satisfied that he was of the earth and she looked upon him with considerable suspicion, mingled with a great deal of fear. "boss," she said, edging into a corner and peering over the shoulders of her stalwart son, "yo' 'suredly looks like a suah 'nough man; yo' certn'y isn't got de looks ob de debbil 'bout yo' face; but dey say de debbil's get cow hoofs an' i kaint see yo' feet." her son assured her that he had seen boyton's feet and they were just like any other human beings; but the old woman kept something between herself and the captain all the time and when he stepped out, he could hear her sigh of thankfulness as he walked off among the trees. after leaving the cabin, another storm came up and the heavy rain turned to hail. in a short time the light on the baby mine was again put out by the waves which also soaked the matches procured from the negro. in the darkness there was great danger of his being run down by the fleets of empty coal barges that were being towed up from new orleans to pittsburgh. those great tows cover acres of river space and it is a hard matter to tell which way they are going to turn. observing one of the government lights which are now placed along the rivers as a guide to mariners, he steered for it. he landed and climbing the ladder to the lantern, was proceeding to get a light for his lamp, when a big dog rushed furiously up and held him treed on the lamp post. the light keeper hearing the victorious barking of the dog, came out with a gun and paul could not explain his presence there any too quickly. the keeper called off the dog, gave the captain a supply of matches, who lighted up his bull's eye and was soon forging ahead again. during the small hours of the night, he passed the steamers osceola, james howard and andy baum, all of which spoke him and inquired if he was in need of anything. at daybreak, the osceola belle stopped and gave him some hot coffee and the city of helena gave him a cheer. around the devil's elbow, he encountered another furious head wind which required heavy work to go against. so vigorous were his exertions that he stopped at bradley's, arkansas, for the night and started next morning at o'clock for memphis which city he reached at four o'clock. above memphis he was met by a fleet of excursion steamers and the sight of his flashing paddle as he approached them was the signal for the firing of a salute from a ten pound parrot gun on the deck of the general pierson. miss jeanette boswell, one of the reigning belles of memphis, handed him a banner and made a pleasant address of welcome. holding on to the gunwale of the gig, paul replied in a felicitous manner as he accepted the trophy from her hands. the reception at memphis was in accordance with the enthusiasm of the excursionists and paul resumed the voyage monday afternoon with the well wishes of the populace. that night another terrific storm almost overwhelmed him. huge trees were borne to the earth on either side of him as though they were reeds. rain turned to hail and the river was whitened by the icy stones. so great was their forge that he was compelled to stand up in the stream to shield his head and face with the broad blade of his paddle and his knuckles were badly bruised. in a short time he experienced a sensation of leaking. he thought the hail stones had cut his dress; but next morning, landing on a sandbar, he found himself as dry as a pebble, the leaking sensation having been caused by the sudden change in the temperature of the water owing to the melting of the hail stones. in the darkness, he missed the cut off, by which he could have saved fifteen miles of paddling, and went around walnut bend. at daybreak, he saw a negro on the bank and inquired his whereabouts. "yo'se in de bend shoah 'nough cap'en; but i'se pow'ful glad yo' missed the cut off, cause i wanted to see yo' awful bad." paul did not sympathize with the darkey's joy and that unnecessary fifteen miles was the hardest pull of the entire trip, to his mind. that morning was very lonely along the river and he was still lecturing himself for missing the convenient cut off, when away around a distant bend he could hear the beating paddles of an approaching steamboat. that animated him and he pulled with renewed vigor until he met a boat which was loaded with excursionists from helena, arkansas. he hauled up alongside and the excursionists begged him to go ashore and visit their city. he was feeling sore and declined the kind invitation; other boats came up until he was surrounded. they insisted earnestly and so kindly that he should stop oft at helena, that he finally consented to do so and rest a couple of hours, as his watch and lamp were smashed and that would give him an opportunity to get them fixed. he was enthusiastically welcomed to the city, and a committee of citizens was appointed to get anything he might want. the mayor and several other officials requested him to remain that night and deliver a lecture. he declined to do so, because his wardrobe had been shipped on ahead to vicksburg, and he had nothing to wear but a suit of heavy underclothing and the rubber dress. "that'll be all right," said the mayor, "we'll fix you up in a dress suit and attend to all the details. we'll get out bills, hire the hall, get a band and just fix you up as snug as a bug in a rug. don't you let anything worry you; but just stay here and rest up while we make the arrangements." the people had been so kind that boyton could not resist their desires and consented. that evening the mayor drove up to the hotel and entered paul's room with a swallow tail coat, white vest and tie, and a collar that was fastened around his neck without the assistance of shirt buttons. the upper half of him looked all right and quite appropriate for presentation to the public. they waited for the gentleman whose pantaloons just fitted paul, but he did not appear. "all right," said the mayor again, "i reckon he's gone to the hall with them and there's a dressing room there. come on now, just hop into my carriage and we'll drive there. no one will see you." they reached the hall and waited in the dressing room for the other gentleman to get there with the pantaloons. it was growing late and the people who crowded the hall began to get impatient. "that's all right," once more exclaimed the ever ready mayor, "we can fix that." he shoved a stand to the middle of the stage and taking a large table cover; arranged it so that it hung to the floor in front, thus hiding everything behind it from the eyes of the crowd. on the stand were placed the rubber dress, the baby mine, a pitcher of water and a glass. then boyton stood behind it and from the front he looked as though attired in an irreproachable dress suit. the curtain was rung up discovering him standing in the shelter of the table, the mayor on one side, ready to introduce him. in that position paul acknowledged the introduction and proceeded to describe the rubber dress, his 'mode of navigating in it and an account of his voyages. in recounting his adventure with a shark in the straits of messina, he became somewhat excited and without thinking, stepped from behind the protecting folds of the table cloth in all the glory of a dress coat, white vest and violently red drawers. there was a stare of wonder, an awful silence for a moment and then a wild roar of laughter, which brought the orator to a sense of the comical figure he cut, and he fled from the stage with the unfinished shark story on his lips. the mayor after a violent effort, got the attention of the crowd and explained the situation. they took it so good humouredly that they gave three rousing cheers for paul, and a tiger. to make up for the time he had lost with the hospitable citizens of helena, boyton was compelled to make an extra long run and he paddled to arkansas city without leaving the water, a distance of one hundred and sixty miles in thirty one hours, which was the longest continuous run he ever made up to that time. that night on the lonesome stretches of the river, he frequently started a loon from its resting place and it would fly off into the darkness with a wild, unearthly shriek, so ghostly in its echoing cadences that with a nervous start, paul would glance around for that "dead man in a boat." early in the morning the voyager struck a big eddy and was twisted round and round for quite a while before he could clear himself and then found he was pretty close in shore. through the thick growth of cottonwoods he observed a thin spiral of smoke rising, and knowing it to be from the cabin of some negro, he blew a merry blast on his bugle. before the clear notes had faded from the morning air, a venerable darkey with whitened head and slightly bent, though walking without the assistance of a cane, appeared on the bluff overlooking the river. he raised his eyes to the eastern horizon, as though to determine the weather probabilities, and then he scanned the river up and down. he failed to see boyton at first, and another blast was given on the bugle. slowly, and with evidences of some fear, the old darkey bent his eyes on paul, and then as slowly he deposited his white, broad brimmed hat on a stump by his side, reverently raising his eyes and with outstretched hands he solemnly said: "he bloowed his trumpet on the watah. bless god, bless god." he remained in this attitude until paul disappeared around the bend, no doubt expecting to be summoned any moment by the archangel gabriel. directly after leaving the old negro, boyton espied something in the river below him, which he thought was a snag or the floating branches of a tree; but as he drove swiftly along and looked more closely, he saw it was a large deer swimming across. quickly loosening the "baby mine" to let her drift along with the current, he unslung the large hunting knife and started for the deer with the intention of bleeding it. he anticipated no trouble in paddling alongside while it was swimming, and putting the knife into its throat. when the buck discovered the pursuer it redoubled its efforts to reach the shore, but paul was faster and was soon close on the antlered beauty. as he raised the knife to stab, the deer also raised and struck viciously with its front feet, and paul barely dodged the blow which would have cut through the rubber suit like a keen edged knife. again and again did he try to get an opening for a thrust, and as often did the deer, with eyes blazing like a panther's, beat him away with its sharp hoofs. at last boyton concluded to follow if to the edge of the river, where he felt sure his game would sink in the mud and then become an easy victim. the animal did stick in the mud as was expected, but as boyton was about to stab, its feet struck a bit of log so small that its four hoofs were all bunched together on it; but thus hampered, it sprang with wonderful power, landed on the bank six feet above, and galloped off into the forest, waving paul a farewell with its white, stumpy tail. that night he arrived at arkansas city, very tired after his long pull. it was there he ran across a silent admirer--an extraordinary character who appointed himself boyton's body guard. all that night he sat and watched the voyager while he slept. he put wood on when the fire burned low and whenever paul wakened he was at his bedside with a drink of hot tea, but never uttering a word. next morning he assisted in the dressing and when leaving, he wrung the captain's hand as though parting with his dearest friend; yet he hadn't a word to say, nor would he accept any recompense for his services. a short distance below arkansas city, a blast from paul's bugle brought a troop of negroes to the bank. as they gazed on him in open mouthed wonder, he asked them the distance to the next place; but they were so overcome either with fright or astonishment they could not answer. one old auntie, however, leaned over the bank and in a trembling voice asked: "chile, does yo' belong to the chu'ch?" she drew a sigh of relief and seemed satisfied that he was a human being when he answered, "yes." a lonely run of one hundred and forty miles brought him to milligan's bend where he stopped at a planter's house over night. the next day was sunday and as he only had a twenty mile run to reach vicksburg, he did not propose to start until rather late in the day, so that he would land at vicksburg during the afternoon. while he was taking it easy, chatting with the planter, and enjoying a fragrant cigar, the old minister of the parish called, and was introduced to him. "god bless you my son," said the venerable gentleman, pressing paul's hand, "i must say i have called expressly to see you and ask you to do me a favor." "i would be pleased to do anything in my power for you," replied boyton. "i knew you would, god bless you, i knew you would," fervently spoke the old minister, "my congregation is waiting along the bank of the river to see you start away and not a soul of them will enter the church until you go, if it is not until dark to-night. and i wanted to ask if you would start soon, so that i may begin services?" the old man spoke with profound sincerity and his face brightened when boyton told him that preparations would be made for leaving at once. he called down a benediction and joyfully departed for his little church, the weather beaten side of which could be seen in a grove not far distant. paul immediately donned his dress and took to the water, paddling a few miles down and hauling up on a muddy bank to wait until it was time to start for vicksburg. though it was not so pleasant there as it was on the cool porch of the planter's, and he had suffered much from the heat, thoughts of the satisfied old minister did much to lighten the discomforts of his surroundings. he arrived in sight of vicksburg at four o'clock in the afternoon and was met by the steamer silverthorn towing a big barge, loaded with excursionists. it appeared as though the entire population of the town and surrounding country had assembled on the river bank. so dense was the crowd, that it caused a philosophical negro to remark: "ef dose yere people keep on a crowdin' on dis en' ob town, de whole place are gwine fur to tip ober in de ribber, suah 'nough." with the aid of the city marshal and a few policemen, boyton got through the crowd to a carriage in which the mayor was awaiting him. as the carriage was about to move off for the hotel, a man jumped in and seated himself between the captain and the mayor. paul did not think much of the incident at the time, being under the impression, that the fellow was one of the mayor's friends, though he noticed that official did not seem to be particularly pleased. when they reached the hotel, the man made himself obnoxiously officious, entering boyton's room with an air of proprietorship and taking refreshments as though he was paying for them all. at last paul made inquiries concerning him and found he was the most desperate character in all that section of country--a killer who had more than one murder to his account and who had the citizens of the town so terrorized that they were afraid to interpose any objections to his conduct. as soon as he learned that, paul was in a rage and remarked that the citizens might submit to such intrusion, but he would not. the desperado, who had gone out of the room for a few moments, returned and was met by the angry navigator, who caught him by the neck, threw him bodily out of the room and kicked him down stairs. that cuffing did the fellow some good for it had the effect of encouraging other men to thrash him until he became mild-mannered and inoffensive. the next run was from vicksburg to natchez, one hundred and nine miles. the start was made in a gale and boyton was not much more than under way when he felt symptoms of fever. indeed, so violent did the attack become, that he felt as though he must give up. he took an enormous dose of quinine which braced him and he kept pushing ahead until he arrived at natchez, twenty six hours from vicksburg. he was so ill on his arrival that he could scarcely notice the hearty reception given him; but went immediately to bed and fell into a deep sleep. a doctor called and pronounced him in danger of swamp fever, but thought it might be kept off with proper attention, and prescribed some remedy. boyton felt considerably refreshed by the sleep, assisted, probably, by the prescription of the doctor, and one or two callers were admitted to his room. among them was a gentleman who stated that his wife was an invalid. the windows of her room overlooked the river and as she saw paul passing, on his way to natchez, she had composed a little poem, which she begged the voyager to accept. the lady's name was mrs. francis marschalk, and the poem follows: hail, king of the wat'ry world, new neptune, grander than the old, serene as thy great prototype, 'mid storm and wave, mid heat and cold! great victor! man of nerve and will, ingenious mind and wondrous skill, laurels of peace are thine to wear, more blest than those of battle field; begemmed with tears of gratitude and brighter than a spartan shield--the world acclaims this crown to thee, and glories in thy victory. the greatest boon of god is life, the dearest trust to mortal given and god-like 'tis to keep and save this precious heritage of heaven, this holy aim, this task divine thy proud achievements claim as thine. when all the waves of time are past and earth's rude storms with thee are o'er, oh, may'st thou sweetly rest at last upon the peaceful shining shore, and may thy spirit's pastime be life's river and the jasper sea. paul was deeply affected by so delicate a tribute from the accomplished stranger, and did all he could do under the circumstances--sent her an autograph note of grateful appreciation. he did not stop long at natchez, feeling anxious to finish the voyage as soon as possible. among the crowd that followed him to the wharf when he resumed the trip next day was the doctor who had prescribed for him. that gentleman was very earnest in advising him not to start as he was in great danger of being seized with the fever. "you have every indication of the fever now," said the doctor, "and if it attacks you on the water you will to a certainty die. however, if you will persist in going, all i can do is to tell you that as soon as you feel the symptoms, make for the shore and get into a bed as soon as you can." "what are the symptoms?" inquired boyton, "you become chilly and have a numb feeling all over." "all right, i'll look out for them," and with that paul waved a good bye to the multitude and struck gamely away in the teeth of the wind. as night came on he was tired and imagined he could feel the symptoms of which the doctor had warned him. he was just heading for shore when he heard a steamboat. he burned a red light for her and she slowed up. the passengers on deck cheered him and the captain sang out: "how do you feel, paul?" "all right, report me above," was the answer, and the boat headed on up the river. the diversion gave him courage to go ahead, and he struck out with renewed determination, running so well that he reached baton rouge at eight o'clock in the morning. from that city it was a home run of one hundred and thirty four miles to new orleans. he started early next morning, though feeling very stiff and sore. the weather grew intensely hot, he suffered terribly and was burned almost black in the face, the skin of which peeled off. about eleven o'clock in the morning, on the glassy surface ahead, he noticed something bobbing up and down in a queer manner, and pulled away to investigate. he found it to be a dead mule swollen to gigantic size. while looking at it its tail flipped out of the water as though it were alive. it was then he became aware of the fact that a swarm of alligators were feeding on it, and he pulled away with about as much speed as he has ever been able to attain. during the day he ran through a thickly populated country, along what is known as the lower coast of louisiana; the river was fringed with rich sugar plantations, and a majority of the negroes who rowed out to see him, spoke the language of the french creole. magnolia trees were thick on either side and framed a picture of rare beauty. while paddling for a short distance close in shore, paul discovered a most unique and lazy style of angling. happening to look up at the bank, he saw two pair of bare feet of heroic size, from which two fishing lines hung, the corks bobbing on the surface a few yards from the shore. the broad bottoms of their pedal extremities turned to the river, the line passing between the great and second toes to the water, and there they lay enjoying delicious sleep, waiting for a fish to swallow the bait, when the pull on the line would be felt between their toes and awaken them to attend to business. paul took in the situation at a glance. quietly drawing near one of the lines he gave it a vicious jerk. the negro on the other end of it flipped to a sitting posture as though he was worked on a spring like a jumping jack. when he saw the black figure as he thought, on his line, he let out a shriek that could have been heard for a mile, at the same time springing to his feet and starting on a sprinting pace for some hiding place, yelling, as he ran, to his companion: "hyah bill, git away from dar; git up an' cut. i'se done cotch de debbil on my hook." the other restful fisherman sat up stiffly as if worked on a rusty hinge, and seeing boyton, was seized with an uncontrollable fit of laughter. he laughed as though he was never going to catch his breath, and paul was afraid he would choke. he rolled on the ground in paroxysms of mirth, stood up and leaned against a tree shouting out such loud guffaws that it was difficult to tell whether it was through amusement or fright. paul got out on the bank and tried to quiet him, but was unsuccessful and entered the water again and paddled away. for some distance the voice of that hilarious fisherman was borne to him on the breeze. as evening closed in he could hear the darkies who had been paid off, it being saturday night, singing and arguing along the shore. a dense fog soon enveloped everything, however, and he could not see which way he was going. he seized the roots of a drifting tree, knowing it would keep in the channel, mounted it and sat there for hours floating with the current. all night the mocking birds along shore serenaded him. he would have remained on the tree until morning; but he heard the whistles of steamers below. knowing that a fleet left new orleans every saturday afternoon bound north, and that each would be trying to gain the lead on the other, he was afraid he would be run down, so he slid off the tree and made for shore. that course was not without its danger, also; for mingled with the beautiful songs of the mocking bird, he had heard the hoarse bark of alligators and there was no telling but that he might run right on to some of them. they are thick along shore, but rarely go out into the river, except as in the case of the dead mule, they follow their prey. luckily he avoided those dangerous reptiles. he sounded the bugle and a frenchman came down to the bank. paul explained who he was and the man eagerly invited him ashore. "i am sitting up with my old master who is dead," said the frenchman. "what was the matter with him?" inquired boyton, somewhat alarmed. "oh, it wasn't the fever, you need have no fear." paul decided to land and wait until the fleet had passed at any rate, then he lighted his lamp and pushed off through the fog, preferring the solitude of the river to the society of the grief stricken frenchman. the fog lifted in the morning and he found that he was on time. ten miles above new orleans, he was met by excursion steamers with enthusiastic crowds aboard. captain leathers of the famous old boat, natchez, was determined to outdo the others in the way of welcoming the voyager, for boyton was an old friend. he had a cannon placed on the deck of his boat, loaded to the muzzle. a crowd of negroes were jammed on a lot of cotton bales, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of paul and captain leathers fired right in amongst them. the concussion was so great that at least forty of the darkies were knocked off their feet and thought they were killed by the explosion. paul landed at new orleans, april th, finishing a journey of two thousand four hundred and thirty miles. he was feted and lionized in the crescent city until he was in danger of becoming enervated, so he boarded a train for the north, some thirty pounds less in weight than when he started at oil city. chapter xviii. the summer of was idly spent. boyton visited the most celebrated watering resorts of america and enjoyed a well earned good time. as the autumn leaves began to fall, he was seized with an irresistible desire to feel himself again afloat, so he turned his attention to the rivers of the new england states. he went to boston, made a careful study of the maps, and concluded to take a voyage on the merrimac; this river, with its numerous falls and rapids, he thought would furnish some excitement. the start was made from plymouth, new hampshire, at six o'clock in the morning of october seventh. the river was too rough for him to tow the baby mine along, a fact which he very much deplored. boyton had not paddled many yards from the shore ere he found the water so shallow that he was compelled to wade quite a distance before getting fairly under way, then he soon left the cheering crowd in the distance. about nine o'clock, approaching a bridge, he heard a rumbling sound. looking up he beheld the figure of a man and horse outlined against the sky like a shadow picture. the countryman also discovered the queer looking figure in the water. he craned his neck, jerked his arms up and with mouth and eyes wide open slapped the reins on the horse's back and galloped off at a faster pace than the good agriculturalists in that locality are wont to ride. he had not read the newspapers. an hour later, paul blew his bugle in front of a farm house that stood near the river. the people ran to the water's edge and began firing a broadside of down east interrogatives with such rapidity as to nearly swamp him. "ain't yeou nearly drowned?" "ain't yeou afeard yeou will be?" "ain't yeou hungry?" "ain't yeou cold?" "ain't yeou hot?" "kin yeou keep awake?" "ef yeou cain't, would yeou sink?" "air yeou a orphing?", "dew yeou like the water?" "what circuse dew yeou belong tew?" "who hired yeou tew dew this?" "why on airth dew yeou travel this way fur instead of in a boat?" paul could not stand the rapid fire system of the new hampshire rustics, and with a pained expression on his face he, pulled silently out of hearing. the narrowing river brought him closer to the banks, and as he was forging ahead an old gentleman hailed him. paul stopped for a moment and was sorry for it, as the man tried to chill his blood with doleful stories of the dangers in the river below. "yeou air goin' straight ahead tew destruction," he bellowed, "thar's a whirlpool jist ahead, where six lumbermen was drowned one time." boyton had no fear of sharing the fate of the lumbermen, so he pushed ahead, leaving the old man standing on the bank with clasped hands and pained expression. the voyager shortly reached the junction of squam river, and there encountered the first waterfall. a crowd of men and boys had assembled on the bridge and anxiously watched him dash down on the rushing waters, in which he was for the moment lost. emerging from the boiling foam at the foot of the fall, he scrambled on a rock and stood up to look for the channel. from that point he had a wearisome pull in dead, choppy water, until he reached new hampton. at many places along the route, well disposed persons were liberal with their advice to give up such an "outlandish" mode of traveling and to "git on land like a human critter." though the advice sounded well, paul noticed on one occasion at least, that their methods of travel were not devoid of the danger ascribed to his. above him, on the grim rocks of a bluff, he saw the wreck of a light wagon, and floating along with the current, were the seat and one wheel. "where is the driver of that wagon?" inquired paul. no one knew and he plied his paddle vigorously in the hope of overtaking the unfortunate man who had evidently been hurled from the bluff into the stream; but no trace could be found. below the sound of rapids was borne to his ear. the smooth water began to break and start as if suddenly impelled forward by some subtle influence that meant to tear the rocks from the bed and crush every obstacle in its course. with all his care in steering through that rapid, he was thrown against a rock with considerable force, but caught hold of it and stood up to determine the course of the channel. seeing an old lady standing before the door of a farm house, he rang out a cavalry charge on his bugle. she threw up her hands as though she had heard the last trumpet of the day of judgment, and rushing into the house she alarmed all the occupants. the look of horror they gave the captain as he stood on that rock in the midst of the rapids, beckoning to them with his paddle, was evidence that they took him for his satanic majesty or one of his courtiers. "lan' sakes, 'zekiel!" exclaimed the boldest one or the party, who chanced to be a tall, raw-boned female, "go git gran'pap's old blunderbuss, an' shoot it." zekiel was rooted to the spot with fear and heeded not the exhortation of his strong-minded relative. boyton, who feared the people who did not keep posted by reading the papers, more than he did the rapids, relieved them by taking to the water, and was flashed from their sight as he was drawn into another and larger rapid. he was whirled into a place where he had a hard struggle over a bed of round, slippery rocks in shallow water. he could not find the channel, and if he stood up to take an observation, his feet would be swept from under him. he was fully an hour getting over the rocks, walking, crawling or paddling as best he could. at five o'clock he reached bristol. there he was advised to go no further and a telegram from his agent below, told him the river was too dangerous to travel at night. the next morning the landlord's daughter drove him to the bank and a large crowd watched as he paddled away toward the whirlpool, against which he had been warned. it was a rough passage, but he reached franklin in safety at one o'clock. all the way he had kept a sharp lookout for the driver of the wrecked wagon, but could discover no trace of him. before reaching franklin a fleet of boats rowed up to the falls to meet him, and bonfires were built along the shore in his honor. the voyage was resumed at eight o'clock next morning, and at ten o'clock he shot sewell's falls, a rather rough place, and from there the river was lonely until west concord was reached. here the booming of cannon announced his safe arrival to the people. he was met by a fleet of boats and informed that they had been looking for him two days. he was warned to look out for turkey falls, and before proceeding he asked a countryman which side of the falls he should take, and received the cheering answer that, "whichever side he took he would wish he had taken the other." both banks of the falls were lined with people, paul always noticed a larger crowd at every point where he was likely to be killed. he went over turkey falls, and for a few seconds was lost to sight. the spectators waited in breathless silence to see his lifeless form rise from the foam, but beheld only the flashing paddle moving gaily along in smoother water, and so a hero was not lost at that uneventful spot, and there would be no legend of the place to hand down to posterity. one mile from the falls, the captain encountered the first dam, below which there was a stretch of dead water for seven miles. it was there he met the first steam craft--a small launch that had sailed up from suncook. it was a long, tiresome pull through the dead stretch, and he arrived at suncook at dark pretty well fagged out. invitations to remain were plentiful; but he continued two miles further to hookset where dry clothing awaited him. next morning an early start was made and he was able to have the baby mine with him for the rest of the journey. the water from hookset to manchester is heavy; but by constant paddling he reached the latter place at noon. there were more signs of life as he progressed. children ran along the banks calling to him, and one little girl cried: "paul, come in here i want see you," as though she had known him for years. he passed two of the five falls that barred the progress to nashua, when darkness fell with such intensity that he was compelled to depend on shore sounds to determine in which direction he was going. at eight o'clock, seeing lights on shore, he summoned some people with a blast on the bugle and inquired the distance to the next falls. as was the case above, he had to listen to diverse and widely different opinions, with the usual result, that he took his own course, and succeeded in reaching nashua in safety at ten o'clock. the next day dawned dull and rainy and he had a tiresome pull on a sluggish stream until he reached tyngsborough. nearing a crowded bridge at that place, volleys of questions were fired at him. he was choking with thirst and without looking up, asked: "is there a hotel here?" "naw," shouted a gruff voice, "ner yeou kaint git naw liker hure nowhere neether." "i'll take an oath that you never colored that nose of yours with river water," quickly replied boyton. the retort happily hit the mark, for the fellow was the possessor of a richly tinted proboscis of carmine hue, that was somewhat of a landmark in the village. the crowd roared in approbation of the home thrust and the man, hastily elbowed his way through the crowd until he was beyond hearing. a number of small boats ascended the river from lowell to meet paul, and he accepted an invitation from the vesper boat club, of that city, to land at their club house, which he did at five o'clock. he remained over sunday in lowell and resumed the journey monday morning. he shot hunt's falls in safety and there met a steam launch with newspaper men from lawrence, aboard. at lawrence the river begins to be affected by the tide, on account of which he was compelled to wait until four o'clock next morning before continuing the trip. he made a landing at daylight at a frame house over the door of which was painted the word "confectionery" and he thought he could get some breakfast. he was given a room, but it was soon filled with obtrusive questioners. a farmer, seeing the look of hunger in his eyes, volunteered to procure some breakfast. the captain was prepared to do justice to the kind of a meal he had been wishing for, when the farmer returned with a genuine country breakfast consisting of several pieces of apple and mince pie and a liberal supply of assorted pickles. it was fortunate for boyton's digestion that he was obliged to stay at that place for five hours, owing to the flood tide. directly after resuming the voyage, he was met by a fleet of boats, one of them being occupied by sir edward thornton, the british minister at washington, and his beautiful daughter. being old acquaintances, paul enjoyed a pleasant chat with them, and a few moments later, he landed at newburyport. the voyage was ended. he had made two hundred miles of very rough going, in seven days. boyton rested but a short time ere he was ready to begin a run down the connecticut, the largest and most beautiful river in new england, from as near the headwaters as he could get, to long island sound. his arrival at stratford, new hampshire, from which place he had decided to start, occasioned a great deal of comment in that and neighboring villages. the inhabitants concluded he should have more than ordinary recognition, and in lieu of a cannon they put a pair of anvils together and succeeded in making quite a respectable noise. at night a deputation of citizens called on him with a request that he would not start until daylight next morning, so they would have an opportunity to see him off. at six forty-five o'clock the following morning, a goodly sized company was present to witness the start. after passing the railroad bridge at coos, he had about six miles of rapids, the river being only about forty yards wide and rather speedy, the voyager averaging about five miles an hour. at eleven o'clock he passed stratford hollow and inquired of a countryman there how far it was to northumberland: "seven mile b' road an' twenty-b' river, b' gosh," was the native's reply. though laconic, the answer was correct, for the stream bowed and bended frequently, and at one time he passed the same farm house twice in an interval of two hours and a half, giving him an opportunity to observe both sides of it. about two o'clock in the afternoon a heavy rainstorm blew up, while the booms and logs in the river also caused a great deal of trouble. whenever a person on the bank could speak to him he was invariably warned of the fifteen mile falls. "look bout, straanger, fur them 'ere fifteen mile falls. they'll jus' squeeze yeou sure'n daylight," was almost always the style of warning. paul hauled up to question one man who looked like a waterman, concerning the falls. the fellow said he had gone over once on a raft, when the water was much higher. "an' would yeou b'lieve it," he added, "one o' them 'ere wimmen were boun' an' determined tew come wuth us." "did she go?" asked paul. "neow yeou jus' bet she did." "well, how did she act?" "i'll tell yeou straanger. i tol' her tew go astern an' hol' on hard tew th' stake. she went aft ju' afore we got tew holbrook's bar, an' then we jus' tuk it. slap, bang we went, jus' run pitch right under thet 'ere rushin' water'n come up b'low all right." "what did the woman do? how did she act?" "wall, sir, yeou wuden't b'lieve it. she jus' guv one loud snort, shuk herself out'n went right erlong." the loss of his paddle caused paul to remain at northumberland all night, and fortunately it was found among a lot of driftwood next morning, enabling him to drive ahead again. one of the drawbacks of the voyage was the difficulty experienced in getting proper provisions at many places. numbers of people were either thoughtless, or they looked on boyton as an uncanny sort of creature, whom they did not care to have about. when he did get food, it consisted of pie, which seemed to be the staff of life with most of the country people. he inquired of a voluble fellow where he could be best accommodated at northumberland. "oh, stop at th' hotel, b' all means. they feed yeou tip top; high up," said he, "i've been ter dinner there w'en they've hed all o' seven kinds er pie on ther table t'onct." "have they got apples and squash?" jokingly asked the captain. "yeou kin jus' bet on thet," was the enthusiastic answer. just below northumberland, which place he left at nine o'clock, he encountered a dam and very rough water. the weather became squally, with a cold and cutting snow beating into his face; but he plied the paddle vigorously and made remarkable progress, reaching lancaster at one thirty o'clock. countrymen whom he passed would stare at him and then burst out into loud guffaws of laughter as though immensely tickled at the idea of a man paddling down the river in a driving snow storm. at length paul began to feel the livelier motion of the water as he was nearing lunenburg, where the fifteen mile falls begin. wishing to enter that dangerous stretch a fresh man, he pulled up for the night and luckily found a hospitable farmer in the person of mr. frank bell, who entertained him handsomely until morning. he was prepared for heavy work when he started early next day, and well it was that he was fortified for the occasion, as the fifteen mile falls proved about as rough an experience as he had ever gone through. at holbrook's bar, the last pitch of the falls, m'indoe's dam, barnet pitch and other place, he encountered many dangers in the way of whirling currents and jagged rocks. he suffered but a slight bruise in the descent though his dress was cut and he was obliged to stop and repair it at lower waterford where he remained over night. at a little settlement above that village, someone in a small gathering on the bank said: "hure comes that pesky swimmer aroun' th' bow, an' he's a cumin' like forty." "who's a-comin'?" asked a broad shouldered green mountaineer. the very thought of a man paddling down the river seemed to suggest some scheme of the fakir or dodge of the showman to separate him from the coins that jingled in his pocket. the old vermonter, turning a quid of sassafras from one corner of his mouth to the other, drawled, with all impressiveness of a judge to whom some knotty law point had been presented: "wall, i wunder what he gits out'n this? he mus' be a darned critter tew resk himself in thet ere fashion; an' i swan whar th' profit comes in is agin me tew tell." the vermonter's inability to understand what boyton was going to get out of such a trip, appeared to be the subject about which most of the people along the connecticut were puzzling their brains. they would invariably ask: "how dew yeou make it pay?" "ain't yeou cold?" many of them would not respond when asked for information regarding the currents and rough passages; but would permit him to paddle along uninstructed in order that they "might have the full benefit of the show." after cutting his dress he became chilled by the inflow of cold water and was helplessly numb. a little stimulant would have done him a world of good; but he could neither beg, buy nor borrow anything from the spectators. when he reached lower waterford bridge, his agent met him with supplies, and there he stopped to repair his dress. he was only about midway of the fifteen mile falls. the suit was injured in the first pitch and the accident might have been averted had any one in the large crowd that watched him start in, given him information. as he approached, he asked the onlookers where the channel of the river was. they stared at him and on the question being repeated, looked at one another and put their eyes on the river again. almost immediately the current swept boyton toward the rocks. off morris' place, paul hailed a fellow in a turnip patch and as he cautiously approached the river, the captain removed the cover from an air-tight jar suspended from his neck, took out a cigar and holding a match in the rubber tube of his dress, lit the weed. the rustic removed his hat, closed an eye and scratched his head in great perplexity. "wall, i swaw," he ejaculated, "ef yeou hadn't spoke er i'd er taken yeou fur th' devil an' swore yeou that ere durned cigar wuth th' end o' yer tail, i wud, b'gosh. but ain't yer cold?" valley hotel was the name of the tavern at which paul and his party put up for the night at lower waterford. how long before boyton's visit the last guest had registered there is problematical, but the landlady proved hospitable. during the evening, her sitting room, which boyton and his party occupied, reviewing the incidents of the voyage, was overrun with fellows who stalked in and looked at "the show" just as if it was a menagerie of wild beasts into which they had free admission. they gathered at the country store opposite and poured across the street, in sixes and sevens, like so many reliefs on army duty. a gang would enter the sitting room occupying the chairs and sofa, look on with open mouths for ten or fifteen minutes and listen to what must have been enigmatical to them; then looking one at the other, the entire party would rise together, stalk back to the store, where they would relate their experience to others, who in turn would brace up and make a descent on the lion of the hour. they did not rap for admittance, did not remove their hats on entering, did not wait to be asked to take a seat, did not say a word to anybody while present, did not say "good evening" when they went out--in fact did nothing but stare in the most ignorant and saucy manner. an excuse may be made for there in the fact that waterford is isolated from civilization, there being neither railroad nor telegraph communication with the outside world and few newspapers are ever seen to say nothing of being read. paul bore the inspection good naturedly and joked pleasantly as each "relief" went out. just before starting in the morning, an old gentleman met boyton on the porch in front of the hotel and expressed real pleasure at meeting him--in fact, claimed close acquaintanceship. the captain was glad to meet an old friend and was inquisitive enough to ask where they had seen each other before. "wall," the old fellow answered, "yeou remember w'en yeou crossed th' english channel?" "yes," boyton remembered it. "an' that ere rubber suit you wore?" "certainly." "wall," continued the old man, apparently tickled to the end of his toes because paul had not forgotten. "wall, i saw thet ere suit at the centennial in philadelphia in ' ; i was thar." he looked triumphantly around to catch the admiring gaze of his townsmen. the above are only a few samples of many similar incidents and episodes which occured during the voyage. in shooting dodge's falls, a lumberman called out to paul to hug the new hampshire shore and he would get over safely. that was the only sensible word of warning or information he received through the entire fifteen mile falls. he reached woodville monday evening after escaping many dangers, pretty well used up. the worst of the run had been accomplished, though there were still several falls and dams to be shot and long stetches of dead water to be paddled. nearing bellow's falls, the people were more enlightened and many offers of hospitality were sung out to him from shore. the citizens of that place displayed a deep interest in his attempt to shoot the falls and rendered all the assistance in their power. he shot them in safety, though narrowly escaping a big log that was dashed over directly behind him. from that point to the completion of the voyage, he everywhere met with kind words and encoragement. on the evening of november seventh, he landed at saybrook light, sixteen days from stratford hollow. the winter of and was spent in florida, hunting, fishing, alligator shooting and canoeing. he and a party of friends made a canoe voyage far up on the st. john's river and through the kissimmee to lake okeechobee, where they had a great deal of sport shooting deer, bears and alligators; but at the same time the numerous moccasins and rattlesnakes afforded more amusement than was relished by several of the party. returning north to jacksonville, paul made a run down the st. john's river to the sea, crossing the shark infested bar at the mouth of the river. on his way north during the spring, he made short trips on the savannah, cooper and potomac rivers and the chesapeake bay. in june he paddled down the delaware from philadelphia to ship john's light. that trip was a very laborious one on account of the sluggish tide. the moment the tide would turn against him, he would have to strike for the flat jersey shore, where in the long grass the myriads of energetic mosquitoes almost set him frantic with their attention. later he paddled the entire length of lake quinsigamond, and in september he ran the narragansett from rocky point to providence. chapter xix. one day in october, while paul was walking down broadway, new york, a gentleman tapped him on the shoulder, saying: "this is captain boyton, i believe?" on being answered in the affirmative, he continued: "i have just returned from europe, where i was looking for you. i have a message for you from don nicholas de pierola, but as i am known as an agent of the peruvian government, it is hardly safe to talk to you here, as there are chilean spies in new york as well as lima. meet me to- night at this address." he slipped a card into boyton's hand and stepped quickly away. that night paul entered a house in thirty-fourth street where he met the stranger, who immediately proceeded to business by stating that don nicholas de pierola wanted boyton to start for peru at once, with a full equipment of dresses, torpedo cases, electrical appliances, and everything necessary for the destruction of chilean vessels. it did not take paul long to arrange the preliminaries and before he left, a contract was made by which he was to enter the peruvian torpedo service, with a commision of captain. he was to receive one-hundred-thousand dollars for the first chilean vessel destroyed; one-hundred-and-twenty- five thousand dollars for the second and one-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars for the third. three chilean vessels that were desired most to be destroyed were named. they were the huascar, blanco encalado, and almirante corcoran. next day boyton was busy getting the necessary equipment together, happy in the thought of more adventure and chances of big prize money. he also received credentials as a newspaper correspondent under the name of pablo delaport. he told his family he was going to take a little run to panama, but said nothing about peru. on october th, , accompanied by his assistant, george kiefer, he embarked on the steamer crescent city for aspinwall, arriving at that port on the th, whence they crossed to panama and were compelled to wait there two days for the columbia to bear them south, to peru. one of the passengers from new york, was a curious and erratic character, who was the possessor of a weighty secret. after much mystery, he decided to make boyton his confidant, and he solemnly revealed to him the matter that was bearing on his brain. it was to the effect that a great treasure was buried on a distant island and he was about fitting out an expedition to go in search of it. a female relative, who was a clairvoyant, had located the treasure and he was sure of finding it. he was anxious for paul to join him in the search, and displayed almost insane disappointment at receiving a refusal. at panama, the fortune hunter purchased an outfit of arms, including a commander's sword which he strapped on and strutted about with the air of a bold buccaneer. he chartered a vessel in which he sailed for the treasure island; but, as paul afterward learned, returned after great suffering and loss, minus the treasure. a chilean man-of-war, the amazonas, was anchored at panama on the lookout for a torpedo launch that was expected to arrive for the peruvian government from new york. in his capacity of a newspaper correspondent, boyton went on board the man-of-war to inspect her, with an idea that he might have an opportunity sometime to feel her bottom with a one-hundred-and-fifty pound torpedo. he was escorted through the vessel by her captain and took copious notes of her construction and armament. as he was over-going the side into the boat to return to shore, an english engineer spanned him carefully and remarked: "your face seems familiar to me. where have i seen you before?" paul replied that he could not possibly tell as his duties led him to all parts of the world, and he hurriedly entered the boat. the next day they set sail and on the th, sighted dead man's island at the mouth of the guayquil river. from a certain point the island bears a startling resemblance to a gigantic man afloat on his back. hence its name. they steamed up the river about sixty miles to guayquil. the chattering of parrots and paroquettes along the shore was almost deafening. flocks of them would hover over the vessel for several minutes at a time and fly back to the forest. guayquil is one of the hottest towns on earth, though not one of the cleanest. the stenches arising from the filthy streets and byways are overpowering, and fever flags fly from nearly every third or fourth house. the steamer lay in the middle of the river while discharging her cargo into lighters and the passengers took advantage of the wait for a trip across into the city. from the landing place crowds of boys followed them, offering monkeys and alligators for sale. the latter were from six inches to three feet long, strapped on boards to keep them from biting. they are much quicker and more savage than the north american alligator. after the cargo was discharged, the vessel was again put under way and on the th they anchored off paita, the first peruvian port. paul took a long walk on the beach at that place, and for the first time saw the curious, blood red crabs that dwell in myriads along the shore. at a distance they look like a big red wave; but as they are approached, quickly disappear into holes in the sand, and on looking back, they are seen in countless thousands in the rear. their habits are similar to the hermit crab. they are small and not edible, quick as rats and difficult to catch. chimbote was the next place in peru at which the steamer anchored. that port was then in the hands of the chileans and the stop was only long enough to take on the mail, when they headed for callao, the principal port of peru. as the chilean fleet then blockaded the port no steamers were permitted to land there, but when off the city, the columbia steamed through the blockaders, much to paul's anxiety, because of a man on board who had been questioning him rather closely regarding his intentions in visiting peru and boyton had every reason to believe him a spy, and looked every moment for him to signal one of the blockading vessels; but fortunately the columbia was allowed to proceed on her way unmolested to the port of chilca where there are only a few miserable houses. the steamer landed there at night and paul with his companion and five other passengers were put ashore in a small boat. accommodations for the entertainment of travelers were very poor, but they made the best of it for the night, though they were nearly devoured by fleas, which, combined with the fact that it was necessary to guard closely their baggage, prevented the enjoyment of any repose. a train of mules was chartered next morning to bear them across the pampas to lima. all day long they bestrode those razor backed mules, riding through wild country, now over bleak and desolate hills, then across barren plains. the absence of even a spear of grass bespoke the unfruitfulness of the soil, while large condors and galanasas hovered overhead, waiting for man or mule to fall, overcome by the heat; then they would alight with exultant cries to a horrible feast. the water of the caravan was rapidly exhausted and they suffered the pangs of thirst. toward evening, with parched throats and weary bodies they reached an oasis in the shape of a poor village. there was water in abundance however, and that was more precious to the wayfarers than the sight of great palaces. being refreshed, they proceeded to the town of lurin, where they arrived late at night and found the place occupied by peruvian troops. an ambitious officer of the company, selected paul for a victim and placed him under arrest as a chilean spy. the officer would listen to no explanations, but compelled his prisoner to travel on that night, though he was so fatigued by the day's journey that he could scarcely sit on his mule. there was no help for it, so kiefer was left with the baggage and paul, closely guarded, rode off into the sultry night during the small hours of the morning, the troop arrived at chorrillos, at which place, boyton positively refused to go further, being too nearly exhausted to proceed. the officer decided to remain until daylight and go on to lima by rail. as tired as the prisoner was, he could not sleep on account of the ravenous attacks of fleas which drove him almost mad. at daylight he was taken by railway train to lima and on arrival there was immediately marched to the palace, where he was to be presented as a spy to his friend, don nicholas de pierola, the dictator. the impertinent officer arrived at the palace with his prisoner, under the impression that he would receive a handsome reward for making such a notable arrest. when paul pulled out a packet, addressed to don nicholas, the fellow was rather surprised; but continued to treat the supposed spy with overbearing harshness, until boyton was released from his presence and taken before the dictator, where he was cordially received and many references made to their former pleasant meeting in paris. "but how did you get here so soon?" inquired don nicholas, "other passengers who were on board the columbia have not yet arrived." paul related the story of his capture at lurin and of his all night ride on mule back. the dictator sent for the officer, who, thinking he was going to be rewarded for his cleverness, entered the reception room with a peacock strut that was admirable. by the time don nicholas finished a reprimand, he slunk away like a whipped cur and it is likely he was more careful to investigate thereafter when making arrests. the dictator sent paul to the hotel americano, where fine quarters were prepared for him and he took a much needed rest, not waking until the next day when a message was conveyed to him from don nicholas to the effect that they were going to ancon that day to try some torpedo experiments. much refreshed, he was quickly ready to accompany them. ancon is a small seaside resort about fifteen miles from lima. at that time it was almost entirely deserted on account of the frequent bombarding by the chilean cruisers as they passed up and down the coast. whenever those aboard the cruisers wished amusement, they turned their guns on ancon and knocked over a few houses. the party consisting of the dictator, several high government officials, boyton and major rabauld, who had been transferred to him as an aid, went down on a special car drawn by a little engine named the favorita, furnished by the railroad company, which was largely owned by americans. the experiments took place between several rocky islands, that have probably been detached from the mainland by volcanic action, and the shore. the torpedoes were tried on dummy vessels, while a troop of soldiers stood guard at all the approaches to the place in order to prevent inquisitive individuals as well as chilean spies, from learning the nature of the work going on. don nicholas was highly pleased and was in fine spirits at the thought of getting rid of some of the powerful vessels that darkened his harbor with their frowning ports. on their return trip, the favorita had proceeded less than one mile, when the little engine ran plump into a sand pile that had been carried up by the wind, and was thrown from the track on to a plain that had once been a burial place of the ancient incas. all efforts to put the engine and car back on the track were fruitless, and a messenger was sent back to ancon to telegraph to lima for an extra engine to assist in righting the little train. as the telegraph service was extremely slow, the party was compelled to wait all day for the relief engine. in the meantime, don nicholas and his staff, went out on the pampas and stood about the sand hills talking over the struggle they were having with their neighbors. during that time, a chilean cruiser passed about one mile off shore, and had the importance of the little group been known to those on board, they could have captured the dictator without a great deal of trouble. the soldiers gathered up the skulls and bones of incas that were strewn about and amused themselves by playing ten pins on the hard sand, sticking the bones up and rolling the skulls at them. don nicholas paid no attention to the gruesome sport; but stood calmly conversing with the officers who surrounded him. it was almost dark when the relief engine came puffing into sight; but a short time sufficed to place the car on the track and the party arrived safely at lima. on the following day, paul went down to callao, bearing a letter from the dictator to general astate, commander of the fort, requesting him to furnish boyton with the best small vessel obtainable for torpedo work. the general received paul in the kindest possible manner, and took him out to the punta del mar bravo, where fortifications were located, and calling his attention to some american parrot guns, patted one of them and smilingly remarked: "these are some compatriots of yours." with that, the general gave orders to fire at the chilean fleet which was then laying near san lorenzo, an island several miles out from callao and so high are its cliffs that they penetrate the clouds. four or five shots were fired at the blockading vessels; but they were too far off, as the iron balls could be seen throwing spray in the air at some distance to the landward of them. "that is a salute in your honor," remarked the general. that evening, after having overhauled every available craft in the harbor, general astate gave paul a little sloop, the only thing that could possibly be used in torpedo attacks; but far from being the powerful little steam launch that had been promised. the peruvian steamers at that time were all corralled in the harbor at callao. they were not strong enough to grapple with the powerful men-of-war of the chileans that so saucily watched the port, hence they remained inside under the protection of the guns at the fort and at the point, while great piles of sand bags were erected to the seaward of the docks as a shield against chilean cannon balls. paul was therefore compelled to enter upon his torpedo work, terribly handicapped by the poor equipment of the peruvians; but determined to make the best use of the means at hand. the little sloop was called the alicran. she was quickly provisioned and a crew shipped. before embarking on her, don nicholas sent for boyton and commissioned him as captain in the peruvian navy. she was then sailed around to chorrilos, as paul considered that the best point from which to begin operations on the chilean fleet. there he made his headquarters at a hacienda which a wealthy peruvian turned over to him and anchored the sloop close in shore under the shelter of the cliffs, and began the manufacture of torpedoes. one thousand pounds of dynamite had been sent down to him in wagons from lima, and under his directions, the crew was soon engaged in stowing it away in the rubber cases. when the torpedoes were ready, he began cruising to the seaward in order to reconnoiter the movements of the blockading squadron, which every night would trip anchor and stand off to sea. the chilean's fear of torpedoes deterred them from laying in to shore at night. paul drilled the officers that were placed under him in the use of the rubber dress and in handling torpedoes; but he did not find them overly energetic in their work. they spent most of their time among the islands, that were formed by great rocks which had been cast from the mainland by earthquake or volcanic action, watching the movements of the chileans. all day long the blockading vessels would lay in sight; but at night they would steam further out to sea and stand slowly up and down the coast. night after night paul and his crew watched for an opportunity to place one of their torpedoes under the dark hull of a chilano; but the latter were on the alert for them, having been informed that boyton had been engaged by peru. the phosphorescence of the water at night was also against them. the least disturbance on its surface would cause a glow of silver to flash in the darkness that could be seen for quite a distance. one night as they were watching from chorrillos, a cruiser was sighted steaming slowly up the coast and paul determined to test her alertness at all hazards. he put on his dress and taking a one hundred pound torpedo in tow, paddled out as carefully as possible until he saw her head toward him. then he set the fly torpedo across what he thought would be her track and pulled in shore. had the cruiser picked the line up with her bow, it would have thrown the torpedo along her side, setting an automatic wheel in motion that would explode it. when he had reached a safe distance, he turned to see the vessel blown up and to his intense disappointment, the cruiser turned a gatling gun on the torpedo. the chileans were more watchful than he had given them credit for. after the chilean had discovered the torpedo, the little sloop barely escaped by putting out her sweeps and drawing close up under the land, by that means reaching chorrillos next morning in safety. a party of marines from the cruiser were landed on an island near where they had discovered the torpedo, next day, to hunt out those who had placed it. fortunately for paul and his crew they had eluded the cruiser under cover of the night. for some two months after the above adventure, the torpedo men laid under the shelter of the batteries on the top of moro, a high bluff. they made sorties every night; but the chileans were on the watch for them, besides the sloop was so slow as to be almost useless, and paul's peruvians had a wholesome dread of the enemies' guns which could be turned with great rapidity in any direction. daily they sailed to some barren, desolate island, hoping for a chance to blow one of the chilean's vessels out of the water. the huascar stood up and down the coast at times, almost within range of the peruvian guns. as she was one of the vessels paul wanted to get, he determined to lay in her track and risk an attempt to destroy her. with such intention, he ran the sloop out as far as he could, one night, and went overboard in his dress, with a screw torpedo, that would have blown the huascar as high as the topmost peaks of san lorenzo. it was a favorable night--dark, with a choppy sea that turned the phosphorescent lights up, all over the surface, so that no single object could be distinguished in it. he sighted the huascar crawling slowly along the coast, with not a light to be seen aboard of her. being short of coal, her fires were banked and she was carried forward by her own momentum. when there was danger of her losing steerage way, her engines would be started again and then shut down as before. thus she was slowly creeping along the coast line. her bow glided by paul not more than twenty feet away. he moved cautiously to her side expecting to catch hold of her rudder chain. he saw one-hundred-thousand dollars in his grasp. now, he thought, "one of the most powerful enemies of peru will be put beyond doing damage." when he was about midship and was preparing to reach for her chain, the steersman's bell rang a signal to the engineer, her wheel began to revolve and she slipped by him out of danger, of which those on board were unconscious. paul was terribly discomfited at the result of that attempt which was so near being successful. he left the torpedo floating on the sea and struck out to reach shore before daylight discovered him, knowing that it would be impossible to gain the sloop. the next move of the torpedo men was to sail to all the outside islands, which are literally alive with seals and sea lions. so thick were those mammals, that the guns were frequently turned on them. their numbers so emboldened them that unless frightened away, they would attack the intruders on their territory. from those islands paul took observations of the movements of the chileans and came to the conclusion that they were running so short of coal that all of their vessels did not steam out to sea at night; but some of them anchored back of san lorenzo. he made up his mind to visit that island some night to assure himself that his idea was correct. one end of it is detached from the main body as though split off by an earthquake, and is called fronton. both fronton and san lorenzo are honeycombed by numberless caves, cut out by the continual beating of the sea forced by the two trade winds against the rocks; so too, is the entire coast of peru sieved by caves whose length or depth have never been explored. paul decided to make the reconnoiter of san lorenzo by running the sloop to frouton, then paddle himself across to the main island and make his way over it as far as he could until he discovered whether or not the chilean soldiers guarded the approaches to the night anchorage of their vessels. he waited for a dark night and then put his scheme into operation. he placed two one hundred pound torpedoes aboard the sloop and stood away for pronto. the crew displayed signs of nervousness at running so close to the dreaded torpedo boats of the enemy, and it was with some difficulty he kept them close at work. they glided along in a heavy fog; but having dead bearing for compass and allowance for currents all made, the fog did not bother the captain in the least. the crew was armed with carbines and ordered to make no noise as the sloop, with a light wind, nosed in through the fog. suddenly, as if coming from the thick mist high above them, the sound of approaching oars was heard. the men were ordered to get ready and hold their carbines at ease; but to paul's consternation, he observed they were ready to give up even before they saw an enemy. they said the chileans were sure to hang them for being in the torpedo service even if they were not shot down in fight and it mattered little which way they went so long as there was no chance for escape. knowing that prompt and harsh measures would be the only means of handling the quaking cowards, boyton seized a carbine and in a determined manner told them that the first man who refused to fire when the order was given, would receive a bullet through his head. "now stand by and await orders, no matter who or what is coming," he thundered. a moment later, the strokes of the sweeps were almost under them. "que venga," hailed the captain. the oars were immediately stopped and a trembling voice answered in spanish: "fishermen, fishermen; don't shoot." seeing nothing more formidable than a couple of poor fishermen who were willing to brave the vigilance of the chileans for the sake of a catch, the crew at once became very brave and bustled about as though they were willing to sail right into the entire fleet of the enemy. in a short time the breakers were heard booming in on the rocks of frouton and the sloop was run to a safe anchorage under the cliffs, in smooth water. paul prepared for the trip to san lorenzo and ordered the crew to remain by the sloop until three o'clock in the morning as that would give them ample time to reach the mainland before the chileans could sight them. launching the two torpedoes, he paddled across the narrow but rough channel, intending to plant the torpedoes for future use. he struck under the towering cliffs of the island and pursued his way along them looking for a safe landing place. at times he passed great openings in the cliffs, into which huge waves rolled and sounded back as though dashing against some obstruction far away in the bowels of the island, and the heavy, saline smell of seals and sea lions escaped through the openings. at length he came to a place where he could land without being flung against the rocks. he hauled the torpedoes up on a smooth beach, placed them carefully under a shelf of rock, removed the rubber dress and in his stocking feet began to climb the steep side of the island with the intention of discovering how far the chilean outposts extended in his direction. it was a tiresome climb. up over guano beds and broken rock, and as the wind was off shore, scarcely a breath of air came to cool the heated atmosphere and as he toiled on, the perspiration fairly streamed from his pores. when he reached the top, a cool land breeze fanned his perspiring face and with an exclamation of pleasure, he seated himself on a rock to rest and cool off. at the same moment, a dark figure started up, not thirty yards away. there was a flash of fire, a report and a bullet passed close to paul's head. he drew his revolver with the intention of shooting at the figure which was retreating; but not knowing how many soldiers there might be around, he refrained. there was a lapse of but a few seconds, when gun after gun was heard cracking in nearly every quarter and that was proof to him that sentries were stationed all over the island. knowing that a general alarm had been given, he began a rapid descent of the cliffs, well aware of the fatal consequences if the chileans captured him. every moment he expected a company of soldiers to pounce upon him, or that their torpedo boats would capture him at the foot of the cliff. shot after shot followed him as he made for the place at which he had concealed his dress, with all the speed with which he was possessed. being less cautious in the descent than he had been in going up, he loosened great masses of guano and rock that rolled down ahead of him. when he reached the breakers again, an avalanche of guano had covered his dress. he hurriedly searched up and down the beach until he discovered one foot of the rubber pantaloons sticking out from under the guano. he pulled it out and was soon paddling across the gut again. as he ran under the cliff where the sloop had been anchored, he could not see her; but as he rose on the waves he discovered her nearly out of sight, standing away for the mainland, with all canvas spread. the crew had heard the firing, had weighed anchor and sailed for the protection of their own guns, under the impression that their captain had been killed; in fact, such was the report they made on their arrival at lima. appreciating the fact that he would surely be discovered by the enemy if he attempted to paddle to the mainland in the dress; if not during the night, certainly in the morning, for he could not hope to reach safely before daylight revealed him. what should he do? he now knew that san lorenzo was heavily guarded and there was no hope of shelter on frouton. it were better to challenge the mercy of the monsters of the deep than that of his human foes, so he quickly made up his mind to return and conceal himself under the crags of san lorenzo in one of the caverns which he had passed. he paddled back through the heavily rolling waves and got under the cliffs of the island, looking every moment to be run down by a torpedo boat; but fortunately his pursuers missed him and he felt a wave of hot air, impregnated with that saline smell which betokened the entrance to a cave. then he could see a blacker spot than the darkness that surrounded him, which he knew was the entrance. he unhesitatingly struck for it, the mountain seeming to close over and swallow him as he entered the mysterious chamber of the sea. cautiously he made his way back, not knowing what creatures he might encounter. slowly and with straining eyes he advanced through the thick blackness, until he could hear the breathing and stirring of what he rightly conjectured to be seals. he sounded with his paddle and found it to be of insufficient length to show him the depth of water. reaching a ledge of rock which had been rendered slippery by the constant sliding of slimy seals over it, he drew himself up, having to use great care not to cut the dress on the sharp edges of numberless shells which he found everywhere wedged in the interstices of the rock. when he reached a place against the back wall where he thought he could keep himself from sliding into the water, there was an ominous growl, one or two splashes below, then for a moment all was quiet again except the mournful washing of the waves far back in the mysterious depths and the heavy breathing of the sea animals about him; but what they were he was not sure, whether they would attack him or not, he could not tell, and could only trust in providence to keep him safe. the noise of snapping, snarling and growling was kept up and through the watches of that dreadful night, he never closed an eye. as the rays of the tropical morning sun began to penetrate the gloom, paul looked around him. everywhere along the sides of the cavern were ledges and shelves of rock; covering these was an army of seals and sea lions waking from their night's rest. they would raise their bodies half upright from their stony beds, stretch their flippers and yawn, much after the manner of a human being, then drop into the water and make off toward the open sea in search of their breakfast. stretched on his ledge, in the black rubber dress, paul was probably taken for one of their own species, for hundreds of them passed without noticing him. some of them, however, did discover him to be a strange intruder in their lodging house. these would turn their great, round eyes on him, circle off from the ledge, then with a quick flip of their flukes dart toward the opening, gracefully cutting the water as they steered for their fishing grounds. some returned with a fish in their mouths, shining like silver, and all day he had a chance to watch their movements. he was greatly interested in the peculiar manner in which they climbed upon the ledges. they would raise their bodies almost out of the water, place their flippers on the edge of the rock and with a quick flirt of their flukes, project themselves to the shelf in the most graceful manner. later in the morning, paul noticed one enormous brute on a ledge opposite him and about fifty feet below. it appeared to be heavy and sleepy. around it were clustered several smaller ones, seeming to be its immediate retainers or most intimate friends. the big fellow was uneasy. several times he lifted his head, looked about with his blood shot eyes and then dropped back again as though to finish a nap. paul expected an attack and braced himself for it. the monster finally edged slowly over and plunged into the water. he did not appear again until he had passed boyton's ledge, then he came to the surface, gave a loud snort, either of defiance, fear or astonishment, sank again and went out to join his comrades. paul dare not venture out of the cave in the daylight. he sat there in his dress and dozens of baby seals crawled up on the ledge beside him, playing all over and around him, some of them sucking the fingers of his gloves with mouths like red coral. sometimes the anxious mothers swam in and bellowed at their young; but as they grew accustomed to the stranger and saw no injury came to the little fellows, they became quiet. at sundown, the seals began pouring in again and climbed to their respective couches, uttering the most weird cries, snarling and bellowing as though quarreling about their beds. paul had had nothing to eat or drink all day; but owing to the dampness of the cavern, he felt no thirst. twilights are short in that latitude and nightfall followed fast in the wake of sundown; so he quietly unlimbered himself, slipped off the rock so as not to disturb the seals and dipping his paddle gently in the phosphorescent water, slid out of the gloomy jaws of the cave into the starlit night. he made a wide sweep against the tide around frouton and by steady, cautious pulling all night, was close under the fortifications of callao by morning. not wishing to land until daylight for fear of being shot by some of the sentinels, he laid off and then came very near getting what he had waited to escape, for in the grey light of the morning, he discovered a sentinel with a gun aimed at him. he shouted "peru, peru," several times before the guard would understand and lower the rifle. landing safely at last, he immediately proceeded to lima to report to the dictator, and hurried back to take command of the sloop again. the reconnoiter of san lorenzo had convinced paul that the island was watched from end to end in the closest manner and it was useless to attempt to work from there with the means at hand. he determined to lead out in a different direction to accomplish his designs, and his next move was a cruise due southward to the island off pachacamac and generally called by that name. the little sloop wound her way in and out among the numerous rocky islets off the coast. under their close shelter she picked her way hidden from the chilean cruisers that turned their guns on everything not of their own kind, on the sea. the coast is extremely wild and utterly deserted, formed of lofty ledges of rock, hollowed into caverns underneath, by the insidious beating of the trade wind waves. the chiseled doorways to those caves are rare specimens of nature's mysterious work; some large, some small and of queer, fantastic shapes; that black-mouthed gape at chance passers, while towering high above, a roof of table land--arid, scorching pampas, is just as uninviting as the water way below. so desolate is that part of the coast that it is but little known. don nicholas and a group of peruvian officers to whom paul described the caves, expressed the utmost astonishment, though born and bred within twenty five miles of their mysterious recesses. the desert above is traversed only by a narrow trail and is seldom used, while even the fishermen give the caverns below a wide berth, being superstitious and fearful of the strange cries that are heard echoing from their depths. that is why they are so little known and never explored. during the day, when a chilean cruiser nosed around uncomfortably close, the little sloop would be hugged under the lee of one of the islands, sail lowered and anchor dropped. paul was thus given an opportunity of exploring the caves. sometimes he paddled into them encased in his rubber dress; but generally he used a little gig, carrying an ax, knife, carbine and a few biscuits, spending whole days in those lonely places whenever the sea permitted. once while exploring along the coast, he observed a great table rock that had been washed down until it rested upon two natural pillars, forming the capstone of the entrance to a great cave. the sea was rolling heavily at the time, but by cautiously backing the gig, he succeeded in entering. a scene of marvelous beauty met his wondering eyes. high above, the rays of the tropical sun pierced the numerous cracks and crevices in the arched roof of the cavern, illuminating with gorgeous coloring the submarine vegetation which hung like long snakes from roof and walls. here the curling vines and tendrils glowed a deep purple; there, owing to changing light, a dark green; everywhere, light greens, dark reds, pinks, crimsons, yellows, greys, bright reds and every conceivable color. sea fans and, sea plumes there were in endless variety, while outside, in the scorching heat, no sign of vegetation relieved the eye, inside was cool and beautiful with the luxuriance of the flora of the sea. the sides of the cavern were filled with molusca--radiantly colored shells, sea urchins and innumerable specimens of marine life. along the pale green surfaces of shelving rocks, sea foxes, a fur bearing animal on that coast; bright, wicked little fellows, darted about, uttering shrill cries at the intrusion of the stranger as he drifted slowly back into their fairylike abode. paul felt as though he would like to have one of the little fellows and raised his carbine to shoot; but it seemed profanation to disturb the grand serenity and beauty of the scene. the weapon was lowered and the animals allowed to play undisturbed. the gig was backed slowly through the brilliant arches until the light became dim and the darkening recesses wore a gruesome look. thinking it unsafe to penetrate further the vast, unknown aisles, paul rowed out of the yawning mouth after picking up many shells of every hue. next evening anchor was weighed and the sloop headed for pachacamac. it was beautiful moonlight. about midnight, sailing close in shore, they were passing a white, sandy beach when one of the crew asked boyton if he would like some turtles, as the place they were then passing, swarmed with them. an affirmative answer being given, the sloop was hove to, while paul and the sailor entered the gig and pulled ashore. under the strong rays of the moon, the turtles on the white sand appeared to be as thick as ants. selecting two or three of the smaller size for their game, hundreds of them being too large to be turned over by their united efforts, they quickly threw them on their backs while the others ran into the sea with astonishing celerity considering their very poor reputation for speed. paul and the sailor transferred their capture to the boat and in a short time the ugly animals were turned over to the scientific ministrations of the cook. about ten o'clock next morning they put into a little bay, bound in by rocks and well hidden, on the shore side of the island of pachacamac. there they passed several days, and many fruitless attempts were made with floating torpedoes to destroy the steamer pilcamo. they worked only at night time and laid under the friendly shelter of the rocks during the day. it was their custom during the daytime to explore the ruins of the ancient inca buildings, the island having been the site of their temple and used also as a place of burial; for their strange tombs are numerous there. one of the crew was an expert in locating those inca tombs. by sinking a pointed rod in the sand he could easily tell when a grave was below and after some laborious digging, the oven shaped top of the tomb was exposed. with a heavy pick an opening would be made through the sun burnt brick, and instantly a rush of foul air assailed the nostrils, though the bodies had been buried there for perhaps thousands of years. when a hole large enough was made, paul and the expert sailor would drop through it into the oval space below. there they invariably found several mummies seated in a circle, with their heads on the knees around which their arms were clasped. some of them were encased in wicker work, others in cloth made of alpaca wool in brilliant colors and gorgeous with curious designs. the bodies were wonderfully preserved. in the center of these weird circles were found earthenware vessels containing petrified corn. as the sun streamed in lighting up the awe inspiring groups, whose history runs beyond all knowledge of the present day, one could but think of the deep and wonderful secrets which the grave conceals. paul gathered many curious things of prehistoric workmanship and only regretted that the limited quarters of the sloop prevented his taking all he desired. he was so deeply interested in excavating the tombs, however, that regardless of his inability to carry more relics, he prosecuted the search in the hope that he might discover something that would throw mote light on the habits, customs and peculiarities of the strange race. it struck him, however, that laborious digging through the hot sand was not the best method of reaching the mummies, and he overcame the difficulty by dropping a charge of dynamite which blew an opening with sufficient force to have given the dried up incas a headache had they been sensible of feeling. he found many stone idols, specimens of pottery, bracelets, anklets, chains and other ornaments fashioned out of gold and silver and of strange designs. several days passed while exploring the mysterious tombs in the daylight and watching for a chance to place a torpedo at night, when it was discovered that the cruiser they were after had hauled off; so the necessity of their staying there being removed, the sloop was headed for chorrilos. from the latter city they made short runs among the islands in that neighborhood. while on those trips, they frequently passed an island on one of the ledges of which, they often saw a monster sea lion--the largest among the thousands in that locality. one of his crew assured paul that that lion was known to all the fisherman and was remarkably cunning. boyton at once made up his mind to capture the brute. with that purpose in view, he ran the sloop for several days to a point behind the island near the big lion's resting place, in order to get him accustomed to their presence. he was always found occupying the same ledge of rock, surrounded by smaller lions. for the first two or three days, when the sloop approached, the monster would rise on his flippers, bellow and dive off into the sea. following his plans, boyton made no attempt to molest him; but brought the sloop close under the island where the men would either sleep or spend their time at fishing. in a few days the lion became so accustomed to the sloop, that instead of diving he would lay on the rock and watch curiously. if he did go off, he returned again after satisfying his hunger. when it was thought he had lost all fear of them, paul gave orders to the men one morning to stand by with carbines ready to fire as soon as the word was given. sail was lowered and the sloop allowed to drift in as close as the monster would permit. as soon as he raised his great head and showed signs of uneasiness, the man forward let go the anchor and the crew pretended to busy themselves about the deck without regarding his presence. for a few moments he hung his ponderous body from side to side and settled down to sleep again. he was not disturbed for an hour or more and then paul ordered his men to get ready. raising his carbine, he fired over the head of the lion. the shot had the desired effect, for the brute sprang, to his flippers, presenting his broad breast to the crew and at that moment the order was given to fire. the beast staggered and attempted to reach the sea; but fell over, while the smaller ones dropped off the rock in fright. convinced that the monster was dead, boyton ordered the boat lowered; but strange to say not one of the crew would get into it with him, they were so terrified. taking a knife, ax and revolver, he persuaded one of the men to back him to the rock along which the sea surged heavily and when near enough, made a spring for it. he managed to draw himself upon the ledge where the monster laid, though the sea caught him to the arm pits before he could do it, and found his prize to be fully fourteen feet long from snout to flukes. he plunged the knife into its throat to make sure of the work. then he called to the crew to get ashore as there was no danger; but the men were afraid to risk it, the other sea lions being greatly excited, and boyton began to remove the skin as best he could without assistance. the only way to do it was to run the knife along the stomach and cut away the blubber, rolling the skin back as he did so. he took out the entrails and flesh, so that instead of removing the skin, he really hewed the body out of it, throwing the offal into the sea. while the cutting was going on all appeared to go well with the other sea lions that were swarming about in a great state of excitement; but when he chopped at the flippers or any bony obstruction with the hatchet, they leaped on to the rock in such numbers that he had to shoot into them to frighten them away. after two hours or so of hard work lie had the body with the exception of the head and flippers out of the skin. he ordered the crew to haul in close and throw him a line which he made fast to the skin and it was pulled aboard, while the small boat backed in and took the captain off. they sailed back to chorrilos where some fishermen were engaged to trim the pelt and spread it on a roof in the sun to cure. it was the finest skin paul had ever seen and he was very proud of it. the next morning he was ordered to appear at the palace in lima and was detained there for three days on business connected with a new submarine boat. when he returned to the sloop, he was surprised to see great flocks of galanasas (a species of buzzard) and condors hovering over the beach; but at the moment paid no attention to them any more than to think some dead body had been washed ashore on which the scavengers were feeding. hastily ascertaining that everything was in order on board the sloop, he went to the roof to see how the sea lion's skin was curing. to his intense disgust, he found nothing left but the polished skull of the monster. the birds had torn it to fragments and eaten it. the artistic expression of his overpowered feelings at the discovery, would have frightened every galanasa and condor from the coast had they been familiar with the english, french or spanish languages. orders were received from lima to sink torpedoes as far out in chorrilos bay as they could reach without being shot by the chileans. as there was only a lot of old russian torpedoes on hand and no dynamite to spare, paul decided to set dummies, knowing they would have the same effect on the chileans, who would watch the work through their powerful glasses, from san lorenzo. he procured a lot of empty kegs and had them painted a bright red. with these aboard, he pushed out as far as safety permitted, and in an ostentatious manner placed them across the entrance to the bay, so they would float within three feet of the surface and were plainly visible through the transparent water. the approach of a steamer from the seaward when the work was about finished, caused them to hoist sail and stand in. the steamer opened fire on the retreating sloop, but the shots fell short and her guns were answered by those on el punte. a few days after, they had the satisfaction of seeing two chilean men-of-war expending thousands of dollars worth of ammunition at one of the empty kegs that had loosened from its anchorage and showed on the surface. from that time, the little sloop was frequently made a target by the enemy's long range guns. one day while boyton was lying under the awning of the sloop, he heard a whizzing cannon ball strike the rocks above where they were anchored. he leaped to his feet and scanned the sea in every direction; but as the atmosphere was a little hazy, he could discover no vessel from which the missile could have been thrown. thinking that it was possibly a chance shot from the fort, he paid no more attention to it, until he was aroused by another one shrieking overhead and striking the cliffs a few hundred yards below. then by closer observation, he could see the dim outlines of a chilean ship fully twelve miles away. it proved to be the huascar, that had received some new and powerful guns, practicing. the sloop was anchored in a less exposed place in a very few moments. the next morning boyton engaged in quite a lively adventure. he was about to dive over from the side of the sloop into the cool water for a bath, when he saw some dark object moving on the bottom and checked himself. it was well that he did so for the object proved to be an octopus, or devil fish, edging its way nearly under the sloop toward the shore. its great tentacles stretched out nine or ten feet from its round body and a more repulsive or dangerous looking creature is hard to be imagined. one of the crew, who was an experienced fisherman, told them all to keep perfectly still as the fellow was going ashore among the rocks, which those creatures sometimes do; but for what purpose is not known. the fisherman was correct, for in a few moments they saw one of the powerful tentacles reach up and grasp a rock which was just bare at low water. a party of fishermen near by, were called to assist in the capture. they were armed with oars, spears, guns and boat hooks and formed in a circle outside the dangerous brute, where they began yelling and splashing the water with their weapons in order to prevent its returning to the sea and to drive it upon the shore. it moved toward the beach, only a few yards distant, and whenever it was submerged discolored the water almost to inky blackness. at last, harrassed on all sides, it put its slimy tentacles on the gravelly beach. its round, pudgy body was no sooner out of the water, than an expert, in the person of a half naked fisherman, rushed in and struck it a blow on the head with a heavy club dexterously leaping away in time to avoid the waving tentacles. at every blow, all the colors of the rainbow could be seen glowing through the body of the octopus. once it lifted its powerful tentacles, clinging to the suckers of which were stones and gravel and either in pain or anger, hurled them in all directions. nearly every one in the party was hit. at last, after an exciting battle, it was dispatched and cut up for division. according to the unwritten laws among those fishermen, one half of it belonged to the sloop, and paul was just telling them he did not want it, when the landlord of a little hotel in town, who happened to be on the beach, made a proposition to give a supper that night if he was given boyton's share. the unexpected offer was quickly accepted and sure enough, that night a magnificent spread was laid with the octopus served as the principal dish. it was sometime before paul could be persuaded to taste it, and then he found it to be the most delightful fish he had ever eaten--delicate of flavor and flesh of a slightly viscous nature. the native fishermen look upon them as a rare luxury and always have a feast when one is caught. notwithstanding the very poor appliances possessed by peru, two chilean men-of-war were blown up during the struggle, by very clever tricks. they were the loa and the covodonga. as has been previously stated, it was the custom of the chilean blockaders to pick up anchor and cruise slowly up and down the coast during the night, to keep out of the way of torpedoes. one foggy morning as the loa was crawling back to her moorings after her customary night's cruise, her lookout discovered a small sloop containing a crew of four men, who appeared to be in a great state of alarm. one was up on the mast endeavoring to repair the peak halyards that were hanging down as though having been disabled. a gun was immediately turned on the boat by the chilean and a shot fired over it. at that the sailor hastily descended from the mast and the four men hurriedly jumped into a light gig and began pulling with powerful strokes for the mainland. a boat was also lowered from the man-of-war and chase given, while shot after shot was sent after the fugitives. the man-of-war's boat had no chance of overhauling the quicker and lighter peruvian gig and when the chileans reached the sloop, they abandoned the chase. on discovering the prize they had taken, cheer after cheer rang over the sea. the sloop was loaded down with baskets of fruit, crates of chickens, vegetables, in fact the very things the chileans mostly needed. a line was quickly fastened to the prize and she was towed alongside the loa, and the entire crew joined the captors in cheering when they saw the good things. all hands went to the side of the vessel to look at the lucky find. it was short work to begin sending the cargo up. almost everything had been passed aboard when the sailors took up what seemed to be a heavy crate of vegetables. the moment it was lifted clear of the deck, there was a terrific explosion-- a mighty upheaval of the sea. a mountain of water shooting skyward, mingled with fragments of the steamer and bodies of men. as the spars and timbers dropped back into the sea, there floated on the surface but splinters where a few seconds before the proud steamer had stood. the loa and her crew had been swept into eternity. it was then a cheer rang out from the little gig far in under the shore. a bold, dangerous game had been played and won. the most emphatic orders were issued after the destruction of the loa, by the chilean officers to their crews, to pick up nothing without the utmost care and the most rigid examination. on an afternoon several days after the above order had been issued, the covodonga steamed slowly along in bright, calm weather, on a cruise to the southward of callao. one of the crew sighted a pleasure row boat. the man reported it and the captain was about ordering the guns turned on it, when an officer approached him and said: "let us examine it. we may learn something." the captain consented to the officer going off to the little boat; but with repeated instructions to examine carefully before touching it. it proved to be a beautifully built lady's pleasure boat that had broken from its moorings and drifted seaward, a piece of frayed line still hanging from her bow. she was painted white and gilded, elegantly furnished with cushioned seats and handsomely ornamented. an open book was found on one seat and a single oar rested on the bottom. the officer carefully examined her, passed a boat hook underneath her and concluded she was harmless. she was towed to the steamer and the captain assured that there was nothing suspicious about her. "she will make a beautiful present for your wife," said the officer. the captain responded: "if you are certain, send her aboard." lines were lowered and hooks fastened to the fairy craft. as they tightened on the polished brass rings in her bow and stern, a deafening roar told the fate of the covodonga. she was cut completely in two and only sixty of her crew were picked up and saved. the little boat had been made with a thin false bottom in which was placed a quantity of nitro-glycerine. the friction pins were connected with the brass rings and the moment her weight was on them the pins were pulled out and the explosive discharged. it may be imagined that after such costly experiences, the chileans redoubled their watchfulness. they would not approach anything seen floating on the water; but turned their guns on whatever they saw at long range. they were known to fire at a seal that had wandered away from its usual haunts. paul and his crew were compelled to keep close under cover. the chileans were daily drawing their lines closer to the doomed city of lima. boyton dispatched an officer to don nicholas with a request to be sent with his torpedo crew down to pisco where he expected the chileans would attempt to laud troops. the answer he received was "impatience is a bad counselor. wait for orders." if paul had followed his own instincts, he could have knocked two or three chilean vessels out of the water, for they landed at pisco a few days later and no very sharp lookout being kept, he might have put torpedoes under them at night. as the enemy was gradually closing in by land and sea, paul was ordered to callao to take charge of a submarine boat that had been built by a swiss engineer. the boat was to be run by compressed air under water and by steam on the surface. it was a complicated affair and boyton had but little confidence in it and that confidence was considerably lessened when the inventor himself refused to go down in her. however, it was decided to try her. having managed all the details of her construction, boyton ordered her swung under a big pair of shears and from their support hung the boat on chains, so that in case she would not run to the surface by her own power, she could be hoisted by the machinery above. she was then lowered to the water. paul and two of his crew entered, but before descending to the bottom, gave orders to those manning the shears, to hoist at the expiration of twenty minutes. after fastening the man-hole, the valves were closed. there was an ominous hissing of air that sounded peculiar; but when she got her weight of water, she slowly settled on the mud bottom in twenty-three feet of water. "now get at your compressed air and see how she will go on the bottom," said paul to the engineer as soon as they felt they were down. she wheezed and groaned and moved slightly on the mud; but she refused to rise. groping about with his lantern, the engineer found something was the matter with the valves as lie could not get one of them to work and he grew excited. he was advised to keep cool as there was no danger but they would get out all right. for five or six minutes, which seemed an hour to the men thus caught in a trap, they tried every possible way to get the machinery to work; but it was useless. the boat refused to rise. the oxygen became rapidly exhausted and the lights grew dim. even the valve supplying fresh air for the nostrils of the occupants of the boat would not work and the situation grew more desperate with the flight of every second. as the atmosphere became oppressively heavy, boyton wanted to knock the valve off with a hammer; but the engineer showed him if that were done, they would be drowned. it began to dawn on the minds of the three men that they were doomed. they sat and looked into one another's pale faces. paul consulted his watch and estimated that twelve more minutes must elapse before those above would haul up. he felt that it would be impossible for them to last so long for already they were beginning to gasp for lack of air. they became weak; but again tried the valves to no purpose. the least exertion exhausted them. one of the lanterns flickered out and the other was very dim. at last paul seized a hammer and going up the little iron ladder, struck three or four blows on the cover of the man-hole, under the impression that those above might hear. the effort was too much for him and he fell to the floor where he laid in an almost unconscious condition. he dimly remembered hearing the straining of chains, then the man-hole was opened and a voice inquired: "how is it?" there was no answer to the inquiry and the rescuers only found out how it was when they entered the boat and dragged the three unconscious men out to light and air where they quickly recovered. the inventor of the boat made an examination of her machinery and found that the valves had been tampered with and rendered useless. it was fortunate that boyton had taken the precaution of swinging the boat to chains, for otherwise they would have died like rats in a trap and remained in their iron coffin at the bottom of the bay. the inventor went to lima to report the occurrence and that night boyton received a message warning him to keep a sharp look out as there was a chilean spy among the crew and it was he who had tampered with the valves. at midnight two officers arrived from the capitol and the crew was summoned before them. they had an accurate description of the spy and after close scrutiny, an officer placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the crew, saying: "this is the man." then followed one of the quickest court martials on record. a small group of men walked a short distance out on the dock in the darkness. there was a click of a revolver and a dead chilean. the peruvian troops were now marshaled at chorrillos to repel the further advance of the chilean army that had landed at pisco. the flower of the peruvian forces marched out of lima in happy anticipation of battle. the brilliant ranks were composed of young men in gorgeous uniforms, who sang gaily as they marched on to chorrillos. the native troops were the cholo indians that who had been driven in from their homes back of the cordilleras and almost forced to fight. they marched stolidly through the streets, turning their eyes neither to the right nor to the left, though hundreds of them had never seen a town before. they were followed by a wild though picturesque rabble of rabona women, carrying great bundles tied on their heads or backs, shrieking and chattering in their native tongue like gariho monkeys. these women formed the commissary department of the native troops. whenever there was a halt, the rabonas would quickly unlimber their bundles and in an incredibly short time be engaged in the preparation of some sort of soup which they sold to the indians for one cent per bowl. the chileans had advanced beyond pisco and the first battle near lima, on the plains outside of chorrillos, was imminent. paul and his crew with several torpedoes, went down the coast in a boat in the hope of being able to get under a chilean vessel; but those vessels fired on the boat and sunk her, while the captain and his men hastily gained the shore and joined the army on the heights. on january fourteenth, , the chileans began the attack on chorrillos, the fashionable watering place about three leagues from lima. colonel yglesi with but a handful of troops made a brave defense and had reinforcements been sent him from miraflores, where the main body of the peruvian army was stationed, the tide of battle would have been turned. as it was, he held out as long as he could and then retreated to the main body, after killing three- thousand of the enemy, just double the number of his original command. on his retreat, the chileans swarmed into chorrillos, more intent on plunder and wanton murder than honorable warfare, while the chilean fleet continued to pour a storm of shot and shell after the retreating fragments of the little command. that night the chileans broke into the liquor store-houses and soon drunkenness increased their natural blood thirstiness. prisoners were murdered in cold blood and women were wantonly shot down. they even fought among themselves, many being killed in that way. next morning the streets of chorrillos presented a sad and bloody spectacle. dead and dying were everywhere. even the poor rabona women had not been spared. their bodies could be seen all over the place. many dead were seen on the beach where they had fallen when cruelly bayoneted off the cliffs. while boyton and a brave peruvian officer, colonel timoteo smith, were hastily crossing a meadow, they saw a young chilean officer fall from his horse, wounded. they noticed that he wore the iron cross of germany on his breast and ran forward to save him. before they could reach him, a peruvian indian, knife in hand, bounded to the spot, cut the young man's throat from ear to ear and tearing the decoration from his breast, quickly disappeared. on examining the body it proved to be that of a young captain or lieutenant. it was learned afterward that he was the nephew of the celebrated general von moltke, the german soldier and strategist. his death was outright murder. after the retreat to miraflores, a truce was declared and an effort made to arrange terms of peace. the foreign diplomats, among whom was united states minister christiancy, and high military officers were holding a conference, while the two armies faced each other. during the peace conference, a gun was fired. it was said at the time that a peruvian soldier fired at a cow. at any rate, the chileans began the attack at once. the crack of their guns along the line sounded like the running of a finger over the key board of a piano. the bullets began to shatter the house in which the diplomats were conferring. they suddenly became aware of their danger and fled in all directions. minister christiancy was seen in his shirt sleeves valiantly running across the fields towards lima along with many others. not to speak flippantly, it was a genuine go-as-you-please hurdle race, for they had to jump the low, mud walls forming the fences. the peruvians were utterly routed. when don nicholas saw the battle going against him, he gallantly mounted his charger and rode to the front; but it was too late. he turned in despair and fled to the mountains followed by a few of his immediate troops. one of the leading causes of peru's defeat, was the fact that her soldiers were armed with two makes of rifles of different caliber. the cartridges became mixed and hundreds of soldiers were seen to throw down their guns and flee because their shells would not fit. the ammunition, too, was strapped on mules that scampered away out of reach after the first fire. paul with hundreds of others, fled to lima. the city had been taken possession of by a mob of drunken sailors and soldiers, who went about in large bodies, robbing and killing indiscriminately. the streets were strewn with the dead. next day the foreign residents banded themselves together to put down the mob. boyton took command of a company of americans and went through the streets shooting down the rioters wherever found. on a street at one side of the palace a row of little houses was occupied by jewish money changers. this was an especial point of attack by the rioters on the first night. they were under the impression that loads of money would be found there. next morning the narrow street was full of dead rioters, showing the desperate and successful defense made by the jews, who shot the robbers through holes made in their doors and walls. hundreds of chinamen were shot and their valuables taken. the foreign patrols soon beat the mob into submission, and then collecting silks and other goods that had been taken from the people, they placed them in a general repository where they could be claimed by the owners, if alive. while the rioting was going on in lima, the peruvians set fire to all the shipping in the harbor at callao, to keep it from falling into the hands of the conquerors. the patrols were kept busy until the twentieth of january, when the chileans marched triumphantly into lima. the city presented a queer sight. from almost every house the flag of some foreign nation was flying, to save it from pillage and destruction; but scowling faces appeared at the windows. the first act of the chilean army was to break in and rob the custom house. an attempt was made to restrain the men, but some awful scenes were enacted before it was done. during this time, paul and some friends had a chance to visit the battle-fields of miraflores and chorrillos. and the sights they witnessed! the gallant, young soldiers who had left lima in brilliant uniforms, with high hopes of success, and gay songs on their lips, lay a confused mass of bloated corpses. four days of tropical sun had made them burst, and the stench was horrible. dreading contagion, for the field of death lay near to lima, the chileans had forced the chinamen of that city to gather the dead, cover them with kerosene and fire. after nightfall, the blue glow rising from these awful funeral pyres, lit up the whole field. bands of chinamen leading mules who carried panniers containing vessels of kerosene, passed around, and whenever they saw a corpse not burning, they struck a hole in it with a spade, poured in the oil and fired. at other points on the road, lay heaps of mangled dead, while the earth around was torn up in most unaccountable manner. this was caused by ground torpedoes placed in the road by some fertile genius, who thought that he could thus destroy the advancing chileans. after two or three of those hidden mines had exploded with dreadful effect on the chilean soldiers, they compelled the peruvian prisoners to march ahead, and when these were destroyed they set a drove or cattle ahead in self-defense. chorrilos, where paul's headquarters had been so long, lay a mass of ruins. bodies in every fallen house gave forth the awful stench of human decay. paul stood on the cliffs overlooking the pleasant bay, in whose waters his little sloop had been anchored so many times, and beheld the result of a charge of the chilean army. bodies of the dead soldiers lay thick under the foot of the cliff, chilean and peruvian grasped in each other's arms as they had been hurled in the fury of battle to death below. along the beach from the cliffs to the ocean, lay numbers of the soldiers who had been wounded, and while endeavoring to reach the tempting waters and quench their thirst, had perished. others, who in their delirium had drank its brine, died in more agony, and lay in strings along the side washed by the waves. at the approach of a human being, flocks of hideous galanasas and great droves of condors would rise lazily, too heavy from their ghastly feast, to flap their monstrous wings. it was a sight to sicken one forever of the vaunted glories of the battlefield. soon after the occupation, general backadana issued a proclamation requiring all peruvian officers to surrender. the chileans knew that boyton was in the country, and for what purpose, but he surrendered under his assumed name "delaport," an engineer. he was paroled, and went to ancon, a village on the coast that had been deserted, and no chilean guards had been placed there. plans were laid for his escape; but he found it impossible to get off to a steamer. he procured a little boat and spent most of the time on the islands off the coast and among the caves, his american friends in lima sending him provisions. for a companion he had a young peruvian officer who also thought it well to keep under cover. for three weeks they amused themselves fishing, hunting, exploring, and several times they rowed far out to sea, in the hope of being picked up by some passing steamer and taken north, but the hope was not realized. from almost any other country in the world escape would be easy. but north and south of peru lay thousands of miles of sun-parched pampa, on the west lay the rolling pacific patrolled by the enemy's ships, eastward lay the cordilleras soaring into the clouds--the only passage through them held by chilean soldiers. one morning while they were cruising among the outer group of islands, paul noticed a cave opening into one of them, the entrance to which was far above the water and so peculiar in its appearance that he determined to explore it. backing the boat in and taking a shot gun, he jumped ashore, while his companion pulled quickly away to keep the boat from being dashed against the island which was formed of an almost perpendicular rock. boyton climbed to the entrance of the cave and found it ran like a slanting shaft through the island. far below he could see the green, surging water lashing the adamantine walls. picking his way down over the slippery rocks which almost choked up the passage, he had proceeded about half way down the incline, when his attention was attracted by a strange cry. turning, he saw something that appeared to be neither bird, animal nor fish; but partaking something of the character of all three. he had often heard of the existence of such creatures in the remote caverns, but had scarcely credited it. fishermen had spoken of them though few claimed to have ever seen one. they are called ninas del maris-children of the sea. he had heard they were gentle and affectionate in captivity but savage in their wild state. he raised his gun to shoot; but on second thought concluded to try and capture it alive. he made his way down the incline as rapidly as possible in order to cut the nina off from the water, knowing that it would not make its exit from the cave by the upper opening. when he reached the bottom, a wonderful scene unfolded. he could easily imagine that he had unconsciously stumbled into the playhouse of neptune's rollicking subjects. the water formed a great pool surrounded by an amphitheatre of towering crags of most fantastic shapes, which reached far up toward the sky, there being no roof to its vast extent. the waves beat in from the sea; but as no opening was visible, a subterranean passage surely formed the entrance. hundreds of grey ducks were startled and circled around him or flew back and forth to their nests as if fearful the intruder intended to do them damage. these nests were built unlike those of any other duck he had ever seen, or in fact, those of any aquatic fowl, being hung in the cracks and crevices of the rocks precisely like the nests of the common barn swallow. the sight was so strange and unexpected, that for a time he forgot all about the nina; but recovering himself, he started back, watching closely to prevent the queer creature from slipping past-him. with all his care he could discover no trace of it and had made up his mind it had escaped through some hidden passage, when he heard the cry again. by close examination in the direction of the sound he found a little pocket in the rocks and instead of one, two children of the sea were hiding in it. he was so anxious to capture them, that without thinking of the consequences, he ran his hand into the pocket and caught one by the neck. after a struggle he got it out and threw his arms around it, holding it to his breast. with one vicious kick of its claws and flippers, it stripped his clothes off almost from chin to waist and scratched his body considerably. he soon learned that though small, it was very powerful. having secured it, however, he left his gun and carried it to the mouth of the cavern and called for the peruvian to throw him a line. with the line he tied the nina's mouth, lashed its legs securely and as the boat was backed under, dropped it in the stern. he returned for his gun and was surprised to see the other nina sitting stupidly where he had left it, having made no attempt to escape. he captured it easily, but took the precaution to put his soft felt hat over his hand before seizing it. the second prize was landed safely in the boat and the two explorers pulled back to ancon. as there were only two or three fishermen in the entire village beside themselves, there were plenty of vacant houses in which to put the new pets, but paul put them into a room in which he had previously placed a young condor. when the lashings where taken off the ninas, they waddled to a corner and sat there. the children of the sea are a species of penguin. their bodies are furnished with a downy covering which is neither hair nor feather. they stand about two feet eight inches high and have very short, but very strong legs terminating in web feet. they are of a grey color with white breast. their necks are short surmounted by a bird shaped head with a powerful but stumpy bill, the lower part is v shaped into which the upper snugly fits. they are also armed with a pair of minute flippers much of the same conformation as those of a seal and their eyes are large, round and soft, surrounded by a black circle. they walk, or rather waddle much after the manner of an over fat man. when resting, their bodies never touch the ground; but bend over to within an inch of it, giving them the appearance of doing a very difficult balancing act, though as a general thing they sit upright. paul's prizes were very sullen and refused to take the fish offered them, so the door was shut and they were left alone with the condor. that night the captain and the peruvian, who slept next door, were awakened by an awful uproar in the room where the pets were confined. "ah," exclaimed paul, "do you hear that? the condor is killing the children of the sea." they were too tired and sleepy to investigate, however, and in a little while the noises ceased. at daybreak, after their usual plunge in the surf, they went to ascertain the condition of their pets. to their amazement they found the condor gasping its last breath, while the ninas were comfortably pluming themselves in their corner. two or three days passed before the ninas could be induced to take food; but they would snap viciously when approached. at last the male took a small fish from paul's hand, and then he knew they were conquered. both began to feed and in a few days became the most affectionate pets, following him around like dogs. they would swim into the breakers with him without showing the least inclination to escape to their former haunts. paul seeing no hope of escape from ancon, returned to lima to consult with some american friends. these informed him that there was little chance of escape from there. paul then formed a resolution to wait on general patricio lynch, who was in charge of callao, six miles away. from his name, boyton judged he was some good natured soldier of fortune who would be only too happy to aid a brother in distress. with this intention he called at the headquarters at callao, and informed the aid-de-camp that he desired an interview with the general. that officer told him to wait a few hours, which he did. waiting there, paul planned the interview to suit himself. he intended to say: "general, my name is boyton; down here just like yourself, from the states, etc." he pictured to himself how cordially the general would receive him, give him his passport, perhaps, invite him to dine. paul regretted that his clothes were dusty and torn. eventually the aid-de-camp approached and said: "you may now see the general." paul was ushered into a large room and the officer retired. paul looked around, and saw no one but a white-haired, mahogany-faced old man who sat writing at a table. advancing, paul stood silently waiting to be noticed. at last a pair of cold steel gray eyes were turned up to him which confused him so that he stammered in english: "is this general lynch?" "si," was the sharp reply. in english, paul continued: "general, i am a patrolled prisoner who came down to see if--" at this moment he was shocked by a heavy hand crashing on the table and a stentorian voice rang out in spanish: "speak you spanish, speak you spanish. muerte dios, i understand not much english." paul mumbled a request in spanish to have his parole transferred to callao. "no, no, anda!" pointing to the door, paul retired and soon after rejoined his companion at ancon. three days after this he received a message from his friends at lima which caused him considerable alarm. it was to the effect that the chileans were making a diligent search for him and to be very careful as there was yet no chance to get on a north bound vessel, every passenger being closely scrutinized and it would be impossible to cross the mountains. late one night, shortly after receiving the above message, he was awakened by a hammering at the door, he leaped out of bed to find the house surrounded by a squad of chilean cavalry. the officer in command told him he was wanted at lima and to prepare to accompany the squad at once. he was taken to the capitol and ushered into the presence of general backadona. "what is your name?" thundered the general, striking the table with his fist. "i surrendered to you general," replied boyton, "my name is delaport." "you were in the torpedo service?" "possibly; i held a commission from don nicholas de pierola." "but your name is boyton and no one by that name held a commission." boyton neither affirmed or denied the charge, and the general ordered him to be confined in the quartelle with the other prisoners, where he was kept for some weeks while the victors were awaiting dispatches from chile that would decide his fate and he could readily surmise what that would be. almost daily during his imprisonment he could hear the barbaric blare of the chilean bugles outside the quartelle, the gates swing open and a party of chilean soldiers enter. an officer would call the names of the prisoners wanted and surrounded by a firing party, the unfortunate wretches were marched out, followed by white robed priests who walked by their side administering words of consolation. with gay music, the prisoners were escorted to a convenient place for the execution, which was usually the back of some store or the front of a public building. the condemned were strapped on a plank, their feet resting on a step two feet from the ground. this was placed against a wall. then followed a sharp order, a bright flash, the crack of rifles and the poor fellows were sent to their long home. after the execution the planks with the bodies on were placed on the death wagon to be unstrapped at the grave. paul expected every morning to hear his name called. every time that fatal gate opened he thought it meant his farewell to earth, but strange to say, he became hardened and did not dread the summons. his friends on the outside worked like beavers for his release or escape. his belongings had been placed in the care of the railroad company and were safe; even the "children of the sea" having been brought up from ancon. for several days he noticed a chilean who seemed to be some sort of an official within the prison, watching him. one day this officer carelessly passed near him and in a low voice asked if his name was delaport. paul said "yes" and the official walked away. next day four officers who looked like the bearers of dispatches rode in at the gate. the prisoners looked significantly at one another, remarking: "there's news from chile." "yes," replied boyton to one of them, "i guess my death warrant is there." the officers leaped from their horses, allowing them to stand unhitched in the quartelle and entered the palace through a side door. as paul was patting and caressing one of the foam flecked steeds, the officer who had before noticed him, touched him on the shoulder and whispered the one word: "venga," --come. without hesitation, he followed the chilean, who opened the same door into which the dispatch bearers had disappeared. once inside, his conductor turned with a finger to his lip and silently passed on. they descended several steps into what appeared to be a basement, where they groped among pillars and underground apartments until they came to a heavy door, through the chinks of which a little sunshine was streaming. boyton's conductor drew the bait and with a gentle push shoved him out, whispering: "anda,"--go. the captain found himself in a street as the door softly closed, and at that moment a party of chilean soldiers rode by. he dropped his hat and stooped to pick it up, keeping his face toward the ground until they had passed. he then started in the direction of the railroad, in the neighborhood of which he expected to find some friends. when he reached a bridge over the track, he saw a train dispatcher of the road, whose name was campbell, of alleghany city, pennsylvania, standing below. he made a sign to paul, who quickly descended and entered an old warehouse. he was followed by campbell who handed him a paper, saying: "here is safe conduct through the lines. you are a submarine telegraph man going down to the coast to repair the cable. outside is a mule equipped and ready for you. in one side of its saddle bags is one of your rubber suits and a jointed paddle, covered with coils of wire. in the other side are coils of wire, telegraph instruments and some provisions. to all inquiries, you must answer: 'comision especial telegrafos del sue marina.' there's an english steamer going north to- morrow, the captain of which is fixed all right. your baggage and all your traps will be aboard of her. go to ancon and get to the furthest island out and stand boldly off; the captain of the steamer will pick you up. your greatest danger will be in leaving the city and passing the lines. you must depend on your own resources to get through them." campbell then placed a purse of money in boyton's hand bade him god speed and disappeared. the captain unhitched the mule, mounted, and started across the pizzaro bridge over the rimac. at the other end of the bridge, he noticed a chilean soldier eyeing him intently. he thought the fellow was one of the guard who might recognize him; but knowing that any quick or startled movement would instantly excite suspicion, he leisurely rode the mule up to a cigar stand, dismounted and purchased some cigars. this move seemed to allay the suspicions of the guard and he walked away. lighting a cigar, paul remounted and kept on to the outskirts of the city. night was falling when he reached the first line of sentinels and he heard that sound which made his blood surge: "halta, cavagna," shouted by the sentry. "comision especial telegrafos del sue marina," he answered, displaying his forged pass. the officer scanned the paper and gave him permission to pass on. at the second outpost, which was quite a distance from the city, the same program was enacted; but at the third or outer line of sentries, that occurred which caused cold beads of perspiration to start on boyton's forehead. a young officer was in command who posed as a strict disciplinarian and acted up to his idea that there was very little else in the world for him to learn. he critically examined the paper and then looked into the saddle bags that were swung over the mule's back. then strutting haughtily about, said: "the pass is not correct, you will have to go back to lima." it was a terrible blow to paul's chances for escape and though his heart was in his mouth, he kept as cool as possible and assumed a careless air. he presented the officer with a cigar, talked about the weather and other interesting subjects, while a guard was being formed to escort him back to the city. "i hope," said he, "that you will be pleased to command the guard that escorts me back. i assure you that the society of the beautiful senoritas at the capital is far preferable to me than to proceed with the wet, cold work i have been sent to do." the officer was polite enough to regret that he could not accompany the guard. "i would be sorry to see a brave officer like yourself get into any trouble over this," continued paul. "you know how anxious your superiors are to have the wires repaired in order to re-establish communication with chile, though i am sure i do not fancy the work and am well satisfied to have my journey interrupted." the officer took the pass again and carefully ran his eyes over it, as boyton, apparently in the most happy humor, puffed away at his cigar. "i think you are all right," said the officer at last, returning the paper, "you can go on." paul's heart gave such a thump of joy that he was afraid the chilean would hear or see it; but the latter observed nothing. with assumed reluctance, he bade the officer good night, mounted his mule and rode slowly away. as soon as he was out of sight and hearing, he dug his heels into the mule's sides and was galloping swiftly across the pampas toward the coast. he could detect no signs of pursuit and in about an hour he heard the sweetest music that had ever soothed his ears. it was the booming of the breakers near ancon. riding close to the edge of the cliff, he stripped everything off of the mules and with a "good bye, old fellow, you have served me well," and a gentle pat on the neck, he turned its head toward the pampas and it scampered away. the next work was to fling all the wire and telegraph instruments into the sea. he then donned the dress, and with his paddle firmly jointed, began descending the cliff. reaching the water in safety, he plunged right into the breakers and paddled with all his strength from the shore. island after island was left behind and at daybreak he was to the seaward of most of them. he selected the one that stood furthest out and steered for it. it appeared like a huge rock standing straight up out of the water; but he found a narrow strip of sandy beach on which to land, being escorted by a whole troop of seals which offered him no harm, however. climbing to a high ledge, he removed his suit and found that from his perch he commanded a good view and could see the smoke of the steamer as soon as it left the harbor of callao. the sun came up with a dull, red color promising a hot day. by nine o'clock, the heat was so intense that he began to suffer from thirst and then discovered that he had made one grievous mistake. he had neglected to supply himself with fresh water. after partaking of a little breakfast, he began a tour of exploration in the hope of finding some cave in which he would be sheltered from the rays of the sun; but none was to be found and he only kept cool by wading into the sea at intervals, yet such immersions increased his thirst. all day long he scanned the horizon in the direction of callao, looking in vain for the black smoke of the steamer; but hour after hour passed and there was no sign of it. during the afternoon he found a shelf of rock under which there was some shelter from the heat. he sat under its shade suffering terribly from the intensity of thirst. then his mind was somewhat disturbed by seeing a tremendous cloud of pelicans headed for the island. they circled round arid round and lit in a confused mass on the narrow beach. there were several thousand of them and he gazed at them with interest. they went through a regular drill, in squads, which is the habit of those queer but unclean birds. the smell from them was almost overpowering. they would stand straight up in long rows, looking wise and solemn, while two very dignified birds marched up and down in front of the lines for all the world like military grandees reviewing a dress parade. their drill must have occupied at least two hours, then the ranks were broken and they went into the sea in search of fish. paul's suffering from thirst became almost intolerable, his tongue was swollen and his mind was being affected. at last he saw the smoke of the steamer as the sun was going down. he was seized with an idea that she would miss him in the darkness and he decided to return and give himself up if she did, preferring to be shot rather than to die of thirst on that desolate island. he put on his dress and paddled out until he could see by the steamer's mast that she was head on, then he laid still and awaited her coming. close and closer she approached until he could see the lookout. he waved his paddle vigorously and they saw him. to his intense joy, she slowed down, a boat dropped from her side and he was soon on board and hurried below much to the amazement of the passengers. he was received kindly by the captain and made comfortable. everything had been attended to by his friends, all his luggage, even to the pets were aboard. the steamer only touched at one more peruvian port, paita, and while they stopped there, paul went below and turned coal heaver; but on account of the wires being destroyed no news of his escape had reached that port and no search was made. next morning they steamed up the river to guayquil and he felt himself free. to panama was but a short run and the twenty-five dollars in gold that he had to pay for his trip across the isthmus from there to aspinwall, left him almost penniless. at aspinwall he found the same steamer on which he had sailed from new york, the crescent city, and he put up his baggage for a passage home on her. no trouble was experienced in making such an arrangement for the trip north, for as soon as the captain learned who he was and the straits he was in, he was received with open arms and every attention paid him. eight days after, paul stood in broadway, new york, without a cent in his pocket, instead of the hundreds of thousands he had anticipated earning when he cast his fortunes with peru. but he felt rich in the joy of his mother and family, who welcomed him as it were from the grave. kiefer, who had gone south with him, succeeded in making his escape for the mountains where he remained several years, collecting antiquities and shipping them north. he died of consumption soon after his return to the united states in . chapter xx. in less than a month after his return from south america, boyton was in st. paul, minnesota, ready to start on a voyage of one thousand and eight miles down the mississippi river to cairo, this trip being undertaken in order to complete the length of that river from source to mouth. though there were no adventures of extraordinary interest in this voyage, it was the stormiest one he ever encountered; and he was diverted on the way by two peculiar characters that accompanied him, being almost continually provoked to mirth by the humorous incidents which befell them. his companion was a celebrated german artist, dr. c., who was on his first visit to america, as a representative of that famous publication, the gartenlaube. the doctor was a scholarly gentleman, but being unacquainted with american characteristics, which had been sadly misrepresented to him by some of his countrymen who were inclined to joke, he had an exaggerated notion as to how he must dress and act for such a trip as he was going to take. when he was at st. paul, he thought he was on the skirts of civilization and it behooved him to appear in such a manner as not to be imposed on as a novice. so when he was presented to boyton, he was gaily attired in a buckskin suit, with revolver and bowie knife trimmings, looking rather out of place with the scholarly spectacles that bridged his nose. he really outdid the most fanciful cowboy of the far western ranches. such an outfit he imagined just the thing for a trip among the wild characters on the upper mississippi. the other member of the party was a broad nosed, herculean negro whom paul hired to pull the row boat he had purchased for the doctor's accommodation. boyton found that the scenery on the upper mississippi was more beautiful than on any river he had yet traversed. there was not that startling grandeur which characterized the shores of some of the rivers; but it was beautiful--with high buttes and pleasant shores, while the people throughout its entire length are exceedingly hospitable. if the loveliness of this river were better known, it would be more generally visited by tourists in search of rest or recreation. on the morning of may nineteenth, , the start was made, the usual crowd of people lining the banks to see them off. several of the doctor's enthusiastic friends presented him with a keg of beer. it was placed in his skiff. unfortunately, they forgot to give him a faucet. all that day was very hot, and the entire party longed for a drink from its cooling depths. late that evening a steamer, towing a raft, came slowly down the river. paul told the negro to pull alongside and have the raftsman open the keg. they had no faucet but they had an auger, with which they willingly started to bore into its head. a moment afterward a white fountain shot to the sky and all hands held their hats to catch the descending shower. they ran along without other adventure, until the second day out, when lake pipin was reached, where they were met by a heavy head wind and an enormous sea, that almost swamped the doctor's boat; but they hauled up at lake city in safety, where they passed the night. the first reception accorded the voyagers was at la crosse, where they were greeted with a blaze of fireworks and the roaring of cannon. below la crosse as they were swinging along between the willow-laden banks of the beautiful river, whose waters, unlike the thick yellow of its lower half, where it partakes of the character of the missouri, are clear and pure, the doctor developed a taste for hunting and asked permission to use the shotgun that had been stowed away in the boat. boyton readily consented; but seeing that the doctor knew nothing about handling the weapon, which was an improved breech loader, some pains were taken to instruct him in the use of it. it looked so simple that the doctor thought he had mastered it without any trouble at all. the negro, however, was not so confident and eyed the gun in the doctor's hands with great suspicion. "ise not sayin' nun' cap'en" he remarked to paul, "but that man aint been rised aroun' whar da do much shootin', suah's yo' libe. dar aint no tellin' whar he gwine fur to pint that weepin' an ise running chances in hyah wid him. dat's right, cap'en." he was assured that there would be no danger; but he was far from being satisfied and kept an anxious eye on the doctor's movements. after further instructions and admonishing the doctor to be very careful, boyton resumed his paddle and was soon ploughing ahead of the boat. he had not proceeded a mile when he heard a report of the gun and turning, saw both the doctor and the darkey gazing intently into the sky at a gull that was sailing leisurely around a half mile or so above them. the doctor nervously rubbed his glasses and looked again, at a loss to determine why the bird did not fall. when the boat dropped alongside, paul explained to the astonished doctor that a shotgun only carried a short distance and he could not expect to hit anything so far away. as the sun was sinking that evening, boyton heard the negro yelling: "great lawd, come hyah cap'en! oh, my soul, come quick! quick! dis hyah dutchman gwine t' kill me suah!" wheeling around, paul witnessed the most ludicrous spectacle. the doctor, with the muzzle of the gun turned on the negro, was excitedly hammering a cartridge into the breech, while the negro was stretched on his back nearly over the gunwale of the boat, with the broad sole of his foot held as a shield toward the muzzle, yelling at the top of his voice. the doctor saw some blackbirds in the bushes and not remembering how to put a cartridge in the gun, was pounding it in with the handle of his bowie knife. of course it was liable to explode at every stroke, and the poor negro knew the danger. after some expostulation, the doctor was persuaded to put the gun away. below dubuque, the weather grew stormy and so continued for the rest of the voyage. they were treated to some marvelous lightning effects. its forked tongues lapped the water in the most eccentric manner--fearful, though intensely beautiful. the poor darkey cowered in fright on the bottom of the boat with covered eyes, while paul and the doctor were so impressed with the grandeur of the manifestation, as to be unmindful of the danger. after that, whenever dark masses of clouds began to roll up in the sky and the wind commenced to sough mournfully through the willows, no power on earth could prevent the darkey from pulling in shore and staying there until the storm had passed. "ole mastah above kin hit me evah w'en he wants to; i knows dat; but den ise gwine to climb fur the shoah foah dat lightnin' play tag aroun' dis niggah's head agin, dat's shoah as yo' libe," he explained to paul after one of his hurried retreats into the bushes. twelve days after the start the party arrived at davenport. paul had been greatly retarded in his progress on account of false channels and sloughs into which he wandered and through which he paddled many weary miles. early one morning, emerging from one or these sloughs just as the sun was rising, he was treated to a concert such as he had never heard. the music seemed to him almost heavenly--so exceedingly beautiful that he remained motionless on the water, charmed by the entrancing melody. it burst from the throats of thousands of birds on one side of the river, and the refrain was taken up by a swelling chorus of feathered warblers on the other shore. it was a concert that paid him for the labor of a thousand miles of paddling. at davenport, and in fact at all the river towns, the party was tendered enthusiastic receptions. all the members of the boat clubs at burlington rowed up to meet them and formed an interesting flotilla into the city. they frequently encountered rafts of logs, containing millions of feet of lumber. the raftsmen were always glad to meet paul and converse with him as long as he would paddle alongside. below davenport, the doctor's passion for hunting was again displayed, much to the disgust of his dusky boatman. he insisted on firing at some blackbirds and the promise of a quarter to the negro, persuaded that worthy to row him close in shore. he took deliberate aim and fired into a tree that was covered with birds. not one of them fell; but a cow that had been drinking among the willows, ran wildly up the bank with her tail in the air, bellowing mournfully. the darkey received the promise of another twenty-five cents for pulling away from the scene as fast as he could. it had usually been paul's complaint that the boat was too far behind; but after the cow incident, it was just the other way. they were always so far ahead that it was hard to keep them in sight. the darkey was bribed to this unwonted exertion by presents of neckties and other fancy articles which the doctor sacrificed from his wardrobe. the latter had visions of that cow's owner in vengeful pursuit. while paddling along one morning, the boat being quite a distance below him, boyton heard a terrific fusillade from the gun. he thought the doctor was shooting away all the cartridges. the boat was surrounded by smoke and paul drove ahead to see what was going on. as he drew near, he saw the doctor holding a small object in his hand while a look of pride glowed on his countenance. it was a little squirrel. "see what i have killed," enthusiastically cried the doctor in german. "yaas," chimed in the darkey, "dat squi'l him swimmin' de ribber an' de doc, he shot an' shot an' den i kill um wid de oah." after leaving quincy, the doctor again distinguished himself, by firing into some ducks that he saw in a slough on the missouri side. the negro had encouraged him to shoot and to his intense satisfaction, he accidentally killed one. he made the darkey row in and pick it up, and a few moments later, a gruff voice was heard on the bank: "pull ashore; nigger." looking up they saw a gigantic missourian with his rifle pointed at them and the negro pulled in as though he was trying to escape another lightning storm. "mister; i want six bits fur that er pet duck of mine," the man remarked to the doctor. the price demanded was promptly paid and the doctor was glad to get away from that wicked looking weapon which the missourian handled as though familiar with its use. after that adventure, he lost all interest in hunting. on june nineteenth, the party pulled into st. louis, where they were welcomed by a crowd of about thirty-thousand people, and the screaming of whistles was something deafening. the mayor was on one of the steamboats and extended paul the freedom of the city. he was hospitably entertained, and after a short visit, began the last stretch of his journey, two-hundred miles to cairo, which he intended to finish without a stop; the longest continuous run he ever made. on this trip he had a great deal of trouble with the boat as both the doctor and the darkey would persist in sleeping, after they had been on the route a short time. on one occasion, after the boat had been lost from him for a couple of hours, boyton saw something limping down the river in a lopsided manner, which he could not believe was the boat; but on its nearing him, he saw it was the doctor pulling away as though his life depended on it, with one oar and a little staff to one end of which was fastened a small german flag. both occupants had gone to sleep and lost an oar, and the doctor had utilized the flag staff that had been proudly placed at the boat's stern. they arrived safely at cairo, forty-one hours from st. louis. the doctor poorer in clothes and the darkey much richer in wardrobe, parted with each other and paul at this point. at cairo, boyton met a friend who was going up the mississippi to st. paul on his own private steamer, a handsome little boat fitted up with every luxury. he invited paul to accompany him and knowing no more congenial way to rest, he consented. they made the trip by easy stages stopping at places where good hunting promised and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. the little steamer was full of pets they picked up at various points; coons, foxes, opossum, crows and squirrels. above burlington they ran across somewhat of a snag in the shape of a pilot's union. they were compelled to hire a pilot to see them up the river, (though they were perfectly able to handle the boat themselves), or be compelled to pay a fine of fifty dollars. they were hauled up at the wharf of an iowa village when they heard this, and rather than have any trouble, they concluded to hire a pilot. on inquiry, they learned that there was no pilot in the village except the editor of the weekly paper. he had a license and could do the work if he was so inclined. this placed them in a rather awkward position. they did not feel like asking so distinguished a gentleman as the editor of the paper to pilot them. several conferences were held on the subject; but the stubborn fact still stared them in the face, that the editor was the only man in the village who could do the work and if they proceeded to the next town without a licensed pilot they would have to pay a fifty dollar fine. at last in a fit of desperation, paul said he would call on the editor and see what kind of a man he was, anyway, and if he proved to be all right, he might be induced to join them as a guest, which would be a more polite way to put it. they were willing to give twenty-five or thirty dollars; but they felt a delicacy in making such a proposition to an editor. at any rate, paul called at the office. after climbing a crazy flight of stairs on the outside of a little rheumatic looking frame building, he found the editor seated on a stool at a case of type, setting up some matter for his next week's issue. boyton introduced himself. "well, i'll be doggoned, paul," exclaimed the editor, jumping from the stool, "i'm almighty glad to see you," enthusiastically shaking his hand, "where in thunder are you swimming to now?" "oh, i'm just going up the river on a pleasure trip, with a friend of mine, on a little steamer." "is that so. well, i'm glad to meet you any way. i'll make a note about it next week." "yes, we are having a little pleasure excursion; hunting, fishing, and all that sort of thing and we thought you might enjoy a trip with us a little way." a cunning gleam shot through the editor's eagle eye, as he replied: "um, i guess you want me to pilot you up, don't you?" "well, yes. if you want to put it that way. you might assist our regular pilot if you felt so disposed. i can assure you a good time. plenty of everything on board." "i'll be doggoned if i wouldn't like to go up, paul; but don't see how i can do it. in fact it's impossible. you see i couldn't get out my paper next week. have to disappoint all my subscribers and you know that would hardly be right." "we would have a good time," persisted boyton, "you could take a little vacation, you know, and you might get some one to put out the paper for you." "couldn't do it. there aint a man between here and chicago that could get out this paper. no sir. if i went, i'd have to disappoint all my subscrib--" "well, what will you take to pilot us up?" interrupted paul in desperation, willing to offer fifty dollars if there was a chance. "you see i would have to disappoint all my subscribers and then the advertisers would kick and want to knock off on their bills. taking all those things into consideration, i don't see how i could go up for less than three dollars." of course he was taken along and luxuriously entertained as well as paid the three dollars. the week following the editor's return, his paper contained an item to the effect that "owing to illness in his family, the editor was compelled to disappoint his subscribers last week." at st. paul, boyton began preparations for the longest voyage he had yet undertaken--down the yellowstone and missouri. chapter xxi. there being many dangers to encounter on his contemplated voyage down the yellowstone and missouri, every precaution was taken that might possibly lessen them. general terry kindly sent information to all the military posts and indian agents along the rivers of boyton's voyage and requested them to tell the indians so that they would not shoot him in mistake for some strange water animal. on the th of september, , boyton arrived at the terminus of the railroad at glendive, montana, then a little town made up of rough board houses and tents, which was the highest point on the yellowstone he could reach. he went to a hotel and asked if he could be accommodated with a room. "i reckon you can," said the landlord, "there's only sixty in there now." he was not compelled to occupy that general sleeping room, however, as the superintendent of a construction train provided a place for him in one of the cars. he remained two days in glendive, completing preparations for his journey. besides his usual equipments in the baby mine, he added an ax, a double barreled gun which could be taken apart and made to occupy a very small space. this was a necessary weapon, as he knew he would have to depend largely on his own exertions for provisions through a greater part of the country he was to traverse. these with signal lights, rockets, compass, maps, etc., completed the baby's cargo. as he knew he had three-thousand five-hundred and eighty miles of river to haul under him, he determined to put into practice a theory he had long maintained, that hardship can better be endured without the use of alcoholic liquors. as a substitute, he reduced two pounds of strong black tea to liquid form, to be used as a stimulant when one was necessary, and his subsequent experience proved that his theory was correct. general merritt was in command of the post at glendive and did everything in his power to assist paul in his preparations. during the last evening spent at the post, the general asked him what time he would start in the morning. "at five o'clock," was the answer. "for goodness sake," facetiously replied the general, "don't start so early. at that time our sentries sleep the soundest." the river at glendive is narrow and quite shoal, the channel not being more than eighteen inches deep. the bottom is composed of gravel, but having been solidified by the alkali, is like a solid rock. the channel runs in every direction and is at times diverted by great sandbars strewn with the most beautiful agates, on which no human foot had ever trod before paul touched them. in deference to general merritt's wishes and a fellow feeling for the sleepy sentinels, paul did not start until seven o'clock on the morning of the th. all the inhabitants of the town went to the river bank, among them, the general's handsome daughter, who presented paul with a set of colors, which he flew on the baby throughout the trip. a cannon salute was fired and he began his lonely and dangerous journey. in an incredibly short space of time he was away from all signs of civilization and running very fast on the lonely river. he had been warned at the start to look out for hostile bands of crow indians who were hunting in that vicinity, so he made fast time all day. now and again he struck rapids and had to exercise the utmost care to keep his suit from being cut on the rocks. he saw any quantity of game along the route, particularly black tailed deer that frequently came to the water's edge. he amused himself by blowing blasts on the bugle and watch them dash up the banks and disappear in the timber. that evening he decided to camp on a bar across which a cottonwood tree was lying, that promised an excellent back log for a fire. either shore was heavily wooded. taking off his suit, he gathered a quantity of brush; but was careful not to create too much smoke for fear of guiding indians to his resting place. he cooked supper and leaving a little fire smoldering, put on the rubber pantaloons, using the tunic as a pillow and laid down, the hooting of owls furnishing music to soothe his slumbers. being somewhat anxious about indians, he slept lightly and about two o'clock, he was startled by what seemed to be a canoe landing on the bank near by. he rose cautiously from behind the cottonwood log. instead of a canoe full of hostile indians, he saw a magnificent elk sharply defined against the dark background of the shore, his sides glistening like silver, being wet from his swim across the river. the huge animal was uneasy, throwing his splendidly antlered head back, sniffing the air and pawing the ground. boyton raised his revolver and fired. the great head swayed from side to side and the noble animal dropped to his knees. thinking the shot was fatal, paul seized the hunting knife and sprang forward to silt its throat, having first flung a lot of brush on the smoldering fire. as the flames shot up, the elk rose to his feet and commenced to retreat slowly across the bar. fully expecting to see him fall at every step, paul followed as fast as the cumbersome rubber pants would permit. instead of weakening, as boyton thought he would, the elk gained strength and speed and went crashing through the timber out of all possibility of pursuit. boyton returned disappointedly to the camp, where the blaze of the fire was casting a reflection almost across the river. excited and blown after his chase, he sat down to rest, when to his surprise he saw the paddle in the fire, nearly burned in two. hastily snatching it out, he found one blade utterly ruined and it was anything but cheerful to contemplate his helplessness in those wilds without the means of propelling himself; like a steamer without her wheel. he was not a man to be easily overcome by trifles, however, and he did not helplessly contemplate the situation for long; but seizing a hatchet, he chopped down a small sapling and with his knife, began whittling out another. he worked steadily until ten o'clock next morning before it was completed and then pulled away to make up for lost time. if anything, the river was rougher and wilder than it had been the day before; running between high buttes which formed the upper edge of the bad lands. late that afternoon, just as he had noticed a break in the hills, a tremendous roaring sound struck his ear. the river seemed to quiver and dance. he thought there was an earthquake; but he soon discovered the cause of the unusual commotion. a herd of buffalo was approaching the river. they came down the slope as thick as ants, waded out as far as they could and swam across. the river was perfectly brown with them and they were fully three-quarters of an hour in passing. the last to cross were the calves and a few stragglers. they paid no attention whatever to paul, who was hanging to the root of a tree for safety; he pushed ahead as soon as he could get by. the river for miles was churned to foam by their passage. it was the last great drove of buffalo to cross the river, as they were nearly all killed off in a very short time after. about sundown he decided to camp under some high buttes. he built a fire, removed his dress and then, in his stocking feet, climbed to the heights in the hope of seeing some habitation; but as far as the eye could reach, there was no sign of anything human. the only living thing in sight was a herd of antelope, crossing an opposite hill, and far to the southward he could see the mysterious buttes of the bad lands. returning to camp, he partook of supper and slept soundly all night, pulling away before daylight next morning. for two days he was utterly lonely. not a thing in sight except wild game; but nearing the missouri river, he was suddenly informed that there was something else around. a bullet struck the water just below him. he stood upright, placing the baby between himself and the near 'shore and blew a blast on the bugle, discovering the indian who had fired the shot as he did so, with the smoking gun still in his hand. paul yelled lustily at him but he did not stop to investigate; he sprang away through the woods. late that afternoon, paul saw a number of buildings ahead, with a pole on which a flag hung at half mast. he had reached fort buford. he sent a rocket whizzing in the direction of the fort and in a moment the bank was lined with soldiers who received him hospitably. on inquiring the cause of the flag being at half mast, he was informed that they had just received the news of president garfield's death. he remained at buford two days, a soldier making him a splendid paddle during that time. he also visited the settlement of ree and mandan indians near by, and it was by them he was given the name of minnewachatcha, meaning spirit of the water. the indians exhibited great curiosity and asked all manner of questions. when he started again, the entire garrison as well as the indians assembled on the bank of the big muddy, shouting a good bye as he was borne away. the officers of the fort had warned him about a party of indians that had gone out hunting before they had received word from general terry, and paul did not fail to keep a careful eye on the banks until he reached fort stevenson. the currents and whirls on the missouri were more savage than on the yellowstone and the bends were something indescribable, as he took every point of the compass within the space of a couple of hours. if the yellowstone was lonesome, the missouri, after leaving buford, was doubly so. the scenery was wild beyond expression. great buttes towered darkly on either shore and they were being continually undermined by the swift and erratic current, causing avalanches of yellow soil to slide into the water, so that it was necessary to keep well out in the stream in order to avoid the dangerous banks. there was not a sight nor a sound of human presence in all the vast territory through which the river wound. to see a pile of wood or a stump which the crew of some boat that had wandered up that far when the river was higher, had cut, was cheering amid that awful loneliness. a blast from the bugle was echoed from butte to butte, caught in the recesses of one hill to be thrown back with double force into the solitude of another; until, from far below, the blast was returned with such distinctness, that paul would strain his cars to catch the sound again, sure that his call had been answered by some being down the stream. he began to make thirty-six hour runs, camping every second night. his program was to make an early start, run all that day and night until sundown next day, when he would land. his manner of camping and except on a few occasions, always the same, was to pick out the lee of a bank where there was plenty of driftwood, just before leaving the water, the gun would be put together and one or two ducks knocked over without difficulty as they were so thick everywhere that it required no hunting to get them. these were put on the baby and hauled ashore at the place selected for camp. landing, the suit was removed and a fire built. two stakes across which a stout pole was laid, were driven in the ground and the suit hung up to dry. he then skinned the ducks, drew some thin strips of bacon from the stores of the baby with which he fried the most tender parts of the fowls, cooking enough for breakfast so there would be no necessity of delaying the start next morning. supper was usually eaten with a little hot beef tea. after the evening meal, as soon as the dress was thoroughly dry, it was reversed and a pile of wood gathered for the purpose of replenishing the fire during the night. the softest place to the windward of the fire was selected for a bed, the suit donned, his alarm clock wound, hatchet and arms placed on the deck of the baby near at hand in case of danger. then as night closed in on the lonely buttes, the pipe was filled and he would lie down to the full enjoyment of a most delicious smoke, soon to be lulled into sound sleep by the melodious gurgle of the swift flowing river. often during the night he was awakened by the "honk," "honk" of immense flocks of wild geese on their way to the southward, or by the whistling of wild ducks that flew closer to the water. whenever awakened, he replenished the fire and consulted the clock. he became possessed with an unaccountable desire to push ahead and was jealous of every moment that detained him. this was a feeling he had never before experienced. he knew that winter was following him closely and the river would soon be freezing behind him; yet that could scarcely account for the unusual desire for haste. the moment he heard the whirr of the little alarm clock, he was up. hurriedly swallowing breakfast, he slipped into the river for another thirty-six hours run. driving along one afternoon, he thought he saw a man in a tree and spurted ahead in the hope of obtaining some information as to his location, to say nothing of the pleasure of hearing a human voice. the man proved to be a cinnamon bear standing with its face toward the trunk of the tree, reaching for some kind of nuts or berries. the bear looked gravely at paul as he passed; but paid no more attention to him, though he yelled, blew the bugle and splashed the water. a shot from the revolver, however, caused the big fellow to skin down the tree in a hurry. whenever the wind blew up stream, which in the northern part of dakota was very often, the current turned to a choppy, yellow sea that was trying. while beating against a head wind of that kind one morning, half blinded, he saw a covered boat fastened to the shore, from which a man was emerging, gun in hand. looking up the river he discovered paul and raised the gun to his shoulder. the voyager blew his bugle in a hurry and waved his hand in sign of amity. "wall, stranger," said the man as paul drew up to the boat, "thet er's a lucky horn for you. i took yer fur a bar on er log." paul was invited in and learned that the man was a hunter and trapper. he was exceedingly hospitable and insisted on his guest partaking of a breakfast of beaver tail which is considered a great delicacy, but which the voyager found rather too fat to agree with his palate. noticing that his guest was not particularly fond of the beaver tail, the trapper wanted to go out and get a deer. he said he could get one in an hour without the least trouble, as he would only have to go over the hill and shoot one. the huntsman was as highly pleased to have some one to talk to as paul was and wanted him to remain on the boat for a few days; but the necessity for haste was too pressing, and paul could spare but an hour. according to program, that was the regular camping night. heavy clouds began rolling up before sundown. the high, caving banks on either side were dangerous to approach, as the least touch of the treacherous soil might loosen an avalanche that would bury him. seeing no suitable place to land, he pulled ahead extemporizing songs to cheer himself into the belief that he was not tired. his idea was to run until nearly morning when the chances of finding a suitable place to rest would be more favorable. after nightfall as he was moving rapidly along, singing at the top of his voice, the glow of a fire ahead claimed his attention and stilled his vocal efforts. he was debating whether friend or foe was nears when a gruff voice called from the bank: "hello, there. who are you?" "hello; i'm paul boyton. who are you?" "pull in, pull in." "can't see where you are." "come just around this point, you can get in all right." paul pulled around as directed and saw the fire plainly. three or four men approached the bank, heavily armed and carrying torches made of knots. he heard a whispered conversation, betraying astonishment at his appearance; but he was greeted kindly and invited to the camp. nearing the fire through the woods, his nostrils were assailed by a horrible smell which one of the men explained by saying he had just shot a skunk. there were eighteen in the party, comfortably fixed with two good sized tents and an abundance of buffalo robes. after he had removed his suit the cook prepared an excellent meal and urged him to eat heartily which he was not loth to do. they also had a large supply of liquor, but he refused to touch it and they did not insist. refreshed by the warm meal, he lit his pipe and began to talk. he told the men his object in making voyages and described some of the rivers he had navigated. when he told about crossing the english channel, one of them jumped up, exclaiming: "great snakes! i know you now. i've just been tryin' to place you. why, i read all about you in an almanac." "well," said another, "when i first heard you out there, i thought you was a deserter from the fort. the're about the only people we see comin' down the river this time of the year." the same man also volunteered the information that they were traders, and paul afterward saw that the woods were full of cattle. seeing he was growing weary, the men insisted that he should turn in under the buffalo robes and take a good sleep, though he told them he could stretch out anywhere by the fire and not deprive them of their robes. he did as they desired and the moment he was snugged under the warm covering, the men showed their thoughtfulness by lowering their conversation to whispers so as not to disturb him. at daylight they called him up as he had requested, and after a splendid breakfast he started, with the baby loaded almost to the water's edge with provisions. all the cattle dealers accompanied him to the bank, cordially shook his hand and wished him god speed. about ten days after the above adventure, paul learned that his hospitable friends were notorious "rustlers" the western name for cattle thieves, and that on the very day he left their camp, they had been rounded up by a party of ranchers and every one of them shot to death. during the forenoon after leaving the camp of the rustlers, paul was hurled violently against a snag and his dress began leaking. though not more than twenty yards from the shore, he was filled to the neck with the icy water before he could land. fortunately there was plenty of driftwood near and he soon had a roaring fire. he dried and warmed himself while repairing the damaged suit, which he completed just in time to escape a violent rain storm that followed him all day. toward evening, as he was entering a narrow passage between the buttes, he felt as though he was leaking again and landed on a bar to investigate. he found that though slightly wet, the leak was not occasioned by another rent; but owing to the improper adjustment of the belt. as his matches were too damp to light a fire, he gathered a pile of driftwood and placed one of his signal lights in the barrel of a twelve caliber pistol, made for the purpose; the signal light fitted the barrel like a cartridge and threw out a strong, steady blaze when exploded. he shoved the pistol into the center of the pile of wood and pulled the trigger. instead of lighting the fire he was hurled several feet away, and righted himself with a numb feeling in his arm and only the pistol stock in his hand. it was several minutes before he recovered sufficiently from the shock to discover that he had received no serious injury. he found the pistol barrel had exploded into countless fragments and the wonder was that he had not been wounded by some of the flying pieces. the thought of the horrible predicament he would have been in had some of those fragments struck his eyes and left him blinded in those lonely wilds, almost sickened him. it was a providential escape and he kneeled on the bar and earnestly thanked the almighty. the incident so weighed on his mind, that he concluded not to build a fire, but to push right along. seeing that the belt was properly fastened, he resumed the journey. that seemed to be his unlucky day, however. as night was coming on he was driving along at double speed trying to get up temperature enough to dry his underclothing. between eleven and twelve o'clock, he found himself in a place where there was no current and realized that he had lost the channel. he tried to stand upright to see where he was; but his feet struck the slimy, working mud at the bottom. it appeared to grasp his legs and he immediately threw himself on his back again, putting forth extra exertions to extricate himself. he could make no headway and the mud seemed to get thicker all around and he could feel it touching the under side of the band of his dress. he then realized that he was in one of the dreaded mud sucks that are numerous on the missouri. they are something in the nature of quicksand or quagmire and it is seldom anything escapes from their slimy embrace. seeing no way out, he grew exceedingly nervous. he beat around in every direction without success. now and then he put his hand down and could feel the deadly suction right under him. he had turned and twisted so much that he had no idea where the channel was. the shore seemed near at hand but impossible to reach. a cold perspiration started from every pore as he began to realize the frightful situation. then he thought of the tactics he had employed in the quicksands of the loire and he inflated every chamber of his dress to its utmost capacity. that raised him higher, but he could not get out. then he thought he would remain perfectly still until daylight, when he might see his way clear and get the direction of the channel. and in his helplessness he begged for aid from heaven. while lying there half exhausted, he was startled by a brilliant light. it looked like the blaze of an enormous lamp. he could see it rise as if from the ground below him, and sail silently and solemnly over to the side of a butte where it lodged. the thought occurred to him that perhaps god had sent the light to guide him to the channel, and pointing his feet toward the spot where it was shining with great brilliancy, he made an almost superhuman effort to break through the suction in that direction. to his intense joy, he found that after a little while, he was slipping off the slime and getting into deeper water. when he felt the current under him and knew he had struck the channel, he stood up and gazed in awe at the light which was still glowing against the butte, and he uttered a heartfelt prayer of thanks. boyton is in no way superstitious; but that incident is so strongly impressed on his mind that he often speaks of it. he understands that he saw only an ignis fatuus, a phenomenon easily explained; but he believes that it was sent that night by the great pilot to guide a helpless human being out of danger. two days later he saw the indian agency of fort berthold on a bluff overlooking the river. he sounded the bugle and soldiers and indians swarmed to the water's edge. the latter covered the sloping bank, standing like statues, watching for the water spirit whom they had been told was coming down the river. each one wore a blanket of bright red or blue and they formed a picturesque foreground to the high bluff and sullen fort. as boyton came opposite, he stood up in the water and lighted a detonating rocket. not a breath of air was stirring and the thick white smoke from the rocket hung on the surface of the water, hiding him from sight. indeed, it looked to the indians as though he had disappeared entirely, and when the rocket exploded over their heads with the roar of a cannon, their superstitious hearts could stand it no longer and they rushed up the slope like a flock of frightened sheep, tumbling over one another in their anxiety to get out of the way. that night he stopped with the agent who informed him that the tribe had pronounced him good medicine, (lucky) at one of their pow wows. this opinion of the red men was a source of much annoyance to paul, for they stole every little thing belonging to him they could put their hands on for their medicine bags. the indians belonged to the ree and mandan tribes and have been peaceful for many years. they have one stubborn custom which all the talk of the agents and assurances of the military officials, will not remove. in the early days the sioux were their deadly enemies and made frequent disastrous raids on their villages. though years have passed since they have been disturbed, a lookout is constantly kept. every warrior in the village takes his turn at stated times, to mount an elevation where he stands, like a statue, watching the distant hills for their ancient foes. next day, prior to paul's departure, all the chiefs shook hands with him exclaiming, "how;" which, by the way is a most elastic word. it means good-bye, how-do-you-do, expresses anger, friendship, pleasure, sorrow, hate, insult, and in fact, almost every feeling of the human heart, all depending on the intonation given the voice and the manner of uttering it. about twenty miles below the fort, paul was again shot at, this time by an indian boy whose aim, luckily, was bad. he scampered away when the voyager stood up and shouted: "how, how, cola." that night boyton ran into fort stevenson, where he was kindly entertained, and next morning started on another thirty-six hours' run, beating against head winds and heavy weather through another wild stretch of country. the next camping place was in a sort of circular basin that had been cut out of the prairie by the floods, and was surrounded by high mud banks. he found plenty of drift in the eddy and picked out the driest; but experienced great difficulty in starting a fire with it. he only succeeded in getting sufficient heat to cook his supper; he was not able to coax enough blaze to warm himself. night came down black as ink and he heard the distant yell of a coyote which was answered from all directions by others. in less than half an hour the top of the bank was covered with a horde of the dirty little beasts, snapping and snarling at one another, their eyes shining like balls of fire through the black night. they were frightened away by a shot or two from the revolver; but soon returned, to set up such howls as would freeze one's blood, though they are arrant cowards. paul concluded that the river was more pleasant than their company and he started away, making a two days and two nights' run. he had hard work to keep his eyes open during the night and possibly would have dropped off to sleep but he heard the water swashing against an occasional snag of which he had a wholesome dread. day broke cold and chilly with the same threatening sky as had darkened the heavens the night before. head winds fretted him and he felt cold and miserable. toward evening, utterly tired out, he began looking for a camping place. there was no sound of life. below he saw a belt of timber which looked promising and just as he struck out for it, he was surprised to discover on his right, at the edge of a small bit of prairie, a log cabin. he immediately sounded the bugle, but there was no response. note after note failed to stir up any signs of life, so he headed for the place pulling vigorously to clear the swift current which he was compelled to cross. he reached a muddy shore scantily mixed with sand, which extended a considerable distance from the bank. he landed and on testing the soil with his foot found it unstable. fearing another mud suck, he put the baby down and made his way with quick steps to the cabin, the soil bending under him like rotten ice. he then saw that the hut had long been deserted. grass grew high and rank all around it, while elk and deer antlers, bleached white by the sun, were strewn everywhere and strips of blackened deer skin were nailed over the chinks in the door. pushing his way in he stood in a single room with a big fire place at one side and two rude bunks covered with old hay. paul was delighted with his find. here was a royal shelter from the threatening storm and a famous place to take much needed rest. he felt himself a king in his palace. going outside, he gathered several pieces of wood which he placed one after another on the treacherous soil making a series of steps to the water's edge, on which he could walk without so much danger of sinking. shouldering the baby, he soon had her safely deposited in the cabin and then removing his suit, gathered a big supply of wood which he stowed on one side of the fire place, closed and fastened the door securely, just as the storm broke with considerable fury. over a blazing fire he cooked an excellent supper, which was eaten with a keen appetite, filled his pipe and threw himself on a pile of hay which covered a portion of the floor between the fireplace and bunks, that was boarded. there he reposed, toasting his feet, watching the fragrant smoke from his pipe curling to the browned rafters, smiling at the battling elements outside and congratulating himself on the good fortune that had directed his eyes toward such a castle. he was dozing off into a comfortable sleep, when he felt a movement in the hay under his back. thinking it was a field mouse or a mole, he paid no attention to it; but when the pressure against his back became stronger, he leaped to his feet and was horrified to see the shining, hissing head of a snake rise out of the hay. the reptile elevated its head two feet or more from the floor, swaying from side to side in an angry fashion as though indignant at the unusual intrusion. as it continued to uncoil its hideous length, paul seized a piece of wood and aimed a blow at its head. it quickly disappeared and he could hear it drop somewhere underneath, hissing as it went. removing a portion of the litter, paul found a kind of pit covered with boards, apparently six feet deep, made, no doubt, for storing provisions during the winter. not caring to investigate further, he dropped the board in its place and covered it again. he determined not to be driven from his rest by the snakes, as he had been by the coyotes, so he put on the dress and laid on the floor away from the pit, covering his face as that was the only part of his body exposed, and was soon sound asleep. it was almost sunrise when he awoke. he replenished the fire and cooked breakfast. the storm had passed and the sun was rising in a cloudless sky, promising a fine day. after breakfast, when everything was prepared for a hasty departure, he concluded to find out what had become of his friend, the snake. removing a few boards from the mouth of the pit, he took up a burning brand from the fire and thrust it into the dark hole. the sight sent a chill through every vein. had he looked upon it the night before, he would have trusted himself to the mercy of the storm rather than sleep where he did. the place was alive with a squirming mass of hideous reptiles, hissing and gliding about at being disturbed. they were probably in their winter quarters and the fire had roused them from their torpor. quickly throwing the burning wood amongst them, he dropped the planks and seizing the baby, quitted the den and was in the water like a flash. many miles below, in a sharp bend that headed him toward the northwest again, he saw a column of smoke standing straight up in the sky and knew it was the burning cabin of the snakes. he had not intended to fire the house, but on the whole, was not sorry. during the afternoon of the following day, a lazily moving flat boat attracted paul's attention as it drifted with the current at some distance ahead. it was desirable to see and talk to any human being and he increased his speed. as the flat boat with its unwieldy load was in no particular hurry, he soon overhauled it and a blast from the bugle caused the navigator of the craft to cast his eyes up stream. he gazed curiously at paul for a moment and exclaimed: "wall, drat my buttons, i never thought i would see a human critter goin' down the missouri in sich a rig as thet." he leaned back and awaited the "critter's" approach. he was a tall, raw boned man with a shock of reddish grey hair and tangled beard; a pair of keen grey eyes shown from behind deep, overhanging brows. though he had the appearance of a farmer, he might have been anything from a deacon to a rustler, so far as could be judged by his appearance. the craft he was piloting down was loaded with a miscellaneous collection of household effects and a couple of sad eyed hounds were the man's only companions. paul quickly observed all this as he pulled up and heard the boatman's remark. reaching the side of the boat, he asked: "how far are you going down, stranger?" "ain't pertic'lar how fur so as i git outen this country. i had a farm on this river once; but she's gone now, stranger, gone slick an' clean. river cut under and rounded me out an' i reckon the feller on the other side owns my land now." it is a fact that the constantly changing currents of the missouri, frequently cut into and swallow up acres upon acres on one side only to leave exposed as much land on the other and the owner of the land next to that left exposed, becomes richer by so many acres, while the man on the other side becomes impoverished to that extent. thus the expression is common in the upper missouri country that "a man may go to bed owning a fine farm on one bank and wake up in the morning to find it owned by the fellow on the opposite side." "well, where do you propose going to now?" inquired boyton. "i don't propose goin' anywhare. i only want to git outen this country. she's a holy terror an' i stood it jest as long as i could. all thets left of my farm is on this ere boat an' i don't reckon its goin' to cost me much trouble to take care of it an' locate anywhare outside of this country. this ere cantankerous river has done me up, done me up brown, straanger." "it is a curious sort of river." "cur'ous! wall, i should snicker, cur'ous ain't no name for it. i think god almighty built her all right enough, but i don't think he's made up his mind whar to locate her yit. she's running wild, straanger; she's runnin' wild." he leaned back against a worn mattress with a melancholy sigh and his boat dropped astern. the next day was dark and gloomy and paul felt an unaccountable falling of spirits. the atmosphere was oppressive and he could not overcome a premonition of evil that effected him all day. about the middle of the afternoon, he was startled by a peculiar noise above him. black, heavy clouds hung low on the prairie lands. an ominous roar caused him to look up stream and he beheld a funnel shaped cloud driving to the eastward across the river. in less than half an hour, another one bore down from the buttes and swept across with a terrible roar, about one mile below. while congratulating himself on having been sandwiched between these fearful whirlwinds and thus escaping them, he was horrified to see another bearing directly on him from the west. he made all possible speed to reach the willows on the windward shore; but before he could grasp them, the outer circle of the cyclone struck him and he was enveloped in a whirling mass of buffalo grass, twigs and dust. he grasped the baby close to his sides fearing to be separated and the next moment felt himself lifted with a great volume of water and borne away as if he was of no more weight than a feather. when he recovered from the shock, he found himself stuck in the mud on the opposite shore. it was some minutes before he recovered sufficiently to proceed on the journey, fortunately uninjured. paul was favored with fairly good weather after the cyclone and in a few days ran into bismarck, where he was welcomed and entertained on board the northern pacific transfer boat, by captain wolfolk. he was joined there by the correspondent of the new york herald, mr. james creelman, who was sent out by that paper to accompany him the rest of the way and write up the indian country. after a brief rest at bismarck, boyton continued his course down the muddy river followed by mr. creelman in a canvas canoe. contrary to his usual custom, he did not start until afternoon, in deference to friends in the town, and they had not proceeded many miles until night came on and camp was struck on a muddy bar. they were under way at sunrise next morning, and all day the river ran through a lonely country. ranges of buttes stretched away from the banks until they were lost in the distance and from every gully, purling streams flashed their clear waters into the yellow of the river. the banks were blushing with the glory of autumn and vines hung among the trees like curtains of the richest pattern. game was utterly fearless until frightened away from the water's edge by a blast from the bugle or a shot. a bar was utilized for a camp that night and at ten o'clock next morning, the white tepees of an indian village were seen, and piles of wood along the river indicated the approach to some settlement. on rounding a great bend, fort yates and the standing rock agency were sighted. paul was warmly received by the officers of the fort and entertained in the most hospitable manner. among the notorious indian chiefs whom boyton met at standing rock, were rain-in-the-face, gaul, low dog, long soldier, the young chief flying-by and others. on the morning of october th, they resumed the journey, the banks being crowded with soldiers and indians to see them start. after passing an indian village a few miles below fort yates, the country through which the river twisted and turned, again assumed a lonely aspect. mile after mile was passed without the faintest sign of civilization. sand bars divided the river into five or six different channels and it required careful paddling to avoid the countless snags which stuck out of the water, sullen and threatening. the shores were strewn with driftwood,--logs that had floated from far up the river; red willow and cottonwood trees that had been gnawed from their roots by beavers; horns and bones of wild animals and the countless ingredients of drift piles were heaped on all sides. amid all this desolation the big muddy flowed, making fresh ruins at every turn. that night camp was pitched on the bank and a wild goose was the leading feature on the supper bill of fare. the next day proved another lonesome one. not a single habitation on the rusty hills that rose on either side and hid the fertile country beyond. toward evening a ranch was sighted and they landed to test the hospitality of its proprietor, who proved to be a squaw man, the name applied to white men who marry indian women. the travelers were cautiously received and finally invited to remain over night, on condition that they furnished their own provisions. several comely half breed children sat around the room while supper was being prepared by a good-looking indian squaw. noting the inquiring looks of boyton and his companion, the rancher said: "yes, them's my children and that's my wife. she cost me a tidy bit, too. i gave up a durned good horse fur that squaw." "how long have you been married to her?" inquired paul. "wall, i ain't been married very long to this 'un. i had another almighty good lookin' one, that i lived with some years; but she got tired workin' an' run away to the tribe. this un's a good cook an a hard worker." supper was announced by the woman, who spoke to her husband in the indian tongue, as she had not acquired english. the travelers and the master of the ranch sat at a small table, while the woman and the children retreated to a dark corner near the fire, where they ate. "will not your wife eat with us?" politely inquired boyton. "eat with us!" exclaimed the rancher in breathless astonishment, "i shud say not. do you think i'd eat with a durned indian?" after breakfast next morning, the travelers again took to the river, the squaw man extending an invitation to drop in on him again if they ever chanced up that way. as they passed below the mouth of grand river, the scenery began to change. instead of grassy buttes, the prairies were crowned with clay hills, riven as though by volcanic action and the river flowed under huge cliffs of a peculiar slate color. wild vines twined their tendrils over shores ancient and fossilized, that were trod by tribes whose camp fires had burned out before columbus ever dreamed of the new world. about four miles below grand river, on a bluish cliff that shot out in the water almost at right angles, they landed and found many beautiful specimens of petrifaction--fish retaining their prismatic beauty of exterior. the mother of pear-like shells of the extinct anomite lay about as though the place had once been the bed of a mighty ocean. the shore was covered with agates and looked gray and instead of mud sucks, there were pebbly beaches for some distance. sometimes a bank that had been eaten away by the water, would exhibit strata of clay and soil so variegated in color that they resembled vast cameos. at many places the soil was rich and black for six or seven feet deep, showing its wonderful agricultural properties, while here and there the alkali deposits seemed like frost work. the storms had eaten some of the massive cliffs into forms of castles and there were galleries of arches and columns sculptured by the rain, stretching for miles on either side. at nightfall the scene was ghostly and imagination easily peopled the dark galleries with strange images. at midnight the sky began to threaten rain. paul sounded the bugle again and again in hope of reaching the ears of some hospitable rancher; but only the musical echoes were returned, until he was about to land and camp on the shore when he was hailed by a voice which proved to belong to another squaw man and the weary travelers slept on the floor of his house until morning. the ranchman had several grown up half breed sons who could not speak a word of english. one of them had just returned from a hunt on which he had slaughtered two-hundred buffalos, taking their hides and leaving their carcasses to fester on the plains. the start next day was the beginning of a long and tiresome run to fort bennett. during the afternoon, several geese and ducks were shot and a number of deer were seen in the timber points. when the sun went down, the country was lit up by remarkably beautiful hues, which died away as the moon rose clear and bright, and when it shone high above, the spectacle was magnificent. in some bends of the river the voyagers seemed completely landlocked and allowed the current to carry them safely through the quagmires and sand bars. they floated among a number of white swans and the whole flock flew upward with shrill cries, startling the cranes that stalked in the shadows and sending clouds of cackling geese and ducks whirling up from every gloomy nook and ravine. toward morning a heavy head wind sprang up that was very trying and just as dawn was approaching they entered a bend which was twenty-five miles in length, while the distance across by land, was but four miles. by hard pulling fort bennett was reached at four o'clock in the afternoon and paul and creelman were conveyed to the house of major love, the indian agent, in an army ambulance after twenty-eight hours of incessant pulling. they determined to rest next day and were shown everything of interest at the cheyenne agency, where there were over two-thousand indians. the principle chief was little-no-heart and among the others were rattling rib, white swan, the charger and four bears. these men were all peaceably disposed and belonged to the tribes that farm and raise stock on the reservation. they were driven about two miles from the fort to a tree in which a number of indians, according to the custom of their tribe, had been buried. it was a goodly sized elm that had grown straight out of the ground to a height of twenty five feet, at which point the trunk forked into a dozen gnarled and twisted limbs, the peculiar black bark of which, gave them an unnatural appearance. everywhere among the yellow leaves were perched heaps of decaying garments and bones. in some places, storms had torn away the gaudy funeral paraphernalia and whole skeletons were exposed. all the implements which the dead are supposed to need in the happy hunting grounds, were placed at the side of the corpse and in one branch there was a trunk belonging to the skeleton just underneath it. so many indians had been placed in the branches of this ancient elm, that it was said to have had a more vigorous growth than any other tree in its neighborhood in consequence of the fertilization afforded by the bodies. since the establishment of the agency, however, the indians have not been permitted to keep up this disgusting practice. there was an indian school on the reservation, which was also visited. the officials have a hard time of it to get the children to attend the school. the older ones are opposed to educating the youngsters and do not want them to learn to speak english. some of the boys who were able to speak it fluently were ashamed to do so. they are apt pupils and can comprehend ideas with wonderful accuracy; the government hopes that time will remove their prejudices and so they will become more civilized. the journey was resumed next day at noon, pulling against a head wind; but their long rest gave them strength to contend with it, and the storm died out with the setting sun. some of the buttes below fort sully are shaped wonderfully like pyramids; walls and cones loomed up against the sky and one could easily imagine himself on the nile floating past the sphinxes and temples of egypt. occasionally the voyagers would be startled by the splash of a gigantic catfish as it leaped out of the water, and the loons driven southward by the approaching winter, filled the air with their melancholy cries. shortly after midnight a gale sprang up which quickly churned the water into heavy waves and before daylight a regular hurricane was blowing. acres of fine sand eddied and swirled about in the air, making it impossible to see more than a yard or two ahead and almost suffocating them. by daylight the fury of the storm was so great that the voyagers laid down on the bank to take a much needed rest. when they started again, they found the town of pierre only one mile below where they had camped. a halt was made at pierre for a brief rest, the travelers stopping at a comfortable little hotel. paul had no more than arranged himself to enjoy his pipe before sleeping, than he was called on by the editor, a bustling, little man who was warmly enthusiastic on the resources of the country about pierre. he flitted into the room, introducing himself in a breezy manner, and immediately produced a bottle from his hip pocket and two glasses from the recesses of his coat tails; they were a recent purchase for the straw had not yet been removed from them. his astonishment at paul's refusal to drink was so great that it quieted him for a moment; but he soon broke forth again on the resources of the country, depositing divers samples of what appeared to be black mud on the table, which he called gumbo. after a restful sleep, paul and creelman visited some of the sights of the town, among which was the grave of "arkansaw." he was a desperado whose crimes were said to throw the exploits of rocky mountain ruffians into the shade. something over one year before, "arkansaw," who was then living at fort pierre, expressed a determination to visit pierre, on the other side of the river and "clean out the town." with this philanthropic purpose in view, he crossed the river one bitter cold night on the ice; but found a party of gentlemen, called vigilantes, awaiting him and while he was loading in some liquid courage at the principal bar of the place, some one called him to the door and he was shot full of holes. they buried him next day and the funeral was a very enthusiastic affair. one of the chief executioners, who was also principal mourner at the burial, made the following characteristic speech which was heartily endorsed by the citizens present: "arkansaw was a good feller, boys, and no mistake. he on'y got off his bearin's w'en ther idee struck him thet he cud clean out this ere town. but he were clear game. three cheers fur the corpse." the cheers were given with a will and another vigilante cried: "a tiger fur arkansaw." with that the hero was lowered into the grave which is one of the sights of the town. it was freezing cold the following day when boyton and creelman resumed the voyage, and paul knew the rest of the journey would be a race against the winter which was now following close. he paddled between gumbo hills all afternoon. these black masses are composed of a sticky substance which becomes quite slippery in wet weather. not a blade of grass will grow upon them except here and there where the natural soil rises to the surface. ducks and other wild fowl cowered in the niches or wherever they could gain a foot hold under the banks, to escape the keen wind. the sky was overcast and not a ray of sunshine appeared except a momentary gleam during a slight rain storm which occurred late in the day. shortly afterward, the river narrowed considerably and they were forced to paddle through a field of snags close to the west shore. the presence of the snags was explained by the hundreds of beaver slides which were worn in the muddy slopes, showing that that industrious little animal was far from extinct as commonly reported. the banks were hived with beaver holes and several trappers were encountered who made a business of catching them. night came on cold and cheerless and at midnight they entered the greatest bend of the missouri. two steamboats were sighted aground on a sand bar. paul sounded a salute on the bugle, but received no answer. later on the eastern sky was lighted up with a dull glare which soon brightened into a blaze and they could see a long line of flame and smoke racing across the prairie before a stiff breeze. at the mouth of medicine river, the air was literally clouded with feathered game, hurrying into warmer latitudes from the frosty air of montana and dakota. at nine o'clock in the morning a landing was effected at the elbow of the great bend and breakfast made from choice bits of two ducks, shot just before. about noon they entered a great curving stretch of river, completely walled in on one side with hills, which resembled a vast causeway or an arched cathedral. the rain had worn a wondrous fretwork upon their sides and ribs of blue clay lent this effect to the whole. as paul and creelman had paddled all night without stopping, the approach of the second night found them weary and numb with cold. there were no signs of the crow creek agency and they began to fear that the settlement had been passed in the darkness. at midnight such a gale sprang up that they were compelled to land on the east shore under the shelter of a high cliff. a fire of driftwood was built and supper cooked. next morning the sun was melting the ice on the hillsides and the frost had converted the wild grapes that hung above them into clusters of pearls. but the beauty of the scene faded into nothingness when they found they had withstood the cold of the night, while the crow creek agency was just on the other side of the river. the journey was resumed in silence and a few miles below, a glimpse of the stars and stripes was caught through an opening between two hills as they neared fort hale, where they were heartily welcomed by the officers and were soon resting in snug quarters. they remained at fort hale over sunday. monday broke clear and there was not a ripple on the surface of the big muddy. by this time, mr. creelman had returned to his appetite. at the start he could not think of drinking coffee made from the dirty river water and his stomach turned at the thought of eating blue bacon fried in a pan that was open to receive any little thing that might chance to drop in. he was now so hardened that he could eat a piece of duck washed in the thick water, or would snatch a piece of bacon off of the mud and swallow it with considerable relish. early in the afternoon they reached the little town of chamberlain and the entire population was out on the bank to see the voyagers pass. an hour later, the lower brule agency came in sight. doctor bergen, of fort hale, and one of the agency officials accompanied them for a few miles in a canoe, relieving the weary monotony by their pleasant conversation, while they also gave valuable information regarding several dangerous points below. before reaching white river, boyton frightened an indian who was fishing from a bar out of his wits. he darted away leaving his catch and tackle and they had fresh fish for supper that night. while eating, a skiff containing two indians approached and when within a few feet of the bank, asked paul in good english, if he had any whisky to sell. he drove them away by threatening to sink their boat with a hatchet which he picked up from the deck of the baby. this incident showed that there were still whisky smugglers plying their trade among the indians. a short distance below they heard wild lamentations issuing from a clump of trees near the bank and saw the indians were waking the corpse of a deceased friend. the mourner was attempting to sing; but the rhythm was so rude and incongruous, that it was really a series of howls. at the end of each stanza, the air was rent by a burst of war whoops that were calculated to make one's blood run cold. the weird chanting could be heard on the still night air miles below and the voyagers were convinced that there are many things more cheerful than an indian wake. the night passed without incident and after breakfast next morning, paul had to spend some time in fixing one or two weakening places in his dress. large flocks of gulls were now seen, which was looked upon as a good sign--that they had traveled south faster than the cold weather and would reach st. louis before winter commenced in earnest. strange as it may seem, these birds are found near the head of the missouri river. they start from the sea coast in the spring and follow up the streams for over five thousand miles, retracing their course as winter approaches without ever going astray. that evening paul and creelman were greatly puzzled by the remarkable spectacle of what seemed to be a sunset in the east and west at the same time. at last they discovered that a number of large prairie fires were raging to the eastward and the reflection of the flames on the sky, caused the apparent dual sunset. after midnight it was found that mud sucks and snags were so thick as to render further progress in the dark extremely hazardous, so the voyagers landed under a mud cliff and built a camp fire. they slept soundly until sunrise when they were astonished to see a number of indian women performing their morning toilet at the water's edge. one of them was examining the baby mine in bewilderment and when paul approached them they ran up a path in the side of the bluff and disappeared. he determined to ascertain where they were going and hastening after them, heard a stern "halt." just ahead of him in the path stood a colored army sentinel. the soldier said they were near fort randall, and he was one of the guards over the camp of sitting bull and other indian prisoners of war, who had surrendered themselves to the united states authorities after the disastrous outbreak that drove them over the border into the british possessions. word was sent to the fort of paul's arrival and a conveyance was dispatched to carry him and his companion to the garrison, where they were warmly received. a steaming breakfast was prepared to which full justice was done, after which, under the guidance of an officer, they visited the hostile camp, situated on a level stretch of ground about one mile distant from the garrison. there were thirty-two tepees, accommodating one hundred and sixty-eight people, forty of whom were males over sixteen years of age and the rest women and children. the tepees were arranged in a circle with a large space in the center, around which braves, squaws and almost nude children squatted or lay in the sunshine. one solitary white man was seen standing in front of a tepee. he was dressed in a dark pair of pantaloons, brown duck overcoat and his head was surmounted by a large, broad brimmed, drab felt hat, with a big dinge in each side of it. the white man proved to be allison, the government scout and interpreter. it was he who entered the hostile camp the previous year and brought in the main body of the sioux warriors, led by crow king. the scout was a medium sized man, compactly and strongly built; a peculiar expression of shrewdness distinguished his face, and his eyes were keen and searching. it was allison's special care to look out for sitting bull, the famous uncapapa chief, and after greeting the visitors, he led them into the presence of the dreaded sioux leader. whatever may be said of sitting bull, he certainly had the appearance of a man born to lead men. he was five feet ten inches tall and weighed probably one hundred and eighty pounds. his face was an unusually intelligent one and his forehead large. he was dignified, though modest, as he invited the travelers into his tepee and seemed to feel keenly his condition as a prisoner. a number of indians also entered at the request of sitting bull, among them his young fighting nephew, kill-while-standing, who wore eyeglasses which gave him a student-like appearance. the two wives of the chief shook hands with every one present and exhibited several half naked and very dirty children, heirs of the bull family. among them were twins whom the ladies of the garrison had named kate and duplicate. an instance of the wonderful power of sitting bull over his people and his remarkable shrewdness in retaining that power, the following scene enacted that evening, will illustrate: paul and some of the army officers, with the interpreter were seated in the tepee conversing with sitting bull, when a deputation of indians requested an audience with their chief. it appears they had been arguing among themselves about the mysterious manner in which minnewachatcha floated upon the water without effort, although he appeared to be constituted the same as other men. not being able to reach a conclusion, they referred the matter to sitting bull. the great chief had no doubt been ruminating considerably on the same subject without being able to settle it to his own satisfaction; but he was too shrewd a politician to display the least ignorance of the question. in fact, bull considered no matter too trivial to use as a means of displaying to his people his own great store of knowledge and he would feign to know all about things of which he was ignorant, frequently claiming to have received his information from the great spirit above. so when the question regarding minnewachatcha, was propounded, he took it as a matter of course that when a thing of importance presented itself, his people must come to him for information. his dignified manner would have done credit to a great statesman. facing the deputation, with paul standing at his right, he began a harangue in the sioux tongue, using gestures that were at once impressive and graceful. briefly, his speech as interpreted by allison, was to the effect that he was a great chief, that the great spirit made known to him all things. he knew all about minnewachatcha, who was good medicine. (then he would lightly tap boyton on the shoulder and step back impressively.) in his examination, he had found that minnewachatcha, though he appeared like other men, was not; because he was possessed of no internal arrangements as other men, hence he could float on the water like an empty can. the government sometimes issues canned provisions to the indians. when they extract the contents and throw the can in the water, it floats away, and bull used that as a simile, knowing they would all understand. the deputation appeared perfectly satisfied with the explanation and went away thoroughly convinced that boyton was supplied with no interior mechanism in the way of lungs, stomach, etc. sitting bull conceived a strong friendship for paul and they exchanged gifts, and minnestema, bull's daughter, who was really handsome for an indian girl, looked upon him as second only to her distinguished father in greatness. paul thought to flatter minnestema, and through the interpreter, told her that he had heard her praises sung far up the river, that she was the toast at every fort and that the fame of her beauty had even spread to the great cities of the whites. her copper countenance expressed much pleasure at this; but she dispelled the romance by immediately asking paul in broken english, if he had any plug chewing tobacco. the friendship between paul and sitting bull lasted until the latter was killed in the ghost dance excitement during the winter of . when the old chief was on a tour of the east in , his face lighted up with joy when he met boyton and gave him a cordial welcome. paul left fort randall, october th. after he had encased himself in his rubber dress, the indians could not be induced to shake hands with him. a little girl put her hand into his and all the chiefs, in admiration of her bravery, exclaimed, "how". white dog, scarlet thunder, kill-while-standing and one bull were anxious to see the "water spirit" float away, but they kept at a respectful distance from paul as he stood on the slope before slipping into the water. the afternoon was pleasant and as they glided down on the current followed by the wondering eyes of the soldiers as well as the indians, paul and creelman felt refreshed and vigorous and made good time. just after dark, they passed the yankton indian agency and were cheered. that night was dark, even the stars being obscured by the clouds. a number of prairie fires threw some light on the water, but barely enough to make the passage among snags and sand bars feasible. at daybreak the villages of niobrara and running water were passed. a couple of hours later the weary voyagers hauled up on the bank and cooked breakfast. when barely under way again, a boat containing a rough looking stranger approached. he carried a shot gun and rowed along sometime without uttering a word. though silent, he appeared to extract a great deal of satisfaction from his contemplation of boyton. "what are you going to do with that gun?" questioned paul at last. "kill a goose," was the laconic reply. "oh, i see. you intend to commit suicide," said creelman. not a muscle of the stranger's solemn countenance moved; but he rowed away suddenly and disappeared among the sand bars, followed by a peal of laughter. springfield was passed at noon and the citizens rushed to the bank at the first sound of the bugle. from springfield to bonhomie, the river was smooth and straight. at the latter place it narrowed until the current ran at the rate of six miles an hour and the travelers were swept under the high cliffs on which the town stands in a roaring sea of whirlpools and riffles. cheer after cheer was sent up by the people as they shot past; but the voyagers had no leisure to examine the banks, as they had all they could do to avoid the snags which stuck up everywhere and made navigation exceedingly difficult. eight miles below, a landing was effected on a pile of driftwood; a fire built and supper cooked. it began to rain and they huddled over the fire to keep warm. at three o'clock the fire was out and a heavy fog hung on the missouri. paul thought it was better to keep up the temperature of the body by paddling than to sit in the mud shivering, so they resumed their voyage. the cold rain dashed into their faces in such torrents that it was more a matter of chance than skill that they progressed, as they could not see ten feet ahead. in the midst of the storm, they ran against a snag, but fortunately, no damage was done. at daybreak another halt was made and breakfast eaten. when the mists cleared, they found themselves within sight of yankton, where they were received an hour later by the citizens. leaving yankton, they arrived at sioux city without incident and began to think they were once more within the limits of civilization. they were greeted by shouting multitudes that followed them to a hotel and would scarcely permit them to rest. next morning the same enthusiasm was manifested when they departed. but there were yet two-hundred good miles of snaggy river to paddle before they could enjoy the luxury of a bed at every stage. less than a dozen miles below sioux city the weather grew threatening again and boyton decided not to rest that night, but to push on steadily toward omaha. during the afternoon the wind blew from every point of the compass. he hoped it would go down with the sun, but as night approached, the storm continued to develop. the increase in the speed of the current had the effect of cutting away high banks of timber and as they dashed along, they ran by immense trees sticking out of the water with the leaves yet upon their branches, showing that the channel was shifting. at midnight it began to rain and they tried to land, but failed to find a safe place as the banks on either side were undermined and caving constantly. an hour later they entered "hell's bend" and, the roaring of the water as it tore among the snags was almost deafening. the river was full of obstructions and suddenly boyton and creelman in his canvas canoe, were flung on a snag, the latter losing an oar. regardless of his own danger, paul struggled to release the canoe, when a large wave lifted them both clear. they were unable to continue their way in the darkness and managed to get ashore, where they built a fire and waited until daylight. the little village of tieville was just below and when the villagers heard that boyton was in the river, they flocked to the camp where the weary paddler lay stretched out in the mud asleep, looking more like an alligator than a man. several experienced boatmen remarked that there were only two steamboats on the missouri that could navigate the bend at the point where the voyagers had spent a portion of the night. the journey was resumed at eight o'clock and not long afterward a new oar was procured for the canoe, at decatur. a disheartening struggle against adverse wind followed until noon, when it abated. they passed the reservation of the omaha and winnebago indians during the night. as the voyagers were watching for the lights of blair early that night, a smoky smell directed their attention to a camp fire built at the water's edge. two men were seen about it, one of whom was maudlin drunk and trying to sing. boyton hailed them and was invited to land and get some roast goose. as the night was favorable for paddling, the invitation was declined, when the drunken one raising his gun, yelled: "you wont come in, wont you?" and fired, the shot striking the water within a few feet of paul's head. he had a strong desire to return and punish the fellow, but concluded that to continue down the river was of more importance, besides, he could hear that the men were fighting between themselves and thought they would administer their own punishment. at daybreak the travelers sighted florence and discovered that they were only sixteen miles from omaha and at the next bend they landed to cook breakfast and rest. one of the bores encountered all the way down after striking the towns, was the man who persisted in telling them all about the great flood of "last spring." he was found at every town and village and the voyagers were given all the various details of that flood until it became nauseating, so much so, that it made boyton irritable whenever mentioned. as he lighted a cigar and stretched his limbs on the sand bar to enjoy a rest before proceeding to omaha, he remarked to his companion that they would not be annoyed by flood fiends there; but his confidence was without foundation. in less than ten minutes after he made the remark, a man landed from a little skiff and seating himself on a log, while a gleam of satisfaction shot from his eyes, said: "strangers, you couldn't a laid down on that bar so comfortable and easy last spring. the big flood--" "hop into that boat and get away from here," fairly yelled paul, springing to his feet, "or i'll pitch you into the river, where you can tell your miserable flood stories to the fishes." the man looked at the threatening navigator a moment, boarded his boat and with disappointment lining every feature, pulled a short distance away, then resting on his oars, triumphantly shouted: "it was high enough over thet ere bank." a club was flung at him as he drifted out of sight around the bar. resuming the voyage, omaha came in sight as they rounded the next bend and beheld the union pacific bridge that spans the river. "ah," joyously exclaimed creelman, "we're out of the wilderness. there's the first bridge." at that point a party of friends and representatives of the press, met the travelers and escorted them to the city, where thousands of people lined the bank to extend a welcome. one man, who probably intended to commit suicide, threw off his coat and shouting that he could swim as well as that fellow, jumped in and was drowned. boyton had great difficulty in getting through the crowd to a carriage which conveyed him to a hotel. that evening, after a wash and getting into suits of clothes which they had shipped ahead, paul and creelman met a party of friends and newspaper men in their room and entertained them with an account of some of the adventures of the trip. on leaving omaha after a pleasant rest of a day, the voyagers realized that winter was sweeping down from the northwest with such rapidity that it was necessary for them to exert their best efforts if they would reach st. louis before ice enclosed them. the character of the country through which they now passed was entirely different from that above. while there were still many wild stretches, instead of bare buttes covered with buffalo grass, the hills were loaded with timber, and well kept fences told that instead of a strictly cattle grazing country, immense farms stretched from either shore. at places, corn stalks rustled for miles along the bank and fat swine came to the shore to wallow in the mud. the first night out from omaha, they passed the mouth of the platte river and next morning reached nebraska city. many towns and villages were passed and at every place large crowds were looking for the voyagers and expressed much disappointment when they refused to halt even for a few moments. as they were enjoying their pipes over a splendid camp fire one night some miles above st. joseph, they were somewhat startled at hearing a gruff voice call out, "hello, there." and immediately two men heavily armed, stood by the fire. one was a tall, muscular fellow and the other shorter and slighter built, both having the appearance of men that were not to be trifled with. they were very friendly, however, and chatted pleasantly for some time; inquiring all about the trip down the river and displaying a keen interest in everything concerning it. they were intelligent conversationalists and the two hours they remained in camp passed quickly. on going away they shook hands and wished the travelers good luck. later, paul found out that the midnight visitors were no other than the notorious jesse james and his pal bob ford who afterward assassinated him. the voyagers sighted st. joseph at sunset next evening but having grounded in the mud they did not reach the city until after dark and found the bank jammed with people. they had been watching for them at st. joseph all day. during their stay they were honored by a continual round of receptions, serenades and other entertainments and on leaving, the crowd was just as enthusiastic as on their arrival. they were joined there by mr. baker, a correspondent of a kansas city paper, who had been assigned to accompany them as far as that city. he bad purchased a rather unwieldy skiff in which to accomplish the trip, and started along with them pulling a vigorous stroke. toward night the weather grew very cold. every drop of water that splashed into the boats was quickly frozen. paul's head covering was iced. about eleven o'clock he pulled alongside the boats. "boys," he said, "this is going to be a rough night on you and the best way for you to get along is to pull one hour, turn about and sleep one hour. i will keep time and call you up." the plan met with favor and was immediately put into execution. creelman was to pull the first hour and baker rolled himself in the buffalo robes and laid on the bottom of his boat. he was fast asleep in a moment. at the expiration of fifteen minutes, creelman softly called boyton alongside. "say, captain, baker hasn't pulled all the way do n from bismarck. he's fresh. suppose we wake him up and you tell him it's twelve o'clock," he suggested. paul fell in with the spirit of the joke and after pulling away from the boat, he blew the bugle and aroused baker with the information that it was twelve o'clock. the kansas city man took the oars and creelman rolled up for a good nap. after fifteen or twenty minutes, baker hailed paul, who hauled up. "say, captain, creelman has pulled all the way down the river and is innured to this sort of thing. i'm not. it's just about knocking me out. suppose you call him and tell him his hour is up." "all right," said the captain, and in a moment creelman was rubbing his eyes. "confound it, captain. it seems to me that was an almighty short hour," he said. "it's one o'clock," sung the captain, "time's up. creelman took the oars without the least suspicion that boyton would play a joke on him. "call baker up again," he said to paul after pulling several minutes, and baker was called up accordingly. "by george," exclaimed baker, rubbing his eyes, "i must have slept awfully sound. it doesn't seem to me as though i have been down ten minutes." he went to work, however, and paul enjoyed himself calling them up, each thinking he had the best of the other. at three o'clock, they began to scan the horizon for daybreak. according to the hours they had pulled, it should have been five o'clock. as daylight did not appear, creelman began to grow suspicious and as baker was called up again he saw creelman with a lighted match consulting his watch. "what time is it?" inquired baker. "three o'clock," replied creelman in a mournful voice. "what?" almost screamed baker, "only three o'clock?" they favored each other with a cold, hard look and each seized his own oars again. so they rowed through the bitter morning hours. leavenworth and other towns were saluted, crowds always cheering on the banks, and the following afternoon, almost frozen, they landed at kansas city, where for two miles the bank was a solid mass of humanity. among those who greeted them was an uncle whom paul had never seen, mr. peter behan, a famous guide and one of the first who ever piloted a wagon train across the plains to california. the voyagers were tendered the freedom of the city and were hospitably entertained. next morning the journey was resumed amid deafening plaudits. speed was now the one thing necessary and boyton knew there would be some chance of finishing their trip on skates if they did not reach st. louis ahead of the cold wave that was setting down the river. they passed the united states snag boat, wright, directly after leaving kansas city and in the evening paddled by berlin. wild geese and ducks were still seen in great numbers at places and several mud hens were run down and killed. at camden and many other towns, bonfires were built by the enthusiastic citizens who were determined to catch sight of the hardy navigator, whether he passed by in the night or day. they had now four hundred miles ahead of them. the winter had closed in with great severity. the ice formed rapidly in the river and they met daily snow storms. at the same time the river raised and increased their speed so that they easily made ten or twelve miles an hour. below wellington, at two o'clock one morning, the voyagers mounted a pile of driftwood to rest. building a fire they went to sleep, but toward daylight they were startled to find their camp was afloat, which caused them to resume the journey rather earlier than they had intended. below lexington, paul shot a beautiful pair of white heron measuring seven feet from tip to tip. after passing booneville, the banks of the river became more permanent and they passed through a rich grape growing country, populated mainly by germans, who have established large wine vaults and make much wine. at jefferson city, they were met by the mayor and tendered the freedom of the city. that night they were shown through a wine vault and learned that the soil in that country was as rich and identical with that of the best wine growing districts of the rhine. wagon teams were crossing on the ice along the upper river. paul was much reduced in flesh, and his face bronzed like an indian's. at last, one sunday morning, sixty-four days after the trip was begun, they camped for the last time at the mouth of the missouri where it empties into the mississippi. st. louis was twenty miles away. they entered that city during the afternoon and were given a tremendous reception. this voyage of , miles was the longest and roughest journey boyton ever made. chapter xxii. the long, trying voyage of the yellowstone and missouri gave paul a keen relish for a few week's rest at home. he recuperated so rapidly, however, that when he received an invitation from a friend to go on a hunting expedition aboard a private steamboat, he was ripe to accept it. the steamer was then on the mississippi and paul joining her at memphis, her nose was turned for southwestern waters. they steamed up the arkansas to bayou meta, and were soon far in the depths of the woods. though the water of the bayou was very deep, it was so narrow at places that trees and vines had to be cut away so the boat could push her way through. several weeks were spent in shooting deer and bear, catching coon, opossum and other game. at their manufactured salt licks, they succeeded in taking all the deer they wanted. boyton's love for pets quickly manifested itself and every odd corner of the little steamer had an occupant. among these was a cub bear, captured after killing the old one, by throwing a coat over it. it was a vicious little brute at first, spitting and clawing at everything that went near it, and it seemed impossible to train. after many things had been tried without avail, a stick with some honey on its end was thrust between the bars of the cage. the little fellow struck at it wickedly at first, but noticing the honey on its paws, began to smell, then to taste it. the honey was so much to its liking that it was soon eating out of boyton's hand and in a short time it was as tame and playful as a kitten. tiring of hunting, paul was taken with a desire to feel the current of the arkansas, to which river they returned and with such intention, he packed his dress and tender and proceeded to ft. smith, starting above that city at the mouth of the poteau river, choctaw nation, indian territory, january th, , for a four hundred mile run to pine bluff. the weather was cold and the chill of rocky mountain snow was in the river. the course was rather lonely, winding amid bleak hills and for long stretches there would be small signs of life. at the end of the first day's paddling, he hauled up at a farm house to request shelter for the night. a woman told him that the men were not in yet, but she "reckoned he could stay, though there was no bed." paul told her he did not require a bed and when the men came in they tendered him the comforts of the cabin. after supper the time was passed in chatting over their pipes around a spacious fireplace, in front of which, paul was to sleep. during the evening he admired a beautiful little girl four years of age. she was as shy at first as she was pretty; but finally mustered sufficient courage to edge timidly up to his side and ask: "please sah, gimme a chaw tobacca?" "why, my dear little girl you do not chew tobacco at your age, do you?" exclaimed paul. "yo' bet she do, stranger," answered the father, "she's jus' a chawer from away back," at the same time giving her a goodly sized piece of the weed. the mother, who was attending to score domestic affairs, overheard the conversation and turning to paul, remarked: "now, stranger, do yo' raily think uts right t' give a chile like thet tobacca?" "decidedly i do not," said paul. "look ut thet; look ut thet, dan," she exclaimed triumphantly, addressing her husband, "even a stranger don't think uts right. what hev i allus been a tellin' yo'?" the farmer laughed as he replied: "oh, she'll git over thet w'en she gits sixteen an' goes sparkin' an' wants t' whiten her teeth." leaving the hospitable farm house with the tobacco question still unsettled, an early start was made for a run to ozark. before reaching, that place, he was driven past a high wood-covered butte when he heard the rhythmic melody of a plantation song and observed an old negro pulling across the stream below. for the purpose of a little amusement, paul stood up and shouted: "aha, i've got you now." the darkey facing around, caught sight of the curious figure. the look of fright which shone on his black features, was woeful as he struck for the shore, yelling: "'taint mine; 'taint mine, sah; it's de kunnel's, 'taint mine." when within four feet of the shore, he sprang out, leaving the dugout to drift. not wishing to frighten the darkey into the loss of his boat, paul pulled in and ran it up on the bank. he then noticed that she had a cargo of stone jugs filled with "arkansaw lightning," held in with corn cob stoppers. the negro was engaged in the missionary work of smuggling the liquor to indians on the reservation. as paul swung off into mid stream, he saw a pair of frightened eyes shining at him from among the bushes. that night he rested at ozark. for two days following, the weather was very bad. the first night he was compelled to camp on a sand bar for a few hours and build a fire to thaw himself. the rest so invigorated him that he paddled into the night of the second day. sleet coated his dress until he resembled a cake of ice and his paddle became so thick that he could scarcely handle it. about nine o'clock he went ashore and found a cabin, the light from a blazing fire within shining through the chinks between the logs. he hammered on the door and was invited to enter. as he pushed in, a line, of black, kinky heads raised from beds on the floor, and several pairs of eyes gazed inquiringly in the direction of the door. when the glistening black figure was discovered, some shrieked and covered their heads. a powerful negro jumped up and seized an ax, moving rapidly toward boyton with it uplifted. "what's the matter with you?" said paul, stepping back a few paces toward the door, "put down that ax. i am on a trip down the river and seeking shelter." after some persuasion, the negro put the ax down in a handy corner and gave his queer guest permission to sleep in front of the fireplace, while the family peered at him curiously from under their bed clothes. at daylight they all crawled out to see him start and they formed quite a large gathering. it was the sight of a lifetime with them and their yells of delight were unrestrained as he pulled away towing the baby, which was covered with ice. as boyton approached dardenelle, a party of reporters met him in skiffs. he was informed that a steaming hot breakfast was prepared for him at a hotel and invited to stop; but feeling in good shape, he thought he would go ahead. mr. james k. perry, a merchant of dardenelle, whom paul had met in new orleans, rowed up and was so pressing in his offers of hospitality, that the voyager could not refuse. a perfect mass of humanity had gathered at the wharf and a carriage was there to convey him to the hotel. he was soon divested of his rubber dress and made quite comfortable. an invitation from mr. perry to dine at his house was refused because of lack of clothing; but the hospitable citizens would not allow a little thing like that to stand in the way of his pleasure, and they attired him in a brand new suit from head to foot. the pantaloons had to be held up as he walked along the streets and were the source of much amusement. there were numerous other guests at the dinner and he spent a most pleasant day and evening. next morning was dark and threatening when he resumed the voyage. he hoped to make lewisburg that night. toward evening he again ran into rain and sleet which almost blinded him and the numerous islands made it difficult for him to keep the channel. seeing smoke pouring from a cabin that stood dangerously near the brink, he sounded the bugle in hope of stirring up some one from whom he could glean a little information. a frowsy individual sauntered out, glanced over the river and without displaying the least interest, was proceeding to arrange some crocks and pans about the cabin door. "hello, my friend," shouted paul. the man slowly turned and ramming both hands into his breeches' pockets, calmly eyed the figure in the water. as he was turning toward the cabin again, without a word, boyton asked: "how far is it to lewisburg?" "its a putty good distance," slowly answered the man. "how far do you call that?" "i don't never call ut as i knows on." "look here, my good-" "ain't i a lukin?" "well, is lewisburg one mile, five miles or a thousand miles from here?" "i reckon its one o' them numbers." paul was beginning to feel out of humor, but realized that he was conversing with a lineal descendant of the "arkansaw traveler;" he determined to get some information. pointing to an island just below, he again put a question: "which side of that island shall i take?" "any side thet you're a mind to." "on which side is the channel?" "sometimes on one side, sometimes t' other." "which side do you consider best?" "i aint 'tendin' t' other people's business." "which side do the steamboats take?" "its owin' to what captain's on." "wouldn't you kindly advise me which side to take?" "reckon i bes' not." "why?" "frien's o' mine on both sides wants to see you." "plague take your incivility; how long will it take me to reach lewisburg?" "'ts owin' ter how fas' yo' travel." "how long does it take you to go?" "i don't never go." "how long did it take you to come from there?" "tuk me right smart while; but the team broke down." "confound it. do you know what i think of you?" "nothin' thet ud spite my appytite." "i think you are the blamdest fool in arkansaw." "know what i think o' yo'?" "what?" "thet yo're the devil come up ter cool himself off." the fellow deliberately entered the cabin and closed the door, and paul luckily struck the channel around the island. the arkansas river cuts under its banks much after the manner of the missouri. several places were seen where they had been undermined and sunk carrying sheep down that had been grazing near the edge, leaving the poor things hemmed in on one side by high banks and on the other by water. there they would starve rather than take to the river to get out. whenever boyton ran across such places, he would either drive the sheep off or tell some one below to go up and get them. four days from the time of starting, he ran into little rock, the state capital, where he was pleasantly entertained. when the voyage was resumed, he was accompanied by opie read, the famous humorist, who enjoyed the river experience. they amused themselves during the day with the negroes, many of whom thought boyton was a drowning man floating along. they would run close to the water's edge and yell at read, who was pulling leisurely behind in a row boat. "hyah, man. doan yo' see dat ar man drownen? g'on an pick him up." "not much, i wont pick him up." opie shouted, "i'm going to let him drown." "hi, eph; git yo' boat. drownen man in de ribber. spec he done drownded now," excitedly yelled one old auntie to a broad shouldered darkey who was running to the bank. then as both boat and boyton swept by, they could hear her say: "dere's de onliest man ebber i see dat'll let a fellah human drownd afore his eyes. him de wickedest man in de worl'." one old negro with an armful of ear corn, dropped it with a look of horror and stood as if petrified, as far as the voyagers could see him. below little rock as night came on, a small steamer was encountered tied up to the bank and paul and his companion spent the night aboard of her. it was that night that boyton succumbed to something worse than rapids, quicksand or waterfalls. they had lighted their pipes after supper and were lounging about the cabin talking of their adventures, when paul asked read what kind of smoking tobacco he used. "old natural leaf," said opie, "have some?" "don't care if i do." the pipe was refilled and puffing away, paul continued relating some adventure. it was an interesting experiment to his listeners and they watched anxiously. they knew that that kind of tobacco must form a man's acquaintance gradually. it will brook no sudden familiarity. the smoke curled in fantastic wreathes about boyton's head and the stories became less thrilling. his eyes gradually became yellow and his swarthy countenance turned a pale green. the words tumbled over one another and, got mixed up woefully. "look here," he said, struggling to keep his eyes open, "where did you get that tobacco?" "in little rock." "whew! its stronger than the falls of the arno," and turning over, he slept, perhaps to dream of red oak tobacco sticks, and bare legged boys with green hands, killing worms. he succumbed to "arkansaw natural leaf." next morning they pulled out for pine bluff, the last run of the voyage. above the city, the steamer woodson met them with a party of excursionists on board. capt. f. g. smart, of jefferson, was detailed to deliver an address of welcome to boyton as soon as they met him. the captain was an enthusiastic admirer of the voyager and had taken numerous doses of "arkansaw lightning" for the purpose of inspiring his oratorical powers. as boyton swung into sight, the captain sprang upon something laying near the rail and throwing both hands up as though a highwayman had him covered with a winchester, he began his speech. "standing here on this sack of salt," he roared, "i say standing here on--" "git offen me," yelled a colored roustabout who had laid down and upon whom the captain had planted himself. "get out of my way then," shouted the orator, "don't throw yourself in the attitude of a rostrum unless you have credentials. i say, ladies and gentlemen, we have assembled on this boat, to come up to meet a man coming down. it is my principle never to shove a man down; but on this occasion, i stand merely as a spectator. as a rule, a man goes down on whisky, but this man goes down on water. may we all meet on that beautiful shore, where every man can show a life saving suit of clothes." the captain's voice was drowned in a round of cheers and the sound of the steamboat's whistle, as she was headed down stream to escort boyton to pine bluff, where he was warmly received, completing his voyage of four-hundred miles in six days. again embarking on his friend's little steamboat, a cruise down the mississippi to the mouth of red river followed, where some time was spent in hunting and then the boat was headed for new orleans. for two years following, with the exception of a run down the rapids of the james river at richmond, boyton was engaged in business. during that time he became an agent of the haytien insurgents, as a purchaser of supplies and he barely escaped going out on the ship lapatrie, which was captured and all on board executed by order of hippolyte. in , paul decided to give up his adventurous life, and settle down. he continued in business on shore until , when his health became so affected by confinement that he was advised to resume his old outdoor life for a time, to recuperate. so he concluded to limber his joints with another voyage. on looking about for a course, he found he had made all the rivers in america that promised adventure, except those of the far west. he went to san francisco and prepared for a run down the sacramento from red bluff, four-hundred and fifty miles. he entered the water, march th. it was a beautiful morning and the people from the town and surrounding country gathered to see him start. a boat load of reporters accompanied him, intending to go as far as tehama. as paul felt his well beloved element under him again, he answered the characteristic california salute of the good people of red bluff, with rockets and bugle and was soon carried out of sight. when the noise of the town was left behind, the newspaper men were surprised to see him throw his paddle in the air, and catch it with a whoop of almost boyish pleasure. he answered their inquiries by saying that he could not restrain his joy at feeling himself at home once more. directly after the start, the baby was discovered to be leaking. her long sojourn ashore had subjected her to the malevolent attacks of rust, which had eaten a small hole in her bottom that had been overlooked. how to stop the leak was a serious problem. no solder was obtainable. they used some of the tar off the bottom of the reportorial boat; but it would not stick. the dilemma was overcome by a young gentleman in the boat who had been suspected of a tendency to ape the fashions of the effete east. when he blushingly produced a slug of chewing gum, they were satisfied that their suspicions were well founded. the gum proved efficacious, however, and the leak was plugged up. tehama was reached about noon, where they were saluted by volleys fired from shot guns, rifles and revolvers. paul hauled up and sent a messenger for glycerin and oil to use on his face which began to feel the effects of the burning sun. as he lay in the dock answering a shower of questions, about his name, age, fighting weight etc., an old gentleman stepped to the front and said: "captain, why don't you come out? tehama is famous for its widows. they are handsomer and more of them than will be found in any other town of her size in the world, and if you ain't married, i guarantee you will be in an hour after you're ashore." the widows present shyly smiled. after being supplied with the glycerin, he left the newspaper men and struck away alone. he kept on all night and passed chico bridge early next morning. before sun-rise he noticed a tree that was strange and wonderful. it was full of what appeared to be large white clusters of feathery-like blossoms, which swayed to and fro as though alive, yet not a breath of air was stirring. his wonder at the beautiful spectacle was so great, that he ceased moving the paddle and drifted with the current toward the snowy looking tree. when opposite, he saw it was a roost for some sort of water fowl. he shouted and a cloud of white heron rose in the air and soared away. he now entered a stretch of river that was very lonely. the ranches were far away from the banks. the sand bars were full of geese, ducks and heron, while many buzzards sailed gracefully above. he noticed one large flock of these scavengers, that hung over him and which gained in numbers as they moved along, no doubt mistaking him for a dead body, floating. he had commenced the voyage on friday and the old sailor superstition affected him. he did not like the persistence with which the ill-omened birds kept him company; but they were far out of range of pistol shot. he grew so nervous looking at the buzzards that he could see nothing else along the river. then he thought of a plan to get rid of them, which he immediately put into execution. taking a powerful detonating rocket from the baby, he fired it into their midst and it bursted above. they darted away toward the sierras and he was annoyed by them no more. there was one companion he could not get rid of, however, that was the snow clad peak of mt. shasta. it appeared ever present and always at the same distance. he would think he had left it in the rear, when at the next bend of the river, it again loomed up in front of him. he saw it at sunrise and at sunset for days, gloriously colored as the variations of light bathed its towering sides. at grimes' landing, a sunday school picnic was encountered. arches and banks of flowers, made bright a beautiful grove. on one arch were the words, "baby mine," spelled out in roses. boyton had not intended to stop, but could not resist getting out and shaking hands with the little ones. that night he stopped at a wood cutter's camp. next evening he was met by a gentleman in a boat with a servant, who extended a most cordial invitation to spend the night. they repaired to an elegant residence on the river bank and the gentleman proved to be the hon. john boggs, proprietor of one of the great ranches which make california famous. he was profuse in his hospitality, sending messages by his private wire to sacramento and san francisco. his ranch consists of eleven thousand acres, requiring hundreds of men to work it; herds of cattle and droves of sheep, numbering into the tens of thousands, graze on the ranges. ocean vessels are docked at his warehouses and loaded for foreign ports. boyton always remembers the night spent at that california ranch as one of the most pleasant of his life. next day colusa was reached and for some distance below, people were numerous on the banks, school children sometimes running along a mile or more. at one place a tall, raw boned woman, who looked as though she possessed a mind of her own, gathered up her skirts and trotted along the bank for same time, talking to boyton. she wanted to know if he lectured. "no; i am taking notes so as to write a book," replied paul. "well, you're just the fellow i'm looking for. i want you to take notes about the slickens that are filling up this river and go for the miners, good and strong, who make them." with that she dropped her skirts and pointing her index finger impressively at paul, concluded: "now don't forget that, young fellow," and turned to retrace her steps. the slickens spoken of by the strong minded female, is refuse from the mines filling the channel of the river and ruining navigation. it is produced by hydraulic mining, powerful streams of water washing the dirt down from the hills into the river. boyton found the slickens very trying to the eyes. at the mouth of feather river he met a boat load of sandwich islanders, who were up that far fishing, they kept along with him for several miles and he found them to be very intelligent companions. that night he landed at a ranch and sounded his bugle. no one answering, he climbed to the top of a high hank and discovered a number of chinamen coming toward him. at sight of him they all returned to the house in a hurry and paul knew it was useless to apply for accommodation there. he entered the river again and paddled on until he reached another ranch. at the call of the bugle, a man came out and in answer to boyton's request for lodging, said: "why, certainly captain, glad to have you come in. i've heard all about you." on entering the house, the host explained that he was a bachelor and all alone, at the same time bustling about, baking biscuits and boiling eggs. next morning there was the same liberal supply of eggs and as paul was devouring a goodly share of them, the bachelor remarked: "you needn't think, captain, that because we had eggs last night and this mornin' too, they're cheap. no, sir. why, 'pon honor, cap, them eggs is worth fifteen cents a dozen in sacramento." the captain assured him that they were most nutritious food and that he heartily enjoyed them. before resuming the voyage that morning, paul discovered, that back of the ranch, thousands of acres of splendid land was overflowed and rendered useless by the slickens falling into the sacramento. from the egg producing ranch, the river took on the appearance of a southern bayou. trees and festoons of vines hung in the water, which was clear and beautiful and numbers of water snakes were continually crossing and recrossing. seeing one handsome yellow fellow, paul paddled after and captured it. it made no attempt to bite; but coiled tightly around his wrist and hand. it was three feet long and beautifully marked. he stowed it in the baby and it remained his companion for the rest of the journey. groups of chinamen were occasionally seen, fishing from the banks or the branches of overhanging trees. some of these stared at him while others ran away. during the afternoon, he saw two celestials in a tree. he silently ran under them and uttered a terrific yell. one of the chinamen was so frightened that he let go all holds and dropped into the water, while his companion remained in the tree, his teeth chattering like castanets. further down paul encountered beating head winds and suffered from the slickens. his face was badly burned and the skin peeled off in flakes. on april st, he reached sacramento and the usual hearty california reception was tendered him. for five days after leaving that city, the going was heavy and tiresome, having struck tide water directly below. the runs through suesun and san pablo bays were very trying. saturday, april th, he made john's lighthouse at the head of san francisco bay, and remained there until four o'clock in the morning, intending to start on the last run to san francisco on the ebb tide. he made angel island at seven o'clock, where he was compelled to stop because the tide as it then was, would have carried him through the golden gate to the pacific. when the tide turned, he again struck across the bay and was met by a fleet of boats to escort him in. foremost among these was the yacht of mr. matt. o'donnell. calling to him, boyton said: "halloa matt, i have a present for you." the boat was pulled alongside and paul took the yellow snake out of the baby, putting it into his friend's hand so quickly, that the latter did not have a chance to see what it was. the reptile coiled about his wrist and with an exclamation of fright, he shook it off on the deck much to the consternation of those aboard. as boyton sheered off, o'donnell, assuming an oratorical attitude, called out: "thanks for the snake." before paul could reach his destination, the wind and tide suddenly changed and he was swept in the direction of the ocean, so he hauled around and headed for sauscilito where he became the guest of the yacht club for the night. next morning he made his way across and landed safely at san francisco, after a laborious journey of twelve days. he will long keep green in his memory the royal hospitality he received from the californians. paul next decided to go to salt lake city and try the waters of its wonderful inland sea. after a few day's rest in san francisco, he found himself on the shore of the great salt lake. he had been told that the water was so dense that he would be able to walk on it in his rubber dress; but actual experience did not verify the assertion. in fact, he could discover but little difference between the water of the lake and that of the ocean. he might, possibly, float higher on the surface of the former, but very little. he found the water as clear as a crystal; but a veritable dead sea so far as animal life was concerned. there is no life in its depths except little worms that are found around the bottom of piles or on pieces of submerged wood, and these turn to flies. wishing to prove to his own satisfaction that fish would not live in the lake, paul procured some trout and turned them in. the moment they touched the briny water, they died as though shot by an electric current. on the second evening after his arrival, paul entered the water to paddle out to antelope island, about fifteen miles from shore. he was warned of danger in case of a wind; but thought nothing of it at the time. after slipping over the glassy surface of the lake for about ten miles, he noticed a heavy cloud coming down from the surrounding mountains and in a short time it was churned into a short, choppy sea by a squall blowing thirty or forty miles an hour. the waves were not very high, but slashed about him in such a manner that his eyes, nose and mouth were filled with the salty foam which caused intense agony. he still struggled for the island, hoping to reach it before he would die of suffocation. he steered by the sound of the waves washing against the shore. at last he heard the flap, flap, of the breakers and he was swung against the rocky coast of antelope island. he knew that no human being lived there; only a flock of sheep that had been taken thither in flat boats to graze. he also knew there was something else on the island for which he longed--fresh water. he groped about for a time until he could open his eyes to see a little and fortunately discovered a spring not far from where he landed. the gale continued all night and he dare not enter the water while it prevailed. next morning a little steamer that was sent out to hunt him, found him on the island and conveyed him back to shore, pretty badly used up. he remained at the lake some time after, but did not make any more excursions. during the month of march, , paul, who had returned from a short visit south, was feeling a trifle malarious. regardless of the time honored and tested remedies for this complaint which were prescribed freely by his friends, he believed that the only thing for relief was a run in the ocean in the rubber dress, with the baby as his sole companion. he also felt the necessity for a practice voyage before going down the hudson, a trip which he then had in view. getting his paraphernalia together, he boarded the pilot boat, fannie, on a wednesday, and on saturday, attired in his dress, he slipped over her side with the intention of paddling to the jersey coast, which he hoped to strike in the vicinity of cape may. the weather was not very cold when he went overboard and the sea was fine and smooth. bye and bye the wind commenced to blow off shore and as he wanted to go to the westward, he had a hard fight against it all day and night. he sighted a great many vessels and signaled them to pick him up; but they did not see him for they all continued on their way. the constant battle against the stiff land breeze began to tell on him toward morning. the compass would not work and he was compelled to determine his course by the stars. the morning sun showed him that he was out of sight of land. during the forenoon, the wind shifted to the east which was more favorable, though he could take but little advantage of it on account of being stiff and sore from the severe buffeting to which he had been subjected during the night. all day sunday, he continued working to the westward. about four o'clock he sighted the smoke of a steamer to the south and pulled across her course. he fired three rockets to attract her attention and waved his flag, the "union down" fastened to the paddle. his heart sank when she glided by apparently without seeing him; but to his joy, after passing a short distance she stopped and he saw a boat lowered. he was taken aboard and learned that she was the william lawrence of the norfolk and baltimore line, captain m. w. snow. when picked up, he was sixty miles off sandy hook. captain snow and everyone on board treated him with the utmost kindness. directly after getting on board he turned in and slept for twelve hours. he landed at providence on monday, and he immediately wired his friends in new york that he was all right. the contemplated voyage down the hudson river, was delayed on account of ice; but on the fifth of april, a freshet broke it up and the voyager started from hudson, accompanied by several representatives of the new york papers, who occupied a boat which was in charge of the famous oarsman, wallace ross assisted by george whistler. the voyage was not of unusual interest, outside of the difficulty of forging ahead through the ice floes and considerable suffering from the cold. on that account and from the fact that the party were compelled to watch for favorable tides, progress was somewhat slow. they were enthusiastically received at every town and village and at several places, physicians advised boyton to abandon the trip, fearing that the exposure would prove fatal but he made light of their fears. one of the most interesting sights was encountered in the middle of the tappan zee. an enormous tow of one hundred canal boats and five schooners was passed, drawn by four powerful tugs. six hundred people inhabited this floating village and they stood on the decks of their migratory houses, going north with the spring, like the ducks, and hurrahed, and each tug screamed a salute. the oyster dredgers cheered and schooners changed their course to hail boyton. less than seven days from the time of starting, paul landed in new york, having been escorted down the north river by a large party of friends aboard a gaily decorated tug. fully , people saw the finish. to wallace ross, who rowed the reporters' boat, much of the success of the trip was due. he watched boyton with the anxious care of a trained nurse. he stood by regardless of his own fatigue, keeping a careful eye on the tides and was ready at all times to exert his skill and muscle for the success of the undertaking. george whistler, too, who has been boyton's attendant for years, withstood the fatigues of the journey and attended manfully to his duties. in march, , the captain had a thrilling experience in lake michigan. for the purpose of reducing his weight, he began to take short runs through the icy water. on the th he left shore, intending to paddle a few miles out in the lake. a fresh west wind was blowing. he pushed through the ice for some time and then encountered great floes onto which he climbed. heavy clouds obscured the sun and the wind had gathered the ice together. he struggled for a time with what he judged to be the western border of the field and then ran into a sort of pocket. through this he pulled until he again encountered floes. a heavy fog now shut down on the lake and all trace of land had vanished, and on stopping to take his bearings, he was horrified to find that his compass was lost. there was nothing by which he could determine his position or the direction of the city. he began to get drowsy from the cold and knew he would perish if he did not labor incessantly to keep up his temperature. he concluded that he only had to pull away from the ice to reach chicago, and for at least five hours he worked in what he considered to be the right direction. still there was no sign of the city. then he changed his course and pulled with all the energy of desperation. the ice gathered about him again and when night came, he was fighting it for his life. sometimes he would dodge the drifts, at others he climbed upon the cakes and crossed them. he got a flash view of the moon when it rose and then saw that he had been working wrong. he had crossed the field in the morning when he got into what he thought was an opening and all the long day he had been driven toward michigan. the turn he had taken sent him south. observing the moon he changed his course, and in a couple of hours saw the glare from the furnaces of south chicago. taking his bearings from them, he sighted the lights at the water work's crib, where he arrived at midnight and aroused captain mckay by a blast of the bugle and was hauled up. he was given refreshments and retired. he had been seventeen hours in the water. during the spring, paul made a run of eight hundred miles down the ohio from wheeling to evansville for amusement, and another of two-hundred miles down the missouri from st. joseph to kansas city. late in the winter of , he again visited the pacific coast. his object was the capture of sea lions which he knew to be plentiful on the shores of oregon and washington. he went to astoria and located a large rookery below tillamook head; but found it could be reached only by a most difficult trail. he made up his mind to take chances although it was not according to his idea the best mode of traveling. it was not until the th of march that everything was in readiness and on that day he left astoria accompanied by his assistant, fully supplied with nets and everything necessary to effect the capture of the lions in the easiest way. they went to seaside where they secured pack horses and launched boldly into the trail for tillamook. this route proved to be all that had been described and a great deal more that had not been mentioned in the way of roughness and almost insurmountable difficulties. they occupied eight long and weary hours in traversing seven miles to a ranch on the coast which they proposed to make their headquarters. to add to the unpleasant features of the trip, they were tartly received by the owner of the ranch when they arrived there at night worn out and hungry. the proprietor was very ill natured and did not conceal his aversion to entertaining them. boyton made several polite attempts to engage him in conversation; but was answered with frowns and monosyllables. there was no other place where food and shelter could be procured and they were obliged to put up with it. at supper some very fine meat graced the table and was more than relished by the hungry sea lion hunters. paul thought he could reach the rancher's heart through praising the excellence of his viands, and innocently asked: "is that elk meat, sir?" the man became very much excited at the question and angrily answered: "no, sir. do you suppose i would kill elk out of season, and a law against it at this time of year?" paul apologized for having unconsciously insinuated such a thing and remarked that if he was in the woods with a gun and saw an elk, he would be likely to shoot it. "it would be wrong to violate the law in that way, young man," replied the host, "and i would be the first one to inform on you if i caught you at it." next morning while boyton was out looking over the position of the seal rocks, his assistant informed the rancher who he was. a change took place at once in the man's demeanor. he proved a most generous and entertaining host. "why, captain," said he, "i thought i knew you. i helped you take off your suit once at hock ferry, liverpool." the sullen host became bright and cheerful and wanted paul to go out elk hunting with him every day. his strange conduct at first was explained; he had been under the impression that his visitors were spies in search of violators of the game laws. the nets were finally unpacked and boyton with his assistant and three men from the ranch, started for the rocks. as they proceeded through the forest, they could hear the lions' bellowing above the noise of the breakers. they reached the cliff which towers several hundred feet above the beach, and from which they had a glorious view of the rocks and rookeries below that were literally alive with sea lions. finding a break in the cliff, they made an easy descent. paul then donned the rubber dress and taking one of the nets, succeeded in passing the first line of breakers without much trouble; but he reached the island with considerable difficulty. his appearance did not seem to create any alarm among the horde of mammals on the rock, even when he approached near them. he went around the island to see where he could make the safest landing. having gained the shore he cast loose the net and then worked cautiously toward a promising young lion, about a yearling, that was sleeping, and had no difficulty in throwing the snare over it. it beat around for a time, but quieted down as the running line was pulled that tightened the meshes. making fast, paul returned to the mainland where he joined a rope to the line of the snare and gave the signal for his assistants on shore to pull away, at the same time pushing the captured lion off the rocks. it snapped viciously at him but did not bellow or make a noise, and was landed without disturbing the others. in half an hour another was captured and landed by the same process and two others quickly followed. just before capturing the last one, paul crawled into a large ravine where there were a number of lions. there was a magnificent one, about five or six years old and fully developed; but however much boyton would have liked to capture it, he did not have confidence in the strength of the net or his own ability to hold it. he was going to make the attempt, nevertheless, when in his excitement, he arose from a recumbent position and frightened the prize away. he says he can never forget the malevolent look of those green eyes as the lion rolled off the rock and snapped at him. the fourth net was followed ashore and they began to devise means to get their catch up the face of the cliff. they first tried to pack them up; but the effort was futile as the earth gave way under their feet. finally three men went to the top of the cliff and let down a half inch cotton rope which was attached to the leading string of one of the nets. the men pulled and succeeded in lifting it half way up, when it caught on a stunted bush that grew out from the rocks. they tried hard to free it, when the rope which had been worn weak in places, from contact with sharp rocks, parted and the sea lion dropped like a shot and was smashed into a jelly on the boulders one hundred feet below. as darkness was coming on, with a storm brewing, they decided to leave the other lions in the nets where they were until morning, when they could get the horses to the edge of the cliff to draw them up. that night, a terrible gale, which left many wrecks on the coast, sprang up and next day the trail was impassible by reason of fallen timber. late in the afternoon, they reached the beach again and finding it impossible to pull the three lions up, or to get them to civilization if they did, paul took off the traps and liberated them. at daylight next morning, they started back across the trail to seaside. it was in a much worse condition than when they went in, and they were until dark traversing the seven miles. every time they missed stepping on a root or stone, they sank in the mud to their knees, until they became so tired that they thought seriously of abandoning their apparatus. fishermen at the mouth of the columbia river consider the sea lion to be more dangerous and cruel than a shark. they accuse it of mutilating in the most horrible manner, bodies that have been drowned off the bar. an incident of its vicious nature came under boyton's notice during his stay in that vicinity. an old indian who wished to secure the skin of a lion, went out to the rocks at low tide. he was barefooted and walked noiselessly to where a lion lay asleep. he had just raised his ax to strike it over the head when his foot slipped and he fell. in an instant the animal was awake and upon him and fastening its teeth in his shoulder, stripped his arm bare to the bone down to the finger nails. the lion then jumped off into the sea and the indian was rescued and carried ashore where he died soon after. on paul's return to astoria, he determined to visit the north beach. he and his companion missed the regular steamer and as they were impatient, they decided to risk the trip across the bar and along the coast in a small boat. the trip to ilwaco was made without any startling adventure and the next day they visited sand island and captured several seals. on sunday they were storm bound; but monday they proceeded on their voyage up the coast in the small boat. they started against the advice of the fishermen, the men at the life saving station and everybody else. they made it all right through the heavy sea until they passed sand island, when the waves struck them. to save the boat from being swamped, they had to throw her bow up and drift "nose on." they were tossed about on the turbulent water, and to add to their discomforts, they had neither food nor drink and were drenched to the skin. that night they got under scarborough head where they had smoother water and succeeded in making a landing. a blazing fire and a square meal put them in excellent spirits and the following day they returned to astoria, to disprove in person a story that had been published along the coast to the effect that they were gone to "davy jones' locker." chapter xxiii. "well, thank goodness, we are through, and i can get out for a little air once more." such was the remark made by boyton when the preceding chapter, which completed the history of his adventures, was finished. he little relished the confinement to which he had been subjected, while getting into shape such a mass of notes and memoranda. several times he was on the point of abandoning the work altogether. "one thing that gratifies me," he added: "i'll never have to talk about myself or my voyages again. the book tells the story." though before the public so many years, paul boyton is still in the prime of life. it is possible that he will not attempt any dangerous voyages again; still the ruling passion is strong. he may frequently be seen poring over maps and charts of distant rivers and often discusses the probability of adventure on them. during the summer he is almost daily in the water with his company of aquatic experts. in the winter season, he devotes the greater part of his time to inventing and perfecting new devices in the way of water amusements. in the large basement of his home he has fitted up one of the most curious work-shops in the world. water-shoes, sails, marine bicycles, torpedo and submarine boats, paddles, etc., lie around in bewildering confusion to a person unaccustomed to aquatic traps. but boyton knows where each belongs, and insists on its being kept there, his early sailor training making him a martinet of order. he has never lost his old love of animals. adjoining the work-shop, is a large tank for the accommodation of his water pets. this is also a favorite spot for his three little boys who often take a plunge. sometimes the first mate of the home is compelled to make a clearance, when the pets become numerous and the youngsters bathe too frequent. it may be well to state in these closing remarks that a cause of considerable business annoyance is the persistence with which many people spell his name, boy-n-ton instead of boyton. this mistake happens only in america. one thing boyton seriously regrets, is his inability to remember names and faces. consequently he is spoken to every day by those who have met him in various parts of the world, and it is a source of much embarrassment that he cannot always call their names as readily as they remember him, for being of a social disposition he is always glad to meet his acquaintances. while keeping himself pretty busy in his shop over his charts during the winter he still finds time to make runs in his rubber dress on lake michigan, near his home, "just to keep his hand in," he says. he also goes on frequent hunting excursions. like most men who have led a roving life, he is fond of his home and a pleasant smile always lights his face when his little children are climbing over him asking for a story. vitality supreme by bernarr macfadden preface the war cry of to-day in peace no less than in war is for efficiency. we need stronger, more capable men; healthier, superior women. force is supreme-the king of all mankind. and it is force that stands back of efficiency, for efficiency, first of all, means power. it comes from power, and power either comes directly from inheritance or it is developed by an intelligent application of the laws that control the culture of the physique. the value of efficiency is everywhere recognized. the great prizes of life come only to those who are efficient. those who desire capacities of this sort must recognize the importance of a strong, enduring physique. the body must be developed completely, splendidly. the buoyancy, vivacity, energy, enthusiasm and ambition ordinarily associated with youth can be maintained through middle age and in some cases even to old age. if your efforts are to be crowned with the halo of success, they must be spurred on by the pulsating throbbing powers that accompany physical excellence. these truly extraordinary characteristics come without effort to but few of us, but they can be developed, attained and maintained. why not throb with superior vitality! why not possess the physical energy of a young lion? for then you will compel success. you will stand like a wall if need be, or rush with the force of a charging bison towards the desired achievements. this book sends forth a message of paramount importance to those who need added efficiency. adherence to the principles laid down herein will add to the characteristics that insure splendid achievements. they will increase the power of your body and mind and soul. they will help each human entity to become a live personality. they will enable you to live fully, joyously. they will help you to feel, enjoy, suffer, every moment of each day. it is only when you are thus thrilled with the eternal force of life that you reach the highest pinnacle of attainable capacities and powers. hidden forces, sometimes marvelous and mysterious, lie within nearly every human soul. develop, expand and bring out these latent powers. make your body splendid, your mind supreme; for then you become your real self, you possess all your attainable powers. and men thus developed possess a capital that can not be financially measured. it is worth infinitely more than money. within the pages of this volume the pathway leading to these gratifying rewards is clearly described. adhere to the principles set forth and a munificent harvest of physical, mental and spiritual attainments will surely be yours. --bernarr macfadden contents preface i. vitality--what is it? ii. functional activity-the secret of power iii. the proper bodily posture iv. stimulating the source of stamina and vitality v. straightening and strengthening the spine vi. cleansing and stimulating the alimentary canal vii. exercise for vitality building viii. how to breathe ix. outdoor life x. strengthening the stomach xi. preserving the teeth xii. how to eat xiii. what to eat xiv. foods in the cure of constipation xv. pressure movements for building inner strength xvi. blood purification xvii. hints on bathing xviii. some facts about clothing xix. suggestions about sleep xx. mind--the master-force for health or disease xxi. the laugh cure xxii. singing-the great tonic xxiii. the daily regimen chapter i: vitality--what is it? vitality first of all means endurance and the ability to live long. it naturally indicates functional and organic vigor. you cannot be vital unless the organs of the body are possessed of at least a normal degree of strength and are performing their functions harmoniously and satisfactorily. to be vital means that you are full of vim and energy, that you possess that enviable characteristic known as vivacity. it means that you are vibrating, pulsating with life in all its most attractive forms. for life, energy, vitality-call it what you wish-in all its normal manifestations, will always be found attractive. a vital man is at all times thoroughly alive. the forces of life seem to imbue every part of his organism with energy, activity and all characteristics opposed to things inanimate. a vital man is naturally enthusiastic. he can hardly avoid being ambitious. and consequently success, with all its splendid rewards, comes to such a man in abundance. life to such a man should be resplendent with worthy achievements. no one belittles the importance of success. everyone is guided to a large extent by the desire to succeed. when a child toddles off to school the training which he secures there is given for the single purpose of bringing success, but this goal cannot possibly be reached without throbbing vitality. in fact, you are not yourself in every sense unless you possess vitality of this sort. the emotions and instincts that come to one when thoroughly developed, with the vital forces surging within, are decidedly different from those which influence one when lacking in stamina. many who have grown beyond adult age are still undeveloped, so far as physical condition and vigor is concerned, and this lack of physical development or vitality means immaturity-incompleteness. it means that one is short on manhood or womanhood. this statement, that one's personality, under such circumstances, is not completely brought out, may seem strange to some; but careful reasoning will soon verify its accuracy. success of the right sort, therefore, depends first of all upon intelligent efforts that are guided day after day, with a view, first of all, of developing the physical organism to the highest possible standard, and maintaining it there. in other words, it is our first duty to be men, strong and splendid, or women, healthy and perfect, if we are desirous of securing life's most gratifying prizes. many actually go through life only half alive. they are, to a certain extent, doped by their physical deficiencies. they have been handicapped by a lack of the energy that comes with physical development. they need to be stirred by the regular use of the physical powers of the body. when the body is complete in all of its various parts it is truly a marvelous organism. throbbing vitality stirs the imagination, gives one courage and capacity, thrills one with the possibilities of life, fires the ambitions. the efforts involved in one's daily duties, be they ever so important, then become mere play. to such a man inactivity is impossible. every day must be filled with active, interesting duties, and progress in such cases is inevitable. such a man grows, he improves, he ascends. he becomes a positive dominating force in the world. can pulsating, vibrating, vitality of this kind be developed? can one who lacks enthusiasm and organic vigor obtain these valuable forces? if you have failed up to the present to become a complete man, or a splendid woman, can you achieve these extraordinary rewards in the future? you can rest assured that if the necessary efforts are made a revolution can be wrought in your physical and mental powers. you, too, can feel these throbbing vital forces stirring your every nerve, thrilling your very soul. go to work, in an intelligent manner, realizing that fundamentally the attainment of these great rewards comes from the development of the highest degree of physical excellence. you must have strength of body. you cannot have too much strength. the more nearly you feel like a strong man the more you can achieve in the desired direction. all successful men are, and have been, men of tremendous energy. their achievements have been simply the expression of the vitality and nerve force which can no more be repressed than the power of an engine when it has been once liberated. success is due to the dynamic quality of energy. it is true that physical energy and bodily strength are not sufficient for success in all fields. one must have aptitude for his chosen work. your energy must be directed in the proper channels, but without this energy and vitality you can accomplish virtually nothing. take the one particular characteristic known as vivacity. how we envy those who possess in abundance this great gift! no matter how irregular one's features may be, even though they repel, if a smile shows vivacity associated with a keen, intelligent personality, one cannot be otherwise than attractive. john bunny, with features rough, unchiseled, ugly, almost uncouth, yet possessed a personality that spread its contagious good humor to millions of people in all quarters of the world who mourned his recent death as that of a personal acquaintance. on the other hand, even though a man or woman possess regular features, the lack of animated expression, of vivacity, causes the person to be regarded as "cold" and "repellent." speaking in the vernacular, it puts you in the class of the "dead ones." one may say that magnetism and all the desirable qualities that draw others to us are closely associated with the supreme development of the forces of life. no vivacity, then no personality. the average individual goes through life without living. in other words, he scarcely exists. he has never felt the throbbing exultation of a keen joyous moment. nor on the other hand has he ever suffered the tortures that are supposed to be associated with the damned, for we must remember that the power to enjoy carries with it a corresponding power to suffer. but we should also remember that the possession of these extremes, the ability to enjoy or to suffer, indicates the attainment of what might be termed the most complete human development. if we wish to find a perfect picture of the phlegmatic temperament, we can study a pig to advantage. and yet there are many human beings incapable of manifesting life-forces equal to those of this humble animal. but why not be alive, vital, vivacious? why not be alert, keen, energetic, enthusiastic, ambitious, bubbling over with fiery ardor? the possession of these pulsating, vibratory forces proves that one's physical development has closely approached to perfection. to such vital individuals life opens up opportunities that are almost countless. but those who have never lived in this "world" of fiery ambitions and throbbing powers, who have never been stirred by the keen, satisfying joys that go with these extraordinary, vital qualities, may ask if these invaluable powers can be developed. are these stirring, vital forces the possession of favored classes only, or may they be obtained by anyone and everyone? in other words, can they be cultivated or developed? my reply, in nearly all cases, would be in the affirmative. there may be exceptions. there is a limit to the development of the physical force, but health is attainable by the majority. so long as there is life you should be possessed of sufficient vitality to attain a normal degree of health. it really takes more power to run a defective machine than it does to operate one in which all parts are working in harmony, and the same can be said of the body and its parts or organs. therefore, if you have vitality enough to continue to live even though diseased, rest assured that you have enough to acquire health if you conform to nature's enactments. and this kind of health usually brings a physical and mental exaltation that is truly beyond description. it is my purpose in these pages to help the reader to solve the problems associated with the attainment of vitality and health at its best. by following out the suggestions which you will find in this volume, by stimulating the life-forces in connection with the thyroid gland, by straightening and strengthening the spine, by toning up the alimentary canal, and by adopting other suggestions set forth in these pages, you should be insured the attainment of vital vigor really beyond price. do not be satisfied with an existence. if life is worth anything, it is worth living in every sense of the word. the building up of one's physical assets should be recognized as an imperative duty. chapter ii: functional activity-the secret of power vitality means normal functioning. when the organs of the body are all performing their duties satisfactorily, you can practically be sure of a plentiful supply of vitality. so it can truly be said that proper functioning is the secret of power. the most important of all functional processes begins in the stomach. there is where the blood-making process commences, and, since a man is what the blood makes of him, you can realize the tremendous importance of this particular function. if the digestion is carried on properly, and the blood is made rich in those elements that add to life, health and strength, then the functions of the stomach are being properly performed. strength of this organ, therefore, is absolutely indispensable in vitality building. this blood-making work is then continued by the small intestines, where a large part of the elements of nourishment essential to life are assimilated, taken up and carried to the portal circulation, thence to the lungs and heart, and finally throughout the entire body. it is absolutely impossible for one to enjoy the possession of a high degree of vitality, or of the general good health upon which vitality depends, unless the intestinal tract is in a healthy and vigorous condition, so that the functions of this particular part of the body- machine may be performed without a flaw. the entire digestive system may be compared to a boiler supplying the energy by which the engine does its work. then consider the heart itself. one cannot underestimate the functional importance of this organ. it is commonly regarded as the most vital spot in the body, the very center of life-indeed the poets have made it the seat of love and the emotions in general. if anything, the brain and nervous system should be regarded as the real center of life, but the function of the heart, the marvelous muscle-pump, is so vital and indispensable that the world is accustomed to thinking of it as the organ of first importance. and so it is. should it cease its efforts for a few moments even, life becomes extinct, and you are no longer an animate being. a strong heart, therefore, is if anything even more important than a strong stomach. but you must remember that the strength of the heart to a large extent depends upon the cooperation of a strong stomach, or at least upon the proper digestion of food. for the muscles and tissues of the heart, like those of all other organs of the body, are fed by the blood, which depends for its life-giving and life- sustaining qualities upon the food, which is first acted upon by the stomach and thus made available for use by the cell structures in all parts of the body. the heart is truly a wonderful organ, the one set of muscles which apparently never rest, but work on night and day, year after year, throughout our entire life. furthermore, the part played by the lungs in the maintenance of life and health cannot be underestimated. impaired functioning of the lungs has an immediate and vital effect upon every other part of the body. it is through this channel that we secure the oxygen, without which the processes of life would terminate almost instantaneously. it is through this channel also that the elimination of carbonic acid gas is accomplished. without the continuous and thorough elimination of carbonic acid our tissues would become choked up and poisoned in such a way that all cell activity and bodily function would come to an abrupt end. if the lungs are sound and healthy in every respect the supply of oxygen is abundant, and the elimination of carbonic acid, which may be regarded as the "smoke" of the human system, is carried on perfectly. breathing is only one of the various functions that must be continuously carried on, but it is of such importance as to require special attention in building vitality. in the work of eliminating impurities and keeping the system clean the kidneys are to be classed with the lungs, although they have to do with poisonous wastes of a different type. insufficient functioning of the kidneys is not so immediately fatal as the failure of the lungs to do their work, but proper action of the kidneys is none the less important. if the poisons which are normally eradicated from the system in this way are allowed to remain or to accumulate, they poison the body as truly as any external toxic element that could be introduced. insufficient activity of the kidneys leads to the accumulation of those poisons, bringing on convulsions of the most serious nature, and unless the condition is relieved there will be fatal results. the requirements of health, therefore, demand that the kidneys should be strong and active, and that their functional capacity should be maintained at the highest degree of efficiency. in supplementing the work of the kidneys and the lungs, the excretory function of the skin is only secondary in importance. the skin has various functions. it is one of our chief organs of sense, the sense of touch being hardly second to those of sight and hearing. it is likewise a wonderful protective structure, and at the same time is a channel of elimination which cannot be ignored with impunity. to interfere with the eliminative function of the skin by absolutely clogging the pores for a period of several hours means death. one may say that we really breathe through the skin. the importance of all these functions of elimination is vital. pure blood depends upon the perfect and continuous excretion of the wastes formed in the body through the processes of life, and without keeping the blood pure in this manner the body rapidly becomes poisoned by its own waste products, with the result that health, vitality and even life are lost. health is entirely a question of pure blood, and, while the blood depends first upon the building material supplied through the digestive system, it also depends equally as much upon functional activity in the matter of elimination. the liver, which enjoys the distinction of being the largest organ in the body, is designed for the performance of a multiplicity of functions. it not only produces the bile, which has such an important part to play in the work of digestion, but it has a very important work in the changing of foods absorbed into such material as may be assimilated or used by the cells of the various tissues throughout the body. for instance, it is part of the function of the liver to bring about chemical changes in albuminous foods which make it possible for the tissues to assimilate these. it also has much to do with bringing about certain chemical changes in sugar or dextrose. furthermore, the liver has an important function in connection with the excretion of broken-down bodily tissue, converting this dead matter into a form in which it can be filtered out of the blood by the kidneys. failure of the liver to perform its work satisfactorily will upset the digestive and functional system, or may lead to an accumulation of uric acid in the body, possibly resulting in rheumatism, gout, neuralgia, disturbances of circulation and other evils. when your liver "goes on strike" you may expect trouble in general. a normal condition of the entire body depends upon perfect and continuous functioning of the liver in cooperation with all the other vital organs. the same may be said of the pancreas, spleen, the thyroid gland and other organs which have a special function to perform. the body is really a combination of all these various parts and functions, and without strength and activity in all of them, simultaneous and harmonious, not one of these interdependent parts could do its work, and the body as a whole would be thrown into a state of disease. strength of the internal organs is infinitely more important than mere muscular strength, if one could properly make a comparison. how, therefore, shall we build this internal, functional strength? can our organs be made to function more satisfactorily? how may we promote their greater activity? it will be the purpose of the succeeding chapters in this volume to point out how the vital organs may be strengthened and the sum total of one's vitality thereby increased. it is true that internal strength is more important than external muscular strength, but the fact is that they go together. as a general thing, by building muscular strength one is able at the same time to develop internal strength. the influence of exercise in purifying the blood and in promoting activity in all the internal organs really strengthens the "department of the interior" at the same time that it develops the muscles concerned. muscular stagnation means organic stagnation, to a very large degree. to be thoroughly alive and to enjoy the possession of unlimited vitality it is necessary to be both muscularly and functionally active. the requirements of nature, or what are more commonly termed the "laws of nature," in reference to all these bodily functions must be strictly observed, for it is only under such conditions that life and health can be maintained at their best. the body may be regarded as a machine. why not make it a strong machine, and as perfect as possible? its efficiency means everything. if you had an engine, a motorcycle, a sewing machine or a printing press that was a very poor machine, you would like to exchange it for a better one, would you not? you would even spend large sums of money to secure a better machine to take the place of the poor one. but if your body is imperfect, inefficient, weak, rusty and clogged up with grit, dirt and all the waste products due to the "wear" in the bodily structures, you seem nevertheless entirely satisfied. you go on from day to day and from year to year without thinking of the possibility of getting a better physical equipment. but why not consider the body in the same light as any other machine that is of value to you. your body is the thing that keeps you alive. if it is a poor instrument, then it is more important that you should get a better one than that you should buy a new engine or new printing-press or new sewing-machine. the only difference is, that it is within your power to get a better body machine by building up the one that you have. you can repair it, you can add to its vitality, you can strengthen the functional system, you can make it more perfect and efficient. you can make it a high-power machine that will be of real value in any undertaking that you may wish to carry out. you can make it strong instead of weak, and you can thus enjoy that superabundant vitality without which life is hardly worth the living. chapter iii: the proper bodily posture the very great value of maintaining the body in a proper position cannot be too strongly emphasized. man is the only animal that walks erect. he is the only animal in whom old age brings a forward bending of the spine. the hanging head, which is the attitude of hopelessness, and which is caused to a very large extent by the mental attitude that goes with approaching old age, no doubt does a great deal to quicken physical decline. therefore it would be wise to remember the very grave importance of a straight, erect spine. each day of your life should be to a certain extent a fight for the best that there is in life and a struggle to hold the spine as nearly erect as possible. if you are sitting in a chair, sit up straight, head back, chin in. if you are walking or standing, the same rule should apply. the more nearly you can assume the position which is sometimes criticized by the sarcastic statement that "he looks as though he had swallowed a poker," the more nearly you will approximate the ideal position. as will be shown in the succeeding chapter, it is not necessary to make extraordinary efforts to hold the shoulders back or to arch the chest. the one idea-chin in, down and backward-will accomplish all that is needed. the chest and shoulders will naturally take care of themselves. furthermore, it is well to remember that this attitude in itself has a tremendous influence upon both the physical and mental organism. the mind, for instance, is affected to an extraordinary degree by this position. it quickens the reasoning capacity, helps to clear the brain of "cobwebs" and unquestionably adds to one's courage. the man who is afraid hangs his head. he who is void of fear holds his head erect, "looks the world in the face!" there is no question that if a man without fear were to assume the position of fear, with hanging head and shrinking body, he would quickly find himself stirred by the emotions associated with such a posture. he would soon "get scared!" in fact, the attitude of the body has so much to do with one's mental and emotional state that the question of self-confidence or lack of confidence may often be decided simply by throwing your head up and back and assuming the general bodily posture that goes with confidence. it not only expresses confidence: it also develops confidence. there is a great truth here that psychologists and those who write "character building" books have not sufficiently understood or emphasized. and when you feel discouraged, the best way to overcome the sense of depression is to "brace up" physically. it will help you to "brace up" mentally. try it. then there are the definite physiological results of maintaining an erect spine. the mechanical arrangement of the spine itself is such that if it is held erect the important nerves that radiate to all parts of the body from this central "bureau" are able more perfectly to perform their functions. where there is pressure on these nerves there is bound to be imperfect functioning. the affected organ will work lazily, indifferently. in fact, the entire science of the osteopaths and chiropractors is based almost wholly upon the value of spinal stimulation and the remedying of spinal defects. there is another way in which an erect carriage has a direct physical influence, namely, in maintaining the proper position of the vital organs. when the body is held erect the chest is full, round and somewhat expanded, affording plenty of room for the heart and lungs. this, in itself, is conducive to vitality as compared with the flat- chested attitude. the stomach, liver, spleen, pancreas and intestines all tend to drop or sag below their normal position when the body bends forward. in maintaining an erect position all these organs are drawn upward and held in their natural position, and this means greater vigor and better functioning on the part of each. this particular consideration is of special importance in the case of women. it all goes to show the truly wonderful value of maintaining the spine in a properly erect attitude. the sitting position usually assumed is far from what it should be in order to insure health. as a rule, we sit humped forward, with a decided bend in the spine, ultimately developing splendid examples of what we call round shoulders. the spine, while sitting, should be held as nearly straight as possible. the position of the head, to a very large extent, determines the general posture of the body. as nearly as possible the chin should be held inward, downward and backward. i will admit that this position is almost impossible when one is using the ordinary type of chair. an extraordinary effort is required to sit properly in the conventional chair. furniture of this sort should be made to fit the body in the same way as our clothing does. the back of a chair should be made to fit the backs of those who are to occupy the chair. the chair-back should, at least to a reasonable extent, approximate the normal shape of the spine. if the chair, throughout its entire back, cannot be thus shaped, then it should be cut off even with the waist line of the occupant. such a low-back chair will usually allow one to sit erect without serious discomfort. there has been much criticism of american men on the ground that they are inclined to sit down on the small of the back. they slide forward in the chair, with the back bent over and the shoulders humped forward. but the fault really lies with the construction of the chair. the back of a chair does not fit the human back, and the seat is not at the right angle to rest the body. why is it that men commonly like to tilt a chair backward on the hind legs? even when they do not place their feet on a convenient table they are prone to tip the chair back and partly balance it on the hind legs. why do people instinctively prefer a rocking chair as a source of comfort, even when they do not rock? the fact is that it is not the rocking that makes a rocking chair comfortable, but the position of the seat of the chair, with its downward slope toward the back. the rocking chair is comfortable for just the same reason that the ordinary dining chair is made more comfortable when a man tilts it back upon its hind legs. the reason is that in this position one does not tend to slide forward off the chair, the weight of the body naturally carrying the hips to the back of the chair, where it is supported naturally. in order to avoid the "sliding down the cellar door" character of the conventional chair a change should be made in the incline of the seat similar to that found in the ordinary rocking chair and in the chair when tipped back in the manner i have described. the photograph which has been reproduced on the preceding page illustrates the point i wish to make. in this particular instance i have used an ordinary chair to show what can be done to improve the chairs in the ordinary home. both of the back legs of this chair were sawed off some three or four inches-thus elevating the front part of the chair and lowering the back part, giving the seat an incline toward the rear which more comfortably accommodates the body. this position approximates that of the ordinary swivel desk chair tilted back by business men when they are not leaning forward over their desks. this suggestion can be adopted very easily and cheaply in almost any home, for any ordinary chair treated in this manner will be very greatly improved, and far greater comfort will be experienced as a result of the change. civilized men and women spend such a very large part of the time in a sitting position that the bodily posture when sitting down is a very great factor in the bodily welfare and health. special thought and study, therefore, should be given the question of the sitting posture. unfortunately, this particular subject seems to have been ignored absolutely for hundreds of years in the making of our chairs. it is just as harmful to sit all humped over as it is to stand in such a position. the nervous system cannot be maintained at its best unless the spine is held reasonably erect. whether sitting or standing, therefore, it is important that you should make a never-ending struggle for a straight spine. if the back of the chair in which you sit is not properly made then it is better, in most cases, to ignore the back altogether. sit slightly forward from the back and maintain an erect position, with the chin held in, downward and backward. in this position you should sit well balanced, as it were. the chest should occupy the same relative position as when standing erect. if you will hold the head in the position i have indicated it will help you to keep the chest and back in the right position. as a general thing, it is a much more simple matter to maintain this erect position when sitting, if either one foot, or both feet, are drawn back under the chair. when both feet are stretched out forward upon the floor a person is inclined to sag backward in a partially reclining position upon the chair. by holding one foot underneath the chair in such a manner that you could rise to a standing position, if desired, without lurching forward, you will find it easy to maintain a well balanced and erect posture. if at any time you find yourself slumping forward or slouching in your seat, it is good to stretch your arms high above the head, or to expand the chest and draw your shoulders backward in the position commonly assumed when yawning and stretching. either of these stretching movements will give you an erect position, and you can maintain this thereafter by keeping the head in the right position-chin inward, downward and backward. these stretching movements will be equally effective for improving the carriage when standing. the same complaint that i have made against the ordinary chair can be registered with special force against the desks used in the schoolrooms. there is no question that a great deal of spinal curvature in childhood, to say nothing of round shoulders and flat chests, are directly the result of the improper sitting posture in the schools which is enforced upon the children because of the unsuitable character of their seating arrangements. thus we practically begin life hampered by an unsatisfactory environment, so far as our sitting posture is concerned. the chair back or the desk chair should fit the human back. it. should favor and not hamper one in assuming a normal and straight position of the spine. when you get up in the morning, exercise yourself a little in straightening the spine, chin in, downward and backward. when you walk to business or when you go about your duties, keep the same thought in mind. force the head back. take the exercises which you will find in the next chapter, referring to the thyroid gland, at very frequent intervals during the day. remember that in fighting for a straight spine you are fighting for youth and health and life and energy and courage and enthusiasm. you are fighting for everything that is best in life, and you should strive and struggle with all the energy you possess to win the rewards associated therewith. each day of your life will bring difficulties, worries. life at its best is not a bed of roses. all these various influences are inclined to make you hang your head. you may have moments when you are hopeless, when life seems forbidding and cheerless. fight against such inclinations with all the power you possess. struggle against such discouragements with all your might and main, not only through your mental attitude but through your determination to maintain an erect spine. hold your head up and look the world in the face. don't shirk your duty. don't deviate from the path along which your best impulses and highest ideals would lead you. life is worth while. it is filled with glorious opportunities. reach out and grasp them as they come up. hold your head up and be a man or a woman to the fullest extent of your abilities. chapter iv: stimulating the source of stamina and vitality this is an age of short cuts. any devious routes to the accomplishment of an object should be avoided. if you want vitality, and the vivacity, energy and enthusiasm with which it is associated, you naturally search for a method which will bring certain and quick improvements. the reasonableness and general prevalence of this demand was in my mind when i began experimentation with a view to discovering a method for stimulating what i term the source of vital power. scientific men while delving into the marvelous secrets of physiology, have learned that the thyroid gland in some peculiar manner possesses an extraordinary influence upon vital stamina and virility. this mysterious gland is located in front of the neck, about half way between the so-called "adam's apple" and the top of the sternum or breast-bone, where it adheres to each side of the front of the trachea, or windpipe, in a flattened form, something like the wings of a butterfly, with a connecting "isthmus." it is a "ductless" gland, its secretions apparently being taken up by absorption into the lymph, and from that into the blood. while the functions of this little organ are not yet very clearly understood, there is nothing more definitely known than its tremendous importance in the bodily economy. without it there can be no such thing as healthy development. thyroid deficiency in children gives rise to a form of idiocy, bodily malformation and degeneracy known as cretinism, while in adult life it is associated with a similar disorder known as myxedema. goiter is the most common disorder of the thyroid gland; though not very serious in minor cases, it is capable of becoming very dangerous, assuming such malignant forms as exophthalmic goiter, which is marked by palpitation of the heart, nervous symptoms and protrusion of the eyes. it is thought by some authorities that the thyroid gland has to do with the control of the excretion of the waste products from nitrogenous foods, for it has been found that a meat diet or a high-proteid diet is extremely harmful in disorders of this organ. it has been found that dogs fed on meat after the thyroid gland has been removed invariably die in a few days, but that they can be kept alive for a long time if fed on a diet very low in proteids. it is found as a rule that those suffering from thyroid troubles do very well on a milk diet. some students of the subject conclude that the function of the thyroid gland is to destroy poisonous products formed by the decomposition of proteid food substances. it is believed by others that it also has a defensive action against other poisons in the body, including alcohol and poisonous drugs. in other words, it is thought to have an "antitoxic" action. it has also been held that this organ has much to do with the supply of iodine in the system, being particularly affected by the lack of iodine in the food. again, it is said that when the thyroid gland has degenerated there ensues a condition of auto- intoxication, followed by a degeneration of other organs which destroy and eliminate poisons in the blood. it is claimed that in many cases of thyroid deficiency, as in cretinism, good results have been obtained by the use of thyroid extract, thus supplying the body with the secretion which normally should have been obtained from this gland. but, whatever may be the function of this remarkable little organ, the fact remains that it is of tremendous importance to health, being undeniably endowed with extraordinary influence on virility, physical strength and mental vigor. now these facts were in mind when i commenced the experiments which, as i have said, led to the discovery of a method of stimulating the vital forces of the body. the problem seemed simple in some respects. if the thyroid gland has such a definite effect upon bodily health, the query as to how it can be strengthened and stimulated to perform its work more satisfactorily, assumed unusual importance and i was strongly moved to discover the answer. the problem, however, was not by any means an easy one. a long time elapsed before a satisfactory solution presented itself. the first thought that naturally occurs to one when endeavoring to stimulate the activities of any part of the body is to find some means of increasing the circulation to that part. ordinary massage will usually accomplish this purpose to a limited degree, though massage to my mind is a superficial agent in many cases. it will increase local circulation, but it does not facilitate tissue changes to the same extent as exercise which directly affects the structures concerned, or the mechanical movements of the parts themselves that are brought about through active use of them in some way. i have known of cases in which pressure and massage applied to the region of the thyroid gland have been followed by harmful effects, such as fainting, and certainly no one with a weak heart should attempt to stimulate this organ in this manner. therefore, in endeavoring to find a satisfactory means of stimulating this important gland, i did not give massage serious thought. and i might as well say that i finally "stumbled" upon the important truth which is the basis of the method that i am presenting. for many years i have been a student of vocal culture, having taken up the study of this art chiefly as a recreation, with no thought of ever publicly using any ability i might acquire, though i might mention that the additional vocal strength obtained as a result of this training assisted me greatly in public speaking. while giving my attention to this particular study, i was greatly impressed by the extreme importance of maintaining an erect spine, holding the chin down, inward and backward, and keeping the shoulders back and the chest expanded. i found, however, like many others who become "slack" in bodily posture, that a considerable effort was required to maintain a proper position at all times. i therefore began a series of special exercises intended really to force myself to assume a properly erect position. while experimenting with these exercises for the purpose mentioned, i noted a marked effect upon my general vital vigor. not only was this made apparent by an increase in physical strength and stamina, but it was marked in an equal degree by additional mental energy and capacity. my mind was clearer, and i could surmount difficulties presented in business enterprises in which i was interested with far more ease than before. i could make decisions more easily and quickly. in addition, a decided gain in weight was noted-not by any means in the form of mere fatty tissue, but of firm, substantial flesh. these very pleasing results induced me to go more carefully into the causes underlying this remarkable improvement. i carried on an elaborate series of careful experiments with a view to proving the conclusions to which i had come in the course of these exercises. it was quite apparent that a full development of the back part of the upper spine was necessary in order to maintain the strength essential to extreme vigor and vitality. and it became quite plain to me that this development could not be achieved without stimulating to an unusual degree the thyroid gland. reasoning along this line, i called to mind the appearance of various animals noted for their great strength and there i found my conclusions verified with remarkable emphasis. the arched neck of the stallion, the huge development of the back of the neck of the domestic bull, the same character in even more pronounced form in the case of the bull buffalo and the musk-ox, and in varying degrees in other animals conspicuous for their vitality and energy-all this seemed to indicate that i was on the verge of a remarkable discovery. when you think of a fiery steed, in every instance you bring to mind the arched appearance of the neck. the tight reins that are sometimes used to give a horse a pleasing appearance, are based upon the same ideal, showing a more or less subconscious recognition of the idea that this particular development is associated with tremendous animal vigor. after giving consideration to various methods that could be used for the purpose of stimulating this little organ, the thyroid gland, i finally concluded as the result of prolonged experimentation that the exercises illustrated in this chapter can most thoroughly be depended upon for producing results. all movements here described have proved effective in imparting to the neck a full, arched, well developed appearance, but i have given especial attention to the active use of the muscles on the back of the neck. nearly every movement which to a certain extent develops these muscles is inclined to stimulate the thyroid gland. the more special movements for this purpose are indicated in the various illustrations accompanying this chapter. this development of the back of the neck always indicates great vitality, because definite proof is thereby given that the spine is unusually strong and is maintained in a position favorable to the functioning of all the organs of the body. many of the movements illustrated are but slight in character, but they are the more adaptable because of this. no matter where you may be, whether walking along the street, conversing with a friend, or sitting at a desk, they can be practiced quietly without attracting attention. furthermore, it is absolutely essential that an erect position of the spine be kept in mind continually. you should begin every morning to hold the spine straight and erect, and each day should represent an increment of success in the struggle finally to maintain involuntarily this position of the body. on arising in the morning, practice some of the exercises illustrated in this chapter for stimulating the thyroid gland, being careful to perform them just as instructed in each illustration. whenever you are unoccupied during the day, it is a good plan to practice these movements occasionally, as they will assist you materially in maintaining the spine in that erect position which i found so important at the beginning of my vocal studies. the most important movement is to bring the chin downward, inward, and backward as far as possible, endeavoring to arch as much as you can the back of the neck. you may have to practice a long while before you notice an outline that will in any way resemble an arch in the back of your neck, but all this work you can be assured will be of decided benefit to you. and, whether or not you attain the desired arch, you can be assured of benefits that will be worth all your efforts. when you make these movements properly, there is no necessity for trying to bring the chest out or the shoulders far back. the simple movements of the neck alone as described, if properly performed, will fulfill all requirements. for these movements tend mechanically to raise and arch the chest and to throw the shoulders far backward. remember also the necessity, when taking these movements, of keeping the abdominal region expanded as fully as possible. do not draw in the waist line. the importance of this admonition cannot be too strongly emphasized. if you maintain a full abdomen, thyroid-stimulating movements seem to tone up, increase in size, and strengthen all the vital organs lying in the gastric region. in further proof of the value of the exercises described in this work as a means of building unusual vital vigor, note the remarkable stamina and virility of men possessing an unusual development of the neck. where the neck is broad and well filled out at the back, you can depend absolutely upon the possession of great vital vigor. it is quite plain, therefore, that by merely adopting some method of developing this part of the spine you will have accomplished a great deal towards obtaining a high degree of vital stamina. some of the strongest men in the world can be found among professional wrestlers. many of those following this profession retain their athletic ability a great many years beyond the athletic life of men in other branches of sport. in fact, champion wrestlers sometimes retain their championship honors for a score of years beyond the age at which champion boxers and runners retire. it is a well known fact that wrestling requires extraordinary strength of the upper spine. some of the most strenuous wrestling holds use the muscles of the upper back and neck in a very vigorous and violent manner. consequently wrestlers are noted for what are often termed bull necks, thus plainly indicating the exceptional degree of vital vigor which they possess. accordingly it is well to remember in connection with these exercises that many movements which assist in the development of the neck muscles also serve to stimulate the activities of the thyroid gland. you cannot go through the process of training for a wrestling match without stimulating this organ to an exceptional degree. therefore, in following the suggestions which are given in this chapter, you are securing the full benefit of a vitality-stimulating process that ordinarily can be obtained only by going through a prolonged course of wrestling. there is no necessity for you to develop a "bull neck," but you should make the most strenuous efforts to acquire a sufficient development of the back of the neck to give it an arched appearance. the more nearly you can approximate a development of this character, the more vital will you become. and along with this superior power will come a similar improvement in every other capacity, mental as well as physical. that there may be no mistake, let me reiterate: that the spine must be held erect at all times when sitting or standing. that frequently during the day when sitting or standing the chin should be brought down and in with a backward movement, the head being turned at times far either to the right or left side, with a vigorous twist of the strongly tensed muscles. that on every occasion when this movement is made, the abdomen must be fully expanded-not held in or drawn upward. that great emphasis must be given to the importance of bringing the chin slowly but vigorously downward against the chest before the inward and backward movement is begun. this insures a proper stimulation of the thyroid gland. chapter v: stimulating, straightening and strengthening the spine the human spine bears the same relation to the body as a whole as the trunk of a tree does to the rest of the tree. if the trunk is strong the entire tree is sturdy and vigorous. if the spine is strong the body as a whole possesses a similar degree of strength. therefore, the necessity for a strong spine is readily apparent. this strength is necessary not only because the spine is what may be termed the foundation for our entire physical structure but also because therein are located the nerves that radiate to each organ and every minute part of the body. these spinal nerves control the functional processes of all our bodily tissues and structures. if the spine possesses a proper degree of strength, if the bony structure is properly proportioned, and if the alignment of all the vertebrae is everything that can be desired, you are then practically assured of the pulsating vitality which is a part of superb health. it is an interesting fact that the spine is the central and fundamental structure of all the higher organisms on this earth. in the course of the evolution of life on this planet there developed from the very simplest forms of animal organisms two different higher forms of life--on the one hand the vertebrate animals, possessing an internal skeleton, and on the other hand the insects, clams, crustaceans and other creatures that have their skeletons on the outside, as one may say, in the form of shells. the legs of an insect, for instance, are small tubes with the muscles inside. the limbs of vertebrate animals, on the other hand, have the muscle outside the bone. invertebrates commonly have the main nerve trunk in front, or underneath, instead of at the back, and likewise often have their brains in their abdomens. some of them, such as the grasshopper, even hear with their abdomens. but all vertebrata have the great nerve trunk at the back, contained in the spine and with a bulb on the front or upper end constituting the brain. in fact, a vertebrate animal is primarily a living spine, and all other parts of the body are in the nature of appendages. the limbs, for instance, and in the higher animals the ribs and other parts of the skeleton, are simply attached to the spine, or are offshoots from it. in the fishes these limbs take the shape of fins. in the higher developments of life they assume the form of legs. all the higher animals, as we know, have evolved from the fishes and reptiles, and all in common possess a spine which in its fundamental characteristics is very much the same now as when it was first evolved. in other words, the spine is a bodily structure as old as the rock-ribbed hills. it has stood the test of time, and therefore must be regarded as the most highly perfected mechanical structure in the body. its strength combined with its flexibility and its perfect adjustment as a container for the central nervous system, makes it perhaps the most wonderful structure in the body outside of the brain and the spinal cord itself. while other organs and features of the body have been changed and modified to such an extent in the various species which have been evolved that they can hardly be recognized as having a common origin, yet the spine has remained substantially the same. it is true that the spine has been shortened in many species as the result of the loss of the tail, but this means only the dropping off of a part of it and does not greatly alter its fundamental character. the human spine, however, differs from that of other animals in respect to its suitability for the erect posture. man is the only animal in the world who can straighten his body and stand perfectly erect. even the anthropoid apes when standing on their feet assume a somewhat oblique position. the vertebral column in animal life was first developed on the horizontal plane, and so, naturally, when man was evolved and adopted the erect position, certain modifications of the spine were necessary. a new strain developed on the vertebral column which was due to the new position, and so there came about certain changes in its structure. for one thing the spine became less flexible and gained in stability, especially in the lower sections. the sacrum, for instance, is created by the fusing together of several vertebrae into one bone for the sake of greater strength and stability. the sacrum in man is much broader than in animals, for it must supply solidity and strength to the lower part of the spine, thus adapting it to the vertical position, and in the same way the lower vertebrae generally are comparatively broader and heavier, gradually decreasing in size and tapering toward the top of the spine like the trunk of a tree. this particular feature of the human backbone is worthy of special consideration because it is the upper section of the spine, in which the vertebrae are smaller and tapering, that weakness is most likely to exist. it is in this upper section of the spine that strength is most needed in order to preserve it in perfect alignment, and keep the body properly erect. and it is for this reason, as the reader will see, that exercises affecting the upper parts of the spine are most important. therefore i have given them special attention. the curves in the human spine are characteristic, illustrating in another way the modification of the vertebral column that has been made necessary by the erect position. the new-born baby has a backbone that is almost straight, and in this respect it bears a strong resemblance to that of many of the lower animals. the typical human curves, however, begin to take form as soon as the child learns to sit up, and they become more marked as he learns to walk and run. these curves are essential to maintaining the balance of the body in the erect position. there are really three curves in the human backbone, the cervical curve being convex, the dorsal concave, and the lumbar convex, when each is regarded from the forward aspect. if we consider the sacrum and coccyx, there is really a fourth curve, this being concave, although in animals generally the coccyx curves backwards and is extended to form the tail. in some of the lower animals the spine is nearly straight, while in some cases it virtually forms a complete arch from one end to the other. these curves of the spine are generally more marked in the civilized white races than among the black and savage races, and as a rule they are more pronounced among women than among men. for instance, in comparing the sexes we find that in a woman the lumbar curve is more marked and extends slightly higher than in a man, and that the broad sacrum characteristic of the human race is even wider, being thus adapted to the broader hips and wider pelvic cavity of the child- bearing sex. now, the maintenance of a strong and erect spine, and especially of the normal curves of youth is most important. with the weakness of advancing age the curves, particularly in the upper part of the spine, tend to become more pronounced. the more accentuated these curves are the greater is the weakness of the spine and of the muscles of the back that is indicated. it is said that a man is as old as his spine, since the deterioration of the spine means the loss of elasticity and supporting power in the disk-like cartilages between the vertebrae, and also the loss of strength in the muscles and ligaments of the back which tend to hold the spinal vertebrae in place. it is usually found that vigorous old men who are mentally and physically active at eighty or ninety years are those who have maintained an erect bearing until late in life, who have kept their spines straight and strong instead of allowing them to bend over and double up. in other words, the deterioration of the spine means a general loss of bodily vigor and a decline in the nervous energy or vitality. with the flattening down of the cushiony disks or cartilages between the vertebrae, and also with the dislocation even in the slightest degree of these vertebrae, there is brought about more or less interference with the free action of the spinal cord itself and of the spinal nerves. the pinching of these nerves naturally interferes with the supply of energy to the organs controlled by them, and causes more or less serious derangement of the bodily functions. if one can keep his spine straight and strong the central nervous system will likewise be healthy and vigorous, and all organs will be supplied with a normal amount of energy and vitality. the special exercises for the spine which i have recommended for years have the general effect not only of maintaining the proper alignment of the vertebrae and thus promoting the health and welfare of the central nervous system, but also of strongly stimulating the nervous system, and thus toning up the entire bodily organism. all movements of the spine, whether of a twisting or bending character, naturally influence the spinal cord and the spinal nerves in a mechanical way. the result is something akin to a massage of these nerve structures, and in this way, as i have long contended, it is possible directly to stimulate the source of energy and vitality. i am convinced for this reason that muscular exercise for the back is infinitely more important than for any other part of the body, important as it is for all parts. if one has only very little time each day to devote to exercise, then it would pay him best to give that time to movements which will strengthen and stimulate the spine. the various movements that i am presenting in this chapter have been devised especially to accompany the hot-water regimen that will be described in the following chapter. they are intended not only to add to the strength of the backbone itself, but have been devised with a view to stimulating to an unusual degree the nerve centers located in the spine. as i have already said, the spinal nerves control the functions of all the vital organs, and when the activity of these organs is stimulated not only through increased nerve force but also by the increased supply of blood that will result from the hot water- drinking regimen referred to, then indeed will we have a combination of stimulating forces which will bring about vital changes, in very many cases, little short of astounding in character. each of these exercises should be taken until a feeling of fatigue has been noticed, after which you may rest a few moments, breathing fully and deeply with expanded abdomen. you should then be ready to begin the next exercise. there is little danger of soreness from taking these movements when they are combined with hot water-drinking, as recommended in chapter vi, the water seems to cleanse the tissues of the waste products which ordinarily cause soreness when one begins the practice of exercises to which one is not accustomed. if one possesses unusual vigor, then to the exercises illustrated in this chapter may be added those movements appearing in the following chapter. all of the exercises given in this chapter are designed exclusively for the stimulation of the spine and nerve centers. those illustrated in the next chapter are intended chiefly to accelerate the circulation throughout the chest, arms, legs and body as a whole, for when going through a treatment of this character it is naturally advisable for one to arouse the activity of all the functions associated with tissue changes throughout all parts of the body. although these exercises have not been devised especially for corrective purposes in cases of spinal curvature, yet they will be of exceptional value in all such cases, or at least, where there is no radical mechanical deformity of the vertebral column. curvatures may be prevented in all cases, or may be decreased, or even reduced entirely by exercise of this type. incidentally the practice of exercises for improving the spine and giving one the proper erect carriage has a very marked effect upon the chest. an erect position always means expanded chest walls, with plenty of room for the free activity of the heart and lungs. chapter vi: cleansing and stimulating the alimentary canal the alimentary canal has been rightly termed the human fire-box. it is there that the energy is created which runs the human machine. the importance of cleanliness in this part of the physical organism cannot be too greatly emphasized. nearly all diseases have their beginning in the stomach or some other part of the alimentary canal. defective digestion and imperfect assimilation represent the beginning of many incurable and deadly diseases. in seeking methods for building unusual vigor and vitality, one of the first requirements is definite information on the care of the alimentary canal. mere regularity of the bowels does not in all cases indicate a healthy condition of the stomach and bowels. a movement in order to be of the right sort should be so thorough that it leaves one with a feeling of emptiness and cleanliness. in other words, you should feel that the colon has been evacuated thoroughly. many who have regular bowel movements do not have this satisfying sensation afterwards. when the movement is satisfactory in every way little or no straining is necessary. the colon simply empties itself thoroughly, and the evacuation is then complete. however, few have movements of the bowels that are satisfactory to this extent. there should be at least one bowel movement of this kind each day. two movements of this character would be better, but one is sufficient if thorough. do not acquire the idea that the bowels must move at a certain time each day with unintermitted regularity, for they are subject to the same extent as the appetite to what might be termed idiosyncrasies, according to environment and other influences. for instance, you are not always hungry at meal-time. occasionally you eat very little or skip one or more meals, and it would be a serious mistake to goad your appetite with some stimulant or to eat a meal without an appetite. one can hardly say that to force a bowel movement when its necessity is not naturally indicated is as harmful as to eat a meal when it is not craved, but unquestionably it is of advantage to have the bowels move of their own accord, as the result of a natural impulse. movements that do not come through the call of an instinct for relief are rarely satisfactory, and, though we strongly emphasize the necessity of regularity of the bowels, it is not absolutely necessary that this call should come at a certain time during each day; and though it is undoubtedly of some advantage if such is the case, yet so long as there is one evacuation each day of the satisfactory sort described, you can be assured that your alimentary canal is in a normal and healthy condition. however, should the bowels fail to move at the regular time this need not cause concern if you are feeling "up to the mark," and there are no other symptoms that would indicate possible trouble. i mention this alimentary peculiarity to enable my readers to avoid the slavish idea that it is impossible to be in health unless the bowels move at certain times with clock-like regularity. naturally when the contents of the alimentary canal are allowed to accumulate for a considerable period and there is sluggishness throughout the various parts of the small and large intestines, poisons of all kinds are generated and absorbed into the circulation, thus creating conditions ranging all the way from a feeling of lethargy to a condition of weakness and disease that confines one to an invalid's bed. regardless of the attention that you may give to the other information in this book, it is extremely important that you should realize the necessity for active elimination. it is necessary in the maintenance of alimentary health to avoid a slavish adherence to the theory of definitely regular movements of the bowels and still not to make the mistake of allowing them to become chronically sluggish or irregular. as a rule you should depend upon having regular movements each day, though if occasionally a day is missed you should not allow this deviation to worry you. recognizing as i do the great importance of a healthy alimentary canal i have given a vast amount of attention to the various methods which have been suggested from time to time by students of natural healing for assisting to regulate the functional processes of this important part of our organism. the flushing of the lower bowel for instance has been widely recommended, and it is unquestionably of value in some cases. however, it cleanses only the lower part of the alimentary canal, that is to say, the colon. it assists the small intestines no doubt by giving their contents free access to the colon, but yet this aid cannot directly affect them. if you have in view the cleansing of the entire alimentary canal from stomach to rectum, the enema is often of indifferent value. the use of various laxative foods can be recommended in most instances, though even these sometimes fail to bring about satisfying results, and then again there are cases where they provide a remedy for only a short period, after which the bowels resume their old state of chronic torpidity. naturally we cannot consider cathartics of any kind, notwithstanding their power to produce temporary results. in all cases the after effects of their use are seriously destructive to the delicate nerves controlling the alimentary canal and its functions in general. cathartics invariably make the real condition more obstinate and serious. it is well to remember that the real cause of constipation in virtually every instance, is the want of vital vigor of the structures and tissues involved. digestion, though to a certain extent a chemical process, is very largely mechanical. the muscles of the stomach "churn" the food in the beginning of the digestive process, after which the circulatory muscle fibers of the small intestines continue the work. if these muscles are lacking in tone, if they are relaxed, prolapsed and weak, then they cannot properly perform their functions. in attempting to strengthen this important part of the bodily organism the necessity for increasing the vigor of the muscular tissues must invariably be definitely recognized. strong muscles for carrying on the work required of these blood-making organs are of far more importance than strength of the external muscles. for this reason when the system is toned up by any means a beneficial change in the alimentary functions and excretions will always be noted. during a careful study extending over at least a quarter of a century of all health-building methods, i have acquainted myself with numerous theories and remedies which have been applied in accelerating alimentary activity. i am, in this chapter, presenting a new system or combination of means for strengthening and stimulating the alimentary functions which experience has proved to be of extraordinary value. this method has the advantage of directly affecting the organs involved, and results can be obtained speedily in virtually every instance. this system of alimentary stimulation can be roughly described as a combination of hot-water-drinking and a nerve-center-stimulating process. the best time for giving this method a thorough trial is immediately upon arising in the morning. it should not be attempted at any other time of the day, for it is especially important that the stomach should be free of any recently ingested food. all that is required to carry out this treatment is one or two quarts of boiling water, a minute quantity of salt, and a cup that will hold from one-half a pint to one pint of water. the second phase of this treatment is exercise and comprises the series of movements illustrated in this work. wherever possible these nerve-stimulating exercises should be taken out-of-doors or before an open window. if the weather is cold, you should wear enough clothing to maintain a satisfactory degree of warmth; if the weather is warm, the less clothing worn the better. if the skin is especially inactive, or if it is suffering from a disease in which the eliminating process ordinarily accelerated by a russian or turkish bath is of value, then wear heavy warm clothing while taking the treatment. a thick sweater is advantageous under such circumstances. a profuse perspiration will result, indicating a purifying process that is of special value when the system needs to be cleansed of the accumulated poisons which are the direct cause of nearly all diseases. if you are capable of taking about two quarts of water in the course of the exercise then each cup should contain nearly a pint, but if you cannot drink over one quart each cup should contain not more than half a pint. before beginning the nerve-stimulating exercise drink the first cup of hot water, putting a pinch of salt in the bottom of the cup to take away the flat taste of the hot water. pour the cup half full of boiling water and then add cold water until it is sufficiently cool to be rapidly swallowed. drink the water as hot as possible without sipping it. now take exercises , and . continue each one of these movements until a feeling of fatigue is noticed, after which you are ready for a second cup of hot water. don't hurry. don't continue any movement to exhaustion, though a feeling of local fatigue in the particular muscles concerned is desirable. this feeling, however, should entirely disappear after a rest of one or two minutes. after the second cup of hot water you are ready for exercises , and , whereupon you may take a third cup of hot water. you may then take exercises , and , followed by another cup of hot water, and then exercises , and , and so on. while this is suggested as a general plan, it is not imperative that this order be followed strictly, for your individual requirements might be better suited by minor variations; for instance, by two or four exercises between the intervals of hot-water-drinking. if you find your capacity is unequal to the quantity of hot water suggested, then simply take as much as you can without inconvenience or discomfort. each day, however, while following this method you will find your hot-water-drinking capacity will increase, though as a rule, a person of average weight and height can take from one to two quarts without serious inconvenience. the hot-water- drinking together with the exercise will naturally very greatly increase the pulse, and where there is heart disease or any weakness of the heart this treatment must be taken with unusual care. in virtually every case this method will materially increase the strength of a weak heart, though there is naturally the possibility of strain, and the treatment should be adapted to your strength in the beginning and very gradually increased week by week. temporary attacks of constipation, where severe enough to need attention, can usually be ready for exercises , and , whereupon you may take a third cup of hot water. you may then take exercises , and , followed by another cup of hot water, and then exercises , and , and so on. while this is suggested as a general plan, it is not imperative that this order be followed strictly, for your individual requirements might be better suited by minor variations; for instance, by two or four exercises between the intervals of hot-water-drinking. temporary attacks of constipation, where severe enough to need attention, can usually be quickly remedied by this hot-water- drinking, nerve-stimulating method. usually, if there is need for a movement of the bowels an instinctive and compelling desire will appear while taking the treatment or very shortly thereafter. if, however, you feel there is a necessity for such a movement and it does not appear, you can rest assured that the treatment has brought about sufficient benefit to excite the activity of the organs involved and that the desire will come later. in some very obstinate cases of constipation, or in serious temporary attacks of this difficulty, where a movement of the bowels is desired quickly, from one-quarter to one-half a level teaspoonful of salt can be added to each cup of hot water. this will in nearly all cases insure a speedy and satisfactory bowel movement. this, however, is not advised unless absolutely necessary. it is well to point out that this treatment in its extreme form can hardly be used with complete satisfaction by those who are below average strength. in any case, however, the drinking of a small amount of hot water can be attempted and the exercises illustrated can be used, if one is careful not to make his efforts too severe. the hot-water- drinking process as well as the exercise must, however, be adapted to the requirements of each individual, and it may be well in most cases to experiment two or three times before following all of these suggestions in detail. where one is lacking in vital strength a beginning can be made by taking only two cups of hot water, using exercises , and , which can be taken in a reclining position. one may continue in this way for a week or two, after which a third cup of hot water might be added. in this way one can gradually increase the amount of water consumed and the vigor and the amount of the exercise taken. where there is a tendency toward rheumatism, gout, neuritis, neuralgia, or where there are any other symptoms indicating the accumulation of poisons or impurities in the system, it is advisable to use distilled water, though if this cannot be secured ordinary boiled water will be satisfactory. at least be sure to boil your water before using if it is heavily charged with mineral matter, since boiling tends to precipitate lime salts. in other words, hard water is not desirable in such cases. the hot-water-drinking regimen in itself has a decidedly beneficial effect upon the stomach and intestines. but much better results, especially in the case of constipation, are secured when the special nerve-stimulating exercises recommended are taken in connection with it. by this combination we obtain results that cannot be secured in any other way. in fact, stiffness, soreness and rheumatic "twinges" in various parts of the body are often removed with astounding rapidity through the help of this particular treatment. the cleansing and eliminating functions are stimulated to an extraordinary extent by combining these two blood-purifying forces: hot-water-drinking and the stimulation of the nerve centers. this regimen is also a splendid means of increasing the weight in cases of defective assimilation. it seems to tone up the entire vital and functional system, in addition to directly influencing the digestive organs. the hot water alone tends to cleanse and empty very thoroughly the stomach and intestines, also to stimulate the secretion of the digestive juices. those who are below normal weight chiefly because of poor assimilative powers are especially advised to give this method a thorough trial for a period of a few weeks. again, if your complexion is sallow, dull, and "muddy," a remarkable improvement will speedily appear as a result of this treatment. in a recent case i observed a surprising change at the end of one week in a complexion that had been sallow and lifeless. the complexion in this instance not only assumed an improved color, but the tissues of the face were also filled out considerably, and when improvement is thus manifested on the surface you can well realize that the internal changes are even more pronounced. the devitalized condition of the various glands and structures in this part of the body is gradually remedied by the improvement in the circulation that comes with what might be termed a stimulating supply of liquids, and the same good result is accomplished, so far as the general circulation is concerned, in the welfare of the body as a whole. those suffering from high blood pressure will find this treatment of unusual value, though great care should, of course, be taken to avoid any movements that are in any way exhausting or violent. when the blood is in a thick or viscous condition the use of the hot water adds to its fluidity, and it can then be forced more easily through the capillaries, thus greatly lessening the blood pressure. it is well known that a low blood pressure is conducive to endurance and to general health. and when these exercises especially advised for stimulating the nerve centers and for strengthening and vitalizing the spine are combined with a liberal use of hot water, the blood is forced through all the tissues, with the general effect of thoroughly cleansing all parts, in addition to immediately cleansing the alimentary canal. it is customary among athletes to use massage, or what is commonly called a "rub down," following their exercise. the purpose of this is to increase the circulation and thereby to carry out of the muscles the fatigue-poisons that have accumulated therein during the exercise. now if a large amount of hot water is used in connection with movements such as we are illustrating, this purpose will be even more thoroughly accomplished during the exercise itself, as the muscular and other tissues are virtually flushed out owing to the more fluid character of the blood and its more ready and perfect circulation through all parts. one who feels stiff from severe exercise, or finds his tissues sore for other reasons, should be able to overcome this stiffness and gain a sense of refreshment through this method. referring to the subject of elimination in the case of fatigue, i might say that some students have ascribed the feeling of fatigue at the end of the day's work to an accumulation of deposits within the walls of the arteries and veins, which deposits are ordinarily carried off during sleep. if this theory is true i can think of no simpler or more satisfactory method of removing this waste matter in the blood-vessels than this system of flushing them. for producing immediate results of any kind there is no other method so far as i know which is so effective as this if one has sufficient strength properly to use it. i have known cases in which a headache has been cured in a few minutes by sprinting or other violent exercise, and cases in which neuralgic toothaches and other pains have yielded to vigorous exercise continued for a prolonged period. i have also known the same relief to be obtained by drinking a liberal quantity of hot water, but in all such instances results would be more quickly and certainly secured through a combination of these stimulating forces. to repeat for clearness and emphasis, the method outlined consists of the following: a combination of hot-water-drinking and specially adapted movements for stimulating the nerve centers. half a pint to a pint of hot water-as hot as can be drunk-to be taken on beginning the treatment immediately on arising in the morning. an additional quantity of hot water to be taken each five to ten minutes thereafter until from one to two quarts have been consumed. a large amount of clothing to be worn if profuse perspiration is desired, though where an increase of weight is of advantage and no actual disease exists in the system, no more clothing should be worn than is necessary to maintain warmth. when a bowel movement is definitely needed, a complete and perfectly satisfactory evacuation is often brought about while taking this treatment. the cleansing process, however, will result in a clearer brain and an improved physical as well as mental capacity, whether or not the bowels act immediately, and one can nearly always depend upon a satisfactory movement later. when there is suffering from temporary attacks of constipation and immediate relief is desired, add from one-quarter to one-half a level teaspoonful of salt to each cup of hot water. speedy results can be depended upon in virtually every case. another method of accomplishing the same thing is to continue the hot-water-drinking even beyond the two quarts suggested, adding no more than a small pinch of salt to each cup, as previously suggested. no harm will come from this excessive water-drinking if one is possessed of a normal amount of vigor. if one is athletic, jumping one to two hundred times, as when jumping a rope, just previous to moving the bowels is often of value in inducing a natural desire that in nearly all cases brings satisfactory results. where it is difficult to take the amount of water prescribed, take as much as you conveniently can, gradually increasing the quantity each day. this hot-water-drinking regimen is not necessarily recommended as a permanent measure to be continued every day for an indefinite period. when you feel that your physical status is satisfactory in every way, you can drop the method for a few days, after which it can be resumed as desired, though it would be of advantage to continue taking the exercises each day, and if even one or two glasses of hot water are taken beneficial results would accrue. chapter vii: exercise for vitality building inactivity is non-existence. it means death. our bodily powers and organs were given to us for a definite purpose. failure to use them brings serious penalties. there can be no real health with physical stagnation. to be sure, we may point to some men possessing extraordinary vitality who, apparently, have lived without exercise. but a study of their habits of life will usually bring to light some form of muscular activity, even if it be nothing more than a moderate amount of walking. in some cases, such extraordinary vitality may be possessed that health laws can be broken with apparent impunity, but it will usually be found that a vigorous constitution was developed in early youth from plenty of exercise. however, the failure to observe these important bodily requirements invariably means trouble before reaching the period at which old age begins. though the average of human life has been greatly increased through the decline in infant mortality, the death rate among men of middle age has more than doubled in the past thirty years. and even if those of exceptional vitality can neglect their physical requirements without suffering, the man of limited energy, who is trying to build vitality, certainly cannot afford to do so. we ought to take a reasonable amount of exercise at intervals, regular or otherwise, in order to keep fully alive. it is not a case of exercise for the sake of muscular strength alone, but for the sake of health and life. there are many people who labor under the delusion that they are living without exercise, but existing does not mean living. to live in the full sense of the word means that you are thoroughly alive, and you positively cannot be thoroughly alive unless all the physical processes involved in the various functions of the body are active. functional activity means pure blood, of superior quality, and when one fails to give the muscular system its proper use, the functions stagnate, the blood is filled with impurities of various sorts, and under such circumstances the body is not really alive. when the body is harboring an excessive number of dead cells and other waste material one cannot say that he is entirely alive. under such conditions you are literally half dead and half alive. it is well known that the body is dying at all times. minute cells that constitute the bodily tissues lose their vitality and life, and are taken up by the venous blood and carried to the various organs which take part in the work of elimination. now these dead cells and minute corpuscles linger in the tissues if one lives an inactive life. therefore it is literally true that you are half dead if you do not give the muscular system its proper use. physically the muscular system is such an important part of the body that failure to keep it in good condition by failure to keep it active seriously affects all other parts. the greater part of the food we eat is consumed by the muscles. most of the heat produced by the body is generated in the muscles. therefore to neglect this part of our organism means to disorganize, to a large extent, the workings of all other parts. the appetite, under such conditions, fails and the entire functional system loses tone. in fact, i may say that exercise is the first and most important of all the methods of building functional strength. when the muscles are exercised the vital, organs are energized and the activity of the entire functional system greatly increased-all clearly indicating that in taking physical exercise the internal organs are aroused and stimulated. gigantic strength is not especially needed. it is not necessary for one to strive to eclipse the feats of famous strong men. unusual muscular development is of no great value in this age, but a normal degree of strength is absolutely necessary in the struggle for health and vitality. no one should be satisfied with less than what might be regarded as a normal degree of strength, and this, when once developed, can usually be retained by a moderate amount of exercise each day. now it is not necessary to adopt some complicated system of exercise for giving the muscles the required activity. your exercise can take the form of play. it may preferably be taken out-of-doors. but you must keep definitely in mind that the body was given you for active use, and some regular method must be adopted that will insure the activity required. the exercises referred to in the chapter on outdoor life may first of all be recommended. if you have no bodily defects any one of these outdoor sports will probably give your muscles all the exercise needed, but if you are suffering from defects of any kind and you are desirous of remedying them some special exercises adapted to your individual needs should be taken with religious regularity. if you have a flat or sunken chest, if you are round-shouldered, if there is one shoulder higher than the other, if there is a spinal curvature, or if the muscles of the stomach or abdomen are weak, it will be necessary to give special attention to such parts through systematic movements intended to have a corrective influence. in another part of this volume various exercises have been illustrated that are especially recommended to those who are already in possession of ordinary strength. in this chapter i am illustrating a series of movements that have a similar object in view, but which will be found far easier to perform. the exercises in this chapter are especially adapted to those who are weak or ailing. they are designed, however, for the purpose of stimulating and strengthening the spine, which, as i have previously suggested, is the central source of vitality. the hot- water-drinking regimen referred to in the chapter on cleansing the alimentary canal can also be used in connection with these exercises, though naturally if one is weak but a small quantity of water can be taken. chapter viii: how to breathe volumes have been written upon the value of breathing exercises. many exaggerated statements have been made as to what can be accomplished through deep breathing. nevertheless, it must be definitely understood that full, deep breaths, which expand the lungs to their fullest capacity, and are taken at frequent intervals, are of great value. almost any vigorous exercise will enforce deep breathing, and there is no question as to the benefit of the involuntary or spontaneous inhalation and exhalation thus induced. running and wrestling are types of very vigorous athletic exercises that will compel one to breathe deeply and fully, and will insure a full lung development without special breathing exercises. and this is more especially true if much exercise of this character is taken regularly, day after day, all the year round. but where the occupation and surroundings are such that one cannot indulge in such active pastimes, or where the time for such exercises is necessarily limited, frequent voluntary deep-breathing exercises can be highly commended. about the best example of the proper use of the diaphragm and the natural movement of the abdominal and dorsal region in correct breathing is illustrated in a small child. in nearly all cases an active healthy child will breathe properly, and by studying the movement of his abdomen in both standing and reclining positions you will find that as the breath is inhaled the abdominal region will expand. when the breath is exhaled this part of the body will contract or be drawn inward. this demonstrates very conclusively that the movement or expansion of the body in natural breathing is abdominal, and that the bony framework of the chest should not be involved except when taking full deep breaths, or when breathing hard from the effects of very vigorous exercise. it is not at all necessary to go through a complicated system in order to learn proper methods of breathing, since this is comparatively simple if you are willing to make persistent efforts day after day until you are fittingly rewarded. if you simply acquire the habit of drawing in a deep full breath, at frequent intervals during the day, expanding first in the abdominal region, you will soon be able to breathe properly. a correct position of the body is very important, for if you have the proper erect posture, and have no constricting clothing about the waist and abdominal region, you will almost instinctively be inclined to breathe diaphragmatically, or abdominally, as we call it. furthermore, when going out in the open air you will find as a result of this practice that you are unconsciously expanding in the proper manner as suggested. in fact, you will be more inclined to breathe freely and deeply at all times if a proper position is maintained. it is hardly necessary to mention the necessity for breathing pure air, and especially when taking deep-breathing exercises, if you wish the very greatest results. take these deep breaths when in the open air, or else before an open window. it is a good plan, for instance, when rising in the morning to stand before an open window and inhale perhaps a dozen full, complete breaths. this will help greatly to brush the cobwebs from your brain and brighten you up for the day's duties and responsibilities. all of these suggestions apply with equal force to both sexes. because of the fashions of dress usually in vogue the breathing of women is much more restricted than that of men. furthermore, they are generally less inclined to athletic pursuits involving exercise which compels deep breathing. the method of breathing recommended for women is absolutely identical with that suggested for men. it is a curious fact that until recent years the world generally, the medical profession included, held the opinion that there is a fundamental difference between men and women in breathing. observation of the natural breathing of boys and girls would soon prove the absurdity of this opinion. owing to the universal use of the corset, thoracic breathing, or chest breathing, the result of the artificial constriction of the body at and below the waist line, appeared to be the natural method of breathing for women, whereas diaphragmatic breathing was recognized as proper and natural for men. only in recent years have medical authorities recognized that this difference was really due only to artificial methods of dress and that natural breathing in women and men is absolutely the same. recent fashions have permitted the enlargement of the waist line in women, but unfortunately there is still too much constriction of this important part of the body. when the world becomes more truly civilized and our methods of dress are based upon common sense and an intelligent understanding of the physical requirements of the body, we may hope that the dress of women will be such as to permit entire freedom in the matter of breathing, and the easy expansion of the body at the waist line. some day women will learn the value of suspending skirts, stockings, etc., from the shoulders instead of relying upon the restriction at the waist as a means of support. if you wish to ascertain more exactly whether or not your breathing is entirely satisfactory, stand up, take a deep breath, and observe not only the expansion in the region of the stomach and abdomen but also at the sides and in the back. if you place the palms of your hands upon the lower ribs in the back, just above the waist line, you should feel the expansion of the body in this part pressing upward through the action of the diaphragm as a deep breath is inhaled. also by pressing the hands upon the lower ribs at the sides, just above the waist line, you will feel the lateral expansion in this region at the same time that the expansion is noted in the front of the body. you will therefore realize that there should be an expansion of the lower ribs at the back and at the sides along with the expansion in the region of the stomach and abdomen. of course, when a very full breath is taken there will also be an expansion of the chest following the filling up of the lower part of the lungs. chapter ix: outdoor life civilized man is an indoor animal. we no longer live in tree-tops nor even in caves, but in houses, and a great many of us spend the larger part of every year in close, ill-ventilated, overheated rooms. from a health viewpoint the cave-dweller would no doubt have the advantage over the average american who follows a sedentary occupation. the steam-heated apartments of our great cities are thoroughly aired only on rare intervals, and consequently those who reside therein often dry up in mind, soul and body along with the furniture. in order to live in every sense of the word we must become a part of the great outdoors. outdoor life adds to one's vitality and vigor. it increases one's energies and enthusiasms. you cannot be ambitious or vivacious, you cannot really amount to anything in life, if you are confined to an overheated flat. if there is any hobby that is worth while it is one that takes us out- of-doors. what the attractive features of your hobby may be, is not of very great importance provided this object is secured. you must be lured away from your stuffy living rooms and encouraged to breathe the fresh, pure air of the open. there are out-of-door exercises of all sorts which are of great value, but even a seat in a motor car wherein your exercise is confined principally to increased respiration through the pleasure that comes with fast riding, is at least of some value. the health of the nation, as a whole, has been greatly improved by the automobile through its encouragement of the outdoor life. but if you can join with your outdoor life some active exercise which will use all the muscles of the body the benefits will be much greater. there are various open-air pastimes that can be made unusually vigorous, and so can be highly recommended if one is possessed of ordinary strength. football is perhaps one of the most strenuous of outdoor games, and is to be especially advised where one has the vitality and endurance which fits him for an exercise of this character. golf is an example of a milder outdoor pastime that is particularly suited to middle-aged and elderly persons, although young men and women are benefited by it, too. it affords excellent exercise in walking, and the swinging of the golf clubs affords more exercise for the chest, arms and back than is usually supposed. one who is not accustomed to the game will usually find the muscles of the arms, shoulders and chest sore or at least stiff from the unusual exercise when first attempting to play this game. tennis furnishes a vigorous exercise that is especially commendable for adding to one's vitality. it is a good endurance builder. tennis can be made as fast and energetic, or as leisurely and moderate as one wishes, depending entirely upon the skill, strength and ability of the player. tennis is a safe and sane pastime that is growing in popularity, and can be universally recommended for both sexes and all ages. rowing, running, cross-country work, track athletics, lacrosse, handball, hockey and polo are all splendid and vigorous games, well calculated to develop the best type of physical stamina. for those possessing the requisite strength they can all be highly recommended, though as a rule it is best not to specialize in any one of them but to secure as much variety as possible. specializing in athletics may win championships and may stimulate interest in sports, but for the average man or woman specialization is not desirable. even if you are only a "dub" instead of a champion in each of these games, it is better to play them all, since you will thereby secure a well-rounded physical development, and also obtain the maximum of "fun." for those who are less rugged but who on that very account are all the more in need of open-air exercise there is a great variety of other less strenuous pastimes. cycling and horseback riding can be particularly recommended as enjoyable forms of outing in combination with a certain amount of exercise. skating is an ideal pastime for the colder weather as it requires no special strength and adds to the vigor of the heart, lungs and other vital organs; besides this, the brisk, cold air of the winter months is a tonic of great value. snowshoeing, yachting, rope-skipping, canoeing, archery, croquet, coasting and various similar pastimes are all to be commended. swimming is of great value, both as a means of physical development and as a health builder, but if your vitality is limited do not stay in the water too long. swimming may be made mild or very strenuous. if you swim with the skill of an expert, only a very moderate exertion is required, though some of the new racing strokes tax the strength and endurance of the strongest athlete. swimming combines the pleasures of bathing and exercise, and under proper conditions is invaluable. those who are "fleshy" can stay in the water a long time, but if you are "thin" take care lest you lose weight by too much bathing. the slender man or woman may take a daily swim for its tonic effect. it may even cause one to gain in weight if the exercise is not prolonged, but persons of this type usually lose weight in the course of a season of too much bathing. there is one point of special importance in connection with our exercise and that is to cultivate the play spirit. you will never fully enjoy your sports and you will never obtain all possible benefit from them until you lose your dignity and learn how to play. try to be glad that you are alive and able to play these games. one great drawback to american sports is the tendency to take them too seriously. there is too much of strained effort involved in the desire to win the game at any price. keep yourself in a state of mind where you "see the fun." though "playing to win" may be commended, the real purpose of any game is the fun and benefit that is secured therefrom whether you win or lose. there have been cases when members of a boat crew or a football team have actually cried over a lost game. imagine the nerve strain involved in taking athletics so seriously! it is splendid to win, but it should also be pleasurable to lose to a worthy antagonist. do not take your games too seriously, but make them a laughing matter. only by assuming this attitude can you get the greatest possible benefits that can be derived from games. the nature of your exercise does not matter so long as there is that increased activity of the heart, lungs and other organs which tends to improve the circulation throughout the entire body. the exercise must insure deep breathing, and if a certain amount of perspiration is induced it will be advantageous. first of all get out-of-doors; find some exercise that appeals, some alluring attraction which will take you away from the confinement of your home. live as much as you can in the open. if possible, try sleeping out-of-doors. men and women of today may be aptly compared to sensitive plants. we are the devitalized product of the universal custom of coddling, and the less we live within four walls, and the more we breathe the free outdoor air, the stronger, healthier and more capable we become. there is one outdoor exercise that we can all take without expense, and it is by far the best when everything is considered. at least this statement is true so far as the building of vitality and endurance is concerned. i refer to walking. this is an exercise that can be made decidedly vigorous if desired. and no matter what health-building regimen you may follow, a certain amount of walking is essential to maintaining the highest degree of physical vigor. walking is a tonic of very great value to every one of the organic functions. it stimulates the activities of the purifying organs to an unusual degree. it is a remedy of great efficacy in overcoming constipation. it can be highly recommended for strengthening the heart, for stimulating the liver and kidneys, and it will tone up the physical organism throughout. furthermore, this exercise is of unusual value as a mental stimulant. it clears the "cobwebs" from the brain. if you are bothered with vexing problems put them aside until you can take a long walk. with the improved quality of the blood and the more active circulation of this functional tonic, your mental efficiency will be greatly increased. you will think more quickly; your conclusions will be clearer, more definite and more dependable. i know a successful novelist who depends very largely upon his long walks for working out the themes and plots of his stories. i have frequently followed the same plan in connection with my own work. i know of other writers who depend upon this method of gaining inspiration. i have been told that chopping wood is mentally stimulating, and also that horseback riding and cycling are sometimes helpful in this direction, but walking is without doubt the most effective mental stimulant to be found out-of- doors. it accelerates the circulation, and seems to arouse the vital forces of the body, but does not require such an expenditure of energy as to prevent the brain from being exceptionally active. now to secure the real benefits that come from walking there should be no laziness about it. do not walk as though you were on a fashion parade. the sunday afternoon stroll on the city streets may be very alluring, but you cannot under such circumstances secure the real benefits that may be found in walking. if possible go out on the country roads or walk across the fields. put a certain amount of energy into your every step. walk briskly and as though you enjoyed it, and you will discover that you do enjoy it. even if your first few steps require an unusual effort on your part, "step lively" just the same, and you will shortly find that you feel lively, too. a walk of this sort into which you put real energy in every step is a tonic of amazing value. it will stir up your entire organism. it will insure an active functioning, and make you feel and be thoroughly alive. if you have the added advantage that comes from pure country air you are to be envied. but even without these superior advantages, even if your route is confined to city streets, some benefit will still result from taking the walk tonic. while walking give special attention to my suggestions concerning breathing. breathe deeply and fully at frequent intervals. expand the body in the abdominal region. if you like, you can carry your breathing still farther and allow this expansion to extend to the chest walls, though as a rule, this is not necessary. no doubt one of the most valuable suggestions for strength and vitality building while walking is to take at frequent periods several movements which are referred to in the chapter on thyroid stimulation, namely, the chin-in-downward- and-backward motion while holding a full breath with abdomen fully expanded. in fact this idea, if carried out until the muscles of the back of the neck are fatigued at the completion of the walk, will energize you mentally and physically. a suggestion that i have often offered in various articles upon this subject is to practice what i may term harmonious or rhythmic breathing, which i regard as of exceptional value. by this i mean taking the same amount of time to draw in the breath as you do to exhale it, keeping time with a certain number of steps. for instance, while taking eight steps, draw in a breath and exhale during the next eight steps. you may make this six, eight, ten or twelve steps if you like. if you have some piece of music in mind that carries with it a rhythm that accommodates itself to your steps while walking, and if each inhalation and exhalation takes up an even number of steps, you will find that you are swinging along with a sense of harmony and pleasure that will make distances pass away and cause you to be unconscious of the length of your walk. this rhythmic or harmonious breathing is an excellent means of cultivating the deep-breathing habit. another exercise is of material value in connection with the practice of deep breathing while walking, serving especially to stimulate the digestive and other internal organs. this consists in holding a fairly full breath for a series of four, six or eight steps, and at the same time expanding the body still further in the region of the stomach. this is accomplished largely through the action of the diaphragm and the muscles across the front of the body in the region of the stomach. this should be executed with a sort of pumping motion, that is to say by a series of alternate contractions and relaxations rapidly following each other. expand the region of the stomach by this muscular effort for an instant, relax, repeat, and continue in that way several times during the course of the six or eight steps during which you hold the breath. then exhale freely and after one or two breaths repeat. this has the effect of massaging, as it were, the internal organs, and is of material value in bringing about improved functioning, as well as strengthening these parts. if you can find an opportunity to go camping there is no better way in which to spend a vacation. everyone knows that a term of two or three weeks in the woods or by the side of a lake, living out-of-doors to some extent after the manner of primitive man, and getting a certain amount of pleasurable exercise with the continuous fresh air, will work wonders. but if camping for a short period is beneficial, then a part of each day in the open air during the summer is well worth while; therefore try to "camp out" for two or three hours each evening. if you are through work at five o'clock, for instance, enjoy a picnic dinner in the open, instead of a regular supper in the dining-room of your home. it is daylight until almost eight o'clock during most of the summer, and this plan would yield two or three hours of open-air life. or take advantage of part of this time, before supper, to go rowing, or swimming, to play some game, such as tennis, or to do anything else that will occupy you pleasantly for an hour or two in the open air. at least you can always take a good walk. if you go to bed at a reasonable hour you can probably rise early enough to permit a walk of one or two hours, or some other open-air activity, before going to work. if your work is in an office where you will be confined all day this advice is especially important. when your office hours begin at eight or nine o'clock in the morning you should imbibe as much fresh air as possible before work, if only by walking part or all the way to your place of business. be in the open air as much as you can. many people think they are too busy for this. they make the plea of lack of time, but when illness appears they have plenty of time to stay in bed. the open-air man or woman "side-steps" sickness. since superabundant vitality can be obtained through open-air life, spend as much time as you can out-of-doors. cultivate the outdoor habit. it will increase your efficiency so that you will do better work in less time. chapter x: strengthening the stomach one of the first requirements in vitality building is strengthening the stomach. within the stomach we find the beginning of all vital blood- making processes. here is where the food first passes through the changes essential to create the life-building fluid called the blood. we therefore cannot exaggerate the importance of strength to this important organ. when referring to a strong stomach, i do not mean strength in the abdominal muscles lying immediately in front of the stomach; i mean strength of the muscles within the walls of the stomach itself, which, to a large extent, actually constitute the stomach. these layers of muscular fibers which assist in carrying on important parts of the digestive processes must be strong if digestion is to be satisfactory in every way. now the work of strengthening the stomach does not, by any means, consist wholly of exercise. the stomach in order to be strengthened must have a due amount of intelligent consideration at all times. for instance, you cannot make a garbage can of your stomach and expect to increase the strength of the organ. it is really necessary, if you are seriously desirous of securing the best results in vitality building, to learn at least the fundamental facts relating to rational dietetics; and, after acquiring this knowledge, to apply it to your individual use throughout every day of your life. the suggestions that i have offered in the chapter on cleansing and stimulating the alimentary canal are truly of extreme importance in these strengthening processes. in fact in every instance this plan will increase the assimilative strength, and will enable you to create a better quality of blood; and this result in turn naturally aids in strengthening the stomach itself as well as all other parts of the body. furthermore, this is a method for cleansing directly not only the organ itself but the various glands which furnish the digestive juices. therefore, if difficulties are frequently presented in connection with the functions of this organ, special attention should be given to the elemental cleansing and strengthening processes as outlined in the chapter referred to. there are various special exercises which will have a certain influence upon the stomach because of their mechanical stimulation of this organ. all bending and twisting movements of the trunk of the body will naturally stimulate the action of the stomach because of their direct mechanical effect. all movements of this sort are naturally valuable under the circumstances, though for a short time after a meal any exercise that is so severe as to interfere with digestion should be avoided. such interference results when the muscles are used to such an extent that they require greatly increased quantities of blood at a time when a plentiful supply is needed by the stomach to carry on the work of digestion. all my readers no doubt already understand the necessity for giving the digestive organs every opportunity to carry on their processes for at least one hour after a hearty meal. bending and body-twisting movements are valuable one hour or more after a meal for strengthening the stomach, but they interfere with digestion if taken immediately thereafter. for increasing the vigor of this most important organ i would especially recommend the method already referred to for cleansing the alimentary canal and also the exercises which are given in connection therewith in the same chapter. if one is not in possession of a fair amount of strength i would suggest merely the exercises illustrated in chapter vii to be taken in conjunction with the morning hot-water-drinking regimen. it should be remembered, however, that for the strengthening of the stomach one must really depend most of all upon a proper diet and the care of the stomach generally, rather than upon any system of exercises intended to invigorate this organ. to build up a strong stomach a daily plan of life must be followed which requires of the entire body a normal amount of activity, thus demanding and using a fairly liberal supply of nourishment. an active life is always favorable to good digestion, and especially so if it is an out-of-door life for at least a large part of each day, for then an appetite is created demanding of the stomach that healthy activity essential to strength building; in other words, an active and normal life generally is essential to the maintenance of a strong and healthy stomach. the body must be regarded not as an aggregation of parts, but as one complete unit, and anything that affects all parts affects each separate part. it is quite true that when the stomach is weakened from any cause, it is not wise to overtax it by the ingestion of foods that are difficult to digest. but at the same time a policy of using predigested foods, or others that are suited only to a weak stomach, is not likely to develop a vigorous digestion. it is essential that one should use a proper supply of natural and wholesome foods properly prepared. if this is done and the general rules of rational dietetics are observed, there is no reason why any one should not enjoy the possession of a strong stomach and a vigorous digestion. i cannot, however, place too much emphasis upon the value of outdoor life and general activity and the constitutional benefits that go with them for improving the stomach as well as all other parts of the body. chapter xi: preserving the teeth health to a large extent depends upon the teeth. food can not be properly masticated without sound molars. the modern tendency of teeth to decay early in life clearly proves that something is wrong with our dietetic or chewing habits. like any other part of the body, the teeth must be exercised in order to be properly preserved. our foods are so frequently macerated to a fine consistency and they are so often cooked to a mush before they are eaten, that the teeth have little to do. they decay and become soft or brittle because of lack of use. it is necessary to give the teeth a reasonable amount of regular use. cultivate the habit of eating zwieback, hard crackers or other hard food substances that require real vigorous chewing. if this is difficult, then make a habit of exercising the teeth in some way. the idea suggested in the illustrations accompanying this chapter will be found of value, though any method can be recommended that serves the same purpose. do not, however, depend upon the chewing of gum for hours each day as a means of exercising the teeth. chewing a hard gum for a few minutes after a meal might be of advantage, but continual gum- chewing wastes and weakens the digestive elements of the saliva. in other words, if you sit down to a meal after chewing gum for two or three hours, the saliva that you mix with your food will not have the normal digestive elements. one might say that the "strength" of the saliva has been lost while chewing gum. if your teeth are decayed the offending members should be removed or the cavities filled. it is always wise to retain every tooth you can until extraction is practically compulsory. decayed teeth should be filled promptly. as long as a tooth can be filled it should not be extracted. a good dentist should be consulted at frequent intervals. if tartar has collected on the teeth, it should be removed by a competent dentist. one good method of keeping the teeth free from tartar is to rub the gums and teeth daily with table salt containing considerable grit. dampen the finger, place a quantity of table salt thereon and then rub the teeth where they meet the gums. make the process sufficiently vigorous to rub off any tartar that may have accumulated. the mouth should be rinsed with moderately warm water immediately after this process to remove the salt. any good tooth wash that is sold in the form of paste can be used instead of salt for this same purpose. this rubbing process is of more value to strengthen the gums and to cleanse the teeth than brushing the teeth with an ordinary tooth brush. tooth brushes, however, are valuable and should be used morning and evening. in caring for the teeth the following plan is suggested: soon after rising rinse the mouth out thoroughly with a mild antiseptic tooth wash; soap, or salt and water, is fairly good if nothing better can be obtained. plain water will also serve the purpose. lemon juice to which considerable water has been added, also makes a good mouth wash. orange juice can also be recommended. it may be said that most of the standard tooth powders and tooth pastes on the market at the present time are fairly reliable and satisfactory, particularly those of which the formula is printed on the wrapper. when brushing the teeth, avoid using a brush with the bristles too hard. a medium- or even a soft-bristle brush is preferable. the lateral action of the tooth brush, commonly used, is of limited value. one should use a vertical or up-and-down movement, so that the bristles will reach the crevices between the teeth. it is the spaces between the teeth that particularly need cleaning and the brush should be used in such a way as to reach these. it is here that decay usually begins. after having brushed the teeth then rub them in the manner previously described. spend two or three or even four or five minutes at this rubbing process. if the teeth are free from tartar do not use the salt more than once or twice weekly, though any good tooth paste could be used daily to advantage, not for brushing the teeth, mind you, but for rubbing the gums and teeth. for removing accumulated food substances from between the teeth silk or linen floss can be recommended. holding the thread between the fingers of each hand force it down between two teeth and bring it back and forth. if you have no regular dental floss, use any white silk thread for the purpose. it does not do one much good to brush the teeth if he does not remove decaying and acid-forming matter from between the teeth. the use of dental floss is fully as important as the use of a tooth brush. where rigg's disease, or pyorrhea, is present, an antiseptic can be used to advantage two or three times daily after rubbing or washing the teeth. massage of the gums may prove helpful, if gently applied, though in a serious case of pyorrhea a fasting and general blood-purifying regimen is advisable. the condition of the teeth is influenced to a large extent by the state of the stomach. where the digestion is perfect, the breath free from all foul odors, the teeth are less liable to decay and tartar rarely accumulates. where there is any stomach disorder, however, very great care must be taken to avoid a number of unpleasant symptoms associated with the gradual deterioration of the teeth. if the various suggestions i have made in this volume for maintaining superior health are followed with a reasonable amount of care, and the tooth brush is used regularly, in addition to proper attention being given to thorough mastication, the teeth should be retained as long as there is use for them. remember, however, the very important suggestion made in another chapter in reference to the value of fruit acid in cleansing the mouth and teeth. if you will rinse the mouth out at frequent intervals with the juice of an orange or eat part or all of an orange, you will be surprised at the cleansing influence of this acid fruit. almost any acid fruit will be of value, but the orange is perhaps the best for this purpose. the free use of water to insure alimentary cleanliness together with the acid fruit habit will form a very superior insurance for our teeth. finally, and of not least importance, the character of the diet has a great influence on the teeth. you cannot keep the teeth sound and strong if the foods you eat do not contain the material out of which teeth are built. if the food elements that build teeth and bone are lacking, you cannot expect the teeth to last long. a great hue and cry has been raised about the poor teeth of the school children of to-day, and an effort is being made to teach the children to brush their teeth. of course this is good as far as it goes, but it does not go far when the children are fed upon a diet that is defective. when you find the child of a poor family given a diet of little more than white bread and coffee you can absolutely depend upon it that his teeth are crumbling and decaying. no other result is possible, no matter if the greatest of care is used to keep the teeth well brushed and clean. therefore, my remarks in another chapter upon the influence of refined foods will apply particularly in the case of the teeth. a satisfactory supply of lime in the diet is especially necessary for building teeth and bone. whole-wheat bread will supply the material for building sound teeth, while oatmeal and other whole grain foods are almost equally satisfactory for this purpose. some women lose their teeth rapidly as a result of pregnancy, because the diet upon which they live is really a starvation diet so far as these important elements are concerned. eggs are rich in lime and elements required for building strong teeth, while vegetables and fruits in their natural state are valuable in this way. good milk is of value for its supply of lime and other organic minerals in the case of young children. furthermore, all natural foods that provide good exercise for the teeth through the necessity for mastication are valuable on this account for strengthening the teeth, as i have already said. dentistry is one of our most useful professions. but there would be need for few dentists if the suggestions given in this chapter were closely followed by men, women and children the whole country over. one may have strong teeth in practically every instance, as a result of proper care and suitable diet, just as he may have strong muscles, strong organs and strong nerves. chapter xii: how to eat civilization has brought with it a train of evils unknown in the natural life. there is no need, for instance, to tell a wild animal what to eat; his life is planned for him in advance. his food is supplied by nature and not superabundantly, so he is compelled to eat it in a manner to secure the greatest amount of vital vigor therefrom. hunger controls his eating, and therefore he always enjoys his food. if we were to eliminate many of the mechanical processes involved in the preparation of our foods, there would be little or no necessity for instruction in eating, for, if we ate our food in a natural state, we would be compelled to masticate it, and this is the fundamental requirement of healthy digestion. just here let me point out the importance of appetite. a food cannot possibly be of benefit unless it is thoroughly enjoyed. it must taste good. the more delicious a food tastes the more quickly and advantageously it will digest. the idea is frequently advanced that dieting must necessarily be unpleasant, for many think that a "diet" must consist of food that cannot possibly be eaten with enjoyment. this is a great mistake. diet of this character would indeed bring about harmful results in nearly every instance. the diet which will be of the most value is that which you can enjoy, confining your selection, of course, to wholesome articles of food. i cannot emphasize too strongly the extreme necessity for the enjoyment of your meals. do not under any circumstance ignore the demands of your taste in selecting your diet. your food must be thoroughly masticated as well as thoroughly enjoyed. this chewing should continue until the food becomes a liquid and actually passes down your throat involuntarily. food should never be swallowed hastily. swallowing should be an unconscious process associated with enjoyment; with a view to prolonging the pleasure of eating, each mouthful should be retained in the mouth until it is swallowed before you realize it. thorough mastication is absolutely necessary to the attainment of the very important requirements connected with the complete enjoyment of foods. now note the effect of prolonged enjoyment of food upon the digestive processes. when one is masticating an appetizing meal the digestive system is being prepared for the reception of this meal. the various glands of the stomach that perform such important work in digestion begin to pour their juices into the stomach; consequently when the food reaches this organ everything is ready for its reception. to begin with, as a result of thorough mastication and the action of the saliva, the food is already partly digested, and the stomach is ready to continue the process. the work is easy and satisfactory under such circumstances, and digestion continues unconsciously. you do not realize that you have a stomach. how often one hears a healthy man say that he has no conscious knowledge of the possession of such an organ! in other words, he has never had a pain or other unpleasant symptom located in its region. it is said on the other hand that the dyspeptic is so continuously and unpleasantly aware of the existence of this organ that he often thinks he is "all stomach." remember also the importance of a suitable mental attitude at meal-time. your mind should be occupied almost entirely with the pleasure of the meal itself. you should not be seriously diverted in any way. if for instance you are reading a newspaper or carrying on an engrossing conversation you are directly interfering with the digestive processes; for, as i have already said, a thorough enjoyment of the food is necessary to arouse to their greatest activity the glands which furnish the digestive juices. therefore, when meal-time comes around, devote yourself to the one single purpose of getting as much enjoyment as possible out of your food. if you are desirous of catching a train, do not make the mistake of bolting a meal. eat when you arrive at your destination, or eat on the train, when you can have the leisure to enjoy your food. remember that, with eating as with work, it is not how much but how well. if your time is limited it is better to eat only a small amount, and eat it properly, than to attempt to eat a large meal hurriedly. especially do not eat when you are angry or worried; do not allow anything to distract you at meal-time. if anything comes up that seriously mars your ability to enjoy your food it is far better to delay your meal or wait until the next meal, or until you can eat in accordance with these requirements. there can be no objection to light conversation, which requires no special amount of mental energy or concentration; in other words, any deviation can be recommended which does not seriously interfere with the enjoyment of your meal. music, for instance, if it is of a gentle, soothing character, or entertainment of any kind that is relaxing, is a helpful form of recreation. the "cabaret," if not carried to an extreme, is therefore a natural, well-founded institution. congenial company is also naturally advantageous in helping one to enjoy his meals. there has been much controversy as to whether or not one should drink during a meal. i have at all times condemned the usual habit of drinking at meal-time for the purpose of washing down food that is eaten hastily. for instance, it is not at all unusual with many people to take three or four mouthfuls of food, hastily swallow them, and then find a certain amount of liquid essential to avoid choking. i cannot too emphatically condemn a habit of this sort. i do, however, recommend the use of liquids during a meal when they are necessary to satisfy thirst. furthermore, it is of considerable importance to take some liquid during a meal if one is not in the habit of drinking freely of water between meals, since a certain amount of liquid is necessary to carry on the digestive process. when there is any digestive difficulty or when there is merely a weak digestion, hot water can be used to great advantage fifteen minutes or a half-hour before the meal. taking hot water in this manner cleanses the stomach and adds materially to the digestive capacity by stimulating the glands of the stomach. the quantity of water taken in this way may range from half a pint to a quart, depending upon one's physical condition. the amount of liquid taken during a meal must also be regulated by one's needs. for instance, if you are poorly nourished and apparently need more weight properly to round out your body, then an additional amount of liquid will often be of advantage, provided you do not take so much as actually to interfere with digestion. where increased bodily tissue is needed, therefore, in virtually every instance the free use of water during the meal will be of decided value; though one should always keep in mind the necessity of drinking these liquids warm or even hot if taking any quantity. the use of a large amount of cold water at meal-time is likely to be detrimental. there is a wide-spread custom of drinking ice-water during the meal. this is one of the most pernicious of all dietetic errors, since chilling of the stomach invariably retards digestion and favors dyspepsia. even water that is very cold, though not iced, is not desirable, unless used in very small amounts. also the use of ice- water or extremely cold water between meals is inadvisable, since because of its low temperature one cannot comfortably drink enough of it to satisfy completely his bodily requirements. water that is only moderately cold or cool can be used liberally, and is always to be preferred in the case of overheating through violent exercise. it is usually advisable to drink water at the temperature that is most pleasant to you, though large quantities of cold water should always be avoided. and, as i have said, at meal-time, especially, if much water or other liquids are used they should be either warm or hot. without question, the greatest of all dietetic errors is to eat without appetite. it is nothing less than a crime against the stomach, and yet this practice is one of the most common of all those which contribute to the prevalence of dyspepsia in civilized communities. no animal, the human race excepted, would attempt to eat without the relish that absolutely depends upon the possession of a keen appetite. many thousands of people attempt to eat their meals regularly without regard to the demands of hunger merely because it is "meal-time." eating in such cases has only the excuse of habit, although frequently it is regarded as a duty. eating should never be regarded as a duty, nor should it be allowed to become a habit, for when not pleasurable it is not beneficial. one will often, hear the remark that one must "eat to keep up his strength." while this advice is fundamentally sound in a large sense under normal conditions and when a true appetite is present, yet there never was a greater delusion when it is applied to forced eating when the appetite is lacking. eating under such conditions does not keep up one's strength, but on the contrary actually impairs it by burdening the digestive system with food that cannot be properly assimilated. it is not what you eat but what you assimilate that keeps you strong, and digestion depends upon appetite and the enjoyment associated therewith. the question of enjoyment is really a question of appetite, and if you are not hungry and cannot relish the food keenly when meal-time comes it is certainly best to wait until the next meal or until you are hungry. every wild animal has sense enough to follow its natural inclination in this respect, but thousands of human beings go to the table because it is dinner-time, and force themselves to eat food that they do not desire simply because of the stupid delusion that continual and frequent eating is necessary for strength. the discussion of appetite brings up the question of the number of meals that is proper for each day. the prevailing system of three meals per day is a custom surviving from a time in which early rising and hard physical labor throughout a long day was the rule, especially in connection with out-of-door work. this does not mean, however, that three meals is always the best plan for civilized life in sedentary occupations. there are some wild races that eat only two meals per day, and there have been instances of hunters and even whole populations following the one-meal-per-day plan. naturally at the present time the occupation and the requirements of the individual would have much to do with the question. if one does hard work, has an appetite for three meals per day, and seems to thrive on that plan, it is the preferable one. if, however, you are a sedentary worker, and especially if you do not have an appetite for three meals per day and cannot thoroughly enjoy them, the two-meal-per-day plan would be much better. the two-meal- per-day plan has often proven beneficial even when associated with the strenuous physical training required for athletic competition in racing, wrestling, boxing, marathon running and other vigorous sports. it is entirely a question of appetite. if you have no appetite for breakfast then follow the two-meal-per-day plan. i will say, however, that in many cases one can enjoy and profit by a breakfast of fruit. the question of how to eat is closely related to the question of how many meals one should take. overeating is a very prevalent failing. there is no question that large numbers eat themselves, as it were, into a condition of stupor. their energies are required for the disposal of the excessive quantity of food ingested, and they have no energy left for mental work or for physical activity. they are, so to speak, "food drunk." i am personally satisfied that the best cure for overeating is food in less frequent meals and the practice of masticating the food thoroughly in the manner that i have suggested. in a case of this kind the two-meal-per-day plan is also to be recommended. actual experience shows that those inclined to overeat do not eat any more at one meal when eating two meals than when eating three meals-they may possibly eat less, because of the more normal condition of the stomach. another good plan to pursue is the use of uncooked foods, or at least the adoption of a diet consisting in part of uncooked foods. it is entirely possible to eat too little of nourishing food, just as it is to eat too much. but one who lives a natural and active life, especially if out-of-doors a fair part of the time, is not likely to lack a good appetite nor to eat less than the required amount. good general health always brings with it a normal appetite. overeating, however, is no doubt in many cases due very largely to the inadequate character of the foods consumed. i am satisfied that if all our foods were eaten in their natural condition and if they perfectly supplied the needs of the body there would be no tendency toward overeating. the great trouble is that conventional methods of food preparation have such a destructive effect upon the nutritive value of the foods in common use that a healthy body often craves large quantities of diverse foods in order to get a sufficiency of certain elements which are lacking. the use of white bread is a case in point, for, as stated in another chapter, the best part of the wheat has been eliminated in the process of milling. furthermore, to a large extent the mineral salts are removed from our vegetables in the process of boiling; that is to say, when the water in which they were boiled is thrown away. the polishing of rice, the use of white flour in manufacturing macaroni, the refining of our sugar, and many other processes, are directly responsible for the almost universal habit of overeating. certain elements are taken out of the food, the body craves these elements, and in trying to secure adequate nourishment, one eats an excessive amount of the refined defective foods. chapter xiii: what to eat the suggestions offered in the previous chapter concerning the necessity for the enjoyment of food, give one a fairly clear idea as to what he should eat. in other words, he should select those foods that he thoroughly enjoys, keeping in mind the necessity of using only those that are at least reasonably wholesome. if you have a large variety from which to select, this will be to your advantage, provided you do not include too many foods at one meal. it is a good plan to get your variety from meal to meal and from day to day, but without including too many dishes at any one meal. one of the most remarkable cases of longevity with which i have ever come in contact proved in a very pointed way the value of this suggestion. this was a woman who had lived to be over eighty years of age. during the last forty years of her life she was as agile, as clear- headed and as capable as a young woman in the heyday of her youth. i am satisfied that to a large extent the unusual vitality possessed by this woman was due to her habit of eating but one article of food two meals each day, although occasionally she would eat only one. her meals were taken irregularly, because she would eat only when she was hungry. when she had a definite appetite it would nearly always indicate to her the particular food that she wanted. she would then prepare a meal of this food and thoroughly satisfy her appetite with it. nothing else was eaten at that meal. this woman naturally went through some very severe trials before she adopted this diet-indeed, a terrible lesson of some sort seems necessary to compel one to follow a strict dietetic regimen. at the age of forty she was a physical wreck, having been for years tortured with rheumatism. having vainly tried every other remedy, she finally became interested in diet, and through it finally overcame her difficulty. it might also be of interest in this connection to know that she never used salt, pepper, or condiments of any sort with her meals, and it would be well to emphasize that it is important to avoid the too free use of condiments and stimulating foods. we have used salt so long that our bodies seem adapted to it, and it is usually considered essential to the welfare of domestic stock; therefore it is a moot question as to whether it is advisable for human beings to avoid it altogether. yet the excessive use of it to which we are prone is certainly harmful. how is this to be avoided? if we eat our food in a hand, i have found that the longer you are without it the more you long for it, until the craving becomes much more intense than is the hunger of a man who fasts (the symptoms are those of a disease rather than of being hungry). among the uncivilized eskimos the dislike of salt is so strong that a saltiness imperceptible to me would prevent them from eating at all. this fact was often useful to me, and when our eskimo visitors threatened to eat us out of house and home we could put in a little pinch of salt, and thus husband our resources without seeming inhospitable. a man who tasted anything salty at our table would quickly bethink him that he had plenty of more palatable fare in his own house. on the score of what to eat i would reiterate what i have said about the use of foods in their natural condition. the refinement of various foods has made them entirely unfit for human consumption. of first importance without doubt is the use of the whole grain of the wheat for flour. wheat, as produced by the almighty, is practically a perfect food, containing all the elements required by the human body and in a proportion not very far from that found in the body. in modern methods of milling, however, the effort is made to eliminate everything in the wheat grain except the pure starch, which naturally makes a fine, smooth, white flour. the miller is not absolutely successful in his endeavor, but he does succeed in robbing the product of the natural state, that is in an uncooked form, salt can be more easily avoided, but cooking in many instances modifies the flavor to such an extent that salt seems necessary. i am not prepared to admit that it is a necessity, for i know of many who avoid the use of salt altogether and who have maintained unusual vital vigor. i have known of others, however, who have tried to eliminate salt from their diet and the results have been unsatisfactory. we may therefore say that in most cases the moderate use of salt can be recommended. one of the most interesting expressions of opinion on the subject of salt that i have seen was a statement by stefanson, the arctic explorer, in his "my quest in the arctic," in which he discusses the diet of the eskimos and their constitutional aversion to salt. "most people are in the habit of looking upon the articles of our customary diet, and especially upon salt, as necessities. we have not found them so. the longer you go without green foods and vegetables the less you long for them. salt i have found to behave like a narcotic poison; in other words, it is as hard to break off its use as it is hard to stop the use of tobacco. but after you have been a month or so without salt you cease to long for it, and after six months i have found the taste of meat boiled in salt water positively disagreeable. in the case of such a necessary element of food as fat on the other hand, i have found that the longer you are without it the more you long for it, until the craving becomes much more intense than is the hunger of a man who fasts (the symptoms are those of a disease rather than of being hungry). among the uncivilized eskimos the dislike of salt is so strong that a saltiness imperceptible to me would prevent them from eating at all. this fact was often useful to me, and when our eskimo visitors threatened to eat us out of house and home we could put in a little pinch of salt, and thus husband our resources without seeming inhospitable. a man who tasted anything salty at our table would quickly bethink him that he had plenty of more palatable fare in his own house." on the score of what to eat i would reiterate what i have said about the use of foods in their natural condition. the refinement of various foods has made them entirely unfit for human consumption. of first importance without doubt is the use of the whole grain of the wheat for flour. wheat, as produced by the almighty, is practically a perfect food, containing all the elements required by the human body and in a proportion not very far from that found in the body. in modern methods of milling, however, the effort is made to eliminate everything in the wheat grain except the pure starch, which naturally makes a fine, smooth, white flour. the miller is not absolutely successful in his endeavor, but he does succeed in robbing the product of the larger part of its food value, until it is absolutely incapable of sustaining life, and this serious mistake is without question the prime cause of the prevalence of constipation. the refining of rice by removing the coating, which contains organic salts, is another process by which is produced a food that is almost pure starch. the disease beriberi is now recognized as being due to a diet of polished rice. where the natural unpolished rice is used this disease is both prevented and cured. in refining our sugar a similar denaturing process 'is carried on. the same is true in the grinding of corn, and in preparing a whole host of other foods. the practice of "refining" is the great food crime of the age. in addition to this the average housewife adds to our difficulties when preparing vegetables and other foods, by "draining" off the water in which they are cooked, thus throwing away the invaluable mineral elements which have been dissolved in the liquor during the process of cooking. the ultimate result of these crimes of the manufacturer and mistakes of the cook, is that the people are to a large extent starved, as far as mineral salts are concerned, in spite of the enormous food supply and the payment of the highest prices. though bread is supposed to be the "staff of life," it might reasonably be termed the "staff of death" when it is made entirely from white flour and is depended upon exclusively for nourishment. it is well to point out also that bread of all kinds should be avoided in some cases of weak digestion. under such circumstances it often irritates the lining of the stomach and intestines. when symptoms of this kind are noticed bread must not be used-more especially when made with yeast. when the bread is made without yeast and is masticated very thoroughly it may do no harm. there are instances also in which there is a strong craving for white bread and when graham or whole-wheat bread is not appetizing. when one has an abundant variety of foods and the alimentary canal is unusually active the desire for white bread can be satisfied without harmful results. in fact when the diet is varied by numerous articles of food at one meal considerable white bread can be used if it is appetizing. those taking the treatment for constipation recommended in this book often stimulate the alimentary canal to such an extent that graham or whole-wheat products are slightly irritating in their effect. as long as such symptoms exist white bread can be used. remember, however, that whenever there is the slightest sign of constipation white flour products of all kinds should immediately be eliminated from the diet. as nearly as possible foods should be used in their natural condition. those that can be enjoyed when uncooked are more valuable when eaten without cooking. when cooking is necessary the food should be cooked in such a way that there is no waste nor loss of the natural elements. steaming and baking are both preferable in many cases to boiling; cooking in a double boiler may be especially recommended in the case of vegetables, as these are in such a case cooked in their own juices. therefore my most important suggestions on what to eat would be: first, to select only natural foods; and second, to avoid too much variety at one meal. as to what sort of a diet one should adopt, i might say that the proper answer to a question of this kind depends largely upon one's individual condition and requirements. unquestionably a perfect diet is furnished by nuts and fruits. from a theoretical standpoint this would appear to be ideal. i would say, however, that very few persons can be thoroughly nourished on a limited diet of this sort, and therefore it cannot be universally recommended. perhaps the next diet that closely approximates perfection would be a raw or uncooked diet. this would include all the foods that can be made palatable without cooking, such as nuts and fruits of all kinds, vegetable salads, cereals and dairy products. a diet of this sort can be continued indefinitely in some cases, and where one can be thoroughly nourished on this regimen it can be highly recommended. foods in their raw state possess a tremendous amount of vitality-building elements. they are live foods, consequently they give one life, energy, vivacity. one can usually fast longer with a smaller loss of weight and energy after a raw than after a cooked diet. but in many instances this diet does not maintain the weight and the bodily energies at high-water mark; consequently in such cases it often proves unsatisfactory, even where its first effects are pleasing to an unusual degree. nearly all restrictive diets are valuable for a short period where there is evidence of overeating. on this account many enthusiasts who adopt a restricted diet and who note their improved appearance and general increase of energy for a time, will be profoundly impressed with the idea that at last they have found a perfect diet. on account of their enthusiasm they will often continue such a strict dietetic regimen until it is productive of seriously harmful results. it should be kept in mind that any diet which is really adequate for all requirements will maintain your normal weight and your energy. in other words, you should feel well and look well, if your diet is as it should be. this is an invariable test, and can be depended upon absolutely. probably the next diet that can be recommended in many cases would be a meatless or vegetarian diet. there is absolutely no question as to the superiority of this plan over a regimen that includes meat, provided again that you can be fully nourished and that you feel energetic and capable. a vegetarian diet will usually make a better quality of tissue; you will have more endurance, and there is but little doubt that a healthy vegetarian will outlive a meat-eater, since his vital organs remain in a healthier condition for a longer period than those of one accustomed to a free use of meat. we must admit, however, that many cannot maintain their weight and keep their full allowance of energy on a vegetarian diet. where you find a vegetarian whose skin is white, whose lips are colorless, who is thin and seemingly in need of nourishment, you can rest assured that the diet is not agreeing with him. such persons in virtually every instance need animal food of some sort. it is therefore wise, if you are searching for a diet that is capable of developing in you the greatest degree of mental and physical efficiency, to make a careful study of your individual condition and requirements. after you have acquired sufficient knowledge on the subject it might even be well to do some experimenting, and in that way determine what particular diet is best suited to your needs. it is extremely difficult, however, for one to adopt a regimen which is radically different from that of those with whom he associates. you may have sufficient enthusiasm for a time to subsist on a nut-and-fruit diet or on an uncooked diet, but when your own family and friends are using other foods at all times the temptation to vary your own diet is sometimes too strong to resist, consequently you will be inclined gradually to resume the general regimen of those with whom you live. one can, however, maintain good health without being what might be termed a dietetic crank. to be sure, where one is suffering from a disease or is definitely in need of some special diet in order to secure certain results, a very rigid diet is of great importance and should be adhered to strictly. after such results have been achieved, however, and after normal health is regained, you can secure at almost any well supplied table a selection of foods which will furnish satisfactory nourishment. some intelligence in selection, however, is necessary. there are a few articles of food that it would always be well to avoid. for instance, nearly all white-flour products are to be condemned. this means not only bread but biscuits, cakes, crackers, and pastries made of white flour. unquestionably, if one is using meat freely, white-flour products are not nearly so harmful as when taken with a vegetarian diet. the meat supplies some of the deficiencies, though not all. at one time i had an experiment made which proved in a striking manner the defective character of white flour as a food. the subject tested the results of a fast of two weeks. he weighed himself before and after the fast and several times during its progress. he accurately determined his strength at all times, before, during, and at the completion of the fast. a considerable time thereafter he experimented with a diet of white-flour products for the same period of two weeks, eating white flour as commonly prepared, in the form of bread, cakes, etc. the result showed that he lost more weight and more strength while following the white-flour regimen than he had while fasting absolutely. this would seem to indicate that, in this case, at least, white-flour products were not a food, but a slow- acting poison. among foods especially valuable i would call attention to green salads. if possible one should eat some food of this kind each day, more especially during warm weather. they are of great value as blood purifiers and they supply to a very large extent the mineral salts. various combinations can be used in the form of salads, and the most satisfactory dressing is probably a combination of olive oil and lemon juice. i do not recommend vinegar partly because it is seldom pure, and one never can tell what combination of chemicals it contains. lemon juice is preferable even to the best vinegar for the purpose of salad dressing. celery, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, water-cress, parsley, cucumbers, and other foods of this character are suitable for salad purposes. spinach, dandelion leaves, and other greens can be recommended in their cooked form, and it is unnecessary to add that virtually all cooked vegetables are of value. fruits of all kinds can be recommended for the same reasons that make the green salads so useful to the body. they are of the very greatest value where there is any tendency toward biliousness. in many cases of this kind where it is undesirable to undertake an absolute fast as a means of setting the stomach right and where there is a lack of appetite, a fruit fast can be highly recommended. this is simply an exclusive diet of fresh acid fruits, such as oranges, grapefruit, grapes, cherries, apples and other fresh fruits in season. it is especially important to know in such a case that these fruits should be eaten in their strictly natural condition, properly ripened and without the addition of sugar. as a general thing a sufficient allowance of fruit and green salads will so balance the diet that one is not likely to have any trouble even if he eats heartily of the foods served at the ordinary table. it would be well also to remember that acid fruits have valuable antiseptic (cleansing) qualities. they keep the mouth and teeth as well as the alimentary canal in a wholesome state. in fact the frequent use of acid fruit, more especially the orange, is of great value in counteracting the effects of digestive difficulties on the mouth and teeth. if a small piece of orange is taken whenever there is an unpleasant taste in the mouth it will destroy the germ life that is being rapidly propagated under such circumstances, though such symptoms indicate also the need of acid fruit of some sort by the stomach. especially is this required if there is a craving for fruit of this sort. in such cases the rule against eating between meals may be disregarded. whenever you have a strong desire for acid fruits between meals you are usually safe in using them. in fact they are often sorely needed under such circumstances to assist in digesting a meal that may have been eaten some hours previously. indigestion which leaves the mouth with a foul, unpleasant taste is often noticed on awakening at night after a hearty meal the evening before. on such occasions a few swallows of water, or whatever is needed to satisfy thirst, and a small quantity of acid fruit, like the orange, are of great value. they should be well mixed and moved about in the mouth until the acid comes in contact with every part of the mouth and teeth. when there is the slightest sign of digestive difficulties i would advise that each meal be completed with a small quantity of fruit. if you stop your meal at a time when you can enjoy the taste of acid fruit it is usually a definite proof that you have not overeaten. remember too that the orange, lemon and any fruit with a strong acid flavor is a splendid tooth or mouth wash, and it need not be ejected as an ordinary wash. it can be enjoyed and swallowed after mouth and teeth have been cleansed. therefore the frequent use of oranges as a dentifrice is a habit of great value. use them on retiring and on rising and the results will be unusually pleasing. what foods can be used as substitutes for meat? this is a question that assumes considerable importance to those desirous of testing the vegetarian diet. i may say that almost any food that is wholesome and hearty in character and which is craved by your appetite will make a satisfactory meat substitute. those containing a large percentage of protein are particularly desirable for this purpose. the following list will give one a general idea as to the nature of these foods: cereals of all kinds, either in the whole grain or in the form of flaked grain, contain a fair percentage of protein and may be recommended for the purpose, although refined flour or polished grains are of no value in this way. bread made from the whole wheat or any of the whole grains may be recommended. the "war bread" used in europe since the outbreak of the great war is of this type. the pumpernickel and "black breads" used in various parts of europe are so valuable from a nutritive standpoint that one can live on them entirely. many of the farming and peasant classes of europe live almost exclusively on breads of this type. nearly all the prepared foods ordinarily referred to as breakfast foods, and which are made up of whole grains of wheat, corn, oats or barley would come under this class. no breakfast food made of only a part of the wheat would be recommended for this purpose. all kinds of beans are splendid meat substitutes, including navy beans, lima beans and kidney beans. they are what one may call hearty foods and as a rule one should lead a fairly active life to enjoy and digest them satisfactorily. the same may be said of dried peas. lentils belong in the same class and are very similar to the bean in its nourishing elements. beans, peas and lentils form a class known as the legumes, and contain a high percentage of protein. nuts of all kinds make splendid meat substitutes, though they may sometimes be found rich for a weak stomach. they need to be used in small quantities and should be eaten only at meal-time. peanuts really belong to the legume family, but are quite as good as any kind of nuts. the only mistake in their use lies in the habit of eating them between meals. peanut butter and nut butters are of value. when nuts are easily digested they are satisfactory in every way. perhaps the most popular meat substitute is the egg. do not, however, entertain the idea that you are not eating any meat products when eggs are included in your diet. eggs must be classed as animal food, but they are very nourishing. they contain a good supply of lime, sulphur, iron, phosphorus and other mineral salts in addition to their protein and fats. it may also be said that milk should be classed as animal food, though it is of special value from a nutritive standpoint. milk, cheese and other milk products naturally make good substitutes for meat. butter is a practically pure fat and will not take the place of meat in supplying protein, although it will take the place of the fatty portions of the meat. cheese is often appropriately placed at the last part of the meal, and the statement that it will to a certain extent help to digest a hearty meal if but a small quantity is taken has been proven accurate in numerous cases. as a milk product buttermilk may be particularly recommended as a meat substitute if one uses a considerable quantity of it. we should distinguish, however, between real buttermilk and the fermented milk or sour milk which is often sold in cities under the name of buttermilk. fermented milk is highly recommended for all food purposes and is undoubtedly conducive to health, but from the standpoint of nutrition it has practically the same value as fresh milk. the true buttermilk, however, from which the fat-forming elements have been extracted in the form of butter, is a more purely protein product. if you use sufficient buttermilk, that is to say, two quarts or more a day, you can rest assured that you will not crave meat. chapter xiv: foods in the cure of chronic constipation constipation is probably the beginning of nearly all human ailments. there are a few exceptions but not many. it is a tremendous foe to vitality. pure blood is absolutely impossible when one is suffering from this complaint. active functioning of the alimentary canal is absolutely essential if the blood stream is to contain those elements essential to superior vital vigor. the regimen which i suggested in the chapter on cleansing and stimulating the alimentary canal will undoubtedly be sufficient to overcome any trouble of this character provided there are not dietetic causes that are serious in nature. where the disorder is chronic, and especially when it has extended over a term of many years, a comprehensive dietetic regimen may be necessary in addition to the adoption of measures previously suggested. the direct cause of constipation is a relaxed and weakened condition of the muscular walls of the stomach and intestines. a certain degree of strength of these muscular structures is essential properly to facilitate digestion, assimilation and elimination. the lack of tone in these muscles is chiefly due in nearly all cases to what might be termed a concentrated diet. our foods have been too much refined. as previously stated they are not eaten as they were created, but have been put through a prolonged milling process or other method of preparation which not only eliminates many elements of nourishment but also breaks up the food into the most minute particles, thus eliminating the rough, coarse and fibrous material in the food which ordinarily arouses what is known as the peristaltic activity of the bowels. our methods of food preparation also materially lessen the necessity for prolonged and thorough mastication. the habit of hurriedly swallowing our food undoubtedly lessens its vitality-building possibilities, besides materially affecting the strength and general hardiness of the teeth. constipation is also caused in numerous instances by a lack of liquids. men and women do not use sufficient water. one frequently loses what might be termed the water-drinking habit, usually as a result of sedentary occupations. the method of remedying constipation referred to in chapter vi pointedly illustrates the amazing value of water in remedying conditions of this kind. it is well, however, to remember the necessity for using at least a reasonable quantity of water throughout the entire day. if you do not drink water quite freely between meals then it is advisable and actually necessary to use a certain quantity with your meals. those who drink tea and coffee freely seem to recognize the need of this instinctively. the choice of these beverages, however, is distinctly bad. tea and coffee are destructive to both nerves and health, but aside from these stimulating drinks one can use almost any wholesome beverage at meal-time in order to supply his cravings in this direction. fruit drinks are excellent. i have referred to this question in a previous chapter. diet naturally has a tremendous influence on alimentary activity. white bread and white-flour products constitute the most serious cause of constipation. this defective food is lacking in the elements necessary to give life and vitality to the body, because the valuable covering of the grain has been removed in the milling process, while the life germ of the wheat has also been eliminated. the bran, which consists of several minute layers covering the wheat berry, has a distinct value in stimulating peristaltic action, and when it is removed, the resulting white flour must be a defective food. one of the first dietetic changes required in remedying constipation, therefore, is to eliminate white-flour products from the diet. graham bread, or that made from the whole wheat, or any of the whole grains, rye, oats, barley, corn, is a satisfactory article of diet, and will often remedy constipation without resort to any other dietetic change. what might be termed waste products, or fibrous material in food, are found especially valuable in promoting digestion and active functioning of the bowels. the woody fiber found in vegetables is most valuable. it is sometimes suggested that one should simply consume the juice of his foods but not the pulp. this pulp or fibrous matter, however, is especially important. following this requirement of bulk or waste in our food, we find such remedies as sand, refined coal oil, a mineral product that passes through the alimentary canal without change, and ordinary black dirt, which is usually taken in its dried form. when using sand, it should be sterilized, and the grains should be rounded and worn smooth by the action of waves or running water. do not use that in which the grains are sharp-edged. one or more of these products are valuable as a laxative and the devitalizing after-effects of a drug cathartic will be absent. they are, however, not by any means as pleasant as food laxatives, and remedies of this sort should not be employed except as a temporary expedient. whole grains of various kinds, wheat, rye, oats and barley, simmered in hot water for a long time until properly softened, not only afford a high degree of nourishment, but will be found of special value as a means of remedying constipation. they are best if used in their natural state, just as they come from the farm. they are more valuable when eaten raw with fruit or cream, or in some other palatable form, than when cooked. when flaked or crushed, as in the case of ordinary oatmeal, they may be used with figs, dates, raisins and a little cream, or they may be eaten with a little honey. one bowl of this class of food, either raw or cooked, each day, is very effective in overcoming constipation. salads of various kinds not only have great value by way of supplying food for the nerves, but they are also worth while for their mild laxative effect. i would recommend all forms of uncooked green food, chiefly to be used in the form of salads, such as lettuce, tomatoes, onions, celery, radishes, cucumbers, cold slaw, water-cress, parsley, and the like. all cooked green vegetables such as spinach, asparagus, string beans, fresh green peas, brussels sprouts, dandelion leaves, greens, cabbages, mushrooms and other foods of this sort will likewise be helpful. fruits are of even greater value for their laxative qualities. one should use them freely for ordinary health building, but especially when suffering from this complaint. apples, oranges, grapefruit, peaches, plums, grapes, and various berries are exceptionally good for increasing alimentary activity, though all kinds of fruit are valuable. prunes and figs are particularly recommended. such acid fruits as lemons, oranges and grapefruit are valuable not only for their stimulating qualities in connection with constipation, but also because of their antiseptic influence. cheese is very constipating to those inclined in this direction. all forms of cheese and food combinations containing it should be avoided. spaghetti and macaroni prepared in this way are especially inadvisable, though it may be said that even when served without cheese spaghetti and macaroni are constipating. rice in the ordinary polished form, as usually sold, is practically a pure starch and should be avoided. the same applies to tapioca, sago and foods of this character. needless to say white crackers, cookies and cakes are to be classed with white bread. one should use brown sugar in place of white wherever possible, or use the pure new orleans molasses. it is often difficult to secure this, however, inasmuch as most of the molasses on the market is made up chiefly of glucose or corn syrup, and often contains harmful chemical preservatives. it is best to avoid sugar altogether and to use honey for all purposes of sweetening, as honey is less inclined to fermentation. milk in some cases is inclined to produce constipation when used in connection with the ordinary diet. an exclusive and full diet of milk, is rarely constipating except during the first few days of the diet, but when milk is added to the ordinary foods, it frequently has a tendency in this direction. buttermilk or fermented milk can often be used to advantage if sweet milk should prove constipating to the patient. muscular weakness and defective circulation are prominent causes of constipation in many cases. this accounts for this disorder being found so frequently among sedentary workers. inactivity, the cause of many ills, is particularly prominent in contributing to this trouble. therefore muscular exercise is perhaps a most effective means of permanently remedying constipation. exercise has a direct mechanical influence upon the entire alimentary canal. the contraction of the abdominal muscles and the bending or other movements of the trunk of the body produce a certain amount of movement in and pressure upon the digestive organs in a direct mechanical way. walking, for instance, is of extraordinary value in remedying this difficulty because of its stimulating influence upon the entire functional system, and the slight jar of each step without doubt has a direct mechanical effect. walking furthermore is a tremendous factor in the building of vitality and this helps indirectly in remedying constipation. but there are also various special exercises that particularly affect the alimentary canal. bending forward and backward and from side to side and also various twisting movements of the trunk have a special influence in this direction. they actually massage the internal organs, and this means a great deal where there is any digestive weakness or lack of activity in the bowels. what i term inner-strength exercises, or as they may also be called, pressure movements, are also of considerable value. an example of this type of exercise will be found in placing the right forearm across the stomach, grasping the right wrist with the left hand, and then with the strength of both arms pressing vigorously inward upon the stomach for a moment. now relax and repeat. bringing up the right knee and left knee alternately, with strong pressure, using vigorously the strength of the arms against the abdominal region, is also a good example of this type of exercise, which has proven very effective in numerous cases. other exercises of this kind ( see chapter xv) can be applied to all parts of the upper body with great advantage to the inner organs, since such movements are of remarkable value in stimulating alimentary activity. in line with exercise of this kind, massage and percussion treatment of the abdominal region is likewise effective. the massage should be deep and may be administered by the closed fist. a wide circular movement is advantageous for this purpose, the hand being moved in the direction of the hands of a clock, that is to say, up the right side, across, down the left side and continuing around in that manner. rolling a baseball around in the same manner, pressing deeply though without strain, will afford an excellent form of massage for this particular purpose. the percussion treatment that i have suggested consists in alternate tapping or striking this region of the body with both hands. a chopping movement, using the outside edge of the hands, is very effective, and if you are very vigorous, the closed fist may be used. striking repeatedly and alternately with the two fists, go over the entire region of the stomach and abdomen. this can be done gently or vigorously, according to your condition, and it is an invaluable and effective means of stimulating peristalsis and functional vigor. mechanical vibration may also be suggested. cathartics are always to be condemned. the ordinary cathartic or laxative acts by reason of its irritating qualities. as a rule it abstracts the water from the intestinal walls, and the adjacent tissues, and the ultimate effect is to leave one in worse condition than before. those who have been accustomed to the drug treatment of constipation, usually find the condition growing continuously more stubborn. larger and larger doses of the cathartic must be taken to secure results until the function is practically paralyzed. there could be no greater mistake. if some laxative is required and sand cannot be used, the best remedy is ordinary table salt. stir up a level teaspoonful in a glass of water and drink it. this has a mild laxative action. or take daily two to four tablespoonfuls of ordinary bran in a glass of water. this bran may also be stirred into soups and cereals or mixed with whole-wheat flour when making bread. olive oil also should be used freely. as an emergency treatment, however, the enema is most satisfactory, and when employed it is best to do it thoroughly. i do not advocate the regular and continuous use of this measure. one should not come to depend upon it. a natural action is desirable, and this can invariably be brought about by a proper diet, as above suggested, by exercise and by a sufficient amount of water. the enema or colon- flushing should be used only when absolutely necessary, though in case of acute disease, where rapid purification is essential, the enema is imperatively demanded, and no household should be without an outfit for giving this treatment. to some the continuous use of the colon-flushing treatment is inclined to be debilitating and in rare cases complaints have been made that it dilates the colon and weakens its muscular structures. this is occasionally true in the case of the hot enema. a fairly cool enema is less objectionable, while a cold enema has a decided tonic effect in contracting and strengthening the peristaltic muscles. the cold enema is less effective as a cleansing agent, as it does not have the relaxing effect of the hot enema. in most cases an enema of neutral temperature, or at about that of the body, may be suggested, though if one has been using this treatment very much it would be better to use either a cool or cold enema, if strong enough, in order to secure its contracting and tonic effect. if the cold water causes cramps one should modify the temperature. usually it is best to use plain water for the enema. in a case of illness where quick and radical results are required, a hot soap-suds enema may be suggested, but you should remember that this always has the effect of removing the natural oils and is inclined to leave the colon in an irritated condition. a saline solution is to be especially commended where there is a serious catarrhal condition of the intestines, or where there is much inflammation or irritation, such as might be manifested in extreme cases by bloody stools. for a normal saline solution use one teaspoonful of ordinary salt to a quart of water, or four teaspoonfuls to a four-quart enema. glycerin is frequently suggested, but it is not to be generally recommended. if one follows these methods persistently, constipation, even in its most aggravated forms, can be overcome. in some instances almost any one of the suggestions offered will bring about the results desired, but in a chronic case one should depend not on one but on a combination of all of these various remedial measures. the improvement in the condition of your skin, in the purity of your blood, and in the degree of energy that you will enjoy will more than repay you for your efforts in following the various suggestions made for cleansing, strengthening, and vitalizing the alimentary canal. chapter xv: pressure movements for building inner strength several years ago i discovered a unique and very effective means of strengthening the heart, lungs, stomach and other internal organs. i arranged a system of lessons, consisting of various pressure movements, which i termed an inner strength course. as my experience with this course had been limited, i refrained at the time from presenting its fundamental theories to the general public. i issued the course in a series of four lessons, and the strength of each applicant was ascertained through questions before the course was sent to him. the experience with several hundred students, however, has so thoroughly confirmed the value of this method of internal vitality building that i am now in a position where i can present the ideas upon which it is based to the general public. the usual price of this course was five dollars, and several thousand courses were sold at this price, each student naturally receiving a certain amount of personal attention. the same ideas, however, are presented in this chapter, with the warning that those who use the pressure exercises recommended must take care to avoid pressing upon the internal organs beyond their resisting power. the various forms of pressure movements recommended are clearly illustrated and those who are not especially strong should begin with a very mild pressure and with the open hand placed upon the abdomen or chest, though where ordinary or unusual strength is possessed, the side of the open or closed hand could be used. these exercises are especially valuable for strengthening the heart where the pressure movements are used very freely near this particular organ. they can be highly recommended for strengthening the stomach though they should not be used immediately after a meal. i referred to their value in the chapter on constipation in connection with the treatment of this ailment. after a long trial this system of increasing the internal strength is highly recommended, and will be found of special value as a means of varying the health-building methods that may be adopted for securing throbbing vitality. they are not a necessary part of the plan of body building especially recommended in this volume, but are presented merely as a valuable means of varying your efforts in working for increased vitality. it is an interesting fact that in some forms of athletics, the body is subjected to a certain amount of internal stimulation similar to that which i have systematized in these movements. this is especially true in wrestling, where the vital organism is often compelled to endure a great deal of pressure of this kind. the same is true of american football, although this is too violent for those who are not in an unusually vigorous condition. to suit these varying degrees of strength i have arranged these movements so that the first series (a) is comparatively mild. those who are not already vigorous can probably use the advanced form of treatment, but in most cases it will be best to take them up gradually. in cases of rupture, or where the abdominal region is weak, there is a possibility of injury if one makes the movements too vigorous. the first series, however, in which the open palm of the hand is used, is quite safe in all cases, if reasonable care is used. in each of these pressure movements remember that the pressure should be applied for one moment only, and then relaxed, repeating the pressure and moving the position of the hands in accordance with the directions accompanying each photograph. when a feeling of pain or great tenderness is noted in pressing upon any part of the body, this should be regarded as a warning that the pressure is not to be repeated. if there is only a feeling of uneasiness you can usually continue with the treatment and the discomfort will disappear in practically every instance. and while an acute sense of pain indicates the necessity for avoiding pressure on that particular part, yet it is sometimes a good plan to exert the pressure upon adjacent or surrounding parts, thereby influencing the circulation, and continuing the treatment until the inflammation which is the cause of the pain gradually disappears. one should be careful to exercise moderation in all cases, however. the second series (b) in which the closed hand is used is somewhat more vigorous, and this is made still more energetic by grasping the first hand with the other so that the pressure may be applied with the strength of both the arms. as the student progresses, the number of times that pressure is applied at each part of the body may be increased, so that at the conclusion of the treatment he may feel thoroughly tired, thus showing that he is making good progress toward the goal in view. the third series (c) includes movements especially intended for stimulating the functional regions from the back of the body, and should be given close attention. they are especially valuable for strengthening the kidneys. the last and most vigorous of the movements (series d ) are especially powerful in their influence upon the organs lying within the chest as well as upon those beneath the diaphragm. the heart and lungs will be very effectually stimulated and strengthened in this way. in chronic bronchitis, coughs and colds on the lungs these movements applied to the chest will be very helpful, besides directly strengthening these parts. you can absolutely depend upon it that when you have reached a condition in which you can exert the most vigorous pressure upon all of these parts, and do it with comfort and pleasurable results, your "department of the interior" is in a strong and healthy condition. you will find a radical change in the entire internal organism. you will find that the abdominal organs feel more solid and substantial, while the muscular walls of this region are far stronger. you will have a sense of strength in this region, and this is absolutely the case in so far as the external muscles of this part of the body are concerned. but the more valuable gain will be in the strength of the organs themselves. these organs are partly muscular in character, and they are firm and strong, or soft and flaccid, in accordance with the intelligent consideration that they receive and the amount of exercise given them. before long you should be able to use almost your entire strength in exerting pressure, and feel nothing but beneficial results. but when doing this it may be well to change the position of the hand slightly for each application of pressure, rather than to repeat such strenuous treatment so many times in one spot. the idea is to exert pressure throughout the entire region of the abdomen, chest, sides and back. it may occur to the reader that this form of exercise for the vital organs has a certain distant similarity to some features of massage treatment, known as deep massage. however, this method is much more vigorous than any form of massage, and is of a character to build a degree of real internal strength that cannot be attained through massage of any kind. and it has the advantage of being convenient for self-application. after a time you may be able to originate pressure movements of your own. one of my friends writes that he has used a similar idea associated with a vibratory motion. he slightly agitates the hand in different directions while pressing inwards. this is well worth a trial, and it partakes very much of the nature of massage. another good practice is to inhale a deep breath and then while holding this breath apply pressure all along the central portion of the abdominal region, from the breastbone downwards, from ten to twenty times. then, without exhaling the breath, draw in all the additional air you can and repeat the pressure movements six to twelve times, after which you may be able to take in still more air. one should be careful not to carry this holding of the breath too far. at the first signs of discomfort the breath should be exhaled quickly. chapter xvi: blood purification if one could maintain his blood in absolute purity disease would be virtually impossible. the blood is the life. you are what you are through the influence of the blood that circulates throughout your entire body. now, a proper supply of pure blood, as previously stated, depends first of all upon proper digestion and assimilation. this involves naturally a strengthening diet with a supply of foods that contain all of the elements required by the body and which will permit of a pure and perfect condition of the blood. next in importance are the chemical changes which take place in this life-giving fluid as it passes through the lungs. following this, the purity of the life stream depends upon the various organs that have to do with elimination; that is to say, the throwing off from the blood of the various accumulated wastes and poisons that are inimical to life. now you might call this the blood- purifying process. the removal of these various waste elements from the blood depends entirely upon the proper activity of the depurating organs. i have already referred to the great importance of an active alimentary canal. you might say that the lower part of the alimentary canal is the sewer of the body. it removes a large amount of the impurities. in some cases of fasting that i have personally supervised, there has been a daily action of the bowels merely from the waste matter that has accumulated. the debris that is removed from the body in this way does not by any means consist entirely of the remains of food that is not absorbed by the circulatory system. the blood is purified to a large extent by the various waste elements that seek the alimentary canal for an outlet. if these waste products were allowed to remain in the circulation they would produce seriously injurious results. therefore, in the general scheme of blood purification an active alimentary canal is of first importance. i may say that proper breathing, together with the facilitation of this function through active exercise, is the next feature of importance in blood purification. following this we can without doubt reasonably maintain that a certain amount of activity of the kidneys is desired. this will nearly always be accomplished if one drinks the amount of water which is essential to satisfy a natural thirst. remember, however, that modern habits are often inclined partially to eliminate or entirely to destroy what one might call a natural thirst. for instance, there are various sedentary occupations in which one becomes so absorbed in his work that the desire for water will be ignored, and where this mistake is made for a long period, one acquires the habit of going without water, and consequently the natural desire is to a large extent lost. in such cases, it is even important to bring back the appetite for water. have a glass of water at hand and take a few swallows now and then. or, what would be better yet, carry out the suggestion which i have given in a former chapter on the drinking of hot water. that will usually supply the system with the proper amount of liquid necessary to insure normal activity of the kidneys. the next means of blood purification is one which rarely receives a great amount of attention. i refer to the eliminative function of the skin. we have more definite control over and can more easily influence this particular channel of elimination than any other. the skin unquestionably throws off a tremendous amount of impurities. where but little attention is given it, where one bathes at infrequent intervals and to a large extent smothers the skin with a surplus amount of clothing, the activity of the eliminative function of the skin is greatly reduced. there are various means at hand for stimulating the activity of the skin which are of unusual value in connection with blood purification. one of the simplest methods both of improvising the texture of the skin and accelerating its functional processes is found in dry friction. this friction can be applied with the palm of the hand, with a rough towel, or with friction brushes. in order to secure the greatest advantages of a friction bath it is advisable to brush or rub the surface of every part of the body until it assumes a pinkish glow from the increased peripheral circulation induced by the friction. where the skin is rough or covered with pimples this suggestion is of especial value. when using friction brushes for this purpose one should not attempt to use very stiff brushes in the beginning, for they will scratch too much. soft, fair skins usually cannot stand such rough treatment as well as can a thicker skin, or one which is oily in character. in many cases a dry turkish bath towel will answer the purpose splendidly. if the skin is rather tender it suffices to use the palms of both hands. after becoming accustomed to the friction, however, you will find that you will be able to enjoy stiffer brushes and i would suggest using a fairly stiff brush so long as it is not too uncomfortable. you will find that as you become accustomed to the treatment the skin will become softer and smoother as a result. also it will become more active. this dry friction bath may be taken each morning following your exercises. if you take a cold bath it should follow the friction. first exercise, then employ the friction rub, and then bathe. i would suggest that from five to ten minutes at least be devoted to this friction. it will furnish some exercise in connection with the rubbing, will quicken the general circulation, and will give you that warmth of body which makes the cold bath desirable and delightful. air baths are likewise valuable as a means of promoting activity in the eliminative function of the skin. primitive man, living in a state of nature, was not burdened with clothing. there was nothing to interfere with the healthy activity of his epidermis. there can be no question that the smothering of the skin by our clothing has much to do with defective elimination of wastes, and the more nearly we can avoid clothing, or the less clothing we can wear, the better. when possible, therefore, and especially in warm weather, it is advisable to remove all clothing and let the air come in contact with the surface of the body. this not only has a pronounced effect upon the purification of the blood but it likewise has a tonic effect upon the nervous system. in the same way the friction rub has a stimulating effect upon the nerves. this is due to the fact that in the skin are located a million or more of tiny nerve endings or so-called "end organs" of the nerves. these peripheral nerve endings are naturally influenced by all conditions that affect the skin, whether in the form of friction, air baths, cold baths, or baths of other temperatures. the air bath, therefore, has a splendid tonic effect and may be particularly recommended for those suffering with "nerves." sun baths are especially effective as a means of stimulating activity of the skin, and promoting elimination. sun baths likewise have a very powerful influence upon the entire organism inasmuch as they stimulate metabolism or cell-activity. they directly affect the circulation and promote the formation of red corpuscles. the sun is the centre of all energy and life upon this earth. it is our great vitalizing and life-giving principle, both in the realms of animal life and plant life. it is only natural, therefore, that sun baths should have a profound influence upon the body. a word of caution, however, is required because of the tremendous power of the sun and its powerful chemical effect when sun bathing is carried too far. those of very fair skins particularly need to be careful. brunettes, with considerable pigment of the skin can stand a great deal of sunlight without harm, but light-skinned persons, while needing a certain amount of sunlight, should not expose themselves for too long a time to the midday sun in summer, or at least not until they have gradually become sufficiently tanned to do so. everyone knows the painful character of a sunburn. this only illustrates the powerful chemical effect of the sun's rays. in taking sun baths one should very gradually accustom himself to the sunshine until he is so tanned that the pigment in his skin will protect him. the short or chemical rays of the sun are actually destructive to white men in the tropics. in may, june and july they have a pronounced chemical effect even in our own latitude. they are stimulating up to a certain point, but beyond that point one should be careful. i may say, therefore, that brunettes in summer may take sun baths even at noon, but blondes should take them preferably before nine or ten o'clock in the morning or after three o'clock in the afternoon. in winter, however, when the sun's rays are more slanting, the sun baths can be taken even by the blondes at any time. and because of the more limited amount of sunlight in winter, special attention should be given to sun bathing during that season. everyone needs a certain amount of sunlight, and if you cannot take a sun bath regularly every day you should at least wear clothing of a character that will permit the light-rays of the sun to penetrate. i will refer to this again, however, in the chapter on the subject of clothing. after all that we can say in regard to these various methods of stimulating the skin there is really nothing so effective as active exercise for those who are strong enough to take a sufficient amount of it. exercise, so far as function of the skin is concerned, is valuable because of the copious perspiration which is induced when one gets enough of it. in these days great numbers of people no longer "earn their bread by the sweat of their brow," and their health suffers in consequence. if you do not have to perform such an amount of physical labor as will promote free perspiration, then for the sake of acquiring the very purest quality of blood your special exercise should be sufficiently active and continuous to bring about free perspiration. there is really nothing so effective as a good old-fashioned "sweat" for rapidly purifying the blood. anyone who perspires each and every day as a result of physical activity, and whose habits are fairly satisfactory in other respects, can depend upon enjoying absolutely pure blood, or a condition which is not far from it. it does not matter what form of physical activity is employed to bring about this result. it may take the form of work that is useful and productive in character, or it may be play that is sufficiently active to cause deep, free breathing and bring out the perspiration. for those who are vigorous enough, cross-country running, wrestling, boxing, tennis and other games which involve real muscular effort continued for some time, will all prove satisfactory for this purpose. if you are anxious to purify your blood in cold weather it might be well to wear a good heavy sweater while taking such exercise in order to maintain a marked degree of warmth and thus bring out the perspiration in plentiful quantities. it is always well to avoid becoming chilled too quickly after exercise of this kind. it is not alone in stimulating the eliminative function of the skin that exercise has a blood-purifying effect; it accelerates all the functions of the body, it stimulates greater activity of the lungs and of the kidneys. it promotes such an active circulation through all the minute structures of the body that accumulations of waste and dead matter are taken up and swept on to be thrown out through the natural channels of elimination. under conditions of physical stagnation, when the circulation is less active, much of this waste matter tends to remain in the tissues of the body, accumulating and interfering with cell activity and normal functioning in general. the vigorous circulation of the blood induced by exercise gradually has the effect of flushing out all of the bodily tissues, and in that way has an internal cleansing effect that cannot be attained by any other means. in another chapter i have referred to the powerful influence of the drinking of hot water in connection with exercise as a means of promoting a more free circulation, but exercise under any circumstances tends to the same result, and for this reason as well as because of the perspiration brought about, exercise must be regarded as perhaps the most important of all measures for blood purification. no man can be continuously healthy without exercise. no man or woman can be internally clean, in the strictist sense, without a proper amount of daily exercise. however, for those who are not strong enough to take a large amount of exercise, and who cannot in this way bring about free perspiration, other methods of accelerating the activity of the pores of the skin may be employed. i have already referred to the influence of air baths, friction baths and sun baths. remember that through these agencies the pores may be made very active without any apparent result in the form of liquid perspiration, for under ordinary conditions perspiration evaporates and the body may not become wet. it is only when one perspires very rapidly that perspiration is manifested in the moistening of the skin. when taking your air baths there may be marked activity of the skin without any appearance of "sweat." various forms of bathing have the effect of inducing rapid elimination. russian and turkish baths are commonly used for this purpose, and every "man about town" knows the value of russian and turkish baths as a means of clearing his system and even of "clearing his head" through the profuse perspiration induced by the treatment. there is no question that these baths are effective in this direction, though it may be said that they are only a poor substitute for daily exercise as a blood-purifying measure. the man who neglects his requirements in the way of physical activity may strive to make up for it by a turkish bath, but cannot get the same results, although it is true he can accomplish a great deal in this way. the great objection to turkish and russian bath establishments is to be found in the unsatisfactory ventilation usual in such places. as a rule the russian or vapor bath is to be preferred to the turkish, or dry, hot air. especially if one is not very strong the steam bath is preferable. if one is vigorous, however, and has a strong heart, the dry hot air room will be very effective. naturally the "rubbing" and other adjunctive treatment in the turkish bath establishment are all beneficial. the influence of these measures (the russian and turkish baths) in purifying the blood may be secured at home through the agency of other baths. a cabinet bath in the home will be equally effective in providing either a steam bath or a dry, hot-air bath. naturally, a shower, or at least a quick sponging with cold water, should follow all such baths. if there is no bath cabinet in the home beneficial results can be secured by means of a hot-water bath. hot water has a profound influence upon the elimination of wastes and impurities through the skin. in cases of kidney disease, where the kidneys are unable to perform their work, it is often possible to keep one alive by making the skin do the work of the kidneys through frequent hot baths. the tub should be filled with hot water at a temperature of from up to or degrees fahrenheit, that is to say, as hot as it can be endured, and one should remain in this bath from ten to twenty minutes, or as long as one's condition will permit. it may be a good plan to get into the water at a lower temperature, for instance, starting with water at to degrees, then afterwards adding hot water so as to raise the temperature to or degrees, or even higher. it is really necessary to use a bath thermometer (they can be obtained at a cost of ten or fifteen cents in any drug store) to regulate the temperature of the water. sufferers from any derangement of the heart or those handicapped by serious vital depletion should not use the water too hot. in such cases it may be well to limit the temperature to to degrees and to limit the duration of the bath to five or ten minutes. in such cases it will be necessary to take the bath more frequently, perhaps each evening, in order to secure results in the way of active elimination. if one is strong enough, however, and merely wishes to purify the blood one may be able to stay in the water from twenty to thirty minutes and to raise the temperature of the bath to degrees or more. the hot bath is much used in japan and the natives there almost parboil themselves, using water at a temperature as high as degrees. but it is not necessary to go to such extremes. it is most important that one should leave the bath immediately upon feeling any sense of weakness, dizziness or discomfort of any sort. if you feel oppressed by a sense of overheating, do not linger in the water but get out of it immediately. you will usually find that your face will perspire freely within a few minutes after being in the bath. this indicates its rapid eliminative effect. such a bath will not accomplish exactly the same work as a cabinet or turkish bath, but good results can be secured therefrom. the hot bath when used for perspiration purposes should be followed by a quick sponging with cold water or by a cold shower. an excellent plan is to have conveniently at hand what is called a hand spray, attached to a long rubber tube. by attaching this to the faucet and turning on the cold water one may quickly spray all parts of the body while standing in the tub of hot water. finally, the feet may be sprayed with cold water on getting out of the tub. rub dry quickly and thoroughly with a rough towel, after which wrap up warmly so that you may continue to perspire. it is most essential that one should not cool off too quickly and certainly that one should not become chilled after a bath of this sort. this hot bath is rather strenuous treatment, but it is effective, if one is strong vitally, for rapidly purifying the blood and eliminating the poisons in the body in any toxemic condition. it will be found valuable in the case of grippe or of a bad cold, in syphilis, or in any other disease characterized by a poisoned condition of the system and in which there is no fever present. in the case of fever, which also invariably involves a toxemic condition of the body, the elimination of the poisons through the skin should be accomplished by methods which do not involve the external use of heat in this manner. wet-sheet packs, both of the entire body and of parts of the body, are among the most effective of rapid blood-purifying measures. frequently where one is confined to bed a hot-blanket pack will answer the same purpose as the hot bath just described. where there is high fever a cold wet-sheet pack may be employed. this will relieve the high temperature to a marked extent, and will also eliminate the poisons of the body in a most remarkable way. the sheet pack is applied by first wringing one or two sheets out of cold water and then wrapping them completely around the naked patient, with the exception of the head. if a single sheet is used the flap on one side may be wrapped around the body under the arms and the flap from the other side passed over the outside of the arms. the patient should then be wrapped up thoroughly with warm blankets, fastened with safety pins. he will quickly react with warmth, although if the vitality is low it may be well to place hot irons at the feet to insure quick recuperation with warmth. one may remain in such a pack for two or three hours, or if it is applied in the evening one may remain in it all night, provided sleep follows and no discomfort is noticed. where the recuperative powers are weak a wet-sheet pack which covers the entire body, may tax the vitality too much and under such circumstances a chest and abdominal pack may be used. this is really a partial sheet pack covering the trunk of the body from the hips and abdomen to the line running round the chest just under the arms. a hot pack of this kind is in itself very effective, although where there is fever the pack should be applied cold. in all such packs it is well to lay several blankets on your couch first, then quickly place the wet sheet upon it so that after the sheet has been wrapped around the body the sides of the blanket can be pulled over so as completely to envelop the patient. these methods are all suggested because of their effectiveness in stimulating the activity of the skin where one is not able to bring this about through exercise and perspiration. in all chronic conditions, however, in which it is essential to purify the blood, the daily practice of dry friction or air baths is particularly advised. do not overlook the value of the hot-water-drinking regimen in combination with exercise, which i offered in the chapter on cleansing and stimulating the alimentary canal. it is especially important to guard against constipation if there is any tendency in that direction, and above all things, daily muscular activity is absolutely essential. inasmuch as many foods have great value in the purification of the blood, i have referred to this particular aspect of the question in the chapter on what to eat. before leaving this subject it should be said that where there is any necessity for a rapid, thorough and effective cleansing of the entire system there is nothing that will accomplish this result as effectually as fasting. fasting is the greatest of all methods of purification. where there is any derangement of the system, with temporary loss of appetite, it is usually advisable to fast until the appetite returns and a short fast of from one to three days is usually sufficient. where there is any serious disorder and it is necessary to undergo an extensive course of blood purification a prolonged fast of many days or even several weeks may be required. fasting is such an important subject in itself that i can-. not give any detailed suggestions in regard to it in this volume. before fasting one should make a comprehensive study of its physical effects and especially should one be informed on proper methods of breaking a fast. during a fast all of the eliminative functions of the body are exceedingly active. if there is any surplus material the body consumes it during the fast. owing to the complete rest of the digestive system the energy which ordinarily is required in the digestion of food is free to be diverted to the work of elimination. it would seem that under these circumstances all of the functions of the body are especially active in the blood-purifying processes. you should remember, however, that even a fast will naturally be made much more effective by the general blood-purifying methods which i have given in this chapter. the measures suggested for increasing the activity of the skin will all be especially valuable if employed as adjuncts to the fast. the free drinking of water and especially the hot- water-drinking plan, together with the colon-flushing treatment, will likewise help to facilitate the cleansing and blood-purifying action of the fast. pure blood is the all-important factor in health. if the blood is not pure it can be made pure by the methods which i have suggested. remember that this purity depends first upon pure food and functional strength, in order that a good quality of blood may be produced; and secondly, upon active elimination of wastes, poisons and impurities in general. chapter xvii: hints on bathing i have already referred to the value of accelerating the activity of the functions of the skin. the ordinary practice of bathing is of great importance in this connection. many diseases would be prevented if the skin were thoroughly cleansed with due regularity. probably a weekly soap-and-water bath is all that is absolutely essential for cleanliness if one follows a daily regimen which will maintain a condition of internal cleanliness. in fact, the cleansing of the external body is not required with such frequency if one secures sufficient muscular exercise and follows a dietetic and general regimen that will guarantee sufficient activity of all the eliminative functions; but if one neglects to employ other measures that help to maintain the purity of the blood and the activity of the skin, then more frequent baths are required to insure cleanliness. it has been my custom to recommend a hot soap-and-water bath once or twice a week, depending upon the individual requirements, and a daily cold bath. the hot bath is to be used as a cleansing agent while the cold bath is a tonic exclusively. a regimen of this sort will usually be satisfactory where one is taking a general system of exercise nearly every day which will insure a certain amount of internal functional activity. note, however, that the cold bath, though of some value, is not necessary, when following the hot-water-drinking regimen. there has been much controversy as to whether or not cold baths are really beneficial, since in some cases they have proved harmful. under such circumstances the failure to secure good results may have been due to ignorance of the principles involved and to the lack of vitality essential to reaction from the shock of the cold water. a great deal depends upon the manner in which the cold bath is taken and the physical condition of the individual taking it. a cold bath is a strong stimulant to the entire circulatory system, provided one can recuperate with a feeling of warmth immediately thereafter. if this feeling of warmth does not follow, if you feel cold, uncomfortable, nervous and trembling for some time after the bath, the shock has been too severe and is not of advantage. under such circumstances it is better either to avoid the bath altogether or else take more exercise in order more thoroughly to warm the body before taking the bath. usually if one is warm before bathing and if the cold bath is taken in a warm room it is easy to recuperate from it. another good suggestion in a case of this kind is to decrease the duration of the bath. do not stay in the water too long. in some cases what is sometimes called a hand bath may be advantageous. this bath is taken by merely wetting the hands several times in the water and applying the moist palms to all parts of the body. the familiar sponge bath, so-called, using either a sponge or a washcloth, is often advised, although the hand bath just mentioned is even easier to take. i have also frequently recommended the use of the dry friction bath, following exercise, as a means of preparing the body for a cold bath. i have already referred to these dry friction rubbings as a means of accelerating the activity of the skin. this friction bath will, in nearly all cases, warm the skin sufficiently to enable one thoroughly to enjoy the cold water. in fact, this friction is to a cold bath what appetite is to eating. you should enjoy your meals and you should enjoy your cold bath. it is only when the cold bath is a pleasure that it is a benefit. if you dread it, if the mere thought of taking a cold bath brings a shudder, it will not be of benefit to you. you should feel sufficiently vigorous and vital really to enjoy it. a friction bath will put your skin in a condition where the cold water will "feel good." exercise that thoroughly warms the body will naturally have the same effect. the statement has often been made that to take a cold bath when overheated is dangerous just as it would be to drink a large amount of very cold water when overheated. it is said that one should wait until he cools off before taking the cold drink or cold plunge. to a limited extent there is wisdom in this advice, especially as it applies to getting into cold water when overheated and then remaining there until you have cooled off. such quick cooling is certainly dangerous, just as drinking too much very cold water is dangerous. on the other hand, a short quick cold bath under such circumstances is not dangerous but highly advisable. the danger in such cases lies in remaining in the water until chilled. as a matter of fact, when one is overheated he can thoroughly enjoy the cold water. you will recuperate quickly under such conditions and you can better afford to take a cold bath when very hot than when chilled. do not attempt cold bathing when you have "goose flesh" or when your hands and feet are cold. under such circumstances the hand bath is preferable. it is always best when overheated to cool off gradually, and after the bath taken under such circumstances to use a sweater or bath robe or other covering to insure the desired result. when one is overheated, it is best to drink water lukewarm or hot or only moderately cool. if you drink lukewarm water when overheated you can take any quantity desired. as previously stated, however, i would like to point out that if you are carrying out the regimen of hot-water-drinking and exercise previously referred to, a daily cold bath is not at all necessary. it might be taken with benefit if you are vigorous, but by flushing the body with a large amount of liquid according to the plan i have suggested virtually all functions of the body, including that of the skin itself, are accelerated in their activities. under such circumstances less bathing is required, at least for the purpose of maintaining proper circulation and functional activity. therefore the question may be left open for each individual to determine. one may take a cold bath or not, just as he may desire, while following the regimen referred to. many who enjoy a cold bath are inclined to stay in the water too long. in this way one may deprive himself of some of the benefits that might be derived therefrom. it is safer to limit the cold bath to a short period. the chief value lies in the reaction. if this is secured then all is well. the first effect of the cold water is to contract the tissues at the surface of the body, including the blood vessels, thus forcing the blood away from the skin. in the reaction the blood is brought back to the surface in large quantities, producing the glow that is noticed after a successful cold bath. after a short plunge or quick shower this reaction should be secured. by staying in the water too long one may overtax his vitality and become chilled. when taking a plunge simply allow the water to come in contact with all parts of the body; then immediately get out. if the recuperative powers are defective you should not use cold water, though the hand bath as described should be satisfactory. in such cases, however, by maintaining the warmth of the feet you can recuperate quickly and easily. if you will stand with your feet in hot water while taking the hand bath, or sponge bath, or when using a hand spray in the bathtub, recuperation will be easier. when the feet are warm the circulation is more easily maintained. following a hot bath, the hand spray can be used for the shower, applying the water quickly to all parts of the body before getting out of the tub. one should always use a cold sponge, spray, or shower, after a hot bath to close the pores. then rub dry quickly and vigorously with a turkish towel. a sitz bath is recommended instead of a full tub bath, as it is a tonic of great value through its effect upon certain sympathetic nerve centers. this bath consists in immersing only the central part of the body, namely, the hips and abdomen. special sitz tubs are manufactured, but one can use an ordinary wash tub. an ordinary bathtub will serve if filled with water about six to ten inches deep. put the feet on the edge of the tub and lower the hips down into the water. this bath is especially valuable as a means of stimulating functional activity. the colder the water for the sitz bath the better, although if one is lacking in vitality, it should not be below degrees fahrenheit. a hot sitz bath may sometimes be suggested for inflammatory and painful conditions in the pelvic region. in inflammation of the bladder, for instance, it is valuable. when taking hot baths for cleansing purposes the soap used is of some importance; especially so if the skin is thin or too dry. in such cases strong soaps are injurious, although their effect may be overcome to some extent by rubbing the body after the bath with a very little bit of olive oil. i would suggest, however, the use of a pure vegetable oil soap, such as castile, which is one of the best examples of a vegetable soap. this soap may be suggested in all cases, but it is particularly important when the skin is thin or dry. very frequently dryness of skin is noticed in those of very light complexion. in the preceding chapter on blood purification i referred to a hot bath for the purpose of rapidly eliminating poisons and wastes in the body. an ordinary warm bath for cleansing purposes need not be taken at such a high temperature. in other words a soap-and-water bath will be perfectly satisfactory at a temperature of to degrees f. and need not occupy more than a very few minutes, whereas the hot bath referred to for the special purpose of blood purification may be of longer duration and of a much higher temperature, running up to or degrees fahrenheit. there is another type of warm bath, however, which is of special value in many cases. this is what i have sometimes termed a neutral bath, inasmuch as it is neither hot nor cold. this is a bath at about the temperature of the body, that is to say, to degrees fahrenheit. one should use a bath thermometer to be sure of the right temperature. this neutral bath has a sedative or quieting effect upon the nerves through its effect upon the innumerable nerve endings in the skin. it is neither hot nor cold, neither stimulating nor weakening, and one could remain in such a bath for hours without harm. it has a quieting effect upon the nerves and reference has been made to it in the chapter on sleep as a means of overcoming excitement or nervousness. in attacks of mania it is especially valuable, and is now extensively used in all insane asylums because of its wonderful effect in quieting the nerves. this bath at degrees is also especially commended in the case of severe burns covering a large surface. it is about the only way in which a person suffering from such an extensive burn can be made comfortable. it is also one of the most perfect forms of treatment in a case of that kind. the serious character of the burn depends not so much upon the severity as upon the extent of the surface involved. therefore, one who has been seriously burned could remain immersed in a bath at degrees f. for many days continuously, or until the skin has had a chance to heal. immersion in water is a natural condition, for there was a time away back when all the animal life of the earth was found in the water. it was only through special variation in the character of evolution that certain forms of life finally became adapted to a life outside of the water. therefore, immersion in water, except for the head, is not entirely an unnatural condition. chapter xviii: some facts about clothing the statement is often heard that a man is made or marred by the clothes he wears. this is frequently said with a view to emphasizing the importance of being presentably appareled, but it has a meaning beyond this. to a certain extent we are really made, or we may more properly say marred, by the clothes we wear. civilized costumes have become what they are through the dictation of the creators of style, the clothing manufacturers. every year the styles change through the commands of those whose profits are increased by this continual variation in the fashions. it is said that a woman would rather be out of the world than out of style. therefore, each year she discards her old-style costumes and buys the latest modes. we have to recognize, however, that clothing is a necessary evil at this period of human progress, so-called. there was a time when clothing was worn entirely as a matter of protection or as a means of adding warmth to the body. there was no thought given to the necessity for covering the body, for every part of the human anatomy was as commonplace as nose, fingers and toes. but now clothing is commanded as a means of hiding our bodily contour. prudery has come in and branded the human anatomy as indecent and consequently it must be covered. now in considering what we should wear we are compelled to adhere, at least to a reasonable extent, to what we call style, but beyond this our first thought must be for bodily comfort. and in speaking of comfort we mean not only the warmth essential to this but also the ability to use every part of our bodily structure with as little restraint as possible. if we could wear a costume which would permit us to feel just as free and untrammeled in our movements as we do when without clothing such a form of dress would be ideal. our movements should not be restricted by our clothing any more than is absolutely unavoidable. the ordinary skirt, supposed to be a necessary part of feminine apparel, is in its nature an evil of first importance. every step taken by a woman wearing such a garment is hampered; she is continuously handicapped by her skirt. if a man were compelled to walk through tall, heavy grass all his life he would get some idea of the extent to which the feminine skirt interferes with the freedom of woman. numerous other defects of our costumes interfere with bodily freedom. take our tight and ungainly shoes. here is an abominable instance of our slavery to style. in most instances the foot is made to fit the shoe, and the suffering that is endured by many so-called stylish people for the purpose of making the foot fit the shoe would be difficult to describe. a shoe should fit the foot. the more nearly you approximate the same freedom when walking in a shoe as you do when barefooted the more perfect the shoe. the toes should not be squeezed out of shape. the great toe should follow the straight line of the inside of the foot instead of being bent over to the position normally occupied by the middle toe. all the toes should be allowed to spread out in the shoe, at least to a reasonable extent. furthermore, a shoe that really fits should feel comfortable the first time it is put on. there should be no necessity for "breaking in" a shoe. the artificial heel added to the ordinary shoe is another curious freak of fashion. if the almighty in perfecting the human foot had found a high heel necessary it would have been provided. the artificial heel, especially the very high heel commonly used on shoes worn by women, is an insult to nature, to the creator. some day, when we are really civilized, high heels will be unknown. i am convinced that the omnipotent creator knew his business thoroughly when he created the human foot, that the sole of the human foot, heel included, was made for locomotion, and that it is impossible for human ingenuity to improve upon the foot. in other words, if you can secure footwear that will enable you to walk with the same freedom that you can enjoy when barefooted, you will then have attained perfection in foot covering. sandals and moccasins allow the feet the same freedom as one enjoys when barefooted. the sole of these forms of footwear has the same freedom in gripping the ground and adapting itself to the requirements of every step as the bare foot, and it is a curious and yet significant fact that whereas more or less foot trouble is the rule rather than the exception among civilized peoples, yet those races who wear moccasins or sandals, or go barefooted, never have flatfoot, broken arches, bunions or other defects of this type. passing to the other extreme of the body, our tight hats should be condemned. hats should be as light as possible and should not be so tight as to interfere with the circulation of the scalp. many bald headed men owe their loss of hair to tight hats. the stiff collars worn everywhere at the present time mar the natural contour of the neck, make an erect position more difficult, and are one cause of the round shoulders that are so common everywhere to-day. the suspenders worn by men have also an influence of this sort. they are inclined to pull the shoulders forward and make it more difficult to maintain an erect position. the flat-chested man will not feel his suspenders, but the man with a full round chest, properly carried, is under continuous pressure from his suspenders. if i were to select an ideal costume for men i am inclined to think that i would go back to the roman toga, to the flowing drapery of the greeks, or to the scottish kilt. the kilt is undoubtedly better suited than the robe to the colder weather of northern europe and america. these costumes not only allow a reasonable amount of freedom for all bodily movements, encouraging rather than discouraging the correct position of the body, but they also allow free circulation of air to the central portions of the body. as a hygienic feature this is of tremendous value. the air coming in contact with the skin is of value at all times, but it is especially required in these important parts of the bodily organism. many weaknesses are brought about through the unhealthful covering and restriction of these parts. trousers are not by any means an ideal garment. to be sure, they are a vast improvement over the long skirt, but they are not by any means equal in healthfulness to the costume of the scottish highlanders. in feminine apparel corsets are perhaps productive of more injury than any other part of the costume. the injury wrought by tight lacing is now everywhere understood, and in recent years large waists have become stylish. this tendency of the times will ultimately mean the elimination of the corset. when fully clothed we should have the same freedom of movement as when unclothed. the most perfect costume is our "birthday clothing," the clothing with which we came into the world, the human skin. to be sure, in cold climates bodily covering is necessary for warmth a part of the year, though in warm climates, or warm seasons, the more nearly we avoid restrictive apparel, the more happy and more healthy we are. the ideal costume in warm weather, therefore, would be no costume, but conventions demand that we cover our nakedness, and this command should be followed in a manner that will restrain our movements as little as possible. the question of color is an important factor in clothing. this is especially true in summer when exposure to the sun makes it especially necessary to consider our comfort. all dark-colored clothing absorbs the heat and the sun becomes very oppressive to the wearer. then, too, black and dark-colored coverings shut out the light, another objectionable feature. in my reference to sun baths in the preceding chapter on blood purification i placed special emphasis upon the value of light as a vitalizing and stimulating factor in life and health. ordinarily we not only smother our skins so far as the air is concerned, but we also shut out the light, hiding our bodies in a cellar, so to speak. our bodies need light as well as air and for this reason dark colored clothing cannot be recommended. for warmth when in the sunshine during the winter, black is very effective. when out of the sunshine black is cooler in winter than light-colored fabrics because it quickly radiates the body heat. it is well known that a black stove radiates the heat much faster than a nickel-plated or brightly polished stove. white or light-colored garments are advised in summer, both because they are cooler and because they permit the light to reach the skin. the arabs, bedouins and others who live in unforested countries where they are much exposed to the tropical sun use turbans and flowing robes of white as a means of keeping cool. pure white is often unserviceable, because it quickly becomes soiled, and therefore gray and tan- colored garments are recommended. it is easily possible to absorb too much sunshine, especially in the lower latitudes. the various races of the earth enjoy a degree of pigmentation of the skin corresponding to the intensity of the sunlight in the latitude to which they have become accustomed through the course of evolution. equatorial races are black, far-northern races are blonde with very fair skin, and those occupying mean latitudes are either brown or olive-hued. brunettes or fairly dark-complexioned white men can stand more sunshine than the blue-eyed, fair-skinned types of scotland, norway and sweden. where the latter are exposed to intensely strong sunshine in latitudes further south than their natural home, and especially when visiting the tropics, where the sun's rays are nearly vertical, some special protection from the excessive light is necessary. then the upper or outer clothing should be white or light-colored, but an undergarment of some opaque or dark-colored material should be used to shut out the light. in the case of tropical animals nature provides a light-colored or tawny growth of hair, with an underlying black or heavily pigmented skin. the white man when in the tropics or when subject to the chemical rays of the sun in midsummer would do well to follow nature's example, wearing light clothing outside with black- or orange-colored or other opaque underwear. the hat should be white or tan or light-colored on top, but with a dark-colored lining extending under the brim. blonde types spending the summer in a latitude like that of texas or mexico would do well to consider these suggestions. sunlight is essential to life. sun baths are invaluable and ordinarily our clothing should be such as to permit the light to reach the skin. but when the sun's rays are nearly vertical fair-skinned persons may easily protect themselves and maintain comfort by following this suggestion. as a general thing, during both winter and summer, one should wear no more clothing than necessary, and that should be of a type to permit easy access of air to the skin. for this reason the character of one's underwear is important. wool is undoubtedly warmer and more or less suitable for exceptionally cold weather; yet for most purposes linen is to be preferred because of its more porous character. linen permits of free circulation of the air, and when the underwear is woven with an open mesh it is especially satisfactory. next to linen cotton is to be preferred, being likewise porous. the question of underwear is one to be determined largely by individual taste and requirements, but always it should be understood that one should wear underwear as light as is consistent with warmth and as porous as possible. this principle should also apply in the matter of shoes. air-tight foot coverings are highly detrimental as well as uncomfortable. leather in its natural state is porous and therefore a healthful foot covering. patent- leather shoes, however, have been made air-tight by a special process, and are very hot, uncomfortable and unsanitary. the sole of the shoe should consist of nothing but plain leather. so-called waterproofing processes, making the shoe air-tight as well as waterproof, should be avoided. patented, waterproof soles are highly objectionable. if you can have your shoes made to order see to it that the sole consists of nothing but leather-indeed a single layer of good sole leather is most satisfactory. although such shoes will absorb water they will dry readily, and the disadvantage of wet feet on occasions is more than offset by the benefits gained from a porous foot covering the rest of the time. anyway, wet feet are unimportant if the feet are warm. a word about winter clothing. heavy underclothing is entirely unsuited to the temperatures maintained inside our houses during the winter. we usually have a summer temperature indoors in winter and should wear summer clothing. it is true that we require warmer clothing out-of-doors in winter, but this should be used only when out-of-doors; we should not wear heavy, warm garments both indoors and out. therefore, while the farmer who spends the day in the open would probably need heavy warm underwear, the city man should dress approximately the same as in summer when indoors, and add the garments necessary for additional warmth when going out. sweaters, gaiters and overcoats should be depended on when going out-of-doors instead of heavy undergarments. clothing, as i have said, is a necessary evil. so far as possible it should not hamper our movements and should not deprive our bodies of light and air. since it is necessary to wear clothing, i would strongly emphasize the importance of taking air baths at frequent intervals. when spending the evening in the privacy of your own room, studying or writing letters, you have a good opportunity to enjoy an air bath during the entire evening. and furthermore, when at home you should lay aside your coat and use no more bodily covering than is necessary. if you cannot take sun baths at a special hour each day, then i would advise that when taking your walk out-of-doors in the sunshine you wear clothing of such a character as to admit the rays of the sun, thus enabling you to enjoy a sun bath during your walk. a special suit of clothes, made of natural-colored linen, with a thin light shirt, light- colored socks and no underwear, would answer all purposes admirably. chapter xix: suggestions about sleep sleep is one of the first essentials in maintaining or in building vitality. there are differences of opinion as to how much sleep may be necessary to health, but that sufficient sleep is required if one wishes to maintain the maximum of energy no one can question. sleep is far more necessary than food. one can fast for many days, or many weeks if necessary, and without any special disadvantage if he is well nourished before beginning the fast and has a satisfactory food supply after ifs conclusion, but no one can "fast" from sleep for more than a few days at a time without experiencing ill effects. one can scarcely endure an entire week of absolute sleeplessness. it has been found that dogs kept awake even though sufficiently fed, suffer more than when deprived of food and permitted to sleep. when kept awake continuously they die in four or five days. man can endure the strain a little longer than the dogs, but five or six days usually marks the limit of human life under such conditions. in early english history condemned criminals were put to death by being deprived of sleep, and the same method has been employed in china. enforced sleeplessness, in fact, has been used as a form of torture by the chinese, being more feared than any other. the men subjected to this frightful ordeal always die raving maniacs. these facts illustrate only too well the imperative necessity for sleep. unfortunately "late hours" prevail, especially in large cities. manifestly, if complete lack of sleep is fatal, late hours and partial lack of sleep is at least devitalizing and detrimental to health. the late hours kept by large numbers of people in civilized countries undoubtedly contribute very largely to neurasthenia and allied diseases. improvements in artificial lights have contributed largely toward the increase of the evil of late hours, injurious not only through the loss of sleep entailed, but also because of the eye-strain incidental to strong artificial lights and the drain on the nervous system. if civilized man would follow the example of primitive man and of many of the birds and animals in retiring to bed with the coming of darkness and arising with the appearance of daylight, this one change would revolutionize the health of the whole human race. how much sleep do we need? this is a question that cannot be answered arbitrarily as applying in all cases. individuals differ. without doubt, some require more sleep than others. thomas a. edison, who is an extraordinary man, not only in respect to his vitality but in every other characteristic as well, has frequently been quoted as saying that most men and women sleep too much. mr. edison himself claims to maintain the best of health with from three to five hours' sleep out of every twenty-four. we have heard of other cases too, of men and women with exceptional vitality, who have seemed to thrive on four or five hours' sleep. it is possible that this small allowance of sleep may be sufficient in such cases, but if so, it is undoubtedly due to the exceptionally powerful organism which these particular persons have inherited. no definite rule can be laid down as to the amount of sleep required by different individuals, for those possessing the greatest amount of vitality and the strongest organisms will require less sleep than those of limited vitality and weak functional powers. those possessing a strong functional system and great vitality are able to build up energy during sleep and recuperate from the exertions of the preceding day more rapidly than can those less favored in this respect. in other words, a very strong man can be quickly rested. his system can more rapidly than that of a weak man repair the wear and tear of his daily work. the man or woman with limited strength and a less vigorous functional system would require a longer time in which to recuperate. therefore, what would hold good in the case of such an extraordinary man as mr. edison cannot be depended upon in the case of the average man or woman, and certainly will not meet the needs of those who are debilitated and striving to build vitality. generally speaking, therefore, i maintain that most people at the present day sleep too little rather than too much. i would not stipulate any special number of hours for sleeping but i would advise everyone to secure as much sleep as he requires. it has often been said that if you sleep too much you will be stupid as a result. such results are usually brought about by sleeping in unsatisfactory environment, particularly in stuffy rooms in which the air is vitiated and really unfit to breathe. i cannot imagine one feeling stupid as a result of oversleeping when sleeping out-of-doors, or when the supply of air is absolutely fresh. excessive heat would probably be conducive to restlessness, but this is purely a detail which i shall take up later. under natural and healthful conditions one will rarely sleep too much. if you sleep until you wake up naturally there is little danger of your sleeping too much. without doubt most people need from seven to eight hours' sleep; some of them need more, particularly women and children, who in many cases require from nine to ten hours' sleep or even more. these are general statements. individual exceptions will be many, but, as i have said, it will be found that those who need less sleep are men and women of extraordinary vitality. the quality of sleep is really more important than the duration of sleep. it is quality or depth of sleep that is really what counts, and to secure this it is necessary that certain healthful conditions be observed. the first of these is a normal condition of physical or muscular fatigue. this is easily distinguished from nervous fatigue or exhaustion in which the entire system is more or less upset. abnormal states of this sort arise from excitement, excessive mental work, or other conditions involving severe nerve strain. this nervous fatigue is not usually conducive to sleep, but a tired condition of the muscles of the body generally, as a result of natural physical activity, is always favorable to sleep. many who complain of insomnia, therefore, would often be able to remedy their trouble by the simple expedient of a long walk, covering sufficient distance to bring about the physical fatigue which makes sleep possible. conditions of air, temperature and bed covering are also important factors in connection with the quality of sleep. if you are a sound sleeper it may be possible for you to secure more benefit from three to four hours' sleep than a shallow sleeper may secure in eight hours of a lighter degree of sleep. this extreme depth of sleep means complete rest for the brain, absolute loss of consciousness, and, to a certain extent, loss of sensibility in respect to our senses. in the lighter degree of sleep certain parts of the brain may be at rest, while others are more or less active. dreaming represents a state of partial consciousness rather than a condition of complete rest, inasmuch as various parts of the brain are active. one may thus be conscious of his dreams. there is no doubt, however, that in other cases various parts of the brain may be active though we may not be conscious of their activity. we have all heard of instances where mathematical problems appear to have been worked out during sleep, and we have heard of musical compositions and poems being produced during sleep. all these phenomena represent a condition in which one is partly asleep and partly awake; in other words, some parts of the brain are active and others are asleep. in extreme depth of sleep when all the mental faculties are at rest, the energies are relaxed, and the activities of the body are at a low ebb; it is such sound sleep that makes for rapid recuperation. the deepest sleep generally occurs within the first few hours after falling to sleep, and it gradually becomes lighter and lighter in degree until consciousness is reached. dreams, therefore, represent partial consciousness and usually appear in the earlier hours of the morning. when one states that he dreams all night he is invariably mistaken. one may seem to live over periods of days and even years in a dream, the actual duration of which may be measured in minutes. the chances are that the dreamer enjoyed a sound sleep before his dreaming commenced. although i have said that depth of sleep is more important than the duration of sleep, yet it is true that when one sleeps very soundly he usually sleeps longer. in other words, when one reaches great depth of sleep the transition to the period of wakefulness is only gradual, and it requires a longer time to complete the sleep and wake up than it would if one did not sleep so deeply, or, as we would say, so soundly. it will be found that healthy children, who unquestionably sleep very soundly, also sleep for many hours at a time. they may have dreams but these occur in the later hours of sleep, as every mother has observed. the man or woman well advanced in years who can secure the same depth of sleep that a vigorous child en joys will undoubtedly spend the bigger part of the night in sleep and will acquire exceptional vitality as a result. bodily rest, even without sleep, is undoubtedly of great value for purposes of recuperation. to a certain extent such rest, especially if associated with a state of very complete relaxation of the muscles, will make it possible to take less sleep without serious devitalizing results. the man or woman who suffers from insomnia should learn that he can recuperate to a considerable extent through simple physical relaxation without the unconsciousness of sleep. undoubtedly the physical inactivity common among civilized races has much to do with their ability to keep late hours. but of course this involves more or less nerve strain. the brain does not get sufficient rest, and the loss of sleep involves such an expenditure of energy through the brain as to constitute a serious drain upon the nervous system. even though rest for the body during consciousness is of certain value, it cannot go very far in taking the place of true sleep. to the higher centers of the brain and nervous system an opportunity must be given for the complete relaxation that comes only with the entire loss of consciousness. as i have already said, those who are lacking in vitality and who are trying to build strength need more sleep than those who are already strong. especially those who find it difficult to sleep need additional nervous strength and should carefully observes rules that will promote sleep. one will often hear sufferers from insomnia complain that they never sleep! they are convinced that night after night and week after week passes without their being able to close their eyes in slumber. they are deluded in every case, because they could not maintain life for more than five or six days if this were true. the fact is that they drop off to sleep and then awaken without being conscious that they have been asleep. at the same time, in all such conditions, it is necessary to improve the quality of sleep so that it will be truly refreshing. i have already referred to the influence of good healthy muscular fatigue as a means of enabling one to sleep. walking and out-of-door life will in almost every case make the nervous man or woman sleep like a child. one should not be too fatigued, but sufficiently so to thoroughly enjoy the sensation of lying down. one cannot truly enjoy sleep except when he has reached this condition of bodily fatigue. to induce this, i would recommend a walk in the evening before going to bed, covering several miles. although walking for health should ordinarily be brisk enough to stimulate breathing and arouse an active circulation, thus strengthening the internal organs, for the purpose of promoting drowsiness the last mile or two of the evening walk should preferably be very slow. fast movements are stimulating to mind and nerves. slow movements have a sedative effect. by walking very slowly as if one were tired the desired effect of fatigue is more satisfactorily secured. one imagines the need of rest under such conditions. the quality of the air is another important factor, though i need not dwell upon that here. the air you breathe during sleep should be especially fresh and pure, particularly so because of the more shallow character of the breathing. if you are in a room, all the windows should be open as wide as possible. if you have a covered balcony or porch, or if you can avail yourself of a flat roof, it is always advisable to sleep out-of-doors. the increased vitality will more than repay you for your trouble. there is something about out-of-door sleeping that vitalizes, energizes, and refreshes one to an unusual extent. circulation is another important factor in sound sleep, especially for nervous persons. many of those who complain of an inability to sleep suffer more or less from congestion of blood in the brain; also they complain of cold feet or cold hands and feet. in such instances, warm feet will often bring a solution of the problem. in some instances drinking a half cup of hot milk or hot water before going to bed will draw the blood from the brain and enable one to sleep. a hot foot bath before going to bed will do the same thing, or one may use a hot-water bag or hot flatiron wrapped up in flannels, or even a hot brick treated in the same way, to keep the feet warm when in bed. in extreme cases it might be advisable to apply cold packs to the head while applying heat to the feet or when taking the hot foot bath. another measure of special value for nervous persons is a bath at the temperature of the body, to be taken for a half-hour before going to sleep. in cases of extreme excitement, anger or nervousness this bath is invaluable. fill the tub with water at degrees fahrenheit or degrees fahrenheit. you can remain in this bath for several hours without harm, for it is neither weakening nor stimulating. it has a soothing effect upon the nerves and is even valuable in preventing attacks of hysteria or other nervous difficulties. this particular bath is so effective in hospitals for the insane that it has frequently obviated the use of padded cells and straight jackets. it is just as effective for the nervous person who wishes to overcome the excitement that is preventing sleep. a half-hour bath should be sufficient for ordinary purposes. another remedy of great value for soothing the nerves is the air bath. i have referred to this in another part of this volume, but it is extremely valuable for quieting the nerves in cases of insomnia. if the room is comfortably warm, an air bath can be advantageously taken for half an hour before going to bed. one of the most valuable remedies for those suffering from sleeplessness is to lie in an air bath during the entire night. this idea can be carried out very easily by raising the bed covering in such a way as to remove its weight from the body, thus providing what we might call a chamber of air in which to sleep. with the aid of a large safety-pin or a horse-blanket safety-pin, the bed clothing may be kept thus suspended. the safety-pin is pinned through all the coverings in the centre of the bed and then by means of a string passing through the safety-pin and running from the top of the head of the bed to the top of the foot of the bed the bed covering can easily be raised to the desired height. the appearance of the bed is then somewhat like that of a small tent. one may not feel warm immediately after entering, if the weather is cold, but if the covering is thick enough and the air is entirely excluded, a perfect air bath, warm and comfortable, can be enjoyed during the entire night. the head, of course, will keep its usual position outside of the covers. no underclothing or night clothing should be worn when attempting to carry out this idea. the problems associated with covering are of considerable importance. many people are unable to sleep because of cold feet and many are overheated by an excess of covering. it should not be necessary to bury one's self underneath a heavy load of covers in order to keep the feet warm. use as little covering as possible and still maintain the bodily warmth. eider-down bed covers are very valuable because of their light weight and great warmth-retaining qualities. overheating during sleep produces restlessness and robs one of the sense of refreshment on awakening. the question of cold feet i have already dealt with. the difficulty, in most cases, is one of defective circulation before going to bed. if one will be sure that his feet are warm and his circulation good before retiring to bed he will invariably have no trouble of this kind, even during winter time. i do not mean that one should be chilled by insufficient bedding, but i certainly would advise as little covering as is compatible with a comfortable degree of warmth. the feather beds, much used in europe, are undesirable, as they are unsanitary and are too warm for nearly all seasons of the year. it is always best to sleep between clean linen sheets. for purposes of warmth, however, bear in mind that cotton is of very little value, whereas animal-product covers such as wool and down, or feathers, are exceptionally warm. cotton comforters in cold weather are very heavy, but cold, whereas woolen blankets, wool-filled comforters or down- filled comforters are warm, but light. "a warmth without weight" should be the chief consideration in cold weather. and in using woolen coverings you can get sufficient warmth without much weight and with the very least quantity of covering. in summer use only a single woolen blanket or a light cotton coverlet over the sheet. when the nights are hot and sultry it would be well to use no covering of any kind. for warmth in winter special attention should be given to warm fabrics underneath the lower sheet as well as the coverings. one may become chilled from underneath if lying upon a thin mattress or an uncovered mattress. a wool-filled comforter, or double woolen blanket, placed over the mattress and under the sheet will contribute greatly to one's warmth. if the mattress is of proper thickness one can be comfortable with less covering and therefore less weight. however, i would suggest as a better plan the one that i have presented of sleeping in a virtual air bath the whole night through. the use of a pillow is necessary in nearly all cases. when one is sleeping on his back a pillow is certainly an objectionable feature. it tips the head forward and is conducive to round shoulders. a pillow is of value when sleeping on the side or in the partial face-downward position, as indicated in the illustration. the accompanying illustration shows a special position that i can recommend for securing restful sleep and for insuring deeper respiration. in this position you sleep with the body tipped forward partly upon the chest, and on the forearm, with one elbow just back of the body and hand under the waist. the knee of the upper leg will be drawn up somewhat. while this is a very comfortable position its chief advantage lies in the effect upon the respiration. it will be noted that in this position the organs lying below the diaphragm are placed in a suspended position, so to speak. the stomach and other organs by their own weight pull downward from the diaphragm, thus naturally allowing more space in the lungs, and particularly in the lower part of the lungs. through the simple effect of gravitation, therefore, this position allows one to breathe a larger amount of air through the entire night. one may turn from one side to the other in order to change the position, as it will be equally comfortable on right or left sides. in cases where there is weakness of the heart the left-side position can not be recommended if discomfort of any sort is noticed. one often hears a reference to beauty sleep and is often asked: "is it really true that an hour of sleep before midnight is equal to two hours after midnight?" there are many writers who claim that the time when you sleep matters but little if you secure a sufficient amount of sleep. it is doubtful, however, if this view is absolutely correct. i am inclined to lean towards the old-fashioned view as to the good effect of early retiring on beauty development that is based on health building. in one sense, it is reasonable to conclude that an hour of sleep before midnight is worth more than an hour thereafter. i am satisfied that there is greater exhaustion of the body from late than from normal hours, and it is difficult to get the full benefit from sleep when going to bed after midnight. at least the nerve strain of artificial light tends to produce a certain degree of vital depletion that one would not experience if his waking hours included only the daylight. then again, there is probably some mysterious influence that we do not fully comprehend which makes sleep at night more restful than sleep during the daylight. those who go to bed at midnight or thereafter use several hours of daylight in the early morning for sleeping. i realize that there are nocturnal animals and that the human race has developed nocturnal habits to a certain extent, but the human race and the animal life of the world generally have followed the habit through the ages of sleeping at night. without doubt a revolutionary change in this habit has more or less effect upon the restful character of our sleep. perhaps the mere question of light has much to do with it. daylight is stimulating. light has a chemical action and tends to stimulate animal metabolism. darkness, or the lack of light, tends to a restful condition. without doubt this question of light has much to do with the supposed benefits of sleep before midnight. the old saying that "early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise" may not hold true in the matter of wisdom and wealth in all cases, but there is no doubt it has much to do with the development of health and vitality. chapter xx: mind-the master-force for health or disease we hear of many miraculous achievements in the building of health and the cure of disease through mental influence. the mind is unquestionably a master-force. i will not go so far as to say it is limitless, for certainly a hungry man cannot imagine he is eating a dinner and secure the same benefits that he would from the meal itself. nor can a man who is passing away into the other world, through a definite vital defect, bring back life through mental force. but we should remember that many diseases are to a great extent imaginary. and some of those not actually imaginary may at least be brought about through fears that are the results of abnormal delusions. and where such diseases are combated by mental forces of the right sort, a cure can be effected in many instances. in numerous cases, also, it is well to remember that the mental state is the actual cause of disease. you become blue, hopeless and to a certain extent helpless. you see nothing in the future. life is dull. ambition, enthusiasm, have all disappeared. it would not be at all difficult for this state of mind to bring about disease in some form. health, strength, vitality of the right sort, should radiate all the elements and forces associated with life's most valuable possessions. happiness and health are close friends. it is very difficult to be gloomy and miserable if you are healthy. it is perhaps even more difficult to be healthy if you are gloomy and mentally ugly. therefore it is a wise precaution to cultivate a hopeful spirit. if the day is gloomy, if the sun is obscured by clouds, then develop the sunshine in your own spirit. try to radiate good cheer. by seeking to cheer up others you will cheer yourself up, for always when we help others, we inevitably help ourselves, though this should not be our main purpose in the action. when we try to build up the characters, improve the morals and add to the mental and physical stability of others our efforts develop our own powers. therefore, the best way to help yourself is to help others. we have a remarkable exemplification of the value of mental influence in what is known as christian science. even the most prejudiced enemy of this cult will admit that many remarkable cures have been accomplished through the principles it advocates. these cures alone indicate clearly that the mind is a dominating force that works for good or for evil. they prove that your thoughts are building up or tearing down your vital forces; that to a certain extent "thoughts are things," that good thoughts are a real tangible influence for developing mental or physical force, and-that bad thoughts have an opposite influence. it is well for each one of us to determine clearly whether the thoughts that fill our minds each day are constructive or destructive in nature. your thoughts can actually destroy you. they can kill you as unerringly as a bullet fired from a rifle. keep this fact very definitely before you, and try to make your thoughts each day the means of adding to your life forces. there are many emotions that are harbored on occasions, which are devitalizing and destructive. we are all, to a certain extent, slaves of habit, whether good or bad. for instance, there is the worrying habit, for worry is really a habit. therefore, it is a splendid plan to become slaves of good habits. one who has acquired the chronic habit of worrying needs a mental antiseptic. worry never benefited anyone; it has brought thousands to an untimely grave. to give prolonged and grave thought to a problem that may come into your life, with the view of forming an intelligent conclusion, should not be called worry, but anxiety. there is a very great difference between worry and concentrated study of a vexing problem. the characteristic of worry is a tendency to brood anxiously over fancied troubles. the typical worrying mind will take mere trifles and magnify them until they become monumental difficulties. many acquire the habit of going over and over again, and still again, the various unpleasant experiences which they have passed through during life. this inclination is baneful in its influence, to such persons i would say, eliminate the past. try the forgetting habit, cultivate health and along with it good cheer. make your mind a blank so far as the past is concerned, and fill it with uplifting thoughts for the present and the future. worry is a mental poison, the toxic element produced in the mind by retention of waste matter, thoughts of the dead past that should have been eliminated with the passing of out-worn periods of existence. self-pity is another evil. it is closely allied to worry. there are many who cultivate a mental attitude of this sort because of the sorrows through which they have passed. such individuals find their chief delight in portraying, in vivid details, the terrific sufferings which they have had to endure. no one has suffered quite so much as they have. they harrow their friends by going over frequently and persistently the long, gruesome details of their "awful" past. this habit is destructive to an extreme degree. why harbor past experiences that only bring sorrows to mind? why add to the bitterness of your daily life by dragging up the lamentable past? why pass along to your friends and acquaintances pain, sorrow and gloom? each human entity is a radiating power. you have the capacity of passing around pain or happiness. as a rule, when you ask a friend to "have something with you" your offer is supposed to bring good cheer. you surely would not ask a friend to have pain with you, or share with you the gall of bitter, experiences through which you have lived. therefore, if you are the victim of self-pity and if your own past sufferings discolor your every pleasant thought, at least do not taint the minds of your friends. at least keep your direful broodings to yourself if you are determined to retain them. it is, however, far wiser and manlier to avoid such thoughts, in which case your memory of these torturing experiences will gradually fade away. live in the future and forget the past. the man or woman who lives in the future, and for the future, will invariably be optimistic and cheerful. it is a good habit to cultivate. then there is a mental poison called anger. avoid it as you would a venomous snake. it has indeed been said by scientists that the venom of the snake is developed through anger, induced by impure circulation, for in reptiles the pure arterial blood mixes in the imperfectly formed heart with the impure venous blood. scientists have also stated that anger produces a poison in the perspiration that emanates from the human body. this may or may not be true, but there is no question, however, about anger being a mental poison. it represents a tremendous waste of nervous energy. to be sure, there may be occasions when anger is justified, when it is actually desirable, but such occasions are rare. learn to master such emotions. get control of your feelings and mental states. avoid useless anger definitely and finally. it usually indicates a lack of mental control, and should be recognized as a destructive force to be carefully avoided. hate is, to a certain extent, synonymous with anger. one may call it anger in a chronic form. hate and the personal enmities associated with it develop emotions and characteristics that unquestionably have a destructive influence. why hate anybody? why waste your nervous energies by trying to "get even" with a fancied enemy? a tremendous amount of human energy is wasted in this manner. you may be impressed with the idea that someone has wronged you. you lie awake at night forming plans for "getting even." every mental effort spent in this direction is not only destructive to body, mind and character, but it represents a waste of nervous energy. one's life should be so filled with useful activities that no time will be left for a waste of this sort. show me a man who spends his time and efforts trying to "get even" with his supposed enemies, and i will show you a shining example of failure. no man can succeed who wastes his nervous forces in this manner. then there is the poison of avarice. financial gain seems to be the one end and aim of many ambitious men. they struggle day after day and year after year in the whirlpool of perverted enthusiasm, looking continuously for wealth and still more wealth. but there is something more in life than money. health, for instance, is worth a thousand times, and self-respect should be rated a million times, more than money. do not allow a struggle of this sort to enslave you. do not allow pursuits of any sort to interfere with the development and maintenance of those powers that indicate superior manhood and womanhood. it is also well to avoid the complaining and critical spirit. you will find frequent references in the good book to what might be termed the thankful spirit. it commands us to be thankful for what we have received. and whether or not the tenets of theology appeal to you, the thought presented is of the greatest value. if you can be thrilled each day with gladness because of the remembrance of pleasures that you have enjoyed the previous day the mental influence will be invaluable. being thankful for what you have received does not necessarily indicate that you should not strive for more and better things. dissatisfaction or discontent is not always necessary to spur one on to added powers and responsibilities. avoid the complaining spirit, which will add gloom and despair to your life, no matter what may be your environment. be thankful for the favors and opportunities that may have come to you, be they large or small, and your mental attitude in this respect will represent a potent health-building influence. envy is another evil it will be well to avoid, largely because it is inspired by selfish attributes. do not envy others the joy of possessions that may be theirs. happiness, after all, is worth but little if it comes unearned. life's greatest pleasures are secured only through intelligent and diligent efforts. they come as the results of hard work. a man who inherits great wealth secures little or no benefit from it. it adds but little to his pleasure in life, for the greatest possible happiness comes from the pursuit rather than the attainment of an object. more happiness comes from the pursuit of wealth or pleasure than from its actual attainment. let the attainment of truth be your aim. truth is magnificent. it is tremendously weighted with power. whatever your ambitions or hopes in life may be, seek for the truth. in some cases the road that leads to this goal may be devious and hard to follow. dangers of all sorts may beset you, as you struggle along the rugged pathway that leads to truth, but the rewards will amply repay you for every effort. don't be a leaner. try to stand alone. be yourself. bring out your own personal characteristics, do not be a stereotype, a parrot, a copy. let others live their own lives, but you see to it that you live yours. many of our public schools are turning out factory-made human beings; each pupil, as far as possible, a duplicate of every other. they are educational brick factories tuning out their products stamped exactly alike. individuality is crushed out. now the child is not so much like clay to be molded into any form, as it is like a precious crystal, that must be shaped with regard to its original nature. each human soul is an uncut diamond. it often has within it capacities and powers which, if developed, might achieve results which we now expect only from exceptional human beings. therefore; be yourself. hold up your head, throw back your shoulders; remember that the earth and all that is thereon belongs to you. anyway, it is well to be inspired by such a thought. it is the proper mental attitude. life is a hard battle, and the rewards are to the strong and courageous. be inspired by the dominating determination to get all there is in your life. develop all your capacities and powers to their utmost limit, and then you can rest assured, that every thought that stirs your soul will be upbuilding rather than destructive in nature. chapter xxi: the laugh cure the physiological effects of the mechanical and mental processes involved in laughing are not generally understood and appreciated. the "laugh cure" is a reality, for it is a remedy of very great value. many a man, placed in a trying situation, would have been saved from tragical consequences if he could have found some means of arousing the emotions expressed in a good hearty laugh. naturally there may be times in life when a laugh is utterly impossible, or may seem so. nevertheless the inclination to stimulate the emotions associated with laughter and good humor should be encouraged at every opportunity. there is no question that laughter has valuable vitalizing qualities. it undoubtedly adds to one's stamina. it gives one a hopeful spirit. it leads one to look upon the bright side of life. when you can laugh, the sun is shining regardless of how many clouds obscure the sky. no matter what other efforts you may be making to build strength and vitality, do not allow the serious aide of life to occupy you continuously. each day should have its laughing time, or its many laughing times. it is barely possible, of course, that laughing, like any other emotional expression, would become tiresome if overdone, but i am inclined to doubt the possibility of harmful effect under any circumstances. "all work and no play makes jack a dull boy," and the relaxation and recuperation that go with laughing should be sought with a certain amount of regularity. if you cannot find recreation of this kind through any other source, then attend a "funny show." go to a theatre where merriment is supreme. on such occasions at least i would avoid tragedies or dramas that are inclined too much toward the sorrowful side of life. personally, i have never had much use for plays of this sort. there are slough serious experiences in life without searching for recreation in the sorrows of others, which are, after all, only the expression of the imagination of some brooding dramatist. some abnormal characters find pleasure in misery. i have heard some women say that "they enjoyed a good cry so much," and that "crying dramas were just grand." but i have been unable to discover anything rational in such sentiments. i may say, however, that in a sense there is a certain basis for this sentiment under certain circumstances. for crying, like laughter, has the physiological effect of producing a relaxation of tense nerves. there is a fundamental basis for crying, but this applies only to exceptional instances in which there is too much nervous tension. when nerves are strained to the "breaking point," crying will bring about a state of relaxation, and one will feel better. if there are times of strain when laughter is utterly impossible, then crying might even be beneficial. the effect on the breathing is very much the same in both cases, and there is a curious similarity in the action of the diaphragm and the mechanical character of the expulsion of the breath. looking tat a person from behind, one cannot tell whether he is laughing or crying. both produce relaxation of the nerves, both increase the activity of the lungs, and both involve a form of gymnastics for the diaphragm and entire breathing apparatus. but, while crying offers relief from extreme tension or grief, it does not justify crying for the so-called pleasure derived from it. laughter is a pleasure, in itself, as well as a symptom of merriment. it is the expression of keen, bounding joy. it is an emotive manifestation that stirs one's whole nature and vitalizes every part of the body. there is a sound, physiological basis for amusements that make us laugh. taking the world over, incalculable sums of money are spent for amusements that make us laugh, and it is money well spent. it is a sound and healthy instinct that leads the tired business man or the tired laborer to seek for mirth-provoking recreations. professional "funny men" like john bunny and charles chaplin undoubtedly add to the health of the human race, and they add to the vitality of those in whom they stimulate laughter. i feel sorry for anyone who has lost the power to laugh freely and heartily. when a man has brooded so much over the sorrows and miseries of life that he can no longer laugh, his condition is indeed serious. "laugh and the world laughs with you; weep and you weep alone," is one of the truest things that ella wheeler wilcox ever said. for a laugh that is spontaneous and heartfelt is truly contagious, and in your little world, the circle of your friends, laughing brings a rich reward in increasing your own happiness as well as theirs. the bodily expression and mechanical efforts that go with happiness will often induce the feelings and emotions associated therewith. to prove the accuracy of this statement, some morning when you are feeling especially gloomy and unpleasant, look into your mirror and go through the process of trying to make yourself smile. screw up your features in such a manner as to force the required contractions of the facial muscles. if you continue your efforts long enough you will surely be rewarded by a real smile, and with the sense of good cheer that a smile will bring. you will make the surprising discovery at it is no longer an effort, for you will smile spontaneously. to go even further try the laugh cure in the following manner. first of all assume a laughing position, in order to laugh properly and to secure the best results. stand with feet far apart, and with the knees slightly bent. now bring the palms of both hands down and "slap" them vigorously on the legs just above the knees, and then swing your bent arms overhead, making a noise as nearly as possible like laughing. yes, you are quite right, it will sound very much like a cold stage laugh at first, and you will have to force it, but as you go on with the experiment it will gradually become more natural. continue this long enough and i defy anyone to differentiate the emotions aroused from those associated with a real, spontaneous laugh. in fact, if you have company while you are going through this process, i will guarantee that they will soon be "guffawing" loudly and violently. this experiment is an excellent one to thy on a company that is especially dull and in need of something unusual to awaken the spirit of good cheer. chapter xxii: singing-the great tonic singing was designed by the creator as a means of giving vent to joyous emotions. when one is overflowing with happiness it is entirely natural for him to break forth into song. therefore when you sing the bodily mechanical efforts associated therewith are naturally inclined to arouse the mental attitude of joy, delight and allied emotions. i have already explained the tremendous value of certain bodily positions and mechanical efforts as a means of influencing the mental attitude. if singing is naturally the expression of joy, then by forcing oneself to sing when mentally downcast one encourages, and at times actually produces, happiness and good cheer. but it is not only for its influence upon the mind that singing is valuable. it is a physical exercise requiring considerable effort. it wakes up the diaphragm. it promotes active circulation. it improves digestion. therefore it has a double value for stimulating the physical as well as the mental functions. i would by all means encourage every inclination towards physical efforts of this sort. remember that the cultivation of the singing voice especially requires the expansion of the lungs. it means that breathing exercises of unusual value will be practiced diligently and persistently on every occasion that you exercise your vocal powers. it not only affects the lungs but the action of the diaphragm involved, and serves to massage, stimulate and invigorate the internal organs lying underneath. there is no need to dilate upon the value of exercise of this sort, for i have referred to this aspect of the question in a previous chapter. if you have no special knowledge or training in the use of the singing voice, then simply do your best. sing at every opportunity. if there is no music in your voice do not allow this to discourage you. follow out the idea that singing is an exercise pure and simple. let your friends understand that you are not impressed with your vocal ability, but that it is simply a form of exercise you take with religious regularity. naturally if you can secure the opportunities associated with a musical education you are to be congratulated, and musical training largely devoted to vocal culture is far more valuable in its influence upon physical and mental powers than when limited to instrumental work. even apart from singing a good voice represents capital of great value. any efforts that you make with a view to developing the singing voice will improve the speaking voice to a similar degree. effective speakers do not always have musical voices, but all good singers possess good speaking voices. therefore the work that you may do with a view to improving your singing voice will surely add to your vocal capital. furthermore, all the time spent in the development of your voice should be looked upon as a recreation. if you can make voice culture a hobby, so much the better. there is really no better means of taking one "away from oneself." you will find no more effective means of diversion from exhausting mental responsibilities, since you cannot think of something else while devoting your entire attention to singing. your mental attitude makes considerable difference in the results. singing, as i have previously explained, is an expression of joy. to sing properly you should really be influenced by joyous emotions, and, though your musical efforts may be forced and mechanical in the beginning, you will usually find that the delight ordinarily associated with vocal expression will soon appear as a result of the physical and mechanical efforts involved in the training of the voice. naturally it is advisable to use the singing voice in the most advantageous manner, if possible, and it would therefore be well to secure the advice of competent instructors if you can, or at least to gain what helpful information there is in books on the subject. it is, of course, impossible to give any detailed advice in this short chapter, but i may say that i am engaged in the preparation of a book on vocal culture which will deal with the subject in an unusually practical manner. voice culture, in many instances, is a mysterious and intricate study that even many of its teachers do not seem to understand in every detail. it is a notorious fact that many so-called vocal instructors, including some of the highest-priced members of the profession, frequently ruin magnificent voices by wrong methods of instruction. it is a simple matter to build up a good voice, but it is also a simple matter to ruin one by unnatural methods of training. it is therefore well to learn to use the voice in a strictly natural manner, and without any straining or forcing of the tone. for instance, it is advisable to avoid any constriction of the muscles of the throat; that is to say, there should be no tension in the throat when singing. one should learn how to "place" the voice. resonance is all-important. many really good teachers differ as to the proper methods of using the voice. although there may be a reasonable excuse for a difference on some of the minor details of voice culture, yet there are certain fundamental principles upon which there should be a definite agreement, and it is these basic principles which will be presented in the book to which i have just referred. at all events, whether or not you desire to take up vocal culture in a serious way, at least you should make it a point to sing at every opportunity. break forth into song whenever the slightest excuse appears. if your voice is harsh, unpleasant and reminds your friends of a carpenter filing a saw, do not be discouraged. every vocal artist had to make a beginning. no matter how bad your efforts may be you can probably recall voices that are still worse. remember also that all voices improve with training. it is a matter of common agreement among instructors that anyone who possesses a speaking voice can also learn to sing. anyway, at the worst, your hours of practice can be so arranged as to avoid annoying other people, or you can adopt a method that i have often used. for instance, when you are on a train, or in a busy centre of the city in which there is a combination of noises which will drown your own voice, you can then sing or hum to your heart's content without annoying others. remember that humming, if you carry it out with sufficient breath to produce real resonance, is practically as good as singing for the training of the voice. there is one particular point of special value, and that is the advantage of singing when the stomach is empty. vocal artists commonly refuse to sing immediately after eating. your voice is free and full and clear when the stomach is empty. a few minutes of singing before each meal would enable one to digest his food far more satisfactorily. it would also establish the mental attitude best suited to perfect digestion. whenever you find responsibilities crowding upon you beyond your power to bear them, or when you realize that your mental attitude is sour, crabbed and pessimistic, then is the time to break forth into song. nothing will bring about a pleasing change more quickly. hum a tune. sing some popular song. put your soul into your efforts as much as possible, and you will literally be amazed at the value of this suggestion. chapter xxiii: the daily regimen following is a brief summary of the suggestions in this volume which may be incorporated in the daily regimen: rise from six to eight o'clock. drink a cup of hot or cold water immediately upon arising. take the thyroid-stimulating exercises. follow by spine-strengthening movements in combination with the hot-water-drinking. following these exercises a dry friction bath may be taken, if desired; also a cold bath. the latter is not necessary to the same extent while following the hot-water-drinking regimen as under ordinary circumstances. the bath may be varied from time to time by taking a cold sitz bath instead of a complete bath. before breakfast indulge in a good laugh or a little singing. eat a light breakfast-preferably consisting chiefly of acid fruits, such as oranges, apples, pears, grapefruit, grapes, etc. throughout the day while following your daily duties remember the suggestions in reference to proper position. make a continuous and never-ending fight to keep a straight spine. hold the chin in, down and backward, with spine erect as nearly as possible, whether sitting or standing. be hopeful, be cheerful, but cultivate the fighting spirit. you cannot have too much will power, determination. eat your first hearty meal between twelve and two o'clock, depending upon the time at which you had breakfast. from five to six hours should elapse between meals to insure perfect digestion. masticate thoroughly. enjoy your food as much as possible. do not eat without a keen appetite. try to take a walk some time during the day. remember during this walk to practice the thyroid-stimulating exercise-chin inward, downward and backward while holding a deep full breath, with the abdomen expanded. do not forget the necessity of using liquids freely. have water close at hand so that your thirst can easily be satisfied. some time during the day, if possible, take some form of outdoor exercise which will compel deep full breathing similar to that induced by running. try to get a good laugh or do a little singing before your evening meal. your evening meal should be taken between six and eight o'clock, depending upon the time of breakfast and lunch. do not forget my suggestion for closing the meal with a little acid fruit. a few spinal exercises, a walk or a short run before retiring can be highly recommended. during the evening, if convenient, take an air bath. take a combination sun bath and air bath in the morning or at any time during the day that is convenient. if you cannot take a regular sun bath wear light-colored clothing and walk on the sunny side of the street when outdoors to get the sun's rays through your clothing. take a hot soap-and-water bath once or twice a week. retire early enough to awake thoroughly refreshed at proper rising time without the warning of an alarm clock. the end http://www.lawsonsprogress.com note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) a ball player's career being the personal experiences and reminiscences of adrian c. anson late manager and captain of the chicago base ball club to my father henry anson of marshalltown, iowa, to whose early training and sound advice i owe my fame contents chap. i.--my birthplace and ancestry. ii.--days at marshalltown iii.--some facts about the national game iv.--further facts and figures v.--the game at marshalltown vi.--my experience at rockford vii.--with the athletics of philadelphia viii.--some minor diversions ix.--we ball players go abroad x.--the argonauts of xi.--i win one prize and others follow xii.--with the national league xiii.--from fourth place to the championship xiv.--the champions of the early ' s xv.--we fall down and rise again xvi.--ball players each and every one xvii.--while fortune frowns and smiles xviii.--from chicago to denver xix.--from denver to san francisco xx.--two weeks in california xxi.--we visit the hawaiian islands xxii.--from honolulu to australia xxiii.--with our friends in the antipodes xxiv.--ball playing and sight-seeing in australia xxv.--afloat on the indian sea xxvi.--from ceylon to egypt xxvii.--in the shadow of the pyramids xxviii.--the blue skies of italy xxix.--our visit to la belle france xxx.--through england, scotland and ireland xxxi.--"home, sweet home" xxxii.--the revolt of the brotherhood xxxiii.--my last years on the ball field xxxiv.--if this be treason, make the most of it xxxv.--how my winters were spent xxxvi.--with the knights of the cue xxxvii.--not dead, but sleeping xxxviii.--l'envoi chapter i. my birthplace and ancestry. the town of marshalltown, the county seat of marshall county, in the great state of iowa, is now a handsome and flourishing place of some thirteen or fourteen thousand inhabitants. i have not had time recently to take the census myself, and so i cannot be expected to certify exactly as to how many men, women and children are contained within the corporate limits. at the time that i first appeared upon the scene, however, the town was in a decidedly embryonic state, and outside of some half-dozen white families that had squatted there it boasted of no inhabitants save indians of the pottawattamie tribe, whose wigwams, or tepees, were scattered here and there upon the prairie and along the banks of the river that then, as now, was not navigable for anything much larger than a flat-bottomed scow. the first log cabin that was erected in marshalltown was built by my father, henry anson, who is still living, a hale and hearty old man, whose only trouble seems to be, according to his own story, that he is getting too fleshy, and that he finds it more difficult to get about than he used to. he and his father, warren anson, his grandfather, jonathan anson, and his great-grandfather, silas anson, were all born in dutchess county, new york, and were direct descendants of one of two brothers, who came to this country from england some time in the seventeenth century. they traced their lineage back to william anson, esq., of lincoln's inn, an eminent barrister in the reign of james i, who purchased the mansion of shuzsborough, in the county of stafford, and, even farther back, to lord anson, a high admiral of the english navy, who was one of the first of that daring band of sailors who circumnavigated the globe and helped to lay the foundation of england's present greatness. i have said that we were direct descendants of one of two brothers. the other of the original ansons i am not so proud of, and for this reason: he retained the family name until the revolutionary war broke out, when he sided with the king and became known as a tory. then, not wishing to bear the same name as his, brother, who had espoused the cause of the colonists, he changed his name to austin, and some of his descendants my father has met on more than one occasion in his travels. my mother's maiden name was jeanette rice, and she, like my father, was of english descent, so you can see how little swedish blood there is in my veins, in spite of the nickname of "the swede" that was often applied to me during my ball-playing career, and which was, i fancy, given me more because of my light hair and ruddy complexion than because of any swedish characteristics that i possessed. early in life my father emigrated from new york state into the wilds of michigan, and later, after he was married, and while he was but nineteen years of age, and his wife two years his junior, he started out to find a home in the west, traveling in one of the old-fashioned prairie schooners drawn by horses and making his first stop of any account on the banks of the cedar river in iowa. this was in the high-water days of , and as the river overflowed its banks and the waters kept rising higher and higher my father concluded that it was hardly a desirable place near which to locate a home, and hitching up his team he saddled a horse and swam the stream, going on to the westward. he finally homesteaded a tract of land on the site of the present town of marshalltown, which he laid out, and to which he gave the name that it now bears. this, for a time, was known as "marshall," it being named after the town of marshall in michigan, but when a post-office was applied for it was discovered that there was already a post-office of that same name in the state, and so the word "town" was added, and marshalltown it became, the names of anson, ansontown and ansonville having all been thought of and rejected. had the name of "ansonia" occurred at that time to my father's mind, however, i do not think that either marshall or marshalltown would have been its title on the map. it was not so very long after the completion of my father's log cabin, which stood on what is now marshall-town's main street, that i, the first white child that was born there, came into the world, the exact date of my advent being april th, . my brother sturges ransome, who is two years my senior, was born at the old home in michigan, and i had still another brother melville who died while i was yet a small boy, so at the time of which i write there were three babies in the house, all of them boys, and i the youngest and most troublesome of the lot. the first real grief that came into my life was the death of my mother, which occurred when i was but seven years old. i remember her now as a large, fine-looking woman, who weighed something over two hundred pounds, and she stood about five feet ten-and-a-half inches in height. this is about all the recollection that i have of her. if the statements made by my father and by other of our relatives are to be relied upon, and i see no reason why they should not be, i was a natural-born kicker from the very outset of my career, and of very little account in the world, being bent upon making trouble for others. i had no particularly bad traits that i am aware of, only that i was possessed of an instinctive dislike both to study and work, and i shirked them whenever opportunity offered. i had a penchant, too, for getting into scrapes, and it was indeed a happy time for my relatives when a whole day passed without my being up to some mischief. some of my father's people had arrived on the scene before my mother's death, and, attracting other settlers to the scene, marshalltown, or marshall as it was then called, was making rapid strides in growth and importance. the pottawattomies, always friendly to the whites, were particularly fond of my father and i often remember seeing both the bucks and the squaws at our cabin, though i fancy that they were not so fond of us boys as they might have been, for we used to tease and bother them at every opportunity. johnny green was their chief, and johnny, in spite of his looks, was a pretty decent sort of a fellow, though he was as fond of fire-water as any of them and as iowa was not a prohibition state in those early days he managed now and then to get hold of a little. "the fights that he fought and the rows that he made" were as a rule confined to his own people. speaking of the indians, i remember one little occurrence in which i was concerned during those early days that impressed itself upon my memory in a very vivid fashion, and even now i am disposed to regard it as no laughing matter, although my father entertains a contrary opinion, but then my father was not in my position, and that, ofttimes, makes all the difference in the world. the pottawattamies were to have a war dance at the little town of marietta, some six or seven miles up the river, and of course we boys were determined to be on hand and take part in the festivities. there were some twelve or fifteen of us in the party and we enjoyed the show immensely, as was but natural. had we all been content to look on and then go home peacefully there would have been no trouble, but what boys would act in such unboyish fashion? not the boys of marshalltown, at any rate. it was just our luck to run up against two drunken indians riding on a single pony, and someone in the party, i don't know who, hit the pony and started him, to bucking. angrier indians were never seen. with a whoop and a yell that went ringing across the prairies they started after us, and how we did leg it! how far some of the others ran i have no means of knowing but i know that i ran every foot of the way back to marshalltown, nor did i stop until i was safe, as i thought, in my father's house. my troubles did not end there, however, for along in the darkest hours of the night i started from sleep and saw those two indians, one standing at the head and one at the foot of the bed, and each of them armed with a tomahawk. that they had come to kill me i was certain, and that they would succeed in doing so seemed to me equally sure. i tried to scream but i could not. i was as powerless as a baby. i finally managed to move and as i did so i saw them vanish through the open doorway and disappear in the darkness. there was no sleep for me that night, as you may imagine. i fancied that the entire pottawattomie tribe had gathered about the house and that they would never be content until they had both killed and scalped me. i just lay there and shivered until the dawn came, and i do not think there was a happier boy in the country than i when the morning finally broke and i convinced myself by the evidence of my own eye-sight that there was not so much as even a single indian about. as soon as it was possible i told my father about my two unwelcome visitors, but the old man only laughed and declared that i had been dreaming. it was just possible that i had, but i do not believe it. i saw those two indians as they stood at the head and foot of my bed just as plainly as i ever saw a base-ball, and i have had my eye on the ball a good many times since i first began to play the game. i saw both their painted faces and the tomahawks that they held in their sinewy hands. more than that, i heard them as well as saw them when they went out. that is the reason why i insist that i was not dreaming. i deny the allegation and defy the alligator! there were two indians in my room that night. what they were there for i don't know, and at this late day i don't care, but they were there, and i know it. i shall insist that they were there to my dying day, and they were there! chapter ii. boyhood days and memories. what's in a name? not much, to be sure, in many of them, but in mine a good deal, for i represent two michigan towns and two roman emperors, adrian and constantine. my father had evidently not outgrown his liking for michigan when i came into the world, and as he was familiar with both adrian and constantine and had many friends in both places he concluded to keep them fresh in his memory by naming me after them. i don't think he gave much consideration to the noble old romans at that time. in fact, i am inclined to believe that he did not think of them at all, but nevertheless adrian constantine i was christened, and it was as adrian constantine anson that my name was first entered upon the roll of the little school at marshalltown. i was then in my "smart" years, and what i didn't know about books would have filled a very large library, and i hadn't the slightest desire to know any more. in my youthful mind book-knowledge cut but a small, a very small, figure, and the school house itself was as bad if not worse than the county jail. the idea of my being cooped up between four walls when the sunbeams were dancing among the leaves outside and the bees were humming among the blossoms, seemed to me the acme of cruelty, and every day that i spent bending over a desk represented to my mind just so many wasted hours and opportunities. i longed through all the weary hours to be running out barefoot on the prairies; to be playing soak-ball, bull pen or two old cat, on one of the vacant lots, or else to be splashing about like a big newfoundland dog in the cool waters of lynn creek. about that time my father had considerable business to attend to in chicago and was absent from home for days and weeks at a time. you know the old adage, "when the cat's away," etc.? well, mouse-like, that was the time in which i played my hardest. i played hookey day after day, and though i was often punished for doing so it had but little effect. run away from school i would, and run away from school i did until even the old man became disgusted with the idea of trying to make a scholar of me. sport of any kind, and particularly sport of an outdoor variety, had for me more attractions than the best book that was ever published. the game of base-ball was then in its infancy and while it was being played to some extent to the eastward of us the craze had not as yet reached marshalltown. it arrived there later and it struck the town with both feet, too, when it did come. "soak ball" was at this time my favorite sport. it was a game in which the batter was put out while running the bases by being hit with the ball; hence the name. the ball used was a comparatively soft one, yet hard enough to hurt when hurled by a powerful arm, as many of the old-timers as well as myself can testify. it was a good exercise, however, for arms, legs and eyes, and many of the ball players who acquired fame in the early seventies can lay the fact that they did so to the experience and training that this rough game gave to them. so disgusted did my father finally become with the progress of my education at marshalltown that he determined upon sending me to the state university at iowa city. i was unable to pass the examination there the first time that i tried it, but later i succeeded and the old man fondly imagined that i was at last on the high road to wealth, at least so far as book-knowledge would carry me. but, alas, for his hopes in that direction! i was not a whit better as a student at iowa city than i had been at home. i was as wild as a mustang and as tough as a pine knot, and the scrapes that i managed to get into were too numerous to mention. the state university finally became too small to hold me and the university of notre dame in indiana, then noted as being one of the strictest schools in the country, was selected as being the proper place for "breaking me into harness," providing that the said "breaking in" performance could be successfully accomplished anywhere. to notre dame i went and if i acquired any honors in the way of scholarships during the brief time that i was there i have never heard of them. foot-ball, base-ball and fancy skating engrossed the most of my attention, and in all of these branches of sport i attained at least a college reputation. as a fancy skater i excelled, and there were few boys of my age anywhere in the country that could beat me in that line. the base-ball team that represented notre dame at that time was the juanitas, and of this organization i was a member, playing second base. the bright particular star of this club was my brother sturgis, who played the center field position. had he remained in the business he would certainly have made his mark in the profession, but unfortunately he strained his arm one day while playing and was obliged to quit the diamond. he is now a successful business man in the old town and properly thankful that a fate that then seemed most unkind kept him from becoming a professional ball player. looking back over my youthful experiences i marvel that i have ever lived to relate them, and that i did not receive at least a hundred thrashings for every one that was given me. i know now that i fully deserved all that i received, and more, too. my father was certainly in those days a most patient man. i have recorded the fact elsewhere that i was as averse to work as i was to study, and i had a way of avoiding it at times that was peculiarly my own. while i was still a boy in marshalltown and before i had graduated (?) from either the state university or the college of notre dame, my father kept a hotel known as the anson house. the old gentleman was at that tune the possessor of a silver watch, and to own that watch was the height of my ambition. time and again i begged him to give it to me, but he had turned a deaf ear to my importunities. in the back yard of the hotel one day when i had been begging him for the gift harder than usual, there stood a huge pile of wood that needed splitting, and looking at this he remarked, that i could earn the watch if i chose by doing the task. he was about to take a journey at the time and i asked him if he really meant it. he replied that he did, and started away. i don't think he had any more idea of my doing the task than he had of my flying. i had some ideas of my own on the subject, however, and he was scarcely out of sight before i began to put them into execution. the larder of the hotel was well stocked, and cookies and doughnuts were as good a currency as gold and silver among boys of my acquaintance. this being the case it dawned upon my mind that i could sublet the contract, a plan than i was not long in putting into practice. many hands make quick work, and it was not long before i had a little army of boys at work demolishing that wood pile. the chunks that were too big and hard to split we placed on the bottom, then placed the split wood over them. the task was accomplished long before the old gentleman's return, and when on the night of his arrival i took him out and showed him that such was the case he looked a bit astonished. he handed over the watch, though, and for some days afterwards as i strutted about town with it in my pocket i fancied it was as big as the town clock and wondered that everybody that i met in my travels did not stop to ask me the time of day. it was some time afterwards that my father discovered that the job had been shirked by me, and paid for with the cakes and cookies taken from his own larder, but it was then too late to say anything and i guess, if the truth were known, he chuckled to himself over the manner in which lie had been outwitted. the old gentleman seldom became very angry with me, no matter what sort of a scrape i might have gotten into, and the only time that he really gave me a good dressing down that i remember was when i had traded during his absence from home his prize gun for a llewellyn setter. when he returned and found what i had done he was as mad as a hornet, but quieted down after i had told him that he had better go hunting with her before making so much fuss. this he did and was so pleased with the dog's behavior that he forgave me for the trick that i had played him. that the dog was worth more than the gun, the sequel proved. a man by the name of dwight who lived down in the bottoms had given his boy instructions to kill a black-and-tan dog if he found it in the vicinity of his sheep. the lad, who did not know one dog from another, killed the setter and then the old gentleman boiled over again. he demanded pay for the dog, which was refused. then he sued, and a jury awarded him damages to the amount of two hundred dollars, all of which goes to prove that i was even then a pretty good judge of dogs, although i had not been blessed with a bench show experience. i may state right here that my father and i were more like a couple of chums at school together than like father and son. we fished together, shot together, played ball together, poker together and i regret to say that we fought together. in the early days i got rather the worst of these arguments, but later on i managed to hold my own and sometimes to get even a shade the better of it. the old gentleman was an athlete of no mean ability. he was a crack shot, a good ball player and a man that could play a game of billiards that in those days was regarded as something wonderful for an amateur. my love of sport, therefore, came to me naturally. i inherited it, and if i have excelled in any particular branch it is because of my father's teachings. he was a square sport, and one that had no use for anything that savored of crookedness. there was nothing whatever of the puritan in his makeup, and from my early youth he allowed me to participate in any sort of game that took my fancy. he had no idea at that time of my ever becoming a professional. neither had i. there were but few professional sports outside of the gamblers, and even these few led a most precarious existence. i was quite an expert at billiards long before i was ever heard of as a ball player. there was a billiard table in the old anson house and it was upon that that i practiced when i was scarcely large enough to handle a cue. it was rather a primitive piece of furniture, but it answered the purpose for which it had been designed. it was one of the old six pocket affairs, with a bass-wood bed instead of slate, and the balls sometimes went wabbling over it very much the same fashion as eggs would roll if pushed about on a kitchen table with a broomstick. in spite of having to use such poor tools i soon became quite proficient at the game and many a poor drummer was taken into camp by the long, gawky country lad at marshalltown, whose backers were always looking about for a chance to make some easy money. next to base-ball, billiards was at that time my favorite sport and there was not an hour in the day that i was not willing to leave anything that i might be engaged upon to take a hand in either one of these games. when it came to weeding a garden or hoeing a field of corn i was not to be relied upon, but at laying out a ball, ground i was a whole team. the public square at marshalltown, the land for which had been donated, by my father, struck me as being an ideal place to play ball in. there were too many trees growing there, however, to make it available for the purpose. i had made up my mind to turn it into a ball ground in spite of this, and shouldering an ax one fine morning i started in. how long it took me to accomplish the purpose i had in view i have forgotten, but i know that i succeeded finely in getting the timber all out of the way. it was hard work, but you see the base-ball fever was on me and that treeless park for many a long day after was a spot hat i took great pride in. at the present time it is shaded by stately elms, while, almost in the center of its velvet lawn, flanked by cannon, stands a handsome stone courthouse that is the pride of marshall county. then it was ankle deep in meadow grass and surrounded by a low picket fence over which the ball was often batted, both by members of the home team and by their visitors from abroad. many a broken window in main street the anson family were responsible for in those days, but as all the owners of stores on that thoroughfare in the immediate vicinity of the grounds were base-ball enthusiasts, broken windows counted for but little so long as marshalltown carried off the honors. chapter iii. some facts about the national game. just at what particular time the base-ball fever became epidemic in marshalltown it is difficult to say, for the reason that, unfortunately, all of the records of the game there, together with the trophies accumulated, were destroyed by a fire that swept the place in , and that also destroyed all of the files of the newspapers then published there. the fever had been raging in the east many years previous to that time, however, and had gradually worked its way over the mountains and across the broad prairies until the sport had obtained a foothold in every little village and hamlet in the land. before entering further on my experience it may be well to give here and now a brief history of the game and its origin. when and where the game first made its appearance is a matter of great uncertainty, but the general opinion of the historians seems to be that by some mysterious process of evolution it developed from the boys' game of more than a century ago, then known as "one old cat," in which there was a pitcher, a catcher, and a batter. john m. ward, a famous base-ball player in his day, and now a prosperous lawyer in the city of brooklyn, and the late professor proctor, carried on a controversy through the columns of the new york newspapers in , the latter claiming that base-ball was taken from the old english game of "rounders," while ward argued that base-ball was evolved from the boys' game, as above stated, and was distinctly an american game, he plainly proving that it had no connection whatever with "rounders." the game of base-ball probably owed its name to the fact that bases were used in making its runs, and were one of its prominent features. there seems to be no doubt that the game was played in the united states as early at least as the beginning of the present century, for dr. oliver wendell holmes declared a few years ago that base-ball was one of the sports of his college days, and the autocrat of the breakfast table graduated at harvard in . along in a number of gentlemen, residents of new york city, were in the habit of playing the game as a means of exercise on the vacant lot at the corner of fourth avenue and twenty-sixth street, where madison square garden now stands. in they formed themselves into a permanent organization known as the knickerbocker club, and drew up the first code of playing rules of the game, which were very simple as compared with the complex rules which govern the game of the present time, and which are certainly changed in such a way as to keep one busy in keeping track of them. the grounds of this parent organization were soon transferred to the elysian fields, at hoboken, n. j., where the knickerbockers played their first match game on june th, , their opponents not being an organized club, but merely a party of gentlemen who played together frequently, and styled themselves the new york club. the new yorks won easily in four innings, the game in those days being won by the club first making twenty-one runs on even innings. the knickerbockers played at hoboken for many years, passing out of existence only in . in the olympic club of philadelphia was organized for the purpose of playing town-ball, a game which had some slight resemblance to base-ball. the olympic club, however, did not adopt the game of base-ball until , and consequently cannot claim priority over the knickerbockers, although it was one of the oldest ball-playing organizations in existence, and was disbanded only a few years ago. in new england a game of base-ball known by the distinctive title of "the new england game" was in vogue about fifty years ago. it was played with a small, light ball, which was thrown over-hand to the bat, and was different from the "new york game" as practiced by the knickerbockers, gotham, eagle, and empire clubs of that city. the first regularly organized club in massachusetts playing the present style of base-ball was the olympic club of boston, which was established in , and in the following year participated in the first match game played in that locality, its opponents being the elm tree team. the first match games in philadelphia, san francisco and washington were played in . for several years the knickerbocker club was alone in the field, but after a while similar clubs began to organize, while in an association was formed which the following year developed into the national association. the series of rules prepared by a committee of the principal clubs of new york city governed all games prior to , but on january d, , a convention of clubs was held at which a new code of rules was enacted. on march th, , delegates from twenty-five clubs of new york and brooklyn met and organized the national association of base-ball players, which for thirteen successive seasons annually revised the playing rules, and decided all disputes arising in base-ball. the first series of contests for the championship took place during and . at that time the elysian fields, hoboken, n. j., were the great center of base-ball playing, and here the knickerbockers, eagle, gotham and empire clubs of new york city ruled supreme. a rival sprung up, however, in the atlantic club of brooklyn, and its success led to the arrangement of a series of games between selected nines of the new york and brooklyn clubs in . in these encounters new york proved victorious, winning the first and third games by the respective scores of to , and to , while brooklyn won the second contest by to . in october, , another contest took place between the representative nines of new york and brooklyn for the silver ball presented by the new york clipper, and brooklyn easily won by a score of to . the civil war materially affected the progress of the game in , ' and ' and but little base-ball was played, many wielders of the bat having laid aside the ash to shoulder the musket. the atlantic and eckford clubs of brooklyn were the chief contestants for the championship in , the eckfords then wresting the championship away from the atlantics, and retaining it also during the succeeding season, when they were credited with an unbroken succession of victories. the champion nine of the eckford club in were sprague, pitcher; beach, catcher; roach, wood and duffy on the bases; devyr, shortstop; and manolt, swandell and josh snyder in the outfield. the championship reverted back to the atlantics in , and they held the nominal title until near the close of , their chief competitors being the athletics of philadelphia and the mutuals of new york city. the athletics held the nominal championship longer than any other club, and also claims the credit of not being defeated in any game played during and , the feat of going through two successive seasons without a defeat being unprecedented at that time in base-ball history. the eckfords of brooklyn, however, went through the season of without losing a game, and the cincinnati reds, under the management of the late harry wright, accomplished a similar feat in , the latter at the time meeting all of the best teams in the country, both east and west. the atlantic's champion nine in and were pratt, pitcher; pearce, catcher; stark, crane and c. smith, on the bases; galvin, shortstop; and chapman, p. o'brien and s. smith in the outfield. frank norton caught during the latter part of the season and pearce played shortstop. the athletics in played all of the strongest clubs in the country and were only twice defeated, once by the atlantics of brooklyn, and once by the unions of morrisania. the first game between the atlantics and athletics for the championship took place october st, , in philadelphia, the number of people present inside and outside the inclosed grounds being estimated as high as , , it being the largest attendance known at the baseball game up to that time. inside the inclosure the crowd was immense, and packed so close there was no room for the players to field. an attempt was made, however, to play the game, but one inning was sufficient to show that it was impossible, and after a vain attempt to clear the field both parties reluctantly consented to a postponement. the postponed game was played october d, in philadelphia. the price of tickets was placed at one dollar and upwards, and two thousand people paid the "steep" price of admission, the highest ever charged for mere admission to the grounds, while five or six thousand more witnessed the game from the surrounding embankment. rain and darkness obliged the umpire to call the game at the end of the second inning, the victory remaining with the athletics, by the decisive totals of to . a dispute about the gate money prevented the playing of the decisive game of the season. the unions of morrisiana, by defeating the atlantics in two out of three games in the latter part of the season of , became entitled to the nominal championship, which during the next two seasons was shifted back and forth between the leading clubs of new york and brooklyn. the athletics in , and the cincinnatis in , had, however, the best records of their respective seasons, and were generally acknowledged as the virtual champions. the athletics of philadelphia in had mcbride, pitcher; dockney, catcher; berkenstock, reach and pike on the bases; wilkins, shortstop; and sensenderfer, fisler and kleinfelder in the outfield. their nine presented few changes during the next two seasons, dockney, berkenstock and pike giving way to radcliff, cuthbert and berry in , and schafer taking kleinfelder's place in . the cincinnati nine in were brainard, pitcher; allison, catcher; gould, sweasy and waterman on the bases; george wright, shortstop, and leonard, harry wright and mcvey in the outfield. in the late frank queen, proprietor and editor of the new york clipper, offered a series of prizes to be contested for by the leading clubs of the country, a gold ball being offered for the champion club, and a gold badge to the player in each position, from catcher to right field, who had the best batting average. the official award gave the majority of the prizes to the athletic club. mcbride, radcliff, fisler, reach and sensenderfer, having excelled in their respective positions of pitcher, catcher, first base, second base, and center field. waterman, hatfield and johnson, of the cincinnatis, excelled in the positions of third base, left field and right field, and george wright of the unions, of morrisiania as shortstop. the gold ball was also officially awarded to the athletics as the emblem of championship for the season of . the atlantics of brooklyn were virtually the champions of , being the first club to deprive the cincinnati reds of the prestige of invincibility which had marked their career during the preceding season. the inaugural contest between these clubs in took place june th on the capitoline grounds at brooklyn, n. y., the atlantics then winning by a score of to after an exciting struggle of eleven innings. the return game was played september d, in cincinnati, ohio, and resulted in a decisive victory for the reds, by a score of to . this necessitated a third or decisive game, which was played in philadelphia october th, and this the atlantics won by a score of to . the atlantics in that year had zettlein, pitcher; ferguson, catcher; start, pike and smith on the bases; pearce, shortstop, and chapman, hall and mcdonald on the outfield. the newspapers throughout the country had by this time begun to pay unusual attention to the game, and the craze was spreading like wildfire all over the country, every little country town boasting of its nine, and as these were for the greater part made up of home players, local feeling ran high, and the doings of "our team" furnished the chief subject of conversation at the corner grocery, and wherever else the citizens were wont to congregate. with the advent of the professional player the game in the larger towns took on a new lease of life, but in the smaller places where they could not afford the expense necessary to the keeping of a first-class team it ceased to be the main attraction and interest was centered in the doings of the teams of the larger places. that the professional player improved the game itself goes without saying as being a business with him instead of a pastime, and one upon which his daily bread depended, he went into it with his whole soul, developing its beauties in a way that was impossible to the amateur who could only give to it the time that he could spare after the business hours of the day. this was the situation at the time that i first entered tile base-ball arena, and, looking back, when i come to compare the games of those days with the games of to-day and note the many changes that have taken place, i cannot but marvel at the improvement made and at the interest that the game has everywhere excited. chapter iv. further facts and figures. the professional player of those early days and the professional player of the present time were totally different personages. when professionalism first crept into the ranks it was generally the custom to import from abroad some player who had made a name for himself, playing some certain position, and furnish him with a business situation so that his services might be called for when needed, and so strong was the local pride taken in the success of the team that business men were not averse to furnishing such a man with a position when they were informed that it would be for the good of the home organization. prior to the year the professional was, comparatively speaking, an unknown quantity on the ball field, though it may be set down here as a fact that on more than one occasion previous to that time "the laborer had been found worthy of his hire," even in base-ball, though that matter had been kept a secret as far as possible, even in the home circle. up to the year mentioned the rules of the national association had prohibited the employment of any paid player in a club nine, but at that time so strong had the rivalry become between the leading clubs of the principal cities that the practice of compensating players had become more honored in the breach than in the observance and the law was practically a dead letter so far as these clubs were concerned. the growth of the professional class of players, and the consequent inequality in strength between these and the amateur players made a distinction necessary and in the national association split up, the professional clubs forming an association of their own. the first series of championship games under a regular official code of rules was then established, and since then the contests for the professional championship have been the events of each season's play. the first convention of delegates from avowedly professional clubs was held march th, , in new york city, and a code of rules were then adopted, the principal clause being the one suggested by the athletic club of philadelphia, to the effect that the championship should belong to the club which won the greatest number of games in a series of five with every other contesting club. the professional association thus organized consisted of the following clubs: athletics of philadelphia, boston, chicago, forest citys of cleveland, forest citys of rockford, haymakers of troy, kekiongas of fort wayne, mutuals of new york' city, and olympics of washington. the eckford club of brooklyn entered the association about the middle of the season, but its games were not counted. the kekiongas disbanded in july, but their games were thrown out. that season marked my advent on the diamond as a professional, i being a member of the forest citys of rockford; so it can readily be seen that i was among the first of the men in america who made of base-ball playing a business. the additions to the association in were the atlantic and eckford of brooklyn, baltimore, national of washington, and mansfield of middletown, conn., the last mentioned, however, disbanding before the close of the championship season. the forest citys of rockford did not enter the arena that year, but i was "still in the ring," having transferred my services to the athletics of philadelphia, where i remained until the formation of the national league in . in the athletics had a rival in the new philadelphia club; the maryland of baltimore and the resolute of elizabeth, n. j., also entering the championship arena. the forest city of cleveland and the eckford of brooklyn dropped out after , and the two washington clubs were consolidated. the chicago club, which had been broken up by the great fire of and had been out of existence in and , again entered the association in , when hartford was for the first time represented by a professional club. the washington, resolute and the maryland clubs were not members of the association in that year. thirteen professional clubs competed for the championship in , the st. louis team being the only one of the new entries that did not disband before the season closed. this was the last season of the professional association, it being superseded by the national league, an organization which still exists, though it lacks the brains and power that carried it on to success in, its earlier days, this being notably the case in chicago and new york, where the clubs representing these cities have gone down the toboggan slide with lightning-like rapidity. in this connection the names of the teams winning the professional association championships, together with the players composing them are given: . athletic, mcbride, pitcher; malone, catcher; fisler, reach and meyerle on the bases; radcliffe, shortstop; cuthbert, senserderfer and heubel in the outfield, and bechtel and pratt, substitutes. , boston, spalding, pitcher; mcvey, catcher; gould, barnes and schafer on the bases; george wright, shortstop; leonard, harry wright and rogers, in the outfield; and birdsall and ryan, substitutes. . boston, spalding, pitcher; jas. white, catcher; jas. o'rourke, barnes and schafer on the bases; george wright, shortstop; leonard, harry wright and manning in the outfield; and birdsall and sweasey, substitutes. addy took manning's place in the latter part of the season. . boston, spalding, pitcher; mcvey, catcher; white, barnes and schafer on the bases; george wright, shortstop; leonard, hall and jas. o'rourke in the outfield; and harry wright and beal, substitutes. . boston, spalding, pitcher; jas. white, catcher; mcvey, barnes and schafer on the bases; george wright, shortstop; leonard, jas. o'rourke and manning in the outfield, and harry wright and beal, substitutes. heifert and latham each played first base during part of the season. it will thus be seen that the boston club held the championship in those early days for four successive seasons, and playing against them as i did i can bear witness to their strength and skill as ball players. many of the men, who like myself were among the first to enter the professional ranks in those days, have achieved distinction in the business world, the notables among them being a. g. spalding, now head of the largest sporting goods house in the world, with headquarters in chicago; george wright, who is the head of a similar establishment at boston, and al reach, who is engaged in the same line of business at philadelphia, while others, not so successful, have managed to earn a living outside of the arena, and others still, have crossed "the great divide" leaving behind them little save a memory and a name. in those early days of the game the rules required a straight arm delivery, and the old-time pitchers found it a difficult matter to obtain speed save by means of an underhand throw or jerk of the ball. creighton, of the excelsiors of brooklyn, however, with his unusually swift pitching puzzled nearly all of the opposing teams as early as . sprague developed great speed, according to the early chroniclers of the game, while with the eckford club of the same city in , and tom pratt and mcbride of the athletics were also among the first of the old-time pitchers to attain speed in their delivery. about , martin pitched a slow and deceptive drop ball, it being a style of delivery peculiarly his own, and one i have never seen used by any one else, though cunningham of louisville uses it to a certain extent. the greatest change ever made in the national game was the introduction of what is known as curve pitching, followed as it was several seasons afterwards by the removal of all restrictions on the method of delivering the ball to the batter. arthur, known under the sobriquet of "candy," cummings of brooklyn is generally conceded to have been the first to introduce curve pitching, which he did about or . mount, the pitcher of the princeton college and avery of yale are accredited with using the curve about , but mathews of the new york mutuals and nolan of the indianapolis team were among the first of the professional pitchers, after cummings, to become proficient in its use, which was generally adopted in , and to the skill acquired by both of these men in handling of the ball i can testify by personal experience, having had to face them, bat in hand, on more than one occasion. many people, including prominent scientists, were for a long time loth to believe that a ball could be curved in the air, but they were soon satisfied by practical tests, publicly made, as to the truth of the matter. with the doing away with the restrictions that governed the methods of the pitcher's delivery of the ball and the introduction of the curve the running up of large scores in the game became an impossibility, and the batsman was placed at a decided disadvantage. reading over the scores of some of those old-time games in the present day one becomes lost in wonder when he thinks of the amount of foot-racing, both around the bases and chasing the ball, that was indulged in by those players of a past generation. here are some sample performances taken from a history of base-ball, compiled by al wright of new york and published in the clipper annual of , which go to illustrate the point in question. the largest number of runs ever made by a club in a game was by the niagara club of buffalo, n. y., june th, , when they defeated the columbias of that city by the remarkable score of to , two of the niagaras scoring twenty-five runs each, and the least number of runs, scored by any one batsman amounted to twenty. fifty-eight runs were made in the eighth inning and only three hours were occupied in amassing this mammoth total. just think of it! such a performance as that in these days would be a sheer impossibility, and that such is the case the base-ball players should be devoutly thankful, and, mind you, this performance was made by an amateur team and not by a team of professionals. one hundred runs and upward have been scored in a game no less than twenty-five times, the athletics of philadelphia accomplishing this feat nine times in and , and altogether being credited with scores of , , , , , , , , , , , and . on october th, , the athletics defeated the williamsport club by to in the morning, and the alerts of danville, pa., by to in the afternoon. al reach in these two games alone scored thirty-four runs. it strikes me that the ball players of those days earned their salaries even if they did not get them, no matter what other folks may think about it. in , a game was played in which, the losers made runs and the winning club , of which were made in the last inning. the chicagos defeated the memphis team may th, , by a score of to , and the forest city club of cleveland four days later beat a local team to , only five innings being played. the forest citys made in these five innings no fewer than safe hits, with a total of bases, this being an unequalled record. the unions of morrisiania were credited with safe hits in a nine-inning game in . the largest score on record by professional clubs was made by the atlantics of brooklyn and the athletics of philadelphia july th, , when the former won by to . fifteen thousand people paid admission to the capitoline grounds, brooklyn, where the game was played, and the atlantics made six home runs and the athletics three during its progress. the greatest number of runs in an inning in a first-class game was scored by the atlantics of brooklyn in a match with the new york mutuals, october th, , when they scored runs in their third inning. george wright umpired a game between amateur clubs in washington, d. c., in , in which the winners made runs in an inning, the largest total ever made. the most one-sided contest between first class clubs was that between the mutuals and chicagos june th, , when the former won by to , the chicagos making only two safe hits. the greatest number of home runs in any one game was credited to the athletics of philadelphia, september th, , when they made twenty-five against the national club of jersey city, reach, kleinfelder and potter each having five home runs to their credit on this occasion. the same club was credited with nineteen home runs may th, , while playing an amateur club at new castle, delaware. harry wright, while playing with the cincinnatis against the holt club june d, , at newport, ky., made seven home runs, the largest number ever scored by any individual player in a game, though "lip" pike followed closely, he making six home runs, five in succession, for the athletics against the alerts, july th, , in philadelphia. these were, as a matter of course, exceptional performances, and ones that would be impossible in these days of great speed and curve pitching, but serve to show that there were ball players, and good ones, even in those days when the national game was as yet, comparatively speaking, in its infancy, and the national league, of the formation and progress of which i will speak later on as yet unheard of. it must be remembered that, the greater number of these old-time games were not played upon enclosed grounds and that the batter in many cases had no fences to prevent him from lining them out, while the pitcher was so hampered by rules and regulations as to give the batsman every advantage, while now it is the pitcher that enjoys a wide latitude and the batsman who is hampered. it was a much easier matter to hit the old underhand delivery, with its straight ball, and to send the pigskin screaming through the air and over a low picket fence, than to hit the swift curved ball of to-day and lift it over the high board fences that surround the professional grounds, as any old-time player can testify. chapter v. the game at marshalltown. if my memory serves me rightly it was some time in the year that the marshalltown base-ball club, of which my father was a prominent member, sprung into existence, and among the men who made up the team at that time were many who have since become prominent in the history not only of marshalltown but of marshall county as well, among them being captain shaw, emmett green, a. b. cooper, s. r. anson and the old gentleman himself, it being owing to my father's exertions that marshalltown acquired the county seat, and he has since served the town as both mayor and councilman and seen it grow from a single log cabin to a prosperous city. prior to the organization of this team base-ball had been played there in a desultory fashion for some time, but with its formation the fever broke out in its most virulent form, and it was not many weeks before the entire town had gone base-ball crazy, the fever seemingly attacking everybody in the place save the baby in arms, which doubtless escaped merely because of its extreme youth and lack of understanding. in the absence of any records relating to those early days it is impossible for me to say just who, the marshalltown team beat and who it did not, but i do know that long before i became a member of it and while i was still playing with the second nine, which went by the name of the "stars," the team enjoyed a ball-playing reputation second to none in the state and the doings of "our team" every week occupied a conspicuous place in the columns of the local papers, the editors of which might have been seen enjoying the sport and occupying a front seat on the grass at every game, with note book in hand recording each and every play in long-hand, for the score book which has since made matters so easy for the game's chroniclers had not then been perfected and the club's official scorer kept a record of the tallies made by means of notches cut with his jack-knife in a stick provided for the occasion. prior to june, , the marshalltown team had acquired for itself a reputation that extended throughout the length and breadth of the state, and at waterloo, where a tournament was given, they had beaten everything that came against them. in a tournament given at belle plaine in either that year or the next they put in an appearance to contest for a silk flag given by the ladies of that town, but so great was the respect that they inspired that the other visiting clubs refused to play against them unless they were given the odds of six put-outs as against the regular three. this was handicapping with a vengeance, but even at these odds the marshalltown aggregation was too much for its competitors and the flag was brought home in triumph, where, as may be imagined, a great reception awaited the players, the whole town turning out en masse to do them honor. there was nothing too good for the ball players of those days and they were made much of wherever they chose to go. a card of invitation that recently came into my possession and that illustrates this fact, reads as follows: empire base ball club. yourself and lady are cordially invited to attend a social party at lincoln hall, on thursday evening, june , , given under the auspices of the empire base ball club of waterloo, complimentary to their guests, the marshalltown b. b. c. while this aggregation of home talent was busily engaged in acquiring fame but not fortune let no one think for a moment that i was overlooking my opportunities, even though i were only a member of the second nine. on the contrary, i was practicing early and late, and if i had any great ambition it was to play in the first nine, and with this end in view i neglected even my meals in order that i might become worthy of the honor. my father was as enthusiastic over the game as i was myself and during the long summer seasons the moment that we had swallowed our supper, or, rather, bolted it, he and i would betake ourselves to the ball grounds, where we would practice until the gathering darkness put a stop to our playing. my brother sturgis, who was also a member of the team, was not so enthusiastic over base-ball as were my father and myself, and he would finish his supper in a leisurely fashion before following us to the grounds. he was far above the average as a player, however, and excelled both as a thrower and a batsman. i have seen him on more than one occasion throw a ball a distance of from to yards, and in a game that was played at omaha, neb., he is credited with making the longest hit ever seen there, the old-timers declaring that he knocked the ball out of sight, which must be true, because nobody was ever able to find it. it was some time after the tournaments at belle plaine and waterloo before i was promoted to the dignity of a first-niner, and then it was due to the solicitation of my father, who declared that i played as good ball as anybody in the team, even if i was "only a kid." if ever there was a proud youngster i was one at that particular time, and i think i justified the old gentleman's good opinion of me by playing fairly good ball, at least many of my friends were good enough to tell me so. with my father playing third base, my brother playing center field and myself playing second base the anson family was pretty well represented on that old marshalltown nine, and as the team held the state championship for several years the anson trio must at least have done their share of the playing. it was while i was away at notre dame that misfortune came to marshalltown. the des moines club challenged for the flag and the home team accepted the defy. the des moines organization was then one of the strongest in the state. the game was played at marshalltown, and to the horror and astonishment of the good people of that town, who had come to look upon their club as invincible, des moines won, and when they went back to the state capital they took the emblem of the championship with them. this emblem i determined the town should have back, and immediately upon my return from the indiana college i organized a nine and challenged for the trophy. that team was made up as follows: kenny williams, pitcher; emmett green, catcher; a. b. cooper, a. c. anson and henry anson on the bases; pete hoskins, shortstop; sam sager, sturgis anson and milton ellis in the outfield; a. j. cooper, substitute. we had the best wishes of the town with us when we departed for des moines and were accompanied by quite a delegation of the townspeople who were prepared to wager to some extent on our success. the game was played in the presence of a big crowd and when we came back to marshalltown the flag came with us and there it remained until, with the other trophies that the club had accumulated, it went up in smoke. the night of our return there was "a hot time in the old town," and had there been any keys to the city i am pretty certain that we would have been presented with them. the fame of the forest city club of rockford, one of the first professional clubs to be organized in the west, had been blown across the prairies until it reached marshalltown, so when they came through iowa on an exhibition tour after the close of their regular season we arranged for a game with them. they had been winning all along the line by scores that mounted up all the way from to to , and while we did not expect to beat them, yet we did expect to give them a better run than they had yet had for their money since the close of the professional season. the announcement of the rockford club's visit naturally excited an intense amount of interest all through that section of the country and when the day set for the game arrived the town was crowded with visitors from all parts of the state. accompanying the forest citys was a large delegation of chicago sporting men, who had come prepared to wager their money that the marshalltown aggregation would be beaten by a score varying all the way from to to , and they found a good many takers among the townspeople who had seen us play and who had a lot of confidence in our ability to hold the visitor's score down to a low figure. upon the result of the game a. g. spalding, who was the pitcher for the forest citys, alleges that my father wagered a cow, but this the old gentleman indignantly denies, and he further declares that not a single wager of any sort was made by any member of the team. be this as it may, one thing is certain, and that is that the game was witnessed by one of the largest crowds that had ever gathered around a ball ground in marshalltown, and we felt that we had every reason to feel elated when at the end of the ninth inning the score stood at to in their favor. so disgusted were the visitors and their followers over the showing that we had made in spite of their best endeavors that they at once proceeded to arrange another game for the next day, cancelling another date ahead in order to do so. speaking of this second game my father says: "the rules of the game at that time made the playing of a 'ryan dead ball' compulsory, and this it was the province of the home club to furnish, and this was the sort of a ball that was played with the first day. to bat such a ball as this to any great distance was impossible and our fielders were placed well in for the second game, just as they had been in the first, but we soon discovered that the balls were going far beyond us, and on noting their positions when our turn to bat came we found their fielders placed much further out than on the day before. my first impression was that the great flights taken by the ball were due to the tremendous batting, but later on i became convinced that there was something wrong with the ball, and called for time to investigate the matter. "on questioning our unsophisticated management i discovered that the visitors had generously (?) offered to furnish the ball for the second game, as we had furnished the ball for the first, and had been allowed to do so. we later learned that they had skinned the liveliest kind of a 'bounding rock' and re-covered it with a 'ryan dead ball' cover. this enabled them to get ahead at the start, but after we had learned of the deception we held them down so close that they won back but a very small share of the money that they had lost on the game of the day before, though they beat us by a score of to . "let me say right here, too, that the visitors had their own umpire with them, and he was allowed to umpire the game. he let al spalding do about as he pleased, and pitch as many balls as he wished without calling them, and once when i was at the bat and he could not induce me to hit at the wild ones that he was sending in he fired a vicious one straight in my direction, when, becoming irritated in my turn, i dropped the bat and walked out in his direction with a view of administering a little proper punishment to the frisky gentleman. he discovered what was coming, however, and meekly crawled back, piteously begging pardon and declaring it all a mistake. there was one result of the game, however, which was that when the rockford people were organizing a professional nine they wrote to marshalltown and tried to secure the whole anson family, and adrian, who was still only a boy, was allowed to sign with them, i retaining his older brother at home to aid me in my business." i am inclined to think that the old gentleman is mistaken in the substitution of a "bounding rock" for a "ryan dead ball" in that game, although i do remember that the stitching was different from anything that we had ever seen before, and it may be that we were fooled as he has stated. if so the trick was certainly a clever one. that same fall sager and haskins were engaged by the rockford team, and i have always thought that it was due to the representations made by them that i was engaged to play with the forest citys the following season. i signed with them for a salary of sixty-six dollars a month, which was then considered a fairly good salary for a ball player, and especially one who was only eighteen years old and a green country lad at that. all that winter sager and i practiced as best we could in the loft of my father's barn and i worked as hard as i knew how in order to become proficient in the ball-playing art. before saying farewell to marshalltown and its ball players let me relate a most ludicrous incident that took place there some time before my departure. a feeling of most intense rivalry in the base-ball line existed between des moines and clinton, iowa, and one time when the former had a match on with the latter i received an offer of fifty dollars from the clinton team to go on there and play with them in a single game. now fifty dollars at that time was more money than i had ever had at any one time in my life, and so without consulting any one i determined to accept the offer. i knew that i would be compelled to disguise myself in order to escape recognition either by members of the des moines team or by some of the spectators, and this i proceeded to do by dying my hair, staining my skin, etc. i did not think that my own father could recognize me, when i completed my preparations and started to the depot to take the train for des moines, but that was where i made a mistake. the old gentleman ran against me on the platform, penetrated my disguise at once and asked me where i was going. i told him, and then he remarked that i should do no such thing, and he started me back home in a hurry. when he got there he gave me a lecture, told me that such a proceeding on my part was not honest and would ruin my reputation. in fact, he made me thoroughly ashamed of myself. the team from clinton had to get along without my services, but i shall never forget what a time i had in getting the dye out of my hair and the stain from my skin. that fifty dollars that i didn't get bothered me, too, for a long time afterwards. i am glad now, however, that the old gentleman prevented me getting it. dishonesty does not pay in base-ball any better than it does in any other business, and that i learned the lesson early in life is a part of my good fortune. chapter vi. my experience at rockford. i can remember almost as well as if it were but yesterday my first experience as a ball player at rockford. it was early in the spring, and so cold that a winter overcoat was comfortable. i had been there but a day or two when i received orders from the management to report one afternoon at the ball grounds for practice. it was a day better fitted for telling stories around a blazing fire than for playing ball, but orders were orders, and i obeyed them. i soon found that it was to test my qualities as a batsman that i had been ordered to report. a bleak march wind blew across the enclosure, and as i doffed my coat and took my stand at the plate i shivered as though suffering from the ague. this was partially from the effects of the cold and partially from the effects of what actors call stage fright, and i do not mind saying right now that the latter had more than the former to do with it. you must remember that i was "a stranger in a strange land," a "kid" both as to years and experience, with a knowledge that my future very largely depended upon the showing that i might make. facing me was "cherokee fisher," one of the swiftest of the old-time underhand pitchers, a man that i had heard a great deal about, but whom i had never before seen, while watching my every move from the stand were the directors of the team, conspicuous among them being hiram waldo, whose judgment in base-ball matters was at that time second to no man's in the west, and a man that i have always been proud to call my friend. i can remember now that i had spent some considerable time in selecting a bat and that i was wondering in my own mind whether i should be able to hit the ball or not. finally fisher began sending them in with all the speed for which he was noted. i let a couple go by and then i slammed one out in the right field, and with that first hit my confidence came back to me. from that time on i batted fisher successfully, but the most of my hits were to the right field, owing to the fact that i could not at that time successfully gauge his delivery, which was much swifter than anything that i had ever been up against. in after years a hit to right field was considered "the proper caper," and the man who could line a ball out in that direction at the proper time was looked upon as a most successful batsman. it was to their ability in that line of hitting that the bostons for many years owed their success in winning the championship, though it took some time for their rivals in the base-ball arena to catch on to that fact. after that time i was informed by mr. waldo that i was "all right," and as you may imagine this assurance coming from his lips was a most welcome one, as it meant at that time a great deal to me, a fact that, young as i was, i thoroughly appreciated. the make-up of the rockford club that season was as follows: hastings, catcher; fisher, pitcher; fulmer, shortstop; mack, first base; addy, second base; anson, third base; ham, left fielder; bird center fielder; and stires, right fielder; mayer, substitute. this was a fairly strong organization for those days, and especially so when the fact is taken into consideration that rockford was but a little country town then and the smallest place in size of any in the country that sup-ported a professional league team, and that the venture was never a paying one is scarcely to be wondered at. to be sure, it was a good base-ball town of its size, but it was not large enough to support an expensive team, and for that reason it dropped out of the arena after the season of was over, it being unable to hold its players at the salaries that it could then afford to pay. there were several changes in the make-up of the team before the season was over, but the names of the players as i have given them were those whose averages were turned in by the official scorer of the league at the end of the season, they having all, with one exception, played in twenty-five games, that exception being fulmer, who participated in but sixteen. i led the team that season both in batting and fielding, as is shown by the following table, a table by the way that is hardly as complete as the tables of these latter days: players. games avg base hits avg put out avg assisted anson, d b . . . mack, st b . . . addy, d b . . . fisher, p . . . stires, r f . . . hastings, c . . . ham, l f . . . bird, c f . . . fulmer, s s . . . these averages, in my estimation, are hardly to be relied upon, as changes in the personnel of the team were often made without due notice being given, while the system of scoring was faulty and not near so perfect as at the present writing. this was not the fault of their compiler, however who was obliged to take the figures given him by the club scorer, a man more or less incompetent, as the case might be. before the regular season began my time at rockford was mostly spent in practice, so that i was in fairly good shape when the day arrived for me to make my professional debut on the diamond. my first game was played on the home grounds the rockford team having for its opponent the forest city club of cleveland, ohio, a fairly strong organization and one that that season finished fourth on the list for championship honors, the athletics of philadelphia carrying off the prize. i had looked forward to this game with fear and misgivings, and my feelings were by no means improved when i was informed that owing to the non-arrival of scott hastings, the regular catcher, i was expected to fill that responsible position, one to which i was a comparative stranger. there was nothing to do but to make the best of the situation, however, and this i did, though i can truthfully say that for the first five innings i was as nervous as a kitten. we were beaten that day by a score of to , and though i had a few passed balls to my credit, yet on the whole i believe that, everything considered, i played a fairly good game; at least i have been told so by those who were in a better position to judge than i was. with that first game my nervousness all passed away, and i settled down to play a steady game, which i did all through the season. as i have said, however, the rockford team was not a strong one, and of the thirty-two record games in which we engaged we won but thirteen, our winning scores being as follows: may th, at rockford, rockford , olympics of washington ; may , at fort wayne, rockford , kekionga ; june th, at philadelphia, rockford , athletic ; june th, at philadelphia, rockford , athletics ; july th, at rockford, rockford , chicago ; july st, at rockford, rockford , mutual ; august d, at rockford, rockford , kekionga (forfeited); august th, at chicago, rockford , chicago ; august th, at chicago, rockford , cleveland ; september st, at brooklyn, rockford , athletics ; september d, at brooklyn, rockford , eckford ; september th, at troy, rockford , haymakers ; september th, at cleveland, rockford , cleveland . in the final revision many of these games were thrown out for one reason and another, so that in the official guides for that year the rockford club is credited with only six games won and is given the last position in the championship race, several of the games with the athletics being among those declared forfeited. i learned more of the world that season with the rockfords than i had ever known before. prior to that time my travels had been confined to the trips away to school and to some of the towns adjacent to marshalltown, and outside of these i knew but little. with the rockford team, however, i traveled all over the east and west and learned more regarding the country i lived in and its wonderful resources than i could have learned by going to school for the half of a lifetime. the rockford management treated the players in those days very nicely. we traveled in sleeping cars and not in the ordinary day coaches as did many of the players, and though we were obliged to sleep two in a berth we did not look upon this as an especial hardship as would the players of these latter days, many of whom are inclined to grumble because they cannot have the use of a private stateroom on their travels. i made acquaintances, too, in all parts of the country that were invaluable to me in after days, and though i had not finished sowing my wild oats i think the folly of it all had begun to dawn on my mind as i saw player after player disappear from the arena, the majority of them being men who had given promise of being shining lights in the base-ball world. of the men who played with me at rockford but few remained in the profession, and these but for a season or two, after which they drifted into other lines of business. bob addy, who was one of the best of the lot, was a good, hard hustling player, a good base runner and a hard hitter. he was as honest as the day is long and the last that i heard of him he was living out in oregon, where he was engaged in running a tin shop. he was an odd sort of a genius and quit the game because he thought he could do better at something else. "cherokee" fisher was originally a philadelphian, but after the disbandment of the rockford club he came to chicago, securing a place in the fire department, where he still runs with the machine. he was a good man in his day and ranked high as a pitcher. charles fulmer was a fair average player. he, too, drifted out of the game in the early ' s, and the last that i knew of him he was a member of the board of aldermen in the quaker city. scott hastings, the regular catcher, was a fair all-around player, but by no means a wonder. after he left rockford he went to chicago, where he was employed for a time in a wholesale clothing house. he is now, or was at last accounts, in san francisco and reported as being worth a comfortable sum of money. the other members of the old team i have lost sight of and whether they are living or dead i cannot say. they were a good-hearted, jovial set of fellows, as a rule, and my association with them was most pleasant, as was also my relations with the rockford management, who could not have treated me better had i been a native son, and to whom i am indebted for much both in the way of good advice and encouraging words; and let me say right here that nothing does so much good to a young player as a few words of approbation spoken in the right way and at the right time. it braces him up, gives him needed confidence in himself, and goes a long way further toward making him a first-class player than does continual fault-finding. it had been an understood thing, at least so far as the old gentleman was concerned, when he gave his consent to my playing with rockford for a season, that i should at the end of it return home and resume my studies, but fate ordained otherwise. several times during the season i was approached by members of the athletic club management with offers to play as a member of their team the next season, that of , and they finally offered me the sum of $ , per annum for my services. this was much better than i was doing at rockford, and vet i was reluctant to leave the little illinois town, where i had made my professional debut, and where i had hosts of friends. when the end of the season came and the rockford people offered to again sign me et the same old figures i told them frankly of the philadelphia offer, but at the same time offered to again sign with rockford, providing that they would raise my salary to $ per month. the club had not made its expenses and they were not even certain that they would place a professional team in the arena during the next season. this they told me and also that they could not afford to pay the sum i asked for my services, and so without consulting the folks at marshalltown i appended my name to a philadelphia contract, and late in the fall bade good-by to rockford and its ball players, turning my face towards the city of brotherly love, where i played ball with the athletics until the formation of the national league in , and it was not until five years had elapsed that i revisited my old home in marshalltown, taking a bride with me. chapter vii. with the athletics of philadelphia. the winter of and i spent in philadelphia, where i put in my time practicing in the gymnasium, playing billiards and taking in the sights of a great city. the whirligig of time had in the meantime made a good many changes in the membership of the professional league, for in spite of the fact that had been the most prosperous year in the history of base-ball, up to that time, many clubs had fallen by the wayside, their places in the ranks being taken by new-comers, and that several of these were unable to weather the storms of because of a lack of financial support is now a matter of history. conspicuous among the absentees when the season opened was the chicago club, which had been broken up by the great fire that swept over the queen of the inland seas in october of , and not then reorganized; the forest city of rockford, the kekiongas of fort wayne, and several others. at the opening of the regular playing season the league numbered eleven members, as follows: boston, of boston, mass.; baltimore, of baltimore, md.; mutuals, of new york; athletics, of philadelphia; troy, of troy, n. y.; atlantic, of brooklyn; cleveland, of cleveland, ohio; mansfield, of mansfield, ohio; eckford, of brooklyn; and olympic and national, both of washington, d. c. of these eleven clubs but six finished the season, the others falling out, either because of bad management or a lack of financial support, these six being the athletic, baltimore, boston, mutual, atlantic and eckford teams. the first four of these were regularly salaried clubs, while the two last were co-operative concerns. the make-up of the athletics that season was as follows: malone, catcher; mcbride, pitcher; mack, first base; fisler, second base; anson, third base; mcgeary, shortstop; cuthbert, left field; tracey, center field; and meyerle, right field. outside of the bostons this was the strongest team that had yet appeared on the diamond. it was even stronger than the team that represented the hub in some respects, though not equal to them as a whole, the latter excelling at team work, which then, as now, proved one of the most important factors in winning a championship. that the athletics were particularly strong at the bat is shown by the fact that six of their players that season figure among the first eleven on the batting list, the bostons coming next with three, and the baltimore third. in some of the games that we played that season the fielders had a merry time of it and found at least plenty of exercise in chasing the ball. in the first games that i played with the athletics, our opponents being the baltimores, the fielders did not have 'a picnic by any means, the score standing at to at the end of the game, and this in spite of the fact that the ball used was a "dead one." during the entire season and not counting exhibition games we played forty-six games, of which we won thirty and lost sixteen, while the bostons, who carried off the championship, took part in fifty-nine games, of which they won and lost . figuring in twenty-eight championship games, i finished fourth on the list of batsmen, with forty-seven base-hits to my credit, an average of . to the game, a performance that i was at that time very proud of and that i am not ashamed of even at this late date. the season of saw some changes in the make-up of the athletics, the nine that season being made up as follows: mcgeary, catcher; mcbride, pitcher; murnane, first base; fisler, second base; fulton, third base; anson, shortstop; cuhbert, left field; reach, center field; fisler, right field; and mcmullen and sensenderfer, substitutes. this was, if anything, a stronger all-around team than the one of the preceding year, and if it failed to make equally as good a showing it was because the teams that were opposed to it were also of a better calibre. the demand for good ball players had risen, and as is usual in such cases the supply was equal to the demand, just as it would be today under similar circumstances. the opening of the championship season found nine clubs ready to compete for the championship honors, viz.: the athletics, atlantics, baltimore, boston, mutual, maryland, philadelphia, resolute and washington, and five of these beside the athletics had particularly strong teams, the maryland, resolute and washington teams being the weaklings. during the year the athletics took part in fifty professional games, of which they won twenty-seven and lost twenty-three, and in fourteen exhibition games, of which they won twelve and lost two, being defeated in the exhibition series twice by their home rivals, the philadelphias, which numbered among its players several who had helped to make the athletics famous in former years, among them being malone and mack. between these two nines there was the strongest kind of a rivalry, and as both were popular with the home people great crowds turned out to see the contests between them. one of these contests resulted in a thirteen inning game, the score then standing at to in favor of the philadelphias, greatly to our disgust, and to the intense joy of our rivals. for the second time since the formation of the players' league, boston carried off the championship honors, while we were compelled to content ourselves with the third position, but i still stood forth on the batting list, and that was some consolation, at least to me. the opening of the season of again saw nine clubs ready to do battle for the championship, but the maryland and resolute clubs were missing from the list and in their places were the re-organized chicagos and the hartford aggregation, both of which presented strong teams and teams that, properly managed, might have made much better showing in the pennant race. still more changes had been made in the make-up of the athletic team, which in may of that year was composed of the following players: clapp, catcher; mcbride, second base; sutton, third base; mcgeary, shortstop; gedney, left field; mcmullen, center field; and anson, right field. from the way in which i was changed around from one position to another in those days it can be readily surmised that i was looked upon as a sort of a general-utility man, who could play in one position about as well as in another, which in my humble judgment was a mistake, for in base-ball as in all other trades and professions the old adage holds true that a jack-of-all trades is master of none. the year will ever be memorable in the history of the game by reason of the fact that base-ball was then introduced to the notice of our english cousins by a trip that was made to the "tight little isle" by the members of the boston and athletic clubs, a trip of which i shall have more to say later, and also by reason of the fact that the game that season enjoyed a veritable boom, clubs of the professional, semi-professional and amateur variety springing up in every direction. the clubs going to make up the professional league were admittedly stronger than ever before, and to take the pennant from boston was the avowed ambition not only of the athletics but of every team that was to contest against the "hub" aggregation. the effort was, however, as futile as those of the two preceding years had been, and for the third successive season the teams from the modern athens carried off the prize, not because they were the better ball players, but for the reason that better discipline was preserved among them and they were better managed in every way than were any of their opponents. for the second time we were compelled to content ourselves with the third place in the race, the second going to the mutuals of new york, that being the first time since the professional league was organized that they had climbed so high up the ladder. the philadelphias fell from the second to the fourth place and the chicago "white stockings," of whom great things had been expected, finished on the fifth rung of the ladder. of the fifty-two record games that were counted as championship contests and that were played by the athletics, we won thirty-one and lost twenty-one, while of the sixty games in which the bostons figured they won forty-three and lost but seventeen, a wonderful showing when the playing strength of the clubs pitted against them is taken into consideration. among the batsmen that season i stood eighth on the list, the lowest position that i had occupied since i broke into the ranks of the professional players. when the season of opened i little realized that it was to be the last year that i should wear an athletic uniform, and yet such proved to be the case. while playing with them my salary had been raised each successive season, until i was now drawing $ , a year, and the limit had not yet been reached, as i was to find out later, although at the time i left philadelphia for chicago i would, for personal reasons that will appear later, have preferred to remain with the athletics at a considerable less salary than i was afterward paid. this, too, was destined to be the last year of the professional league, the national league taking its place, and as a result a general shifting about among the players took place in , many of the old-time ball tossers being at that time lost in the shuffle. the year saw no less than thirteen clubs enter the championship arena, philadelphia being represented by no less than three, while st. louis, a new-comer, furnished two aspirants for the honors, the full list being as follows: boston, athletic, hartford, st. louis, philadelphia, chicago, mutual, new haven, st. louis reds, washington, centennial, atlantic and western, the latter organization representing the far western city of keokuk. the series consisted of ten games, six to be played as the legal quota, and at the close of the season but seven of the thirteen original championship seekers had fulfilled the conditions, three of the clubs having been disbanded when the season was but about half over. again and for the fourth time the boston aggregation carried off the honors, with a record unsurpassed up to that time, as out of seventy-nine games played they won seventy-one and lost but eight, while the athletics, who finished in the second place, played seventy-three games in all, losing twenty and winning fifty-three. that three of the clubs that started in the race should have dropped out as they did is not to be wondered at, and why one of them at least was ever allowed to enter is a mystery. looked at from a purely geographical standpoint, the keokuk club, known as the western, was doomed to failure from the very start. it was too far away from the center of the base-ball interests and the expense of reaching it too great to warrant the eastern clubs in making the trip, and the city itself was too small to turn out a paying crowd, while the other two local clubs found the field already too well covered and succumbed to local opposition. small scores in were the rule and not the exception. the sharp fielding and the restrictions placed on the batter, which had grown closer with each passing season, made the running up of such big scores as marked the game in the early days impossible, while the many close contests that took place added greatly to the popularity of what was now fully recognized as distinctively the national game of america. it was not all smooth sailing for the promoters of the game, even at this time. in the many poolrooms then existing throughout the country and especially in the larger cities great sums of money were wagered on the result of the various contests, and as a result "crookedness" on the part of various players was being charged, and though these charges were vigorously denied by those interested the denials carried but little weight in view of the in-and-out performances of the teams in which they were engaged. there was a lack of discipline, too, among the players, and it was the necessity for prompt action in stamping out the evils then existing that caused the birth of the new national league and the death of the old organization. there are "crooks" in all professions, but i venture the assertion right here that the "crooks" in base-ball have indeed been few and far between. once detected, they have been summarily dismissed from the ranks, and with the brand of dishonesty stamped upon them they have been forced to earn a living in some other way. it has long been a maxim among the followers of racing that "a crooked jockey" is always "broke," and this same saying holds good regarding the crooked ball players. i might mention the names of several players who were summarily dismissed from the league ranks because of crookedness and who have since that time managed to eke out a miserable existence by hanging about poolrooms and bucket-shops, but what good would it do? they have learned their lesson and the lesson has indeed been a bitter one. it must be remembered, however, that the charges against these men were proven. they were not dismissed because of idle hearsay, but because of absolute and convincing proof. the breath of scandal has assailed more than one ball player without any good and convincing reason, and will doubtless do so again, just as it has assailed private reputations of men in other walks of life. the breath of truth has blown these scandals aside, however, and to-day the professional ball player stands as high in the estimation of his fellow men, providing that he conducts himself as a gentleman and not as a loafer, as does the professional man in other walks of life. chapter viii. some minor diversions. philadelphia is a good city to live in, at least i found it so, and had i had my own way i presume that i should still be a resident of the city that william penn founded instead of a citizen of chicago, while had i had my own way when i left marshalltown to go into a world i knew but little about i might never have lived in philadelphia at all. at that time i was more than anxious to come to chicago and did my best to secure a position with the chicago club, of which tom foley, the veteran billiard-room keeper, was then the manager. as he has since informed me, he was looking at that time for ball players with a reputation, and not for players who had a reputation yet to make, as was the case with me, and so he turned my application down with the result that i began my professional career in rockford instead of in chicago, as i had wished to do. "it is an ill wind that blows nobody good," however, and for the providence that took me to rockford and afterward to the "city of brotherly love," i am at this late day truly thankful, however displeased i may have been at that time. i have often consoled myself since then with the reflection that had i come to chicago to start my career in , that career might have come to a sudden end right there and then, and all of my hopes for the future might have gone up in smoke, for the big fire that blotted out the city scattered the members of the chicago base ball club far and wide and left many of them stranded, for the me being at least, on the sands of adversity. shakespeare has said, "there is a providence that shapes our ends rough hew them as we will," and it seems to me that the immortal bard of avon must have had my case in mind when he wrote that line, for i can see but little to complain about thus far in the treatment accorded me by providence, though i am willing to admit that there was some pretty rough hewing to do before i was knocked into any shape at all. when i began playing ball at rockford i was just at that age when, in my estimation, i knew a heap more than did the old man, and that idea had not been entirely knocked out of my head when i arrived in philadelphia. the outdoor life that i had led when a youngster, the constant exercise that i had indulged in, together with the self-evident truth that the lord had blessed me with a constitution that a young bull might envy, had all conspired to make me a young giant in strength, and as a result i was as full of animal spirits as is an unbroken thoroughbred colt, and as impatient of restraint. good advice was, to a greater or less extent, thrown away upon me, and if i had any trouble it rolled off from my broad shoulders as water from a duck's back and left not a trace behind. in the language of the old song, i was, "good for any game at night, my boys," or day, either, for that matter, and the pranks that i played and the scrapes that i got into were, some of them, not of a very creditable nature, though they were due more to exuberation than to any innate love of wrong-doing. in any contest that required strength and skill i was always ready to take a hand, and in these contests i was able to hold my own as a rule, though now and then i got the worst of it, as was the case when i entered the throwing match at the union grounds in brooklyn in october, . the entries were hatfield and boyd, of the mutuals; george wright and leonard, of the bostons, and fisler and myself, representing the athletics. the ball was thrown from a rope stretched between two stakes driven into the ground one hundred and ten yards from the home-plate. each competitor was allowed three throws, and the rules governing the contest required that the ball be dropped within two large bags placed on a line with the home-plate and about sixty feet apart. hatfield led us all in each of his three trials, and on the last one he beat his own record of yards made at cincinnati in by clearing yards foot and / inches. leonard came next with yards foot inches, wright third with yards foot inch, boyd fourth with yards foot inches, fisler fifth with yards inches, while your humble servant brought up the tail end of the procession with a throw of yards and inches, not a bad performance in itself, but lacking a long ways of being good enough to get the money with. among the famous characters of which the quaker city boasted in those days was prof. william mclean, or "billy" mclean, as he was generally called, an ex-prize fighter and a boxing teacher whose reputation for skill with the padded mitts was second to no man's in the country. to take boxing lessons from a professional who really knew something touching the "noble art of self-defense," as the followers of ring sports would say, was something that i had never had an opportunity of doing before, and it is hardly to be wondered at that i availed myself of the chance before i had been there a very long time. i towered over mclean like a mountain over a mole hill, and i remember well that the first time that i faced him i thought what an easy matter it would be for me to knock his reputation into a cocked hat, and that before a man could say "jack robinson." in a very few moments, however, i had changed my opinion. i had fancied that i was a pretty good sort of a man myself with or without the gloves, but long before the end of that first lesson i had come to the conclusion that my education in that line, as well as others, had been neglected, and that i still had considerable to learn. mclean went around me very much as a cooper goes around a barrel, hitting me wherever and whenever he pleased, and the worst of the matter was that i could not hit him at all. it was not until after he had convinced me just how little i knew that he began to teach me, beginning with the rudiments of the art. i proved to be an apt pupil and soon became quite proficient at the game, in fact so good was i that i sometimes fancied that i could lick a whole army of wildcats, this being especially the case when the beer was in and the wit was out, for be it beer or wine, the effect is generally the same, a fact that i had not yet learned, though it dawned on me long before i left philadelphia, and i quit it for good and all, to which fact i attribute the success that i have since met with both in the sporting and the business world. it was in and during my last season with the athletics, if i remember rightly, that i became involved in a saloon row, that, to say the least of it, was not to my credit, and that i have been ashamed of ever since. we had been out to the grounds practicing until nearly nightfall and on the way home we stepped into a german saloon on the corner for the purpose of refreshing the inner man and washing the dust out of our throats. in some way the conversation turned on the doings of various fighters and i expressed myself pretty freely concerning their merits and demerits, for having taken boxing lessons, i was naturally anxious to set myself up as an authority on matters pugilistic. just as we were in the midst of the argument a fresh policeman happened along and "chipped into the game" with the remark that if there was any fighting to be done he would himself take a hand in it. that was my chance. for what had i taken boxing lessons unless i could at least do a policeman? "come on!" i yelled and then i smashed him. he was not the only policeman on the beat, however. there were others--in fact, several of them, and they clubbed me good and plenty, finally leading me away with the nippers on. arriving at the police station, and a pretty tough-looking object i was, as you may imagine, i immediately sent for the president of the club, who, as good luck would have it, was also a police commissioner. when he put in an appearance he looked at me in astonishment and then asked me what i had been doing. i told him that i hadn't been doing anything, but that i had tried to do the whole police force, and with very poor success. i was released on honor that night and the next morning appeared before alderman buck, who listened to both sides of the story, and then let me go, thinking by my appearance, doubtless, that i had already been punished enough. after court had adjourned we all adjourned on my motion to the nearest saloon, where we had several rounds of drink and then--well, then i started in to celebrate a victory that was, after all, a good deal more like a defeat. while thus engaged i was unfortunate enough to run up against the young lady that i had already determined to make mrs. anson, and not being in the best of condition, she naturally enough did not like it, but as rudyard kipling says--that is another story. that experience ended the wild-oats business for me, however, and although the crop that i had sown was, comparatively speaking, a small one, yet it was more than sufficient for all my needs, and i now regret at times that i was foolish enough to sow any at all. the only other row that i ever had of any consequence took place on a street car one day when i was going out to the ball grounds, a game between the athletics and chicagos being scheduled for decision. the most intense rivalry existed at that time between these two organizations and the feeling among their partisans ran high. a gentleman on the car--at least he was dressed like a gentleman--asked me what i thought in regard to the relative strength of the two organizations. at that time i had some $ , invested in club stock and naturally my feelings leaned toward the club of which i was a member, still i realized that they were pretty evenly matched, and i so stated. he then remarked in sneering tones, "oh, i don't know. i guess they play to win or lose as will best suit their own pockets." i informed him that if he meant to insinuate that either one of them would throw a game, he was a liar. he gave me the lie in return and then i smashed him, and i am not ashamed to say that i would do it again under the same circumstances. i have heard just such remarks as that made even in this late day, remarks that are as unjust to the players as they are uncalled for by the circumstances. lots of men seem 'to forget that the element of luck enters largely into base-ball just as it does into any other business, and that things may happen during a contest that cannot be foreseen either by the club management or by the field captain. an unlucky stumble on the part of a base runner or a dancing sunbeam that gets into a fielder's eyes at some critical time in the play may cost a game; indeed, it has on more than one occasion, and yet to the man who simply judges the game by the reports that may read in the papers the thing has apparently a "fishy" look, for the reason that neither the sunbeam nor the stumble receives mention. if every sport and business man in this world were as crooked as some folks would have us to believe, this would indeed be a poor world to live in, and i for one would be perfectly willing to be out of it. the real truth of the matter is that the crooks in any line are few and far between. that being the case it's a pretty fair old sort of a world, and i for one am glad that i am still in it, and very much in it at that. chapter ix. we ball players go abroad. the first trip that was ever made across the big pond by american ball players and to which brief reference was made in an earlier chapter, took place in the summer of . london was, as a matter of course, our first objective point, and i considered myself lucky indeed in being a member of one of the organizations that was to attempt to teach our english cousins the beauties of america's national game. the two clubs selected to make the trip were the bostons, then champions, and the athletics, and the players who were to represent them, together with their positions, are given below: boston positions athletic catcher john e. clapp a. g. spalding pitcher jas. d. mcbride jas. o'rourke first base west d. fisler ross c. barnes second base jos. battin harry schafer third base ezra b. sutton geo. wright shortstop m. e. mcgeary a.j. leonard left field albert w. gedney cal c. mcvey right field a. c. anson harry wright center field jas. f. mcmullen geo. w. hall substitute al j. reach thos. h. beals substitute j. p. sensenderfer sam wright, jr. substitute tim murnane james white of the boston team declined to go at the last moment, his place being taken by kent of the harvard college team while al reach was kept from making the trip by business engagements. alfred h. wright of the "new york clipper" and philadelphia "sunday mercury," and h. s. kempton of the "boston herald" both accompanied us and scored the base-ball games that were played on the trip, while the first-named officiated in the same capacity when the game was cricket. in addition to these men, both clubs were accompanied by large parties of friends who were anxious to see what sort of a reception would be accorded to us by our british cousins, who had never yet witnessed a base-ball game, their nearest approach to it having been to look on at a game of "rounders." the entire cabin of the steamship ohio had been engaged for ourselves and our friends, and on july th a great crowd assembled at the wharf to see us off and to wish us god-speed on our journey. the trip across was fortunately a pleasant one and as we were a jolly party the time passed all too quickly, the seductive game of draw poker and other amusements of a kindred sort helping us to forget that the old gentleman with the scythe and hourglass was still busily engaged in making his daily rounds. it was my first sea voyage, and to say that i enjoyed it would be to state but the simple truth. the element of poetry was left largely out of my make-up and so i did not go into ecstasies over the foam-crested waves as did several of the party, but i was as fond of watching for the flying fish that now and then skimmed the waves and for the porpoises that often put in an appearance as any of the rest of the party. if i speculated at all as to the immensity of the rolling deep by which we were surrounded, it was because i wished that i might be able to devise some plan for bottling it up and sending it out west to the old gentleman to be used for irrigating purposes. that such an amount of water should have been, allowed to go to waste was to me a matter for wonderment. i was looking at the practical side of the matter, and not at the poetical. july th we arrived at liverpool and as the majority of us had grown tired of the monotony of sea life we were glad enough once more to set foot on solid land. with fourteen games of ball to be played and seven games of cricket we had but little time to devote to sight-seeing, though you may be sure that we utilized the days and nights that we had off for that purpose. there was considerable curiosity on the part of our british cousins to see what the american game was like and as a result we were greeted by large crowds wherever we went. we were treated with the greatest kindness both by press and public and words of praise for our skill both at batting and fielding were to be heard on all sides. exhibition games between the two clubs were played at liverpool, manchester, london, sheffield and dublin, the boston club winning eight games and the athletics six. when it came to playing cricket we proved to be something of a surprise party. in these games we played eighteen men against eleven and defeated with ease such, crack, organizations as the marylebone, prince's, and surrey clubs in london, the sheffield club at sheffield; the manchester club in manchester and the all-ireland club in dublin, while the game with the richmond club was drawn on account of rain, we having the best of it at that time. while i was, comparatively speaking, a novice in this game, at which the wrights were experts, they having enjoyed a reputation as first-class cricketers in america for years, yet i managed to make the highest score of all in our game with the all-ireland eleven, and to hold my own fairly well in the other cricket games that were played. it is impossible for me to speak too highly of the treatment that was accorded to us on this trip both in england and ireland, where peer and peasant both combined to make our visit a pleasant one. we were entertained in royal style wherever we went and apparently there was nothing too good for us. lords and ladies were largely in evidence among the spectators wherever we played and among our own countrymen residing in the british metropolis we were the lions of the day. the contrast between the crowds in attendance at our games there and those that greeted us at home attracted my attention most forcibly. an english crowd is at all times quiet and sedate as compared with a crowd in our own country. they are slower to grasp a situation and to seize upon the fine points of a play. this, so far as base-ball was concerned, was only to be expected, the game being a strange one, but the same fact was true when it came to their own national game, that of cricket. there was an apparent listlessness, too, in their playing that would have provoked a storm of cat-calls and other cries of derision from the occupants of the bleaching boards at home. it was our skill at fielding more than at batting that attracted the attention of the britishers and that brought out their applause. our work in that line was a revelation to them, and that it was the direct cause of a great improvement afterwards in their own game there can be no reason to doubt. between sight-seeing and base-ball and cricket playing the thirty days allotted to our visit passed all too quickly and when the time came for us to start on our homeward journey there was not one of the party but what would gladly have remained for a longer period of time in "merry england," had such a thing been possible. it was a goodly company of friends that assembled at the dock in queenstown to wish us a pleasant voyage on august th, which was just one month to a day from the date of our arrival, and we were soon homeward bound on board of the steamship abbotsford. the voyage back was anything but a pleasant one and more than half the party were down at one time and another from the effects of seasickness. old neptune had evidently made up his mind to show us both sides of his character and he shook us about on that return voyage very much as though we were but small particles of shot in a rattle-box. we arrived at philadelphia sept. , where we were the recipients of a most enthusiastic ovation, in which brass bands and a banquet played a most important part, and after the buffeting about that we had received from the waves of old ocean we were glad indeed that the voyage was over. the impression that base-ball made upon the lovers of sport in england can be best illustrated by the following quotations taken from the columns of the london field, then, as now, one of the leading sporting papers of that country: "base-ball is a scientific game, more difficult than many who are in the habit of judging hastily from the outward semblance can possibly imagine. it is in fact the cricket of the american continent, considerably altered since its first origin, as has been cricket, by the yearly recourse to the improvements necessitated by the experience of each season. in the cricket field there is at times a wearisome monotony that is entirely unknown to baseball. to watch it played is most interesting, as the attention is concentrated but for a short time and not allowed to succumb to undue pressure of prolonged suspense. the broad principles of base-ball are not by any means difficult of comprehension. the theory of the game is not unlike that of 'rounders,' in that bases have to be run; but the details are in every way different. "to play base-ball requires judgment, courage; presence of mind and the possession of much the same qualities as at cricket. to see it played by experts will astonish those who only know it by written descriptions, for it is a fast game, full of change and excitement and not in the least degree wearisome. to see the best players field even is a sight that ought to do a cricketer's heart good; the agility, dash and accuracy of tossing and catching possessed by the americans being wonderful." this, coming at that time from a paper of the "field's" high standing was praise, indeed, but the fact remains that the game itself, in spite of all the efforts made to introduce it, has never become popular in england, for the reason perhaps that it possesses too many elements of dash and danger and requires too much of an effort to play it. commenting after our return to this country upon this tour and its results, henry chadwick, the oldest writer on base-ball in this country and an acknowledged authority on the game, said: "the visit of the american base-hall players to england and the success they met there, not only in popularizing the american national game but in their matches at cricket with the leading cricket clubs of england, did more for the best interests of base-ball than anything that has occurred since the first tour through the country of the noted excelsior club of brooklyn in . in the first place, the visit in question has resulted in setting at rest forever the much debated question as to whether we had a national game or not, the english press with rare unanimity candidly acknowledging that the 'new game of base-ball' is unquestionably the american national game. secondly, the splendid display of fielding exhibited by the american ball players has opened the eyes of english cricketers to the important fact that in their efforts to equalize the attack and defense in their national game of cricket, in which they have looked only to certain modifications of the rules governing bowling and batting, they have entirely ignored the important element of the game, viz., fielding; and that this element is so important is a fact that has been duly proved by the brilliant success of the american base-ball players in cricket, a game in which the majority of them were mere novices, and yet by their ability as fielders in keeping down their adversaries' scores they fully demonstrated that skill in fielding is as great an element of success in cricketing as bowling and batting, if it be not greater, and also that the principles of saving runs by sharp fielding is as sound as that of making runs by skillful batting. but, moreover, they have shown by this self-same fielding skill that the game of base-ball is a better school for fielding than cricket, the peculiarity of the play in the former game requiring a prompter return of the ball from the outfield, swifter and more accurate throwing, and surer catching than the ordinary practice of cricket would seem to need. "another result of the tour has been to show our english cousins the great contrast between the character and habits of our american base-ball professionals and those of the english professional cricketers, taking them as a class. one of the london players warmly complimented the american players on their fine physique as athletes and especially commented on their abstemious habits in contrast, as the paper stated 'with our beer-drinking english professional cricketers.' in fact, the visit of the baseball players has opened old john bull's eyes to the fact that we are not as neglectful of athletic sports as he thought we were, for one thing, and in our american baseball representatives we presented a corps of fielders the equal of which in brilliancy of play england has never seen even among the most expert of her best trained cricketers. so much for our national game of base-ball as a school for fielding in cricket. we sent these ball players out to show england how we played ball, but with no idea of their being able to accomplish much at cricket; but to our most agreeable surprise they defeated every club that they played with at that game, and bell's life does the american team the justice to say that an eleven could no doubt be selected from the american ball players that would trouble some of the best of our elevens to defeat. "the telegrams from england in every instance referred to the games played as between twenty-two americans and eleven english, but when the regular reports were secured by mail it was found that it was eighteen against twelve, quite a difference as regards the odds against side. the first dispatch also referred to the 'weak team presented against the americans,' but the score when received showed that the eighteen had against them in the first match six of the crack team which came over here in , together with two professionals and four of the strongest of the marylebone club. englishmen did not dream that the base-ball novices could make such a good showing in the game, and knowing nothing of their ability as fielders they thought it would be an easy task to defeat even double their own number, the defeat of the celebrated surrey and prince's club twelves in one inning, and of the strong teams of sheffield, manchester and dublin by large scores, opened their eyes to their mistake, and very naturally they began to hold the game that could yield such players in great respect. "worthy of praise as the success of our base-ball representatives in england is, the fact of their admirable deportment and gentlemanly conduct on and off the field, is one which commends itself even more to the praise of our home people. that they were invited to so many high places and held intercourse with so many of the best people fully shows that their behavior was commendable in the extreme. considering therefore the brilliant success of the tour and the credit done the american name by these base-ball representatives, it was proper that their reception on their reappearance in our midst should be commensurate with their high salaries, for in every respect did they do credit to themselves and our american game of `base-ball.'" chapter x. the argonauts of . the players that made the first trip abroad in the interest of the national game may well be styled the argonauts of base-ball, and though they brought back with them but little of the golden fleece, the trip being financially a failure, their memory is one that should always be kept green in the hearts of the game's lovers, if for no other reason than because they were the first to show our british cousins what the american athlete could do when it came both to inventing and playing a game of his own. that they failed to make the game a popular one abroad was no fault of theirs, the fault lying, if anywhere, in the deep-rooted prejudice of the english people against anything that savored of newness and americanism, and in the love that they had for their own national game of cricket, a game that had been played by them for generations. i doubt if a better body of men, with the exception of your humble servant, who was too young at the game to have been taken into account, could have been selected at that time to illustrate the beauties of the national game in a foreign clime. they were ball players, every one of them, and though new stars have risen and set since then, the stars of thirty years ago still live in the memory both of those who accompanied them on the trip and those who but knew of them through the annals of the game as published in the daily press and in the guide books. harry wright, the captain of the boston reds, was even then the oldest ball player among the argonauts, he having played the game for twenty years, being a member of the old knickerbockers when many of his companions had not as yet attained the dignity of their first pair of pants. he was noted, too, as a cricketer of no mean ability, having succeeded his father as the professional of the famous st. george club long before he was ever heard of in connection with the national game. as an exponent of the national game he first became noted as the captain of the celebrated red stocking club of cincinnati, a nine that went through the season of , playing games from maine to california without a single defeat. as captain and manager of a ball team mr. wright had few equals, and no superiors, as his subsequent history in connection with the boston and philadelphia clubs will prove. he was a believer in kind words and governed his players more by precept and example than by any set of rules that he laid down for their guidance. as a player at the time of this trip he was still in his prime and could hold his own with any of the younger men in the outfit, while his knowledge of the english game proved almost invaluable to us. harry wright died in , and when he passed away i lost a steadfast friend, and the base-ball world a man that was an honor in every way to the profession. a.g. spalding was at that time justly regarded as being one of the very best pitchers in the profession, and from the time that he first appeared in a boston uniform until the time that he left the club and cast his fortunes with the chicagos he was a great favorite with both press and public. as harry chadwick once wrote of him, "in judgment, command of the ball, pluck, endurance, and nerve in his position he had no superior." he could disguise a change of pace in such a manner as to deceive the most expert batsman, while as a scientific hitter himself he had few superiors. he had brains and used them, and this made him a success not only as a ball player but as a business man. as a manufacturer and dealer, mr. spalding has acquired a world-wide reputation, and it is safe to say that none glory in his success more than do his old associates on the ball field. james o'rourke, or "jim," as we all called him, was a splendid ball player and especially excelled in playing behind the bat and in the outfield, which position he played for many years. a sure catch, an active fielder, a good thrower, and a fine batsman, o'rourke was always to be relied upon. born of irish parentage, he hailed from the nutmeg state and was when i last heard of him in business at bridgeport, conn., and reported as doing well. he was a quiet, gentlemanly young fellow, blessed with a goodly share of irish wit, and a rich vocabulary of jawbreaking words. ross barnes, who held down the second bag, was one of the best ball players that ever wore a shoe, and i would like to have nine men just like him right now under my management. he was an all-around man, and i do not know of a single man on the diamond at the present time that i regard as his superior. he was a rockford product, but after his ball playing days were over he drifted to chicago and was at the last time i saw him circulating around on the open board of trade. "harry" schafer was a good, all-around player, but i have seen men that could play third base a good deal better than he could. sometimes his work was of a brilliant character, while at others it was but mediocre. he was a native of pennsylvania and his usually smiling face and unfailing fund of good nature served to make him a general favorite wherever he went. george wright, a brother of the lamented harry, was another splendid all-around ball player, and one that up to the time that he injured his leg had no equal in his position, that of shortstop. he was one of the swiftest and most accurate of throwers, and could pull down a ball that would have gone over the head of almost any other man in the business, bounding into the air for it like a rubber ball. as a cricketer he ranked among the best in the country. retiring from the ball field, he became a dealer in sporting goods at boston, mass., where he still is, and where he is reported to have "struck it rich." andrew j. leonard, a product of the emerald isle, was brought up in new jersey, and excelled as an outfielder, being a splendid judge of high balls, a sure catch, and a swift and accurate long-distance thrower. he was a good batsman and a splendid base runner, and was nearly as good a player on the infield as in the out. he is at present in newark, n. j., where he is engaged in business and reported as fairly successful. cal c. mcvey, the heavy-weight of the team, came like myself from the broad prairies of iowa, and was built about as i am, on good, broad western lines. he was a fairly good outfielder, but excelled either as a catcher or baseman. he was conscientious and a hard worker, but his strongest point was his batting, and as a wielder of the ash he had at that time few superiors. he is somewhere in california at the present writing, and has money enough in his pocket to pay for at least a lodging and breakfast, and does not have to worry as to where his dinner is to come from. young kent, the harvard college man, who took jim white's place on the trip, was a tall, rangy fellow and a good amateur ball player. he never joined the professional ranks, but since his graduation has written several books, and made himself quite a reputation in literary circles. john e. clapp, the regular catcher of the athletics, was a cool, quiet, plucky fellow, and one of the best catchers at that time the profession could boast of. he hailed originally from new york, i believe, and while in england surprised the cricketers by his fine catching, no ball being too hot for him to handle. unless i am greatly mistaken, he is now a member of the ithaca, n. y., police force, and an honored member of the blue-coat and brass-button brigade. james dickson mcbride, who was better known the country over as "dick" mcbride, was at that time the most experienced man in his position that the country could boast of, he having been the regular pitcher of the athletics since . he had speed in a marked degree, plenty of pluck and endurance and a thorough command of the ball. he was a man of brains, who always played to win, and to his hard work and general knowledge of the fine points of the game the athletics owed much of their success. "dick" was a good cricketer, too, that being his game prior to his appearance on the diamond. he hailed from the quaker city, where he still resides, having a good position in the postoffice. west d. fisler was a fine, all-around ball player, remarkable for his coolness and nerve. he was a very quiet sort of fellow and one of the last men that you would pick out for a really great player. he could play any position on the team, was thoroughly honest and always played the best he knew how. he is still living in the neighborhood of philadelphia, and though not rich in this world's goods, has still enough to live on. joe batten was the youngest member of the athletic team and at that time quite a promising young player. he did not last long with the athletics, however, and after playing on one or two other league teams he dropped out sight. he was a bricklayer by trade, and the last time i heard of him he was in st. louis working at his trade. ezra b. sutton then ranked as one of the best third-base players in the country. he was one of the most accurate throwers that i ever saw; a splendid fielder and a good batter, though not a particularly heavy one. when he finally quit the game he settled down in business at rochester, where he was still living the last i heard of him. a good man was sutton, and one that would compare very favorably with the best in his line at the present day. m. h. mcgeary was a pennsylvanian by birth, though not a dutchman, as his name goes to prove. he was not only an effective and active shortstop but a good change catcher as well, being noted for his handling of sharp fly tips while in the latter position. he was in philadelphia when last heard from, and doing fairly well. albert w. gedney was the postoffice clerk of the new york state senate at the time of our trip, and was one of the best of left fielders, being an excellent judge of high balls and a sure catch, especially in taking balls on the run. he is now a prosperous mill owner near new york city and does not have to worry as to where the next meal is coming from. james mcmullen, who played the center field, was an active and effective man in that position. he was also a fairly good left-handed pitcher, and a rattling good batsman, who excelled in fair-foul hitting. mcmullen was an all-around good fellow, and when he died in he left a host of friends to mourn his loss. j. p. sensenderfer accompanied the club as, a substitute, as did timothy murnane, and both were good, all-around ball players, and are both still in the land of the living and doing more than well, philadelphia being the abiding place of the former, while the last named is the sporting editor of the "boston globe." i take particular pride in calling the attention of the public to the fact that but one player of all those making the trip went wrong in the after years, that one being george w. hall, who accompanied the bostons as a substitute and who in company with a. h. nichols, james h. craver and james a. devlin was expelled by the louisville club in for crooked playing, they having sold out to the gamblers. that there should have been but one black sheep among so many, in my estimation speaks well for the integrity of ball players as a class and for the argonauts of in particular. that the great majority of these men have also made a success in other lines of business since they retired from the profession is also an argument in favor of teaching the young athletic sports. a successful athlete must be the possessor of courage, pluck and good habits, and these three attributes combined will make a successful business man no matter what that particular line of business may be. for the companions of that, my first trip across the atlantic, who are still in the land of the living i have still a warm place in my heart. i have both slept and eaten with them, and if we have disagreed in some particulars it was an honest disagreement. whenever the information comes to me that some one of them is doing particularly well, i am honestly glad of it, and i have faith enough in human nature to believe that they have the same feeling so far as i am concerned. for the two that are dead i have naught but kind words and pleasant memories. they were my friends while living, and dead i still cherish their memory. to me they are not dead, only sleeping. chapter xi. i win one prize and others follow. if it is true, as some people allege, that marriage is a lottery, then all i have to say regarding it is that i drew the capital prize and consequently may well be regarded as a lucky man, for truer, fonder, and more sensible wife than i have, or a happier home cannot be found even though you search the wide world over. it was in philadelphia that i wooed and won her, and i was by no means the only contestant that was in the field for her heart and hand. there were others, and one in particular that was far better looking and much more of a lady's man than myself, but when he found that i had a pull at the weights he retired, though not without a struggle, and left me in undisputed possession of the field. just why i happened to be the successful suitor is now, and always has been, to me a mystery. i have asked mrs. anson to explain, but somehow i can get very little satisfaction. i was by no means a model man in the early days of my courtship, as my experiences detailed elsewhere go to prove, but i was an honest and faithful wooer, as my wife can testify, and that perhaps had as much to do with the successful termination of my suit as anything. i had been used to having everything that i wanted from my babyhood up, and after i had once made up my mind that i wanted my wife, which i did very early in our acquaintance, i laid siege to her heart with all the artifices that i could command. i am sometimes inclined to believe that i fell in love with her, at least part way, the very first time that i met her, else why should i remember her so vividly? her name was virginia m. fiegal, and she was one of a family of two, and the only daughter, her father being john fiegal, a hotel and restaurant man in the quaker city. the first time that i ever saw her was at a ball given by the national guards in philadelphia, and though she was then but a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl of some twelve or thirteen summers, and still in short dresses, she attracted my attention. just how she was dressed on that occasion i could not tell you to save my life, nor do i think i could have done so an hour after the ball was over, but for all that the memory of her sweet face and girlish ways lingered with me long after the strains of music had died away and the ball-room was given over to the flitting shadows. some months, or weeks, perhaps, i have really forgotten which, drifted by before i saw her again, and then it was at a club ball, and this time i paid her considerable attention, in fact, i liked her better than any girl that i had yet met and was not afraid to show it, although i could not then muster up the necessary courage to go on boldly about my wooing. in fact, i left a great deal to chance, and chance in this case treated me very kindly. some time later, when the summer days were long, i met her again in company with a miss cobb, later the wife of johnnie mcmullen, the base-ball pitcher, at fairmount park, and that was the day of my undoing. after a pleasant time i accompanied her home to luncheon at her invitation, and that i had lost my heart long before the door of her house was reached i am now certain. once inside the door i asked her rather abruptly if her father or mother was at home, and i fancied she looked rather relieved when she found out that the only reason that i had asked her was that i wanted to smoke a cigar, and not to loot the house of its valuables. prior to that time i had circulated among the ladies but little, my whole mind having been concentrated on base-ball and billiard playing, and the particular fit of my coat or the fashion of my trousers caused me but little concern. from that afternoon on, however, things were different, and i am afraid that i spent more time before the mirror than was really necessary. i also began to hunt up excuses of various kinds for visiting the house of the fiegals, and some of these were of the flimsiest character. i fancied then that i was deceiving the entire family, but i know now that i was deceiving only myself. i was not the only ball player that laid siege to miss virginia's heart in those days. there was another, the handsome and debonair charlie snyder, who was a great favorite with the girls wherever he went. i became jealous very early in the game of charlie's attentions to the young lady that i had determined upon making mrs. anson. it was rather annoying to have him dropping in when i had planned to have her all to myself for an evening, and still more annoying to find him snugly ensconced in the parlor when i myself put in an appearance on the scene. so unbearable did this become that i finally informed him that i would stand no more trespassing on my stamping grounds, and advised him to keep away. but to this he paid but little attention and it was not until my sweetheart herself, at my request, gave him his conge that he refrained from longer calling at the house. it was the old story of "two is company, three is none," and i was greatly relieved when he abandoned the field. i was now the fair virginia's steady company, and long before i came to chicago we understood each other so well that i ceased to worry about any of the callers at her home and began to dream of the time when i should have one of my own in which she should be the presiding genius of the hearth-stone. she was not in favor of my coming to chicago, and had it been possible for me to remain with honor in philadelphia i should have done so, but that being impossible i left for the great metropolis of the west, promising to return for her providing her father would give his consent to our marriage as soon as possible. i think one of the first things almost that i did after arriving in chicago was to write the daddy of my sweetheart asking for her hand. i had been a little afraid to do so when at close range, but the farther away i went the bolder i became, for i knew that whatever his answer might be i was certainly out of any personal danger. the old gentleman's answer was, however, a favorable one, and so after my first season's play in chicago was over i returned to philadelphia and there was united to the woman of my choice, and i am frank to confess that i was more nervous when i faced the minister on that occasion that i ever was when, bat in hand, i stood before the swiftest pitcher in the league. the first little visitor that came to us was a baby girl that we called grace, who was born october , . that seems a long time ago now. the baby grace has grown to womanhood's estate and is the happy wife of walter h. clough, and the proud mother of anson mcneal clough, who was born may , , and who will be taught to call me "grandpa" as soon as his baby lips can lisp the words. adrian hulbert anson was our next baby. he was born sept. , , and died four days afterward, that being the first grief that we had known since our marriage. another daughter, adele, crept into our hearts and household april th, , and is still with us. adrian c. anson jr. came into the world on september th, , and died on the eighteenth day of january following. he lived the longest of all of my boys and his death was the cause of great grief both to his mother and myself. the storks brought me another daughter, my little dorothy, on august th, , and she, thank god, is still engaged in making sunshine for us all. john henry anson was born on may d, , but four days later the angel of death again stopped at my threshold and when he departed he bore a baby boy in his arms, whither i know not, but to a better world that this i feel certain, and one to which his baby brothers had journeyed before him. virginia jeanette arrived november d, , and has already learned to kick at the umpire when her meals are not furnished as promptly as she has reason to think they should be. she is a strong, healthy baby, and bids fair to remain with us for some years to come. before returning again to the ball field, on which the greater portion of my life has been spent, i wish to record the fact that all that i have and all that i have earned in the way both of money and reputation in later years i owe not to myself, but to mrs. anson. she has been to me a helpmeet in the truest and best sense of the word, rejoicing with me in the days of my success and sympathizing with me in the days of my adversity. it was owing to her good counsel that i braced up in the days when she was my sweetheart, and it was to please her that i have staid braced up ever since, and am consequently still strong in mind and limb and as healthy a specimen of an athlete as you can find in a year's travel, albeit a little too heavy to run the bases still and play the game of ball that i used to play. i have never found it necessary when i have lost $ on a horse race or a match of any kind to go home and inform mrs. anson that owing to my bad judgment i had lost $ . , but on the contrary i have made it a point to tell her the truth at all times, so that she knows just as well how i stand to-day as i do myself. she and i are not only husband and wife in the truest sense of the word, but we are boon companions as well, and i always enjoy myself better on a trip when mrs. anson accompanies me that i do if i am alone. i am as proud of my daughters as any man can well be and my only desire is that they shall all be as good as their mother and make the husbands of their choice as good and true wives. at the present writing the only one of my birds that has left its parent nest and started out to build a home of its own is in baltimore, where her husband, as fine a fellow as any man could wish to have for a son-in-law, is at present engaged in superintending the putting up of an office building contracted for the george h. fuller co., of chicago, in whose employ he is. chapter xii. with the national league. it was some time in the fall of and while the national league was still in embryo that i first made the acquaintance of william a. hulbert, who afterwards became famous as the founder of that organization and the man whose rugged honesty and clear-headed counsels made of base-ball the national game in the truest and broadest sense of the word. at that time mr. hulbert was the president of the chicago base-ball club, and in company with a. g. spalding he came to philadelphia for the purpose of getting my signature to a contract to play in the western metropolis. it was the ambition of the chicago management to get together a championship team, and with that object in view they had already signed the big-four who had helped so many times to win the pennant for boston, viz.: cal mcvey, first base; james white, catcher; ross barnes, second base; and a. g. spalding, pitcher, and the latter, who was to captain the chicago team, had suggested my engagement as third baseman. i finally agreed to play with the team at a salary of $ , , or $ more than i was then getting with the athletics. i well remember mr. hulbert's appearance at that time. he stood in the neighborhood of six feet, and weighed close to pounds. he had a stern expression of countenance and impressed one right from the start as being a self-reliant business man of great natural ability, and such he turned out to be. he was good-hearted and of a convivial nature when business hours were over, but as honest as the day was long, and would tolerate nothing that savored of crookedness in any shape or form. as an executive he had but few equals and no superiors. he was quick to grasp a situation and when once he had made up his mind to do a thing it took the very best sort of an argument to dissuade him. during the winter of - the national league sprang into being, the hon. morgan g. bulkeley of hartford, who was afterwards elected governor of connecticut, being its first president, he being succeeded by mr. hulbert the following year. the clubs composing the league were as follows: athletics of philadelphia, bostons of boston, hartfords of hartford, chicagos of chicago, st. louis of st. louis, louisville of louisville, ky., mutuals of new york, and cincinnati of cincinnati, ohio. when i came to consult with the future mrs. anson in regard to my proposed change of base she not unnaturally objected to my going so far from home, for i had learned to regard philadelphia as my home by that time. i naturally thought it would be an easy matter for me to get my release from chicago, and being naturally anxious to please her i made two trips to chicago that winter for the purpose, and finally did what no ball player ever did before--offered $ , to be released from my promise. it was no go, however, as both messrs. hulbert and spalding had made up their minds that i should play on their team, and both of them knew me well enough to know that i would keep my word at all hazards, no matter what my personal likes or dislikes in the matter might be. the last few months of my stay in philadelphia passed all too quickly, and a short time before the opening of the regular season found me in the garden city ready to don a chicago uniform and do the very best i could to help win the pennant for the latest city of my adoption. the constitution of the new league provided for an entrance fee of $ per club, and also provided that no city of less than , inhabitants could become a member. it also provided that each city should be represented by one club only, this prohibiting the danger of local opposition, such as the professional players' association had suffered from in philadelphia, st. louis and other cities. other reforms were the adoption of a player's contract, which enabled the clubs to keep their players and prevented them from being hired away by rival organizations. this was the first step toward the reserve rule that followed later. it also provided for the expelling of players who were guilty of breaking their contracts or of dishonesty, and such players were to be debarred forever afterwards from playing on the league teams. gambling and liquor selling on club grounds were prohibited and players interested in a bet on the result of games or purchasing a pool ticket were liable to expulsion. the make-up of the chicago team in full for the national league's initial season was as follows; a. g. spalding, pitcher, captain and manager; james white, catcher; a. c. anson, third base; ross barnes, second base; cal a. mcvey, first base; j. p. peters, shortstop; j. w. glenn, left field; paul a. hines, center field; robert addy, right field; and j. f. cone, oscar bielaski, and f. h. andrus, substitutes. all through the season of the most intense rivalry existed between the chicago and boston clubs. the management of the latter organization, smarting under the fact that the "big four" had been hired away from them by the western metropolis, had gotten together as strong a team as was possible under the circumstances, the list including harry wright, manager; j. e. borden ("josephs"), t. h. murnane, f. l. beals, h. c. schafer, a. j. leonard, j. h. o'rourke, j. f. manning, f. t. whitney, george wright, john f. morrill, lewis brown, t. mcginley, and w. r. parks. our strongest opponents, however, proved to be the hartford club, of which robert ferguson was captain and manager, and which numbered among its players allison, cummings, bond, mills, burdock, cary, york, remsen, cassidy, higham, and harbidge. as i have said before, it was anything to beat chicago, so far as the bostons were concerned, but this feat they were unable to accomplish until the very tail end of the season, and after we had beaten them in nine straight games. the first game that we played on the boston grounds that season i remember well, because of the enormous crowd that turned out to witness the contest. the advent of the "big four" in a new uniform was of course the attraction, and long before the hour set for calling the game had arrived the people were wending their way in steady streams toward the scene of action. every kind of a conveyance that could be used was pressed into service, from the lumbering stage coach that had been retired from active service, to the coach-and-four of the millionaire. street cars were jammed to suffocation, and even seats in an express wagon were sold at a premium. it was decoration day, and therefore a holiday, and it seemed to me as if all boston had determined to be present on that occasion. by hundreds and thousands they kept coming, and finally it was found necessary to close the gates in order to keep room enough in the grounds to play the game on. with the gates closed the crowd began to swarm over the fences, and the special policemen employed there had their hands more than full of trouble. the "big four" were given a great ovation when they put in an appearance, and of course the whole team shared in the honors that were showered upon them. the game that followed was, as might have been expected, played under difficulties, but thanks to the excellent pitching of spalding and the fine support given him by the entire team we won by a score of to , and the hubbites were sorer than ever over the "big four's" defection. our other victories over the boston aggregation that season were as follows: june st, at boston, chicago , boston ; june d, at the same place, chicago , boston ; july th, at chicago, chicago , boston ; july th, at the same place, chicago , boston ; and july th, again, chicago , boston ; september th, at boston, chicago , boston ; september th, chicago , boston ; and september d, at chicago, chicago , boston . september d we met boston for the last time during the season, and, anxious as we were to make our victories over them ten straight, that being the number of games called for by the schedule, we failed to do so, being beaten by a score of to . i think that harry wright was happier that day when o'rourke crossed the home plate and scored the winning run than he would have been had somebody made him a present of a house and lot, so anxious was he to win at least one game from chicago during the season. both the athletics and mutuals failed to play out their scheduled games in the west that fall, and as a result they were expelled at the annual meeting of the league held in cleveland the december following, leaving but six clubs to contest for championship honors in . that first year of the league was not a success when viewed from a financial standpoint, as not a single one of the clubs that composed it made any money, even the chicagos, who carried off the pennant, quitting loser. the men who had organized it were by no means discouraged, however, and that they finally reaped the reward of their pluck and perseverance is now a matter of history. in the fall i again signed with chicago, as did spalding, mcvey, barnes, peters, andrus, and glenn of the old team, while jim white returned to his first love, the bostons. the new-corners on the team were bradley, who had pitched for the st. louis club the year before, and who was accounted as being one of the best in the business, and h. w. smith a change catcher and outfielder. this was a year of disaster as far as chicago was concerned, and we brought up the tail end of the pennant race, the whip going to boston, which won games and lost , while louisville stood second on the list with games won and lost, to its credit, hartford being third, st. louis fourth, and chicago fifth, the cincinnatis having failed to weather the financial storm, being expelled from the league because of non-payment of dues. there would doubtless have been a different tale to tell in regard to the championship of had it not been for the crookedness of some of the louisville players. the team on paper prior to the opening of the season was justly regarded as one of the strongest that had ever been gotten together, and going off with a rush in the early part of the year its success seemed to be almost assured. by the middle of the season the team had obtained so great a lead that the race seemed to be all over but the shouting. in those days poolrooms were a much greater evil than they are at the present time, and the betting on baseball was hot and heavy. the louisville having such a lead were favorites at long odds. when the club started on its last eastern trip they had some twelve games to play, out of which they had less than half to win in order to land the pennant. on this trip enough games were thrown to give boston the pennant, and when the directors of the louisville club came to sift matters down they had but little difficulty in finding out the guilty parties, who were a. c. nichols, william h. craver, george hall and james a. devlin. how much money this quartette netted by its crooked work is not known to this day, but it has been proven that devlin secured but a beggarly $ as his share, as once the others had him in their power they could compel him to do just whatever they pleased under threats of exposure. these four players were promptly expelled for selling games by the louisville club, whose action was later ratified by the league, and though they made application time after time in later years to be reinstated, their applications were denied and they passed out of sight and out of hearing as far as the base-ball world was concerned. they were all of them good ball players, better than the average, and devlin, a really great pitcher, undoubtedly had a brilliant future before him. the inability to stand temptation, however, caused his downfall and left him but little better than a wreck on the shores of time. the year, taken as a whole, has been generally set down as being the darkest in the history of the league. as in the preceding year, all the clubs lost money and the outlook seemed indeed a dark one. the darkest hour comes just before the dawn, however, and the following year saw a change for the better in base-ball prospects. chapter xiii. from fourth place to the championship. the year saw but six clubs in the league race, there being the boston, cincinnati, providence, chicago, indianapolis and milwaukee clubs, and they finished in the order named, the hub's representatives winning by a margin of four games from their nearest competitor. the early part of the year saw the cincinnatis in the lead, with chicago well up toward the front, and it looked for a time as though the honors of the season might be carried off by the western clubs. the cincinnati club went into the air during the summer, however, and surrendered the first place to boston, the latter team playing finely together, and though it rallied strongly afterward it found itself unable to overtake the leaders. the chicago team was not a strong one that season and minor ailments and accidents made it still weaker than it would otherwise have been. a. g. spalding having retired from active ball playing, had gone into the sporting goods business, and robert ferguson had been selected to take his place as manager and captain of the team, which was made up as follows: robert ferguson, shortstop and captain; anson, left field; start, first base; cassidy, right field; remsen, center field; hankinson, third base; mcclellan, second base; frank larkin, pitcher; harbidge, catcher; hallman and reis, substitutes. there were several weak spots in this team and it was not long before the fact became evident. ferguson himself, while a fair shortstop, was by no means a top-notcher, and neither was he a really good manager, he not having the necessary control over the men that he had under him. harbridge was not even a fair catcher; in fact, according to my estimate, he was a poor one. he was a left-handed thrower and made awkward work getting a ball to the bases. joe start was a good ball player, indeed, a first-class man. he was always to be depended upon, worked hard, was a sure catch, a good fielder and a first-class wielder of the ash. he was known far and wide as "old reliable" and his reputation was in every way above reproach, both on and off the field. mcclellan, who played the second base, i first saw play at st. paul in . he was a nice fielder, but only a moderate batsman. taking him all around, however, he was better than the average, but not to be compared with some of the men who afterwards played in that position. cassidy, the right fielder, was only an average player, and hankinson, who played third base and change pitcher, was never in the first class. larkin, who had pitched the year before for the hartford club, was a rattling good man and a really first-class pitcher, who would have won more games than he did had he met with the support that he should have had. remsen was a fine fielder and a fast base-runner, but his weak point was in hitting. he was a good thrower, too, though i beat him in a match at hartford by covering yards and inches, a performance that surprised some people who had wagered their money on his success. during the greater part of that year i was troubled with a frog felon on my right hand that nearly incapacitated me from playing altogether. it was absolute torture to me to catch, but i managed to worry along with it in some sort of fashion, though unable to do myself justice, and for that reason i stood lower on the list of averages than i might otherwise have done. a felon is a mighty unpleasant thing to have at the best, and a man deserves some credit for playing ball at all that is afflicted in that way. when the season ended none of the clubs had made any money, but the game was growing steadily in public favor, and it was evident to even the most superficial observer that there was "a good time coming." the following year, , saw a great many changes both in league memberships and in the personnel of its players. at the annual meeting held in cleveland december , , the indianapolis club resigned its membership and the circuit was filled by the admission of clubs from cleveland, buffalo and syracuse. the milwaukee club afterward failing to come to time the troy, n. y., club was taken in to fill the vacancy. george wright, one of the greatest players of the day, and the man to whom boston owed much of its success in winning the pennant, deserted boston for providence, taking o'rourke with him, and after the hardest sort of a fight with boston, chicago and buffalo he succeeded in winning the pennant with that organization, he having the services of john m. ward and "bobby" matthews as pitchers, lewis j. brown as catcher; joe start, m. h. mcgeary and w. l. hague on the bases; with "tommy" stark, paul hines and james o'rourke in the field. emil grace and john farrell replaced brown and hague toward the close of the season. it was a great year of changes all around and the league teams taken as a whole were stronger than they had ever been before. among the pitchers outside of these i have already mentioned were such stars as mccormick, "jimmy" galyin, bradley and will white, all of whom are famous as twirlers in base-ball history. the chicago team was that season the strongest that the "windy city" had yet put in the field. to succeed ferguson, who had gone elsewhere, i was selected as captain and manager, a position that i have always had reason to believe came to me through the influence of mr. hulbert, and that i retained for many a year, through both good and evil report, finding it but a thankless job at best. the make-up of the team in full was as follows: larkin, pitcher; flint, catcher; anson, first base; quest, second base; hankinson, pitcher and third base; peters, stortstop; dalrymple, gore, remsen and george schaffer in the field, with williamson alternating with hankinson at third base. quest, flint, williamson and george schaffer all came from the indianapolis team of the year before, and dalrymple, who afterward became a great favorite with chicago "fans," from the milwaukees. geo. c. gore was a newcomer in the league ranks, he hailing from new bedford, but he soon made for himself a name, being a first-class fielder and a batsman that was away above the average, as is shown by his record made in after years. it was my first season as a first baseman, though t had played the position at odd times before, and that it suited me is shown by the fact that i led the league with a fielding average of . and stood first among the batsmen with . , which was the largest percentage ever made up to that time. flint that season stood first in the list of catchers, and quest led the second basemen. it was some time during the close of the season that an unfortunate accident happened to larkin, and one that caused his retirement from the diamond for some time afterward. a line ball from my bat struck him on the head, and as a result, it was at least so stated, he had to be sent to an asylum, where he remained for some time, though i believe that he afterwards fully recovered from the effects of the injury. it was during this year also that the first reserve rule was adopted, it being in the shape of a signed agreement by the terms of which each league club was permitted to reserve five men for the following season, an agreement that i have always looked upon as being one of the best things that could have happened, for the reason that it enabled all of the clubs interested to reserve at least the nucleus of a strong team as a foundation upon which to build. the season of i have always looked upon as a red letter one in my history, and for good reasons, as that year the chicago team under my management brought the pennant to chicago, and this in spite of the fact that the teams it had to, encounter were made up of first-class material in nearly every case. the chicago team of that season outclassed all of its competitors, it being made up as follows: corcoran and goldsmith, pitchers; flint, catcher; anson, first base; quest, second base; williamson, third base; burns, shortstop; dalrymple, gore and kelly in the field, and l. t. beals, substitute. unlike the majority of the clubs the chicago club did not have to depend upon the services of one first-class pitcher, but had two, both of whom were "cracker-jacks," and were therefore able to play them on alternate days instead of breaking them down or laming them by continued and arduous services. in catchers, too, the club was especially fortunate, as flint, who ranked as one of the best of his day, had an efficient ally in mike kelly, who could fill the breach when necessary. this was an especially strong team, too, at the bat, as is shown by the records, gore leading the league with an average of . , with myself second with . , dalrymple third with . , burns fifth with . . in fielding williamson led the third basemen with an average of . , while the fewest hits of the year were made off corcoran's pitching. among the first basemen i held second place with a percentage of . . sullivan of the worcester team being first with . to his credit. the chicago club that year made a little money, but it was the only one of the lot that did, the others losing, that is, some of them, more because of bad management than for any other reason. in consequence of an agreement in regard to the sale of liquors in club grounds the cincinnati club that season forfeited its membership, and at the annual meeting of the league held in new york december th, , the detroit club was elected to the vacant place. the team that had represented chicago in was good enough for me, and also good enough for the club directors, and that we were able to hold the players was a matter for self-congratulation. the only new man on the list in was andrew pearcy, who took t. l. beal's place as substitute, and who cut but little figure, as he was called upon to play but seldom. that the chicago club again won the pennant in was due to two reasons. first, its strength as a batting organization, and in this respect it was undoubtedly the superior of all its rivals, and, secondly, the superb team work, the entire team playing together as one man and having but one object in view, and that the landing of the championship. record playing was entirely lost sight of by the members of the club, and sacrifice hitting was indulged in whenever a point could be made by so doing. the race throughout the season for everything except the last place was a close and exciting one, and up to the very last week the result was in doubt, so close together were the four leaders. when the season finally closed, however, we had games won and games lost to our credit, against games won and games lost by the providence club, which finished in the second place. buffalo came third with games won and games lost, and detroit fourth with games won and lost; troy being fifth, boston sixth, cleveland seventh and worcester eighth on the list. in batting that season i again led the list with an average of . and stood at the head of the first basemen with . to my credit. when the season came to a close the majority of the league clubs had made money and base-ball was more popular than ever with the public, who had learned to look upon it as a square sport, and one over which the gamblers had no control whatever. the grounds occupied by the chicago club at that time were the most accessible of any in the country, being situated on the lake front near the foot of randolph street, and within five minutes' walk from any part of the business district. the only fault that could be found with them were that they were too small, both for the crowds that thronged them when an important game was being played, and because of the fact that the fences interfered too often with the performance of the league's star batsmen. with such a team as the champions then boasted of what was the use of making any changes? no use whatever, and so the season of found the same old "white-stocking" team in the field, the only new player that had been signed being hugh nichols, who came from rockford, and who was signed as an outfielder. there was no change either in the clubs that went to make up the league, each and every one of which was bent on wresting the championship from the garden city, and with that object in view every other club in the league had been strengthened as far as was possible. the attempt was a vain one, however, although the race from the start to the finish was a hot one, and one that kept the lovers of base-ball on tenter hooks until the season was over, while the betting in the poolrooms throughout the country was hot and heavy, and be it said right here, to the credit of the ball players, there was not the slightest suspicion or whisper of crookedness in connection with the games. the rivalry was most intense, and as a result the crowds that greeted the players everywhere were both large and enthusiastic, this being especially the case on the home grounds, where, owing to our long-continued success, we were naturally great favorites. the majority of the clubs in the league that season made money and to all appearances an era of prosperity, so far as the national game was concerned, had begun. the close of the season again saw the chicago club in the lead, they having won games and lost , while providence stood second on the list with games won and games lost to its credit. buffalo stood third, boston fourth, cleveland fifth, detroit sixth, troy seventh, while worcester, as in the preceding year, brought up the tail end of the procession. brouthers of the buffalo club headed the batting list with a percentage of . , while i came next with . , and that i had had my eye on the ball throughout the season is a fact that the opposing pitchers could bear witness to. prior to the beginning of the season, the exact date being april , , president hulbert, the founder of the league, and one of the best friends that i had ever had either inside or outside of the profession, passed away, leaving a void in base-ball circles that was indeed hard to fill. it has often been a matter of sincere regret, both to myself and others, that he could not have lived to witness the fruition of all his hopes. arbitrary and severe though he may have been at times, yet the fact remains that he was the best friend that the ball players had ever had. appreciating the possibilities of the game as a moneymaker, when rightly conducted, he bent his energy toward rescuing it from the hands of gamblers, into which it seemed about to fall, and place it where it belonged, at the head of all of american outdoor sports. many and many a time since than have i missed his cool-headed judgment, his cheering words and his sound advice, and i have no hesitation in saying to-day that to him the ball players owe even now a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. chapter xiv. the champions of the early eighties. the team that brought the pennant back to chicago in the early ' s was a rattling good organization of ball players, as the "fans" who remember them can testify, and while they were the cracks of that time, and perhaps as strong a team as the league had seen up to that date, yet they were not as strong either as a team or as individual ball players as the team that represented chicago several years afterward. the secret of the club's success in those days lay in its team work, and in the fact that a goodly portion of the time was spent in studying and developing the fine points of the game, which long practice made them fairly perfect in. there were one or two weak spots in its make-up, but so well did it perform as a whole that these weak spots were quite apt to be lost sight of when the time for summing up the result of the season's play had arrived. in its pitching department the team was particularly strong at that time as compared with some other of the league clubs. larry corcoran, upon whose skill great reliance was placed, was at that time in the zenith of his glory as a twirler. he came, if my memory serves me rightly, from somewhere in the neighborhood of buffalo. he was a very little fellow, with an unusual amount of speed, and the endurance of an indian pony. as a batter he was only fair, but as a fielder in his position he was remarkable, being as quick as a cat and as plucky as they made them. a sort of an all-around sport was larry, and a boxer of no mean ability. i remember a set-to that he had one night in the old club house with hugh nichols, in which he all but knocked hughy out, greatly to that gentleman's surprise, as he had fancied up to that time that he was corcoran's master in the art of self-defense. after his release by the chicago club he drifted back east, where he pitched for a time in some of the minor leagues. later on he was given another trial by the chicagos, but his work proved unsatisfactory, he having outlived the days of his usefulness in the pitching line. after that he again went east, where he died several years ago. fred goldsmith, the other pitcher, was a great big, over-grown, good-natured boy, who was always just a-going to do things that he never did. he, too, came from the east, and was, i believe, pitching for the tecumseh, canada, club when he signed with us. he was the possessor of a great slow ball and was always cool and good-natured. as a batsman he was only fair, and as a fielder decidedly careless. when it came to backing up a player "goldy" was never to be relied upon, and after the play was over and he was asked why he had not done so, he would reply: "oh, i'd a-bin thar ef i'd bin needed." but in spite of this the fact remains that he was rarely on hand when he was needed, and many an overthrown ball found its way into the field that would have been stopped had he been backing up the basemen in the way that he should have done. i remember seeing him in a game at troy, n. y., once when pitching for chicago, when he was a sight to behold. he was playing and the rain was coming down in torrents while the grounds were deep in mud and water. hatless, without shoes and stockings and with his breeches roiled clear up to his thigh, as if he were preparing to ford the hudson river, "goldy" was working like a trojan, and i am not over sure but that he was one at that time. his arm was gone when he left us, and if he played ball any afterward, it was only in desultory fashion. he tended bar in different places for a time, but finally settled down to the business of market gardening near detroit, where, from all that i can learn, he is making a good living. frank s. flint, "old silver," originally hailed from st. louis, where he first came into notice as the back stop of an amateur team. he came to us direct from the indianapolis club, where he had been engaged in catching the delivery of "the only nolan," who was at that time one of the most celebrated of the league pitchers. he was a fine ballplayer, a good, hard worker, but a weak batter, batting being his weakest point. he was generally reliable, and that in spite of the fact that he was a hard drinker, the love of liquor being his besetting weakness. a pluckier man never stood behind a bat, there never coming a ball his way that was too hard for him to handle, or at least to attempt to. in "old silver's" day the catcher's glove had not come into use, and all of his work was done with hands that were unprotected. those hands of his were a sight to behold, and if there is a worse pair to-day in the united states, or a pair that are as bad, i should certainly like to have a look at them. his fingers were bent and twisted out of all shape and looked more like the knotted and gnarled branches of a scrub oak than anything else that i can think of. long before the gloves now used by catchers were invented i had a buckskin mitt made at spalding's that i thought would fill a long-felt want, and this i finally persuaded "old silver" to try. he tried it for about half of an inning, then threw it down, declaring it was no good, and went on in the old way. after his playing days in chicago were over he went into the saloon business and died a short time afterwards of consumption. his wife died in california a little time after him with the same disease, which she had contracted while nursing him. prior to her departure from chicago and when she had been informed by a physician that her days were numbered, she sent for me, and after telling me that she had "roasted" me in the papers all her life, begged my forgiveness, saying that she had found out her mistake. this, of course, was granted. mrs. keene and my wife saw that she had every comfort, and mr. keene, mr. spalding and myself furnished the money that took her to the golden state, where she lived but a short time after her arrival. joe quest, who played the second base, was another player who came to us from the indianapolis team, but prior to that time he had been playing around new castle, pa. joe was a good, reliable, steady fellow, but a weak batsman. he was a conscientious player, however, and one that could always be depended upon to play the best ball that he was capable of. his strongest point was trapping an infield fly, and in this particular line he was something of a wonder. joe played on several teams after leaving chicago, and with varying success. of late years he has been employed in the city hall at chicago, where he holds a good position. ed wiliamson was another player who came to us from indianapolis, where he had already made for himself quite a reputation. he, too, hailed originally from some-where around new castle, and was playing in pittsburg the first time that i ever saw him. my wife knew him long before i knew him, however. he was then a member of an amateur club in philadelphia, for which she acted as a sort of treasurer, taking care of the money that they raised to buy balls with, etc. ed was, in my opinion, the greatest all-around ballplayer the country ever saw. he was better than an average batsman and one of the few that knew how to wait for a ball and get the one that he wanted before striking. he was a good third baseman, a good catcher and a man who could pitch more than fairly well, too, when the necessity for his doing so arose. taking him all in all, i question if we shall ever see his like on a ball field again. he was injured some years later while the chicago club was making a trip around the world, and was never the same fellow afterward. after his retirement from the diamond he ran a saloon in company with jimmy woods, another ball-player, on dearborn street, chicago, which was a popular resort for the lovers of sports. he died of dropsy at hot springs, arkansas, leaving a wife, but no children. williamson was one of the most popular of the many players that the chicago club has had. a big, good-natured and good-hearted fellow, he numbered his friends by the hundreds, and his early death was regretted by all who knew him. thomas e. burns was playing with the albany, n. y., club, who were then the champions of the new york state league when i signed him to play with chicago. he was a fair average batter, but was hardly fast enough to be considered a really good shortstop. he was a fair base-runner, using excellent judgment in that respect, and a first-class slider, going into the bases head first when compelled to make a slide for them, instead of feet first, like the majority of the players of that day and generation; in fact, he was more of a diver than a slider, and he generally managed to get there. after his release by chicago he went to pittsburg, where i had secured him a five-year contract as manager at a handsome salary, and where he had some trouble that resulted in the club's breaking the agreement and in the bringing of a lawsuit, which he won. he then took charge of the springfield, mass., club, a member of the new england league, springfield being not far from his old home at new britain. two years ago he took my place as manager of the chicago club, and that he has not made a success of it is due to certain causes that will be explained later on. abner dalrymple was brought into the chicago fold from milwaukee, where he had been playing. he was only an ordinary fielder, and a fair base runner, but excelled as a batsman. i have said that he was a fair fielder, and in that respect perhaps i am rating him too high, as his poor fielding cost us several games that in my estimation we should have won. dalrymple was a queer proposition, and for years a very steady player. he was never known to spend a cent in those days, and was so close that he would wait for somebody else to buy a newspaper and then borrow it in order to see what was going on. later on he broke loose, however, and when he did he became one of the sportiest of sports, blowing his money as if he had found it and setting a hot pace for his followers. he finally settled down again, however, and now holds a good railroad position in the northwest, where he is living with his family. his was about the quickest case of "loosening up from extreme tightness" that i have ever run across. george f. gore, who played the center field, came here from new bedford, mass., being brought out by mr. hulbert, who was in charge of the club at the time he came to us. he was an all-around ball player of the first class, a hard hitter and a fine thrower and fielder, and had it not been for his bad habits he might have still been playing ball to-day. women and wine brought about his downfall, however, and the last time that i saw him in new york he was broken down, both in heart and pocket, and willing to work at anything that would yield him the bare necessities of life. mike kelly, who afterwards became famous in baseball annals as the $ , beauty, came to chicago from cincinnati, and soon became a general favorite. he was a whole-souled, genial fellow, with a host of friends, and but one enemy, that one being himself. time and time again i have heard him say that he would never be broke, and he died at just the right time to prevent such a contretemps from occurring. money slipped through mike's fingers as water slips through the meshes of a fisherman's net, and he was as fond of whisky as any representative of the emerald isle, but just the same he was a great ball player and one that became greater than he then was before ceasing to wear a chicago uniform. he was as good a batter as anybody, and a great thrower, both from the catcher's position and from the field, more men being thrown out by him than by any other man that could be named. he was a good fielder when not bowled up, but when he was he sometimes failed to judge a fly ball correctly, though he would generally manage to get pretty close in under it. in such cases he would remark with a comical leer: "by gad, i made it hit me gloves, anyhow." after his return to boston he played good ball for a time, but his bad habits soon caused his downfall, just as they had caused the downfall of many good players before him, for it may be set down as an axiom that baseball and booze will not mix any better than will oil and water. the last time that i ever saw him was at an eastern hotel barroom, and during the brief space of time that we conversed together he threw in enough whisky to put an ordinary man under the table. after leaving boston the "only mike" had charge of al johnson's team at altoona, pa., but whisky had become at this time his master, and he made a failure of the managerial business. not being able to control himself it is hardly to be wondered at that he failed when it came to the business of controlling others. he died some years ago in new jersey, a victim to fast living, and a warning to all ball players. had he been possessed of good habits instead of bad there is no telling to what heights kelly might have climbed, for a better fellow in some respects never wore a base-ball uniform. tommy beale was a nice, gentlemanly little chap, who had played at one time with the boston club. he was never a howling success as a ball player and after being released by chicago he umpired for a while and then drifted down to florida, where he had an orange grove and was doing well until, one night, "there came a frost, a killing frost," that not only destroyed his orange grove but that burst him up in business as well. since that unfortunate event happened, i have lost sight of him, and where he is now, or what he is doing, i know not. hugh nichols was a little fellow who came from rockford, illinois. he was never a star player, but was a fair and showy player, lacking in stamina. he was only a fair batsman, and after his release by chicago he played for a time in some of the other league teams, principally cincinnati. he then managed the rockford team in the illinois state league, after which he settled down as a billiard-room keeper, in which business he is still engaged. chapter xv. we fall down and climb again. at the annual meeting of the league held in providence r. i., december th, , the worcester and troy clubs resigned their membership, neither of them being cities of sufficient size to support a team as expensive as one good enough to have a chance for championship honors in such company must of necessity be, and new york and philadelphia were elected to fill the vacancies. at the same time a. g. mills was elected to fill the vacancy in the league presidency caused by the death of mr. hulbert. the league circuit in again consisted of eight cities, while the number of games necessary to constitute a series had been increased from twelve to fourteen. the only change in the personnel of the chicagos was the substitution of fred pfeffer for joe quest at second base. the fight between chicago and boston, providence and cleveland was veritably a battle of the giants, and as a result excitement throughout the country ran high and big crowds everywhere were the rule. the boston team, with m. hines and hackett as catchers, buffington and whitney, pitchers; morrill, first base; burdock, second base; sutton, third base; wise, shortstop; horning, left field; smith, center field; radford, right field; and brown, substitute, proved to be a trifle the strongest, they carrying off the pennant with a total of games won and lost, while chicago came next on the list with games won and lost. providence, which stood third, won games and lost , while cleveland, which came fourth, had games won and games lost to its credit. buffalo, new york, detroit and philadelphia followed in the order named. brouthers of the buffalo team again stood first on the list of batsmen with a percentage of . , while your humble servant had fallen down to the twelfth place on the list, my percentage being . . the event of the season, or of the year perhaps, i should say, was the adoption of a document then known as the tripartite agreement, now known as the national agreement, which was formulated by a. g. mills, john b. day and a. h. soden, representing the league; o. p. caylor, william barnier and lewis simmons, representing the american association, and elias mather of the grand rapids, michigan, club, acting for the northwestern league. this document, among other things, provided that no contract should be made for the services of any player for a longer period than seven months, beginning april st and terminating october st, and that no contract for their services should be made prior to october th of the year on which such services terminated. it also provided that on the th day of october of each year the secretary of each association should transmit to the secretary of each other association a reserve list of players, not exceeding fourteen in number, then under contract with each of its several club members, and of such players reserved on any prior annual reserve list, who had refused to contract with said club's members, and of all other eligible players, and such players, together with all other thereafter to be regularly contracted with by such club members, are and shall be eligible to contract with any other club members of either association party hereto. the object of this was to prevent what was then at that time a growing evil, the stealing of players by one club from another, and that it was successful in that respect there can be no denying. the reserve clause was not popular with many of the players, however, and it was this that later on led to the brotherhood revolt and a general shaking up in base-ball circles. such had been the boom in base-ball in , and so promising did the outlook seem from a monetary standpoint for a similar boom in that henry v. lucas, of st. louis, evidently believing that there was millions in it, organized and took hold of the short-lived union association, the failure of which wrecked him in both purse and spirit. this association was organized at pittsburg in september, , and was launched with a great flourish of trumpets, the cities agreed upon for the circuit being washington, st. louis, altoona, pa., boston, baltimore, cincinnati, philadelphia and chicago. of the fifty league players, who, it had been given out, would break their contracts and join them, not a baker's dozen showed up when the time came. only five of the original clubs played out their schedules, these being the st. louis, cincinnati, boston, baltimore and nationals of washington, they finishing in the order named, boston and baltimore being tied for the third place. the union association season opened on april th. within six weeks of that time the altoona club gave up the fight, being succeeded by kansas city. the keystone club of philadelphia lasted until august, and was then succeeded by the wilmington, del., club, which had been persuaded to desert the eastern league by mr. lucas. in september they, too, passed it up and milwaukee took the vacant place, they lasting but a short time. the chicago union association club, a weak sister at the best, played along to almost empty benches until august, when it gave up the fight and transferred its team to pittsburg, but that city refused to support it and it finally gave up the ghost about the middle of september. in the meantime the league, which had expelled the deserting players, was having a most exciting and prosperous season, though the majority of clubs had signed many more players than they had any use for, the object being to keep them away from the union association. for the chicago club that season no less than nineteen players were signed, some of whom were seldom called upon to play. the regulars, that is, the men who were depended upon to do the playing, were corcoran, goldsmith and clarkson, pitchers; flint and kelly, catchers; anson, first base; pfeffer, second base; williamson, third base; burns, shortstop; dalrymple, gore, kelly and sunday in the outfield. in some way or other we got started off with the wrong foot first, as the horsemen would, say, and the end of may found us in the fifth place, boston and providence being the leaders, and at the end of june we had not improved our position. from that time on the providence club played great ball, the wonderful endurance of pitcher radbourne being one of the features of the season, and though we rallied in september and october, winning every game that we played in the last-named month, the best that we could do was to beat new york for the fourth place, each club winning games and losing . the championship record showed games won and lost for the providence club, games won and lost for boston, and games won and lost for buffalo, while philadelphia, cleveland and detroit brought up the rear. in the matter of averages james o'rourke again led the list, with a percentage of . to his credit. the position that the club occupied at the close of that season was not satisfactory to me, as i felt that it should have been better, but there was no use crying over spilt milk, the only thing to do being to try it again. at the close of the season corcoran, whose pitching days were about over, was released, as was also goldsmith, whose work had not been of the first class, and clarkson and mccormick, the latter having played with the cleveland team the year before, were relied upon to puzzle the opposing batsmen, the other members of the team being flint, kelly, anson, pfeffer, williamson, burns, dalrymple, gore and sunday. o. p. beard, c. marr, e. e. sutcliffe and joe brown were all given a trial, but released early in the season. the st. louis club, of which mr. lucas was the president, was taken in in order to fill the vacancy caused by the withdrawal of cleveland, and this act on the part of the league so incensed president mills that he resigned, the three offices of president, secretary and treasurer being combined in nicholas e. young, who is still at the head of the league affairs, with headquarters at the national capital. the records of show that there were really but two clubs in the race from start to finish, these representing the rival clubs of new york and chicago, and as between them it was nip and tuck almost to the last minute. at the end of the month of may the new york team was in the lead, they having won out of the games they had played that month, while chicago, which stood second, had only won out of the games that it played. the month of june saw a change in the program, however, chicago winning games out of the played that month, while new york only won out of the that it took part in. during the month of july it looked like anybody's race as between the two leaders, each winning games, though chicago sustained but six defeats as against seven for the representatives of the eastern metropolis. in the succeeding month new york had a shade the better of it, they winning out of games played, while chicago won only out of . in september it was again our turn, however, and we won games out of , new york having to be content with out of . the last of september and the first of october saw the pennant "cinched," so far as we were concerned. the new yorks finished the season with four games at chicago and three of these they needed in order to win the championship. they had already won nine out of the twelve games that they had played with us during the season, and looked upon the result here as a foregone conclusion. they reckoned without their host, however, on this occasion, as we won three straight games from them, the scores being to , to , and to respectively. our totals for the season showed games won and lost, as against games won and lost for the giants. philadelphia came third with games won and lost, while providence occupied the fourth place with games won and lost. boston, detroit, buffalo and st. louis finished as named. there were a good many funny stories told about those closing games between new york and chicago. the admirers of the giants came on to witness the games in force, and so certain were they that their pets would win that they wagered their money on the result in the most reckless fashion. even the newspaper men who accompanied them on the trip caught the contagion. p. j. donohue, of the new york "world," since deceased, was one of the most reckless of these. he could see nothing in the race but new york, and no sooner had he struck the town than he began to hunt for someone who would take the chicago end of the deal. about nine o'clock the night before the playing of the first game he appeared in the "inter ocean" office and announced that he was looking for somebody who thought chicago could win, as he wished to wager $ on the result. he was accommodated by the sporting editor of that paper. the next night after the giants had lost p. j. again appeared on the scene and announced his readiness to double up on the result of the second game. he was accommodated again, and again. new york was the loser. still a third time did p. j. appear with an offer to double up the whole thing on the result of the next game. this looked like a bad bet for the local man, but local pride induced him to make the wager. for the third time the giants went down before the white stockings, and that night p. j. was missing, but a day or two afterwards he turned up quite crestfallen, and had a draft on new york cashed in order that he might get back home again. mr. donohue was not the only man who went broke on the result, however. there was not a man on the delegation that accompanied the giants that did not lose, and lose heavily on the games, which went a long ways toward illustrating the glorious uncertainties of base-ball. the season of saw another change in the national league circuit, buffalo and providence dropping out of the fight. the vacant places were taken by kansas city and washington. the detroit club, thanks to a deal engineered by fred stearns, was greatly strengthened by securing the quartette of players from the buffalo club known as the "big four," these being white, rowe, richardson and brouthers, which made them a most formidable candidate for championship honors, and which, indeed, they might have won had it not been for the philadelphia club, of which harry wright was the manager. commenting on the league season for that year spalding's official guide for says: "the past season of proved to be a very profitable one to a majority of the eight league clubs, those of chicago, new york, philadelphia, boston and detroit all finding it a successful season financially, while chicago profited by bearing off the honors of the league championship for the sixth time during the eleven years' existence of the national league. "the clubs of st. louis, kansas city and washington, however, failed to realize expectations, all three being on the wrong side of the column in profit and loss, as hitherto, good and bad management of the club teams had a great deal to do with the results of the season's campaign, financially and otherwise. "a feature of the season's championship contest was the telling work done by the philadelphia club. this club closed their first season in the league as the tail end of the eight clubs which entered the list that year, the eight including cleveland, providence and buffalo. in philadelphia closed the season as sixth. in they finished third and in october of they held third place, but finally had to close a close fourth, after giving detroit and chicago a terrible shaking up. in fact, the championship games in philadelphia, the latter part of september and first week in october, were among the most noteworthy of the season, for from the d of september to the close of the season in october the club in games with chicago, detroit, st. louis, kansas city and washington won , lost and had two draws. "the struggle for the pennant after the may contest lay entirely between the chicago, detroit, new york and philadelphia clubs, the other four having no show from the very outset. "a notable incident of the campaign was the fact that in the closing month it lay entirely in the hands of the philadelphia club to decide whether' the pennant was to go to detroit or chicago. "when chicago left philadelphia for boston the last of september all detroit was in a fever of excitement at the prospect of their club's success. the only question of interest was, 'would they go through philadelphia safely?' it was only when harry wright's pony league team captured the detroits twice out of four games, one being drawn, that chicago felt relief from anxiety as to the ultimate outcome of the pennant race. it was a gallant struggle by philadelphia, and it made the close of the campaign season one of the most exciting on record. "the league schedule had been raised that season from sixteen to eighteen games, nine to be played on the grounds of each club, and of these only twenty-four remained unplayed at the close of the season, fifteen of which were drawn with the score a tie." this was one of the hardest seasons that i had ever gone through, and when it was over i felt that we were lucky, indeed, to have captured the pennant for the third successive time. the champion team of that year showed but little change in make-up from that of the preceding year, clarkson, mccormick and john flynn being the pitchers; kelly, flint and moolie, catchers; anson, first base; pfeffer, second base; burns, third base; williamson, shortstop; dalrymple, left field; ryan and gore, center field; and sunday, right field. it was a close race that season between, mike kelly and myself for the batting honors of the league, and michael beat me out by a narrow margin at the finish, his percentage being . as against . , while brouthers came third on the list with . . that was the last season that the championship pennant was flown in chicago up to the present writing, and looking back at it now it seems to me an awful long time ago. chapter xvi. ball-players each and every one. the team that brought the pennant back to chicago in the years and was, in my estimation, not only the strongest team that i ever had under my management but, taken all in all, one of the strongest teams that has ever been gotten together in the history of the league, the position of left field, which was still being played by dalrymple being its only weak spot. the fact, however, that "dal" was a terrific batter made up for a great many of his shortcomings in tile field, which would scarcely have been overlooked so easily had it not been for his ability as a wielder of the ash. in its pitching department it was second in strength to none of its competitors and behind the bat were flint and kelly, both of whom were widely and favorably known. the outfield was, to say the least, equal to that of any of the other league clubs, and the infield admittedly the strongest in the country. this was the infield that became famous as "chicago's stone wall," that name being given to it for the reasons that the only way that a ball could be gotten through it was to bat it so high that it was out of reach. the members of that famous infield were williamson, pfeffer, burns and myself, and so long had we played together and so steadily had we practiced that there was scarcely a play made that we were not in readiness to meet. we had a system of signals that was almost perfect, and the moment that a ball was hit and we had noted its direction we knew just what to look for. we were up to all the tricks of the game, and better than all else we had the greatest confidence in each other. i had shifted the positions of williamson and burns and the former was now playing shortstop and the latter third base. at third base burns was as good as the best of them, he excelling at the blocking game, which he carried on in a style that was particularly his own and which was calculated to make a base-runner considerable trouble. at short williamson was right in his element and in spite of his size he could cover as much ground in that position as any man that i have ever seen. while his throwing was of the rifle-shot order, it was yet easy to catch, as it seemed to come light to your hands, and this was also true of the balls thrown by pfeffer and burns, both of whom were very accurate in that line. of the merits of williamson and burns as ball players i have already spoken in another chapter. fred pfeffer, who came from louisville, ky., was a ball-player from the ground up, and as good a second baseman as there was in the profession, the only thing that i ever found to criticize in his play being a tendency to pose for the benefit of the occupants of the grand stand. he was a brilliant player, however, and as good a man in this position according to my estimate as any that ever held down the second bag. he was a high-salaried player and one that earned every cent that he received, being a hard worker and always to be relied upon. he was a neat dresser, and while not a teetotaler, never drank any more than he knew how to take care of. as a thrower, fielder and base runner he was in the first class, while as a batsman he was only fair. later on he became tangled up in the brotherhood business, in which he lost considerable of the money that he had laid by for a rainy day. it was some time after the brotherhood revolt, in which fred had been one of the prime movers, and a brief history of which is recorded elsewhere, that he was taken back into the fold. he was anxious to play again in chicago, and i gave him the chance. his health was, however, bad at that time and he was unable to do himself justice and to play the ball that when a well man he was capable of. i hung on to him as long as i could, but when the papers began to howl long and loud about his shortcomings i was finally forced to release him. it was his, health that put him out of the business and nothing else, and had it not been for that drawback he might still be playing ball. at the present writing he is engaged in the poolroom and bookmaking line at chicago and making a living, to say the least of it. john clarkson was a really great pitcher, in fact, the best that chicago ever had, and that is saying a great deal, as chicago has had some of the very best in the profession since the game first became popular within its suburbs. he was the possessor of a remarkable drop curve and fast overhand lifting speed, while his change of pace was most deceiving. he was peculiar in some things, however, and in order to get his best work you had to keep spurring him along, otherwise he was apt to let up, this being especially the case when the club was ahead and he saw what he thought was a chance to save himself. as a fielder he was very fair, and as, a batsman above the average, so far as strength went, though not always to be depended upon as certain to land upon the ball. his home was down at ocean spray, near boston, but he came to us from grand rapids, michigan. he was released to the bostons in the spring of for the sum of $ , , and played with that team for several years. he is now in the cigar business in michigan and is, i ant glad to learn, successful. pitchers of clarkson's sort are few and far between, as club managers of these latter days can testify. jim mccormick, who was clarkson's alternate in the box, was also one of the best men in his line that ever sent a ball whizzing across the plate. he was a great big fellow with a florid complexion and blue eyes, and was utterly devoid of fear, nothing that came in his direction being too hot for him to handle. he was a remarkable fielder and a good batsman for a pitcher, men who play that position being poor wielders of the ash, as a rule, for the reason, as i have always thought, that they paid more attention to the art of deceiving the batsman that are opposed to them than they do to developing their own batting powers. the most of mccormick's hits landed in the right field, owing to the fact that he swung late at the ball. he came to chicago from cleveland, ohio, but prior to that had pitched in columbus, ohio. he was going back when he joined us, but for all that he pitched a lot of good ball and won many a good game, thanks both to himself and also to the good support that he received. after he left us he drifted down to paterson, n. j., which seems to be a sort of mecca for broken-down ball players, and became identified with the racing business, owning and training for a time quite a string of his own and horses that won for him quite a considerable sum, of money. he is now running a saloon in that new jersey town, and is fairly well-to-do. john flynn, who was the third pitcher in the string, came to chicago from boston and was another good man in the twirling line. he had a wonderful drop ball, good command of the sphere and great speed. he was also a good batter for a pitcher, and a fast fielder. his arm gave out while he was with us, however, and besides that he got into fast company and, attempting to keep up the clip with his so-called friends, found the pace much too rapid for him and fell by the wayside. john was a good fellow, and with good habits, and had his arm held out, he might have made his mark in the profession, but the good habits he lacked and the arm was not strong enough to bear the strain, so he dropped out of the business, and what has become of him i know not, though i think he is in boston. moolie, who had been signed to relieve kelly and flint behind the bat and to handle the delivery of flynn, was never much of a factor in the game, he not being strong enough to stand the strain. he was let out early for that reason and never developed into a player of any note. he is somewhere in new england at the present time, but just where and what engaged at i am unable to state. james t. ryan was at that time and is now a good ball player. his home was in clinton, mass., and he came to us from the holy cross college, in which team he had been playing. he was a mere boy when he first signed with chicago but promised well, and though for a time he did not come up to the expectations that i had formed regarding him, i kept him on the team. his greatest fault was that he would not run out on a base hit, but on the contrary would walk to his base. this i would not stand, and so i fined him repeatedly, but these fines did little good, especially after the advent of james c. hart, who refused to endorse them and supported ryan in his insubordination, in regard to which i shall have more to say later. ryan was a good hitter, not an overly fast base runner, and a good judge of a fly ball. he was also an accurate left-handed thrower. he could never cover as much ground as people thought, and though he ranked with lange as a batsman, he was not in the same class with that player either as a base runner or a fielder, the californian in the two latter respects being able to race all around him. ryan at the present writing is still a member of the chicago team, and, though by no means as good a player as he was some years ago, is quite likely to remain there as long as mr. hart continues at the head of affairs. william a. sunday, or "billy," as we all called him in those days, was born in ames, iowa, and was as good a boy as ever lived, being conscientious in a marked degree, hardworking, good-natured and obliging. at the time that i first ran across him he was driving an undertaker's wagon in marshalltown, though it was not because of his skill in handling the ribbons that he attracted my attention. there was a fireman's tournament going on at the time of my visit, in which sunday was taking part, and it was the speed that he showed on that occasion that opened my eyes to his possibilities in the base-ball playing line. he was, in my opinion, the fastest man afterwards on his feet in the profession, and one who could run the bases like a scared deer. the first thirteen times that he went to the bat after he began playing with the chicagos he was struck out, but i was confident that he would yet make a ball player and hung onto him, cheering him up as best i could whenever he became discouraged. as a baserunner his judgment was at times faulty and he was altogether too daring, taking extreme chances because of the tremendous turn of speed that he possessed. he was a good fielder and a strong and accurate thrower, his weak point lying in his batting. the ball that he threw was a hard one to catch, however, it landing in the hands like a chunk of lead. since "bill" retired from the diamond he has become noted as an evangelist, and i am told by those who should know that he is a brilliant speaker and a great success in that line. may luck be with him wherever lie may go! i have said that sunday threw a remarkably hard ball to catch, and this was true, but i have noted the same peculiarity in regard to other players that i have met. how to explain the reason for this is a difficult matter. he was not as swift a thrower as either williamson, burns or pfeffer, all of whom sent the ball across the field with the speed of a bullet and with the accuracy of first-class marksmen. in spite of the extreme speed with which they came into the hand, however, they seemed to sort of lift themselves as they came and so landed lightly, while sunday's balls, on the contrary, seemed to gain in weight as they sailed through the air and were heavy and soggy when they struck the hands. this is a strange but true fact, and one that, perhaps some scientists can explain. i confess that i cannot, nor have i ever been able to find anybody that could do so to my satisfaction. of the members of this old team the most famous in the history of chicago as a base-ball city, three are dead, flint, williamson and kelly, while the others are scattered far and wide, ryan being the only one of them that is still playing. over the graves of three of them the grass has now been growing for many a year, and yet i can see them as plainly now as in the golden days of the summers long ago, when, greeted by the cheers of an admiring multitude, we all played ball together. if it were possible for the dead to come back to us, how i should like once more to marshall the members of that championship team of , ' and ' together and march with them once more across the field while the cheers of the crowd rang in our ears. but that i can never do. the past is dead, and there is no such thing as resurrecting it, however much we may wish to do so. i cannot close this chapter without mentioning little willie hahn, our mascot in those days, and, a mascot of whom we were exceedingly proud. not more than four or five years ago his parents lived in a three-story house not far front the old congress street grounds. the first time that i ever saw him he came on the grounds arrayed in a miniature chicago uniform, and so cunning was he that we at once adopted him as our "mascot," giving him the freedom of the grounds, and he was always on hand when the club was at home, being quite a feature, and one that pleased the lady patrons of the game immensely. i had lost sight of him for years, but one day a fine, manly-looking fellow walked into my billiard-room and introduced himself as the mascot of those other days. i was glad to see him and also glad to learn that he has a good position and is getting on in the world. chapter xvii. while fortune frowns and smiles. should i omit to mention herein the two series of games that the chicagos played with the st. louis browns, champions of the american association, in and , somebody would probably rise to remark that i was in hopes that the public had forgotten all about them. such is not the case, however. the games in both cases were played after the regular season was over and after the players had in reality passed out of my control, and for that reason were not as amenable to the regular discipline as when the games for the league championship were going on. the st. louis browns was a strong organization, a very strong one, and when we met them in a series of games for what was styled at the time the world's championship, in the fall of , they would have been able, in my estimation, to have given any and all of the league clubs a race for the money. in the series of games, one of which was played at chicago, three in st. louis, one at pittsburg, and two at cincinnati, we broke even, each winning three games, the odd one being a tie, and as a result the sum of $ , , which had been placed in the office of the "mirror of american sports," of which t. z. cowles, of chicago, was the editor, to be given to the winning team, was equally divided between the two teams. at the close of the season of the st. louis team, having again won the championship of the american association, another series of games was arranged and a provision was made that the gate money, which hitherto had been equally divided between the two clubs, should all go to the winner. the series consisted of six games, three of which were played in chicago and three in st. louis. the first and third of these games we won by scores of to and to , but the second, fourth, fifth and sixth we lost, the scores standing to , to , to and to respectively, and as a result we had nothing but our labor for our pains. we were beaten, and fairly beaten, but had some of the players taken as good care of themselves prior to these games as they were in the habit of doing when the league season was in full swim, i am inclined to believe that there might have been a different tale to tell. there was a general shaking up all along the line before the season of opened. the kansas city and st. louis clubs, neither of which had been able to make any money, dropped out, their places being taken by pittsburg and indianapolis. the sensation of the year was the sale of mike kelly to the boston club by the chicago management for the sum of $ , , the largest sum up to that time that had ever been paid for a ball player, and mike himself benefited by the transaction, as he received a salary nearly double that which he was paid when he wore a chicago uniform. the chicago team for that season consisted of mark baldwin, clarkson and van haltren, pitchers; daly, flint, darling and hardie, catchers; anson, pfeffer, burns and tebeau, basemen; m. sullivan, ryan, pettit, van haltren and darling, fielders. pyle, sprague and corcoran, pitchers, and craig, a catcher, played in a few games, and but a few only. the season, taken as a whole, was one of the most successful in the history of the league up to that time, both from a financial and a playing standpoint. the result of the pennant race was a great disappointment to the boston club management, who, having acquired the services of "the greatest player in the country," that being the way they advertised kelly, evidently thought that all they had to do was to reach out their hands for the championship emblem and take it. "one swallow does not make a summer," however, nor one ball player a whole team, as the boston club found out to its cost, the best that it could do being to finish in the fifth place. the campaign of opened on april th, the new york and philadelphia clubs leading off in the east and detroit and indianapolis clubs in the west. at the end of the first month's play detroit was in the lead, with boston a good second, new york third, philadelphia fourth and chicago fifth. the team under my control began a fight for one of the leading positions in june, and when the end of that month came they were a close fourth, detroit, boston and new york leading them, while philadelphia, pittsburg, washington and indianapolis followed in the order named. the boys were playing good ball at this stage of the game and our chances for the pennant had a decidedly rosy look. during the month of july we climbed steadily toward the top of the ladder, and at the end of that month we were in second place, and within striking distance of detroit, that team being still the leader, while boston had fallen back to the third and new york to fourth place. these positions were maintained until the last week of august, when the chicago and detroit teams were tied in the matter of games won. at this time it was still anybody's race so far as the two leaders were concerned. the middle of september saw a change in the condition of affairs, however, detroit having secured a winning lead, and from that time on all of the interest centered in the contest for second place between chicago, philadelphia and new york. by the end of september new york was out of the fight so far as second place was concerned, the battle for which had narrowed down to chicago and philadelphia, which finally went to the latter after a hard struggle. the detroits that season won games and lost , the philadelphias won games and lost , the chicagos won games and lost so, boston, pittsburg, washington and indianapolis finishing in the order named. the champions of that year also succeeded in doing what we had failed to accomplish, that is, they beat the st. louis browns by one game in the series for the world's championship that was played after the close of the regular league season. in the matter of the batting averages for that year i stood second on the list, with a percentage of . , having taken part in games, while maul, of the pittsburg team, who led the list with . , had only taken part in sixteen games, these figures including bases on balls as base hits. the league circuit for remained the same as in , and all of the clubs made money with the exception of detroit, washington and indianapolis, and their losses were small. the attendance at the games everywhere was something enormous, and the race between the four leaders a hot one from start to finish. early in the spring the chicago club management pocketed another check for $ , for the release of a player, the one to join the hub forces this time being john clarkson, a man who had often pitched the chicago club to victory, and a player that i personally regretted to part with. with the assistance of this really great pitcher the boston management hoped to get even for their disappointment of the preceding season and once more fly the pennant over their home grounds, to which it had for some years been a stranger. with clarkson and kelly out of the way we were looked upon prior to the opening of the season as a rather soft mark by the other league clubs, but that they reckoned without their host is shown by the records. we were in it, and very much in it, from start to finish, finishing in the second place, the championship going to new york, the team from the eastern metropolis winning games and losing , while chicago won games and lost , philadelphia came third on the list with games won and lost, and boston fourth with games won and lost, detroit, pittsburg, indianapolis and washington following in the order named. the chicago team that season consisted of baldwin, tener, krock and van haltren, pitchers; daly, flint, farrell and darling, catchers; anson, pfeffer and burns on the bases; williamson, shortstop, and sullivan, ryan, pettit and duffy in the outfield. among the men signed, and who were given a trial, were hoover, sprague, brynon, clark, maine and gumbert. in the matter of batting averages i again led the league with . , beckley of pittsburg being second with . , a difference in my favor of only a single point. a long time before this season was over i became interested financially in a proposed trip to be made by the chicago club and a picked team, to be called the all-americans, to australia and new zealand, a. g. spalding, leigh s. lynch and one or two others being associated in the venture. the management of this trip and the details thereof were left entirely in the hands of messrs. spalding and lynch, the latter-named gentleman having been associated with a. m. palmer in the management of the union square theater at new york, and having passed some time in australia in connection with the theatrical business, had a wide acquaintance there. when the subject was first broached, it is safe to assert that there was not a man connected with the enterprise that had any idea that the journey would be lengthened out to a trip around the world, but such proved to be the case. in february of mr. lynch departed for australia in order to make the necessary arrangements there for the appearance of the tourists. posters of the most attractive description were gotten ready for the trip, and long before the season was over the fact that we were going became known to every one in the land who took any interest in base-ball whatever, the proposed trip even then exciting a large amount of interest. mr. lynch, who had returned, had awakened considerable interest among the australians, and long before the actual start was made the prospects, both from a sight-seeing and money-making standpoint seemed to be most alluring. one would naturally have thought that with such a chance to travel in strange lands before them, every ball player in america would have been more than anxious to make the trip, but such was not the case, greatly to my astonishment, and to the astonishment of mr. spalding, upon whose shoulders devolved the duty of selecting the players who should represent the national game in the antipodes. ten players of the chicago team signed to go at once, these being ned williamson, tom burns, tom daly, mark baldwin, jimmy ryan, fred pfeffer, john tener, mark sullivan, bob pettit and myself, but the getting together of the all-american team was quite a difficult matter. many of the players who had at first signed to go backed out at almost the last moment, among them being mike kelly of the bostons and mike tiernan of the new yorks. the following team to represent all-america was finally gotten together: john m. ward, shortstop and captain; healy and crane, pitchers; earle, catcher; carroll, manning and wood on the bases, and fogerty, hanlon and t. brown in the outfield. george wright accompanied the party to coach the two teams in their cricket matches. one of the pleasantest incidents of the year that i can recall to mind occurred during our last trip to washington. frank lawler, who was them a member of congress from chicago, and who was as big-hearted and wholesouled a fellow as ever stood in shoe leather (he is dead now, more's the pity), learned of our projected trip and procured for us an audience with president cleveland at the white house, where we met with a most cordial reception, and i think i am violating no confidence when i say that had we been at home when the election took place in november following, he would have received the vote of every man in the team, though i am afraid this would not have affected the result to any appreciable extent. when i was introduced to him as the captain and manager of the chicago club he shook hands with me in a most cordial fashion and remarked that he had often heard of me, a fact that did not seem so strange to me as it might have done some seventeen years earlier, when my name had never been printed in anything besides the marshalltown papers. the impression that i gained of president cleveland at that time was that he was a level-headed, forceful business man, a genial companion, and a man that having once made up his mind to do a thing would carry out his intentions just as long as he believed, that he was right in doing. for each and every member of the team he had a cheerful word and a hearty grip, and when we finally took our departure he wished us a pleasant trip and a successful one. i had made up my mind to take mrs. anson with me, and so, as soon as the playing season was over, we began making the necessary preparations for our departure. these did not take long, however. the afternoon of october th the chicago and all-american teams played a farewell game in the presence of , people on the league grounds at chicago, which was won by the chicagos by a score of to , and that night we were off for what proved to be the first trip around the world ever made by american ball players, a trip that will ever live in base-ball annals and in the memories of those who were so fortunate as to make it. chapter xviii. from chicago to denver. it was a jolly party that assembled in the union depot on the night of october th, , and the ball players were by no means the center of attraction, as there were others there to whom even the ball players took off their hats, and these were the ladies, as mrs. ed. williamson, the wife of the famous ball player, and mrs. h. i. spalding, the stately and white-haired mother of mr. spalding, as well as my own blue-eyed wife, had determined upon making the trip that few people have the opportunity of making under circumstances of such a favorable nature. in addition to these outsiders, so far as ball playing was concerned, were president spalding, of the chicago club; harry simpson, of the newark, n. j., team, who acted as mr. spalding's assistant; newton mcmillan, the correspondent of the new york "sun;" mr. goodfriend, of the chicago "inter ocean;" harry palmer, correspondent of the philadelphia "sporting times" and new york "herald," and james a. hart, then of the milwaukee club, but now of chicago. the chicago, burlington & quincy railroad had provided for our accommodation two handsomely furnished cars, a dining and a sleeping car, and in these we were soon perfectly at home. it was just seven o'clock when the train pulled out for st. paul, that being our first objective point, with the cheers and good wishes of the host of friends that had assembled at the depot to see us off still ringing in our ears. we had dinner that night in the dining car shortly after leaving chicago, and long before the meal was over the tourists had become a veritable happy family. as we sailed along through the gathering darkness over bridges and culverts and by stations that seemed like phantoms in the dim light the song of the rail became monotonous in our ears, and we turned for recreation to that solace of the traveler, cards, with which every one in the party seemed well provided. it was not long before the rolling of the chips made the sleeper resemble a gambling hall more than anything else, and the cheering and enthusiastic crowds that greeted us at every stopping place received but a small share of our attention at our hands. as the ladies in the party had given the boys permission to smoke where and when they pleased, the blue veil that hung over the various tables was soon thick enough to cut with a knife. a mandolin and guitar in the party added to our enjoyment, and it was not until the midnight hour had come and gone that we sought our couches. when we arrived at st. paul on sunday morning we found a large crowd at the depot to greet us. a game had been scheduled for that afternoon, st. paul being in those days a wide-open town, and sunday the one great day in the week so far as base-ball was concerned. "the frost was on the pumpkins" and the air so chilly that a winter overcoat would have felt much more comfortable than a base-ball uniform. nevertheless it would not do to disappoint the people, , of whom had assembled at the grounds to see us play. in the absence of mike kelly, who had faithfully promised mr. spalding that he would join us at denver, and didn't, frank flint, "old silver," who had been prevailed upon to accompany the party as far as denver, was sent in to catch for the all-americans, and as kelly's name was on the score card it was some time before the crowd discovered that it was "old silver" and not the "ten thousand dollar beauty" that was doing the catching. flint's batting was not up to the kelly standard, however, and they soon tumbled to the fact that flint was an impostor. at the end of the sixth inning, and with the score standing at to in favor of the chicagos, the game was called in order that the chicago club might play a game with the st. pauls, then under the management of john s. barnes. this game attracted far more interest than the preceding one, owing to the local color that it assumed, and the crowd waxed decidedly enthusiastic when the game was called at the end of the seventh inning on account of darkness, with the score standing at to in st. paul's favor. so elated was manager barnes over the victory of his pets that he at once challenged me for another game with the chicagos, to be played at minneapolis the following day, a challenge that i accepted without the least hesitation. the special cars in which we journeyed were run down to minneapolis the next morning, where we had a royal reception, in which a parade in a dozen landaus drawn by horses with nodding plumes of old gold and new gold blankets, and headed by a band of twenty-one pieces, led by a drum-major resplendent in scarlet and gold, was not the least of the attractions. in spite of the fact that the day was even colder than the one that we had encountered at st. paul, some , people assembled to witness the game. van haltren pitched an excellent game for the all-americans on this occasion, while tener was freely hit and badly supported, the result being that we were beaten by a score of to , but four innings being played. then followed the game that the crowd was most anxious to see, that being the one between the chicagos and st. pauls. for the st. pauls tuckerman pitched and billy earle caught, while i sent in mark baldwin to do the twirling for the chicagos. it was a pretty game, and as neither side scored for four innings the excitement ran high. in the fifth inning the st. pauls were again retired with a goose egg and pfeffer crossed the home plate with a winning run for the chicagos. it was a great game for the st. paul club to play, and manager barnes had a right to be proud of the showing they had made, as he certainly must have been. there was but little time for sight-seeing left when the game was over, and at seven o'clock that evening we were on the road for cedar rapids, iowa, which was to be our next stopping point. the great majority of us retired early, but the sleep that we got was scarcely worth talking about, as tom daly, whose propensity for practical jokes was unbounded, kept the car in a roar of laughter. no one was exempt that could be reached, and as a result there was no sleep for any of us. at cedar rapids, where we arrived tuesday morning, we were the recipients of quite an ovation, and our cars, which had been switched on a side-track near the union depot, attracted as much attention as though they contained a whole menagerie instead of a few traveling ball players. special trains were run in from adjacent towns, and long before the hour set for the game the town was crowded with visitors. the day was a beautiful one and the crowd that assembled at the grounds would have done credit to a league city, the attendance numbering , . a crowd like that deserved to see a good game, and that is what they were treated to, the score being a tie in the fifth inning and again in the eighth, it then standing at five each. in the ninth inning ryan crossed the plate with the winning run for chicago, and the crowd cheered themselves hoarse over the result, though they would doubtless have cheered just as long and hard had the all-american team been the victors. at : that evening we left cedar rapids for des moines, arriving at the state capital the next morning. thus far all of our traveling had been done in the darkness, but as there was nothing to be seen save the rolling prairies, that i had been familiar with as a. boy, this occasioned no regret so far as i was concerned. at des moines some , people turned out to witness the game, which proved to be close and exciting. at the request of some of the citizens hutchinson and sugie, of the des moines club, were allowed to fill the points for the all-americans, baldwin and ryan doing the pitching for chicago. the local men proved to be decidedly good in their line, and as a result the score at the end of the ninth inning stood at to in favor of the all-americans. on across the prairies, where the ripened corn stood in stacks, the train sped to omaha, where we arrived the morning of october th, and we were met with another great reception. here clarence duval turned up, and thereby hangs a story. clarence was a little darkey that i had met some time before while in philadelphia, a singer and dancer of no mean ability, and a little coon whose skill in handling the baton would have put to the blush many a bandmaster of national reputation. i had togged him out in a suit of navy blue with brass buttons, at my own expense, and had engaged him as a mascot. he was an ungrateful little rascal, however, and deserted me for mlle. jarbeau, the actress, at new york, stage life evidently holding out more attractions for him than a life on the diamond. tom burns smuggled him into the carriage that day, tatterdemalion that he was, and when we reached the grounds he ordered us to dress ranks with all the assurance in the world, and, taking his place in front of the players as the band struck up a march, he gave such an exhibition as made the real drum major turn green with envy, while the crowd burst into a roar of laughter and cheered him to the echo. when, later in the day, i asked him where he had come from, he replied that miss jarbeau had given him his release that morning. i told him that he was on the black list and that we had no use for deserters in our business. "spec's you's a' right, cap'n," he replied and then he added, with a woe-begone expression of countenance that would have brought tears of pity to the eyes of a mule: "i'se done had a mighty ha'd time of et since i left all you uns." i told him that he looked like it, but that he had deserved it all, and that we were done with him, and this nearly broke his heart. when i got back to the car i found the little "coon" there, and ordered him out, but the boys interceded for him, raised a purse, in which i chipped in my share, of course, and i finally consented that he should accompany us as far as san francisco, and farther, provided that he behaved himself. the little coon did not prove to be much of a mascot for chicago that afternoon, as the all-americans dropped to ryan's slow left-handed delivery after the fifth inning, he having been a puzzle to them up to that time, and pounded him all over the field, they finally winning by a score of to . the heavy batting pleased the omaha people, however, and they cheered the all-americans again and again. that night we were off for hastings, neb., where we were scheduled to play the next day. arriving there clarence duval was taken out, given a bath, against which he fought with tooth and nail, arrayed in a light checked traveling suit with a hat to match, new underwear and linen, patent leather shoes and a cane. when he marched onto the field that afternoon he was the observed of all observers, and attracted so much attention from president spalding, who had been absent on a trip to kansas city, and who had returned just in time to see his performance, that it was at once decided to take him to australia. the contract that he was made to sign was an ironclad one, and one that carried such horrible penalties with it in case of desertion that it was enough to scare the little darkey almost to death. when i looked him over that night on the train i told him that i should not be in the least surprised were he again to desert us at san francisco, and especially if miss jarbeau should run across him. "den dat's jest 'case you doan' know me," he retorted; "i specs dat if dat 'ooman sees me now," and here he looked himself over admiringly, "she's jes' say to me, 'my gracious, clarence, whar you been? come right along wid me, my boy, an' doan' let me lose sight ob you no more.' i know she'd just say dat." "what would you say then?" i asked. "what i say? why, i jes' say, 'go on, white 'ooman, don't know you now, an' i nebber did know you. no, sir, mr. anson, i'se done wid actresses de rest ob my nat-rel life, you heah me." to my astonishment he kept his word, remaining with us all through the trip and returning with us to chicago. outside of his dancing and his power of mimicry he was, however, a "no account nigger," and more than once did i wish that he had been left behind. just before the game at hastings began a section of the grand stand, some twenty feet in height, gave way, but as no one was killed, and as there were , people present, many of whom had come from the surrounding towns to witness the game, the accident was soon lost sight of. the game resulted in a victory for chicago by a score of to . baldwin pitched for the chicagos and van haltren for the all-american team. on our way from hastings to denver that night we met the train from st. louis at oxford, neb., and were joined by capt. john ward and ed crane of the new york team; capt. manning of the kansas citys had joined us at hastings, and when billy earle of st. paul, who had been telegraphed for, met us at denver, the party was complete, hengle, long and flint leaving us at that point to return to chicago. the early morning of the th found us speeding over the plains some fifty miles east of denver. as we looked out of the car windows while at breakfast that morning we caught glimpses of the snow-capped mountains in the distance, and so near did they seem to be in the rarefied atmosphere that they seemed not more than six or seven miles away, consequently we were much surprised when informed by the conductor that they were forty-eight miles distant. i have since been told the story of a sleeping-car conductor who had been running into denver for some time, and who sat in the dining-room at brown's palace hotel one morning looking over toward the foothills, remarked to the steward that the next time he came there he intended to take a little run over there before breakfast. asked how far he thought it was he replied, some two or three miles, and was astonished when informed that they were twenty-two miles distant. we found denver a really beautiful city and both my wife and myself were astonished by the handsome buildings that were to be seen on every side and by the unmistakable signs of prosperity that surrounded us. the parade to the grounds that afternoon was a showy one and we were greeted by great crowds all along the line. the game was witnessed by , people, who recognized every player the moment he appeared. the field was a bad one, and this, combined with the rarefied atmosphere, to which the players were not accustomed, caused both teams to put up a decidedly poor game, as is shown by the score, which stood at to in favor of the chicagos. the next day, however, in the presence of , people, the players more than redeemed themselves, john ward making his first appearance with the all-americans, and playing the position of shortstop in a masterly fashion. the fielding on both sides was superb, and it was not until two extra innings had been played that the victory finally remained with the all-americans, the score standing at to . the feature of the game and the play that captured the crowd was hanlon's magnificent running catch of sullivan's long fly, which brought the crowd to its feet and resulted in a storm of cheers that did not cease until that player had raised his cap to the grand stand in recognition of the ovation. our two days' stay in denver was made decidedly pleasant, and we saw as much of the city as possible, although not as much as we should have liked to have seen had we had more time at our disposal. chapter xix. from denver to san francisco. colorado springs, the fashionable watering place of all colorado, was to be our next stopping place. leaving denver on the night of october th, we were obliged to change from the broad-gauge cars in which we had been traveling, into narrow-gauge cars, in which we journeyed as far as ogden, and they seemed for a time cramped and uncomfortable as compared with the "q." outfit. we soon became used to them, however, and managed to enjoy ourselves as thoroughly as though we had no end of room in which to turn around and stretch ourselves. i have neglected to say that the old gentleman, or "pa" anson, as the boys soon began to call him in order to distinguish him from myself, had joined us at starting, and the fact that accommodations for poker parties were rather cramped, gave him a chance to grumble, that he was not slow to take advantage of. he soon became a great favorite with all the party and as base-ball and poker had always been his favorite amusements, he found himself for at least once in his life in his natural element, it being one of his theories of life that he would rather play poker and lose right along than not to play at all. he found no difficulty in that crowd in getting up a poker party at any time, and was consequently happy, though whether he won or lost, and how much, i cannot say. there was a large crowd at the denver depot to see us off, and we left the colorado metropolis with many regrets, so pleasant had been our visit there. the day was just breaking when we arrived at colorado springs the next morning, and save for a few early risers, the depot was deserted. at the depot awaiting our arrival were carriages and saddle horses, which had been telegraphed for from denver in order that we might enjoy a flying visit to manitou and the garden of the gods before playing the afternoon game. there was a general scramble at the depot for a choice of steeds, the park wagons, three in number, having been reserved for the use of the ladies and such members of the party whose education in the riding line had been neglected. i was not as quick as i might have been and had the comfort of mrs. anson to look after beside; as a result there fell to my lot a cross-eyed sorrel that had evidently spent the greater part of his life in chasing cattle among the mountains, and that true to his natural proclivities gave me no end of trouble before the morning was over. the sun was just turning the top of pike's peak, some eighteen miles distant, into a nugget of gold, when we left the depot, but so plainly could we see the crevices that seamed its massive sides that it looked not to be more than five miles distant. to our right rose the peaks of sandstone that form the gateway to the garden of the gods, and below us ran the narrow roadway through the valley like a belt of silver. manitou, six miles distant, was reached without accident, and here we stopped to have breakfast at the cliff house, and to drink of the clear waters of the silver springs that have become justly famous the world over. breakfast over we resumed our ride, turning off into a little valley a mile below the hotel that formed the rear entrance to the garden of the gods. the sandstone formation here was of the most peculiar character and the ladies of the party went into ecstasy over "punch and judy," "the balanced rock," "the mushroom rock," "the duck," "the frog," "the lady of the garden," and the "kissing camels." the great sandstone rocks that form the gateway come in for their share of admiration and i think we could still have found something to look at and admire had we remained there for a month instead of for the brief time that was at our disposal. that one morning's experience did more to convince me than anything else that there is no use for the american to travel in search of scenery, as he has some of the grandest in the world right here in his own country. after admiring the many remarkable things that were to be seen there we made on through the gateway down the valley and then to the summit of the hill, some two miles in height. here we debouched on to a little plateau, from which we obtained a magnificent view of pike's peak crowned with its eternal snows; cheyenne mountains, looking dark and sullen by contrast, and the ranges of the rocky mountains that upraised themselves twenty-five miles away, and yet seemed but a few miles distant. that cross-eyed sorrel of mine had persisted in taking me off on a cattle herding exhibition not long after we had left the springs, and at manitou i had turned him over to the tender mercies of bob pettit, who had more experience in that line than i had, and in whose hands he proved to be a most tractable animal--in fact, quite the pick of the bunch, which goes to show that things are not always what they seem, horses and gold bricks being a good deal alike in this respect. mark baldwin's mustang proved to be a finished waltzer, and after the saddle-girth had been broken and mark had been deposited at full length in the roadway, he turned his animal over to sullivan, who soon managed to become his master. it was a morning filled with trials and tribulations, but we finally turned up at colorado springs with no bones broken, and so considered that we were in luck. the denver and rio grande people had promised to hold the train an hour for our accommodation, but greatly to our surprise word came to us right in the middle of the game that we had but fifteen minutes in which to catch the train, and so we were obliged to cut the game short and make tracks for the depot. the exhibition that we put up in the presence of that crowd of , people at colorado springs was a miserable one, the rarefied air being more to blame for it than anything else, and when we stopped play at the end of the sixth inning with the score at to in our favor i could hardly blame the crowd for jeering at us. at this point jim hart came very near to being left behind, he having stopped at the ground to adjust the matter of finances, and had he not made a sort of john gilpin ride of it he might even now be browsing on the side of a colorado mountain, and if he were, base-ball would have been none the loser. i am very much afraid that the residents of colorado springs have not to this day a very high opinion of the australian base-ball tourists, but if they are any sorer than i was after my experience with that cross-eyed sorrel, then i am sorry for them. the trip through the grand canon of the arkansas that we entered just as the sun was going down, was a never-to-be-forgotten experience, we viewing it from an observation car that had been attached to the rear of the train. through great walls of rock that towered far above the rails the train plunged, twisting and turning like some gigantic snake in its death agony. into the royal gorge we swung over a suspended bridge that spanned a mountain torrent, and that seemed scarcely stronger than a spider's web, past great masses of rock that were piled about in the greatest confusion, and that must have been the result of some great upheaval of which no records have ever come down to us. we stopped for supper at the little mountain station of solida, and then with the train divided into two sections steamed away for marshall pass, the huge rocks around us looking like grim battlements as they loomed up in the gathering darkness. up and still up we climbed, the train running at times over chasms that seemed bottomless, upon slender bridges and then darting through narrow openings in the rocks that were but just wide enough for the train to pass. reaching the summit of the pass, , feet above the sea level, we jumped from the coaches as the train came to a standstill and found ourselves standing knee-deep in the snow. in the brief space of six hours we had passed from a land of sunshine to a land of snow and ice, and the transition for a time seemed to bewilder us. we had now climbed the back bone of the continent and in a few minutes afterward we were racing down its other side, past the black canon of the gunnison, that we could see but dimly in the darkness, we thundered, and it was long after midnight when, weary with sight-seeing and the unusual fatigue of the day, we retired to our berths. breakfasting the next morning at green river, we soon afterwards entered the mountains of utah, that seemed more like hills of mud than anything else after viewing the wonders of the rockies. on the night of october th we reached salt lake city, the stronghold of the mormon faith, and one of the handsomest and cleanest cities that the far west can boast of. that morning we took in the tabernacle, the great salt lake and other sights of the town, returning to the walker house in time for dinner. the ball ground there was a fairly good one, and we started to play our first game in the presence of , people. in the first half of the fifth inning it started to rain, and how it did rain! the water did not come down in drops, but in bucketfuls. the game, which was called at the end of the fourth inning resulted in a victory for the all-americans, they winning by a score of to . all night long the rain fell, and as it was anything but pleasant under foot, we were content, that is, most of us, to remain within the friendly shelter of the hotels. the grounds next day were still in bad shape, and long before the game was over we were covered with mud from head to heels. the game was a good one so far as the all-americans were concerned, but a bad one on the part of the chicago players, the game going against us by a score of to . that we could not have had pleasant weather and seen more of salt lake city and its environs is a matter of regret with us to this day. the evening of november st found us aboard the cars and off for 'frisco, the paris of america. arriving at ogden at midnight, we found two special sleepers awaiting us, and were soon once more en route. the next day time hung somewhat heavy on our hands and the view from the car window soon became monotonous. dreary wastes of sage brush greeted us on every hand, walled in by the mountains that, bare of verdure, raised their heads above the horizon some thirty miles away. to the pioneers who crossed those arid wastes in search of the new el dorado, belongs all honor and praise, but how they ever managed to live and to reach the promised land is indeed a mystery. the morning of november d found us away up among the mountains of the sierra nevada range, and here the scenery was a magnificent description, the great peaks being clothed almost to their very summits in robes of evergreen. down toward the valleys clad in their suits of emerald green we rolled, the mountains giving away to hills and the hills to valleys as the day drew on, until we finally reached sacramento, where we stopped for breakfast. here we found just such a crowd to greet us as had met the train at denver, the base-ball enthusiasts, who had been notified of our coming, having turned out in full force. leaving sacramento we passed through a most prosperous country dotted with orchards and vineyards as far as the eye could reach until we finally came to a standstill at the little station of suison, thirty miles from san francisco. here we were met by mr. hart, who, in company with frank lincoln, the humorist, and fred carroll, had gone on ahead of us to 'frisco from salt lake city, and who had come out to meet us accompanied by a party of pacific coast base-ball managers, railroad men and representatives of the san francisco press. a telegram from e. j. baldwin, better known by his soubriquet of "lucky baldwin," had been received by mr. spalding during the day, welcoming us to the city and to the baldwin hotel, and apprising us that carriages would be found in waiting for us at the foot of market street. landing from the ferry boats that carried us across the bay from oakland, we found the carriages and proceeded at once to the baldwin hotel, where comfortable quarters had been provided for us. i had been notified by mr. hart while on the steamer, as were a half a dozen other members of the party, to get into a dress suit as soon as possible, and this i did with the help of mrs. anson, shortly after our arrival at the hotel. at o'clock the invited members were escorted by members of the san francisco press and the california base-ball league to marchand's, one of the leading restaurants of the city, where we found a dainty little supper awaiting us, to which i for one at least did full justice. after supper we attended a performance of "the corsair" at the baldwin theater, two proscenium boxes having been reserved for the members of the two teams, all of whom were in full dress, and it seemed to me as if we were attracting fully as much attention, if not more, than were the actors. there was a big republican parade the night that we arrived there and the streets in the neighborhood of the hotel were literally jammed with people, while the cheering and the noise that continued long after the bells had proclaimed the hour of midnight made sleep an impossibility. tired as we were, it was not until the "wee sma' hours" had begun to grow longer that mrs. anson and i retired, and even then the noise that floated up to our ears from the crowds below kept us awake for some time, and that night in my dreams i still fancied that i was on the train and that i could hear the surging of the rails beneath me. glad, indeed, was i the next morning to wake and find that i was once more on solid ground. chapter xx. two weeks in california. we were booked for a stay of two weeks in san francisco, and that two weeks proved to be one continual round of pleasure for every member of the party. the appearance of the city itself was somewhat of a disappointment to me, and i soon grew somewhat tired of climbing up hill only to climb down again. the really fine buildings, too, were few and far between, the majority of them being low wooden structures that looked like veritable fire-traps. they are built of redwood, however, and this, according to the natives, is hard to burn. the fact that the towns had not burned down yet would seem to bear out the truth of their assertion, though the baldwin hotel was built of the same material, and that went up in flames a little over a year ago in such a hurry that some of the people who were stopping there thought themselves lucky to get off with the loss of their wardrobes and baggage, while others who were not so lucky never got out at all. the natural surroundings of the city are, however, decidedly handsome, and i doubt if there is a handsomer sight anywhere than san francisco bay, a bay in which all of the navies of the world could ride at anchor and still have plenty of room for the merchant vessels to come and go. the shores of this bay are lined with beautiful little suburban towns that are within easy reach by boat and sail from san francisco, and it is in these towns that a large proportion of the people doing business in the city reside. the people are most hospitable and at the time of our visit the base-ball foes and cranks, both in the same category, were as thick as were the roses, and roses in california greet you at every turn, not the hot-house roses of the east, that are devoid of all perfume, but roses that are rich with fragrance and that grow in great clusters, clambering about the doorways of the rich and poor alike, drooping over the gateways and making bright the hedges. flowers were to be seen everywhere, and their cheapness at the time of our visit was both the wonder and delight of the ladies. the day after our arrival, november th, dawned bright and beautiful, but the haggard faces and the sleep-laden eyes of the tourists when they assembled at a late hour in the baldwin hotel rotunda boded ill for a good exhibition of the art of playing base-ball that we were to give that day. my forebodings in this respect proved true. the haight grounds were crowded, , people paying admission to see the game, and great crowds lined the streets and greeted us with cheers as we drove in carriages to the scene of action. the practice work on both sides prior to the opening of the game was of a most encouraging character, but as for the game itself--well, the least said the better. tired out with travel and the late hours of the night before, we were in no condition to do ourselves justice. we were over-anxious, too, to put up a great game, and this also told against us. baldwin who pitched for us had no control of the ball, and the stone wall infield of the chicagos, which included yours truly, was way off and could not field a little bit. the score, all-american and chicago , tells the story of the game. that the crowd was disappointed was easy to see. they were good-natured about it, however, and it is safe to say that they did not feel half so badly as we did. our reputation was at stake and theirs was not. that was the difference. two days afterward the all-americans played the greenwood and morans on the same grounds, and the , people who had assembled to witness the game saw the all-americans get a most disgraceful trouncing at the hands of the local team, the score at the end of the game standing at to . it was my misfortune to umpire this game, and i have often been accused since of having given the all-americans the worst of the decision. it is always the privilege of the losers to kick at the umpire, however, and i have even been known to indulge in a gentle remonstrance myself when i thought the circumstances were justifiable. the truth of the matter is that it was the old story of late hours and a lack of condition, crane being unsteady and the support accorded him not up to the standard, while the local club played a good game throughout, getting their hits in where they were needed and playing a really strong game in the field. before another crowd of , people, on november th, the all-americans played the pioneers, another local organization, and though healy pitched a good game for the visitors they were beaten this time by a score of to . ward did not take part in the game on this occasion, he having taken a day off to shoot quail, and the defeat was largely chargeable to the costly errors divided up among hanlon, crane, manning, von haltren, wood and fogarty. in the meantime i had taken the chicago team to stockton, where on the same grounds as the all-americans and pioneers played we stacked up against the stockton club, then one of the strongest organizations in the golden state. the , people assembled at the grounds there saw on that occasion as pretty a game as they could wish to see, the fielding on both sides being of the prettiest sort, and the work of the opposing pitchers, tener for chicago and daly for stockton, of the most effective character. at the end of the ninth inning the score was tied at each, and the darkness coming on we were obliged to let it go at that, the people of stockton being well pleased with the exhibition that they had been treated to by both teams, and especially jubilant over the fact that their own boys had been able to tie a nine of our calibre. the next day the stockton team came down to san francisco to measure strength with the all-americans, baker and albright being their battery on this occasion, as opposed to crane and earle. the all-americans, smarting under their two defeats at the hands of the local team, simply wiped up the ground with the stockton boys on this occasion, pounding baker all over the field and running up a score of as against a single for their opponents. the showing made by the visitors on that occasion opened the eyes of the californian ball-players and from that time on both the pioneers and the stocktons fought shy of both the visiting teams. on the afternoon of november th we, and by that i mean the chicago team, played the haverlys before , spectators and defeated them after a pretty contest by a score of to , baldwin pitching an excellent game for the chicagos, and incell, who was at that time the idol of the pacific coast, a good game for the local team, though his support was weak. the following day , people passed through the gates at the haight street grounds to witness the second game between chicago and all-american teams, and though this was marred by poor work here and there, the fielding was of such a brilliant character, especially the work of chicago's stone wall, as to work the enthusiasm of the crowd up to the highest pitch. tener and von haltren did the twirling on this occasion for chicago and all-americans respectively, and both of them were at their best. the all-americans showed strongest at the bat, however, and as a result we were beaten by a score of to . during the next week the team made a flying trip to los angeles, where two games were played, we being white-washed in the first one and beaten by a score of to in the second. this ended our ball-playing in california, for though it had been the intention to play a farewell game prior to our sailing for australia, a steady rain that set in made this impossible. when we were not playing ball we were either sightseeing in the neighborhood of san francisco or else being entertained by some of the numerous friends that we made during our stay in "the glorious climate of california," the first supper at marchand's being followed by a host of others, and dinner parties, banquets and theater parties were so thickly sandwiched in that it was a matter of wonderment that we were ever able to run the bases at all. there was scarcely a single place of interest accessible to the city that we did not visit, from the cliff house, which is one of the most popular resorts that sari francisco boasts of, its spacious grounds and verandas being thronged with people on sundays and holidays, to the chinese quarter, a portion of the city that no visitor to the golden state should miss seeing, even if he has to make a journey of one hundred miles to do so. the chinese quarter of san francisco is a city in itself, and one in which the contrasts between wealth and poverty is even more marked than it ever was in the seven dials of london. the stores of the well-to-do chinese merchants are filled with the richest of silks, the rarest of teas and the most artistic of bric-a-brac, the carvings in ivory and fancy lacquer work being especially noticeable, but close to them in the narrow streets are the abodes of vice and squalor, and squalor of the sort that reeks in the nostrils and leaves a bad taste for hours afterward in the mouths of the sight-seer. at the time of our visit both the opium dens and the gambling houses were running in full blast, and this in spite of the spasmodic efforts made by the police to close them. john chinaman is a natural born gambler, and to obtain admission to one of his resorts is a more difficult matter than it would be for an ordinary man to obtain an audience with the queen of england. he does his gambling behind walls of steel plate and behind doors that, banged shut as they are at the slightest sign of danger, would have to be battered down with sledges or blown open with dynamite before one could gain admission, and by that time the inmates would have all escaped and nothing would be left behind to show the nature of the business carried on. crime runs rampant in this section of the town, and when a chinaman is murdered, in nine cases out of ten the slayer escapes punishment at the hands of the law, though he may have it meted out to him in some horrible form at the hands of the dead man's friends and relatives. to go through the chinese quarters by daylight is a sight well worth seeing, but to go through there with a guide after the night's dark shadows have fallen, is more than that. it is a revelation. these guides are licensed by the city, and are under the protection of the police. they are as well known to the chinamen as they are to the officers of the law, and the visitor is always safe in following wherever they may lead. the tenement houses in the poorer sections of any great city are a disgrace to modern civilization, but a chinese tenement house is as much worse than any of these as can be imagined. in one section of the chinese quarter at san francisco is a four-story building above ground, with a double basement below, one being under the other, and with an open court extending from the lower basement clear to the roof. in this building, which is jocularly styled by the guides, "the palace hotel of the chinese quarter," and in which a hundred americans would find difficulty in existing, over a thousand chinamen live, sleep and eat, all of the cooking being done on a couple of giant ranges in the basement, which is divided up into shops, opium dens and sleeping quarters. in these shops are some clever artisans in brass and ivory, and the locks that are turned out by hand by some of these brass-workers, and made to a great extent on the same principles as the celebrated locks made in this country by the yale company, are marvels of workmanship in all of their parts, the joints being as neatly filled in as though turned out by the latest improved machinery, the wonder of it all being that the principles upon which they were made have been known to the chinese for thousands of years, the yale locks being apparently nothing but a slight improvement on the original john chinaman ideas. in the opium dens one sees nothing but squalor and misery. a visit to one of them is a visit to them all, and one visit is generally enough to disgust the seeker after strange sensation, the acrid smell of the smoke and the noisome stench of the close rooms being almost unbearable. the joss houses, in which are hideous idols before which tapers and incense are constantly burning, and the chinese theaters, with their never-ending performances, are all strange sights in their way, and sights that are well worth the taking in. the chinese quarter is a blot on the fair name of san francisco, however, and leaving it one wonders how and why it has ever been allowed to grow into its present huge proportions. the memories of these after-dark trips still linger with me even now, like the shadow of some dark dream, and yet i am glad that i made them, if only for the purpose of seeing how the other half of the world manages to exist. in company with tom daly, bob pettit, harry palmer and others of the party i enjoyed several horseback rides through the residence and suburban portions of the city, where i found much to wonder at and admire. during our stay president spalding, captain ward, captain hanlon, mr. and mrs. ed williamson, messrs. mcmillan and palmer, and mrs. anson and myself were handsomely entertained at oakland by mr. waller wallace, of the california "spirit of the times," a paper now defunct, and the glimpses of the bay and city that we caught at that time made the day a most pleasant one, to say nothing of the hospitality that greeted us on every hand. messrs. spalding, ward, mcmillan, palmer and myself were also handsomely entertained by the press club, and also by the merchants' club of san francisco, an organization that numbered among its members at that time many of the leading business men of san francisco and vicinity. the day of our departure for australia had been finally fixed for november th, and the evening before spalding, as a recognition of the kindness with which we had been treated during our stay, gave a farewell banquet to the members of the california league and the san francisco press club at the baldwin hotel, covers being laid for seventy-five guests, among them being several men of prominence in the social and business world of the pacific coast. the menu card for that occasion, which is circular in form and represents a base-ball cover, now lies before me, the idea originating in the fertile brain of frank lincoln. under the heading of "score-card," on the inside, is the magic injunction, "play ball," with which the majority of us who sat at the table were so familiar, and among the courses, "eastern oysters on the home run," "green turtle a la kangaroo," "petit pate a la spalding," "stewed terrapin, a la ward," "frisco turkey a la foul," together with other dishes, all of which had some allusion either to base-ball or to our contemplated australian trip. after we had played ball, the debris cleared away and the cigars lighted, there followed a succession of impromptu speech-making, the toasts and those who replied being as follows: "early californian ball-players," judge hunt of the superior court; "the national league champions, the new york base-ball club," ex-senator james f. grady, of new york; "the san francisco press," w. n. hart, of the san francisco press club; "the good ship alameda," capt. henry g. morse; "a g. spalding and the australian trip," samuel f. short-ride; "the chicago nine," yours truly; "the all-americans," capt. john m. ward; "the 'base-ball' cricketers," george wright. in closing spalding thanked the press and the base-ball people of the coast for the magnificent reception that we had received, and for all the kindness which had been showered upon us since our arrival, after which we bade farewell to those of our friends that we should not see again before our departure. that night all was bustle and confusion about, the hotel. with an ocean journey of , miles before us there was much to be done, and it was again late before we retired to dream of the king of the cannibal islands and the land of the kangaroo. eleven years have rolled away since that trip to san francisco was made and many of the friends that we then met with and that helped to entertain us so royally have passed over the great divide that separate the known from the unknown, but their memory still lingers with us and will as long as life shall last. there was not a minute of the time that was spent on the coast that i did not enjoy myself. i found the californians a warm-hearted, genial and impulsive people, in whose make-up and habits of life there still live the characteristics of those early pioneers who settled there in: "the days of old, the days of gold, the days of ' ." and to whom money came easily and went the same way. chapter xxi. we visit the hawaiian islands. "we sail the ocean blue, our saucy ship's a beauty. we're sailors good and true, and attentive to our duty." so sang the jolly mariners on the good ship pinafore, and so might have sung the members of the chicago and all-american base-ball teams as they sailed out through the golden gate and into the blue waters of the pacific on the afternoon of november , . only at that time we were not in the least sure as to whether the alameda was a beauty or not, pleasant as she looked to the eye, and we had a very reasonable doubt in our minds as to whether we were sailors "good and true." there was a long ocean voyage before us, and the few of us that were inclined to sing refrained from doing so lest it might be thought that, like the boy in the wood, we were making a great noise in order to keep our courage up. we were one day late in leaving san francisco, it having been originally planned to leave here on saturday, november th, and this delay of one day served to cut short our visit at honolulu. the morning of our departure had dawned gray and sullen and rainy, but toward noon the clouds broke away and by two o'clock in the afternoon, the hour set for our departure, the day had become a fairly pleasant one. at the wharf in san francisco, a great crowd had assembled to wish us bon voyage, conspicuous among them being my paternal ancestor, who would have liked well enough to make the entire trip, and who would doubtless have done so could he have spared the necessary time from his business at marshalltown. here, too, we bade farewell to jim hart, van haltren and others of the party who had accompanied us on our trip across the country, and who were now either going to return to their homes or spend the winter in san francisco. hardly had we left the narrow entrance to the harbor, known as the golden gate, and entered the deep blue waters of the pacific before a heavy fog came down upon the surface of the deep, shutting out from our gaze the land that we were fast leaving, and that we were not again destined to see for many months. the steamer was now rising and falling on the long swells of the pacific ocean, but so gently as to be scarcely perceptible, except to those who were predisposed to seasickness, and to whom the prospects of a long voyage were anything but pleasant. i am a fairly good sailor myself, and, though i have been seasick at times, this swell that we now encountered bothered me not in the least. some ten miles from the harbor entrance, the steamer stopped to let the pilot off, and with his departure the last link that bound us to america was broken. our party on board the steamer numbered thirty-five people, and besides these there were some twenty-five other passengers, among them being prof. wm. miller, the wrestler, whose name and fame are well known to athletes the world over, and who in company with his wife was bound for australia. sir jas. willoughby, an effeminate-looking englishman of the dude variety, whose weakness for cigarettes and champagne soon became known to us, and who was doing a bit of a tour for his own pleasure; major general strange, of the english army, a tall, awkward-looking man, with eagle eyes, gray beard and a bronzed complexion, who had for years been quartered in india, and who had taken part in the sepoy rebellion, some of the incidents of which he was never tired of relating; frank marion, his pretty wife and bright-eyed baby, the parents being a pair of light comedians, whose home was in the united states and who were going to australia for the purpose of filling an engagement at sidney, and to whose ability as musicians and skill in handling the guitar and banjo we were indebted for a great deal of pleasure before reaching our destination; colonel j. m. house and a mr. turner, both from chicago, where they did business at the stock yards, and who were hale and hearty fellows, a little beyond the meridian of life, and who were making the australian trip for the purpose of business and pleasure; and last but not least prof. bartholomew, an aeronaut, who hailed from the wilds of michigan and talked in a peculiar dialect of his own, and who joined our party for exhibition purposes at san francisco, and proved to be a constant source of amusement to us all. we could not have had a more delightful trip than the one from san francisco to honolulu had the weather been made expressly to our order, the sea being at all times so smooth that one might almost have made the entire trip in a racing shell, and that without shipping water enough 'to do any damage. it was blue above and blue below, the sky being without a cloud and the water without so much as even a gentle ripple, save at the bow of the boat where the water parted to let us through, and at the stern, where it was churned into masses of foam by the revolving screw of the steamer. but if the days were beautiful the nights were simply grand, and the ladies were to be found on deck until a late hour watching the reflections of the moon and the stars upon the water and enjoying the balmy salt breezes that came pure and fresh from the caves of old ocean. the second afternoon out of san francisco the passengers were suddenly startled by the clanging of a bell and the mad rush on deck of a lot of half-clad seamen, who seemed to come from all sorts of unexpected places, and who, springing to the top of the cabins and boiler rooms began quickly to unreel long lines of hose and attach them to the ship hydrants, while a score or more of sailors stood by the life buoys and the long lines of water buckets that lined the deck. that the ship was on fire was the thought that naturally came to the minds of many of us, and it is not to be wondered at that pale cheeks were here and there to be seen, for i can conceive of nothing in my mind that could be more horrible than a fire at sea. the alarm proved a false one, however, it being simply the daily fire practice of the ship's crew, in which we afterwards took considerable interest. in spite of the fact that we were steaming along the beaten paths of navigation it was not until our fifth day that we encountered another ship, and then it was about eleven o'clock at night, and after the majority of the passengers had "sought the seclusion that a cabin grants," to again quote from pinafore. suddenly, as we plowed the waters, the scene was brilliantly illuminated by a powerful calcium light on top of the wheel-house, and by its glare we saw not far distant a steamer that we afterward ascertained to be the one bound from honolulu to san francisco. she had left san francisco for the islands before the presidential election had taken place, and as the hawaiian islands were not connected by cable with the united states, its passengers were ignorant of the result. it had been arranged, however, that a single rocket was to be sent up from the alameda in case of harrison's election, and two in case of, his defeat. as harrison had been elected only a single rocket from our steamer cleft the blue, leaving behind it a trail of fiery sparks, and this was answered by a shower of rockets from the "australia," that being the name of the sister ship that we had met, after which her lights grew dimmer and dimmer until they were finally lost to sight below the horizon. with music, cards and games of chance of every kind and variety the days and nights passed pleasantly enough on board ship, and if there was anything that we had not bet upon before the ship arrived at honolulu it was simply because it had been overlooked in some careless manner by the tourists. when it came to making up a poker party the old gentleman was greatly missed, as "pa anson" had never been found wanting when there was a card party on hand and a chance to wager his chips. before leaving san francisco mr. spalding had met the liverpool, england, agent of the chicago, burlington & quincy railroad, a mr. s. a. perry, and as a result of a long conversation it was agreed upon that the latter should visit such european cities as the tourists might desire to play ball in, and cable the result of his investigations to australia. iii case he found the indications were favorable to our doing a good business in great britain, where we were again desirous of giving exhibitions, it had been about decided by mr. spalding and myself that we should continue on around the world instead of returning directly home from australia, as we had first intended. the possibility of a change in our plans we had, however, kept to ourselves, the newspaper correspondents only being taken into our confidence. the matter was allowed to leak out, however, during the voyage to honolulu and the proposed trip was greeted with great enthusiasm by the ball players, who looked forward to it with the most pleasant anticipations, and who talked of but little else until the details were finally agreed upon at melbourne and the proposed trip became a reality instead of a mere "castle in the air." the details of this trip had already been made public in the united states the week after our departure from san francisco, so that the people at home were aware of what might occur even before the ball players themselves had had a chance to realize that they were to become globetrotters. owing to the fact that we had left san francisco a day late we were a day late in arriving at the capital of the hawaiian islands, where we had been scheduled to play a game on saturday, november th, but where, owing to an unfortunate combination of circumstances, we were fated not to play at all in spite of the fact that every preparation for our doing so had been made and that king and court were more than anxious to see the american athletes in action. the nightfall of saturday found us still plowing the blue waters of the pacific miles from the islands, and as we sat on deck in the moonlight we could picture in fancy the despair of our advance agent, mr. simpson, who had gone on ahead of us from san francisco and who was still in ignorance of the cause of our detention. it was just as the day began to break on the morning of sunday, november th, that the cry of "land ho!" from the lookout on the bridge echoed over the steamer's decks, and it was but a few minutes afterward when the members of our party had assembled next the rail to gaze at what was then but a faint blur upon the distant horizon. an hour later the green verdure of the islands and the rugged peaks of the mountains that loomed up against the rosy tint of the changing sky were plainly discernible, as were the white buildings of the city of honolulu and the little fleet of shipping that was anchored in its bays. the sight was a beautiful one, and one upon which we gazed with delight as the steamer sailed in past diamond head and slowed down in the still waters of the bay upon whose shores honolulu is located. nearing the shore we were met by a ship's boat containing mr. geoffrey, the steamship company's resident agent; harry simpson, our advance guard; mr. f. m. whitney and mr. geo. n. smith, the latter a cousin of mr. spalding, then residing in honolulu, together with a party of natives bearing baskets that were filled with wreaths of flowers called "leis," with which they proceeded to decorate each member of our party as a token of welcome and good will. as the steamer cables were made fast and we were drawn slowly to our berth at the dock we looked down from our perch on the rail at a crowd of fully , people that assembled there to bid us welcome, the king's band, "the royal hawaiian," with dark complexions and uniforms of white duck, occupying a conspicuous place and playing for our benefit such familiar tunes as "the star spangled banner," "yankee-.doodle," and "the girl i left behind me," each and every one of them bringing out an answering cheer from the alameda's passengers. the morning was a bright and beautiful one and the mountains touched with the gold: of the sunrise, the plantations lying green and quiet along the shores, and the rapidly-growing crowd upon the dock, all combined to make the picture beautiful, and one that will never be forgotten. the officers of the u. s. cruiser "alert," which lay not far distant, had given us a hearty cheer as we passed, while the cheers that greeted us from the dock were almost incessant and told us in an unmistakable manner that we were indeed welcome to the "paradise of the pacific." looking down from the steamer deck one saw people of almost every clime, the dark complexioned, straight-haired and intelligent-looking natives being in the majority, their white suits and dark faces adding greatly to the color of the scene. pretty girls, too, were very much in evidence, and the eyes of many of our party strayed in their direction, especially those of the unmarried men, which variety composed the majority of our party. business in honolulu the day before had been entirely suspended in expectation of our arrival, and great was the disappointment when the day passed without the steamer being sighted. it was then thought that we would not put in an appearance before monday, and so, when the word went around on sunday morning that the "alameda" was coming in, the entire city was taken by surprise and everything was bustle and confusion. king kalakuau had set up a great portion of the night awaiting our coming, and so disappointed was he when we failed to put in an appearance that he accumulated an uncomfortable load, and this he was engaged in sleeping off when he was awakened by his courtiers and informed of our arrival. shortly after we had shaken hands with the members of the reception committee and the steamer had been made fast to the dock we entered the carriages that had been provided for us and were driven to the royal hawaiian hotel, passing by the palace of king kalakuau on the way. the streets were in themselves a novelty, being lined by stately palms, cocoanuts and bananas, laden with fruits and nuts, while there were flowers everywhere. the hotel, which stood in the center of beautifully laid out grounds, seemed like some palatial residence, and we were no sooner seated in the spacious dining-room, with its open windows extending from floor to ceiling, than the royal band began a concert in the music-stand beneath the windows. this band was certainly a magnificent one, and one that has but few equals in the world, or had at that time, it being then under the leadership of bandmaster berger, a musician of the first class. at breakfast that morning we were served for the first time with the native dish of "poi," a pink-colored mush that, to be appreciated, must be eaten in the native manner, the people to the manner born plunging a forefinger into the dish, giving it a peculiar twist that causes it to cling, and then depositing it between the lips, where the "poi" remains and the finger is again ready to seek the dish. in eating in such a fashion frank flint would have had away the best of it, and, as it was, i noticed both then and afterward that men like williamson, ward and others, who boasted of a base-ball finger, managed to get away with something more than their share of the delicacy. on the balconies after breakfast we again listened to the sweet strains of the "aloha oe," the welcome song of the native islanders, with which we had been greeted on our arrival at the docks. as we stood on the balconies taking in the beautiful sights by which we were surrounded, we were informed that his majesty, "the king of the cannibal islands," as some members of the party irreverently referred to him, would be pleased to receive us at eleven o'clock at the palace. an invitation from a king is equivalent to a command, and so we at once made ready for the reception. when the appointed hour arrived clarence duval, clad in the full regalia of a drum major, took his place at the head of the royal band, which had formed in front of the hotel, and behind the music, headed by united states minister morrill and mr. spalding, were the members of the two teams in double file, the ladies following in carriages. in this order the procession marched to the palace, where the king and his cabinet were awaiting our arrival. the grounds surrounding the palace were beautiful, indeed, and as we reached the massive portico at the entrance the band formed on one side as, with hats off, we filed up the steps, being met on the landing by members of the king's cabinet, and by attendants, who directed us to the blue room, where we deposited our hats and canes. we were then requested to follow minister morrill, who took mr. spalding's arm and led the way across a great hall hung with pictures of the island's dead-and-gone rulers, and into the throne room, the latter an imposing apartment large enough for several hundred couples to dance in, where the king, arrayed in citizen's clothes, stood before his throne with a gentleman of honor in court costume on either side. minister morrill introduced mr. spalding to the king, and he in turn introduced the other members of our party as they filed in by him, be bowing to each of the party as the name was mentioned. after the reception was over we wrote our names on the court register, and then, after being shown through the palace, were escorted back to the hotel by the band. king kalakuau was by no means a bad-looking fellow, being tall and somewhat portly, with the usual dark complexion, dark eyes and white teeth, which were plainly visible when he smiled, that distinguished all of the kanaka race. somehow, and for no apparent reason, there came to my mind as i looked at him the lines of that old song: "hokey, pokey, winky wum, how do you like your murphys done? sometimes hot and sometimes cold, king of the cannibal islands," and i tried hard to fancy what might have happened had we landed on those same islands several centuries before. sunday amusements of all kinds being prohibited by an old hawaiian law, a relic of the old missionary days, made an exhibition by the members of the two teams an impossibility, although the members of the reception committee, backed by many of the native islanders, petitioned that we should do so, offering to bear any and all of the expenses incurred by us should any trouble be forthcoming. couriers bearing petitions to the same effect were also sent around the city, and soon over a thousand names to these had been obtained. the risk was too great a one to be taken, however, as in case anything did happen we were almost certain to miss our boat and be detained in honolulu for a longer period of time than we could afford to spend there. our refusal to defy the law and play ball anyhow was a great disappointment both to the american contingent and to the natives, they having been looking forward to the game for weeks with most pleasant anticipations. they took their disappointment good-naturedly, however, and proceeded to make our stay among them as pleasant as possible. the most of our time was devoted to sight-seeing, some of the party going in one direction and some in the other. in company with several others, mrs. anson and myself drove out to the pali, viewing the magnificent scenery to be found there from the plateau, where, according to the tales of the natives, it rains every day in the year between certain hours. i was not there long enough to swear to the truth of the story, but as it rained the one day that we were on hand i am willing to assume that it rained the other three hundred and sixty-four, and let it go at that. we then drove through many of the city's most beautiful avenues, past the royal mausoleum, where sleep the former kings and queens of hawaii, from kamehameha to the princess like like, who was the last of those that had been interred there at the time of our visit. the parks and roadways of honolulu are of rare beauty, and many of the principal residences and public buildings of a kind that would do credit to any country in the world. at the residence of the hon. a. s. claghorn, where we stopped for a few minutes, we were introduced to the princess kaiulani, a really beautiful hawaiian girl, and one who was the possessor of rare accomplishments and of a most winning manner. we also paid a visit to the residence of one hon. john h. cummins, one of the hawaiian sugar kings, where we were entertained in a most handsome manner. the time spent in driving around passed all too quickly, and, reaching the hotel, we began to prepare for the grand luau, or native feast, that was to be given in our honor by king kalakuau and messrs. samuel parker, john ena and george beckley, and which proved to be one of the most novel and delightful features of our trip. this feast was given in the queen's grounds, in the center of which was placed her private residence. as we drove past the king's palace and through an avenue lined by towering palms and came unexpectedly upon the brilliantly illuminated-grounds, with their magnificent groves of banana, date, cocoanut, royal palms and other trees and plants of a tropical nature, the scene was a never to be forgotten one. the spacious enclosure was literally ablaze with light. japanese lanterns of all colors, flaming torches of oil gleaming close together among the foliage. as the uniformed officers at the gates made way for us we entered the grounds. minister morrill, mr. spalding, capt. morse of the "alameda," and the ladies leading the way and walking toward a great tree near the center of the grounds, beneath which stood the king, the hon. john cummins, and the members of the king's cabinet. at the birth of each member of the royal family, according to custom, a tree was planted upon royal ground, and as this tree flourishes or decays it is supposed to foreshadow the future of the child for whom it was planted. king kalakuau on this occasion stood beneath his own birth-tree, planted some, fifty years before, which at that time gave no indication of the fate that a few years later was to overtake him in a strange land. greeting each of his guests cordially he bade all make ourselves thoroughly at home, a thing that we proceeded at once to do without further ceremony, wandering about the grounds and seeing whatever was to be seen. an hour after our arrival the king, offering his arm to mrs. spalding, led the way toward the grove where the banquet was to be served, he being followed by h. r. h. lilino kalani, the king's sister, prince kawanonakoa, mr. spalding, capt. morse and the rest of the party. the tables were laid upon blocks elevated not more than six inches from the ground, in the shape of a letter u, and upon each side lay long strips of matting, upon which we sat cross-legged, like turks, while shapely kanaka girls in flowing robes of white stood over us moving fans of gorgeous colors. poi was given to us in huge calabashes, while upon the big platters that were set before us and incased in the long, coarse-fibred leaves in which they had been baked, were portions of beef, pork, veal, fish, chickens and other viands usual to a banquet in our own land. bands of native boys with stringed instruments played continuously' during the feast, making music of a peculiar character, that rose and fell as the busy hum of conversation and mingled with the joyous laughter of the men and maidens that were gathered about the table. at last silence was requested, and as the noise died away the king's attorney general, speaking for his majesty, expressed the pleasure that the hawaiian ruler felt in entertaining such a representative body of americans in his own islands. to this speech president spalding responded in well-chosen words, thanking both the king and the residents of honolulu for the hospitality shown us, after which, at the king's request, lincoln entertained the guests with his satire on after-dinner speeches, his "a b c" orations, and his mixing of a soda cocktail, all of which provoked roars of laughter. after the banquet the king and the members of his court and family held a levee beneath his birth-tree, where, just before nine o'clock, we all filed by to bid him farewell, clarence duval having danced for him in the meantime to the patting of hands by burns, pfeffer, ryan and williamson, a performance that amused his majesty greatly, a tea-dollar gold piece being the reward that he gave to the little coon for his performance. at the outskirts of the grounds we paused to give three cheers for king kalakuau, three more for our honolulu friends, and three more for the ladies, after which we were driven to the hotel and thence to-the steamer, which was to sail at ten o'clock. at the dock another great crowd had assembled to see us off, and as we swung out to sea there came to our ears the sweet strains of the "aloha" song, from the members of the royal band, growing fainter and fainter as the distance between the steamer and the shore increased, until at last it died away altogether as we rounded the headlands, and it was heard no more. chapter xxii. from honolulu to australia. the majority of our party, and among them mrs. anson and myself, remained upon the deck that evening chatting of the many beautiful things that we had seen and gazing in the direction of the fast-vanishing islands until they were at last lost to sight behind the mystic veil of the moonlight, and then we sought our stateroom to dream of the wonderful sights that were yet to come. there was now an ocean trip of , miles before us, before we should set foot on shore at new zealand, and with never a stop between save a brief wait for the mail at the samoan islands. we were all pretty fair sailors by this time, having become used to the motion of the vessel, and so the long voyage had for us no terror, though we could not help but hope that the sea would remain as smooth as it had been up to that time, and that we should encounter no storms before reaching our destination. how to keep the members of the two teams in anything like good condition for playing had been a problem with me for several days and one that i had spent some time in studying over during the first week of our voyage. the boys were all getting restless for lack of active exercise, and it was plain to me that something would have tot, be done or they would be in no condition when australia was reached to do themselves or the country that, they represented justice. "see here, george," i said to wright the afternoon after we had left honolulu, as we were sitting beside the steamer rail and looking across the blue expanse of waters, "this sort of a life will never do for american ballplayers who expect to exploit the beauties of the game in foreign lands. we shall be as stiff as old women and as fat as a lot of aldermen by the time we reach australia unless we take exercise of some kind during the voyage. can't we manage to get some cricket practice in some way?" george thought we could do so, and a little later we held an interview with capt. morse, who was one of the best fellows that i ever sailed with. the result was on the following morning half a dozen sailors were set to work to roof over and wall in with canvas the rear end of the quarter deck promenade, upon the larboard side of the ship, which being done prevented the balls from going into the sea. this, when completed, gave us an enclosed cricket alley of about forty feet long, eight feet wide and ten feet high. the wickets were set in the extreme edge of this alley, the bowler facing the opening of the tent, twenty feet beyond it, so he had plenty of room to swing his arm and ample distance in which to break the ball in spite of the smooth decks and the rolling of the ship. a fifty-foot stretch of cocoa matting that mr. wright had thoughtfully provided gave a surface upon which to bowl almost as goad as genuine turf, and each day from that time on until the voyage was over several hours were put in by the boys at practice, the exercise proving to be just what was needed, the members of both teams, thanks to this, reaching australia in good playing condition. after our cricket alley had been built the time did not hang as heavily on our hands as before, and between practice at the english national game, cards, music, conversation and reading, the days glided by both swiftly and pleasantly. the weather became very warm soon after we left honolulu and many of the boys preferred sleeping, in the steamer chairs upon the deck rather than in the close staterooms that had been allotted to them. the decks at this time presented some queer sights, and the practical jokers in the party managed to extract a lot of fun at the expense of the sleepers. at : in the morning the slumberers were awakened by the sailors who started in to wash down the decks, when they would retire to their staterooms, doff their pajamas and return en natural to the vicinity to the smoker, where there were two perforated nozzles, and get their salt water baths. a sponge-off in fresh water followed and then a cup of black coffee and a soda cracker that was provided by the steward, and that stayed their stomachs until the welcome sound of the gong called us to breakfast. we crossed the equator some time between and o'clock on the morning of december st, and the occasion was celebrated by a musicale in the cabin under the supervision of frank lincoln, during the progress of which everybody who could help entertain in the least was pressed into service. a thrilling account of his own experiences during the sepoy mutiny in india and his adventures during the celebrated siege of lucknow, told by gen. strange, proved most interesting. later on at the bow of the ship the whole party assembled and whiled the time away with song and story until capt. morse came himself to inform us that we had crossed the line and were now safe on the southern seas. i did not see the line nor did i even feel the bottom of the steamer scrape it as she went over, but it may be that owing to the darkness and the music i noticed neither of these things. early in the morning of december d it began blowing hard and by the time the noon hour had arrived the steamer was rolling about like a bass-wood log in a mountain torrent. there were some familiar faces missing from the tables at meal time that day and the stewards who waited upon those whose stomachs were still in eating order worked under difficulties, it being always a question of where they would bring up when they entered the cabin door. all that day: it was rough, mighty rough, but the boys they stood by, and they ran on a bluff on the grub on the sly, while the sick ones that lay in their staterooms were hoping and praying they'd die. that night there was no comfort to be had on deck, which was wet and slippery, so a mock trial was held in the cabin that afforded considerable amusement, general strange acting as the presiding judge and sir james willoughby as the prisoner at the bar. charges had been preferred to the effect that sir james was not a peer of the realm as he had represented himself, and that he was carrying concealed weapons in violation of the ship's law. john ward acted as counsel for the defendant, col. house as prosecuting attorney, and jimmy forgarty as court crier. the witnesses were all sworn not to tell the truth, and anything but the truth, and as a result there were such whoppers told as would have made the original annanias turn green with envy. thanks to the eloquence of john ward, however, sir james was acquitted with all honor, but that trial was one of the most amusing incidents of the voyage. the spell of heavy weather lasted but a few hours, after which time the wind died away, the waves calmed down and the sun shone as brilliantly as ever. on the night of december th and while the weather still left much to be desired, we sighted the northernmost island of the samoan group, which are famous by reason of the destruction of a fleet of united states cruisers anchored in one of the harbors by a tornado, a native insurrection that threatened to bring about war between the united states and germany, and as the home and burial place of robert louis stevenson, the famous writer. ed crane and several others of the party and myself were sitting on deck and under the shelter of an awning watching for a glimpse of the land that we all knew was not far away, when a little after o'clock we ran suddenly under the lee of a mountainous ridge of land that loomed up like a huge shadow in the uncertain light, and almost immediately found ourselves in smooth water. walking toward the bow of the boat we reached there just as a green signal light was flashed from the bridge. before us lay the land, and as we watched, a light twinkled on the shore nearly five miles away in answer to our signal. slowly we steamed toward it, the signal lights flashing their messages at short intervals through the darkness until we reached the harbor, where we lay about half a mile from the land until a sloop and a dory reached us with the mail and passengers for auckland. of both the land and the natives we had but a glimpse, one of the latter, a red-headed and stalwart specimen of his race, clambering to the steamer's deck in order to get a receipt for the mail and a glassful of gin, both of which were given him by the purser. the former he stowed away somewhere in his scanty clothing and the latter he gulped down as though it were water, after which he swung himself over the rail and disappeared from sight in the darkness. a few moments later we had left samoan islands behind us and were again tossing on the foam-topped waves. samoa was left not far behind, however, when the weather turned colder and before many hours had passed we were all glad to change our clothing of a tropical weight for garments that were much heavier, and to seek comfortable places in the cabin at night rather than the open deck. even the cricket practice had begun to get monotonous, and we were all looking forward with pleasure to the time when we might once more feel the solid land beneath our feet. it was with feelings of delight therefore that we heard early on the morning of december th that we were within sight of our destination and that we should be on shore, barring accident, by the noon hour. standing on deck long before it was time for breakfast, we feasted our eyes on the green hills that were in plain sight, and then fell to wondering what sort of a welcome awaited us in the new zealand seaport that we were rapidly nearing. while at the breakfast table that morning capt. morse was presented by gen. strange, on behalf of the passengers, with a purse of $ as a testimonial to his skill, kindness and uniform courtesy. the big captain was taken by surprise, but he acknowledged the gift in a brief and manly speech that brought out a round of applause from the listeners. the harbor at auckland is reached by means of a winding passage walled in by hills of volcanic origin, and the bay itself is second only to that of sydney in beauty, the sides of the high hills that wall it in being dotted here and there by pretty residences of white stone, surrounded by broad porticos and handsomely arranged grounds. the town was as quiet as a country funeral and this we marveled at until we were informed that we had lost a day from our calendar and that instead of being saturday as we had thought, it was sunday. leigh lynch, who had been detained at sydney, had sent his cousin, will lynch, to meet us and as the steamer was made fast to the dock he came on board with a bouquet of flowers for the different members of the party. several newspaper men, who followed him shortly afterward, expressed their regret that we had not arrived the day before, as then we could have played to some eight or ten thousand people. we had expected to remain in auckland but a few hours and were therefore agreeably surprised when capt. morse informed us that the alameda would remain there to coal until o'clock the next afternoon. after a good dinner at the imperial hotel, mrs. anson and myself, accompanied by others of the party, drove about auckland and its environs and though a drizzling rain was falling we found much to admire and to wonder at in the vicinity of that new zealand seaport. soon after sundown the skies cleared and that evening we enjoyed ourselves in strolling about the streets, being determined to make the most of the short time on shore that was allotted to us. the next day dawned bright and beautiful, and, after paying a visit to the city hall, where we received a warm welcome from mayor devore, we proceeded to get into our base-ball uniforms and prepare for the game that was to take place that afternoon. during the noon hour the local band came marching down the principal street to the dock, and shortly afterward it started at the head of a procession of carriages containing the ball players and two tally-hos containing the passengers of the alameda, who attended the game as our guests. the enclosure in which we played that day was as handsome as any that we saw in new zealand, the grounds being as level as a billiard table and the turf as smooth and soft as velvet. the game was one that was remarkable on both sides for its heavy batting, the ball rolling away over the smooth surface of the outfield in a way that almost broke the hearts of the fielders and at the same time gave them more exercise than they had had for weeks. the , people that witnessed the contest waxed enthusiastic over the heavy batting of the visitors from the "states" and also over the splendid fielding. baldwin was in the box for us in this game and pitched great ball, crane doing the twirling for the all-americas. the chicago: proved to be the winners and the score, to , shows the cannonading done on both sides. this was a good game for both teams to play when the fact is taken into consideration that the players still had their sea legs on and simply shows the good condition that the cricket practice on board the ship had kept them in. when the "alameda" left the dock at auckland that afternoon, a crowd of at least , people had assembled to see us off. with sydney , miles distant we still had quite a voyage before us. that night we skirted the coast until after the darkness had fallen and watched the green hills that seemed to rise abruptly from the water's edge. when the morning came and we once more sought the deck there was no land in sight and nothing to be seen save the watery waste of the ocean that stretched away to the horizon on every side. we had a rough voyage from auckland and were glad enough when, on the afternoon of december th, we sighted the australian coast. at five o'clock that evening, after a hearty dinner, we again assembled on the deck to watch the headlands that grew each moment more and more distinct, and' soon afterward a tugboat came to meet us, bringing the pilot and manager leigh lynch, the latter notifying us as soon as he could gain the deck of the great reception that was awaiting us at sydney. the harbor at syndey is a delight to the eye, and as we steamed through the heads with the white-winged gulls circling around our masts and the dolphins playing about our bow, we drank in the beautiful sight with greedy eyes. several steamers laden with gentlemen and ladies, and with bands of music playing our national airs, steamed down the harbor to meet us, and long ere we reached the quay we were surrounded by a fleet of small craft gaily decked in colors and carrying crowds of cheering and kerchief-waving people. our national colors were to be seen everywhere, even the lighthouse on the point being draped from top to bottom in clouds of red, white and blue bunting. the stars and stripes greeted the eye on every hand, and, let me say right here, that there is no place where the flag of our country appears so handsome to the eyes of an american as when it greets him in some foreign harbor. the storm of cheers that greeted us from the throats of the enthusiastic sydneyites we answered as best we could, and the strain upon our vocal organs was something terrific. viewed from the steamer's deck the city of sydney and the beautiful harbor, surrounded by the high hills and bold headlands, presented a most entrancing picture. clear down to the water's edge extend beautifully-kept private grounds and public parks, and these, with grandly built residences of white stone, with tower-capped walls and turrets that stand among the trees upon the hillside, glistening in the sunshine, made the whole picture seem like a scene from fairyland. at the quay there was another crowd of cheering people, and it was with difficulty that we made our way to the four-horse tally-ho coaches and to the oxford hotel, where quarters had been arranged for us. the entrance to the oxford hotel, as well as the dining-room, was handsomely decorated in red, white and blue, evergreens and colored lanterns, and, after receiving a brief greeting from u. s. consul griffin, we retired to our rooms to prepare for the formal welcome to australia that was to be given to us that night at the royal theater. we were to spend some little time in australia, and that we had fallen among friends was evident at once from the reception that had been accorded us. it was a relief to know that our voyage was at least over for a time and to feel the solid land once more beneath our feet, though we parted with capt. morse with regret, he having endeared himself to us all by the uniform kindness and courtesy that he had shown our party on the long ocean trip. chapter xxiii. with our friends in the antipodes. that night after the gentlemen of the party had donned their dress suits and the ladies their best bibs and tuckers, we repaired in a body to the royal theater, where a large and fashionable audience had assembled to bid us welcome. the theater, presided over at that time by jimmy williamson, an american, was handsomely decorated for the occasion with american flags, and as we took our places in the private boxes and in the section of the dress circle reserved for us, we were greeted with round after round of applause. after the closing act of "struck oil," in which both mr. williamson and his wife appeared, our entire party passed through the box circle to the stage, upon, which we were arranged in a semi-circle facing the audience, which cheered us heartily as the curtain rose. just as the curtain went up a kid in the gallery, who must have been an american, who at some time in his career had seen me play, and to whom my face and form were familiar, cocked his head over the rail and shouted in tones that could be heard all over the theater, "'rah for baby anson," a salutation that came so unexpectedly that it almost took my breath away and that caused both audience and players to laugh heartily. mr. daniel o'connor, a member of the australian parliament, then introduced us to the audience in a brief address that was full of kind allusions to the country that we came from and eulogistic of our fame as ball players, he referring particularly to our pluck in coming so far without any guarantee against financial loss or artistic failure except our own confidence in the beauties of our national game and in the sport-loving spirit of the australian people. he tendered us a hearty welcome on behalf of the colonies, and bespoke for us a generous patronage on behalf of the lovers of square sports, both in sydney and elsewhere. to this address mr. spalding responded for the american ball players in happy fashion, his remarks being greeted with generous applause on the part of the audience, after which we returned to our seats to witness an after-piece illustrating in farcical style the evils of chinese immigration, and then, returning to the hotel, we were introduced to many of the leading business men of the city, remaining up until a late hour. at eleven o'clock the next morning we again assembled in the office of the oxford for the purpose of making a formal call upon mayor harris at the city hall, and as we drove through the principal streets to our destination we were greeted all along the line by cheering and enthusiastic crowds. we were received in the council chamber of the city hall by the mayor, who was dressed in his official robe of purple and ermine, and who escorted us across the hall to his chamber, where an elaborate lunch awaited us, and the champagne corks were soon popping in lively fashion. the mayor's speech of welcome was what we americans call a "dandy," and i wish right now that i had a copy of it in order that i might reproduce it for the benefit of my readers. he stated among other things that, while he did not understand the game of baseball thoroughly himself, yet he thought well enough of it to predict that in time australia would have a league of her own, the professionals of which would be able to hold their own with the professionals of the united states. he then tendered us the freedom of the city during our stay, and bade us make ourselves at home. this address was responded to in our behalf by u. s. consul griffin, after which his honor again arose to remark that so long as america treated australia with the kindness and consideration that they had in the past, the australians would do their best to make it pleasant for their american cousins while they were on australian soil. "my reason for believing that our athletes will emulate your ball players," concluded the mayor, "are manifold. in the first place, we have adopted your american ideas of trading, and we have managed to scrape up material enough to beat you! best oarsman," here his honor turned toward ned hanlan, the ex-champion sculler, who had quietly entered the room and taken a seat near mr. spalding, the reference securing a cheer for the modest little athlete from the members of our party, "and," continued the mayor, after the applause had subsided, "if all americans will yield the palm with as good grace as mr. hanlan has done, we will entertain as high an opinion of them as we now do of mr. hanlan." after responses to the mayor's address had been made by messrs. spalding and lynch, and a dozen or more toasts proposed and drunk, we gave the mayor of sydney three cheers and a tiger and returned to our hotel, feeling certain that if all australians were like the ones we had met thus far, a good time in australia was assured to us. we played our first game in australia that afternoon upon the grounds of the sydney cricket association, and it is but fair to say that we had nothing in the united states at that time, nor have we now, that will compare with them either for beauty or convenience. the playing field, with its covering of green turf, was as level as a floor and was surrounded by sloping lawns that were bright with flowering shrubs, while the club houses were models of their kind. the great annual foot-races at botany that afternoon, and the horse-races elsewhere proved to be strong rival attractions, but in spite of them, and of the threatening weather, , people had assembled to see how the american national game was played. fortunately the members of bath teams were on their mettle, and the result was a game full of exciting features from start to finish, the pitching of teller for the chicagos and healy for the all-americas being of the gilt-edged order, while the fielding and base-running of both teams was up to the mark. at the end of the first inning the game was a tie, each team having scored four runs, and it so remained until the ninth inning, when the all-americas sent a man across the plate and scored the winning run in what proved to be one of the hardest fought games of the entire trip. at the end of the sixth inning there was an interval of fifteen minutes, and during that time we were received at the association club house by lord carrington, who was at that time governor of new south wales, and who gave, us a warm welcome to the colonies and wished us every success in introducing the game in australia. after mr. spalding had thanked lord carrington for his good wishes on behalf of the players, and we had cheered everybody from lord and lady carrington to queen victoria, we returned to finish the game, being heartily cheered by the crowds as we again took up our positions on the diamond. that exhibition gave the game quite an impetus in australia, where it is now quite popular, thanks, i believe, to the visit of the american ball players. the ride back from the grounds was an enjoyable one and after dinner there was a general exodus from the hotel on the part of the tourists, who were determined to see everything that there was to be seen and to let no opportunity in that line escape them. just how mrs. anson and myself passed the evening i have forgotten, but that we passed it pleasantly i am certain, for how could it be otherwise in a place where everyone had combined apparently to make our visit a pleasant one, and where nothing was left undone that could add to our comfort and pleasure. the following day, sunday, was bright and beautiful, and in parties we drove over the city and its suburbs, going, among other places, to coogee bay, the fashionable watering resort of the sydney people, and a beautiful place, too, it is. sydney bay was in itself a sight well worth seeing, when viewed from the surrounding hills, and the "point," from which a magnificent view is to be obtained, impressed one with its rugged grandeur. many of the residences of sydney are extremely handsome and picturesque, and mrs. anson and i picked out more than one during the day's outing that we should like to have owned, that is, providing that we could have moved both the house and its surroundings back to chicago. the next morning the chicago and all-america teams played their first game of cricket on the sydney grounds, messrs. spalding, wright, earl and george wade doing the greater part of the bowling, and this game resulted in a victory for the all-americas by a score of to . i had been bragging considerably during the trip in regard to my abilities as a cricketer, and was therefore greatly chagrined when i struck at the first ball that was bowled to me and went out on a little pop-up fly to fogarty. this caused the boys to guy me unmercifully, but i consoled myself with the reflection that they had to guy somebody, and if it were not me then somebody else would have to be the sufferer. that second afternoon we played our second game of ball in sydney, in the presence of some , people, the batteries being baldwin and myself for the chicagos and healy and earl for the all-americas. it was another pretty exhibition on the part of both teams, the all-americas finally winning by a score of to . we played our first game with the australian cricketers the next day, and, though we played seventeen men against their eleven, we were ignominiously beaten, the americans making runs while the australians ran their score up to , for only six wickets, the game, which had begun at eleven o'clock in the morning, being called at four p.m., to allow of another game of base-ball, which resulted at the end of five innings in another victory for the all-americas by a score of to , both teams being too tired to do themselves justice. the cricket game was the last of its kind that we played in australia, and i am confident now that had we been as strong in bowling as in fielding we would have beaten the australians at their own game, though our batting on this occasion was also decidedly on the weak side. that night we attended a banquet tendered us by the citizens of sydney, at the town hall. two hundred plates were laid in the reception hall of the big building, the columns, dome, and windows of which were almost hidden by the english and american flags with which they were draped. the marble floor was covered with soft carpets and great banks of cut flowers and rare plants were arranged on every side, while at the end of the hall a raised platform had been built upon which a musical and literary entertainment was given after the banquet. that banquet at sydney was certainly a memorable affair, and one that overshadowed in magnificence all that had gone before. the toasts, which included "the queen," "the president," "the governor," "our guests," "the ladies," "the press," and "the chairman," were responded to by u. s. consul griffin, daniel o'connor, m. p., john m. ward, leigh lynch, newton mcmillan, e. g. allen of the sydney star, and others, after which followed a musicale in which some of the best amateur and professional talent in sydney took part, the cornet solos of mrs. leigh lynch being the bright particular feature of the entertainment. mrs. lynch, who was formerly a member of the berger family of bell ringers, is a most accomplished musician, and one that afterwards helped us to while away many an hour when time would otherwise have hung heavily on our hands. the next afternoon we were to depart for melbourne, and as we had nothing else to do we spent the greater part of the time in strolling about the streets and in bidding farewell to the many friends that we had made in sydney. with button-hole badges of the stars and stripes and red, white and blue bands on the soft straw hats that we wore, it was an easy matter for the australians to distinguish us wherever we went. at the grosvenor hotel we all assembled about an hour before departure, at the invitation of the hon. daniel o'connor, to bid farewell to himself and to other prominent representatives of new south wales. here we were handsomely entertained, and when we left to take our seats in the special train that had been prepared, it was with cheers that fairly shook the rafters. my memories of sydney are all pleasant ones, and it was with sincere feelings of regret that i left the many friends that i had made while there. the coaches in which we journeyed to melbourne were built in the english style, with compartments, and are not nearly so comfortable as the sleeping and drawing-room cars to be found in america, and had the old gentleman been with us i am afraid he would have kicked loud and long over the poker playing facilities that they afforded. the road itself is excellently built, however, and the country through which it runs rich, fertile and well wooded. it was a little after nightfall when we got supper at a small way station, after which we proceeded to rest as best we could. at : in the morning we were routed out on the borders of the colony to have our baggage examined by the custom house authorities, which caused mrs. anson and myself but little annoyance, as we had left all our dynamite at home on the piano. at o'clock we were again on the way and at eleven o'clock that morning we pulled into the station on spencer street in melbourne, where quite a crowd was waiting to greet us. the reception committee, made up of american residents of melbourne and members of the victorian cricket association, met us with four-in-hand drags appropriately trimmed with the american colors, and as we entered them and drove up collins street we felt that we were the observed of all observers. at the town hall we were received by mayor benjamin and the members of the city council, and here a crowd of several thousand people had assembled to bid us welcome, which they did in the hearty fashion of the australian people, who are as warm-hearted and as hospitable a class as any people that i ever met. in the audience hall up stairs, was a great pipe organ, and there we were treated to some beautiful music by the town organist, mr. david lee. the rendering of "home, sweet home," carried us back again to the land that we had left, and as the strains of "god save the queen" rang through the hall we stood with uncovered heads until the music died away along the lofty corridors. in the mayor's private room a generous lunch was awaiting us, and among those present to receive us were the hon. mr. choppin, consul general of the united states at the melbourne exposition; mr. smyth, acting consul; the hon. j. b. patterson, d. gaunson, and messrs. smith and pierce, together with a large delegation of the lovers of outdoor sports, including cricketers and base-ball players. the mayor's speech of welcome was a plain and hearty one, and was followed by addresses of welcome by the hon. mr. smith, of the victoria cricket association; acting united states consul smyth and mr. s. p. lord, the latter being introduced as "an old colonist, who came from america in ," and a "base-bailer." mr. spalding followed in a brief speech, expressing our appreciation of the cordial welcome that had been accorded us and hoping that the victorians would take as kindly to the game itself as they had to its exponents, after which captain ward and myself were called upon to say something, which we did to the best of our ability, though i somehow have never managed to acquire fame in the speech-making line, and would rather play ball at any time than make even a few remarks, that is, unless i could talk to an umpire. brief addresses by mayor wardell, town clerk fitzgibbon and mr. david scott followed, after which we were driven to the grand hotel, where we found most comfortable quarters and a good dinner awaiting us. this hotel was in close proximity to the exposition buildings, the treasury building, the parliament building and the fitzroy gardens, and was convenient to a great many of the objects and places of interest with which melbourne abounds. one feature of the hotel, and one that greatly pleased the majority of our tourists, was the fact that a number of pretty colonial girls were employed in nearly every department, they waiting on the table and taking the place of the bellboys, in fact, doing everything except to fill the positions of porter and baggage-smasher. that evening, at the invitation of manager musgrove, a partner of mr. williamson of the royal theater, in sydney, we occupied a full section of the dress circle in the princess theater, where we witnessed a splendid production of "the princess ida," by an english company. at the end of the third act we were called out to drink the health of mr. musgrove, who informed us that the door of his theater were open to us at all times. it was after midnight when we returned to the hotel, and so tired were we that we were glad to go at once to our rooms without stopping for the customary chat in the office or corridors, knowing that we had yet to make our first appearance as ball players before a melbourne crowd, and must rest up if we wished to make even a creditable showing. chapter xxiv. baseball playing and sightseeing in australia. we played our first game at melbourne on saturday, december d, the second day after our arrival from sydney, and in the presence of one of the largest crowds that ever assembled at the melbourne oval, the handsomest of their kind in australia. the surroundings were of the most beautiful character and the day itself as perfect as any one could have desired for base-ball purposes. the lawn in front of the club house was thronged with ladies in light attire, and the many-hued sunshades that they carried gave to it the appearance of an animated flower garden. the club house balconies were crowded and even the roof had been pre-empted by the ladies and their escorts as a coign of vantage from which to view the game. the grand stand was filled to overflowing and the crowd that overflowed from it encircled the field, extending from the grand stand clear around to the club house grounds. the scene was indeed an inspiring one, and it is not to be wondered that a good exhibition of the beauties of the game were given under such circumstances. the base-running was of the most daring character, the fielding sharp on the part of both teams, and the batting heavy. baldwin and crane were both at their best and pitched in superb style, while the exhibition of base-running that was given by some of the boys brought the onlookers fairly to their feet and they cheered themselves hoarse in their excitement. up to the seventh inning the score was a tie, but we managed to get a man across the plate in the seventh inning, as a result of burns' three-bagger, and baldwin' single, and another in the eighth, the result of a single by sullivan and a long right-field hit for three bases by myself, and that i foolishly tried to make a home run on, being put out at the plate by brown's magnificent throw from the field. the game finally resulted in a victory for chicago by a score of to , and leaving the field we congratulated ourselves on the fact that both at sydney and melbourne we had played first-class ball. supper parties and banquets were now becoming every-day occurrences with us, and that night we were handsomely entertained by an english actor of note, mr. charles warner, who was at that time touring the colonies, the place selected for the entertainment being the maison dore, the swell restaurant of melbourne. here we spent a very pleasant evening until it was again time to retire. the next morning, in the big reading room of the hotel, the boys were given some information by mr. spalding that i was already acquainted with, viz., that we should continue our trip around the world, returning home by the way of egypt, the mediterranean and continental europe. in spite of the fact that it was sunday morning, this announcement was greeted with a burst of applause by the players, many of whom, even in their wildest dreamings, had never thought that such a trip would be possible for them. after giving the players some good advice regarding their habits and physical health, mr. spalding stated that he wished to land every member of the party in new york sound and well and with only pleasant recollections of the tour, and that he hoped that all would, co-operate with him to that end. that morning the proposed trip was about the only subject of conversation among the members of the party, and pleasant indeed were the anticipations of one and all concerning it. there was scarcely a spot of interest in or about melbourne that we did not visit, the weather being delightful, while so constantly were we being entertained that there was scarcely an evening that our dress suits were given a chance to rest. it was the day before christmas--not the night before--that we played our second game of base-ball in melbourne, and the crowd, while not so large as that which witnessed the first game, was still of goodly proportions, some , people passing through the gates. ryan pitched for the chicagos and healy and crane for the all-americas on this occasion, and all three of them were pounded in a lively fashion, there being a perfect fusillade of base hits on both sides, and the hard hitting seemed to the liking of the spectators, who cheered every drive to the outfield frantically. in spite of the hard hitting the game was closely contested, the all-americas finally bearing off the honors by a score of to . following the game prof. bartholomew gave his first balloon ascension and parachute drop in australia, a performance that was new to the australians, and that they watched with almost breathless interest. christmas day in melbourne the weather was terrifically hot and the lightest sort of summer attire even was uncomfortable. it seemed strange to us to think that at home on that same day there was probably snow on the ground and an icy wind blowing. christmas in a hot country somehow does not seem like christmas at all, an opinion that was shared by both mrs. anson and myself. that afternoon at three o'clock we departed for adelaide, where we were scheduled to play three games, and this time we were delighted to find that "mann boudoir cars" had been provided for us instead of english compartment coaches. we missed the ladies on the trip, they having been left at melbourne because of the heat, as had ed crane, with whom the hot weather did not seem to agree. at ballarat, about four hours' distance from melbourne, where we were scheduled to play a game on our return, we found 'a reception committee at the depot to meet us, together with a number of ladies. the country through which we journeyed that afternoon was fairly attractive, but thinly settled and literally overrun with that pest of the australian farmer, the rabbits, which, like good race-horses, seemed to come in all shapes, color and size. the country swarmed with them and for the first time we began to realize what an immense damage they were capable of doing to the growing crops in that section. it was about half-past ten o'clock the next morning when we reached adelaide, and so hot that a fourth of july day in st. louis would have seemed like arctic weather by comparison. at the depot we found united states consul murphy and a committee of citizens in waiting, and were at once driven to the city hall, where mayor shaw made us welcome to the city. the usual spread and speeches followed, after which we were driven to the hotel. that afternoon we played our first game on the adelaide oval, which was the equal of either the sydney or melbourne grounds, so far as the actual playing grounds were concerned, though far inferior to them in buildings and natural surroundings. owing to the intense heat and the fact that it was the opening day of the great race meeting at melbourne there were only about , people present, and they witnessed a game remarkable for its heavy batting, both teller and healy being severely punished. the game went to the credit of the all-americas by a score of to . that night our party occupied the governor's box in the royal theater, where we attracted far more attention than did the play, the house being a crowded one. the next morning we were the guests of mayor shaw, who took us for a drive in a big four-horse drag, and this proved a delightful experience to us all, the sea beach road, over which we drove, being cool and comfortable. ten miles out we stopped at the wine yard of thomas hardy & sons, who were at that time the most extensive grape and fruit raisers in australia. here we were shown over the immense wine yards and wine cellar, after which we drove to henley beach, returning in time for the game that afternoon. at this second game the attendance was somewhat better than the first, and with baldwin pitching for chicago and healy and ward for all-america, we managed to turn the tables on our conquerors of the day before and win by a score of to . the next day was a holiday, and of these the australians have many, it being the fifty-second anniversary of south australia's existence as a colony, and as we were to leave in the afternoon we played our farewell game in the morning, play being called at ten o'clock. with ryan in the box for chicago and simpson for all-america we won the easiest sort of a game by a score of ii to , having sir william robinson, governor of the colony, for a spectator during the last four innings. after the game he came out on the grounds and shook hands with us all, complimenting us in a nice little speech on the skill that we had shown and expressing his own liking for the game that he had that morning seen for the first time. that afternoon we left for ballarat, the great gold-mining center of australia, and at one time famous as the home of the bushrangers who for years terrorized that section of the country. it was six o'clock in the morning when we arrived there, and we were just climbing into the drag that was awaiting us when some one missed tom daly. after a search he was found fast asleep in one of the compartments of the car, and being awakened was released by an obliging guard, looking a bit the worse for wear. in the early gray of the dawning we reached craig's hotel, where lunch had been arranged for us, after partaking which we were driven to the botanical gardens, the roadway winding along the shores of a beautiful lake. the gardens were well worth a visit, and after spending a brief half hour in admiring the flowers and statuary, we were driven back to the hotel for breakfast, stopping on the way for a plunge in the great ballarat swimming aquarium. after breakfast we were driven to the barton gold mines, situated on the edge of the town, going down to a depth of ii, feet after we had attired ourselves in overalls, slouch hats and other nondescript disguises. from the mine we were driven to the town hall, of west ballarat, ballarat being divided into two municipalities, west and east, where we met with the usual australian welcome at the hands of mayor macdonald, thence to east ballarat, where mayor ellsworth did the honors, the latter afterwards accompanying us on a visit to the ballarat orphan asylum, where an invitation was given to the youngsters to the number of to witness the game that afternoon, and that they were all on hand is a certainty. the crowd that attended the game was , strong, and they saw the all-americas win a rather easy game by a score of to , the boys being too nearly tired out to play good ball. the ascent and fall of professor bartholomew was, however, the sensation of the day, the parachute failing to sustain his weight in that high altitude, and as a result he came down with great speed, and, striking a cornice of a building in the business district, was laid up for a month, it being a lucky thing for him that he was not killed outright. at seven o'clock that night we left for melbourne, arriving there some four hours later in an all but used up condition. the next day, sunday, our whole party started for a drive of twenty-five miles over the mountains in a big four-horse drag, we being the guests for that day of mr. j. k. downer, a wealthy citizen of melbourne. through a rolling and well-settled country we bowled along until we reached the foot-hills, that were green and well-wooded, the clear notes of mrs. leigh lynch's cornet every now and then waking the echoes. after three hours' ride we reached fern glen, the residence of a mr. bruce, a friend of the gentleman whose guests we were, and to whose broad veranda we were soon made welcome. the scenery here was beautiful, the house itself being situated in a rift of the mountains and surrounded by giant trees on every side, the grounds about being possessed of great natural beauty. after enjoying a splendid lunch provided for the occasion at melbourne, and sent out ahead by wagon, we strolled through the beautiful glen, with its great ferns that arched the pathway, and the roots of which were watered by a little mountain stream. after an extempore entertainment we again climbed to our seats in the drag and were driven back to melbourne, stopping en route at the stock farm of j. h. miller, who had gone into the business of breeding american trotters, and who again persisted in wining and dining us before he would let us go. "the travelers' rest," "the golden swan," "the bull's head inn," and other resorts of a like kind were stopped at on our way back, and it was eleven o'clock at night when we were finally set down at the doors of the grand hotel, having spent one of the most enjoyable days since our arrival in melbourne. a great day's program of sport had been prepared for monday, the last day of the year, in which cricket, baseball and foot-ball were all to have had an inning. the weather, however, interfered with the base-ball and cricket part of the program. the foot-ball game between the carleton and st. kilda foot-ball teams proved to be a most interesting contest, however, and one that we were glad to have the opportunity of witnessing, a heavy shower driving us back to the hotel before we could indulge in either base-ball or cricket. two games were scheduled for new year's day, but only one of these was played and that in the morning, the attendance being , , and the chicagos winning by a score of to , tener pitching for us and healy for the all-americas. that same day there were , people at the races and probably as many more at the various cricket matches and athletic games going on in the city and vicinity, so it can readily be seen that melbourne was a decidedly sporty place and that we had pretty hard competition to go up against, even for new year's day. after luncheon at the cricket grounds we were treated to an exhibition of rope-skipping and boomerang throwing by a lot of aborigines that was little short of wonderful, and that must be seen to be appreciated. the natives could make these curved pieces of wood do all kinds of seemingly impossible things, while for us they would simply do nothing, but i expect that with a set of billiard balls several of our party could have made them look as much like monkeys as they did us with their boomerangs. we were booked to sail from port melbourne for ceylon on monday, june th, and saturday afternoon we played our farewell game in the victoria capital before a crowd that tested the capacity of the grounds, the gate count showing that , people had paid their way into the enclosure. the program for the afternoon was a varied one, a two-inning game between the australian cricketers and the all-america team being the starter, and in this the american players easily demonstrated their superiority. next came a game of foot-ball between the port melbourne and carleton teams that was played under a modification of the old rugby rules, and that proved close and exciting. a four-inning game between chicago and all-america followed, baldwin and daly and crane and earle being the batteries, and it is safe to assert that a prettier exhibition of base-running and fielding was never witnessed in australia than the one given on that occasion. with not a fielding error on either side my boys won by a score of to , pettit finally ending the game with a splendid running catch of earle's long fly to right field, a performance that the spectators cheered again and again. an exhibition of long distance throwing followed, crane, williamson and pfeffer attempting to beat the australian record of yards inches, for throwing a five and one-half ounce cricket ball, and this feat crane accomplished, he sending the ball yards / inches, a performance that the crowd appreciated. at three o'clock on monday afternoon, having said farewell to all of our friends in melbourne, we took the train for port melbourne, seven miles distant, and were soon assigned to our staterooms on board of the "salier," which was to begin her voyage the next morning. the scene about the dock where the "salier" lay that afternoon was an impressive one, the turks and hindoos, with their dark skins, red turbans and bright costumes, the circling seabirds with their peculiar cries, and the many craft of various kinds that moved hither and thither over the blue waters, all combining to make a picture that once seen can never be forgotten. we left australia with many genuine regrets. in the matter of hospitality that country easily stands at the head of the list of all of those that we visited, and if we could have shot a kangaroo or two before our departure and run up against a party of bushrangers, black-bearded and daring, even though they had managed to relieve us of a few of our valuables, we should have been made happy, but alas! the bushrangers, like the bad men of our own glorious west, had been wiped out by the march of civilization, and even the kangaroo had taken to the woods when he heard that we were coming, so we bore our disappointment as best we could, trusting for better luck in case we should ever be so fortunate as to again visit her majesty's australian colonies. chapter xxv. afloat on the indian sea. the "salier," which was one of the german lloyd line of steamers, sailed from port melbourne at daybreak on the morning of january th, , and before many of us had put in our appearance on deck, although we were awakened long before by the cries of the sailors and the usual noise and bustle that precedes the departure of a steamer from her dock in all parts of the world. long before we had left port melbourne out of sight, however, we had assembled at the rail to wave our last adieus to the many friends who had come down from melbourne to see us off. the "salier" was a delightful vessel and one that was most comfortably equipped, as are all of the vessels of this line, and the quarter deck, with its open-windowed smoking and card-rooms, soon became the chosen lounging place of the boys by day and the sleeping place of many of them by night, they preferring to don pajamas anti sleep in the easy steamer chairs rather than to seek the seclusion of the staterooms, which, as a rule, were hot and sultry. captain tallenhorst, who commanded the "salier," was a fine fellow, and both he and his officers were inclined to do pleasant one, and a pleasant one indeed it proved. in the steerage we carried a mixed lot of emigrants from all sections of the world, among them being chinamen, hindoos, turks, cingalese, italians and germans, and to walk through their quarters and listen to the strange languages that they spoke was to get a very good idea of the confusion that must have reigned when the building of the tower of babel was in progress, and gave us at the same time a chance to study some of the manners and customs of a people that were strange to us. the meals that were served on board the "salier" were an improvement on those of the "alameda," though we had found no fault with those given us on the latter, but there was one drawback to our enjoyment of them, however, and that was that the waiters spoke nothing but german, and consequently those of us who were unfamiliar with the language had some difficulty in making ourselves understood, our efforts to make known our wants by the sign language often resulting in ludicrous blunders. fred pfeffer was right at home, however, and as a result he managed to get the best there was going, the waiters evidently mistaking him for nothing less than a german count, judging from the alacrity with which they flew about to execute his orders. we had been out but a few short hours before we began to miss frank lincoln, whose never-failing fund of humor had helped to while away many an hour and who had bid us farewell at melbourne, having decided to remain for some little time in australia. among our fellow-passengers in the cabin were a couple of civil engineers from england, who had been making a tour of australia, and very pleasant companions they proved to be; a melbourne lady who was taking her two little daughters to germany to be educated; and last but not least in his own estimation, if not in that of others, a mr. theophilus green, a loud-mouthed, bald-headed, red-faced and portly gentleman of middle age, who, according to his own story, was possessed of unlimited funds, a desire to travel, and an inclination to pass himself off wherever he might happen to be as a representative american, god save the mark! mr. green journeyed with our party as far as suez, and when he left us the long-drawn sigh of relief that went up from all hands was like unto the rushing sound that is caused by the passage of a hurricane over the surface of the waters. among the second cabin passengers were two stalwart australians who were bound for zanzibar, africa, and who meant to penetrate into the interior of that wild country in search of big game. they were well equipped with firearms, of the most improved designs, and unlimited quantities of ammunition, and had the appearance of men who were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves in any country, no odds how wild and uncivilized it might be. they accompanied us as far as aden, where they left us, taking with them our best wishes for their success and safe return. the second night after leaving port melbourne we stopped at port adelaide, a little seaport seven miles distant from adelaide, where we remained until two o'clock the next afternoon to take on a cargo of australian wool. this was a hot town, at least to look at, the streets being dusty and devoid of shade trees of any kind, and the buildings of a low and inferior description. we had considerable sport while laying there fishing from the rail of the steamer and watching a big shark that came nosing around the stern of the boat in search of food. after he swam away for some distance some of the boys amused themselves by shooting at him with their revolvers, but if they succeeded in hitting him, of which i have my doubts, his sharkship gave no sign of being in trouble and pursued the even tenor of his way until he was lost to sight. for days after we left port adelaide the weather was of the most disagreeable variety, the sky being overcast by clouds of a leaden hue while the huge waves were lashed into foam by the wind, and this, together with a heavy ground swell, gave to the steamer a most uncomfortable motion. this sort of affair was too much for my wife, and also for the other ladies in the party, with the exception of mrs. williamson, who proved to be a good sailor, and they remained in their staterooms. i had thought that i, too, was an immune, not having been sick since we left san francisco, but the motion of the boat proved to be too much even for me, and i was forced to pay common tribute to neptune that the king of the seas is wont to exact from most land-lubbers. tener and fred pfeffer were about the only ball players that escaped, and that pfeffer did so i shall always insist was due to the fact that he could speak german and so got all the good things to eat that he wanted, while the rest of us, not being so fortunate, were obliged to put up with what we could get. even daly and fogarty were obliged to keep quiet for a time, and this was something of a relief to the more sober members of the party. one afternoon after the last-named gentleman had begun to feel a little better he called to a passing waiter and asked for a cheese sandwich. the dutchman, doubtless thinking that he was doing that irrepressible a favor, brought up a big plate of sauerkraut and steamed bolognas, and the effect of this on the weak stomachs of those who happened to be in that vicinity can be better imagined than described. if john tener had not happened along and grabbed that waiter by the scruff of the neck and the slack of his pants, hustling him out of sight, there is no telling what might have happened, but i am inclined to think that murder might have been done. after we had left the australian bight behind us and entered the indian ocean the seas calmed down and, the weather, which prior to that time had been cool and uncomfortable, became warm and pleasant. the ladies were again enabled to join us on deck and with music, cards, books and conversation the time passed pleasantly enough. the steerage passengers were to us a never-ending source of amusement and interest, as we watched them working in their various ways and listened to their strange and incomprehensible gibberish. an old hindoo one day raffled off a richly-embroidered silk pillow at a shilling a chance, and this, with my usual good luck i won and turned over to mrs. anson for safe keeping. the hindoos and mohammedans on board would eat nothing that they did not cook themselves, even killed a sheep every few days, when it became necessary, and carrying their own supply of saucepans and other cooking utensils. one of the hindoos, a merchant of calcutta, who had been ill from the time that the steamer left port adelaide, died when our voyage was about half over. his body was sewn up in a piece of canvas with a bar of lead at the foot and laid away in his bunk. it was in vain that we asked when he was to be buried, as we could get no satisfactory answer to our queries, but the next night, when the starlight lay like a silver mantle on the face of the waters, the steamer stopped for a moment, a splash followed, and the body of the hindoo sank down into the dark waters, and in a few days the episode had been forgotten. such is life. clarence duval, our colored mascot, had been appreciated on the "alameda" at his true value, but on the "salier" for a time the waiters seemed to regard him as an indian prince, even going so far as to quarrel as to whom should wait on him. a word from mr. spalding whispered in the ear of the captain worked a change in his standing, however, and he was set to work during the meal hours pulling the punka rope which kept the big fans in motion, an occupation that he seemed to regard as being beneath his dignity, though his protests fell on deaf ears. one hot afternoon a mock trial was held in the smoking-room, with fogarty as the presiding judge, and then and there a decree was passed to the effect that, "in view of the excessively warm weather and through consideration for the comfort and peace of our entire party, clarence duval, our chocolate-colored mascot, must take a bath." now, if there was any one thing more than another that our mascot detested it was a bath, and the moment that the court's decree was pronounced he fled to the darkest depths of the steerage in hopes of escaping the ordeal, but in vain, for he was dragged out of his hiding place by pettit, baldwin and daly, who, in spite of his cries for mercy, thrust him beneath a salt water shower and held him there until the tank was emptied. a madder little coon than he was when released it would be difficult to find, and arming himself with a base-ball bat he swore that he would kill his tormentors, and might have done so had not a close watch been kept over him until his temper had burned itself out and he had become amenable to reason. the afternoon of january d, as we were lounging about the deck, john ward, glancing up from the pages of a book that he was engaged in reading, happened to catch a glimpse of a sail ahead, and announcing the fact, there was a rush made by all hands to the steamer's rail in order to get a good view of the welcome sight, for a strange sail at sea is always a welcome sight to the voyager. she was under a cloud of canvas and, as we drew near, with the aid of a glass, we made out her name, "san scofield, brunswick, me." a moment later the stars and stripes were thrown to the breeze from her masthead and the cheers that went up from our decks could have been heard two miles away. if there were tears in the eyes of some of the members of our party as they saw the old flag gleaming in the sunlight and thought of god's country at that time so far away, the display of emotion did them no discredit. we were all astonished one morning by a performance on the part of our mascot that was not down on the bills, and that might have resulted in his becoming food for the sharks with which the indian ocean abounds had he not played in the very best of luck. the performance of professor bartholomew had fired the "coon" with a desire to emulate his example, and he had made a wager with one of the boys that, using an umbrella for a parachute, he could jump from the rigging some thirty feet above the deck and land safely on the awning. it was late one afternoon when half a dozen of the party were sitting beneath its shade that a dark shadow passed over them followed by a dull thud on the canvas that made it sag for a foot or more, and a wild scream of terror followed. climbing up the rope ladder to where they could overlook the awning, the boys found the mascot crawling on his hands and knees toward the rigging and dragging behind him an umbrella in a badly damaged condition. when fogarty asked him what he was doing, he replied, after a long interval of silence, "just been a practicin'," after which he informed them that had he landed all right he should have attempted to win his bet the next morning. one experience of this kind was enough for him, however, and though the boys begged him to give them another exhibition of his skill in making the parachute leap, nothing could induce him to do so. "craps," a game introduced by the mascot, soon became more popular in the card-room than even poker, and the rattle of the bones and the cries of "come, seben, come eleben, what's de mattah wid you dice," and other kindred remarks natural to the game coming from the lips of the chocolate-colored coon were to be heard at all hours. the nights during this portion of our trip were especially fine, and we enjoyed them immensely sitting on deck until the "wee sma' hours" watching the starlight that turned the surface of the water into a great field of glistening diamonds, and the silvery wake of the ship, that stretched away out into the ocean like a track of moonbeams, growing dimmer and dimmer until it was lost in the darkness that lay beyond. it was just as the sun peeped above the distant horizon on the morning of january th that we first caught a glimpse of the shores of elephant island, lying just off the coast of ceylon, and at ten o'clock the shores of the island of ceylon itself were full in sight. as we drew nearer the narrow-bodied proas, the boats of the natives, paddled by dark-skinned boatmen innocent of clothing came crowding about the steamer in great numbers, while the white-winged gulls hung above the vessel in clouds, darting so near to us at times that we could almost touch them with our hands. past point de galle, with its crumbling walls of white cement, that made them appear as if they had but recently been whitewashed, we steamed until we came in sight of colombo, and stopped at the entrance of the breakwater to await the arrival of the harbor master. that gentleman was apparently in no very great hurry and the hour and a half that we laid there awaiting his pleasure we spent in looking at the great stone breakwater and the city that lies upon the open coast, the harbor being an artificial and not a natural one. it was after four o'clock when the harbor master's boat, manned by half-clad cingalese, came alongside, and a short time afterwards we steamed to a place inside the breakwater and dropped our anchors. in an incredibly short space of time the steamer was surrounded by boats of all shapes, sizes and colors, manned by malays, cingalese and hindoos, clad in all the colors of the rainbow, and all talking and yelling at the same time. four little cingalese boys, the oldest of which could not have been more than twelve of age, and who paddled a bamboo canoe around with barrel staves, attracted the most of our attention. they could swim and dive like otters, and shillings and sixpences cast into the water they brought up from the bottom, catching it in many instances before it had found a resting place on the sands. "frow it," they would shout, and scarcely had the shining piece of silver struck the water before they were after it, disappearing from sight and then coming up with the coveted coin secure in their possession. the decks were soon swarming with hotel runners, moneychangers, and tradesmen of various sorts. as yet we were uncertain as to our destination, and depending upon word that was to have been left here by our advance agent, will lynch. a drenching rain was falling when messrs. spalding and leigh lynch went ashore in search of news, and when mr. spalding came back an hour later he had heard nothing but had arranged for the accommodation of the party at the grand oriental hotel, and we were soon on our way to the landing place in steam launches provided for the purpose, still uncertain, however, as to whether we were to go on in the "salier" or not. chapter xxvi. from ceylon to egypt. we landed in colombo on the steps of a pagoda-like structure containing the custom house, and passing through found ourselves on a broad avenue that led direct to the grand oriental hotel, said by travelers to be the finest south of the mediterranean, and in their opinion i can certainly concur, as we found it to be everything that could be desired so far as our limited experience went. the rooms were large and carpetless, with latticed windows and high ceilings and the immense dining-rooms opened on broad stone porticos with massive columns and surrounding galleries, on which were turkish divans for the comfort of the guests. the dark-skinned native servants, with their picturesque, flowing garments and tortoise-shell combs, gave to the whole an oriental air that up to that time we had read about but never seen. we were fanned by great swinging punkas during the dinner hour, the meal being an excellent one, after which we went out to see the town, the indian shops under the hotel coming in that night for the largest share of our attention. first, because they were easy to reach, and, second, because of the really handsome stock of articles of indian manufacture that they contained. carvings in ebony and ivory, in the most beautiful designs, inlaid work of all descriptions, shawls that a queen might envy, together with embroidered articles of rare beauty, delicate tapestry and quaint and curious figures of all kinds, were for sale there and at prices that were not more than one-third or one-fourth what the same articles could be purchased for at home, though the price that was at first asked for them by these shopkeepers would be at least three or four times what they expected to get. the jinricksha, which answers the same purpose as the hansom cab in chicago or new york, and which is a much lighter and smaller vehicle, being drawn by a cingalese who trots along between the shafts as though it were a pleasure instead of a business, is about the only sort of a vehicle known to the natives of colombo, and a ride in one of them is by no means an unpleasant experience, as you are certain of one thing, and that is that your horse will not shy with you and run away, no matter what strange objects he may encounter. they are so gentle, too, that a lady can drive them and will stand anywhere without hitching. these are great advantages, and yet, after all, i think that i should prefer to hold the ribbons over a good horse, and i am sure that mrs. anson is of the same opinion. the jinriksha, with its human motor, must, it struck me the first time that i saw them, be a decided obstacle to courtship, for what young fellow would care to take his best girl out riding behind a horse that could understand everything that was said and done, and tell the groom all about it when he returned to the barn. i shouldn't have liked to do so, when i was courting my wife, and i don't believe that she would have cared to ride after that kind of a horse. visiting the american consul that evening mr. spalding was informed that on account of the steamship and railroad connections, and also because of the unhealthy condition of calcutta, it would be impossible for our party to make a tour of india, and therefore that part of the trip was given up, greatly to our regret, as we had looked forward to it with the most pleasant anticipations. this disappointment was general among the members of the party, but as it could not be helped we determined to make the best of it. arrangements were made that evening, however, to hold the "salier," which was to have left at daybreak the next morning, until five o'clock in the afternoon, in order that we might play a game of base-ball before our departure. the sun was up but a trifle earlier that we were the next morning, as we, wished to see all of ceylon and the cingalese that was possible in the limited time at our disposal. the hotel balconies in the early morning were fairly given over to the crows, great big birds of a leaden color that circle around you in the most impudent manner and are as hard to get rid of as the beggars, which follow you about the streets in swarms and annoy you with their cries of "bachsheesh, bachsheesh," until you long even for the sight of a policeman to whom you might confide your troubles. colombo is not a prepossessing city to the eye of the traveler, the buildings being of an ancient style of architecture and built more for comfort than for show, but the market places and bazaars are well worth a visit. there is a beautiful beach drive that extends from the military barracks along the shores of the ocean for miles, and this is the fashionable drive of all colombo, though it was all but deserted in the early morning hours. the buddhist temples, and there were several of them in colombo, we were obliged to inspect from the outside, no admittance to european visitors being the rule, but the strange gods that peered down at us from the walls gave us a very good idea of what might be found inside and served, at least, to take the edge off of our curiosity. an invitation having been tendered us that morning at the office of the u. s. consul to visit the corvette "essex," captain jewell commanding, then lying in the harbor, we repaired at one o'clock to the wharf, where gigs, manned by the ship's crew, awaited us and we were soon on board, where we were entertained by officers and crew in a handsome manner. the rendering of "america" by mrs. leigh lynch on the cornet brought out an enthusiastic round of applause, while clarence duval captured the hearts of the seamen by doing for them a plantation breakdown in his best style. captain jewell kindly sent us aboard the "salier" in the ship's gigs, which waited for us until we had donned our uniforms, and then took us to the shore. the procession out to the colombo cricket grounds, where the game was played, was indeed a novelty, and the crowds of cingalese that surrounded us as we left the hotel and looked on in open-eyed wonder were by no means the least impressive part of the circus. there were no drags and carriages on this occasion and no gaily-caparisoned horses with nodding plumes, but in their places were heavy-wheeled carts drawn by humpbacked little bullocks and jinrickshas drawn by bare-legged cingalese. about these swarmed the natives in their rainbow attire, the whole scene being one of the kaleidoscope kind. at the grounds , people had assembled, the officers and crew of the "essex" being on hand as well as a crowd of english residents and native cingalese. we played but five innings, the result being a tie, three runs for each team, a good game under the best of circumstances, and one that apparently pleased everybody, the natives going wild over the batting and making desperate efforts to get out of the way whenever a ball happened to do in their direction. the journey back to the hotel was another circus parade, and one that barnum, with all his efforts, never was able to equal. from the hotel we went directly to the wharf, where the steam-launch was in waiting, and with a cheer from the crew of the "essex" in our ears we started for the steamer. as the "salier" started again on her voyage we climbed into the rigging and lined up along the rail, cheering the crew of the "essex" until the white forms of the men that lined her rigging were lost to sight. the voyage from ceylon to egypt over the arabian sea and the gulf of aden was a most enjoyable one, both sea and sky being deeply, darkly and beautifully blue, with not so much as a cloud or a ripple to mar the beauty of either, and so beautiful were the nights that it was a rare thing for any member of the party to retire until long after the ship's bells had proclaimed the hour of midnight. the second morning after we had left the island of ceylon behind us we were all made the victims of a cruel practical joke, of which lynch and fogarty were the authors, and for which lynching would hardly have been a sufficient punishment. it was in the early hours of the morning and while we were still "dreaming the happy hours away," that the loud report of a cannon shook the steamer from stem to stern, this being followed by cries of: "pirates, pirates; my god, boys, the chinese pirates are upon us!" the report of another gun followed, and then a scene of confusion such as had never before been witnessed outside of a lunatic asylum. tener, who was the treasurer of the party, grabbed his money-bags and locked himself in his stateroom. ed hanlon rushed into the cabin with his trousers in one hand and his valise in the other, and they say that i filled my mouth with mrs. anson's diamonds, grabbed a base-ball bat and stood guard at the doorway, ordering my wife to crawl under the bunk, but that statement is a libel and one that i have been waiting for years to deny. i only got up to see what a chinese pirate looked like, that's all. it was a scared lot of ball players that assembled in the cabin that morning, however, and the cloud of smoke that came rolling down the stairway only tended to make matters worse. finally we caught sight of fogarty galloping around the saloon tables and yelling like a comanche indian. we began then to suspect that he was at the bottom of the trouble, and when he burst into roars of laughter we were certain of it. it afterwards developed that the "salier's" guns had been simply firing a salute in honor of the birthday of the german emperor, and that fogarty and lynch had taken advantage of the opportunity to raise the cry of pirates and scare as many of us nearly to death as possible. i would have been willing, myself, that morning to have been one of a party to help hang fogarty at the yardarm, and some of the victims were so mad that they were not seen to smile for a week. it was during this voyage, too, that mark baldwin, the big pitcher of the chicagos, had an adventure with a big indian monkey that the engineer of the steamer had purchased in ceylon that might have proved serious. this monkey was a big, powerful brute, and as ugly-looking a specimen of his family as i ever set my eyes on. he was generally fastened by means of a strap around his waist and a rope some five or six feet long, in the engine-room, but one morning mark, without the engineer's knowledge, unfastened him and took him on deck. the sight of the ocean and his strange surroundings frightened him badly, and after mark pulled him about the deck a while he took him down stairs and treated him to beer and pretzels, then brought him back to the deck and gave him some more exercise. becoming tired of the sport at last mark took him back to the engine-room. the iron grating around the first cylinder enabled the monkey to get his head on a level with mark's as he descended the stair and mr. monk flew at his throat with a shriek of rage. mark luckily had his eye on the brute and protected his throat, but fell backwards with the animal on top of him, receiving a painful bite on the leg. the monkey then bounded over to his corner, where he glared at mark, his grey whiskers standing out stiff with rage. after satisfying himself as to the extent of his injuries, the big pitcher again went for the monk, but the latter jumped from the grating to the piston-rod of the engine, and at every revolution of the screw he would go down into the hold and then come up again, shaking his fist at mark at every ascent, and chattering like a magpie. this sight was so comical that the big pitcher roared with laughter, and though he laid for a chance to get even with mr. monk the rest the voyage the latter was never to be caught napping, and kept himself out of danger. into the waters of the arabian sea, blue as indigo, we steamed on the morning of february st, and soon after daybreak the next morning the volcanic group of islands off the african coast were in plain sight from the steamer's deck. two hours later we passed the great headland of guardafui, on the northeast corner of africa, a sentinel of rock that guards the coast and that rises from the waves that are lashed to foam about its base in solitary grandeur. the following afternoon we came in sight of the arabian coast, some forty miles distant, and later the great rocky bluffs that protect aden from the gulf winds were plainly discernible. it was nearly supper time when we landed and we had but barely time for a glance through the shops and bazaars, when we were again compelled to board the steamer, which left at nine o'clock for suez. the next morning the sound of a gong beaten on the steamer's deck aroused us from our slumbers, and inquiring the wherefore we were informed that we were approaching the straits of bal-el-mandeb, the entrance to the red sea. this brought all of our party on deck to greet the sunrise, and as we passed between the rockbound coast of arabia on the right and the island of perin on the left we could hear the roar of the breakers and discern the yellow and faint light of the beacons that were still burning on the shore. that morning at o'clock we steamed by the white walls and gleaming towers of the city of mocha, that lay far away on the arabian coast, looking like some fairy city in the dim distance. the weather as we steamed along over the surface of the red sea was not as hot as we had expected to find it, and yet it was plenty warm enough for comfort, and it was with mingled feelings of sorrow and joy that we entered the harbor of suez on the morning of february th and drew slowly toward the little city of the same name that lay at the end of the great canal, the building of which has tended to change the business of the continents. the huge bluffs of the egyptian coast stood out in bold relief in the clear air of the morning, while from the shores opposite the sands of the great desert stretched away as far as the eye could reach. among the larger vessels that lay in the harbor were an english troop-ship and an italian man-of-war, and as we dropped anchor we were at once surrounded by a fleet of smaller craft. after bidding good-by to captain talenhorst and his officers, and seeing that our baggage was loaded on the lighters we were transferred to the decks of a little steamer that was to take us to the docks of suez, some two miles distant. hardly had we set our feet on the shores of egypt before we were besieged by swarms of arabian and egyptian donkey-boys in loose-fitting robes, black, white and blue, driving before them troops of long-eared donkeys, with gaily-caparisoned and queer-looking saddles and bridles, and mounting to our seats as quickly as possible be trotted off to the railroad station, some four or five miles distant, and took our places in the train that was to bear us to cairo. suez, the little that we saw of it, impressed us as being about the dirtiest place on god's green footstool, and the few europeans that are obliged to live there have my profound sympathy, and deserve it. through the village, with its dirty streets lined by huts of mud and past little villages of the same squalid character, the train sped. then across the arid desert region that extends northward from suez to ismalia, running parallel with the canal for a distance of thirty-five miles, and leaving the desert we entered the rich valley of the nile, where the vegetation was most luxuriant. groves of palm and acacias dotted the fields and flocks of sheep and goats were to be seen along the roadways of the irrigating canals that appeared to overspread the valley like a net. camels plodding along beneath their heavy burden and water buffalos standing knee-deep in the clover were not uncommon sights at every station, while the train was surrounded by motley crowds of bedouins, arabs and egyptians, the women being veiled to the eyes, a fact for which we probably had reason to be devoutly grateful, if we but knew it, as there was nothing in their shapeless figures to indicate any hidden beauty. just as dusk we pulled into a little station some twenty miles from cairo, and here ryan started a panic among the natives by dressing clarence duval up in his drum-major suit of scarlet and gold lace, with a catcher's mask, over his face and a rope fastened around his waist, and turning him loose among the crowd that surrounded the carriages. to the minds of the unsophisticated natives the mascot appeared some gigantic ape that his keeper could with difficulty control, and both men and women fell over each other in their hurry to get out of his way. it was after dark when we arrived at cairo where, as we alighted from the train, we were beset by an army of egyptians, and we were obliged to literally fight our way to the carriages that were in waiting and that were to take us to the hotel d'orient, where rooms had already been secured for us, and where an excellent dinner was awaiting our arrival. chapter xxvii. in the shadow of the pyramids. the hotel d'orient, while not as fashionable as shepard's or the grand new, was a most comfortable house and set one of the best tables of the many that we encountered on the trip. it faced a big circular open space from which half a score of thoroughfares diverged like the spokes of a wheel, and was accessible from all parts of the city. in the big public garden opposite one of the khedive's bands was playing at the time of our arrival, and on every hand were to been the open doors of cafes, bazaars, gambling hells and places of amusement, while the jargon of many tongues that surrounded us made confusion worse confounded. we were too tired the first night of our arrival to attempt much in the sight-seeing line, and contented ourselves, with a quiet stroll about the streets radiating from the circle, and a peep into some of the bazaars and gambling houses, gambling, then, as i presume it is at the present time, being conducted on the wide-open plan, and roulette wheels being operated within full view of the crowded streets. there is nothing that is known to any other city in the world that cannot be found in cairo, and there are representatives of every nation in the world to be found among its denizens. seen in the gloom of the evening, its towers and minarets showing in the moonlight, its streets pervaded with the dull red glow of the lights that gleam in the adjacent bazaars and cabarets, and with its white-walled buildings towering in the darkness, cairo looks like a scene from the arabian nights, but viewed by daylight the picture is not so entrancing, for the semi-darkness serves to hide from the eye of the traveler the squalor and filth that the sunlight reveals and that is part and parcel of all oriental cities and towns. as no arrangements had been made for a game the day following our arrival, the members of our party were at liberty to suit themselves in the matter of amusement, and the majority of them overworked the patient little donkeys before nightfall. i am in a position to testify that i met many a little animal that afternoon bestrode by a long-legged ball player who looked better able to carry the donkey than the donkey did to carry him, but for all that both boys and donkeys seemed to be enjoying themselves. in company with mrs. anson and others of the party the day was spent in sight-seeing, we taking carriages and driving through the turkish, moorish, algerian and greek quarters of the town and over narrow streets paved with cobblestones and walled in by high buildings, with overhanging balconies, where the warm rays of the sun never penetrated. the rich tapestries and works of art to be found in all of these bazaars were the delight and the despair of the ladies, who would have needed all the wealth of india to have purchased one-half of the beautiful things that they so much admired. we then drove over the bridge that spans the nile to the khedive's gardens, the roadway being lined with magnificent equipages of all kinds, for this is the fashionable drive of cairo and one of the sights of the place, the gorgeous liveries of the coachmen and outriders, the gaily-caparisoned and magnificent horses and the beautiful toilettes of the ladies all combined to make a picture that entranced the senses. one of the khedive's palaces, and, by the way, he has half a dozen of them in cairo, is situated at the far end of these gardens, which are finer than any of our parks at home, and their palaces being built in the egyptian style of architecture, are a delight to the eye. the day passed all too quickly, and when night came and we returned to the hotel, we had not seen half as much as we wished. that evening after dinner, wishing to see how cairo looked by gaslight, mrs. anson and i drove out in search of a theater, which i naturally thought it would be no very difficult matter to find, though which of the many we wished to go to we had not made up our minds. the driver, unfortunately, could not understand a word of english, that being the trouble with half of the beggars one encounters in a strange land, and so as we drove down by the grand hotel and french opera house and came to a palatial-looking building, with brilliantly lighted grounds and colored awnings extending down to the sidewalk, and looking the sort of a place that we were in search of, i stopped the carriage and tried to find out from the driver as best i could what sort of a theater it was. his answer sounded very much like circus, and i thought that it would just about fill the bill that evening, as far as mrs. anson and i were concerned. helping my wife to alight we passed under the awning and by liveried servants that stood in the doorway, the music of many bands coming to our ears and the scent of a perfumed fountain whose spray we could see, to our nostrils. "this is a pretty swell sort of a circus, isn't it?" i said to my wife, who nodded her head in reply. through the open door we could catch glimpses of large parties of ladies and gentlemen in full dress, but it had never occurred to me that it could be anything but what i had understood the driver to say it was, a circus, and i began to look around for a ticket office in order that i might purchase the necessary pasteboards. at last, running up against a dark-complexioned and distinguished-looking man in full uniform, i asked him if he could tell us where the tickets could be bought. "tickets! what tickets?" he asked, in very good english, but in a rather surprised tone. "why, the tickets to the circus here," i answered, nervously, for i began to fear that i had make a mistake. "there is no circus here, my friend," said the stranger, as he turned away his head to hide a smile, "this is my private residence. i am commander-in-chief of the egyptian army, and am simply entertaining a few friends here tonight. i would be much pleased if you would remain and--" "don't say a word, sir," i replied, feeling cheaper than i had ever felt in my life, "it is my mistake and i hope you will excuse me," and bowing my self out as best i could we drove back to the hotel, where mrs. anson, who had been laughing at me all the way back, had of course to tell the story, the result being that i was guyed about my experience "at the circus" for some days and weeks after cairo had become only a memory. that evening in the office of the hotel the following bulletin was posted: "base-ball at the pyramids. the chicago and all-america teams, comprising the spalding base-ball party, will please report in the hotel office, in uniform, promptly at ten o'clock to-morrow morning. we shall leave the hotel at that hour, camels having been provided for the all-americas and donkeys for the chicago players, with carriages for the balance of the party. the pyramids will be inspected, the sphinx visited, and a game played upon the desert near by, beginning at o'clock." the next morning at half-past nine the court of the hotel d'orient held what it had never held before, and what in all probability it will never hold again, twenty of the best-known exponents of the national game that america could boast of having congregated there in uniform and in readiness to play ball in the presence of the countless ages that look down from the summits of the pyramids and the imprint of whose fingers is seen in the seamed and scarred face of the sphinx. in front of the hotel lay a dozen long-necked camels, saddled and bridled, and contentedly chewing their cuds, while about them stood as many more of the patient little donkeys that became so familiar to so many of the visitors to the streets of cairo during the world's fair days at chicago. the dragoman in charge had provided all the donkeys necessary for the occasion, but other donkey boys managed to get mixed up in a general melee, and when the boys had mounted the wrong donkeys and went to get on the right ones a row followed that would have put a donnybrook fair melee to shame, the disappointed donkey boys biting and scratching their more fortunate competitors and the policemen laying about them with their bamboo staffs. at last we were all in the saddle, the all-america team being mounted on the camels and the chicago boys on the donkeys and with the ball players leading the way and the carriages following we moved through the streets of cairo, past the residence of the american minister, where we cheered the old flag that floated over his quarters, thence over the bridge of the nile and down through the khedive's gardens, the "ships of the desert" lurching along with their loads like vessels in an ocean storm, and the donkeys requiring an amount of coaxing and persuasion that proved to be a severe tax upon the patience of their riders. the road leading to the pyramids was a beautiful one running beneath an avenue arched with acacias until it reached the lowlands of the river across which it winds until it arrives at the edge of the desert upon which these great monuments of the kings and queens dead and gone for centuries are built. half way to our destination an interchange of camels and donkeys was made by the members of the two teams, an exchange that, so far as the chicagos were concerned, was for the worse and not for the better. at two o'clock we arrived at our destination and partook of the lunch that had been prepared for us in the little brick cottage that stood at the foot of old cheops. after lunch we found ourselves surrounded by a crowd of bedouins and arabs numbering some two hundred, who besought us to purchase musty coins and copper images that were said to have been found in the interior of the huge piles of stone that surrounded us, and more persistent beggars than they proved to be it has never been my misfortune to run against. after visiting the big pyramids and the sphinx, and having our pictures taken in connection with these wonders of the world, we passed down to the hard sands of the desert, where a diamond had been laid out, and where, in the presence of fully a thousand people, many tourists coming to cairo having been attracted to the scene by the announcements made that we were to play there, we began the first and only game of ball that the sentinels of the desert ever looked down upon. this game was played under difficulties, as when the ball was thrown or batted into the crowd the arabs would pounce upon it and examine it as though it were one of the greatest of curiosities, and it was only after a row that we could again get it in our possession. on this occasion tener and baldwin both pitched for chicagos before the five innings were over, and healy and crane for the all-americas. both sides were exceedingly anxious to win this game, but fortune favored the all-americas and we were beaten to , for which i apologized to the sphinx on behalf of my team after the game was over. to this she turned a deaf ear and a stony glance was her only answer. after the game we returned to the pyramids and the sphinx, looking them over more at our leisure and trying to fathom the mystery of how they were built that has been a puzzle for so many ages. it was seven o'clock in the evening when we returned to cairo, well satisfied with our sight-seeing experience, but a little disappointed to think that the only ball game that had ever been played in the shadow of the pyramids had not been placed to the credit of chicago. there was nothing to do the next day and night but to stroll about cairo, as the khedive, before whom we had offered to play, was out at his nile palace, and to have visited him there and given an exhibition, as he invited us to do, would have taken more time than we had at our disposal. the mosques of sultan hassan and of mohammed ali were visited by many of us during the day. they stood upon the highest point of the city, and though the former is fast crumbling to ruins, the latter, which is the place where the khedive worships, is fairly well preserved. from the citadel, which is garrisoned by english soldiers, we obtained an excellent bird's-eye view of cairo, the broad surface of the nile and the pyramids of cairo and sakarah, the latter of which are twenty miles distant. i believe that had we remained in cairo for a year we could still have found something to interest and amuse us, though i should hardly fancy having to remain there for a life-time, as the manners and customs of the orient are not to my liking. the line of demarcation between the rich and the poor is too strongly drawn and the beggars much too numerous to suit my fancy, and yet while there both my wife and myself enjoyed ourselves most thoroughly, and the recollections that we now entertain of it are most pleasant. our departure from cairo was made on the morning of february th. ismalia, a little city on the banks of the suez canal, about half way between suez and port said, being our destination, and here we arrived late in the afternoon, and at five o'clock boarded the little steamer that was to take us to port said, where we were to catch the steamer across the mediterranean, to the little italian town of brindisi. chapter xxviii. under the blue skies of italy. the night we left ismalia and started for port said, the port of entrance at the northernmost end of the suez canal, was a glorious one, the full moon shining down upon the waters and turning to silver the sands of the vast desert that stretched away to the horizon on either side. this canal through which we had passed had a mean depth of feet and varies from to feet in width, its length from sea to sea being miles. the banks on both sides were barren of verdure and there was but little to be seen save the canal itself, which is an enduring monument to the brains of ferdinand de lesseps. every now and then our little steamer passed some leviathan of the deep bound for suez, and the red sea, and the music of our mandolins and guitars and of mrs. lynch's cornet would bring the passengers on board of, them to the steamer's rail as we sped by them in the moonlight. shortly after ten o'clock the lights of port said came in sight and at half-past ten we were climbing up the sides of the "stettin," where we found a fine lot of officers and a good dinner awaiting our arrival. an hour later we were on our way across the mediterranean. the voyage was the roughest we had yet had, and as the majority of the party were so seasick as to be confined to their staterooms, there was very little pleasure to be found, the ship rolling about so that her screw was more than half the time out of the water. the mountains of crete and candia, with their snowy caps, were the only signs of land to be seen until we arrived in sight of brindisi, which we reached twelve hours later than we should have done had it not been for the rough weather that we encountered. here we received the first mail that we had had since we left home, and as there were letters from our daughters in the bag we were more than happy. at brindisi we were obliged to remain over night, having missed the day train for naples, but the storm that that evening swept the coast confined us to the hotel, where the big wood fires that blazed in the grates, both in the office and in our sleeping apartments, made things most comfortable. at nine o'clock the next morning we left for naples, where we arrived that evening, our journey taking us through the most beautiful and picturesque portion of southern italy, a country rich in vineyards, valleys, wooded mountains and beggars, being excelled in the latter respect only by the lands of the orient. the most of our baggage had already gone on the steamer to southampton, and so when we got to the shores of the bay of naples we had but little for the custom house inspectors to inspect. i had my bat bag with me, however, and as i entered the station a funny-looking little old man in gold lace insisted that the bag was above the regulation weight and that i should register it and pay the extra fare. i kicked harder than i had ever kicked to any umpire at home in my life, but to no avail, for i was compelled to settle. as we came within sight of the bay of naples we were all on the lookout for mount vesuvius, which fogarty was the first to sight, and to which he called our attention. green and gray it loomed up in the distance, its summit surrounded by a crimson halo and its crater every few seconds belching out flames and lava. arriving at the station we were met by messrs. spalding and lynch, who had come on from brindisi one train in advance of us, and here martin sullivan, who had playfully filched the horn of a guard while en route, was taken into custody by half a score of gendarmes. it took the services of three interpreters and some fifteen minutes of time to straighten this affair out, after which we proceeded to the hotel vesuve, where we were to put up during our stay in naples. that night we were too tired for sightseeing and contented ourselves with gazing from the windows at the beautiful bay of naples, which lay flashing beneath us in the moonlight. as no arrangements had been made to play a game until the fourth day after our arrival we had ample time for sightseeing, and this we turned to the best account. the view from the balconies of the hotel was in itself a grand one, and one of which we never tired. vesuvius, with its smoke-crowned summit, was in plain sight, while the view of the bay and the beautiful islands of capri and ischia, that lay directly in front of the hotel, presented as pretty and enticing a picture as could be found anywhere. that afternoon we drove all about old naples, visiting many of the quaint and handsome old cathedrals and palaces, and that night we went to hear "lucretia borgia," at the san carlos, which is one of the most magnificent theaters to be found in all europe. the next day we spent among the ruins of pompeii and, though a third of the original city at the time of our visit still lay buried beneath the ashes and lava, we were enabled to obtain a pretty fair idea of what the whole city was like, and of the manners and customs of the unfortunate people who had been overwhelmed by the eruption. many of the most interesting relics found are now in the national museum at naples, among them being the casts of bodies that were taken from the ashes. the museums and cathedrals at naples are rich in relics and you might spend days in looking at them and still not see half of what is to be shown. my wife and i were both anxious to make the ascent of vesuvius, but the dangers incurred by some of the other members of the party who had attempted the feat deterred us from making the attempt. our first game of ball in naples and the first of our trip on european soil was played in the campo de mart, or "field of mars," february th. we left the hotel in carriages and drove out by the way of the via roma to the grounds. the day before united states consul camphausen, who treated us all through our stay with the greatest kindness and courtesy, had issued invitations to the various members of the different diplomatic corps in naples, and also to many of the principal citizens, so that there was a crowd of about , people on the grounds, and among them quite a sprinkling of foreign diplomats and fashionable people. the game began with baldwin and daly and healy and earl in the points, but it had hardly gotten under way before the crowd swarmed onto the playing grounds in such a way as to make fielding well-nigh impracticable, and batting dangerous. the police seemed powerless to restrain the people and the bad italian of a. g. spalding had, seemingly, no effect, in spite of the coaching given him by minister camphausen. then we tried to clear the field ourselves, and, though we would succeed for a time, it would soon be as bad as ever, the fact that an italian was laid out senseless by a ball from carroll's bat not seeming to deter them in the least. for three innings neither side scored, and in the fourth each got a man across the plate, but in the fifth the all-americas increased their score by seven runs, and the crowd, evidently thinking that the game was over, swarmed across the field like an army of kansas grasshoppers, and ward, ordering his men into their positions, claimed the game of tener, who was umpiring, which the latter gave him by a technical score of to , the score books showing to . that night was our last in naples, and by invitation of the american minister we occupied boxes at the san carlos theater, which was packed from pit to dome by the wealth and fashion of naples. we were to have taken our departure for rome at : the next morning, but owing to a mistake that was made by the commissionaire, to whom the getting of the tickets had been left, we were compelled to wait until the afternoon at three, mr. spalding and his mother going on without us. leaving clarence duval to watch over the baggage piled up in a corner of the waiting-room we spent the time in driving about the city, and in paying a farewell visit to the naples museum, in which is contained some of the finest marbles, bronzes and paintings to be found on the continent, the farnese bull and the farnese hercules in marble being famous the world over. three o'clock found us again at the depot and this time the tickets being on hand we boarded the train and were soon whirling along through the rural districts of italy on our way to: "rome that sat upon her seven hills and ruled the world." this trip was uneventful, and even the irrepressibles of the party managed to keep out of mischief, the experience of martin sullivan having taught them that the italians did not know how to take a joke. at nine o'clock we reached the eternal city, our party dividing at the station, the chicagos going to the hotel de alamagne and the all-americas to the hotel de capital, this action being necessary because of the fact that rome was at that time crammed with tourists and accommodations for such a large party as ours were hard to find. when messrs. spalding and lynch called upon judge stallo of cincinnati the next morning, he then being the american minister at rome, they were given the cold shoulder for the first time during the trip, that gentleman declaring that he had never taken the slightest interest in athletics, and that he did not propose to lend the use of his name for mercenary purposes. there being no inclosed grounds in rome this action of jude stallo's was in the nature of a gratuitous insult, and was looked upon as such by the members of our party. mr. charles dougherty, the secretary of the american legation at rome, proved, however, to be an american of a different kind, and one that devoted to us much of his time and attention. who that has ever been to rome can ever forget it? i cannot, and i look upon the time that i put in there sightseeing as most pleasantly and profitably spent. the stupendous church of st. peter's, with its chapels and galleries, being in itself an imposing object lesson. its glories have already been inadequately described by some of the most famous of literary men, and where they have failed it would be folly for a mere ball player to make the attempt. in st. peter's we spent almost an entire day, and leaving it we felt that there was still more to be seen. the second day we visited the palace of the caesars, the catacombs, the ruins of the forum, and the coliseum, within whose tottering walls the mighty athletes of an olden day battled for mastery. we drove far out on the appian way, that had at one time echoed the tread of rome's victorious legions, until we stopped at the tomb of st. cecelia. the glories of ancient rome have departed but the ruins of that glory still remain to challenge the wonder and admiration of the traveler. rome is not composed entirely of massive ruins in these latter days, as some people seem to imagine. on the contrary, it is a city of wealth and magnificence, and if "you do as the romans do" you are certain to enjoy yourself, for the romans do about the same things as other people. the corso, which is the fashionable drive and promenade of the residents, had a great attraction for us all, and between three and five o'clock in the afternoons the scene presented was a brilliant one, it being at that time thronged with handsome equipages and handsomer women, while the shop windows are pictures in themselves. the street itself in a narrow one, being barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other, and yet over its pavements there is a constantly flowing tide of people such as fifth avenue in new york, state street in chicago, rotten row in london, or even the champs ely-see in paris cannot equal. on the afternoon of february d, in answer to an invitation extended to the party through president spalding, by dr. o'connell, director of the american college at rome, we called at that institution, in a body and were soon chatting with the students, some seventy-five in number, who came from a score of different cities in our own country. they were a fine, manly lot, and just as fond of baseball, which they informed us that they often played, as though they were not studying for the priesthood. meeting them reminded me of my old school days at notre dame, and of the many games that i had taken part in while there when the old gentleman was still busily engaged in trying to make something out of me, and i was just as busily engaged in blocking his little game. after a pleasant chat clarence duval gave them an exhibition of dancing and baton swinging that amused them greatly, and then we adjourned to one of the class-rooms, where we listened to brief addresses by bishop mcquade of rochester, n. y., who was then in rome on a visit; bishop payne of virginia, and dr. o'connell, to all of which a. g. responded, after which we took our departure, but not before the students had all promised to witness the game of the next day. this game was played on the private grounds of the prince borghese, which are thrown open to the public between the hours of three and five on tuesday, saturday and sunday of each week, and a prettier place for a diamond that the portion of it upon which we played, and which was known as the piazza de sienna, could not be imagined. under the great trees that crowned the grassy terraces about the glade that afternoon assembled a crowd such as few ball players had ever played before, among the notables present being king humbert of italy, the prince of naples, prince borghese and family, count ferran, princess castel del fino, count gionatti, senora crispi, wife of the prime minister, and her daughter, charles dougherty and ladies, the class of the american college at rome, members of the various diplomatic corps, tourists and others. we were greeted by three rousing cheers and a tiger from the american college boys and then, after fifteen minutes of fast practice, we began the first professional ball game ever played in rome, a game that both teams were most anxious to win. crane and earle and tener and daly were in the points. the game was a remarkable one throughout, the fielding on both sides being gilt-edged, and the score a tie at the end of the second inning, each side having two runs. double plays, clean hitting and sharp fielding marked the next few innings, and it was not until the seventh inning burns crossed the plate with the winning run for the chicagos, the score standing to . after this we played an exhibition game of two innings, that was marked by fast work throughout, and were heartily cheered as we lifted our caps and left the grounds. shortly after the noon hour the next day, which was sunday, we started for florence, the day being a cold and cheerless one, arriving there at : and finding quarters at the hotel de europe, not a stone's throw from the right bank of the arno. it was too chilly for any gas-light trips that evening, and we retired early, but the next morning after an early breakfast we started in to make the most of the little time that we had at our disposal, and before the time set for play that afternoon we had taken flying peeps at the beautiful cathedral of st. maria, the home and studio of michael angelo, the palace of the medicis and the pitti and uffizi galleries, both of which are rich in paintings, the works of the great masters. we played that afternoon upon the cascine or racecourse of florence, in the midst of beautiful surroundings and in the presence of a crowd that was small but select, royalty having several representatives on the grounds. the game was a hotly-contested one throughout, healy and carroll and baldwin and myself being the batteries, and was finally won by the all-americas, the score standing at to in their favor. it was five o'clock and raining when we left florence the next morning. we had landed in italy in a rain storm and we left the land of sunshine and soft skies under the same unpleasant conditions. chapter xxix. our visit to la belle france. it was some days after we left the beautiful city of florence, with its wealth of statuary and paintings, before we again donned our uniforms, the lack of grounds upon which we could play being the reason for our enforced idleness. the day we left florence we crossed over the border and that night found us on french soil, and in the land of the "parlevooers." the ride from florence to nice, which latter city was our objective point, was one long dream of delight, the road running for nearly the entire distance along the shores of the mediterranean and along the edge of high cliffs, at whose rocky bases waves were breaking into spray that, catching the gleam of the sunlight, reflected all the colors of the rainbow. now and then the train plunged into the darkness of a tunnel, where all was blackness, but as it emerged again the sunlight became all the brighter by comparison. as we passed through pisa, a few hours out from florence, we caught excellent view of the famous leaning tower, with the appearance of which every schoolboy has been made familiar by the pictures in his geography. at genoa the train stopped for luncheon and there pfeffer's appetite proved to be too much for him, and as he couldn't speak italian he lingered so long at the table as to get left, coming on in the next train a few hours afterwards, and getting guyed unmercifully regarding his tremendous capacity for storing away food. in the course of the afternoon we passed through the the city of diana maria, that four years before had been destroyed by an earthquake, in which some four hundred people were killed or severely injured. it was a desolate enough looking place as viewed from the car windows, the broken walls that seemed ready to tumble at the slightest touch, and the bare rafters all bearing witness to the terrible shaking up that the city had received. leaving diana maria we passed through some beautiful mountain scenery, the little villages that clustered in the valleys looking from our point of view like a collection of birdhouses. it was nearly dark when we reached san remo, where the late emperor of germany had lain during his last illness, and quite so when we left it and entered the station of vingt mille, on the french border, and some twenty miles from our destination. here crane's monkey was the cause of our getting into trouble, a couple of italians, who had taken offense at the free-and-easy ways of fogarty, crane and carroll, who occupied the same apartment with them, informing the guard that the new-yorker had the little animal in his pocket, the fare for which was immediately demanded and refused. at vingt mille, after the customs authorities had examined our baggage, and we were about to take the train again, we were stopped and informed that we would not be allowed to proceed until the monkey's fare had been paid. it was some time before we ascertained the real cause of our detention, none of us being able to speak italian, and when we finally learned the train had gone on without us. seventeen francs were paid for the monk's ride in crane's pocket, and we thought the episode settled, but later on the official came back, stating that a mistake had been made and that the monk's fare was nine francs more, but this crane positively refused to pay until we were again surrounded by a cordon of soldiers, when he "anted up," but most unwillingly. it was an imposition, doubtless, but they had the might on their side and that settled the business. after that the gentleman (?) who had acted as interpreter, doubtless thinking that americans were "soft marks," put in a claim of twenty francs for services, but this he did not get, though he came very close to receiving the toe of a boot in its stead. after once more getting started we sped past the gambling palaces of monte carlo and monaco, that loomed up close behind us in the darkness, and, arriving at nice, finally secured quarters in the interlachen hotel, the city being crowded with strangers who had come from all parts of the world to view the "battle of flowers," that was to take place on the morrow. it rained all that night and all the next day, and as a result the carnival had to be postponed, and the floral decorations presented a somewhat woe-begone and bedraggled appearance. it had been our intention to play a game here, but to our astonishment and the disappointment of several hundred americans then in nice, the project had to be abandoned for the reason that there was not a ground or anything that even remotely resembled one, within the city limits. the rain that had caused the postponement of the carnival did not prevent us from leaving the hotel, however, and the entire party put in the day visiting the great gambling halls of monte carlo, which are today as famous on this side of the water as they are on the continent, and where the passion for gambling has ruined more people of both sexes than all of the other gambling hells of the world combined. a more beautiful spot than monte carlo it would be hard to imagine, the interior of the great gambling hall being handsomer than that of any theater or opera house that we had seen, and furnished in the most gorgeous manner. the work of the landscape gardener can here be seen at its best, no expense having been spared to make the grounds that surrounded the building devoted to games of chance the handsomest in the world. in its great halls one sees every sort and variety of people. lords and ladies, princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, gamblers and courtesans, all find place at the table where the monotonous voices of the croupiers and the clinking of the little ivory ball are about the only sounds that break the silence. the majority of the members of our party tried their luck at the tables, as does everybody that goes to monte carlo, no matter how strongly they may condemn the practice when at home, and some of us were lucky enough to carry off some of the bank's money, mr. spalding, mrs. anson and myself among the number. there is as much of a fascination in watching the faces of the players around the tables as there is in following the chances of the game, and the regular habitues of the place can be spotted almost at the first glance. one day at monte carlo was quite enough for us and we were glad to get back to nice and out of the way of temptation. the second day after we arrived at nice the flower festival took place, and luckily the weather was almost perfect. all the morning for a distance of some twenty blocks the avenue des anglaise, where the battle of flowers is annually held, the decorators had been busy preparing for the event, and by afternoon decked in flowers and gaily-colored ribbons, bunting and flags, the scene that it presented was a brilliant one. by three o'clock it was crowded with elegant equipages filled with men, women and flowers, the two former pelting each other with blossoms to their heart's content, the spectators in the adjacent windows and on the sidewalks taking part in the mimic war. conspicuous in the party was the prince of wales and his friends, among which were several of our fair countrywomen, the whole party distributing their flowers right and left with reckless-prodigality. the number of handsome women, the splendid street decorations, and the abundance of flowers that were scattered about in lavish profusion made a brilliant picture and one that it is not to be wondered that tourists journey from all parts of the continent to witness. the next morning we were off for paris, stopping over at lyons for the night, where there was snow on the ground, the weather being cold and disagreeable, and it was not until saturday that we arrived in "la belle paris," the mecca of all americans who have money to spend and who desire to spend it, and the fame of whose magnificent boulevards, parks, palaces, squares and monuments has not extended half as far as has the fame of its latin quartier, with its gay student life, its masked balls, with their wild abandon, its theaters made famous by the great rachael, sara bernhardt and others, and its gardens, where high kickers are in their glory. all of these were to be seen and all of these we saw, that is, all of them that we could see in the short week that was allotted to us, it being a week of late hours and wild dissipation so far as my wife and myself were concerned, we rarely retiring until long after the hour of midnight. our days were spent in driving about the city and its environs, and in viewing the various places of interest that were to be seen, from the magnificent galleries filled with the rarest of paintings and statuary to the dark and gloomy bastille, while our nights were devoted to the theater and balls, and at both of these we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. in paris we met a great many members of the american colony from whom we received much courtesy and attention, and to whom i should like to have a chance of returning the many kindnesses that were showered upon us during the time that we remained in the french capital. as a business man the parisian is not a decided success when viewed from the american standpoint, but as a butterfly in pursuit of pleasure he cannot be beaten. he is polite and courteous at all times, however, but is not to be trusted when making a trade, he having learned to look upon all americans with money as his natural and legitimate prey, and so is prepared to take the advantage of you and yours whenever the opportunity is given him. it was not until the afternoon of march th that we were given a chance to show the parisians how the national game of america is played, and then we put up a fairly good exhibition, both teams being more than anxious to win, and playing in a most spirited fashion. this game was played at the parc aristotique, situated on the banks of the seine, just opposite the exposition buildings, and within plain sight of the great eiffel tower, it being walled in by gardens and big city residences. the game was made memorable by the large number of americans that were present and by the distinguished people before whom it was played. among these were general brugere and captain chamin, representing president carnot of the french republic, who sent a letter regretting that his official duties prevented him from seeing the game; mr. and mrs. william joy, of the american legation; miss mclane, daughter of the american minister at paris; miss urquhart, a sister of mrs. james brown potter, the actress; consul general rathbone, and a host of others prominent in diplomatic, social and theatrical circles. it was in the second inning of the game that the famous "stone wall" infield of the chicagos was broken up through an injury received by ed williamson, from the effects of which he never fully recovered. he had taken his base on balls in the second inning and, was trying to steal second when he tripped and fell, tearing his knee cap on the sharp sand and gravel of which the playing surface was composed. he was taken by his wife, who was among the spectators, to his hotel, and it was thought that a few days of rest would see him all right again, but such did not prove to be the case, as he was still confined to his room in london when we sailed for home, and it was until late in the season of that he was again able to report for duty. this necessitated baldwin's going to first while ryan took williamson's place at short and weakened our team very materially, as williamson was always a tower of strength to us. we were very decidedly off, too, in our batting, and it was not until the sixth inning that a home run by ryan and a two-bagger by pettit, and a passed ball enabled us to put two men over the plate. these were all the runs we got, however, and at the end of the second inning, when game was called, the score stood at to in all-americas' favor. how the members of either game were enabled to play as good ball as they did, not only in paris but in other cities that we visited after the inactivity of steamer life, the late hours, and the continual round of high living that they indulged in, is a mystery, and one that is past my fathoming, and yet the ball that they put up on many of these occasions that i have spoken of was ball of the championship kind and the sort that would have won even in, league company. at half-past eight o'clock we left paris for our trip across the english channel, taking the long route from dieppe to new haven, and if we all wished ourselves dead and buried a hundred times before reaching the latter port we can hardly be blamed, as a worse night for making the trip could not well have been chosen. it was one o'clock in the morning when the train from paris bearing the members of our party arrived at dieppe, and the wind at that time was blowing a gale. down the dock in the face of this we marched and aboard the little side-wheel steamer "normande," where our quarters were much too cramped for comfort. a few minutes later the lines were cast off and the steamer was tossing about like a cork on the face of the waters, now up and now down, and seemingly trying at times to turn a somersault, a feat that luckily for us she did not succeed in accomplishing, else this story might never have been written. there was no doing on deck, even had we been capable of making an effort to do so, which we were not, as we could hear the large waves that swept over the vessel strike the planking with a heavy thud that shook the steamer from stem to stern, and then go rushing away into the scuppers. up and down, down and up, all night long, and if we had never prayed to be set ashore before we did on that occasion, but as helpless as logs we lay in our staterooms, not much caring whether the next plunge made by the ship was to be the last or not. i had had slight attacks of seasickness before, but on this occasion i was good and seasick, and mrs. anson was, if such a thing were possible, even in a worse condition than i was. at about three in the morning we heard the noise of a heavy shock followed by the crashing of timbers and the shouts of sailors that sounded but faintly above the roar of the tempest, and the next morning discovered that a huge wave had carried away the bridge, the lookout fortunately managing to escape being carried away with the wreck. the experience of that awful night is one never to be forgotten, a night that, according to the captain, was the worst that he had ever witnessed during his thirty years of experience, and it was with feelings of great relief that we dropped anchor in the harbor of new haven the next morning, where the sun shone brightly and the sea was comparatively quiet. we were a pretty seedy-looking lot when we boarded the train for london, where we debarked at the victoria station about half-past nine o'clock, still looking much the worse for wear and like a collection of invalids than a party of representative ball players. getting into carriages we were at once driven through the city to holburn, where quarters at the first avenue hotel had been provided, and where we were only too glad to rest for a time and recover from the awful shaking up that the english channel had given us; a shaking up that it took mrs. anson some time to recover from, as it also did the other ladies of the party. we had expected to play our first game of ball in england on the day of our arrival, but the game had been called off before we got there because of the storm, the grounds being flooded. it was a lucky thing for us that such was the case, as there was not one of the party who could have hit a balloon after the experience of the night before, or who could have gone around the bases at a gait that would have been any faster than a walk. chapter xxx. through england, scotland and ireland. the first thing that impresses the stranger in london is the immensity of the city, and the great crowds that continually throng the streets night and day, for london never sleeps. the first day after our arrival i noted numerous changes that had taken place in various quarters since my visit of fifteen years before, during which time the city seemed to have grown and spread out in every direction. the hotel where we were quartered was in close proximity to the strand, one of london's greatest and busiest thoroughfares, and here the crowds were at all times of the most enormous proportions, the absence of street car and the presence of hundreds of hansom cabs and big double-decked tramways running in every direction being especially noticeable. the weather at the time of our visit was cold, foggy and disagreeable, and as a result our sight-seeing experiences were somewhat curtailed and not as pleasant as they might have been. the date of our first appearance on english soil was march th, and prior to the game on that occasion we were given a reception and luncheon in the club house of the surrey county cricket club at kensington oval, which is the personal property of the prince of wales, and one of the most popular of the many cricket grounds the are to be found within the vicinity of the world's greatest metropolis. the committee appointed to receive the players on this occasion embraced among others the duke of beaufort, earl of landsborough, earl of coventry, earl of sheffield, earl of chesborough, lord oxenbridge, lord littleton, lord hawke, sir reginald hanson, bart., sir w. t. webster, attorney general, the lord mayor, american consul general, american charge d'affaires, and dr. w. d. grace, the world-famous cricket player, with whom i had become well acquainted during the trip of . it had rained that morning and when we left the hotel in drags for the grounds the streets of london were enveloped in a fog so thick that one could almost cut it with a knife, while the prospects of a ball game seemed to the most of us exceedingly dubious. arriving at the club house we were presented to the different members of the reception committee, who, in spite of the high-sounding titles that they bore, were a most affable lot of men, and to many of the most prominent club members, all of whom gave us a warm welcome and made us feel thoroughly at home. lord oxenbridge, a fine specimen of the english nobility, acted as chairman of the assemblage, and after luncheon proposed the toasts of "the queen" and "the president of the united states," both of which were drank with enthusiasm. lord lewisham then proposed "the american ball teams," to which mr. spalding responded, this being followed by the health of the chairman, proposed by the hon. henry white, united states charge d'affaires, after which we made our way through the crowds that thronged the reception rooms and corridors to the dressing rooms, where we donned our uniforms and put ourselves in readiness to play ball. when we marched out on the grounds we were somewhat surprised at the size of the crowd that greeted us, some , people having assembled to witness the game, and this in spite of the fact that it was still foggy and the grounds soft, black and sticky. to play good ball under such circumstances was all but impossible, and yet i have taken part in lots of championship games at home that were worse played than this one. healy and baldwin did the twirling, and both pitched good ball, while the fielding of both teams was nothing short of remarkable when the fact is taken into consideration that a ball fifty feet in the air could not be seen at all. just at the end of the first half of the third inning we noticed something of a commotion in the vicinity of the club house and when, in a few moments afterwards, the well-known face of the prince of wales appeared at the window, we assembled at the home plate and gave three hearty cheers for his highness, this action on our parts bringing out a storm, of applause from the stand. at the close of the fifth inning we accompanied manager lynch to the club house at the prince's request, where we were introduced to the future king of england by president spalding, he shaking hands with each of us in a most cordial manner, calling many of us by name and chatting with us in a most off-hand and friendly way. as we left he bowed to each of us pleasantly and then took a seat by the window to witness the balance of the game, which resulted at the end of nine innings in a score of to in chicago's favor. the london papers the next morning devoted a great deal of space to the game, but the majority of the englishmen who had witnessed it said that they thought cricket its superior, and among them the prince of wales, which was hardly to be wondered at, and which confirmed me in the opinion that i had formed on my first visit, viz., that base-ball would never become a popular english sport, an opinion that since then has proved to be correct. accompanied by the united states charge d'affaires the next morning we drove to the parliament buildings, where we were admitted and shown through by the secretary to the chairman of the house of commons, an honor rarely accorded to visitors and one that we greatly appreciated. from the great hall where charles the first and warren hastings were tried and which had been badly wrecked by the explosion of a dynamite bomb two years before, we passed into the crypt and committee rooms, and thence through the magnificent corridors decorated with paintings, each of which cost thousands of pounds. the house of lords was next visited, the woolsack and queen's seat, and the seats of the various members being pointed out to us by the secretary. from the house of lords we passed into the house of commons, where sir william harcourt was speaking upon "the treatment of political prisoners in ireland," and where several famous personages were pointed out to us, though much to our regret we missed seeing mr. gladstone, who was expected to enter every moment, but who did not appear up to the time of our leaving for westminster abbey, where we had just time to glance about us before driving to lord's cricket grounds, where we were to play that afternoon, and where we were greeted by a crowd of , people. these grounds, which are particularly fine, we found that afternoon in excellent condition and as a result we played a great game and one that evidently pleased the spectators, the batting being heavy, the fielding sharp and quick and the base running fast and brilliant. errors at the' last moment by baldwin and myself gave the all-americas this game, they winning by a single run, the score standing to . that evening, at the invitation of henry irving, now sir henry, and miss ellen terry, we occupied boxes at the lyceum theater, being invited back of the scenes between the acts to enjoy a glass of wine and to receive the well wishes of our host and hostess, who still stand at the head of their profession. the day following, which was march th, we played upon the crystal palace grounds, which are located at sydenham, one of the most popular residence districts of the great city and within plain sight of the magnificent palace of crystal, that is one of the many famous places of interest with which london abounds. here another large and enthusiastic crowd of , people greeted us, and there was more cheering and excitement than we had yet heard since our arrival in england. it was another pretty and close game, in which the all-americas carried off the honors by a score of to , the batting, fielding and base running of both teams being again above the average. at seven o'clock the next morning we left london for bristol, the home of the famous cricketers, dr. w. g. and mr. e. m. grace, whose exploits in the batting line have made them celebrated in the annals of the english national game. our journey to bristol was a delightful one and when we arrived there at noon we were met by a committee composed of the duke of beaufort, dr. grace and the officials of the gloucester county cricket club, and driven to the grand hotel, where introductions were in order. the duke of beaufort was certainly: "a fine old english gentleman," and one who, in spite of his sixty years, was greatly interested in athletic sports. after a good dinner, over which his grace presided and, after the usual toasts had been proposed and drank, we were driven to the gloucester cricket grounds, which had but just been completed, at a cost of some twelve thousand pounds, and which were as pretty and well-equipped as any grounds in england. the day was a beautiful one and the grounds in splendid condition, but for all that the game lacked the snap and go that had characterized the games in london, the chicagos winning by a score of to . after the game the chicago team took the field and ryan and crane pitched while the grace brothers and other cricketers tried their hand at batting, but were unable to do anything with the swift delivery of the americans, and it was not until they had slowed down that they managed to land on the ball, dr. grace making the only safe hit of the day. that night found us back in london, where the next afternoon we played our farewell game in the great metropolis on the grounds of the essex county club at layton, before a crowd that numbered , people, crane and earle and baldwin and daly being the batteries. this game was full of herd hitting and, though the score, to in favor of chicago, would not have pleased an american crowd, it tickled the english people immensely, the london press of the next morning declaring it to be the best game that we had yet played in england. a throwing contest had been arranged to take place after the game between crane and conner, an australian cricketer, but the latter backed out at the last moment and crane merely gave an exhibition, throwing a cricket ball ito yards and a base ball yards and inches. that evening we were banqueted by stockholders of the niagara panorama company, and among the guests was the duke of beaufort, who "dropped in," as he put it, "to spend the evening with this fine lot of fellows from america." when we left london the next morning it was in a special train provided by the london and northwestern railway company, consisting of nine cars, two of which were dining saloons, two smoking and reception cars, and the balance sleepers, each of the latter being made to accommodate from six to eight persons comfortably. the exterior of the train was exceedingly handsome, the body-color being white enamel with trimmings of gold and seal brown and the royal arms in gold and scarlet on the carriage doors, while upon each side of the coaches was the inscription in brown letters, "the american base-ball clubs." the interior of the train was equally as handsome, and even royalty itself could not been better provided. some people were on hand to see us off and we pulled out of london with the cheers of our friends ringing in our ears. the run to birmingham occupied but three hours, and arriving there we were escorted to the colonnade hotel by a delegation from the warwickshire county cricket club, where the usual reception was accorded us. then, after going to the queen's hotel for luncheon, we were driven to the handsomely located and prettily equipped grounds of the club, where, in spite of the threatening weather, , people had assembled. this game was one that would have delighted an american crowd, game being called at the end of the tenth inning on account of darkness with the score a tie, each team having four runs to its credit, baldwin and healy both pitching in fine style. that evening we were the guests of honor at the prince of wales theater, returning after the play was over to our sleeping apartments on the train. at nine o'clock the next morning we left for sheffield, the great cutlery manufacturing town of england, our route leading through the beautiful hills of yorkshire. here we were the guests of the yorkshire county cricket club, and after luncheon at the royal victoria were driven to the bramhall lane grounds, one of the oldest and most famous of england's many athletic parks, where we were greeted by a crowd that was even larger than' the one before which we had played at birmingham. it was raining hard when we began play but we kept on for four innings, after which the rain came down so fast and the ground became so muddy that we were compelled to quit. we waited about for an hour in hopes that the rain might cease, but as it did not we finally went back to our quarters. at the invitation of miss kate vaughan we spent the evening at the royal theater, where, as usual, we attracted fully as much attention as the play. snow was falling in great feathery flakes when we left sheffield the next morning and, started for bradford, and though we discovered an improvement in the weather when we reached our destination we found the grounds of the bradford foot-ball and cricket club in a condition that was utterly unfit for base-ball playing purposes. to make matters worse it began to rain while we were getting into our uniforms and a chilly wind swept across the enclosure. four thousand people braved the inclement weather to see us play, however, and the members' stand presented a funny appearance crowded with ladies in waterproofs and mackintoshes, while the rows of black umbrellas that surrounded the field made it look like a forest of toadstools. it looked like sheer folly to attempt to play under such circumstances, but at the entreaties of the cricket club's secretary, who said that a game of three innings would satisfy the crowd, we started in and we gave a good exhibition, too, but the state of our uniforms after it was over can be better imagined than described. we arrived at glasgow the next morning in time for breakfast, having been whirled across the borders of scotland in the night, and when we awoke we found the train surrounded by a crowd of curious sightseers. after luncheon we started for the west of scotland cricket club grounds, wearing overcoats over our uniforms, the air being decidedly chilly. it was fairly good playing weather after we once got warmed up, and the , spectators saw a good game, lasting seven innings, and also saw the all-americas win by a score of to . mr. and mrs. osmond tearle were that night playing "king lear" at the grand theater, and entertained us very handsomely. on this trip thus far we had had but little opportunity for sight-seeing save the passing glimpses of scenery that we could obtain from the flying train and in the carriage rides to and from the grounds upon which we played. the next morning found us in manchester, we having left glasgow at midnight, and at manchester, the day being a pleasant one, we had some little opportunity of looking about. what we saw of the town impressed us most favorably, the streets being wide and clean, and the buildings being of a good character. the old trafford grounds on which we played that afternoon were beautifully situated and, in point of natural surroundings and equipments, held their own with the best in england. through the gates , people passed, and they were treated to a rattling exhibition of "base-ball as she is played," the score being twice tied, and finally won by the all-americas by a score of to , tener and healy doing the twirling. that evening we were banqueted at the rooms of the anglo-french club by mr. raymond eddy, who was then acting as the european representative of the chicago house of john v, farwell & co., he being assisted in entertaining us by major hale, united states consul at manchester. this proved to be a most pleasant occasion, and the kindness shown us by both mr. eddy and major hale still remains a pleasant memory. at seven o'clock the next morning we were at liverpool, where i met many of the friends that i had made on my previous visit, and where we were to play our last game on english soil. we were driven to the colice athletic grounds that afternoon in a coach with seats for twenty-eight persons, and arriving at the grounds we found a big crowd already inside and a perfect jam at the gates, the big carriage entrance finally giving way and letting in some five hundred or more people before the rush could be stopped by the police. as the paid admissions after the game showed an attendance of , , it is fair to assume that there were at least , people on the grounds. five innings of base-ball were played and the score was a tie, each team scoring but three, only one hit being made off baldwin and four off crane. a game of "rounders" between a team from the rounders' association of liverpool and an american eleven with baldwin and earl as the battery, and with tener, wood, fogarty, brown, hanlon, pfeffer, manning, sullivan and myself in the field was played. the bases in this game instead of being bags are iron stakes about three feet high, the ball the size of a tennis ball, and the batting is done with one hand and with a bat that resembles a butter-paddle in shape and size. a base-runner has to be retired by being struck with the ball, and not touched with it, and the batter must run the first time he strikes at the ball, whether he hits it or not. of course the rounders' association team beat us, the score being to , but when they came to play us two innings at our game afterwards the score stood at to o in our favor, the crowd standing in a drenching rain to witness the fun. at nine o'clock that night we took the train for fleetwood, on the shores of the irish channel, and at eleven we were on board of the little steamer "princess of wales" and bound for ireland. unlike our experience in the english channel, this trip proved to be most delightful and we arrived in belfast in the pink of condition for anything that might turn up. it was sunday morning and as we drove up to the imperial hotel on royal avenue the streets were as quiet as a country church yard. towards evening, however, royal avenue began to take on a gala appearance, conspicuous among the promenaders being the scotch highland troops, whose bright costumes lent color to the scene. about nine o'clock it began to rain again and it was still raining when we retired for the night. the next morning was full of sunshine and showers, but towards noon it cleared up and after luncheon we were off in drags for the north of ireland cricket club grounds, where we put up another great game and one where a crowd of , people, among which pretty irish girls without number were to be seen, were the spectators. at the end of the eighth inning the score stood to in our favor, but in the ninth singles by wood and healy and a corking three-bagger to left field by earle sent two men across the place and gave the victory to all-america by a score of to . a banquet at the club house that evening, over which the mayor of belfast presided, kept us out till a late hour, and at an early hour the next morning we were off for dublin city, "where the boys are all so gay and the girls are all so pretty," according to the words of an old song. the porter who woke us up that morning must have been a relative of mr. dooley, of the archer road, if one might judge from the rich brogue with which he announced the hour of "'arf pawst foive, wud he be gittin' oop, sur? it's 'arf pawst foive." between belfast and dublin we passed through a beautiful section of the country, catching now and then among the trees glimpses of old ivy-grown castles and whirling by farms in a high state of cultivation. at dublin, where we arrived at eleven o'clock, we were met by united states consul mccaskill and others and driven to morrison's hotel. this was a day off and many of the boys who had relatives in ireland within reaching distance took advantage of the fact to pay them a visit. mrs. anson and i spent the day in driving about the city visiting phoenix park and other places of interest, and that evening we attended the "gaiety theater," where a laughable comedy called "arabian nights" was being played. the next day we played our last game in a foreign land, the weather being all that could be desired for the purpose. prior to the game, however, we called at the mansion house and were received by the lord mayor of dublin, who gave us a genuine irish welcome. our drive to the landsdown road grounds took us through many of the best parts of the city, which is beautiful, and can boast of as many handsome women as any place of its size in the world. the game that we played that afternoon was one of the best of the entire trip, from an american base-ball critic's point of view, though the score was too small to suit a people educated up to the big scores that are generally reached in cricket matches. baldwin and crane were both on their mettle and the fielding being of the sharpest kind safe hits were few and far between. up to the ninth inning chicago led by two runs, but here earle's three-bagger, hanlon's base on balls, burns' fumble of brown's hit and carroll's double settled our chances, the all-americas winning by a score of to . this game made a total of twenty-eight that we had played since leaving san francisco, of which the all-americas had won fourteen and the chicagos eleven, three being a tie, and had it not been for the accident in paris that deprived us of williamson's services, i am pretty certain that a majority of the games would have been placed to chicago's credit. in the evening we left for cork over the southern railway in three handsomely-appointed coaches decorated with american flags and bearing the inscription "reserved for the american base-ball party." we arrived at two o'clock the next morning, being at once driven to the victoria hotel. the same day we visited blarney castle, driving out and back in the jaunting cars for which ireland is famous, and, though i kissed the blarney stone, i found after my return home that i could not argue my beliefs into an umpire any better than before. that night we left the quaint city of cork behind and, after a beautiful ride of eleven miles by train, found ourselves standing on the docks at queenstown, where a tender was in waiting to convey us to the white star steamer that awaited us in the offing. chapter xxxi. "home, sweet home." our voyage back to "god's country," by which term of endearment the american traveling abroad often refers to the united states, was by no means a pleasant one, as we encountered heavy weather from the start, the "adriatic" running into a storm immediately after leaving queenstown that lasted for two days and two nights, during which time we made but slow progress, and as a result there were a good many vacant seats at the table when mealtimes came. a storm at sea is always an inspiring sight, and it was a pleasure to those of us who were lucky enough to have our sealegs on to watch the big ship bury her nose in the mountainous waves, scattering the spray in great clouds and then rising again as buoyantly as the proverbial cork. the decks were not a pleasant point of vantage, however, even for the most enthusiastic admirer of nature, as a big wave would now and then break over the forward part of the vessel, drenching everything and everybody within reach and making the decks as slippery as a well-waxed ballroom. i had quit smoking some time before starting on this trip and was therefore deprived of blowing a cloud with which to drive dull care away during the tedious days that followed. like the rest of the party, too, once started i was impatient to reach home again, and for that reason the slow progress that we made the first few days was not greatly to my liking. the weather moderated at the end of forty-eight hours, and though the waves still wore their night-caps and were too playful to go to bed, they occasioned us but little annoyance and we bowled along over the atlantic in merry fashion, killing time by spinning yarns, playing poker and taking a turn at the roulette wheel which fred carroll had purchased at nice to remind him of his experience at monte carlo. at a very early hour on saturday morning, april , we were off fire island, and sunrise found us opposite quarantine. our base-ball friends in new york, who had been looking for us for three days, had been early apprised that the "adriatic" had arrived off sandy hook, and, boarding the little steamer "starin" and the tug "george wood," they came down the bay, two hundred strong, to meet us. with the aid of "a leedle sherman pand," steam whistles and lusty throats they made noise enough to bring us all on deck in a hurry. as the distance between the vessels grew shorter we could distinguish among others the faces of marcus meyer, w. w. kelly, john w. russel, digby bell, dewolf hopper, col. w. t. coleman and many others, not least among them being my old father, who had come on from marshalltown to be among the first to welcome myself and my wife back to america, and who, as soon as the "starin" was made fast, climbed on deck and gave us both a hug that would have done credit to the muscular energy of a grizzly bear, but who was no happier to see us than we were to see him and to learn that all was well with our dear ones. i'm not sure but the next thing that he did was to propose a game of poker to some of the boys, but if he did not it was simply because there was too much excitement going on. that evening we were the guests of col. mccaull at palmer's theater, where de-wolf hopper, digby bell and other prominent comic opera stars were playing in "the may queen." the boxes that we occupied that night were handsomely decorated with flags and bunting, while from the proscenium arch hung an emblem of all nations, a gilt eagle and shield, with crossed bats and a pair of catcher's gloves and a catcher's mask. every allusion to the trip and to the members of the teams brought out the applause, and by and by the crowd began to call for speeches from ward and myself, but ward wouldn't, and i couldn't, and so the comedians on the stage were left to do all of the entertaining. the next day, sunday, was spent quietly in visiting among our friends, and monday we played the first game after our return on the brooklyn grounds. the day was damp and cold and for that reason the crowd was comparatively a small one, there being only , people on hand to give us a welcome, but these made up in noise what they lacked in numbers and yelled themselves hoarse as we marched onto the grounds. once again, after a hard-fought contest, we were beaten by a single run, all-america , chicago being the score. at night we were given a banquet at delmonico's by the new york admirers of the game, and it was a notable gathering of distinguished men that assembled there to do us honor, among them being a. g. mills, ex-president of the national league, who acted as chairman, hon. chauncey m. depew, hon. daniel dougherty, henry e. howland, w. h. mcelroy, u. s. consul; g. w. griffin, who was representing the united states at sydney when we were there; mayor chapin, of brooklyn; mayor cleveland, of jersey city; erastus wyman, samuel l. clemens ("mark twain"), and the rev. joseph twitchell, of hartford, conn.; while scattered about the hall at various tables were seated representatives of different college classes, members of the new york stock exchange, the president and prominent members of the new york athletic club, and other crack athletic organizations of new york and vicinity, while in the gallery the ladies had been seated presumably for the purpose of seeing that we neither ate nor drank too much during the festivities. mr. mills in his address reminded his hearers of the occasion that had brought them together and pronounced a glowing eulogy upon the game and its beauties and upon the players that had journeyed around the world to introduce it in foreign climes, and then called upon mayor cleveland of new jersey, whose witty remarks excited constant laughter, and who wound up by welcoming us home in the name of the , residents of the little city across the river. mayor alfred chapin of brooklyn followed in a brief and laughter-provoking address, after which chauncey m. depew arose amid enthusiastic cheering and spoke as follows: "representing, as i do, probably more than any other human being, the whole of the american people who were deprived, by a convention that did not understand its duty, of putting me where i belong; and representing, as i do, by birth and opportunity, all the nationalities on the globe, i feel that i have been properly selected to give you the welcome of the world. i am just now arranging and preparing a centennial oration which i hope may, and fear may not, meet all the possibilities of the th of april in presenting the majesty of that which created the government which we boast of and the land and country of which we are proud, but i feel that that oration is of no importance compared with the event of this evening. washington never saw a base-ball game; madison wrote the constitution of the united states, and died without seeing one; jefferson was the author of the declaration of independence, and yet his monument has no tribute of this kind upon it. hamilton, the most marvelous and creative genius, made constitutions, built up systems and created institutions, and yet never witnessed a base-ball game. i feel as i stand here that all the men that have ever lived and achieved success in this world have died in vain. i am competent to pay that tribute, because i never played a game in my life, and i never saw it but once, and then did not understand it. a philosopher whom i always read with interest, because his abstractions sometimes approach the truth, wrote an article of some acumen several years ago, in which he said that you could mark the march of civilization and rise of liberty and its decadence by the interest which the nations took in pugilism. the nations of the earth which submit to the most grinding of despotisms have no pugilists. the nations of europe which have never risen in their boasted establishments to a full comprehension of republicanism, have no pugilists. while ireland and the irish people, who can never be crushed, who have poetry, song and eloquence that belong to genius, have the most remarkable pugilists. england, which has a literature which is the only classic of to-day, which has an aristocracy and a form of government which is nearly democratic, has remarkable pugilists, and when you reach the seal of culture in america--boston--you find the prince of pugilists. now, that philosopher was right in the general principle, but wrong in the game. civilization is marked, and has been in all ages, by an interest in the manly arts." in conclusion mr. depew eulogized the returning tourists and-ended with a brilliant panegyric in favor of the national game. in responding to the toast, "the influence of the manly sports," the hon. daniel dougherty made a brilliant address in favor of outdoor games, after which president spalding paid a compliment to the excellent conduct and ball-playing abilities of the two teams, and captain ward and myself made the briefest of remarks. chairman mills then introduced "mark twain," speaking of him as a native of the sandwich islands, which brought out the following address: "though not a native, as intimated by the chairman, i have visited the sandwich islands, that peaceful land, that beautiful land, that far-off home of profound repose and soft indolence, and dreamy solitude, where life is one long slumberous sabbath, the climate one long, delicious summer day, and the good that die experience no change, for they but fall asleep in one heaven and wake up in another. and these boys have played base-ball there; baseball, which is the very symbol, the outward and visible expression of the drive and push and rush and struggle of the raging, tearing, booming nineteenth century. one cannot realize it, the place and the fact are so incongruous; it is like interrupting a funeral with a circus. why, there's no legitimate point of contact, no possible kinship between base-ball" and the sandwich islands; base-ball is all fact, the islands are all sentiment. in base-ball you've got to do everything just right, or you don't get there; in the islands you've got to do everything all wrong, or you can't stay there. you do it wrong to get it right, for if you do it right you get it wrong; there isn't any way to get it right but to do it wrong, and the wronger you do it the righter it is. "the natives illustrate this every day. they never mount a horse from the larboard side, they always mount him from the starboard; on the other hand, they never milk a cow on the starboard side, they always milk her on the larboard; it's why you see so many short people there, they've got their heads kicked off. when they meet on the road they don't turn to the right, they turn to the left. and so, from always doing everything wrong end first, it makes them left-handed and cross-eyed; they are all so. in those islands, the cats haven't any tails and the snakes haven't any teeth; and, what is still more irregular, the man that loses a game gets the pot. as to dress, the women all wear a single garment, but the men don't. no, the men don't wear anything at all; they hate display; when they wear a smile they think they are overdressed. speaking of birds, the only bird there that has ornamental feathers has only two, just only enough to squeeze through with, and they are under its wings instead of on top of its head, where, of course, they ought to be to do any good. "the natives' language is soft and liquid and flexible, and in every way efficient and satisfactory till you get mad; then, there you are; there isn't anything in it to swear with. good judges all say it is the best sunday language there is; but then all the other six days of the week it just hangs idle on your hands; it isn't any good for business, and you can't work a telephone with it. many a time the attention of the missionaries has been called to this defect, and they are always promising they are going to fix it; but no, they go fooling along and fooling along, and nothing is done. speaking of education, everybody there is educated, from the highest to the lowest; in fact, it is the only country in the world where education is actually universal. and yet every now and then you run across instances of ignorance that are simply revolting, simply revolting to the human race. think of it, there the ten takes the ace. but let us not dwell on such things. they make a person ashamed. well, the missionaries are always going to fix that, but they put it off, and put it off, and put it off, and so that nation is going to keep on going down, and down, until some day you will see a pair of jacks beat a straight flush. "well, it is refreshment to the jaded, water to the thirsty, to look upon men who have so lately breathed the soft air of these isles of the blest, and had before their eyes the inextinguishable vision of their beauty. no alien land in all the world has any deep, strong charm for me but that one; no other land could so longingly and beseechingly tempt me, sleeping and waking, through half a life-time, as that one has done. other things leave me, but that abides; other things change, but that remains the same. for me, its balmy airs are always blowing, its summer seas flashing in the sun, the pulsing of its surfbeat is in my ears. i can see its garlanded crags, its leaping cascades, its plumy palms drowsing by the shore, its remote summits floating like islands above the cloud rack. i can hear the spirits of its woodland solitudes, i can hear the splash of its brooks; in my nostrils still lives the breath of the flowers that perished twenty years ago. and these world wanderers that sit before me here have lately looked upon these things, and with eyes of the flesh, not the unsatisfying vision of the spirit. i envy them that." "mark twain" may have been better than he was that night, but if so i should like some one to mention the time and place. to be sure he make a mistake in taking it for granted that we had played ball there, but then it was not our fault that we had not: it was all the fault of the horrid blue laws that prevented us from making an honest dollar. digby bell and dewolf hopper gave recitations in response to the loud demand made for them, and it was not until long after midnight that an adjournment was finally made. the next day we played our second game in brooklyn before a crowd of , , and gave a rather uninteresting exhibition, the chicagos taking the lead at the start and holding it to the finish, the all-americas supporting crane in a very slipshod manner. that same evening we left for baltimore, where , people gave us a hearty welcome when we appeared the next afternoon on the association grounds. here we put up a good game, the chicagos winning by a score of to . we arrived in philadelphia the next morning at eleven o'clock and found a committee composed of the officers of the philadelphia clubs and representatives of the philadelphia papers at the depot awaiting our arrival. entering carriages we were driven down chestnut street to the south side ferry, where we took the boat for gloucester and were given a planked-shad dinner at thompson's. returning we were driven directly to the grounds of the athletic club, where the athletics and bostons were playing an exhibition game. when our party filed into the grounds at the end of the third inning play was suspended and as the band played "home again" we were given a great ovation. at the conclusion of the game, which we witnessed from a section of the grand stand that had been reserved for us, we went to the continental hotel, and then, after we had donned evening dress, we were escorted to the hotel bellevue, where we had been tendered a banquet by the philadelphia "sporting life." the banquet hall on this occasion was beautifully decorated, and as we entered the band played, "the day i played base-ball." frank c. richter occupied the chairman's seat, others at the same table being a. g. spalding, col. a. k. mcclure, of the "philadelphia times;" col. m. r. muckle, of the "ledger;" john i. rogers, harry, wright, a. g. reach, capt. john m. ward, c. h. byrne of the brooklyn club, president w. m. smith of the city council, thomas dando, president of the "sporting life" company, and myself. there were over three hundred guests in all and it was late before the speechmaking began. after brief welcoming addresses by chairman richter, mr. dando and president smith, there were loud calls for mr. spalding, who gave a brief outline of our experiences in foreign lands. captain ward and myself responded in behalf of our respective teams and i took occasion to pay the boys all a compliment that i thought that they had deserved, because each and every member had behaved himself as a gentleman. speeches by colonel rogers and c. h. byrne followed, after which came a glowing tribute to the national game from the lips of col. mcclure, followed by an interesting sketch of the game and its growth in popular favor by henry chadwick, who has the history of the game from its first inception down to the present time at his finger-ends. a. j. reach, harry wright, tim murnane, leigh lynch and the irrepressible fogarty all took their turn at amusing the party and again it was a late hour, or rather an early one, when we returned to our quarters. the next afternoon we were accorded a reception by mayor fitler in his office, who, in shaking hands with the tourists, gave us all the heartiest sort of a welcome. that afternoon we played on the grounds of the philadelphias, to a crowd of , people, the weather being threatening. this proved to be a close and exciting contest, chicago winning by a score of to , tener and healy both being in fine shape. the next day found us in boston where we played to , people, and where the contest proved to be a one-sided affair, a brilliant double play by duffy, tener and myself and a quick double play by manning and wise being the redeeming features. it was something of a picnic for all-americas, as they won by a score of to . the following evening we started on our trip to chicago, stopping at washington en route. here we were notified of president harrison's wish to receive the party and, visiting the white house, we were introduced to benjamin harrison, whose reception was about as warm as that of an icicle, and who succeeded in making us all feel exceedingly uncomfortable. that afternoon , people saw us wipe up the ground with the all-americas, upon whom the president's reception had had a bad effect, as the score, to , indicates. the next day we played at pittsburg to a crowd of the same size, the score being a tie, each team having made three runs at the end of the ninth inning, and the day following at cleveland , saw us win by a score of to . at indianapolis the all-americas took their revenge, however, beating us in the presence of , people by a score of to . friday noon we left the hoosier capital for chicago in a special car over the monon route, and at hammond, where we had already gotten into dress suits, we were met by a crowd of chicagoans, who told us that chicago was prepared to give us the greatest reception that we had yet had, a fact that proved to be only too true. the crowd at the depot was a howling, yelling mob, and as we entered our carriages and the procession moved up wabash avenue and across harmon court to michigan avenue, amid the bursting of rockets, the glare of calcium lights and roman candles, we felt that we were indeed at home again. it seemed as if every amateur base-ball club in the city had turned out on this occasion and as they passed us in review the gay uniforms and colored lights made the scene a very pretty one. at the palmer house the crowd was fully as large as that which had greeted us at the depot, the reception committee embracing judge h. m. shepard, judge h. n. hibbard, potter palmer, john r. walsh, frederic ullman, l. g. fisher, d. k. hill, c. l. willoughby, c. e. rollins, f. m. lester, j. b. kitchen, j. b. knight, m. a. fields, dr. hathaway, l. m. hamburger, louis manasse and c. f. gunther. the banquet given in our honor that night was a most elegant affair, among those seated at the speaker's table being mayor dewitt c. cregier, hon. carter h. harrison, rev. dr. thomas, james w. scott, president of the chicago press club, a. g. spalding, george w. driggs and many others. it was after ten o'clock when mayor cregier called the banqueters to order and made his speech of welcome, to which mr. spalding replied. the rev. dr. thomas responded to the toast of "base-ball as a national amusement," and myself to "his royal highness the prince of wales," but the boys kept up such a constant cheering while i was on my feet that i am afraid that they did not appreciate all the good things that i said in regard to england's future ruler. "the national value of athletics" brought out a stirring address from major henry turner, and john m. ward expressed himself most happily on "the world as i found it." ex-mayor carter h. harrison responded to the toast, "my own experience," and compared in humorous fashion his own trip around the world with the one that we had just completed. after other toasts responded to by various members of the party, we adjourned. the next afternoon we played the last game of the trip at the west side park and were beaten by a score of to , the all-americas falling upon baldwin and batting him all over the grounds. the next day the tourists went their several ways and so ended a tour such as had never before been planned and that cost me in round figures about $ , , that being my share of the losses incurred in advertising the sporting goods business of the spaldings, their business being greatly benefited by the tour, and how they repaid me afterwards--well--that's another story. chapter xxxii. the revolt of the brotherhood. the playing strength of the league teams of was remarkably even; that is to say, on paper. detroit had dropped out and cleveland had taken its place in the ranks, four of the old detroit players going to boston, one to philadelphia, three to pittsburg, and the balance to cleveland. the boston club had been the greatest gainer by the deal, however, and the majority of the "fans" looked for it to carry off the pennant. once more the unexpected happened, however, and, though it took the games of the very last day of the season to settle the standing of the first six clubs, the pennant finally went to new york for the second time, they winning games and losing , while boston came next with the same number of games won and lost, and chicago stood third with games won and lost, philadelphia, pittsburg, cleveland, indianapolis and washington following in the order named. the chicago team of that year consisted of tener, dwyer, hutchinson and gumbert, pitchers; farrell, darling, sommers and flint, catchers; pfeffer, burns, bastian, williamson and myself in the infield; and van haltren, ryan and duffy, outfielders. i was the manager and captain. it was not until late in the season that williamson recovered sufficiently from the injury that he had received at paris to join us, and his absence hurt our chances very materially, as the old "stone wall" infield was left in a crippled condition. that fall the brotherhood revolt, that robbed the league of many of its best players, took place, and though the reasons for this have been variously stated, yet i am of the opinion that it could be all summed up by the one word, "greed," for that was certainly the corner stone of the entire structure. it has also been said that the plan of the brotherhood was perfected by the ringleaders therein during the around-the-world trip, and it may be that this is true, but if such was the case the whole affair was kept remarkably quiet, for it was not until away late in the season that i was aware of the intended secession of the players, i then being approached by john m. ward with a proposal to join them, a proposal that i declined with thanks, giving as my reason that the league had always treated me fairly and honestly up to that time, and that such being the case i could see no reason why i should leave them in an underhand manner. the truth of the matter is, that i felt bound in honor to stand by my friends, even if i sank with them, and at that time the skies did look remarkably dark and it was a question in my mind as to what would be the outcome. the fact that the majority of the league clubs had the season before made a great deal of money excited the cupidity of certain capitalists, and they, finding the players dissatisfied over some minor grievances, incited them to revolt, hoping to use them as catspaws with which to pull the financial chestnuts out of the fire. the brotherhood was a secret organization, and one that was originally formed by the promoters with the object of protecting the ball players in their rights, and not for the purpose of disrupting the old league and forming a new one in opposition, as it afterwards attempted to do. it first made itself felt in the fall of , when it compelled the league to draw up a new form of contract; in which the rights of the players were better understood than under the form that had previously been used. when the new contract was adopted the full amount of each player's salary could not be written therein, because of the national agreement, which contained a $ , salary limit clause, and as the american association clubs would not allow this to be stricken out the players were greatly displeased, they having to sign contracts at $ , , and make outside contracts for all compensation over that amount that they received. threats as to what the brotherhood would do were freely made at that time, but nothing came of them. at the annual meeting in , the indianapolis, pittsburg and washington clubs demanded of the league a scheme that would limit players' salaries, which had grown to enormous proportions, and the result was that a classification rule, which divided the players into five classes, as follows: class a, to receive $ , ; class b, $ , ; class c, $ , ; class d, $ , , and class e, $ , , it being agreed among the clubs, however, that this classification should not apply to players with whom they then had agreements, or to players with whom they should make agreements, or to whom they felt under moral obligations to do so, previous to december th, , and it was also provided that the players then absent on the world's trip should be accorded two weeks after their return in which to arrange matters before they should be subject to classification. we were abroad at that time, but the players at home remonstrated strongly against the classification, claiming that in a few years it would have a tendency to lower the salaries very materially, but the absence of john m. ward, who was the brotherhood leader, prevented any official action by the organization. when mr. ward reached, home again contracts had been signed and nothing could be done, though it is now known that he favored a strike at that time, but was out-voted by the cooled-headed members of the order. in the meantime the new yorks had agreed to release the brotherhood leader to washington for the sum of $ , , the largest sum ever offered for the release of a player, but ward's flat-footed refusal to play in the national capital team caused the deal to fall through. in the meantime the discontented players had appointed a committee to present their grievances to the league, and president young appointed a league committee to hear the players, of which committee a. g. spalding was chairman, but when an immediate hearing was asked for by mr. ward, mr. spalding declined to meet the brotherhood players until fall. this, according to the players' story, was the last straw that broke the camel's back, and from that time on they began, but with the greatest secrecy, to arrange their plans for secession. having ascertained what was going on in the meantime, i used what influence i possessed in trying to dissuade such of my players as was possible from taking what i then regarded as a foolish step, and though i managed to find some of them that would listen to me there were others who would not, pfeffer, tener and williamson being among the number, though they made no move openly looking toward desertion until after the playing season was over. on the fourth day of november, , the brotherhood met at the fifth avenue hotel and threw off the mask, issuing the following address to the public: "at last the brotherhood of base-ball players feels at liberty to make known its intentions and defend itself against the aspersions and misrepresentations which for weeks it has been forced to suffer in silence. it is no longer a secret that the players of the league have determined to play next season under different management, but for reasons which will, we think, be understood, it was deemed advisable to make no announcement of this intention until the close of the present season. but now that the struggle for the various pennants is over, and the terms of our contracts expired, there is no longer reason for withholding it. in taking this step we feel that we owe it to the public and to ourselves to explain briefly some of the reasons by which we have been moved. there was a time when the league stood for integrity and fair dealing; to-day it stands for dollars and cents. once it looked to the elevation of the game and an honest exhibition of the sport. to-day its eyes are upon the turnstile. men have come into the business for no other motive than to exploit it for every dollar in sight. measures originally intended for the good of the game have been turned into instruments for wrong. the reserve rule and the provisions of the national agreement gave the managers unlimited power, and they have not hesitated to use this in the most arbitrary and mercenary way. "players have been bought, sold and exchanged, as though they were sheep, instead of american citizens. reservation became with them another name for property-rights in the player. by a combination among themselves, stronger than the strongest trusts, they were able to enforce the most arbitrary measures, and the player had either to submit or get out of the profession, in which he had spent years in attaining proficiency. even the disbandment and retirement of a club did not free the players from the octopus clutch, for they were then peddled around to the highest bidder. "that the players sometimes profited by the sale has nothing to do with the case, but only proves the injustice of the previous restraint. two years ago we met the league and attempted to remedy some of these evils, but through what had been called league 'diplomacy' we completely failed. unwilling longer to submit to such treatment, we made a strong effort last spring to reach an understanding with the league. to our application for a hearing they replied 'that the matter was not of sufficient importance to warrant a meeting,' and suggested that it be put off until fall. our committee replied that the players felt that the league had broken faith with them; that while the results might be of little importance to the managers, they were of great importance to the players; that if the league would not concede what was fair we would adopt other measures to protect ourselves; that if postponed until fall we would be separated and at the mercy of the league, and that, as the only course left us required time and labor to develop, we must therefore insist upon an immediate conference. then upon their final refusal to meet us, we began organizing for ourselves, and are in shape to go ahead next year under new management and new auspices. we believe it is possible to conduct our national game upon lines which will not infringe upon individual and natural rights. we ask to be judged solely by our work, and believing that the game can be played more fairly and its business conducted more intelligently under a plan which excludes everything arbitrary and un-american, we look forward with confidence to the support of the public and the future of the national game. (signed) the national brotherhood of ball players." the players' league, as finally organized, embraced the cities of boston, brooklyn, new york and philadelphia, in the east, and buffalo, chicago, cleveland and pittsburg in the west. according to the articles under which this league was formed its government rested in a central board composed of its president, and two directors, one a player and one a capitalist from each club. any player who was dissatisfied with his location could apply to the board to be transferred without the payment of anything to the club losing his services. all contracts were to be made for three years and no player could be released until after the first year had expired, and not then if he had kept his agreements and was still able and willing to play good ball. severe penalties were provided for drunkenness and crookedness, and all profits from ground privileges, such as refreshments, score-cards, cigars, etc., belonged to each individual club. it was also provided that all players were to have the same salaries that they had had in , save such as had been cut down by the classification system, and they were to be paid the same salaries as in , the same to be increased at the option of the club engaging them. this on paper looked to be a great scheme, but what it lacked was business brains in its management, and as a result its career was a short and stormy one, it being war to the knife and the knife to the hilt between the two great rival organizations. after four courts had decided that the players had a right to leave the national league, each of the clubs located in the players' league signed a compact to play with that organization for ten years. the national league then formed a schedule of playing dates that conflicted with the players' league all through the season of , this action throwing both clubs and public into confusion, the latter becoming so disgusted over the war of the rival factions as to stay away from the games altogether. at the end of the season the players' league bought the cincinnati club, and as the pittsburg club was all but defunct, this left the national league with but six clubs. at the close of the championship season a conference was held and plans agreed upon for ending the war, which had been financially disastrous to both parties. committees were appointed by both leagues and by the american association having this end in view, but the players' league, at a special meeting added three professional players to its committee, and the national league refused to join in the conference. secret meetings between the capitalists of the players' league and the national league were held, with the result that the rival clubs in new york, pittsburg and chicago were consolidated, this causing the disruption of the brotherhood. looked at from a financial standpoint the contrast between the seasons of and was a great one. the year was the most successful that the league had ever known, and the money fairly poured in at the gate. the year , on the contrary, was one of the most disastrous that the league had ever known, and on many occasions the clubs found themselves playing to almost empty benches. the defection of tener, williamson, ryan, pfeffer and others left me with a comparatively green team on my hands, when the season of opened, but long before the season came to a close constant practice had made it one of the best teams in the league, as it proved by finishing in the second place. few people, however, appreciate the amount of work that was necessary to attain that result. it was hard work and plenty of it, and though some of the players objected to the amount of practice forced upon them, and the strict discipline that was enforced, yet they had to put up with it, as that was the only manner in which the necessary playing strength could be developed. i myself worked just as hard as they did. if we took a three-mile run, i was at their head setting the pace for them. i have never asked the men under my control to do anything that i was not willing to do myself, because it was just as necessary for me to be in good condition as it was for them. the chicagos of were made up as follows: hutchinson, luby and stein, pitchers; nagle and kittridge, catchers; anson, first base; glenalvin, second base; burns, third base; cooney, shortstop; carroll, left field; andrews, right field; and o'brien, earle and foster substitutes. it will thus be seen that i had but one of the "old reliables" left, that being burns, who had refused to affiliate with the brotherhood, and who was to receive his reward later on at the hands of the chicago club management. the rest of the team was composed of a lot of half-broken "colts," many of whom were newcomers in the league, and with a reputation yet to make, hutchinson, cooney and wilmot being the pick of the bunch. there was never a time during this season that we were worse than fifth, and on several, occasions we were right up in the front rank. when october arrived we were in the third place, but during the short season that followed we passed philadelphia and took second position. brooklyn carried off the pennant with a total of games won and lost, while chicago had games won and lost, philadelphia being third with games won and lost, while cincinnati, boston, new york, cleveland and pittsburg followed in that order. this was an achievement to be proud of, and with the downfall of the brotherhood and the consolidation of some of the leading clubs i naturally thought that the chicago team would be strengthened very materially, but such was not the case. i did not even get my old players back, those of them that continued in the profession being scattered far and wide among the other league clubs, while others retired from the arena altogether. as a result it was a constant hustle on my part to secure new players, and i think i may easily say that the hardest years of my managerial experience were those that followed the revolt of the brotherhood, continuing until my retirement from the chicago club at the close of , at which time i was the owner of one hundred and thirty shares of the club's stock, which from the time of mr. hart's connection with it has been worthless so far as i am concerned, and simply because... chapter xxxiii. my last years on the ball field. the season of proved to be almost as disastrous, when viewed from a financial standpoint, as was the seasons of , owing to the war for the possession of good players that broke out between the national league and the american association, that was caused by a refusal on the part of the last-named organization to stick to the terms of the national agreement, the result being the boosting of players' salaries away up into fancy figures. this state of affairs proved to be exceedingly costly for all concerned, as really good players were at that time exceedingly scarce and the demand for them, constantly growing. the chicago team for that season was again to a very great extent an experimental one, made up at the beginning of the season of the following named players: luby, gumbert and hutchinson, pitchers; schriver and kittridge, catchers; anson, first base; pfeffer, second base; burns, third base; dahlen, shortstop; wilmot, ryan and carroll, outfielders; cooney, substitute. this proved to be a strong organization and one that would have landed the pennant 'had it not been for the fact that the jealousy of the old players in the east engendered by the brotherhood revolt would not allow a team of youngsters, many of whom were newcomers in the league to carry off the honors, and a conspiracy was entered into whereby new york lost enough games to boston to give the beaneaters the pennant and to relegate us at the very last moment into the second place. we had made a whirlwind fight for the honors, however, and though we lost no fault could be laid either at my door or at the doors of the players, as we had the pennant won had it not been for the games that were dropped by the "giants" to the boston club, in order that the honors might not be carried off by a colt team. hutchinson, upon whom the most of the pitching work devolved, was one of the best in the business. he was a graduate of yale, a gentleman and a player who used his head as well as his hands when in the box. gumbert and luby were both fair, and the latter, had it not been for strong drink, might have made for himself a much greater reputation than he did. dahlen at short was a tower of strength to the team, being as agile as a cat, a sure catch and an exceptionally strong batter, while the rest of the infield and the entire outfield was away above the average in playing strength. the race in was one of the closest in the history of the league. opening the season in the third place we never occupied a lower position, but on the contrary, out of the twenty-four weeks that the season lasted he held the first place in the race for all of fifteen weeks and should have finished at the top of the column had it not been for the reasons already given, and which were largely commented on at the time by lovers of the game throughout the country, and the newspapers from one end of the united states to the other. at the beginning of the closing week of the season's campaign chicago was in the van by a percentage of victories of . to bostons . , which was apparently a winning lead and which would have been had not the new york organization made a present of its closing games to the boston club for the express purpose of throwing us down and keeping the pennant in the east. as it was, however, we finished head and head with the leaders, new york being third, philadelphia fourth, cleveland fifth, brooklyn sixth, cincinnati seventh, and pittsburg eighth. as an excuse for the queer showing made by the "giants" in these boston games it has been alleged that the team was in poor condition when it left the metropolis for the hub to play this closing series, and that its true condition was kept a secret by the management, one writer going so far as to say that manager ewing's brother john was at that time disabled by a sprained ankle, while rusie was suffering from a bruised leg, and also that whistler had been playing at first base so well that ewing thought he could afford to give conner a day or two off, all of which may have been true, though i am free to confess right now that i do not believe it. in february, , the american' association became a thing of the past, four of its leading clubs joining the national league, which now embraced twelve cities instead of eight, the circuit taking in boston, brooklyn, louisville, pittsburg, cleveland, cincinnati, new york, philadelphia, washington, chicago, st. louis and baltimore. the chicago team for that season consisted of a. gumbert, hutchinson, luby, miller, hollister and meekin, pitchers; kittridge and schriver, catchers; anson, first base; canavan and decker, second base; dahlen and parrott, third base; dahlen and cooney, shortstop; ryan, dugan, wilmot and decker in the outfield. the majority of these were green players, as compared with the seasoned material of which some of the other league clubs boasted, and it was only by switching them about from one position to another that it was possible to tell where they best fitted. although i had signed six pitchers at the beginning of the season, there were but three of them that fulfilled my expectations, viz., gumbert, hutchinson and luby, and of these three hutchinson did the lion's share of the work, pitching in no less than seventy of the one hundred and fifty-six games that we played. the team was not an evenly balanced one, however, and though it boasted of some individuals that were away above the average yet it lacked the ability and practice to play as a team and consequently finished the season in seventh place, boston again carrying off the pennant with games won and lost, while cleveland came second with won and lost, brooklyn being third, philadelphia fourth, cincinnati fifth, pittsburg sixth, chicago seventh, new york eighth, louisville ninth, washington tenth, st. louis eleventh and baltimore last. i remember one rather queer incident that occurred during that season, and while we were playing in boston. henry e. dixey, the actor, who was then playing a summer engagement at the "hub," had driven out to the grounds as usual in his buckboard, with his pet bull terrier "dago" in the seat beside him. dixey always retained a seat in his rig and took up his place right back of the left field. dixie had not been on the ground more than twenty minutes when dahlen swiped the ball for a three-bagger. it was one of those long, low, hard drives, and sailed about ten feet over the left fielder's head and in a direct line for dixey. he couldn't have gotten out of the way had he tried, but the fact was that he didn't see it coming, and the first he knew of it was when he heard a sharp yelp at his side and saw poor "dago" tumbling off his seat between the wheels. the dog was dead when picked up, the ball having broken his neck. between the yellow buckboard, the dead canine, the frightened horses and dixey's excitement the whole field was in an uproar and it was fully ten minutes before we could get down to playing again, but dahlen, the cause of it all, didn't even see the affair and scored on the death of "dago," his being the only genuine case of making a dog-gone run that has ever come under my observation. some time during the winter of , i added "big bill lange," who has since become one of the stars of the league, and irwin to my string of fielders, and cast about to strengthen the pitching department of the team as much as possible, gumbert and luby having been released. having this object in view no less than eleven twirlers were signed, of whom all but four proved comparative failures, hutchinson, mcgill and mauck having to do the greater part of the work in the box, the other eight men, shaw, donnelly, clausen, abbey, griffith, mcginnins, hughey and f. parrott being called on but occasionally. of this lot griffith was the most promising and he afterwards turned out to be a star of the first magnitude. with these exceptions the team was about the same as that of the season before, and that it proved to be as great a disappointment to me as it did to the ball-loving public, i am now free to confess. it was a team of great promises and poor performances, and no one could possibly have felt more disappointed than i did when the end of the season found us in ninth place, the lowest place that chicago club had ever occupied in the pennant race since the formation of the league, we having won but games during the season, while we had lost , a showing that was bad enough to bring tears to the eyes of an angel, let alone a team manager and captain. the bostons, whose team work was far and away the best of any of the league clubs, again walked away with the championship, that club winning games and losing , while pittsburg, which came second, won games and lost . cleveland was third with games won and lost, while philadelphia, new york, cincinnati, brooklyn, baltimore, chicago, st. louis, louisville and washington finished as named. when the season of opened i was pretty well satisfied that my team of colts would make a much better showing than they had done during the previous year, but again i was doomed to disappointment. the team, with the exception of the pitching department, which had been very materially strengthened, was about the same as that with which i had taken the field the previous year, and that there was good enough material in it with which to win the pennant i was certain. it managed to fool me, however, and fool me good and hard, as well as several others who thought themselves good judges, and that before the season was half over. we started out with seven pitchers, griffith, stratton, hutchinson, abbey, terry, mcgill and camp, the last-named pitched in but a single game, which proved to be quite enough. our start was a bad one, in fact, the worst that we had ever made. we lost eight out of the first nine games that we played, and the end of may saw but one club between us and the tail end of the procession, that one being washington. until the month of august was reached we were never nearer than ninth in the race, but that month we climbed into the eighth position and there we hung until the finish came, leaving the baltimore, new york and boston clubs to fight it out between them, which they did, the first-named carrying off the prize, winning games and losing , against won and lost for boston, after which came philadelphia, brooklyn, cleveland, pittsburg, chicago, st. louis, cincinnati, st. louis, cincinnati, washington and louisville. when the championship season of opened the chicago club had ten pitchers at its command, viz., griffith, hutchinson, thornton, parker, friend, stratton, terry, mcfarland, dolan and abbey; three catchers, kittridge, donohue and moran, while i played first base, stewart second base, everett third base, dahlen shortstop and wilmot, lange, ryan and decker the outfield. there were at least seven good twirlers in the bunch, at the head of which stood griffith and hutchinson. thornton, parker, friend, terry and stratton were all better than the average when just right, and it was certainly not the fault of the pitchers if the team did not carry off the pennant honors. at late as september , and when the club was in the ninth place, predictions were freely made to the effect that the club would not finish in the first division, but this time the croakers proved to be all wrong, for the team made a grand rally in the closing weeks of the season and finished in fourth place, a fact that some of the newspaper critics seemed to have purposely lost sight of at the time of my enforced retirement, that being the same place they stood under burns' management the first season. the baltimores again won the championship, they having games won and lost to their credit, as against cleveland's won and lost, philadelphia won and lost, and chicago won and lost, brooklyn, boston, pittsburg, cincinnati, new york, washington and brooklyn following in order. the chicago team of was a somewhat mixed affair, change following change in rapid succession. hutchinson had retired from the game and the pitchers, seven in number, were, griffith, thornton, briggs, friend, terry, parker and mcfarland; kittridge and donohue as catchers, myself and decker alternating at first base, pfeffer and truby doing the same thing at second, and everett and mccormick at third. dahlen played shortstop, and lange, everett, ryan, decker and flynn took care of the outfield. the most of the pitching this season devolved upon griffith and friend, while parker and mcfarland both proved failures. neither pfeffer nor decker were themselves for a great part of the season, and yet, in spite of all, the team played good ball and finished in the fifth place, the pennant going for the third consecutive time to baltimore, which won go games and lost , while cleveland came second with games won and lost, cincinnati third with games won and so lost, boston fourth with games and lost, and chicago fifth with games won and lost, pittsburg, new york, philadelphia, washington, brooklyn, st. louis and louisville finishing as named. the team with which i started out in was certainly good enough to win the pennant with, or at least to finish right up in the front rank, and that it failed to do either of these things can only be explained by the fact that underhanded work looking toward my downfall was indulged in by some of the players, who were aided and abetted by president hart, he refusing to enforce the fines levied by myself as manager and in that way belittling my authority and making it impossible to enforce the discipline necessary to making the team a success. the ringleader in this business was jimmy ryan, between whom and the club's president the most perfect understanding seemed to exist, and for this underhanded work ryan was rewarded later by being made the team captain, a position that he was too unpopular with the players to hold, though it is generally thought he was allowed to draw the salary as per the agreement. the chicago players for that season were briggs, callahan, friend, griffith and thompson, pitchers; kittridge and donohue, catchers; decker and myself, first base; connor, callahan and pfeffer, second base; everett and mccormick, third base; dahlen, mccormick and callahan, shortstop; and lange, ryan, decker and thornton, outfielders. pfeffer was the only weak spot, he being handicapped by illness, and yet even he might have made a creditable showing had he not been handicapped my some of his associates and most unmercifully criticized by the newspapers, whose unwarrantable attacks have, in many cases, to my certain knowledge, driven good men out of the business. lack of discipline and insubordination began to show from the start. fines were remitted in spite of all the protests that i could make, several members of the club being allowed to do about as they pleased. there could be but one result, as a matter of course, and that was poor ball playing. when the april campaign ended we were in the eleventh place. at the end of may we stood tenth. at the end of june we had again dropped back to eleventh. at the end of july we had climbed up to eighth, and at the end of august we were sixth, having then climbed into the first division. when the close of the season came, however, we had dropped back again to the ninth position, the margin between sixth and ninth places being a very small one. the race for the pennant that season between baltimore and boston was a close one, the latter club finally carrying off the honors of the season with games won and lost, while baltimore came second with go games won and lost, and new york third with games won and lost, cincinnati being fourth, cleveland fifth, brooklyn sixth, washington seventh, pittsburg eighth, chicago ninth, philadelphia tenth, louisville eleventh and st. louis twelfth. late that fall the newspapers began to publish articles to the effect that i was to be released by the chicago league ball club, but as no official notice to that effect had ever been served on me, arid as i was conscious of always having done my duty by the organization in which i was a stockholder, i for some time paid no attention to the matter. from mere rumors, however, these newspaper articles soon began to take on a more definite form and to be coupled with references to my management of the team that were, to say the least, both uncalled for and venomous, but still i heard nothing from headquarters that would lead me to suppose there was any truth in them. on the contrary i was treated with the greatest consideration, mr. spalding even going so far as to insist upon my attending the league meeting in my official capacity, where i made trades for players that were afterwards blocked by himself and president hart, this action making my position a most humiliating one. still ignorant of the fact that i was to be dropped from the club's rolls, and that without warning after my long and faithful service, at mr. spalding's solicitation that spring i accompanied him on a trip to england, and while we were there he advised me not to worry about the club matters or the rumors that i had heard, as the thing would doubtless be all fixed up before our return. i then made a proposition to him that he and i together should buy the chicago league ball club, a proposition that he partially acceded to, though in view of subsequent events i am now certain that such a plan was not in reality entertained by him for a moment. matters had indeed been "fixed up" on my return, and tom burns, my old third-baseman, had been brought on from springfield, mass., to manage the team, or, rather, to serve as a figure-head for the club's president. it was then that i was advised by mr. spalding to resign, which i refused to do, preferring to take my medicine like a man, bitter as the dose might be. mr. burns that spring took up the reins that had been taken out of my hands, and how well he succeeded with the able (?) assistance of president hart is now a matter of history. the following table gives my batting and fielding record for the past twenty-three years, and i feel that it is one that i may well be proud of: years games %base hits %fielding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . chapter xxxiv. if this be treason, make the most of it. experience is a mighty dear teacher. this is a fact that has been generally admitted by the world at large, but one that i have never fully realized until within the last few years, though just how much it has cost me in the matter of dollars-and-cents it is hard to say. it is but natural, i presume, after twenty-two years connection with a corporation for one to have well-defined opinions of certain of its officials, and it is pleasant to record here that prior to the advent of james a. hart on the scene my relations with the club were most pleasant. under the watchful eye of mr. hurlbut the club flourished, and not only maintained a higher average in the percentage column than it has since enjoyed, but, in contradistinction to the latter day methods of management, it annually returned a large balance on the right side of the ledger, this last feature being by no means the least pleasant of my memories. now, the query arises, "if the team was so uniformly successful under mr. hurlbut, why has it not enjoyed the same measure of success since?" and the answer, short and sweet, can be summed up in one word, "mismanagement." as i have already explained elsewhere my financial relations with mr. spalding in regard to the around-the-world trip of the ball players, it is unnecessary for me again to go into that phase of the matter, but there was one little incident connected with that event that has not been told, and that accounts for mr. hart's desire to get rid of me as easily and as quietly as possible, even if he had to use underhanded measures in order to do so. when we started off on our trip in it was found necessary to get someone to check the receipts of the various exhibitions, see that we obtained our share, pay hotel bills, etc., etc., and generally look after the small financial details, and for some reason which i have never been able to understand a. g. spalding made arrangements with james a. hart to accompany us as far as san francisco for that purpose, though the latter had no special qualifications for the work in hand. in fact, up to that time mr. hart, who had been connected as manager with louisville, boston and milwaukee clubs, had been an accredited failure, just as he has been since in chicago, where the club under his management has steadily gone from bad to worse, such a thing as a dividend never having been heard of since he took the reins. for his services on the trip he was paid a salary and his expenses, but this was seemingly not enough, for prior to our departure for australia mr. spalding came to me with a subscription paper, stating that he was securing subscriptions from the members of our party for the purpose of presenting mr. hart with a pair of valuable diamond cuff-buttons. just why mr. hart should be made the recipient of a valuable gift under such circumstances was more than i could fathom, and i not unnaturally entered protests. my protest went unheeded, however, and from this little acorn grew the oak of disagreement between james a. hart and myself, an oak that has now grown to mammoth proportions. it was while on the same trip around the world that my long term contract made with mr. hurlbut expired, and that i signed a new one under somewhat peculiar circumstances. returning home and while in mid-ocean i was requested by mr. spalding, who was president of the chicago ball club, to sign a contract, which was made for ten years at my request, with the club, as manager and captain, and by the terms of this contract it was stipulated that i should receive a certain salary and a contingent fee, amounting to per cent. of the net profits of the club, as shown by the books of that organization, which, in , amounted to little or nothing, owing to the troubles engendered by the brotherhood revolt and the war between the national league and the american association, though during a portion of the time i was paid something in excess of my salary, presumably on the supposition that the laborer was worthy of his hire. in , greatly to my astonishment, mr. spalding retired from the presidency and james a. hart was elected to the vacant position. at that time i received a long letter from mr. spalding, in which he took particular pains to assure me mr. hart was a mere figurehead, who would always be subject to his advice and control, and just so long as he, mr. spalding, was connected with the club i should be retained by that organization. in the face of such an assurance as that, and in view of the fact that i had been associated so many years with mr. spalding in business, having first come to chicago at his solicitation, i could see no reason for doubting his word, though subsequent events have shown me differently. while in philadelphia, after the recent league meeting held in new york, i called on john i. rogers in reference to securing a contract to manufacture the league ball, and in the course of our conversation the subject of my treatment by the chicago management came up. he then informed me that while presiding at a banquet given by the philadelphia club some two years ago, and at which both mr. hart and myself were guests, he had informed hart that he was going to call on me for a speech. to this hart had replied that he and i were not on the best of terms and then went on to tell him that when he, hart, had joined the chicago club spalding had agreed to release me at the end of my contract and place him, hart, at the head of the chicago club. if mr. hart told the truth when he made that statement, then mr. spalding certainly deceived me, but that is a matter of veracity for them to settle between themselves. in the chicago ball club was reorganized under the name of the chicago league ball club, and by the terms of an agreement made with mr. spalding i was allowed to take a certain number of shares of the stock, in addition to those which i held in the old organization, to be paid for out of my contingent fee, which, by the terms of our agreement, it was guaranteed should be large enough to pay for the same, and which came to me under those conditions. at the same time, having six years more to serve under the terms of the old contract, i was given a new one, which i signed without reading, and which was only for five years instead of six, a discrepancy that i did not discover until i came to read it over at home that same evening to mrs. anson, and then, having still the most implicit confidence in mi. spalding, i said nothing about it, relying on his promise to protect my interests. in the meantime the grounds now used by the club on the west side had been purchased, and i presume a payment on them made, and i was informed by mr. spalding that i might either swing the deal myself or else sign away my interest, which amounted to a little over one-eighth, but that in case i took the latter course, the club would pay dividends instead of putting the money into real estate. it seemed a little strange to me that i should be asked to swing a deal that a. g. spalding and john r. walsh were unable to handle, and being unable myself to do so i signed away my interest, but, alas! those promised dividends are still in the dim and misty distance, and my confidence in a. g. spalding has dwindled away to nothing, and not unnaturally, as i shall have no difficulty in proving. after i had been released by the club mr. spalding still posed as my best friend, and the affection that damon had for pythias was not greater than that i bore for him. i had not then learned the full nature of his duplicity, nor was it until some time later that it dawned upon me. in the meantime mr. spalding had set on foot a project to give me a money testimonial, and had called a meeting at the chicago athletic club for the purpose of perfecting plans for the same. this i refused to accept for the reason that i was not a pauper, the public owed me nothing, and i believed that i was still capable of making my own living. at that meeting a. h. pratt, who represented me, read the following letter that i had written for the occasion: to my friends--the kind offer to raise a large public subscription for me, the first notice of which i received by a chance meeting with mr. spalding the afternoon preceding its publication in the daily papers, is an honor and a compliment i duly appreciate. implying as it does the hearty good will and close fellowship of the originator of the movement, a. g. spalding, causes me to regard it higher. there are times when one hesitates to receive favors even from friends, and at this hour i deem it both unwise and inexpedient to accept the generosity so considerately offered. a. c. anson. this testimonial, had i accepted it, would doubtless have been a great success, as it was endorsed by all of the league magnates, by the press generally, and by the lovers of base-ball all over the country, but to me it appeared to be something too much in the nature of a charity gift for me to accept, and i felt that i should stultify my manhood by so doing, and that i should sacrifice that feeling of independence that i had always possessed. to the many friends who urged it upon me at the time i am still deeply grateful, but i feel that in declining to accept it i did a wise thing, and i am confident that very many of them now agree with me in that opinion. just at this stage of affairs my plans for the future were apparently a matter of great interest to both press and public, and if the statements made by the former were to be believed, i had more schemes on hand than did a professional promoter, and every one of them with "millions in it." i was to manage this club and manage that club; i was to play here and play there, and, in fact, there was scarcely anything that i was not going to do if the reporters' statements could be depended upon. one of the most senseless of these was the starting of the a. c. anson base-ball college, the prospectus for which was typewritten in the sporting-goods store of a. g. spalding, and read as follows: location.--the school will be located on what is known as the a. g. spalding tract, covering the blocks bounded by lincoln, robey, d and th streets, upon which mr. a. g. spalding will erect suitable structures, fences, stands, dressing-rooms, etc. the site is in the celebrated calumet region and is easy of access. membership.--all accepted applicants for membership will be required to submit to a thorough physical examination and go through a regular and systematic course of training, calculated to prepare them for actual participation in base-ball games. upon entering they will subscribe to the rules and regulations of the institution, which will demand obedience and provide for discipline, abstemious habits, regular hours, proper diet, in fact everything which tends to improve the health and physical condition will be required. they must also pass an examination made by captain anson as to their natural aptitude for becoming proficient in the game of base-ball. instruction.--the course of instruction will consist of physical training by the latest and most approved methods, with the special intention of developing the body and mind, so that the best possible results may be obtained looking to perfection of base-ball playing. daily instruction will be had in the theory and practice of the game. engagements.--as soon as students are sufficiently developed and display skill to justify, efforts will be made by the college management to secure lucrative engagements for those who desire to enter the professional field. arrangements will be made with the various professional and semi-professional clubs throughout the country by which students of the college will come into contact with managers and be enabled to make known their merits. application for admittance.--persons who desire to become students of the college will be required to fill out and sign the regular application blank provided by the college, which must give information regarding the applicant, such as name, place of residence, height, weight, various measurements, past vocation, habits, state of health, etc., etc. charges.--accepted students will be required to pay a tuition of $ per week, at least five weeks tuition to be paid in advance, and must supply their practice uniform. the college will provide all team uniforms for use in games and all materials and utensils necessary for practice. then followed a showing of financial possibilities that would have done credit to the brains of a colonel sellers. it is unnecessary for me to say that this scheme never emanated from me, or that it never received any serious consideration at my hands, the real plan being to create a real-estate boom and enable mr. spalding to dispose of some of his holdings, using me as a catspaw with which to pull the chestnuts out of the fire. all this time i was busily engaged in perfecting plans by which i might get possession of the chicago league ball club, in which i already had shares of stock, and finally i succeeded in obtaining an option on the same from a. g. spalding, a facsimile of which appears on another page. armed with this document i worked like a trojan in order to raise the necessary funds, which i certainly should have succeeded in doing had not my plans been thwarted time and again by a. g. spalding and his agents, and this in spite of the fact that our probable war with spain made the raising of money a difficult matter. more than once when engaged in the task i was informed by friends that i was simply wasting my time, as the option that i possessed was not worth the paper it was written on, and that there was never any intention on the part of a. g. spalding and his confreres to let me get possession of the club. it was not until several men who had promised to aid me backed down squarely that i realized that there was an undercurrent at work, and that the option, which it was often denied at that time that i had, had been given to me in bad faith and just for the purpose of letting me down easily, but when once convinced that such was really the case i gave up making any further effort in the matter. later i accepted a position as manager of the new york club, being assured that i should have full control of the team, but at the end of a month finding that there were too many cooks to spoil the broth i resigned, accepting only the amount of salary due me for actual services, though offered a sum considerably in excess of the same. this ended my actual connection with national league base-ball, and its mismanagement. in spite of the fact that i have been connected with the chicago base-ball club for twenty-two years as an active player and for twenty-four years as a stockholder, i have never attended a meeting of that organization until recently, and then mr. hart and myself were the only stockholders present. again, in spite of the fact that my contingent fees were to be paid on the showing made by the books, these books i have never been allowed to see, nor have i ever been able to get any statement as to my standing with the club, and that in spite of the fact that i have several times made a demand for the same. that being the case, how can i be sure that i have had all that was coming to me, or that i have been honestly dealt with by that organization? in all of my club dealings i trusted implicitly to mr. spalding, at whose solicitation i left philadelphia and came to chicago, and that i made a mistake in so trusting him i am now confident, as it is a poor plan for any man not to look closely after his own business interests. in regard to my financial dealings with the club i might be much more explicit, but i feel that it is not a matter of great public interest, and i therefore refrain from doing so, believing that what i have already said will serve to show how i stand and how i feel in the matter. chapter xxxv. how my winters were spent. how do the members of the base-ball fraternity spend the winter seasons? if i have been asked that question once i have been asked it a thousand times. the public, as a rule, seem to think that because a man is a professional ball player and therefore employed but seven months in the year he must necessarily spend the other five in idleness, and there are doubtless some few ball players that spend their winters in that way, but, be it said to the credit of the craft, there are not many of them. there is no man upon whose hands time hangs so heavily as it does upon the hands of him who has nothing to do, at least that has been my experience, and for that reason i have always managed to busy myself at something during the winter months. some of the things that i engaged in proved profitable, others did not, but, all-in-all, the winter of yielded me the best results of my life, for that winter i spent in doing what the old gentleman had wanted me to do years before, viz., in going to school. i had a very good reason for doing this, as you can readily see. during my ball-playing career i had entrusted some money to the old gentleman up in marshalltown for safe keeping, and while up there on a visit in the fall of , needing some coin, i asked for it. "figure up how much i owe you, interest and all," was his reply, "and we will have a settlement." now, the old gentleman might just as well have set me down at the foot of the rocky mountains with a wheelbarrow and told me to carry them away to the atlantic coast on that vehicle, as to have asked me to do an example in interest, and i was too ashamed of my ignorance to allow him to know that such a thing was beyond my powers, so i managed to get around the matter in some way, but i made up my mind then and there that i would at the first opportunity learn at best enough to take care of my own business. that winter i spent with my wife and daughter in philadelphia, and here i found that she had a brother, remey a. fiegel, who was as averse to going to school as ever i had been. by this time i had come to a realizing sense of the power of knowledge, and so i labored with him until he consented to go to night-school, providing that i would send him, which i agreed to do. pierce's business college was the place selected, and when i went up there to make the necessary arrangements for his tuition i asked how old a man had to become before he was barred from attending. "oh!" replied the superintendent, "age is no bar here. we have a great many scholars right now who are a long ways older than you are." "all right! you can just put my name down, too," i replied, and the following monday evening remey and i started to go to school together, and this time there was no nonsense about it. that winter i studied faithfully, and, though it was hard work, by the time spring came and we returned to chicago i had acquired at least a fair knowledge of the rudiments of business and was able to keep my own books, figure my own interest, and, in fact, run my own business. during the greater part of another winter i ran a hand-ball court on michigan avenue in chicago, which did not prove to be a. paying venture, one reason, and the paramount one, being that it was too far away from the business center of the town at that time, though now it would have been in the very heart of the business district, while still another reason was that there were not enough hand-ball players in the city to keep the game running. some time during the latter part of the ' s the old congress street grounds were converted during the winter season into a skating rink and toboggan slide, and of this i had the management during one whole season, a season that was pecuniarily profitable to the lessees of the grounds, as the weather during the greater part of the winter was severe, the ice in fine condition and the toboggan slide in apple-pie order. ice skating was that season more popular in chicago than it had ever been before, and the toboggan craze, which had been brought over here from canada, at once caught on to the public fancy. as a result the congress street rink was crowded both afternoon and evening, and, strange to relate, the attendance was of the most fashionable sort, the young men and maidens from all parts of the city assembling for the purpose of going down the toboggan slide, which was attended with a great deal more of excitement in those days than was the sport of "shooting the chutes," its summer prototype, which later on became popular. the grounds were handsomely lighted and, thronged as they were in the evening with gaily-attired skaters of both sexes, and toboggan parties arrayed in the picturesque rigs that were the fashion in montreal, quebec and other canadian cities, they made a pretty sight and one that attracted crowds of spectators, some of the skaters being of the kind that would have been styled champions in the days when frank swift, callie curtis and others were the leading fancy skaters. the next season the same rink was managed by john brown, the late secretary of the chicago base-ball club, but unfortunately he was not blessed with "the anson luck," and the winter being a mild one and the freezes few and far between, he did not make a success of the venture. the toboggan craze was merely one of the fashionable fads of the moment, and now one rarely hears anything at all of the sport. as a bottler of ginger beer i achieved at another time great distinction and there are some men in the country right now who have a very vivid remembrance of the beverage that i was unfortunate enough to put upon the market. my experience as a ginger beer manufacturer was laughable, to say the least of it, though i confess that i did not appreciate the fact at the time as much as did some of my friends and acquaintances. during several of my visits to canada in search both of players and pleasure i had made the acquaintance of a mr. william burrill, who at that time conducted a clothing store at london, canada, and who had treated both myself and mrs. anson with great kindness. this gentleman finally went "down the toboggan slide" in a business way and at last turned up in chicago with a very little money and a formula for making and bottling ginger beer. he needed, according to his own estimate, about $ more capital than he was possessed of and wished me to join him in manufacturing it. he was a nice fellow, i was anxious to help him along, and, besides that, viewed from a business standpoint, it looked like a good thing, and as i was never averse to taking a chance when there was a good thing in sight i concluded to join him in the venture. the $ that i was originally required to invest grew into $ , , however, before we got the thing on the market, and then the sales started off in lively fashion, and so, not long afterwards, did the ginger beer. there was a flaw in the formula somewhere, just what it was i never have been able to ascertain, but--well, there was something the matter with it. it wouldn't stay corked, that was its worst feature, but would go off at all times of the day and night and in the most unexpected fashion. if the cork would hold, the bottle wouldn't, and as a result there would be an explosion that would sound like the discharge of a small cannon. sometimes only one bottle out of a dozen would explode, and then again the whole dozen would go off with a sound like that made by a whole regiment firing by platoons. it was by long odds the liveliest ginger-beer that had ever been placed upon the market. there was entirely too much life in it. that was the trouble. sitting among a lot of fancy glassware on a back bar it looked as innocent of evil as a newborn babe, but, presto change! and a moment afterwards it was its satanic majesty on a rampage, and that back bar with its glassware looked as if it had been struck by a kansas cyclone. complaints began to pour in to the factory from all kinds and classes of customers, and i began to be afraid to walk the streets for fear that some one would accuse me of having bottled dynamite instead of ginger-beer. i sold a case of it to a friend of mine who kept a noted sporting resort on south clark street, chicago. it was harmless enough when i sold it to him. it was young then, and its propensity for mischief had not been fully developed. it developed later. one evening when all was quiet there was an explosion in the cellar. it sounded like the muffled report of a dynamite cartridge. the billiard players dropped their cues and some of them started for the door. a second explosion followed and the coon porters' hair stood fairly on end and their faces became as near like chalk as a black man's can. the proprietor started down cellar to investigate. he had gotten half way down when there came a third explosion. he came back again more hastily than he had gone down, and ordered one of the porters to ascertain the cause of the trouble. the porter was a brave man, and he refused to do it. i did not blame him when i heard of it. in the meantime the rest of the ginger-beer bottles had caught the contagion and the fusillade became fast and furious, and it did not stop until the billiard-room and the last bottle of ginger beer were both empty. after silence had reigned for some time and it had become apparent that danger was all past, my friend the proprietor grew courageous again and, lamp in hand, he visited the cellar to investigate. where the case of ginger beer had set there was a mass of wreckage. broken glass was everywhere, while the flooring, ceiling and walls were strained in a hundred different places. as he emerged from the cellar with a look of supreme disgust on his countenance, he was surrounded by an anxious group who asked as one man: "what's the matter down there, louis?" "it's that ginger beer of anson's," was the reply. then there was another explosion, this time one of laughter. "anson's ginger-beer" was getting a reputation, but it was not exactly the sort of a reputation that i wanted it to have. i was willing to close out the business even at a sacrifice, and this i did. i saved more in proportion of my money than my customers did of the ginger beer i had sold them. this was one consolation. chapter xxxvi. with the knights of the cue. there is no more fascinating game in existence at the present day than billiards, and no game that is more popular with gentlemen, and for the reason that it can be played indoors and in all kinds of weather and that it does not require the frame of an athlete nor the training of one to play it successfully, though it may be set down as a fact that the experts at billiards are few and far between, for the reason that it takes not only natural ability and constant practice to be even a moderately successful billiardist, the real geniuses at the game being born and not made. since the days of my early boyhood billiards has divided my attentions with base-ball, and what little skill i have attained at the game is due as much to good habits and constant practice as is the success that i achieved on the ball field. the game itself has undergone many and frequent changes since i first began to play in the old hotel at marshalltown, and with tools of such a primitive character that they would be laughed at in a modern billiard resort. the four-ball game and the old-fashioned six-pocket table have both been relegated into the shadows of obscurity, and the new standard x table, without pockets, that is a model of the builder's art, has taken the place of the one and three-ball games of various styles, from straight rail to three-cushion caroms of the other. each and every game that has been played has been an improvement on the style of game that preceded it and each and every style of game has had its own special votaries, some players excelling at one style of billiards and some at another, the players who excelled at all being few and far between. it has been my good fortune to enjoy the acquaintance and friendship of nearly all of the billiard players who have become famous in the annals of the game since i first began ball playing for a livelihood in rockford, among them being frank c. ives, the "young napoleon of billiards," who, like myself, was a ball player before he ever became known as a knight of the cue, and whose early death was so greatly regretted by every lover of the game, both at home and abroad; jacob schaefer, "the wizard of the cue," who, as a ball-to-ball player, ranks at the head of the profession and who plays any and every game that can be played upon a billiard table with a skill that is akin to genius; george f. slosson, the "student," whose persistent application and studious habits have combined to make him one of the greatest prayers of his day and generation; eugene carter, "you-know-me," whose stalwart form and ready tongue are as well known in the majority of the european capitals as in the larger cities of our country; thomas j. gallagher, "gray tom," who is a hard man for any of the second-class experts to tackle; edward mclaughlin, the little gentleman who first came into prominence at philadelphia; frank maggioli, who has grown gray in the service of billiards, but who still retains his title of champion of the south; billy catton, "the rock island wonder," george sutton, and many others, with the most of whom i have crossed cues either for money or in a friendly way at some time or other. the first expert of any note that i ever met over a billiard table was eugene kimball, of rochester, n. y., who, in , was a member of the forest city club of cleveland, ohio, and who at that time enjoyed a wide reputation as a billiardist as well as a ball player. kimball, it had been generally conceded, played a strong game of billiards for those days, and on one occasion when the cleveland club visited rockford he and i engaged in a game that attracted considerable attention both on the part of the members of the two teams and of other outside friends and admirers. there were no stakes up if i remember rightly, and i am not just certain as to how the game resulted, though, unless i am very much mistaken, it was in kimball's favor, but not by such a large margin of points as to make me ashamed of myself. it was while a member of the athletic club of philadelphia that i made my debut as a billiardist in public. i played the game a great deal in those days and had acquired quite a reputation for skill in handling the cue among my fellow ball-players, nearly all of whom could play the game after some fashion, there being seemingly quite an affinity between base-ball and billiards. james lentz of trenton, n. j., at that time enjoyed quite a reputation as a billiard expert in the land of sandflies and mosquitoes, and he being in philadelphia we came together at nelms' billiard room in a match game, points up, at the old three-ball style of billiards, for stakes of $ a side, and i beat him by a score of to , no account of the averages or high runs being kept for the reason, as i presume, that nobody thought them worth keeping, though enough of the filthy lucre changed hands on the result to keep some of my ball-playing friends in pocket money for some days. that game was played on the fourth day of february, , and it was not until more than ten years afterwards that i again appeared in public as a billiardist. frank parker, the ex-champion in the days of the old four-ball game, now dead, was then a resident of chicago, and his friends thought so well of his abilities at the fourteen-inch balk line game, which up to that time had never been played in public, that they offered to match him against me for stakes of $ a side, the game to be points up. after some talk back and forth this match was finally made, and march th, , we came together in central music hall, chicago, before a fair-sized crowd, and i won by a score of to , averaging in the neighborhood of five, and astonishing both parker and his friends. slosson's billiard room on monroe street, chicago, was at that time and for several years afterwards the scene of more billiard matches than any similar resort in the united states, it being the headquarters of the bookmaking fraternity as well as the billiardists from all sections of the country, and it is more than probable that larger sums of money changed hands over the result of the games that were played there during the winter of and than changed hands in any other hall in the country, the leading billiard rooms of gotham not excepted. among the billiardists who were making chicago their headquarters that winter were jacob schaefer, george f. slosson, eugene carter, thomas f. gallagher, and william h. catton, while among the bookmakers that made slosson's room their lounging place were such well-known knights of the chalk and rubber as dave pulsifer, who afterwards owned the famous race horse, tenny; james h. murphy, whose pacer, "star pointer," was in after years the first horse in harness to beat the two-minute mark; william riley, who, under the sobriquet of "silver bill," is known from one end of the country to the other; charlie stiles, for years the trusted lieutenant of bride and armstrong, the grand-circuit pool sellers; george 'wheelock, then hailing from st. louis, but now known as one of the nerviest of new york's betting brigade; joe ullman, who then as now was a plunger; johnny o'neil, frank eckert, and many others, the place also being a favorite resort for the horsemen. thomas j. gallagher was that fall in good form and there were several members of the book-making fraternity who stood ready to back him whenever he said the word. i had taken a notion into my head that i could beat him, nor was i alone in the opinion, for my friend, "bart" white, thought the same way. the result was that i agreed to play him a match points up at the fourteen-inch balk-line game for stakes of $ a side. we came together on the afternoon of november d at slosson's room, and gallagher won by seventeen points, after a close and exciting contest, the game standing at to in his favor. neither my friends nor myself were satisfied with the result of this game, during the progress of which i had met with some hard luck, and which i was certain that i might have played better, and as a result we at once made another match at the same game to be played that night, the stakes this time being increased to $ a side. the game was played in the presence of quite a crowd of billiard enthusiasts, and again gallagher won by to , but even this defeat did not convince me that he was a better player, and the result was still another match of points up at the same game for stakes of $ a side. this was played the following evening, and for the third time gallagher carried off the honors, the totals showing points for him as against only for myself, and by this time i had come to the conclusion that he was a "leetle bit" too speedy for me, and that he could look for somebody else to pay his board-bills. that same fall wyman mccreary, of st. louis, then as now recognized as one of the strongest amateur players in the country, dropped into slosson's room, and the result was that i played him two matches at the fourteen-inch balk-line game, each one being for $ a side, winning both, the score in the first one being to , and in the second to , my average in the last being - , a performance that was at that time something better than the ordinary. even as far back as those days there was a craze for angle games, and at three cushions eugene carter was especially strong, he having a standing challenge to play any man in the world at that style of billiards. he finally offered to play me so points, his backer to wager $ to $ that he could beat me, and this offer i accepted. the story of that game, as told in verse by a chicago newspaper man under the title of "a match of slosson's room," was as follows: it was some time in the winter, and, if i remember right, there were snowflakes softly falling, through the darkness of the night, when i wandered into slosson's, where the lights were all ablaze, in the hopes of seeing billiards, for i had the billiard craze. 'round the table there had gathered all the sporting men in town, putting money up in handfuls; each was anxious to take down. some would yell out, "i'll take anson at the odds of three to one," then another'd cry, "i've got you," and the betting had begun. 'twas a match game at three cushions, fifty points up, for a stake, 'tween the base-ball man and carter, and it wan't an even break, for the odds were all in money and the playing even up, but the horse that packs the top weight does not always win the cup. odds in money cut no figure from a betting point of view, as i've found in life quite often, and, i doubt not, so have you. if a man can't win at evens then he cannot win at all, be the odds they bet against him very large or very small. carter had the style and finish, but the captain had the nerve that in base-ball oft had helped him solve a pitcher's meanest curve! and he seemed to know the angles just as well as "you-know me." that he wasn't a beginner was as plain as plain could be. 'round the table stood the bettors, looking on with eager eyes, while first one and then another certain seemed to take the prize. on the wire the clustered buttons sat like sparrows in a row, 'neath the lights that gleamed and glistened while there outside fell the snow. carter stood about and chattered just as carter always will (if you have a talking parrot you can never keep him still) anson only laughed and listened, saying as he chalked his cue: "frogs' legs measured up in inches don't tell what the frog can do, "when it comes to jumping, carter, and the best fish in the brook finds at last he's met his master when he grabs the angler's hook. talking does not win at billiards, nor at any other game, when you come to count your buttons, then perhaps you'll think the same." went the buttons up together, one by one, upon the string, like two yachts that skim the waters, they were racing wing and wing. hushed was all the noisy clamor and the room was as still as death, as they stood and watched the players chalk their cues with bated breath. "even up!" the marker shouted, and the buttons on the line counted up stood right together--each had stopped at forty-nine. it was anson's shot--a hard one--as the balls before him lay, and he stopped to count the chances--then he chalked his cue to play. "call it off; i'll give you fifty," said george wheelock, sitting near. he had found the stakes for carter and his voice was low and clear. "take your stakes down, captain anson, and take fifty 'plunks' of mine." with a nod the cap consented; carter's backers bought the wine. in that billiard-room of slosson's, carter argued half the night, while the snowflakes drifted earthward like a mantle soft and white. and he swore that he'd have won it if it wasn't for a miss that he'd made up in the corner when he'd played to get a "kiss." now it may be that he would have, but i'm still inclined to believe that he weakened o'er the billiards that he found up anson's sleeve. for i've noticed that the "sucker," or the chap you're thinking one, proves the "shark" that gets the money, "doing" 'stead of being "done." the only match that i have engaged in since those days was one that i played last fall with conklin, a west side amateur in chicago, and was at the eighteen-inch balk-line game, points up for stakes of $ a side, points to be played in my own room and in clark's resort. the first night in my own room i obtained such a lead as to make the result look like a foregone conclusion, but the next night he came back at me like a cyclone and averaging over seven, a rattling good performance at that style of billiards, he beat me out and did it in such a handsome manner as to challenge my admiration and respect. since then he has beaten morningstar, a boston, mass., professional in the same easy fashion, and it would not be surprising were he yet to make his mark in the billiard line. i may say right here that i intend to devote more time to billiards in the future than i have in the past, and that i am always willing to match, provided that the game is a fair one, in which i have an even chance, as, unlike some players that i could name, i am not always looking for the best of it. chapter xxxvii. not dead, but sleeping. the proposed new american base-ball association, of which so much was heard during the fall and winter months of and , is not dead, as some people fondly hope, but only sleeping. that the national league fears the birth of a new rival has been time and again shown, and in my judgment without good and sufficient reason, for i hold that "competition is the life of trade," and that with a strong and healthy competitor in, the field the rivalry would be of benefit to both organizations. from personal experience i know that the national game was never in as healthy condition as it was when the league had the old american association for a rival and when such a thing as syndicate base-ball was unheard of. the harts, the friedmans and the robisons were not then in control, and the rule-or-ruin policy that now prevails had at that time not even been thought of. base-ball as at present conducted is a gigantic monopoly, intolerant of opposition and run on a grab-all-that-there-is-in-sight policy that is alienating its friends and disgusting the very public that has so long and cheerfully given to it the support that it has withheld from other forms of amusement. it was abraham lincoln, i believe, who once remarked that you can fool some of the people all the time but that you cannot fool all the people all the time, and yet it is this latter feat that the league magnates are at the present time trying to perform. that the new association did not take the field in was due to an unfortunate combination of circumstances, but that it will do so another season i firmly believe, as many of the men interested in its formation are still enthusiastic over the project and determined to carry it to a successful conclusion. st. louis may justly be regarded as the birthplace of the newcomer, as it was there that the idea of a new rival to the worn-out old league first originated in the brain of al spink, who, like the majority of the game's best friends the country over, had grown sick of syndicate methods and believed that the time had come when a new association, run on strictly business principles, would secure the patronage of the people. associating with him chris von der ahe, who became famous as "der boss" of the old st. louis browns, george shaefer and others, he at once begun pulling wires looking toward the formation of an organization based on the old american association lines, one that should do away with many of the evils that now exist. milwaukee and detroit capitalists were soon interested in the scheme, and early in october, , an informal meeting was held in chicago, at which chas. havenor, harry d. quinn and alderman o'brien of milwaukee; chris von der ahe, george shaefer and al spink, of st. louis, and frank hough, of philadelphia, were present. this meeting i attended by invitation in company with walter h. clough, my son-in-law, and after talking the prospects over i finally agreed to place a team in chicago to represent the new association, providing that a proper circuit of eight cities could be secured. i was then, as i am now, in favor of invading the cities already occupied by the national league clubs, and leaving the other cities to be occupied by the minor leagues. at this meeting harry d. quinn was elected temporary president and frank hough temporary secretary. quinn proved to be a hustler of the first class and spent both time and money in interesting the capitalists of other cities in the proposed deal. in november matters had progressed so far that a second meeting was held in new york, which was attended by the st. louis and milwaukee delegations, and by secretary hough of philadelphia, thomas navin of detroit and representatives from boston and providence. owing to family troubles i was unable to be present, and but little was accomplished. an effort was made, however, to interest tom o'rourke and "dry dollar" sullivan in the scheme, and this might have been successful had it not been known that richard croker, the tammany chieftain, was a great friend of president freedman of the new york league club, and might be tempted to cut streets through any grounds that were secured. mcgraw of baltimore was also on hand looking over the ground, but he was then still confident that baltimore would be retained in the league, and therefore was unwilling to cast his fortunes with the new venture. quinn was nothing daunted, however, and continued to work like a beaver. hough's promised backing in philadelphia failed to materialize, and f. a. richter, of the philadelphia "sporting life," claimed to be able to find both the men and money necessary to put a club in the quaker city. a lawyer by the name of elliott, and some friends of his, were first mentioned as the club's backers, but they failed to come to time, and then mr. richter trotted out a son-in-law of john wanamaker, but he failed to materialize with his money. this was the situation at the time that the third meeting was called by mr. quinn at philadelphia, and which was held there just before the holidays. in the meantime i had attended a meeting of the national league in new york, and had gone from there on to baltimore. while in the latter city i had a long talk with mcgraw and all but convinced him that baltimore was certain to be dropped by the league and that it would be to his best interests to join hands with us in the formation of the new association. acting on the information i had given him mcgraw and his friends at once secured a lease on the national league ball grounds over the head of the league people, and then came on to attend the philadelphia meeting. here it was announced that tommy mccarthy had things fixed all right in boston and that providence would leave the eastern league and join with us. mcgraw had now become an enthusiast so far as the new scheme was concerned, but while the way to mend matters looked rosy on the surface, i fancied there were breakers ahead. i was disappointed in the showing made by philadelphia at the meeting, and had even then grave doubts as to the genuineness of the backing promised there, though richter, who was even at that time pulling wires in order to be elected secretary and treasurer when the final organization was made, asserted positively that he had found the necessary capitalists in the persons of george regar and a theatrical man by the name of gilmore. the circuit so far as made up at that time looked like detroit, chicago, st. louis and milwaukee in the west, and boston, baltimore, philadelphia and some city yet to be determined upon in the east. as the days went on quinn became more and more confident regarding philadelphia, and a strong effort was made to get washington into line, but without success, as the washington people were certain at that time that the league would consist of ten clubs, and that the senators would be retained. louisville in the meantime was clamoring for admission, while providence had determined to stick to the eastern league. a meeting to effect a permanent organization was then called. this was to be held at the great northern hotel in chicago on february th, , but as several of the delegates expected had failed to put in an appearance an adjournment to the following day was decided upon. when this meeting was called to order by temporary president quinn there were present hecker, harlan and spink, of st. louis; quinn, havenor and o'brien, of milwaukee; mcgraw and peterson, of baltimore; regar and richter, of philadelphia, and myself representing chicago. tommy mccarthy, of boston, was said to be somewhere on the road, though quinn held his proxy, and col. whitside of louisville was on hand to represent the falls city in case it should be taken into the fold. numerous telegrams failed to locate navin of detroit, and as the louisville people proved that they had the necessary backing it was finally decided to take them in. detroit's assurance that everything was lovely there came too late, navin not returning home until after the meeting was over, while mccarthy of boston did not materialize until after the meeting had adjourned. a permanent organization was finally effected and officers elected as follows: president, a. c. anson, chicago; secretary-treasurer, phil peterson, baltimore; directors, c. s. havenor, milwaukee; geo. d. shaefer, st. louis; w. j. gilmore, philadelphia; it being left for boston to name a member of the board at a later date. richter had come to the meeting firmly convinced that the office of secretary-treasurer was to be his for the asking, and he was decidedly put out when turned down, and was disposed to be decidedly ugly. that he had not gotten over it for some time afterward was shown by the attitude of his paper, which indulged in indiscriminate abuse of every one who failed to agree with him. after the adoption of a constitution and by-laws the meeting finally adjourned, though not until mcgraw and peterson had been appointed a committee to look into the standing of philadelphia and to select an eighth city in the east, the seven cities making up the circuit at that time being chicago, st. louis, milwaukee and louisville in the west, and boston, baltimore and philadelphia in the east. it was also decided to open the playing season on april , the matter of arranging a schedule being left in my hands. the philadelphia end of it had a decidedly fishy look to me, even then, and mcgraw was by no means as enthusiastic as he had appeared at philadelphia. mccarthy's failure to appear cast a damper over the crowd, and, in spite of all that had been accomplished, i had grave doubts as to the successful launching of the project. mcgraw and peterson stopped at philadelphia on their way home and had an interview with w. j. gilmore that was evidently satisfactory, as the former wired me that philadelphia was "four-flushing" and that everything was off, after which he fixed up his differences with the league people in baltimore and prepared to play with the club there another season. the dropping of baltimore from the list of league cities, just as i had prophesied, followed, after which came the sale of mcgraw and others to the st. louis club, the terms of which mcgraw has refused to ratify, the result being that the snappy little baltimorean will in all probability not be seen on the ball field in a league uniform. the calling off of the deal was a great disappointment to me at the time, and yet, as things have turned out, i am satisfied that everything happened for the best after all. the recent iron-clad agreement entered into between the american league and national league magnates, by the terms of which a team from the first-named organization is to be placed in chicago, smacks too strongly of syndicate methods to become popular. in a recent letter from baltimore mcgraw and peterson both strongly urge the necessity of going on with the new association and getting in readiness to place strong teams in the field at the beginning of the season of , and this is likely to be done. that the time is ripe for such a movement i am confident, as i am also that plenty of good ball players could be found to join its ranks. the methods of the league in late years have not been calculated to make friends either among the ranks of the players or of the public, and both would gladly welcome a rival in the field. it would, however, be a mistake, i think, to start with anything but a strong circuit or to antagonize any of the minor leagues, with whom nothing could be gained by rivalry. if i could have my way in the matter i would place a strong team in every single one of the league cities, taking in chicago, st. louis, cincinnati and pittsburg in the west, and new york, boston, philadelphia and baltimore in the east. such a circuit would, in my estimation, be a paying one from the start, and that is the circuit that i hope to see formed in the future. there is one thing certain, and that is that a rival to the national league will spring up sooner or later, and that without any help from mr. richter. chapter xxxviii. l'envoi. with my retirement from the chicago club in , my active connection with the game may be said to have ceased and it is more that probable that i shall never again don a uniform. my affection for the game still exists, however, and i am confident that, purged of the many evils that now exist, the game itself will continue to be in the future what it has been in the past, the national game of the american people. looking back over my twenty-seven years of active service on the diamond, i feel that i have but little to regret and much to be proud of, and if i failed at times to come us to the expectations of my friends, it was simply because i was heavily handicapped and unable to carry the load. for the gentlemen who have criticized my actions fairly and honestly i have naught but the kindest feelings, and for those who did not and who criticized simply to be in the fashion, or because they were advised to do so by those in authority over them, i have--but perhaps it is as well to "let the dead past bury its dead." the league guide of contains an article on my retirement, from the pen of the veteran, henry chadwick, that i am particularly proud of, and a portion of which i quote, as follows: "professional base-ball history records the development of many an original character in the ranks alike of its press-writers, its club magnates, and its most noteworthy players; but it can be safely said that its most unique figure can be found in the person of the league's greatest representative on the field, adrian constantine anson, who today stands forth as one of the most sturdy, fearless and honest exemplars of professional base-ball known to the game. the bright particular attribute of anson is his sterling integrity, combined with which is his thorough independence. the former was strikingly illustrated at the very outset of his career as a member of the chicago club in , when he kept true to his agreement with the club, though under the base-ball law as it then existed the club could not, enforce its contract; and his independence was plainly exhibited in the act of his refusing this year to accept a money testimonial at the hands of his base-ball friends, he preferring to depend upon his existing physical powers for his maintenance rather than upon the proffered financial aid. "in some respects anson resembles a rough diamond, his brusque manner and impulsive temper needing the keen polish of the refining wheel of the conventional amenities of life to make his inherent worth shine forth in its full brilliancy. anson, too, reminds one somewhat of that old western pioneer, davy crockett, inasmuch as his practical motto is, 'when you know you're right, go ahead.' this latter trait was conspicuously shown in the year of the players' revolt in , when, almost alone as a minority man, he stood by the national league in its greatest hour of need, in opposition to the desertion of hundreds of his confreres in the league ranks. in these prominent characteristics, we say, anson stands as the most unique player known in the annals of the professional fraternity." this is indeed praise from sir hubert, and i raise my hat in recognition. what i may conclude to do in the future it is hard to say, and if i return again to my first love, base-ball, it will not be as a player, but wherever i may be or whatever i may do i shall still strive to merit the approval and good will of my friends--god bless them! the end. amos rusie's pitching. amos rusie, who, for several years has probably come nearer being the premier pitcher of the country than any other man, gives some ideas of pitching to the new york evening journal. he says: "in delivering a straight, swift ball, when my object is to obtain the utmost speed at my command and to cut the plate, so that an umpire can have no doubt as to its being 'over,' i grasp the ball firmly with the two first fingers, with the thumb not clutching the ball too tightly. it is not my intention to twist or curve the ball at those times, but to catch the batter napping or else to prevent him from 'walking' to first. i take one long preliminary swing to prepare the shoulder muscles for the coming strain, and with my right foot firmly braced on the slab, i lurch forward with a high, straight throw, the weight of my body adding impetus to the ball. "a slow ball when mixed up with great speed, is most effective if the change of pace is so disguised as to fool the batter. it does not do to telegraph your intentions or the ball will go soaring over the bleachers--from off the old 'wagon tongue.' exactly the same preliminary motions should be gone through with as if to send in your swiftest ball. for this delivery i hold the ball loosely in my hand, holding it with my thumb and little finger. the ball will at times almost seem to hang in the air, and the batter, who is looking for a singing swift one, makes a vicious swipe before the ball gets to him. the change of pace is used mostly when a batter has two strikes and is worked up to the anxious pitch. nothing pleases a pitcher more than to fool a batter with his 'slows.' "to give an outcurve to the ball i take the same grip with the first two fingers as for the straight ball. the thumb, however, with which the twist which causes the ball to curve is given, is brought up in touch with the ball with a tight grip. then, with a long, slow preliminary swing i give a slight side motion to my hand with a decided snap to the wrist just at the instant the ball leaves my hand. i endeavor, of course, to hide my right hand as much as possible from the batter, and go through exactly the same motions as for a straight ball. i can get just as much speed with my curve as my straight, which in consequence, has proved my most successful ball. "the drop ball is a most effective one if a pitcher can get control of it. if the ball falls even a half inch from the expected line, the batter is liable to strike over it. in pitching this ball i take a tight hold with the thumb and two forefingers, with the third finger underneath in touch with the sphere. then with a very high swing and a raise on my toes, i bring the arm down swiftly. the reverse twist is given with the third finger. a great deal of practice is required to acquire control of this puzzling ball, and at times speed is sacrificed in its use." appendix. some newspaper comments. with the retirement of captain anson baseball loses its most dignified and courageous figure--a man who has striven through a number of years to preserve the national game in all its best phases and a man who has fought for decency and gentlemanly conduct on the field, and by whose efforts the club of which he has been typical for a long time has come to be known as one of the most dignified organizations on the national league diamond. his retirement from the leadership of the colts is received with regret by the devotees of the national game, although opinion is divided as to its advisability. it has long been believed by certain patrons of the game that a change in the management and captaincy of the team was advisable, and that a younger man might make the nine more successful. but whether they are of this opinion or not, the patrons of the game this year will miss the presence of the big first baseman who has come to be typical of the chicago team. captain anson retires with a record of which he may well be proud. he has been a prominent figure in hundreds of games in all of which he has done excellent work. as the head of the chicago club he has piloted the team through good and bad fortune. during the last few seasons he has not done as well as had been expected at the outset of the season. internal dissension crept into the ranks of the colts and the men did not work together. this fact started a sentiment in favor of a change of management. there were disturbing elements which militated against the success of the team, and it was believed by many admirers of the game that a new leader might be able to reconcile the warring factions and get more substantial results out of the aggregation. this was urged as a reason for the retirement of anson. he had served a longer term than any other base-ball player, and it was believed that he could retire on his record and give way to a younger man who would be able to secure more harmonious work. in this opinion there was no desire to belittle the work of anson, nor cast any discredit on his management. his work has been such as to win the respect of every sportsman, whatever his opinion of the desirability of the change of management, but with individual players of the first class might not another manager be able to attain better results was the argument. he is to be succeeded by a man who worked with him as a fellow-member at one time of the chicago team, a man of experience in base-ball affairs, and who it is believed will continue the work which the veteran has done for the best interests of the game. whether or not he will be able to make the club work together better than anson and whether he can secure better results from the material he has to work with remains for the coming season to show. but whatever be the future success of the team, it will owe a debt to captain anson, for to him is due the credit of being one of the greatest of base-ball generals. he has done a great work for the chicago team, and can now give way to another, resting on the honors which he has already won and which the base-ball public gladly concede to him.--chicago tribune. the former captain-manager of the chicago base-ball team has just replied to a proposition to offer him a testimonial in such terms as do him infinite honor. mr. anson had held his position for many years. he had done the work and discharged the duties of the place faithfully, laboriously, and ably, and he had received for his services a salary which he accepted as sufficient. when it was, thought best to depose him and to employ another captain, he gave way without protest. he had done his best, he had been paid, he had nothing to complain of, and no favors to ask. the proposed testimonial was offered, perhaps, under the impression that he was needy or that his feelings were hurt, and the idea seems to have been that in giving him a benefit they would placate any resentment he might harbor and at the same time proclaim their own generosity. anson, however, declined to be put in the position of a martyr or a suppliant. he replied: 'i refuse to accept anything in the shape of a gift. the public owes me nothing. i am not old and am no pauper. besides that, i am by no means out of base-ball.' we think that everybody will applaud mr. anson in this attitude. there is no reasonable doubt that the projected benefit would have netted him several thousands of dollars--it is not too much to estimate the result at $ , . he has long been a favorite with the chicago base-ball lovers. he enjoys a high reputation for courage, fairness, honorable methods, and professional ability. but he refused the well-meant offer of the chicago athletic association, and we feel sure that all right-minded men will give him their sympathy and approval. he prefers to occupy the position of one who has served his employers zealously and received full consideration for his work, who has no complaint to make and no pity to invoke. he is not superannuated, has not been ill-treated, and is quite able to support himself for the future. it is a manly, modest, self-reliant, and self-respecting position and it raises him infinitely in public estimation.--washington (d. c.) post. our illustrious fellow townsman, adrian constantinus anson, has given to the new york sun a few reflections concerning the duties of womankind, with a comparative review of the charms of the ladies of chicago and new york. it is mr. anson's deliberate opinion that woman has a most beautiful sphere of action in this pleasant life which is likely to be jeopardized by an association with clubs. mr. anson thinks that the average woman cannot attend to her regular knitting and to clubs at the same time, and he facilitates himself that the ladies of his immediate family have been restrained by his influence and his arguments from wasting time in society work that should belong to the needs of the small and sympathetic domestic circle. we congratulate mr. anson on the ability he has shown in the presentation of his argument, and we turn with confidence to his discussion of the ladies who have come under his observation. "in chicago," says mr. anson, "the ladies dress very stunningly, just as well as they do here, if i am not mistaken, and they are certainly just as fine looking. i'll admit that the new york men dress a great deal better than those of chicago." mr. anson is right. the chicago man gives little thought to the morrow, wherewithal he shall be clothed. he has his charms, his graces, his many fine points, but as a fashion plate he is not a success. he is content to know that his wife and his daughters are keeping up the standard of mr. anson's expectations, and to feel that in providing them with gorgeous raiment he is contributing his share of the beautiful, the true and the good in the world. we have believed for some time that the shopping ladies on the east side of state street constituted a panorama of feminine loveliness unexcelled, but we are glad to have this opinion corroborated by eminent an authority as mr. anson, who has a critical eye for the feminine toilet and has been in new york often enough in a professional capacity to exercise a just and accurate judgment.--chicago post. the announced retirement of adrian constantine anson from the management of the chicago base-ball team marks the end of a career that is without parallel in america. for nearly thirty years anson has stood among the foremost representatives of the national game, and for half that time. he has been a popular hero whose name was more familiar on the lips of the people than that of any statesman or soldier of his time. ever since professional base-ball became a feature of american life, he has stood in the front rank of its exponents, and as long as it shall continue to be played his name will be remembered. he reflected credit upon his calling and helped raise it to a plane which made it creditable to him. a certain measure of true glory cannot be denied to such a man. in all his long publicity no charge of dishonorable methods, no rumor of the buying and selling that are too common in athletics was ever laid at his door. he possessed many of the qualities that make leaders of men, and his continued success was due to the same study and application which bring triumph in more highly esteemed fields of activity. base-ball owes him much, the public owes him something and chicago owes him more. he is entitled to an honorable discharge.--detroit tribune. the passing of adrian c. anson from the position of manager and captain of the chicago league base-ball club is deserving of notice by everybody. while it is not our purpose or custom to comment on athletics, in general, we deem it proper to drop a few thoughts concerning this man and his life. for twenty-six years he has been playing base-ball with prominent clubs throughout the country, twenty-two years of this time being spent with the club which just disposed of his services. five different times he brought his club out at the close of the season as a pennant winner, a record which has not yet been equaled by any manager. besides being a bright star in the ball-playing constellation, anson was an expert at cricket, hand-ball, billiards and shooting. he has ever been temperate in his habits, and his long period of service in this line proves what a man may do by taking care of himself. no better lesson can be taught the young man of to-day than the observance of this man's life. after all, is it not a mistake made by the temperance people that they don't teach the physical as well as the moral effects of intemperance? the name anson means athletics. honest, honorable, clean, pure athletics. no man has done more to place outdoor sports above reproach than he has.--springfield (ill.) sun. captain anson is going to retire. he has played his last championship game, has piloted his young men through the last season and has made his final forceful appeal to a league umpire. with the honors of unnumbered years thick upon him, with a fame that will endure till the last league ball is batted over the palisades of time, with fortune far beyond the hope of thousands who have howled his praise, "the grand old man" will leave the "profession" jan. , , when his contract with the chicago team shall expire. there comes a sentiment akin to sorrow in the incident. the man has so truly represented the spirit of sport, he has so honestly and industriously devoted his every energy to its requirements, and he has so persistently abstained from those customs that too often discredit men in his line, that the great public which loves base-ball will regret his departure. aside from that there is a measure of compensation. we know that young blood and new methods may help the chicago team to that eminence it won in the old days. this sentiment is entertained by so many patrons of the game that it may be fair to concede them something. one thing is certain. no man living will more cordially wish success to the old white stocking club than will the man who has shared its joys and its woes, and who voluntarily, even now, yields place to a younger man.--chicago inter-ocean. a few days ago captain anson, a representative of the typical american game, declined to accept a public testimonial earned by years of hard work, honesty, uprightness, and faithfulness as a player. mr. a. g. spalding guaranteed that the fund would reach $ , , and from the great flow of telegrams, letters, and offers of contributions that swept down upon the promoter of the testimonial it seemed as though that sum would be exceeded. anson replied modestly that, while conscious of the high honor conferred in the almost unanimous expression of good will, he could not accept a moneyed tribute. a few years ago dr. w. g. grace, the champion cricketer of england, retired from the game, a game typical of england. headed by the prince of wales a great public subscription was raised and more than $ , was given the champion. he accepted. the two men occupied the same position toward their games and their countries. the spirit of admiration was unanimous in both countries. both were athletic heroes. grace accepted; anson declined.--chicago tribune. the firm of chicago & anson expired by its own limitation last night. the partners parted on the best of terms. it is now twenty-two years since they began to do base-ball together, and the record made is an honor to the world of athletics. long ago, while the dew of youth was still in his locks, the junior partner was known as "old anse," much as in army circles the pre-eminence of general grant won for him the designation of "the old man." anson first gained distinction as the heaviest batter that had ever gone to the plate. then, for many seasons, he was captain. he marshaled his forces with the skill of a great commander. he lost many a battle royal, but he never threw a game, and, alike in victory and in defeat, the honor of chicago was maintained unflecked. may he live long to enjoy the distinction of being "the grand old man" of the diamond field.--chicago inter ocean. our ancient friend captain adrian anson will find ample scope for his disciplinary talents in dealing with the cherubim whom mr. freedman has aggregated into his base-ball club. at various times the baltimore, the pittsburgs and the clevelands have held the championship for all-round blackguardism and "dirty ball," but now new york, like "eclipse," is first and the rest nowhere. in this connection it is interesting to recall that early in the season several of mr. freedman's young men haughtily refused to sign the brush hoodlum agreement upon the ground that they were "gentlemen" and incapable of using vile language. the brush rule is valid nevertheless, and the patrons of base-ball will watch with interest to see whether it will be enforced against the umpire baiters and vulgarians lately led by mr. "scrappy" joyce. if anson is given a free hand he will keep the rowdies in subjection. if he is hampered we venture to predict that mr. freedman will soon be hunting another captain. the "old man" will not stand sponsor for hoodlums.--chicago chronicle. "i notice," said the old-timer, "that a hit was wanted in louisville yesterday, and that james ryan (who would quit rather than play with anson as manager) was at the bat. how many, many times the cranks at the chicago ball grounds have waited and watched for that same hit, and how often, oh, how often, they have been regaled with that same play--a pop-up to the infield. it is time, long, long ago, that james ryan was relegated to the bench or the turnstile--for good. decker is his superior in everything but grumbling."--chicago journal. new york, april .--a. g. spalding absolutely denied to-day the truth of the published reports that he had jestingly offered the franchise of the chicago club to anson for $ , , and that while anson was hustling around trying to raise the money he had no intention whatever of releasing the franchise when it came to a showdown. "the story is absurd," said mr. spalding. "in the first place, anson is not trying to get the franchise. no one has made overtures to me with that end in view. i have set no price on the franchise, because i had not the slightest intention of letting it go."--chicago chronicle. temporarily war rumors must sink into innocuous desuetude and other old things. a matter of more far-reaching importance now claims our attention. we shall continue to hope that sampson and dewey and miles will do their whole duty, but we shall not be able to give our personal attention to the trifles that occupy them until we have received definite information whether or not anson is really going with the new yorks.--chicago post. as a fielder many have surpassed him, but as a batsman--and batsmen, like poets, are born, not made, and are the kind of players hardest to get--his record has never been excelled. he has not always stood at the head of the list, but always kept up a steady fusillade.--des moines leader. the passing of anson from the national league removes from the national game its most conspicuous and active spirit. for many years this young old man has been the principal figure in the grandest of outdoor sports and his setting aside by the managers of the team that he made famous will be lamented everywhere.--detroit journal. now it is claimed that anson hasn't a chance on earth of getting control of the chicago club, even if he raises that $ , option. it is claimed that the price set by spalding was one of his little jokes, and ans took it seriously. people who ought to know say spalding and hart would not part with the chicago club for $ , .--cincinnati enquirer. o. p. caylor has this to say: "anson may be getting old, his step less springy, his joints not so supple as of yore, but his eyes and brain are unimpaired. for all that, he knows more about playing the game than the other men on his team combined. there are at least seven less valuable players than anson among the chicago colts."--new york herald. owing to the de lome incident and the destruction of the maine the retirement of colonel anson from base-ball generalship is not receiving the general attention its importance warrants.--chicago herald. the young philanthropist who sent $too to leiter with which to corner the wheat market would exhibit more genuine patriotism if he would inclose a few thousands to captain anson for the purpose of obtaining the chicago ball team.--chicago record. yesterday was a cold day for base-ball. that grand old man, captain adrianapolis chicago anson, was umpired out by father time, after twenty-two years' signal service at the first base.--chicago inter ocean. when the sporting world finds a better or more manly man than "old anse" it will have to advertise for "the best the country affords." he honestly won his honors in a fair field.--chicago inter ocean. there is no reason why cap'n anson, now in the full maturity of his powers, may not have a successful career before him as a trainer of horses.--chicago tribune. it was worth losing the job for captain anson to learn what a royal good fellow he is.--chicago record. the complete golfer the complete golfer by harry vardon open champion, , , , american champion, with sixty-six illustrations second edition methuen & co. essex street w.c. london _first published june _ _second edition june _ preface many times i have been strongly advised to write a book on golf, and now i offer a volume to the great and increasing public who are devoted to the game. so far as the instructional part of the book is concerned, i may say that, while i have had the needs of the novice constantly in mind, and have endeavoured to the best of my ability to put him on the right road to success, i have also presented the full fruits of my experience in regard to the fine points of the game, so that what i have written may be of advantage to improving golfers of all degrees of skill. there are some things in golf which cannot be explained in writing, or for the matter of that even by practical demonstration on the links. they come to the golfer only through instinct and experience. but i am far from believing that, as is so often said, a player can learn next to nothing from a book. if he goes about his golf in the proper manner he can learn very much indeed. the services of a competent tutor will be as necessary to him as ever, and i must not be understood to suggest that this work can to any extent take the place of that compulsory and most invaluable tuition. on the other hand, it is next to impossible for a tutor to tell a pupil on the links everything about any particular stroke while he is playing it, and if he could it would not be remembered. therefore i hope and think that, in conjunction with careful coaching by those who are qualified for the task, and by immediate and constant practice of the methods which i set forth, this book may be of service to all who aspire to play a really good game. if any player of the first degree of skill should take exception to any of these methods, i have only one answer to make, and that is that, just as they are explained in the following pages, they are precisely those which helped me to win my five championships. these and no others i practise every day upon the links. i attach great importance to the photographs and the accompanying diagrams, the objects of which are simplicity and lucidity. when a golfer is in difficulty with any particular stroke--and the best of us are constantly in trouble with some stroke or other--i think that a careful examination of the pictures relating to that stroke will frequently put him right, while a glance at the companion in the "how not to do it" series may reveal to him at once the error into which he has fallen and which has hitherto defied detection. all the illustrations in this volume have been prepared from photographs of myself in the act of playing the different strokes on the totteridge links last autumn. each stroke was carefully studied at the time for absolute exactness, and the pictures now reproduced were finally selected by me from about two hundred which were taken. in order to obtain complete satisfaction, i found it necessary to have a few of the negatives repeated after the winter had set in, and there was a slight fall of snow the night before the morning appointed for the purpose. i owe so much--everything--to the great game of golf, which i love very dearly, and which i believe is without a superior for deep human and sporting interest, that i shall feel very delighted if my "complete golfer" is found of any benefit to others who play or are about to play. i give my good wishes to every golfer, and express the hope to each that he may one day regard himself as complete. i fear that, in the playing sense, this is an impossible ideal. however, he may in time be nearly "dead" in his "approach" to it. i have specially to thank mr. henry leach for the invaluable services he has rendered to me in the preparation of the work h.v. totteridge, _may _. contents page chapter i golf at home the happy golfer--a beginning at jersey--the vardon family--an anxious tutor--golfers come to grouville--a fine natural course--initiation as a caddie--primitive golf--how we made our clubs--matches in the moonlight--early progress--the study of methods--not a single lesson--i become a gardener--the advice of my employer--"never give up golf"--a nervous player to begin with--my first competition--my brother tom leaves home--he wins a prize at musselburgh--i decide for professionalism--an appointment at ripon. chapter ii some reminiscences not enough golf--"reduced to cricket"--i move to bury--a match with alexander herd--no more nerves--third place in an open competition--i play for the championship--a success at portrush--some conversation and a match with andrew kirkaldy--fifth for the championship at sandwich--second at the deal tournament--eighth in the championship at st. andrews--i go to ganton--an invitation to the south of france--the championship at muirfield--an exciting finish--a stiff problem at the last hole--i tie with taylor--we play off, and i win the championship--a tale of a putter--ben sayers wants a "wun'"--what andrew thought of muirfield--i win the championship again at prestwick--willie park as runner-up--my great match with park--excellent arrangements--a welcome victory--on money matches in general--my third championship at sandwich--my fourth at prestwick--golf under difficulties. chapter iii the way to golf the mistakes of the beginner--too eager to play a round--despair that follows--a settling down to mediocrity--all men may excel--the sorrows of a foozler--my advice--three months' practice to begin with--the makings of a player--good golf is best--how mr. balfour learned the game--a wise example--go to the professional--the importance of beginning well--practise with each club separately--driver, brassy, cleek, iron, mashie, and putter--into the hole at last--master of a bag of clubs--the first match--how long drives are made--why few good players are coming on--golf is learned too casually. chapter iv the choice and care of clubs difficulties of choice--a long search for the best--experiments with more than a hundred irons--buy few clubs to begin with--take the professional's advice--a preliminary set of six--points of the driver--scared wooden clubs are best--disadvantages of the socket--fancy faces--short heads--whip in the shaft--the question of weight--match the brassy with the driver--reserve clubs--kinds of cleeks--irons and mashies--the niblick--the putting problem--it is the man who putts and not the putter--recent inventions--short shafts for all clubs--lengths and weights of those i use--be careful of your clubs--hints for preserving them. chapter v driving--preliminaries advantage of a good drive--and the pleasure of it--more about the driver--tee low--why high tees are bad--the question of stance--eccentricities and bad habits--begin in good style--measurements of the stance--the reason why--the grip of the club--my own method and its advantages--two hands like one--comparative tightness of the hands--variations during the swing--certain disadvantages of the two-v grip--addressing the ball--freaks of style--how they must be compensated for--too much waggling--the point to look at--not the top of the ball, but the side of it. chapter vi driving--the swing of the club "slow back"--the line of the club head in the upward swing--the golfer's head must be kept rigid--the action of the wrists--position at the top of the swing--movements of the arms--pivoting of the body--no swaying--action of the feet and legs--speed of the club during the swing--the moment of impact--more about the wrists--no pure wrist shot in golf--the follow-through--timing of the body action--arms and hands high up at the finish--how bad drives are made--the causes of slicing--when the ball is pulled--misapprehensions as to slicing and pulling--dropping of the right shoulder--its evil consequences--no trick in long driving--hit properly and hard--what is pressing and what is not--summary of the drive. chapter vii brassy and spoon good strokes with the brassy--play as with the driver--the points of the brassy--the stance--where and how to hit the ball--playing from cuppy lies--jab strokes from badly-cupped lies--a difficult club to master--the man with the spoon--the lie for the baffy--what it can and cannot do--character of the club--the stance--tee shots with the baffy--iron clubs are better. chapter viii special strokes with wooden clubs the master stroke in golf--intentional pulling and slicing--the contrariness of golf--when pulls and slices are needful--the stance for the slice--the upward swing--how the slice is made--the short sliced stroke--great profits that result--warnings against irregularities--how to pull a ball--the way to stand--the work of the right hand--a feature of the address--what makes a pull--effect of wind on the flight of the ball--greatly exaggerated notions--how wind increases the effect of slicing and pulling--playing through a cross wind--the shot for a head wind--a special way of hitting the ball--a long low flight--when the wind comes from behind. chapter ix the cleek and driving mashie a test of the golfer--the versatility of the cleek--different kinds of cleeks--points of the driving mashie--difficulty of continued success with it--the cleek is more reliable--ribbed faces for iron clubs--to prevent skidding--the stance for an ordinary cleek shot--the swing--keeping control over the right shoulder--advantages of the three-quarter cleek shot--the push shot--my favourite stroke--the stance and the swing--the way to hit the ball--peculiar advantages of flight from the push stroke--when it should not be attempted--the advantage of short swings as against full swings with iron clubs--playing for a low ball against the wind--a particular stance--comparisons of the different cleek shots--general observations and recommendations--mistakes made with the cleek. chapter x play with the iron the average player's favourite club--fine work for the iron--its points--the right and the wrong time for play with it--stance measurements--a warning concerning the address--the cause of much bad play with the iron--the swing--half shots with the iron--the regulation of power--features of erratic play--forced and checked swings--common causes of duffed strokes--swings that are worthless. chapter xi approaching with the mashie the great advantage of good approach play--a fascinating club--characteristics of a good mashie--different kinds of strokes with it--no purely wrist shot--stance and grip--position of the body--no pivoting on the left toe--the limit of distance--avoid a full swing--the half iron as against the full mashie--the swing--how not to loft--on scooping the ball--taking a divot--the running-up approach--a very valuable stroke--the club to use--a tight grip with the right hand--peculiarities of the swing--the calculation of pitch and run--the application of cut and spin--a stroke that is sometimes necessary--standing for a cut--method of swinging and hitting the ball--the chip on to the green--points of the jigger. chapter xii on being bunkered the philosopher in a bunker--on making certain of getting out--the folly of trying for length--when to play back--the qualities of the niblick--stance and swing--how much sand to take--the time to press--no follow-through in a bunker--desperate cases--the brassy in a bunker--difficulties through prohibited grounding--play straight when length is imperative--cutting with the niblick. chapter xiii simple putting a game within another game--putting is not to be taught--the advantage of experience--vexation of missing short putts--some anecdotes--individuality in putting--the golfer's natural system--how to find it--and when found make a note of it--the quality of instinct--all sorts of putters--how i once putted for a championship--the part that the right hand plays--the manner of hitting the ball--on always being up and "giving the hole a chance"--easier to putt back after overrunning than when short--the trouble of tom morris. chapter xiv complicated putts problems on undulating greens--the value of practice--difficulties of calculation--the cut stroke with the putter--how to make it--when it is useful--putting against a sideways slope--a straighter line for the hole--putting down a hill--applying drag to the ball--the use of the mashie on the putting-green--stymies--when they are negotiable and when not--the wisdom of playing for a half--lofting over the stymie--the run-through method--running through the stymie--how to play the stroke, and its advantages--fast greens for fancy strokes--on gauging the speed of a green. chapter xv some general hints too much golf--analysis of good strokes--one's attitude towards one's opponent--inaccurate counting of strokes--tactics in match play--slow couples on the course--asking for halves--on not holing out when the half is given--golfing attire--braces better than belts--shoes better than boots--how the soles should be nailed--on counting your strokes--insisting on the rules--play in frosty weather--chalked faces for wet days--against gloves--concerning clubs--when confidence in a club is lost--make up your mind about your shot--the golfer's lunch--keeping the eye on the ball--the life of a rubber-core--a clean ball--the caddie's advice--forebodings of failure--experiments at the wrong time--one kind of golf at a time--bogey beaten, but how?--tips for tee shots--as to pressing--the short approach and the wayward eye--swinging too much--for those with defective sight--your opponent's caddie--making holes in the bunkers--the golfer's first duty--swinging on the putting-greens--practise difficult shots and not easy ones, etc. chapter xvi competition play its difficulties--nerves are fatal--the philosophic spirit--experience and steadiness--the torn card--too much hurry to give up--a story and a moral--indifference to your opponent's brilliance--never slacken when up--the best test of golf--if golf were always easy--cautious play in medal rounds--risks to be taken--the bold game in match play--studying the course--risks that are foolishly taken--new clubs in competitions--on giving them a trial--no training necessary--as to the pipe and glass--how to be at one's best and keenest--on playing in the morning--in case of a late draw--watch your opponents. chapter xvii on foursomes the four-ball foursome--its inferiority to the old-fashioned game--the case of the long-handicap man--confusion on the greens--the man who drives last--the old-fashioned two-ball foursome--against too many foursomes--partners and each other--fitting in their different games--the man to oblige--the policy of the long-handicap man--how he drove and missed in the good old days--on laying your partner a stymie--a preliminary consideration of the round--handicapping in foursomes--a too delicate reckoning of strokes given and received--a good foursome and the excitement thereof--a caddie killed and a hole lost--a compliment to a golfer. chapter xviii golf for ladies as to its being a ladies' game--a sport of freedom--the lady on the links--the american lady golfer--english ladies are improving--where they fail, and why--good pupils--the same game as the man's--no short swings for ladies--clubs of too light weight--their disadvantages--a common fault with the sex--bad backward swings--the lady who will find out for herself--foundations of a bad style--the way to success. chapter xix the construction of courses necessity for thought and ingenuity--the long-handicap man's course--the scratch player's--how good courses are made--the necessary land--a long nine-hole course better than a short eighteen--the preliminary survey--a patient study of possibilities--stakes at the holes--removal of natural disadvantages--"penny wise and pound foolish"--the selection of teeing grounds--a few trial drives--the arrangement of long and short holes--the best two-shot and three-shot holes--bunkers and where to place them--the class of player to cater for--the scratch man's game--the shots to be punished--bunkers down the sides--the best putting greens--two tees to each hole--seaside courses. chapter xx links i have played on many first-class links--the best of all--sandwich--merits of the royal st. george's course--punishments for faults and rewards for virtue--not a short course--the best hole--the maiden--other good holes--prestwick an excellent course--the third and the ninth holes--the finest hole anywhere--hoylake--two or three tame holes--a means of improvement--good hazards and a premium on straight play--st. andrews--badly-placed bunkers--a good second hole--the finest one-shot hole to be found anywhere--an unfair hole--the best holes at muirfield--troon--north berwick--cruden bay--dornoch--machrihanish--a splendid course at islay--the most difficult hole i know--gullane--kilspindie--luffness--links in ireland--portrush--portmarnock--dollymount--lahinch--newcastle--welsh courses--ashburnham--harlech--on the south and south-west coasts--the rushes at westward ho!--newquay--good holes at deal--littlestone--rye--the advantage of cromer--brancaster--hunstanton--sheringham--redcar--seaton carew--st. anne's--formby--wallasey--inland courses--sunningdale--a splendid course--another at walton heath--huntercombe--london links--courses in the country--sheffield--manchester--huddersfield--"inland" courses at the seaside--a warning. chapter xxi golf in america good golf in the united states--my tour through the country--mr. travis's victory in our amateur championship--not a surprise--the man who played the best golf--british amateurs must wake up--other good americans will come--our casual methods of learning golf--the american system--my matches in the states--a good average--driving well--some substantial victories--some difficult matches--course records--enthusiasm of the american crowds--the golf fever--the king of baseball takes to golf--the american open championship--a hard fight with j.h. taylor--a welcome win--curious experiences in florida--greens without grass--the plague of locusts--some injury to my game--"mr. jones"--fooling the caddies--camping out on the links--golf reporting in america--ingenious and good--mistakes made by non-golfing writers--lipping the hole for a hundred dollars. chapter xxii concerning caddies varieties of caddies--advice to a left-handed player--cock-shots at ganton--unearned increments--an offer to carry for the fun of the thing--the caddie who knows too much--my ideal caddie--his points--the girl caddie--a splendid type--caddies' caustic humour--some specimens of it--mr. balfour's taste in caddies--when the caddie is too anxious--good human kindness--"big crawford"--"lookin' aifter maister balfour"--an ingenious claim--a salute for the chief secretary--a story of a distressed clergyman--sandy smith--the clothes he wore--an excess of zeal--the caddies' common-sense--when his lot is not a happy one. chapter xxiii reflections and recollections good golf to come--giants of the past--the amateurs of to-day--the greatness of "freddy" tait--modern professionals--good sportsmen and good friends--a misconception--the constant strain--how we always play our best--difficult tasks--no "close season" in golf--spectators at big matches--certain anecdotes--putting for applause--shovelling from a bunker--the greatest match i have ever played in--a curious incident--a record in halves--a coincidence--the exasperation of andrew--the coming of spring--the joyful golfer. appendix (rules of the game) index list of illustrations portrait _frontispiece_ plate page i. my set of clubs ii. the grip with the left hand iii. the overlapping grip iv. the overlapping grip v. the overlapping grip vi. driver and brassy. the stance vii. driver and brassy. top of the swing viii. driver and brassy. top of the swing from behind ix. driver and brassy. finish of the swing x. how not to drive xi. how not to drive xii. how not to drive xiii. how not to drive xiv. driver and brassy. stance when playing for a slice xv. driver and brassy. top of the swing when playing for a slice xvi. driver and brassy. finish when playing for a slice xvii. driver and brassy. playing for a pull. stance xviii. driver and brassy. top of the swing when playing for a pull xix. driver and brassy. finish when playing for a pull xx. driver and brassy. stance for a low ball against the wind xxi. driver and brassy. stance for a high ball with the wind xxii. full shot with the cleek. stance xxiii. full shot with the cleek. top of the swing xxiv. full shot with the cleek. finish xxv. full shot with the cleek. finish xxvi. the push shot with the cleek. stance xxvii. the push shot with the cleek. top of the swing xxviii. the push shot with the cleek. finish xxix. a low ball (against wind) with the cleek. stance xxx. a low ball (against wind) with the cleek. top of the swing xxxi. a low ball (against wind) with the cleek. finish xxxii. faulty play with the cleek xxxiii. faulty play with the cleek xxxiv. faulty play with the cleek xxxv. faulty play with the cleek xxxvi. faulty play with the cleek xxxvii. full iron shot. stance xxxviii. full iron shot. top of the swing xxxix. full iron shot. finish xl. play with the iron for a low ball (against wind). stance xli. play with the iron for a low ball (against wind). top of the swing xlii. play with the iron for a low ball (against wind). finish xliii. mashie approach (pitch and run). stance xliv. mashie approach (pitch and run). top of the swing xlv. mashie approach (pitch and run). finish xlvi. mistakes with the mashie xlvii. mistakes with the mashie xlviii. mistakes with the mashie xlix. running-up approach with mashie or iron. finish, with stance also indicated l. a cut approach with the mashie. stance li. a cut approach with the mashie. top of the swing lii. a cut approach with the mashie. finish liii. the niblick in a bunker. top of an ordinary stroke when it is intended to take much sand liv. "well out!" finish of an ordinary stroke in a bunker when much sand is taken lv. another bunker stroke. top of the swing when intending to take the ball cleanly and with a little cut lvi. finish, after taking the ball cleanly from a bunker lvii. putting lviii. putting diagrams. trajectory of ball when a distant slice is required trajectory of ball in the case of a quick slice method and effect of pulling into a cross wind from the right the push shot with the cleek putting with cut on a sloping green nails in golfing boots and shoes points to look at when addressing the ball the complete golfer chapter i golf at home the happy golfer--a beginning at jersey--the vardon family--an anxious tutor--golfers come to grouville--a fine natural course--initiation as a caddie--primitive golf--how we made our clubs--matches in the moonlight--early progress--the study of methods--not a single lesson--i become a gardener--the advice of my employer--"never give up golf"--a nervous player to begin with--my first competition--my brother tom leaves home--he wins a prize at musselburgh--i decide for professionalism--an appointment at ripon. i have sometimes heard good golfers sigh regretfully, after holing out on the eighteenth green, that in the best of circumstances as to health and duration of life they cannot hope for more than another twenty, or thirty, or forty years of golf, and they are then very likely inclined to be a little bitter about the good years of their youth that they may have "wasted" at some other less fascinating sport. when the golfer's mind turns to reflections such as these, you may depend upon it that it has been one of those days when everything has gone right and nothing wrong, and the supreme joy of life has been experienced on the links. the little white ball has seemed possessed of a soul--a soul full of kindness and the desire for doing good. the clubs have seemed endowed with some subtle qualities that had rarely been discovered in them before. their lie, their balance, their whip, have appeared to reach the ideal, and such command has been felt over them as over a dissecting instrument in the hands of a skilful surgeon. the sun has been shining and the atmosphere has sparkled when, flicked cleanly from the tee, the rubber-cored ball has been sent singing through the air. the drives have all been long and straight, the brassy shots well up, the approaches mostly dead, and the putts have taken the true line to the tin. hole after hole has been done in bogey, and here and there the common enemy has been beaten by a stroke. perhaps the result is a record round, and, so great is the enthusiasm for the game at this moment, that it is regarded as a great misfortune that the sun has set and there is no more light left for play. these are the times when the golfer's pulse beats strong, and he feels the remorse of the man with the misspent youth because he was grown up and his limbs were setting before ever he teed a ball. well, at least i can say that i have not missed much of the game that i love with a great fondness, for i played a kind of prehistoric golf when i was a bad boy of seven, and off and on i have played it ever since. it was fortunate for me that the common land at jersey was years ago the ideal thing for a golfing links, and that golfers from abroad found out its secret, as they always do. if they had failed to do so in this case, i might still have been spending my life in horticultural pursuits. for i was born (on may , ) and bred in jersey, at that little place called grouville, which is no more than a collection of scattered cottages and farmhouses a few miles from st. heliers. both my parents were natives of jersey, and my father, who was seventy-four on the th of last november, has been a gardener there all his life, holding the proud record of having changed his place of employment only once during the whole period. there was a big family of us--six boys and two girls--and all, except one of my sisters, are still alive. my brothers were george, phil, edward, tom, and fred, and i came fourth down the list, after edward. as most golfers know, my brother tom, to whom i owe very much, is now the professional at the royal st. george's club at sandwich, while fred is a professional in the isle of man. in due course we all went to the little village school; but i fear, from all that i can remember, and from what i have been told, that knowledge had little attraction for me in those days, and i know that i very often played truant, sometimes for three weeks at a stretch. consequently my old schoolmaster, mr. boomer, had no particular reason to be proud of me at that time, as he seems to have become since. he never enjoys a holiday so much in these days as when he comes over from jersey to see me play for the open championship, as he does whenever the meeting is held at sandwich. but when i did win a championship on that course, he was so nervous and excited about my play and my prospects that he felt himself unequal to watching me, and during most of the time that i was doing my four rounds he was sitting in a fretful state upon the seashore. i was a thin and rather delicate boy with not much physical strength, but i was as enthusiastic as the others in the games that were played at that time, and my first ambition was to excel at cricket. a while afterwards i became attached to football, and i retained some fondness for this game long after i took up golf. even after my golfing tour in america a few years ago, when quite at my best, i captained the ganton football team and played regularly in its matches. one day, when i was about seven years of age, a very shocking thing happened at grouville. all the people there lived a quiet, undisturbed life, and had a very wholesome respect for the sanctity of the sabbath day. but of all days of the week it was a sunday when a small party of strange gentlemen made their appearance on the common land, and began to survey and to mark out places for greens and tees. then the story went about that they were making preparations to play a game called golf. that was enough to excite the wrathful indignation of all the tenant-farmers round about, and without delay they began to think out means for expelling these trespassers from the common land. a tale of indignation spread through grouville, and these golfers, of whom i remember that mr. brewster was one, were not at first regarded in the light of friendship. but they soon made their position secure by obtaining all necessary authority and permission for what they were about to do from the constable of the parish, and from that day we had to resign ourselves to the fact that a new feature had entered into the quiet life of jersey. the little party went ahead with the marking out of their course, though indeed the natural state of the place was so perfect from the golfer's point of view that very little work was necessary, and no first-class golf links was ever made more easily. there were sand and other natural hazards everywhere, the grass was short and springy just as it is on all good sea-coast links, and all that it was necessary to do was to put a flag down where each hole was going to be, and run the mower and the roller over the space selected for the putting green. rooms were rented at a little inn hard by, which was forthwith rechristened the golf inn, and the headquarters of the jersey golfers are still at the same place, though a large club-room has been added. that was the beginning of the royal jersey golf club. the links as they were when they were first completed were really excellent--much better than they are to-day, for since then, in order to prevent the sand being blown all over the course by the strong winds which sweep across the island, the bunkers have in most cases been filled with clay, which has to a great extent spoiled them. when everything was ready, more of these golfers came across from england to play this new game which we had never seen before, and all the youngsters of the locality were enticed into their service to carry their clubs. i was among the number, and that was my first introduction to the game. we did not think much of it upon our first experience; but after we had carried for a few rounds we came to see that it contained more than we had imagined. then we were seized with a desire to play it ourselves, and discover what we could do. but we had no links to play upon, no clubs, no balls, and no money. however, we surmounted all these difficulties. to begin with, we laid out a special course of our very own. it consisted of only four holes, and each one of them was only about fifty yards long, but for boys of seven that was quite enough. we made our teeing grounds, smoothed out the greens, and, so far as this part of the business was concerned, we were soon ready for play. there was no difficulty about balls, for we decided at once that the most suitable article for us, in the absence of real gutties, was the big white marble which we called a taw, and which was about half the size of an ordinary golf ball, or perhaps a little less than that. but there was some anxiety in our juvenile minds when the question of clubs came to be considered, and i think we deserved credit for the manner in which we disposed of it. it was apparent that nothing would be satisfactory except a club fashioned on the lines of a real golf club, and that to procure anything of the sort we should have to make it ourselves. therefore, after several experiments, we decided that we would use for the purpose the hard wood of the tree which we called the lady oak. to make a club we cut a thick branch from the tree, sawed off a few inches from it, and then trimmed this piece so that it had a faint resemblance to the heads of the drivers we had seen used on the links. any elaborate splicing operations were out of the question, so we agreed that we must bore a hole in the centre of the head. the shaft sticks that we chose and trimmed were made of good thorn, white or black, and when we had prepared them to our satisfaction we put the poker in the fire and made it red hot, then bored a hole with it through the head, and tightened the shaft with wedges until the club was complete. with this primitive driver we could get what was for our diminutive limbs a really long ball, or a long taw as one should say. in these later days a patent has been taken out for drivers with the shaft let into the head, which are to all intents and purposes the same in principle as those which we used to make at grouville. by and by some of us became quite expert at the making of these clubs, and we set ourselves to discover ways and means of improving them. the greater elaboration of such brassies as we had seen impressed us, and we also found some trouble with our oak heads in that, being green, they were rather inclined to chip and crack. ultimately we decided to sheathe the heads entirely with tin. it was not an easy thing to make a good job of this, and we were further troubled by the circumstance that our respective fathers had no sympathy with us, and declined upon any account to lend us their tools. consequently we had no option but to wait until the coast was clear and then surreptitiously borrow the tools for an hour or two. we called these tin-plated drivers our brassies, and they were certainly an improvement on our original clubs. occasionally a club was made in this manner which exhibited properties superior to those possessed by any other, as clubs will do even to-day. forthwith the reputation of the maker of this club went up by leaps and bounds, and he was petitioned by others to make clubs for them, a heavy price in taws and marbles being offered for the service. the club that had created all this stir would change hands two or three times at an increasing price until it required the payment of four or five dozen marbles to become possessed of it. but the boy who owned the treasure was looked upon as the lord of the manor, and odds were demanded of him in the matches that we played. we practised our very elementary kind of golf whenever we could, and were soon enthusiastic. i remember particularly that many of our best matches were played in the moonlight. the moon seemed to shine more clearly at jersey than in england, and we could see splendidly. four of us would go out together on a moonlight night to play, and our little competition was arranged on the medal system by scores. usually a few marbles were at stake. to prevent the loss of taws one of us was sent ahead to watch for their coming and listen for the faint thud of their fall, while the other three drove from the tee. then the three came forward while the watcher went back to drive, and i am sorry to say that our keenness in those days led us to disregard certain principles of the sportsman's code of honour which we appreciated better as we grew up. what i mean is that the watcher was often handicapped in a way that he little suspected, for when he went back to the tee, and we went forward and found that our balls were not always so well up as we had hoped, we gave them a gentle kick forwards; for in the dim light we were able to do this unknown to each other. but in legitimate play we often got a at these fifty-yard holes, and with our home-made clubs, our little white taws, our lack of knowledge, and our physical feebleness all taken into consideration, i say we have often done less creditable things since then. after such beginnings, we progressed very well. we began to carry more and more for the golfers who came to grouville; we found or were given real balls that took the place of the taws, and then a damaged club occasionally came our way, and was repaired and brought into our own service. usually it was necessary to put in new shafts, and so we burnt holes in the heads and put in the sticks, as we did with clubs of our own make; but these converted clubs were disappointing in the matter of durability. it happened once or twice that golfers for whom we had been carrying gave us an undamaged club as a reward for our enthusiasm, and we were greatly excited and encouraged when such a thing happened. i used to carry clubs about twice a week. i remember that mr. molesworth and dr. purves, both well known in the golfing world, were two players for whom i very often carried, and only the other day when i saw the former at the professional tournament at richmond, watching the play, i was able to remind him of those times and of a particular shot he once played. we young caddies were very eager to learn the game thoroughly, and we were in the habit of watching these golfers very closely, comparing their styles, and then copying anything from them that seemed to take our fancy. i may say at once, in reply to a question that i am often asked, and which perhaps my present readers may themselves be inclined to put, that i have never in my life taken a single golfing lesson from anyone, and that whatever style i may possess is purely the result of watching others play and copying them when i thought they made a stroke in a particularly easy and satisfactory manner. it was my habit for very many years after these early days, until in fact i had won the open championship, to study the methods of good golfers in this way, and there are few from whom one is not able to learn something. i cannot say that the play of any one man particularly impressed me; i cannot point to any player, past or present, and declare that i modelled my style on his. it seemed to me that i took a little from one and a little from another until my swing was a composition of the swings of several players, and my approach shots likewise were of a very mixed parentage. of course when i took a hint from the play of anyone i had been watching it required much subsequent practice properly to weld it into my own system; but i think that this close watching of good players, and the borrowing from their styles of all information that you think is good, and then constantly practising the new idea yourself, is an excellent method of improving your golf, though i do not recommend it as the sole method of learning, despite the success which i personally have achieved. however, this is a matter for later consideration. as we were such a large family and my father's means were very limited, there was the necessity which is common in such cases for all of the boys to turn out early in life and do something towards helping the others, and accordingly i went to work when i was thirteen. some time afterwards i became gardener to the late major spofforth of beauview, who was himself a very keen golfer, and who occasionally gave me some of his old clubs. now and then, when he was in want of a partner, he used to take me out to play with him, and i shall never forget the words he spoke to me one day after we had played one of these matches. "henry, my boy," he said, "take my advice, and never give up golf. it may be very useful to you some day." certainly his words came true. i can only remember about these games that i was in the habit of getting very nervous over them, much more so than i did later on when i played matches of far more consequence. i joined a working men's golf club that had been formed, and it was through this agency that i won my first prize. a vase was offered for competition among the members, the conditions being that six medal rounds were to be played at the rate of one a month. when we had played five, i was leading by so very many strokes that it was next to impossible for any of the others to catch me up, and as just then my time came for leaving home and going out into the greater world of golf, the committee kindly gave me permission to play my last round two or three weeks before the proper time. it removed all doubt as to the destination of the prize, which has still one of the most honoured places on my mantelpiece. at that time my handicap for this club was plus , but that did not mean that i would have been plus anywhere else. as a matter of fact, i should think i must have been about or . by this time my younger brother tom had already gone away to learn club-making from lowe at st. anne's-on-sea. he played very much the same game of golf as i did at that time, and it was his venture and the success that waited upon it that made me determine to strike out. while tom was at st. anne's he went on a journey north to take part in a tournament at musselburgh, where he captured the second prize. thereupon i came to the conclusion that, if tom could do that, then i too with a little patience might do the same. indeed, i was a very keen golfer just then. at last lowe was summoned to lord ripon's place at ripon, near harrogate, to lay out a new nine-holes course, and tom wrote to me saying that they would be wanting a professional there, and if i desired such an appointment i had better apply for it without delay. i did so, and was engaged. i was twenty years of age when i left home to assume these duties. chapter ii some reminiscences not enough golf--"reduced to cricket"--i move to bury--a match with alexander herd--no more nerves--third place in an open competition--i play for the championship--a success at portrush--some conversation and a match with andrew kirkaldy--fifth for the championship at sandwich--second at the deal tournament--eighth in the championship at st. andrews--i go to ganton--an invitation to the south of france--the championship at muirfield--an exciting finish--a stiff problem at the last hole--i tie with taylor--we play off, and i win the championship--a tale of a putter--ben sayers wants a "wun'"--what andrew thought of muirfield--i win the championship again at prestwick--willie park as runner-up--my great match with park--excellent arrangements--a welcome victory--on money matches in general--my third championship at sandwich--my fourth at prestwick--golf under difficulties. no true golfer is satisfied with a little of the game, if there is no substantial reason why he should not have much of it. i was greenkeeper as well as professional to the studley royal golf club, ripon; but golf did not seem to have taken a very deep root there up to that time. there was so little of it played that i soon found time hang heavily upon my hands, and in the summer i was reduced to playing cricket, and in fact played more with the bat than i did with the driver. there were one or two good players on the links occasionally, and now and then i had some good games with visitors to the place. one day after such a match my opponent remarked very seriously to me, "harry, if you take my advice you will get away from here as quickly as you can, as you don't get half enough golf to bring you out." i took the advice very much to heart. i was not unduly conceited about my golf in those days, and the possibility of being champion at some future time had taken no definite shape in my mind; but i was naturally ambitious and disinclined to waste any opportunities that might present themselves. so, when i saw that the bury golf club were advertising for a professional, i applied for the post and got it. it was by no means a bad nine-holes course that i found at bury, and i was enabled to play much more golf than at ripon, while there were some very good amateurs there, mr. s.f. butcher being one of the best. i was now beginning to play fairly well, and the first professional match of my life was arranged for me, alexander herd of huddersfield being my opponent in this maiden effort, upon the result of which a stake of a few pounds a side depended. herd was by that time a famous player and accomplishing some very fine golf, so that on paper at all events the unknown bury professional had no chance whatever. so indeed it proved. it was fixed that we were to play thirty-six holes, home and home, herd having the privilege of playing on his own course first. i forget how many he was up at huddersfield, but it was so many that i had practically no chance of wiping out the difference when i brought my opponent to bury, and in the end he won quite easily. "sandy" herd, as we all call him, and i have had many great matches since then, and many of them of far greater consequence than this, but i shall never forget this beginning. neither in those days, nor in the others that soon followed, when it became clear that i had a chance of becoming champion, was i ever in the least troubled with nervousness. i was completely cured of my early complaint. moreover, i have not known what it is to be nervous even in a championship round when my fate depended upon almost every stroke, and particularly on those at the last few holes. the feeling that was always uppermost in my mind was that i had everything to gain and nothing to lose. it is only when a man has everything to lose and nothing to gain that he should become uneasy about his game. when you have won a few prizes and there are critical eyes upon you, there may be some excuse for nerves, but not before. all young players should grasp the simple truth of this simple statement; but it is surprising how many fail to do so. no stroke or game ever seemed to cause me any anxiety in those young days, and my rapid success may have been in a large measure due to this indifference. in i decided that i would enter for the open championship, which in that year was played for at prestwick, and i went north in company with my brother tom, stopping on our way to take part in the tournament at kilmalcolm, which was attended by most of the other professionals. i did fairly well in this, the first open competition for which i entered, being bracketed with poor hugh kirkaldy for third place. but i failed in the championship competition, as, of course, i fully expected to do. that was willie auchterlonie's year, and i was some way down the list. i started in great style, and, though i broke down badly later on, there was just the consolation left for me that after all i did better than my partner, willie campbell. there were some curious circumstances attending the first big success of any kind that i achieved. this was at portrush in ireland, shortly after the championship meeting, and the competition was a professional tournament. i was drawn against andrew kirkaldy in the first round, and his brother hugh was one of the next pair, so it seemed that the two kirkaldys would meet in the second round. andrew assumed that that would happen, as he had every right to do, and he was heard to remark that it was rather hard luck that the brothers should be set against each other in this manner so early in the competition. the night before the match-play part of the business commenced, i was walking down one of the streets of portrush when i encountered andrew himself, and in his own blunt but good-humoured way he remarked, "young laddie, d'ye think y're gaun to tak the money awa' with ye? ye've no chance, ye ken." i said nothing in reply, because i felt that he spoke the truth. next day a heavy gale was blowing, and i started very cautiously. the first hole was on the side of a hill, and when my ball lay a yard from the flag and i had the next stroke for the hole, it was trembling in the wind and threatening every moment to start rolling. so i waited for it to steady itself, and my waiting exasperated andrew to such an extent that at length he exclaimed, "man, d'ye ken i'm cauld? are ye gaun to keep me waiting here a' nicht?" then i took the putt and missed it, so the hole was halved. however, i set about my opponent after that, and had begun to enjoy the game immensely by the time we reached the turn. at this point two of the holes ran parallel to each other, and as we were playing one of them we passed hugh and his partner going up to the other. "man, andrew, hoo's the game?" called out brother hugh. "man alive, i'm five doon!" andrew replied in tones of distress. "ma conscience!" muttered hugh as he passed along. andrew was more than five down at the finish of that game, and in the second round i had the satisfaction of removing the remaining member of the kirkaldy family from the competition, while in the semi-final i beat an old open champion, d. brown. but in the final, herd defeated me on the last green, and so i had to be content with the prize given for runner-up. shortly afterwards i won another prize in a tournament at ilkley, this time accounting for herd as well as my brother tom and many other well-known players. tom was professional at ilkley, and the course there was a very difficult nine holes. i did better in the competition for the open championship in the following year when the meeting was held at sandwich, playing a particularly good game on the second day, when my and were one of the two lowest combined returns. at the finish i was fifth, and felt very pleased to occupy the position, for the excellence of the golf that i witnessed was a surprise to me. from sandwich the professionals went on to deal, where a tournament was held, in which i managed to secure second place. it was herd who beat me once again. at st. andrews in the competition, i returned the lowest score in the first round, but could only tie for the ninth place at the finish. my old friend, j.h. taylor, who made his first essay to capture the blue ribbon of golf at prestwick at the same time that i did, was the winner at both this and the previous championship meeting. a few months later i left bury for ganton; tom, who had been over there with some ilkley players at the yorkshire meeting, having heard that they were in need of a new professional, and written to me at once with advice to apply. between leaving bury and going to ganton i had three weeks of good golf at pau, in the south of france, the great and unexpected honour being paid me of an invitation to form one of a small party of professionals for whom a series of matches and competitions had been arranged there. taylor, herd, archie simpson, willie auchterlonie, and lloyd, the local professional, were the others. professional golfers when they are out together usually manage to have a pretty good time, and this occasion was no exception. knowing a little french, i was once appointed cashier and paymaster for the party, but i did not know enough of the language to feel quite at home when large figures were the subject of discussion, and i remember that the result was an awkward incident at bordeaux on the return journey. we were called upon to pay excess fare for the luxury of travelling in the express, and, failing to understand the ticket collector, i was filling his hand with francs, one by one, waiting for him to tell me when he was in possession of the required amount. but he needed more and more, and the situation was becoming embarrassing, when the guard whistled and the train moved off. if it had not been for that intervention we might still have been paying him excess fare. i went to ganton immediately on my return, and in the spring of that year, , a match between taylor and myself was arranged on my new course, when i had the satisfaction of winning. i was looking forward very keenly to the open championship that year. it was at muirfield, and it took place only four or five weeks after this encouraging victory over taylor. in the meantime i had been a little off my game, and when i teed my first ball at muirfield it seemed to me that i was as likely to make a bad drive as a good one, and i was equally uncertain with all the other clubs in my bag. but as it happened i was fortunate enough to be playing well during the competition, and was close up at the end of the first day, with taylor in the next place above me. the next day i was again playing well, and the result was exciting. taylor was doing his rounds only a few holes in front of me, and late in the contest it became apparent that the issue would be left between us. i did not know exactly what i had to do to win until about four holes from the finish, when someone, who had seen taylor putt out at the last green, came up to me and told me what number of strokes was still left to me to play if i were to tie with him. when i came to the last hole i had set me what i think was the most anxious problem that has ever come my way since i first took up golf. i had five strokes left to play in order to tie with taylor and give me the right to play off with him for the championship, and four left with which to win it outright. it is a fairly long hole--a drive and a good brassy, with a very nasty bunker guarding the green. thus, while it was an easy , it was a difficult , and the bold golfer who made his bid for the low figure might possibly be punished with a . my drive was good, and then i had to make my choice between the bold game and the sure one. a championship hung upon the decision. the prospect of being the winner in less than five minutes was tempting. the brassy would give me the championship or nothing. the iron would admit me to the privilege of playing off with taylor another day. i hesitated. i think i would have taken the iron in any case; but just when i was longing for an inspiration, my eye wandered among the spectators some sixty or seventy yards in front of me, and i caught sight of my friend james kay of seaton carew making frantic efforts to attract my attention, and pointing with his hand to the ground on the near side of the bunker as a hint to play short. that settled it. i played short, got my , and tied with taylor with a total score of . the play-off was full of interest and excitement. taylor and i were granted permission to take part in a tournament at north berwick before we settled the question between us. when at length we teed up again at muirfield, i felt as though i were fit to play for anything, and started in a way that justified my confidence, for i picked up a useful lead of five strokes in the first half-dozen holes. after that taylor settled down to most brilliant golf, and brought my lead down to a single stroke; but at the end of the first round i was two to the good. to my exasperation, this lead disappeared with the very first stroke that i made after lunch. there is a wood running along the left-hand side of the line of the first hole on this course. with my cleek shot from the tee i pulled the ball into this dismal place, and by the rule in force at the time i lost two strokes and played again from the tee, taylor holing out in to my . however, at this crisis i came out again and won a stroke at each of the next three holes, and only lost one of them from that point to the seventeenth. two strokes to the good and two holes to go--that at least seemed good for the championship. on the seventeenth green, my brother tom, who was carrying my clubs for me, took a lot of trouble to point out the line of a putt the whole length of the green, but something prompted me to take an entirely different course, and i holed the putt, gaining another stroke. there we were, taylor and i, at that last hole again, but this time we were together, and i had a big advantage over my good friend on this occasion. there was more mental golf to be played, and though taylor's ordeal was the more trying, neither of us had any difficulty in coming to a decision. my course was clear. with a lead of three strokes i had to play for a , as on the previous occasion, because it was certain to give me the championship. taylor's only chance was to blaze away with both his driver and his brassy, and trust to getting his second shot so well placed on the green as to secure a , which, in the event of my dropping a stroke through an accident in the bunker or elsewhere and taking , would enable him to tie. i obtained my without difficulty, but taylor's gallant bid for met with an unhappy fate, for his second shot was trapped in the bunker, and it took him to hole out. and so with a score of to taylor's , i was open champion at last, and for the first time in my life i felt some emotion as a golfer. i was too dazed to speak, and it seemed as if my feet had taken root on the eighteenth green, for i don't think i moved for several minutes. there is a little tale i want to tell about that championship, illustrating the old saying that golf is a very funny game, and giving some point to a recommendation that i shall have to make later on. never in my life have i putted better than i did in those two rounds. if, when i had a putt the whole length of the green, i did not actually rattle it into the tin, i laid it stone dead on the lip of the hole; on no green did i take more than two putts. yet in the various rounds i had played on several days before my putting had been very indifferent. how came this remarkable change? it seems to me that it was entirely due to a chance visit that i paid to ben sayers's shop when i was at north berwick in the interval between tieing with taylor and playing the deciding rounds. i told the clubmaker who was in charge that i was off my putting, and wanted a new putter. hitherto i had been playing with one of the bent-necked variety. while i was looking about the shop my eye was attracted by an old cleek that lay in a corner--a light and neglected club, for which nobody seemed to have any use. the strange idea occurred to me that this would make a grand putter, and so i told the man to take out the old shaft and put a new and shorter one in, and when this process had been completed i determined to experiment with it in the play-off with taylor. i fancied this new discovery of mine and had confidence in it, and that was why i got all those long putts down and achieved the golfer's greatest ambition. but though i keep it still and treasure it, i have never played with that putter since. it has done its duty. i must tell just one other story concerning this muirfield championship. among the favourites at the beginning of operations were ben sayers and andrew kirkaldy, and a victory on the part of either of them would have been most popular in the north, as it would have settled the cup on the other side of the tweed. ben was rather inclined to think his own prospects were good. someone asked him the day before the meeting who was the most likely champion. "jist gie me a wun' an' i'll show ye wha'll be the champion," he replied, and he had some reason for the implied confidence in himself, for he knew muirfield very well, and no one had better knowledge of how to play the strokes properly there when there was a gale blowing over the course, and pulling and slicing were constantly required. but neither ben nor andrew was as successful as was wished, and not unnaturally they thought somewhat less of muirfield than they had done before. therefore it was not fair to ask kirkaldy, after the competition had been completed, what he really considered to be the merits of the course. i was standing near him when a player came up and bluntly asked, "what d'ye think o' muirfield now, andrew?" andrew's lip curled as he replied, "no for gowff ava'. just an auld watter meedie. i'm gled i'm gaun hame." but the inquirer must needs ejaculate, "hooch ay, she would be ferry coot whateffer if you had peen in harry fardon's shoes." there was an exciting finish also to the championship, which was held at prestwick. the final struggle was left to willie park and myself, and at the end of the third round, when willie was three strokes to the good, it seemed a very likely victory for him. in the last round i was playing a hole in front of him, and we were watching each other as cats watch mice the whole way round the links. i made a reckoning when we reached the turn that i had wiped out the three strokes deficit, and could now discuss the remainder of the game with park without any sense of inferiority. i finished very steadily, and when park stood on the last tee just as i had holed out, he was left to get a at this eighteenth hole to tie. his drive was a beauty, and plop came the ball down to the corner of the green, making the seem a certainty. an immense crowd pressed round the green to see these fateful putts, and in the excitement of the moment, i, the next most concerned man to park himself, was elbowed out. i just saw his long putt roll up to within about a yard of the hole, which was much too dead for my liking. then, while park proceeded to carry out his ideas of accomplishing a certainty, i stood at the edge of the crowd, seeing nothing and feeling the most nervous and miserable man alive. never while playing have i felt so uncomfortable as during those two or three minutes. after what seemed an eternity there rose from all round the ring one long disappointed "o-o-o-h!" i didn't stop to look at the ball, which was still outside the hole. i knew that i had won the championship again, and so i hastened light-heartedly away. i must admit that park was playing an exceedingly fine game at that time, and it was only the fact that i was probably playing as well as ever i did in my life that enabled me to get the better of him. the day after winning the championship i gained the first prize in a tournament at the adjoining course of st. nicholas, and thereafter i frequently took part in competitions, winning much more often than not. but the most important event, and the biggest match i ever had with anyone, was my engagement with willie park, who, not altogether satisfied at having missed the championship by a putt, challenged me to play him home and home matches, thirty-six holes each time, for £ a side. there was some difficulty in arranging final details, but eventually we agreed to play at north berwick and ganton, north berwick first. i have never seen such a golfing crowd as there was at north berwick the day we played there. all golfing scotland seemed to be in attendance, and goodness knows how many people would have been watching the play if it had not happened that the lukewarm golfers went instead to edinburgh to see the prince of wales, who was visiting the capital that day. as it was, there were fully seven thousand people on the links, and yet this huge crowd--surely one of the very biggest that have ever watched a golf match--was perfectly managed, and never in the least interfered with a single stroke made by either park or myself. the arrangements, indeed, were admirable. in order to keep the crowd informed of the state of the game at each hole, two flags were made, one being white with a red "p" on it, and the other red with a "v" worked on in white. when park won a hole the flag with his initial was hoisted, and the "v" was sent up when i won a hole, both flags being waved when it was a half. at each teeing ground a rope three hundred yards long was stretched, and fourteen constables and a like number of honorary officials took control of it. in order to prevent any inconvenience at the dyke on the course, a boarding, forty feet wide and fifty yards out of the line from the tee to the hole, was erected, so that the crowd could walk right over. mr. c.c. broadwood, the ganton captain, acted as my referee, and lieutenant "freddy" tait served in the same capacity on behalf of park. one of the most laborious tasks was that undertaken by the two messrs. hunter, who acted as forecaddies, and did their work splendidly. in two practice rounds that i played before the great encounter opened i did each time, and i felt very fit when we teed up on the eventful morning. and i played very steadily, too, though my putting was sometimes a little erratic, and park is one of the greatest putters who have ever lived. the early part of the game was very extraordinary in that the first ten holes were halved in , , , , , , , , , . then park drew first blood, but in the end i finished two up on the day's play. when park came to ganton three weeks later, i beat him on the two matches by up with to play. naturally he was disappointed, but he was very sportsmanlike. he was acknowledged to be the greatest match-player of his time. i do not care for myself to lay any more stress on the importance of this match, or of the value of my own achievement; but those who have taken up golf quite lately can have no conception of the stir that it caused. it was the event of my lifetime. the remembrance of this encounter brings forward the question of big money matches generally, which several people have declared they would like to see renewed. fifty years ago they were common enough, and there are great stories told of foursomes between allan robertson and tom morris on the one side and the brothers dunn on the other for a stake of £ , and so on. the sightseers of golf ask why there are no such matches now. i think it is because golf professionals have to work too hard for the money they earn, and they do not care for the idea of throwing it away again on a single match. they do not receive large "benefits" or gate money, as do professionals in other branches of sport. so they deem it best to be careful of their savings. besides, such matches tend to create bad feeling among the players, and we professionals are such a happy family that we distrust any scheme with such a tendency. moreover, golf at the present time is a delightfully pure game, so far as gambling is concerned--purer than most others--and such matches would very likely encourage the gambling idea. that would be a misfortune. i contend that after all, for the best and fairest and most interesting trial of strength there is nothing like a good tournament where each player has to test himself against all comers. every man plays to win, the golf is generally good, and what more is wanted? when i won the championship again in the following year at sandwich, my success was chiefly due to my brassy play, which was better than it ever was before or has been since. from my brassy strokes the ball was often enough laid dead near the hole; certainly my second shots were always the winning shots. the game seemed very easy to me then, and i gained the championship for the third time with less difficulty than on either of the two previous occasions. in i made a long tour in america, and won the american championship. concerning these events i desire to write at some length in a later chapter. the greatest success which i have ever achieved in face of difficulties was when i again became open champion at prestwick in . for some time beforehand i had been feeling exceedingly unwell, and, as it appeared shortly afterwards, there was serious trouble brewing. during the play for the championship i was not at all myself, and while i was making the last round i was repeatedly so faint that i thought it would be impossible for me to finish. however, when i holed my last putt i knew that i had won. my brother tom was runner-up, six strokes behind, and, glad as i was of the distinction of having equalled the record of the two morrises in having won the championship four times, i could have wished, and did wish, that tom had been the victor. in all the circumstances i was very much surprised that i did so well. the last day's work was an enormous strain, yet on the following day i played in a tournament at irvine, won the first prize, and broke the record of the course. it is wonderful what golf can be played when one's mind is given to the task, whatever the adverse factors in the case may be. however, these are the events of recent golfing history, and i have no desire to inflict upon my readers a narrative of any more of them. as nearly as i can reckon, i have up to date won the first prize in forty-eight first-class tournaments, and by being four times british open champion and once american have still that record to my credit. and i hope to play many of my best games in the future, for it takes longer to kill the golf in a man than it does to breed it. chapter iii the way to golf the mistakes of the beginner--too eager to play a round--despair that follows--a settling down to mediocrity--all men may excel--the sorrows of a foozler--my advice--three months' practice to begin with--the makings of a player--good golf is best--how mr. balfour learned the game--a wise example--go to the professional--the importance of beginning well--practise with each club separately--driver, brassy, cleek, iron, mashie, and putter--into the hole at last--master of a bag of clubs--the first match--how long drives are made--why few good players are coming on--golf is learned too casually. there are different ways of learning to play the great game of golf, each of which enjoys its share of patronage. here as elsewhere, there are, of course, the two broad divisions into which the methods of doing all things are in the first instance classed--the right way and the wrong way--and, generally speaking, the wrong way has proved the more popular and is accountable for much of the very bad golf that one sees almost every day upon the links. there are two mistakes to which the beginner is much addicted, and to them is due the unhappy circumstance that in so many cases he never gets his club handicap down to single figures. before he has ever played golf in his life, but at that interesting period when he has made up his mind to do so, and has bought his first set of clubs, he is still inclined to make the same error that is made by so many people who know nothing of the game, and loftily remark that they do not want to know anything--that it is too absurdly simple to demand serious thought or attention, and can surely need no special pains in learning to play. is not the ball quite still on the tee before you, and all that is necessary being to hit it, surely the rest is but a question of strength and accuracy of aim? well, we need not waste time in discussing the opinions of the scoffers outside, or in submitting that there never was a game less easy to learn than golf. but the man who has been converted to golf most frequently has a vestige of this superstition of his heathen days lingering with him, and thus at the outset he is not inclined to waste any time, as he would say, in tuition, particularly as it happens that these new converts when quite fresh are invariably most delightfully enthusiastic. they have promised themselves a new sensation, and they are eager to get on to the links and see how much further than the two hundred yards that they have heard about they can drive at the first attempt or two. then comes the inevitable disappointment, the despair, the inclination to give it up, and finally the utter abject despondency which represents the most miserable state on earth of the golfer, in which he must be closely watched lest he should commit murder upon the beautiful set of clubs of which at the beginning he was so proud, and which he spent his evenings in brightening to the degree that they resembled the family plate. then after this passage through purgatory come the first gleams of hope, when two holes in succession have been done in only one over bogey, and a handicap man has actually been beaten by up and to play--a conquest which, if it is the first one, is rarely forgotten in the golfer's lifetime. after that there is a steady settling down to mediocrity. there is afterwards only an occasional fit of despair, the game is for the most part thoroughly enjoyed, there are times when, after a round in which driving and putting have been rather better than usual, the golfer encourages himself over his cup of tea with the fancy that after all he may some day win a medal and become a senior; but in the main the conviction forces itself upon him that it is impossible that he can ever become a really fine player. he argues that this is not at all his own fault. he points out to himself that circumstances are too strong for him. he considers that he is not very young--at least not so young as many of the experts of his club who have been golfing ever since they were boys. his limbs have not that suppleness which makes the scratch player. his eye is not so keen as theirs. besides, he is a business man who has to give up so much of his time to the earning of his daily bread that it is impossible he should ever devote himself to the game with that single-mindedness which alone can ensure proficiency. he must take himself as he finds himself, and be satisfied with his handicap. these are the somewhat pathetic excuses that he makes in this mood of resignation. of course he is wrong--wrong from the beginning to the end--but there is little satisfaction in that for the earnest lover of the game who would see all men excel, and who knows only too well that this failure is but a specimen of hundreds of his kind--good golfing lives thrown away, so to speak. if a man is not a cripple, if he suffers from no physical defect, there is no reason why he should not learn to play a good game of golf if he goes about it in the right way. there is indeed a one-armed golfer who plays a very fair game, and one may admit all these things without in any way suggesting that golf is not a game for the muscles and the nerves and all the best physical qualities of a well-grown man. no great amount of brute force is necessary, and fleetness of foot, which men lose as they grow old, is never wanted; but still golf is a game for manly men, and when they take it up they should strive to play it as it deserves to be played. now i know what severe temptation there will be to all beginners to disregard the advice that i am about to offer them; but before proceeding any further i will invite them to take the opinion of any old golfer who, chiefly through a careless beginning (he knows that this is the cause), has missed his way in the golfer's life, and is still plodding away as near the limit handicap as he was at the beginning. the beginner may perhaps be disposed to rely more upon the statement of this man of experience and disappointment than on that of the professional, who is too often suspected of having his own ends in view whenever he gives advice. let the simple question be put to him whether, if he could be given the chance of doing it all over again from the beginning, he would not sacrifice the first three or six months of play to diligent study of the principles of the game, and the obtaining of some sort of mastery over each individual shot under the careful guidance of a skilled tutor, not attempting during this time a single complete round with all his clubs in action, and refusing all temptations to play a single match--whether he would not undergo this slow and perhaps somewhat tedious period of learning if he could be almost certain of being able at the end of it to play a really good game of golf, and now at this later period of his career to have a handicap much nearer the scratch mark than his existing one is to the border-line between the senior and the junior? i am confident that in the great majority of cases, looking back on his misspent golfing youth, he would answer that he would cheerfully do all this learning if he could begin again at the beginning. now, of course, it is too late, for what is once learned can only with extreme difficulty be unlearned, and it is almost impossible to reform the bad style and the bad habits which have taken root and been cultivated in the course of many years; and if it were possible it would be far more difficult than it would have been to learn the game properly at the beginning. my earnest advice to the beginner is to undergo this slow process of tuition for nothing less than three months, and preferably more. it is a very long time, i know, and it may seem painfully tedious work, simply knocking a ball backwards and forwards for all those months; but if he does not accept my suggestion he will have harder things to try his patience during many years afterwards, while, if he takes my advice, he may be down very near to scratch at the end of his first year, and he will be very thankful that he spent the period of probation as he did. he will constantly be giving a half to players who have been playing for more years than he has months, and he will be holding his own in the very best golfing company. he will be getting the finest delight out of the game that it is possible to get. it is said that the long handicap man gets as much pleasure out of the game as the short handicap man. as the former has never been a short handicap man he is evidently not qualified to judge. the scratch man, who has been through it all, would never change his scratch play for that of his old long-handicap days--at least i have never yet met the scratch man who would. no doubt the noble army of foozlers derive an immense amount of enjoyment from the practice of their game, and it is my earnest prayer that they may long continue to do so. it is one of the glorious advantages of golf that all, the skilled and the unskilled, can revel in its fascinations and mysteries; but there is no golfing delight so splendid as that which is obtained from playing the perfect game, or one which nearly approaches it. the next best thing to it is playing what one knows to be an improving game, however bad, and the golfer whose play has been incorrectly established has not often even the knowledge that his game is improving. he declares more often than not that it gets worse, and one is frequently inclined to believe him. now the middle-aged man may say that he is too old to go in for this sort of thing, that all he wants is a little fresh air and exercise, and as much enjoyment as he can get out of playing the game in just the same sort of way that the "other old crocks" do. he would rather play well, of course, if it were not too late to begin; but it is too late, and there is an end of it. that is the way in which he puts it. so large a proportion of our new converts to golf belong to this middle-aged class, that it is worth while giving a few special words of advice to them. mr. forty and mr. forty-five, you are not a day too old, and i might even make scratch men of you, if i were to take you in hand and you did all the things i told you to do and for as long as i told you. given fair circumstances, there is no reason why any man should despair of becoming either a scratch player or one who is somewhere very near it, and it is as easy to learn to play well as it is to learn to play badly. so i advise every golfer to get hold of the game stroke by stroke, and never be too ambitious at the commencement. i have heard it stated on very good authority that when mr. balfour first began to play he submitted himself to very much the same process of tuition as that which i am about to advise, and that under the guidance of tom dunn he actually spent a miserable fortnight in bunkers only, learning how to get out of them from every possible position. the right honourable gentleman must have saved hundreds of strokes since then as the result of that splendid experience, trying as it must have been. he is in these days a very good and steady player, and he might be still better if parliamentary cares did not weigh so heavily upon him. i may humbly suggest that the way in which he began to play golf was characteristic of his wisdom. therefore, when the golfer has become possessed of his first set of clubs, let him proceed to the shop of a good professional player--presumably it will be the shop where he bought his clubs--and let him place himself unreservedly in the hands of this expert in the game. most professionals are good players and good teachers, and the golfer cannot go far wrong in this matter if he allows himself to be guided by his own instincts. i say that he should place himself unreservedly in this man's hands; but in case it should be necessary i would make one exception to this stipulation. if he thinks well of my advice and desires to do the thing with the utmost thoroughness from the beginning, he may request that for the first lesson or two no ball may be put upon the ground at which to practise swings. the professional is sure to agree that this is the best way, though he encounters so few beginners who are prepared to make all the sacrifices that i have suggested, that he might have hesitated in recommending this course of procedure himself. a golfer's swing is often made for good or ill in the first week of his experience. his first two days of practice may be of the greatest importance in fashioning his style. if, when he takes his first lesson or two and makes his first few swings, he has a ball on the ground before him which he is trying to hit, all his thoughts will be concentrated on what appears to him to be the necessity of hitting it--hitting it at any cost. no matter what he has been told about the way to swing, he will forget it all in this moment of anxiety, and swing anyhow. in such circumstances a really natural and proper swing is rarely accomplished, and, before the golfer is aware of the frightful injustice he has done himself, his future prospects will probably have been damaged. but if he has no ball before him he will surely learn to swing his club in exactly the way in which it ought to be swung. his whole mind will be concentrated upon getting every detail of the action properly regulated and fixed according to the advice of his tutor, and by the time he has had two lessons in this way he will have got so thoroughly into the natural swing, that when he comes to have a ball teed up in front of him he will unconsciously swing at it in the same manner as he did when it was absent, or nearly so. the natural swing, or some of its best features, will probably be there, although very likely they will be considerably distorted. at the same time the young golfer must not imagine because he has mastered the proper swing when there is no ball before him, that he has overcome any considerable portion of the difficulties of golf, for even some of the very best players find that they can swing very much better without a ball than with one. however, he may now taste the sweet pleasure of driving a ball from the tee, or of doing his best with that object in view. his initial attempts may not be brilliant; it is more than likely that they will be sadly disappointing. he may take comfort from the fact that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred they are so. but by and by a certain confidence will come, he will cease, under the wise advice of his tutor, to be so desperately anxious to hit the ball anyhow so long as he hits it, and then in due course the correctness of swing which he was taught in his first two days will assert itself, and the good clean-hit drives will come. there will be duffings and toppings and slicings, but one day there will be a long straight drive right away down the course, and the tyro will be told that the professional himself could not have done it better. this is one of the most pleasurable moments in life. his system of practice thereafter should be upon the following lines. he should continue to practise diligently with his driver until he gets these good, long balls nearly every time, sternly resisting the temptation even to so much as look at any of the other nice new clubs that he has got in his bag, and whose mysteries he is exceedingly curious to investigate. it may take him a week or a fortnight or a month to master the driver; but he should do it before he gives a thought to any other club. when he can use the driver with confidence, he may take out his new brassy and go through the same process with that, until he feels that on a majority of occasions, from a fairly decent lie, he could depend upon making a respectable brassy shot. he will find unsuspected difficulties in the brassy, and in doing his best to overcome them he will probably lose to some extent the facility for driving which he had acquired. therefore, when he has become a player with his brassy, he should devote a short space of time to getting back on to his drive. it will not take him long, and then he should take out both the clubs he has been practising with and hammer away at the two of them together, until after a large amount of extra practice he finds that he is fairly reliable in driving a ball from the tee to begin with, and putting in a creditable second shot with his brassy from the lie upon which he found his ball. during this second stage of learning he must deny himself the pleasure of trying his iron clubs just as rigorously as he restrained himself from the brassy when he was practising drives only; but when the driver and the brassy are doing well, he may go forward with the cleek. he will not find this learning such dull work after all. there will be something new in store for him every week, and each new club as it is taken out of the bag will afford an entirely new set of experiences. after the driver and the brassy it will be like a new game when he comes to try cleek shots, and in the same way he will persevere with the cleek until it is evident that he really knows how to use it. the driver, the brassy, and the cleek may then be practised with on the same occasion, and if he has made the best use of his time and is an apt pupil, he will find himself now and then, with these three shots taken in turn, getting beyond the green at some of the longest holes. next it will be the turn of the iron, and so in due season he will be able to practise with the driver, the brassy, the cleek, and the iron. the mashie will follow, and then the five of them together, and at last he may have an afternoon on the green trying his skill with a putter, and listening for the first time to the music of the ball--no such music as this to the golfer's ear, though it consists of but a single note--as it drops into the tin and is holed out at last. he is at work now with all the clubs that are usually necessary to play a hole; but at the risk of seeming over careful i would warn him once more against going along too fast, and thinking that even at this stage he is able to embark on match play with all the days of studentship left behind. when he takes out his full set of clubs, he will find, in using them as occasion demands, that he is strangely erratic all of a sudden with one or two of them. let him have half an hour's practice once more alone with these troublesome fellows until the old order of things has been restored. let him treat all other offenders in the same manner. he must be determined that there shall not be a club in his bag that shall be allowed to play these tricks with him. let one day's hard labour be the invariable penalty, until at last they are all obedient in his hands, and the joyful day comes when he feels that he can pick any tool out of his golfing bag and use it skilfully and well, and that after examining a ball in any lie, at any distance from the hole, or with any hazard before him, he knows exactly how it should be played, and feels that he has a very reasonable chance of playing it in that way and achieving the success that such a shot deserves. such a stroke will not be brought off correctly every time; the golfer has not yet been born who always does the right thing in the right way. but the more one practises the more frequently will he succeed. following mr. balfour's good example, the beginner may do worse than spend a few days trying the most difficult strokes he can discover on his links, for in actual play he will find himself in these difficult places often enough to begin with, and a little special study of such shots at the outset will prove a very valuable investment of time. the ball should be thrown down carelessly at different places, and should be played from the spot at which it settles, however uninviting that spot may be. when he has secured a fair command over all his clubs, from the driver to the niblick, the golf student may play a round of the links; but he should do so only under the watchful eye of the professional, for he will find that in thus marching on from hole to hole, and perhaps getting a little excited now and then when he plays a hole more than usually well, it is only too easy to forget all the good methods in which he has been so carefully trained, and all the wise maxims he knows so well by heart that he could almost utter them in his sleep. let him play a few rounds in this way, and in between them devote himself as assiduously as ever to practise with individual clubs, before he thinks of playing his first match. he must settle his game on a secure foundation before he measures his strength against an opponent, for unless it is thus safeguarded it is all too likely that it will crumble to ruins when the enemy is going strongly, and the novice feels, with a sense of dismay, that he is not by any means doing himself justice. of course i am not suggesting that he should wait until he has advanced far towards perfection before he engages in his first match. when he has thoroughly grasped the principles and practice of the game, there is nothing like match play for proving his quality, but he should not be in haste thus to indulge himself. any time from three to six months from the day when he first took a club in hand will be quite soon enough, and if he has been a careful student, and is in his first match not overcome with nerves, he should render a good account of himself and bring astonishment to the mind of his adversary when the latter is told that this is the first match of a lifetime. during the preparatory period the golfer will be wise to limit his practices to three or four days a week. more than this will only tire him and will not be good for his game. i have only now to warn him against a constant attempt, natural but very harmful, to drive a much longer ball every time than was driven at the previous stroke. he must bring himself to understand that length comes only with experience, and that it is due to the swing becoming gradually more natural and more certain. he may see players on the links driving thirty or forty yards further than he has ever driven, and, wondering why, he is seized with a determination to hit harder, and then the old, old story of the foozled drive is told again. he forgets that these players are more experienced than he is, that their swing is more natural to them, and that they are more certain of it. in these circumstances the extra power which they put into their stroke is natural also. to give him an exact idea of what it is that he ought to be well satisfied with, i may say that the learner who finds that he is putting just two or three yards on to his drive every second week, may cease to worry about the future, for as surely as anything he will be a long driver in good time. in the course of this volume there are several chapters describing the way in which the various strokes should be played, but i am no believer in learning golf from books alone. i do not think it likely that the professional teacher who is giving the pupil lessons will disagree with any of the chief points of the methods that i explain, and, read in conjunction with his frequent lessons at the beginning of his golfing career, and later on studied perhaps a little more closely and critically, i have hope that they will prove beneficial. at all events, as i have already suggested, in the following pages i teach the system which has won championships for me, and i teach that system only. it is perhaps too much to hope, after all, that any very large proportion of my readers will make up their minds to the self-sacrificing thoroughness which i have advocated, and undertake a careful preparation of from three to six months' duration before really attempting to play golf. if they all did so we should have some fine new players. it is because they do not learn to play in this way that so few good players are coming to the fore in these days. one is sometimes inclined to think that no new golfer of the first class has come forward during the last few years. in my opinion it is all due to the fact that nowadays they learn their game too casually. chapter iv the choice and care of clubs difficulties of choice--a long search for the best--experiments with more than a hundred irons--buy few clubs to begin with--take the professional's advice--a preliminary set of six--points of the driver--scared wooden clubs are best--disadvantages of the socket--fancy faces--short heads--whip in the shaft--the question of weight--match the brassy with the driver--reserve clubs--kinds of cleeks--irons and mashies--the niblick--the putting problem--it is the man who putts and not the putter--recent inventions--short shafts for all clubs--lengths and weights of those i use--be careful of your clubs--hints for preserving them. the good golfer loves his clubs and takes a great and justifiable pride in them. he has many reasons for doing so. golf clubs are not like most other implements that are used in sport. a man may go to a shop and pick out a cricket bat or a billiard cue with which he may be tolerably certain he will be able to play something approaching to his best game when he is in the mood for playing it. the acquaintance which is begun in the shop is complete a few days later. but a man may see a golf club which he strongly fancies and buy it, and yet find himself utterly incapable of using it to good advantage. he may purchase club after club, and still feel that there is something wanting in all of them, something which he cannot define but which he knows ought to exist if his own peculiar style of play is to be perfectly suited. until he finds this club he is groping in the dark. one driver may be very much like another, and even to the practised eye two irons may be exactly similar; but with one the golfer may do himself justice, and with the other court constant failure. therefore, the acquisition of a set of clubs, each one of which enjoys the complete confidence of its owner, is not the task of a week or even a year. there are some golfers who do not accomplish it in many years, and happy are they when at last they have done so. then they have a very sincere attachment to each one of these instruments, that have been selected with so much difficulty. it is not always possible to give reasons for their excellence, for the subtle qualities of the clubs are not visible to the naked eye. their owners only know that at last they have found the clubs that are the best for them, and that they will not part with them for any money--that is, if they are golfers of the true breed. in these days i always play with the same set of irons. they are of different makes, and to the average golfer they appear quite ordinary irons and very much like others of their class. but they are the results of trials and tests of more than one hundred clubs. therefore no golfer in his early days should run away with the idea that he is going to suit himself entirely with a set of clubs without much delay, and though his purse may be a small one, i feel obliged to suggest that money spent in the purchase of new clubs which he strongly fancies, during his first few years of play, is seldom wasted. many of the new acquisitions may be condemned after a very short trial; but occasionally it will happen that a veritable treasure is discovered in this haphazard manner. with all these possibilities in view, the beginner, knowing nothing of golf, and being as yet without a style to suit or any peculiar tastes that have to be gratified, should restrain himself from the desire to be fully equipped with a "complete outfit" at the very beginning of his career. let him buy as few clubs as possible, knowing that it is quite likely that not one of those which he purchases at this stage will hold a place in his bag a year or two later. as he can have no ideas at all upon the subject, he should leave the entire selection of his first bag to some competent adviser, and he will not generally find such an adviser behind the counter at a general athletic outfitting establishment in the town or city, which too often is the direction in which he takes his steps when he has decided to play the game. in these stores the old and practised golfer may often pick up a good club at a trifling cost; but the beginner would be more likely to furnish himself with a set which would be poor in themselves and quite unsuited for his purpose. the proper place for him to go to is the professional's shop which is attached to the club of which he has become a member. nearly all clubs have their own professionals, who are makers and sellers of clubs, and i know no professional who is not thoroughly conscientious in this part of his business. it pays him to give the completest satisfaction to his clients, and particularly to the members of his own club. this professional is also a first-class golfer, who knows all, or nearly all, that there is to be known about the game, and who in his time has had imposed upon him the difficult task of teaching hundreds of beginners their first steps in golf. thus he knows better than any man the erratic tendencies of the golfing initiate and the best means of counteracting them. experience has given him the faculty for sizing up the golfing points of the tyro almost at the first glance, and therefore he can supply him at the beginning with those clubs with which certainly he will have most chance of success. he will suit his height and his build and his reach, and he will take care that the clubs in the set which he makes up are in harmony with each other and will have that lie which will best suit the player who is to use them. and even though, when the beginner gathers knowledge of the game and finds out his own style--which neither he nor the professional can determine in advance--some of them may gradually become unsuitable to him, they are nevertheless likely to be in themselves good clubs. a beginner may at the outset limit himself to the purchase of six new clubs. he must have a driver, a brassy, a cleek, an iron, a mashie, and a putter. at an early opportunity he may add a niblick to this small set, but there is no need to invest in it at the outset, and as this club is one which is least likely to require change, it is best that it should not be bought until the player has some ideas of his own as to what is wanted. by way of indicating what will be needful to make this set complete for the purposes of good golf, when the player has obtained a fairly complete experience, i may mention the instruments that i take out when playing an important match. i have two drivers, one brassy, a baffy or spoon, two cleeks (one shorter than the other), an iron, sometimes one mashie, sometimes two (one for running up and the other for pitch shots), a niblick, and sometimes two putters (one for long running-up putts and the other for holing out). this selection may be varied slightly according to the course on which the match is to be played and the state of the weather, but in general principles the constitution of the bag remains the same, and a player who is equipped with such a set ought to be able to play any hole in any way, and if he cannot do so it is his own skill that is lacking and not an extra club. we may now consider in order a few of the points of these clubs. i shall have occasion, when dealing with the method of play with each of them, to call attention to many points of detail which can only be properly explained when indicating particular objects which it is desired to achieve with them, so for the present i shall confine myself chiefly to general features. take the driver to begin with, and the preliminary word of advice that i have to offer concerning the choice of this club is at variance with the custom of the present moment, though i am confident that before long the golfing world will again come round to my view of the matter--not my view only, but that of many of the leading amateur and professional players. one of the problems which agitate the mind of the golf-club maker deals with the best and most effectual method of attaching the head of the club to the shaft. for a very long period this was done by what we call scaring or splicing, the neck of the club having a long bevel which was spliced with the shaft and bound round for several inches with black twine. latterly, however, a new kind of club has become the fashion with all but the oldest and most experienced players, and it is called the socket driver. the continuation of the neck of this club is shorter than in the case of the spliced driver, and instead of there being any splicing at all, a hole is bored vertically into the end of the neck and the shaft fitted exactly into it, glued up, and finally bound round for less than an inch. this club certainly looks neater than the old-fashioned sort, and the man who is governed only by appearances might very easily imagine that it is really more of one piece than the other, that the union of the shaft with the head has less effect upon the play of the club, and that therefore it is better. but experience proves that this is not the case. what we want at this all-important part of the driver is spring and life. anything in the nature of a deadness at this junction of the head with the shaft, which would, as it were, cut off the one from the other, is fatal to a good driver. i contend that the socket brings about this deadness in a far greater degree than does the splice. the scared or old-fashioned drivers have far more spring in them than the new ones, and it is my experience that i can constantly get a truer and a better ball with them. when the wood of the shaft and the wood of the neck are delicately tapered to suit each other, filed thin and carefully adjusted, wood to wood for several inches, and then glued and tightened up to each other with twine for several inches, there is no sharp join whatever but only such a gradual one as never makes itself felt in practice. moreover, these clubs are more serviceable, and will stand much more wear and tear than those which are made with sockets. sometimes they give trouble when the glue loosens, but the socketed club is much easier to break. on club links generally in these days you will probably see more socketed drivers and brassies (for these remarks apply to all wooden clubs) than those that are spliced; but this is simply the result of a craze or fashion with which neat appearance has something to do; and if you desire to convince yourself that i am right, take note of the styles of the drivers used by the best players at the next first-class amateur or professional tournament that you witness. the men who are playing on these occasions are ripe with experience, and so long as they get the best results they do not care what their clubs look like. the head of the club should be made of persimmon or dogwood--both very hard and full of driving power. usually the bare face of such a club is good enough for contact with any ball on any tee, but the time will come when the golfer, developing innumerable fads and fancies, will reach the conclusion that he must have an artificial face of some kind fitted on at the place of contact with the ball. or such an artificial face may become necessary by reason of the wear and tear on the face of the driver. why forsake the old leather face? there is an idea abroad in these days that it is too soft and dead for the purposes of the new rubber-cored ball; and the impression that the latter likes the very hardest surface it is possible to apply to it has resulted in horn, vulcanite, and even steel faces being fitted to drivers and brassies. i do not think that in actual practice they are any better than leather, though some golfers may persuade themselves that they are. if a man, who is a good and steady driver, makes several drives from the tee with a club which has a leather face, and several more with another possessing a steel or vulcanite face, i am confident that he will on the average get at least as far with the leather as with the other, and i shall be surprised, if the test is fair and reliable, if he does not get further. i have leather faces on my drivers, and i think that latterly i have been driving further than i ever did. a point of objection to the harder surfaces, which at times is very serious, is that the ball is very much more liable to skid off them than off others, and thus the golfer may often blame himself for shots that look like a mixture of foozle and slice when the fault is not his at all, but that of the peculiarity of the club with which he is so much in love. on the other hand, it must be admitted that he scores over his opponent with the leather-faced club when the weather is wet, for the leather is then liable to soften and becomes very dead. never select a club because it has a long head, but let your preference be in favour of the shorter heads. the beginner, or the player of only moderate experience, puts it to himself that it is a very difficult thing always to strike the ball fairly on the face of the club, and that the longer the face is the more room he has for inaccuracy of his stroke. but he is wrong. whatever the length of the face, unless the ball is hit fairly and squarely in the centre, it will not travel properly, and the effect is really worse when the point of contact is a little off the centre in a long-faced club than when it is the same distance removed from the centre of a short face. moreover, despite this fact, which will soon become apparent to the golfer, the knowledge that he has a long-faced driver may very easily get him into a loose way of playing his tee shots. he may cease to regard exactness as indispensable, as it always is. the tendency of late years has been to make the heads of wooden clubs shorter and still shorter, and this tendency is well justified. the question of the whip or suppleness of the shaft must generally be decided by individual style and preference; but i advise the beginner against purchasing a whippy driver to start with, whatever he may do later on. he should rather err on the side of stiffness. when a man is well on his drive, has a good style, and is getting a long ball from the tee every time, it is doubtless true that he obtains better results from a shaft with a little life in it than from a stiff one. but the advantage is not by any means so great as might be imagined, and many fine players drive their best balls with stiff clubs. it must always be remembered that when the stroke is not made perfectly there is a much greater tendency to slice with a supple shaft than with a stiff one, and the disadvantages of the former are especially pronounced on a windy day. it is all a matter of preference and predilection, and when these are absent the best thing to do is to strike the happy medium and select a shaft that is fairly supple but which still leaves you in the most perfect command of the head of the club, and not as if the latter were connected with your hands by nothing more than a slender rush. weight again is largely a matter of fancy, and there is no rule to the effect that a slender player should use a light club and one of powerful build a heavy one; indeed, one constantly finds the slim men employing the most ponderous drivers, as if, as it were, to make up for their own lightness, while heavy men will often prefer clubs that are like pen-holders to them. once more i suggest the adoption of the medium as being generally the most satisfactory. i have a strong dislike to drivers that are unusually light, and i do not think that anyone can consistently get the best results from them. they entail too much swinging, and it is much harder to guide the club properly when the weight of the head cannot be felt. of course a club that is strongly favoured by a golfer and suits him excellently in all respects save that it errs on the side of lightness, can easily be put right by the insertion of a little lead in the sole. little need be said in this place about the selection of the brassy. whatever may be the amount of whip in the shaft of the driver, the brassy should not possess any undue suppleness, for it has heavier and rougher work to do than the club which is used for the tee shots, and there must be very little give in the stick if satisfactory results are to be obtained when the ball is lying at all heavily. the head and the face should be small; but in other respects the pattern of the driver should be closely adhered to, for it is one of the principles of my tuition that when the golfer takes his brassy in his hand to play his second shot, he should be brought to feel as nearly as possible that he is merely doing the drive over again. many authorities recommend that the shaft of the brassy shall be an inch or so shorter than that of the driver; but i can see no necessity for its being shorter; and, on the other hand, for the reason i have just stated, i think it is eminently desirable that it should be exactly the same length. on this point i shall have more to say in another chapter. care should be taken that both the brassy and the driver have exactly the same lie, that is to say, that when the soles of both clubs are laid quite flat upon the ground the shafts shall be projecting towards the golfer at precisely the same angle. if they have not the same lie, then, if the player takes up the same stance at the same distance from the ball when making a brassy shot as when he struck the ball from the tee with his driver, the sole of the club will not sweep evenly along the turf as it comes on to the ball, and the odds will be against a good shot being made. i am a strong believer in having reserve drivers and brassies, even if one is only a very moderate golfer. everybody knows what it is to suffer torture during the period when one is said to be "off his drive," and i think there is no remedy for this disease like a change of clubs. there may be nothing whatever the matter with the club you have been playing with, and which at one time gave you so much delight, but which now seems so utterly incapable of despatching a single good ball despite all the drastic alterations which you make in your methods. of course it is not at all the fault of the club, but i think that nearly everybody gets more or less tired of playing with the same implement, and at length looks upon it with familiar contempt. the best thing to do in such circumstances is to give it a rest, and it will soon be discovered that absence makes the heart grow fonder in this matter as in so many others. but the reserve clubs which are taken out while the first string are resting should be in themselves good and almost as exactly suitable to the player's style as the others. it is a mistake to take up a club which has been regarded as a failure, and in which one has no confidence. therefore, i suggest that so soon as the golfer has really found his style and is tolerably certain about it, and the exact kind of club that he likes best, he should fit himself up with both a spare driver and a spare brassy, and give them each a turn as occasion demands. it is hardly necessary to add that whenever an important game is being played, considerable wisdom will be exercised if the reserves are taken out in the bag along with the clubs with which it is intended to play, for though breakages are not matters of everyday occurrence, they do happen sometimes, and nothing would be more exasperating in such a contingency than the knowledge that for the rest of the game you would be obliged to play your tee shots with your brassy or your brassy shots with your cleek. the driving cleek, for long shots, should have a fairly straight face with very little loft upon it. it should have a thick blade, should be fairly heavy, and its shaft should be stout and stiff. this makes a powerful club, with which some fine long work can be accomplished. i am inclined to think that one reason why so many players find it extremely difficult to get good work out of their cleeks, is that they use them with heads too thin and light. a large proportion of the cleeks one sees about are too delicate and ladylike. it is sometimes expected of a cleek that it will despatch a ball for, say, a hundred and sixty yards, and no club will do that, no matter how skilful the golfer who wields it may be, unless there is sufficient weight in it. a second cleek, which will be found in the bag of the experienced golfer, will have a thinner blade and much more loft upon it, but in other respects will be very much like the other one, though not nearly so heavy. this instrument is for the shorter cleek-shot distances, which are just so long that an iron cannot reach them. there is great diversity in irons, and the player may be left in the first place in the hands of his professional adviser, and afterwards to his own taste, with the single hint from me that undue lightness should at all times be avoided. of the two mashies which the complete golfer will carry out with him on to the links, one, for pitching the ball well up with very little run to follow, will have a deep face, will be of medium weight, and be very stiff in the shaft. i emphasise the deep face and the rigidity of the shaft. this mashie will also have plenty of loft upon it. the other one, for use chiefly in running up to the hole, will have a straighter face, but will otherwise be much the same. however, not all golfers consider two mashies to be necessary, and i myself depend chiefly upon one. of the niblick it need only be said that it must be strong, heavy, and well lofted. i have stated that the golfer may carry two putters in his bag; but i mean that he should do so only when he has a definite and distinct purpose for each of them, and i certainly do not advise his going from one kind to the other for the same sort of putt. there is great danger in such a practice. if he is doing very poor putting with one club, he will naturally fly for help to the other one, and the probability is that he will do just as badly with that. then he returns to the first one, and again finds that his putts do not come off, and by this time he is in a hopeless quandary. if he has only one putter he will generally make some sort of a success of it if he can putt at all, and my private belief is that the putter itself has very little to do with the way in which a golfer putts. it is the man that counts and not the tool. i have tried all kinds of putters in my time, and have generally gone back to the plainest and simplest of all. i have occasionally used the aluminium putter. it has much to recommend it to those who like this style of implement, and braid always does very well with it. the travis or schenectady putter, which was so popular for a short time after the amateur championship last year, owing to the american player having done such wonderful things with it, i do not succeed with. when i try to putt with it i cannot keep my eye away from its heel. but the fact is, as i have already indicated, that you can putt with anything if you hit the ball properly. everything depends on that--hitting the ball properly--and no putter that was ever made will help you to hole out if you do not strike the ball exactly as it ought to be struck, while if you do so strike it, any putter will hole out for you. the philosophy of putting is simple, but is rarely appreciated. the search for the magic putter that will always pop the ball into the hole and leave the player nothing to do will go on for ever. one other observation that i have to make on clubs in general is, that i think it is a mistake to have the shafts any longer than is absolutely necessary. some golfers think that an iron or a cleek is just the right length for them when there are still a few inches of stick projecting inwards, towards their bodies, when they have made their grip. why that spare stick? it cannot possibly be of any use, and may conceivably be harmful. it is surely better to have it cut off and then to grip the club at the end of the handle. a larger sense of power and control is obtained in this manner. my own clubs seem to most golfers who examine them to be on the short side, and this is a convenient opportunity for giving a few details concerning my favourites, which may prove of interest to the readers of these notes. i should prefix the statement with the observation that i am feet - / inches in height, and that normally i weigh - / stones. young players who might be inclined to adapt their clubs to my measurements should bear these factors in mind, though i seem to be of something like average height and build. here, then, are the statistics of my bag:-- club. length. weight. driver inches - / oz. brassy " - / " driving mashie " - / " driving cleek " - / " light cleek " - / " iron - / " - / " mashie - / " - / " niblick " " putter (putting cleek) - / " " each measurement was made from the heel to the end of the shaft. [illustration: _plate i._ my set of clubs] i have two explanations to make concerning this list of dimensions. i have included the driving mashie, of which i have said nothing in this chapter. it is an alternative club, and it is better that it should be discussed exclusively in its proper place, which is when cleek shots are being considered. again, on making a critical examination of these measurements, the golfer of a little experience will promptly ask why my mashie is an inch and a quarter longer than my iron. it is longer because one has sometimes to play high lofting shots over trees and the like, and in such cases the loft of the mashie is necessary and a considerable amount of power as well--hence the extra stick. as i have said, the collection of a set of clubs that conform in essentials to their owner's ideal is a very slow and often an expensive process. a club that was bought in the shop for six shillings might have cost its owner six sovereigns when the many unsatisfactory and discarded articles that were bought while this one perfect gem was being searched for are taken into account. therefore it behoves the man who is to any extent satisfied with his clubs to take a proper pride in them and look well after them. i like to see a golfer play with bright irons, and shafts that give evidence of tender and affectionate care. it jars upon one's nerves to see rusty irons and mashies which have evidently not been cleaned for months, and which are now past hope. such a man does not deserve to have good clubs, nor to play good strokes with them. but many golfers, even when they have a tender and careful regard for the excellent merits of their favourites, seem to imagine that the beginning and end of their duty towards them is to keep their irons bright and free from the slightest semblance of rust. more often than not the shaft is never given a thought, and yet a perfect shaft that just suits the man who has to play with it is one of the rarest and most difficult things to discover. it would be difficult to replace it, and to keep it in its best condition it needs constant care and attention. an unreasoning golfer may play with his clubs on wet days, see that the irons are brightened afterwards, and store his collection in his locker without another thought concerning them. and then some time later when he is out on the links snap goes one of his shafts, and "confound that rotten wood!" he exclaims. but it is not a case of rotten wood at all. when shafts are constantly allowed to get wet and are afterwards merely wiped with a rag and given no further attention, all the life dries out of the wood, and they are sure to break sooner or later. it should be your invariable practice, when you have been out on a wet day, first to see that your shafts are well dried and then to give them a thoroughly good oiling with linseed oil, applied with a rag kept specially for the purpose. this will keep them in excellent condition. the tops of the club heads may be oiled in the same way; but extreme care should be taken that not a drop of oil is allowed to touch the face of the wooden clubs. it would tend to open the grain, and then, when next you played in the wet, the damp would get inside the wood and cause it gradually to rot. i counsel all golfers when playing in wet weather to have covers or hoods attached to their bags, so that the heads of their instruments may always be kept in shelter. this will do much for their preservation, and at the same time add materially to the satisfaction of the player, for he can never feel that he has the means to do himself justice on the tee when the head of his driver is in a half soaked state. no player, whatever his abilities as a golfer, should refrain from exercising this precautionary measure because he has seen only the very best players doing so, and because he fancies it may be regarded by his friends as affectation. the fact that it is chiefly the best players who do these things only indicates that they know better than others what is due to their clubs and how to look after them. there is no affectation in copying their methods in this respect. chapter v driving--preliminaries advantage of a good drive--and the pleasure of it--more about the driver--tee low--why high tees are bad--the question of stance--eccentricities and bad habits--begin in good style--measurements of the stance--the reason why--the grip of the club--my own method and its advantages--two hands like one--comparative tightness of the hands--variations during the swing--certain disadvantages of the two-v grip--addressing the ball--freaks of style--how they must be compensated for--too much waggling--the point to look at--not the top of the ball but the side of it. it has been said that the amateur golfers of great britain are in these days suffering from a "debauchery of long driving." the general sense of mr. travis's remark is excellent, meaning that there is a tendency to regard a very long drive as almost everything in the playing of a hole, and to be utterly careless of straightness and the short game so long as the ball has been hit from the tee to the full extent of the golfer's power. a long drive is not by any means everything, and the young golfer should resist any inclination to strive for the -yard ball to the detriment or even the total neglect of other equally important, though perhaps less showy, considerations in the playing of a hole. but having said so much, and conveyed the solemn warning that is necessary, i am obliged to admit that the long driver has very full justification for himself, and that the wisely regulated ambition of the young player to be one is both natural and laudable. the long drive, as i say, is not everything; but to play well it is as necessary to make a good drive as to hole a short putt, or nearly so, and from the golfer who does not drive well a most marvellous excellence is required in the short game if he is to hold his own in good company, or ever be anything more than a long-handicap man. the good drive is the foundation of a good game, and just as one and one make two, so it follows that the man who drives the longer ball has the rest of the game made easier and more certain for him. this apart, there is no stroke in golf that gives the same amount of pleasure as does the perfect driving of the ball from the tee, none that makes the heart feel lighter, and none that seems to bring the glow of delight into the watching eye as this one does. the man who has never stood upon the tee with a sturdy rival near him and driven a perfect ball, the hands having followed well through and finished nicely up against the head, while the little white speck in the distance, after skimming the earth for a time, now rises and soars upwards, clearing all obstacles, and seeming to revel in its freedom and speed until at last it dips gracefully back to earth again--i say that the man who has not done this thing has missed one of the joys of life. i have heard the completest sportsmen say that there are very few things in the entire world of sport that can be compared with it, and none that is superior. so now let us get on to our drive. in the first place, the driver must be selected, and the hints i have already given upon the choice of clubs will serve tolerably well in this respect. let it only be said again that the golfer should do his utmost to avoid extremes in length or shortness. one hears of the virtues of fishing-rod drivers, and the next day that certain great players display a tendency to shorten their clubs. there is nothing like the happy medium, which has proved its capability of getting the longest balls. the length of the club must, of course, vary according to the height of the player, for what would be a short driver for a six-foot man would almost be a fishing-rod to the diminutive person who stands but five feet high. let the weight be medium also; but for reasons already stated do not let it err on the side of lightness. the shaft of the club should be of moderate suppleness. as i have said, if it is too whippy it may be hard to control, but if it is too stiff it leaves too much hard work to be done by the muscles of the golfer. practising what i preach, my own drivers are carefully selected for this delicate medium of suppleness of shaft, and when a stick is found that is exactly perfect it is well worth great care for ever. also i reiterate that the head of the club should not be too large; driving is not thereby made any easier, and carelessness is encouraged. the face should not be quite vertical: if it were, only the top edge and not the full face would be seen when the stance had been taken and the club head was resting upon the tee in its proper place. there must be just so much loft that the face can be seen when the golfer is ready and in position for the swing. but avoid having too much loft filed on the club as a fancied remedy for driving too low and getting into all the bunkers. you do not fail to get the ball up because there is not sufficient loft on the club, but because you are doing something wrong which can easily be remedied; while, on the other hand, be very careful of the fact that, as you add loft to the face of the driver so at the same time you are cutting off distance and losing both power and the delightful sense of it. when the weather is wet, it is a good plan to chalk the face of the club, as this counteracts the tendency of the ball to skid from it. tee the ball low, rejecting the very prevalent but erroneous idea that you are more certain of getting it away cleanly and well when it is poised high off the ground. the stroke that sweeps the ball well away from the low tee is the most natural and perfect, and it follows that the ball, properly driven from this low tee, is the best of all. moreover, one is not so liable to get too much underneath the ball and make a feeble shot into the sky, which is one of the most exasperating forms of ineffectual effort in the whole range of golf. another convincing argument in favour of the low tee is that it preserves a greater measure of similarity between the first shot and the second, helping to make the latter, with the brassy, almost a repetition of the first, and therefore simple and comparatively easy. if you make a high tee, when you come to play your second stroke with your brassy, you will be inclined to find fault with even the most perfect brassy lies--when the ball is so well held up by the blades of grass that the best possible shot with this far-sending club should be the result. if you are favoured with an ordinary brassy lie, you imagine the ball to be in a hole, exclaim that you are badly cupped, and call out vexatiously for an iron. this is the regular result of playing from a high tee, whereas, when the low one is systematically adopted, the difference between the play with the driver and with the brassy from a good lie is inconsiderable, the brassy is used more frequently, and the results are regularly better. as i have already suggested, one of the principles of my long game is to make the play with the brassy as nearly similar to that with the driver as possible, and a low tee is the first step in that direction. there are wide variations in the stances adopted by different players, and extremes of one sort or another are usually the result of bad habits contracted in the early stages of initiation into the mysteries of the game. sometimes the ball is seen opposite the toe of the left foot; at others it is far away to the right. either of these players may get long balls constantly, but it is in spite of the stance and not because of it, for they are contending against a handicap all the time, and have unconsciously to introduce other mannerisms into their play to counteract the evil which a bad stance inevitably brings about. it is certain that if they had driven in the easier way from their youth upwards, they would in their golfing prime have been getting longer balls than those with which they are after all apparently satisfied. but i have already admitted generally, and here again admit in a specific instance, the dissatisfaction, and even danger, that is likely to accrue from an attempt to uproot a system of play which has been established in an individual for many years. one can only insist upon the necessity of starting well, and plead earnestly to any readers who may not yet be far advanced in their experience of the game, to see that their play is based on wise and sure foundations. there is nothing of my own discovery or invention in my stance for the drive. it is simply that which is theoretically and scientifically correct, being calculated, that is, to afford the greatest freedom of movement to the arms, legs, and body in the swinging of the club, so that the strength may be exerted to the fullest advantage at the right moment and continued in its effect upon the ball for the longest possible period. first, then, as to distance from the ball. the player should stand so far away from it that when he is in position and the club face is resting against the teed ball, just as when ready to strike it, the end of the shaft shall reach exactly up to his left knee when the latter is ever so slightly bent. in this position he should be able, when he has properly gripped the club, to reach the ball comfortably and without any stretching, the arms indeed being not quite straight out but having a slight bend at the elbows, so that when the club is waggled in the preliminary address to the ball, plenty of play can be felt in them. i must now invite the player who is following me in these remarks to give his attention simultaneously to the photograph of myself, as i have taken my stance upon the tee for an ordinary drive (plate vi.), with the object of getting the longest ball possible under conditions in all respects normal; and to the small diagram in the corner of the picture giving all the measurements necessary to a complete understanding of the position. i may point out again that my height is feet - / inches, and that the length of my driver from the heel to the end of the shaft is inches. my stature being medium, the majority of players who desire to follow my suggestions will be able to do so without any altering of the measurements given in these diagrams; and, indeed, until any variation in height one way or the other becomes considerable, there is no necessity to vary them. remember that in this and all subsequent illustrations the line marked a points to the direction in which it is desired that the ball should travel, and that the b line over which the player stands is at right angles to it. those who wish at this moment to examine the stance in the most practical manner, and to compare it with that which they have been in the habit of playing from, need hardly be informed that at the corners of nearly every carpet there are rectangular lines either in the pattern or made by borders, which may be taken to represent those in the diagram, and a penny placed at the junction will stand for the ball. it will be observed that, for the most lucid and complete exposition of the stances, in this and all subsequent cases, the diagrams have been turned about, so that here the player has, as it were, his back to the reader, while in the photographs he is, of course, facing him. but the stances are identical. the diagrams have been drawn to scale. it will be noticed, in the first place, that i have my toes turned well outwards. the pivoting which is necessary, and which will be described in due course, is done naturally and without any effort when the toes are pointed in this manner. while it is a mistake to place the feet too near each other, there is a common tendency to place them too far apart. when this is done, ease and perfection of the swing are destroyed and power is wasted, whilst the whole movement is devoid of grace. it will be seen that my left foot is a little, but not much, in advance of the ball. my heel, indeed, is almost level with it, being but an inch from the b line at the end of which the ball is teed. the toe, however, is - / inches away from it, all measurements in this case and others being taken from the exact centre of the point of the toe. the point of the right toe is inches distant from the b line, and while this toe is - / inches from the a line the other is inches from it, so that the right foot is - / inches in advance of the left. after giving these measurements, there is really little more to explain about the stance, particularly as i shall show shortly how variations from it almost certainly bring about imperfect drives. theoretically, the reason for the position is, i think, fairly obvious. the right foot is in advance of the left, so that at the most critical period of the stroke there shall be nothing to impede the follow-through, but everything to encourage it, and so that at the finish the body itself can be thrown forward in the last effort to continue the application of power. it would not be in a position to do so if the left foot were in front to bar the way. the position of the ball as between the right foot and the left is such that the club will strike it just at the time when it is capable of doing so to the utmost advantage, being then, and for the very minute portion of a second during which ball and club may be supposed to remain in contact, moving in as nearly as possible a straight line and at its maximum speed. [illustration: _plate ii._ the grip with the left hand] [illustration: _plate iii._ the overlapping grip] [illustration: _plate iv._ the overlapping grip] [illus ration: _plate v._ the overlapping grip] now comes the all-important consideration of the grip. this is another matter in which the practice of golfers differs greatly, and upon which there has been much controversy. my grip is one of my own invention. it differs materially from most others, and if i am asked to offer any excuse for it, i shall say that i adopted it only after a careful trial of all the other grips of which i had ever heard, that in theory and practice i find it admirable--more so than any other--and that in my opinion it has contributed materially to the attainment of such skill as i possess. the favour which i accord to my method might be viewed with suspicion if it had been my natural or original grip, which came naturally or accidentally to me when i first began to play as a boy, so many habits that are bad being contracted at this stage and clinging to the player for the rest of his life. but this was not the case, for when i first began to play golf i grasped my club in what is generally regarded as the orthodox manner, that is to say, across the palms of both hands separately, with both thumbs right round the shaft (on the left one, at all events), and with the joins between the thumbs and first fingers showing like two v's over the top of the shaft. this is usually described as the two-v grip, and it is the one which is taught by the majority of professionals to whom the beginner appeals for first instruction in the game. of course it is beyond question that some players achieve very fine results with this grip, but i abandoned it many years ago in favour of one that i consider to be better. my contention is that this grip of mine is sounder in theory and easier in practice, tends to make a better stroke and to secure a straighter ball, and that players who adopt it from the beginning will stand a much better chance of driving well at an early stage than if they went in for the old-fashioned two-v. my grip is an overlapping, but not an interlocking one. modifications of it are used by many fine players, and it is coming into more general practice as its merits are understood and appreciated. i use it for all my strokes, and it is only when putting that i vary it in the least, and then the change is so slight as to be scarcely noticeable. the photographs (plates ii., iii., iv., and v.) illustrating the grip of the left hand singly, and of the two together from different points of view, should now be closely examined. it will be seen at once that i do not grasp the club across the palm of either hand. the club being taken in the left hand first, the shaft passes from the knuckle joint of the first finger across the ball of the second. the left thumb lies straight down the shaft--that is to say, it is just to the left of the centre of the shaft. but the following are the significant features of the grip. the right hand is brought up so high that the palm of it covers over the left thumb, leaving very little of the latter to be seen. the first and second fingers of the right hand just reach round to the thumb of the left, and the third finger completes the overlapping process, so that the club is held in the grip as if it were in a vice. the little finger of the right hand rides on the first finger of the left. the great advantage of this grip is that both hands feel and act like one, and if, even while sitting in his chair, a player who has never tried it before will take a stick in his hands in the manner i have described, he must at once be convinced that there is a great deal in what i say for it, although, of course, if he has been accustomed to the two v's, the success of my grip cannot be guaranteed at the first trial. it needs some time to become thoroughly happy with it. we must now consider the degree of tightness of the grip by either hand, for this is an important matter. some teachers of golf and various books of instruction inform us that we should grasp the club firmly with the left hand and only lightly with the right, leaving the former to do the bulk of the work and the other merely to guide the operations. it is astonishing with what persistency this error has been repeated, for error i truly believe it is. ask any really first-class player with what comparative tightness he holds the club in his right and left hands, and i am confident that in nearly every case he will declare that he holds it nearly if not quite as tightly with the right hand as with the left. personally i grip quite as firmly with the right hand as with the other one. when the other way is adopted, the left hand being tight and the right hand simply watching it, as it were, there is an irresistible tendency for the latter to tighten up suddenly at some part of the upward or downward swing, and, as surely as there is a ball on the tee, when it does so there will be mischief. depend upon it the instinct of activity will prevent the right hand from going through with the swing in that indefinite state of looseness. perhaps a yard from the ball in the upward swing, or a yard from it when coming down, there will be a convulsive grip of the right hand which, with an immediate acknowledgment of guilt, will relax again. such a happening is usually fatal; it certainly deserves to be. slicing, pulling, sclaffing, and the foundering of the innocent globe--all these tragedies may at times be traced to this determination of the right hand not to be ignored but to have its part to play in the making of the drive. therefore in all respects my right hand is a joint partner with the left. the grip with the first finger and thumb of my right hand is exceedingly firm, and the pressure of the little finger on the knuckle of the left hand is very decided. in the same way it is the thumb and first finger of the left hand that have most of the gripping work to do. again, the palm of the right hand presses hard against the thumb of the left. in the upward swing this pressure is gradually decreased, until when the club reaches the turning-point there is no longer any such pressure; indeed, at this point the palm and the thumb are barely in contact. this release is a natural one, and will or should come naturally to the player for the purpose of allowing the head of the club to swing well and freely back. but the grip of the thumb and first finger of the right hand, as well as that of the little finger upon the knuckle of the first finger of the left hand, is still as firm as at the beginning. as the club head is swung back again towards the ball, the palm of the right hand and the thumb of the left gradually come together again. both the relaxing and the re-tightening are done with the most perfect graduation, so that there shall be no jerk to take the club off the straight line. the easing begins when the hands are about shoulder high and the club shaft is perpendicular, because it is at this time that the club begins to pull, and if it were not let out in the manner explained, the result would certainly be a half shot or very little more than that, for a full and perfect swing would be an impossibility. this relaxation of the palm also serves to give more freedom to the wrist at the top of the swing just when that freedom is desirable. i have the strongest belief in the soundness of the grip that i have thus explained, for when it is employed both hands are acting in unison and to the utmost advantage, whereas it often happens in the two-v grip, even when practised by the most skilful players, that in the downward swing there is a sense of the left hand doing its utmost to get through and of the right hand holding it back. there is only one other small matter to mention in connection with the question of grip. some golfers imagine that if they rest the left thumb down the shaft and let the right hand press upon it there will be a considerable danger of breaking the thumb, so severe is the pressure when the stroke is being made. as a matter of fact, i have quite satisfied myself that if the thumb is kept in the same place there is not the slightest risk of anything of the kind. also if the thumb remains immovable, as it should, there is no possibility of the club turning in the hands as so often happens in the case of the two-v grip when the ground is hit rather hard, a pull or a slice being the usual consequence. i must be excused for treating upon these matters at such length. they are often neglected, but they are of extreme importance in laying the foundations of a good game of golf. in addressing the ball, take care to do so with the centre of the face of the club, that is, at the desired point of contact. some awkward eccentricities may frequently be observed on the tee. a player may be seen addressing his ball from the toe of the driver, and i have even noticed the address being made with the head of the club quite inside the ball, while in other cases it is the heel of the club which is applied to the object to be struck. the worthy golfers who are responsible for these freaks of style no doubt imagine that they are doing a wise and proper thing, and in the most effectual manner counteracting some other irregularity of their method of play which may not be discoverable, and which is in any case incurable. yet nothing is more certain than that another irregularity must be introduced into the drive in order to correct the one made in the address. to the point at which the club is addressed it will naturally return in the course of the swing, and if it is to be guided to any other than the original place, there must be a constant effort all through the swing to effect this change in direction, and most likely somewhere or other there will be sufficient jerk to spoil the drive. in the case where the ball is addressed with the toe of the club, the player must find it necessary almost to fall on the ball in coming down, and it is quite impossible for him to get his full distance in such circumstances. a waggle of the head of the club as a preliminary before commencing the swing is sometimes necessary after the stance and grip have been taken, but every young golfer should be warned against excess in this habit. with the stance and grip arranged, the line of the shot in view, and a full knowledge of what is required from the stroke, there is really very little more that needs thinking about before the swing is taken. one short preliminary waggle will tend to make the player feel comfortable and confident, but some golfers may be observed trying the patience of all about them by an interminable process of waggling, the most likely result of which is a duffed shot, since, when at last the stroke is made, the player is in a state of semi-catalepsy, and has no clear idea of what he is going to do or how he is going to do it. in addressing the ball, and during the upward and downward swings until it has been safely despatched, the sight should be kept riveted, not on the top of the ball, as is customary, but upon the ground immediately to the right of it (see diagram on p. ). to the point where the gaze is fixed the head of the club will automatically be guided. that is why you are told to keep your eye on the ball. but you do not want to hit the top of the ball. so look to the side, where you do want to hit it. chapter vi driving--the swing of the club "slow back"--the line of the club head in the upward swing--the golfer's head must be kept rigid--the action of the wrists--position at the top of the swing--movements of the arms--pivoting of the body--no swaying--action of the feet and legs--speed of the club during the swing--the moment of impact--more about the wrists--no pure wrist shot in golf--the follow-through--timing of the body action--arms and hands high up at the finish--how bad drives are made--the causes of slicing--when the ball is pulled--misapprehensions as to slicing and pulling--dropping of the right shoulder--its evil consequences--no trick in long driving--hit properly and hard--what is pressing and what is not--summary of the drive. now let us consider the upward and downward swings of the club, and the movements of the arms, legs, feet, and body in relation to them. as a first injunction, it may be stated that the club should be drawn back rather more slowly than you intend to bring it down again. "slow back" is a golfing maxim that is both old and wise. the club should begin to gain speed when the upward swing is about half made, and the increase should be gradual until the top is reached, but it should never be so fast that control of the club is to any extent lost at the turning-point. the head of the club should be taken back fairly straight from the ball--along the a line--for the first six inches, and after that any tendency to sweep it round sharply to the back should be avoided. keep it very close to the straight line until it is half-way up. the old st. andrews style of driving largely consisted in this sudden sweep round, but the modern method appears to be easier and productive of better results. so this carrying of the head of the club upwards and backwards seems to be a very simple matter, capable of explanation in a very few words; but, as every golfer of a month's experience knows, there is a long list of details to be attended to, which i have not yet named, each of which seems to vie with the others in its attempt to destroy the effectiveness of the drive. let us begin at the top, as it were, and work downwards, and first of all there is the head of the golfer to consider. the head should be kept perfectly motionless from the time of the address until the ball has been sent away and is well on its flight. the least deviation from this rule means a proportionate danger of disaster. when a drive has been badly foozled, the readiest and most usual explanation is that the eye has been taken off the ball, and the wise old men who have been watching shake their heads solemnly, and utter that parrot-cry of the links, "keep your eye on the ball." certainly this is a good and necessary rule so far as it goes; but i do not believe that one drive in a hundred is missed because the eye has not been kept on the ball. on the other hand, i believe that one of the most fruitful causes of failure with the tee shot is the moving of the head. until the ball has gone, it should, as i say, be as nearly perfectly still as possible, and i would have written that it should not be moved to the extent of a sixteenth of an inch, but for the fact that it is not human to be so still, and golf is always inclined to the human side. when the head has been kept quite still and the club has reached the top of the upward swing, the eyes should be looking over the middle of the left shoulder, the left one being dead over the centre of that shoulder. most players at one time or another, and the best of them when they are a little off their game, fall into every trap that the evil spirits of golf lay for them, and unconsciously experience a tendency to lift the head for five or six inches away from the ball while the upward swing is being taken. this is often what is imagined to be taking the eye off the ball, particularly as, when it is carried to excess, the eye, struggling gallantly to do its duty, finds considerable difficulty in getting a sight of the ball over the left shoulder, and sometimes loses it altogether for an instant. an examination of the photograph showing the top of the swing (plate vii.) will make it clear that there is very little margin for the moving of the head if the ball is to be kept in full view for the whole of the time. [illustration: _plate vi._ driver and brassy. the stance] [illustration: _plate vii._ driver and brassy. top of the swing] [illustration: _plate viii._ driver and brassy. top of the swing. from behind] [illustration: _plate ix._ driver and brassy. finish of the swing] in the upward swing the right shoulder should be raised gradually. it is unnecessary for me to submit any instruction on this point, since the movement is natural and inevitable, and there is no tendency towards excess; but the arms and wrists need attention. from the moment when the club is first taken back the left wrist should begin to turn inwards (that is to say, the movement is in the same direction as that taken by the hands of a clock), and so turn away the face of the club from the ball. when this is properly done, the toe of the club will point to the sky when it is level with the shoulder and will be dead over the middle of the shaft. this turning or twisting process continues all the way until at the top of the swing the toe of the club is pointing straight downwards to the ground. a reference to plate vii. will show that this has been done, and that as the result the left wrist finishes the upward swing underneath the shaft, which is just where it ought to be. when the wrist has not been at work in the manner indicated, the toe of the club at the top of the drive will be pointing upwards. in order to satisfy himself properly about the state of affairs thus far in the making of the drive, the golfer should test himself at the top of the swing by holding the club firmly in the position which it has reached, and then dropping the right hand from the grip. he will thus be enabled to look right round, and if he then finds that the maker's name on the head of the club is horizontal, he will know that he has been doing the right thing with his wrists, while if it is vertical the wrist action has been altogether wrong. during the upward swing the arms should be gradually let out in the enjoyment of perfect ease and freedom (without being spread-eagled away from the body) until at the top of the swing the left arm, from the shoulder to the elbow, is gently touching the body and hanging well down, while the right arm is up above it and almost level with the club. the picture indicates exactly what i mean, and a reference to the illustration showing what ought not to be the state of affairs generally when the top of the swing is reached (plate xi.), should convince even the veriest beginner how much less comfortable is the position of the arms in this instance than when the right thing has been done, and how laden with promise is the general attitude of the player in the latter position as compared with his cramped state in the former. i think i ought to state, partly in justice to myself, and partly to persuade my readers that the best way in this case, as in all others, is the most natural, that i found it most inconvenient and difficult to make such extremely inaccurate swings as those depicted in this and other photographs of the "how not to do it" series, although they are by no means exaggerations of what are seen on the links every day, even players of several years' experience being constantly responsible for them. in the upward movement of the club the body must pivot from the waist alone, and there must be no swaying, not even to the extent of an inch. when the player sways in his drive the stroke he makes is a body stroke pure and simple. the body is trying to do the work the arms should do, and in these circumstances it is impossible to get so much power into the stroke as if it were properly made, while once more the old enemies, the slice and the pull, will come out from their hiding-places with their mocking grin at the unhappy golfer. the movements of the feet and legs are important. in addressing the ball you stand with both feet flat and securely placed on the ground, the weight equally divided between them, and the legs so slightly bent at the knee joints as to make the bending scarcely noticeable. this position is maintained during the upward movement of the club until the arms begin to pull at the body. the easiest and most natural thing to do then, and the one which suggests itself, is to raise the heel of the left foot and begin to pivot on the left toe, which allows the arms to proceed with their uplifting process without let or hindrance. do not begin to pivot on this left toe ostentatiously, or because you feel you ought to do so, but only when you know the time has come and you want to, and do it only to such an extent that the club can reach the full extent of the swing without any difficulty. while this is happening it follows that the weight of the body is being gradually thrown on to the right leg, which accordingly stiffens until at the top of the swing it is quite rigid, the left leg being at the same time in a state of comparative freedom, slightly bent in towards the right, with only just enough pressure on the toe to keep it in position. to the man who has never driven a good ball in his life this process must seem very tedious. all these things to attend to, and something less than a second in which to attend to them! it only indicates how much there is in this wonderful game--more by far than any of us suspect or shall ever discover. but the time comes, and it should come speedily, when they are all accomplished without any effort, and, indeed, to a great extent, unconsciously. the upward swing is everything. if it is bad and faulty, the downward swing will be wrong and the ball will not be properly driven. if it is perfect, there is a splendid prospect of a long and straight drive, carrying any hazard that may lie before the tee. that is why so very much emphasis must be laid on getting this upward swing perfect, and why comparatively little attention need be paid to the downward swing, even though it is really the effective part of the stroke. be careful not to dwell at the turn of the swing. the club has been gaining in speed right up to this point, and though i suppose that, theoretically, there is a pause at the turning-point, lasting for an infinitesimal portion of a second, the golfer should scarcely be conscious of it. he must be careful to avoid a sudden jerk, but if he dwells at the top of the stroke for only a second, or half that short period of time, his upward swing in all its perfection will have been completely wasted, and his stroke will be made under precisely the same circumstances and with exactly the same disadvantages as if the club had been poised in this position at the start, and there had been no attempt at swinging of any description. in such circumstances a long ball is an impossibility, and a straight one a matter of exceeding doubt. the odds are not very greatly in favour of the ball being rolled off the teeing ground. so don't dwell at the turn; come back again with the club. the club should gradually gain in speed from the moment of the turn until it is in contact with the ball, so that at the moment of impact its head is travelling at its fastest pace. after the impact, the club head should be allowed to follow the ball straight in the line of the flag as far as the arms will let it go, and then, having done everything that is possible, it swings itself out at the other side of the shoulders. the entire movement must be perfectly smooth and rhythmical; in the downward swing, while the club is gaining speed, there must not be the semblance of a jerk anywhere such as would cause a jump, or a double swing, or what might be called a cricket stroke. that, in a few lines, is the whole story of the downward swing; but it needs some little elaboration of detail. in the first place, avoid the tendency--which is to some extent natural--to let the arms go out or away from the body as soon as the downward movement begins. when they are permitted to do so the club head escapes from its proper line, and a fault is committed which cannot be remedied before the ball is struck. knowing by instinct that you are outside the proper course, you make a great effort at correction, the face of the club is drawn across the ball, and there is one more slice. the arms should be kept fairly well in during the latter half of the downward swing, both elbows almost grazing the body. if they are properly attended to when the club is going up, there is much more likelihood of their coming down all right. the head is still kept motionless and the body pivots easily at the waist; but when the club is half-way down, the left hip is allowed to go forward a little--a preliminary to and preparation for the forward movement of the body which is soon to begin. the weight is being gradually moved back again from the right leg to the left. at the moment of impact both feet are equally weighted and are flat on the ground, just as they were when the ball was being addressed; indeed, the position of the body, legs, arms, head, and every other detail is, or ought to be, exactly the same when the ball is being struck as they were when it was addressed, and for that reason i refer my readers again to the photograph of the address (no. vi.) as the most correct position of everything at the moment of striking. after the impact the weight is thrown on to the left leg, which stiffens, while the right toe pivots and the knee bends just as its partner did in the earlier stage of the stroke, but perhaps to a greater extent, since there is no longer any need for restraint. now pay attention to the wrists. they should be held fairly tightly. if the club is held tightly the wrists will be tight, and _vice versâ_. when the wrists are tight there is little play in them, and more is demanded of the arms. i don't believe in the long ball coming from the wrists. in defiance of principles which are accepted in many quarters, i will go so far as to say that, except in putting, there is no pure wrist shot in golf. some players attempt to play their short approaches with their wrists as they have been told to do. these men are likely to remain at long handicaps for a long time. similarly there is a kind of superstition that the elect among drivers get in some peculiar kind of "snap"--a momentary forward pushing movement--with their wrists at the time of impact, and that it is this wrist work at the critical period which gives the grand length to their drives, those extra twenty or thirty yards which make the stroke look so splendid, so uncommon, and which make the next shot so much easier. generally speaking, the wrists when held firmly will take very good care of themselves; but there is a tendency, particularly when the two-v grip is used, to allow the right hand to take charge of affairs at the time the ball is struck, and the result is that the right wrist, as the swing is completed, gradually gets on to the top of the shaft instead of remaining in its proper place. the consequence is a pulled ball,--in fact, this is just the way in which i play for a pull. when the fault is committed to a still greater extent, the head of the club is suddenly turned over, and then the ball is foundered, as we say,--that is, it is struck downwards, and struggles, crippled and done for, a few yards along the ground in front of the tee. i find that ladies are particularly addicted to this very bad habit. once again i have to say that if the club is taken up properly there is the greater certainty of its coming down properly, and then if you keep both hands evenly to their work there is a great probability of a good follow-through being properly effected. when the ball has been struck, and the follow-through is being accomplished, there are two rules, hitherto held sacred, which may at last be broken. with the direction and force of the swing your chest is naturally turned round until it is facing the flag, and your body now abandons all restraint, and to a certain extent throws itself, as it were, after the ball. there is a great art in timing this body movement exactly. if it takes place the fiftieth part of a second too soon the stroke will be entirely ruined; if it comes too late it will be quite ineffectual, and will only result in making the golfer feel uneasy and as if something had gone wrong. when made at the proper instant it adds a good piece of distance to the drive, and that instant, as explained, is just when the club is following through. an examination of the photograph indicating the finish of the swing (no. ix.) will show how my body has been thrown forward until at this stage it is on the outward side of the b line, although it was slightly on the other side when the ball was being addressed. secondly, when the ball has gone, and the arms, following it, begin to pull, the head, which has so far been held perfectly still, is lifted up so as to give freedom to the swing, and incidentally it allows the eyes to follow the flight of the ball. [illustration: _plate x._ how not to drive _in this case the player's feet are much to close together, and there is a space between the hands as there should never be, whatever style of grip is favored. also the right hand is too much underneath the shaft. the result of these faults will usually be a pulled ball, but a long drive of any sort is impossible._] [illustration: _plate xi._ how not to drive _in this case the left wrist instead of being underneath the handle is level with it--a common and dangerous fault. the left arm is spread-eagled outwards, and the toe of the club is not pointing downwards as it ought to be. the pivoting on the left toe is very imperfect. there is no power in this position. sometimes the result is a pull, but frequently the ball will be foundered. no length is possible._] [illustration: _plate xii._ how not to drive _this is an example of a bad finish. instead of being thrown forward after the impact the body has fallen away. the usual consequence is a sliced ball, and this is also one of the commonest causes of short driving._] [illustration: _plate xiii._ how not to drive _here again the body has failed to follow the ball after impact. the stance is very bad, the forward position of the left foot preventing a satisfactory follow-through. the worst fault committed here, however, is the position taken by the left arm. the elbow is far too low. it should be at least as high as the right elbow. result--complete lack of power and length._] i like to see the arms finish well up with the hands level with the head. this generally means a properly hit ball and a good follow-through. at the finish of the stroke the right arm should be above the left, the position being exactly the reverse of that in which the arms were situated at the top of the swing, except that now the right arm is not quite so high as the left one was at the earlier stage. the photograph (no. ix.) indicates that the right arm is some way below the level of the shaft of the club, whereas it will be remembered that the left arm was almost exactly on a level with it. notice also the position of the wrists at the finish of the stroke. having thus indicated at such great length the many points which go to the making of a good drive, a long one and a straight one, yet abounding with ease and grace, allow me to show how some of the commonest faults are caused by departures from the rules for driving. take the sliced ball, as being the trouble from which the player most frequently suffers, and which upon occasion will exasperate him beyond measure. when a golfer is slicing badly almost every time, it is frequently difficult for him to discover immediately the exact source of the trouble, for there are two or three ways in which it comes about. the player may be standing too near to the ball; he may be pulling in his arms too suddenly as he is swinging on to it, thus drawing the club towards his left foot; or he may be falling on to the ball at the moment of impact. when the stance is taken too near to the ball there is a great inducement to the arms to take a course too far outwards (in the direction of the a line) in the upward swing. the position is cramped, and the player does not seem able to get the club round at all comfortably. when the club head is brought on to the ball after a swing of this kind, the face is drawn right across it, and a slice is inevitable. in diagnosing the malady, in cases where the too close stance is suspected, it is a good thing to apply the test of distance given at the beginning of the previous chapter, and see whether, when the club head is resting in position against the teed ball, the other end of the shaft just reaches to the left knee when it is in position, and has only just so much bend in it as it has when the ball is being addressed. the second method of committing the slicing sin is self-explanatory. as for the third, a player falls on the ball, or sways over in the direction of the tee (very slightly, but it is the trifles that matter most) when his weight has not been properly balanced to start with, and when in the course of the swing it has been moved suddenly from one leg to the other instead of quite gradually. but sometimes falling on the ball is caused purely and simply by swaying the body, against which the player has already been warned. when the slicing is bad, the methods of the golfer should be tested for each of these irregularities, and he should remember that an inch difference in any position or movement as he stands upon the tee is a great distance, and that two inches is a vast space, which the mind trained to calculate in small fractions can hardly conceive. pulling is not such a common fault, although one which is sometimes very annoying. generally speaking, a pulled ball is a much better one than one which has been sliced, and there are some young players who are rather inclined to purr with satisfaction when they have pulled, for, though the ball is hopelessly off the line, they have committed an error which is commoner with those whose hair has grown grey on the links than with the beginner whose handicap is reckoned by eighteen or twenty strokes. but after all pulling is not an amusement, and even when it is an accomplishment and not an accident, it should be most carefully regulated. it is the right hand which is usually the offender in this case. the wrist is wrong at the moment of impact, and generally at the finish of the stroke as well,--that is, it is on the top of the club, indicating that the right hand has done most of the work. in a case of this sort the top edge of the face of the club is usually overlapping the bottom edge, so that the face is pointing slightly downwards at the moment of impact; and when this position is brought about with extreme suddenness the ball is frequently foundered. if it escapes this fate, then it is pulled. a second cause of pulling is a sudden relaxation of the grip of the right hand at the time of hitting the ball. when this happens, the left hand, being uncontrolled, turns over the club head in the same manner as in the first case, and the result is the same. i have found from experience that it is necessary to enjoin even players of some years' standing to make quite certain that they are slicing and pulling, before they complain about their doing so and try to find cures for it. in a great number of cases a player will take his stance in quite the wrong direction, either too much round to the right or too much to the left, and when the ball has flown truly along the line on which it was despatched, the golfer blandly remarks that it was a bad slice or a bad pull, as the case may be. he must bring himself to understand that a ball is neither sliced nor pulled when it continues flying throughout in the direction in which it started from the tee. it is only when it begins performing evolutions in the air some distance away, and taking a half wheel to the right or left, that it has fallen a victim to the slice or pull. there is one more fault of the drive which must be mentioned. it is one of the commonest mistakes that the young golfer makes, and one which afflicts him most keenly, for when he makes it his drive is not a drive at all; all his power, or most of it, has been expended on the turf some inches behind the ball. the right shoulder has been dropped too soon or too low. during the address this shoulder is necessarily a little below the left one, and care must be taken at this stage that it is not allowed to drop more than is necessary. at the top of the swing the right shoulder is naturally well above the other one, and at the moment of impact with the ball it should just have resumed its original position slightly below the left. it often happens, however, that even very good golfers, after a period of excellent driving, through sheer over-confidence or carelessness, will fall into the way of dropping the right shoulder too soon, or, when they do drop it, letting it go altogether, so that it fairly sinks away. the result is exactly what is to be expected. the head of the club naturally comes down with the shoulder and flops ineffectually upon the turf behind the tee, anything from two to nine inches behind the ball. yet, unless the golfer has had various attacks of this sort of thing before, he is often puzzled to account for it. the remedy is obvious. i can imagine that many good golfers, now that i near the end of my hints on driving, may feel some sense of disappointment because i have not given them a recipe for putting thirty or forty yards on to their commonplace drives. i can only say that there is no trick or knack in doing it, as is often suspected, such as the suggestion, already alluded to, that the wrists have a little game of their own just when the club head is coming in contact with the ball. the way to drive far is to comply with the utmost care with every injunction that i have set forth, and then to hit hard but by the proper use of the swing. to some golfers this may be a dangerous truth, but it must be told: it is accuracy and strength which make the long ball. but i seem to hear the young player wail, "when i hit hard you say 'don't press!'" a golfer is not pressing when he swings through as fast as he can with his club, gaining speed steadily, although he is often told that he is. but it most frequently happens that when he tries to get this extra pace all at once, and not as the result of gradual improvement and perfection of style, that it comes not smoothly but in a great jerk just before the ball is reached. this is certainly the way that it comes when the golfer is off his game, and he tries, often unconsciously, to make up in force what he has temporarily lost in skill. this really is pressing, and it is this against which i must warn every golfer in the same grave manner that he has often been warned before. but to the player who, by skill and diligence of practice, increases the smooth and even pace of his swing, keeping his legs, body, arms, and head in their proper places all the time, i have nothing to give but encouragement, though long before this he himself will have discovered that he has found out the wonderful, delightful secret of the long ball. two chapters of detailed instruction are too much for a player to carry in his mind when he goes out on to the links to practise drives, and for his benefit i will here make the briefest possible summary of what i have already stated. let him attend, then, to the following chief points:-- _stance._--the player should stand just so far away from the ball, that when the face of the driver is laid against it in position for striking, the other end of the shaft exactly reaches to the left knee when the latter is slightly bent. the right foot may be anything up to seven inches in front of the left, but certainly never behind it. the left toe should be a trifle in advance of the ball. the toes should be turned outwards. make a low tee. _grip._--as described. remember that the palm of the right hand presses hard on the left thumb at all times except when nearing and at the top of the swing. the grip of the thumb and the first two fingers of each hand is constantly firm. _upward swing._--the club head must be taken back in a straight line for a few inches, and then brought round gradually--not too straight up (causing slicing) nor too far round in the old-fashioned style. the speed of the swing increases gradually. the elbows are kept fairly well in, the left wrist turning inwards and finishing the upward swing well underneath the shaft. the body must not be allowed to sway. it should pivot easily from the waist. the head must be kept quite still. the weight is gradually thrown entirely on to the right leg, the left knee bends inwards, the left heel rises, and the toe pivots. there must be no jerk at the turn of the swing. _downward swing._--there should be a gradual increase of pace, but no jerk anywhere. the arms must be kept well down when the club is descending, the elbows almost grazing the body. the right wrist should not be allowed to get on to the top of the club. the head is still motionless. the left hip is allowed to move forward very slightly while the club is coming down. the weight of the body is gradually transferred from the right leg to the left, the right toe pivoting after the impact, and the left leg stiffening. the right shoulder must be prevented from dropping too much. after the impact the arms should be allowed to follow the ball and the body to go forward, the latter movement being timed very carefully. the head may now be raised. finish with the arms well up--the right arm above the left. _slicing._--this may be caused by standing too near to the ball, by pulling in the arms, or by falling on the ball. _pulling._--usually caused by the head of the club being turned partly over when the ball is struck, or by relaxing the grip with the right hand. i can only agree with those who have followed me so patiently through these two chapters, that to drive a golf ball well is a thing not to be learned in a week or a month. chapter vii brassy and spoon good strokes with the brassy--play as with the driver--the points of the brassy--the stance--where and how to hit the ball--playing from cuppy lies--jab strokes from badly-cupped lies--a difficult club to master--the man with the spoon--the lie for the baffy--what it can and cannot do--character of the club--the stance--tee shots with the baffy--iron clubs are better. when to your caddie you say "give me my brassy" it is a sign that there is serious work to be done--as serious and anxious as any that has to be accomplished during the six or seven minutes' journey from the tee to the hole. many golfers have a fondness for the brassy greater even than for the driver, and the brassy shot when well played certainly affords a greater sense of satisfaction than the drive--great as is the joy of a good drive--because one is conscious of having triumphed over difficulties. when the ball is lying very well when it has to be played through the green, the driver is naturally taken, but when the lie is very low, approaching even to a cuppy character, the brassy is called for so that an effort may be made to pick the ball up cleanly and despatch it to the full distance. again, the stroke with the brassy must always be a first-class one. one that is a little inferior to the best may place the player in serious difficulties. on the other hand, the brassy seldom flatters its user, though in the hands of a master player it is perhaps the club that will gain a stroke for him more often than any other, the last bunker being surmounted and the green reached without any need for a short approach with an iron club. therefore the golfer must make up his mind to attain excellence with the brassy, for mediocrity with it will always handicap him severely. i have already insisted that the method of play, the stance, the swing, and all the rest of it, should be the same with the brassy as with the driver, and that i do not believe in allowing the slightest difference, the only result of which can be to increase the difficulty of the brassy shot. given a ball through the green lying fairly well, a level piece of earth to stand upon, and a practically unlimited distance to be played, then the brassy stroke is absolutely identical with the drive, and if the ball is sufficiently well teed, or its lie is clean enough, there is no reason whatever why the driver should not be taken for the stroke. obviously, however, as the lie which you get for your second shot depends on chance, and must be taken as it is found, there are times when a variation from the standard method of driving will be necessary, and it is to the process of play on these occasions that i shall chiefly direct my remarks in this chapter. first, however, as to the brassy itself. its shaft should be slightly stiffer than that of the driver, for it has much harder and rougher work to accomplish, for which the whippy stick of a slender driver would be too frail. in a desperate case, when the ball is lying in an apparently impossible place, the brassy is sometimes taken, in the hope that the best may happen and the situation be saved. that is why the brassy has a sole of brass which will cut away obstructions behind the ball as the head of the club is swept on to it. it often happens that you must hit, as it were, an inch or two behind the ball in order to get it up. therefore let the shaft be strong. it should be exactly the same length as that of the driver, and not a half inch or an inch shorter, as is often recommended. i do not accept any argument in favour of the shorter shaft. the golfer having driven from the tee needs to be persuaded that he has again what is practically a driving shot to make for his second, and thus to be imbued with that feeling of experience and confidence which makes for success. when the clubs are of the same length there is equal familiarity in using them; but if he is given a shorter club to play his brassy shot with, he feels that there is something of a novel nature to be done, and he wonders how. the face of the brassy should be a little shorter than that of the driver, to permit of its being worked into little depressions in which the ball may be lying; but this variation of the construction of the head should not be carried to excess. obviously there needs to be more loft on the face of the club than on that of the driver. the stance for the brassy stroke (see plate vi.) is generally the same as for the drive, and for reasons already stated my recommendation is that, so far as circumstances will permit,--we are not on the teeing ground when we are playing the brassy,--it should always be the same. if the player feels it to be desirable, he may stand an inch or two nearer to the ball, and perhaps as much behind the ball when he wishes to get well underneath so as to lift it up. the swing should be the same, save that more care should be taken to ensure the grip with the hands being quite tight, for as the club head comes into contact with the turf before taking the ball, the club may turn in the hands and cause a slice or pull unless perfect control be kept over it. a more important question is, where and how to hit the ball. if it is lying fairly well, it is only necessary to skim the top of the turf and take it cleanly. there is no necessity in such a case, as is too often imagined by inexperienced players, to delve down into the turf so that the ball may be lifted up. if the stroke is played naturally, in the way i have indicated, the loft on the face of the brassy is quite sufficient to give the necessary amount of rise to the ball as it leaves the club. but if, as so often happens, the ball is just a trifle cupped, a different attitude must be adopted towards it. it is now desired that the club should come down to the turf about an inch behind the ball, and with this object in view the eyes should be directed to that point, but as in addressing the ball the said point may be covered by the head of the club, the sight should be set, not really on to the top of the club head, but to an imaginary spot just at the side of the ball, so that when the club is drawn back the turf and the point to look at come into full view and retain the attention of the eyes until the stroke has been made. when the club is swung down on to that spot, its head will plough through the turf and be well under the ball by the time it reaches it, and the desired rise will follow. swing in the same manner as for the drive. the commonest fault in the playing of this stroke comes from the instinct of the player to try to scoop out the ball from its resting-place, and in obedience to this instinct down goes the right shoulder when the club is coming on to the ball. in the theory of the beginner this course of procedure may seem wise and proper, but he will inevitably be disappointed with the result, and in time he will come to realise that all attempts to scoop must fail. what the club cannot do in the ordinary way when pushed through the turf as i have indicated, cannot be done at all, and it is dangerous to the stroke and dangerous to one's game to trifle with the grand principles. when the ball is really badly cupped, a moment must be given for inspection and consideration, for the situation is an awkward one. at the first glance an iron club is usually suggested, but there are many times when the golfer prefers to take the brassy if there is a reasonable chance of its proving effective. in a case of this sort the ordinary methods of brassy play must necessarily be departed from. what is wanted is a jabbing-out stroke, and to effect it properly the sight must be set (as before) and the club come down on a spot almost two inches behind the ball. there must be no timidity about hitting the ground or anxiety about the follow-through, for in this case the follow-through, as we have understood it so far, is next to an impossibility, and must not be sought for. in the upward swing the club should be taken out straighter than usual, that is to say, the club head should be kept more closely to the a line, and it should not be carried so far back as if an ordinary shot were being played. obviously the club must be held with an absolutely firm grip, and for the proper execution of a shot like this the shaft should be exceptionally strong and stiff. if there is the least suggestion of whip in it the ball is not extricated in the same way, and moreover there is sometimes a danger of breaking a slender stick. however, if the golfer only carries one brassy in his bag--and the average player will seldom carry two--this stroke might as well be risked, when the necessity for it arises, with the brassy that is carried for all-round work. beyond these few observations there is little more to be said about simple brassy play, although it is so difficult to master thoroughly, so supremely important to a good game, and so full of variety and interest. in the use of no club is constant and strenuous practice better rewarded by improvement in play and strokes gained. the man with the spoon is coming back again to the links, and this seems to be the most convenient opportunity for a few remarks on play with this club--the baffy, as it is frequently called. one rarely mentions the spoon without being reminded of the difficulty as to the nomenclature of golf which beset a certain frenchman on his first introduction to the game. "they zay to me," he complained, "'will you take ze tee?' and i answer, 'ah, oui,' but they give me no tea, but make a leetle hill with the sand. then they zay, 'will you take the spoon?' they have give me no tea, but no matter. i answer again, 'ah, oui, monsieur,' but they give no spoon either. so i give up the thought of the tea, and play with the new club that they do give to me." however, that is neither here nor there. the baffy, or spoon, is a very useful club, which at one time was a great favourite with many fine players, and if it has of late years been largely superseded by the cleek, it is still most valuable to those players who are not so skilful or reliable with this latter instrument as they would like to be. the baffy demands, for the achievement of such success as it can afford, a fairly good lie, and when this is given it is a tolerably easy club to play with. a good lie is essential because of its wooden head and long face, which prevent it from getting down to the ball when the latter is at all cupped, as the cleek would do, or as the brassy may be made to do when the jab shot is played. the baffy with its long face cannot be burrowed into the turf so easily, nor can it nick in between the ball and the side of the cup, but it makes a bridge over it, as it were, and thus takes the ball right on the top and moves it only a few yards. a cleek would take the turf and the ball and make a good hit. therefore, when the lie is not reasonably perfect, the baffy is of little use, though in favourable circumstances it is a useful stick. the shaft should be slightly longer than that of the cleek, but appreciably shorter than that of the brassy, and it should be fairly stiff. its face, as already remarked, is much longer than that of the brassy, and it is given several degrees more loft. the method of play with the spoon is very much the same as with the brassy, with only such modifications as are apparently necessary. for example, the club being shorter, the feet will be placed slightly nearer to the ball; and although the baffy calls for a fairly long swing, the player will find that he is naturally indisposed to take the club head so far round to his back as he was with the other and longer wooden clubs. in other respects, the upward and downward swing, the grip, the follow-through, and everything else are the same. with many players the club is a particular favourite for the tee shot at short holes of, say, to yards length with a tolerably high bunker guarding the green--a type of hole very frequently encountered, and which simply calls for steady, sure play to get the bogey . the baffy does its work very well in circumstances of this kind, and the ball is brought up fairly quickly upon the green; but the man who is skilled with his irons will usually prefer one of them for the stroke, and will get the coveted as often as the man with the spoon. chapter viii special strokes with wooden clubs the master stroke in golf--intentional pulling and slicing--the contrariness of golf--when pulls and slices are needful--the stance for the slice--the upward swing--how the slice is made--the short sliced stroke--great profits that result--warnings against irregularities--how to pull a ball--the way to stand--the work of the right hand--a feature of the address--what makes a pull--effect of wind on the flight of the ball--greatly exaggerated notions--how wind increases the effect of slicing and pulling--playing through a cross wind--the shot for a head wind--a special way of hitting the ball--a long low flight--when the wind comes from behind. which is the master stroke in golf? that is an engaging question. is it the perfect drive, with every limb, muscle, and organ of the body working in splendid harmony with the result of despatching the ball well beyond two hundred yards in a straight line from the tee? no, it is not that, for there are some thousands of players who can drive what is to all intents and purposes a perfect ball without any unusual effort. is it the brassy shot which is equal to a splendid drive, and which, delivering the ball in safety over the last hazard, places it nicely upon the green, absolving the golfer from the necessity of playing any other approach? no, though that is a most creditable achievement. is it the approach over a threatening bunker on to a difficult green where the ball can hardly be persuaded to remain, yet so deftly has the cut been applied, and so finely has the strength been judged, that it stops dead against the hole, and for a certainty a stroke is saved? this is a most satisfying shot which has in its time won innumerable holes, but it is not the master stroke of golf. then, is it the putt from the corner of the green across many miniature hills and dales with a winding course over which the ball must travel, often far away from the direct line, but which carries it at last delightfully to the opening into which it sinks just as its strength is ebbing away? we all know the thrilling ecstasy that comes from such a stroke as this, but it has always been helped by a little good luck, and i would not call it the master stroke. there are inferior players who are good putters. which, then, is the master stroke? i say that it is the ball struck by any club to which a big pull or slice is intentionally applied for the accomplishment of a specific purpose which could not be achieved in any other way, and nothing more exemplifies the curious waywardness of this game of ours than the fact that the stroke which is the confounding and torture of the beginner who does it constantly, he knows not how, but always to his detriment, should later on at times be the most coveted shot of all, and should then be the most difficult of accomplishment. i call it the master shot because, to accomplish it with any certainty and perfection, it is so difficult even to the experienced golfer, because it calls for the most absolute command over the club and every nerve and sinew of the body, and the courageous heart of the true sportsman whom no difficulty may daunt, and because, when properly done, it is a splendid thing to see, and for a certainty results in material gain to the man who played it. [illustration: _plate xiv._ driver and brassy. stance when playing for a slice] [illustration: _plate xv._ driver and brassy. top of the swing when playing for a slice] [illustration: _plate xvi._ driver and brassy. finish when playing for a slice] i will try, then, to give the golfers who desire them some hints as to how by diligence and practice they may come to accomplish these master strokes; but i would warn them not to enter into these deepest intricacies of the game until they have completely mastered all ordinary strokes with their driver or brassy and can absolutely rely upon them, and even then the intentional pull and slice should only be attempted when there is no way of accomplishing the purpose which is likely to be equally satisfactory. thus, when a long brassy shot to the green is wanted, and one is most completely stymied by a formidable tree somewhere in the foreground or middle distance, the only way to get to the hole is by working round the tree, either from the right or from the left, and this can be done respectively by the pull and the slice. of the two, the sliced shot is the easier, and is to be recommended when the choice is quite open, though it must not be overlooked that the pulled ball is the longer. the slicing action is not quite so quick and sudden, and does not call for such extremely delicate accuracy as the other, and therefore we will deal with it first. the golfer should now pay very minute attention to the photographs (nos. xiv., xv., and xvi.) which were specially taken to illustrate these observations. it will be noticed at once that i am standing very much more behind the ball than when making an ordinary straight drive or brassy stroke, and this is indeed the governing feature of the slicing shot as far as the stance and position of the golfer, preparatory to taking it, are concerned. an examination of the position of the feet, both in the photograph (xiv.) and the accompanying diagram, will show that the left toe is now exactly on the b line, that is to say, it is just level with the ball, while the right foot is - / inches away from the same mark, whereas in the case of the ordinary drive it was only . at the same time the right foot has been moved very much nearer to the a line, more than inches in fact, although the left is only very slightly nearer. obviously the general effect of this change of stance is to move the body slightly round to the left. there is no mystery as to how the slice is made. it comes simply as the result of the face of the club being drawn across the ball at the time of impact, and it was precisely in this way that it was accidentally accomplished when it was not wanted. in addressing the ball there should be just the smallest trifle of extra weight thrown on the right leg; but care must be taken that this difference is not exaggerated. the golfer should be scarcely conscious of it. the grip is made in the usual manner, but there is a very material and all-important difference in the upward swing. in its upward movement the club head now takes a line distinctly outside that which is taken in the case of the ordinary drive, that is to say, it comes less round the body and keeps on the straight line longer. when it is half-way up it should be about two or three inches outside the course taken for the full straight drive. the object of this is plain. the inflexible rule that as the club goes up so will it come down, is in operation again. the club takes the same line on the return, and after it has struck the ball it naturally, pursuing its own direction, comes inside the line taken in the case of the ordinary drive. the result is that at the moment of impact, and for that fractional part of a second during which the ball may be supposed to be clinging to the club, the face of the driver or brassy is being, as it were, drawn across the ball as if cutting a slice out of it. there is no means, so far as i know, of gauging how unthinkably short is the time during which this slicing process is going on, but, as we observed, when we were slicing unintentionally and making the ball curl round sometimes to an angle of ninety degrees before the finish of its flight, it is quite long enough to effect the most radical alteration in what happens afterwards. in that short space of time a spinning motion is put upon the ball, and a curious impulse which appears to have something in common with that given to a boomerang is imparted, which sooner or later take effect. in other respects, when a distant slice is wanted, the same principles of striking the ball and finishing the swing as governed the ordinary drive are to be observed. what i mean by a distant slice is one in which the ball is not asked to go round a corner until it is well on its way, the tree, or whatever it is that has to be circumvented, being half-way out or more, as shown in the diagram on opposite page. this is the most difficult kind of slice to perform, inasmuch as the ball must be kept on a straight line until the object is approached, and then made to curl round it as if by instinct. in such a case the club should be drawn very gradually across, and not so much or so suddenly as when the slice is wanted immediately. [illustration: trajectory of ball when a distant slice is required.] [illustration: trajectory of ball in the case of a quick slice.] when the tree or thicket that stymies you is only twenty or thirty yards away, the short sliced shot is not only the best but perhaps the only one to play, that is to say, if it is first-class golf that is being practised and there is an opponent who is fighting hard. take a case for exemplification--one which is of the commonest occurrence. there is a long hole to be played, and some thirty yards from the point which will be reached by a good drive, but well away to the right there is a spinny of tall trees. the golfer is badly off the line with his drive, with the result that he now has the trees in the direct line between him and the hole which is the best part of a hundred yards from the other edge of the wood, or say a hundred and forty from where the ball is lying. he might by a wonderfully lofted shot play the ball over the obstacle, but he would have to rise at such an angle that any length would be an impossibility, and he would be short of the green. the only alternative to the slice would be to accept the loss of a stroke as inevitable, play away to the right or left, and then get on to the green with the next one. thus in either case a valuable stroke is lost, and if the enemy is playing the correct game the loss may be most serious. the short or quick slice comes to the rescue admirably. turn the ball round the spinny, give it as much length as you can in the circumstances, and if the job has been well done you will be on the green after all with the highly comforting sensation that for once you have proved yourself a golfer of the first degree of skill, and have snatched a half when the hole seemed lost. the diagram here presented illustrates the best possibilities of a quick slice. i can explain in a line exactly how this is done, but i cannot guarantee that my readers will therefore be able to do it until they have practised, and practised, and practised yet again. instead of hitting the ball with the middle of the club face as in playing for the distant slice as already explained, hit it slightly nearer the heel of the club. swing upwards in the same way, and finish in the same way, also. taking the ball with the heel results in the slice being put on more quickly and in there being more of it, but i need hardly observe that the stroke must be perfectly judged and played, and that there must be no flaw in it anywhere, or disaster must surely follow. as i say, it is not an easy shot to accomplish, but it is a splendid thing to do when wanted, and i strongly recommend the golfer who has gained proficiency in the ordinary way with his wooden clubs, to practise it whenever possible until at length he feels some confidence in playing it. it is one of those strokes which mark the skilled and resourceful man, and which will win for him many a match. beyond the final admonition to practise, i have only one more piece of advice to give to the golfer who wants to slice when a slice would be useful, and that is in the downward swing he must guard against any inclination to pull in the arms too quickly, the result of his consciousness that the club has to be drawn across the ball. whatever is necessary in this way comes naturally as the consequence of taking the club head more outwards than usual in the upward swing. examine the photographs very carefully in conjunction with the study of all the observations that i have made. [illustration: _plate xvii._ driver and brassy. playing for a pull. stance] [illustration: _plate xviii._ driver and brassy. top of the swing when playing for a pull] [illustration: _plate xix._ driver and brassy. finish when playing for a pull] now there is the pulled ball to consider; for there are times when the making of such a shot is eminently desirable. resort to a slice may be unsatisfactory, or it may be entirely impossible, and one important factor in this question is that the pulled ball is always much longer than the other, in fact it has always so much length in it that many players in driving in the ordinary way from the tee, and desiring only to go straight down the course, systematically play for a pull and make allowances for it in their direction. now examine plate xvii. and the accompanying diagram illustrating the stance for the pull, and see how very materially it differs from those which were adopted for the ordinary drive and that in which a slice was asked for. we have moved right round to the front of the ball. the right heel is on the b line and the toe inches away from it, while the left toe is no less than - / inches from this line, and therefore so much in front of the ball. at the same time the line of the stance shows that the player is turned slightly away from the direction in which he proposes to play, the left toe being now only - / inches away from the a line, while the right toe is inches distant from it. the obvious result of this stance is that the handle of the club is in front of the ball, and this circumstance must be accentuated by the hands being held even slightly more forward than for an ordinary drive. now they are held forward in front of the head of the club. in the grip there is another point of difference. it is necessary that in the making of this stroke the right hand should do more work than the left, and therefore the club should be held rather more loosely by the left hand than by its partner. the latter will duly take advantage of this slackness, and will get in just the little extra work that is wanted of it. in the upward swing carry the club head just along the line which it would take for an ordinary drive. the result of all this arrangement, and particularly of the slackness of the left hand and comparative tightness of the right, is that there is a tendency in the downward swing for the face of the club to turn over to some extent, that is, for the top edge of it to be overlapping the bottom edge. this is exactly what is wanted, for, in fact, it is quite necessary that at the moment of impact the right hand should be beginning to turn over in this manner, and if the stroke is to be a success the golfer must see that it does so, but the movement must be made quite smoothly and naturally, for anything in the nature of a jab, such as is common when too desperate efforts are made to turn over an unwilling club, would certainly prove fatal. it follows from what has been happening all the way through, that at the finish of the stroke the right hand, which has matters pretty well its own way, has assumed final ascendancy and is well above the left. plates xviii. and xix. should be carefully examined. the pulled ball is particularly useful in a cross wind, and this fact leads us naturally to a consideration of the ways and means of playing the long shot with the wooden club to the best advantage when there are winds of various kinds to test the resources of the golfer. now, however, that this question is raised, i feel it desirable to say without any hesitation that the majority of golfers possess vastly exaggerated notions of the effect of strong cross winds on the flight of their ball. they greatly overestimate the capabilities of a breeze. to judge by their observations on the tee, one concludes that a wind from the left is often sufficient to carry the ball away at an angle of forty-five degrees, and indeed sometimes, when it does take such an exasperating course, and finishes its journey some fifty yards away from the point to which it was desired to despatch it, there is an impatient exclamation from the disappointed golfer, "confound this wind! who on earth can play in a hurricane!" or words to that effect. now i have quite satisfied myself that only a very strong wind indeed will carry a properly driven ball more than a very few yards out of its course, and in proof of this i may say that it is very seldom when i have to deal with a cross wind that i do anything but play straight at the hole without any pulling or slicing or making allowances in any way. if golfers will only bring themselves to ignore the wind, then it in turn will almost entirely ignore their straight ball. when you find your ball at rest the aforementioned forty or fifty yards from the point to which you desired to send it, make up your mind, however unpleasant it may be to do so, that the trouble is due to an unintentional pull or slice, and you may get what consolation you can from the fact that the slightest of these variations from the ordinary drive is seized upon with delight by any wind, and its features exaggerated to an enormous extent. it is quite possible, therefore, that a slice which would have taken the ball only twenty yards from the line when there was no wind, will take it forty yards away with the kind assistance of its friend and ally. [illustration: method and effect of pulling into a cross wind from the right.] however, i freely admit that there are times when it is advisable to play a fancy shot when there is an excess of wind, and the golfer must judge according to circumstances. let me give him this piece of advice: very rarely slice as a remedy against a cross wind. either pull or nothing. if there is a strong wind coming from the right, the immature golfer who has been practising slices argues that this is his chance, and that it is his obvious duty to slice his ball right into the teeth of that wind, so that wind and slice will neutralise each other, and the ball as the result will pursue an even course in the straight line for the flag. a few trials will prove to him that this is a very unsatisfactory business, and after he has convinced himself about it i would recommend him to try pulling the ball and despatching it at once along a line to the right directly against that same wind. when the pull begins to operate, both this and the wind will be working together, and the ball will be carried a much greater length, its straightness depending upon the accuracy of allowance. the diagram explains my meaning. but i reiterate that the ordinary shots are generally the easiest and best with which to get to the hole. the principle of the golfer should be, and i trust is, that he always wants to reach the hole in the simplest and easiest way, with a minimum of doubt and anxiety about any shot which he is called upon to play, and one usually finds that without these fancy shots one comes to the flag as easily as is possible in all the circumstances. of course i am writing more particularly with the wind in mind, and am not recommending the ordinary shot when there is a tree or a spinny for a stymie, in contradiction to what i have said earlier in this chapter. however, there is one kind of wind difficulty which it is certainly necessary to deal with by a departure from the ordinary method of play with the driver or the brassy, and that is when the wind is blowing straight up to the player from the hole, threatening to cut off all his distance. unless measures are taken to prevent it, a head wind of this description certainly does make play extremely difficult, the comparative shortness of the drive making an unduly long approach shot necessary, or even demanding an extra stroke at long holes in order to reach the green. but, fortunately, we have discovered a means of dealing very satisfactorily with these cases. what we want to do is to keep the ball as low down as possible so as to cheat the wind, for the lower the ball the less opportunity has the breeze of getting to work upon it. a combination of two or three methods is found to be the best for obtaining this low turf-skimming ball, which yet has sufficient driving power in it to keep up until it has achieved a good length. evidently the first thing to do is to make the tee--if it is a tee shot--rather lower than usual--as low as is consistent with safety and a clean stroke. the player should then stand rather more in front of the ball than if he were playing for an ordinary drive, but this forward position should not by any means be so marked as it was in the stance for the pulled drive. a reference to plate xx. and the diagram will show that now we have the ball exactly half-way between the toes, each toe being twelve inches to the side of the b line, while both are an inch nearer to the ball than was the case when the ordinary drive was being made. but the most important departure that we make from the usual method of play is in the way we hit the ball. so far we have invariably been keeping our gaze fixed on a point just behind it, desiring that the club shall graze the ground and take the ball rather below the centre. but now it is necessary that the ball shall be struck half-way up and before the club touches the turf. therefore keep the eye steadily fixed upon that point (see the right-hand ball in the small diagram on page ) and come down exactly on it. this is not an easy thing to do at first; it requires a vast amount of practice to make sure of hitting the ball exactly at the spot indicated, but the stroke when properly made is an excellent and most satisfying one. after striking the ball in this way, the club head should continue its descent for an instant so that it grazes the turf for the first time two or three inches in front of the spot where the ball was. the passage of the club through the ball, as it were, is the same as in the case of the push shot with the cleek, and therefore reference may usefully be made to the diagram on page , which illustrates it. a natural result of the stance and the way the stroke is played is that the arms are more extended than usual after the impact, and in the follow-through the club head keeps nearer to the turf. so excellent are the results obtained when the stroke is properly played, that there are many fine players, having a complete command over it, who systematically play it from the tee whether there is a wind to contend against or not, simply because of the length and accuracy which they secure from it. braid is one of them. if the teeing ground offers any choice of gradient, a tee with a hanging lie should be selected, and the ball is then kept so low for the first forty or fifty yards that it is practically impossible for the wind to take it off the line, for it must be remembered that even when the wind comes dead from the front, if there is the slightest slice or pull on the ball to start with, it will be increased to a disconcerting extent before the breeze has done with it. [illustration: _plate xx._ driver and brassy. stance for a low ball against the wind] [illustration: _plate xxi._ driver and brassy. stance for a high ball with the wind] when the wind is at the back of the player blowing hard towards the hole, the situation presents no difficulty and needs very little consideration. the object in this case is to lift the ball well up towards the clouds so that it may get the full benefit of the wind, though care must be taken that plenty of driving length is put into the stroke at the same time. therefore tee the ball rather higher than usual, and bring your left foot more in a line with it than you would if you were playing in the absence of wind, at the same time moving both feet slightly nearer the ball. plate xxi. will make the details of this stance quite clear. the ball being teed unusually high, the golfer must be careful not to make any unconscious allowance for the fact in his downward swing, and must see that he wipes the tee from the face of the earth when he makes the stroke. though in my explanations of these various strokes i have generally confined myself to observations as to how they may be made from the tee, they are strokes for the driver and the brassy,--for all cases, that is, where the long ball is wanted from the wooden club under unusual circumstances of difficulty. evidently in many cases they will be more difficult to accomplish satisfactorily from a brassy lie and with the shorter faced club than when the golfer has everything in his favour on the teeing ground, and it must be left to his skill and discretion as to the use he will make of them when playing through the green. chapter ix the cleek and driving mashie a test of the golfer--the versatility of the cleek--different kinds of cleeks--points of the driving mashie--difficulty of continued success with it--the cleek is more reliable--ribbed faces for iron clubs--to prevent skidding--the stance for an ordinary cleek shot--the swing--keeping control over the right shoulder--advantages of the three-quarter cleek shot--the push shot--my favourite stroke--the stance and the swing--the way to hit the ball--peculiar advantages of flight from the push stroke--when it should not be attempted--the advantage of short swings as against full swings with iron clubs--playing for a low ball against the wind--a particular stance--comparisons of the different cleek shots--general observations and recommendations--mistakes made with the cleek. it is high time we came to consider the iron clubs that are in our bag. his play with the irons is a fine test of the golfer. it calls for extreme skill and delicacy, and the man who is surest with these implements is generally surest of his match. the fathers of golf had no clubs with metal heads, and for a long time after they came into use there was a lingering prejudice against them; but in these days there is no man so bold as to say that any long hole can always be played so well with wood all through as with a mixture of wood and iron in the proper proportions. it may be, as we are often told, that the last improvement in iron clubs has not yet been made; but i must confess that the tools now at the disposal of the golfer come as near to my ideal of the best for their purpose as i can imagine any tools to do, and no golfer is at liberty to blame the clubmaker for his own incapacity on the links, though it may frequently happen that his choice and taste in the matter of his golfing goods are at fault. there are many varieties of every class of iron clubs, and their gradations of weight, of shape, of loft, and of all their other features, are delicate almost to the point of invisibility; but the old golfer who has an affection for a favourite club knows when another which he handles differs from it to the extent of a single point in these gradations. some golfers have spent a lifetime in the search for a complete set of irons, each one of which was exactly its owner's ideal, and have died with their task still unaccomplished. happy then is the player who in his early days has irons over all of which he has obtained complete mastery, and which he can rely upon to do their duty, and do it well, when the match is keen and their owner is sorely pressed by a relentless opponent. first of these iron clubs give me the cleek, the most powerful and generally useful of them all, though one which is much abused and often called hard names. if you wish, you may drive a very long ball with a cleek, and if the spirit moves you so to do you may wind up the play at the hole by putting with it too. but these after all are what i may call its unofficial uses, for the club has its own particular duties, and for the performance of them there is no adequate substitute. therefore, when a golfer says, as misguided golfers sometimes do, that he cannot play with the cleek, that he gets equal or superior results with other clubs, and that therefore he has abandoned it to permanent seclusion in the locker, you may shake your head at him, for he is only deceiving himself. like the wares of boastful advertisers, there is no other which is "just as good," and if a golfer finds that he can do no business with his cleek, the sooner he learns to do it the better will it be for his game. and there are many different kinds of cleeks, the choice from which is to a large extent to be regulated by experiment and individual fancy. some men fancy one type, and some another, and each of them obtains approximately the same result from his own selection, but it is natural that a driving cleek, which is specially designed for obtaining length, having a fairly straight face and plenty of weight, will generally deliver the ball further than those which are more lofted and lighter. making a broad classification, there are driving cleeks, ordinary cleeks, pitching cleeks, and cleeks with the weight in the centre. for the last-named variety i have little admiration, excellent as many people consider them to be. if the ball is hit with absolute accuracy in the centre of the club's face every time, all is well; but it is not given to many golfers to be so marvellously certain. let the point of contact be the least degree removed from the centre of the face, where the weight is massed, and the result will usually be disquieting, for, among other things, there is in such cases a great liability for the club to turn in the hands of the player. as an alternative to the cleek the driving mashie has achieved considerable popularity. it is undoubtedly a most useful club, and is employed for the same class of work as the cleek, and, generally speaking, may take its place. the distinctive features of the driving mashie are that it has a deeper face than that of the cleek, and that this depth increases somewhat more rapidly from the heel to the toe. by reason of this extra depth it is often a somewhat heavier club, and there is rather less loft on it than there is on the average cleek. when you merely look at a driving mashie it certainly seems as if it may be the easier club to use, but long experience will prove that this is not the case. in this respect i think the driving cleek is preferable to either the spoon or the driving mashie, particularly when straightness is an essential, as it usually is when any of these clubs is being handled. it frequently happens that the driving mashie is used to very good effect for a while after it has first been purchased; but i have noticed over and over again that when once you are off your play with it--and that time must come, as with all other clubs--it takes a long time to get back to form with it again,--so long, indeed, that the task is a most painful and depressing one. five years ago i myself had my day with the driving mashie, and i played so well with it that at that time i did not even carry a cleek. i used to drive such a long ball with this instrument, that when i took it out of my bag to play with it, my brother professionals used to say, "there's harry with his driver again"; and i remember that when on one occasion andrew kirkaldy was informed that i was playing a driving mashie shot, he was indignant, and exclaimed, "mashie! nay, man, thon's no mashie. it's jest a driver." then the day came when i found to my sorrow that i was off my driving mashie, and not all the most laborious practice or the fiercest determination to recover my lost form with it was rewarded with any appreciable amount of success. after a time i got back to playing it in some sort of fashion, but i was never so good with it again as to justify me in sticking to it in preference to the cleek, so since then i have practically abandoned it. this, i am led to believe, is a fairly common experience among golfers, so the moral would seem to be, that you should make the most of your good days with the driving mashie, that at the first sign of decaying power with the club another and most thorough trial should be given to the deserted cleek, and that at this crisis that club should be persevered with in preference to the tool which has failed. the driving mashie usually demands a good lie if it is to be played with any amount of success. when, in addition to the lie being cuppy, the turf is at all soft and spongy--and these two circumstances are frequently combined--the ball very often skids off the face of the club, chiefly because of its perpendicularity, instead of rising nicely from the moment of impact as it would do when carefully played by a suitable cleek. of course if the turf is firm there is much greater chance of success with the driving mashie than if it is loose. but one finds by long experience that the cleek is the best and most reliable club for use in all these difficult circumstances. even the driving cleeks have a certain amount of loft on their faces which enables them to get nicely under the ball, so that it rises with just sufficient quickness after being struck. and there is far less skidding with the cleek. this question of skidding calls to mind another feature of iron clubs generally, and those which are designed for power and length in particular, which has not in the past received all the consideration that it deserves. i am about to speak of the decided advantage which in my opinion accrues from the use of iron clubs with ribbed faces in preference to those which are smooth and plain. some golfers of the sceptical sort have a notion that the ribs or other marking are merely ornamental, or, at the best, give some satisfaction to the fancy; but these are certainly not their limits. the counteraction to skidding by the ribbed face is undoubtedly very great, and there are certain circumstances in which i consider it to be quite invaluable. suppose the ball is lying fairly low in grass. it is clear to the player that his iron club, as it approaches it, will be called upon to force its way through some of the grass, and that as it comes into contact with the ball many green blades will inevitably be crushed between the face of the club and the ball, with the result, in the case of the plain-faced club, that further progress in the matter of the follow-through will be to some extent impeded. but when the face of the club is ribbed, at the instant of contact between ball and club the grass that comes between is cut through by the ribs, and thus there is less waste of the power of the swing. the difference may be only small; but whether it is an ounce or two or merely a few pennyweights, it is the trifle of this kind that tells. and, of course, the tendency to skid is greater than ever when the grass through the green, or where the ball has to be played from, is not so short as it ought to be, and the value of the ribbed face is correspondingly increased. [illustration: _plate xxii._ full shot with the cleek. stance] [illustration: _plate xxiii._ full shot with the cleek. top of the swing] [illustration: _plate xxiv._ full shot with the cleek. finish] [illustration: _plate xxv._ full shot with the cleek. finish] now we may examine the peculiarities of play with the cleek, the term for the remainder of this chapter being taken to include the driving mashie. it will be found that the shaft of the cleek is usually some two to four inches shorter than the driver, and this circumstance in itself is sufficient to demand a considerable modification in the stance and method of use. i now invite the reader to examine the photograph and diagram of the ordinary cleek shot (plate xxii.), and to compare it when necessary with plate vi., representing the stance for the drive. it will be found that the right foot is only - / inches from the a line as against - / when driving, and the left toe is only inches from it as compared with . from this it appears that the left foot has been brought more forward into line with the right, but it is still behind it, and it is essential that it should be so, in order that the arms may be allowed a free passage through after the stroke. the feet remain about the same distance apart, but it should be noticed that the whole body has been moved forward some four inches in relation to the ball, the distances of the right and left toes from the b line being respectively and - / inches in the case of the drive and and in that of the cleek shot. the stance in the case of all iron clubs should be studied with great care, for a half inch the wrong way seems to have a much greater power for evil than it does in the case of wooden clubs. the handle of the cleek is gripped in the same manner as the driver, but perhaps a little more tightly, for, as the club comes severely into contact with the turf, one must guard against the possibility of its turning in the hands. ground the club behind the ball exactly in the place and in the way that you intend to hit it. there is a considerable similarity between the swings with the driver and the cleek. great care must be taken when making the backward swing that the body is not lifted upwards, as there is a tendency for it to be. when pivoting on the left toe, the body should bend slightly and turn from the waist, the head being kept perfectly still. thus it comes about that the golfer's system appears to be working in three independent sections--first from the feet to the hips, next from the hips to the neck, and then the head. the result of this combination of movements is that at the top of the swing, when everything has happened as it should do, the eyes will be looking over the top of the left shoulder--just as when at the top of driving swing. the body should not be an inch higher than when the address was made, and the right leg will now be straight and stiff. when the club is held tightly, there will be practically no danger of overswinging; but, as with the drive, the pressure with the palms of the hands may be a little relaxed at the top. the backward swing must not be so rapid that control of the club is in any degree lost, and once again the player must be warned against allowing any pause at the top. in coming down the cleek should gain its speed gradually, so that at the time of impact it is travelling at its fastest pace, and then, if the toes are right and the shoulders doing their duty, the follow-through will almost certainly be performed properly. the right shoulder must be carefully watched lest it drops too much or too quickly. the club must, as it were, be in front of it all the way. if the shoulder gets in front, a sclaffed ball is almost sure to be the result, the club coming into contact with the turf much too soon. if the stroke is finished correctly, the body will then be facing the flag. so much, for the time being, for the full shot with the cleek. personally, however, i do not favour a really full shot either with the cleek or any other iron club. when the limit of capability is demanded with this or most other iron clubs in the bag, it is time to consider whether a wooden instrument should not be employed. therefore i very seldom play the full cleek shot, but limit myself to one which may be said to be slightly above the three-quarters. this is usually quite sufficient for all purposes of length, and it is easier with this limit of swing to keep the wrists and the club generally more under control. little more can be said by way of printed instruction regarding the ordinary cleek shot, which is called for when the distance to be played falls short of a full brassy, or, on the other hand, when the lie is of too cuppy a character to render the use of the brassy possible with any amount of safety. [illustration: the push shot with the cleek.] many players, however, who are young in experience, and some who are older too, seem to imagine that the simplest stroke, as just described, is the limit of the resources of the cleek, and never give it credit for the versatility which it undoubtedly possesses. there is another shot with the cleek which is more difficult than that we have just been discussing, one which it will take many weeks of arduous practice to master, but which, in my opinion, is one of the most valuable and telling shots in golf, and that is the push which is a half shot. of all the strokes that i like to play, this is my favourite. it is a half shot, but as a matter of fact almost as much length can be obtained with it as in any other way. it is a somewhat peculiar shot, and must be played very exactly. in the first place, either a shorter cleek (about two inches shorter, and preferably with a little more loft than the driving cleek possesses) should be used, or the other one must be gripped lower down the handle. a glance at plate xxvi. and the diagram in the corner will show that the stance is taken much nearer to the ball than when an ordinary cleek shot was being played, that particularly the right foot is nearer, and that the body and feet have again been moved a trifle to the left. moreover, it is recommended that in the address the hands should be held a little more forward than usual. in this half shot the club is not swung so far back, nor is the follow-through continued so far at the finish. to make a complete success of this stroke, the ball must be hit in much the same manner as when a low ball was wanted in driving against the wind. in playing an ordinary cleek shot, the turf is grazed before the ball in the usual manner; but to make this half or push shot perfectly, the sight should be directed to the centre of the ball, and the club should be brought directly on to it (exactly on the spot marked on the diagram on page ). in this way the turf should be grazed for the first time an inch or two on the far side of the ball. the diagram on this page shows the passage of the club through the ball, as it were, exactly. then not only is the ball kept low, but certain peculiarities are imparted to its flight, which are of the utmost value when a half shot with the cleek is called for. not only may the ball be depended upon never to rise above a certain height, but, having reached its highest point, it seems to come down very quickly, travelling but a few yards more, and having very little run on it when it reaches the turf again. when this shot is once mastered, it will be found that these are very valuable peculiarities, for a long approach shot can be gauged with splendid accuracy. the ball is sent forwards and upwards until it is almost overhanging the green, and then down it comes close to the pin. i admit that when the ball is hit in this way the shot is made rather difficult--though not so difficult as it looks--and, of course, it is not absolutely imperative that this method should be followed. some good players make the stroke in the same way as the full shot, so far as hitting the ball is concerned, but in doing so they certainly lose the advantages i have pointed out, and stand less chance of scoring through a finely placed ball. i may remark that personally i play not only my half cleek stroke but all my cleek strokes in this way, so much am i devoted to the qualities of flight which are thereby imparted to the ball, and though i do not insist that others should do likewise in all cases, i am certainly of opinion that they are missing something when they do not learn to play the half shot in this manner. the greatest danger they have to fear is that in their too conscious efforts to keep the club clear of the ground until after the impact, they will overdo it and simply top the ball, when, of course, there will be no flight at all. i suggest that when this stroke is being practised a close watch should be kept over the forearms and wrists, from which most of the work is wanted. the arms should be kept well in, and the wrists should be very tight and firm. it should be pointed out that there are some circumstances in which it is not safe to attempt to play this stroke. when the club comes to the ground after impact with the ball, very little turf should be taken. it is enough if the grass is shaved well down to the roots. but if the turf is soft and yielding, the club head will have an inevitable tendency to burrow, with the result that it would be next to impossible to follow-through properly with the stroke, and that the ball would skid off, generally to the right. the shot is therefore played to greatest advantage on a hard and fairly dry course. [illustration: _plate xxvi._ the push shot with the cleek. stance] [illustration: _plate xxvii._ the push shot with the cleek. top of the swing] [illustration: _plate xxviii._ the push shot with the cleek. finish] [illustration: _plate xxix._ a low ball (against wind) with the cleek. stance] [illustration: _plate xxx._ a low ball (against wind) with the cleek. top of the swing] [illustration: _plate xxxi._ a low ball (against wind) with the cleek. finish] many people are inclined to ask why, instead of playing a half shot with the cleek, the iron is not taken and a full stroke made with it, which is the way that a large proportion of good golfers would employ for reaching the green from the same distance. for some reason which i cannot explain, there seems to be an enormous number of players who prefer a full shot with any club to a half shot with another, the result being the same or practically so. why is it that they like to swing so much and waste so much power, unmindful of the fact that the shorter the swing the greater the accuracy? the principle of my own game, and that which i always impress upon others when i have an opportunity, is, "reach the hole in the easiest way you can." the easier way is generally the surer way. when, therefore, there is a choice between a full shot with one club or a half shot with another, i invariably ask the caddie for the instrument with which to make the half shot. hence, apart from the advantageous peculiarities of the stroke which i have pointed out, i should always play the half cleek shot in preference to the full iron, because, to my mind, it is easier and safer, and because there is less danger of the ball skidding off the club. in the same way i prefer a half iron shot to a full one with the mashie. if the golfer attains any proficiency with the stroke, he will probably be very much enamoured of it, and will think it well worth the trouble of carrying a club specially for the purpose, at all events on all important occasions. there is another variety of cleek shot which calls for separate mention. it is played when a low ball is wanted to cut its way through a head wind, and for the proper explanation of this useful stroke i have supplied a special series of photographs from which it may be studied to advantage. as will be seen from them, this stroke is, to all intents and purposes, a modified half or push stroke, the most essential difference being in the stance. the feet are a trifle nearer the ball and considerably more forward, my right heel as a matter of fact being only - / inches from the b line. take a half swing, hit the ball before the turf as in the case of the push, and finish with the shaft of the club almost perpendicular, the arms and wrists being held in severe subjection throughout. the ball skims ahead low down like a swallow, and by the time it begins to rise and the wind to act upon it, it has almost reached its destination, and the wind is now welcome as a brake. having thus dealt with these different cleek shots separately, i think some useful instruction may be obtained from a comparison of them, noting the points of difference as they are set forth in the photographs. an examination of the pictures will at once suggest that there is much more in the stance than had been suspected. in the case of the full cleek shot it is noticeable that the stance is opener than in any of the others, and that the body is more erect. the object of this is to allow freedom of the swing without altering the position of the body during the upward movement. i mean particularly that the head is not so likely to get out of its place as it would be if the body had been more bent while the address was being made. it ought not to be, but is the case, that when pivoting on the left foot during the progress of a long upward swing, there is a frequent inclination, as already pointed out, to raise the body, so that the position of the latter at the top of the swing is altogether wrong, and has to be corrected in the downward swing before the ball is reached. when, as often happens, this is done too suddenly, a sclaff is the result. therefore an obvious recommendation is to stand at the ball with the same amount of erectness as there will be at the top of the swing. and remember that when you pivot on the left toe, the lift that there is here should not spread along to the head and shoulders, but should be absorbed, as it were, at the waist, which should bend inwards and turn round on the hips. once the head has taken its position, it should never move again until the ball has been struck. mind that you do not fall away from the ball when the club is about to come into contact with it. i have observed a considerable tendency in that direction on the part of many young players. i have pressed several of these points home in other places, but the success of the stroke is so bound up with a proper observation of them that i think they cannot be too frequently or too strongly insisted upon. if we take one more glance at all the different cleek stroke photographs, we shall see that in each case the toes are turned well outwards. i find that unless they take this position the player has not the same freedom for turning upon them. in the case of full shots the weight is more evenly divided upon both feet than in the case of others. thus, when the stance for a half or three-quarter cleek shot is taken, the weight of the body falls more on the right leg than on the left. as you have not to swing so far back, you are able to maintain this position. you could not do so if a full stroke were being taken; hence you would not then adopt it. again, one allows the wrists and muscles less play in the case of half shots than in full ones. there is more stiffness all round. this, however, must not be taken to suggest that even in the case of the full shot there is any looseness at the wrists. if there were, it would be most in evidence just when it would be most fatal, that is to say, at the moment of impact. the wrists must always be kept severely under control. it will also be noticed from the photographs, that at the top of the swings for both the full shot and the half shot the body is in much the same position, but when the low shot against the wind is being played it is pushed a little forward. i mention these details by way of suggesting how much can be discovered from a close and attentive study of these photographs only. little things like these, when not noticed and attended to, may bother a player for many weeks; while, on the other hand, he may frequently find out from a scrutiny of the pictures and diagrams the faults which have baffled him on the links. in this connection the "how not to do it" photographs should be of particular value to the player who is in trouble with his cleek. look at the faulty stance and address in plate xxxii. at the first glance you can see that this is not a natural stance; the player is cramped and uncomfortable. the grip is altogether wrong. the hands are too far apart, and the right hand is too much under the shaft. the body would not hold its position during the swing, and in any case a correct swing would be impossible. yet this photograph does not exaggerate the bad methods of some players. in plate xxvii. we have the player in a stance which is nearly as bad as before; but it is evident that in this case the body has been lifted during the upward swing, and the left hand is rather too much on the top of the shaft. [illustration: _plate xxxii._ faulty play with the cleek _the stance in this case is very bad. the whole of the weight is on the left leg instead of being evenly divided. the hands are too far apart, and the right hand is far too much underneath the shaft. moreover the player is bending too far towards his ball. he must stand up to his work. the almost certain consequence of this attitude is a foozle._] [illustration: _plate xxxiii._ faulty play with the cleek _some very common and very fatal defects in the swing are illustrated here. it is evident that both the body and the head have been lifted as the club has been swung up, and the whole arrangement is thus thrown out of gear. both hands are in wrong positions (compare with xxiii) with the result that the toe of the club is pointing sideways instead of to the ground. result--the player is likely to strike anything except the ball._] [illustration: _plate xxxiv._ faulty play with the cleek _here at the finish of the stroke the position of the arms is exceedingly bad. they are bent and huddled up towards the body, plainly indicating that they did not go through with the ball. there was no power in this stroke, nothing to send the ball along. therefore length was impossible, and a foozle was quite likely. compare with xxiv._] [illustration: _plate xxxv._ faulty play with the cleek _the mistakes here are numerous, but less pronounced than before. the stance is not accurate, but it is not bad enough to be fatal in itself. the play is very uncomfortable with his left arm, which is in a badly cramped position. the hands are too far apart and the left wrist is too high. the result is rather doubtful. quite possibly the ball will be pulled. anyhow a good shot is out of the question._] [illustration: _plate xxxvi._ faulty play with the cleek _in the case of this finish the player has fallen away from the ball instead of going forward with it as in xxiv. it is evident that the club has been drawn across the ball. result--a slice._] evidently it will take some time to bring the cleek completely into subjection. there is, of course, no such thing as an all-round club in golf, but the nearest to it is this one, and the man who is master of it is rarely in a serious difficulty. he can even play a respectable round with a cleek alone, and there is no form of practice less wearisome, more diverting, or more eminently valuable and instructive, than that which is to be obtained on a fine afternoon by taking out the cleek and doing a round of the course with it from the tee to the hole in every case, and making use of all the different strokes that i have described in the course of this chapter. chapter x play with the iron the average player's favourite club--fine work for the iron--its points--the right and the wrong time for play with it--stance measurements--a warning concerning the address--the cause of much bad play with the iron--the swing--half shots with the iron--the regulation of power--features of erratic play--forced and checked swings--common causes of duffed strokes--swings that are worthless. when i mention that useful iron-headed club that goes by the simple name of iron, i am conscious that i bring forward a subject that is dear to the hearts of many golfers who have not yet come to play with certainty with all their instruments. for the iron is often the golfer's favourite club, and it has won this place of affection in his mind because it has been found in the course of long experience that it plays him fewer tricks than any of the others--that it is more dependable. this may be to some extent because with the average golfer such fine work is seldom required from the simple iron as is wanted from other clubs from time to time. the distance to be covered is always well within the capabilities of the club, or it would not be employed, and the average golfer of whom we speak, who has still a handicap of several strokes, is usually tolerably well satisfied if with it he places the ball anywhere on the green, from which point he will be enabled to hole out in the additional regulation two strokes. and the green is often enough a large place, so the iron is fortunate in its task. but it goes without saying that by those who have the skill for it, and sufficiently realise the possibilities of all their tools, some of the finest work in golf may be done with the iron. when it is called for the player is within easy reach of the hole. the really long work has been accomplished, and the prime consideration now is that of accuracy. therefore the man who feels himself able to play for the pin and not merely for the green, is he who is in the confidence of his iron and knows that there are great things to be done with it. the fault i have to find with the iron play of most golfers is that it comes at the wrong time. i find them lunging out with all their power at full shots with their irons when they might be far better employed in effecting one of those pretty low shots made with the cleek at the half swing. it is not in the nature of things that the full iron should be as true as the half cleek, where there is such a reserve of strength, and the body, being less in a state of strain, the mind can be more concentrated on straightness and the accurate determination of length. i suspect that this full shot is so often played and the preference for the iron is established, not merely because it nearly always does its work tolerably satisfactorily, but because in the simple matter of looks there is something inviting about the iron. it has a fair amount of loft, and it is deeper in the face than the cleek, and at a casual inspection of its points it seems an easy club to play with. on the other hand, being a little nearer to the hole, the average player deserts his iron for the mashie much sooner than i care to do. your -handicap man never gives a second thought as to the tool he shall use when he has arrived within a hundred yards of the hole. is he not then approaching in deadly earnest, and has he not grown up in golf with a definite understanding that there is one thing, and one only, with which to give the true artistic finish to the play through the green? therefore out of his bag comes the mashie, which, if it could speak, would surely protest that it is a delicate club with some fine breeding in it, and that it was never meant to do this slogging with long swings that comes properly in the departments of its iron friends. i seldom use a mashie until i am within eighty yards of the hole. up to that point i keep my iron in action. much better, i say, is a flick with the iron than a thump with the mashie. [illustration: _plate xxxvii._ full iron shot. stance] [illustration: _plate xxxviii._ full iron shot. top of the swing] [illustration: _plate xxxix._ full iron shot. finish] [illustration: _plate xl._ play with the iron for a low ball (against wind). stance] [illustration: _plate xli._ play with the iron for a low ball (against wind). top of the swing] [illustration: _plate xlii._ play with the iron for a low ball (against wind). finish] the iron that i most commonly use is nearly two inches shorter than my cleek. it follows that the stance is taken slightly nearer to the ball; but reason for moving closer to our a line is to be found in what i might describe as the more upright lie of an iron as compared with a cleek. when the lower edge of the club is laid evenly upon the level turf, the stick will usually be found to be a trifle more vertical than in the case of the cleek, and therefore for the proper preservation of the natural lie of the club the golfer must come forward to it. consequently i find that when i have taken my stance for an iron shot (plate xxxvii.), my right foot has come forward no less than - / inches from the point at which it rested when i was taking a tolerably full shot with the cleek. the left foot is - / inches nearer. thus the body has been very slightly turned in the direction of the hole, and while the feet are a trifle closer together, the ball is rather nearer to the right toe than it was when being addressed by the cleek. those are the only features of the stance, and the only one i really insist upon is the nearness to the ball. the commonest defect to be found with iron play is the failure to address the ball and play the stroke through with the sole of the club laid evenly upon the ground from toe to heel. when the man is too far from the ball, it commonly follows that the blade of the club comes down on to the turf heel first. then something that was not bargained for happens. it may be that the ball was taken by the centre of the iron's face, and that the upward and downward swings and the follow-through were all perfection, and yet it has shot away to one side or the other with very little flight in it. and perhaps for a week or two, while this is constantly happening, the man is wondering why. when, happily, the reason is at last made apparent, the man goes forward to its correction with that workmanlike thoroughness which characterises him always and everywhere, and lo! the erring ball still pursues a line which does not lead to the green. at the same time it may very likely be noticed that the slight sense of twisting which was experienced by the hands on the earlier occasion is here again. the truth is that the first fault was over-corrected, and the toe of the club, instead of the heel, has this time had the turf to itself while the ball was being removed. obviously, when either of these faults is committed, the club head is twisted, and nothing is more impossible than to get in a perfect iron shot when these things are done. i am making much ado about what may seem after all to be an elementary fault, but a long experience of the wayward golfer has made it clear to me that it is not only a common fault, which is accountable for much defective play with the iron, but that it is often unsuspected, and lurks undiscovered and doing its daily damage for weeks or even months. the sole of the iron must pass over the turf exactly parallel with it. there is nothing new to say about the swing of the iron. it is the same as the swing of the cleek. for a full iron the swing is as long as for the full cleek, and for the half iron it is as long as for the half cleek, and both are made in the same way. the arms and wrists are managed similarly, and i would only offer the special advice that the player should make sure that he finishes with his hands well up, showing that the ball has been taken easily and properly, as he may see them in the photograph (plate xxxix.), which in itself tells a very good story of comfortable and free play with the club, which is at the same time held in full command. the whole of the series of photographs of iron shots brings out very exactly the points that i desire to illustrate, and i cannot do better than refer my readers to them. when it is desired to play a half iron shot that will give a low ball for travelling against the wind, the same methods may be pursued as when playing the corresponding shot with the cleek. when one comes to play with the iron, and is within, say, yards of the hole, the regulation of the precise amount of power to be applied to the ball becomes a matter of the first importance, and one that causes unceasing anxiety. i feel, then, that it devolves upon me to convey a solemn warning to all players of moderate experience, that the distance the ball will be despatched is governed entirely by the extent of the backward swing of the club. when a few extra yards are wanted, put an additional inch or two on to the backward swing, and so on; but never, however you may satisfy yourself with excuses that you are doing a wise and proper thing, attempt to force the pace at which the club is travelling in the downward swing, or, on the other hand, attempt to check it. i believe in the club being brought down fairly quickly in the case of all iron shots; but it should be the natural speed that comes as the result of the speed and length of the upward swing, and the gain in it should be even and continuous throughout. try, therefore, always to swing back at the same rate, and to come on to the ball naturally and easily afterwards. of course, in accordance with the simple laws of gravity and applied force, the farther back you swing the faster will your club be travelling when it reaches the ball, and the harder will be the hit. therefore, if the golfer will learn by experience exactly how far back he should swing with a certain club in order to get a certain distance, and will teach himself to swing to just the right length and with always the same amount of force applied, the rest is in the hands of nature, and can be depended upon with far more certainty than anything which the wayward hands and head of the golfer can accomplish. this is a very simple and obvious truth, but it is one of the main principles of golf, and one that is far too often neglected. how frequently do you see a player take a full swing when a half shot is all that is wanted, and even when his instinct tells him that the half shot is the game. what happens? the instinct assumes the upper hand at the top of the swing, and the man with the guilty conscience deliberately puts a brake on to his club as it is coming down. he knows that he has gone too far back, and he is anxious then to reduce the speed of the club by unnatural means. but the principles of golf are not to be so lightly tampered with in this manner, and it affords the conscientious player some secret satisfaction to observe that very rarely indeed is anything of a success made of shots of this sort. a duffed stroke is the common result. in such cases the swing is of no more value than if it had not taken place at all. chapter xi approaching with the mashie the great advantage of good approach play--a fascinating club--characteristics of a good mashie--different kinds of strokes with it--no purely wrist shot--stance and grip--position of the body--no pivoting on the left toe--the limit of distance--avoid a full swing--the half iron as against the full mashie--the swing--how not to loft--on scooping the ball--taking a divot--the running-up approach--a very valuable stroke--the club to use--a tight grip with the right hand--peculiarities of the swing--the calculation of pitch and run--the application of cut and spin--a stroke that is sometimes necessary--standing for a cut--method of swinging and hitting the ball--the chip on to the green--points of the jigger. there is an old saying that golf matches are won on the putting greens, and it has often been established that this one, like many other old sayings, contains an element of truth, but is not entirely to be relied upon. in playing a hole, what is one's constant desire and anxiety from the tee shot to the last putt? it is to effect, somehow or other, that happy combination of excellent skill with a little luck as will result practically in the saving of a whole stroke, which will often mean the winning of the hole. the prospect of being able to exercise this useful economy is greatest when the mashie is taken in hand. the difference between a good drive and a poor one is not very often to be represented by anything like half a stroke. but the difference between a really good mashie approach stroke and a bad one is frequently at least a stroke, and i have known it to be more. between the brilliant and the average it is one full stroke. of course a stroke is saved and a hole very often won when a long putt is holed, but in cases of this kind the proportion of luck to skill is much too great to give perfect satisfaction to the conscientious golfer, however delightful the momentary sensation may be. when a man is playing his mashie well, he is leaving himself very little to do on the putting green, so that, if occasionally he does miss a putt, he can afford to do so, having constantly been getting so near to the flag that one putt has sufficed. when the work with the mashie is indifferent or poor, the player is frequently left with long putts to negotiate, and is in a fever of anxiety until the last stroke has been made on the green. it often happens at these times that the putting also is poor, and when this is the case a sad mess is made of the score. therefore, while i say that he is a happy and lucky man who is able constantly to save his game on the putting greens, happier by far is he who is not called upon to do so. in this way the skilled golfer generally finds the mashie the most fascinating club to play with, and there are few pleasures in the game which can equal that of laying the ball well up to the pin from a distance of many yards. one expects to get much nearer to it with this last of the irons than with the cleek or the simple iron, and the more nearly the flag is approached the greater the skill and experience of the player. here, indeed, is a field for lifelong practice, with a telling advantage accruing from each slight improvement in play. first a word as to the club, for there is scarcely an article in the golfer's kit which presents more scope for variety of taste and style. drivers and brassies vary a little, cleeks and irons differ much, but mashies are more unlike each other than any of them. so much depends upon this part of the game, and so much upon the preferences and peculiarities of the player, that it is unlikely that the first mashie in which he invests will go alone with him through his experience as a golfer. to his stock there will be added other mashies, and it is probable that only after years of experiment will he come to a final determination as to which is the best for him to use. in this question of the choice of mashie it is necessary that taste and style should be allowed to have their own way. however, to the hesitating golfer, or to him whose mashie play so far has been somewhat disappointing, i give with confidence the advice to use a mashie which is very fairly lofted and which is deep in the blade. i can see no use in the mashie with the narrow blade which, when (as so often happens when near the green) the ball is lying in grass which is not as short as it might be, often passes right under the ball--a loss of a stroke at the most critical moment, which is the most exasperating thing i know. again, for a last hint i suggest that he should see that his shaft is both stiff and strong. this instrument being used generally for lighter work than the other iron clubs, and the delicacy and exactness of it being, as a rule, the chief considerations, there is a natural tendency on the part of the golfer sometimes to favour a thinner stick than usual. but it should be borne in mind that there should be no trace of "give" in the shaft, for such would be all against the accuracy that is wanted, and a man when he is playing the short approach shot wants to feel that he has a club in his hand that can be relied upon in its every fibre. moreover, gentle as is much of its work, even the mashie at times has some very rough jobs to accomplish. so let the stick be fairly stiff. of mashie shots there is an infinite variety. in this stroke not only are the lie of the ball and the distance it has to be sent controlling factors in the way it has to be played, but now the nature and qualities of the green which is being approached constitute another, and one which occasions more thought and anxiety than any. generally all mashie shots may be separated into three groups. there is what we may call the ordinary mashie shot to begin with--meaning thereby a simple lofted stroke,--there is the running-up mashie shot, and there is the special stroke which applies extra spin and cut to the ball. there are very pronounced differences between these strokes and the ways of playing them. one is often told that "all mashies should be played with the wrist." i beg to differ. as i have said before, i contend that there is no such thing as a purely wrist shot in golf--except on the putting green. if anybody really made up his mind to play his mashie with his wrist and his wrist alone, he would find the blade of his club in uncomfortable proximity to his face at the finish of the stroke, and i should not like to hazard a guess as to where the ball might be. the fact of the matter is, that those who so often say that the mashie must be played with the wrist never attempt to play it in this way themselves. they are merely misled by the fact that for the majority of mashie strokes a shorter swing and less freedom of the arms are desirable than when other iron clubs are being employed. an attempt has been made to play a pure wrist shot in the "how not to do it" photograph, no. xlviii., and i am sure nobody ever made a success of a stroke like that. the stance for the mashie differs from that taken when an iron shot is being played, in that the feet are placed nearer to each other and nearer to the ball. comparison between the photographs and diagrams will make the extent of these differences and the peculiarities of the stance for the mashie quite clear. the right toe is advanced until it is within inches of the a line, the ball is opposite the left heel, the left foot is turned slightly more outwardly than usual. as for the grip, the only observation that it is necessary to make is, that if a very short shot is being played it is sometimes best to grasp the club low down at the bottom of the handle, but in no circumstances do i approve of the hands leaving the leather and getting on to the wood as players sometimes permit them to do. when the player is so desperately anxious to get so near to the blade with his hands, he should use a shorter club. it should also be noticed that the body is more relaxed than formerly, that there is more bend at the elbows, that the arms are not so stiff, and that there is the least suspicion, moreover, of slackness at the knees. the whole attitude is arranged for ease, delicacy of touch, and extreme accuracy, whereas formerly simple straightness and power were the governing considerations. to the eye of the uninitiated, many of these photographs may seem very much alike; but a little attentive study of those showing the stances for the iron and mashie will make the essential differences very apparent. in the address the right knee is perceptibly bent, and all the weight of the body is thrown on to it. in the backward swing the right knee stiffens and the left bends in, the left foot leaning slightly over to facilitate its doing so. there is a great tendency on the part of inexperienced or uncertain players to pivot on the left toe in the most exaggerated manner even when playing a very short mashie stroke. unless a full shot is being taken, there should not only be no pivoting with the mashie, but the left heel, throughout the stroke, should be kept either touching the ground or raised only the least distance above it. in the backward swing the right knee is stiffened and the left knee bends in towards the ball, simply in order to let the club go back properly, which it could hardly do if the original pose were retained. it is particularly requisite that, though there is so much ease elsewhere, the club in the case of these mashie shots should be held quite tightly. they are not played with the wrists alone, but with the wrists and the forearms, and a firm grip is an essential to success. [illustration: _plate xliii._ mashie approach (pitch and run). stance (_distance to yards from the hole._)] [illustration: _plate xliv._ mashie approach (pitch and run). top of the swing (_distance to yards from the hole._)] [illustration: _plate xlv._ mashie approach (pitch and run). finish (_distance to yards from hole._)] [illustration: _plate xlvi._ mistakes with the mashie _the hands are too far apart. whatever method of grip is favoured at least the right thumb should be down the shaft to guide it in the case of this delicate shot. the face of the club is turned in slightly from the toe, and the face also is too straight up and is not allowed its natural angle. the toe of the club is likely to come on to the ball first, and that will cause a pull. in any case the club cannot be guided properly, and there can be no accuracy._] [illustration: _plate xlvii._ mistakes with the mashie _here in this upward swing the body is being held too stiffly. it is not pivoting from the waist as it ought to do. besides the hands being too far apart, the left one is spoiling everything. it is out of control and is trying to get above the shaft, instead of being underneath it at this stage. the result will either be a foozle or a pulled ball. the face of the mashie will not be straight at the moment of impact._] [illustration: _plate xlviii._ mistakes with the mashie _this is merely a "wrist shot," such as is often recommended, and which i say cannot possibly give a good result. there is no mere wrist shot. the result of an attempt of this kind is always very doubtful. in any case, even when the ball is fairly hit, there can be no length from the stroke._] [illustration: _plate xlix._ running up approach with mashie or iron. finish, with stance also indicated] [illustration: _plate l._ a cut approach with the mashie. stance] [illustration: _plate li._ a cut approach with the mashie. top of the swing] [illustration: _plate lii._ a cut approach with the mashie. finish] when considering the nature of the backward swing, the question arises as to how far it should be prolonged, and i have already declared myself against making long shots with the mashie. it is my strong conviction that a man is playing the best and safest golf when he attempts nothing beyond eighty yards with his mashie, using an iron or a cleek for anything longer. it is very seldom that i play my mashie at a distance of over eighty yards, and the limit of the swing that i ever give to it is a three-quarter, which is what i call an ordinary mashie stroke, and should be sufficient to do anything ever to be attempted with this club. but some golfers like taking the fullest mashie stroke that they can, and, when hesitating between the use of an iron or the lofting club, they usually decide in favour of the latter. "i think i can reach it with my mashie," they always say, and so they whirl away and commit the most frightful abuse on a splendid club, which was never intended to have its capabilities strained in order to reach anything. instead of saying that "they think they can reach it with their mashie," these golfers should try to decide that "a half iron will not carry them too far." it is easier and safer. whenever a ball has a distance to go, i believe in keeping it fairly low down, as low as the hazards will permit, believing that in this way by constant practice it is possible to ensure much greater accuracy than in any other way. no golfer has much control over a ball that is sent up towards the sky. the mashie is meant to loft, and it is practically impossible to play a long shot with it without lofting the ball very much and exposing it to all the wind that there is about. as very little driving power has been imparted to the ball, what wind there may be has considerably more effect upon it than upon the flight of other balls played with other iron clubs. the line of the backward swing should be much the same as that for the half shot with the cleek, but the body should be held a little more rigidly, and not be allowed to pivot quite so much from the waist as when playing with any of the other clubs which have been described. the downward swing is the same as before, and in the case of the ordinary stroke which we are speaking of, the turf should be hit immediately behind the ball. as soon as the impact has been effected, the body should be allowed to go forward with the club, care being taken that it does not start too soon and is in front. the great anxiety of the immature player when making this stroke is to get the ball properly lofted, and in some obstinate cases it seems to take several seasons of experience to convince him completely that the club has been specially made for the purpose, and, if fairly used, is quite adequate. this man cannot get rid of the idea that the player lofts the ball, or at least gives material assistance to the club in doing it. what happens? observe this gentleman when he and his ball are on the wrong side of a hazard which is guarding the green, and notice the very deliberate way in which he goes about doing the one thing that he has been told hundreds of times by the most experienced players can only be attended by the most disastrous and costly failure. he has made up his mind that he will scoop the ball over the bunker. he will not trust to his club to do this important piece of business. so down goes the right shoulder and into the bunker goes the ball, and one more good hole has been lost. he doesn't know how it happened; he thinks the mashie must be the most difficult club in the world to play with, and he complains of his terrible luck; but by the time the approach shot to the next hole comes to be played he is at it again. there is nobody so persistent as the scooper, and the failure that attends his efforts is a fair revenge by the club for the slight that is cast upon its capabilities, for the chances are that if the stroke had been played in just the ordinary manner without any thought whatever of the bunker, and if the ground had been hit just a trifle behind the ball, the latter would have been dropped easily and comfortably upon the green. some golfers also seem to imagine that they have done all that they could reasonably be expected to do when they have taken a divot, and even if the shot has proved a failure they derive some comfort from the divot they have taken, the said divot usually being a huge slab of turf, the removal of which makes a gaping wound in the links. but there is nothing to be proud of in this achievement, for it does not by any means imply that the stroke has been properly made. to hit the ball correctly when making an approach with the mashie, it is necessary to take a little--just a very little--turf. this is so, because the ball will not fly and rise properly as the club desires to make it do, unless it is taken in the exact middle of the club, which has a deeper face than others. i mean middle, not only as regards the distance from heel to toe, but between the top edge of the blade and the sole. a moment's consideration will make it clear that if the stroke were to be made quite cleanly, that is to say, if the club merely grazed the ground without going into it, the ball would inevitably be taken by the lower part of the blade near to the sole and much below the centre where the impact ought to be. therefore it is apparent that, in order to take it from the centre, the blade must be forced underneath, and if the swing is made in the manner directed and the turf is taken just the least distance behind the ball--which, of course, means keeping the eye just so much more to the right than usual--all that is necessary will be easily accomplished. apart from the loft, i think a little more accuracy is ensured by the removal of that inch or two of turf. now there is that most valuable stroke, the running-up approach, to consider. when skilfully performed, it is often most wonderfully and delightfully effective. it is used chiefly for short approaches when the ground outside the putting green is fairly good and there is either no hazard at all to be surmounted, or one that is so very low or sunken as not to cause any serious inconvenience. when the running-up shot is played in these circumstances by the man who knows how to play it, he can generally depend on getting much nearer to the hole than if he were obliged to play with a pitch alone. it is properly classified as a mashie shot, but there are golfers who do it with an iron. others like a straight-faced mashie for the purpose; and a third section have a preference for the ordinary mashie, and play for a pitch and run. these are details of fancy in which i cannot properly interfere. the stance for the stroke differs from that for an ordinary mashie shot in that the feet and body are further in front, the right toe, for instance, being fully six inches nearer to the b line (see plate xlix.). the club may be gripped lower down the handle. moreover, it should be held forward, slightly in front of the head. the swing back should be very straight, and should not be carried nearly so far as in playing an ordinary mashie stroke, for in this case the ball requires very little propulsion. this is one of the few shots in golf in which the right hand is called upon to do most of the work, and that it may be encouraged to do so the hold with the left hand should be slightly relaxed. with the right hand then fastening tightly to the handle, it comes about that the toe of the club at the time of the impact is slightly in front of the heel, and this combination of causes tends to give the necessary run to the ball when it takes the ground. the work of the right hand in the case of this stroke is delicate and exact, and it must be very carefully timed, for if it is done too suddenly or too soon the result is likely to be a foundered ball. the club having been taken so straight out in the backward swing, the natural tendency will be to draw it very slightly across the ball when contact is made, and the blade, then progressing towards the left foot, should to finish be taken a few inches further round towards the back than in the case of an ordinary mashie shot. one cannot very well compare the two in words, however, for the finishes are altogether different, as an examination of the illustration of the finish of the running-up stroke will show. in this case the swing stops when the shaft of the club is pointing a little to the left of the direction of the ball that is speeding onwards, the blade being on a level with the hands. it will be observed that at the finish the right hand is well over on the handle. this is the kind of stroke that the practised and skilful golfer loves most, for few others afford him such a test of calculation and judgment. it will not do to make the stroke haphazard. before the blade of the club is moved for the upward swing, a very clear understanding should have been formed as to the amount of pitch that is to be given to the ball and the amount of run. they must be in exactly the proper proportion to suit the circumstances, which will vary almost every time the stroke is made. nearly everything depends on the state of the land that is to be traversed. the fact of the matter is, that this shot is really a combination of lofting and putting with many more uncertain quantities to be dealt with than when one is really putting on the green. when one has decided where the pitch must be, the utmost pains should be taken to pitch there exactly, which, as the distance will usually be trifling, ought not to be a difficult matter. an error of even a foot in a shot of this kind is sometimes a serious matter. when properly done it is an exceedingly pretty shot, and one which brings great peace to the soul of the man who has done it. and now we come to that exquisite stroke, the approach, to which much cut and spin have been applied for a specific purpose. it is a shot which should only be played when circumstances render it absolutely necessary. there are times when it is the only one which will afford the golfer a good chance of coming well through a trying ordeal. when we play it we want the ball to stop dead almost as soon as it reaches the turf at the end of the pitch. if there is a tolerably high bunker guarding the green, and the flag is most awkwardly situated just at the other side, it is the only shot that can be played. a stroke that would loft the ball over the bunker in the ordinary manner would carry it far beyond the hole--too far to make the subsequent putting anything but a most difficult matter. or, on the other hand, leaving out of the question the hole which is hiding just on the other side of the hazard protecting the green, it often happens in the summer-time, when greens are hard and fiery, that it is absolutely impossible to make a ball which has been pitched on to them in the ordinary manner stay there. away it goes bouncing far off on to the other side, and another approach shot has to be played, often by reason of a hazard having been found, more difficult than the first. if there must be a pitch, then the thing to do is to try to apply a brake to the ball when it comes down, and we can only do this by cutting it. there are greens which at most seasons of the year demand that the ball reaching them shall be cut for a dead drop, such as the green laid at a steep angle when the golfer has to approach it from the elevated side. a little cut is a comparatively easy thing to accomplish, but when the brake is really wanted it is usually a most pronounced cut, that will bring the ball up dead or nearly so, that is called for, and this is a most difficult stroke. i regard the ordinary mashie as the best club with which to make it, but there are some good golfers who like the niblick for this task, and it is undoubtedly productive of good results. however, i will suppose that it is to be attempted with the mashie. the stance is quite different from that which was adopted when the running-up shot was being played. now the man comes more behind the ball, and the right foot goes forward until the toe is within inches of the a line, while the instep of the left foot is right across b. the feet also are rather closer together. an examination of plate l. will give an exact idea of the peculiarities of the stance for this stroke. grip the club very low down on the handle, but see that the right hand does not get off the leather. this time, in the upward swing let the blade of the mashie go well outside the natural line for an ordinary swing, that is to say, as far away from the body in the direction of the a line as is felt to be comfortable and convenient. while this is being done, the left elbow should be held more stiffly and kept more severely under control than the right. at the top of the swing--which, as will be seen from the picture of it (plate li.), is only a short half swing, and considerably shorter than that for an ordinary mashie shot--neither arm is at full length, the right being well bent and the left slightly. when this upward swing has been made correctly, the blade of the mashie naturally comes across the ball at the time of impact, and in this way a certain amount of cut is applied. but this is not the limit of the possibilities of cutting, as many golfers seem to imagine, nor is it sufficient to meet some of the extreme cases which occasionally present themselves. to do our utmost in this direction we must decide that extremely little turf must be taken, for it is obvious that unless the bare blade gets to work on the ball it cannot do all that it is capable of doing. the metal must go right underneath the ball, just skimming the grass in the process, and scarcely removing any of the turf. it is also most important that at the instant when ball and club come into contact the blade should be drawn quickly towards the left foot. to do this properly requires not only much dexterity but most accurate timing, and first attempts are likely to be very clumsy and disappointing. but many of the difficulties will disappear with practice, and when at last some kind of proficiency has been obtained, it will be found that the ball answers in the most obedient manner to the call that is made upon it. it will come down so dead upon the green that it may be pitched up into the air until it is almost directly over the spot at which it is desired to place it. in playing this stroke a great deal depends on the mastery which the golfer obtains over his forearms and wrists. at the moment of impact the arms should be nearly full length and stiff, and the wrists as stiff as it is possible to make them. i said that the drawing of the blade towards the left foot would have to be done quickly, because obviously there is very little time to lose; but it must be done smoothly and evenly, without a jerk, which would upset the whole swing, and if it is begun the smallest fraction of a second too soon the ball will be taken by the toe of the club, and the consequences will not be satisfactory. i have returned to make this the last word about the cut because it is the essence of the stroke, and it calls for what a young player may well regard as an almost hopeless nicety of perfection. there is another little approach shot which is usually called the chip on to the green, but which is really nothing but the pitch and run on a very small scale. it is used when the ball has only just failed to reach the green, or has gone beyond it, and is lying in the rougher grass only a very few yards from the edge of it. it often happens in cases of this sort that the putter may be ventured upon, but when that is too risky a little pitch is given to the ball and it is allowed to run the last three or four yards to the hole. an ordinary iron will often be found the most useful club for the purpose. latterly a new kind of club has become fashionable in some quarters for approaching. they call it the jigger, and, having a longer blade than the ordinary mashie, its users argue that it is easier to play with. that may be true to a certain extent when the ball is lying nicely, but we are not always favoured with this good fortune, and i have no hesitation in saying that for inferior or cuppy lies the jigger is a very ineffectual instrument. the long head cannot get into the cups, and the accuracy that is always called for in approaching is made impossible. if a jigger must be carried in the bag, it should be merely as an auxiliary to the ordinary mashie. such are the shots with the mashie, and glad is the man who has mastered all of them, for he is then a golfer of great pretensions, who is to be feared by any opponent at any time or place. chapter xii on being bunkered the philosopher in a bunker--on making certain of getting out--the folly of trying for length--when to play back--the qualities of the niblick--stance and swing--how much sand to take--the time to press--no follow-through in a bunker--desperate cases--the brassy in a bunker--difficulties through prohibited grounding--play straight when length is imperative--cutting with the niblick. this is a hateful subject, but one which demands the most careful and unprejudiced consideration, for are not even the best of us bunkered almost daily? there is nothing like the bunkers on a golf links for separating the philosophic from the unphilosophic among a golfing crowd, and when a representative of each section is in a bunker at the same time it is heavy odds on the philosopher winning the hole. there are two respects in which he differs from his opponent at this crisis in his golfing affairs. he does not become flurried, excited, and despondent, and give the hole up for lost with a feeling of disgust that he had committed the most unpardonable sin. he remembers that there are still various strokes to be played before the hole is reached, and that it is quite possible that in the meantime his friend may somewhere lose one and enable him to get on level terms again. when two players with plus handicaps are engaged in a match, a bunkered ball will generally mean a lost hole, but others who have not climbed to this pinnacle of excellence are far too pessimistic if they assume that this rule operates in their case also. the second matter in which the philosophic golfer rises superior to his less favoured brother when there is a bunker stroke to be played, is that he fully realises that the bunker was placed there for the particular purpose of catching certain defective shots, and that the definite idea of its constructors was that the man who played such a shot should lose a stroke as penalty for doing so--every time. it is legitimate for us occasionally to put it to ourselves that those constructors did not know the long limits of our resource nor the craftiness we are able to display when in a very tight corner, and that therefore, if we find a favourable opportunity, we may cheat the bunker out of the stroke that it threatens to take from us. but this does not happen often. when the golfer has brought himself to realise that, having played into a bunker, he has lost a stroke or the best part of one, and accepts the position without any further ado, he has gone a long way in the cultivation of the most desirable properties of mind and temperament with which any player of the game can be endowed. this man, recognising that his stroke is lost, when he goes up to his ball and studies the many difficulties of its situation, plays for the mere purpose of getting out again, and probably putting himself on the other side in that one stroke which was lost. it does not matter to him if he only gets two yards beyond the bunker--just far enough to enable him to take his stance and swing properly for the next shot. distance is positively no object whatever, and in this way he insures himself against further loss, and goes the right way to make up for his misfortune. now, what does the other man do in like circumstances? unreasonably and foolishly he refuses to accept the inevitable, and declines to give up the idea of getting to a point a hundred yards or more in front with his next shot, which he would have reached if he had not been in the bunker. he seems to think that the men who made the bunkers did not know their business. having been bunkered, he says to himself that it is his duty to himself and to the game to make up for the stroke which was lost by supremely brilliant recovery under the most disheartening circumstances. he insists that the recovery must be made here in the bunker, and thereafter he will progress as usual. it never occurs to him that it would be wiser and safer to content himself with just getting out the hazard, and then, playing under comparatively easy and comfortable conditions, to make his grand attempt at recovering the lost stroke. he would be much more likely to succeed. a stroke lost or gained is of equal value at any point on the route from the tee to the hole, and it is a simple fact, too often never realised, that a long putt makes up for a short drive, and a mashie shot laid dead for a previous stroke from which the ball was trapped in the bunker. but the unphilosophic gentleman, who is ignorant of, or tries to resist, these truths, feels that his bunkered stroke must be compensated for by the next one or never. what is the result? recklessly, unscientifically, even ludicrously, he fires away at the ball in the bunker with a cleek or an iron or a mashie, striving his utmost to get length, when, with the frowning cliff of the bunker high in front of him and possibly even overhanging him, no length is possible. at the first attempt he fails to get out. his second stroke in the hazard shares the same fate. with a third or a fourth his ball by some extraordinary and lucky chance may just creep over the top of the ridge. how it came to do so when played in this manner nobody knows. the fact can only be explained by the argument that if you keep on doing the same thing something is sure to happen in the end, and it is a sufficient warning to these bunkered golfers that the gods of golf have so large a sense of justice and of right and wrong that by this time the hole has for a certainty been lost. the slashing player who wants to drive his long ball out of the bunker very rarely indeed gets even this little creep over the crest until he has played two or three more, and is in a desperate state of lost temper. an alternative result to his efforts comes about when he has played these three or four more, and his ball is, if anything, more hopelessly bunkered than ever. all sense of what is due to the game and to his own dignity is then suddenly lost, and a strange sight is often seen. five, six, and seven more follow in quick succession, the man's arms working like the piston of a locomotive, and his eyes by this time being quite blinded to the ball, the sand, the bunker, and everything else. as an interesting feature of what we might call golfing physiology, i seriously suggest that players of these habits and temperament, when they begin to work like a steam-engine in the bunker, do not see the ball at all for the last few strokes. the next time they indulge in their peculiar performance, let them ask themselves immediately afterwards whether they did see it or not, and in the majority of cases they will have to answer in the negative. when it is over, a few impious words are uttered, the ball is picked up, and there is a slow and gloomy march to the next tee, from which it is unlikely that a good drive will be made. the nervous system of the misguided golfer has been so completely upset by the recent occurrences, that he may not recover his equanimity until several more strokes have been played, or perhaps until the round is over and the distressing incidents have at last passed from his mind. this has been a long story about a thing that happens on most links every day, but the moral of it could hardly have been emphasised properly or adequately if it had been told in fewer words, or if the naked truth had been wrapped up in any more agreeable terms. the moral obviously is, that the golfer on being bunkered must concentrate his whole mind, capabilities, and energies on getting out in one stroke, and must resolutely refrain from attempting length at the same time, for, in nine cases out of ten, length is impossible. there are indeed occasions when so light a sentence has been passed by the bunker on the erring ball that a long shot is practicable, but they are very rare, and come in an entirely different category from the average bunkered ball, and we will consider them in due course. on the other hand, there are times when it is manifestly impossible even to get to the other side of the bunker in a single stroke, as when the ball is tucked up at the foot of a steep and perhaps overhanging cliff. still the man must keep before himself the fact that his main object is to get out in the fewest strokes possible, and in a case of this sort he may be wise to play back, particularly if it is a medal round that he is engaged upon. if he plays back he is still in the running for his prize if his golf has been satisfactory up to this point, for an addition of two strokes to his score through such an accident, though a serious handicap, is seldom a hopeless one. if he does not play back his chance of victory may disappear entirely at this bunker. his instinct tells him that it probably will do so. which then is the wiser and better course to take? now, then, let us consider the ways and means of getting out of bunkers, and take in our hands the most unpopular club that our bags contain. we never look upon the niblick with any of that lingering affection which is constantly bestowed on all the other instruments that we possess, as we reflect upon the splendid deeds that they have performed for us on many memorable occasions. the niblick revives only unpleasant memories, but less than justice is done to this unfortunate club, for, given fair treatment, it will accomplish most excellent and remunerative work in rescuing its owner from the predicaments in which his carelessness or bad luck in handling the others has placed him. there is little variety in niblicks, and therefore no necessity to discourse upon their points, for no professional is ever likely to stock a niblick for sale that is unequal to the performance of its peculiar duties. it has rougher and heavier work to do than any other club, and more brute force is requisitioned in employing it than at any other time. therefore the shaft should be as strong as it is possible for it to be, and it should be so stiff that it will not bend under the most severe pressure. the head should be rather small and round, with plenty of loft upon it, and very heavy. a light niblick is useless. [illustration: _plate liii._ the niblick in a bunker. top of an ordinary stroke when it is intended to take much sand] [illustration: _plate liv._ "well out!" finish of an ordinary stroke in a bunker when much sand is taken. the ball may be seen rising above the bunker] [illustration: _plate lv._ another bunker stroke. top of the swing when intending to take the ball cleanly and with a little cut] [illustration: _plate lvi._ finish after taking the ball cleanly from a bunker] it is difficult to advise as to the stance that should be taken for a niblick shot in a bunker, inasmuch as it so frequently happens that this is governed by circumstances which are quite beyond the golfer's control. he must learn to adapt himself in the best possible manner to the conditions in which he finds himself, and it will often happen that he is cramped for space, he may be unable to get a proper or comfortable place for one or both of his feet, or he may be obliged to stand with one foot--generally the left one--considerably above the other. but when there are none of these difficulties besetting him, it may be said that generally the stance most suited to a stroke with the niblick is similar to that which would be taken for a long shot with an iron, except perhaps that the player should stand a little nearer to the ball, so that he may be well over it while making his swing. the most important respect in which the swing differs from that of the iron is that the club is brought up much straighter. by this i mean that the head of the club should not be allowed to come round quite so much, but throughout its course should be kept as nearly as possible overhanging what we have been calling the a line. the swing, indeed, is much more of what i call an upright character than that of any other stroke in the game, and at the top of it, the blade having passed over the right shoulder and the golfer's head, the shaft should be nearly horizontal and right over the back of the head, an example of which may be seen in plate liii., where i have a fairly good lie, but am rather badly bunkered for all that, being only a couple of feet from the base of a high and tolerably steep bank. if there is such a thing as an average bunker shot, this is the one, and i am now describing the method of dealing with cases of this and similar character. there must be no thought of hitting the ball cleanly with the club in a case of this kind, or in any other than the most exceptional situations or emergencies when bunkered. the club must hit the sand, and the sand must move the ball, but the iron blade of the niblick must hardly ever come into contact with the ball. to prevent its doing so, and to ensure the blade getting underneath sufficiently to lift the ball up at the very sharp angle that is necessary if it is to surmount the obstruction in front of it, the sand should be struck at a point fully two inches behind the ball. if the sand is exceedingly light and dry, so that it offers very little resistance to the passage of the club, this distance may be slightly increased, or it may be diminished if the lie in the bunker is very heavy, consisting of gravel or clay. it is on this point, so far behind the ball, that the eye must, of course, be sternly and rigidly fixed, and it is a duty which the beginner frequently finds most difficult to fulfil. in the downward swing the club should be brought on to the spot indicated with all the speed and force of which the golfer is capable. at other times he may have had a yearning to press, which he has with difficulty stifled. he may make up for all these ungratified desires by pressing now with all the strength in his body, and the harder the better so long as he keeps his eye steadily fixed on that point behind the ball and is sure that his muscular efforts will not interfere with his accuracy. after all, the latter need not be quite so fine in this case as in the many others that we have already discussed, for an eighth of an inch one way or the other does not much matter in the case of a niblick shot where there are two inches of sand to plough through. swing harder than ever on to the sand, with the knowledge that the swing will end there, for a follow-through is not desired and would in many cases be impossible. when the heavy blade goes crash into the sand and blows it, and the ball with it, up into the air as if the electric touch had been given to an explosive mine, the club has finished its work, and when the golfer is at rest again and is surveying the results of his labours--with his eyes, let us hope, directed to the further side of the hazard--the blade will still remain in the cavity that it has made in the floor of the bunker. if any attempt were made to follow through, it is highly probable that sufficient sand would not be taken to make the ball rise up soon enough. however, the more one reflects upon bunkers and niblicks, the more does one feel that the circumstances must govern the method of playing each of these strokes, and there is no finer field for the display of the golfer's judgment and resource than this. the next best accomplishment to the negative one of avoiding bunkers is that of getting out again with the least waste of strokes and distance; and, indeed, i should say that the man who is somewhat addicted to being bunkered but invariably makes a good recovery, is at least on level terms with another who is in trouble not quite so frequently but who suffers terribly when he is. the golden rule--i say it once again--is to make certain of getting out; but now that i have sufficiently emphasised this point, i am ready to consider those few occasions when it appears a little weak and unsatisfactory. certainly there are times, as we all know, when the enemy, having had matters his own way at a hole, it will not be of the slightest use merely to scramble out of a bunker in one stroke. the case is so desperate that a stroke that will carry the ball for perhaps or yards is called for. such a necessity does not affect my rule as to making certain of getting out, for in practical golf one cannot take any serious account of emergencies of this kind. but there are times when every player must either attempt the shot that most frequently baffles his superiors, or forthwith give up the hole, and it is not in human nature to cave in while the faintest spark of hope remains. in thus attempting the impossible, or the only dimly possible, we are sometimes led even to take the brassy in a bunker. in a case of this sort, of course, everything depends on the lie of the ball and its distance from the face of the bunker. when it is a shallow pot bunker, the shot is often practicable, and sometimes when one is bunkered on a seaside course the hazard is so wide that there is time for the ball to rise sufficiently to clear the obstruction. but the average bunker on an inland course, say four feet high with only six feet of sand before it, presents few such loopholes for escape. the difficulty of playing a shot from a bunker when any club other than the niblick, such as the brassy, is chosen with the object of obtaining length by hitting the ball clean, is obviously increased by the rule which prohibits the grounding of the club in addressing. to be on the safe side, the sole of the club is often kept fully an inch and a half above the sand when the address is being made, and this inch and a half has to be corrected down to an eighth in the forward swing, for of all shots that must be taken accurately this one so full of difficulty must be. in making his correction the man is very likely to overdo it and strike the sand before the ball, causing a sclaff, or, on the other hand, not to correct sufficiently when the only possible result would be a topped ball and probably a hopeless position in the hazard. it is indeed a rashly speculative shot, and one of the most difficult imaginable. it comes off sometimes, but it is a pure matter of chance when it does, and the lucky player is hardly entitled to that award of merit which he may fancy he deserves. when the situation of the bunkered ball is unusually hopeful, and there does really seem to be a very fair prospect of making a good long shot, i think it generally pays best to play straight at the hazard, putting just a little cut on the ball to help it to rise, and employing any club that suggests itself for the purpose. i think, in such circumstances, that it pays best to go straight for the hazard, because, if length is urgently demanded, what is the use of playing at an angle? again, though there is undoubtedly an advantage gained by taking a bunker crossways, and thus giving the ball more time to rise, the advantage is often greatly exaggerated in the golfer's mind. when a ball is bunkered right on the edge of the green, it is sometimes best to try to pick it up not quite but almost cleanly with the niblick or mashie, in the hope that one more stroke afterwards will be sufficient either to win or halve the hole, whereas an ordinary shot with the niblick would not be likely to succeed so well. if, after due contemplation of all the heavy risks, it is decided to make such an attempt, the stroke should be played very much after the fashion of the mashie approach with cut. i need hardly say that such a shot is one of the most difficult the golfer will ever have occasion to attempt. the ordinary cut mashie stroke is hard to accomplish, but the cut niblick is harder still. i have already given directions for the playing of such shots, and the rest must be left to the golfer's daring and his judgment. chapter xiii simple putting a game within another game--putting is not to be taught--the advantage of experience--vexation of missing short putts--some anecdotes--individuality in putting--the golfer's natural system--how to find it--and when found make a note of it--the quality of instinct--all sorts of putters--how i once putted for a championship--the part that the right hand plays--the manner of hitting the ball--on always being up and "giving the hole a chance"--easier to putt back after overrunning than when short--the trouble of tom morris. putting in golf is a game within another game. while i am not prepared to endorse the opinion that is commonly expressed, that a golfer is born and not made, i am convinced that no amount of teaching will make a golfer hole out long putts with any frequency, nor will it even make him at all certain of getting the short ones down. but it will certainly put him in the right way of hitting the ball, which after all will be a considerable gain. experience counts for very much, and it will convert a man who was originally a bad putter into one who will generally hold his own on the greens, or even be superior to the majority of his fellows. even experience, however, counts for less in putting than in any other department of the game, and there are many days in every player's life when he realises only too sadly that it seems to count for nothing at all. do we not from time to time see beginners who have been on the links but a single month, or even less than that, laying their long putts as dead as anybody could wish almost every time, and getting an amazing percentage of them into the tin itself? often enough they seem to do these things simply because, as we should say, they know nothing at all about putting, which is perhaps another way of saying that their minds are never embarrassed by an oppressive knowledge of all the difficulties which the ball will meet with in its passage from the club to the hole, and of the necessity of taking steps to counteract them all. they are not afraid of the hole. the fact is that putting is to a far greater extent than most of us suspect purely a matter of confidence. when a man feels that he can putt he putts, and when he has a doubt about it he almost invariably makes a poor show upon the greens. do i not know to my cost what it is to feel that i cannot putt, and on those occasions to miss the most absurdly little ones that ever wait to be popped into the hole without a moment's thought or hesitation? it is surely the strangest of the many strange things in golf, that the old player, hero of many senior medal days, victor in matches over a hundred links, will at times, when the fortunes of an important game depend upon his action, miss a little putt that his ten-year-old daughter would get down nine times out of ten. she, dear little thing, does not yet know the terrors of the short putt. sometimes it is the most nerve-breaking thing to be found on the hundred acres of a golf course. the heart that does not quail when a yawning bunker lies far ahead of the tee just at the distance of a good drive, beats in trouble when there are but thirty inches of smooth even turf to be run over before the play of the hole is ended. i am reminded of a story of andrew kirkaldy, who in his young days once carried for a young student of divinity who was most painfully nervous on the putting greens, and repeatedly lost holes in consequence. when andrew could stand this reckless waste of opportunities no longer, he exclaimed to his employer, "man, this is awfu' wark. ye're dreivin' like a roarin' lion and puttin' like a puir kittlin'." but the men whose occupations are of the philosophical and peaceful kind are not the only ones who may be fairly likened to andrew's "puir kittlin'" when there are short putts to be holed. is there not the famous case of the anglo-indian sportsman, one of the mightiest of hunters, who feared nothing like the hole when it lay so near to him that his tears of agony might almost have fallen into it? it was this man who declared, "i have encountered all the manifold perils of the jungle, i have tracked the huge elephant to his destruction, and i have stood eye to eye with the man-eating tiger. and never once have i trembled until i came to a short putt." yet with such facts as these before us, some people still wonder wherein lies the fascination of golf. how often does it happen that an inch on the putting green is worth more than a hundred yards in the drive, and that the best of players are confounded by this circumstance? it is very nearly true, as willie park has so often said, that the man who can putt need fear nobody. certainly a player can never be really great until he is nearly always certain to hole out in two putts on the green, and to get down a few in one. the approach stroke has been well played when the ball comes to rest within four or five feet of the pin, but what is the use of that unless the ball is to be putted out more often than not in one more stroke? for the proper playing of the other strokes in golf, i have told my readers to the best of my ability how they should stand and where they should put their feet. but except for the playing of particular strokes, which come within the category of those called "fancy," i have no similar instruction to offer in the matter of putting. there is no rule, and there is no best way. sometimes you see a player bend down and hold the putter right out in front of him with both wrists behind the shaft. this is an eccentricity, but if the player in question believes that he can putt better in this way than in any other, he is quite justified in adopting it, and i would be the last to tell him that he is wrong. the fact is that there is more individuality in putting than in any other department of golf, and it is absolutely imperative that this individuality should be allowed to have its way. i believe seriously that every man has had a particular kind of putting method awarded to him by nature, and when he putts exactly in this way he will do well, and when he departs from his natural system he will miss the long ones and the short ones too. first of all, he has to find out this particular method which nature has assigned for his use. there ought not to be much difficulty about this, for it will come unconsciously to his aid when he is not thinking of anybody's advice or of anything that he has ever read in any book on golf. that day the hole will seem as big as the mouth of a coal mine, and putting the easiest thing in the world. when he stands to his ball and makes his little swing, he feels as easy and comfortable and confident as any man can ever do. yet it is probable that, so far as he knows, he is not doing anything special. it may happen that the very next day, when he thinks he is standing and holding his club and hitting the ball in exactly the same way, he nevertheless feels distinctly uncomfortable and full of nervous hesitation as he makes his stroke, and then the long putts are all either too short, or too long, or wide, and the little ones are missed. i don't think that the liver or a passing variation in temperament is altogether the cause of this. i believe it is because the man has departed even by a trifle from his own natural stance. a change of the position of the feet by even a couple of inches one way or the other may alter the stance altogether, and knock the player clean off his putting. in this new position he will wriggle about and feel uncomfortable. everything is wrong. his coat is in the way, his pockets seem too full of old balls, the feel of his stockings on his legs irritates him, and he is conscious that there is a nail coming up on the inside of the sole of his boot. it is all because he is just that inch or two removed from the stance which nature allotted to him for putting purposes, but he does not know that, and consequently everything in the world except the true cause is blamed for the extraordinary things he does. a fair sample of many others was the clergyman who, having missed a short putt when playing in a match over a glasgow links, espied in the distance on an eminence fully a quarter of a mile away from the green, an innocent tourist, who was apparently doing nothing more injurious to golf than serenely admiring the view. but the clerical golfer, being a man of quick temper, poured forth a torrent of abuse, exclaiming, "how could i hole the ball with that blockhead over there working his umbrella as if it were the pendulum of an eight-day clock!" when this is the kind of thing that is happening, i advise the golfer to try variations in his stance for putting, effecting the least possible amount of change at a time. there is a chance that at last he will drop into his natural stance, or something very near it, and even if he does not there is some likelihood that he will gain a trifle in confidence by the change, and that will count for much. and anyhow there is ample justification for any amount of manoeuvring of the body and the feet when one is off one's putting, for at the best, to make use of something like an irishism, the state of things is then hopelessly bad, and every future tendency must be in the way of improvement. there is one other suggestion to make to those golfers who believe what i say about the natural stance, and by this time it will have become more or less obvious to them. it is that when they are fairly on their putting, and are apparently doing all that nature intended them to do, and are feeling contented in body and mind accordingly, they should take a sly but very careful look at their feet and body and everything else just after they have made a successful long putt, having felt certain all the time that they would make it. this examination ought not to be premeditated, because that would probably spoil the whole thing; and it usually happens that when one of these long ones has been successfully negotiated, the golfer is too much carried away by his emotions of delight to bring himself immediately to a sober and acute analysis of how it was done. but sometime he may remember to look into the matter, and then he should note the position of everything down to the smallest detail and the fraction of an inch, and make a most careful note of them for future reference. it will be invaluable. so, as i hold that putting is a matter of nature and instinct, i make an exception this time to my rule in the matter of illustrations, and offer to my readers no diagram with stance measurements. from the two photographs of myself putting in what i had every reason to believe at the time was my own perfectly natural stance, they may take any hints that they may discover. [illustration: _plate lvii._ putting] [illustration: _plate lviii._ putting] in the matter of putters, of which there is an infinite variety and a new one invented almost every month, i believe in a man playing with just that kind that he has most confidence in and which he fancies suits him best. whether it is a plain gun-metal instrument, a crooked-necked affair, a putting cleek, an ordinary aluminium, a wooden putter, or the latest american invention, it is all the same; and if it suits the man who uses it, then it is the best putter in the world for him, and the one with which he will hole out most frequently. in no other sense is there such a thing as a best putter. the only semblance of a suggestion that i will presume to offer in this connection is, that for very long putts there is something to be said in favour of the wooden and aluminium putters, which seem to require less exertion than others, and to enable the player to regulate the strength of the stroke more exactly. for the shorter ones, i like the putting cleek best. but even these are matters of fancy, and what a great deal even the vaguest, most unreasoning belief in a putter has to do with the success with which it is manipulated i have as good a reason as anyone to understand, since i owe my first championship largely to the help of a putter which i had never used before, and which was really not a putter at all, but, as i have explained elsewhere, simply a little cleek which i picked up accidentally in a professional's shop on the eve of the struggle, and in which i had a new shaft fixed to my own liking. on that occasion i putted with this instrument as the winner of a championship ought to putt, but i have never been able to do any good with it since, and in these days it is resting idly in my shop, useless but quite unpurchasable for any money. i do believe that it is a good thing to be the possessor of two putters, with both of which you have at one time or another done well, and in which you have unlimited confidence. don't carry them both in the bag at the same time, but keep one safe in the locker, and when the day comes, as it surely will, when you are off your putting, take it out on to the links for the next round and see what you can do with it. your weakness on the green may no more have been the fault of the other putter than the tourist was the cause of the clergyman missing the little one at glasgow, but very much will be gained if you can persuade yourself that it was. it is to a certain extent possible to be definite in remarking upon the grip. some good golfers clasp their putters tightly with both hands; others keep the left hand loose and the right hand firm; and a third selection do the reverse, each method being justified on its day. but in this part of the game it is quite clear that the right hand has more work to do than the left. it is the right hand that makes the stroke, and therefore i consider that it should be allowed plenty of play, and that the left wrist should be held more loosely than the right. for my part i use the same overlapping grip in putting as in all the other strokes, making just this one small variation, that instead of allowing the right thumb to fall over the shaft, as when driving or playing through the green, i place it on the top of the shaft and pointing down it. this seems to me to make for accuracy. in playing what we may call an ordinary putt, that is to say, one presenting no difficulties in the way of stymies, slopes of the green, or anything of that kind, i think it pays best in the long run to make a point of always hitting the ball with the middle of the face of the club, although, i believe, willie park, one of the greatest of putters, always hits the ball off the toe of the club and comes in to the hole from the right-hand side of it. other players consistently and by design half top the ball when they are putting. there should be no sharp hit and no jerk in the swing, which should have the even gentle motion of a pendulum. in the backward swing, the length of which, as in all other strokes in golf, is regulated by the distance it is desired to make the ball travel, the head of the putter should be kept exactly in the line of the putt. accuracy will be impossible if it is brought round at all. there should be a short follow-through after impact, varying, of course, according to the length of the putt. in the case of a long one, the club will go through much further, and then the arms would naturally be more extended. in the follow-through the putter should be kept well down, the bottom edge scraping the top of the grass for some inches. it is easy to understand how much more this course of procedure will tend towards the accuracy and delicacy of the stroke than the reverse method, in which the blade of the putter would be cocked up as soon as the ball had left it. before i close my remarks on the simple putt, i feel that it is a duty to repeat once more those wise maxims relating to putting that have been uttered some tens of thousands of times already. "never up, never in." there is nothing so true, and the number of matches and medals that have been lost through the reckless and foolish disregard of this rule must be enormous. the hole will never come to you; therefore make up your mind that you will always go to the hole, and let it be an invariable practice to play for the back of the tin so that you will always have just a little in hand. the most deadly accuracy and the nicest calculations are all wasted if the ball is just half a turn short of the opening, and there is nothing in the whole of the play between one tee and the next more exasperating than the long putt which hesitates and stops on the very lip of the hole. there is another very good reason for always playing very well up to the hole, which may not have occurred to all golfers who read these lines. suppose that in the exercise of this rule about always being up at any cost, too much has been put into the ball, and, refusing to die when it ought to do, it skips over the hole and comes to a standstill several inches beyond. "that's the result of being up!" exclaims the irritated golfer. but he feels at any rate that he has given the hole the chance for which it asked, and has a far greater sense of satisfaction and of duty done than if the ball had stopped a foot or more short of the place that was made for it. this may be the reason why an eighteen-inch or two-feet putt back to the hole from the far side always seems easier and is less frequently missed than a putt of the same distance from the original side, which is merely making up for the shortage in the first putt. whether that is the reason or not, there is the fact, and though they may not have considered the matter hitherto, i feel confident that on reflection, or when they take note of future experiences, most of my readers will admit that this is so. it is a final argument for playing to the back of the hole and never being short. one of the greatest worries of the glorious life of old tom morris was that for a long time when in the middle of his career he was nearly always short with his long putts, and his son, young tom, used wickedly to say that his father would be a great putter if the hole were always a yard nearer. tom, i believe, was always conscious of his failing, and made the most strenuous efforts to correct it, and this only shows what a terrible and incurable habit this one of being short can become, and what necessity there is for the golfer to exercise his strength of mind to get rid of it in his early days, and establish the practice of being up every time. often enough he will run over, but sometimes the kind hole will gobble the ball, and on the average he will gain substantially over the nervous, hesitating player who is always short. chapter xiv complicated putts problems on undulating greens--the value of practice--difficulties of calculation--the cut stroke with the putter--how to make it--when it is useful--putting against a sideways slope--a straighter line for the hole--putting down a hill--applying drag to the ball--the use of the mashie on the putting green--stymies--when they are negotiable and when not--the wisdom of playing for a half--lofting over the stymie--running through the stymie--how to play the stroke, and its advantages--fast greens for fancy strokes--on gauging the speed of a green. now we will consider those putts in which it is not all plain sailing from the place where the ball lies to the hole. the line of the putt may be uphill or it may be downhill, or the green may slope all the way from one side to the other, or first from one and then the other. there is no end to the tricks and difficulties of a good sporting green, and the more of them the merrier. the golfer's powers of calculation are now in great demand. take, to begin with, one of the most difficult of all putts--that in which there is a more or less pronounced slope from one side or the other, or a mixture of the two. in this case it would obviously be fatal to putt straight at the hole. allowances must be made on one side or the other, and sometimes they are very great allowances too. i have found that most beginners err in being afraid of allowing sufficiently for the slope. they may convince themselves that in order to get near the hole their ball should be a yard or so off the straight line when it is half-way along its course, and yet, at the last instant, when they make the stroke their nerve and resolution seem to fail them, and they point the ball but a few inches up the slope, with the result that before it reaches the hole it goes running away on the other side and comes to a standstill anything but dead. putting practice on undulating greens is very valuable, not so much because it teaches the golfer exactly what allowance he should make in various cases, but because it helps by experience to give him the courage of his convictions. it is impossible to give any directions as to the precise allowance that should be made, for the simple reason that this varies in every case. the length of the putt, the degree of slope, and the speed of the green, are all controlling factors. the amount of borrow, as we term it, that must be taken from the side of any particular slope is entirely a matter of mathematical calculation, and the problem will be solved to satisfaction most frequently by the man who trains himself to make an accurate and speedy analysis of the controlling factors in the limited amount of time available for the purpose. the putt is difficult enough when there is a pronounced slope all the way from one particular side, but the question is much more puzzling when it is first one and then the other and then perhaps a repetition of one or both. to begin with, there may be a slope of fifteen degrees from the right, so the ball must go away to the right. but a couple of yards further on this slope may be transformed into one of thirty degrees the other way, and after a short piece of level running the original slope, but now at twenty degrees, is reverted to. what in the name of golf is the line that must be taken in a tantalising case of this kind? it is plain that the second slope if it lasts as long as the first one more than neutralises it, being steeper, so that instead of borrowing from the first one we must start running down it in order to tackle the second one in good time. but the third slope again, to some extent, though not entirely, neutralises the second, and this entirely upsets the calculation which only included the first two. it is evident that the first and third hold the advantage between them, and that in such a case as this we should send the ball on its journey with a slight borrow from the first incline with which it had to contend. as i have just said, in these complicated cases it is a question of reckoning pure and simple, and then putting the ball in a straightforward manner along the line which you have decided is the correct one. but there are times when a little artifice may be resorted to, particularly in the matter of applying a little cut to the ball. there is a good deal of billiards in putting, and the cut stroke on the green is essentially one which the billiard player will delight to practise. but i warn all those who are not already expert at cutting with the putter, to make themselves masters of the stroke in private practice before they attempt it in a match, because it is by no means easy to acquire. the chief difficulty that the golf student will encounter in attempting it will be to put the cut on as he desires, and at the same time to play the ball with the proper strength and keep on the proper line. it is easy enough to cut the ball, but it is most difficult, at first at all events, to cut it and putt it properly at the same time. for the application of cut, turn the toe of the putter slightly outwards and away from the hole, and see that the face of the club is kept to this angle all the way through the stroke. swing just a trifle away from the straight line outwards, and the moment you come back on to the ball draw the club sharply across it. it is evident that this movement, when properly executed, will give to the ball a rotary motion, which on a perfectly level green would tend to make it run slightly off to the right of the straight line along which it was aimed. here, then, the golfer may arm himself with an accomplishment which may frequently prove of valuable service. he may dodge a stymie or circumvent an inconvenient piece of the green over which, without the cut, the ball would have to travel. but most frequently will the accomplished putter find the cut of use to him when there is a pronounced slope of the green from the right-hand side of the line of the putt. in applying cut to the ball in a case of this kind, we are complicating the problem by the introduction of a fourth factor to the other three i have named, but at the same time we are diminishing the weight of these others, since we shall enable ourselves to putt more directly at the hole. suppose it is a steep but even slope all the way from the ball to the hole. now, if we are going to putt this ball in the ordinary manner without any spin on it, we must borrow a lot from the hill, and, as we shall at once convince ourselves, the ball must be at its highest point when it is just half-way to the hole. but we may borrow from the slope in another way than by running straight up it and straight down again. if we put cut on the ball, it will of itself be fighting against the hill the whole way, and though if the angle is at all pronounced it may not be able to contend against it without any extra borrow, much less will be required than in the case of the simple putt up the hill and down again. now it must be borne in mind that it is a purely artificial force, as it were, that keeps the ball from running down the slope, and as soon as the run on the ball is being exhausted and the spin at the same time, the tendency will be not for the ball to run gradually down the slope--as it did in the case of the simple putt without cut--but to surrender to it completely and run almost straight down. our plan of campaign is now indicated. instead of going a long way up the hill out of our straight line, and having but a very vague idea of what is going to be the end of it all, we will neutralise the effect of the slope as far as possible by using the cut and aim to a point much lower down the hill--how much lower can only be determined with knowledge of the particular circumstances, and after the golfer has thoroughly practised the stroke and knows what he can do with it. and instead of settling upon a point half-way along the line of the putt as the highest that the ball shall reach, this summit of the ascent will now be very much nearer to the hole, quite close to it in fact. we putt up to this point with all the spin we can get on the ball, and when it reaches it the forward motion and the rotation die away at the same time, and the ball drops away down the hill, and, as we hope, into the hole that is waiting for it close by. now, after all this explanation, it may really seem that by using the cut in a case of this kind we are going about the job in the most difficult manner, but when once the golfer has made himself master of this cut stroke, and has practised this manner of attacking slopes, he will speedily convince himself that it is the easier and more reliable method--certainly more reliable. it seems to be a great advantage to be able to keep closer to the straight line, and the strength can be more accurately gauged. the diagram which i have drawn on this page shows relatively the courses taken by balls played in the two different styles, and will help to explain my meaning. the slope is supposed to be coming from the top of the page, as it were, and the plain curved line is the course taken by the ball which has had no cut given to it, while that which is dotted is the line of the cut ball. i am giving them both credit for having been played with the utmost precision, so that they would find their way to the tin. i submit all these remarks as an idea, to be followed up and elaborated in much practice, rather than as a definite piece of instruction, for the variety of circumstances is so bewildering that a fixed rule is impossible. [illustration: putting with cut on a sloping green.] one of the putting problems which strike most fear into the heart of the golfer is when his line from the ball to the hole runs straight down a steep slope, and there is some considerable distance for the ball to travel along a fast green. the difficulty in such a case is to preserve any control over the ball after it has left the club, and to make it stop anywhere near the hole if the green is really so fast and steep as almost to impart motion of itself. in a case of this sort i think it generally pays best to hit the ball very nearly upon the toe of the putter, at the same time making a short quick twitch or draw of the club across the ball towards the feet. little forward motion will be imparted in this manner, but there will be a tendency to half lift the ball from the green at the beginning of its journey, and it will continue its way to the hole with a lot of drag upon it. it is obvious that this stroke, to be played properly, will need much practice in the first place and judgment afterwards, and i can do little more than state the principle upon which it should be made. but oftentimes, when the slope of the green is really considerable, and one experiences a sense of great risk and danger in using the putter at all, i strongly advise the use of the iron or mashie; indeed, i think most golfers chain themselves down too much to the idea that the putter, being the proper thing to putt with, no other club should be used on the green. there is no law to enforce the use of the putter, but even when the idea sometimes occurs to a player that it would be best to use his mashie on the green in particular circumstances, he usually rejects it as improper. on a steep incline it pays very well to use a mashie, for length in these circumstances can often be judged very accurately, and, the ball having been given its little pitch to begin with, does not then begin to roll along nearly so quickly as if the putter had been acting upon it. there are times, even when the hole is only a yard away, when it might pay best to ask for the mashie instead of the instrument which the caddie will offer. upon the very difficult and annoying question of stymies there are few hints that i can offer which will not suggest themselves to the player of a very little experience. the fact which must be driven home is that some stymies are negotiable and others are not--not by any player or by any method. when the ball that stymies you dead is lying on the lip of the hole and half covering it, and your own is some distance away, the case is, to all intents and purposes, hopeless, but if you have only got this one stroke left for the half, you feel that an effort of some kind must be made, however hopeless it may be. the one chance--and even that is not always given--is to pass the other ball so very closely that yours will touch the rim of the hole and then, perhaps, if it is travelling slowly enough, be influenced sufficiently to tumble in. luck must necessarily have a lot to do with the success of a stroke of this kind, and the one consolation is that, if it fails, or if you knock the other ball in--which is quite likely--things will be no worse than they appeared before you took the stroke. if, in the case of a dead and hopeless stymie of this kind, you had two strokes for the half and one for the hole, i should strongly advise you to give up all thoughts of holing out, and make quite certain of being dead the first time and getting the half. many golfers are so carried away by their desire to snatch the hole from a desperate position of this sort, that they throw all prudence to the winds, attempt the impossible, and probably lose the hole at the finish instead of halving it. they may leave themselves another stymie, they may knock the other ball in, or they may be anything but dead after their first stroke,--indeed, it is when defying their fate in this manner that everything is likely to happen for the worst. the common method of playing a stymie is by pitching your ball over that of your opponent, but this is not always possible. all depends on how near the other ball is to the hole, and how far the balls are apart. if the ball that stymies you is on the lip and your own is three yards away, it is obvious that you cannot pitch over it. from such a distance your own ball could not be made to clear the other one and drop again in time to fall into the tin. but, when an examination of the situation makes it clear that there is really space enough to pitch over and get into the hole, take the most lofted club in your bag--either a highly lofted mashie or even a niblick--and when making the little pitch shot that is demanded, apply cut to the ball in the way i have already directed, and aim to the left-hand side of the tin. the stroke should be very short and quick, the blade of the club not passing through a space of more than nine inches or a foot. the cut will make the ball lift quickly, and, with the spin upon it, it is evident that the left-hand side of the hole is the proper one to play to. everything depends upon the measurements of the situation as to whether you ought to pitch right into the hole or to pitch short and run in, but in any case you should pitch close up, and in a general way four or five inches would be a fair distance to ask the ball to run. when your own ball is many yards away from the hole, and the one that makes the stymie is also far from it as well as far from yours, a pitch shot seems very often to be either inadequate or impossible. usually it will be better to aim at going very near to the stymie with the object of getting up dead, making quite certain at the same time that you do not bungle the whole thing by hitting the other ball, or else to play to the left with much cut, so that with a little luck you may circle into the hole. evidently the latter would be a somewhat hazardous stroke to make. there is one other way of attacking a stymie, and that is by the application of the run-through method, when the ball in front of you is on the edge of the hole and your own is very close to it--only just outside the six inches limit that makes the stymie. if the balls are much more than a foot apart, the "follow-through method" of playing stymies is almost certain to fail. this system is nothing more than the follow-through shot at billiards, and the principles upon which the strokes in the two games are made are much the same. hit your own ball very high up,--that is to say, put all the top and run on it that you can, and strike the other ball fairly in the centre and fairly hard. the object is to knock the stymie right away over the hole, and to follow through with your own and drop in. if you don't hit hard enough you will only succeed in holing your opponent's ball and earning his sarcastic thanks. and if you don't get top enough on your own ball you will not follow through, however hard you bang up against the other. this is a very useful stroke to practise, for the particular kind of stymie to which it applies occurs very frequently, and is one of the most exasperating of all. most of these fancy putting strokes stand a very poor chance of success on a very slow green. cut and top and all these other niceties will not work on a dull one. it is the sharp, fiery green that comes to the rescue of the resourceful golfer in circumstances such as we have been discussing. it seems to me that golfers in considering their putts very often take too little pains to come to an accurate determination of the speed of the greens. there are a score of changing circumstances which affect that speed, but it frequently happens that only a casual glance is given to the state of the turf, and the rest of the time is spent in considering the distance and the inclines that have to be contended against. the golfer should accustom himself to making a minute survey of the condition of things. thus, to how many players does it occur that the direction in which the mowing machine has been passed over it makes an enormous difference to the speed of the particular piece of the green that has to be putted over? all the blades of grass are bent down in the direction that the machine has taken, and their points all face that way. therefore the ball that is being putted in the opposite direction encounters all the resistance of these points, and in the aggregate this resistance is very considerable. on the other hand, the ball that has to be putted in the same direction that the machine went has an unusually smooth and slippery surface to glide over. it is very easy to see which way the machine has gone. on a newly-cut green there are stripes of different shades of green. the points of the grass give the deeper tints, and therefore the machine has been coming towards you on the dark stripes, and along them you must putt harder than on the others. the variety of the circumstances to be taken into consideration render putting on undulating greens very attractive to the man who makes a proper and careful study of this part of the game, as every player ought to do. chapter xv some general hints too much golf--analysis of good strokes--one's attitude towards one's opponent--inaccurate counting of strokes--tactics in match play--slow couples on the course--asking for halves--on not holing out when the half is given--golfing attire--braces better than belts--shoes better than boots--how the soles should be nailed--on counting your strokes--insisting on the rules--play in frosty weather--chalked faces for wet days--against gloves--concerning clubs--when confidence in a club is lost--make up your mind about your shot--the golfer's lunch--keeping the eye on the ball--the life of a rubber-core--a clean ball--the caddie's advice--forebodings of failure--experiments at the wrong time--one kind of golf at a time--bogey beaten, but how?--tips for tee shots--as to pressing--the short approach and the wayward eye--swinging too much--for those with defective sight--your opponent's caddie--making holes in the bunkers--the golfer's first duty--swinging on the putting greens--practise difficult shots and not easy ones, etc. the following are detached suggestions, each of which, i think, is of value and importance. in most cases they are such as i have not had an opportunity of making in any other chapter; but in a few others they are repetitions of former injunctions, for the sake of further emphasis:-- * * * * * don't play too much golf if you want to get on in the game. three rounds a day are too much for any man, and if he makes a practice of playing them whenever he has the opportunity, his game is sure to suffer. he often says that his third round is the best of the day. but what about the first next morning? two rounds a day are enough, and these two rounds on three days of the week are as much golf as is good for any player who does not want to become careless and stale. * * * * * remember that the player who first settles down to the serious business of a hard match has the advantage. in a majority of cases concentrated purpose is the secret of victory. * * * * * you must be thoughtful if you want to get on in golf. most players when they make an exceptionally good stroke gaze delightedly at the result, and then begin to talk about it to their opponent and the caddie. they rarely give a thought as to exactly how they did it, though it must be obvious that for that good result to have been obtained the stroke must have been played in a particularly correct and able manner. unless by pure accident, no good ever comes of a bad stroke. when you have made a really wonderfully good shot--for you--bring yourself up sharply to find out exactly how you did it. notice your stance, your grip, and try to remember the exact character of the swing that you made and precisely how you followed through. then you will be able to do the same thing next time with great confidence. usually when a player makes a really bad stroke you see him trying the swing over again--without the ball--wondering what went wrong. it would pay him much better to do the good strokes over again in the same way every time he makes them, so as to impress the method of execution firmly upon his mind. * * * * * don't praise your own good shots. leave that function to your partner, who, if a good sort, will not be slow in performing it. his praise will be more discriminating and worth more than yours. and don't say spiteful and unkind things about his good shots, or be continually talking about his luck. if you do he will hate you before the game is over. * * * * * when a hole is being keenly contested, and you look as though you are having the worst of it, try not to appear pleased when your opponent makes a bad stroke or gets into serious trouble, however relieved or even delighted you may feel. it is human nature to feel the better for your opponent's mistake in a crisis of this kind, but it is not good manners to show that you feel it. and, however well you may know your friend, it is not half so funny as you think it is to laugh at such a time or shout out that you rejoice. it is simply bad taste, for your opponent at that time is suffering from a sense of keen disappointment, and is temporarily quite unable to appreciate jokes of this kind. he is inclined to think he has been mistaken in you all along, and that you are much less of a gentleman and a sportsman than he had imagined. * * * * * if he is playing several more in a vain endeavour to extricate himself from a bunker, do not stand near him and audibly count his strokes. it would be justifiable homicide if he wound up his pitiable exhibition by applying his niblick to your head. it is better to pretend that you do not notice these things. on the other hand, do not go out of your way to say that you are sorry when these misfortunes happen. such expressions imply a kind of patronage for which your opponent will not thank you, and he knows all the time that you do not really mean it, and therefore infers that you are a hypocrite. the best golf is that which is played in comparative silence. * * * * * at the beginning of a match do not worry yourself with the idea that the result is likely to be against you. by reflecting thus upon the possibilities of defeat one often becomes too anxious and loses one's freedom of style. * * * * * take more risks when you are down to your opponent than when you are up on him. if you play a difficult shot successfully, the circumstance will probably have some effect upon the other man. * * * * * it is a mistake continually to exercise extreme caution. one's play is severely cramped by an excess of care. * * * * * try, whenever possible, to make matches with opponents who are at least as good, if not better than yourself. this will do your game more good than playing with an inferior player against whom you will always be liable to play in a careless manner. * * * * * always make an effort to improve your game, and do not content yourself with the idea that you go out on the links for the exercise only. it is no more difficult or less pleasant trying to play better than it is to go on continually in the same old way. * * * * * when making a match, do not try to get a greater allowance of strokes than that to which you are entitled on your handicap, alleging to your opponent that the said handicap is an unfair one. your opponent may think you are a little too "keen"; and if he grants your improper request, and you should then win the match, he may think some other things besides. * * * * * remember that more matches are lost through carelessness at the beginning than through any other cause. always make a point of trying to play the first hole as well as you have ever played a hole in your life. the favourite saying of some players, "i never try to win the first hole," is the most foolish thing ever said in connection with the game of golf. win as many holes as you can in the early part of the game. they may be useful for you to fall back upon later on. * * * * * try to avoid an unnecessary expenditure of nerve force by treating your adversary--with all due respect to him--as a nonentity. whatever brilliant achievements he may accomplish, go on quietly playing your own game. there is always the probability that sooner or later he will make enough mistakes to bring him back to you. it is the steadier player who plays his own game from the first tee to the last green, and who never allows himself to be upset by anything that happens, who wins the match. * * * * * never hurry when playing a match or a medal round, or indeed any kind of golf. haste will affect your nerves and spoil your play. the record for playing a round in the shortest possible space of time is not worth the holding. take time enough, but don't be unnecessarily slow. * * * * * if from any cause whatever you are playing a very slow game, don't miss an opportunity of inviting the couple behind you to pass. it will please them, and will be far more comfortable for you. but if your match is behind a slow one, do not be offensive in pressing upon the match in front by making rude remarks and occasionally playing when they are within range. you do not know what troubles they are enduring. remember the story of the old player, who, on a ball being driven past him by the couple behind, sent his caddie with his card to the offender, and with it the message, "mr. blank presents his compliments, and begs to say that though he may be playing slowly he can play a devil of a lot more slowly if he likes!" * * * * * be careful that you always stand on the proper side of the tee when your opponent is preparing to drive. at this most anxious moment for your friend do not be practising your own swing or move about or talk. you would be intensely annoyed with him if he did these things when you were driving. if he lost the match through a foozled drive, he would be justified in saying that you did not play the game. * * * * * in playing through the green, avoid as far as possible getting in your opponent's line of sight when he is making his stroke. also do not stand so near to him that he can see you through the corner of his eye when he is taking his swing. * * * * * do not get into the habit of asking for a half on the putting green when in your own opinion you are lying dead and have one stroke left for the half. you may not be as dead as you think, and your opponent may not consider you are dead at all. he naturally wonders why you ask for the half when it would be so easy to putt the ball. it would be excusable if he were to offer to make you a present of the ball you have on the match. these propositions about the giving of halves should invariably come from the other side. besides, when you have asked for a half and your opponent says "no; putt it out," you not only look foolish, but you are so irritated that you may very likely miss the putt. then you will look more foolish than ever, and the next thing you will lose is the match. * * * * * but when your opponent of his own free will says, "i will give you that," meaning the little putt for the half, show your appreciation of his confidence in your putting by picking up the ball and saying no more about it. don't insist on putting the ball into the hole either with one hand or in any other way. you are sure to be playing carelessly; and suppose you fail to hole? your opponent said he gave you the half, and yet you failed afterwards to get it when you insisted on playing. of course you have a right to the half that he gave you, but you will have an uneasy conscience, and your friend will be sorry that he was so generous. also, when you have carelessly missed a six inch putt for the half, do not remark to your opponent, as some players do, "of course, if you insist upon it, i will give you the hole." it is no question of insistence; it is the rule of the game. i say, stick to the rules of the game. * * * * * never use long headed clubs. the shorter headed clubs are easier to play with and are more accurate. * * * * * do not wear too tightly fitting clothes. particularly be careful to see that there is plenty of spare cloth under the arms. tightness here, where there should be the utmost freedom, means the wholesale ruination of what would otherwise have been good strokes. * * * * * always use braces in preference to a belt round the waist. i never play with a belt. braces seem to hold the shoulders together just as they ought to be. when a man plays in a belt he has an unaccustomed sense of looseness, and his shoulders are too much beyond control. it is a mistake to imagine you can swing better with a belt than with braces. for the same reason i do not advise a golfer to play without his coat, even on the warmest day, if he wants to play his best game. * * * * * whenever possible, use shoes for golfing instead of boots. they allow more freedom to the ankles, and make it much easier to pivot on the toes. keep the leather of your boots and shoes soft and pliable. apply dubbin to them in the winter. * * * * * take care that there are plenty of nails on the soles of your boots and shoes, and that they are in good condition and the heads not worn away. nails in this state are almost useless, and create a great tendency towards slipping. aluminium nails, though very light, wear away too quickly, and have a tendency to drop out. i do not like big nails of any description, nor do i favour small ones arranged in clusters. those that i prefer have round heads about the size of a small pea, and are fluted down the sides. i have the soles and heels of my boots freely studded with these, and always according to the same system. there are twenty-five nails on the sole of each boot and fourteen on each heel, and they are arranged as in the accompanying diagram. it will be observed that there are plenty of nails in the fore part of the sole on which the pivoting is done, and where there is the greatest tendency to slip. [illustration: nails in golfing boots and shoes.] * * * * * do not get into the habit of counting your strokes from the beginning of the round in every match that you play, in the hope that each time you may be able to beat your own record for the course. if you do so, and play one or two bad holes to begin with, you will suffer from a sense of disappointment which may have a bad effect upon your play for the remainder of the game. * * * * * obtain a thorough knowledge of the rules of the game, always play strictly according to them, and adhere rigidly to the etiquette of golf. when you insist upon the rules being applied to yourself, even to your own disadvantage, you are in a stronger position for demanding that your opponent shall also have the same respect for them. when play is always according to the rules, with no favour shown on either side, the players know exactly where they are. when the rules are occasionally overthrown, difficulties and dissatisfaction constantly ensue. * * * * * when playing in frosty weather, do not take it for granted that because the greens are hard they are also fast. unless the greens were exceedingly smooth when the frost began, they will be covered with an abundance of little frozen knobs and pimples which greatly retard the progress of the ball. * * * * * in wet weather it is a good thing to carry a piece of chalk in your pocket, and to rub the face of the driver and brassy with it each time before making a stroke. it prevents the ball from skidding. * * * * * unless you have a very good and special reason for doing so, do not play in gloves. the grip is seldom so secure and exact as when it is effected with the bare hands. * * * * * always use the club that takes the least out of you. play with an iron instead of forcing your shot with a mashie. never say, "oh, i think i can reach it with such and such a club." there ought never to be any question of your reaching it, so use the next more powerful club in order that you will have a little in hand. it will be easier, and the result will be much better, or at least it ought to be. * * * * * never use thick handle grips. they place weight at the wrong end of the club. i like the thinnest i can get. i do not advise playing with rubber grips if they can be avoided. on a wet day they might be the cause of a lost match. * * * * * always use spliced in preference to socketed clubs. they are better in every way. * * * * * do not be tempted to invest in a sample of each new golfing invention as soon as it makes its appearance. if you do you will only complicate and spoil your game and encumber your locker with much useless rubbish. of course some new inventions are good, but it is usually best to wait a little while to see whether any considerable section of the golfing public approves of them before rushing to a shop to order one. * * * * * if you have completely lost confidence for the time being in any particular club, even though it may be one with which you have performed brilliantly in days gone by, leave it out of your bag altogether for a short season and try to forget all about it. the day will come before very long when you will feel that it is once more the very club you are wanting to make your game perfect, and you will rejoice to renew its acquaintance when you take it out of your locker. we can see too much of even our best friends. * * * * * always make up your mind definitely and finally before taking up your stance what club you are going to use and exactly the kind of shot that you want to play with it. when you have taken up your position but still ponder in a state of uncertainty, it is very probable that your mind will be affected by your hesitation, and then your swing and the result thereof will be bad. * * * * * there are fewer certainties in golf than in any other game, and dogged pluck is rarely so well rewarded as on the links. * * * * * if you are playing golf in the afternoon, do not lunch any more heavily that you feel to be necessary. a heavy lunch tends to take the keenness out of a golfer, and at the same time it has--what very few people suspect--a very serious effect upon the eye and its capacity for work. the golfer's eyes often give way to the strain that is put upon them long before his limbs. * * * * * when we talk about keeping the eye on the ball, we do not mean the top of the ball. your object is not to hit the top of the ball with the bottom of your club. for an ordinary stroke keep your attention fixed on the grass immediately behind the ball. this should result in the sole of your club sweeping evenly along the turf and taking the ball just as it ought to be taken. but there are special occasions, as when a low shot against the wind is wanted (fully explained in previous chapters), when it is desirable to hit the ball rather higher up. the eye should then be fixed on the edge of the ball just half-way up from the bottom to the top. the accompanying diagram shows exactly the points to be looked at when playing the different strokes. you may get in good strokes when looking at the top of the ball, but it is only because you have accustomed yourself by long experience to make a small allowance for so doing. the practice is theoretically bad, and it is mainly the reason why beginners top their balls so frequently. of course when you look down the side of it in the manner indicated, you have the ball always in view. [illustration: points to look at when addressing the ball--(i.) for an ordinary stroke; (ii.) for a push shot.] * * * * * the life of a rubber-cored ball does not always last as long as its shell, and its best driving capacity has often disappeared when there is scarcely a scratch upon it. therefore, if you are playing in an important match with a ball that has already been used at a large number of holes, it may be advisable to put down a new one when long work with the driver and brassy is a vital necessity. a close watch for loss of shape should also be kept on these rubber-cored balls. they vary very much in this respect, and not only is it impossible to putt well with a ball that is not perfectly round, but it never flies so well as one which is quite true. * * * * * always use a clean ball, and carry a sponge to keep it clean with. it detracts from the pleasure of a game more than you may imagine if your ball is always dirty and cannot be seen from a distance. besides, the eye is less strained when a clean white ball is played with, and there is less likelihood of foozled strokes. moreover, your dirty ball is a constant irritation to your opponent. * * * * * don't act upon the advice of your caddie when you are convinced in your own mind that he is wrong. if you do so, you will very likely play the stroke hesitatingly and without confidence, and the result in these circumstances is seldom satisfactory. it is not impossible that the caddie knows less about the game than yourself, and, on the other hand, his views as to the best thing to do in a particular situation are often regulated by what he has seen the scratch men do at such times. you may not be a scratch man. * * * * * when playing in a foursome, never forget that you have a partner. if you are the inferior player, make a rule, when in any doubt, of asking him what he would prefer you to do. * * * * * when you are addressing the ball, and a conviction forces itself on your mind just before making the stroke that your stance or something else is radically wrong, do not be persuaded that it is best to get the stroke done with notwithstanding. in such circumstances it is almost certain to be a failure, and you will wish then that you had taken a fresh stance, as you knew you ought to have done, and made a proper job of it, even at the risk of annoying your partner by fiddling about on the tee. * * * * * at a crisis in a match, some golfers, fighting desperately for victory or a half, give themselves up when on the tee to hideous thoughts of all the worst ways in which they have ever made that particular drive and of the terrible consequences that ensued. this is fatal. a golfer must never be morbid. if he cannot school himself to think that he is going to make the best drive of his life, just when it is most wanted, he should try not to think of anything at all. * * * * * don't try experimental shots on a new system when your opponent is dormy. it may be quite true that those you make on the old system are very bad, but you had better stick to them until the end of this match at any rate. * * * * * do not attempt to play two kinds of golf at the same time; that is to say, if you are playing for a medal, do not keep up a hole-to-hole match with your partner. you will become confused, with no clear idea of what you are trying to do, and you will probably win neither the medal nor the match. if you feel that you must match yourself in some manner with the man who is going round with you, back your net return against his. * * * * * because you do a hole in bogey, or even sometimes in one stroke less, do not always take it for granted that you have therefore played perfect golf. some bogeys are very easy, and some shots are very fluky. a man may miss his drive, run a bunker, and hole out with his mashie, beating bogey by a stroke. but he would be well advised not to say anything about it afterwards, lest he should be asked for details. not the smallest credit attaches to him for this remarkable performance. * * * * * always play from a low tee, except when the wind is behind you. * * * * * see that your head remains rigid, from the moment when you have finally taken up your position and are ready for your swing, until you have struck the ball. * * * * * in addressing, always oppose to the ball that part of the face of the club with which you want to hit it. * * * * * go slowly back, but be quick on the ball. but do not swing back too slowly or you will lose control over your club. gain speed gradually. * * * * * at the finish of the swing for a full shot, the right heel should be well up and the toe pointed downwards. the chest should then be facing the hole. but these and all similar movements should be quite natural. if they are forced they are useless and dangerous, and only indicate that your methods and your swing are altogether wrong. in such a dilemma study the photographs in this volume, particularly those that show you how you ought _not_ to do the various strokes. if these do not provide you with a cure, consult the professional at your club. * * * * * don't press, but note the definition of pressing in chapter vi. you can hit hard without pressing, which really means jumping at the ball. when your swing is working to perfection and you are full of confidence, you may let yourself go as much as you please. it is not true, as some golfers say, that a gently hit ball will travel as far as one which has been hit with much more force, but otherwise in precisely the same manner. * * * * * you must be particularly on your guard against pressing--real pressing--when you are two or three holes down, and are becoming anxious about the match. perfect confidence and a calm mind are necessary for the success of every stroke. * * * * * keep your eye on the side of the ball, particularly when you are near the hole and perhaps playing a little chip shot on to the green. there is a tendency at such a time, so great is the anxiety of the golfer to know whether he is laying himself dead or not, to take the eye from the ball and direct its attention to the pin before the downward swing is complete and the stroke has been made. but i do not approve of keeping the eye fixed upon the place where the ball lay, so that the grass is seen after the ball has departed. keep your eye on the ball until you have hit it, but no longer. you cannot follow through properly with a long shot if your eye remains fastened on the ground. hit the ball, and then let your eye pick it up in its flight as quickly as possible. of course this needs skilful timing and management, but precision will soon become habitual. * * * * * when you hit the small of your back with the head of your club in the upward swing, it is not so much a sign that you are swinging too far back as that your wrists are enjoying too much play, that you are not holding your club with sufficient firmness, and that your arms are thrown too much upwards. try a tighter grip. remember that the grip with _both_ hands should be firm. that with the right hand should not be slack, as one is so often told. * * * * * if your eyesight is not good and you are obliged to resort to artificial aids when playing the game, wear spectacles rather than eye-glasses, and specially made sporting spectacles in preference to any others. it is of the utmost importance that the glasses should not only be perfectly steady at all times, but that the rims should not be so near to the centre of vision as to interfere with it under any circumstances. the sporting spectacles which i recommend are similar to those used for billiards and shooting. the rims and the glasses are circular and not oval in shape, and they are unusually large--about - / inches in diameter. by the use of them the player is afforded a field of vision as wide as with the naked eye, so that practically he is not conscious that he is wearing glasses at all. the eye is a factor of such immense importance in the proper playing of golf, that this is a matter to be strongly insisted upon. my own eyesight is perfect, and i have never had occasion to resort to artificial assistance of it, but i adopt these suggestions from players of experience who have worn these glasses and upon whose judgment i can rely. * * * * * if you have no caddie, do not order your opponent's caddie about as if you were paying for his services. any assistance that he may give you is an act of courtesy extended to you by your opponent. * * * * * always fill in afterwards every hole that you make in a bunker. if all players do that, both you and the others will benefit constantly. * * * * * make a point of seeing that your caddie always replaces your divots, or replace them yourself if you have no caddie. this, as we all know, is a golfer's first duty. if your ball at any time came to rest in a hole where a divot had not been replaced, you would be extremely annoyed, would say hard things about the other players on the links, and would declare that the course was badly kept. * * * * * never practise swinging on the putting green. it is not good for the green, and the greenkeeper who takes a pride in the results of his work is not usually in the best of tempers when he sees you at this little game. * * * * * when carrying your own clubs, do not throw the bag down on the greens. if you do so the toes of the iron clubs are certain to make marks, which neither improve the greens nor the game of the players who follow you. * * * * * never try your shots over again when there are other players behind you. it makes your partner uncomfortable, and he feels that he ought to apologise on your behalf to those who are kept waiting. * * * * * when practising, use the club that gives you the most trouble, and do not waste your time in knocking a ball about with the tool that gives you the most satisfaction and with which you rarely make a bad stroke. chapter xvi competition play its difficulties--nerves are fatal--the philosophic spirit--experience and steadiness--the torn card--too much hurry to give up--a story and a moral--indifference to your opponent's brilliance--never slacken when up--the best test of golf--if golf were always easy--cautious play in medal rounds--risks to be taken--the bold game in match play--studying the course--risks that are foolishly taken--new clubs in competitions--on giving them a trial--no training necessary--as to the pipe and glass--how to be at one's best and keenest--on playing in the morning--in case of a late draw--watch your opponents. it is the same game whether it is match or medal play, and the same whether you are merely engaged in friendly rivalry with an old friend, with half a crown or nothing at all but the good game itself at stake, or testing your skill and giving rein to your ambition in a club or open tournament with gold medals and much distinction for the final victors. but, same game as it is, how convinced have we all been at times that it is a very hard thing to play it always in the same way. how regularly does an evil fate seem to pursue us on those days when we are most desirous of doing ourselves full justice. five times in a week will a golfer go round the course and beat bogey, reckoning after each performance that he has only to repeat it on saturday to win the prize which he covets, with several strokes to spare. then saturday comes, and a sad falling off is there. by the time the sixth or seventh hole is reached, the all-important card has perhaps been torn up into little pieces and flung contemptuously into a convenient ditch. of course much of this sort of thing is due to nervousness, and there is no game in which full control of the nerves and extreme coolness are more necessary than in golf. let the player be as keen as he likes--the keener the better--but if he is apt to become too anxious at the critical stage of a round or match, he is not the man who will ever win prizes in great competitions. he who is the most composed when in difficulties and when the game is going against him, and who treats each fresh trouble as it comes along as a part of the ordinary day's work to be surmounted in the best manner possible, is the player who will most frequently come out the conqueror. in many cases the tendency to fall into a highly nervous state at the smallest provocation will disappear with time and lengthening experience. each year of golf should bring increasing steadiness, and the steadier a golfer becomes the more frequently will he do his best scores when they are most wanted. and so i must leave it to time and practice and the proper cultivation of the best methods to bring the ambitious beginner along into the front rank of his contemporaries. but still there are some useful hints which i may offer him and which may facilitate his progress towards the acquisition of medals and cups. to begin with, there is a little sermon to be preached on that torn card. "nil desperandum" should always be the motto of the competition player, and it is a motto that will probably pay better in golf than in any other game. i think it is very likely that some scores of monthly medals have been lost through a too precipitate destruction of the scoring card when everything seemed to be going the wrong way. every player should remember that it is indeed a perfect card that is without a blemish, and that on the other hand there are few rounds played by a man who knows anything about the game that are bad all through. but some men, because they have the misfortune to be debited with a couple of 's in the first four or five holes, forthwith give up the ghost and rend their cards into small pieces with many and varied expressions of disgust. thereafter they play well, and at the conclusion of the match are inclined to think that they were rather in too much of a hurry to be out of the competition in its early stages. if they had made a fine card for fourteen or fifteen holes from the beginning, they might have taken two 's towards the end much less seriously to heart. they would have said to themselves that at all events there were many very fine holes, and the misfortunes which came later were not sufficient to spoil their chances of success. well, then, when these annoyances happen near the beginning, why not take a philosophical view of them and say that as they had to come it was best that they should come quickly and be done with, and then go on playing hole after hole coolly and properly until at the end it is found that the early misfortunes have been amply retrieved? i am aware that this is very simple advice, and that it appears like a string of platitudes, but it is extremely sound and yet it is ignored on every medal day. never, never tear up your card, for golf is indeed a funny game, and no man knows what is going to happen when it is being played. there are numberless historic instances to support this counsel, but i will quote only one which came under my personal observation recently, and which to my mind is one of the most remarkable of all. it occurred at a london club. six players were left in the final round for a cup competition, and the conditions of playing in this final were that a medal round should be played on two different saturdays. on the first saturday three of the players tore up their cards, and so only three remained to fight out the issue on the second saturday. on this occasion one of the remaining three tore up his card very early, and soon afterwards a second did so, each being unaware of the other's action, the third player being likewise ignorant of the fact that his rivals had disappeared from the contest, and that now, being the only man left in, he could make any return he liked and become the possessor of the cup. presently he also fell into grievous difficulties, and was on the point of tearing up his card like the others, when the player who was marking for him stayed his hand. he had some idea of what had happened, and, bad score as his man's was, he insisted on its being completed, with the result of course that he was hailed as the winner of the tournament. he at all events would for the rest of his golfing days respect the moral which i have here endeavoured to convey; and what must have been the reflections of the other competitors who threw up the sponge, when they discovered afterwards that if they had kept plodding along they would still have had an excellent chance! similarly in match-play competitions, do not get into the way of thinking that your chance is hopeless just because your opponent becomes two or three up on you, or even more than that, early in the game; and, above all, do not alter your style of play in consequence. nothing pays like your own best and steadiest game and a stolid indifference to all the brilliant things that your opponent is doing. it is unlikely that he will keep on doing them all through the game, and when the reaction comes you will speedily make up the leeway. there are many ups and downs in a game of golf; and when the players are at all evenly matched, and neither has lost his head, early differences have a way of regulating themselves before the game is very far advanced. no doubt it is disconcerting to be three down after only three have been played; but are there not fifteen still to come? but it often appears that an even greater danger awaits the inexperienced golfer than that of funk when things are going against him, in that he is too frequently apt to become careless when he has obtained a trifling advantage. never slacken your efforts when you are two or three holes up, but continue to play with all your might and with an extreme of cautiousness until at last you are one more up than there are holes still to play, for not until then are you sure of victory. when a man has once held a good lead, but by playing carelessly has allowed his opponent to get on level terms with him again, the moral effect upon him is usually extremely bad. when this has happened he is inclined to regard himself not as still on equal terms with his opponent, but as having suffered a great loss and being in grave danger of defeat. and this feeling is the prelude to actual defeat and the bitter self-accusations that must inevitably follow. i may have seemed to labour these simple points, but every old golfer will bear me out in saying that a proper regard for the essence of this advice is the first necessity for the man who covets honours in the golfing world. i say that all golf is the same, and no matter whether it is match or medal play, the simple object is to hole out each time in the fewest number of strokes; but the fact that a single bad hole counts far more heavily against you in a medal round, where all the strokes are added together at the finish, than in match play, where the bad hole is simply one of eighteen, and in which there is only one man to be beaten, of whose performances you are a spectator, instead of an invisible field--this difference generally calls for a change in tactics, particularly on the part of the player who knows to a nicety his own capabilities and limitations. score play is not, of course, so generally interesting as match play, and for this reason will never be so popular; but from my point of view it is the best golf and the best test of golf; indeed, in these respects i think there is really no comparison between the two systems. score play tests the qualities of both the golfer and the sportsman. if he makes a bad hole and drops two or three to bogey, he must not lose his temper, which proceeding is both useless and fatal, but must screw up his determination, and realise that if he can snatch a stroke from bogey at the next two or three holes, all will be just as well as ever. he must always be hopeful. if we never made a bad hole, were never set any difficult task, always did just what we tried to do--well, what then would be the use of playing golf? we should very soon ask ourselves this question, and as there would be no satisfactory answer to it, we should cease to play. the difficulties and the annoyances of golf are after all the things that make the game so attractive and render it so subtly fascinating. but all the same, when you are playing a medal round in a competition, give due consideration beforehand to this overwhelming fact, that bad holes do tell more heavily against you than in match play, and that when they are made they are not over and done with, but are on permanent record as faults to be atoned for before the round is completed. when the score player sends his ball into a bunker, takes two to escape, and holes out in eight strokes instead of in five, his punishment is not completed at this stage, as in match play. the case is held over in view of what his future conduct may be. he is, in fact, ordered to come up for judgment if called upon. now, to avoid the pain and anxiety of all this, i suggest to the player who takes out a card in a score competition, that he should make up his mind at the beginning of the round that from the first hole to the finish he will be more than usually cautious. by this i do not mean to say that he should always play the strict safety game, for the man who invariably plays for safety and nothing else will soon find his card running up very high. certain risks must be taken; but do not accept the very doubtful risks. in match play, i say always play the bold game. go for everything that you can. if there is a bunker somewhere about the limit of your best possible carry, go for it. if you have a long putt for the hole, give the hole a chance, and either be in or beyond. but i do not suggest that these things should also be done in score-play competitions. if the hole is guarded by a bunker, and you have reason to fear that you cannot carry that bunker, it is in these circumstances a thousand times better to play short than to take the risk of putting your ball into it and making a serious blot upon your card. similarly, when on the putting green, and there is a long distance between your ball and the hole, bring your mind to realise that it is really of less importance that you should hole out in one stroke than that you should do so in not more than two, and therefore concentrate your whole energies on placing yourself dead for the second putt. therefore i say, accept a risk now and then when there is a fairly good prospect of success, and when the reward for it will be commensurate with the danger that was incurred. the last-named is an important clause. the course should be studied hole by hole for medal play, and the competitor should come to an exact understanding with himself as to the things that must be done and what things need not be done. thus it frequently happens that a player, seeing a bunker some distance in front of him but yet not quite out of his range, goes for it as a matter of course. obviously he must incur a certain amount of risk, and it may happen that even if he carries it in safety he may not be better off at all than if he were ten or fifteen yards on the playing side. in either case it may be an easy shot to the green, and it may even happen that of the two the longer one would be the easier for this particular golfer. but it is quite likely that he never took any account of that when taking the risk of the bunker. now this man is to be remonstrated with, for, with the best intentions, he has displayed not courage but folly. he must realise that all bunkers are not of necessity to be carried with long shots. if all golfers played the same game, and always their best game, and, moreover, if all bunkers were placed in the proper places for bunkers, then it would be their duty to go for them every time. but either through the very good or the very bad shots that have gone before, we find that these carries vary very much, and, besides, the bunkers on all courses are certainly not placed exactly where they ought to be, and so for reckoning up the proper mode of play in order that the hole may be captured in the fewest possible number of strokes, they can sometimes for all practical purposes be disregarded. a golfer is often in an anxious state of mind when the day of a competition in which he wishes to do well arrives, and he is painfully conscious that he is completely off his play with one or other of his clubs, and has an abiding fear that it will bring him to grief. when he feels like this about the club, it will probably do so. now the question is, whether at this crisis he shall take out a new one with which he is entirely unfamiliar and trust to luck with it, or put his faith once more in the instrument which of late has repeatedly spoilt his game. he is usually advised that in such circumstances he should not indulge in any risky experiments, and that it is madness to take a new and untried club out with him when it is more or less imperative that he should play one of his best rounds. but i am not by any means sure that this advice is well founded. no golfer plays well with a club in which he has completely lost confidence. it may not be the fault of the club at all; but there is the fact. on the other hand, the player is always possessed of a certain amount of hope when he takes a new implement in his hands. he has convinced himself beforehand, or at least ought to have done, that its points are just what he most admires, and that he is likely to do well with it. and so he probably will, even if it is only for a round or two. it is the confidence trick again. what i suggest, therefore, is that when this grave uncertainty exists about the kind of performance that will probably be made with one of the articles in the bag, and there is a new and good substitute ready at hand, the latter should not be disregarded because of a kind of instinct that in a big fight it is best to stick to the old weapons. take the new one out with you, but do not call it into service for the first hole or two. during this preliminary stage give the old but disappointing favourite another chance to show that it will not desert you in the hour of need; but if it fails to rise to the occasion and you blunder with it during the play at the first and second holes, pass sentence upon it forthwith and relegate it finally to your bag. then at the third hole let the new one have its trial. over and over again have i found this method succeed most wonderfully, and i am a particular believer in it in connection with putters. a golfer may have been putting badly for a long time, but directly he takes a new putter in his hand he feels that a great change for the better has been effected, and forthwith he begins to astonish himself by holing out from almost anywhere, or at least always getting his ball dead the first time. there is no accounting for these things. they seem very absurd. but there they are, and no doubt it will be agreed that a medal or a cup is worth a new putter any time. i do not believe in any sort of training for important golf matches. it is not necessary, and it generally upsets the man and throws him off his game. if he is a smoker let him smoke all the time, and if he likes an occasional glass of wine let him take it as usual. a sudden stoppage of these luxuries causes a feeling of irritation, and that is not good for golf. the game does not seem the same to you as it was before. for my part i am neither a non-smoker nor an abstainer, and i never feel so much at ease on the links and so fully capable of doing justice to myself as when smoking. but at the same time i believe in the most complete moderation. only by the constant exercise of such moderation can that sureness of hand and eye be guaranteed which are absolutely necessary to the playing of good golf. on one occasion when i had a championship in view i stopped the tobacco for a short period beforehand, and i am bound to confess that the results seemed excellent, and perhaps some day i may repeat the experiment. but there was nothing sudden about the abstinence in this case, and by the time the big days came round i had become thoroughly accustomed to the new order of things, and the irritation had passed away. however, these are matters which every man may be left to decide for himself according to his own good common sense, and the only object i had in introducing them was to counsel the avoidance of sudden whims and freaks, which are never good for golf. another question is how much or how little golf should be played beforehand when a man desires to give himself the best chance of playing his best game on a certain specified day. that depends largely upon how much golf he is in the habit of playing in the ordinary course. if he is a man who plays regularly, almost every day when it is fine, i think he will generally do far better for himself by abstaining altogether for a day or two before the competition. then, when he goes out to play in it, he will experience a zest and keenness which will be very much in his favour. there is no danger that in this brief period of rest he will have forgotten anything that he knew before, but, on the other hand, he will have a greatly improved capacity for taking pains, and every stroke will be easy to him. his confidence will be refreshed. if he continues to play his round or two rounds every day right up to the date of the competition, he will undoubtedly be "over-golfed," will have a great tendency to fall into errors, and will be generally careless. but if the would-be prize-winner is a man who has usually to content himself with week-end golf, it would be all in his favour if he could put in a day or two of practice before taking part in the big event. there will be no possibility of his becoming stale by so doing. when a competitor has the choice of playing his round either in the morning or the afternoon, i strongly advise him to select the former and get the thing over as soon as possible. i am positive that his chances of success are usually greater when he does so, especially if, in case of his electing to play in the afternoon, he has nothing particularly to occupy his mind and attention in the interval except his prospects in the forthcoming contest. golfers are freshest and keenest in the morning, their bodies and limbs are most vigorous and anxious for work, and--a very important consideration--their eyes are most to be depended upon. and it is not an unimportant consideration that there is no indigestible lunch to interfere with the perfect ease of mind and body which are necessary to the making of a good card. but often, particularly in the case of important open competitions, the times of starting are decided by lot, and the competitor, on arriving at the course, finds that he has to accept the disadvantages of a late draw, and must endure a period of waiting for his turn to tee up. it is best to dispose of these wearisome periods not in hanging about the tee or in the vicinity of the club-house, but by going out with one of the early couples, watching their methods, and making note of the exact manner in which their best holes are played. if the course is a strange one, the information which the watcher thus derives will be invaluable to him when he comes to play his own round, for he will now be possessed of the most excellent hints as to difficulties which demand special efforts to avoid, and of particular strokes which it is in the highest degree necessary to play well. not until he has watched the play of others in this manner will the enormous significance of the position of a particular bunker be made clear to him; he will discover the great danger of being short with certain strokes, and of overrunning the green at various holes. by thus watching other competitors' play he will probably learn more about the nature and peculiarities of the course and the way it is playing on this particular occasion, than if he were doing a round with his own clubs. therefore, if there is time to be killed, this is most decidedly the way in which to kill it, and i may add that it is the method which i myself adopt on every possible occasion. i know that in championships and tournaments i have reaped great advantage in watching closely the play of my fellow-competitors, their triumphs and their failures, while waiting for my own turn to begin. chapter xvii on foursomes the four-ball foursome--its inferiority to the old-fashioned game--the case of the long-handicap man--confusion on the greens--the man who drives last--the old-fashioned two-ball foursome--against too many foursomes--partners and each other--fitting in their different games--the man to oblige--the policy of the long-handicap partner--how he drove and missed in the good old days--on laying your partner a stymie--a preliminary consideration of the round--handicapping in foursomes--a too delicate reckoning of strokes given and received--a good foursome and the excitement thereof--a caddie killed and a hole lost--a compliment to a golfer. i think it is to be regretted that the old-fashioned foursome, in which the respective partners play together with the same ball, has so completely lost favour of late, and that it has been superseded to a large extent by the four-ball foursome. to my mind the old foursome provided a much more interesting and enjoyable game than its successor, and tended much more to the cultivation of good qualities in a golfer. it seems to me that this new four-ball game is a kind of mongrel mixture. it is played, i presume, because men feel that they would like to have a game of partners and yet are unwilling to sacrifice half the strokes of a round, as they do in the old game, and also because the man who is on his game desires all his power and brilliancy to count, and that they may not be interfered with by the possibly erratic procedure of his partner. but this is a selfish spirit, and quite opposed to that which should properly animate the men who play in combination. when a golfer is thus anxious for the display of his skill, surely an ordinary single-ball match is the proper thing for him. the four-ball foursome, i admit, has much to recommend it when the partners are equally matched, when both are really good players--more likely to do a hole in bogey than not--and when the course is clear and there is no prospect of their protracted game interfering with other players who may be coming up behind. when a short-handicap man is mated with a long one, the place of the latter in a foursome of the new kind is to my thinking not worth having. is it calculated to improve his golf, or to afford him satisfaction of any kind whatever, if he plays his ball round in what is for him very good form, and yet only contributes the halving of a single hole as his share of the victory of the combination? very likely after such a game he will feel that he must fall back once more on that old excuse of the golfer for a disappointing day, that at all events he has had the fresh air and the exercise. the tasting of the pure atmosphere and the working of limb and muscle are splendid things, enough to justify any day and any game, but no golfer is heard to put them in the forefront of the advantages he has derived from his day's participation in the game unless the golf he has played has been miserably disappointing. this new foursome is also a selfish game, because it is generally played with too little regard for the convenience and feelings of other golfers on the links. it is very slow, and couples coming up behind, who do not always care to ask to be allowed to go through, are often irritated beyond measure as they wait while four balls are played through the green in front of them, and eight putts are taken on the putting green. the constant waiting puts them off their game and spoils their day. another objection that i urge against this kind of game is, that even when there is nobody pressing behind and there is no particular reason for hurry, there is a natural tendency on the part of each player to make haste so that he shall not delay the other three. this is the case all the way through the green, and particularly when the hole is reached and the putters are taken out. then everybody's ball seems to be in the way of the others, there is continual lifting and replacing, more hurrying, and then, to make matters worse, there is a doubt as to what a man should do in order to help his side--whether he should hole out in one or two, or whether there is any use in holing out at all. consequently his mind is in a confused state of reckoning and doubt when he makes his putt, and poor putt it is likely to be in such circumstances. frequently, when a blind hole is being played, it needs a few minutes' close examination to decide which ball is which after the drive, unless each has been carefully marked to distinguish it from the others. as a final indictment against this species of golf, i would say that even when the partners are equally matched and both good players, there is still a tendency for their individual play to be spoiled, inasmuch as there is the feeling constantly present in the mind of each, that even if he does happen to do a bad hole it will not matter very much after all, as the other man is sure to come to the rescue. when it happens that just the same thought enters the brain of that other man, a lost hole is likely to be the result. decidedly this is not the sort of game to improve the golfer's play. the four-ball foursome is so very like two single matches that there is little special advice to offer concerning the playing of it. one of the few special points to be observed by the player who is taking part in such a match is that, without being unduly selfish and grasping, he should as frequently as possible avoid being the last man of the four to make his drive from the tee. the man who drives last is at a very obvious disadvantage. in the first place, if he has seen the other three make really good drives, he is too much tempted to try to beat them all, and the usual result of such temptation is a bad stroke. on the other hand, if he has seen two or three foozles, it is quite possible that he will follow the bad example that has been set him. thus, whatever has happened before, the last man has no real encouragement offered to him. in addition to these objections, when three men have driven from the tee they are somewhat impatient to be moving on and playing their second shots, and in this mood they have little care for what happens to the last drive. they have already had quite enough of driving. the fourth man is quite conscious of this impatience on their part, even though it may not be openly expressed by the smallest sign. so he is in a hurry to oblige, and his effort is then disappointing. i seldom hit my best ball when i am driving fourth in a four-ball foursome. of course somebody must drive last, but not necessarily the same man every time. all that i wish to suggest is, that a player should not be too self-sacrificing, and should not, with too much modesty about his own prowess on the tee, always volunteer to drive after his partner. the old-fashioned or two-ball foursome makes a really fine and enjoyable game. it brings golfers together on even more intimate and friendly relations than usual. partners in a foursome see very deep down into the human nature of each other. they are overwhelmingly conscious of each other's faults and weaknesses. they are enormously dependent upon each other. at the same time i do not think that even this kind of foursome is the best thing in the world for the improvement of a man's game, and i advise the young player to resist the temptation to take part in too many foursomes, to the neglect of ordinary match play in singles. for one thing, the partners, of course, only get half as much golf as they would if they were playing a round in a single match, and for another, they are too constantly anxious to play their best game. the sense of responsibility is frequently a little too much for their nerves, and you often see a man, a most dogged and persistent player in an ordinary match, who is a consistent failure in foursomes, and who in this style of game ought to be rated at six strokes higher handicap than his allowance for ordinary purposes. one feels in a foursome that one must be so very careful, and take so much extra pains, and when that feeling is uppermost in the mind while the stroke is being made, the result is often disastrous. it is unwise to interfere unduly with a partner's system of play while a match is in progress. he may be missing his drive because his stance is wrong or his swing is faulty, but the state of affairs would probably be worse than ever if an attempt were made to put him right while the game is going on. the hint will be more useful when the match is over. and if he has a particular fancy for playing his brassy, when experience tells you that an iron club should be taken, it will not generally pay to make the suggestion at the time. the man naturally takes the club with which he has most confidence and with which he believes he can make the shot that is wanted. it is fatal to interfere with confidence of this kind, and to substitute for it the hesitation and doubt which inevitably take possession of the man when he takes in his hands a weapon with which he rarely does well, and which, whatever you may tell him, he is convinced is utterly inadequate for the purposes of the situation. let each man play the various strokes that have to be made in a foursome in his own way without interference, for nothing but chaos and a lost match can follow upon the enforcement upon each other of individual ideas and methods. this, of course, is not saying that each man should not play his game so that it may fit as well as possible into that of his partner. he may play with the club he particularly fancies, and play it in his own way, but there should be some sort of a general understanding about what he is going to do and the exact effect which his performance is likely to have upon the way the hole is played if everything happens according to programme. this makes it very desirable that the partners in a foursome match to which any importance is attached, should have more than a passing knowledge of each other's play, and of individual weaknesses and excellences. one partner may be particularly good at making a fairly full iron shot, but shaky indeed when it comes to a little pitch with the mashie over the bunker that guards the green. it is clear, on reflection, that the chief part in this playing up to each other's game should be taken by the man who has the longer handicap, and is therefore the weaker all-round player. the scratch man, being a wise and experienced golfer, will naturally place his nervous -handicap friend in as few difficulties as he can, and will constantly exert himself to leave him a comparatively simple shot which he may be depended upon with some certainty to accomplish in a workmanlike fashion. but the junior player must remember that it behoves him to be the most careful and considerate in matters of this kind, for in an emergency it is generally the senior who must be depended upon to win the hole or pull the match out of the fire. let him, therefore, impose upon himself a considerable measure of self-sacrifice, playing up to his partner for all he is worth, contented in the knowledge that he is doing the proper thing, and that, though he is sinking his own individuality and doing much of what can only be described as donkey work, he is being considerably honoured by being invited to play in such superior company. it is not always the place of the junior partner to take risks; that is the prerogative of the senior. there may be a particular carry on the course which the young player is always doubtful about, but which when playing alone he constantly makes an attempt to accomplish, and very properly so. but if his effort is as often as not a failure--with the result that he is badly bunkered and the hole is lost--it would be madness for him to attempt the carry when he is playing in a foursome with a far better man than himself as his partner. he must depart from his usual custom, and play short for safety. it will be a great relief to his partner. not lately, but in the early years of my experience, i have seen this principle carried to a curious excess. when there was a difficult carry from the tee, and an inferior player and short driver had the turn to make the stroke, i have seen his partner instruct him to miss the ball altogether--not tap it off the tee, but miss it. thus the other man, presumably a good driver, had the ball left teed for him. these men reckoned between them that on an average it would prove of more advantage to be well over the far hazard in two strokes, than to take the risk of being short with the tee shot and possibly not getting over with the second or even the third. however, there is no doubt that performances of this kind were a violation of the spirit of golf. it is the game to hit the ball, and it is unsportsmanlike to try to miss it. nowadays the golfing world quite realises that this is the case. in the same way, in playing through the green and in putting, it must be the constant object of the junior to play the safety game and to feed his skilful partner with as many as possible of those strokes at which he is best. do not let him try for a desperately long second, emulating the example which his partner set him on the tee, in the hope that he may land the ball on the green. he is not expected to do anything of the kind. if he should happen to be successful, his partner would know that it was not his usual custom, that he had played beyond himself, and that therefore there was something of the fluke in the stroke after all. he would be much more likely to fail and foozle, and then what a miserable golfer would he be! his obvious duty is to play a simple, easy stroke which will be practically certain of placing the ball in such a position that his partner will have no difficulty in getting on the green with his third. and on the putting green, when anything over ten feet distance intervenes between the ball and the hole, while always giving the latter a chance, he should remember that his first duty is to lay the ball dead. if he holes out, well and good, but his partner insists first of all that the ball should be laid dead. at this crisis, also, he should be particularly careful that he never commits the unpardonable sin of laying himself, or rather his partner, a stymie. of all the stymies in the world, that which has been laid you by your own partner in a foursome is the most exasperating. of course, for the proper blending of each partner's game with that of the other, it is advisable, or rather necessary, that before the first stroke in the match is taken there should be some kind of general understanding about the policy that is to be pursued. first consideration is given to the turn in which the tee shots are to be taken, and the drives are so arranged that the better player takes them at a majority of the tees where good drives are most wanted. but it seems to me that very often an arrangement of this sort is arrived at without sufficient consideration. for example, it frequently happens that a long-handicap man is a very good driver indeed, better in fact than the man who is his partner and has a handicap of many strokes less. and in the same way it commonly occurs that a short-handicap man may be decidedly weak with his short approaches. on the average of the play from the tee to the hole the senior player may be fully so much better than the other as the difference in their handicaps suggests, but it by no means follows that in particular features of the game there is the same difference. therefore the wise partners will adapt themselves to each other, so that they will get all the good out of themselves and leave untouched that which is bad. and when this compact is completed and honourably adhered to, there are at hand the makings of a victory. when four players have decided among themselves to play a foursome, and there are wide differences in their respective handicaps, there is often considerable difficulty in arranging the best partnerships. it is good to be guided by mutual preferences, for preference means confidence, and that is everything in foursome play. but at the same time it is always advisable to sort out the players in such a manner that there is as little as possible of giving and receiving strokes. for example, where there is a scratch man, two 's (or a and a ), and an , the best and most enjoyable match is always likely to result from a combination of the scratch man with the against the two players of medium handicaps, although the scratch man, if a selfish player, may not be disposed to saddle himself with the unreliable person at the other end of the scale. it is a point to be borne in mind that the man, if, despite his handicap, he is a real and conscientious golfer, is more likely to play above his handicap than the scratch man. it is much easier for an -handicap player to perform like a than it is for a scratch man to play like a plus . in my opinion the arranging of strokes to be given and received in foursome play is far too delicate and complicated. in ordinary single-match play handicapping does not always work out very well, and it is often made to look foolish in a foursome. far better is it than adding up and dividing by clumsy fractions, and then finding that one party gets five strokes or eight, that the players should take a broad view of their respective merits, and then decide that they will either play on level terms or that a third or a half shall be given and received. the best foursome of all is one played on level terms, and an effort should always be made, and even a point strained here and there, to effect such partnerships as will make this arrangement feasible. a really good foursome, when the partners play harmoniously and the holes are well fought out, is a splendid diversion from the ordinary game of golf. the interest and excitement of each member of the party often seems to affect the others, and to lead up to an intense mutual keenness which is often superior even to that experienced in single play. there is a wholesome satisfaction in the community of interests. the winning of a hole is coveted as it was never coveted before. have you heard what should be a classical story about the foursome? the match was all square on the sixteenth green, and one excited scot stood by while his partner made a drive upon which the fortunes of a hard-fought game might rest. the caddies had been sent forward. the tee shot was pulled, and the ball went twisting round in the direction of the driver's boy. it struck him and he fell flat upon the ground. the driving partner dropped his club, and, with his face turned pale, muttered hoarsely to his friend, "tonalt, i've kilt the caddie!" but donald's mind was fixed upon other matters than the mere question of life and death, and with many excited gestures and a shriek of despair he exclaimed, "then, tamn it all, we've lost the hole," as under rule they had. at the end of this chapter i will make the simple remark, that you can pay a golfer no higher compliment than to say that he is a good foursome player, for such a one must not only be a good golfer and a steady one, but a man of the serenest and even most delightful temperament. you must always feel that you could not play in the company of such a man too often, either with him or against him. chapter xviii golf for ladies as to its being a ladies' game--a sport of freedom--the lady on the links--the american lady golfer--english ladies are improving--where they fail, and why--good pupils--the same game as the man's--no short swings for ladies--clubs of too light weight--their disadvantages--a common fault with the sex--bad backward swings--the lady who will find out for herself--foundations of a bad style--the way to success. some people say that golf is not a ladies' game, and from time to time one hears of something in the nature of dissensions within the family circle when there are wives and sisters anxious to take up the sport which palpably affords their male relatives one of the greatest enjoyments of life, and when there are husbands and brothers who, it is said, advance arguments which for number and ingenuity would do credit to a king's counsel, designed to show the absurdity and the futility of the desire expressed. it is a question upon which it would be out of place for me here to take any side, though it seems to me that there is something to be said for the complete separation of the men's golf from the ladies' golf, particularly in the case of large clubs and crowded courses. golf is essentially a sport of freedom. restraint of even the most trivial and conventional character in regard to manners and customs is irksome when there are holes to be played and tight matches to be pulled out of the fire. i like to see a lady go out on the golf links in whatever costume she thinks fit to wear for her own comfort and good play, and generally to do as she likes, as if there were nothing but nature and a little white ball and the hole with the flag in it in all the world. i have a great admiration for the american lady golfer, whom i have several times had the opportunity of studying on her native tees, and the other day i read the perfectly true story of an american clergyman making a scathing attack from the pulpit one sunday upon lady golfers, of whom he numbered many in his congregation. the reverend gentleman exclaimed that some of the lady members of his congregation attended divine service in the customary manner on the sabbath, and then "swore like troopers" on the golf links on the monday. the conduct of these ladies was no doubt exaggerated; but it appears as if it may have been reprehensible. however, it shows the keenness and the enthusiasm of the american lady golfer; and i am not at all sure that the answer of the english lady player, when she was asked if those bad words were ever uttered in this country, that the englishwoman made fewer bad shots and had no occasion for an extended vocabulary, was entirely convincing. one hears that the ladies have coined new words for the expression of their disgust at the results of their strokes, and, on the other hand, that the limits of expletive which they permit themselves when bunkered consist of the chiding utterance, "oh, you naughty, naughty little ball!" however this may be, i know not, and i would only remark, without presumption, to the ladies, as i have done in another place to their husbands and brothers, that golf is a game for thought and silence. now, i am glad to see so many ladies taking up the game year by year, and thus giving the best possible answer to the question whether it is a real ladies' game or not. and furthermore, i am pleased to bear witness that the standard of ladies' golf in this country is improving every season, so that now it needs a fine man golfer to give a third to the best of the gentler sex. these good lady players, or some of them, are attiring themselves in these days as i like to see lady golfers attired, that is to say, there is evidence that they think a trifle less of fashion and dainty appearance than they do of security, comfort, and freedom of limb and muscle. but the majority of lady players do not attach the proper amount of importance to these considerations, and that is why one is sometimes a little doubtful as to the prospects of ladies' golf generally in this country in comparison with those of american ladies' golf. the american girls are adopting the game more whole-heartedly and thoroughly than their english sisters, and their devotion to it will tell. the lady of the states who is a golfer dresses for golf and for golf only. very seldom do you see in america a lady golfer wearing a hat, or head covering of any description. when she has one, it is almost invariably a light tam o'shanter, or something very small and soft, which clings closely to the hair and does not get in the way of the swing of the club. she tucks up her sleeves like a man, and in the soles of her shoes she has plenty of goodly sized nails. and she does not look a tittle the worse for any of these things; indeed, the picture of the determined, strenuous, and yet charming lady golfer was one of the most attractive that i saw when in america. the average english girl does not appear willing to make so many sacrifices for golf as the american. she seems too often to say to herself that it is only a little game after all, and there is an end of it; and yet she is always desirous of getting on and reducing her handicap. i need hardly say that this is not the proper spirit in which to achieve success at golf. we see too many ladies on our links with big hats and no nails in their shoes. i have no faith whatever in their future as golfers. it is impossible to play good golf if one is not fitted out properly for the game, whether the player be lady or man. few players of our sex would dream of going on to the links in a tightly fitting coat and smooth-soled shoes. but the ladies are more venturesome. after this brief lecture on attire, let me at once declare that there are many points about our english lady golfer that i greatly admire. it has been my privilege to teach the first principles of the game to many of them, and i am bound to say that for the most part i have found them excellent pupils--better generally than the men learners. they seem to take closer and deeper notice of the hints you give them, and to retain the points of the lesson longer in their memories. they are painstaking; and if she begins to play early enough in her life, adopts sensible methods, and is possessed of an average amount of athleticism, i can see no reason why any lady should not become a very fair golfer. many somewhat spoil their prospects by concluding too hastily that they must play an altogether different game from that of their men friends, that they must have special clubs, special methods, and so forth. this is not the case. no doubt it is well for ladies to admit at once that they cannot drive as far as the men. but otherwise the man's game and the lady's game are the same in principle and in practice. as for the manner in which to play, i have not a single special piece of instruction to offer, and can only refer the lady neophyte to the previous pages, in which i have set forth as well as i am able the precise method in which each of the many strokes in golf should be played. i have merely to insist that they shall not deviate from these methods in one or two special matters in which they are advised or inclined to do. ladies are frequently advised that they ought never to take a full swing. of course in the foregoing pages i have frequently insisted that a golfer should avoid the absolutely full swing with all iron clubs, believing that he gets for the most part at least as good results with a good three-quarter swing. but those people who warn the ladies against the full swing, not only with their irons but with their wooden clubs also, advise the half swing because they say it is better for them for physical reasons, and that their results will be practically as good as if they had taken the three-quarter or the full. now i am convinced that this is altogether wrong, and, without encouraging any of my lady readers to the development of a big swing and a slashing style, i do say that they will do well for themselves and for their golf if they will train themselves to the making of at least a full three-quarter. i believe that the half swing entails a severer strain upon the body when made under these circumstances than the full three-quarter, and that the body does altogether more work than is good for it, while the delusion is entertained by those who recommend the short swing that the opposite is the case. in this half swing the body seems to get too much in front of the club and to labour heavily, while in the three-quarter the arms do most of the work, as they ought to do, and the body comes in at the proper time for the remainder. though in previous chapters i have strongly advised golfers to play a half shot with one club in preference to a full shot with one more powerful, i only do so obviously when the distance is fixed and the half shot will reach it. in playing from the tee it is an altogether different matter. in this case the distance is not fixed. the object is usually to drive as far as possible, so no half shots are wanted here. as a general rule, ladies make use of clubs that are far too light for them. frequently they do so by advice, and then their own instinct suggests to them that they should employ weapons less weighty than those of their male relations. this would be very sensible and proper if the clubs which men make use of were the heaviest that they could swing with effect. but a man only uses a club of a certain weight, because experience has proved that it is the best and most effectual for its purpose, and usually he has a very great reserve of strength which could be employed with heavier clubs if necessary. there is no reason at all why ladies should not employ clubs of good average weight instead of featherweights. by so doing they would spare themselves a great amount of exertion, and they would certainly get better results, for it is always much more difficult to get good results with a light club than with one of medium weight. with the featherweight the swing is very liable to get out of gear. it is cut short, and is apt to wander out of its proper direction. there is, in fact, no such control over the club as there is when one can feel the weight of the head at the end of the shaft. a lady may require clubs a trifle shorter in the shaft, but this is the only difference which need exist, and it is not of itself sufficient to make any perceptible difference in the weight. so far as i have discovered, ladies have no special faults or weaknesses of their own, as distinct from other players, but i have found them more than usually addicted to inaccuracy in the backward swing, causing the toe of the club to be pointing upwards instead of downwards at the turning-point. this is the result of wrong action and loss of control over the wrists, and a study of my remarks on driving, where this matter is specially dealt with, should do much to obviate it. it is possible, however, that the lady's inferior strength of wrist, as compared with a man's, may have much to do with the fault, but even in that case it only needs caution and care to bring about a cure. i should say that fully three ladies out of every five whose play i have watched make this mistake, and it is a fault which has very serious consequences. i should advise all of them to make a periodical examination of the position of the club head at the top of the swing, as i indicated when discussing the drive, and if they find the toe is upwards they must make up their minds to get rid of this bad habit at any cost. if it has already become a part of the player's system, it will not be abolished without considerable difficulty. to begin with, she would try swinging back more slowly, as a too rapid backward swing has often much to do with it. finally, i would suggest that any lady who aspires to be a really good golfer should take numerous lessons from those players superior to herself who are qualified to give them. i have already said that i have found ladies exceedingly good pupils, and when they set about learning the game in the right way, they often make really astonishing progress. but it must be confessed that in too many cases they do not treat the difficulties of the game with sufficient seriousness, and are inclined to think that they can get on best in their own way and by the adoption of their own methods. when once a lady has been given a couple of lessons in the swing for the drive, she often insists on finding out the rest for herself, and then a bad result is inevitable. all the practice and patience in the world will not make a good lady golfer if she does not learn the game in the right way. the simple fact is that, when a man sets about the game he admits its difficulties from the beginning, and goes about surmounting them in the right manner if he is really ambitious and covetous of a short handicap. but it often seems that ladies will not admit these difficulties, and persist in their attempt to make golfers of themselves unaided. perhaps that is one reason why ladies do not always continue with the game with that increasing eagerness and enthusiasm which is an almost invariable characteristic of the man golfer. learn properly, and practise much; and--well, yes, do the rest like a man, and not as if there were a special woman's way. that is the essence of my counsel to the lady aspirant on the links. chapter xix the construction of courses necessity for thought and ingenuity--the long-handicap man's course--the scratch player's--how good courses are made--the necessary land--a long nine-hole course better than a short eighteen--the preliminary survey--a patient study of possibilities--stakes at the holes--removal of natural disadvantages--"penny wise and pound foolish"--the selection of teeing grounds--a few trial drives--the arrangement of long and short holes--the best two-shot and three-shot holes--bunkers and where to place them--the class of player to cater for--the shots to be punished--bunkers down the sides--the best putting greens--two tees to each hole--seaside courses. many as are the golf courses with which the coast, the country, and the suburbs of the towns and cities of great britain are studded, they will no doubt be still more numerous as time goes on, and it is earnestly to be desired that in the laying out of links in the future, more thought and ingenuity may be exercised than has been the case in far too many instances during the past few years, when clubs have been formed and links have been made in a hurry. certainly some are excellent, and i cast not the least disparagement upon them. i enjoy them. frequently the hand of the master architect of golf is visible where one observes how shrewdly and exactly the hazards have been placed, and the peculiarities of the conformation of the country turned to the utmost account when useful, or cunningly dodged when it has been considered that they could be no good to the golfer. without a doubt, generally speaking, those courses are the best which have been designed by good players, because none know better than they what makes the best golf. a man whose handicap is some distance removed from scratch, but who has played golf for many years, and thinks with good reason that he knows a fine course when he sees one, would nevertheless, in designing a new one, be led unconsciously to make holes which would be more or less suited to his own style of play. he might, indeed, in a most heroic spirit, place a bunker at a point which he knew would be more than usually dangerous for him, and he would feel a better and a braver man for this act; but a hundred of its kind would not prevent the course from being the ideal of the long-handicap man and not the ideal of the fine player. if plans were prepared for a new links over a particular piece of territory by a -handicap man and a scratch player, it is highly probable that in the most material matters they would differ greatly, and it is fairly certain that a committee of the oldest and most experienced golfers would unanimously pick out the scratch player's plans from all the others as being the best and soundest, and that without knowing who had prepared them. time and the aggregate of pleasure given to golfers of all degrees would justify the selection. therefore, when a new club is established and a new course is to be laid out, i suggest that it is the wiser and the better plan to take time over it and to secure the best advice. a good links is not made in a day or a week. perhaps the cleverest and most ingenious constructor could not in a whole year make one which was in all respects the best that the land could give. almost every time that the course was played over during the first hundred rounds, a new thought for its improvement in some small detail would occur. the moving of a tee twenty yards to the right, the addition of a couple of yards to the end of one of the bunkers, the placing of a shallow pot bunker some eight or ten yards across at some particular point--all these and many other matters of equal significance will constantly suggest themselves. my experience tells me that the perfection of a good course is slowly attained. like wine, it takes time for the richness of its qualities to mature. therefore, when the committee of a new club in the country sits in conference with a plan of its newly-acquired land laid on the table, and decides unanimously that a tee shall be placed at a point marked a, a bunker along the line b, another bunker at c, and the hole at d, and so forth, i protest that they are doing poor justice either to themselves or to the game. but on many links made during the past few years--made in a hurry--the results of such mechanical methods are only too apparent. i hope that the few hints that i offer in this chapter may be of service to old clubs with improvable courses and new ones with none as yet, and to those fortunate individuals who contemplate laying out a course in their private grounds for the use of themselves and their friends. private courses are increasing in number; and for my part, though i must obviously be guilty of prejudice, i can conceive of no more enjoyable acquisition to a country house than a nine-hole course, and assuredly the possessor of it will be envied and his invitations to week-ends much coveted. the question of the amount of land that shall be called into service for the fulfilment of a scheme for a new links is one that is usually outside the control of those who project it. they have to cut according to their cloth. i need only say here, therefore, that in a general way some thirty or forty acres of land are necessary to make such a nine-hole course as shall possess a satisfactory amount of variety, and not less than seventy acres for a full-sized eighteen-hole course, this as a matter of fact being the acreage of the south herts club's course at totteridge, with which i am at present associated. by great economy of space and the exercise of unlimited ingenuity, courses might be made from a trifle less land, but they are better when they are made from more. two or three hundred acres are sometimes utilised for a good links. where land is very scarce, and there is no possibility of obtaining more of it, i earnestly advise private owners and committees to content themselves with a nine-hole course which will have plenty of length and good sporting quality about it, rather than sacrifice the good golf that is thus within their reach in a desire to possess a regulation eighteen-hole links that could only give complete satisfaction to ladies and children. too many courses, with scarcely a brassy shot upon them, have been ruined by this greed for holes. when the land has been allotted to the purpose, a very thorough and careful survey should be made of all its features. this is not to be done in one morning. the land, no doubt, is very rough, and at the first glance it looks ill-adapted to the golfer's purpose. many times i have had the task of making a course from materials which at first seemed so unpromising as to be hopeless. there should be no hurry at this time. let those who are designing the links walk slowly and meditatively over nearly every square yard of the land at least two or three times before coming to any final decision as to where to place a single tee, bunker, or hole. an open mind is the best to begin with. after one or two of these preliminary surveys, some general idea of the possible formation of the links will begin to shape itself in the mind, and this having been done, it will be practically impossible for an intelligent person to make additional journeys over the land without being struck with an idea for a great improvement at one or other of the holes which he has fashioned in his mind. if it is possible, take two or three weeks over this slow process of creation of the links. they may be altered afterwards to some extent, but for good or ill their main features will probably remain as at the beginning, and may endure for centuries. having secured to the mind this general and somewhat vague idea of the plan of the links, it is a good thing to plant a stake at each spot where it is proposed to make a hole; and when the land is all staked out in this manner, there is, as it were, a solid foundation upon which to build up the links. the location of the stakes can be inspected from a distance and from different points of view, and it will constantly happen on these occasions that for the improvement of one or other of the holes its removal to a different place will be suggested. continue your walks, examining the stakes from north, south, east, and west, and moving them here and there until you begin to feel a trifle weary of the business, and confident that you have planned the best possible holes out of the country that you have to deal with. then you may proceed with perhaps the more interesting but certainly the harder part of your task. it is useless to think about fashioning the links from the plan which will now have been formed, until those natural disadvantages of the land, which cannot be allowed to remain, have been removed. gorse and rocks may have to be cleared, and it is essential that at this stage an effort should be made to rid the course of rabbits and other undesirable vermin if any should infest it. rabbits help to keep the grass nice and short; but they make too many holes in the course, and there is no alternative but to regard them as the enemies of golf, and to make out the death warrants of them all accordingly. the quickest and surest way of getting rid of them is to search for every hole, apply the ferrets, stop up the holes afterwards, and to keep a watch for any that return. if only one or two are left here and there, they will play much havoc with the course in the future. from this point the way in which the work is proceeded with will naturally depend to a large extent on the length of the schemers' purse, and on their optimism or otherwise as to their future prospects; but i am sure that it is best to employ as many men as can be afforded at the outset, and so grapple with the execution of the plans in a thorough and determined manner. in the making of a golf course it is very easy to be "penny wise and pound foolish." the situation of the greens having been decided upon, the question as to the length of the holes, as to which some general impression will already have been formed, comes up for decision. a proposed teeing ground should be selected for each hole, the lengths of the holes then examined and compared, and the tees moved nearer or further back as seems desirable for the improvement of individual holes or the increase of variety. if at this stage there is any chance of finding a ball afterwards, it is a good thing to drive a few from each tee and play them with the brassy, cleek, irons, or mashie up to the green. if you drive half a dozen from each tee and play them through the green to the place where the holes will be, there will surely be one or two that have turned out excellently if you are a player of any skill whatever, and a study of the strokes which have been applied to these one or two, the point of pitching, and the final lie, will reveal the entire character of the hole you are making, and tell you plainly how it must be bunkered. in a nine-hole course i think there should be seven medium or long holes, and two short ones to break the monotony and test the golfer at all points. the situation of these short holes in the round will naturally be decided to a large extent by the land and other circumstances, but when the power of selection is left to the designer, i incline to the belief that nos. and are the best for these dainties. i like a short hole to come early in the round, as at no. , because then a golfer who has made a bad start is given a chance of recovering before he is hopelessly out of the hunt. he has a better prospect of making such a recovery (or thinks he has, which is much the same thing) at a short hole than at a long one, and, being put in a good temper again, he will very likely go on very well for the next two or three, when he will be favoured with another short one. the plight of the player who has discovered at the beginning of a medal round that he is off his drive and brassy, and that six or seven holes have to be played before a little one is reached, is certainly not pleasant. i call a good short hole one that can be reached by good play at any time with an iron club, because it fails to be a short hole when it is necessary to take wood upon the tee in order to get to the green. in an eighteen-hole course you might have three or four short holes--i think three are sufficient--and it would be well to vary their length so as to test the capacity of the golfer with different clubs, and to bring out all his qualities of resource. for a fourth hole on the short side plenty of sporting chance would constantly be afforded by one of yards length. this could not be called a short hole, because under ordinary circumstances and on most days it would be too far for even a good driver to reach from the tee, but he would often be tempted to nerve himself to a superior effort, and an occasional strain of this kind is advantageous in the long run. besides, when the wind was at his back he would frequently be successful, and on such occasions he would experience more pleasure and satisfaction from this particular tee shot than from any other of the whole round. the remainder of the course should be made up of a variety of two-shot and three-shot holes. the lengths should be varied as much as possible, and with limits of yards, and, say, to work between, it should surely not be so difficult as it appears to have been in so many cases of inland links to get fourteen or fifteen quite different holes. those of from to yards, with which so many courses abound, are not good holes in my opinion, because they give an almost equal chance to the man who has driven well and the man who has driven badly. take a common sort of hole, yards in length. a player misses his drive, and his ball travels only for, say, or yards. he may still reach the green with his brassy, and should be able to do so. now the man who drove well at this hole would need to make a second stroke with an iron club to reach the green, and would thus gain nothing from his better play. this is unfair, and what is unfair is bad. the good two-shot hole is one of the nicest and best holes on a course when it is really good. its length is about to yards. thus it will be perceived that a first-class drive from the tee must be followed up by a fine second, as straight as it is long, if the green is to be reached. the good player who has done all that he ought is thus rewarded by the clear gain of a stroke and the capture of a hole in , whilst the man who is a trifle weak with either his drive or his second, or has faltered to the slightest extent at either stroke, has for a certainty to use his mashie before he can call for the putter. when a two-shot hole is to be adjusted to this nicety of perfection, there is plainly not much margin for the variation of its length; but it is not necessary, nor is it even desirable, to demand continually such unerring skill from the golfer. my idea of a good three-shot hole is one that stretches for to yards, three fine shots being wanted. for holes of much greater length than this i have no fancy. perhaps no serious objection can be laid against an occasional hole of yards length, but what is really gained by such long journeys? certainly the true skill of the golfer is not being more severely tested. when we come to such monstrosities as holes of yards in length, it is time to call out "enough!" for by this time we have descended to slogging pure and simple, and the hard field work at which an agricultural labourer would have the right to grumble. so i repeat that the best hole for golfing is that good two-shotter which takes the ball from the tee to the green in two well-played strokes without any actual pressing. as for total length, it should be borne in mind that a links over yards long is considered a long one, and that there are championship greens, prestwick and muirfield, which are (or were until quite recently; there is a tendency to stretch everywhere since the rubber-cored ball became predominant) shorter than yards. in making the plan of the course, a point of interest and importance to decide upon is the direction in which the holes shall be played. some golfers prefer that the first and succeeding holes shall lie to the right of the starting-point, while others like best to go out on the left-hand side, that is, to play round the course in the same direction as that pursued by the hands of a clock. it is largely a matter of fancy, but personally my choice is for going out to the left because i think in this case the holes are generally more difficult, and the boundary usually being near to the left, constant precautions must be taken against pulling. another matter particularly to be remembered is that the first tee and the last green should be close together, and neither of them more distant from the club-house than is necessary. a wide separation of these points always seems to be contrary to the proper order of things. and now we come to the perplexing problem of bunkers and where to place them, and in this connection i would remark that it would be well not to regard the lengths of the holes, as so far arranged, as final and irrevocable, and not to establish permanent teeing grounds accordingly, for it must necessarily happen, as the bunkers come to be formed on the course, and more trial rounds are played, that one's ideas will undergo considerable change, and it is easier to lengthen a hole at this stage of the proceedings, by simply placing the tee further back, than it will be afterwards. it has been a great question with some committees of newly-established clubs or of older ones in search of new courses, as to whether, in laying out their greens and settling upon the location of all their nice new bunkers, they should keep more particularly in mind the excellences of the scratch player or the trials and troubles of the to handicap men. on the one hand, the scratch player is the experienced golfer, the man who plays the true game as it should be played, and who finds no real enjoyment in so-called golf wherein he is never called upon to do more than tap the ball over an obstacle ninety or a hundred yards in front. such links never put up a fight against him, and he finishes his listless round with something as near to the sense of weariness as it is possible for the golfer ever to experience. but these scratch players, in common with the men with all handicaps up to or , are in a very heavy and hopeless minority in most clubs to-day. the bulk of the membership is made up of players of from to , with a concentration of forces between and . these men say, or at all events think, that as they run the club they have a right to be considered, and in their hearts the committee believe that they are justified. these men with long handicaps--some of whom have not even a desire to reduce them to any considerable extent, deriving the utmost pleasure in playing the game in their own way--can find no fun in being always and inevitably in the same bunkers, and regard driving from a tee, when they are either obliged to play short deliberately with an iron or be bunkered for a certainty with their driver, as the most dismal occupation with which a saturday or sunday sportsman could ever be afflicted. therefore they cry loudly for shorter carries. they say the others are not fair, and from their particular point of view the remark is possibly justified. even the young golfer who is determined to be a scratch man some day, though he is eighteen strokes from that pinnacle of excellence as yet, becomes rather tired in the long run of finding constant punishment waiting upon his valiant attempts to drive his longest ball, and thinks the committee should be reminded that there are others in the world besides the immediately coming champions. amidst these conflicting desires, committees and course designers appear frequently to have attempted a compromise with no particular satisfaction to anybody. it is impossible to lay out a course to suit all the different players in a club, and my own most decided opinion is that the bunkers and other hazards should always be placed to test the game of the scratch player, and not that of the handicap man. a course that is laid out for the latter very often inflicts severe punishment on the scratch player, and it is surely hard that the man who has spent many years in the most patient and painstaking practice should be deliberately treated in this manner when the comparative novice is allowed to go scot free. moreover, when a bunker is so placed that a long carry is needed from the tee, the handicap man will find his game much improved by playing on the course. at first he finds he cannot carry the hazard, and for a little while contents himself with playing short. but he soon tires of this timidity, takes more pains with his strokes, braces himself up to bigger efforts, and at last the day comes when his ball goes sailing over the obstruction. afterwards the performance is repeated quite easily, and the views of one man as to the unfairness of that particular carry have undergone a radical change. it is better for the beginner that he should have a hard course to play over than an easy one, and, much as he may grumble at the beginning, he will in the end be thankful to those who imposed a severe experience upon him in his early days as a golfer. therefore, if it is decided that there must be a bunker in the centre of the course in the line of the drive, i suggest that it should be placed at a distance of about to yards from the tee. the second bunker, if there is to be another stretching across the course with a view to imposing difficulties on second shots or guarding the green, should be rather less than this distance from the first, so that the man who has topped his drive and is short of the first hazard should still have a chance of clearing the next one with his second shot. recovery ought never to be impossible. but really i am no believer at all in bunkers placed across the course. certainly let there be one in front of the tee to catch the bad drive, and another to guard the green; but, generally speaking, the merely short ball carries its own punishment with it in the distance that has been lost and has to be made good again. the straight driver is not the man to be punished. it is the player who slices and pulls and has obviously little command over his club and the ball, and who has taken no pains to master the intricate technique of the drive, for whose careless shots traps should be laid. as often as not the bunker in the centre of the course lets off the ball with a bad slice or pull on it. so i say that bunkers should be placed down both sides of the course, and they may be as numerous and as difficult as the controlling authority likes to make them. but hazards of any description should be amongst the last features to be added to a newly-made golf links. not until the course has been played over many times under different conditions, and particularly in different winds, can anyone properly determine which is the true place for a hazard to be made. at the beginning it may have been placed elsewhere in a hurry, and it may have seemed on a few trials to answer its purpose admirably, but another day under different conditions it may be made clear that it is in the very place where it will catch a thoroughly good shot and allow only a bad one to escape. i would not have insisted so much on this need for deliberation and patience, if it did not so often happen that as the result of placing the hazards on a new course in too much haste, they are found afterwards to be altogether wrong and have to be moved, with the waste of much time and money. there is little to the point that i can say about the making of the putting greens, as so much depends upon the natural conditions and opportunities. sometimes there is nothing to do but to cut the grass short and pass the roller over it a few times and the green is made, and a first-class green too. at other times there is need for much digging, and the turf with which the carpet is to be relaid may have to be carried to the spot from a considerable distance. particularly when so much trouble is being taken over the laying of the greens, do i beg the makers of courses to see that they are not made dead level and as much like a billiard table as possible, which often seems to be the chief desire. to say that a putting green is like a billiard table is one of the worst compliments that you can pay to it. by all means let it be true in the sense of being smooth and even, and presenting no lumps or inequalities of surface that are not plainly visible to the eye, and the effect of which cannot be accurately gauged by the golfer who has taught himself how to make allowances. but on far too many greens the man with the putter has nothing to do but gauge the strength of his stroke and aim dead straight at the hole. he derives infinitely less satisfaction from getting down a fifteen-yards putt of this sort than does the man who has holed out at ten feet, and has estimated the rise and fall and the sideway slope of an intervening hillock to begin with and a winding valley to follow, his ball first of all running far away to the right, then trickling across to the left, and finally wheeling round again and rolling into the tin. only when there is so much calculation to be done and it is so precisely accomplished does the golfer practise the real art of putting, and taste the delights of this delicate part of the game. the other is dull and insipid in comparison. there is the less excuse for making the flat and level greens, inasmuch as even the beginners can appreciate the sporting quality of the others and enjoy practice upon them from the first day of their play. let there be plenty of undulations, and then with the changing positions of the hole a player can practically never come to any particular green upon which he may have putted hundreds of times without having a problem set him entirely different from any that he has had to work out before. greens, of course, are of all sizes, from fifteen to fifty yards square, and i beg leave to remark that large size is a fault in them, inasmuch as the bigger they are the less is the skill required in the approach shot. it is perhaps unnecessary for me to point out as a final word, that when tees have to be specially prepared and turfed, it is a decided improvement to a course to have two at different points for each hole, one nearer and more to one side than the other. not only do these alternative tees enable each of them to be given a periodical rest for recovery from wear and tear, but they afford an interesting variation of the play, make it possible to impose a more severe test than usual upon the players when it is felt desirable to do so, as on competition days, and also in some measure to counteract the effects of winds. of course when tees have not to be specially made there is endless variety open. it is obvious that the greater part of the foregoing remarks applies chiefly to the construction of inland courses. seaside links laid over the dunes are made by nature herself, and generally as regards their chief features they must be taken or left as the golfer decides. a new hazard may be thrown up here and there, but usually the part of the constructor of a seaside course is to make proper use of those that are there ready made for him, and which are frequently better than any that could be designed by man. chapter xx links i have played on many first-class links--the best of all--sandwich--merits of the royal st. george's course--punishments for faults and rewards for skill--not a short course--the best hole--the maiden--other good holes--prestwick an excellent course--the third and the ninth holes--the finest hole anywhere--hoylake--two or three tame holes--a means of improvement--good hazards and a premium on straight play--st. andrews--badly-placed bunkers--a good second hole--the finest one-shot hole to be found anywhere--an unfair hole--the best holes at muirfield--troon--north berwick--cruden bay--dornoch--machrihanish--a splendid course at islay--the most difficult hole i know--gullane--kilspindie--luffness--links in ireland--portrush--portmarnock--dollymount--lahinch--newcastle--welsh courses--ashburnham--harlech--on the south and south-west coasts--the rushes at westward ho!--newquay--good holes at deal--littlestone--rye--the advantage of cromer--brancaster--hunstanton--sheringham--redcar--seaton carew--st. anne's--formby--wallasey--inland courses--sunningdale--a splendid course--another at walton heath--huntercombe--london links--courses in the country--sheffield--manchester--huddersfield--"inland" courses at the seaside--a warning. of all the golf courses that have any pretensions to being considered first class, or even good second class, i can call to mind very few over which i have not played a round, and at a time when the reputations of so many of them are being severely overhauled, and their merits and demerits criticised, some expression of my own opinions may prove interesting alike to the golfers who know them well and to others who are looking forward with eagerness to the enjoyment of games upon them at future holiday times. recent championships and big matches have resulted in such wonderful scores, that some golfers are inclined to ask despairingly whether we have any really first-class course at all; and links which in the past have been considered perfect are spoken of contemptuously as fit only for handicap men who want their golf made easy. if they attach any importance to my opinion, then let them be assured that we still have many links which come near to being perfect, and that, notwithstanding the advent of the rubber-cored ball, there is no reason to complain about them or agitate for great alterations. we have them in england, scotland, and ireland--perhaps more in scotland than elsewhere, but that is chiefly due to accidental circumstances. i am constantly asked, when the discussions to which i have referred are taking place, which in my opinion is the best course in the world. many considerations enter into such a reckoning; but, after making it carefully, and with full knowledge of the fact that my answer is at variance with many of the best authorities on the game, i say sandwich. then let me tell you why i consider the links of the royal st. george's club to be the best that are to be found anywhere. there is, in the first place, not a single tee shot in the round where good play must not be shown by the golfer if he wants to achieve success. there is scarcely a hole at which a player who only half hits his ball from the tee does not find himself in grave difficulties, demanding an unusually brilliant recovery and sterling play until he has holed out, if he is to have any chance of getting on level terms with his opponent again, assuming that the latter is playing the proper game. the bunkers are so placed that a good shot has to be made every time to carry them. on the other hand, you are always satisfied that virtue is properly rewarded at sandwich, and that if your tee shot is hit truly and well you are certain to be nicely situated for your second. elementary considerations as these may appear to be, there are many courses having the reputation of being first-class where this reward is not always so sure as it is at sandwich. the greens on that course are in all cases well protected, and they abound in character and variety. some critics say that the carries over the first bunkers from the tees are too long; but i do not agree with them. without being a particularly long driver, anybody who hits his ball truly can carry any bunker at sandwich that ought to be carried from the tee. then at the championships in everybody was declaring, with much knowledge that had come after the event, that the course was on the short side, as was proved, they said, by the phenomenal scores that were made in the open competition. i do not agree. the scores made by two or three players were certainly low, but that was because they played exceptional golf. if i admit that the course is the merest trifle on the short side in going out, i hasten to add that a man must be playing perfect golf to get to the turn with a low score, while, unless his play does come within these narrow limits of perfection, he may find, grand player though he be, that he may easily run up a total for his nine holes that would look foolishly large. coming in, there is certainly no shortness about the holes, and there is plenty of scope for the man who wants to open out his shoulders with his driver and his brassy, while there are hazards everywhere for the punishment of the balls that are not kept in the fairway. these are the chief considerations which lead me to give an emphatic vote in favour of sandwich when i am asked which is the best course--that is to say, the best test of golf--that is to be found in the british isles, or elsewhere so far as i know, and i ask to be given no more favourable opportunity of studying a golfer's points, than to see him play a round or two over the st. george's links. i should say that the third hole at sandwich, although a short one, is in golfing quality one of the best of the eighteen, because it is so splendidly protected with bunkers and rushes everywhere, so that the player who would get on to the green from the tee does indeed need to be bold, and as accurate as he is bold. no faintness of heart, no doubtful stroke, will ever in the result be flattered by this third hole. the sixth or maiden, famous everywhere, is very fine indeed, though it is not nearly so difficult as it used to be. the eighth is another beauty, well guarded by bunkers; a trifle on the short side if the wind is following, but a terror in length if the breeze is coming from the green. the ninth is good. the tenth calls for a perfect drive straight down the middle of the course, in default of which the second shot will abound with difficulty; and at the fifteenth another very straight tee shot is wanted. if there is a breath of wind to help the ball from the tee, a plucky player may then come to the conclusion that he has a chance of reaching the green with his second, and a fine shot will take him over the treacherous little bunker that guards it, giving him a of which he may be proud in the best of company. these are the gems of sandwich. next to this course, i think that prestwick with its himalayas and its alps is the finest that we have. it is an excellent test to apply to a would-be champion, although there have been complaints that this course also is short. yet it is longer than it used to be, and it is merely the rubber-filled ball that makes it seem short. the third hole at prestwick is one that stirs the soul of the dare-devil golfer, for, after he has despatched the ball safely and well from the tee, he finds a big, gaping bunker, the famous "cardinal," ahead of him for his second--an ugly brute that gives a sickening feeling to the man who is off his game. defy this bunker, be on the green with your brassy, put a on your card, and you have done something which should make you happy for the morning. the ninth again is an excellent hole at which the straight driver is rewarded all the way, and, if he does his duty, is given a . i have no hesitation in giving my judgment that the seventeenth is the finest hole to be found on any links. i say so because it is the best specimen of a really perfect two-shot hole. if there is the slightest flaw in either the drive or the second stroke, all prospect of reaching the green in two vanishes into thin air. mr. laidlay once lost a match and an amateur championship because his second shot here was not quite good enough. a good tee shot well into the middle of the course, a second that is as clean as a shot can be and as straight as a bullet from a gun, with the gods of golf smiling approval all the way and particularly when your second is nearing the green--with all these you may ask for your putter for the third stroke. but there is a bunker before the green, a bunker just beyond the green, and rushes to the right and left, so that the second shot has indeed to be a beauty for its maker to be wholly satisfied. this is the sort of hole that all good golfers best like to play, because they know that the good shots are certain of their reward, and that not merely the bad shots but the indifferent ones are met with just penalties every time. it is said that no two golf strokes are ever alike, but there is just enough similarity about them to prevent individual strokes from living very long in history except in a few striking cases. perhaps the most memorable shot ever played in golf was that made at this hole by the late mr. fred tait when he was engaging with mr. john ball, jun., in the final tie of the amateur championship in . the scottish favourite was in the bunker guarding the green with his second, and it so happened that the bunker on this occasion was filled with rain water, in which the ball was floating. mr. tait chipped the ball out beautifully on to the green, and saved a hole which seemed a certain loss. it is hard to find many holes that are worthy of being put in the same class as this. man cannot make such holes. they are there when he seeks out the land for the first time with his golf clubs. hoylake is a good course. there are one or two holes on it that must be admitted to be very tame. if the land in the middle of the course which is at present out of bounds were taken in and made playable, these holes could be much improved. the hazards are good and plentiful, and a satisfactory premium is put upon straight play. the ninth is a nice hole, a really good drive helping the player considerably. the eleventh is another pretty one, neither long nor short, but just that length which a fine shot from the tee will reach, and accuracy is demanded by the rushes which seem all over the course as you stand to drive. i call st. andrews a good course generally; but its bunkers are badly placed. they punish the man who is driving well more than the man who is driving badly, for they are generally the length of a good long drive. if this defect could be remedied, and if there were a few more bunkers at the sides to catch the pulled and sliced balls, then st. andrews would be a fine links indeed. as it is, there are some excellent holes. the second is beautiful--beautiful if the flag is put in the centre of the green--because then a good second shot is rewarded as it ought to be. but it generally happens when big matches are being played there that the hole is placed in a corner, which frequently spoils the prospects of these good second shots. the seventh is good, calling for a most accurate second, and the eleventh is the finest one-shot hole to be found anywhere. the green is on a plateau with bunkers all about it, and if you overpitch it your ball will be in the rushes beyond. many golfers swear by the seventeenth; but i am not one of them. i declare that it is a very unfair hole, and there is no encouragement here to be plucky. the player must be pawky all the way, for it is fully two to one against there being anything but punishment as the result of bold tactics. the man who tries to place his long shot on the green may try again and again, and he will be convinced that it is next to impossible to stop there when he reaches it. for some reasons i like muirfield; but it does not enjoy so many advantages as the other championship courses. there are not so many sandhills. it is on the flat side, and at the first glance you might take it to be an inland course; but after a single round you are greatly impressed by the good golf that is to be obtained upon it. the turf is capital, some of the hazards are very fine, and on the whole i think it may fairly be regarded as a very good championship test of golf. the fourth, twelfth, and eighteenth holes all call for first-class seconds if the greens are to be reached. there are so many other good links in the north that a further selection becomes increasingly difficult. troon, abounding in sandhills, is very fine, and the player needs to be very skilful to get round it in a low score. north berwick is also good, and it is surprising to see how well the links are preserved considering the enormous amount of play to which they are subjected. there are many good holes at popular carnoustie, with a fine length about them which calls for good brassy play, and which is calculated to bring out all the good points that a golfer has in him. cruden bay and dornoch are enjoyable; but those who want to get the best golf in scotland need not always go to those places that revel in reputation and where an inconvenient crowd may at most times be depended upon. some of the gems of north britain are hidden away in inaccessible corners, and the golfers who would reach them must make tedious journeys by land and sea. but he who is worthy of the game is in my opinion amply rewarded for these travelling labours, by the quality of the golf that is vouchsafed to him at his journey's end, and he is spared the annoyance of being obliged to book his starting time overnight and of having a couple of hours to wait upon the tee if he is a minute late in the morning. i believe that machrihanish is one of these very fine but out-of-the-way courses, but it happens to be one over which i have not hitherto played. i can tell of another where the most glorious golf is to be obtained, and which i can strongly recommend to those on the lookout for a place at which to spend a golfing holiday. it is at islay. there the air is grand, there is excellent accommodation to be obtained at the combined hotel and club-house, and as for the quality of the golf i do not hesitate to say that the course is in every respect fit for the championships to be decided upon it. there is one hole here, the third, which is the most difficult anyone can imagine. if i were asked to select one from all the thousands of holes that i have played in my time, i should pick this one out for difficulty. they call it mount zion, and i think it is a good name for it. you must make three very good shots to reach the green, and in the matter of accuracy the third needs to be a gem if any satisfaction whatever is to be got out of the whole business. the green is on a plateau, and it is protected by every contrivance that ingenious nature has vouchsafed to the makers of courses. if you are short you are in a running stream; if you pull you go out of bounds; and if your ball trickles over the green, away it goes into the sea--tortures the most terrible for the erring ball. yes, decidedly i think this is the hardest hole i have ever seen. the first time i played it i took to hole out, and yet won it from a very fine professional player who is an ex-champion! i have never done a hole better in my life than when i once halved this with taylor in in the course of a match which taylor won at the twenty-fourth hole. the seventh is also a very fine hole with a bunker in front of the tee, which is very similar to the maiden at sandwich. an old golfer who lives there told me he can remember the time when it was a rabbit scrape. like all golfers who know them, i sing the praises of gullane, kilspindie, and luffness. there is a variety of good golf to be obtained in ireland also. portrush, portmarnock, dollymount, lahinch, and newcastle (co. down)--all these are fine links. for a place to visit for an enjoyable golfing holiday, when health is a governing consideration also, i should select portrush as one of the very best, while golfers who wish to play at portmarnock and elect to put up in a dublin hotel have an experience of pleasant variety which i at all events have found very agreeable, for you have first the train, then the car, and last of all the boat to take in order to reach the course, and not an inch of the journey is wearisome. of course this proceeding cannot be recommended to those golfers who prefer to sleep in close proximity to the first tee, regardless of all other pleasures that are to be obtained without any sacrifice of the game. the course i like best in wales is that at ashburnham, over which the welsh championship was last played for. it is one of those excellent natural links which require very little attention. the royal st. david's course at harlech is also very good. coming back to england again, i agree with all others that splendid golf is to be obtained at westward ho! although there is one quite unique feature of this course of which some golfers, myself among the number, do not bear the pleasantest recollections. i refer, of course, to the rushes of a peculiar growth which are to be found there in such abundance. i can conceive no nightmare more horrible to a player than one in which during his hours of troubled sleep he is in imagination vainly trying to rescue his unhappy ball from the clutches of these famous rushes. they stand full five feet high, strong and stiff like stout twigs, and they have sharp and dangerous points which seem as if they might be made of tempered steel. a kind of blossom appears on them in the season as if to disguise their evil features. any player who is unlucky enough to put his ball into them (and there are one or two holes at which even a good shot may find its way there) must always encounter a considerable risk of breaking his club in the endeavour to play out again. i believe that attempts have been made to grow these rushes elsewhere, but the seeds that have been carried away from their native westward ho! have never prospered. perhaps some golfers may reflect that this is just as well, though with all their faults and dangers i certainly do not condemn them as a hazard. they are a novelty, and all things that come from nature must be admitted without question into the game of golf. on the south coast there are several fine links. newquay is excellent for a holiday, and the course of the cinque ports club at deal, now that it is eighteen holes, is very fine. i have not enjoyed recent acquaintance with it, but the short fourth hole which they call the sandy parlour struck me when i was last down there as being a very sporting little piece of golf. both littlestone and rye are admirable, and i have pleasant memories of the latter, particularly in connection with a match i once played there with mr. fred tait. again, on the east coast of england there are courses in number which afford the best opportunities for enjoyable and skilful golf. cromer is a mixture of inland and seaside. it is one of those seaside courses which don't look what they are, but some parts of it are good, especially those which lie through the sand dunes. the lower part is tame. however, the air is beautiful, and the golfer who makes his headquarters at this place enjoys the material advantage of having three or four other first-class links within easy reach. for example, there is brancaster, which, though a long distance from any railway station, is worth any amount of trouble that may be expended on the journey. the turf is excellent, the hazards well placed, and the golfer who does not keep straight is penalised as he ought to be. it is a fine course. then there is hunstanton, which is also very good, and sheringham too. higher up there is golf at redcar and seaton carew which none need despise. on the north-west coast there is more golf to be had that is well worthy of the name. st. anne's and formby are both capital, and fine golf is necessary to get round these courses at all well. wallasey is highly satisfactory. both my space and my memory are unequal to giving a complete list of all the seaside courses that should be commended, and the absence of any particular one from my little list does not imply that i rank it as inferior, although i have tried to mention all those that i consider the very best. so far i have said nothing about inland links, because the golfer who is going away from his own for a brief period for pleasure and improvement usually elects to play at the seaside, and wisely so, for, apart from the superior hygienic properties of atmosphere, there is no getting rid of the fact, however much we may be attached to some inland courses, that seaside golf, when it is the real thing, is entirely different from any other. it is better in every respect; in fact it is usually ideal. it gives more benefit to the mind and body of the overworked player, it pulls out his game and makes a golfer of him as nothing else can ever do, and it affords such variety of a true sporting character as nothing but nature can provide. but in thus extolling the seaside game, i do not wish for a moment to be considered as disparaging the golf that is to be had almost everywhere throughout the country in these days. inland golf is a necessity to all except the leisured people who have no occupation which chains them to cities and towns, and there is now so much of it that it has taken a dominant place in the golfing world. and if the inland turf does not possess those glorious qualities that distinguish the seaside article, and if the bunkers constantly bear evidence of having been carted to the place where they are situated, and if, moreover, the evenness of many green fields becomes somewhat monotonous, nevertheless the golf which is to be obtained at many of these places is thoroughly enjoyable, and at the same time as severe a test of skill as the most conceited player could ever wish for. take sunningdale, for instance. this course, in my opinion, is the best of all the inland links with which i am familiar, and it requires the very finest golf to get round it in anything like a decent score. unless the golfer plays with his head as well as with his club, he will find himself in difficulties all the way. walton heath is another good example. here also a capital player must be on the top of his game to get round in anything like bogey. those who made this course have mastered the undesirable eccentricities of the rubber-cored ball as few others have done. this ball is too apt to despise the average inland bunker, particularly in the summer-time, and goes skipping over it as if there were no obstruction in sight. but it does not do that at walton heath, where they have made the bunkers so deep that the ball inevitably stops in, and there is nothing for it but to ask the caddie for the niblick and resign yourself to losing a stroke. i should like to see the managers of other courses take a leaf out of the walton heath book. bunkers that were once quite deep in the old days of the gutty are in too many cases shallow and useless under the new conditions. i do think that the splendid state of the walton heath links is marvellous considering the short time that has elapsed since the club was formed. i have never played at huntercombe, over which my old friend and opponent, willie park, has spent so much care and time and money, but i believe that it is similarly good, and i have heard golfers, for whose opinion i have the highest respect, declare enthusiastically that it is one of the best inland courses to be found anywhere, while the high hill air is splendid. considering the many disadvantages under which they labour, particularly in the matter of soil, which is mostly of the clay variety, the links round about london may be considered good, and though the metropolitan golfer may not always appreciate the fact, during one period of the year he scores over all others. this is in the summer-time, when the hot sun has at last dried and burnt up the grass on many seaside links and made them slippery and difficult even to walk upon. at such time the grass on the london links is still usually quite fresh and green, and not until some weeks later does it yield to the scorching rays. for the most part, too, the london links are exceedingly well kept. lees, the greenkeeper at the mid-surrey course at richmond, is the best man for that duty that i know. i cannot attempt to give any adequate information about the hundreds of links that are now dotted about all over the shires. it must suffice to say, in confining myself to large centres, that i have pleasant memories of good golf that i have had on the fine course at lindrick in the sheffield district, and at trafford park near manchester. this is indeed a very nice inland course, with gravelly soil and a capacity for keeping dry during the winter. at timperley there is another good links. the huddersfield course is a splendid one to play upon, and very tricky too. its merits are indicated by the quality of golfers that it breeds. it has made several men who have won the yorkshire championships, and in club matches the huddersfield team is a very hard one to beat. there is one class of course of which i have not yet made any mention, and which i do not think it is necessary to do more than refer to. it is that mongrel kind which is both seaside and inland, but which is in the full sense neither, situated, that is, at a seaside resort, and may be in the very closest proximity to the sea, but with none of the properties of the real seaside course--no seaside turf, no sand dunes, no wild natural golf. these courses are usually elevated on cliffs. in many cases the golf that is to be obtained upon them is excellent, and i only wish to point out to unpractised golfers who are about to start for a holiday and have taken no advice, that if they are making for a seaside place and want that kind of golf which they have heard is to be had at deal, sandwich, rye, westward ho! littlestone, st. andrews, north berwick, and scores of other places, they should make quite certain that they are taking their railway tickets in the proper direction. otherwise, when they arrive upon the links that they have chosen, they may fail to discover any difference between the course visited and that on which they are in the habit of playing when at home. i only mention the matter because i have known so many cases of severe disappointment arise through mistakes of this kind. chapter xxi golf in america good golf in the united states--my tour through the country--mr. travis's victory in our amateur championship--not a surprise--the man who played the best golf--british amateurs must wake up--other good americans will come--our casual methods of learning golf--the american system--my matches in the states--a good average--driving well--some substantial victories--some difficult matches--course records--enthusiasm of the american crowds--the golf fever--the king of baseball takes to golf--the american open championship--a hard fight with j.h. taylor--a welcome win--curious experiences in florida--greens without grass--the plague of locusts--some injury to my game--"mr. jones"--fooling the caddies--camping out on the links--golf reporting in america--ingenious and good--mistakes made by non-golfing writers--lipping the hole for a hundred dollars. i have a higher opinion of both the present and the future of golf in america than that which seems to be entertained by a large number of eminent players in this country. i think that american golf is very good at the present time--much better than it is given credit for being--and i am convinced that it will be still better in the future. i made a long golfing tour through the united states in , when englishmen for the most part regarded the game in that country with as much seriousness as they would have bestowed upon golf in timbuctoo if they had heard that it was being played there. at that time it seemed to be taking a firm grip of our cousins, and i saw enough to convince me that america was coming on quickly, and that before long the old country would have reason to fear her. everything that has happened since then has strengthened my belief, and the eyes of the british were at last fairly opened when the championship was played for at sandwich in june of last year, when, to the chagrin of our own leading amateurs, an american, in the person of mr. walter j. travis, became the victor, and took back with him across the atlantic the amateur championship cup. so far from surprising me, that event was exactly what i expected. when i was in america i played against mr. travis once or twice, and though he was then in the improving stage and evidently not at the top of his career, i felt that he was a man who might very likely do great things in the future. afterwards i followed his play with some curiosity and interest. i saw that in course of time he beat many good men whose form i understood precisely. i knew that he was one of the steadiest golfers i had ever seen--a man of fine judgment and marvellous exactness, who always played with his head, and was constantly giving the closest possible study to the game. i felt that when he came to play for our championship he would make a very bold bid for it. when i heard that he was going to sandwich last year, i made him my "tip" for premier honours, and before the first round was played i said to many friends, "mark my words; if travis gets anything like a fairly easy draw to start with he will go right through." and so he did. i saw him play on this memorable occasion, which will never be forgotten as long as any of the events of golfing history are remembered, and, in opposition to the opinions of other british critics expressed in many columns of print during the weeks following, it was and is my absolute conviction that his was the best golf played in that tournament, and that he thoroughly deserved to win. he played with his head the whole way through, and his golf was really excellent. it was only natural that our people should be very downhearted when they saw what had happened, for it seemed nothing else than a great disaster. i do not think that in the long run it will prove to have been so, for the inevitable effect of it was to wake up our british golf, which stood sadly in need of arousing. i think that amateur golf in this country has been steadily depreciating for some time, and at the present moment i think that the standard of merit of our best players is lower than in the days when mr. harold hilton, mr. john ball, jun., and the late mr. freddy tait were at their best. and despite the american shock, i cannot profess that the outlook at the present moment is particularly encouraging. there are other good golfers in the states besides mr. travis, and, frankly, i think that unless we wake up in this country the cup will go there again. for the moment our numerical strength in the championship tournament is in our favour. when there are only half a dozen americans entered out of a total number of over a hundred, the odds are evidently against them, but an "american invasion" is threatened, and then we shall see what we shall see. the chief reason why it is difficult to feel optimistic about the prospects of amateur golf in this country is because the rising generation, upon whom we must depend for our future champions, do not take sufficient pains to make themselves masters of the game. they are too haphazard in learning it. the beginners on our side are too apt to say to themselves, "i will go and teach myself to hit a ball first, and then i will take a lesson," which is, of course, entirely wrong. then one of their friends tells them to do a certain stroke in one way, and another tells them the opposite, and thus at the end of six months they have got into such a thoroughly bad style that it is the most difficult task in the world for a professional to set them right. those who have the future of british golf at heart cannot afford to disregard or wink at these vagaries on the part of beginners, on whom we depend to constitute the national system in coming years. now the national system of america is altogether different. they are not haphazard there. they seem to take a deeper interest in the game and its science, and they never think of trying to learn it by the chance methods which are so much in favour with us. they take the game with the utmost seriousness from the very beginning, and obtain the very best advice that they can. the professionals never have a minute to spare, and their engagement-books are constantly filled up for three weeks in advance, so that without that length of notice nobody stands a chance of getting a lesson for love or money. that is the way in which the people of america are learning to play golf, and it is the proper way. it is slow but it is very sure; and unless i am very much mistaken, there will in the future be other players coming across the atlantic to take part in our championships who will be as great as travis if not greater, and if we on our part do not forthwith begin to take our golf more seriously it may be a sad day for us when they do come. as i have said, american golf was only just budding when i made my tour through the country in ; but nevertheless i found that tour extremely interesting and enjoyable, and everywhere i was given the heartiest and most enthusiastic reception. nobody even begrudged me the american championship which i brought back with me, and nobody made any unkind criticisms of my play, or suggested that i did not in any way deserve the victory. my tour began in march and did not finish until the end of the year, but was interrupted for a short period at the beginning of the summer, when i made a flying trip home in order to take part in our own open championship. as it happened, the best that i could do was to finish second to taylor, but i may add that this result was better than i expected, considering the sudden change of golf and climate that i experienced. i had to cover several thousands of miles in order to play the matches in which i took part in america. of these matches i only lost two when playing against a single opponent, and each time it was bernard nicholls who beat me, first at ormonde and then at brae burn. there was not a blade of grass on the course on which nicholls won his first match from me, and i leave my readers to imagine what playing on a links consisting of nothing but loose sand was like. altogether i suffered only thirteen defeats, but in eleven of them i was playing the best ball of two or more opponents, which was the task that was generally set me. i won over fifty matches and halved two. some of my victories were somewhat substantial. at point comfort i beat willie dunn by sixteen up and fifteen to play, and at scarsdale i got the better of the same opponent to the extent of fifteen and fourteen. such wide margins naturally suggest opponents of inferior ability; but if i may modestly say so, i do not think that was wholly the case. i consider that at that time i was playing better golf than i had ever played before or have done since. as was the custom there, i used to go out on the links in the very thinnest and airiest costume. in florida it was too warm to play with either coat or vest, so both were discarded and shirt sleeves rolled up. generally, like my opponents, i wore no jacket, but a neat waistcoat with sleeves which helped to keep the arms together. in such attire one was afforded a delightful sense of ease and freedom which considerably helped one's golf. then again, whether it was due to the fine dry atmosphere--as i think it was--or not, the ball certainly seemed to fly through the air with less resistance offered to it than i had ever experienced before. never have i driven so well as i did with the old gutty in america in that year. many of the professionals whom i met were men who were taught their golf in this country, and were players who would usually hold their own in the best of professional company. the american papers gave very lengthy reports of all the matches in which i took part, the headlines and what followed them being frequently very flattering. there was "the golf king," and many such as that, in type nearly an inch deep. perhaps i may, without offence, be permitted to quote from the account given in a leading daily newspaper of the second match in which i defeated willie dunn--at scarsdale--which i only do for the purpose of showing that the conditions of play were sometimes really trying, and not at all conducive to big victories or record breaking. this paper said: "if it were necessary to dwell upon the extraordinary consistency of the champion's game, one has only to refer to his card for the four rounds (it was a nine-hole course) in yesterday's match, as his worst nine holes totalled forty-one and his best thirty-seven. if the turf could only unearth a thoroughbred as reliable as vardon, poolrooms in greater new york would be past history in very short order. vardon's skill probably never underwent a severer test than in the match yesterday. everything was against his exhibiting anything approaching championship form. he had not only to contend against a biting north-west wind, which temporarily got mixed up with a flurry of snow, but the course itself, from the character of the land, is about as difficult to score over as any in the country. the ground is one succession of 'kopjes,' while seven of the nine holes are 'on the collar' all the time, and at an angle of from twenty to thirty degrees. the course is only yards in playing distance. on paper this gives the impression of being nothing out of the ordinary, but confronted with it in actuality, it is about as hard a proposition as any victim of the golf habit could tackle. the only course one can compare with it here is oakland, and the latter is a billiard table by the side of it. at the finish of the thirty-six holes vardon said, 'i never felt so fagged out in my life. in fact i could play seventy-two holes on the other side every day for a week and not have been fatigued half so much.'" i do not remember that i ever committed myself to such an extravagant statement as this, but the course was certainly a very trying one that day. yet on that occasion i lowered the eighteen holes record for the course. altogether i beat most of the records of the courses during my tour. the first time i ever took my clubs out on american soil, on the course of the lawrence harbour country club, i reduced the record for the nine holes (held by willie dunn) from forty-one to forty. yet the weather was so bad just then, and the clay greens were in such a state of puddle, that temporary greens had to be made on the fairway. i won my first match by nine up with eight to play. on one or two occasions i was obliged to beat the record in order to win my game. thus, when playing on the wheaton links at chicago, will smith was three up on me at one time, but by beating the links record i won at the finish by two up with one to play. this was one of the very toughest struggles i had over there. there was no mistaking the enthusiasm of the american spectators. they came to the matches in great crowds--always a large proportion of ladies--and they seemed bent on learning all that they could from the play. everybody seemed to be trying to practise my grip. all kinds of theories were invented to account for the manner in which my shots came off. on one occasion, after i had got in a good one with a cleek, an excited spectator jumped the ropes, ran up to a friend of mine and screamed, "say, which arm did he do that with?" i looked to see if all my arms and legs were intact, or if there was anything that appeared unusual about them. i discovered afterwards that by "arm" he meant "club." many places of business were closed for the afternoon when i was playing in certain districts, and on one occasion the stock exchange did so. a letter to one of the papers, concerning the extraordinary manner in which america was taking the golf fever, contained these sentences:--"i went into a leading business house to-day and found the three partners of the firm in a violent discussion. as i thought they were talking business i concluded that my presence was unnecessary, and started to edge away. suddenly i noticed the head of the firm rush into his office and rush out again with a cane. as the words were heated i was just about to interfere when i saw a weapon appear on the scene, but the head partner wasn't looking for blood. instead of hitting anyone he swiped the cane along the ground, and then i heard the words--'this is how vardon holds it.' i wanted to make an appointment with one of the partners, but he told me that he wouldn't be in. however, i guess i'll meet him, because i'm going out to dixie myself." the professionals and the golf shops suddenly began to do an enormous trade in sticks, and bernard nicholls, the only man who defeated me single-handed, preferred not to play me again for a long time. he said his victory had done an enormous amount of good to his business, and he did not want to spoil it. from numerous quarters i received all kinds of offers to "star" in one way or another, some very big fees being suggested. would i become a store manager at a huge salary? would i make an exhibition for so many hours daily of driving golf balls in a padded room in the city? and so on. i actually did accept an offer one day to do exhibition swings in a room in a boston store. i was to start at . and continue until each day, doing tee and other shots into a net for half an hour at a time, and then resting for an hour before taking the next turn. there was a fresh "house" of about two hundred people every time, and it was part of the bargain that my manager should stand by and explain everything. but he had had enough of it after one or two turns. then i found it became terribly monotonous, and to interest myself i kept trying to hit a particular spot on the wall near the ceiling, until the stores manager came forward in a state of great excitement, declaring that only six inches from that spot was the tap of a patent fire extinguishing arrangement, and that if i hit it the room would be flooded by a series of waterspouts in less time than i could imagine! by four o'clock my hands were blistered badly, and at that stage i had had enough and went out. in the meantime i was the constant recipient of numerous presents of all kinds, and the invitations that i received to dinners were far too many for any professional golfer to accept. i do not mention these things with any desire for self-glorification. they are ancient history now, and nobody cares about them. but they serve to show the whole-hearted manner in which america was going in for golf, and the tremendous hold that it took on the people. we talk on this side of the "golfing fever" and of people "going mad" about the game. believe me, the britisher is a mere dallier in comparison with his american golfing cousin. an interesting incident happened when the american championship was played for on the wheaton course, when, as i was informed, the game of golf achieved the most notable victory that it had ever achieved in the united states. this was the complete surrender to it of the veteran champion and overlord of baseball, the american national game. how that came about i will leave one of the chicago newspapers to relate:--"cap. anson surrendered to golf yesterday. the capitulation of the veteran of america's national game took place on the links at wheaton during the race between harry vardon and j.h. taylor. 'cap.' says the game of golf is a go. he has stood out against it and ridiculed it ever since it began to get the people. anson knows charles s. cox, vardon's manager, and accepted an invitation yesterday morning to look in on the game. on the links he balked at the proposition of walking four miles in one trip around the course, but he lined up with the crowd to see vardon drive off. the ball went higher than any fly 'pop' ever saw in his life. it sailed yards. anson was first to start the applause with a 'good boy. she's a homer.' then he led the gallery to the first green. he was puffing when he pulled up at the eighteenth hole, but he felt better than if he had stolen second base. 'i'd like to take a crack at that golf ball,' he said. 'you can put me down for a trial the first chance i get. wouldn't mind togging up in kilts just to give the prince of wales a run for his money.'" for the sake of giving prominence to it, this paragraph was put in a fancy border and let into the middle of the sheet of newspaper, so the chicago people evidently attached some importance to the capitulation of the worthy captain, and i hope that by this time he has had many thousands of cracks at the golf ball and that his handicap is low. i was intent on making a bold bid for this american open championship. victory in it seemed to be the one thing essential to make my trip the greatest possible success. my friend taylor, who had just beaten me for the open championship at st. andrews, had himself come over to the states, and was also a candidate for the premier honours of american golf. as it turned out, we had practically the whole contest at wheaton to ourselves, and a rare good duel it was, at the end of which i was at the top of the list, but only two strokes in front of my english opponent, while he was eight in front of the next man. the system of deciding the championship was the same as on this side, that is to say, four medal rounds were played, two on one day and two on the next. at the end of the first day's play i was just one stroke better than taylor, my score for the two rounds bring to his , and on the second day i did to his , so that on the whole event i was to his . taylor waited on the edge of the green while i holed out my last putt, and was the first to grasp my hand in sincere congratulation. beautiful weather, the biggest golfing crowd ever seen in america up to that time, and a good links, made the tournament a great success. the partner who went round with me during this championship competition was will smith, the holder, who finished fifth. i had some curious experiences in the course of my journeyings about the country, and i am not sure that they were all good for my game. during the early months i was down in florida away from the cold and the snow. i met some good golfers there. it was necessary to play an entirely different game from that to which we are accustomed in this country. there was no grass on the putting "greens." they were simply made of loose sand, sprinkled on the baked ground and watered and rolled. when there was a shortage of water and there was wind about, the fine part of the sand was blown away, and the surface of the "greens" then consisted of nothing but little pebbles. it was not easy to putt over this kind of thing, but i must not convey the impression that these sand "greens" were wholly bad. when properly attended to they are really nice to putt upon after you have become accustomed to them. it was impossible to pitch on to them, and one had to cultivate the habit of running up from a very long distance. thus i got into the way of playing a kind of stab shot. the tees consisted not of grass but of hard soil, and one had to tee up much higher than usual in order to avoid damaging the sole of the driver. this provoked the habit of cocking the ball up, and as a corrective all the teeing grounds in florida sloped upwards in front. locusts were responsible for eating all the grass away from some courses, and i had a unique experience when i played findlay at portland. when we were on the putting greens, men had constantly to be beating sticks to keep the locusts off the lines of our putts. if it struck a locust the ball would come to a sudden stop. acres and acres of land about there were without a single blade of grass. the locusts had eaten it all away. after we left florida we reached some good courses, and resumed the old kind of play. it has often been suggested that the peculiar conditions of play in america, to which i was subjected for a long period, resulted in a permanent injury to my game as played at home, and in the light of reflection and experience i am persuaded to think that this is so. i have played well since then, have felt equal to doing anything that i ever did before, and have indeed won the championship, but i think i left a very small fraction of my game in the united states. in the way of other novel experiences i might mention that on one occasion i played as "mr. jones." i wanted a quiet day, and did not wish a too attentive public to know where i was. three friends joined me in a foursome, but when we went into the club-house after our game, another anxious golfer went up to my partner when i was standing by, and inquired of him whether he had heard that vardon was playing on the links. my friend declared that he knew nothing of such a rumour, and i could hardly refrain from laughter as the anxious one went to pursue his inquiries in other quarters. another time two other professionals and myself visited a course where we were unknown, and, hiding our identity, pretended that we were novices at the game, and begged of our caddies to advise us as to the best manner of playing each shot, which they did accordingly. we deliberately duffed most of our strokes at several holes, but this course of procedure tired us immensely, and so at last we abandoned it and began to play our natural game. imagine the consternation and the indignation of those caddies! each one of them threw down his bag of clubs, and, declining to carry them for another hole, walked sulkily off the course. on one occasion we camped out for the night on the links on which we were playing, and a very pleasant variation from the ordinary routine we found it. the american newspapers, to which i have frequently referred, do their golf reporting very well. their journalism may be "sensational" or whatever you like to call it, but the golfing section of it was usually interesting, ingenious, and very intelligent and reliable. on the occasion of one match in which i played, a paper gave up nearly the whole of one of its pages to a large panoramic view of the links. the flight of my ball and that of my opponent, and the places where they stopped after every stroke, from the first to the last, were accurately marked. thus the whole game was illustrated in a single picture in a very effective manner. as was inevitable, i was sometimes victimised by interviewers who wrote "interviews" with me which i had never accorded, containing most amazing particulars about my methods and habits. occasionally a reporter was turned on to describe a game when he knew nothing about golf, and then the results were sometimes amusing. one of these writers had it that i "carried away the green with my drive." another said i "dropped dead at the hole." when playing at washington against two opponents, i happened to beat bogey at the first hole. one of the reporters was told of this achievement, but did not quite understand it. going to the next hole, we were walking through a bunker when he came up to me and politely inquired if that--the bunker--was the kind of bogey that i had beaten. i was told a very good story of american golf reporting. a match was arranged between two well-known amateurs, one of whom happened to be a very rich banker. one reporter, who admitted that he "knew nothing about the darned game," arrived rather late on the course, and borrowed the "copy" of an experienced golfing journalist for information of what had already happened. when this "copy" was duly returned with thanks, the late-comer remarked to his obliging friend, "say, you made a bad mistake in one part." "what was it?" the other asked. "waal, you say that so-and-so 'lipped the hole for a half.'" "yes, that is right." "oh, go away; you don't mean to tell me that a rich man like that would be playing for a paltry fifty cents. i've altered it to 'lipped the hole for a hundred dollars.'" and i remember that once when i was playing the best ball of two amateurs, one of the reporters had been instructed by his chief to keep the best ball score. i happened to lose the match on the last green, but on looking through the paper the next morning i was surprised to see it stated that i was beaten by not one but many holes, making this defeat in fact the biggest inflicted on me during my tour. the paper said that it was. i could not make anything out of it for some time, until at last i discovered that the reporter had reckoned my score also in the best ball figures! obviously i could not beat myself. the best i could do was to get a half, and that was how it came about that i never won a single hole in the "harry vardon _v._ harry vardon and two others" match. chapter xxii concerning caddies varieties of caddies--advice to a left-handed player--cock-shots at ganton--unearned increments--an offer to carry for the fun of the thing--the caddie who knows too much--my ideal caddie--his points--the girl caddie--a splendid type--caddies' caustic humour--some specimens of it--mr. balfour's taste in caddies--when the caddie is too anxious--good human kindness--"big crawford"--"lookin' aifter maister balfour"--an ingenious claim--a salute for the chief secretary--a story of a distressed clergyman--sandy smith--the clothes he wore--an excess of zeal--the caddies' common-sense--when his lot is not a happy one. the caddie is an indispensable adjunct to the game of golf, and for the most part he fulfils his functions very capably; but there are caddies of every imaginable variety, and their vagaries are such as to cause wonderment on the part of their employers sometimes, amusement at others, and not infrequently exasperation. some of them know too much about the game, and others far too little, and i hardly know which of these classes is in the long run the worse for the golfers who engage them to carry their clubs. an incident of which i heard that happened to a well-known player on the north berwick links, must have been very trying to him. on a busy day all the regular caddies had been engaged, and the fishermen were drafted into the club-carrying service. the player, having asked one of these fishermen if he knew anything about the game, and having been informed that he had only a little knowledge of it, resigned himself calmly to the inevitable, and told the man complacently that he would do. this player happened to be left-handed, and took up his stance on the first tee accordingly, whereupon the son of the sea at once adopted the part of tutor, and with some warmth and show of contempt exclaimed loudly, "i dinna ken much aboot the game, but ye dinna ken a wee bit. mon, ye're standing on the wrong side of the baw! awa' to the other side!" golfers at the beginning of a round are proverbially susceptible to small influences, and when a player is accustomed to lean somewhat upon his caddie, as even some of the best occasionally do, i can well imagine that such a trivial matter as this is enough to mar a tee shot. there were some strange specimens of the caddie species at ganton when i was there. "make a tee, boy," said a golfer to one of them, evidently a novice, one day. the player had been waiting about for something under a minute, while his servant showed no sign of making the usual preparations for the tee shot. the boy did not seem to understand. "make a tee, boy," exclaimed the player a second time sharply, but still there was no response, and then the man called for some sand, bent down and made the tee himself. at this the boy attributed the failure of his understanding to the player's limited powers of expression, and somewhat scornfully exclaimed, "why, if you had told me it was a cock-shot that was wanted, i should have known what you meant!" on competition days at ganton we had often to secure a number of lads who had never seen the game played before, and very interesting specimens of the youth of yorkshire they often were. one day, i remember, a competitor pulled his ball very badly, and his caddie, who had gone on a little way in front, received it hard on a very tender part of his head. he was not seriously hurt, but much pained, and forthwith, excusably perhaps, he gave way to tears. to soothe him his employer presented him with half a sovereign. the tears suddenly ceased, the boy's face broke into a happy smile, and a moment later, when the two were trudging away towards the hole, the youngster ingenuously inquired, "will you be coming out again this week, sir?" there is a kinship between this story and that of the caddie at north berwick, son of the greenkeeper there, some years ago, when first he began to carry clubs. he was a very precocious little fellow, and the player for whom he had been engaged to carry for the day was a well-known golfer from the south. when the day's play was far advanced, and the time of reckoning was drawing nigh, the boy seized an opportunity of sidling close up to his patron and asking him, "d'ye ken bob s----?" the said bob being one of the notabilities of the links. the player answered that he had not the pleasure of mr. robert's acquaintance so far, and inquired of the boy why he asked such a question. "weel," was the answer, "it's a peety ye dinna ken bob s----. he's a rale fine gentleman, for he aye gies twa shillin' a roond for carryin' till'm; no like some that ca' themsels gentlemen, an' only gie a shillin'." but lest it should be imagined from the recital of these incidents that the caddie is invariably over-greedy, and that he has no soul for anything but the pecuniary reward of his service, let there by way of contrast be told the story of the boy who was willing to carry clubs for nothing--the one solitary instance of such a disposition to self-sacrifice that there is on record. this time the golfer was not a great one. he had his faults, and they were numerous, and for their conquest and suppression he came to the conclusion that it would be better if he went out alone over the links and wrestled with them determinedly. a caddie watched him going out thus solitary, and felt sorry, so he said to him, "i will carry your clubs for a shilling, sir." but the golfer replied, "no, my boy, not to-day, thanks; i will carry them myself." the golfer missed his drive, foozled his second, put his third into a bunker, and endured other agonies. the caddie had been following at a respectful distance, and when the ball had been duly picked up out of the bunker, he made a further appeal. "i will carry for ninepence, sir." "no, i do not want a caddie," was the answer again. "i will carry for sixpence, then." "no, go away." on the next tee the player, overcome by conflicting emotions, missed the ball altogether two or three times, and then was the caddie's opportunity, which he seized without hesitation. "i will carry for the fun of the thing, sir!" this is a digression, but i fear that digressions are inevitable when one enters upon the subject of caddies, and is persuaded to dip into one's recollection of caddie stories. the ignorant caddie is trying, but not less is the one who knows too much about the game, or thinks he does, and insists upon inflicting his superior knowledge upon you during the whole course of the round. once when i was playing for the championship, my clubs were carried by a caddie who swore horribly at me all the time, notwithstanding that from the beginning i was going strongly for the first place. that boy got on my nerves. i was approaching well, but my putting was certainly not so sure and confident as it might have been. "what the ---- is the good of shooting at the flag if you can't putt worth a d----!" he exclaimed in great disgust on one occasion when i had the misfortune to miss holing out a somewhat short putt. he has begged to be allowed to carry for me many times since then, but i have steadfastly refused his offer, for i would not be handicapped with him upon any consideration. the caddie i like best of all, and he who i am convinced is the best servant for the average golfer, is he who thoroughly understands the game, has a deep knowledge of the course that is being played over, knows exactly what club to give you upon any and every occasion, and limits his functions to giving you that club without being asked for it. this caddie is a silent caddie, who knows that words of his are out of place, and that they would only tend to upset his master's game. it will generally be found that he, above all others, is the one who takes a deep and sympathetic interest in that game. he never upon any consideration gives advice without being asked for it. on the other hand, he takes care that no act or omission of his shall ever cause his man the most momentary irritation, for he has sufficient knowledge of the golfer's temperament to know that these trifles are a constant source of bad holes. when the player is preparing for his shot, and his eye is wandering anxiously between the ball and the hole, he puts out his hand whilst still continuing his survey of the ground, and as he puts it out he feels it grasp the handle of the exact club that is wanted. there is little need to look at it. the caddie knew and acted. the stance is taken while the player is still in his thoughtful mood, the shot is made while his mind is still concentrated to the utmost extent on the difficult task in hand, and then, after a happy result, the player and this faithful, truly sympathetic caddie go quietly on their way. when you are on the green he never needs to be told to go to the pin. he is always there, standing at the hole as soon as the time has come to putt; and while, if the putt is a poor thing, he has nothing to say (for silence is more than ever welcome at such a time of sorrow and disappointment), he permits himself a few courteous words of congratulation if a great success has been achieved at the last stroke at the hole, and the crown been placed upon an effort that has been truly praiseworthy throughout. this is my ideal caddie, and i am prepared to make some concessions to have him always at my side during the most trying rounds that i have to play. if he always performs the duties i have named, promptly and quietly, i do not care whether he really knows much about the game or not. if a caddie does the round of a course often enough in the company of good golfers, he knows the club to use for every particular stroke, even though he may have no practical knowledge of the game, and i ask nothing more of him than that he should always hand that club to me without keeping me waiting for a single moment. these caddies are a rarer species than the others. i am no advocate of female labour, but i have often, after an experience of the girl caddie, been tempted to wish that there were more of them in the land, for they are uncommonly good. the little girl of humble lot seems, nine times out of ten, to possess all those qualities which go to the making of a good caddie--according to my standard of a good caddie--in a remarkable degree. unlike some of her elder sisters, she never talks; but she always watches the game very closely and takes a deep interest in it. she is most anxious--if anything too anxious--to do her service properly and well, and to the most complete satisfaction of the gentleman who will reward her for it at the finish. she never keeps you waiting for your bag. the clubs are always there at your hand. if it is obvious to this little girl's simple intelligence that you want your brassy, she has it ready for you. if there is a doubt about the club, she does not make the mistake of offering you one on chance, as it were. she is too timid for that. she holds the bag before you and lets you choose yourself and carry all the responsibility on your own shoulders. the good boy caddie, whom i have referred to as my ideal, does that also. i said he was always waiting with the club ready, but if it is evident to him, as to the player, that it is a difficult question of judgment as to which particular club should be taken in somewhat puzzling circumstances, he allows the golfer to make his choice from the whole collection in the bag, making no suggestion of his own either by word or movement, unless invited to do so. cannot every golfer recall numberless instances of bad shots and holes lost because in one of these moments of doubt, when his own inclination was leaning to the employment of one particular club, his caddie thrust another before him? feeling that there must be something good in the caddie's recommendation, he has been tempted in spite of himself to use it. how frequently are the consequences disastrous in such circumstances as these, and how unenviable are the golfer's after reflections upon his own weakness! yes, decidedly the girl caddie excels. i have seen her on many links up and down the country, and she is always good. in one of my last matches last season--at luton--i had one to carry for me, and she was as good as any. perhaps it may be urged by some players that it is not a good thing for girls to do this work. about that i have nothing to say. i only know that they do their duty well. a peculiarly caustic but half-unconscious humour is the characteristic of caddies everywhere, but particularly in the north, and while golfers continue to lack absolute perfection, and their ministering attendants to expect it from them every time, it will probably remain a characteristic. a fair specimen was the remark of his caddie to a player whose handicap was several strokes removed from scratch, and who, having become badly bunkered on one occasion, tried nearly every iron club in his bag in a vain endeavour to get out. the case was heartbreaking, and he turned despairingly to his caddie with the question, "what on earth shall i take now?" there was little encouragement in the answer, "take the . train." there is a good story also of a certain welshman of title who became enthusiastic over the game, though he did not excel at it. he conceived that it would be a good thing to make a tour of the famous scottish courses with the object of improving his play, and in due season he arrived at a certain famous green, where he employed as his caddie an individual who had a considerable reputation for blunt candour. the turf suffered severely every time this player made use of his irons, and the caddie shook his head gloomily and sadly as he witnessed the destructive work that went on daily. at last there came a day when he could stand it no longer, and when the welshman had taken a mighty swipe at the ball with a heavy iron and made a deep excavation for several inches behind it, the club carrier moaned painfully, "o lord, man, hae mercy on puir auld scotland!" it is said that the golfer played no more on those links. it was on this same course that two players went out one morning to play, and found a friend waiting alone on the first tee, who said that he had fixed up a match with a certain captain blank, who would be coming along presently. the possibility of a foursome was considered, and a question was asked as to what kind of a player the captain was, his partner replying, "oh, he is excellent. he drives a good ball, plays his irons well, and is exceedingly useful at the short game; in fact, he is a first-rate all-round man." expecting confirmation of this eulogium, he turned to his caddie and said, "you know the captain's play well enough. now, what sort of a player would you say he is?" the caddie replied scornfully, "captain blank! he canna play a shot worth a d----. he's nae better than yoursel'!" the fact is that no player is great in the eyes of his caddie, for on one occasion when two gentlemen who were very fair hands at the game were doing a round and being closely pressed by a couple behind, who seemed to be driving inordinately long balls, one of them observed that perhaps they had better let them go through as they seemed to be playing both well and quickly. "na, na, naething o' the kind," interposed one of the caddies. "they're just twa duffers like yersels!" and great eminence in other fields counts for nothing with the caddie if his man cannot golf in good style. there is the story told by mr. balfour of the distinguished general, hero of many battles, who, having duly found his way into his twentieth bunker, was startled by a cry of irritation from his caddie, "come, come, old gentleman, this will never do!" this great statesman-golfer relates another anecdote showing that caddies are much the same the whole world over. an english golfer was playing at pau and had a french caddie attending upon him. he made one particularly fine approach shot, and, as golfers will at such times, he turned round to the boy with excusable vanity for applause. but the boy's english vocabulary so far comprised only two words which he had heard uttered on several occasions, but the sense of which he did not understand. feeling sure, however, that they must be appropriate to this occasion, and desiring to be appreciative, he smiled pleasantly into the golfer's face and murmured, "beastly fluke!" mr. balfour, by the way, has a particular and decided taste in caddies, for he has written that he can gladly endure severe or even contemptuous criticism from them; can bear to have it pointed out to him that all his misfortunes are the direct and inevitable result of his own folly; can listen with equanimity when failure is prophesied of some stroke he is attempting, and can note unmoved the self-satisfied smile with which the fulfilment of the prophecy is accentuated; but ignorant and stupid indifference is intolerable to him. the caddie, in the statesman's opinion, is not, and ought not, to be regarded as a machine for carrying clubs at a shilling a round, but rather occupies, or ought to occupy, the position of competent adviser or interested spectator. the caddie ought to be as anxious for the success of his side as if he were one of the players, and should watch each move in the game with benevolent if critical interest, being always ready with the appropriate club, and, if need be, with the appropriate comment. but i don't like to see this anxiety for the success of one's fortunes upon the links carried to excess. it is then a disturbing factor, and its humorous aspect does not always appeal to one as it should. some golfers might be flattered when they come to know that their caddies have backed them to the extent of half the remuneration they will receive for carrying the clubs for the round. it is a touching expression of the caddie's belief in them. but after all this kind of thing does not help to make a good caddie. apart from other considerations, it does not make the boy carry any the better because he is over-anxious about the result of the match, and, though some golfers might be inclined to ridicule the suggestion, it nevertheless is a disturbing element in one's game if one knows that even the caddie will be very deeply concerned if every stroke does not come off just as well as it ought to do. the caddie is not above letting you know of his wager; sometimes he will even tell you of it. two golfers of some highland celebrity were playing a match one day at luffness, and after a hard round they came to the eighteenth tee all square and but this one hole to play. at this critical stage of the game the caddie of one of them approached his master and nervously whispered to him, "please, sir, wad ye do your very best here, for there's money on this match." and the golfer did try to do his very best indeed, but he pressed and he foozled, and he lost the hole and the match. sympathetically he turned to his caddie to ask him what was the amount of the lost wager that he might pay it for him and soften his disappointment. "it was a penny, sir," said the boy. but despite his constant sarcasm and his utter inability to tolerate anything except the very best in golf, there is after all much good human kindness in your caddie if he is worthy of the name. "big crawford" will always be remembered as a fine specimen. on the day when mr. a.j. balfour played himself into the captaincy of the royal and ancient club, a gentleman who was looking on, and who was well acquainted with the fact that when mr. balfour was in ireland as chief secretary he never played a round of any of the irish links without having plain-clothes detectives walking fore and aft, inquired very audibly, "is there no one looking after mr. balfour now?" "big crawford" was carrying for him that day, and he heard the question. he turned with a look of severe pride towards the quarter whence it came, and answered it as loudly, "aw'm lookin' aifter maister balfour." there was nothing more to be said. the chief of the conservatives has certainly an enormous popularity with the caddies. he so evidently loves his golf so much, and he has great sympathy with them. he bears amiably with their weaknesses. he was one day playing a match with tom dunn, who was his tutor, at north berwick, and by a mixture of skill and luck was enabled to hole out at "pointgarry out" in two. it happened that he received a stroke from dunn at this hole, and the caddie ingeniously pointed out to him that he was thus entitled to consider that he had done the hole in one. "how excellent!" he said. but in the same breath the caddie begged leave to remind him that it was customary for all good golfers to celebrate the performance of this particular feat by the bestowal of some special token upon their caddies. mr. balfour was amused. he tantalised the boy by observing that rather than that he should have to pay anyone for watching him do these great things, he surely ought to receive remuneration from all spectators for doing them. the boy felt that there was truth in this new view of things, and a sad look was stealing over his face, when the right honourable gentleman handed over to him the customary fee. another time on the links, two officers, a colonel and a major, were playing in front of mr. balfour and his partner, when the latter were courteously invited to go through so that their enjoyment of the round would not be interfered with by any waiting. at the moment when mr. balfour was passing the others, he was surprised to hear a word of command called out by the colonel's caddie, who happened to be a lucknow veteran. "attention! eyes front! shoulder arms! present arms!" and thereupon each of the caddies took from his bag a driver and with it presented arms in proper soldierly style, mr. balfour, who was chief secretary at the time, smiling with pleasure at the interesting compliment and acknowledging the salute. he has a remarkable memory for the caddies who have served him, and once, when on the tee, just about to engage in a foursome, he recognised one of his opponents' caddies as a boy who on a former occasion had carried his own clubs, and he nodded to him kindly. naturally the caddie was immensely pleased, and turning to one of his colleagues he remarked, "ye see hoo we conservatives ken ane anither!" another instance of the deep humanity of "big crawford," whom i have just mentioned, occurred on one occasion when he was carrying for an edinburgh clergyman, who, in going for the redan, had the misfortune to be badly bunkered, his ball, in addition to the other difficulties of the situation, lying in a deep heel mark. he was palpably in great agony of mind, all the greater in that he never uttered a word. crawford crept quietly to his side and whispered gently, "what a peety! what a peety! but gin an aith wad relieve ye, sir, dinna mind me, dinna mind me!" and thereupon he discreetly retired for some little distance. sandy smith, another famous caddie, was one day carrying for a player who had the good fortune to be no fewer than six holes up on his opponent by the time the eighth hole was reached. at this green, something having gone wrong with the reckoning of the strokes, there was a mild dispute as to whether the hole had been won by sandy's man or whether it had been halved. eventually it was agreed that it was halved, but as the players moved away to the next tee, he who was six down being out of earshot in front, his opponent remarked to sandy, "you know, sandy, i still think i won that hole after all." sandy seemed shocked at such a cold-blooded greed for holes, and reprovingly, very seriously, and sharply said to his employer, "haud yer tongue, sir; haud yer tongue. wad ye break the man's heart?" sandy used to remark that "the finest gowffer on the green was maister edward blyth," and it was not until he had expressed this opinion with an almost wearying frequency that his hearers suspected that there was some connection between his choice and the fact, which he admitted one day, that "his auld claes fits me best." apparently he had the measure of every player on the course. "i'm wantin' a word wi' ye, mr. blyth," he said to his favourite one day. "what is it, sandy?" "it's no' muckle, sir; it's jist this, ye ken. i'm wantin' an auld suit o' claes frae ye; ye're the only man hereaboot that'll fit me." but apparently there were others, for one day when a player for whom he was carrying asked him if he knew the lord justice-clerk, who happened just then to be passing in a foursome, sandy replied, "that's lord kingsbury, ye mean. o ay, he's a great freen' o' mine. naebody kens his lordship better nor me. thae's his breeks i've on." golfers should, i think, sometimes be on their guard lest a too kind-hearted caddie, in an excess of zeal for his employer, should be tempted to transgress the laws of the game, or depart from strict truthfulness in his behalf. sometimes it is done with a wonderful air of innocence and simplicity. caddies have been known, when their employers have been in doubt as to exactly how many strokes they have played at certain holes, to give an emphatic, but none the less untruthful declaration, on the side of fewness. they mean well, but mistakenly, and it is better for everybody concerned, but particularly for the caddies, that they should be severely reprimanded when there is reason to doubt their good faith. and who shall say that another, and for our purposes the final characteristic of the average caddie of experience, is not a wonderful amount of solid worldly common-sense of a variety specially adapted to golf? and what golfer is there who has not at one time or another had the advantage of it? but he may at the time have been unconscious of the assistance. there is the historic case of the caddie on the scottish links who warned a beginner, dallying too much on the tee, that he "maunna address the ba' sae muckle." forthwith the southern tyro, greatly exasperated at his own failures, burst out, "so far as i know i haven't said a word to the infernal thing, but the irritation of this beastly game is enough, and if i have any more of your confounded tongue you may repent it!" then the caddie murmured to himself, "i dinna like 'is look. i'll better get 'm roond as pleesant as possible." could any advice have been more delicately worded than that of the caddie to the stout clergyman who with all his strength made a most mighty swing at his ball on the tee with the usual result--a foozle? "it'll nae do, sir; ye ken ye canna drive as far as that." "wha--wha--what do you mean by such a remark? as far as what?" gasped the reverend but irate gentleman. "i jist mean, sir, that ye canna drive as far as ye wad like." perhaps we shall never hear the best caddie stories, for is it not likely that a great abundance of them are made and told in the sheds after the day's play is over, and when the golfer's tools are being wiped and cleaned, and his irons burnished to a beautiful brightness? it is then that the caddie is in his happiest vein, his tongue and disposition untrammelled by the presence of the club members. "what're ye doin' cleanin' them clubs so grand?" asked one caddie of another, who was evidently bestowing unusual pains on the polishing of the set that were in his keeping. the caddie was in a thoughtful mood. he was the regular attendant of an old golfer who had had a most disastrous day. "i'm to clean 'em better than ever," he answered. "and when i've cleaned 'em i've got to break 'em across my knee. and then i've got to chuck 'em in the bloomin' river." sometimes, we see, if he is a simple-hearted, faithful caddie, his lot is not a happy one. chapter xxiii reflections and recollections good golf to come--giants of the past--the amateurs of to-day--the greatness of "freddy" tait--modern professionals--good sportsmen and good friends--a misconception--the constant strain--how we always play our best--difficult tasks--no "close season" in golf--spectators at big matches--certain anecdotes--putting for applause--shovelling from a bunker--the greatest match i have ever played in--a curious incident--a record in halves--a coincidence--the exasperation of andrew--the coming of spring--the joyful golfer. i think that every good golfer of experience reflects upon his past history with mingled pleasure and sorrow--pleasure when he calls to mind all the many glorious matches in which he has taken part, and sorrow when the thought arises that all that golf has been played and done with, and can never be played again. but we have all this abiding consolation, that even if we cannot retain our very best form to the end of our days, we can hope still to play a good game to the finish, and there is the heroic example of rare old tom morris to stimulate us in this hope. much is given to golfers,--perhaps more than to the participators in any other sport,--but they are rarely satisfied. the wonderful fascination of golf is indicated in this eternal longing for more. sometimes when i glance over the records of the history of the game, i feel a twinge of regret that it was not possible for me to play with, or even to see, such giants of the past as allan robertson, david strath, the dunns, willie campbell, willie park, senior, or the famous young tom morris. golf is great to-day, but it must have been great in those days also, even if there was less of it than there is now. but i have had the good fortune to play with all the well-known amateurs and professionals of my own time, and it is pleasant to think that they are nearly all still alive, and that therefore i may sometime or another play with them again. there is one great exception--mr. fred tait, who was killed in south africa. i don't think anyone could ever have the smallest doubt about the reason for his enormous popularity. i had the delight of playing against him two or three times, and i thought that he was not only a very fine golfer indeed, but one of the very finest gentlemen that i could imagine. it is something for me to remember that i played in the last important match in which he figured before he went out to the war--an international foursome, england _v._ scotland, that was played at ganton, willie park and mr. tait representing scotland, while mr. john ball, junior, and i were for england. from all the amateurs with whom i have ever come in contact i have always received the very greatest kindness and encouragement, and i do not know a single one with whom i would not like to play again some day or other. it has always seemed to me that there is something about golf that makes a man a good fellow whether he is amateur or professional. i wish to speak in the same way about my professional brothers as i have done about the amateurs. i have always found them all first-class sportsmen in the strictest and best sense of the word, and some of the best friends i have in the world are among them. there are some very fine players among the professionals of to-day. i have often watched and greatly admired the splendid skill of such friends and constant opponents as j.h. taylor, james braid, alexander herd, jack white, and many others whose names would fill a page, not forgetting my own brother tom. i have from time to time been indebted to many of them for various acts of kindness. there is a fine spirit of freemasonry amongst us professionals. whenever we play against each other each of us does his level best to win, and gives no quarter with a single stroke, but it has been my invariable experience that when the match is over the loser is always the first to congratulate the winner, and to do it not as a mere matter of form but with the very utmost sincerity. and here i should like to say a few words with the object of removing a misconception which still seems to linger in the minds of followers of the game. "dear me, vardon, what a grand time you fellows have, travelling all over the country in this manner, and doing nothing but playing golf on the very best courses," is the kind of remark that often greets me when i have just returned from playing in one match or tournament, and am due to start for another in a day or two. but i am not sure that we have such a grand time as those who say these things seem to think. we enjoy it just because we enjoy everything connected with golf, and particularly the playing of it; but playing these exhibition matches is not quite the same thing as going away for the week-end and having a quiet round or two with a friend, however hard you may try to beat him. some people entertain a fancy that we do not need to strain ourselves to the utmost in these engagements, and that therefore we take things easily. i can answer for myself, and i am sure for all my brother professionals, that we never take things easily, that we always play the very best golf of which we are capable, and that if a championship rested on each match we could not play any better. it must be remembered that when we are invited by any club to play an exhibition match, that club expects to see some golf, and thus it happens that the fear of a great responsibility is always overhanging us. we dare not play tricks with such reputations as we may have had the good fortune to obtain. we are always well aware that there are very good golfers in the crowd, who are watching and criticising every stroke that we make. therefore we keep ourselves in the very best of condition, and do our utmost always to play our best. how difficult is our task when sometimes we are not feeling as well as we might wish--as must occasionally happen--i will leave the charitable reader to imagine. has he ever felt like playing his best game when a little below par in either mind or body? this is where the really hard work of the professional's life comes in. there is no "close season" in golf, as in cricket, football, and other sports. when a cricketer plays indifferently, after two months of the game, his admirers cry out that he is stale and needs a rest. but there are eleven players on each side in a cricket match, and constant rests for all of them, so that to my mind their work is very light in comparison with that of the golfer, who enjoys no "close season," and has all the work of each match on his own shoulders. surely he also must become stale, but such a state on his part is not tolerated. again, one often hears that a certain match between professional players has been halved purposely--that is to say, that it was an arranged thing from start to finish. such things may have happened in other sports, but take it from me that it never, never happens in golf. one man never plays down to another, whatever disparity there may be in their respective degrees of skill. it does not matter how many holes one is up on one's opponent; there is never any slackening until the game has been won. it makes no difference if the man you are playing against is your very best friend or your brother, and one has sometimes to pass through the trying ordeal of straining his every nerve to win a match when in his heart of hearts, for some particular reason, he would like the other man to win. i intrude these affairs of our own in these concluding reflections only for the purpose of indicating that, though we love our game and always enjoy it, professional golf is not quite the same thing as that played by amateurs, and must not be judged from the same standpoint. i think it is because of this continual sense of a great responsibility, and the custom and necessity of always--absolutely always--trying to play our very best game, that the leading professionals are constantly a stroke or two better than the most skilful amateurs, even though the latter practise the game quite as much, and have apparently just as much opportunity, or even more, of making themselves perfect. i have mentioned the spectators. i have generally found the crowds who follow a big professional match round the links both highly intelligent and exceedingly considerate. but sometimes we overhear some strange things said. taylor and i were once fulfilling an important engagement together, and when my opponent had a particularly difficult shot to play, two ladies came up quite close to him and persisted in talking in a loud tone of voice. taylor waited for a little while in the hope that their chatter would cease, but it did not. then, in a feeling of desperation, he attempted to address his ball; but the task was hopeless. the conversation went on more loudly than ever, and he was doomed to certain failure if he attempted his stroke in these circumstances. so he stood up again, and looked round in the direction whence the voices came. "oh," said one of the ladies then, "you can go on now. we've quite finished." we must be thankful for small mercies. james braid and i were once playing down at beckenham. at one of the putting greens we were both a long way from the hole. my ball was a trifle the more distant of the two, and so i played the odd, and managed to get down a wonderfully fine putt. then braid played the like and holed out also. these were two rather creditable achievements with our putters. when his ball had trickled safely into the hole, and the spectators were moving towards the next tee, braid and i were amused, but not flattered, by the words of a man who was speaking to a friend in such a loud voice that we could all hear. "oh," he exclaimed deprecatingly, "those fellows only do that sort of thing for the sake of the applause!" how happy we should be if we could always make certain of those long putts without any applause at all! it was with braid also that i was playing in a match at luton towards the close of last year, when i overheard a singular remark. i happened to be bunkered at the fourteenth, and took my niblick to get out, but lost the hole. we walked on together to the next tee, and braid was taking his stance when we heard two gentlemen eagerly discussing and explaining the recent bunker incident. evidently one of them was supposed to know something of golf and the other nothing at all. "you see," said the former to his friend, "there is really no rule in the matter at all. vardon or any other player could have used a shovel in that bunker and have simply shovelled the ball over on to the other side." i was surprised that braid got his next tee shot in so well as he did. and how very often have i heard the question asked in the crowd, "why do those fellows chalk the faces of their clubs?" and how invariably has the answer been, "so that they can see afterwards where they hit the ball!" when i write my recollection of these things, i do not wish it to be imagined that i am making any sort of accusation against golf crowds generally. they are excellent from all points of view; but it must inevitably happen that there are some people among them who know little of the game, and others who do not appreciate what a trying ordeal a hard-fought match usually is. such questions are often put to me as, "vardon, what was the greatest match in which you ever played?" or, "what was the most extraordinary occurrence you have ever seen on the links?" and so forth. they are questions which it is difficult to answer, for is not nearly every match that we play brimful of incident and interest, and at the time do we not regard many of the incidents as most extraordinary? it would, then, be too serious a task to attempt a selection from such a huge mass. but, looking back over the last few years, it seems that my £ match with willie park is that which remains uppermost in my mind, and the one that i am least likely to forget. there was more talking and writing about it than about any other match in which i have played. the "gallery" that followed this match was the greatest i have ever seen or heard of. and as i am questioned also about the curious and the singular in golf, i may say that there was a coincidence in this game that struck me at the time as being quite unusual. in a closely-fought match it is often interesting to notice how nearly each player's ball often follows the other. frequently they are side by side within one or two clubs' length after the drives from the tee. but in the first stage of this match against park, after he had driven a long ball from the tee at the eleventh hole, i drove and my ball pitched exactly on the top of his! the messrs. hunter were kindly serving in the capacity of forecaddies, and they were both positive upon this incident. my ball after striking his rebounded slightly, and then stopped dead about two feet behind. its position rather affected my follow-through, so that i duffed my stroke and lost the hole. this record--if it was a record--was also the means of eclipsing what i believe was another record in first-class golf. the first ten holes in this match were halved, and it was the incident of which i have just been speaking and the duffed stroke that followed it that led to the breaking of the sequence. "now, vardon, how often have you holed out in one?" they ask me also, regardless of the fact that this event demands not only a perfect shot but a perfect fluke, and that the professional player is no more likely to accomplish it than anyone else. well, i have only been guilty of this fluke on one occasion--and that was not so very long ago--and when it happened it was at a hole a little over two hundred yards in length. on one occasion, also, i have enjoyed the coincidence of holing out with my mashie approach at the same hole twice in one day. that was in the course of a tournament at elie, in which i had the good fortune to finish first. as it happened, andrew kirkaldy, who hoped to end high up in the list, was my partner for the first round, and it came about also that he was watching me play when the holing-out process was accomplished for the second time. then he lifted up his hands in horror and delivered himself of his famous remark, "ye're enough to break the heart of an iron ox!" during the last round of this same tournament andrew, who was playing some holes behind me, and was then himself in the running for the first place, was kept posted up by a friend as to my score for each hole. he did not seem to derive much encouragement from the reports, for when the last one was carried to him he asked the friend who brought it if he thought that there was nobody who could play golf besides vardon, and intimated at the same time that if anyone else brought him any more of those tales he would strike him with his niblick! of course we all know what a really fine fellow is andrew kirkaldy, and how much poorer the golf world would be without his presence and his constant humour. and now i think i have holed out on the last green and this long match is finished. after all it is better to play golf than to write or read about it. what anticipation is more gloriously joyful than that of the man who handles his driver on the first tee on a bright morning of the spring-time! he has all the round, and all the day, and all the spring and summer and autumn before him. and at this moment another spring is breaking brightly, and the golf that is before each of us promises to be as momentous and soul-satisfying as any that has gone before. appendix the rules of golf _authorised by the royal and ancient golf club of st. andrews, revised by the club to september , , and in force at the date of publication of this work._ . definitions.--(_a_) the game of golf is played by two sides, each playing its own ball. a side consists either of one or of two players. if one player play against another the match is called a "single." if two play against two, it is called a "foursome." one player may play against two playing one ball between them, when the match is called a "threesome." matches constituted as above shall have precedence of and be entitled to pass any other kind of match. (_b_) the game consists in each side playing a ball from a teeing-ground into a hole by successive strokes, and the hole is won by the side which holes its ball in fewer strokes than the opposite side, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. if the sides hole out in the same number of strokes, the hole is halved. (_c_) the "teeing-ground" is the starting-point for a hole, and shall be indicated by two marks placed in a line as nearly as possible at right angles to the course. the hole shall be - / inches in diameter, and at least inches deep. (_d_) the "putting-green" is all ground within yards of the hole, except hazards. (_e_) a "hazard" is any bunker, water (except casual water), sand, path, road, railway, whin, bush, rushes, rabbit scrape, fence, or ditch. sand blown on to the grass, or sprinkled on the course for its preservation, bare patches, sheep tracks, snow, and ice are not hazards. permanent grass within a hazard is not part of the hazard. (_f_) "through the green" is any part of the course except hazards and the putting-green which is being played to. (_g_) "out of bounds" is any place outside the defined or recognised boundaries of the course. (_h_) "casual water" is any temporary accumulation of water (whether caused by rainfall or otherwise) which is not one of the ordinary and recognised hazards of the course. (_i_) a ball is "in play" as soon as the player has made a stroke at the teeing-ground in each hole, and remains in play until holed out, except when lifted in accordance with the rules. (_j_) a ball has "moved" only if it leave its original position in the least degree, and stop in another; but if it merely oscillate, without finally leaving its original position, it has not "moved." (_k_) a ball is "lost" if it be not found within five minutes after the search for it is begun. (_l_) a "match" consists of one round of the links, unless it be otherwise agreed. a match is won by the side which is leading by a number of holes greater than the number of holes remaining to be played. if each side win the same number of holes, the match is halved. (_m_) a "stroke" is any movement of the ball caused by the player, except as provided for in rule , or any downward movement of the club made with the intention of striking the ball. (_n_) a "penalty stroke" is a stroke added to the score of a side under certain rules, and does not affect the rotation of play. (_o_) the "honour" is the privilege of playing first from a teeing-ground. (_p_) a player has "addressed the ball" when he has taken up his position and grounded his club, or if in a hazard, when he has taken up his position preparatory to striking the ball. (_q_) the reckoning of strokes is kept by the terms--"the odd," "two more," "three more," etc., and "one off three," "one off two," "the like." the reckoning of holes is kept by the terms--so many "holes up," or "all even," and so many "to play." . a match begins by each side playing a ball from the first teeing-ground. the player who shall play first on each side shall be named by his own side. the option of taking the honour at the first teeing-ground shall be decided, if necessary, by lot. a ball played from in front of, or outside of, or more than two club lengths behind the marks indicating the teeing-ground, or played by a player when his opponent should have had the honour, may be at once recalled by the opposite side, and may be re-teed without penalty. the side which wins a hole shall have the honour at the next teeing-ground. if a hole has been halved, the side which had the honour at the previous teeing-ground shall retain the honour. on beginning a new match, the winner of the long match in the previous round shall have the honour, or if the previous match was halved the side which last won a hole shall have the honour. . if the ball fall or be knocked off the tee in addressing it, no penalty shall be incurred, and it may be replaced, and if struck when moving no penalty shall be incurred. . in a threesome or foursome the partners shall strike off alternately from the teeing-grounds, and shall strike alternately during the play of the hole. if a player play when his partner should have done so, his side shall lose the hole. . when the balls are in play, the ball further from the hole which the players are approaching shall be played first, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. if a player play when his opponent should have done so, the opponent may at once recall the stroke. a ball so recalled shall be dropped, in the manner prescribed in rule , as near as possible to the place where it lay, without penalty. . the ball must be fairly struck at, not pushed, scraped, nor spooned, under penalty of the loss of the hole. . a ball must be played wherever it lies or the hole be given up, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. . unless with the opponent's consent, a ball in play shall not be moved nor touched before the hole is played out, under penalty of one stroke, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. but the player may touch his ball with his club in the act of addressing it, provided he does not move it, without penalty. if the player's ball move the opponent's ball through the green, the opponent, if he choose, may drop a ball (without penalty) as near as possible to the place where it lay, but this must be done before another stroke is played. . in playing through the green, any loose impediment (not being in or touching a hazard) which is within a club length of the ball may be removed. if the player's ball move after any such loose impediment has been touched by the player, his partner, or either of their caddies, the penalty shall be one stroke. if any loose impediment (not being on the putting-green) which is more than a club length from the ball be removed, the penalty shall be the loss of the hole. . any vessel, wheel-barrow, tool, roller, grass cutter, box or similar obstruction may be removed. if a ball be moved in so doing, it may be replaced without penalty. a ball lying on or touching such obstruction, or on clothes, nets, or ground under repair or covered up or opened for the purpose of the upkeep of the links, may be lifted and dropped without penalty as near as possible to the place where it lay, but not nearer the hole. a ball lifted in a hazard, under such circumstances, shall be dropped in the hazard. a ball lying in a golf hole or flag hole, or in a hole made by the greenkeeper, may be lifted and dropped without penalty as near as possible to the place where it lay, but not nearer the hole. . before striking at a ball in play, the player shall not move, bend, nor break anything fixed or growing near the ball, except in the act of placing his feet on the ground for the purpose of addressing the ball, in soling his club to address the ball, and in his upward or downward swing, under penalty of the loss of the hole, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. . when a ball lies in or touches a hazard, nothing shall be done to improve its lie; the club shall not touch the ground, nor shall anything be touched or moved before the player strikes at the ball, subject to the following exceptions:--( ) the player may place his feet firmly on the ground for the purpose of addressing the ball; ( ) in addressing the ball, or in the upward or downward swing, any grass, bent, whin, or other growing substance, or the side of a bunker, wall, paling, or other immovable obstacle, may be touched; ( ) steps or planks placed in a hazard by the green committee for access to or egress from such hazard may be removed, and if a ball be moved in so doing, it may be replaced without penalty; ( ) any loose impediments may be removed from the putting-green; ( ) the player shall be entitled to find his ball as provided for by rule . the penalty for a breach of this rule shall be the loss of the hole. . a player or caddie shall not press down nor remove any irregularities of surface near a ball in play. dung, worm-casts, or mole-hills may be removed (but not pressed down) without penalty. the penalty for a breach of this rule shall be the loss of the hole. . ( ) if a ball lie or be lost in water or in casual water in a hazard, a ball may be dropped in or as far behind the hazard as the player may please, under penalty of one stroke; but if it be impossible from want of space in which to play, or from any other cause, to drop the ball behind the hazard, the player may drop a ball at the side of the hazard as near as possible to where the ball lay, but not nearer to the hole, under penalty of one stroke. ( ) if a ball lie or be lost in casual water through the green, or if casual water through the green interferes with the player's stance, the player may drop a ball, without penalty, within two club lengths from the margin directly behind the place where the ball lay, or from the margin nearest to the place where the ball lay, but not nearer to the hole. if the ball when dropped roll into the water, or rest so that the water interferes with the player's stance, it may be re-dropped, without penalty, as near to the margin as the nature of the ground permits, but not nearer to the hole. ( ) in dropping a ball behind the spot from which the ball was lifted, the player shall keep that spot, or, in the case of water, the spot at which the ball entered, in a line between himself and the hole. wherever it is impossible to drop a ball as prescribed in sections ( ) and ( ), it shall be dropped as near as possible to the place where it lay, but not nearer to the hole. ( ) if a ball lie in casual water on a putting-green, a ball may be placed by hand behind the water without penalty. the penalty for a breach of this rule shall be the loss of the hole. . a ball shall be dropped in the following manner:--the player himself shall drop it. he shall face the hole, stand erect and drop the ball behind him from his head. if the ball when dropped touch the player he shall incur no penalty, and if it roll into a hazard it may be re-dropped without penalty. the penalty for a breach of this rule shall be the loss of the hole. . when the balls lie within six inches of each other on the putting-green, or within a club length of each other through the green or in a hazard (the distance to be measured from their nearest points), the ball nearer the hole may, at the option of either the player or the opponent, be lifted until the other is played, and shall then be replaced as near as possible to the place where it lay. if the ball further from the hole be moved in so doing, or in measuring the distance, it shall be replaced without penalty. if the lie of the lifted ball be altered by the player in playing, the ball may be placed in a lie as nearly as possible similar to that from which it was lifted, but not nearer the hole. . any loose impediments may be removed from the putting-green, irrespective of the position of the player's ball. the opponent's ball may not be moved except as provided for by the immediately preceding rule. if the player's ball move after any loose impediment lying within six inches of it has been touched by the player, his partner, or either of their caddies, the penalty shall be one stroke. . when the ball is on the putting-green, the player or his caddie may remove (but not press down) sand, earth, dung, worm-casts, mole-hills, snow, or ice lying around the hole or in the line of his putt. this shall be done by brushing lightly with the hand only across the putt and not along it. dung may be removed by a club, but the club must not be laid with more than its own weight upon the ground. the line of the putt must not be touched, except with the club immediately in front of the ball, in the act of addressing it, or as above authorised. the penalty for a breach of this rule is the loss of the hole. . when the ball is on the putting-green, no mark shall be placed, nor line drawn as a guide. the line of the putt may be pointed out by the player's caddie, his partner, or his partner's caddie, but the person doing so must not touch the ground. the player's caddie, his partner, or his partner's caddie, may stand at the hole, but no player nor caddie shall endeavour, by moving or otherwise, to influence the action of the wind upon the ball. the penalty for a breach of this rule is the loss of the hole. . when on the putting-green, a player shall not play until his opponent's ball is at rest, under penalty of one stroke. . either side is entitled to have the flag-stick removed when approaching the hole, but if a player's ball strike the flag-stick which has been so removed by himself, or his partner, or either of their caddies, his side shall lose the hole. if the ball rest against the flag-stick when in the hole, the player shall be entitled to remove the stick, and if the ball fall in, it shall be deemed as having been holed out at the last stroke. if the player's ball knock in the opponent's ball, the latter shall be deemed as having been holed out at the last stroke. if the player's ball move the opponent's ball, the opponent, if he choose, may replace it, but this must be done before another stroke is played. if the player's ball stop on the spot formerly occupied by the opponent's ball, and the opponent declare his intention to replace, the player shall first play another stroke, after which the opponent shall replace and play his ball. if the opponent's ball lie on the edge of the hole, the player, after holing out, may knock it away, claiming the hole if holing at the like, and the half if holing at the odd, provided that the player's ball does not strike the opponent's ball and set it in motion. if after the player's ball is in the hole, the player neglect to knock away the opponent's ball, and it fall in also, the opponent shall be deemed to have holed out at his last stroke. . if a ball _in motion_ be stopped or deflected by any agency outside the match, or by the forecaddie, the ball must be played from where it lies, and the occurrence submitted to as a "rub of the green." if a ball lodge in anything moving, a ball shall be dropped as near as possible to the place where the object was when the ball lodged in it, without penalty. if a ball _at rest_ be displaced by any agency outside the match, excepting wind, the player shall drop a ball as near as possible to the place where it lay, without penalty. on the putting-green the ball shall be replaced by hand, without penalty. . if the player's ball strike, or be moved by an opponent or an opponent's caddie or clubs, the opponent shall lose the hole. . when a player has holed out and his opponent has been left with a putt for the half, nothing that the player can do shall deprive him of the half which he has already gained. . if a player's ball strike, or be stopped by himself or his partner, or either of their caddies or clubs, his side shall lose the hole. . if the player, when not intending to make a stroke, or his partner, or either of their caddies, move his or their ball, or by touching anything cause it to move when it is in play, the penalty shall be one stroke. if a ball in play move, after the player has grounded his club in the act of addressing it, or, when in a hazard, if he has taken up his stand to play it, he shall be deemed to have caused it to move, and the movement shall be counted as his stroke. . except from the tee a player shall not play while his ball is moving, under penalty of the loss of the hole. if the ball only begin to move while the player is making his upward or downward swing, he shall incur no penalty for playing while it is moving, but is not exempted from the penalty stroke which he may have incurred under rules , , or , and in a foursome a stroke lost under rule shall not, in these circumstances, be counted as the stroke of the player so as to render him liable for having played when his partner should have done so. . if the player when making a stroke strike the ball twice, the penalty shall be one stroke, and he shall incur no further penalty by reason of his having played while his ball was moving. . if a player play the opponent's ball, his side shall lose the hole, unless ( ) the opponent then play the player's ball, whereby the penalty is cancelled, and the hole must be played out with the balls thus exchanged, or ( ) the mistake occur through wrong information given by the opponent or his caddie, in which case there shall be no penalty, but the mistake, if discovered before the opponent has played, must be rectified by placing a ball as near as possible to the place where the opponent's ball lay. if a player play a stroke with the ball of a party not engaged in the match, and the mistake be discovered and intimated to his opponent before his opponent has played his next stroke, there shall be no penalty; but if the mistake be not discovered and so intimated until after the opponent has played his next stroke, the player's side shall lose the hole. . if a ball be lost, except as otherwise provided for in the rules, the player's side shall lose the hole; but if both balls be lost, the hole shall be considered halved. . if a ball lie in fog, bent, whins, long grass, or the like, only so much thereof shall be touched as will enable the player to find his ball; but if a ball lie in sand, the sand shall not be touched. the penalty for a breach of this rule shall be the loss of the hole. . if a ball be played out of bounds, a ball shall be dropped at the spot from which the stroke was played, under penalty of loss of the distance. a ball played out of bounds need not be found. if it be doubtful whether a ball has been played out of bounds, another may be dropped and played; but if it be discovered that the first ball is not out of bounds, it shall continue in play without penalty. a player may stand out of bounds to play a ball lying within bounds. . a player shall not ask for advice from anyone except his own caddie, his partner, or his partner's caddie, nor shall he willingly be otherwise advised in any way whatever, under penalty of the loss of the hole. . if a ball split into separate pieces, another ball may be put down where the largest portion lies; or if two pieces are apparently of equal size it may be put where either piece lies, at the option of the player. if a ball crack or become unfit for play, the player may change it on intimating to his opponent his intention to do so. mud adhering to a ball shall not be considered as making it unfit for play. . when no penalty for the breach of a rule is stated, the penalty shall be the loss of the hole. . if a dispute arise on any point, the players have the right of determining the party or parties to whom it shall be referred, but should they not agree, either side may refer it to the rules of golf committee, whose decision shall be final. if the point in dispute be not covered by the rules of golf, the arbiters must decide it by equity. . an umpire or referee, when appointed, shall take cognisance of any breach of rule that he may observe, whether he be appealed to on the point or not. special rules for stroke competitions. . in stroke competitions, the competitor who holes the stipulated course in fewest strokes shall be the winner. . if the lowest scores be made by two or more competitors, the tie or ties shall be decided by another round to be played on the same day. but if the green committee determine that to be inexpedient or impossible, they shall then appoint the following or some subsequent day whereon the tie or ties shall be decided. . new holes shall be made for stroke competitions, and thereafter before starting no competitor shall play on any of the putting-greens, nor shall he intentionally play at any of the holes nor on to any of the putting-greens, under penalty of disqualification. . the scores for each hole shall be kept by a special marker, or by the competitors noting each other's scores. the scores marked ought to be called out after each hole, and on completion of the round the cards shall be signed by the marker, under penalty of disqualification, and handed in. competitors must satisfy themselves before the cards are handed in that their scores for each hole are correctly marked, as no alteration can be made on any card after it has been returned. if it be found that a score returned is below that actually played, the competitor shall be disqualified. for the addition of the scores marked the secretary or his deputy shall be responsible. . if a competitor play from outside the limits of the teeing-ground, the penalty shall be disqualification. . if a ball be lost (except as otherwise provided for in the rules of golf), the competitor shall return as near as possible to the spot from which the lost ball was struck, tee a ball, and lose a penalty stroke. the lost ball shall continue in play, if it be found before the player has struck another ball. the penalty for a breach of this rule shall be disqualification. . if a competitor's ball strike himself, his clubs or caddie, the penalty shall be one stroke. . if a competitor's ball strike another competitor, or his clubs or caddie, it is a "rub of the green," and the ball shall be played from where it lies. if a competitor's ball which is at rest be moved by another competitor or his caddie, or his club or his ball, or by any outside agency excepting wind, it shall be replaced as near as possible to the place, where it lay without penalty. . a competitor shall hole out with his own ball at every hole, under penalty of disqualification. but if it be discovered, before he has struck off from the next teeing-ground, or if the mistake occur at the last hole, before he has handed in his card, that he has not holed out with his own ball, he shall be at liberty to return and hole out with his own ball, without penalty. . a ball may be lifted from any place under penalty of two strokes. a ball so lifted shall be teed if possible behind the place where it lay. if it be impossible to tee the ball behind the place where it lay, it shall be teed as near as possible thereto, but not nearer the hole. the penalty for a breach of this rule shall be disqualification. . all balls shall be holed out under penalty of disqualification. when a competitor's ball is within yards of the hole, the competitor shall not play until the flag has been removed, under penalty of one stroke. when both balls are on the putting-green, if the player's ball strike the opponent's ball the player shall lose a stroke. the ball nearer the hole shall, on request of the player, be either lifted or holed out at the option of the owner, under penalty of his disqualification. through the green a competitor may have any other competitor's ball lifted, if he find that it interferes with his stroke. . a competitor, unless specially authorised by the green committee, shall not play with a professional, and he may not willingly receive advice from any one but his caddie, in any way whatever, under penalty of disqualification. a forecaddie may be employed. . competitors shall not discontinue play or delay to start on account of bad weather, nor for any other reason whatever, except such as is satisfactory to the committee of the club in charge of the competition. the penalty for a breach of this rule is disqualification. . where in the rules of golf the penalty for the breach of any rule is the loss of the hole, in stroke competitions the penalty shall be the loss of two strokes, except where otherwise provided for in these special rules. . any dispute regarding the play shall be determined by the rules of golf committee. . the rules of golf, so far as they are not at variance with these special rules, shall apply to stroke competitions. rules for three-ball matches. in matches in which three players play against each other, each playing his own ball (hereinafter referred to as "a three-ball match"), or in which one player plays his own ball against the best ball of two players (hereinafter referred to as "a best ball match"), the rules of golf shall apply, subject to the following modifications:-- . where, in a three-ball match, at any teeing-ground no player is entitled to claim the honour from both opponents, the same order of striking shall be followed as at the previous teeing-ground. . except as hereinafter provided, the side whose ball is furthest from the hole shall play first, but a ball lying nearer the hole and belonging to one of that side may, at their option, be played before the ball lying furthest from the hole. if a player play when his opponent should have done so he shall incur no penalty. . if a player consider that an opponent's ball on the putting-green might interfere with his stroke, he may require the opponent either to lift or to hole out his ball at the opponent's discretion. . if an opponent consider that the ball of another opponent might be of assistance to the player, he may require that it be either lifted or holed out at the other opponent's discretion. . if an opponent consider that his own ball might be of assistance to the player, he is entitled to lift it or hole out at his discretion. . if an opponent consider that the player's partner's ball might be of assistance to the player, he may require that it be either lifted or holed out at the player's partner's discretion. . in a three-ball match, a ball on the putting-green, which is moved by another ball, must be replaced as nearly as possible where it lay. . in a best ball match, if a player's ball move his partner's ball or an opponent's ball, the opponent shall in either case decide whether the moved ball shall be replaced or not. . if in a three-ball match a player's ball strike or be moved by an opponent or an opponent's caddie or clubs, that opponent shall lose the hole to the player. as regards the other opponent, the occurrence is "a rub of the green." . in a best ball match, if a player's ball strike or be moved by an opponent or an opponent's caddie or clubs, the opponent's side shall lose the hole. . in a best ball match, if a player's ball (the player being one of a side) strike or be stopped by himself or his partner or either of their caddies or clubs, that player only shall be disqualified for that hole. . in all other cases where a player would by the rules of golf incur the loss of the hole, he shall be disqualified for that hole, but the disqualification shall not apply to his partner. etiquette of golf. . a single player has no standing, and must always give way to a properly constituted match. . no player, caddie, or onlooker should move or talk during a stroke. . no player should play from the tee until the party in front have played their second strokes and are out of range, nor play up to the putting-green till the party in front have holed out and moved away. . the player who has the honour from the tee should be allowed to play before his opponent tees his ball. . players who have holed out should not try their putts over again when other players are following them. . players looking for a lost ball must allow other matches coming up to pass them. . on request being made, a three-ball match must allow a single, threesome, or foursome to pass. any match playing a whole round may claim the right to pass a match playing a shorter round. . if a match fail to keep its place on the green, and lose in distance more than one clear hole on those in front, it may be passed, on request being made. . turf cut or displaced by a stroke should be at once replaced. . a player should carefully fill up all holes made by himself in a bunker. . it is the duty of an umpire or referee to take cognisance of any breach of rule that he may observe, whether he be appealed to on this point or not. index addressing the ball, , , , . alps at prestwick, . amateur championship. _see_ championship. amateur golf in great britain, , . america, golf in, , ; tour in, ; spectators in, ; novel experiences in, , , . american championship, , , . anson, american baseball player, and golf, . approach play. _see_ mashie, play with the. arms, action of the, in driving, , , . ashburnham links, . auchterlonie, willie, , . backward swing in the drive, , , , . baffy, possibilities of play with, ; stance for, . balfour, mr. a.j., how he learned golf, ; anecdotes by, ; preference in caddies, ; and "big crawford," ; interesting compliment, . ball, clean, ; rubber-cored. _see_ rubber-cored balls. ball, mr. john, jun., , , . beckenham, incident at, . beginners, advice to, . beginning, vardon's, at golf, , ; first clubs, ; first matches, ; how he learned, . berwick, north, , , , , , . "big crawford," . birth, vardon's, . blyth, mr. edward, . body action in following through, . boomer, mr. (schoolmaster), . boots and shoes, . braces and belts, . brae burn, match at, . braid, james, , , , . brancaster links, . brassy, play with in championship, . ---- the, points of, , , . ---- play with the, first attempts, ; occasion for, ; stance for, , ; from good lie, ; from cuppy lie, , . brewster, mr., at jersey, . broadwood, mr. c.c., . brown, d., . bunkers and bunker play, ; mistakes in regard to, ; swing with niblick in, ; long balls from, ; filling holes in, . bury golf club, professional to, . butcher, mr. s.f. (bury), . caddie, advice of, ; opponent's, ; anecdotes of, _et seq._; the ideal, ; girls as, ; caustic humour of, ; human kindness of, ; excess of zeal of, ; sorrows of, . campbell, willie, . care of clubs, . carnoustie, merits of course, . championship, the amateur, , . ---- the american, . ---- the open, , , , , , , , , . cleek, the, varieties of and characteristics, , , . ---- play with the, first attempts, ; versatility of, ; stance, ; swing, ; push shot with, ; shot for low ball against wind, ; comparison of different shots, . clothes for golf, . clubs, golf (implements), ; first purchases, ; limitations, ; care of, ; for different strokes, ; experiments in competitions, . competition play, disappointments in, ; steadiness in, ; continuing with card, ; tactics in, ; caution in medal play, ; new clubs, ; time of play, ; watching opponents, . counting strokes, . course, studying in competition play, ; construction of. _see_ links. cox, mr. charles s., . cricket, . cromer links, . crowds, great golfing, . cruden bay links, . cupped lies, play from, . cut stroke, the, with the mashie, . deal, tournament at, ; merits of links at, . "debauchery of long driving," . despair, golfer's, . diagrams, explanation of, . divots, replacing, . dogwood heads, . dollymount links, . dornoch links, . driver, the, points of, ; scared and socketed clubs, ; heads of, ; length and weight, , ; loft on face of, . ---- play with, first attempts, ; long balls with, , , , ; pleasure of, ; stance, , , ; the grip, ; the address, ; backward swing, ; follow-through, ; faulty driving, ; summary of advice, ; intentional pulling and slicing with, . dunn, tom, , , , . dunn, willie, , . dwelling at the tarn, . etiquette of golf, , , , , . excuses, golfer's, . experiments in golf, . eye on the ball, how and where to keep, , , . eyesight, defective, . faces, artificial, to wooden clubs, . findlay, american golfer, . finish of swing, , . florida, golf in, , . follow-through, the, in the drive, . football at ganton, . formby links, . foursomes, partners in, ; old style, ; four-ball, ; tactics in, ; sociability of, ; mutual understanding in, ; junior partner in, ; handicapping in, ; classical story of, . freaks of style, . frosty weather, play in, . ganton, professional at, ; match with willie park at, ; caddies at, ; international foursome at, . gloves, . greens, putting, gauging strength of, ; etiquette and policy on, ; damaging, . grips, vardon's overlapping, ; the two-v, ; tightness of, ; thickness of handle, . grouville, ; golf introduced to, . gullane links, . hands, right and left, grip with, , , ; variations of tightness, . harlech, links at, . head still, keeping the, , . herd, alexander, , , , . hilton, mr. harold, . himalayas at prestwick, . hints, general, . hoods for golf-bags, . hoylake, merits of course, ; best holes at, . huddersfield links, . hunstanton links, . hunter, the brothers, , . huntercombe links, merits of, . ilkley, . impact, moment of, , . improving one's game, . inland golf, . ireland, links in, _et seq._ iron, the, points of, , , . ---- play with the, first attempts, ; time for, ; stance for, ; swing, ; relation of swing to distance, . islay, splendid links at, ; most difficult hole, . jersey, golf at, , . jersey golf club, royal, . jigger, the, use of, . kay, james, . kilmalcolm, tournament at, . kilspindie links, . kingsbury, lord, . kirkaldy, andrew, , , , , . kirkaldy, hugh, , . ladies, faults of, ; freedom on links, ; improvement of ladies' play, ; keenness of american, ; good pupils, ; same game as men's, ; swing for, ; clubs for, ; bad upward swings, ; need for tuition, . lahinch links, . laidlay, mr. j.e., . lawrence harbour (u.s.), match at, . leach, henry, vi. learn golf, how to, . leather faces, . length of clubs, , . lie of clubs, . lindrick links, . links, on construction of, ; made in a hurry, ; long handicap men's links, ; time and study needed, ; maturing of, ; land required for, ; preliminary survey of, ; clearing of land, ; "penny wise and pound foolish," ; experimental drives, ; short holes, ; varieties of holes, ; too lengthy, ; direction of course, ; position of bunkers, ; class of player to suit, ; bunkers at the side, ; undulating greens, ; double tees, ; the best links, _et seq._; superiority of sandwich, . littlestone links, . lloyd, joseph, . london links, . long heads, . lowe, george (st. anne's-on-sea), , . luffness links, , . lunch, golfer's, . luton, incident at, . machrihanish links, . maiden at sandwich, . manchester links, . mashie, the, points of, , , . ---- play with the, first attempts, , value of good, ; varieties of, ; stance for ordinary shot, ; the swing, ; danger of scooping, ; taking a divot, ; the running-up shot, ; the cut stroke, ; stance for, ; points of, ; chip on the green, ; the jigger, ; mashie on the putting green, . mashie, the driving, , . ---- ---- play with, ; difficulties of, . master stroke in golf, . match play, , , . medal play, , , , ; rules, . middle-aged golfers, . mid-surrey links, . molesworth, mr., at jersey, . money matches, . morris, old tom, , , . morris, young tom, , . mount zion at islay, . muirfield, first championship at, , ; merits of course and best holes, . nails in boots and shoes, . nervousness, , . newcastle (co. down) links, . newquay links, . niblick, the, points of, , , ; swing with, in bunker, . nicholls, bernard, matches with, , . north berwick. _see_ berwick, north. novelties, avoidance of, . oakland (u.s.), . oiling clubs, . one-armed golfer, . open championship. _see_ championship. opponent, one's attitude towards, . ormonde, match at, . over-golfed, . overlapping grip, . park, willie, senior, . park, willie, junior, , , , , , . pau, visit to, . persimmon heads, . photographs, vi. pivoting of the body, on the waist, . ---- on the toes, . pleasures of golf, , , , , . point comfort, match at, . pointgarry out, mr. balfour at, . portland (u.s.), novel experience at, . portmarnock, merits of links, . portrush, tournament at, ; merits of links, . practice, early system of, ; amount of, . pressing, , . prestwick, , , ; best holes at, . professional golfers, money matters, ; difficulties of, . professional tuition, . pulling, causes of, , , , and plates x. and xi.; method of intentional, ; in a cross wind, . purves, dr., at jersey, . push shot, the, ; advantage of, . putter, the, points of, , , . putting, a curious experience, ; first attempts, ; confidence in, ; no rule for, ; the natural stance, ; the grip, ; hitting the ball, ; the swing, ; on being up, ; on undulating greens, ; borrowing from slopes, ; the cut stroke, ; down steep inclines, ; use of mashie, ; playing stymies, ; running through, ; gauging strength of greens, ; etiquette and policy, . redan, the, . redcar links, . regrets, golfer's, . reserve clubs, . ribbed faces to iron clubs, advantages of, . ripon, golf at, . risks, on taking, . robertson, allan, , . rubber-cored balls, life of, . rules of golf, , . running-up approaches, . rye links, . st. andrews, ; merits of course and best holes, . ---- style of play, . st. anne's links, . st. david's, royal, links, . st. george's golf club, royal, sandwich, . sandwich, , , ; the best course, ; reasons for selection, ; best holes at, , . sandy parlour at deal, . sayers, ben, , . scared clubs, advantage of, over socketed, . scarsdale (u.s.), match at, . scotland, links in, _et seq._ seaside courses, advantages of, . seaton carew links, . shafts of clubs, . sheffield links, . sheringham links, . shoes, golfing, . shoulder, right, movement of, ; dropping, . simpson, archie, . skidding with iron clubs, ; with driver, . slicing, cause of, , , ; how to find, , plate xii.; method of intentional, ; distant slice, ; short slice, . "slow back," . smith, will, american champion, , . smoking, on, . spectators at golf matches, . speed of the club, . spofforth, major (jersey), . spoon. _see_ baffy. strath, david, . stroke competitions, rules for, . studley royal golf club, ripon, professional to, . stymies, playing, ; running through, . successes in competitions, . sunningdale links, merits of, . swaying during stroke, . swinging, first attempts at, . tait, lieut. fred, , , , . taylor, j.h., , , , , , . tee, the, for the ball, ; disadvantage of high tee, ; low tee with wind, . teeing grounds, . three-ball matches, . tightness of grip, . tobacco and golf, . trafford park links, . training, on, . travis, mr. walter j., . troon, merits of course, . turf, replacing, . two-v grip, , . upward swing. _see_ backward swing v, two-, grip, , . vardon family, the, . vardon, fred, . vardon, tom, , , , , , , , . waggling the club, . wales, links in, . wallasey links, . walton heath links, merits of, . washington (u.s.), match at, . weather, wet, care of clubs in, , . weight of body, how balanced, , . weight of club, , . westward ho! merits of links, . wheaton links at chicago, , . whip of shafts, , . white, jack, . wind, play in a, ; pulling in a cross, ; driving against, ; driving with, ; low tee with, . wrists, action of the, , . ---- mistaken notions concerning, . yorkshire championships, . _printed by_ morrison & gibb limited _edinburgh_. proofreaders team the dance _historic illustrations of dancing from b.c. to a.d._ by an antiquary london john bale, sons & danielsson, ltd. - , great titchfield street, oxford street, w respectfully dedicated to dr. eleanor maxwell. preface. * * * * * this sketch of the iconography of the dance does not pretend to be a history of the subject, except in the most elementary way. it may be taken as a summary of the history of posture; a complete dance cannot be easily rendered in illustration. the text is of the most elementary description; to go into the subject thoroughly would involve years and volumes. the descriptions of the various historic dances or music are enormous subjects; two authors alone have given dances in four volumes.[footnote: thompson's complete collection of country dances performed at court, bath, tunbridge, and all public assemblies, with proper figures and directions to each set for the violin, german flute, and hautboy, s. d. printed for charles and samuel thompson, st. paul's churchyard, london, where may be had the yearly dances and minuets. four volumes, each dances. - .] it would have been interesting if some idea of the orchesography of the egyptians and greeks could have been given; this art of describing dances much in the manner that music is written is lost, and the attempts to revive it have been ineffective. the increasing speed of the action since the days of lulli would now render it almost impossible. it is hoped that this work may be of some use as illustrating the costume, position and accessories of the dance in various periods to those producing entertainments. to the reader desirous of thoroughly studying the subject a bibliography is given at the end. contents. chapter i egyptian, assyrian, hebrew, and phoenician dancing. the ritual dance of egypt. dancing examples from tomb of ur-ari-en-ptah, th dynasty, british museum. description of dancing from sir g. wilkinson; of the egyptian pipes and hieroglyphics of dancing, &c. phoenician round dances, from a limestone group found at cyprus, and bronze patera from idalium, cyprus. chapter ii greek dancing. bacchanalian dance, by the ceramic painter hieron. description of some greek dances, the geranos, the corybantium, the hormos, &c. dancing bacchante from a vase and from terra cotta. the hand-in-hand, and panathenaeac dance from ceramic ware. military dance from sculpture in vatican, greek dancer with castanets. illustration of cymbals and pipes from the british museum. the chorus. greek dancers and tumblers. chapter iii etruscan, south italian and roman dancing. illustrations from the grotta dei vasi, the grotta della scimia, and the grotta del triclinio, corneto. funeral dances from albanella, capua, &c. pompeii and the baths of constantino. the dances of the etruscans and south italians. the roman, dance of the salii. the bellicrepa. the social position of dancing. the chorus. chapter iv early english and mediaeval dancing to the th century. dancing in churches and religious dancing. the gleemen's dance. military dances. the hornpipe. tumbling and jest dances. illustrations of gleemen's dance, hornpipe, sword dances, tumbling and various comic dances. chapter v society dancing, the th to th centuries. out-of-door dances. chamber dancing. comic dances. the ball. illustrations from italian th century, german th and th centuries, french th, th, th, english th, th and th centuries dancing. chapter vi the modern theatre dance: its origin. introduced into france from italy. under henry iii., iv., louis xiii., xiv. influence of cardinals richelieu and mazarin. foundation of the academic de danse et de musique. the court ballet. molière. corneille. lalli, &c. the theatre ballet. the influence of noverre. its introduction into and its present condition in england, &c. illustrations of mlles. de camargo, duvernay, taglioni. fanny ellsler. ferraris, carlotta grisi. adeline genée. anna pavlova. fédorova, &c. various eastern examples. [illustration: fig. .--dancing to the clapping of bands. egyptian, from the tomb of ur-ari-en-ptah, th dynasty, about b.c. (british museum.)] * * * * * historic illustrations of dancing. chapter i. egyptian, assyrian, hebrew and phoenician dancing. in this work it is not necessary to worry the reader with speculations as to the origin of dancing. there are other authorities easily accessible who have written upon this theme. dancing is probably one of the oldest arts. as soon as man was man he without doubt began to gesticulate with face, body, and limbs. how long it took to develop bodily gesticulation into an art no one can guess--perhaps a millennium. in writing of dancing, one will therefore include those gesticulations or movements of the body suggesting an idea, whether it be the slow movement of marching, or the rapid gallop, even some of the movements that we commonly call acrobatic. it is not intended here to include the more sensual movements of the east and the debased antique. generally the antique dances were connected with a religious ritual conceived to be acceptable to the gods. this connection between dancing and religious rites was common up to the th century. it still continues in some countries. in some of the earliest designs which have come down to us the dancers moved, as stars, hand in hand round an altar, or person, representing the sun; either in a slow or stately method, or with rapid trained gestures, according to the ritual performed. dancing, music and poetry were inseparable. dancing is the poetry of motion, and its connection with music, as the poetry of sound, occurs at all times. in our own day musical themes are marked by forms originally dance times, as waltz time, gavotte time, minuet time, etc. [illustration: fig. .--greek figures in a solemn dance. from a vase at berlin.] amongst the earliest representations that are comprehensible, we have certain egyptian paintings, and some of these exhibit postures that evidently had even then a settled meaning, and were a phrase in the sentences of the art. not only were they settled at such an early period (b.c. , fig. ) but they appear to have been accepted and handed down to succeeding generations (fig. ), and what is remarkable in some countries, even to our own times. the accompanying illustrations from egypt and greece exhibit what was evidently a traditional attitude. the hand-in-hand dance is another of these. the earliest accompaniments to dancing appear to have been the clapping of hands, the pipes,[footnote: egyptian music appears to have been of a complicated character and the double pipe or flutes were probably reeded, as with our clarionet. the left pipe had few stops and served as a sort of hautboy; the right had many stops and was higher. the single pipe, (a) "the recorder" in the british museum, is a treble of - / in. and is pentaphonic, like the scotch scale; the tenor (b) is - / in. long and its present pitch--[illustration: a] [illustration: b] the guitar, the tambourine, the castanets, the cymbals, the tambour, and sometimes in the street, the drum. the following account of egyptian dancing is from sir gardiner wilkinson's "ancient egypt" [footnote: vol. i., p. - .]:-- "the dance consisted mostly of a succession of figures, in which the performers endeavoured to exhibit a great variety of gesture. men and women danced at the same time, or in separate parties, but the latter were generally preferred for their superior grace and elegance. some danced to slow airs, adapted to the style of their movement; the attitudes they assumed frequently partook of a grace not unworthy of the greeks; and some credit is due to the skill of the artist who represented the subject, which excites additional interest from its being in one of the oldest tombs of thebes (b.c. , amenophis ii.). others preferred a lively step, regulated by an appropriate tune; and men sometimes danced with great spirit, bounding from the ground, more in the manner of europeans than of eastern people. on these occasions the music was not always composed of many instruments, and here we find only the cylindrical maces and a woman snapping her fingers in the time, in lieu of cymbals or castanets. "graceful attitudes and gesticulations were the general style of their dance, but, as in all other countries, the taste of the performance varied according to the rank of the person by whom they were employed, or their own skill, and the dance at the house of a priest differed from that among the uncouth peasantry, etc. "it was not customary for the upper orders of egyptians to indulge in this amusement, either in public or private assemblies, and none appear to have practised it but the lower ranks of society, and those who gained their livelihood by attending festive meetings. "fearing lest it should corrupt the manners of a people naturally lively and fond of gaiety, and deeming it neither a necessary part of education nor becoming a person of sober habits, the egyptians forbade those of the higher classes to learn it as an amusement. "many of these postures resembled those of the modern ballet, and the pirouette delighted an egyptian party , years ago. "the dresses of the females were light and of the finest texture, a loose flowing robe reaching to the ankles, sometimes with a girdle. "in later times, it appears more transparent and folded in narrow pleats.[footnote: there is a picture of an egyptian gauffering machine in wilkinson, vol. i., p. .] some danced in pairs, holding each other's hand; others went through a succession of steps alone, both men and women; sometimes a man performed a solo to the sound of music or the clapping of hands. "a favourite figure dance was universally adopted throughout the country, in which two partners, who were usually men, advanced toward each other, or stood face to face upon one leg, and having performed a series of movements, retired again in opposite directions, continuing to hold by one hand and concluding by turning each other round (see fig. ). that the attitude was very common is proved by its having been adopted by the hieroglyphic (fig. ) as the mode of describing 'dance.'" [illustration: fig. .--the hieroglyphics describe the dance.] [illustration: fig. .--egyptian hieroglyphic for "dance."] many of the positions of the dance illustrated in gardner wilkinson are used at the present day. the assyrians probably danced as much as the other nations, but amongst the many monuments that have been discovered there is little dancing shown, and they were evidently more proud of their campaigns and their hunting than of their dancing. a stern and strong people, although they undoubtedly had this amusement, we know little about it. of the phoenicians, their neighbours, we have some illustrations of their dance, which was apparently of a serious nature, judging by the examples which we possess, such as that (fig. ) from cyprus representing three figures in hooded cowls dancing around a piper. it is a dance around a centre, as is also (fig. ) that from idalium in cyprus. the latter is engraved around a bronze bowl and is evidently a planet and sun dance before a goddess, in a temple; the sun being the central object around which they dance, accompanied by the double pipes, the harp, and tabour. the egyptian origin of the devotion is apparent in the details, especially in the lotus-smelling goddess (marked a on fig. ) who holds the flower in the manner shown in an egyptian painting in the british museum (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--cyprian limestone group of phoenician dancers, about - / in. high. there is a somewhat similar group, also from cyprus, in the british museum. the dress, a hooded cowl, appears to be of great antiquity.] from the phoenicians we have illustrated examples, but no record, whereas from their neighbours the hebrews we have ample records in the scriptures, but no illustrations. it is, however, most probable that the dance with them had the traditional character of the nations around them or who had held them captive, and the philistine dance (fig. ) may have been of the same kind as that around the golden calf (apis) of the desert (exodus xxxii. v. ). [illustration: fig. .--phoenician patera, from idalium, showing a religious ritual dance before a goddess in a temple round a sun emblem.] when they passed the red sea, miriam and the maidens danced in chorus with singing and the beating of the timbrel (tambour). (exodus xv. v. .) [illustration: fig. .--female figure smelling a lotus. from a painting in the british museum.] king david not only danced before the ark ( samuel vi. v. ), but mentions dancing in the th and th psalm. certain historians also tell us that they had dancing in their ritual of the seasons. their dancing seems to have been associated with joy, as we read of "a time to mourn and a time to dance"; we find (eccles. iii. v. ) they had also the pipes: "we have piped to you and you have not danced" (matthew xi. v. ). these dances were evidently executed by the peoples themselves, and not by public performers. [illustration: fig. .--dance of bacchantes, painted by the ceramic painter, hieron. (british museum,)] chapter ii. dancing with the greeks. with the greeks, dancing certainly was primarily part of a religious rite; with music it formed the lyric art. the term, however, with them included all those actions of the body and limbs, and all expressions and actions of the features and head which suggest ideas; marching, acrobatic performances, and mimetic action all came into the term. according to the historians, the greeks attributed dancing to their deities: homer makes apollo _orchestes_, or the dancer; and amongst the early dances is that in his honour called the _hyporchema_. their dances may be divided into sections somewhat thus: ( ) those of a religious species, ( ) those of a gymnastic nature, ( ) those of a mimetic character, ( ) those of the theatre, such as the chorus, ( ) those partly social, partly religious dances, such as the hymeneal, and ( ) chamber dances. grown up men and women did not dance together, but the youth of both sexes joined in the _horm[)o]s_ or chain dance and the _g[)e]r[)a]n[)o]s_, or crane (see fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--dancing bacchante. from a vase in the british museum.] [illustration: fig. .--greek terra cotta dancing girl, about b.c. (british museum.)] according to some authorities, one of the most primitive of the first class, attributed to phrygian origin, was the _aloenes_, danced to the phrygian flute by the priests of cybele in honour of her daughter ceres. the dances ultimately celebrated in her cult were numerous: such as the _anthema_, the _bookolos_, the _epicredros_, and many others, some rustic for labourers, others of shepherds, etc. every locality seems to have had a dance of its own. dances in honour of venus were common, she was the patroness of proper and decent dancing; on the contrary, those in honour of dionysius or bacchus degenerated into revelry and obscenity. the _epilenios_ danced when the grapes were pressed, and imitated the gathering and pressing. the _anteisterios_ danced when the wine was vatted (figs. , , ), and the _bahilicos_, danced to the sistrus, cymbals, and tambour, often degenerated into orgies. [illustration: fig. .--the g[)e]r[)a]n[)o]s from a vase in the museo borbonico, naples.] [illustration: fig. .--panathenaeac dance, about the th century b.c.] [illustration: fig. .--a military dance, supposed to be the _corybantum_. from a greek bas-relief in the vatican museum.] the _g[)e]r[)a]n[)o]s_, originally from delos, is said to have been originated by theseus in memory of his escape from the labyrinth of crete (fig. ). it was a hand-in-hand dance alternately of males and females. the dance was led by the representative of theseus playing the lyre. [illustration: fig. .--greek dancer with castanets. (british museum.) see also castanet dance by myron, fig. a.] of the second class, the gymnastic, the most important were military dances, the invention of which was attributed to minerva; of these the _corybantum_ was the most remarkable. it was of phrygian origin and of a mixed religious, military, and mimetic character; the performers were armed, and bounded about, springing and clashing their arms and shields to imitate the corybantes endeavouring to stifle the cries of the infant zeus, in crete. the pyrrhic (fig. ), a war dance of doric origin, was a rapid dance to the double flute, and made to resemble an action in battle; the _hoplites_ of homer is thought to have been of this kind. the dorians were very partial to this dance and considered their success in battle due to the celerity and training of the dance. in subsequent periods it was imitated by female dancers and as a _pas seul_. it was also performed in the panathenaea by ephebi at the expense of the choragus, but this was probably only a mimetic performance and not warlike. [illustration: fig. .--cymbals (about in.) and double flute. (british museum.)] there were many other heroic military dances in honour of hercules, theseus, etc. the chorus, composed of singers and dancers, formed part of the drama, which included the recitation of some poetic composition, and included gesticulative and mimetic action as well as dancing and singing. the dorians were especially fond of this; their poetry was generally choral, and the doric forms were preserved by the athenians in the choral compositions of their drama. the tragic dance, _emmelia_, was solemn; whilst that in comedy, _cordax_, was frivolous, and the _siccinis_, or dance of satyrs, was often obscene. they danced to the music of the pipes, the tambour, the harp, castanets, cymbals, etc. (figs. , , ). [illustration: fig. .--greek dancers. from a vase in the hamilton collection.] [illustration: fig. .--bacchanalian dancer. vase from nocera, museum, naples.] in the rites of dionysius the chorus was fifty and the cithara was used instead of the flute. from the time of sophocles it was fifteen, and always had a professed trainer. the choric question is, however, a subject in itself, and cannot be fairly dealt with here. the social dances, and those in honour of the seasons, fire and water, were numerous and generally local; whilst the chamber dances, professional dancing, the throwing of the _kotabos_, and such-like, must be left to the reader's further study of the authors mentioned in the bibliography at the end of the work. [illustration: fig. .--greek dancers and tumblers.] it may astonish the reader to know that the funambulist or rope-dancer was very expert with the greeks, as also was the acrobat between knives and swords. animals were also taught to dance on ropes, even elephants. the important religious and other dances were not generally composed of professionals. the greatest men were not above showing their sentiments by dancing. sophocles danced after salamis, and epaminondas was an expert dancer. there were dancers of all grades, from the distinguished to the moderate. distinguished persons even married into excellent positions, if they did not already occupy them by birth. philip of macedon married larissa, a dancer, and the dancer aristodemus was ambassador to his court. these dancers must not be confounded with those hired to dance at feasts, etc. (figs. , and ). [illustration: fig. .--etruscan bronze dancer with eyes of diamonds, found at verona. now in the british museum.] chapter iii. etruscan-south italian, roman dancing, etc. one of the most important nations of antiquity was the etruscan, inhabiting, according to some authorities, a dominion from lombardy to the alps, and from the mediterranean to the adriatic. etruria gave a dynasty to rome in servius tullius, who originally was masterna, an etruscan. [illustration: fig. .--etruscan dancer. from a painting in the grotta dei vasi dipinti--corneto.] it is, however, with the dancing that we are dealing. there is little doubt that they were dancers in every sense; there are many ancient sepulchres in etruria, with dancing painted on their walls. other description than that of the pictures we do not possess, for as yet the language is a dead letter. there is no doubt, as gerhardt [footnote: "ann. institut.": , p. .] suggests, that they considered dancing as one of the emblems of joy in a future state, and that the dead were received with dancing and music in their new home. they danced to the music of the pipes, the lyre, the castanets of wood, steel, or brass, as is shown in the illustrations taken from the monuments. [illustration: fig. .--etruscan dancing and performances. from paintings in the grotta della scimia corneto, about b.c.] that the phoenicians and greeks had at certain times immense influence on the etruscans is evident from their relics which we possess (fig. ). a characteristic illustration of the dancer is from a painting in the tomb of the _vasi dipinti_, corneto, which, according to mr. dennis, [footnote: "etruria," vol. i., p. .] belongs to the archaic period, and is perhaps as early as b.c. it exhibits a stronger greek influence than some of the paintings. fig. , showing a military dance to pipes, with other sports, comes from the _grotta della scimia_, also at corneto; these show a more purely etruscan character. [illustration: fig. .--etruscan dancing. from the grotta del triclinio.--corneto.] the pretty dancing scene from the _grotta del triclinio_ at corneto is taken from a full-sized copy in the british museum, and is of the greatest interest. it is considered to be of the greco-etruscan period, and later than the previous examples (fig. ). there is a peculiarity in the attitude of the hands, and of the fingers being kept flat and close together; it is not a little curious that the modern japanese dance, as exhibited by mme. sadi yacca, has this peculiarity, whether the result of ancient tradition or of modern revival, the writer cannot say. almost as interesting as the etruscan are the illustrations of dancing found in the painted tombs of the campagna and southern italy, once part of "magna grecia"; the figure of a funeral dance, with the double pipe accompaniments, from a painted tomb near albanella (fig. ) may be as late as b.c., and those in figs. , from a tomb near capua are probably of about the same period. these samnite dances appear essentially different from the etruscan; although both greek and etruscan influence are very evident, they are more solemn and stately. this may, however, arise from a different national custom. that the etruscan, sabellian, oscan, samnite, and other national dances of the country had some influence on the art in rome is highly probable, but the paucity of early roman examples renders the evidence difficult. [illustration: fig. .--funeral dance in the obsequies of a female. from a painted tomb near albanella.] rome as a conquering imperial power represented nearly the whole world of its day, and its dances accordingly were most numerous. amongst the illustrations already given we have many that were preserved in rome. in the beginning of its existence as a power only religious dances were practised, and many of these were of etruscan origin, such as the lupercalia, the ambarvalia, &c. in the former the dancers were demi-nude, and probably originally shepherds; the latter was a serious dancing procession through fields and villages. [illustration: fig. .--funeral dance. from capua.] a great dance of a severe kind was executed by the salii, priests of mars, an ecclesiastical corporation of twelve chosen patricians. in their procession and dance, on march , and succeeding days, carrying the ancilia, they sang songs and hymns, and afterwards retired to a great banquet in the temple of mars. that the practice was originally etruscan may be gathered from the circumstance that on a gem showing the armed priests carrying the shields there are etruscan letters. there were also an order of female salii. another military dance was the _saltatio bellicrepa_, said to have been instituted by romulus in commemoration of the rape of the sabines. the pyrrhic dance (fig. ) was also introduced into rome by julius caesar, and was danced by the children of the leading men of asia and bithynia. as, however, the state increased in power by conquest, it absorbed with other countries other habits, and the art degenerated often, like that of greece and etruria, into a vehicle for orgies, when they brought to rome with their asiatic captives even more licentious practices and dances. [illustration: fig. .--funeral dance from the same tomb.] as rome, which never rose to the intellectual and imaginative state of greece in her best period, represented wealth, commerce, and conquest, in a greater degree, so were her arts, and with these the lyric. in her best state her nobles danced, appius claudius excelled, and sallust tells us that sempronia "psaltere saltare elegantius"; so that in those days ladies played and danced, but no roman citizen danced except in the religious dances. they carried mimetic dances to a very perfect character in the time of augustus under the term of _musica muta_. after the second punic war, as greek habits made their way into italy, it became a fashion for the young to learn to dance. the education in dancing and gesture were important in the actor, as masks prevented any display of feature. the position of the actor was never recognized professionally, and was considered _infamia_. but the change came, which caused cicero to say "no one danced when sober." eventually the performers of lower class occupied the dancing platform, and herculaneum and pompeii have shown us the results. [illustration: fig. .--bacchante leading the dionysian bull to the altar. bas-relief in the vatican.] in the theatre the method of the roman chorus differed from that of the greeks. in the latter the orchestra or place for the dancing and chorus was about ft. below the stage, with steps to ascend when these were required; in the former the chorus was not used in comedy, and having no orchestra was in tragedies placed upon the stage. the getting together of the chorus was a public service, or liturgia, and in the early days of grecian prosperity was provided by the choregus. tiberius by a decree abolished the saturnalia, and exiled the dancing teachers, but the many acts of the senate to secure a better standard were useless against the foreign inhabitants of the empire accustomed to sensuality and licence. [illustration: fig. --bacchante. from a fresco, pompeii, st century b.c.] [illustration: fig. .--dancer. from a fresco in the baths of constantine, th century a.d.] perhaps the encouragement of the more brutal combats of the coliseum did something to suppress the more delicate arts, but historians have told us, and it is common knowledge, what became of the great empire, and the lyric with other arts were destroyed by licentious preferences. chapter iv. the "early english" and "mediaeval" dance to the fourteenth century. the last illustration from the baths of constantine brought us into the christian era, although that example was not of christian sentiment or art. it is possible that the dance of salome with its diabolical reward may have prejudiced the apostolic era, for we find no example of dancing, as exhibiting joy, in christian art of that period. the dance before herod is historical proof that the higher classes of hebrews danced for amusement. as soon, however, as christianity became enthroned, and a settled society, we read of religious dances as exhibiting joy, even in the churches. tertullian tells us that they danced to the singing of hymns and canticles. these dances were solemn and graceful to the old tones; and continued, notwithstanding many prohibitions such as those of pope zacharias (a syrian) in a.d. . the dancing at easter in the cathedral at paris was prohibited by archbishop odo in the th century, but notwithstanding the antagonism of the fathers, the dances were only partially suppressed. they were common on religious festivals in spain and portugal up to the seventeenth century and in some localities continue even to our own time. when s. charles borromeo was canonized in , the portuguese, who had him as patron, made a procession of four chariots of dancers; one to renown, another to the city of milan, one to represent portugal and a fourth to represent the church. in seville at certain periods, and in the balearic isles, they still dance in religious ceremonies. we know that religious dancing has continually been performed as an accessory to prayer, and is still so used by the mahommedans, the american indians and the bedos of india, who dance into an ecstasy. [illustration: fig. .--gleemen's dance, th century. from cleopatra, cotton ms. c. viii., british museum.] it is probable that this sort of mania marked the dancing in europe which was suppressed by pope and bishop. this _choreomania_ marked a flemish sect in who danced in honour of st. john, and it was so furious that the disease called st. vitus' dance takes its name from this performance. christmas carols were originally choric. the performers danced and sang in a circle. the illustration (fig. ) of a dance of angels and religious shows us that fra angelico thought the practice joyful; this dance is almost a counterpart of that amongst the greeks (fig. ). the other dance, by sandro botticelli (fig. ), is taken from his celebrated "nativity" in the national gallery. although we have records of performances in churches, no illustrations of an early date have come to the knowledge of the writer. [illustration: fig. .--dancing to horn and pipe. from an anglo-saxon ms.] that the original inhabitants of britain danced--that the picts, danes, saxons and romans danced may be taken for granted, but there seems little doubt that our earliest illustrations of dancing were of the roman tradition. we find the attitude, the instruments and the clapping of hands, all of the same undoubted classic character. tacitus informs us that the teutonic youths danced, with swords and spears, and olaus magnus that the goths, &c., had military dances: still the military dances in english mss. (figs. , ) seem more like those of a pyrrhic character, which julius caesar, the conqueror of england, introduced into rome. the illustration (fig. ) of what is probably a saxon gleemen's dance shows us the kind of amusement they afforded and how they followed classic usages. [illustration: fig. .--anglo-saxon sword dance. from the ms. cleopatra, c. viii., british museum.] the gleemen were reciters, singers and dancers; and the lower orders were tumblers, sleight-of-hand men and general entertainers. what may have been the origin of our hornpipe is illustrated in fig. , where the figures dance to the sound of the horn in much the same attitudes as in the modern hornpipe, with a curious resemblance to the position in some muscovite dances. [illustration: fig. .--sword dance to bagpipes, th century. from b vii., royal ms., british museum.] the norman minstrel, successor of the gleeman, used the double-pipe, the harp, the viol, trumpets, the horn and a small flat drum, and it is not unlikely that from sicily and their south italian possessions the normans introduced classic ideas. piers the plowman used words of norman extraction for them, as he speaks of their "saylen and sauté." the minstrel and harpist does not appear to have danced very much, but to have left this to the joculator, and dancing and tumbling and even acrobatic women and dancers appear to have become common before the time of chaucer's "tomblesteres." [illustration: fig. .--herodias tumbling. from a ms. end of th century (addl. , , f. b), british museum.] that this tumbling and dancing was common in the thirteenth century is shown by the illustration from the sculpture at rouen cathedral (fig. ), the illustrations from a ms. in the british museum (fig. ) of herodias tumbling and of a design in glass in lincoln, and other instances at ely; idsworth church, hants; poncé, france, and elsewhere. it is suggested that the camp followers of the crusaders brought back certain dances and amongst these some of an acrobatic nature, and many that were reprehensible, which brought down the anger of the clergy. [illustration: fig. .--a tumbler, as caryatid. rouen cathedral, th century.] in the fourteenth century, from a celebrated ms. ( b. vii.) in the british museum and other cognate sources we get a fair insight of the amusement afforded by these dancers and joculators. in the illustration (fig. ) we get a and c tumblers, male and female; d, a woman and bear dance; and e, a dance of fools to the organ and bagpipe. it will be observed that they have bells on their caps, and it must have required much skill and practice to sound their various toned bells to the music as they danced. this dance of fools may have suggested or became eventually merged into the "morris dance" (fig. ) of which some account with other illustrations of "comic dances" will be given hereafter. the man dancing and playing the pipes with a woman on his shoulder (fig. ), the stilt dancer with a curious instrument (c), and the woman jumping through a hoop, give us other illustrations of fourteenth century amusements. [illustration: fig. .-- th century dancers. a and c are tumblers; b, tumbling and balancing to the tambour; d, a woman dancing around a whipped bear; e, jesters dancing.] [illustration: fig. .--a, man dancing and playing pipes, carrying a woman; b, jumping through a hoop; c, a stilt dance. th century.] chapter v. society dancing from the fifteenth century. [illustration: fig. .--italian dance. from an engraving, end of th century, attributed to baccio baldini.] concerning the dance as a means of social intercourse, it does not appear to have been formulated as an accomplishment until late in the thirteenth century, and at a later date was cultivated as a means of teaching what we call deportment, until it became almost a necessity with the classes, as is shown by the literature of that period. the various social dances, such as the volte, the jig and the galliard, although in early periods, not so numerous, required a certain training and agility. these, however, soon became complicated with many social and local variations, the characteristics of which are a study in themselves. the dances (figs. and ) in a field of sports, from an italian engraving of the fifteenth century, show us nothing new; indeed, with different costumes it is very like what we have from egypt (fig. ), only a different phase of the action, and the attitude of this old dance is repeated even to our own time. [illustration: fig. .--italian dancing, the end of the th century.] in the chamber dance by martin zasinger (fig. ), of the fifteenth century, no figures are in action, but we see an arrangement of the guests and musicians, from which it is evident that the chamber dance as a social function had progressed and that the "bal paré," etc., was here in embryo. the flute and viol are evidently opening the function and the trumpets and other portions of the orchestra on the other side waiting to come in. [illustration: fig. .--chamber dance, th century. from a drawing by martin zasinger.] the stately out-door function, in a pleasure garden, from the "roman de la rose" (fig. ) illustrates but one portion of the feature of a dance, another of which is described in chaucer's translation: "they threw y fere ther mouthes so that through their play it seemed as they kyste alway." fancy dress and comic dances have handed down the same characteristics almost to our own time. the wildeman costume dance (fig. ) is interesting in many respects, it not only shows us the dance, but the costume and general method of the chamber. [illustration: fig. .--dancing in a "pleasure garden," end of the th century. french, from the "roman de la rose," in the british museum.] the fifteenth century comic dancers in a _fête champétre_ (fig. ) and those of the seventeenth century by callot (fig. ) are good examples of this entertainment--in the background of the latter a minuet seems to be in progress. the morris dance (fig. ) shows us the development that had taken place since the fourteenth century. [illustration: fig. .--fancy dress dance of wildemen of the th century. from ms. harl, british museum.] [illustration: fig. .--comic dance to pipe and tabor, end of th century. from pen drawing in the mediaeval house book in the castle of wolfegg, by the master of the amsterdam cabinet.] [illustration: fig. .--a dance of angels and saints at the entrance to heaven. fra angelico.] [illustration: fig. .--dancing angels. from a "nativity" by sandro botticelli _circa_ a.d.] [illustration: fig. .--albert dürer, a.d.] [illustration: fig. .--albert dürer.] allusion has already been made to the beautiful paintings of botticelli and fra angelico, which tell us of italian choral dances of their period; these do not belong to social functions, but are certainly illustrative of the custom of their day. albert dürer (figs. , ) has given us illustrations of the field dances of his period, but both these dances and those drawn by sebald beham (fig. ) are coarse, and contrast unfavourably with the italian, although the action is vigorous and robust. [illustration: fig. .--scenes from dances. german, dated , by hans sebald beham.] the military dance of dames and knights of armour, by hans burgkmair, on the other hand, appears stately and dignified (fig. ). this may illustrate the difference between chamber and garden or field dancing. [illustration: fig. .--a torchlight military dance of the early th century. from a picture by hans burgkmair.] at the end of the sixteenth century we get a work on dancing which shows us completely its position as a social art in that day. it is the "orchésographie" of thoinot arbeau (jean tabouret, canon of langres, in ), from which comes the illustration of the "galliarde" (fig. ) and to which i would refer the reader for all the information he desires concerning this period. in this work much stress is laid on the value of learning to dance from many points of view--development of strength, manner, habits and courtesy, etc. alas! we know now that all these external habits can be acquired and leave the "natural man" beneath. [illustration: fig. .--_la galliarde_. from the "orchésographie" of thoinot arbeau (jean tabourot), langres, .] desirable, therefore, as good manners and such like are, they do not fulfil all the requirements that the worthy canon wished to be involved by them. [footnote: the advice which he gives is valuable from its bearing on the customs of the th century. it even has great historical value, indicating the influence dancing has had on good manners. that the history of dancing is the history of manners may be too much insisted upon. for these reasons we insert these little known passages. the first has reference to the right way of proceeding at a ball. "having entered the place where the company is gathered for the dance, choose a good young lady (honneste damoiselle) and raising your hat or bonnet with your right hand you will conduct her to the ball with your left. she, wise and well trained, will tender her left and rise to follow you. then in the sight of all you conduct her to the end of the room, and you will request the players of instruments to strike up a 'basse danse'; because otherwise through inadvertance they might strike up some other kind of dance. and when they commence to play you must commence to dance. and be careful, that they understand, in your asking for a 'basse danse,' you desire a regular and usual one. nevertheless, if the air of one song on which the 'basse danse' is formed pleases you more than another you can give the beginning of the strain to them." "_capriol_:--if the lady refuses, i shall feel very ashamed. "_arbeau_:--a well-trained lady never refuses him who so honours her as to lead her to the dance. "_capriol_:--i think so too, but in the meantime the shame of the refusal remains with me. "_arbeau_:--if you feel sure of another lady's graciousness, take her and leave aside this graceless one, asking her to excuse you for having been importunate; nevertheless, there are those who would not bear it so patiently. but it is better to speak thus than with bitterness, because in so doing you acquire a reputation for being gentle and humane, and to her will fall the character of a 'glorieuse' unworthy of the attention paid her." "when the instrument player has ceased" continues our good canon "make a deep bow by way of taking leave of the young lady and conduct her gently to the place whence you took her, whilst thanking her for the honour she has done you." another extract is not wanting in flavour: "hold the head and body straight, have a countenance of assurance, spit and cough little, and if necessity compels you, turn your face the other side and use a beautiful white handkerchief. talk graciously, in gentle and honest speech, neither letting your hands hang as if dead or too full of gesticulation. be dressed cleanly and neatly 'avec la chausse bien tirée et pescarpin propre.' "and bear in mind these particulars." ] we have have seen from the fourteenth century (figs. c, a, ) how common the bagpipe was in out-of-door dances; in the illustrations from dürer (fig. ) and in fig. from holtzer it has developed, and has two accessory pipes, besides that played by the mouth, and the player is accompanied by a sort of clarionet. this also appears to be the only accompaniment of the trio (fig. ). [illustration: fig. .--morris dancers. from a window that was in the possession of george tollett, esq., birtley, staffordshire, th century.] [illustration: fig. .--court dance. from a drawing by callot, a.d.] in the sixteenth century certain spanish dances were introduced into france, such as la pavane, which was accompanied by hautboys and sackbuts. [illustration: fig. .--comic dancers. by callot, from the act entitled "balli di sfessama," a.d.] [illustration: fig. .--country dance. from a drawing by john evangelist holtzer, th century.] [illustration: fig. .--a ball-room dance, _le bal paré_, of the th century. from august de l'aubin.] [illustration: fig. .--a dance in the th century. from a painting by hogarth.] there were, however, various other dances of a number too considerable to describe here, also introduced. the dance of the eighteenth century from derby ware (fig. ) seems to be but a continuation in action of those of the sixteenth century, as out-of-door performances. [illustration: fig. .--caricature of a dancing master. hogarth.] we have now arrived at the modern style of ball, so beloved by many of the french monarchs. henry iv. and napoleon were fond of giving these in grand style, and in some sort of grand style they persist even as a great social function to our own time. the court balls of louis xiii. and xiv. at versailles were really gorgeous ballets, and their grandeur was astonishing; this custom was continued under the succeeding monarchs. an illustration of one in the eighteenth century by august de l'aubin (fig. ) sufficiently shows their character. there is nothing new in the postures illustrated, which may have originated thousands of years ago. as illustrating the popular ball of the period, the design by hogarth (fig. ) is an excellent contrast. the _contredanse_ represented was originally the old country dance exported to france and returned with certain arrangements added. this is a topic we need not pursue farther, as almost every reader knows what social dancing now is. [illustration: fig. .--spring dancing away from winter. from a drawing by watteau.] [illustration: fig. .--the misses gunning dancing. end of the th century, from a print by bunbury, engraved by bartolozzi.] [illustration: fig. .--dancing. close of the th century. from derby ware.] [illustration: fig. .--spanish dance in the hall of saragoza, th century.] chapter vi. the modern theatre dance. although the theatrical ballet dance is comparatively modern, the elements of its formation are of the greatest antiquity; the chorus of dancers and the performances of the men in the egyptian chapters represent without much doubt public dancing performances. we get singing, dancing, mimicry and pantomime in the early stages of greek art, and the development of the dance rhythm in music is equally ancient. the alexandrine pantomime, introduced into rome about b.c. by bathillus and pylades, appears to have been an entertainment approaching the ballet. in the middle ages there were the mysteries and "masks"; the latter were frequent in england, and are introduced by shakespere in "henry viii." in italy there appears to have been a kind of ballet in the th century, and from italy, under the influence of catharine de' medici, came the ballet. balthasar di beaujoyeulx produced the first recorded ballet in france, in the italian style, in . this was, however, essentially a court ballet. the theatre ballet apparently arose out of these court ballets. henry iii. and henry iv., the latter especially, were very fond of these entertainments, and many italians were brought to france to assist in them. pompeo diabono, a savoyard, was brought to paris in to regulate the court ballets. at a later date came rinuccini, the poet, a florentine, as was probably caccini, the musician. they had composed and produced the little operetta of "daphne," which had been performed in florence in . under these last-mentioned masters the ballet in france took somewhat of its present form. this passion for court ballets continued under louis xiii. and louis xiv. [illustration: fig. .--mlle. de camargo. after a painting by lancret, about a.d.] louis xiii. as a youth danced in one of the ballets at st. germain, it is said at the desire of richelieu, who was an expert in spectacle. it appears that he was encouraged in these amusements to remedy fits of melancholy. louis xiv., at seven, danced in a masquerade, and afterwards not only danced in the ballet of "cassandra," in , but did all he could to raise the condition of the dance and encourage dancing and music. his influence, combined with that of cardinal richelieu, raised the ballet from gross and trivial styles to a dignity worthy of music, poetry and dancing. his uncle, gaston of orleans, still patronized the grosser style, but it became eclipsed by the better. lulli composed music to the words of molière and other celebrities; amongst notable works then produced was the "andromeda" of corneille, a tragedy, with hymns and dances, executed in , at the petit bourbon. [illustration: fig. .--pauline duvernay at covent garden, - .] the foundation of the theatrical ballet was, however, at the instigation of mazarin, to prevent a lowering of tone in the establishment of the _académie de danse_ under thirteen academicians in . this appears to have been merged into the _académie royale de musique et de danse_ in , which provided a proper training for débutants, under mm. perrin and cambert, whilst beauchamp, the master of the court ballets, had charge of the dancing. the first opera-ballet, the "pomona" of perrin and cambert, was produced in . to this succeeded many works of lulli, to whom is attributed the increased speed in dance music and dancing, that of the court ballets having been slow and stately. [illustration: fig. .--mlle. fanny ellsler. from a lithograph by a. lacaucbie.] the great production of the period appears to have been the "triumph of love" in , with twenty scenes and seven hundred performers; amongst these were many of the nobility, and some excellent _ballerine_, such as pesaut, carré, leclerc, and lafontaine. a detailed history of the ballet is, however, impossible here, and we must proceed to touch only on salient points. it passed from the court to the theatre about and had two characteristics, one with feminine dancers, the other without. [illustration: fig. a.--dancing satyr playing castanets, by myron, in the vatican museum. the action is entirely suggestive of that of fanny ellsler, and might be evidence of the antiquity of the spanish tradition.] it is not a little curious that wearing the mask, a revival of the antique, was practised in some of these ballets. the history of the opera-ballet of those days gives to us many celebrated names of musicians, such as destouches, who gave new "verve" to ballet music, and rameau. jean georges noverre abolished the singing and established the five-act ballet on its own footing in . in this it appears he had partly the advice of garrick, whom he met in london. the names of the celebrated dancers are numerous, such as pécourt, blaudy (who taught mlle. camargo), laval, vestris, germain, prevost, lafontaine, and camargo (fig. ), of the th century; taglioni, grisi, duvernay, cerito, ellsler, etc., of the th century, to those of our own day. a fair notice of all of these would be a work in itself. [illustration: fig. .--mlle. taglioni. from a lithograph of the period.] the introduction of the ballet into england was as late as , when the french dancers, mlle. sallé, the rival of mlle. camargo, and mlle. de subligny made a great success at covent garden in "ariadne and galatea," and mlle. salle danced in her own choregraphic invention of "pygmalion," since which time it has been popular in england, when those of the first class can be obtained. there are, however, some interesting and romantic circumstances connected with the ballet in london in the last century, which it will not be out of place to record here. amongst the dancers of the last century of considerable celebrity were two already mentioned, mlles. duvernay (fig. ) and taglioni (fig. ), whose names are recorded in the classic verse of "ingoldsby." "malibran's dead, duvernay's fled; taglioni has not yet arrived in her stead." [illustration: fig. .--_pas de trois_ by mlles. ferraris, taglioni, and carlotta grisi.] mlle. duvernay was a parisian, and commenced her study under barrez, but subsequently was under vestris and taglioni, the father of the celebrity mentioned in the verse. [illustration: fig. .--mlle. adeline genée, . photo, ellis and walery.] duran hangs over the mantelpiece of the refectory of the presbytery. [illustration: fig. .--mlle. anna pavlova, . from a photo by foulsham and banfield.] having made a great parisian reputation, she came to london in , and from that date until held the town, when she married mr. stephens lyne stephens, m.p., a gentleman of considerable wealth, but was left a childless widow in , and retired to her estate at lyneford hall, norfolk, living in retirement and spending her time in good works. she is said to have spent £ , in charities and churches, and that at cambridge, dedicated to the english martyrs, was founded, completed, and endowed by her. she led a blameless and worthy life, and died in . her portrait by mlle. taglioni (fig. ), her co-celebrity, married count gilbert de voisins, a french nobleman, in , and with her marriage came an ample fortune; unfortunately the bulk of this fortune was lost in the franco-german war. with the courage of her character the countess returned to london and gave lessons in dancing, etc., in which she was sufficiently successful to obtain a fair living. she died in at years of age. of the other celebrities of the period--carlotta grisi, ferraris (fig. ), and fanny ellsler (fig. )--some illustrations are given; besides these were fanny cerito, lucile grahn, a dane, and some others of lesser notoriety performing in london at this great period of the ballet. [illustration: fig. .--mlle. sophie fédorova.] the recent encouragement of the classic ballet has introduced us to some exquisite dancers: amongst these are mlle. adeline genée (fig. ) and mlle. anna pavlova (fig. ); the latter, with m. mordkin and a corps of splendid dancers, are from russia, from whence also comes the important troupe now at the alhambra with mlle. geltzer and other excellent dancers. the celebrated company at covent garden, and lydia kyasht at the empire, are also russian. it is not surprising that we get excellent dancing from russia; the school formed by peter the great about has been under state patronage ever since. notices of all the important dancers from italy, spain, paris, or elsewhere, performing in england in recent years, would occupy considerable space, and the reader can easily obtain information concerning them elsewhere. that the technique and speed of the classic dance has considerably increased is historically certain, and we must hope that this speed will not sacrifice graceful movement. moreover, technique alone will not make the complete fine-artist: some invention is involved. unfortunately, some modern attempts at invention seem crude and sensational, whilst lacking the exquisite technique desirable in all exhibitions of finished art. before concluding it is almost imperative to say something about the naked foot dancers, followers of isidora duncan. some critics and a certain public have welcomed them; but is it not "sham antique"? it does not remind one of the really classic. moreover, the naked foot should be of antique beauty, which in most of these cases it is not. advertisements tell us that these dance are interpretations of classic music--chopin, weber, brahms, etc.; they are not really interpretations, but distractions! we can hardly imagine that these composers intended their work for actual dancing. one can listen and be entranced; one sees the dancer's "interpretations" or "translations" and the music is degraded to a series of sham classic postures. the idea that running about the stage in diaphanous costumes, with conventional mimicry and arm action, is classic or beautiful is a mistake; the term aesthetic may cover, but not redeem it. there is not even the art of the ordinary ballet-dancer discernible in these proceedings. on another plane are such as the ballets in "don giovanni" and "faust." mozart and gounod wrote these with a full knowledge of the method of interpretation and the persons who had been trained for that purpose--the performers fit the music and it fits them. this opera-ballet is also more in accordance with tradition before the time of noverre. neither do the "popular" and curious exhibitions of loie fuller strike one as having a classic character, or future, of any consideration, pretty as they may be. the operetta or musical comedy has given us some excellent art, especially at the end of the th century, when sylvia gray, kate vaughan, letty lind, topsy sinden, and others of like _métier_ gave us skirt and drapery dancing. this introduces us to the question of costume. that commonly used by the _prima ballerina_ is certainly not graceful; it was apparently introduced about , presumably to show the action and finished method of the lower extremities. if fanny ellsler and duvernay could excel without this ugly contrivance, why is it necessary for others? at the same time it is better than indifferent imitations of the greek, or a return to the debased characteristics of pompeiian art, in which the effect of the classic and fine character of the material are rendered in a sort of transparent muslin. with these notices the author's object in this sketch is completed. of the _bal-masqué_ garden dances, public balls and such-like, he has no intention to treat; they are not classic dancing nor "art," with the exception perhaps of the scottish reels. nor is he interested in the dancing of savage tribes, nor in that of the east, although some few illustrations are given to illustrate traditions: for example, the use of the pipe and tabor in patagonia, the dancer from japan, winged, like that in the "roman de la rose" (fig. ), and the religious dance of tibet, showing the survival of the religious dance in some countries. in mrs. groves' book on dancing there is an excellent chapter on the ritual dance as now practised, to which the reader can refer. [illustration: fig. .--japanese court dance.] [illustration: fig. .--indian dancing-girl.] [illustration: fig. .--patagonian dancers to fife and tabor.] [illustration: fig. .--tibetan religious dancing procession, a.d.] bibliography. baron, a. "lettres et entretiens sur la danse." paris, . emmanuel, m. "la danse grecque antique." . ménestrier, père. "des ballets anciens et modernes." . bonnet. "histoire générale de la danse sacrée et profane." . cahusac. "la danse ancienne et moderne." . noverre. "lettres sur les ballets." . charbonnel, r. "la danse de lettres, &c." . pougin, a. dict. hist, du théâtre. . aulnaye, de l'. "de la saltation théâtrale." . olaus magnus. gent. septentr., hy., book iii., chap. vii. see bourne's "vulgar antiqs.," p. . abbeau-thoinot (canon jean tabourot). "orchésographie." . strutt's "sports and pastimes." london, . thomson, chas. and samuel. collection of dances. vols. - . playford's "dancing master." nd ed. . wilkinson, sir g. "ancient egyptians." vols. london. dennis. "etruria." vols. london. compan. "dictionnaire de la danse." . blasis, c. "traité de la danse." milan, . ---. "code of terpsichore." london, . vuillier, g. "la danse à travers les ages." menil, f. de. "histoire de la danse à travers les ages." fonta laure, mme. "notice sur les danses du xvi. siècle." guihelmi. "hebraie pisauriensis, _de practica seu arte trepudis, &c._" . ms. bib. nation. domini, johan. "pisauriensis," ditto. ms. bib. nation. . caroso, f. "il ballarino." . cesare negri. "nuovo invenzioni di balli." . vestris, d. "les danses autrefois." . desrat, g. "dictionnaire de la danse." paris, . rameau, p. "le maître à danser." magny. "principes de chorégraphie." paris, . ---. "nouveau guide de la danse." . gawlikowski, p. "guide complet de la danse." . angiolini. "discuzzioni sulla dansa pantomima." . saint léon. "de l'etat actuel de la danse." lisbon, . giraudet, e. traité de la danse, . ---. nouveau guide, . grove, mrs. lilly. "history of dancing." london, . skalkovsky-pleshcheev. "nash balet" (our ballet). . a history of the russian ballet, in russian. [illustration: three victorious princeton captains hillebrand, cochran, edwards] football days memories of the game and of the men behind the ball by william h. edwards princeton with introduction by walter camp yale moffat, yard and company new york copyright, , by moffat, yard and company new york dedicated to john p. poe, jr. princeton ' honored and beloved by hosts of friends, he represented the highest ideals of american football, not only in life, but in his death upon the battlefield in france. as i think of him, the stirring lines of henry newboldt come to me as a fitting eulogy: vita lampada there's a breathless hush in the close to-night-- ten to make and the match to win-- a bumping pitch and a blinding light, an hour to play and the last man in. and it's not for the sake of a ribboned-coat or the selfish hope of a season's fame, but his captain's hand on his shoulder smote, "play up! play up! and play the game!" the sand of the desert is sodden red-- red with the wreck of a square that broke, the gatling jammed and the colonel dead and the regiment blind with dust and smoke. the river of death has brimmed its banks, and england's far, and honor a name-- but the voice of a school boy rallies the ranks, "play up! play up! and play the game!" this is the word that year by year while in her place the school is set every one of the sons must hear, and none that hears it dares forget. thus they all with a joyful mind-- bear their life like a torch in flame-- and failing, fling to the host behind, "play up! play up! and play the game!" greeting i value more highly than any other athletic gift i have ever received, the princeton football championship banner that hangs on my wall. it was given to me by a friend who sent three boys to princeton. it is a duplicate of the one that hangs in the trophy room of the gymnasium there. how often have i gazed longingly at the names of my loyal team-mates inscribed upon it. many times have i run over in my mind the part that each one played on the memorable occasion when that banner was won. memories cluster about that token that are dear and sacred to me. i see before me not only the faces of my team, but the faces of men of other years and other universities who have contributed so much to the great game of football. i recall the preparatory school days and the part that football played in our school and college careers. again i see the athletic fields and the dressing rooms. i hear the earnest pleading of the coaches. i see the teams run out upon the field and hear the cheering throng. the coin is tossed in the air. the shrill blast of the referee's whistle signals the game to start. the ball is kicked off, and the contest is on. the thousands of spectators watch breathlessly. for the time the whole world is forgotten, except for the issue being fought out there before them. but we are not dressed in football suits nowadays. we are on the side lines. we have a different part to play. years have compelled a change. in spirit, however, we are still "in the game." it is to share these memories with all true lovers of football and to pay a tribute to the heroes of the gridiron who are no longer with us that i have undertaken this volume. let us together retrace the days in which we lived: days of preparation, days of victory, and days of defeat. let us also look into the faces of some of the football heroes of years ago, and recall the achievements that made them famous. and let us recall, too, the men of the years just past who have so nobly upheld the traditions of the american game of football, and helped to place it on its present high plane. william h. edwards. [illustration: my corner "fond memory sheds the light of other days around me."] prologue they say that no man ever made a successful football player who was lacking in any quality of imagination. if this be true, and time and again has it been proved, then there is no more fitting dedication to a book dealing with the gridiron heroes of the past than to a man like johnny poe. for football is the abandon of body and mind to the obsession of the spirit that knows no obstacle, counts no danger and for the time being is dull and callous to physical pain or exhaustion. it is a something that makes one see visions as johnny saw them! there is no sport in the world that brings out unselfishness as does this great gridiron game of ours. every fall, second and scrub teams throughout the country sacrifice themselves only to let others enter the promised land of victory. it is a strange thing but one almost never hears any real football player criticise another's making the team, either his own or an all america. although the player in this sport appreciates the loyal support of the thousands on the stands, every man realizes that his checks on the bank of cheers can never be cashed unless there is a deposit of hard work and practice. perhaps all this in an indistinct and indefinite way explains why football players, the country over, understand each other and that when the game is attacked for any reason they stand shoulder to shoulder in defence of what they know down in the bottom of their hearts has such an influence on character building. and there is no one better fitted to tell the story of this and of the gridiron heroes than big bill edwards, known not only as a player but far and wide as one of the best officials that ever handled the game. "a square deal and no roughing" was his motto, and every one realized it and accepted every decision unquestioningly. his association with players in so many angles has given him a particular insight into the sport and has enabled him to tell this story as no one else could. and what names to conjure with! the whistle blows and a shadowy host springs into action before one's misty eyes--alex moffat, the star of kickers, hector cowan, heffelfinger, gordon brown, ma newell, truxton hare, glass, neil snow and shevlin, giants of linemen. but i must stop before i trespass upon what bill edwards will do better. here's to them all--forty years of heroes! walter camp. [illustration: walter camp yale's captain, ' -' .] list of illustrations hillebrand, cochran, edwards _frontispiece_ my corner walter camp, yale's captain ' -' the old fifth avenue send-off old yale heroes--lee mcclung's team we beat andover lafayette's great team house in disorder hit your man low repairs the old faithfuls jim rodgers' team cochran was game to the end on to new haven--all dressed up and ready to go hillebrand's last charge al sharpe's goal touching the match to victory alex moffat and his team old penn heroes pa corbin's team breakers ahead--phil king in the old days lookout, princeton! barrett on one of his famous dashes; exeter-andover game, bill hollenback coming at you "the next day the picture was gone"--jim cooney making a hole for dana kafer johnny poe, football player and soldier northcroft kicking the field goal anticipated by the navy and feared by the army cadets and middies entering the field two aces--bill morley and harold weeks vic kennard's kick sam white's run king, of harvard, making a run; mahan putting black on his head princeton's team "nothing got by john dewitt" john dewitt about to pick up the ball the ever reliable brickley--a football thoroughbred--tack hardwick the poe family just boys hobey baker, walter camp, jr., snake ames, jr. the elect how it hurts to lose cornell's great team-- one scene never photographed in football harvard, the greatest indian of them all learning the charge billy bull advising with captain talbot michigan's famous team columbia back in the game, close to a thriller. erwin of pennsylvania scoring against cornell crash of conflict. when charge meets charge ainsworth, yale's terror in an uphill game two to one he gets away--brickley being tackled by wilson and avery snapping the ball with lewis. "two inseparables"--frank hinkey and the ball marshall newell mcclung, referee, shevlin and hogan contents chap. page i.--prep. school days. - my first glimpse of a varsity team--the yale eleven of --lee mcclung--vance mccormick--heffelfinger--sanford--impressions made upon a boy--st. john's military school--lawrenceville--making the team--andover and hill school games. ii.--freshman year. - the freedom of freshman year is attractive--catching the spirit of the place--searching for football material--the cannon rush--early training with jack mcmasters--tie game with lafayette at easton--humiliation of being taken out of a game--cornell game--joe beacham's fair admirer in the bleachers--bill church's threat carried out--garry cochran's victories against harvard and yale. iii.--elbow to elbow - dressing for practice--out upon the field--tackling--after practice, back to the dressing-room--how a player finds himself--the training table--team mates--a surprise for john dewitt's team. iv.--mistakes in the game. - if we could only correct mistakes we all made--defeats might be turned into victory--the fellow that let athletics be the big thing in his college life--the ' defeat--no recognition of old schoolmates--my opponent was charlie chadwick--jim rodgers the yale captain--the cochran-de saulles compact--cochran injured--his last game--ad kelly's great work--mistakes caused sadness--cornell defeating princeton at ithaca in --no outstretched hands at princeton for our homecoming. v.--my last game - a desire to make the last game the best--on to new haven--optimism--the start of the game--bosey reiter's touchdown--yale scores on a block kick--al sharpe's goal from the field--score to , yale leading--arthur poe's goal from the field--princeton victory--the joy of winning--the reception at princeton. vi.--heroes of the past--early days - treasured memory of those who have gone before--where are the old-time heroes?--walter camp--f. r. vernon--camp as a captain--chummy eaton--john harding--eugene baker--fred remington--theodore mcnair--alexander moffat--wyllys terry--memories of john c. bell. vii.--george woodruff's story - his entrance to yale--making the team--recollections of the men he played with and against--the lamar run--pennsylvania experiences. viii.--anecdotes and recollections - old-time signals--fun with bert hansen--sport donnelly--billy rhodes and gill--victorious days at yale--corbin's team--pa corbin's speech when his team was banqueted--mr. and mrs. walter camp, head coaches of the yale football team in --cowan the great--story of his football days--he was disqualified by wyllys terry--tribute to heffelfinger--going back with john cranston. ix.--the nineties and after - the day sanford made the yale team--parke davis--sanford and yost obstructing the traffic--phil king--the old flying wedges--pop gailey--charlie young--an evening with jim rodgers--vance mccormick and denny o'neil--dartmouth and some of her men--dave fultz--christy mathewson at bucknell--jack munn tells of buffalo bill--booth tells of his western experiences--harry kersburg--heff herring at merton college--carl flanders--bill horr. x.--college traditions and spirit - college life in america is rich in traditions--the value of college spirit--each college has its own traditions--alumni parade--school master and boy--victory must never overshadow honor--constructive criticism of the alumni--mass meeting enthusiasm--horse edwards, princeton ' --job e. hedges. xi.--johnny poe's own story - private w. faulkner, a comrade in the black watch, tells of poe's death--johnny's last words--paul macwhelan gives london impressions of poe's death--anecdotes that johnny poe wrote while in nevada. xii.--army and navy - character and training of west point and annapolis players--experience of the visitor watching the drill of battalion--annapolis recollections and football traditions at naval academy--old players--a trip de luxe to west point--west point recollections--harmon graves--the way they have in the army--the army and navy game. xiii.--hard luck in the game - in football, as it is in life, we have no use for a quitter--football a game for the man who has nerve--many a small man has made a big man look ridiculous--morris ely game though handicapped--val flood's recollections--andy smith--vonabalde gammon of georgia. xiv.--bringing home the bacon - billy bull's recollections of yale games--the day columbia beat yale--dressing room scene where doxology was sung--account by richard harding davis--introducing vic kennard of harvard fame--opportunist extraordinary--his experience with mr. e. h. coy--charlie barrett, of cornell--eddie hart of princeton--sam white--joe duff--side line thoughts of doctor w. a. brooks and evert jansen wendell--new haven wreck--eddie mahan talking--his opinion of frank glick--george chadwick of yale--arthur poe--story of his run and of his kick--john dewitt's story--tichenor, of georgia--"bobbing up and down" story--charlie brickley. xv.--the bloody angle - going back to the rough days--princeton vs. harvard fall of ' at jarvis field--luther price's experiences in the game--cowan's disqualification by wyllys terry--the umpire--walter camp was referee--holden carried off the field--bob church's valor. xvi.--the family in football - football men in two distinct classes--those who are made into players by the coaches and those who are born with the football instinct--the poes, camps, winters, ames, drapers, riggs, youngs, withingtons, etc. xvii.--our good old trainers - our good old trainers--jack mcmasters--"dear old jim robinson"--mike murphy the dean of trainers--"the old mike"--a chat with pooch donovan--keene fitzpatrick and his experiences--mike sweeney--jack moakley--there is much humor in johnny mack--huggins of brown--harry tuthill--doctor w. m. conant, harvard ' , first doctor in charge of any team. xviii.--nightmares - frank morse, of princeton on the spirit in defeat--tom shevlin's story--nightmares of w. c. rhodes--a yale nightmare--sam morse--jim hogan--the cornell game of is eddie mahan's nightmare--jack de saulles' nightmare. xix.--men who coached - no coaches in the old days--personality counts in coaching--football is fickle--haughton at harvard at the psychological moment--old harvard coaches--al sharpe--glenn warner--the indians--billy bull in the game--sanford, the unique--making of chadwick--w. r. tichenor, emergency coach of the south--auburn recollections--listening to yost--reggie brown--jimmy knox--harvard scouts--dartmouth holds a unique position in college football--ed hall, the father of dartmouth football--myron e. witham, captain of the dartmouth team--walter mccornack--eddie holt's coaching--harry kersburg's harvard coaching recollections--making two star players from the football discards--vic kennard and rex ver wiebe--john h. rush--tad jones--t. n. metcalf--tom thorp--bob folwell--at pennsylvania. xx.--umpire and referee - "why did he give that penalty?"--emotions of an official--john bell's recollections as an official--in the old days one official handled the entire game--dashiell's reminiscences--matthew mcclung--conversation with john l. sullivan--my own personal experiences--evarts wrenn at work--dan hurley--bill crowell--phil draper's ideas--wyllys terry's official recollections--explanation of the cowan disqualification--pa corbin--joe pendleton--refereeing with nate tufts--okeson. xxi.--crash of conflict - the first five minutes of play--a good start usually means a good ending--bracelet in the game--lueder and blondy wallace--"i've got you buffaloed"--tom shevlin remarked: "mike, this isn't football--it's war"--bemus pierce: "now keep your eyes open and find out who it was"--"if you won't be beat, you can't be beat," said johnny poe--rinehart tells how he tried to get even with sam boyle--barkie donald and bemus pierce--the yale-harvard game at springfield ' --result; no game for nine years--frank hinkey and wrightington's broken collar-bone--joe beacham's paragon--sandy hunt--bill hollenback. xxii.--lest we forget - marshall newell--gordon brown--james j. hogan--thomas j. shevlin--francis h. burr--neil snow--billy bannard--harry hooper--richard harding davis--mcclung. xxiii.--aloha - hail and farewell--the old game and the new compared--exclusively collegiate sport--isaac h. bromley, yale ' , sums up the spirit of college life and sport! [illustration: the old fifth avenue send-off] football days chapter i prep. school days to every man there comes a moment that marks the turning point of his career. for me it was a certain saturday morning in the autumn of . as i look back upon it, across the years, i feel something of the same thrill that stirred my boyish blood that day and opened a door through which i looked into a new world. i had just come to the city, a country boy, from my home in lisle, n. y., to attend the horace mann school. as i walked across madison square, i glanced toward the old fifth avenue hotel, where my eyes fell upon the scene depicted in the accompanying picture. almost before i was aware of it my curiosity led me to mingle with the crowd surging in and out of the hotel, and i learned by questioning the bystanders that it was the headquarters of the yale team, which that afternoon was to play princeton at the polo grounds. the players were about to leave the hotel for the field, and i hurried inside to catch a glimpse of them. the air was charged with enthusiasm, and i soon caught the infection--although it was all new to me then--of the vital power of college spirit which later so completely dominated my life. i recall with vividness how i lingered and waited for something to happen. men were standing in groups, and all eyes were centered upon the heroes of the team. every one was talking football. some of the names heard then have never been forgotten by me. there was the giant heffelfinger whom every one seemed anxious to meet. i was told that he was the crack yale guard. i looked at him, and, then and there, i joined the hero worshippers. i also remember lee mcclung, the yale captain, who seemed to realize the responsibilities that rested upon his shoulders. there was an air of restraint upon him. in later years he became treasurer of the united states and his signature was upon the country's currency. my most vivid recollection of him will be, however, as he stood there that day in the corridor of the famous old hotel, on the day of a great football conflict with princeton. then sanford was pointed out to me, the yale center-rush. i recall his eagerness to get out to the "bus" and to be on his way to the field. when the starting signal was given by the captain, sanford's huge form was in the front rank of the crowd that poured out upon the sidewalk. the whole scene was intensely thrilling to me, and i did not leave until the last player had entered the "bus" and it drove off. crowds of yale men and spectators gave the players cheer after cheer as they rolled away. the flags with which the "bus" was decorated waved in the breeze, and i watched them with indescribable fascination until they were out of sight. the noise made by the yale students i learned afterwards was college cheering, and college cheers once heard by a boy are never forgotten. many in that throng were going to the game. i could not go, but the scene that i had just witnessed gave me an inspiration. it stirred something within me, and down deep in my soul there was born a desire to go to college. i made my way directly to the y. m. c. a. gymnasium, then at the corner of fourth avenue and twenty-third street. athletics had for me a greater attraction than ever before, and from that day i applied myself with increased enthusiasm to the work of the gymnasium. the following autumn i entered st. john's military academy at manlius, n. y., a short distance from my old home. i was only seventeen years of age and weighed pounds. former adjutant general william verbeck--then colonel verbeck--was head master. before i was fairly settled in my room, the colonel had drafted me as a candidate for the football team. i wanted to try for the team, and was as eager to make it as he evidently was to have me make it. but i did not have any football togs, and the supply at the school did not contain any large enough. so i had to have some built for me. the day they arrived, much to my disappointment, i found the trousers were made of white canvas. their newness was appalling and i pictured myself in them with feelings of dismay. i robbed them of their whiteness that night by mopping up a lot of mud with them behind the gymnasium. when they had dried--by morning--they looked like a pair of real football trousers. george redington of yale was our football coach. he was full of contagious fire. redington seemed interested in me and gave me much individual coaching. colonel verbeck matched him in love of the game. he not only believed in athletics, but he played at end on the second team, and it was pretty difficult for the boys to get the best of him. they made an unusual effort to put the colonel out of the plays, but, try as hard as they might, he generally came out on top. the result was a decided increase in the spirit of the game. we had one of the best preparatory school teams in that locality, but owing to our distance from the larger preparatory schools, we were forced to play syracuse, hobart, hamilton, rochester, colgate, and cazenovia seminary--all of whom we defeated. we also played against the syracuse athletic association, whose team was composed of professional athletes as well as former college players. bert hanson, who had been a great center at yale, was one of this team. [illustration: h. wallis coxe cochran nessler heffelfinger w. winter mills sanford hartwell morrison graves stillman mccormick mcclung l. t. bliss c. bliss hinkey barbour t. dyer old yale heroes--lee mcclung's team] recalling the men who played on our st. john's team, i am confident that if all of them had gone to college, most of them would have made the varsity. in fact, some did. it was decided that i should go to lawrenceville school, en route to princeton. it was on the trip from trenton to lawrenceville, in the big stage coach loaded with boys, i got my first dose of homesickness. the prospect of new surroundings made me yearn for st. john's. the "blue hour" of boyhood, however, is a brief one. i was soon engaged in conversation with a little fellow who was sitting beside me and who began discussing the ever-popular subject of football. he was very inquisitive and wanted to know if i had ever played the game, and if i was going to try for the team. he told me about the great game lawrenceville played with the princeton varsity the year before, when lawrenceville scored six points before princeton realized what they were really up against. he fascinated me by his graphic description. there was a glowing account of the playing of garry cochran, the great captain of the lawrenceville team, who had just graduated and gone to princeton, together with sport armstrong, the giant tackle. these men were sure to live in lawrenceville's history if for nothing else than the part they had played in that notable game, although princeton rallied and won to . it was not long before i learned that my newly-made friend was billy mcgibbon, a member of the lawrenceville baseball team. "just wait until you see charlie de saulles and billy dibble play behind the line," he went on; and from that moment i began to be a part of the new life, the threshold of which i was crossing. strangely enough the memory of getting settled in my new quarters faded with the eventful moment when the call for candidates came, and i went out with the rest of the boys to try for the team. competition was keen and many candidates offered themselves. i was placed on the scrub team. one of my first attempts for supremacy was in the early part of the season when i was placed as right guard of the scrub against perry wentz, an old star player of the school and absolutely sure of his position. i recall how on several occasions the first team could not gain as much distance through the second as the men desired, and wentz, who later on distinguished himself on the varsity at princeton and still later as a crack player on pennsylvania, seemed to have trouble in opening up my position. max rutter, the lawrenceville captain, with the directness that usually characterizes such officers, called this fact to wentz's attention. wentz, who probably felt naturally his pride of football fame, became quite angry at rutter's remark that he was being outplayed. he took off his nose-guard, threw it on the ground and left the field. rutter moved me over to the first team in wentz's place. that night there was a general upset on the team which was settled amicably, however, and the next day wentz continued playing in his old place. the position of guard was given to me on the other side of the line, george cadwalader being moved out to the position of tackle. this was the same cadwalader who subsequently went to yale and made a great name for himself on the gridiron, in spite of the fact that he remained at new haven but one year. it was here at lawrenceville that this great player made his reputation as a goal kicker, a fame that was enhanced during his football days at yale. max rutter, the captain of the lawrenceville team, went to williams and played on the varsity, eventually becoming captain there also. ned moffat, nephew of princeton's great alex moffat, played end rush. about this time i began to realize that billy mcgibbon had given me a correct line on charlie de saulles and billy dibble. these two players worked wonderfully well together, and were an effective scoring machine with the assistance of doc macnider and dave davis. during these days at lawrenceville owen johnson gathered the material for those interesting stories in which he used his old schoolmates for the characters. the thin disguise of doc macnooder does not, however, conceal doc macnider from his old schoolboy friends. the same is true of the slightly changed names of garry cochran, turk righter, charlie de saulles and billy dibble. charlie de saulles, after graduation, went to yale and continued his wonderful, spectacular career on the gridiron. we will spend an afternoon with him on the yale field later. billy dibble went to williams and played a marvelous game until he was injured, early in his freshman year. it was during those days that i met garry cochran, sport armstrong and other princeton coaches for the first time. they used to come over to assist in coaching our team. our regular coaches at lawrenceville were walter b. street, who had been a famous football star years before at williams, and william j. george, renowned in princeton's football history as a center-rush. i cannot praise the work of these men too highly. they were thoroughbreds in every sense of the word. it was one of the old traditions of lawrenceville football to have a game every year with pennington seminary. what man is there who attended either school who does not recall the spirit of those old-time contests? the hill school was another of our football rivals. the trip to pottstown, pa., was an event eagerly looked forward to--so also was the hill school's return game at lawrenceville. the rivalry between the two schools was keen. everything possible was done at the hill school to make our visit a pleasant one. the score of to , by which lawrenceville won the game that year, made it especially pleasant. as i recall that trip, two men stand out in my memory. one was john meigs, the head master. the other was mike sweeney, the trainer and athletic director. they were the two central figures of hill school traditions. interest in football was emphasized at that time by the approaching game with andover at lawrenceville. this was the first time that these two teams had ever played. andover was probably more renowned in football annals than any school lawrenceville had played up to this time. the lawrenceville coaches realized that the game would be a strenuous one. after a conference, the two coaches decided that it would be wise to see andover play at andover the week before we were to play them. accordingly, mr. george went to andover, and when he returned, he gathered the team around him in one of the recitation halls and described carefully the offense and defense of our coming opponents. he also demonstrated with checkers what each man did in every play and placed emphasis on the work of eddie holt, who was acting captain of the andover team. to represent holt's giant build he placed one checker on top of another, saying, as i remember, with great seriousness: "this topped checker represents holt. he must be taken care of, and it will require two lawrenceville men to stop him on every play. i am certain of this for holt was a marvel last saturday." during the week we drilled secretly and most earnestly in anticipation of defeating andover. the game attracted an unusually large number of spectators. lawrenceville made it a gala day for its alumni, and all the old andover and lawrenceville boys who could get there witnessed the game. when the andover team ran out upon the field we were all anxious to see how big holt loomed up. he certainly was a giant and towered high above the other members of his team. soon the whistle blew, and the trouble was on. in memory now i can see billy dibble circling andover's end for twenty-five yards, scoring a touchdown amid tremendous excitement. this all transpired during the first minute and a half of play. emerson once said, "we live by moments," and the first minute and a half of that game must stand out as one of the eventful periods in the life of every man who recalls that day of play. no grown-up schoolboy can fail to appreciate the scene or miss the wave of boyish enthusiasm that rolled over the field at this unlooked for beginning of a memorable game between schoolboys. [illustration: davis macnider dibble de saulles moffat cadwalader edwards walton wentz geer rotter we beat andover] this wonderful start of the lawrenceville team was a goading spur to its opponents. johnnie barnes, an ex-lawrenceville boy, now quarterback on the andover team, seemed fairly inspired as he urged his team on. eddie holt was called upon time and again. he was making strong advances, aided by french, hine and porter. together they worked out a touchdown. but lawrenceville rallied and for the rest of the game their teamwork was masterly. bat geer, who was later a princeton varsity player, charlie de saulles and billy dibble, each scored touchdowns, making three altogether for their school. thus lawrenceville, with the score to , stepped forth into a new era and entered the larger football world where she was to remain and increase her heroic accomplishments in after years. it is needless to say that the night following this victory was a crowning one in our preparatory football experiences. bonfires were lighted, speeches were the order of the hour, and members of the team were the guests of honor at a banquet in the upper house. there was no rowdy "revelry by night" to spoil the memory of the occasion. it was just one simple, fine and fitting celebration of a wholesome school victory on the field of football. last year at lawrenceville it was up to billy dibble, the new captain, to bring about another championship. we were to play andover a return game there. captain dibble was left with but three of last year's team as a foundation to build on. dibble's team made a wonderful record. he was a splendid example for the team to follow, and his playing, his enthusiasm, and earnest efforts contributed much toward the winning of the andover, princeton freshmen and hill school games. there appeared at lawrenceville a new coach who assisted street and george. he was none other than the famous princeton halfback, douglas ward, whose record as an honored man in the classroom as well as on the football field was well known to all of us, and had stood out among college athletes as a wonderful example. he was very modest. i recall that some one once asked him how he made the only touchdown against yale in the ' game. his reply was: "oh, somebody just pushed me over." fresh in my memory is the wonderful trip that we boys made to andover. we were proud of the fact that the colonial express was especially ordered to stop at trenton for us, and as we took our seats in the pullman car, we realized that our long looked for expedition had really begun. we had a great deal of fun on the trip to boston. good old george cadwalader was the center of most of the jokes. his pounds added to the discomfort of a pair of pointed patent leather shoes, which were far too small for him. as soon as he was settled in the train he removed them and dozed off to sleep. turk righter and some of the other fun makers tied the shoe strings together, and hung them out of the window where they blew noisily against the window pane. when we arrived in jersey city it was a treat for us to see our train put aboard the ferry boat of the n. y., n. h. & h. r. r., and, as we sailed down the bay, up the east river and under the brooklyn bridge to the new haven docks, it all seemed very big and wonderful. when the train stopped at new haven, we were met by the yale-lawrenceville men, who wished us the best of luck; some of them making the trip with us to boston. when we arrived in andover the next day i had the satisfaction of seeing my brother and cousin, who were at that time attending andover academy. the hospitality that was accorded the andover team, while at lawrenceville the year before, was repaid in royal fashion. we had ample time to view the grounds and buildings and grow keen in anticipation and interest in the afternoon's contest. when the whistle blew, we were there for business. my personal opponent was a fellow named hillebrand, who besides being a football player was andover's star pitcher. later on we became the best of friends and side partners on the princeton team, and often spoke of our first meeting when we played against each other. hillebrand was one of the greatest athletes andover ever turned out. lawrenceville defeated andover in one of the hardest and most exciting of all prep. school contests, one that was uncertain from beginning to end. billy dibble played the star game of the day and after eight minutes he scored a touchdown. cadwalader booted the ball over the goal and the score was to . the lawrenceville backfield, made up of powell, dave davis, cap kafer and dibble, worked wonderfully well. kafer did some excellent punting against his remarkable opponent barker, who seemed to be as expert as he. the efficient work of hillebrand and of chadwell, the colored end-rush, stands out pre-eminently. the latter player developed into one of the best end-rushes that ever played at williams. goodwin, barker and greenway contributed much to andover's good play. jim greenway is one of the famous greenway boys whose athletic history at yale is a matter of record. a few minutes later the andover crowd were aroused by goodwin making the longest run of the game--fifty-five yards, scoring andover's first touchdown, and making the score to . there was great speculation as to which team would win the game, but billy dibble, aided by the wonderful interference on the part of babe eddie, who afterward played end on the yale team, and emerson, who, had he gone to college, would have been a wonder, made a touchdown. george cadwalader with his sure right foot made the score to . enthusiasm was at its height. andover rooters were calling upon their team to tie the score. a touchdown and goal would mean a tie. the andover team seemed to answer their call, for soon goodwin scored a touchdown, making the score to , and butterfield, andover's right halfback, was put to the test amidst great excitement. the ball went just to the side of the goal post, and lawrenceville had won to . great is the thrill of a victory won on an opponent's field! that night after dinner, as i was sitting in my brother's room, with some of his andover friends, there was a yell from outside, and a loud knock on the door. in walked a big fellow wearing a blue sweater. through his open coat one could observe the big white letter "a." it proved to be none other than doc hillebrand. without one word of comment he walked over to where i was sitting and said: "edwards, what was the score of the game to-day?" i could not get the idea at all. i said: "why, you ought to know." he replied: " to ," and turning on his heel, left the room. this caused a good deal of amusement, but it was soon explained that hillebrand was being initiated into a secret society and that this was one of the initiation stunts. it was a wonderfully happy trip back to lawrenceville. the spirit ran high. it was then that turk righter wrote the well known lawrenceville verse which we sang again and again: cap kicked, barker kicked cap he got the best of it they both kicked together but cap kicked very hard bill ran, dave ran then andover lost her grip she also lost her championship sis, boom ah! as we were about two miles outside of lawrenceville, we saw a mass of light in the roadway, and when we heard the boys yelling at the top of their voices, we realized that the school was having a torch-light procession and coming to welcome us. great is that recollection! they took the horses off and dragged the stage back to lawrenceville and in and about the campus. it was not long before the whole school was singing the song of success that turk righter had written. a big celebration followed. we did not break training because we had still another game to play. when lawrenceville had beaten the hill school to , many of us realized that we had played our last game for lawrenceville. george cadwalader was shortly afterward elected captain for the coming year. it was at this time that lawrenceville was overjoyed to learn that garry cochran, a sophomore at princeton, had been elected captain of the princeton varsity. this recalled former lawrenceville boys, pop warren and doggie trenchard, who had played at lawrenceville, gone to princeton and had become varsity captains there. snake ames also prepared at lawrenceville. i might incidentally state that we stayed at lawrenceville until june to get our diplomas, realizing that there were many able fellows to continue the successful traditions of lawrenceville football, george mattis, howard richards, jack de saulles, cliff bucknam, john de witt, bummie ritter, dana kafer, john dana, charlie dudley, heff herring, charlie raymond, biglow, the waller brothers and others. chapter ii freshman year i believe that every man who has had the privilege of going to college will agree with me that as a freshman lands in a college town, he is a very happy and interested individual. the newness of things and his freedom are very attractive. he comes to college fresh from his school day experiences ready to conform himself to the traditions and customs of the new school, his college choice. the world will never again look quite so big to a boy as it did then. entering as boys do, in the fall of the year, the uppermost thing in mind, outside of the classroom, is football. sometimes it is the uppermost thought in the classroom. what kind of a varsity football team are we going to have? this is the question heard on all sides. every bit of available football material is eagerly sought by the coaches. i recall so well my freshman year at princeton, how garry cochran, captain of the football team, went about the college with johnny poe, looking over the undergraduates and watching the incoming trains for football possibilities. if a fellow looked as though he might have good material to work upon, he was asked to report at the varsity field the next day. all athletic interests are focused on the gridiron. the young undergraduate who has no likelihood of making the team, fills himself with facts about the individuals who are trying to win a place. he starts out to be a loyal rooter, realizing that next to being a player, the natural thing is to attend practice and cheer the team in their work; he becomes interested in the individual progress each candidate is making. in this way, the members of the team know that they have the support of the college, and this makes them play harder. this builds up college spirit. every college has its own freshman and sophomore traditions; one at princeton is, that shortly after college opens there must be a rush about the cannon, between the freshman and sophomore classes. all those who have witnessed this sight, know that it is a vital part of princeton undergraduate life. on that night in my freshman year, great care was taken by cochran that none of the incoming football material engaged in the rush. no chances were taken of injuring a good football prospect among either freshmen or sophomores. eddie holt, bert wheeler, arthur poe, doc hillebrand, bummie booth and i were in the front ranks of the class of , stationed back of witherspoon hall ready to make the rush upon the sophomores, who were huddled together guarding the cannon. cochran and his coterie of coachers ran out as we were approaching the cannon and forced us out of the contest. he ordered us to stand on the outside of the surging crowd. there we were allowed to do a little "close work," but we were not permitted to get into the heat of the fray. cochran knew all of us because we were among those who had been called to college before the opening to enter preliminary training. every football player who has had the experience of being summoned ahead of time will understand my feeling. i was very happy when i received from cochran, during the summer before i entered princeton, a letter inviting me to report for football practice two weeks before college opened. when i arrived at princeton on the appointed day, i found the candidates for the team at the training quarters. at that time freshmen were not barred from varsity teams. there was a reunion of friends from lawrenceville and other schools. there was doc hillebrand, against whom i had played in the andover game the year before. eddie holt loomed up and i recalled him as the big fellow who played on the andover team against lawrenceville two years before. he had gone from andover to harvard and had played on the harvard team the year before, and had decided to leave harvard and enter princeton. there were lew palmer, bummie booth, arthur poe, bert wheeler, eddie burke and many others whom i grew to know well later on. trainer jack mcmasters was on the job and put us through some very severe preliminary training. it was warm in new jersey early in september, and often in the middle of practice jack would occasionally play the hose on us. it did not take us long to learn that varsity football training was much more strenuous than that of the preparatory school. the vigorous programme, prepared, especially for me, convinced me that mcmasters and the coaches had decided that my pounds were too much weight. jack and i used to meet at the field house four mornings each week. he would array me in thick woolen things, and top them off with a couple of sweaters, so that i felt as big as a house. he would then take me out for an excursion of eight miles across country, running and walking. sometimes other candidates kept us company, but only jack and i survived. on these trips, i would lose anywhere from five to six pounds. i got accustomed to this jaunt and its discomforts after a while, but there was one thing that always aggravated me. while jack made me suffer, he indulged himself. he would stop at a favorite spring of his, kneel down and take a refreshing drink, right before my very eyes, and then, although my throat was parched, he would bar me even from wetting my tongue. he was decidedly unsociable, but from a training standpoint, he was entirely "on to his job." as both captain and trainer soon found that i was being overworked, i had some "let up" of this strenuous system. the extra work in addition to the regular afternoon practice, made my days pretty severe going and when night came i was not troubled with insomnia. it was during this time that biffy lea, one of princeton's greatest tackles, was slowly but surely making a wonderful tackle out of doc hillebrand. bert wheeler was making rapid strides to attain the position of halfback. they were the only two freshmen who made the team that year. i was one of those that failed. we were soon in shape for the first try-out of the season; preliminary training was over, and the team was ready for its first game. we won the rutgers game to and after we defeated the navy, we went to play lafayette at easton. i had as my opponent in the lafayette game, rinehart. i shall never forget this game. i was playing left guard alongside of jarvie geer, who was a substitute for bill church, who had been injured in practice the week before and could not play. just before the first half was over, lafayette feinted on a kick, and instead of bray, that star lafayette fullback, boosting the ball, barclay shot through the line between geer and myself for thirty yards. there was my down-fall. rinehart had taken care of me beautifully, and finally, net poe saved the day by making a beautiful tackle of barclay, who was fast approaching the princeton goal line. there was no score made, but the fact that barclay had made the distance through me, made me feel mighty mean. i recall cochran during the intermission, when he said: "holt; you take edwards' place at left-guard." the battle between those giants during the second half was a sight worth seeing and an incident recalled by all those who witnessed the game. neither side scored and it was a hard-fought struggle. one day, one play, often ruins a man's chances. i had played as a regular in the first three games of the season. i was being tried out and had been found wanting. i had proved a disappointment, and i knew cochran knew it and i knew the whole college would know it, but i made up my mind to give the very best i had in me, and hoped to square myself later and make the team. i knew what it was to be humiliated, taken out of a game, and to realize that i had not stood the test. i began to reason it out--maybe i was carried away with the fact of having played on the varsity team--maybe i did not give my best. anyway i learned much that day. it was my first big lesson of failure in football. that failure and its meaning lived with me. i have always had great respect for rinehart, and his great team mates. walbridge and barclay were a great team in themselves, backed up by bray at fullback. it was this same team that, later in the fall, beat pennsylvania, without the services of captain walbridge, who had been injured. it was not long after this that princeton played cornell at princeton. i recall the day i first saw joe beacham, that popular son of cornell, who afterwards coached west point. he is now in the regular army, stationed at fort leavenworth, kansas. he was captain of the cornell team in ' . he had on his team the famous players, dan reed, on whom cornell counts much in these years to assist al sharpe in the coaching; tom fennel, taussig and freeborn. with these stars assisting, cornell could do nothing with princeton's great team and the score to tells the tale. i was not playing in this game, but recall the following incident. joe beacham was making a flying run through the princeton team. a very pretty girl covered with furs, wearing the red and white of cornell, was enthusiastically yelling at the top of her voice "go it, joe! go it, joe!" much to the delight and admiration of the princeton undergraduates near her. since then joe has told me that it was his sister. maybe it was, but as joe was rushing onward, with dan reed and tom fennel interfering wonderfully for him, and urged on by his fond admirer in the grandstand, his progress was rudely halted by the huge form of edwin crowdis which appeared like a cloud on the horizon and projected itself before the oncoming scoring machine of cornell. when they met, great was the crash, for crowdis spilled the player, ball and all. this was the time, the place, and the girl; and it meant that edwin crowdis had made the princeton varsity team. [illustration: brink thorne hubby bray bishop park davis rowland jones walbridge barclay ziser rinehart herr gates spear best weidenmeyer hill trexler lafayette's great team] i realized it at the moment, and although i knew that it would probably put me in the substitute ranks for the rest of the season, i was wild with joy to see edwin develop at this particular moment, and perform his great play. his day had come, his was the reward, and joe beacham had been laid low. as for the girl, she subsided abruptly, and is said to have remarked, as crowdis smashed the cornell machine: "well, i never did like a fat man anyway!" one day in a practice game, against the scrub, this year, garry cochran, who was standing on the side lines resting from the result of an injury, became so frantic over the poor showing of the varsity, pulled off his sweater and jumped into the game in spite of the trainers' earnest entreaty not to. he tried to instill a new spirit into the game. it was one of those terrible monday practice games, of which every football player knows. the varsity could not make any substantial gains against the second team, which was unusually strong that year, as most of the varsity substitutes were playing. how frantic bill church was! he was playing tackle alongside of edwin crowdis, against whom i was playing. my chances of making the varsity were getting slimmer. very few practice days were left before the men would be selected for the final game. i was making the last earnest stand. the varsity line men were not opening up the scrub line as easily as they desired, and we were all stopping up the offensive play of the varsity. i was going through very low and tackling crowdis around the legs, trying to carry him back into the play. church was very angry at my doing this, and told crowdis to hit me, if i did it again, but edwin was a good-natured, clean player; in fact, i doubt if he ever rough played any man. finally, after several plays, church said, "if you don't hit him, i will," and he sure made good his threat, for on the next play, when i was at the bottom of the heap in the scrimmage, church handed me one of those stiff "bill church blows," emphasizing the tribute with his leather thumb protector. there was a lively mixup and the scrub and varsity had an open fight. all was soon forgotten, but i still "wear an ear," the lobe of which is a constant reminder of bill church's spirited play. nothing ever stood in church's way; he was a hard player, and a powerful tackle. slowly but surely, cochran's great team was perfecting itself into a machine. the victory against harvard at cambridge was the team's worthy reward for faithful service and attention given to the details of the game. as a reward for service rendered, the second team with the varsity substitutes were taken on the trip, and as we saw the great princeton team winning, every man was happy and proud of the joy and knowledge of giving something material towards their winning. sore legs, injuries and mistakes were at such a time forgotten. all that was felt was the keen sense of satisfaction that comes to men who have helped in the construction. billie bannard, aided by superb interference of fred smith, was able to make himself the hero of that game by a forty-five yard run. bill church the great tackle broke through the harvard line and blocked brown's kick, and the ever-watchful end-rush, howard brokaw, fell on the ball for a touchdown. cochran had been injured and removed from the game, but he was frantic with joy as he walked up and down the princeton side lines, urging further touchdowns. a happy crowd of princetonians wended their way back to princeton to put the finishing touches on the team before the yale game. those of you who recall that ' game in new york will remember that to in favor of yale was the score, at the end of the first five minutes. jim rodgers had blocked johnnie baird's punt and bass, the alert end-rush, had pounced on the ball and was over for a touchdown in a moment. great groans went up from the princeton grandstand. could it be that this great acknowledged champion team of princeton was conceited, over-trained and about to be defeated? certainly not, for there arose such a demonstration of team spirit and play as one seldom sees. on the next kick-off johnnie baird caught the ball, and when he was about to be tackled--in fact, was lying on the ground--he passed the ball to fred smith, that great all-round princeton athlete, who made the most spectacular run of the day. who will ever forget the wonderful line plunging of ad kelly, the brilliant end running of bill bannard and the great part all the other men of the team contributed towards princeton's success, and the score grew and grew by touchdown after touchdown, until some one recalled that in this game, the team would say, "well, we won't give any signals; we'll just try a play through captain murphy." maybe this was the play that put murphy out of the game. he played against bill church, and that was enough exercise for any one man to encounter in one afternoon. as fred murphy left the field everyone realized that it was only his poor physical condition that caused him to give up the game. yale men recall, with great pride, how the year before murphy had put it all over bill church. during that game, however, church's physical condition was not what it should have been, and these two giant tackles never had a chance to play against each other when they were both in prime condition. both these men were all american calibre. johnny baird, ad kelly, bannard, all made touchdowns and the two successful freshmen who had made the team, hillebrand and wheeler, both registered touchdowns against yale. as the yale team left the field, they felt the sting of defeat, but there were men who were to have revenge at new haven the next year against princeton, among whom were chadwick, rodgers and chamberlain. they were eager enough to get back at us and the next year they surely did. but this was our year for victory and celebration, and laurels were bestowed upon the victors. garry cochran and his loyal team-mates were the lions of the day and hour. chapter iii elbow to elbow "i wonder where my shoes are?" "who's got my trousers on?" "i wonder if the tailor mended my jersey?" "what has become of my head-gear?" "i wonder if the cobbler has put new cleats on my shoes?" "somebody must have my stockings on--these are too small." "what has become of my ankle brace--can't seem to find it anywhere? i just laid it down here a minute ago. i think that freshman pinched my sweater." all of which is directed to no one in particular, and the trainer, who sits far off in a corner, blowing up a football for the afternoon practice, smiles as the players are fishing for their clothes. just then the captain, who has dressed earlier than the rest, and has had two or three of the players out on the field for kicking practice, breaks in upon the scene with the remark: "don't you fellows all know you're late? you ought to be dressed long before this." then follows the big scramble and soon everybody is out on the field. the trainer is busy keeping his eye open for any man who is being handled too strenuously in the practice. quick starts are practiced, individual training is indulged in. kicking and receiving punts play an important part in the preliminary work. [illustration: house in disorder] at williams one afternoon, fred daly, former yale captain and coach at williams, in trying forward passes instructed his ends to catch them at every angle and height. one man continually fumbled his attempt, just as he thought he had it sure. he was a new man to daly, and the latter called out to him: "what is your name?" back came the reply, which almost broke up the football practice for the day: "_ketchum_ is my name." falling on the ball is one of the fundamentals in football. it is the ground work that every player must learn. frank hinkey, that great yale captain and player, was an artist in performing this fundamental. playing so wonderfully well the end-rush position, his alertness in falling on the ball often meant much distance for yale. he had wonderful judgment in deciding whether to fall on the ball or pick it up. one of the most important things in football is knowing how to tackle properly. some men take to it naturally and others only learn after hard, strenuous practice. in the old days men were taught to tackle by what is known as "live tackling." i recall especially that earnest coach, johnny poe, whose main object in football coaching was to see that the men tackled hard and sure. poe, without any padding on at all, would let the men dive into him running at full speed, and the men would throw him in a way that seemed as though it would maim him for life. some of the men weighed a hundred pounds more than he did, but he would get up and, with a smile, say: "come on men, hit me harder; knock me out next time." after the first two weeks of the season, johnny poe was a complete mass of black and blue marks; and yet how wonderful and how self sacrificing he was in his eagerness to make the princeton players good tacklers. but there are few men like johnny poe, who are willing to sacrifice their own bodies for the instruction of others; and the next best method, and one which does not injure the players so much, is tackling the "dummy." as we look at this picture of howard henry of princeton tackling the "dummy," we all remember when we were back in the game trying our very best to put our shoulder into our opponent's knees and "hit him hard, throw him, and hold him." henry always got his man. but the thrill of the game is not in tackling the dummy. the joy comes in a game, when a man is coming through the line, or making a long run, and you throw yourself at his knees, and get your tackle; then up and ready for another. i recall an experience i had at princeton one year. when i went to the club house to get my uniform, which i wanted to wear in coaching, i asked keene fitzpatrick, the trainer, where my suit was. he said: [illustration: hit your man low] "it's hanging outside." i went outside of the dressing room but could see no suit anywhere. he came out wearing a broad smile. "no," he said, "it isn't out here, it's out there hanging in the air. we made a dummy out of it." and there before me i saw my old uniform stuffed with sawdust. i looked at myself--in suspense. after the men have been given the other preliminary work they are taken to the charging board. the one shown here is used at yale. it teaches the men quick starting and the use of their hands. it trains them to keep their eyes on the ball and impresses them with the fact that if they start before the ball is put in play, a penalty will follow. a fast charging line has its great value, and every coach is keen to have the forwards move fast to clear the way. then after the individual coaching is over, the team runs through signals, and the practice is on. before very long the head coach announces that practice is over, and the trainer yells: "everybody in on the jump," and you soon find yourself back in the dressing room. it does not take you long to get your clothes off and ready for the bath. how well some of you will recall that after a hard practice you were content to sit and rest awhile on the bench in the dressing-room. it may be that, in removing your clothes, you favored an injured knee, looked at a sprained ankle, or helped some fellow off with his jersey. what is finer, after a hard day's practice, than to stand beneath a warm shower and gradually let the water grow cold? everything is lovely until some rascal in the bunch throws a cold sponge on you and slaps you across the back, or turns the cold water on, when you only want hot. then comes the dry-off and the rub-down, which seems to soothe all your bruises. this picture of pete balliet standing on the end of a bench, while jack mcmasters massages an injured knee may recall to many a football player the day when the trainer was his best friend. from his wonderful physique it is easy to believe that balliet must have been the great center-rush whom the heroes of years ago tell about. harry brown, that great princeton end-rush, is on the other end of the bench, being taken care of by bill buss, a jovial old colored attendant, who was for so many years a rubber at princeton. i know men who never enthuse over football, but just play from a sense of college loyalty, and a fear of censure should they not play; who are sorry that they were ever big or showed any football ability. college sentiment will not allow a football man to remain idle. [illustration: repairs] i knew a man in college, who, on his way to the football field, said: "oh, how i hate to drag my body down to the varsity field to-day to have it battered and bruised!" one does not always enthuse over the hard drudgery of practice. those that witness only the final games of the year, little realize the gruesome task of preparedness. every football player will acknowledge that some day he has had these thoughts himself. but suddenly the day comes when this discouraged player sees a light. perhaps he has developed a hidden power, or it may be that he has broken through and made a clean tackle behind the line; perhaps he has made a good run and received a compliment from the coach. it may be that his side partner has given him a word of encouragement, which may have instilled into him a new spirit, and, as a result, he has turned out to be a real football player. he then forgets all the bruises and all the hard knocks. how true it is that in one play, or in a practice game, or in a contest against an opposing college, a player has found himself. do you players of football remember the day you made the team, the day your chance came and you took advantage of it? at such a time a player shows great possibilities. he is told by the captain to report at the training house for the varsity signals. who that has experienced the thrill of that moment can ever forget it? he earns his seat at the varsity table. he is now on the varsity squad. he goes on, determined to play a better game, and realizes he must hold his place at the training table by hard, conscientious work. one is not unmindful of the traditions that are centered about the board where so many heroes of the past have sat. you have a keen realization of the fact that you are filling the seat of men who have gone before you, and that you must make good, as they made good. their spirit lives. the training table is a great school for team spirit. to have a successful team, any coach will tell you, there must be a brotherly feeling among the members of the team. the men must chum together on and off the field. team work on the field is made much easier if there is team work off the field. i never hear the expression "team mates" used but i recall a certain princeton team, the captain of which was endowed with a wonderful power of leadership. there was nothing the men would not do for him. every man on the team regarded him as a big brother. yet there was one man on the squad who seemed inclined to be alone. he had little to say, and when his work was over on the field he always went silently away to his room. he did not mingle with the other players in the club house after dinner, and there did not seem to be much warmth in him. garry cochran, the captain, took some of us into his confidence, and we made it our business to draw this fellow out of his shell. it was not long before we found that he was an entirely different sort of a person from what he had seemed to be. in a short time, the fellow who was unconsciously retarding good fellowship among the members of the team was no longer a silent negative individual, but was soon urging us on in a get-together spirit. it will be impossible to relate all the good times had at a college training table. i think that every football man will agree with me that we now have a great deal of sympathy for the trainer, whereas in the old days we roasted him when it seemed that dinner would never be ready. how the hungry mob awaited the signal! "the flag is down," as old jim robinson would say, and arthur poe would yell: "fellows, the hash is ready." then the hungry crowd would scramble in for the big event of the day. there awaited them all the delicacies of a trainer's menu; the food that made touchdowns. if the service was slow, the good-natured trainer was all at fault, and he too joined in the spirit of their criticism. if the steak was especially tender, they would say it was tough. there was much juggling of the portions distributed. fred daly recalls the first week that he and johnnie kilpatrick were at the yale training table. kil called for some chocolate, and johnnie mack, the trainer, yelled back: "what do you think this is, anyway, a hospital?" that started something for awhile in the way of jollying. daly recalls another incident, that happened often at yale one year. it is about bill goebel, who certainly could put the food away. after disposing of about twelve plates of ice cream, which he had begged, borrowed or stolen, he called one of the innocent waiters over to him and asked in a gentle voice: "say, george, what is the dessert for to-night?" then there comes the good-natured "joshing" of the fellow who has made a fine play during the practice, or in the game of the day. one or two of the fun makers rush around, put their hands on him and hold him tight for fear he will not be able to contain himself on account of his success of the day. this sort of jollification makes the fellow who has made a bad play forget what he might have done, and he too becomes buoyant amidst the good fellowship about him. we all realize what a modest individual the trainer is. if in a reminiscent mood to change the subject from football to himself, he tells his "ever-on-to-him" admirers some of his achievements in the old days there is immediately evidence of preparedness among the players, as the following salute is given--with fists beating on the table in unison-- [illustration: the old faithfuls] "one, two, three! _oh, what a gosh darn lie!_" but deep in every man's heart, is the keen realization of the trainer's value, and his eager effort for their success. his athletic achievements and his record are well known, and appreciated by all. he is the pulse of the team. the scrub team at princeton during my last year was captained by pop jones, who was a martyr to the game. he was thoroughly reliable, and the spirit he instilled into his team mates helped to make our year a successful one. this picture will recall the long roll of silent heroes in the game, whose joy seemed to be in giving; men who worked their hearts out to see the varsity improve; men who never got the great rewards that come to the varsity players, but received only the thrill of doing something constructive. their reward is in the victories of others, for every man knows that it is a great scrub that makes a great varsity. if, as you gaze at this picture of the scrub team, it stirs your memory of the fellows who used to play against you, and, if, in your heart you pay them a silent tribute, you will be giving them only their just due. to the uncrowned heroes, who found no fame, the men whose hearts were strong, but whose ambitions for a place on the varsity were never realized, we take off our hats. the fiercest knocks that john dewitt's team ever had at princeton were in practice against the scrub. it was in this year, on the last day of practice, that the undergraduates marched in a body down the field, singing and cheering, led by a band of music. preliminary practice being over, the scrub team retired to the varsity field house, to await the signal for the exhibition practice to be given on the varsity field before the undergraduates. a surprise had been promised. while the varsity team was awaiting the arrival of the scrub team, it was officially announced that the yale team would soon arrive upon the field, and shortly after this, the scrub team appeared with white "y's" sewed on the front of their jerseys. the scrub players took the yale players' names, just as they were to play against princeton on the coming saturday. there was much fun and enthusiasm, when the assumed hogan would be asked to gain through cooney, or bloomer would make a run, and the make-believe foster rockwell would urge the pseudo yale team on to victory. john dewitt had more than one encounter that afternoon with captain rafferty of yale. after the practice ended all the players gathered around the dummy, which had been very helpful in tackling practice. this had been saturated with kerosene awaiting the final event of the day. john dewitt touched it off with a match, and the white "y" which illuminated the chest of the dummy was soon enveloped in flames. a college tradition had been lived up to again, and when the team returned victorious from new haven that year, john dewitt and his loyal team mates never forgot those men and the events that helped to make victory possible. chapter iv mistakes in the game many a football player who reads this book will admit that there arises in all of us a keen desire to go back into the game. it is not so much a desire just to play in the game for the mere sake of playing as to remedy the mistakes we all know we made in the past. in our football recollections, the defeats we have experienced stand out the most vividly. sometimes they live on as nightmares through the years. as we review the old days we realize that we did not always give our best. if we could but go back and correct our faults many a defeat might be turned into a victory. we reflect that if we had trained a little harder, if we had been more sincere in our work, paid better attention to the advice given us by the men who knew, if we had mastered our positions better, it would have been a different story on many occasions when defeat was our portion. but that is now all behind us. the games are over. the scores will always stand. others have taken our places. we have had our day and opportunity. in the words of longfellow, "the world belongs to those who come the last." our records will remain as we left them on the gridiron. many a man is recalled in football circles as the one who lost his temper in the big games and caused his team to suffer by his being ruled out of the game. men say, "why, that is the fellow who muffed a punt at a critical moment," or recall him as the one who "fumbled the ball," when, if he had held it, the team would have been saved from defeat. you recall the man who gave the signals with poor judgment. maybe you are thinking of the man who missed a great tackle or allowed a man to get through the line and block a kick. perhaps a mistaken signal in the game caused the loss of a first down, maybe defeat--who knows? through our recollection of the things we should have done but failed to do for one reason or another, our defeats rise before us more vividly now than our victories. there is only one day to make good and that is the day of the game. the next day is too late. then there is the ever-present recollection of the fellow who let athletics be the big thing in his college life. he did not make good in the classroom. he was unfair to himself. he failed to realize that athletics was only a part of his college life, that it should have been an aid to better endeavor in his studies. he may have earned his college letter or received a championship gold football. and now that he is out in the world he longs for the college degree that he has forfeited. his regrets are the deeper when he realizes that if he had given his best and been square with his college and himself, his presence might have meant further victories for his team. this is not confined to any one college. it is true of all of them and probably always will be true, although it is encouraging to note that there is a higher standard of scholarship attained on the average by college athletes to-day than a decade or so ago. i wish i could impress this lesson indelibly upon the mind of every young football enthusiast--that athletics should go hand in hand with college duties. after all it is the same spirit of team work instilled into him on the football field that should inspire him in the classroom, where his teacher becomes virtually his coach. when i was at princeton, we beat yale three years out of the four, but the defeat of at new haven stands out most vividly of all in my memory. and it is not so much what yale did as what princeton did not do that haunts me. one day in practice in , sport armstrong, conceded to be one of the greatest guards playing, was severely injured in a scrimmage. it was found that his neck and head had become twisted and for days he lay at death's door on his bed in the varsity club house. after a long serious illness he got well, but never strong enough to play again. i took his place. [illustration: benjamin brown mcbride cadwalader corwin hazen hall rodgers chamberlin chadwick dudley de saulles jim rodgers' team] nearly all of the star players of the ' princeton championship team were in the lineup. it was cochran's last year and my first year on the varsity. our team was heralded as a three-to-one winner. we had beaten dartmouth to and won a great to victory over lafayette. yale had a good, strong team that had not yet found itself. but there were several of us princeton players who knew from old association in prep. school the calibre of some of the men we were facing. cochran and i have often recalled together that silent reunion with our old team-mates of lawrenceville. there in front of us on the yale team were charlie de saulles, george cadwalader and charlie dudley. we had not seen them since we all left prep. school, they to go to new haven and we to princeton. when the teams lined up for combat there were no greetings of one old schoolmate to another. it was not the time nor place for exchange of amenities. as some one has since remarked, "the town was full of strangers." the fact that dudley was wearing one lawrenceville stocking only urged us on to play harder. my opponent on the yale team was charlie chadwick, yale's strong man. foster sanford tells elsewhere in this book how he prepared him for the harvard game the week before and for this game with princeton. our coaches had made, as they thought, a study of chadwick's temperament and had instructed me accordingly. i delivered their message in the form of a straight arm blow. the compliment was returned immediately by chadwick, and the scrap was on. dashiell, the umpire, was upon us in a moment. i had visions of being ruled out of the game and disgraced. "you men are playing like schoolboys and ought to be ruled out of the game," dashiell exclaimed, but he decided to give us another chance. chadwick played like a demon and i realized before the game had progressed very far that i had been coached wrong, for instead of weakening his courage my attack seemed to nerve him. he played a very wide, defensive guard and it was almost impossible to gain through him. the play of the princeton team at the outset was disappointing. jim rodgers, the yale captain, was driving his men hard and they responded heartily. some of them stood out conspicuously by their playing. de saulles' open field work was remarkable. i remember well the great run of fifty-five yards which he made. he was a wonderfully clever dodger and used the stiff arm well. he evaded the princeton tacklers successfully, until billy bannard made a tackle on princeton's -yard line. garry cochran was one of the princeton players who failed in his effort to tackle de saulles, although it was a remarkable attempt with a low, diving tackle. de saulles hurdled over him and cochran struck the ground, breaking his right shoulder. that cochran was so seriously injured did not become known until after de saulles had finished his long run. then it was seen that cochran was badly hurt. the trainer ran out and took him to the side lines to fix up his injury. time was being taken out and as we waited for cochran to return to the game we discussed the situation and hoped that his injury would not prove serious. every one of us realized the tremendous handicap we would be under without him. the tension showed in the faces of alex moffat and johnny poe as they sat there on the side line, trying to reach a solution of the problem that confronted them as coaches. they realized better than the players that the tide was against them. to conceal the true location of his injury from the yale players, cochran had his left shoulder bandaged and entered the scrimmage again, game though handicapped, remaining on the field until the trainer finally dragged him to the side line. this was the last football contest in which garry cochran took part. he was game to the end. at new haven that fall frank butterworth and some of the other coaches had heard a rumor that when cochran and de saulles parted at lawrenceville they had a strange understanding. both had agreed, so the rumor went, that should they ever meet in a yale-princeton game, one would have to leave the game. butterworth told de saulles what he had heard and cautioned him, reminding him that he wanted him to play a game that would escape criticism. de saulles put every ounce of himself into his game, cochran did the same. to this day frank butterworth and the coaches believe that when de saulles was making his great run up the field he kept his pledge to cochran. de saulles and cochran laugh at the suggestion that it was other than an accident, but they have never been able to convince their friends. the dramatic element in it was too strong for a mere chance affair. princeton's handicap when cochran had to go out was increased by the withdrawal because of injuries of johnny baird, the quarterback, that wonderful drop-kicker of previous games. he was out of condition and had to be carried from the field with a serious injury. dudley, the ex-lawrencevillian, here began to get in his telling work. the yale stands were wild with enthusiasm as they saw their team about to score against the much-heralded princeton team. we were a three to one bet. on the next play dudley went through the princeton line. at the bottom of the heap, hugging the ball and happy in his success, was charlie dudley, yale hero, lawrenceville stocking and all. [illustration: cochran was game to the end] after george cadwalader had kicked the goal, the score stood to . one of the greatest problems that confronts a coach is to select the proper men to start in a game. injuries often handicap a team. ad kelly, king of all line-plunging halfbacks, had been injured the week before at princeton and for that reason was not in the original lineup that day at new haven. he was on the side lines waiting for a chance to go in. his chance came. kelly was princeton's only hope. herbert reed, known among writers on football as "right wing," thus describes this stage of the game: "with almost certain defeat staring them in the face, the tigers made one last desperate rally and in doing so called repeatedly on kelly, with the result that with this star carrying the ball in nearly every rush the princeton eleven carried the ball fifty-five yards up the field only to lose it at last on a fumble to jim rodgers. "time and again in the course of this heroic advance, kelly went into or slid outside of tackle practically unaided, bowling along more like a huge ball than a human being. it was one of the greatest exhibitions of a born runner, of a football genius and much more to be lauded than his work the previous year, when he was aided by one of the greatest football machines ever sent into a big game." but kelly's brilliant work was unavailing and when the game ended the score was still to . yale had won an unexpected victory. the yale supporters descended like an avalanche upon the field and carried off their team. groups of men paraded about carrying aloft the victors. there were captain jim rodgers, charlie chadwick, george cadwalader, gordon brown, burr chamberlain, john hall, charlie de saulles, dudley, benjamin, mcbride, and hazen. many were the injuries in this game. it was a hard fought contest. there were interesting encounters which were known only to the players themselves. as for myself, it may best be said that i spent three weeks in the university of pennsylvania hospital with water on the knee. i certainly had plenty of time to think about the sadness of defeat--the ever present thought--"wait until next year"--was in my mind. garry cochran used to say in his talks to the team: "we must win this year--make it two years straight against yale. if you lose, princeton will be a dreary old place for you. it will be a long, hard winter. the frost on the window pane will be an inch thick." and, in the sadness of our recollections, his words came back to us and to him. these words came back to me again in . i had looked forward all the year to our playing cornell at ithaca. it was just the game we wanted on our schedule to give us the test before we met yale. we surely got a test, and cornell men to this day will tell you of their great victory in over princeton, to . there were many friends of mine in ithaca, which was only thirty miles from my old home, and i was naturally happy over the fact that princeton was going to play there. but the loyal supporters who had expected a princeton victory were as disappointed as i was. bill robinson, manager of the princeton team, reserved seats for about thirty of my closest boyhood friends who came over from lisle to see the game. the princeton cheering section was rivalled in enthusiasm by the "lisle section." and the disappointment of each one of my friends at the outcome of that memorable game was as keen as that of any man from princeton. our team was clearly outplayed. unfortunately we had changed our signals that week and we did not play together. but all the honors were cornell's, her sure footed george young in the second half made a goal from the field, fixing the score at to . i remember the wonderful spirit of victory that came over the cornell team, the brilliant playing of starbuck, the cornell captain, and of bill warner, walbridge, young and the other men who contributed to the cornell victory. percy field swarmed with cornell students when the game ended, each one of them crazy to reach the members of their team and help to carry them victoriously off the field. never will i forget the humiliation of the princeton team. trolley cars never seemed to move as slowly as those cars that carried us that day through the streets of ithaca. enthusiastic, yelling undergraduates grinned at us from the sidewalks as we crawled along to the hotel. sadness reigned supreme in our company. we were glad to get to our rooms. instead of leaving ithaca at : as we had planned, we hired a special engine to take our private cars to owego there to await the express for new york on the main line. my only pleasant recollection of that trip was a brief call i made at the home of a girl friend of mine, who had attended the game. my arm was in a sling and sympathy was welcome. as our train rolled over the zig-zag road out of ithaca, we had a source of consolation in the fact that we had evaded the send-off which the cornell men had planned in the expectation that we were to leave on the later train. there were no outstretched hands at princeton for our homecoming. but every man on that princeton team was grimly determined to learn the lesson of the cornell defeat, to correct faults and leave nothing undone that would insure victory for princeton in the coming game with yale. chapter v my last game every player knows the anxious anticipation and the nerve strain connected with the last game of the football season. in my last year there were many men on the team who were to say good-bye to their playing days. every player who reads these lines will agree with me that it was his keenest ambition to make his last game his best game. it was in the fall of . there were many of us who had played on a victorious team the year before. princeton had never beaten yale two years in succession. this was our opportunity. our slogan during the entire season had been, "on to new haven." the dominating idea in the mind of everyone was to add another victory over yale to the one of the year before. the cornell game with its defeat was forgotten. we had learned our lesson. we had made a tremendous advance in two weeks. i recall so well the days before the yale game, when we were leaving for new york en route to new haven. we met at the varsity field house. i will never forget how strange the boys looked in their derby hats and overcoats. it was a striking contrast to the regular everyday football costumes and campus clothes. [illustration: on to new haven all dressed up and ready to go.] there were hundreds of undergraduates at the station to cheer us off. as the train pulled out the familiar strains of "old nassau" floated after us and we realized that the next time we would see that loyal crowd would be in the cheering section on the princeton side at new haven. we went directly to the murray hill hotel, where princeton had held its headquarters for years. after luncheon walter christie, the trainer, took us up to central park. we walked about for a time and finally reached the obelisk. biffy lee, the head coach, suggested that we run through our signals. all of us doffed our overcoats and hats and, there on the expansive lawn, flanked by cleopatra's needle and the metropolitan art museum, we ran through our signals. we then resumed our walk and returned to the hotel for dinner. the evening was spent in the hotel parlors, where the team was entertained and had opportunity for relaxation from the mental strain that was necessarily a part of the situation. a general reception took place in the corridors, players of old days came around to see the team, to revive old memories, and cheer the men of the team on to victory. football writers from the daily papers mingled with the throng, and their accounts the following day reflected the optimistic spirit they encountered. the betting odds were quoted at three to one on princeton. "betting odds" is the way some people gauge the outcome of a football contest, but i have learned from experience, that big odds are not justified on either side in a championship game. we were up bright and early in the morning and out for a walk before breakfast. our team then took the ten o'clock train for new haven. only those who have been through the experience can appreciate the difficulty encountered in getting on board a train for new haven on the day of a football game. we were ushered through a side entrance, however, and were finally landed in the special cars provided for us. on the journey there was a jolly good time. good fellowship reigned supreme. that relieved the nervous tension. arthur poe and bosey reiter were the leading spirits in the jollification. a happier crowd never entered new haven than the princeton team that day. the cars pulled in on a siding near the station and everybody realized that we were at last in the town where the coveted prize was. we were after the yale ball. "on to new haven" had been our watchword. we were there. following a light lunch in our dining car we soon got our football clothes, and, in a short time, the palatial pullman car was transformed. it assumed the appearance of the dressing room at princeton. football togs hung everywhere. nose-guards, head-gears, stockings, shin-guards, jerseys, and other gridiron equipment were everywhere. here and there the trainer or his assistants were limbering up joints that needed attention. two big buses waited at the car platform. the team piled into them. we were off to the field. the trip was made through a welcome of friendly salutes from princeton men encountered on the way. personal friends of individual players called to them from the sidewalks. others shouted words of confidence. old nassau was out in overwhelming force. no team ever received more loyal support. it keyed the players up to the highest pitch of determination. their spirits, naturally at a high mark, rose still higher under the warmth of the welcome. repression was a thing of the past. every player was jubilant and did not attempt to conceal the fact. the enthusiasm mounted as we neared the scene of the coming battle. as we entered the field the air was rent by a mighty shout of welcome from the princeton hosts. our hearts palpitated in response to it. there was not a man of the team that did not feel himself repaid a thousand-fold for the season's hard knocks. but this soon gave way to sober thought of the work ahead of us. we were there for business. falling on the ball, sprinting and limbering up, and running through a few signals, we spent the few minutes before the yale team came through the corner of the field. the scenes of enthusiasm that had marked our arrival were repeated, the yale stand being the center this time of the maelstrom of cheers. i shall not attempt to describe our own feelings as we got the first glimpse of our opponents in the coming fray. who can describe the sensations of the contestants in the first moment of a championship game? but it was not long before the coin had been tossed, and the game was on. not a man who has played in the line will ever forget how he tried to block his man or get down the field and tackle the man with the ball. i recall most vividly those three strapping yale center men, brown, hale and olcott, flanked by stillman and francis. there was al sharpe and mcbride. fincke was at quarter. if there had been any one play during the season that we had had drilled into us, a play which we had hoped might win the game, it was the long end run. it was lea's pet play. i can recall the herculean work we had performed to perfect this play. it was time well spent. the reward came within seven minutes after the game began. the end running ability of that great player, bosey reiter showed. every man was doing his part, and the play was made possible. reiter scored a touchdown along the side of the field. i never saw a happier man than bosey. but he was no happier than his ten team-mates. they were leaping in the air with joy. the princeton stand arose in a solid body and sent an avalanche of cheers across the field. what proved to be one of the most important features of the game was the well-delivered punt by bert wheeler, who kicked the ball out to hutchinson. hutch heeled it in front of the goal and bert wheeler boosted the ball straight over the cross bar and princeton scored an additional point. at that moment we did not realize that this would be the decisive factor in the princeton victory. as the princeton team went back to the middle of the field to take their places for the next kick-off, the princeton side of the field was a perfect bedlam of enthusiasm. old grads were hugging each other on the side lines, and every eye was strained for the next move in the game. at the same time the yale stand was cheering its side and urging the blue players to rally. mcbride, the yale captain, was rousing his men with the yale spirit, and they realized what was demanded of them. the effect became evident. it showed how yale could rise to an occasion. we felt that the old bull-dog spirit of yale was after us--as strong as ever. how wonderfully well mcbride, the yale captain, kicked that day! what a power he was on defence! i saw him do some wonderful work. it was after one of his long punts, which, with the wind in his favor, went about seventy yards, that princeton caught the ball on the ten-yard line. wheeler dropped back to kick. the yale line men were on their toes ready to break through and block the kick. the yale stand was cheering them on. stillman was the first man through. it seemed as if he were off-side. wheeler delayed his kick, expecting that an off-side penalty would be given. when he did kick, it was too late, the ball was blocked and mcbride fell on it behind the goal line, scoring a touchdown for yale, and making the score to in favor of princeton. believe me, the yale spirit was running high. the men were playing like demons. here was a team that was considered a defeated team before the game. here were eleven men who had risen to the occasion and who were slowly, but surely, getting the best of the argument. gloom hung heavy over the princeton stand. defeat seemed inevitable. of eleven players who started in the game on the princeton side, eight had been incapacitated by injuries of one kind or another. doc hillebrand, the ever-reliable, all-american tackle, had been compelled to leave the game with a broken collar-bone just before mcbride made his touchdown. i remember well the play in which he was injured and i have resurrected a photograph that was snapped of the game at the moment that he was lying on the ground, knocked out. [illustration: hillebrand's last charge] bummie booth, who had stood the strain of the contest wonderfully well, and had played a grand game against hale, gave way to horace bannard, brother of bill bannard, the famous princeton halfback of ' . it was no wonder that princeton was downcast when mcbride scored the touchdown and the goal was about to be kicked. just then i saw a man in football togs come out from the side lines wearing a blue visor cap. he was to kick for the goal. it was an unusual spectacle on a football field. i rushed up to the referee, ed wrightington of harvard, and called his attention to the man with the cap. i asked if that man was in the game. "why," he replied with a broad smile, "you ought to know him. he is the man you have been playing against all along, gordon brown. he only ran into the side lines to get a cap to shade his eyes." i am frank to say that it was one on me, but the chagrin wore off when brown missed the goal, which would have tied the final score, and robbed princeton of the ultimate victory. the tide of battle turned toward yale. al sharpe kicked a goal from the field, from the forty-five yard line. it was a wonderful achievement. it is true that circumstances later substituted arthur poe for him as the hero of the game, but those who witnessed sharpe's performance will never forget it. the laurels that he won by it were snatched from him by poe only in the last half-minute of play. the score was changed by sharpe's goal from to in our favor to to . yale leading. the half was over. the score was to against princeton. every princeton player felt that there was still a real opportunity to win out. we were all optimistic. this optimism was increased by the appeals made to the men in the dressing room by the coaches. it was not long before the team was back on the field more determined than ever to carry the yale ball back to princeton. the last half of this game is everlastingly impressed upon my memory. every man that played for princeton, although eight of them were substitutes, played like a veteran. i shall ever treasure the memory of the loyal support that those men gave me as captain, and their response to my appeal to stand together and play not only for princeton but for the injured men on the side-lines whose places they had taken. the yale team had also heard some words of football wisdom in their dressing room. previous encounters with princeton had taught them that the tiger could also rally. they came on the field prepared to fight harder than ever. mcbride and brown were exhorting their men to do their utmost. princeton was out-rushing yale but not out-kicking them. yale knew that as well as we did. it was a yale fumble that gave us the chance we were waiting for. bill roper, who had taken lew palmer's place at left end, had his eyes open. he fell on the ball. through his vigilance, princeton got the chance to score. now was our chance. time was passing quickly. we all knew that something extraordinary would have to be done to win the day. it remained for arthur poe to crystallize this idea into action. it seemed an inspiration. "we've got to kick," he said to me, "and i would like to try a goal from the field. we haven't got much time." nobody appreciated the situation more than i did. i knew we would have to take a chance and there was no one i would have selected for the job quicker than arthur poe. how we needed a touchdown or a goal from the field! poe, pell and myself were the three members of the original team left. how the substitutes rallied with us and gave the perfect defence that made poe's feat possible is a matter of history. as i looked around from my position to see that the defensive formation was right, i recall how small arthur poe looked there in the fullback position. here was a man doing something we had never rehearsed as a team. but safe and sure the pass went from horace bannard and as biffy lea remarked after the game, "when arthur kicked the ball, it seemed to stay up in the air about twenty minutes." some people have said that i turned a somersault and landed on my ear, and collapsed. anyhow, it all came our way at the end, the ball sailed over the cross bar. the score then was to , and the princeton stand let out a roar of triumph that could be heard way down in new jersey. there were but thirty-six seconds left for play. yale made a splendid supreme effort to score further. but it was futile. crowds had left the field before poe made his great goal kick. they had accepted a yale victory as inevitable. some say that bets were paid on the strength of this conviction. the yale _news_, which went to press five minutes before the game ended, got out an edition stating that yale had won. they had to change that story. during the seconds preceding poe's kick for a goal i had a queer obsession. it was a serious matter to me then. i can recall it now with amusement. "big" was a prefix not of my own selection. i had never appreciated its justification, however, until that moment. horace bannard was playing center. i had my left hand clasped under the elastic in his trouser leg, ready to form a barrier against the yale forwards. brown, hale and mcbride tried to break through to block the kick. i thought of a million things but most of all i was afraid of a blocked kick. to be frank, i was afraid i would block it--that poe couldn't clear me, that he would kick the ball into me. [illustration: al sharpe's goal] i crouched as low as i could, and the more i worried the larger i seemed to be and i feared greatly for what might occur behind me. it seemed as if i were swelling up. but finally, as i realized that the ball had gone over me and was on its way to the goal, i breathed a sigh of relief and said, "thank god, it cleared!" how eager we were to get that ball, the hard-earned prize, which now rests in the princeton gymnasium, a companion ball to the one of the victory. yes, it had all been accomplished, and we were happy. new haven looked different to us. it was many years since princeton had sent yale down to defeat on yale field. victory made us forget the sadness of former defeats. it was a joyous crowd that rode back to the private cars. varsity players and substitutes shared alike in the joy, which was unrestrained. we soon had our clothes changed, and were on our way to new york for the banquet and celebration of our victory. arthur poe was the lion of the hour. no finer fellow ever received more just tribute. it would take a separate volume to describe the incidents of that trip from new haven to new york. before it had ended we realized if we never had realized it before how sweet was victory, and how worth while the striving that brought it to us. suffice it to say that that yale football was the most popular "passenger" on the train. over and over we played the game and a million caresses were lavished upon the trophy. this may seem an excess of sentiment to some, but those who have played football understand me. looking back through the retrospect of seventeen years, i realize that i did not fully understand then the meaning of those happy moments. i now appreciate that it was simply the deep satisfaction that comes from having made good--the sense of real accomplishment. enthusiastic princeton men were waiting for us at the grand central station. they escorted us to the murray hill hotel, and the wonderful banquet that awaited us. the spirit of the occasion will be understood by football players and enthusiasts who have enjoyed similar experiences. the members of the team just sat and listened to speeches by the alumni and coaches. it all seemed too good to be true. when the gathering broke up, the players became members of different groups, who continued their celebration in the various ways provided by the hospitality of the great city. [illustration: touching the match to victory] hillebrand and i ended the night together. when we awoke in the morning, the yale football was there between our pillows, the bandaged shoulder and collar-bone of hillebrand nestling close to it. then came the home-going of the team to princeton, and the huge bonfire that the whole university turned out to build. some nearby wood yard was looking the next day for thirty-six cords of wood that had served as the foundation for the victorious blaze. it was learned afterward that the owner of the cord-wood had backed the team--so he had no regrets. the team was driven up in buses from the station. it was a proud privilege to light the bonfire. every man on the team had to make a speech and then we had a banquet at the princeton inn. later in the year the team was banqueted by the alumni organizations around the country. every man had a peck of souvenirs--gold matchsafes, footballs, and other things. nothing was too good for the victors. well, well, "to the victors belong the spoils." that is the verdict of history. chapter vi heroes of the past the early days we treasure the memory of the good men who have gone before. this is true of the world's history, a nation's history, that of a state, and of a great university. most true is it of the memory of men of heroic mold. as schoolboys, our imaginations were fired by the records of the brilliant achievements of a perry, a decatur or a paul jones; and, as we grow older, we look back to those heroes of our boyhood days, and our hearts beat fast again as we recall their daring deeds and pay them tribute anew for the stout hearts, the splendid fighting stamina, and the unswerving integrity that made them great men in history. in every college and university there is a hall of fame, where the heroes of the past are idolized by the younger generations. trophies, portraits, old flags and banners hang there. threadbare though they may be, they are rich in memories. these are, however, only the material things--"the trappings and the suits" of fame--but in the hearts of university men the memory of the heroes of the past is firmly and reverently enshrined. their achievements are a distinguished part of the university's history--a part of our lives as university men--and we are ever ready now to burn incense in their honor, as we were in the old days to burn bonfires, in celebration of their deeds. it is well now that we recall some of the men who have stood in the front line of football; in the making and preservation of the great game. many of them have not lived to see the results of their service to the sport which they deemed to be manly and worth while. it is, however, because they stood there during days, often full of stress and severe criticism of the game, staunch and resistless, that football occupies its present high plane in the athletic world. it may be that some of their names are not now associated with football. some of them are captains of industry. they are in the forefront of public affairs. some of them are engaged in the world's work in far-away lands. but the spirit that these men apply to their life work is the same spirit that stirred them on the gridiron. their football training has made them better able to fight the battle of life. men who gave signals, are now directing large industries. players who carried the ball, are now carrying trade to the ends of the world. men who bucked the line, are forging their way sturdily to the front. men who were tackles, are still meeting their opponents with the same intrepid zeal. the men who played at end in those days, are to-day seeing that nothing gets around them in the business world. the public is the referee and umpire. it knows their achievements in the greater game of life. it is not my purpose to select an all-star football team from the long list of heroes past and present. it is not possible to select any one man whom we can all crown as king. we all have our football idols, our own heroes, men after whom we have patterned, who were our inspiration. we can never line up in actual scrimmage the heroes of the past with those of more recent years. what a treat if this could be arranged! there are many men i have idolized in football, not only for their record as players, but for the loyalty and spirit for the game which they have inspired. walter camp when i asked walter camp to write the introduction to this book, i told him that as he had written about football players for twenty years it was up to some one to relate some of _his_ achievements as a football player. we all know walter camp as a successful business man and as a football genius whose strategy has meant much to yale. his untiring efforts, his contributions to the promotion of the best interests of the game, stand as a brilliant record in the history of football. to give him his just due would require a special volume. the football world knows walter camp as a thoroughbred, a man who has played the game fairly, and sees to it that the game is being played fairly to-day. we have read his books, enjoyed his football stories, and kept in touch with the game through his newspaper articles. he is the loyal, ever-present critic on the side lines and the helpful adviser in every emergency. he has helped to safeguard the good name of football and kept pace with the game until to-day he is known as the "father of football." let us go back into football history where, in the recollections of others, we shall see freshman camp make the team, score touchdowns, kick goals and captain yale teams to victory. f. r. vernon, who was a freshman at yale when camp was a sophomore, draws a vivid word picture of camp in his active football days. vernon played on the yale team with camp. "walter camp in his football playing days," says vernon, "was built physically on field running lines; quick on his legs and with his arms. his action was easy all over and seemed to be in thorough control from a well-balanced head, from which looked a pair of exceptionally keen, piercing, expressive brown eyes. "camp was always alert, and seemed to sense developments before they occurred. one of my chief recollections of camp's play was his great confidence with the ball. in his room, on the campus, in the gym', wherever he was, if possible, he would have a football with him. he seemed to know every inch of its surface, and it seemed almost as if the ball knew him. it would stick to his palm, like iron to a magnet. "in one of his plays, camp would run down the side of the field, the ball held far out with one arm, while the other arm was performing yeoman service in warding off the oncoming tacklers. frequently he would pass the ball from one hand to the other, while still running, depending upon which arm he saw he would need for defense. smilingly and confidently, camp would run the gauntlet of opposing players for many consecutive gains. i do not recall one instance in which he lost the ball through these tactics. "it was a pretty game to play and a pretty game to look at. would that the rules could be so worded as to make the football of camp's time the football of to-day! "walter camp's natural ability as a football player was recognized as soon as he entered yale in . he made the 'varsity at once and played halfback. it was in the first harvard football game at hamilton park that the harvard captain, who was a huge man with a full, bushy beard, saw walter camp, then a stripling freshman in uniform, and remarked to the yale captain: "'you don't mean to let that child play; he is too light; he will get hurt.' "walter made a mental note of that remark, and during the game the harvard captain had occasion to remember it also, when in one of the plays camp tackled him, and the two went to the ground with a heavy thud. as the harvard captain gradually came to, he remarked to one of his team mates: "'well, that little fellow nearly put me out!' "camp's brilliant playing earned him the captaincy of the team in and . he had full command of his men and was extremely popular with them, but this did not prevent his being a stickler for discipline. "in my day on the yale team with camp," vernon states, "princeton was our dire opponent. for a week or so before a princeton game, we all agreed to stay on the campus and to be in bed every night by eleven o'clock. johnny moorhead, who was one of our best runners, decided one night to go to the theatre, however, and was caught by captain camp, whereupon we were all summoned out of bed to camp's room, shortly before midnight. after the roundup we learned the reason for our unexpected meeting. there was some discussion in which camp took very little part. no one expected that johnny would receive more than a severe reprimand and this feeling was due largely to the fact that we needed him in the game. imagine our surprise, therefore, when camp, who had left us for a moment, returned to the room and handed in his resignation as captain of the team. we revolted at this. johnny, who sized up the situation, rather than have the team lose camp, decided to quit the team himself. what occurred the next day between camp and johnny moorhead we never knew, but johnny played in the game and squared himself." walter camp's name is coupled with that of chummy eaton in football history. "eaton was on the left end rush line," says vernon, "and played a great game with camp down the side line. when one was nearly caught for a down, the other would receive the ball from him on an over-head throw and proceed with the run. camp and eaton would repeat this play, sending the ball back and forth down the side of the field for great gains. "in one of the big games in the fall of , eaton had a large muscle in one of his legs torn and had to quit playing for that season." vernon was put in chummy's place. "but i couldn't fill chummy's shoes," vernon acknowledges, "for he and camp had practiced their beautiful side line play all the fall. "the next year chummy's parents wouldn't let him play, but chummy was game--he simply couldn't resist--it was a case of love before duty with him. he played on the yale team the next fall, however, but not as eaton, and every one who followed football was wondering who that star player 'adams' was and where he came from. but those on the inside knew it was chummy. "frederic remington," says vernon, "was a member of our team. we were close friends and spent many sunday afternoons on long walks. i can see him now with his india ink pencil sketching as we went along, and i must laugh now at the nerve i had to joke him about his efforts. "remy was a good football player and one of the best boxers in college. dear old remy is gone, but he left his mark." other men, equally prominent old yale men tell me, who were on the team that year were hull, jack harding, ben lamb, bob watson, pete peters and many others. walter camp, as yale gridiron stories go, was not only captain of his team, but in reality also its coach. perhaps he can be called the pioneer coach of yale football. it is most interesting to listen to old time yale players relate incidents of the days when they played under walter camp as their captain: how they came to his room by invitation at night, sat on the floor with their backs to the wall, with nothing in the center of the room but a regulation football. there they got together, talked things over, made suggestions and comparisons. and it is said of camp that he would do more listening by far than talking. this was characteristic, for although he knew so much of the game he was willing to get every point of view and profit by every suggestion. in camp relinquished the captaincy to r. w. watson. yale again defeated harvard, camp kicking a goal from placement. following this r. w. watson ran through the entire harvard team for a touchdown. harvard men were greatly pained when walter camp played again in . he should have graduated in . this game was also won by yale, thus making the fourth victorious yale team that camp played on. this record has never been equalled. camp played six years at yale. john harding was another of the famous old yale stars who played on walter camp's team. "it is now more than thirty-five years since my days on the football gridiron," writes harding. "what little elementary training i got in football, i attribute to the old game of 'theory,' which for two years on spring and summer evenings, after supper, we used to play at st. paul's school in concord, n. h., on the athletic grounds near the middle school. one fellow would be 'it' as we dashed from one side of the grounds to the other and when one was trapped he joined the 'its,' until everybody was caught. i learned there how to dodge, as well as the rudiments of the necessary football accomplishment of how to fall down without getting hurt. as a result of this experience, with my chum, w. a. peters, when we got down to yale in the fall of ' , we offered ourselves as willing victims for the university football team, and with the result that we both 'made' the freshman team, and had our first experience in a match game of football against the harvard freshman at boston. i don't remember who won that contest, but i do remember the university eleven, under eugene baker's careful training, beating harvard that fall at new haven and my football enthusiasm being fired up to a desire to make the team, if it were possible. "of course, walter camp has for many years, and deservedly so, been regarded as the father of football at yale, but in my day, and at least until baker left college, he was only an ordinary mortal and a good halfback. baker was the unquestioned star and i cannot disabuse my mind that he was the original football man of yale, and at least entitled to the title of 'grandfather' of the game there and it was from him that my tuition mainly came. "my impression is that baker was always for the open running and passing game and that mass playing and flying wedges and the various refinements of the game that depended largely on 'beef' were of a later day. "for four years i played in the rush line with walter camp as a halfback, and for two years, at least, with hull and ben lamb on either side of me, all of us somehow understanding each other's game and all being ready and willing to help each other out. whatever ability and dexterity i may have developed seemed to show itself at its best when playing with them and to prove that good team work and 'knowing your man' wins. "i got to know walter camp's methods and ways of playing, so that, somehow or other, i could judge pretty well where the ball was going to drop when he kicked and could navigate myself about so that i was, more often than any one else on our side, near the ball when it dropped to the ground, and, if perchance, it happened to be muffed by an opposing player, which put me 'on side,' the chances of a touchdown, if i got the ball, were excellent, and hull and lamb were somehow on hand to back me up and were ready to follow me in any direction. "during my last two years of football the 'rushers' were unanimously of the opinion that the kicking, dodging and passing open game was the game we should strive for and that it was the duty of the halfback and backs to end their runs with a good long punt, wherever possible, and give us a chance to get under the ball when it came down, while the rest of the team behind the line were in favor of a running mass play game, particularly in wet and slippery weather. "i remember once in my senior year our divergence of views on this question, about three weeks before the final game, nearly split our team, and that as a result i nearly received the doubtful honor of becoming the captain of a defeated yale team. camp, fearful of wet weather and possible snow at the thanksgiving game, and with channing, eaton and fred remington as the heavy yale ends and everybody 'big' in the rush line excepting myself, was trying to develop us with as little kicking as possible, and was sensitive because of the protests from the rush line that there was no kicking. we were all summoned one evening to his room in durfee; the situation explained, together with his unwillingness to assume the responsibility of captain unless his ideas were followed; his fear of defeat, if they were not followed, his willingness to continue on the team as a halfback and to do his best and his resignation as captain with the suggestion of my taking the responsibility of the position. things looked blue for yale when walter walked out of the door, but after some ten minutes' discussion we decided that the open game was the better, despite camp's opinion to the contrary, but that we could not play the open game without camp as captain. some one was sent out to bring walter back; matters were smoothed out; we played the open game and never lost a touchdown during the season. but during the four years i was on the yale varsity we never lost but one touchdown, from which a goal was kicked and there were no goals kicked from the field. this goal was lost to princeton, and i think was in the fall of ' , the year that princeton won the championship. the two men that were more than anybody else responsible for the record were eugene baker and walter camp, but behind it all was the old yale spirit, which seems to show itself better on the football field than in any other branch of athletics." theodore m. mcnair on december th, , there appeared in the newspapers a notice of the death of an old princeton athlete, in japan--theodore m. mcnair--who, while unknown to the younger football enthusiasts, was considered a famous player in his day. to those who saw him play the news brought back many thrills of his adventures upon the football field. the following is what an old fellow player has to say about his team mate: "princeton has lost one of her most remarkable old time athletes in the death of theodore m. mcnair of the class of . "mcnair was a classmate of woodrow wilson. after his graduation he became a presbyterian missionary, a professor in a tokio college and the head of the committee that introduced the christian hymnal into japan. "to old princeton graduates, however, mcnair is known best as a great football player who was halfback on the varsity three years and was regarded as a phenomenal dodger, runner and kicker. in the three years of his varsity experience mcnair went down to defeat only once, the first game in which he appeared as a regular player. the contest was with harvard and was played between seasons--april th, --at cambridge. harvard won the game by touchdowns to for the tigers. mcnair made the touchdown for his team. this match is interesting in that it marked the first appearance of the canvas jacket on the football field. smock, one of the princeton halfbacks, designed such a jacket for himself and thereafter for many seasons football players of the leading eastern colleges adopted the garment because it made tackling more difficult under the conditions of those days. mcnair was of large frame and fleet of foot. he was especially clever in handling and passing the ball, which in those days was more of an art than at present. it was not unusual for the ball to be passed from player to player after a scrimmage until a touchdown or a field goal was made. "walter camp was one of mcnair's yale adversaries. they had many punting duels in the big games at st. george's cricket grounds, hoboken, but camp never had the satisfaction of sending mcnair off the field with a beaten team." alexander moffat every football enthusiast who saw alex moffat play had the highest respect for his ability in the game. alex moffat was typically princetonian. his interest in the game was great, and he was always ready to give as much time as was needed to the coaching of the princeton teams. his hard, efficient work developed remarkable kickers. he loved the game and was a cheerful, encouraging and sympathetic coach. from a man of his day i have learned something about his playing, and together we can read of this great all-round athlete. alex moffat was so small when he was a boy that he was called "teeny-bits." he was still small in bone and bulk when he entered princeton. alex had always been active in sport as a boy. small as he was, he played a good game of baseball and tennis and he distinguished himself by his kicking in football before he was twelve years of age. the game was then called association football, and kicking formed a large part of it. at an early age, he became proficient in kicking with right or left foot. when he was fifteen he created a sensation over at the old seminary by kicking the black rubber association football clear over brown hall. that was kick enough for a boy of fifteen with an old black, rubber football. if anybody doubts it, let him try to do the trick. [illustration: wanamaker belknap finney travers harlan kennedy lamar bird kimball de camp baker alex moffat harris alex moffat and his team] the varsity team of princeton in the fall of ' was captained by bland ballard of the class of ' . he had a bunch of giants back of him. there were fifteen on the team in those days, and among them were such men as devereaux, brotherlin, bryan, irv. withington, and the mighty mcnair. the scrub team player at that time was pretty nearly any chap that was willing to take his life in his hands by going down to the field and letting those ruthless giants step on his face and generally muss up his physical architecture. when alex announced one day that he was going to take a chance on the scrub team, his friends were inclined to say tenderly and regretfully, "good night, sweet prince." but alex knew he was there with the kick, whether it came on the left or right, and he made up his mind to have a go with the canvas-backed titans of the varsity team. one fond friend watching alex go out on the field drew a sort of consolation from the observation that "perhaps alex was so small the varsity men wouldn't notice him." but alex soon showed them that he was there. he got in a punt that made bland ballard gasp. the big captain looked first at the ball, way up in the air, then looked at alex and he seemed to say as the scotsman said when he compared the small hen and the huge egg, "i hae me doots. it canna be." after that the varsity men took notice of alex. when the ball was passed back to him next the regulars got through the scrub line so fast that alex had to try for a run. bland ballard caught him up in his arms, and finding him so light and small, spared himself the trouble of throwing him down. ballard simply sank down on the ground with alex in his arms and began rolling over and over with him towards the scrub goal. alex cried "down! down!" in a shrill, treble voice that brought an exclamation from the side line. "it's a shame to do it. bland ballard is robbing the cradle." such was alex moffat in the fall of ' , still something of the "teeny-bits" that he was in early boyhood. in two years alex's name was on the lips of every gridiron man in the country, and in his senior year, as captain, he performed an exploit in goal kicking that has never been equalled. in the game with harvard in the fall of ' , he kicked five goals, four being drop kicks and one from a touchdown. his drop kicks were all of them long and two of them were made with the left foot. alex grew in stature and in stamina and when he was captain he was regarded as one of the most brilliant fullbacks that the game had ever known. he never was a heavy man, but he was swift and slippery in running, a deadly tackler, and a kicker that had not his equal in his time. alex remained prominent in football activity until his death in . he served in many capacities, as member of committees, as coach, as referee and as umpire. he was a man of happy and sunny nature who made many friends. he loved life and made life joyous for those who were with him. he was idolized at princeton and his memory is treasured there now. wyllys terry one of the greatest halfbacks that ever played for yale is wyllys terry, and it is most interesting to hear this player of many years ago tell of some of his experiences. terry says: "it has been asked of me who were the great players of my time. i can only say, judging from their work, that they were all great, but if i were compelled to particularize, i should mention the names of tompkins, peters, hull, beck, twombly, richards; in fact, i would have to mention each team year by year. to them i attribute the success of yale's football in my time, and for many years after that to the unfailing zeal and devotion of walter camp. "there were no trainers, coaches, or rubbers at that time. the period of practice was almost continuous for forty-five minutes. it was the idea in those days that by practice of this kind, staying power and ability would be brought out. the principal points that were impressed upon the players were for the rushers to tackle low and follow their man. "this was to them practically a golden text. the fact that a man was injured, unless it was a broken bone, or the customary badly sprained ankle, did not relieve a man from playing every day. "it was the spirit, though possibly a crude one, that only those men were wanted on the team who could go through the battering of the game from start to finish. "the discipline of the team was rigorous; men were forced to do as they were told. if a man did not think he was in any condition to play he reported to the captain. these reports were very infrequent though, for i know in my own case, the first time i reported, i was so lame i could hardly put one foot before the other, but was told to take a football and run around the track, which was a half mile long and encircled the football field. on my return i was told to get back in my position and play. as a result, there were very few players who reported injuries to the captain. "this, when you figure the manner in which teams are coached to-day, may appear brutal and a waste of good material, but as a matter of fact, it was not. it made the teams what they were in those days--strong, hard and fast. "as to actual results under this policy, i can only say that, during my period in college, we never lost a game. "training to-day is quite different. i think more men are injured nowadays than in my time under our severe training. i think further that this softer training is carried to an extreme, and that the football player of to-day has too much attention paid to his injury, and what he has to say, and the trainer, doctors and attendants are mostly responsible for having the players incapacitated by their attention. "the spirit of yale in my day, a spirit which was inculcated in our minds in playing games, was never to let a member of the opposing team think he could beat you. if you experienced a shock or were injured and it was still possible to get back to your position either in the line or backfield--get there at once. if you felt that your injury was so severe that you could not get back, report to your captain immediately and abide by his decision, which was either to leave the field or go to your position. "it may be said by some of the players to-day that the punts in those days were more easily caught than those of to-day. there is nothing to a remark like that. the spiral kick was developed in the fall of ' , and i know that both richards and myself knew the fellow who developed it. from my experience in the princeton game i can testify that alex moffat was a past master at it. "one rather amusing thing i remember hearing years ago while standing with an old football player watching a princeton game. the ball was thrown forward by the quarterback, which was a foul. the halfback, who was playing well out, dashed in and caught the ball on the run, evaded the opposing end, pushed the half back aside and ran half the length of the field, scoring a touchdown. the applause was tremendous. but the umpire, who had seen the foul, called the ball back. a fair spectator who was standing in front of me, asked my friend why the ball was called back. my friend remarked: 'the princeton player has just received an encore, that's all.' "while the game was hard and rough in the early days, yet i consider that the discipline and the training which the men went through were of great assistance to them, physically, morally and intellectually, in after years. some of the pleasantest friendships that i hold to-day were made in connection with my football days, among the graduates of my own and other colleges. "when fond parents ask the advisability of letting their sons play football, i always tell them of an incident at the penn-harvard game at philadelphia, one year, which i witnessed from the top of a coach. a young girl was asked the question: "'if you were a mother and had a son, would you allow him to play football?' "the young lady thought for a moment and then answered in this spirited, if somewhat devious, fashion: "'if i were a son and had a mother, _you bet i'd play!_'" memories of john c. bell in my association with football, among the many friendships i formed, i prize none more highly than that of john c. bell, whose activity in pennsylvania football has been kept alive long since his playing day. let us go back and talk the game over with him. "i played football in my prep. school days," he says, "and on the 'varsity teams of the university of pennsylvania in the years ' -' -' . after graduation, following a sort of nominating mass meeting of the students, i was elected to the football committee of the university, about , and served as chairman of that committee until ; retiring that season when george woodruff, after a term of ten years, terminated his relationship as coach of our team. "i also served, as you know, as a representative of the university on the football rules committee from about until the time i was appointed attorney general in . "more pleasant associations and relationships i have never had than those with my fellow-members of that committee in the late ' 's and the ' 's, including camp of yale; billy brooks, bert waters, bob wrenn and percy haughton of harvard; paul dashiell of annapolis; tracy harris, alex moffat and john fine of princeton; and professor dennis of cornell. later the committee, as you know, was enlarged by the admission of representatives from the west; and among them were alonzo stagg, of chicago university, and harry williams of minnesota. finer fellows i have never known; they were one and all nature's noblemen. "some of them, alas! like alex moffat, have gone to the great beyond. representing rival universities, between whose student bodies and some of whose alumni, partisan feeling ran high in the ' 's, nothing, however, save good fellowship and good cheer ever existed between alex and me. "i am genuinely glad that i played the game with my team-mates; witnessed for many years nearly all the big games of the eastern colleges; mingled season after season with the players and the enthusiastic alumni of the competing universities in attendance at the annual matches; sat and deliberated each recurring year, as i have said, with those fine fellows who made and amended the rules, and in this way helped to develop the game, the manliest of all our sports; and that i have thus breathed, recreated and been invigorated in a football atmosphere every autumn for more than a third of a century. growing older every year, one still remains young--as young in heart and spirit as when he donned the moleskins, and caught and kicked and carried the ball himself. and all these football experiences make one a happier, stronger and more loyal man. "i remember in my prep. school days playing upon a team made up largely of high school boys. one game stands out in my recollection. it was against the freshmen team of the university of pennsylvania, captained by johnny thayer who went down with the _titanic_. "arriving after the game had started, i came out to the side-lines and called to the captain asking whether i was to play. he glowered at me and made no answer. a few minutes later our 'second captain' called to me to come into the game, saying that smith was only to play until i arrived. quick as a flash i stepped into the field of play, and almost instantly thayer kicked the ball over the rush line and it came bounding down right into my arm. off i went like a flash through the line, past the backs and fullbacks, only to be over-taken within a few yards of the goal. the teams lined up, and thereupon thayer, with his eagle eye looking us over, called out to our captain 'how many fellows are you playing anyway?' instantly our captain ordered smith off the field saying 'you were only to play until bell came,' and poor smith left without any audible murmur. this is what might be called one of the accidents of the game. "perhaps the most memorable game in which i played was against harvard in when pennsylvania won upon forbes field by the score of to . it was our first victory over the crimson, not to be repeated again until the memorable game of , which triumph was again repeated, after still another decade, in our great victory of . this last victory came after five years of continuing defeats, and i remember that we were all jubilant when we heard the news from cambridge. i recall that dr. j. william white, c. s. packard and i were playing golf at the country club and when some one brought out the score to us we dropped our clubs, clasped hands and executed an indian dance, shouting "rah! rah! rah! pennsylvania!" why, old staid philosopher, should the leading surgeon of the city, the president of its oldest and largest trust company, and the district attorney of philadelphia, thus jump for joy and become boys once more? "recurring to the game of i can hear the cheers of the university still ringing in my ears when we returned from harvard. a few weeks later our team went up to princeton to see the harvard-princeton match and i recall, as though it were yesterday, alex moffat kicking five goals against appleton's team, three of them with the right and two with the left foot. no other player i ever knew or heard of was so ambipedextrous (if i may use the word) as alex moffat. i remember walking in from the field with harvard's captain, and he said to me 'moffat is a phenomenon.' truly he was." chapter vii heroes of the past--george woodruff's story enthusiastic george woodruff tells of his football experiences in the following words: "i went to yale a green farmer boy who had never heard of the college game of football until i arrived at new haven to take my examinations in the fall of ' . incidentally i made the team permanently the second day i was on the field, having scored against the varsity from the middle of the field in three successive runs; whereas the varsity was not able to score against the scrub. i was used perhaps more times than any other man in running with the ball up to a very severe injury to my knee in the fall of ' , just a week and a day before the princeton game, from which time, until i left college (although i played in all of the championship games) i was not able to run with the ball, actually being on the field only two days after my injury in ' until the end of the ' season, outside of the days on which i played the games. i tried not to play in the fall of ' because of the condition of my knee and because i was captain of the crew, but pa corbin insisted that i must play in the championship games or he would not row: and of course i acceded to his wishes thereby secretly gratifying my own. "and now about the men with whom i played: kid wallace played end the entire four years. wallace was a great amusement and comfort to his fellow-players on account of his general desire to put on the appearance of a 'tough' of the worst description; whereas he was at heart a very fine and gallant gentleman. "pudge heffelfinger played the other guard from me in my last year and when he first appeared on the yale field he was a ridiculous example of a raw-boned westerner, being feet inches tall and weighing only about pounds. during the season, however, the exercise and good food at the training table caused heffelfinger to gain pounds of solid bone, sinew and muscle. the green days of his first year in were remembered against him in an affectionate way by the use of yale for several years of 'pa' corbin's oft reiterated expression brought forth by pudge's greenness, which would cause 'pa' to exclaim: 'darn you, heffelfinger!' with great emphasis on the 'darn.' "billy graves played on the team during most of these years, he being the most graceful football runner i have ever seen, unless it were stevenson of pennsylvania. "lee mcclung was a harder worker in his running than most of the men named above, but tremendously effective. he is accredited with being the first man who intentionally started as though to make an end run and then turned diagonally back through the line, in order to open up the field through which he then ran with incredible speed and determination. this was one of the first premeditated plays of a trick nature which ultimately led to my invention of the delayed pass which works upon the same principle only with incalculably greater ease and effect. "the game with princeton in the fall of clings to my memory beyond any other game i ever played in, because it was the first real championship game of my career, and i had not as yet fully developed into an actual player. the loss of this game to princeton in the last six minutes of playing because of the lamar run--yale had princeton to --has been a nightmare to most of the yale players ever since. i attribute the fact that yale only had five points to two hard-luck facts. "through my own intensity at the beginning of the game i over-ran harry beecher on my first signal, causing the signal giver to think that i was rattled so that, although i afterward ran with the ball some or times with consistent gains of from to yards under the almost impossible conditions known as the 'punt rush,' the signal for my regular play was not given again in spite of the fact that my ground gaining had been one of the steadiest features of the yale play throughout the year, and because watkinson was allowed to try five times in succession for goals from the field, close up, only one of which he made; whereas billy bull could probably have made at least three out of the five; but of course bull's ability was not so well-known then. the direct cause of the lamar run was due to the fact that all the fast runners and good tacklers of the yale line were down the field under a kick, so close to toler, the other halfback from lamar, that when toler muffed the ball so egregiously that it bounded over our heads some yards, lamar who had not come across the field to back toler up, had been able to get the ball on the bound and on the dead run, thus having in front of him all the princeton team except toler; whereas the yale team was depleted by the fact that wallace, corwin, gill (who had come on as a substitute) myself and even harry beecher from quarterback, had run down the field to within a few yards of toler before he muffed the ball. we all turned and watched lamar run, being so petrified that not one of us took a step, and, although the scene is photographed on my memory, i cannot see one of all the yale players making a tackle at lamar. hodge, the princeton quarterback, kicked the goal, thus making the score to and winning the game. the outburst from the princeton contingent at the end of the game was one of the most heartfelt and spontaneous i have ever heard or seen. i understand that practically all of lamar's uniform was torn into pieces and handed out to the various princeton girls and their escorts who had come to new haven to see the game. "the yale-princeton game in the fall of was a remarkable as well as a disagreeable one. we played at princeton when the field at that time combined the elements of stickiness and slipperiness to an unbelievable extent. it rained heavily throughout the game and the proverbial 'hog on ice' could not have slipped and slathered around worse than all the players on both sides. there was a long controversy about who should act as referee (in those days we had only one official) and after a delay of about an hour from the time the game should have begun, harris, a princeton man, was allowed to do the officiating. bob corwin, who was end-rush, only second to wallace in his ability, was captain of the team. "yale made one touchdown which seemed to be perfectly fair but which was disallowed; and later, in the second half, watkinson for yale kicked the ball so that it rolled across the goal line, whereupon a crowd, which was standing around the ropes (in those days there was practically no grandstand) crowded onto the field where savage, the princeton fullback had fallen on the ball. the general report is that kid wallace held savage while corwin pulled the slippery ball away from him, and that when harris, the referee, was able to dig his way through the crowd he found corwin on the ball, and in view of the great fuss that had been made about his previous decision, was not able to credit savage's statement that he (savage) had said 'down' long before the yale ends had been able to pull the ball away from him. the result was that the touchdown was allowed. thereupon the crowd all came onto the field and we were not able to clear it for some or minutes, so that there was not time enough to finish the full minutes of the second-half of the game before dark. this led to some bitter discussion between yale and princeton as to whether the game had been played. this discussion was settled by the intercollegiate committee in declaring that yale had won the game, to , but that no championship should be awarded. it is interesting to note, however, that all the gold footballs worn by the yale players of this game are marked 'champions, .' "a word about the princeton men who were playing during my four years at college. "irvine was a fine steady player and his success at mercersburg is in keeping with the promise shown in his football days. "hector cowan played against me three years at guard and he fully deserved the great reputation he had at that time in every particular of the game, including running with the ball. "george was one of the very best center rushes i have ever seen and probably would have made a great player elsewhere along the line if he had been relieved from the obscuring effect of playing center at the time a center had no particular opportunity to show his ability. "snake ames for some reason was never able to do anything against the yale team during the time i was playing, but his work in some later games that i saw and in which i officiated, convinced me that he was worthy of his nickname, because there are only a few men who are able to wind their way through an entire field of opponents with as much celerity and effect as ames would display time after time. "in the fall of ' yale beat harvard to , with great ease, and if it had not been for injuries to yale players, could probably have made it or to . most of the yale players came out of the game with very disgraceful marks of the roughness of the harvard men. i had a badly broken nose from an intentional blow. george carter had a cut requiring eight stitches above his eye. the tackle next to me had a face which was pounded black and blue all over. to the credit of the harvard men i will say that they came to the box at the theater that night occupied by the yale team and apologized for what they had done, stating that they had been coached to play in that way and that they would never again allow anybody to coach who would try to have the harvard players use intentionally unfair roughness. "when i entered pennsylvania i found a more or less happy-go-lucky brilliant man, arthur knipe, who was not considered fully worthy of being on even the pennsylvania teams of those days, namely: teams that were being beaten or to by yale, harvard and princeton. i succeeded in arousing the interest of knipe, and although in my mind he never, during his active membership of the pennsylvania team, came up to per cent. of his true playing value, he was, even so, undoubtedly the peer of any man that ever played football. knipe was brilliant but careless, and was at once the joy and despair of any coach who took an interest in his men. he captained the pennsylvania team with which i sprung the 'guards back' and 'short end defense.' "jack minds i remember seeing, in , standing around on the field as a member of the second or third scrub teams. i suppose he would not have been invited to preliminary training except for his own courage and pertinacity which caused him to demand to be taken. with no thought that he could possibly make the team i gradually found myself using him in , until he was a fixture at tackle, although he dodged the scales throughout the entire fall in order that i might not know that he only weighed pounds. [illustration: wharton bull woodruff rosengarten osgood brooke knipe gelbert minds williams wagonhurst old penn heroes] "i will not enlarge upon the ability of men like george brooke, wylie woodruff, buck wharton, joe mccracken, john outland and others, but anybody speaking of pennsylvania players during the late ' 's cannot pass by truxton hare, who stands forth as a chevalier bayard among the ranks of college football players. hare entered pennsylvania in ' from st. paul without any thought that he was likely to be even a mediocre player. he weighed only about pounds at the time and was immature. although his wonderfully symmetrical build, in which he looked like a magnified billy graves, kept him from looking as large as heffelfinger at his greatest development at yale, hare was certainly ten pounds heavier in fine condition than heffelfinger was before the latter left yale." chapter viii anecdotes and recollections in the latter eighties the signal from the quarterback to the center for putting the ball in play was a pressure of the fingers and thumb on the hips of the center. in the ' championship game between yale and princeton, yale had been steadily advancing the ball and it looked as if they had started out for a march up the field for a touchdown. in those days signals were not rattled off with the speed that they are given now, and the quarterback often took some time to consider his next play, during which time he might stand in any position back of the line. playing right guard on the princeton team was j. r. thomas, more familiarly known as long tommy. he was six feet six or seven inches tall and built more longitudinally than otherwise. it occurred to janeway, who was playing left guard, that long tommy's great length and reach might be used to great advantage when occasion offered. he, therefore, took occasion to say to thomas during a lull in the game, "if you get a chance, reach over when wurtenburg--the yale quarter--isn't looking, and pinch the yale center so that he will put the ball in play when the backs are not expecting it." the yale center, by the way, was bert hanson. yale continued to advance the ball on two or three successive plays and finally had a third down with two yards to gain. at this critical moment the looked-for opportunity arrived. wurtenburg called a consultation of the other backs to decide on the next play. while the consultation was going on long tommy reached over and gently nipped hanson where he was expecting the signal. hanson immediately put the ball in play and as a result janeway broke through and fell on the ball for a ten yards gain and first down for princeton. to say that the yale team were frantic with surprise and rage would be putting it mildly. poor hanson came in for some pretty rough flagging. he swore by all that was good and holy that he had received the signal to put the ball in play, which was true. but wurtenburg insisted that he had not given the signal. there was no time for wrangling at that moment as the referee ordered the game to proceed. yale did not learn how that ball came to be put in play until some time after the game, which was the last of the season, when long tommy happening to meet up with hanson and several other yale players in a new york restaurant, told with great glee how he gave the signal that stopped yale's triumphant advance. * * * * * numerals and combinations of numbers were not used as signals until . prior to that, phrases, catch-words and gestures were the only modes of indicating the plays to be used. for instance, the signal for hector cowan of princeton to run with the ball was an entreaty by the captain, who in those days usually gave the signals, addressed to the team, to gain an uneven number of yards. therefore the expression, "let's gain three, five or seven yards," would indicate to the team that cowan was to take the ball, and an effort was made to open up the line for him at the point at which he usually bucked it. irvine, the other tackle, ran with the ball when an even number of yards was called for. for a kick the signal was any phrase which asked a question, as for instance, "how many yards to gain?" one of the signals used by corbin, captain of yale, to indicate a certain play, was the removal of his cap. they wore caps in those days. a variation of this play was indicated if in addition to removing his cap he expectorated emphatically. hodge, the princeton quarterback, noticing the cap signals, determined that he would handicap the captain's strategy by stealing his cap. he called the team back and very earnestly impressed upon them the advantage that would accrue if any of them could surreptitiously get possession of captain corbin's head-covering. corbin, however, kept such good watch on his property that no one was able to purloin it. sport donnelly, who played left end on princeton's ' team, was perhaps one of the roughest players that ever went into a game, and at the same time one of the best ends that ever went down the field under a kick. donnelly was one of the few men that could play his game up to the top notch and at the same time keep his opponent harassed to the point of frenzy by a continual line of conversation in a sarcastic vein which invariably got the opposing player rattled. he would say or do something to the man opposite him which would goad that individual to fury and then when retaliation was about to come in the shape of a blow, he would yell "mr. umpire," and in many instances the player would be ruled off the field. donnelly's line of conversation in a yale game, addressed to billy rhodes who played opposite him, would be somewhat as follows: "ah, mr. rhodes, i see mr. gill is about to run with the ball." just then gill would come tearing around from his position at tackle and donnelly would remark: "well, excuse me, mr. rhodes, for a moment, i've got to tackle mr. gill." he would then sidestep in such a manner as to elude rhodes's manoeuvres to prevent him breaking through, and stop gill for a loss. hector cowan, who was captain of the princeton ' team was another rough player. in those days the men in the heat of playing would indulge in exclamations hardly fit for a drawing room. in fact most of the time the words used would have been more in place among a lot of pirates. cowan was no exception to the rule so far as giving vent to his feelings was concerned, but he invariably used one phrase to do so. he was a fellow of sterling character and was studying for the ministry. not even the excitement of the moment could make him forget himself to the extent of the other players, and where their language would have to be represented in print by a lot of dashes, cowan's could be printed in the blackest face type without offending anyone. it was amusing to see this big fellow, worked up to the point of explosion, wave his arms and exclaim: "oh, sugar!" it would bring a roar of mock protest from the other players, and threats to report him for his rough talk. while the men made joke of hector's talk they had a thorough respect for his sterling principles. victorious days at yale during the early days of football yale's record was an enviable one. the schedules included, yale, harvard, princeton, university of pennsylvania, rutgers, columbia, stevens institute of technology, dartmouth, amherst, and university of michigan. it is interesting to note that since the formation of the football association, in to , yale had been awarded the championship flag five times, princeton one, harvard none. yale had won out of games, having lost three to princeton, one to harvard and one to columbia. since yale had lost but one game and that by one point. this was the tilly lamar game, which princeton won. in points yale had scored, since points began to be counted, to her opponents' ; in goals to and in touchdowns to , which is truly a unique record. it was during this period that pa corbin, a country boy, entered yale and in his senior year became captain of the famous ' team. this brilliant eleven had a wonderfully successful season and yale men now began to take stock and really appreciate the remarkable record that was hers upon the field of football. in commemoration of these victories, yale men gathered from far and near, crowding delmonico's banquet hall to the limit to pay tribute to yale athletic successes. "and it came to pass, when the people heard the sound of the trumpet, and the people shouted with a great shout ... they took the city." in a room beautifully decorated with yale banners and trophies four hundred elis sat down to enjoy the bulldog feast, and there honored and cheered to the echo the great football traditions of yale and the men who made her famous by so vast a margin. chauncey m. depew in his address that evening stated that for the only time in one hundred and eighty-eight years the alumni of yale met solely to celebrate her athletic triumphs. pa corbin, captain of the victorious ' football team, responded, as follows: "again we have met the enemy and he is ours. in fact we have been successful so many times there is something of a sameness about it. it is a good deal like what the old man said about leading a good life. it is monotonous, but satisfactory. there are perhaps a few special reasons why we won the championship this year, but the general principles are the same, which have always made us win. first, by following out certain traditions, which are handed down to us year by year from former team captains and coaches; the necessity of advancing each year beyond the point attained the year before; the mastering of the play of our opponents and planning our game to meet it. second, by the hard, conscientious work, such as only a yale team knows how to do. third, by going on to the field with that high courage and determination which has always been characteristic of the yale eleven, something like the spirit of the ancient greeks who went into battle with the decision to return with their shields or on them. sometimes they have been animated with the spirit which knows no defeat, like the little drummer boy, who was ordered by napoleon in a crisis in the battle to beat a retreat. the boy did not move. 'boy, beat a retreat.' he did not stir, but at a third command, he straightened up and said: 'sire, i know not how, but i can beat a charge that will wake the dead.' he did so and the troops moved forward and were victorious. it is this same spirit which in many cases has seemed to animate our men. [illustration: rhodes woodruff heffelfinger gill wallace stagg mcclung captain corbin bull wurtenberg graves pa corbin's team] "but our victory is due in a great measure this year to a man who knows more about football than any man in this country, who gave much of his valuable time in continually advising and in actual coaching on the field. i refer to walter camp, and as long as his spirit hovers over the yale campus and our traditions for football playing are religiously followed out there is no reason why yale should not remain, as she always has been, at the head of american football." those were corbin's recollections the year of that great victory. time has not dimmed them, nor has his memory faded. rather the opposite. from what follows you will note that a woman now enters the camp of the eli coaching staff, mention of whom was not made in corbin's speech of ' . pa corbin prides himself in the fact that twenty-five years afterward he brought his old team mates together and gave them a dinner. the menu card tells of the traditional coaching system of corbin's great team of ' and beneath the picture of mr. and mrs. walter camp appears in headlines: "head coaches of the yale football team of " "the head-coaches of the yale team," says corbin, "were really mr. and mrs. walter camp. they had been married in the summer of and were staying with relatives in new haven. mr. camp had just begun his connection with a new haven concern which occupied most of his time. mrs. camp was present at yale field every day at the football practice and made careful note of the plays, the players and anything that should be observed in connection with the style of play and the individual weakness or strength. she gave her observations in detail to her husband at supper every night and when i arrived mr. camp would be thoroughly familiar with that day's practice and would be ready for suggestions as to plays and players to be put in operation the next day. "this method was pursued during the entire season and was practically the only systematic coaching that the team received. of course there were several old players like tompkins ' , terry ' and knapp ' , who came to the field frequently. "at that time it was customary for me to snap the ball back to the quarter with my foot. by standing the ball on end and exercising a certain pressure on the same it was possible to have it bound into the quarterback's hands. it was necessary, therefore, for me to attend to this detail as well as to block my opponent and make holes through the line for the backs. "while the rules of the game at that time provided for an umpire as well as a referee, the fact that there was no neutral zone and players were in close contact with each other on the line of scrimmage gave opportunity for more roughness than is customary at the present time. neither were the officials so strict about their rulings. "prior to this time it had been customary to give word signals for the different plays, these being certain words which were used in various sentences relating to football and the progress of the game. as center, i was so tall that a system of sign signals was devised which i used entirely in the princeton game, and the opponents, from the talk, which continued as usual, supposed that word signals were being used and were entirely ignorant of the sign signals during the progress of the game. the pulling of the visor of my cap was a kick signal. everything that i did with my left hand in touching different parts of my uniform on the left side from collar to shoe lace meant a signal for a play at different points on the left side of the line. similar signals with my right hand meant similar plays on the right side of the line. the system worked perfectly and there was no case of missed signal. the next year the use of numbers for signals began, and has continued until the present date. "the work of the yale team during the season was very much retarded by injuries to their best players. the papers were so filled with these accounts that the general opinion of the public was that the team would be in poor physical condition to meet princeton. as luck would have it, however, the invalids reached a convalescing stage in time to enter the wesleyan game on the saturday before the one to be played with princeton in fairly good condition. "head coach camp and i attended the princeton-harvard game at princeton on that day. upon our return to new york we received a telegram from mrs. camp to the effect that the score made by yale against wesleyan was to nothing. one of the graduate coaches was much impressed with the opportunity to turn a few pennies and he requested that the information be kept quiet until he could see a few princeton men. the result was that he negotiated the small end of several stakes at long odds against yale. when the news of the wesleyan score was made public the next morning, the opinion of the public changed somewhat as to the merit of the team. it nevertheless went into the princeton game as not being the favorite and in the opinion of disinterested persons it was expected that princeton would win handsomely." cowan the great has this to say: "i happened to be down on the grounds to watch the practice just a few days before the yale game. they did not have enough scrub to make a good defense. jim robinson happened to see me there and asked me to play. he had asked me before, and i had always refused, but this time for some reason i accepted and he took me to the club house. "i got into my clothes. the shoes were about three sizes too small. that day i played guard opposite tracy harris. i played well enough so that they wanted me to come down the next day, as they said they wanted good practice. the next day i was put against captain bird, who had been out of town the first day i played. he had the reputation of being not at all delicate in the way he handled the scrub men who played against him, so that they had learned to keep away from him. "as i had not played before, i did not know enough to be afraid of him, so when the ball was put in play i simply charged forward at the quarterback and was able to spoil a good many of his plays. i heard afterward that bird asked jim robinson who that damn freshman was that played against him. the next year i was put in bird's place at left guard, as he had graduated and fought all comers for the place. i was never put on the scrub again. "my condition when in princeton was the best. having been raised in the country, i knew what hard work was and in the five years that i played football i never left the field on account of injury either in practice or in games with other teams. "it is a great thing to play the game of football as hard as you can. i never deliberately went to do a man up. if he played a rough game, i simply played him the harder. i never struck a man with my fist in the game. i do not remember ever losing my temper. perhaps i did not have temper enough. "when we speak of a football man's nerve i would say that any man who stopped to think of himself is not worthy of the game, but there is one man who seemed to me had a little more nerve than the average. i think that he played for two years on our scrub, and the reason that he was kept there so long was on account of his size. he only weighed about pounds, but for all the time he played on the scrub he played halfback and no one ever saw him hesitate to make every inch that he could, even though he knew he had to suffer for it. "in the fall of ' , i think, yup cook played right tackle on the varsity. he was very strong in his shoulders and arms and had the grip of a blacksmith. channing, this nervy little -pounder, played left halfback on the scrub. when he went into the line, cook would take him by the shoulders and slam him into the ground. our playing field at the time was very dry and the ground was like a rock. i used to feel very sorry for the little fellow. on his elbows and hips and knees he had raw sores as big as silver dollars; yet he never hesitated to make the attempt, and he never called 'down' to save himself from punishment. the next year he made the team. everybody admired him. "football men must never forget tilly lamar, who played halfback. i think he was one of the greatest halfbacks and one who would have made a record in any age of football. i have seen him go through a line with nearly every man on the opposing team holding him. he would break loose from one after the other. "lamar was a short, chunky fellow and ran close to the ground with his back level, and about the only place one could get hold of him was his shoulders. he would always turn toward the tackler instead of away, and it had the effect of throwing him over his head. the only way that the yale men could stop him at all was to dive clear under and get him by the legs. "you have always heard a lot about snake ames. snake was a very spectacular player, but one very hard to stop, especially in an open field. he was very fast and during the last year of his playing he developed a duck and would go clear under the man trying to tackle him. this he did by putting one hand flat on the ground, so that his body would just miss the ground; even the good tacklers that yale always had were not able to stop him. "one of princeton's old reliables was our center, george, ' . he may not have got much out of the plaudits from the grandstand, but those of us who knew what he was doing appreciated his work. we always felt safe as to our center. he was steady and brilliant. "it was during this time that yale developed a wedge play on center. there were no restrictions as to how the line would be formed, and yale would put all their guards and tackles and ends back, forming a big v with the man with the ball in the center. "yale had been able to knock the opposing center out of the way till they struck george. how well i remember this giant, who was able to hold the whole wedge until he could knock the sides in and pile them up in a bunch. yale soon gave him up and tried to gain elsewhere. "i must tell you about one more of princeton's football players. not so much for his playing, but for his head work. during the years that i was captain, in the fall of ' the rules were changed so that one was allowed to block an opponent only by the body. in other words, not allowed to use hands or arms in blocking. it was sam hodge, who played end and worked out what is known to-day as boxing the tackle. you can understand what effect it would have on a man who was not used to it. the end would knock the opposing tackle and send him clear out of the play and the half would keep the end out." i once asked cowan to tell something about his experiences and men he played against. "the yale game was the great game in my days," he said. "harvard did not have the football instinct as well developed as yale, and it is of the yale players that i have more in mind. one man i will always remember is gill, who played left tackle for yale and was captain during his senior year. i remember him because we had a good deal to do with each other. when i ran with the ball i had to get around him if i made any advance, and i must say that i found it no easy thing to do, as he was a sure tackler. and when he ran with the ball i had the good pleasure of cutting his runs short. "another man whom i consider one of the greatest punters of the past is bull of yale. i have stopped a good many punts and drop kicks in my play, but i do not remember stopping a single kick of his, and it was not because i did not try. he kicked with his left foot, and with his back partially towards the line would kick a very high ball, and when you jumped into him--on the principle, that if you cannot get the ball, get the man--you had the sensation of striking something hard." after cowan had stopped playing and graduated he acted as an official in a good many of the big games. he states as follows: "you ask about my own experiences as an official, and for experience with other officials. i always got along pretty well as a referee. there was very little kicking on my decisions. but i was good for nothing as an umpire. i could not keep my eyes off the ball, so did not see the fouls as much as i should. you boys have probably heard how i was ruled off the field in a harvard-princeton game in ' . i remember terry of yale who refereed that game, above all others. there was a rule at that time that intentional tackling below the knees was a foul and the penalty was disqualification. our game had just started. we had only two or three plays, harvard having the ball. i broke through the line and tackled the man as soon as he had the ball. i had him around the legs about the knees, but in his efforts to get away, my hands slipped down. but at the moment remembering the rule i let him go, and for this i was disqualified. i might say that we lost the game, for we did not have any one to take my place. i had always been in my place and no one ever thought that i would not be there. my being disqualified was probably the reason for the princeton defeat. "i do not think that terry intended to be unfair. the game had just started, and he was trying to be strict, and without stopping to think whether it was intentional or not. he saw the rule being broken and acted on the impulse of the moment. i have since heard that terry felt very bad about it afterwards. i never felt right towards him until i had a chance to get even with him, and it came in this way. the crescent club of brooklyn played the cleveland athletic club at cleveland. george and myself were invited to play with the cleveland club, and on the crescent team were alex moffat and terry. terry played left halfback, and right here was where i got in my work. when terry ran with the ball i generally had a chance to help him meet the earth. i had one chance in particular. terry got the ball and got around our end, and on a long end run i took after him, caught him from the side, threw him over my head out of bounds. as we were both running at the top of our speed he hit the ground with considerable force. i felt better towards him after this game." in such vivid phrases as these a great hero of the past tells of things well worth recording. * * * * * football competition is very strong. there is the keenest sort of rivalry among college teams. there is very little love on the part of the men who play against each other on the day of the contest, but after the game is all over, and these men meet in after years, very strong friendships are often formed. sometimes these opponents never meet again, but down deep in their hearts they have a most wholesome regard for each other, and so in my recollections of the old heroes, it will be most interesting to hear in their own words, something about their own achievements and experiences in the games they played thirty years ago. hector cowan, who captained the ' team at princeton, played three years against george woodruff of yale. it has been twenty-eight years since that wonderful battle took place between these two men. it is still talked about by people who saw the game, and now let us read what these two contestants say about each other. "of the three years that i played guard i met george woodruff as my opponent," says cowan, "and i always felt that he was the strongest man i had to meet and one who was always on the square. he played the game for what it was worth, and he showed later that he could teach it to others by the way he taught the penn' team." says george woodruff, delving into the old days: "hector cowan played against me three years at guard, and he fully deserves the reputation he had at that time in every particular of the game, including running with the ball. i doubt whether any other princeton man was ever more able to make ground whenever he tried, although cowan was not in any particular a showy player. for some reason or other, cowan seems to have had a reputation for rough play, which shows how untrue traditions can be handed down. i never played against or with a finer and steadier player, or one more free from the remotest desire to play roughly for the sake of roughness itself." when heffelfinger's last game had been played there appeared in a newspaper of november th, , a farewell to heffelfinger. good-by heff! the boys will miss you, and the old men, too, and the girls; you tossed the other side about as if they were ten-pins; you took little bliss under your wing and he ran with the ball like a pilot boat by the _teutonic_. you used eyes, ears, shoulders, legs, arms and head and took it all in. you're the best football rusher america, or the world, has shown; and best of all you never slugged, lost your temper or did anything mean; oh come thou mighty one, go not away, the team thou must not fail: stay where thou art, please, heffelfinger, stay, and still be true to yale-- linger, yet linger, heffelfinger, a truly civil engineer. his trust would ne'er surrender; unstrap thy trunks, excuse this scalding tear. still be yale's best defender! linger, oh, linger, heffelfinger. princeton and harvard, there is cause to fear will dance joy's double shuffle when of thy western flight they come to hear. stay and their tempers ruffle. linger, oh, linger, heffelfinger. john cranston "my inspiration for the game came when my country cousin returned from exeter and told me he believed i had the making of a football player," says john cranston, who was harvard's famous old center and former coach. "at once i pestered him with all kinds of questions about the requirements, and believed that some day i would do something. i shall always remember my first day on the field at exeter. lacking the wherewithal to buy the regulation suit, i appeared in the none too strong blue shirt and overalls used on the farm. i remember too that it was not long before harding said: 'take that young countryman to the gymnasium before he is injured for life; he doesn't know which way to run when he gets the ball; he doesn't know the game; and he looks too thick headed to play the game anyway.' "as boys on neighboring farms of western new york, three of us, who were later to play on different college teams, hunted skunks and rabbits together. had we been on the same team we would have been side by side. cook was a great tackle at princeton; reed one of the best guards cornell ever had; and i, owing to some good team mates, played as center on the first harvard eleven to defeat yale. it is said that cook in his first game at exeter grabbed the ball and started for his own goal for a touchdown, and that reed after playing the long afternoon in the game which cornell won, asked the referee which side was victorious. "i well remember that at exeter we were planning how to celebrate our victory over andover, even to the most minute detail. we knew who was to ring the academy and church bells of the town, and where we were to have the bonfire at night. we were deprived of that pleasure on account of the great playing and better spirit of the andover team. a few of our exeter men then and there made a silent compact that exeter would feel a little better after another contest with andover. the following three years we defeated andover by large scores. "any one who has played the game can recall some amusing situations. i recall the first year at harvard when we were playing against the andover team that suddenly the whole andover school gave the yale cheer. dud dean, who was behind me, fired up and said it was the freshest thing he had ever heard. at springfield i remember one yale-harvard game started with ten men of my own school, exeter, in the game. in another yale game we were told to look ugly and defiant as we lined up to face yale, but i was forced to laugh long and hard when i found myself facing frankie barbour, the little yale quarter, who lived with me in the same dormitory at exeter for three years." [illustration: breakers ahead phil king in the old days.] chapter ix the nineties and after men of to-day who never had an opportunity of seeing foster sanford play will be interested in some anecdotes of his playing days and to read in another chapter of this book some of his coaching experiences. "as a boy," said sandy, "i lived in new haven. i chalked the lines on the football field for the game in which tilly lamar made his famous run for princeton. i played on the college team two years before i entered yale. i learned a lot of football playing against billy rhodes, that great yale tackle. "i'll tell you about the day i made the yale team in my freshman year. pa corbin took me in hand. i think he wanted to see if i had lots of nerve. he told me to report at nine o'clock for practice. he put me through a hard, grueling work-out, showing me how to snap the ball; how to charge and body check. all this took place in a driving rain, and he kept me out until one o'clock, when he said: "'you can change your jersey now; that is, put on a dry one.' "i went over to the training table then to see if i couldn't get some dinner. believe me, i was hungry. but every one had finished his meal and all i could pick up was the things that were left. here i ran into a fellow named brennen, who said: "'they're trying to do you up. this is the day they are deciding whether you will be center rush or not.' "i then went out to yale field and joined the rest of the players, and the stunts they put me through that afternoon i will never forget. but i remembered what brennen had told me, and it made me play all the harder. to tell the truth, after practice, i realized that i was so sore i could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. to make matters worse, the coaches told me to run in to town, a distance of two miles, while _they_ drove off in a bus. i didn't catch the bus until they were on park street, but i pegged along just the same and beat them in to the gate. billy rhodes and pa corbin took care of me and rubbed me down. it seems as though they rubbed every bit of skin off of me. i was like fire. "that's the day i made the yale team. "i was twenty years old, six feet tall, and weighed about pounds." when i asked sandy who gave him the hardest game of his life, he replied promptly: "wharton, of pennsylvania. he got through me." parke davis' enthusiasm for football is known the country over. from his experience as a player, as a coach and writer, he has become an authority. let us read some of his recollections. "years ago there was a high spirited young player at princeton serving his novitiate upon the scrub. one day an emergency transferred him for the first time in his career to the varsity. the game was against a small college. this sudden promotion was possible through his fortunate knowledge of the varsity signals. upon the first play a fumble occurred. our hero seized the ball. a long service upon the scrub had ingrained him to regard the princeton varsity men always as opponents. in the excitement of the play he became confused, when lo! he leaped into flight toward the wrong goal. dashing around princeton's left end he reversed his field and crossed over to the right. phil king, princeton's quarterback, was so amazed at the performance that he was too spellbound to tackle his comrade. down the backfield the player sped towards his own goal. shep homans, his fullback, took in the impending catastrophe at a glance and dashed forward, laid the halfback low with a sharp tackle, thereby preventing a safety. the game was unimportant, the princeton's score was large, so the unfortunate player, although the butt of many a jest, soon survived all jokes and jibes and became in time a famous player." "the first princeton-yale game in being played under the old association rules was waged with a round ball. in the first scrimmage a terrific report sounded across the field. when the contending players had been separated the poor football was found upon the field a flattened sheet of rubber. two toes had struck it simultaneously or some one's huge chest had crushed it and the ball had exploded. "whenever men are discussing the frantic enthusiasm of some fellows of the game i always recall the following episode as a standard of measurement. the rules committee met one night at the martinique in new york for their annual winter session. just as the members were going upstairs to convene, i had the pleasure of introducing george foster sanford to fielding h. yost. the introduction was made in the middle of the lobby directly in the way of the traffic passing in and out of the main door. the rules committee had gone into its regular session; the hour was eight o'clock in the evening. when they came down at midnight these two great football heroes were standing in the very spot where they were introduced four hours before and they were talking as they had been every minute throughout the four hours about football. members of the committee joked with the two enthusiasts and then retired. when they came down stairs the next morning at eight o'clock they found the two fanatics seated upon a bench nearby still talking football, and that afternoon when the committee had finished its labors and had adjourned _sine die_ they left sanford and yost still in the lobby, still on the bench, hungry and sleepy and still talking football." this anecdote will be a good one for parke davis' friends to read, for how he ever stayed out of that talk-fest is a mystery--maybe he did. now that yost and sanford have retired we will let parke continue. "a few years ago everybody except dartmouth men laughed at the football which, bounding along the ground at princeton suddenly jumped over the cross bar and gave to princeton a goal from the field which carried with it the victory. but did you ever hear that in the preceding season, in a game between two southern pennsylvania colleges, a ball went awry from a drop kick, striking in the chest a policeman who had strayed upon the field? the ball rebounded and cleanly caromed between the goal post for a goal from the field. years ago lafayette and pennsylvania state college were waging a close game at easton. suddenly, and without being noticed, morton f. jones, lafayette's famous center-rush in those days, left the field of play to change his head gear. the ball was snapped in play and a fleet penn state halfback broke through lafayette's line, and, armed with the ball, dodged the second barriers and threatened by a dashing sprint to score in the extreme corner of the field. as he reached the -yard line, to the amazement of all, jones dashed out of the side line crowd upon the field between the -yard line and his goal, thereby intercepting the state halfback, tackling him so sharply that the latter dropped the ball. jones picked it up and ran it back yards. there was no rule at that time which prevented the play, and so penn-state ultimately was defeated. jones not only was a hero, but his exploit long remained a mystery to many who endeavored to figure out how he could have been yards ahead of the ball and between the runner and his own goal line." a story is told of the wonderful dodging ability of phil king, princeton ' . he was known throughout the football world as one of the shiftiest runners of his day. through his efficient work, king had fairly won the game against yale in ' . the next year the yale men made up their minds that the only way to defeat princeton was to take care of king, and they were ever on the alert to watch him whenever he got the ball. the whole yale team was looking for king throughout this game. on the kick-off phil got the ball, and all the yale forwards began to shout, "here he comes, here he comes," and then as he was cleverly dodging and evading the yale players, one of the backs, who was waiting to tackle him low, was heard to say, "there he goes." those of the old-timers who study the picture of the flying wedge on the opposite page will get a glimpse of phil king about to set in motion one of the most devilishly ingenious maneuvers in the history of the game. with all the formidable power behind him, the old reliables of what the modern analytical coaches are pleased to term the farce plays. balliet, beef wheeler, biffy lea, gus holly, frank morse, doggy trenchard, douglas ward, knox taylor, harry brown, jerry mccauley, and jim blake; king, nevertheless, stood out in lonely eminence, ready to touch the ball down, await the thunder of the joining lines of interference and pick up the tremendous pace, either at the apex of the crashing v or cunningly concealed and swept along to meet the terrific impact with the waiting line of blue. great was the crash thereof, and it was a safe wager that king with the ball would not go unscathed. [illustration: look out, princeton!] this kind of football brought to light the old-time indomitable courage of which the stalwarts of those days love to talk at every gridiron reunion. but for the moment let us give yale the ball and stand the giant princeton team upon defense. let us watch george adee get the ball from phil stillman and with his wonderful football genius develop a smashing play enveloped in a locked line of blue, grim with the menace of orville hickok, jim mccrea, anse beard, fred murphy, frank hinkey and jack greenway. onward these mighty yale forwards ground their way through the princeton defense, making a breach through which the mighty butterworth, bronc armstrong and brink thorne might bring victory to yale. this was truly a day when giants clashed. as you look at these pictures do the players of to-day wonder any longer that the heroes of the olden time are still loyal to the game of their first love? if you ever happen to go to china, i am sure one of the first americans you will hear about would be pop gailey, once a king of football centers and now a leader in y. m. c. a. work in china. lafayette first brought pop gailey forth in ' and ' , and he was the champion all-american center of the princeton team in ' . he had a wonderful influence over the men on the team. he was an example well worth following. his manly spirit was an inspiration to those about him. after one of the games a newspaper said: "old gailey stands firm as the eternal calvinistic faith, which he intends to preach when his football scrimmages are over." to charlie young, the present professor of physical instruction of the cornell university gymnasium, i cannot pay tribute high enough for the fine football spirit and the high regard with which we held him while he was at the princeton seminary. he certainly loved to play football and he used to come out and play on the scrub team against the princeton varsity. he was not eligible to play on the princeton team, as he had played his allotted time at cornell. the excellent practice he gave the princeton team--yes, more than practice: it was oftentimes victory for him as well as the scrub. he made poe and palmer ever alert and did much to make them the stars they were, as charlie's long suit was running back punts. his head work was always in evidence. he was a great field general; one of his most excellent qualities was that of punting. his was an ideal example for men to follow. princeton men were the better for having played with and against a high type man like charlie young. an evening with jim rodgers jim rodgers gave all there was in him to yale athletics. not a single year has passed since he played his last game of football but has seen him back at the yale field, coaching and giving the benefit of his experience. jim rodgers was captain of the ' team at new haven, and the traditions that can be written about a winning captain are many. no greater pleasure can be afforded any man who loves to hear an old football player relate experiences than to listen, while rodgers tells of his own playing days, and of some of the men in his experience. it was once my pleasure to spend an evening with jim in his home; really a football home. mrs. rodgers knows much of football and as jim enthusiastically and with wonderfully keen recollection tells of the old games, a twelve-year-old boy listens, as only a boy can to his father, his great hero, and as jim puts his hand on the boy's shoulders he tells him the ideal of his dreams is to have him make the yale team some day, and an enthusiastic daughter who sits near hopes so too. his scrap books and athletic pictures go to make a rare collection. many of us would like to have seen jim rodgers begin his football career at andover when he was sixteen years old. it was there that his pounds of bone and muscle stood for much. it was at andover that bill odlin, that great dartmouth man, coached so many wonderful prep. school stars, who later became more famous at the colleges to which they went. rodgers went to yale with a big rep. he had been captain of the andover team. in the fall of ' andover beat brown to . jim rodgers was very conspicuous on the field, not only on account of his good playing and muscular appearance, but because his blond hair, which he wore very long as a protection, was very noticeable. from this yale player, whose friends are legion, let us read some experiences and catch his spirit: "i was never a star player, but i was a reliable. in my freshman year i did not make the team, owing to the fact that i had bad knees and better candidates were available. this was the one year in yale football, perhaps in all football, when the team that played the year before came back to college with not a man missing. frank hinkey had been captain the year before and then came through as senior captain. there was not a senior on frank hinkey's team. the first team, therefore, all came back. "al jerrems and louis hinkey were the only additions to the old team. "perhaps the keenest disappointment that ever came to me in football was the fact that i could not play in that famous yale-harvard game my freshman year. however, i came so very near it that billy rhodes and heffelfinger came around to where i was sitting on the side lines, after fred murphy had been taken out of the game. they started to limber me up by running me up and down the side line, but hinkey, the captain, came over to the side line and yelled for chadwick, who went into the game. i had worked myself up into a highly nervous condition anticipating going in, but now i realized my knees would not allow it. the disappointment that day, though, was very severe. to show you what a hold these old games had on me, many years after this game hinkey and i were talking about this particular game, when he said to me: 'you never knew how close you came to getting into that springfield game, jim.' then i told him of my experience, but he told me he had it in his mind to put me in at halfback, and ever since then, when i think of it, cold chills run up and down my spine. it absolutely scared me stiff to think how i might have lost that game, even though i never actually participated in it. "the yale football management, however, on account of my work during the season decided to give me my y, gold football and banner. the banner was a blue flag with the names of the team and the position they played and the score, to . it was a case where i came so near winning it that they gave it to me." jim rodgers played three years against garry cochran and this great princeton captain stands out in his recollections of yale-princeton games. he goes on to say: "if it had not been for garry cochran, i might be rated as one of the big tackles of the football world to-day. i used to dream of him three weeks before the princeton game; how i was going to stand him off, and let me tell you if you got in between doc hillebrand and garry cochran you were a sucker. those games were a nightmare to me. cochran used to fall on my foot, box me in and hold me there, and keep me out of the play." jim rodgers is very modest in this statement. the very reason that he is regarded as a truly wonderful tackle is on account of the great game he played against cochran. how wonderfully reliable he was football history well records. he was always to be depended upon. "in the fall of when i was captain of the yale team," rodgers continues, "perhaps the most spectacular yale victory was pulled off, when princeton, with the exception of perhaps two men, and virtually the same team that had beaten yale the year before, came on the field and through overconfidence or lack of training did not show up to their best form. we were out for blood that day. i said to johnny baird, princeton quarterback: 'princeton is great to-day. we have played ten minutes and you haven't scored.' johnny, with a look of determination upon his face, said, 'you fellows can play ten times ten minutes and you'll never score,' but the princeton football hangs in the yale trophy room. "i have always claimed that charlie de saulles put the yale ' team on the map. charlie de saulles, with his three wonderful runs, which averaged not less than yards each, really brought about the victory. "frank butterworth as head coach will always have my highest regard; he did more than any one alive could have done to pull off an apparently impossible victory." "one great feature of this game was ad kelly's series of individual gains, aided by hillebrand and edwards, through rodgers and chadwick. kelly took the ball for consecutive yards up the field in gains of from one to three yards each, when fortunately for yale, a fumble gave them the ball. when the fumble occurred, i happened at the time to break through very fast. there lay the ball on the ground, and nobody but myself near it. the great chance was there to pick it up and perhaps, even with my slow speed, gain to yards for yale. no such thought, however, entered my head. i wanted that ball and curled up around it and hugged it as a tortoise would close in its shell. my recollection is now that i sat there for about five minutes before anybody deigned to fall on me. at all events, i had the ball. "gordon brown played as a freshman on my team. he had a football face that i liked. he weighed pounds and was feet inches tall. gordon went up against bouvé in the harvard game, and the critics stated that bouvé was the best guard in the country that year. i said to gordon, 'play this fellow the game of his life, and when you get him, let me know and i'll send some plays through you.' after about sixty minutes of play gordon came to me and said, 'jim, i've got him,' and he had him all right, for we were then successful in gaining through that part of the harvard line. gordon brown was a very earnest player. he would allow nothing to stop him. he got his ears pretty well bruised up and they bothered him a great deal. in fact, he did have to lay off two or three days. he came to me and said, 'do you think this injury will keep me out of the big game?' 'well, i'll see if the trainer cannot make a head-gear for you.' 'well, i'll tell you this, jim,' said gordon, 'i'll have 'em cut off before i'll stay out of the game.' this amused me, and i said, 'gordon, you have nothing of beauty to lose. you will keep your ears and you will play in the big games.' "gordon brown's team, under malcolm mcbride as head coach, was a wonder. this eleven, to our minds, was the best ever turned out by yale university. they defeated princeton to , and the powerful harvard team to . their one weakness was that they had no long punter, but, as they expressed it to me afterward, they had no need of one. at one time during the game with harvard they took the ball on their own -yard line and, instead of kicking, marched it up the field, and in a very few rushes scored a touchdown. harvard men afterwards told me that after seeing a few minutes of the game they forgot the strain of harvard's defeat in their admiration of yale's playing. this team showed the highest co-ordination between the yale coaching staff, the college, and the players, and they set a high-water mark for all future teams to aim at, which was all due to gordon brown's genius for organization and leadership." it has been my experience in talking of football stars with some of the old-timers that frank hinkey heads the list. i cannot let frank hinkey remain silent this time. he says: "i think it was in the fall of ' that skim brown, who played the tackle position, was captain of the scrubs team at new haven. brown was a very energetic scrub captain. he was continuously urging on his men to better work. as you recall, the cry, 'tackle low and run low,' was continuously called after the teams in those days. brown's particular pet phrase in urging his men was, 'run low.' so that he, whenever the halfback received the ball, would immediately start to holler, 'run low,' and would keep this up until the ball was dead. he got so in the habit of using this call when on the offense that one day when the quarterback called upon him to run with the ball from the tackle position even before he got the ball he started to cry, 'run low,' while carrying the ball himself, and continued to cry out, 'run low,' even after he had gained ground for about fifteen yards and until the ball was dead. "it was in the fall of ' when vance mccormick was captain of the yale team, and diney o'neal was trying for the guard position. as you know, the linemen are very apt to know only the signals on offense which call for an opening at their particular position. and even then a great many of them never know the signals. now diney was bright enough, but like most linemen did not know the signals. it happened one day that mccormick, at the quarterback position, called several plays during the afternoon that required o'neal to make an opening. o'neal invariably failed because he didn't know the signals. mccormick, suspecting this, finally gave o'neal a good calling down. the calling down fell flat in its effects on o'neal as his reply to mccormick was, 'to hell with your mystic signs and symbols--give me the ball!'" "the real founder of football at dartmouth was bill odlin," writes ed hall. "odlin learned his football at andover, and came to dartmouth with the class of ' and it was while he was in college that football really started. he was practically the only coach. he was a remarkable kicker--certainly one of the best, if not the best. in the fall of ' odlin was captain of the team and playing fullback. harvard and yale played at springfield and on the morning of the harvard-yale game dartmouth and williams played on the same field. it was in this game in the fall of ' that he made his most remarkable kick in which the wind was a very important element. in the second half odlin was standing practically on his own ten yard line. the ball was passed back to him to be kicked and he punted. the kick itself was a remarkable kick and perfect in every way, but when the wind caught it it became a wonder and it went along like a balloon. the wind was really blowing a gale and the ball landed away beyond the williams' quarterback and the first bounce carried it several yards beyond their goal line. of course any such kick as this would have been absolutely impossible except for the extreme velocity and pressure of the wind, but it was easily the longest kick i ever saw. "three times during odlin's football playing he kicked goals from the yard line and while at andover he kicked a placed kick from a mark in the exact center of the field, scoring a goal." when brown men discuss football their recollections go back to the days of hopkins and millard, of robinson, mccarthy, fultz, everett colby and gammons, fred murphy, frank smith, the giant guard; that great spectacular player, richardson, and other men mentioned elsewhere in this book. in a recent talk with that sterling fellow, dave fultz, he told me something about his football career. it was, in part, as follows:-- "i played at brown in ' , ' , ' and ' , captaining the team in my last year. gammons and i played in the backfield together. he was unquestionably a great runner with the ball; one of the hardest men to hurt, i think, i ever saw. i have often seen him get jolts, go down, and naturally one would think go out entirely, but when i would go up to him, he would jump up as though he had not felt it. i think everett colby was as good a man interfering for the runner as i have seen. he played quarterback and captained the brown team in ' . i don't think there was ever a better quarterback than wyllys d. richardson, rich, as we used to call him." [illustration: barrett on one of his famous dashes] [illustration: exeter-andover game, ] dave fultz is very modest and when he discusses his football experiences he sidetracks one and talks of his fellow college players. now that i have pinned him down, he goes on to say: "the day before we played the indians one year my knee hurt me so much that i had to go to the doctor. he put some sort of ointment on it. two days before this game i could hardly move my leg; the doctor threatened me with water on the knee; he told me to go to bed and stay there, but i told him we had a game in new york and i had to go. he said, 'all right, if you want water on the knee.' i said, 'i've got to go if i am at all able.' anyway, i went on down to new york with the team and played in the game. all i needed was to get warmed up good and i went along in great shape." those who remember reading the accounts of that game will recall that dave fultz made some miraculous runs that day and was a team in himself. fred murphy, who was captain of the ' team at brown and played end rush, says: "i think dave fultz played under more difficulties than any man that ever played the game. i have seen him play with a heavy knee brace. he had his shoulder dislocated several times and i have seen him going into the game with his arm strapped down to his side, so he could just use his forearm. he played a number of games that way. that happened when he was captain. he was absolutely conscientious, fearless and a good leader." in , fred murphy coached at exeter. fred says: "this was probably the best team that exeter had had up to that time. the team was captained by tommy thompson, who afterwards played at cornell. eddie hart at that time stripped at about pounds. this was the famous team on which donald mackenzie macfadyen played and later made the princeton varsity. tad jones was quarterback the first year he came to school. in those days they took to football intuitively without much coaching. you never had to tell tad jones a thing more than once. he would think things out for himself. he showed great powers of leadership and good football sense. howard jones and harry vaughn played on this team." "charlie mccarthy of brown will long be remembered for his great punting ability," says fred murphy. "he had a great many pet theories. mccarthy is one of the best football men in the brown list." in a letter which i have received from charlie mccarthy, as a result of a wonderful victory over minnesota one year, mccarthy writes: "the students of the university gave me a beautiful gold watch engraved on the inside--'to our friend mac from the students of the university of wisconsin.'" this shows how highly mccarthy is held at this university. mccarthy continues, "i go out every fall and kick around with the boys still and i hope to do so the rest of my life if i get a chance. i think the greatest football player i ever saw was frank hinkey. speaking of my own ability as a player, i haven't much to say. i was not much of a football player but i got by some way. i neither had the physique, nor the ability, but tried to do my best. i am glad to say no one ever called me a quitter. i am proud to say that brown university gave me a beautiful silver cup at the end of my four years for the best work in football, although the said cup belongs by rights to ten other men on the team." as one visits the dressing room of the new york giants and sees the attendant work upon the wonderful physique of christy mathewson, one cannot help but realize what a potent factor he must have been on bucknell's team. when christy played he was feet tall and weighed pounds stripped. he prepared at keystone academy, playing in the line. in , when he went to bucknell, he was immediately put at fullback and played there three years. fred crolius says of him: "of all the long distance punters with hard kicks to handle, percy haughton and christy mathewson stand out in his memory. mathewson had the leg power to turn his spiral over. that is, instead of dropping where ordinary spirals always drop, an additional turn seemed to carry the ball over the head of the back who was waiting for the ball, often carrying some fifteen or twenty yards beyond." football has no more ardent admirer than christy mathewson. it will be interesting to hear what he has to say of his experience in the game of football. "i liked to play football," says mathewson. "i was a better football player than a baseball player in those days. i was considered a good punter. i was not much as a line bucker. the captain of the team always gave me a football to take with me in the summer. i occasionally had an opportunity to practice kicking after i was through with my baseball work. "at taunton, mass., my first summer, i ran across a fellow who was playing third base on the team for which i was pitching. macandrews was his name. he was a dartmouth man. he showed me how to kick. he showed me how to drop a spiral. i liked to drop-kick and used to practice it quite a little." [illustration: means langford hollenback douglass gaston marks allerdice miller manier schultz draper bill hollenback coming at you] "i remember how tough it was for me when bucknell played annapolis the year before when the navy team had a man who could kick such wonderful spirals. they were terribly hard to handle, and i was determined to profit by his example. so i just hung on for dear life, punting spirals all summer. later i used to watch george brooke punt a good deal when he was coaching." "at that time drop kickers were not so numerous. i had some recollection of a fellow named o'day, who had a great reputation as a drop-kicker, as did hudson of carlisle. in we were to play pennsylvania. our team served as a preliminary game for pennsylvania. they often beat us by large scores. since then we have had teams which made a to score. but they had good teams in my time. we never scored on penn, as i recall. "our coach said one day, at the training table, 'i'll give a raincoat to the fellow who scores on penn to-day.' the manager walked in and overheard his remark and added, 'yes, and i'll give a pair of shoes to the man who makes the second score against penn.' that put some 'pep' into us. anyway, we were on penn's -yard line and i kicked a field goal. after this we rushed the ball and got up to penn's -yard line, and from there i scored again, thereby winning the shoes and the raincoat. "i went up to columbia one day to see them practice. it was in the days when foster sanford was their coach. he saw me standing on the side lines; came over to where i was; looked me over once or twice and finally said: "'why aren't you trying for the team? i think you'd make a football player if you came out.' "i said i guessed i would not be eligible. "'why?' asked sandy. "'well," i said, 'because i'm a professional.' then some fellows around me grinned and told sanford who i was. "i love to think of the good old football days and some of the spirit that entered collegiate contests. once in a while, in baseball, i feel the thrill of that spirit. it was only recently that i experienced that get-together spirit, where a team full of life with everybody working together wrought great results. that same old thrill came to me during one of the giants' trips in the west in which they won seventeen straight victories. "there is much good fellowship in football. i played against teams whose cheer leaders would give you a rousing cheer as you made a good play; then again you would meet the fellow who, when you were down in the scrimmage, or after you had kicked the ball, would try to put you down and out. "one of the pleasantest recollections i have of playing was my experience against the two great academy teams, west point and annapolis. "never shall i forget one year when bucknell played west point. at an exciting moment in the game, bucknell players made it possible for me to be in a position to kick the goal from the field from a difficult angle. after the score had been made the west point team stood there stupefied, and when the crowd got the idea that a goal had been kicked from a peculiar angle, they gave us a rousing cheer. such is the proper spirit of american football; to see some sunshine in your opponent's play. "cheering helps so much to build up one's enthusiasm." al sharpe was one of the greatest all-around athletes that ever wore the blue of yale. he, too, recalls the yale-princeton game of at new haven, but the memory comes to him as a nightmare. "when i think about the to game at new haven, which princeton won," said sharpe the last time i saw him, "i remember that after i had kicked a goal from the field and the score was to , skim brown rushed up to me, and nearly took me off my feet with one of his friendly slaps across my back. well do i remember the joy of that great yale player at this stage of the game. later, when poe made his kick and i saw that the ball was going over the bar, i remember that the thing i wished most was that i could have been up in the line where i might have had a chance to block the kick. "my recollections of making the yale team centered chiefly around three facts, none of which i was allowed to forget. first, that i was not any good, second that i couldn't tackle, and third that i ran like an ice-wagon. since then i have seen so many really good players upon my different squads that i must admit the truth of the above statement, although at the time i am frank to say i took exception to it. such is the optimism of youth." jack munn, a former princeton halfback, tells the following story: "my brother, edward munn, was the manager of the princeton team in . in the spring of that year there was a conference with yale representatives to decide where the game was to be played the following fall. berkeley oval, brooklyn, manhattan field, and the respective fields of the two colleges all came under discussion, and i believe that some of the newspapers must have taken it up. one afternoon in the murray hill hotel, when representatives of yale and princeton were discussing the various possibilities, a bellboy knocked at the door and handed my brother an elaborately engraved card on which, among various decorations, the name of colonel cody was to be distinguished. buffalo bill was invited to come up, and it seems that, reading or hearing of the discussion about the field for the game, he came to make a formal offer of the use of his tent. after setting forth the desirability of staging the game under the auspices of his wild west show, he brought his offer to a close with his trump card. "'for, gentlemen,' said he, 'besides all the other advantages which i have mentioned, there is this further attraction--my tent is well and sufficiently lighted so that you can not only hold a matinee, but you can give an evening performance as well.' "and those were the days of the flying wedge and two forty-five minute halves with only ten minutes intermission!" walter c. booth walter c. booth, a former princeton center rush, was one of the select coterie of eastern football men that wended its way westward to carry the eastern system into institutions that had had no opportunity to build up the game, yet were hungry for real football. booth's trip was a successful one. "in the autumn of , after graduating from college, i arrived at lincoln, nebraska, in the dual rôle of law student and football coach of the state university," says booth. "this was my first trip west of pittsburgh and i viewed my new duties with some apprehension. all doubts and fears were soon put at rest by the hearty encouragement and support that i received and retained in my nebraska football relations. "most of the faculty were behind football, and h. benjamin andrews, at that time head of the university, was a staunch supporter of the game. doctor roscoe pound, later dean of harvard law school, was the father of nebraska football. he had as intimate an acquaintance with the rule book as any official i have ever known. his advice on knotty problems was always valuable. james i. wyer, afterward state librarian of new york, was our first financial director, and it was largely by reason of his unflagging zeal that football survived. "football spirit ran high in the missouri valley and there were many hard fought contests among the teams of iowa, missouri, kansas and nebraska. those who saw these games or played in them will never forget them. "many amusing things happened in that section as well as in the east. the haskell indians were a picturesque team. they represented the government school at lawrence, kansas--an institution similar to that of carlisle. in fact, many of the same players played on both teams at different times. we always found them a hard nut to crack, and redwater, archiquette, hauser and other indian stars made their names well known on our field. "john outland, the noted pennsylvania player, had charge of the indians when i knew them. he was a great player and a fine type of man, who succeeded in imparting some of his own personality to his pupils. he once showed me a dark faced indian in lawrence who must have been at least six feet four inches tall and of superb physique. he was a full blooded cheyenne and went by the name of bob tail billy. outland tried hard to break him in at guard, but as no one understood bob tail's dialect, and he understood no one else, he never learned the signals, and proved unavailable. "we traveled far to play in those days; west to boulder, colorado, handicapped by an altitude of feet, south to kansas city and north as far as st. paul and minneapolis. we were generally about miles from our base. we were not able to take many deadheads." harry kersburg is one of the most enthusiastic harvard football players i have ever met. he played guard on harvard in , ' and ' and is often asked back to cambridge to coach the center men. from his playing days let us read what he prizes in his recollections: "my college career began at lehigh, with the idea of eventually going to harvard. as a football enthusiast, i came under the observation of doctor newton, who was coaching lehigh at that time. doc taught me the first football i ever knew. in one of the games against union college doc asked me before the game whether if he put me in i would deliver the goods. i said i would try and do my best. he said, 'that won't do. i don't want any man on my team who says, "i'll try." a man has got to say "i'll do it." from that time on i never said, 'i'll try,' but always said 'i'll do it.' "i shall never forget the day i played against john dewitt. i did not know much about the finer points of football then. i weighed about pounds with my football clothes on, was five feet nine inches tall and sixteen years old. i shall always remember seeing that great big hawk of a man opposite me. i did not have cold feet. i knew i had to go in and give the best account of myself i could. it was like going up against a stone wall. john dewitt certainly could use his hands, with the result that i resembled paper pulp when i came out of that game. dewitt did everything to me but kill me. after i got my growth, weight and strength, plus my experience, i always had a desire to play against dewitt to see if he could the same thing again. "in a harvard-yale game one year i remember an incident that took place between carr, shevlin and myself," says harry. "tom shevlin usually stood near the goal line when yale received the kick-off. as a matter of fact he caught the ball most of the time. the night before the yale game in , bill carr and myself were discussing what might come up the following day. inasmuch as we always lined up side by side on the kick off, we made a wager that if harvard kicked off we would each be the first to tackle shevlin. "the next day harvard won the toss and chose to kick off, and as we had hoped, shevlin caught the ball. carr and i raced down the field, each intent on being the first to tackle him. i crashed into shevlin and spilled him, upsetting myself at the same time. when i picked myself up and looked around, carr had shevlin pinned securely to the ground. after the game we told shevlin of our wager and he said that under the circumstances all bets were off as both had won." former u. s. attorney-general william h. lewis, who is one of the leading representatives of the colored race, needs no introduction to the football world, says kersburg. 'bill,' or 'lew,' as he is familiarly known to all harvard men, laid the foundation for the present system of line play at cambridge. he was actively engaged in coaching until when he was obliged to give it up due to pressure of business. "in 'hooks' burr and i played the guard positions. 'lew' seemed to center his attention on us as we always received more 'calls' after each game than the other linemen for doing this, that, or the other thing wrong. in the brown game of this year hooks played against a colored man who was exceptionally good and who, hooks admitted afterward, 'put it all over' him. the monday following this game we received our usual 'call.' after telling me what a rotten game i had played he turned on burr and remarked. 'what the devil was the matter with you on saturday, hooks? that guard on the brown team "smeared" you.' burr replied, 'i don't know what was the matter with me. i used my hands on that nigger's head and body all through the game but it didn't seem to do any good.' several of us who were listening felt a bit embarrassed that hooks had unwittingly made this remark. the tension was relieved, however, when lew drawled out, 'why the devil didn't you kick him in the shins?' a burst of laughter greeted this sally." donald grant herring, better known to football men in and out of princeton as heff, is one of the few american players of international experience. after a period of splendid play for the tigers he went to england with a rhodes scholarship. at merton college he continued his athletic career, and it was not long before he became a member of one of the most famous rugby fifteens ever turned out by oxford. heff has always said that he enjoyed the english game, but whether the brand he played was american or english, his opponent usually got little enjoyment out of a hard afternoon with this fine princeton athlete. "in the late summer of , i was on a train coming east from montana," heff tells me, "after a summer spent in the rockies. a companion recognized among the passengers doc hillebrand, who was coming east from his ranch to coach the princeton team. this companion who was still a lawrenceville schoolboy, had the nerve to brace hillebrand and tell him in my presence that i was going to enter princeton that fall and that i was a star football player. you can imagine what doc thought, and how i felt. however, doc was kind enough to tell me to report for practice and to recognize me when i appeared on the field several weeks later. i soon drifted over to the freshman field and i want to admit here what caused me to do so. it was nothing more nor less than the size of jim cooney's legs. jim was a classmate of mine whom i first saw on the football field when he and another tackle candidate were engaged in that delicate pastime known to linemen as breaking through. i realized at once that, if jim and i were ever put up against one another, i would stand about as much chance of shoving him back as i would if i tried to push a steam roller. so i went over to the freshman field, where howard henry was coaching at the time. he was sending ends down the field and i remember being thrilled, after beating a certain bunch of them, at hearing him say: 'you in the brown jersey, come over here in the first squad.' "dewitt's team beat cornell - . for years there hung on the walls of the osborn club at princeton a splendid action picture of dana kafer making one of the touchdowns in that game. it was a mass on tackle play, and jim cooney was getting his cornell opponent out of the way for kafer to go over the line. the picture gave jim dead away. he had a firm grip of the cornell man's jersey and arm. ten years or more afterward, a group, including cooney, was sitting in the osborn club. in a spirit of fun one man said, 'jim, we know now how you got your reputation as a tackle. we can see it right up there on the wall.' the next day the picture was gone. "after i was graduated from princeton in i went to merton college, oxford. there are twenty-two different colleges in oxford and eighteen in cambridge. each one has its own teams and crews and plays a regular schedule. from the best of these college teams the university teams are drawn. each college team has a captain and a secretary, who acts as manager. at the beginning of the college year (early october) the captain and secretary of each team go around among the freshmen of the college and try to get as many of them as possible to play their particular sport; mine rugby football. after a few days the captain posts on the college bulletin board, which is always placed at the porter's lodge, a notice that a squash will be held on the college field. a squash is what we would call practice. [illustration: "the next day the picture was gone" jim cooney making a hole for dana kafer.] "sometimes for a few days before the game an old blue may come down to oxford and give a little coaching to the team. here often the captain does all the coaching. the cambridge match is for blood, and, while friendly enough, is likely to be much more savage than any other. in the match i played in, which oxford won - , the record score in the whole series, which started in , we had three men severely injured. in the first three minutes of the game one of our star backs was carried off the field with a broken shoulder, while our captain was kicked in the head and did not come out of his daze until about seven o'clock that evening. he played throughout the game, however. our secretary was off the field with a knee cap out of place for more than half the game. a game of rugby, by the way, consists of two -minute halves, with a three minute intermission. there are no substitutes, and if a man is injured, his team plays one man short. we beat cambridge that year with thirteen men the greater part of the game, twelve for some time against their full team of fifteen. their only try (touchdown in plain american) was scored when we had twelve men on the field. we were champions of england that year, and did not lose a match through the fall season, though we tied one game with the great harlequins club of london, whom we afterward beat in the return game. of the fine fellows who made up that great oxford team, six are dead, five of them 'somewhere in france.'" carl flanders was a big factor in the yale rush line. foster sanford considers him one of the greatest offensive centers that ever played. he was six feet three and one-fourth inches tall and weighed pounds. in flanders coached the indian team at carlisle. let us see some of the interesting things that characterize the indian players, through flanders' experience. the nicknames with which the indians labelled each other were mostly those of animals or a weapon of defense. mount pleasant and libby always called each other knife. bill gardner was crowned chicken legs, charles, one of the halfbacks, and a regular little tiger, was called bird legs. other names fastened to the different players were whale bone, shoe string, tommyhawk and wolf. the indians always played cleanly as long as their opponents played that way. dillon, an old sioux indian, and one of the fastest guards i ever saw, was a good example of this. if anybody started rough play, dillon would say: "stop that, boys!" and the chap who was guilty always stopped. but if an opponent continually played dirty football, dillon would say grimly: "i'll get you!" on the next play or two, you'd never know how, the rough player would be taken out. dillon had "got" his man. "wallace denny and bemus pierce got up a code of signals, using an indian word which designated a single play. among the indian words which designated these signals were water-bucket, watehnee, coocoohee. i never could find out what it all meant, and following the indian team by this code of signals was a task which was too much for me." bill horr, renowned in colgate and syracuse, writes: "colgate university and colgate academy are under the same administration, and the football teams were practicing when i entered school. i went out for the team and after the second practice i was put into the scrimmage. i was greatly impressed with the game and continued for the afternoon practice, and played at tackle in the first game of the season. in four years of winning football i became acquainted with such wonderful athletes as riley castleman and walter runge of the colgate varsity team. "in the fall of i entered syracuse university and played right tackle on the varsity team for four years and was captain of the victorious team. in the four years i never missed a scrimmage or a game. "i think that one of the hardest games i ever played in was the game against princeton in , when they had such stars as siegling, macfadyen, eddie dillon and tibbott. the game ended in a scoreless tie with the ball see-sawing back and forth on the -yard line. i had been accustomed to carry the ball, and had been successful in executing a forward pass of fifty-five yards in the yale game the week before, placing the ball on the -yard line, only to lose it on a fumble. "i had the reputation of being a good-natured player, and indirectly heard it rumored many times by coaches and football players that they would like to see me fighting mad on the football field. the few syracuse rooters who journeyed to easton the day we played lafayette had that opportunity. dowd was the captain of the lafayette team. next to me was barry, a first-class football player, who stripped in the neighborhood of pounds. just before the beginning of the second half i was in a crouching position ready to start, when some one dealt me a stinging blow on the ear. i was dazed for the time being. i turned to barry and asked him who did it. he pointed to dowd. from that instant i was determined to seek revenge. i was ignorant of the true culprit until about a year afterward, when anderson, who played center, and was a good friend of mine, told me about it. it seemed that just before we went on the field for the second half buck o'neil, who was coaching the syracuse team, told barry to hit me and make me mad." chapter x college traditions and spirit college life in america is rich in traditions. customs are handed down class by class and year by year until finally they acquire the force of law. each college and university has a community life and a character of its own. the spirit of each institution abides within its walls. it cannot be invaded by an outsider, or ever completely understood by one who has not grown up in it. the atmosphere of a college community is conservative. it is the outcome of generations of student custom and thought, which have resolved themselves into distinct grooves. it requires a thorough understanding of the customs of college men, their antics and pranks, to appreciate the fact that the performers are simply boys, carrying on the traditions of those gone before. gray-haired graduates who know by experience what is embodied in college spirit, join feelingly in the old customs of their college days, and in observing the new customs which have grown out of the old. these traditional customs, some of them humorous, and others deeply moving in their sentiment, are among the first things that impress the freshman. he does not comprehend the meaning of them at once, nor does he realize that they are the product of generations of students, but he soon learns that there is something more powerful in college life than the brick and mortar of beautiful buildings, or high passing marks in the classroom. when he comes to know the value and the underlying spirit of the traditions of his college, he treasures them among the enduring memories of his life. the business man who never enjoyed the advantage of going to college, is puzzled as he witnesses the demonstration of undergraduate life, and he fails to catch the meaning; he does not understand; it has played no part in his own experience; college customs seem absurd to him, and he fails to appreciate that in these traditions our american college spirit finds expression. as an outsider views the result of a football victory, he sees perhaps only the bitter look of defeat on the losers' faces, and is at a loss to understand the loyal spirit of thousands of graduates and undergraduates who stand and cheer their team after defeat. such a sight, undoubtedly, impresses him; but he turns his attention to the triumphant march of the victorious sympathizers around the field and watches the winners being borne aloft by hero worshipers; while hats by the thousands are being tossed over the cross bar of the goal post that carried the winning play. the snake dance of thousands of exulting students enlivens the scene--the spirit of glorious victory breaks loose. after the harvard victory in , in the midst of the excitement, a harvard graduate got up from his seat, climbed over the fence, put his derby hat and bull-dog pipe on the grass, walked solemnly out a few paces, turned two complete handsprings, walked back, put on his hat, picked up his pipe, climbed solemnly over the fence again and took his place in the crowd. he was very businesslike about it and didn't say a word. he had to get it out of his system--that was all. nobody laughed at him. one sees gray-haired men stand and cheer, sing and enthuse over their alma mater's team. for the moment the rest of the world is forgotten. tears come with defeat to those on the grandstand, as well as to the players, and likewise happy smiles and joyous greetings come when victory crowns the day. in the midst of a crisis in the game, men and women, old and young, break over the bounds of conventionality, get acquainted with their seat mates and share the general excitement. the thrill of victory possesses them and the old grads embrace each other after a winning touchdown. there may be certain streets in a college town upon which a freshman is never seen. it may be that a freshman has to wear a certain kind of cap; his trousers must not be rolled up at the bottom. and if you should see a freshman standing on a balcony at night, singing some foolish song, with a crowd of sophomores standing below, you smile as you realize that you are witnessing the performance of some college custom. and if you see a young man dressed in an absurd fantastic costume, going about the streets of a city, or a quiet college town, it may mean an initiation into a certain society or club, and you will note that he does his part with a quiet, earnest look upon his face, realizing that he is carrying on a tradition which has endured for years. you hear the seniors singing on the campus, while the whole college listens. it is their hour. at games you see the cheer leaders take their places in front of the grandstand, and as they bend and double themselves into all sorts of shapes, they bring out the cheers which go to make college spirit strong. if you were at yale, on what is known as "tap day," you would view in wonderment the solemnity and seriousness of the occasion. an election to a senior society is yale's highest honor. as you sit on the old yale fence you realize what it means to yale men. in the secret life of the campus men yearn most for this honor and the traditional gathering of seniors under the oak tree for receiving elections is a college custom that has all the binding force of a most rigid law. alumni parades then come the alumni parades at commencement. the old timers head the procession; those who came first, are first in line, and so on down to the youngest and most recent graduate. there are many interesting things in the parade, which bring out specific class peculiarities. in one college you may see gray-haired men walking behind an immense sacred bird, as it is called. this bird--the creation of an ingenious mind--is the size of an ostrich and has all the semblance of life, with many lifelike tricks and habits. men dress in all sorts of costumes. this is a day in which each class has some peculiar part, and all are united in the one big thought that it is a cherished college custom. you may see some man with the letter of his college on his sweater, another may have his class numerals, another may wear a gold football. these are not ordinary things to be purchased at sporting goods stores; they are a reward of merit. the college custom has made it so, and if in some college town the traditions of the university are such that a man, as he passes the ma newell gateway at cambridge raises his hat in honor of this great harvard hero, it is a tradition backed up by a wonderful spirit of love towards one who has gone. and then on commencement day when the seniors plant their class ivy--that is a token to remain behind them and flourish long after they are out in the wide, wide world. college tradition makes it possible for a poor boy to get an education. the poor fellow may wait on the table, where sit many rich men's sons, but they may be all chums with him; they are on the same footing; the campus of one is the campus of the other, and all you can say is "it is just the way of things--just the way it must be." more power to the man who works his way through college. it may be, as fellow college man, you are now recalling some custom that is carried out on a college street, in a dormitory, in a fraternity house, perhaps, or a club; perhaps in some boarding house, where you had your first introduction to a college custom; maybe in the cheapest rooming house in town you got your first impression of a bold, bad sophomore. you probably could have given him a good trouncing had he been alone, and yet you were prepared to take smilingly the hazing imposed upon you. maybe some of you fondly recall a cannon stuck in the ground behind a historical building where once george washington had his headquarters. around about this traditional monument cluster rich memories as you review the many college ceremonies enacted there. some of you, owing allegiance to a new england alma mater, may recall with smiles and perhaps mischievous satisfaction, the chequered career of the sculptured sabrina in her various appearances and disappearances since the day, now long gone by, when in pedestaled repose she graced the college flower gardens. the sabrina tradition is one of the golden legacies of amherst life. in the formation of college spirit and traditions i am not unmindful of the tremendous moulding power of the college president or the popular college professors. this is strikingly illustrated in the expression of an old college man, who said in this connection: "i don't remember a thing professor ---- said, but i remember him." when the graduate of a college has sons of his own, he realizes more fully than at any other time the great influence of personality upon youth. he understands better the problems that are faced by boys, and the great task and responsibility of the faculty. i know that there are many football men who at different times in their career have not always praised the work of the college professors, but now that the games are over they probably look back affectionately to the men who made them toe the mark, and by such earnestness helped them through their college career. it is undoubtedly true that the head masters and teachers in our preparatory schools and colleges generally appreciate the importance of developing the whole man, mental, moral and physical. schoolmaster and boy indeed it is a wonderful privilege to work shoulder to shoulder with the boys in our preparatory schools as well as in our colleges. at a recent dinner i heard doctor s. j. mcpherson, of the lawrenceville school, place before an alumni gathering a sentiment, which i believe is the sentiment of every worthy schoolmaster in our land. "schoolmasters have attractive work and they can find no end of fun in it. i admit that in a boarding school they should be willing to spend themselves, eight days in the week and twenty-five hours a day. but no man goes far that keeps watching the clock. there may be good reasons for long vacations, but i regard the summer vacation as usually a bore for at least half the length of it. "to be worth his salt, a schoolmaster must, of course, have scholarship--the more the better. but that alone will never make him a quickening teacher. he must be 'apt to teach,' and must lose himself in his task if he is to transfuse his blood into the veins of boys. above all, he must be a real man and not a manikin, and he must enjoy his boys--love them, without being quite conscious of the love, or at least without harping on it. "the ideal schoolmaster needs five special and spiritual senses: common sense, the sense of justice, the sense of honor, the sense of youth and the sense of humor. these five gifts are very useful in every worthy occupation. "gentlemen, none of us schoolmasters has reached the ideal; however, we reach after it. nevertheless, we neither need, nor desire your pity. we do not feel unimportant. personally, i would not exchange jobs with the richest or greatest among you. i like my own job. it really looks to me, bigger and finer. i should rather have the right mold and put the right stamp on a wholesome boy than to do any other thing. it counts more for the world and is more nearly immortal. it is worth any man's life." another factor in the formation and development of college traditions and college spirit is the influence of the men who shape the athletic policy. when one of the graduates returns to direct the athletic affairs of his alma mater, or those of another college he naturally becomes a potent influence in the life of the students. great is his opportunity for character making. the men all look up to him and the spirit of hero worship is present everywhere. such athletic directors are chosen largely because of their success on the athletic field. and when one can combine athletic directorship with scholastic knowledge, the combination is doubly effective. by association they know the real spirit and patriotic sentiment of the college men. they appreciate the fact that success in athletics, like success in life, depends not merely upon training the head, but upon training the will. huxley said that: "the true object of all education, was to develop ability to do the thing that ought to be done when it ought to be done, whether one felt like doing it or not." prompt obedience to rules and regulations develop character and the athletic director becomes, therefore, one of the most important of college instructors. a boy may be a welcher in his classroom work, but when he gets out on the athletic field and meets the eye of a man who is bound to get the most out of every player for the sake of his own reputation, as well as the reputation of the school or college, that boy finds himself in a new school. it is the school of discipline that resembles more nearly than anything else the competitive struggle in the business life of the outside world that he is soon to enter. another exceedingly valuable trait that athletic life develops in a student is the spirit of honorable victory. the player is taught to win, to be sure, but he is also taught that victory must never overshadow honor. who misses or who wins the prize, go lose, or conquer, as you can but if you fail, or if you rise, be each, pray god, a gentleman. this tradition and atmosphere cannot be retained in institutions merely by the efforts of the students. the co-operation of the alumni is necessary. on this account it is unfortunate that the point of view of too many college men regarding their alma mater is limited to the years of their own school and college days. our universities especially are beginning to learn that this has been a great mistake and that the continued interest and loyalty of the alumni are absolutely essential to insure progress and maintain the high standard of an institution. there is, in other words, a real sense in which the college belongs to the alumni. the faculty is engaged for a specific purpose and their great work is made much more profitable by the hearty co-operation of the old and young graduates who keep in close touch with the happenings and the spirit of their different alma maters. one of the best assets in any seat of learning is the constructive criticism of the alumni. broad minded faculties invite intelligent criticism from the graduate body, and they usually get it. but after all, the real power of enthusiasm behind college traditions abides in the student body itself. how is this college patriotism aroused? what are its manifestations? what is it that awakens the desire for victory with honor, which is the real background of the great football demonstration that tens of thousands of americans witness each year? as i think back in this connection upon my own college experiences, the athletic mass meeting stands out in my memory and records the moment when all that was best and strongest in my fighting spirit and manhood came out to meet the demand of the athletic leaders. it was at that time that the thrill and power of college spirit took mighty possession of me. it might have been the inspiring words of an old college leader addressing us, or perhaps it was the story of some incident that brought out the deep significance of the coming game. indeed i have often thought that the spirit of loyalty and sacrifice aroused in the breast of the young man in a college mass meeting springs from the same noble source as the highest patriotism. mass meeting enthusiasm how well do i recall the mass meeting held by the undergraduates in alexander hall thursday night before the yale game in ! the team and substitutes sat in the front row of seats. there was singing and cheering that aroused every man in the room to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. all eyes were focused on the cheer leader as he rehearsed the cheers and songs for the game, and as the speakers entered behind him on the platform, they received a royal welcome. there was johnny poe, alex moffat, some of the professors, including jack hibben, since president of princeton, in addition to the coaches. i can almost hear again their words, as they addressed the gathering. "fellows, we are here to-night to get ready to defeat yale on saturday. you men all know how hard the coaches have worked this year to get the team ready for the last big game. captain hillebrand and his men know that the college is with the team to a man. we are not here to-night to make college spirit, but we are here to demonstrate it. "those of you who saw last year's team go down to defeat at new haven, realize that the princeton team this year has got to square that defeat. garry cochran and the other men who graduated are not here to play. the burden rests on the shoulders of the men in front of me, this year's team, and we know what they're going to do. "it is going to take the hardest kind of work to beat yale on our own grounds. we must play them off their feet the first five minutes. i wonder if you men who are in princeton to-day truly realize the great tradition of this dear college. thousands and thousands of young men have walked across the same campus you travel. the princeton of years gone by, is your princeton to-day, so let us ever hold a high regard for those whose places we now occupy. "already from far off points, princeton men are starting back to see the yale game--back to their alma mater. they're coming back to see the old rooms they used to live in, and it is up to us to make their visit a memorable one. you can do that by beating yale." george k. edwards many of you men have perhaps heard of the great love for princeton shown in the story of the last days of horse edwards, princeton ' . he will never return to princeton again. he used to live in east college, long since torn down. some years after he left college, he was told that he had but a few short months to live. he decided to live them out at princeton. one friday afternoon in the summer of , horse edwards arrived in princeton from colorado. he was very weak from his illness. he could barely raise his hand to wave to the host of old friends who greeted him as he drove from the station to east college, where his old room had been arranged as in his college days for his return. there he was visited by many friends of the old days, who had come back for commencement. old memories were revived. that night he attended his club dinner, and the following day was wheeled out to the field to see the baseball game, princeton beat yale to , and his cup of happiness was overflowing. on the following monday horse edwards died. he told his close friends that as long as he had to go, he was happy that he had been granted his last wish--to die there at princeton. and his memory is a treasured college tradition. job e. hedges among the men who are always welcome at princeton mass meetings and dinners, is job e. hedges. i remember what he said at a mass meeting at princeton in . he was then secretary to mayor strong, in new york, in which city the game with yale took place that year. the scene was in the old gymnasium. every inch of space was occupied. on the front seats sat the team and substitutes. around them and in the small gallery were the students in mass. before the team were prominent alumni, trustees and some members of the faculty. earnest appeal had been made by the various speakers tending to arouse the team to a high point of enthusiasm and courage, and the interest of their alma mater and of the alumni had been earnestly pictured. mr. hedges was called on as he frequently is at princeton gatherings and as the usual field had been fairly covered, his opportunities were limited, without repetition of what had been said. he addressed the team and substitutes in typical princeton fashion and concluded, so far as a record is made of it, somewhat as follows: "there is a feeling in the public mind that football games breed dissipation and are naturally followed by unseemly conduct. we all know that much of the excitement following football games in new york is due largely not to college men but others, who take the game as an excuse and the time as an opportunity to indulge in more or less boisterous conduct, with freedom from interference usually accorded at that time. i wish it thoroughly understood that in no way as a princeton man do i countenance dissipation, intemperance, boisterous or unseemly conduct. it may be a comfort for you men to know, however, that i am personally acquainted with every police magistrate in the city of new york. while i do not claim to have any influence with them, nor would i try to exercise it improperly, nevertheless if the team wins and any man should unintentionally and weakly yield to the strain consequent upon such a victory, i can be found that night at my residence. any delinquent will have my sympathetic and best efforts in his behalf. if, however, the team loses, and any one goes over the line of propriety, he will have from me neither sympathy nor assistance and i shall be absent from the city." it is related that on the night following the victory, several daring spirits decorated themselves with cards hung from their necks bearing this legend, "don't arrest me, i am a friend of job hedges." with these they marched up and down broadway and, though laboring under somewhat strange conditions, were not molested. a full account of this expeditionary force appeared in the daily papers the next morning and it is related that there was a brisk conversation between mr. hedges and the mayor, when the former arrived at the city hall, which took on, not an orange and black hue, but rather a lurid flame, of which mayor strong was supposed to be but was not the victim. the net result of the scene, however, was that the team won, there was a moderate celebration and no princeton man was arrested. [illustration: johnny poe, football player and soldier] chapter xi johnny poe's own story johnny poe was a member of the black watch, that famous scotch regiment whose battles had followed the english flag. on the graves of the black watch heroes the sun never sets. johnny poe's death came on september th, , in the battle of loos. nelson poe has given me the following information regarding johnny's death. it comes direct from private w. faulkner, a comrade who was in the charge when johnny fell. in the morning during the attack we went out on a party carrying bombs. poe and myself were in this party. we had gone about half way across an open field when poe was hit in the stomach. he was then five yards in front of me and i saw him fall. as he fell he said, 'never mind me. go ahead with our boxes.' on our return for more bombs we found him lying dead. shortly after he was buried at a place between the british and german lines. i have seen his grave which is about a hundred yards to the left of 'lone tree' on the left of loos. 'lone tree' is the only landmark near. the grave is marked with his name and regiment. just what johnny poe's heroic finish on the battle field meant to us here at home is the common knowledge of all football men and indeed of all sportsmen. there is ample evidence, moreover, that it attracted the attention of the four corners of the earth. life in london or paris was not all roses to the americans compelled to remain there at the height of the war. paul mac whelan, a yale man and football writer, had occasion to be in london shortly after the news of poe's death in battle was received there. talking with whelan after his return he impressed upon me the place that poe had made for himself in the hearts of at least one of the fighting countries. "you know," said he, "that at about that time americans were not very popular. there seemed to be a feeling everywhere that we should have been on the firing line. this feeling developed the fashion of polite jeering to a point that made life abroad uncomfortable until johnny poe fell fighting in the ranks of the black watch on the plains of flanders. in the dull monotony of the casualty list his name at first slipped by with scant mention. it was the publication in the united states of the story of his fighting career which stimulated newspaper interest not merely in england, but throughout the british empire. to australia, canada, new zealand and south africa--into the farthest corners of the earth--went the tale of the death of a great american fighter. "i met one man, a lawyer, on his way to do some peace work, and he told me that he thought poe had no right to be in the ranks of a foreign army. probably most of the pacifists would have returned the same verdict regardless of poe's love for the cause of the allies. yet among the thousands of americans in europe in the month following poe's death, there was complete unity of opinion that the old princeton football star had done more for his country than all the pacifists put together. "'a toast to the memory of poe,' said one of the group of americans in the savoy, that famous gathering place of yankees in london. 'his death has made living a lot easier for his countrymen who have to be in france and england during the war.'" "there is not an army on the continent in which americans have not died, but no death in action, not even that of victor chapman the famous american aviator in france, gave such timely proof of american valor as that of poe. in london for a month after his death there was talk among americans and in the university clubs about raising funds for some permanent memorial in london to poe. there are many memorials to englishmen in america and it would seem that there is a place and a real reason for erecting a memorial in london to a fighting american who gave his life for a cause to england." i have always treasured, in my football collection, some anecdotes which johnny poe wrote several years ago while in nevada. in fact, from reading his stories, after his death, i got the inspiration that prompted me to write this book. "the following stories were picked up by me," says johnny, "through the course of college years, and after. some of the incidents i have actually witnessed, of others my brothers have told me, when we talked over princeton victories and defeats with the reasons for both, and still others i have heard from the lips of princeton men as they grew reminiscent sitting around the cozy fireplace in the trophy room at the varsity club house, with the old footballs, the scores of many a hard fought princeton victory emblazoned upon them, and the banners with the names of the members of the winning teams thereon inscribed looking down from their places on the walls and ceilings." how the undergraduates long to have their names enrolled on the victorious banner, knowing that they will be looked up to by future college generations of the sons of old nassau! these old banners have much the same effect upon princeton teams as did the name of horatius upon the young romans'! and still his name sounds strong unto the men of rome, as a trumpet blast which calls to them to charge the volsian home; and wives still pray to juno for boys with hearts as bold as his who kept the bridge so well in the brave days of old. well do they know that mother princeton is not chary of her praise, when she knows that they have planted her banner on the loftiest tower of her enemies' stronghold. the evenings spent in the trophy room, the grill room of the princeton inn and in the hallways around a cheerful fire of the numerous princeton clubs make me think of nights in the mess room of crack british regiments, so graphically described by kipling. the general public cannot understand the seriousness with which college athletes take the loss of an important game. there is a princeton football captain who was so broken up over a defeat by yale that, months after on the cattle range of new mexico, as he lay out at night on his cow-boy bed and thought himself unobserved, he fell to sobbing as if his heart would break. a football victory to many men is as dearly longed for as any goal of ambition in life. how else would they strive so fiercely, one side to take the ball over, the other to prevent them doing so! very few of the public hear the exhortation and cursing as the ball slowly but irresistibly is rushed to the goal of the opponent. "billy, if you do that again i'll cut your heart out!" "yale, if you ever held, hold now!" how the calls to victory come back! as hughes says in tom brown's school days, a scrimmage in front of the goal posts, or the consulship of plancus, is no child's play. my earliest princeton football hero was alex moffat ' . my brother johnson was in his class and played on the same team, and would often talk of him to my brothers and to me. he used to give us a sort of "listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of paul revere, etc." though my brother is a small man, i thought all other princeton players must be cubits and a half, or as a reporter once said of symmes ' , center rush in princeton team of ' and ' , "an animated whale, broad as the moral law and heavy as the hand of fate." i consider alex moffat the greatest goal kicker college football has produced. one football in the princeton trophy room has on it, "princeton , harvard ." in that game moffat kicked five goals from the field, three with his right and two with his left foot, besides the goals from the touchdowns. a harvard guard made the remark after the third goal, "we came here to play football, not to play against phenomenal kicking." princeton men cannot help feeling that moffat should have been allowed a goal against yale in his post-graduate year of ' , which was called before the full halves had been played and decided a draw, yale being ahead, to . princeton claimed it but the referee said he didn't see it, which caused moffat to exclaim--something. an amusing story is told in connection with this decision. quite a number of years after jim robinson who was trainer of the princeton team in ' , went down to the dock to see his brother off for europe. looking up he beheld on the deck above, the man who had refereed the ' game, and whom he had not seen since, "smith," he said, "i have a brother on this boat, but i hope she sinks." tilly lamar's name is highly honored at princeton, not only because he won the ' game against yale by a run of about yards, but because he died trying to save a girl from drowning. only a few months later, in the summer of ' , fred brokaw ' , was drowned at elberon while trying to save two girls from the ocean. both lamar and brokaw's pictures adorn the walls of the varsity club house. the first game i ever saw the princeton team play was with harvard in ' , which the former won to . i was in my brother's (' ) room about three hours and a half before the game, and jere black and channing, the halfbacks, were there. as channing left he remarked, "something will have happened before i get back to this room again," referring to the game, which doubtless made him a bit nervous. i believe he was no more nervous ten years after, when in the rough riders he waited for word to advance up that bullet swept hill before santiago. ' was the year so many divinity students played on the varsity: hector cowan the great tackle, dick hodge the strategist, sam hodge, bob speer, and i think irvine; men all, who as mccready sykes said, "feared god and no one else." hector cowan is considered one of the best tackles that ever wore the orange and black jersey. while rough, he was never a dirty player. in a game with wesleyan, his opponent cried out angrily, "keep your hands for pounding on your bible, don't be sticking them in my face." one day in a game against the scrub, cowan had passed everyone except the fullback and was bearing down on him like a tornado, when within a few feet of the fullback the latter jumped aside and said politely, "pass on, sir, pass on." cowan played on two winning teams, ' and ' . in ' the eligibility rules at the college were not as strict as now, so as princeton needed a tackle, walter cash who had played on pennsylvania the year before, was sent for and came all the way from wyoming. he came so hurriedly that his wardrobe consisted of two -shooters and a monte deck of cards, on account of which he was dubbed "monte" cash. cash was not fond of attending lectures, and once the faculty had him up before them and told him what a disgrace it would be if he were dropped out of college. "it may be in the east, but we don't think much of a little thing like that out west," was his reply. cash was in the rough riders and was wounded at san juan. sport donnelly was a great end that year. heffelfinger the great yale guard who is probably the best that ever played, said of donnelly, that he was the only player he had ever seen who could slug and keep his eye on the ball at the same time. the following story is often told of how donnelly got rhodes of yale ruled off in ' . rhodes had hit channing of princeton in the eye, so that donnelly was laying for him, and when rhodes came through the line, donnelly grabbed up two handsful of mud--it was a very muddy field--and rubbed them in his face and hollered, "mr. umpire," so that when rhodes, in a burst of righteous indignation, hit him, the umpire saw it and promptly ruled rhodes from the field. snake ames and house janeway played that year, and as the latter was big-- pounds stripped--and good natured, ames thought that if he could only get janeway angry he would play even better than usual, so, with machiavellian craft, he said to him before the harvard game, "house, the man you are going to play against to-morrow insulted your girl. i heard him do it, so you want to murder him." "all right," said house, ominously, and as princeton won, to , janeway must certainly have helped a heap. george played center for princeton four years, and for three years "pa" corbin and george played against each other, and, as cow-boys would say, "sure did chew each other's mane." i don't mean slugged. my brother edgar ' was a great admirer of george. in ' edgar was playing in the scrub, and george broke through and was about to make a tackle when the former knocked one of his arms down as it was outstretched to catch it. george missed the tackle but said nothing. a second time almost identically the same thing occurred. this time he remarked grimly, "good trick that, poe." but when the same thing happened a third time on the same afternoon, he exclaimed, "poe, if you weren't so small, i'd hit you." in ' thomas ' , substitute guard, was highly indignant at the way some boston newspaper described him. "the princeton men were giants, one in particular was picturesque in his grotesqueness. he was feet and, when he ran, his arms and legs moved up and down like the piston rods of an engine." in ' buck irvine ' brought an unknown team to princeton, franklin and marshall, which he coached, and they scored points against the tigers. and though the latter won, to , still that was the largest score ever made against princeton up to that time. they did it, too, by rushing, which was all the more to their credit. victor harding, harvard, and yup cook, princeton ' , had played on andover and exeter, respectively, and had trouble then, so four years later when they met, one on princeton and the other on harvard, they had more trouble. both were ruled off for rough work. cook picked harding up off the ground and slammed him down and then walked off the field. in a few minutes harding, after trying to trip ames, also was ruled off. that was the net result of the old andover-exeter feud. in ' princeton was playing rutgers. those were the days of the old "v" trick in starting a game. when the orange and black guards and centers tore up the rutgers' v it was found that the captain of the latter team had broken his leg in the crush. he showed great nerve, for while sitting on the ground waiting for a stretcher, he remarked in a nonchalant way, "give me a cigarette. i could die for old rutgers," his tone being "me first and then nathan hale." one version quite prevalent around princeton has it that a tiger player rushed up and exclaimed, "die then." this is not true as i played in that game and know whereof i speak. fifteen years after that had happened, i met phil brett who had captained the rutgers team that day, and he told me that his life had been a burden to him at times, and like job, he felt like cursing god and dying, because often upon coming into a café or even a hotel dining-room some half drunken acquaintance would yell out, "hello, phil, old man, could you die for dear old rutgers?" several years ago while in the kentucky militia in connection with one of those feud cases, i was asked by a private if i were related to edgar allan poe, "de mug what used to write poetry," and when i replied, "yes, he was my grandmother's first cousin," he, evidently thinking i was too boastful, remarked, "well, man, you've got a swell chance." so, knowing that the football season is near i think i have a "swell chance" to tell some of the old football stories handed down at princeton from college generation to generation. if i have hurt any old princeton players' feelings, i do humbly ask pardon and assure them that it is unintentional; for as the indians would put it, my heart is warm toward them, and, when i die, place my hands upon my chest and put their hands between my hands. with apologies to kipling in his poem when he speaks of the parting of the colonial troops with the regulars: "there isn't much we haven't shared for to make the elis run. the same old hurts, the same old breaks, the same old rain and sun. the same old chance which knocked us out or winked and let us through. the same old joy, the same old sorrow, good-bye, good luck to you." chapter xii army and navy when the navy meets the army, when the friend becomes the foe, when the sailor and the soldier seek each other to o'erthrow; when old vet'rans, gray and grizzled, elbow, struggle, push, and shove, that they may cheer on to vict'ry each the service of his love; when the maiden, fair and dainty, lets her dignity depart, and, all breathless, does her utmost for the team that's next her heart; when you see these strange things happen, then we pray you to recall that the army and navy stand firm friends beneath it all. there is a distinctive flavor about an army-navy football game which, irrespective of the quality of the contending elevens and of their relative standing among the high-class teams in any given season, rates these contests annually as among the "big games" of the year. tactically and strategically football bears a close relation to war. that is a vital reason why it should be studied and applied in our two government schools. on the part of the public there is general appreciation of the spirit which these two academies have brought into the great autumn sport, a spirit which combines with football per se the color, the martial pomp, the _elan_ of the military. the merger is a happy one, because football in its essence is a stern, grim game, a game that calls for self-sacrifice, for mental alertness and for endurance; all these are elements, among others, which we commonly associate with the soldier's calling. if west point and annapolis players are not young men, who, after graduation, will go out into the world in various civil professions or other pursuits relating to commerce and industry, they are men, on the contrary, who are being trained to uphold the honor of our flag at home or abroad, as fate may decree--fighting men whose lives are to be devoted to the national weal. it would be strange, therefore, if games in which those thus set apart participate, were not marked by a quality peculiarly their own. to far-flung warships the scores are sent on the wings of the wireless and there is elation or depression in many a remote wardroom in accordance with the aspect of the news. in lonely army posts wherever the flag flies word of the annual struggle is flashed alike to colonel and the budding second lieutenant still with down on lip, by them passed to the top sergeant and so on to the bottom of the line. every football player who has had the good fortune to visit west point or annapolis, there to engage in a gridiron contest, has had an experience that he will always cherish. every team, as a rule, looks forward to out of town trips, but when an eleven is to play the army or the navy, not a little of the pleasure lies in anticipation. mayhap the visitor even now is recalling the officer who met him at the station, and his hospitable welcome; the thrill that resulted from a tour, under such pleasant auspices, of the buildings and the natural surroundings of the two great academies. there was the historic campus, where so many great army and navy men spent their preparatory days. an inspiration unique in the experience of the visitor was to be found in the drill of the battalion as they marched past, led by the famous academy bands. there arose in the heart of the stranger perhaps, the thought that he was not giving to his country as much as these young men. such is the contagion of the spirit of the two institutions. there is always the thrill of the military whether the cadets and midshipmen pass to the urge of martial music in their purely military duties, or in equally perfect order to the ordinary functions of life, such as the daily meals, which in the colleges are so informal and in the mess hall are so precise. joining their orderly ranks in this big dining-room one comes upon a scene never to be forgotten. in the process of developing college teams, an eleven gets a real test at either of these academies; you get what you go after; they are out to beat you; their spirit is an indomitable one; your cherished idea that you cannot be beaten never occurs to them until the final whistle is blown. your men will realize after the game that a bruised leg or a lame joint will recall hard tackling of a player like mustin of the navy, or arnold of west point, souvenirs of the dash they put into their play. maybe there comes to your mind a recollection of the navy's fast offense; their snappy play; the military precision with which their work is done. possibly you dream of the wriggling open field running of snake izard, or the bulwark defense of nichols; or in your west point experiences you are reminded of the tussle you had in suppressing the brilliant kromer, that clever little quarterback and field general, or the task of stopping the forging king, the army's old captain and fullback. not less vivid are the memories of the spontaneous if measured cheering behind these men--a whole-hearted support that was at once the background and the incentive to their work. the "siren cheer" of the navy and the "long corps yell" of the army still ringing in the ears of the college invader were proof of the drive behind the team. i have always counted it a privilege that i was invited to coach at annapolis through several football seasons. it was an unrivalled opportunity to catch the spirit that permeates the atmosphere of this great service school and to realize how eagerly the progress of football is watched by the heroes of the past who are serving wherever duty calls. it was there that i met superintendent wainwright. his interest in annapolis football was keen. another officer whose friendship i made at the academy was commander grant, who later was rear admiral, commander of the submarine flotilla. his spirit was truly remarkable. the way he could talk to a team was an inspiration. it was during the intermission of a navy-carlisle game when the score was to in carlisle's favor, that this exponent of fighting spirit came into the dressing-room and in a talk to the team spared nothing and nobody. what he said about the white man not being able to defeat the indian was typical. as a result of this unique dressing-room scene when he commanded the navy to win out over the indians, his charges came through to victory by the score of - . there is no one man at annapolis who sticks closer to the ship and around whom more football traditions have grown than paul dashiell, a professor in the academy. he bore for many years the burden of responsibility of annapolis football. his earnest desire has been to see the navy succeed. he has worked arduously, and whenever navy men get together they speak enthusiastically of the devotion of this former lehigh hero, official and rule maker. players have come and gone; the call in recent years has been elsewhere, but paul dashiell has remained, and his interest in the game has been manifested by self-denial and hard work. defeat has come to him with great sadness, and there are many games of which he still feels the sting; these come to him as nightmares in his recollections of annapolis football history. great has been his joy in the navy's hour of victory. it was here at annapolis that i learned something of the old navy football heroes. most brilliant of all, perhaps, was worth bagley, a marvelous punter and great fighter. he lost his life later in the war with spain, standing to his duty under open fire on the deck of the _winslow_ at cardenas, with the utter fearlessness that was characteristic of him. i heard of the deeds on the football field of mike johnson, trench, pearson, mccormack, cavanaugh, reeves, mccauley, craven, kimball and bookwalter. i have played against the great navy guard halligan. i saw developed the navy players, long, chambers, reed, nichols and chip smith, who later was in charge of the navy athletics. he was one of the best quarterbacks the navy ever had. i saw dug howard grow up from boyhood in annapolis and develop into a navy star; saw him later coach their teams to victory; witnessed the great playing of dougherty, piersol, grady and bill carpenter, who is no longer on the navy list. all these players, together with norton, northcroft, dague, halsey, ingram, douglas, jerry land, babe brown and dalton stand out among those who have given their best in army and navy games. young nichols, who was quarterback in , was a most brilliant ground gainer. he resigned from the service early in , receiving a commission in the british army. he was wounded, but later returned to duty only to be killed shortly afterward. another splendid man. in speaking of navy football i cannot pass over the name of w. h. stayton, a man whose whole soul seemed to be permeated with navy atmosphere, and who is always to be depended upon in navy matters. the association that i formed later in life with mcdonough craven and other loyal navy football men gave me an opportunity to learn of annapolis football in their day. the list of men who have been invited to coach the navy from year to year is a long one. the ideal method of development of an undergraduate team is by a system of coaching conducted by graduates of that institution. such alumni can best preserve the traditions, correct blunders of other years, and carry through a continuous policy along lines most acceptable. graduate coaching exclusively is nearly impossible for navy teams, for the graduates, as officers, are stationed at far distant points, mostly on board ship. their duties do not permit of interruption for two months. they cannot be spared from turret and bridge; from the team work so highly developed at present on shipboard. furthermore, their absence from our country sometimes for years, keeps them out of touch with football generally, and it is impossible for them to keep up to date--hence the coaching from other institutions. [illustration: northcroft kicking the field goal anticipated by the navy and feared by the army] lieutenant frank b. berrien was one of the early coaches and an able one. immediately afterward dug howard for three years coached the team to victory. the navy's football future was then turned over to jonas ingram, with the idea of working out a purely graduate system, in the face of such serious obstacles as have already been pointed out. one of the nightmares of my coaching experiences was the day that the army beat the navy through the combined effort of the whole army team plus the individual running of charlie daly. this run occurred at the very start of the second half. doc hillebrand and i were talking on the side lines to evarts wrenn, the umpire. none of us heard the whistle blow for the starting of the second half. before we knew it the army sympathizers were on their feet cheering and we saw daly hitting it up the field, weaving through the navy defense. harmon graves, who was coaching west point that year, has since told me that the army coaches had drilled the team carefully in receiving the ball on a kick-off--with daly clear back under the goal posts. on the kick-off, the navy did just what west point had been trained to expect. belknap kicked a long high one direct to daly, and then and there began the carefully prepared advance of the army team. mowing down the oncoming navy players, the west point forwards made it possible for clever daly to get loose and score a touchdown after a run of nearly the entire length of the field. this game stands out in my recollection as one of the most sensational on record. the navy, like west point, had had many victories, but the purpose of this book is not to record year by year the achievements of these two institutions, but rather catch their spirit, as one from without looks in upon a small portion of the busy life that is typical of these service schools. scattered over the seven seas are those who heard the reveille of football at annapolis. from a few old-timers let us garner their experiences and the effects of football in the service. c. l. poor, one of the veterans of the annapolis squad, varsity and hustlers, has something to say concerning the effect of football upon the relationship between officers and men. "generally speaking," he says, "it is considered that the relationship is beneficial. the young officer assumes qualities of leadership and shows himself in a favorable light to the men, who appreciate his ability to show them something and do it well. the average young american, whether himself athletic or not, is a bit of a hero worshipper towards a prominent athlete, and so the young officer who has good football ability gets the respect and appreciation of the crew to start with." j. b. patton, who played three years at annapolis, says of the early days: "i entered the academy in . in those days athletics were not encouraged. the average number of cadets was less than , and the entrance age was from to --really a boys' school. so when an occasional college team appeared, they looked like old men to us. "match games were usually on saturday afternoon, and all the cadets spent the forenoon at sail drill on board the _wyoming_ in chesapeake bay. i can remember spending four hours racing up and down the top gallant yard with stone and hayward, loosing and furling sail, and then returning to a roast beef dinner, followed by two -minute halves of football. "one of our best games, as a rule, was with johns hopkins university. paul dashiell, then a hopkins man, usually managed to smuggle one or more poes to annapolis with his team. we knew it, but at that time we did not object because we usually beat the hopkins team. "another interesting match was with the deaf mutes from kendall college. it was a standing joke with us that they too frequently smuggled good football players who were not mutes. these kept silent during the game and talked with their hands, but frequently when i tackled one hard and fell on him, i could hear him cuss under his breath." m. m. taylor brings us down to navy football of the early nineties. "in my day the principal quality sought was beef. being embryo sailors we had to have nautical terms for our signals, and they made our opponents sit up and take notice. when i played halfback i remember my signals were my order relating to the foremast. for instance, 'fore-top-gallant clew lines and hands-by-the-halyards' meant that i was the victim. on the conclusion of the order, if the captain could not launch a play made at once, he had to lengthen his signal, and sometimes there would be a string of jargon, intelligible only to a sailor, which would take the light yard men aloft, furl the sail, and probably cast reflections on the stowage of the bunt. anything connected with the anchor was a kick. the mainmast was consecrated to the left half, and the mizzen to the fullback. "in one game our lack of proper uniform worked to our advantage. i was on the sick list and had turned my suit over to a substitute. i braved the doctor's disapproval and went into the game in a pair of long working trousers and a blue flannel shirt. the opposing team, pennsylvania, hailed me as 'little boy blue,' and paid no further attention to me, so that by good fortune i made a couple of scores. then they fell upon me, and at the close all i had left was the pants." j. w. powell, captain of the ' team, tells of the interim between army-navy games. "our head coach was johnny poe," he says, "and he and paul dashiell took charge of the squad. some of our good men were rus white, bill tardy, halligan and fisher, holding over from the year before. a. t. graham and jerry landis in the line. a wild irishman in the plebe class, paddy shea, earned one end position in short order, while a. h. mccarthy went in at the other wing. jack asserson, bobby henderson, louis richardson and i made up the backfield. in ' , princeton had developed their famous ends back system which was adopted by johnny poe and the game we played that year was built around this system. johnny was a deadly tackler and nearly killed half the team with his system of live tackling practice. this was one of the years in which there was no army and navy game and our big game was the thanksgiving day contest with lafayette. barclay, bray and rinehart made lafayette's name a terror in the football world. the game resulted in an to victory for lafayette. "my most vivid recollections of that game are mccarthy's plucky playing with his hand in a plaster cast, due to a broken bone, stopping barclay and bray repeatedly in spite of this handicap, and my own touchdown, after a twelve yard run, with rinehart's pounds hanging to me most of the way." i recall a trip that the princeton team of made to west point. it was truly an attack upon the historical old school in a fashion de luxe. alex van rensselaer, an old princeton football captain, invited doc hillebrand to have the tiger eleven meet him that saturday morning at the pennsylvania ferry slip in jersey city. en route to west point that morning this old princeton leader met us with his steam yacht, _the may_. boyhood enthusiasm ran high as we jumped aboard. good fellowship prevailed. we lunched on board, dressed on board. upon our arrival at west point we were met by the academy representative and were driven to the football field. the snappy work of the princeton team that day brought victory, and we attributed our success to the van rensselaer transport. returning that night on the boat, doc hillebrand and arthur poe bribed the captain of _the may_ to just miss connecting with the last train to princeton, and as a worried manager sat alongside of van rensselaer wondering whether it were not possible to hurry the boat along a little faster, van rensselaer himself knew what was in doc's mind and so helped make it possible for us to rest at the murray hill hotel over night, and not allow a railroad trip to princeton mar the luxury of the day. i have a lot of respect for the football brains of west point. my lot has been very happily cast with the navy. i have generally been on the opposite side of the field. i knew the strength of their team. i have learned much of the spirit of the academy from their cheering at army and navy games. playing against west point our princeton teams have always realized the hard, difficult task which confronted them, and victory was not always the reward. football plays a valued part in the athletic life of west point. from the very first game between the army and the navy on the plains when the middies were victorious, west point set out in a thoroughly businesslike way to see that the navy did not get the lion's share of victories. if one studies the businesslike methods of the army athletic association and reads carefully the bulletins which are printed after each game, one is impressed by the attention given to details. i have always appreciated what king, ' , meant to west point football. let me quote from the publication of the _howitzer_, in , the estimated value of this player at that time: "king, of course, stands first. captain for two years he brought west point from second class directly into first. as fullback he outplayed every fullback opposed to him and stands in the judgment of all observers second only to brooke of pennsylvania. let us read what king has to say of a period of west point football not widely known. "i first played on the ' team," he says. "we had two navy games before this, but they were not much as i look back upon them. at this time we had for practice that period of saturday afternoon after inspection. that gave us from about p. m. on. we also had about fifteen minutes between dinner and the afternoon recitations, and such days as were too rainy to drill, and from : a. m., to : a. m. later in the year when it grew too cold to drill, we had the time after about : p. m., but it became dark so early that we didn't get much practice. we practiced signals even by moonlight. "visiting teams used to watch us at inspection, two o'clock. we were in tight full dress clothes, standing at attention for thirty to forty-five minutes just before the game. a fine preparation for a stiff contest. we had quite a character by the name of stacy, a maine boy. he was a thickset chap, husky and fast. he never knew what it was to be stopped. he would fight it out to the end for every inch. early in one of the yale games he broke a rib and started another, but the more it hurt, the harder he played. in a contest with an athletic club in the last non-collegiate game we ever played, the opposing right tackle was bothering us. in a scrimmage stacy twisted the gentleman's nose very severely and then backed away, as the man followed him, calling out to the umpire. stacy held his face up and took two of the nicest punches in the eyes that i ever saw. of course, the umpire saw it, and promptly ruled the puncher out, just as stacy had planned. "just before the spanish war stacy became ill. orders were issued that regiments should send officers to the different cities for the purpose of recruiting. he was at this time not fit for field service, so was assigned to this duty. he protested so strongly that in some way he was able to join his regiment in time to go to cuba with his men. he participated in all the work down there; and when it was over, even he had to give in. he was sent to montauk point in very bad shape. he rallied for a time and obtained sick leave. he went to his old home in maine, where he died. it was his old football grit that kept him going in cuba until the fighting was over. "no mention of west point's football would be complete without the name of dennis michie. he is usually referred to as the father of football at the academy. he was captain of the first two teams we ever had. he played throughout the navy game in ' with ten boils on his back and neck. he was a backfield man and one of west point's main line backers. he was most popular as a cadet and officer and was killed in action at san juan, cuba. "one of the longest runs when both yards and time are considered ever pulled off on a football field, was made by duncan, ' , in our princeton game of ' . duncan got the ball on his -yard line on a fumble, and was well under way before he was discovered. lott, ' , later a captain of cavalry, followed duncan to interfere from behind. the only princeton man who sensed trouble was doggy trenchard. he set sail in pursuit. he soon caught up with lott and would have caught duncan, but for the latter's interference. duncan finally scored the touchdown, having made the yards in what would have been fast time for a wefers. "we at west point often speak of balliet's being obliged to call on phil king to back him up that day, as ames, one of our greatest centres, was outplaying him, and of the rage of phil king, because on every point, nolan, ' , tackled him at once and prevented king from making those phenomenal runs which characterized his playing." harmon graves of yale is a coach who has contributed much to west point's football. "harmon graves is too well known now as coach to need our praise," says a west pointer, "but it is not only as a successful coach, but as a personal friend that he lives in the heart of every member of the team and indeed the entire corps. there will always be a sunny spot at west point for graves." in a recent talk with harmon graves he showed me a beautifully engraved watch presented to him by the cadet corps of west point, a treasure prized. of the privileged days spent at west point graves writes, as follows: "every civilian who has the privilege of working with the officers and cadets at west point to accomplish some worthy object comes away a far better man than when he went there. i was fortunate enough to be asked by them to help in the establishment of football at the academy and for many years i gave the best i had and still feel greatly their debtor. "at west point amateur sport flourishes in its perfection, and a very high standard of accomplishment has been attained in football. there are no cross-cuts to the kind of football success west point has worked for: it is all a question of merit based on competency, accuracy and fearless execution. those of us who have had the privilege of assisting in the development of west point football have learned much of real value from the officers and cadets about the game and what really counts in the make-up of a successful team. it is fair to say that west point has contributed a great deal to football generally and has, in spite of many necessary time restrictions, turned out some of the best teams and players in the last fifteen years. "the greatest credit is due to the army officers athletic association, which, through its football representatives, started right and then pursued a sound policy which has placed football at west point on a firm basis, becoming the standing and dignity of the institution. "there have been many interesting and amusing incidents in connection with football at west point which help to make up the tradition of the game there and are many times repeated at any gathering of officers and cadets. i well remember when daly, the former harvard captain, modestly took his place as a plebe candidate for the team and sat in the front row on the floor of the gymnasium when i explained to the squad, and illustrated by the use of a blackboard, what he and every one else there knew was the then yale defense. there was, perhaps, the suggestion of a smile all around when i began by saying that from then on we were gathered there for west point and to make its team a success that season and not for the benefit of harvard or yale. he told me afterwards that he had never understood the defense as i had explained it. he mastered it and believed in it, as he won and kept his place on the team and learned some things from west point football,--as we all did. "the rivalry with the navy is wholesome and intense, as it should be. my friend, paul dashiell, who fully shares that feeling, has much to do with the success of the navy team, and the development of football at the naval academy. after a west point victory at philadelphia, he came to the west point dressing room and offered his congratulations. as i took his hand, i noted that tears were in his eyes and that his voice shook. the next year the navy won and i returned the call. i was feeling rather grim, but when i found him surrounded by the happy navy team, he was crying again and hardly smiled when i offered my congratulation, and told him that it really made no difference which team won for he cried anyway. "the sportsmanship and friendly rivalry which the army and navy game brings out in both branches of the service is admirable and unique and reaches all officers on the day of the game wherever in the world they are. real preparedness is an old axiom at west point and it has been applied to football. there i learned to love my country and respect the manhood and efficiency of the army officers in a better way than i did before. i recall the seasons i have spent there with gratitude and affection, both for the friends i have made and for the army spirit." siding with the navy has enabled me to know west point's strength. any mention of west point's football would be incomplete without the names of some officers who have not only safeguarded the game at west point, but have been the able representatives of the army's football during their service there. such men are, richmond p. davis, palmer e. pierce, and w. r. richardson. the way they have in the army if there is any one man who has permanently influenced football at west point that man is h. j. koehler, for years master of the sword at the academy. under his active coaching some of the army's finest players were developed. in recent years he has not been a member of the coaching staff, but he none the less never loses touch with the team and his advice concerning men and methods is always eagerly sought. by virtue of long experience at the academy and because of an aptitude for analysis of the game itself he has been invaluable in harmonizing practice and play with peculiar local conditions. any time the stranger seeks to delve either into the history or the constructive coaching of the game at the academy, the younger men, as well as the older, will always answer your questions by saying "go ask koehler." always a hard worker and serious thinker, he is apt to give an almost nightly demonstration during the season of the foundation principles of the game. not only west pointers, but also yale and princeton men, who had to face the elevens under koehler's coaching will remember romeyn, who, had he been kicking in the days of felton, mahan and the other long distance artillerists, might well have held his own, in the opinion of army men. nesbitt, waldron and scales were among the other really brilliant players whom koehler developed. he was in charge of some of the teams that played the hardest schedules in the history of west point football. one year the cadets met harvard, yale, princeton, columbia, syracuse and penn state. surely this was a season's work calculated to develop remarkable men, or break them in the making. bettison, center, king boyers at guard, and bunker at tackle and half, were among the splendid players who survived this trial by fire. casad, clark and phillips made up a backfield that would have been a credit to any of the colleges. soon, however, the army strength was greatly to be augmented by the acquisition of charles dudley daly, fresh from four years of football at harvard. reputations made elsewhere do not count for much at west point. the coaches were glad to have plebe daly come out for the squad, but they knew and he knew quite as well as they, that there are no short cuts to the big "a." now began a remarkable demonstration of football genius. not only did the former harvard captain make the team, but his aid in coaching was also eagerly sought. an unusual move this, but a tribute to the new man. daly was modesty itself in those days as he has been ever since, even when equipped with the yellow jacket and peacock feather of the head coach. as player and as coach and often as the two combined, daly's connection with west point football covered eight years, in the course of which he never played on or coached a losing team. his record against the navy alone is seven victories and one tie, points to . his final year's coaching was done in . from west point he was sent to hawaii, whence he writes me, as follows: "there are certain episodes in the game that have always been of particular interest to me, such as ely's game playing with broken ribs in the harvard-yale game of ; charlie de saulles' great playing with a sprained ankle in the yale-princeton game of the same year; the tackling of bunker by long of the navy in the army-navy game of --the hardest tackle i have ever seen; and the daring quarterback work of johnny cutler in the harvard-dartmouth game, when he snatched victory from defeat in the last few minutes of play." undoubtedly daly's deep study of strategy and tactics as used in warfare had a great deal to do with his continued ascendency as a coach. writing to herbert reed, one of the pencil and paper football men, with whom he had had many a long argument over the generalship of the game, he said in part: "football within the limitations of the rules and sportsmanship is a war game. either by force or by deception it advances through the opposition to the goal line, which might be considered the capital of the enemy." it was in daly's first year that a huge southerner, with a pleasant drawl, turned up in the plebe class. it was a foregone conclusion almost on sight that ernest, better known to football men throughout the country as pot graves, would make the eleven. he not only played the game almost flawlessly from the start, but he made so thorough a study of line play in general that his system, even down to the most intimate details of face to face coaching filed away for all time in that secret library of football methods at west point, has come to be known as graves' bible. daly, still with that ineradicable love for his own alma mater, lent a page or two from this tome to harvard, and even the author appeared in person on soldiers' field. the manner in which graves made personal demonstration of his teachings will not soon be forgotten by the harvard men who had to face pot graves. graves has always believed in the force mentioned in daly's few lines quoted above on the subject of military methods as applied to football. while always declaring that the gridiron was no place for a fist fight, he always maintained that stalwarts should be allowed to fight it out with as little interference by rule as possible. as a matter of fact, graves was badly injured in a game with yale, and for a long time afterwards hobbled around with a troublesome knee. he knew the man who did it, but would never tell his name, and he contents himself with saying "i have no ill will--he got me first. if he hadn't i would have got him." a story is told of graves' impatience with the members of a little luncheon party, who in the course of an argument on the new football, were getting away from the fundamentals. rising and stepping over to the window of the officers' club, he said, with a sleepy smile: "come here a minute, you fellows," and, pointing down to the roadway, added, "there's _my_ team." looking out of the window the other members of the party saw a huge steam roller snorting and puffing up the hill. among the men who played football with graves and were indeed of his type, were doe and bunker. like graves, bunker in spite of his great weight, was fast enough to play in the backfield in those years when army elevens were relying so much upon terrific power. those were the days when substitutes had very little opportunity. in the final navy game of the same eleven men played for the army from start to finish. in this period of army football other first-class men were developed, notably torney, a remarkable back, thompson, a guard, and tom hammond, who was later to make a reputation as an end coach. bunker was still with this aggregation, an eleven that marched fifty yards for a touchdown in fifteen plays against the midshipmen. the army was among the early eastern teams to test eastern football methods against those of the west, the cadets defeating a team from the university of chicago on the plains. the west pointers had only one criticism to make of their visitors, and it was laconically put by one of the backs, who said: "they're all-fired fast, but it's funny how they stop when you tackle them." in this lineup was a. c. tipton, at center, to whom belongs the honor of forcing the rules committee to change the code in one particular in order to stop a maneuver which he invented while in midcareer in a big game. no one will ever forget how, when chasing a loose ball and realizing that he had no chance to pick it up, he kicked it again and again until it crossed the final chalk mark where he fell on it for a touchdown. tipton was something of a wrestler too, as a certain japanese expert in the art of jiu-jitsu can testify and indeed did testify on the spot after the doctors had brought him too. there was no lowering of the standards in the succeeding years, which saw the development of players like hackett, prince, farnsworth and davis. those years too saw the rise of such wonderful forwards as w. w. (red) erwin and that huge man from alaska, d. d. pullen. coming now to more recent times, the coaching was turned over to h. m. nelly, assisted by joseph w. beacham, fresh from chasing the little brown brother in the philippines. beacham had made a great reputation at cornell, and there was evidence that he had kept up with the game at least in the matter of strategic possibilities, even while in the tangled jungle of luzon. he brought with him even more than that--an uncanny ability to see through the machinery of the team and pick out its human qualities, upon which he never neglected to play. there have been few coaches closer to his men than joe. whenever i talk football with joe beacham he never forgets to mention vaughn cooper, to whom he gives a large share of the credit for the good work of his elevens. cooper was of the quiet type, whose specialty was defense. these two made a great team. it was in this period that west point saw the development of one of its greatest field generals. there was nothing impressive in the physical appearance of little h. l. hyatt. a reasonably good man, ball in hand, his greatest value lay in his head work. as the west point trainer said one day: "i've got him all bandaged up like a leg in a puttee, but from the neck up he's a piece of ice." the charts of games in which hyatt ran the team are set before the squad each year as examples, not merely of perfect generalship, but of the proper time to violate that generalship and make it go, a distinction shared by prichard, who followed in his footsteps with added touches of his own. one cannot mention prichard's name without thinking at once of merillat, who, with prichard, formed one of the finest forward passing combinations the game has seen. both at franklin field and at the polo grounds this pair brought woe to the navy. these stars had able assistance in the persons of mcewan, one of the greatest centers the game has seen and who was chosen to lead the team in , weyand, neyland and o'hare, among the forwards, and the brilliant and sturdy oliphant in the backfield, the man whose slashing play against the navy in will never be forgotten. oliphant was of a most unusual type. even when he was doing the heaviest damage to the navy corps the midshipmen could not but admire his wonderful work. what the hustlers are to annapolis the cullom hall team is to west point. it is made up of the leftovers from the first squad and substitutes. one would travel far afield in search of a team with more spirit and greater pep in action, whether playing in outside games, or as their coach would put it, "showing up" the first eleven. not infrequently a player of the highest caliber is developed in this squad and taken to the first eleven. the cullom hall squad, whose eleven generally manages to clean up some of the strongest school teams of the hudson valley, draws not a little of its spirit, i think, from the late lieutenant e. m. zell, better known at the academy as "jobey." it was a treat to see the cullom hall team marching down the field against the first eleven with the roly-poly figure of jobey in the thick of every scrimmage, coaching at the top of his lungs, even when bowled over by the interference of his own pupils. since his time the squad has been turned over to lieutenants sellack and crawford, who have kept alive the traditions and the playing spirit of this unique organization. their reward for the bruising, hard work, with hardly a shadow of the hope of getting their letter, comes in seeing the great game itself. like the college scrub teams the hardest rooters for the varsity are to be found in their ranks. now for the game itself. always hard fought, always well fought, there is perhaps no clash of all the year that so wakes the interest of the general public, that vast throng which, without college affiliations, is nevertheless hungry for the right of allegiance somewhere, somehow. while the service elevens are superbly supported by the men who have been through the exacting mill at west point and annapolis--their sweethearts and wives, not to mention sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts--they are urged on to battle by that great impartial public which believes that in a sense these two teams belong to it. it is not uncommon to find men who have had no connection with either academy in hot argument as to the relative merits of the teams. once in the stands some apparently trifling thing begets a partisanship that this class of spectator is wont to wonder at after it is all over. whether in philadelphia in the earlier history of these contests on neutral ground, or in new york, army and navy day has become by tacit consent the nearest thing to a real gridiron holiday. for the civilian who has been starved for thrilling action and the chance to cheer through the autumn days, the jam at the hotels used as headquarters by the followers of the two elevens satisfies a yearning that he has hitherto been unable to define. there too, is found a host of old-time college football men and coaches who hold reunion and sometimes even bury hatchets. making his way through the crowds and jogging elbows with the heroes of a sport that he understands only as organized combat he becomes obsessed with the spirit of the two fighting institutions. once in possession of the coveted ticket he hies himself to the field as early as possible, if he is wise, in order to enjoy the preliminaries which are unlike those at any other game. soon his heart beats faster, attuned to the sound of tramping feet without the gates. the measured cadence swells, draws nearer, and the thousands rise as one, when first the long gray column and then the solid ranks of blue swing out upon the field. the precision of the thing, the realization that order and system can go so far as to hold in check to the last moment the enthusiasms of these youngsters thrills him to the core. then suddenly gray ranks and blue alike break for the stands, there to cut loose such a volume of now orderly, now merely frenzied noise as never before smote his ears. it is inspiration and it is novelty. the time, the place and the men that wake the loyalty dormant in every man which, sad to say, so seldom has a chance of expression. around the field are ranged diplomat, dignitary of whatsoever rank, both native and foreign. in common with those who came to see, as well as to be seen--and who does not boast of having been to the army-navy game--they rise uncovered as the only official non-partisan of football history enters the gates--the president of the united states. throughout one half of the game he lends his support to one academy and in the intermission makes triumphal progress across the field, welcomed on his arrival by a din of shouting surpassing all previous effort, there to support their side. [illustration: cadets and middies entering the field] it is perhaps one of those blessed hours in the life of a man upon whom the white light so pitilessly beats, when he can indulge in the popular sport, to him so long denied, of being merely human. men, methods, moods pass on. the years roll by, taking toll of every one of us from highest to lowest. yet, whether we are absorbed in the game of games, or whether we look upon it as so many needs must merely as a spectacle, the army-navy game will remain a milestone never to be uprooted. i have spoken elsewhere and at length of football traditions. the army-navy game is not merely a football tradition but an american institution. it is for all the people every time. may this great game go on forever, serene in its power to bring out the best that is in us, and when the great bugler sounds the silver-sweet call of taps for all too many, there will still be those who in their turn will answer the call of reveille to carry on the traditions of the great day that was ours. chapter xiii hard luck in the game it is as true in football, as it is in life, that we have no use for a quitter. the man who shirks in time of need--indeed there is no part in this chapter or in this book for such a man. football was never made for him. he is soon discovered and relegated to the side line. he is hounded throughout his college career, and afterwards he is known as a man who was yellow. as garry cochran used to say: "if i find any man on my football squad showing a white feather, i'll have him hounded out of college." football is a game for the man who has nerve, and when put to the test, under severe handicap, proves his sterling worth. a man has to be game in spirit. a man has to give every inch there is in him. optimism should surround him. there is much to be gained by hearty co-operation of spirit. there is much in the thought that you believe your team is going to win; that the opposing team cannot beat you; that if your opponent wins, it is going to be over your dead body. this sort of spirit is contagious, and generally passes from one to the other, until you have a wonderful team spirit, and eleven men are found fighting like demons for victory. such a spirit generally means a victory, and so gets its reward. there must be no dissenting spirit. if there is such a spirit discernible, it should be weeded out immediately. some years ago the princeton players were going to the field house to dress for the harvard game. the captain and two of the players were walking ahead of the rest of the members of the team. the game was under discussion, when the captain overheard one of the players behind him remark: "i believe harvard will win to-day." shocked by this remark, the captain, who was one of those thoroughbreds who never saw anything but victory ahead, full of hope and confidence in his team, turned and discovered that the remark came from one of his regular players. addressing him, he said: "well! if you feel that way about it, you need not even put on your suit. i have a substitute, who is game to the core. he will take your place." it is true that teams have been ruined where the men lack the great quality of optimism in football. when a man gets in a tight place, when the odds are all against him, there comes to him an amazing superhuman strength, which enables him to work out wonders. at such a time men have been known to do what seemed almost impossible. i recall being out in the country in my younger days and seeing a man, who had become irrational, near the roadside, where some heavy logs were piled. this man, who ordinarily was only a man of medium strength, was picking up one end of a log and tossing it around--a log, which, ordinarily, would have taken three men to lift. in the bewildering and exciting problems of football, there are instances similar to this, where a small man on one team, lined up against a giant in the opposing rush line, and game though handicapped in weight there comes to him at such a time a certain added strength, by which he was able to handle successfully the duty which presented itself to him. i have found it to be the rule rather than the exception, that the big man in football did not give me the most trouble; it was the man much smaller than myself. other big linemen have found it to be true. many a small man has made a big man look ridiculous. bill caldwell, who used to weigh over pounds when he played guard on the cornell team some years ago, has this to say: "i want to pay a tribute to a young man who gave me my worst seventy minutes on the football field. his name was payne. he played left guard for lehigh. he weighed about pounds; was of slight build and seemed to have a sort of sickly pallor. i have never seen him since, but i take this occasion to say this was the greatest little guard i ever met. at least he was great that day. payne had been playing back of the line during part of the season, but was put in at guard against me. i had a hunch that he was going to bite me in the ankle, when he lined up the first time, for he bristled up and tore into me like a wild cat. i have met a goodish few guards in my day, and was accustomed to almost any form of warfare, but this payne went around me, like a cooper around a barrel, and broke through the line and downed the runners in their tracks. on plunges straight at him, he went to the mat and grabbed every leg in sight and hung on for dear life. he darted through between my legs; would vault over me; what he did to me was a shame. he was not rough, but was just the opposite. i never laid a hand on him all the afternoon. he would make a world beater in the game as it is played to-day." whenever brown university men get together and speak of their wonderful quarterbacks, the names of sprackling and crowther are always mentioned. both of these men were all-american quarterbacks. crowther filled the position after sprackling graduated. he weighed only pounds, but he gave everything he had in him--game, though handicapped in weight. in the harvard game of that year, about the middle of the second half, haughton sent word over to robinson, the brown coach, that he ought to take the little fellow out; that he was too small to play football, and was in danger of being seriously injured. crowther, however, was like an india-rubber ball and not once during the season had he received any sort of injury. robby told crowther what haughton had suggested, and smiling, the latter said: "tell him not to worry about me; better look out for himself." on the next play crowther took the ball and went around harvard's end for forty yards, scoring a touchdown. after he had kicked the goal, the little fellow came over to the side line, and said to robby: "send word over to haughton and ask him how he likes that. ask him if he thinks i'm all in? perhaps he would like to have me quit now." in the yale game that year crowther was tackled by pendleton, one of the big yale guards. it so happened that pendleton was injured several times when he tackled crowther and time had to be taken out. finally the big fellow was obliged to quit, and as he was led off the field, crowther hurried over to him, reaching up, placed his hands on his shoulder and said: "sorry, old man! i didn't mean to hurt you." pendleton, who weighed well over pounds, looked down upon the little fellow, but said never a word. it is most unpleasant to play in a game where a man is injured. yet still more distressing when you realize that you yourself injured another player, especially one of your own team mates. in the brown game of , at providence, bosey reiter, princeton's star halfback, made a flying tackle of a brown runner. the latter was struggling hard, trying his best to get away from reiter. at this moment i was coming along and threw myself upon the brown man to prevent his advancing further. in the mixup my weight struck bosey and fractured his collar-bone. it was a severe loss to the team, and only one who has had a similar experience can appreciate my feelings, as well as the team's, on the journey back to princeton. we were to play yale the following saturday at princeton. i knew reiter's injury was so serious that he could not possibly play in that game. the following saturday, as that great football warrior lay in his bed at the infirmary, the whistle blew for the start of the yale game. we all realized reiter was not there: not even on the side lines, and arthur poe said, at the start of the game: "play for bosey reiter. he can't play for himself to-day." this spurred us on to better team work and to victory. the attendants at the hospital told us later that they never had had such a lively patient. he kept things stirring from start to finish of the gridiron battle. as the reports of the game were brought to him, he joined in the thrill of the play. "my injury proved a blessing," says reiter, "as it gave me an extra year, for in those days a year did not count in football, unless you played against yale, and when i made the touchdown against yale the following season, it was a happy moment for me." all is not clear sailing in football. the breaks must come some time. they may come singly or in a bunch, but whenever they do come, it takes courage to buck the hard luck in the game. just when things get nicely under way one of the star players is injured, which means the systematic team work is handicapped. it is not the team, as a whole that i am thinking of, but the pangs of sorrow which go down deep into a fellow's soul, when he finds that he is injured; that he is in the hands of the doctor. it is then he realizes that he is only a spoke in the big wheel; that the spirit of the game puts another man in his place. the game goes on. nature is left to do her best for him. let us for a while consider the player who does not realize, until after the game is over, that he is hurt. it is after the contest, when the excitement has ceased, when reaction sets in, that a doctor and trainer can take stock of the number and extent of casualties. when such injured men are discovered, at a time like that, we wonder how they ever played the game out. in fact the man never knew he was injured until the game was over. no more loyal supporter of football follows the big games than reggi wentworth, williams, ' . he is most loyal to bill hotchkiss, williams ' . "at williamstown, one year," wentworth says, "hotchkiss, who was a wonderful all round guard, probably as great a football player as ever lived (at least i think so) played with the williams team on a field covered with mud and snow three inches deep. the game was an unusually severe one, and hotchkiss did yeoman's work that day. "as we ran off the field, after the game, i happened to stop, turned, and discovered hotchkiss standing on the side of the field, with his feet planted well apart, like an old bull at bay. i went back where he was and said: "'come on, bill, what's the matter?' "'i don't know,' said he. 'there's something the matter with my ankles. i don't think i can walk.' "he took one step and collapsed. i got a boy's sled, which was on the field, laid hotchkiss on it and took him to his room, only to find that both ankles were sprained. he did not leave his room for two weeks and walked with crutches for two weeks more. it seemed almost unbelievable that a man handicapped as he was could play the game through. splints and ankle braces were unknown in those days. he went on the field with two perfectly good ankles. how did he do it?" charles h. huggins, of brown university, better known perhaps, simply as "huggins of brown," recalls a curious case in a game on andrews field: "stewart jarvis, one of the brown ends, made a flying tackle. as he did so, he felt something snap in one of his legs. we carried him off to the field house, making a hasty investigation. we found nothing more apparent than a bruise. i bundled him off to college in a cab; gave him a pair of crutches; told him not to go out until our doctor could examine the injury at six o'clock that evening. when the doctor arrived at his room, jarvis was not there. he had gone to the training table for dinner. the doctor hurried to the union dining-room, only to find that jarvis had discarded the crutches and with some of the boys had gone out to rhodes, then, as now, a popular resort for the students. later, we learned that he danced several times. the next morning an x-ray clearly showed a complete fracture of the tibia. "how it was possible for a man, with a broken leg, to walk around and dance, as he did, is more than i can fathom." what is there in a man's make-up that leads him to conceal from the trainer an injury that he receives in a game; that makes him stay in the field of play? why is it that he disregards himself, and goes on in the game, suffering physical as well as mental tortures, plucky though handicapped? the playing of such men is extended far beyond the point of their usefulness. yes, even into the danger zone. such men give everything they have in them while it lasts. it is not intelligent football, however, and what might be called bravery is foolishness after all. it is an unwritten law in football that a fresh substitute is far superior to a crippled star. the keen desire to remain in the game is so firmly fixed in his mind that he is willing to sacrifice himself, and at the same time by concealing his injury from the trainer and coaches he, unconsciously, is sacrificing his team; his power is gone. one of the greatest exhibitions of grit ever seen in a football game was given by harry watson of williams in a game at newton center between williams and dartmouth. he was knocked out about eight times but absolutely refused to leave the field. another was furnished by w. h. lewis, the amherst captain and center rush, against williams in his last game at amherst--the score was - on a wet field. williams was a big favorite but lewis played a wonderful game, and was all over the field on the defense. when the game was over he was carried off, but refused to leave the field until the final whistle. one of the most thrilling stories of a man who was game, though handicapped, is told by morris ely, quarterback for yale, . "my most vivid recollection of the harvard-yale game of is that harvard won by the largest score yale had ever been beaten by up to that time, to . next, that the game seemed unusually long. i believe i proved a good exponent of the theory of being in good condition. i started the game at pounds, in the best physical condition i have ever enjoyed, and while i managed to accumulate two broken ribs, a broken collar-bone and a sprained shoulder, i was discharged by the doctor in less than three weeks as good as ever. "i received the broken ribs in the first half when percy jaffrey fell on me with a proper intention of having me drop a fumbled ball behind our goal line, which would have given harvard an additional touchdown instead of a touchback. i did not know just what had gone wrong but tried to help it out by putting a shin guard under my jersey over the ribs during the intermission. no one knew i was hurt. "in the second half i tried to stop one of ben dibblee's runs on a punt and got a broken collar-bone, but not dibblee. about the end of the game we managed to work a successful double pass and i carried the ball to harvard's ten-yard line when charlie daly, who was playing back on defense, stopped any chance we had of scoring by a hard tackle. there was no getting away from him that day, and as i had to carry the ball in the wrong arm with no free arm to use to ward him off, i presume, i got off pretty well with only a sprained shoulder. the next play ended the game, when stub chamberlin tried a quick place goal from the field and, on a poor pass and on my poor handling of the ball, hit the goal post and the ball bounded back. i admit that just about that time the whistle sounded pretty good as apparently the entire harvard team landed on us in their attempt to block a kick." val flood, once a trainer at princeton, recalls a game at new haven, when princeton was playing yale: "frank bergen was quarterback," he says. "i saw he was not going right, and surprised the coaches by asking them to make a change. they asked me to wait. in a few minutes i went to them again, with the same result. i came back a third time, and insisted that he be taken out. a substitute was put in. i will never forget bergen's face when he burst into tears and asked me who was responsible for his being taken out. i told him i was. it almost broke his heart, for he had always regarded me as a friend. i knew how much he wanted to play the game out. he lived in new haven. when the doctor examined him, it was found that he had three broken ribs. there was great danger of one of them piercing his lungs had he continued in the game. of course, there are lots of boys that are willing to do such things for their alma mater, but the gamest of all is the man who, with a broken neck to start with, went out and put in four years of college football. i refer to eddie hart, who was not only the gamest, but one of the strongest, quickest, cleanest men that ever played the game, and any one who knows eddie hart and those who have seen him play, know that he never saved himself but played the game for all it was worth. he was the life and spirit of every team he ever played on at exeter or princeton." ed wylie, an enthusiastic hill school alumnus, football player at hill and yale, tells the following anecdote: "the nerviest thing i ever saw in a football game was in the hill-hotchkiss to game in . at the start of the second half, arthur cable, who was hill's quarterback, broke his collar-bone. he concealed the fact and until the end of the game, no one knew how badly he was hurt. he was in every play, and never had time called but once. he caught a couple of punts with his one good arm and every other punt he attempted to catch and muffed he saved the ball from the other side by falling on it. in the same game, a peculiar thing happened to me. i tackled ted coy about fifteen minutes before the end of the game, and until i awoke hours later, lying in a drawing-room car, pulling into the grand central station, my mind was a blank. yet i am told the last fifteen minutes of the game i played well, especially when our line was going to pieces. i made several gains on the offensive, never missed a signal and punted two or three times when close to our goal line." no less noteworthy is the spirit of a university of pennsylvania player, who was handicapped during his gridiron career with penn' by many severe injuries. this man had worked as hard as any one possibly could to make the varsity for three years. his last year was no different from previous seasons; injuries always worked against him. in his final year he had broken his leg early in the season. a short time before the cornell game he appeared upon the field in football togs, full of spirit and determined to get in the game if they needed him. this was his last chance to play on the penn' team. i was an official in that game. near its close i saw him warming up on the side line. his knee was done up in a plaster cast. he could do nothing better than hobble along the side lines, but in the closing moments when penn' had the game well in hand, a mighty shout went up from the side lines, as that gallant fellow, who had been handicapped all during his football career, rushed out upon the field to take his place as the defensive halfback. cornell had the ball, and they were making a tremendous effort to score. the cornell captain, not knowing of this man's physical condition, sent a play in his direction. the interference of the big red team crashed successfully around the penn' end and there was left only this plucky, though handicapped player, between the cornell runner and a touchdown. putting aside all personal thought, he rushed in and made a wonderful tackle. then this hero was carried off the field, and with him the tradition of one who was willing to sacrifice himself for the sport he loved. andy smith, a former university of pennsylvania player, was a man who was game through and through. he seemed to play better in a severe game, when the odds were against him. smith had formerly been at pennsylvania state college. in a game between penn' state and dartmouth, fred crolius, of dartmouth, says of smith: "andy smith was one of the gamest men i ever played against. this big, determined, husky offensive fullback and defensive end, when he wasn't butting his head into our impregnable line, was smashing an interference that nearly killed him in every other play. battered and bruised he kept coming on, and to every one's surprise he lasted the entire game. years afterward he showed me the scars on his head, where the wounds had healed, with the naïve remark: 'some team you fellows had that year, fred.' some team was right. and we all remember andy and his own individual greatness." there is no finer, unselfish spirit brought out in football, than that evidenced in the following story, told by shep homans, an old time princeton fullback: "a young fellow named hodge, who was quarterback on the princeton scrub, was making a terrific effort to play the best he could on the last day of practice before the yale game. he had hoped even at the last hour that the opportunity might be afforded him to be a substitute quarter in the game. however, his leg was broken in a scrimmage. as he lay on the ground in great pain, realizing what had happened and forgetting himself, he looked up and said: "'i'm mighty glad it is not one of the regulars who is hurt, so that our chance against yale will not be affected.'" crolius, one of the hardest men to stop that dartmouth ever had, tells of arthur poe's gameness, when they played together on the homestead athletic club team, after they left college. "arthur poe was about as game a man as the football world ever saw. he was handicapped in his playing by a knee which would easily slip out of place. we men who played with him on the homestead team were often stopped after arthur had made a magnificent tackle and had broken up heavy interference, with this quiet request: "'pull my bum knee back into place.' "after this was done, he would jump up and no one would ever know that it had been out. this man, who perhaps was the smallest man playing at that time, was absolutely unprotected. his suit consisted of a pair of shoes, stockings, unpadded pants, jersey and one elastic knee bandage." mike donohue, a yale man who had been coach at auburn for many years, vouches for the following story: when mike went to auburn and for several years thereafter he had no one to assist him, except a few of the old players, who would drop in for a day or so during the latter part of the season. one afternoon mike happened to glance down at the lower end of the field where a squad of grass-cutters (the name given to the fourth and fifth teams) were booting the ball around, when he noticed a pretty good sized boy who was swinging his foot into the ball with a good stiff leg and was kicking high and getting fine distance. mike made a mental note of this fact and decided to investigate later, as a good punter was very hard to find. later in the afternoon he again looked towards the lower end of the field and saw that the grass-cutters were lining up for a scrimmage among themselves, using that part of the field, which was behind the goal post, so he dismissed the squad with which he had been working and went down to see what the boy he had noticed early in the afternoon really looked like. when he arrived he soon found the boy he was looking for. he was playing left end and mike immediately noticed that he had his right leg extended perfectly straight behind him. stopping the play, mike went over to the fellow and slapping him on the back said: "don't keep that right leg stiff behind you like that. pull it up under you. bend it at the knee so you can get a good start." with a sad expression on his face, and tears almost in his eyes, the boy turned to mike and said: "coach, that damn thing won't bend. it's wood." vonalbalde gammon, one of the few players who met his death in an intercollegiate game, lived at rome, georgia, and entered the university of georgia in . he made the team his first year, playing quarterback on the eleven which was coached by pop warner and which won the southern championship. he received the injury which caused his death in the georgia-virginia game, played in atlanta, georgia, on october th, . he was a fine fellow personally and one of the most popular men at the university. as a football player, he was an excellent punter, a good plunger, and a strong defensive man. on account of his kicking and plunging ability he was moved to fullback in his second year. in the virginia game he backed up the line on the defense. all that afternoon he worked like a trojan to hold in check the powerful masses virginia had been driving at the tackles. early in the second half von dove in and stopped a mass aimed at georgia's right tackle, but when the mass was untangled, he was unable to get up. an examination showed that he was badly hurt. in a minute or two, however, he revived and was set on his feet and was being taken from the field by coach mccarthy, when captain kent, thinking that he was not too badly hurt to continue in the game, said to him: "von, you are not going to give up, are you?" "no, bill," he replied, "i've got too much georgia grit for that." these were his last words, for upon reaching the side lines he lapsed into unconsciousness and died at two o'clock the next morning. gammon's death ended the football season that year at the university. it also came very near ending football in the state of georgia, as the legislature was in session, and immediately passed a bill prohibiting the playing of the game in the state. however, mrs. gammon--von's mother--made a strong, earnest and personal appeal to governor atkinson to veto the bill, which he did. had it not been for mrs. gammon, football would certainly have been abolished in the state of georgia by an act of the legislature of . i knew a great guard whose whole heart was set on making the princeton team, and on playing against yale. this man made the team. in a princeton-columbia game he was trying his best to stop that wonderful columbia player, harold weekes, who with his great hurdling play was that season's sensation. in his hurdling he seemed to take his life in his hands, going over the line of the opposing team feet first. when the great guard of the princeton team to whom i refer tried to stop weekes, his head collided with weekes' feet and was badly cut. the trainer rushed upon the field, sponged and dressed the wound and the guard continued to play. but that night it was discovered that blood poisoning had set in. there was gloom on the team when this became known. but john dana, lying there injured in the hospital, and knowing how badly his services were needed in the coming game with yale, with his ambition unsatisfied, used his wits to appear better than he really was in order to get discharged from the hospital and back on the team. the physician who attended him has told me since that dana would keep his mouth open slyly when the nurse was taking his temperature so that it would not be too high and the chart would make it appear that he was all right. at any rate, he seemed to improve steadily, and finally reported to the trainer, jim robinson, two days before the yale game. he was full of hope and the coaches decided to have robinson give him a try-out, so that they could decide whether he was as fit as he was making it appear he was. i shall never forget watching that heroic effort, as robinson took him out behind the training house, to make the final test. with a head-gear, especially made for him, dana settled down in his regular position, ready for the charge, anticipating the oncoming yale halfback and throbbing with eagerness to tackle the man with the ball. then he plunged forward, both arms extended, but handicapped by his terrible injury, he toppled over upon his face, heart-broken. the spirit was there, but he was physically unfit for the task. the yale game started without dana, and as he sat there on the side lines and saw princeton go down to defeat, he was overcome with the thought of his helplessness. he was needed, but he didn't have a chance. chapter xiv bringing home the bacon happy is the thought of victory, and while we realize that there should always be eleven men in every play, each man doing his duty, there frequently comes a time in a game, when some one man earns the credit for winning the game, and brings home the bacon. maybe he has been the captain of the team, with a wonderful power of leadership which had held the eleven together all season and made his team a winning one. from the recollections of some of the victories, from the experiences of the men who participated in them and made victory possible, let us play some of those games over with some of the heroes of past years. billy bull one of the truly great bacon-getters of the past is yale's billy bull. football history is full of his exploits when he played on the yale team in ' , ' , ' and ' . old-time players can sit up all night telling stories of the games in which he scored for yale. his kicking proved a winning card and in happy recollection the old-timers tell of bull, the hero of many a game, being carried off the field on the shoulders of an admiring crowd of yale men after a big victory. "in the course of my years at yale, six big games were played," says bull, "four with princeton and two with harvard. i was fortunate in being able to go through all of them, sustaining no injury whatsoever, except in the last game with princeton. in this game, channing came through to me in the fullback position and in tackling him i received a scalp wound which did not, however, necessitate my removal from the game. "of the six games played, only one was lost, and that was the lamar game in the fall of ' . in the five games won i was the regular kicker in the last three, and, in two of these, kicking proved to be the deciding factor. thus in ' --yale , harvard --two place kicks and one drop kick were scored in the three attempts, totaling nine points. considering the punting i did that day, and the fact that both place-kicks were scored from close to the side lines, i feel that that game represents my best work. "the third year of my play was undoubtedly my best year; in fact the only year in which i might lay claim to being anything of a kicker. thus in the rutgers game of ' i kicked twelve straight goals from placement. counting the two goals from touchdowns against princeton i had a batting average of in three games. "through the last year i was handicapped with a lame kicking leg and was out of form, for in the final game with princeton that year, ' , i tried at least four times before scoring the first field goal of the game. in the second half i had but one chance and that was successful. this was the - game, in which all the points were scored by kicking, although the ground was wet and slippery. "it is of interest to note, in connection with drop-kicking in the old days, that the proposition was not the simple matter it is to-day. then, the ball had to go through the quarter's hands, and the kicker in consequence had so little time in which to get the ball away that he was really forced to kick in his tracks and immediately on receipt of the ball. fortunately i was able to do both, and i never had a try for a drop blocked, and only one punt, the latter due to the fact that the ball was down by the side line, and i could not run to the left (which would have taken me out of bounds) before kicking. "perhaps one of the greatest sources of satisfaction to me, speaking of punting in particular, was the fact that i was never blocked by princeton. and yet it was extremely fortunate for me that i was a left-footed kicker and thus could run away from cowan, who played a left tackle before kicking. if i had had to use my right foot i doubt if i could have got away with anything, for cowan was certainly a wonderful player and could get through the yale line as though it were paper. he always brought me down, but always after the ball had left my foot. i know that it has been thought at princeton that i stood twelve yards back from the line when kicking. this was not so. ten yards was the regular distance, always. but, i either kicked in my tracks or directly after running to the left." the day columbia beat yale columbia men enthusiastically recall the day columbia beat yale. a columbia man who is always on hand for the big games of the year is charles halstead mapes, the ever reliable, loyal rooter for the game. he has told the tale of this victory so wonderfully well that football enthusiasts cannot but enjoy this enthusiastic columbia version. "fifteen years ago yale was supreme in football," runs mapes' story. "occasionally, but only very occasionally, one of their great rivals, princeton or harvard, would win a game from them, but for any outsider, anybody except one of the 'eternal triangle,' to beat yale was out of the question--an utter impossibility. and, by the way, that triangle at times got almost as much on the nerves of the outside public as the frenchmen's celebrated three--wife, husband, lover--the foundation of their plays. "the psychological effect of yale's past prestige was all-powerful in every game. the blue-jerseyed figures with the white y would tumble through the gate and spread out on the field; the stands would rise to them with a roar of joyous welcome that would raise the very skies--y-a-l-e! y-a-l-e! y--a--l--e! [illustration: two aces--bill morley and harold weeks] "'small wonder that each man was right on his toes, felt as though he were made of steel springs. all other yale teams had won, 'we will win, of course.' "but the poor other side--they might just as well throw their canvas jackets and mole-skin trousers in the old suit-case at once and go home. 'beat yale! boys, we're crazy, but every man must try his damnedest to keep the score low,' and so the game was won and lost before the referee even blew his starting whistle. "this was the general rule, but every rule needs an exception to prove it, and on a certain november afternoon in we gave them their belly-full of exception. we had a very strong team that year, with some truly great players, harold weekes and bill morley (there never were two better men behind the line), and jack wright, old jack wright, playing equally well guard or center, as fine a linesman as i have ever seen. weekes, morley, and wright were on the all-american team of that year, and walter camp in selecting his all-american team for all time several years ago picked harold weekes as his first halfback. "i can see the game now; there was no scoring in the first half. to the outsider the teams seemed evenly matched, but we, who knew our men, thought we saw that the power was there; and if they could but realize their strength and that they had it in them to lay low at last that armor-plated old rhinoceros, the terror of the college jungle--yale,--with an even break of luck, the game must be ours. "in the second half our opportunity came. by one of the shifting chances of the game we got the ball on about their -yard line; one yard, three yards, two yards, four yards, we went through them; there was no stopping us, and at last--over, well over, for a touchdown. "through some technicality in the last rush the officials, instead of allowing the touchdown, took the ball away from us and gave it to yale. they were right, probably quite right, but how could we think so? yale at once kicked the ball to the middle of the field well out of danger. the teams lined up. "on the very next play, with every man of that splendidly trained eleven doing his allotted work, harold weekes swept around the end, aided by the magnificent interference of jack wright, which gave him his start. he ran half the length of the field, through the entire yale team, and planted the ball squarely behind the goal posts for the touchdown which won the game. if we had ever had any doubt that cruel wrong is righted, that truth and justice must prevail, it was swept away that moment in a great wave of thanksgiving. "i shall never forget it--columbia had beaten yale! tears running down my cheeks, shaken by emotion, i couldn't speak, let alone cheer. my best girl was with me. she gave one quick half-frightened glance and i believe almost realized all i felt. she was all gold. i feel now the timid little pressure on my arm as she tried to help me regain control of myself. god! why has life so few such moments!" behind the scenes let us go into the dressing room of a victorious team, which defeated yale at manhattan field a good many years ago and let us read with that great lover of football, the late richard harding davis, as he describes so wonderfully well some of the unique things that happened in the celebration of victory. "people who live far away from new york and who cannot understand from the faint echoes they receive how great is the enthusiasm that this contest arouses, may possibly get some idea of what it means to the contestants themselves through the story of a remarkable incident, that occurred after the game in the princeton dressing room. the team were being rubbed down for the last time and after their three months of self-denial and anxiety and the hardest and roughest sort of work that young men are called upon to do, and outside in the semi-darkness thousands of princeton followers were jumping up and down and hugging each other and shrieking themselves hoarse. one of the princeton coaches came into the room out of this mob, and holding up his arm for silence said, "'boys, i want you to sing the doxology.'" "standing as they were, naked and covered with mud, blood and perspiration, the eleven men that had won the championship sang the doxology from the beginning to the end as solemnly and as seriously, and i am sure, as sincerely, as they ever did in their lives, while outside the no less thankful fellow-students yelled and cheered and beat at the doors and windows and howled for them to come out and show themselves. this may strike some people as a very sacrilegious performance and as a most improper one, but the spirit in which it was done has a great deal to do with the question, and any one who has seen a defeated team lying on the benches of their dressing room, sobbing like hysterical school girls, can understand how great and how serious is the joy of victory to the men that conquer." introducing vic kennard, opportunist extraordinary. where is the harvard man, yale man, or indeed any football man who will not be stirred by the recollection of his remarkable goal from the field at new haven that provided the winning points for the eleven percy haughton turned out in the first year of his régime. to kennard himself the memory is still vivid, and there are side lights on that performance and indeed on all his football days at cambridge, of which he alone can tell. i'll not make a conversation of this, but simply say as one does over the 'phone, "kennard talking":-- [illustration: vic kennard's kick] "many of us are under the impression that the only real football fan is molded from the male sex and that the female of the species attends the game for decorative purposes only. i protest. listen. in i had the good fortune to be selected to enter the harvard-yale game at new haven, for the purpose of scoring on yale in a most undignified way, through the medium of a drop-kick, haughton realizing that while a touchdown was distinctly preferable, he was not afraid to fight it out in the next best way. "my prayers were answered, for the ball somehow or other made its way over the crossbar and between the uprights, making the score, harvard , yale . my mother, who had made her way to new haven by a forced march, was sitting in the middle of the stand on the yale (no, i'm wrong, it was, on second thought, on the harvard side) accompanied by my two brothers, one of whom forgot himself far enough to go to yale, and will not even to this day acknowledge his hideous mistake. "five or six minutes before the end of the game, one e. h. coy decided that the time was getting short and yale needed a touchdown. so he grabbed a harvard punt on the run and started. yes, he did more than start, he got well under way, circled the harvard end and after galloping fifteen yards, apparently concluded that i would look well as minced meat, and headed straight for me, stationed well back on the secondary defense. he had received no invitation whatsoever, but owing to the fact that i believe every harvard man should be at least cordial to every yale man, i decided to go - and meet him half way. "we met informally. that i know. i will never forget that. he weighed only pounds, but i am sure he had another couple of hundred tucked away somewhere. when i had finished counting a great variety and number of stars, it occurred to me that i had been in a ghastly railroad wreck, and that the engine and cars following had picked out my right knee as a nice soft place to pile up on. there was a feeling of great relief when i looked around and saw that the engineer of that train, mr. e. h. coy, had stopped with the train, and i held the greatest hopes that neither the engine nor any one of the ten cars following would ever reach the terminal. "mother, who had seen the whole performance, was little concerned with other than the fact that e. h. had been delayed. his mission had been more than delayed--as it turned out, it had been postponed. in the meantime dr. nichols of the harvard staff of first aid was working with my knee, and from the stands it looked as though i might have broken my leg. "at this point some one who sat almost directly back of my mother called out loud, 'that's young kennard. it looks as though he'd broken his leg.' my brother, feeling that mother had not heard the remark, and not knowing what he might say, turned and informed him that mrs. kennard was sitting almost directly in front of him, requesting that he be careful what he said. mother, however, heard the whole thing, and turning in her seat said, 'that's all right, i don't care if his leg is broken, if we only win this game.' "my mother, who is a great football fan, after following the game for three or four years, learned all the slang expressions typical of football. she tried to work out new plays, criticised the generalship occasionally, and fairly 'ate and slept' football during the months of october and november. while the season was in progress i usually slept at home in boston where i could rest more comfortably. i occupied the adjoining room to my mother's, and when i was ready for bed always opened the door between the rooms. "one night i woke up suddenly and heard my mother talking. wondering whether something was the matter, i got out of bed and went into her room, appearing just in time to see my mothers arms outstretched. she was calling 'fair catch.' i spoke to her to see just what the trouble was, and she, in a sleepy way, mumbled, 'we won.' she had been dreaming of the harvard-dartmouth game. "early in the fall of haughton heard rumors that the indians were equipping their backfield in a very peculiar fashion. warner had had a piece of leather the color and shape of a football sewed on the jerseys of his backfield men, in such a position that when the arm was folded as if carrying the ball, it would appear as if each of the backfield players might have possession of the ball, and therefore disorganize somewhat the defense against the man who was actually carrying the ball. instead of one runner each time, there appeared to be four. "haughton studied the rules and found nothing to prevent warner's scheme. he wrote a friendly letter to warner, stating that he did not think it for the best interest of the game to permit his players to appear in the stadium equipped in this way, at the same time admitting that there was nothing in the rules against it. taking no chances, however, haughton worked out a scheme of his own. he discovered that there was no rule which prevented painting the ball red, so he had a ball painted the same color as the crimson jerseys. had the indians come on the field with the leather ruse sewed on their jerseys, haughton would have insisted that the game be played with the crimson ball. "what did i learn in my football course? i learned to control my temper, to exercise judgment, to think quickly and act decisively. i learned the meaning of discipline, to take orders and carry them out to the best of my ability without asking why. i had through the training regular habits knocked into me. i learned to meet, know and size up men. i learned to smile when i was the most discouraged fellow in this great wide world, the importance of being on time, a better control of my nerves, and to demand the respect of fellow players. i learned to work out problems for myself and to apply my energy more intelligently,--to stick by the ship. i secured a wide friendship which money can't buy." what eddie mahan was to harvard, charlie barrett, captain of the victorious eleven, was to cornell. the ithaca captain was one of those powerful runners whose remarkable physique did not interfere with his shiftiness. like his harvard contemporary, he was a fine leader, but unlike mahan, with whom he clashed in the game with the crimson in his final year, he was not able to play the play through what was to him probably the most important gridiron battle of his career. nevertheless, it was his touchdown in the first quarter that sounded the knell of the crimson hopes that day, and cornell men will always believe that his presence on the side line wrapped in a blanket, after his recovery from the shock that put him out of the game, had much to do with inspiring his eleven. barrett was one of the products of the cleveland university school, whence so many star players have been sent up to the leading universities. on the occasion of his first appearance at ithaca it became a practical certainty that he would not only make the varsity eleven, but would some day be its captain. in course of time it became a habit for the followers of the carnelian and white to look to barrett for rescue in games that seemed to be hopelessly in the fire. in his senior year the team was noted for its ability to come from behind, and this team spirit was generally understood as being the reflection of that of their leader. the cornell captain played the second and third periods of his final game against pennsylvania in a dazed condition, and it is a tribute to his mental and physical resources that in the last period of that game he played perhaps as fine football as he had ever shown. it was from no weakened pennsylvania eleven that barrett snatched the victory in this his crowded moment. the quakers had had a disastrous season up to thanksgiving day, but their pluck and rallying power, which has become a tradition on franklin field, was never more in evidence. the quakers played with fire, with power and aggressiveness that none save those who know the quaker spirit had been led to expect. there were heroes on the red and blue team that day, and without a barrett at his best against them, they would have won. [illustration: sam white's run] it was up to eddie hart with his supreme personality and indomitable spirit, which has always characterized him from the day he entered exeter until he forged his way to the leadership of one of princeton's finest elevens to bring home the long deferred championship. when the final whistle rang down the football curtain for the season of it found hart in the ascendancy having fulfilled the wonderful promise of his old exeter days. for he had made good indeed. yale and harvard had been beaten through a remarkable combination of team and individual effort in which sam white's alertness and dewitt's kicking stood out; a combination which was made possible only through hart's splendid leadership. at a banquet for this championship team given by the princeton club of philadelphia, lou reichner, the toastmaster, in introducing sam white, the hero of the evening, quoted from first samuel iii, chapter ii, th and st verses--"and the lord said unto samuel, behold i will do a thing in israel, at which both the ears of every one that heareth it shall tingle. in that day i will perform against eli, all things which i have spoken concerning his house; when i begin i will also make an end. and the child samuel ministered unto the lord eli." mr. reichner then presented to the child samuel the souvenir sleeve links and a silver box containing the genuine soil from yale field. after sam had been sufficiently honored, alfred t. baker, princeton ' , a former varsity football player, and his son hobey baker, who played on eddie hart's team, were called before the toastmaster. there was a triple cheer for hobey and his father. reichner said that he had nothing for papa baker, but a souvenir for hobey, and if the father was man enough to take it away from him he could have it. in speaking of the yale-princeton game at new haven, some of the things incidental to victory were told that evening by sam white, who said: "in the yale game of , joe duff, the princeton guard, came over to hart, captain of the princeton team, and said: "'ed, i can't play any more. i can't stand on my left leg.' "'that's all right,' answered hart, 'go back and play on your right one.' "joe did and that year he made the all-american guard. "it was less than a week before the harvard-princeton game at princeton, , a friend of mine wrote down and asked me to get him four good seats, and said if i'd mention my favorite cigar, he'd send me a box in appreciation. i got the seats for him, but it was more or less of a struggle, but in writing on did not mention cigars. he sent me a check to cover the cost of the tickets and in the letter enclosed a small scarf pin which he said was sure to bring me luck. he had done quite a little running in his time and said it had never failed him and urged me to be sure and put it in my tie the day of the harvard-princeton game. i am not superstitious, but i did stick it in my tie when i dressed that saturday morning and it surely had a charm. it was in the first half that i got away for my run, and as we came out of the field house at the start of the second half, whom should i see but my friend, yelling like a madman-- "'did you wear it? did you wear it?' "i assured him i did, and it seemed to quiet and please him, for he merely grinned and replied: "'i told you! i told you!' "after the game i said nothing of the episode, but did secretly decide to keep the pin safely locked up until the day of the yale-princeton game. i again stuck it in my tie that morning and the charm still held, and i am still wondering to this day, if it doesn't pay to be a little bit superstitious." every harvard man remembers vividly the great crimson triumph of over yale. it will never be forgotten. during the game i sat on the harvard side lines with doctor billy brooks, a former harvard captain. he was not satisfied when harvard had yale beaten by the score of to , but was enthusiastically urging harvard on to at least one or two more touchdowns, so that the defeat which yale meted out to harvard in , a game in which he was a player, would be avenged by a larger score, but alas! he had to be satisfied with the tally as it stood. a story is told of the enthusiasm of evert jansen wendell, as he stood on the side lines of this same game and saw the big crimson roller crushing yale down to overwhelming defeat. this enthusiastic harvard graduate cried out: "'we must score again!' "another harvard sympathiser, standing nearby, said: "'mr. wendell, don't you think we have beaten them badly enough? what more do you want?' "'oh, i want to see them suffer,' retorted wendell." after this game was over and the crowd was surging out of the stadium that afternoon i heard an energetic newsboy, who was selling the _harvard lampoon_, crying out at the top of his voice: "'_harvard lampoon_ for sale here. all about the new haven wreck.'" eddie mahan there is no question that the american game of football will go on for years to come. if the future football generals develop a better all-around man than eddie mahan, captain of the great harvard team of , whose playing brought not only victory to harvard but was accompanied by great admiration throughout the football world, they may well congratulate themselves. from this peerless leader, whose playing was an inspiration to the men on his team, let us put on record, so that future heroes may also draw like inspiration from them, some of mahan's own recollections of his playing days. "i think the greatest game i ever played in was the princeton game in , because we never knew until the last minute that we had won the game," says the crimson star. "there was always a chance of princeton's beating us. the score was to . i worked harder in that game than in any game i ever played. "frank glick's defensive work was nothing short of marvelous. he is the football player i respect. he hit me so hard. the way i ran, it was seldom that anybody got a crack at me. i would see a clear space and the first thing i knew glick would come from behind somewhere, or somebody, and would hit me when i least expected it, and he usually hit me good and hard. it seemed sometimes that he came right out of the ground. i tell you after he hit me a few times he was the only man i was looking for; i did not care much about the rest of the team. "one of the things that helped me most in my backfield play was pooch donovan's coaching. he practiced me in sprints, my whole freshman year. he took a great interest in me. he speeded me up. i owe a great debt of gratitude to pooch. i could always kick before i went to harvard, back in the old andover days. i learned to kick by punting the ball all the afternoon, instead of playing football all the time. i think that is the way men should learn to kick. the more i kicked, the better i seemed to get." among the many trophies eddie mahan has received, he prizes as much as any the watch presented to him by the townspeople of natick, his home town, his last year at andover, after the football season closed. he was attending a football game at natick between natick high and milton high. "it was all a surprise to me," says eddie. "they called me out on the field and presented me with this watch which is very handsomely inscribed. "well do i recall those wonderful days at andover and the games between andover and exeter. there is intense rivalry between these two schools. many are the traditions at andover, and some of the men who had preceded me, and some with whom i played were jack curtis, ralph bloomer, frank hinkey, doc hillebrand and jim rodgers. then there was trevor hogg, who was captain of the princeton team, shelton, red braun, bob jones. the older crowd of football men made the game what it is at andover. lately they have had a much younger crowd. when i was at andover, johnny kilpatrick, henry hobbs, ham andrews, bob foster and bob mckay had already left there and gone to college. "it has been a great privilege for me to have played on different teams that have had strong players. i cannot say too much about hardwick, bradlee, and trumbull. brickley was one of the hardest men for our opponents to bring down when he got the ball. he was a phenomenal kicker. i had also a lot of respect for mal logan, who played quarterback on my team in . he weighed less than pounds. he used to get into the interference in grand shape. he counted for something. he was a tough kid. he could stand all sorts of knocks and he used to get them too. when i was kicking he warded off the big tackles as they came through. he was always there and nobody could ever block a kick from his side. the harder they hit him, the stronger he came back every time." when i asked mahan about fun in football he said: "we didn't seem to do much kidding. there was a sort of serious spirit; haughton had such an influence over everybody, they were afraid to laugh before practice, while waiting for haughton, and after practice everybody was usually so tired there was not much fooling in the dressing room; but we got a lot of fun out of the game." of haughton's coaching methods and the harvard system eddie has a few things to tell us that will be news to many football men. "haughton coaches a great deal by the use of photographs which are taken of us in practice as well as regular games. he would get us all together and coach from the pictures--point out the poor work. seldom were the good points shown. nevertheless, he always gave credit to the man who got his opponent in the interference. haughton used to say: "'any one can carry a ball through a bunch of dead men.' "haughton is a good organizer. he has been the moving spirit at cambridge but by no means the whole harvard coaching staff. the individual coaches work with him and with each other. each one has control or supreme authority over his own department. the backfield coach has the picking of men for their positions. harvard follows charlie daly's backfield play; improved upon somewhat, of course, according to conditions. each coach is considered an expert in his own line. no coach is considered an expert in all fields. this is the method at harvard. "outside of haughton, bill withington, reggie brown, and leo leary have been the most recent prominent coaches. the harvard generalship has been the old charlie daly system. reggie brown has been a great strategist. harvard line play came from pot graves of west point." [illustration: king, of harvard, making a run; mahan putting black on his head] george chadwick what george chadwick, captain of yale's winning team of , gave of himself to yale football has amply earned the thoroughly remarkable tributes constantly paid to this great yale player. he was a most deceptive man with the ball. in the princeton game john dewitt was the dangerous man on the princeton team, feared most on account of his great kicking ability. dewitt has always contended that chadwick's team was the best yale team he ever saw. he says: "it was a better team than gordon brown's for the reason that they had a kicker and gordon brown's team did not have a kicker. but this is only my opinion." yale and princeton men will not forget in a hurry the two wonderful runs for touchdowns, one from about the center of the field, that chadwick made in . "i note," writes chadwick, "that there is a general impression that the opening in the line through which i went was large enough to accommodate an express train. as a matter of fact, the opening was hardly large enough for me to squeeze through. the play was not to make a large opening, and i certainly remember the sensation of being squeezed when going through the line. "there were some amusing incidents in connection with that particular game that come back to me now. i remember that when going down on the train from new york to princeton, i was very much amused at mike murphy's efforts to get tom shevlin worked up so he would play an extra good game. mike kept telling tom what a good man davis was and how the latter was going to put it all over him. tom clenched his fists, put on a silly grin and almost wept. it really did me a lot of good, as it helped to keep my mind off the game. when it did come to the game, his first big game, shevlin certainly played wonderful football. "i had been ill for about a week and a half before this game and really had not played in practice for two or three weeks. mike was rather afraid of my condition, so he told me to be the last man always to get up before the ball was put in play. i carefully followed his advice and as a result a lot of my friends in the stand kept thinking that i had been hurt. "toward the end of the game we were down about on princeton's -yard line. it was the third down and the probabilities were that we would not gain the distance, so i decided to have bowman try for a drop-kick. i happened to glance over at the side line and there was old mike murphy making strenuous motions with his foot. the umpire, dashiell, saw him too, and put him off the side lines for signalling. i remember being extremely angry at the time because i was not looking at the side lines for any signals and had decided on a drop kick anyhow. "in my day it was still the policy to work the men to death, to drill them to endure long hours of practice scrimmage. about two weeks before the princeton game in my senior year, we were in a slump. we had a long, miserable monday's practice. a lot of the old coaches insisted that football must be knocked into the men by hard work, but it seemed to me that the men knew a lot of football. they were fundamentally good and what they really needed was condition to enable them to show their football knowledge. it is needless to say that i was influenced greatly in this by mike murphy and his knowledge of men and conditioning them. joe swann, the field coach, and walter camp were in accord, so we turned down the advice of a lot of the older coaches and gave the varsity only about five minutes' scrimmage during the week and a half preceding the princeton game, with the exception of the bucknell game the saturday before. during the week before the princeton and harvard games we went up to ardsley and had no practice for three days. there was a five-minutes' scrimmage on thursday. this was an unusual proceeding, but it was so intensely hot the day of the princeton game, and we all lost so much weight something unusual had to be done. the team played well in the princeton game, but it was simply a coming team then. in the harvard game, which we won to , it seemed to me that we were at the top of our form. "i think the whole incident was a lesson to us at new haven of the great value of condition to men who know a great deal of football. i know from my own experience during the three preceding years that it had been too little thought of. the great cry had too often been 'we must drum football into them, no matter what their physical condition.' "after the terribly exhausting game at princeton, which we won, to , dewitt cochrane invited the team to go to his place at ardsley and recuperate. it really was our salvation, and i have always been most grateful to mr. and mrs. cochrane for so generously giving up their house completely to a mob of youngsters. we spent three delightful days, almost forgot football entirely, ate ravenously and slept like tops. "big eddie glass was a wonderful help in interference. i used to play left half and eddie left guard. on plays where i would take the ball around the end, or skirting tackle, eddie would either run in the interference or break through the line and meet me some yards beyond. we had a great pulling and hauling team that year, and the greatest puller and hauler was eddie glass. perry hale, who played fullback my sophomore year, was a great interferer. he was big, and strong and fast. on a straight buck through tackle, when he would be behind me, if there was not a hole in the proper place, he would whirl me all the way round and shoot me through a hole somewhere else. it would, of course, act as an impromptu delayed play. in one game i remember making a forty yard run to a touchdown on such a manoeuver." [illustration: mccord mills roper burke pell craig mattis lathrope lloyd bannard booth wheeler reiter poe edwards hillebrand hutchinson palmer mcclave princeton's team] arthur poe there never was as much real football ability concealed in a small package as there was in that great player, arthur poe. he was always using his head, following the ball, strong in emergency. he was endowed with a wonderful personality, and a man who always got a lot of fun out of the game and made fun for others, but yet was on the job every minute. he always inspired his team mates to play a little harder. rather than write anything more about this great player, let us read with him the part he so ably played in some of princeton's football games. "the story of my run in is very simple. yale tried a mass play on doc hillebrand, which, as usual, was very unsuccessful in that quarter. he broke through and tackled the man with the ball. while the yale men were trying to push him forward, i grabbed the ball from his arms and had a clear field and about ten yards start for the goal line. i don't believe i was ever happier in my life than on this day when i made the princeton team and scored this touchdown against yale. "in the second half mcbride tried a center drive on booth and edwards. the line held and i rushed in, and grabbed the ball, but before i got very far the referee blew his whistle, and after i had run across the goal line i realized that the touchdown was not going to be allowed. "lew palmer and i were tried at end simply to endeavor to provide a defense against the return runs of de saulles on punts. he, by the way, was the greatest open field runner i have ever seen. "my senior year started auspiciously and the prospects for a victorious eleven appeared especially bright, as only two of the regular players of the year before had graduated. the first hard game was against columbia, coached by foster sanford, who had a wealth of material drawn from the four corners of the earth. in the latter part of the game my opponent by way of showing his disapproval of my features attempted to change them, but was immediately assisted to the ground by my running mate and was undergoing an unpleasant few moments, when sanford, reinforced by several dozen substitutes, ran to his rescue and bestowed some unkind compliments on different parts of my pal's anatomy. with the arrival of burr mcintosh and several old grads, however, we were released from their clutches, and the game proceeded. "after the cornell game the yale game was close at hand. we were confident of our ability to win, though we expected a bitter hard struggle, in which we were not disappointed. through a well developed interference on an end run, reiter was sent around the end for several long gains, resulting in a touchdown, but yale retaliated by blocking a kick and falling on the ball for a touchdown. sharpe, a few minutes later, kicked a beautiful goal, so that the score was to in yale's favor. the wind was blowing a gale all through the first half and as yale had the wind at their backs we were forced to play a rushing game, but shortly after the second half began the wind died down considerably so that mcbride's long, low kicks were not effective to any great extent. "yale was on the defensive and we were unable to break through for the coveted touchdown, though we were able to gain ground consistently for long advances. in the shadow of their goal line yale held us mainly through the wonderful defensive playing of mcbride. i never saw a finer display of backing up the rush line than that of mcbride during the second half. so strenuous was the play that eight substitutions had been made on our team, but with less than five minutes to play we started a furious drive for the goal line from the middle of the field, and with mcclave, mattis and lathrope carrying the ball we went to yale's -yard line in quick time. "with only about a minute to play it was decided to try a goal from the field. i was selected as the one to make the attempt. i was standing on the -yard line, about ten yards to the left of centre when i kicked; the ball started straight for the far goal post, but apparently was deflected by air currents and curved in not more than a yard from the post. i turned to the referee, saw his arms raised and heard him say 'goal' and then everything broke loose. "i saw members of the team turning somersaults, and all i remember after that was being seized by a crowd of alumni who rushed out upon the field, and hearing my brother ned shout, 'you damned lucky kid, you have licked them again.' i kicked the ball with my instep, having learned this from charlie young of cornell, who was then at princeton seminary and was playing on the scrub team. the reason i did this was because lew palmer and myself wore light running shoes with light toes, not kicking shoes at all. "after the crowd had been cleared off the field there were only seconds left to play, and after yale had kicked off we held the ball without risking a play until the whistle blew, when i started full speed for the gate, followed by bert wheeler. i recall knocking down several men as we were bursting through and making our way to the bus. it was the first, last and only goal from the field i ever attempted, and the most plausible explanation for its success was probably predestination." [illustration: "nothing got by john dewitt"] arthur poe was a big factor in football, even when he wasn't running or kicking yale down to defeat. "bill church's roughness, in my freshman year, had the scrub bluffed," continues arthur. "when lew palmer volunteered to play halfback and take care of bill on punts, bill was surprised on the first kick he attempted to block to feel lew's fist on his jaw and immediately shouted: "'i like you for that, you damn freshman.' "that was the first accident that attracted attention to lew. palmer was one of the gamest men and he won a varsity place by the hardest kind of work. "well do i recall the indignation meeting of the scrub to talk over plans of curbing johnny baird and fred smith in their endeavor to kill the scrub." john dewitt big john dewitt was the man who brought home the yale bacon for the tigers in . to be exact he not only carried, but also kicked it home. two surprise parties by a single player in so hard a game are rare indeed. whenever i think of dewitt i think of his great power of leadership. he was an ideal captain. he thought things out for himself. he was the spirit of his team. this great princeton captain was one of the most versatile football men known to fame. playing so remarkably in the guard position, he also did the kicking for his team and was a great power in running with the ball. dewitt thought things out almost instantly and took advantage of every possible point. the picture on the opposite page illustrates wonderfully well how he exerted and extended himself. this man put his whole soul into his work and was never found wanting. his achievements will hold a conspicuous place in football history. nothing got by john dewitt. dewitt's team in was the first to bring victory over yale to princeton since . on that day john dewitt scored a touchdown and kicked a placement goal, which will long be remembered. let us go back and play a part of that game over with john himself. "whenever i think of football my recollections go back to the yale game of ," says dewitt. "my most vivid recollections are of my loyal team mates whose wonderful spirit and good fellowship meant so much to the success of that eleven. without their combined effort princeton could not have won that day. "we had a fine optimistic spirit before the game and the fact that jim hogan scored a touchdown for yale in the first part of the game seemed to put us on our mettle and we came back with the spirit that i have always been proud of. hogan was almost irresistible. you could hardly stop him when he had the ball. he scored between harold short and myself and jammed through for about yards to a touchdown. if you tackled jim hogan head on he would pull you right over backwards. he was the strongest tackle i ever saw. he seemed to have overpowering strength in his legs. he was a regular player. he never gave up until the whistle blew, but after the princeton team got its scoring machine at work, the princeton line outplayed the yale line. "i think yale had as good a team as we had, if not better, that day. the personnel of the team was far superior to ours, but we had our spirit in the game. we were going through yale to beat the band the last part of the game." dewitt, describing the run that made him famous, says: "towards the end of the first half, with the score to against princeton, yale was rushing us down the field. roraback, the yale center, was not able to pass the ball the full distance back for the punter. rockwell took the ball from quarterback position and passed it to mitchell, the fullback. on this particular play our whole line went through on the yale kick formation. no written account that i have ever seen has accurately described just what happened. ralph davis was the first man through, and he blocked mitchell's kick. ridge hart, who was coming along behind him, kicked the loose ball forward and the oval was about fifteen to twenty yards from where it started. i was coming through all the time. "as the bouncing ball went behind mitchell it bobbed up right in front of me. i probably broke all rules of football by picking it up, but the chances looked good and i took advantage of them. i really was wondering then whether to pick it up or fall on it, but figured that it was harder to fall on it than to pick it up, so i put on all the steam i had and started for the goal. howard henry was right behind me until i got near the goal post. after i had kicked the goal the score was to . never can i forget the fierce playing on the part of both teams that now took place. "shortly after this in the second half i punted down into yale's territory. mitchell fumbled and ralph davis fell on the ball on the -yard line. we tried to gain, but could not. bowman fell on the ball after the ensuing kick, which was blocked. it had rolled to the -yard line. yale tried to gain once; then bowman went back to kick. i can never pay enough tribute to vetterlein, to the rare judgment that he displayed at this point in the game. when he caught that punt and heeled it, he used fine judgment; but for his good head work we never would have won that game. i kicked my goal from the field from the -yard line. [illustration: john dewitt about to pick up the ball] "as ralph davis was holding the ball before i kicked it, the yale players, who were standing ten yards away were not trying to make it any the easier for us. i remember in particular tom shevlin was kidding ralph davis, who replied: 'well, tom, you might as well give it to us now--the score is going to be - ,' and just then what davis had said came through. "if any one thinks that my entire football experience was a bed of roses, i want to assure him that it was not. i experienced the sadness of injury and of not making the team. the first day i lined up i broke three bones in one hand. three weeks later, after they had healed i broke the bones in my other hand and so patiently waited until the following year to make the team. "the next year i went through the bitter experience of defeat, and we were beaten good and plenty by yale. defeat came again in . it was in that year that i met, as my opponent, the hardest man i ever played against, eddie glass. the yale team came at me pretty hard the first fifteen minutes. glass especially crashed into me. he was warned three times by dashiell in the opening part of the game for strenuous work. glass was a rough, hard player, but he was not an unfair player at that. i always liked good, rough football. he played the game for all it was worth and was a gibraltar to the yale team. "now that my playing days are over, i think there is one thing that young fellows never realize until they are through playing; that they might have helped more; that they might have given a few extra minutes to perfect a play. the thing that has always appealed to me most in football is to think of what might have been done by a little extra effort. it is very seldom you see a man come off the field absolutely used up. i have never seen but one or two cases where a man had to be helped to the dressing room. i have always thought such a man did not give as much as he should,--we're all guilty of this offense. a little extra punch might have made a touchdown." tichenor, of the university of georgia, tells the following: "in a tech-georgia game a peculiar thing happened. one of the goal lines was about seven yards from the fence which was twelve feet high and perfectly smooth. tech had worked the ball down to within about three yards of georgia's goal near the fence. here the defense of the red and black stiffened and, taking the ball on downs, ted sullivan immediately dropped back for a kick. the pass was none too good and he swung his foot into the ball, which struck the cross bar, bounded high up in the air, over the fence, behind the goal post. "then began the mighty wall-scaling struggle to get over the fence and secure the coveted ball. as fast as one team would try to boost each other over, their opponents would pull them down. this contest continued for fully five minutes while the crowd roared with delight. in the meantime george butler, the referee, took advantage of the situation and, with the assistance of several spectators, was boosted over the fence where he waited for some player to come and fall on the ball, which was fairly hidden in a ditch covered over with branches. butler tells to this day of the amusing sight as he beheld first one pair of hands grasping the top of the fence; one hand would loosen, then the other; then another set of hands would appear. heads were bobbing up and down and disappearing one after the other. the crowd now became interested and showed their partiality, and with the assistance of some of the spectators a tech player made his way over the fence and began his search for the ball, closely followed by a georgia player. they rushed around frantically looking for the ball. then red wilson joined in the search and quickly located it in the ditch; soon had it safely in his arms and tech scored a touchdown. "this was probably the only touchdown play in the history of the game which none of the spectators saw and which only the referee and two other players saw at the time the player touched the ball down." that charlie brickley was in the way of bringing home the bacon to harvard is well known to all. there have been very few players who were as reliable as this star. it was in his senior year that he was captain of the team and when the announcement came at the start of the football season that brickley had been operated upon for appendicitis the football world extended to him its deepest sympathy. during his illness he yearned to get out in time to play against yale. this all came true. the applause which greeted him when haughton sent this great player into the game--with the doctor's approval--must have impressed him that one and all were glad to see him get into the game. let us hear what brickley has to say about playing the game. "i have often been asked how i felt when attempting a drop kick in a close game before a large crowd. during my first year i was a little nervous, but after that it didn't bother me any more than as if i were eating lunch. constant practice for years gave me the feeling that i could kick the ball over every time i tried. if i was successful, those who have seen me play are the best judges. confidence is a necessity in drop kicking. the three hardest games i ever played in were the dartmouth to game in , and princeton to in , and the yale to game of the same year. the hardest field goal i ever had to kick was against princeton in the mud in . [illustration: the ever reliable brickley] [illustration: a football thoroughbred--tack hardwick] "the most finished player in all around play i ever came across is tack hardwick. he could go through a game, or afternoon's practice and perform every fundamental function of the game in perfect fashion. the most interesting and remarkable player i ever came across was eddie mahan. he could do anything on the football field. he was so versatile, that no real defense could be built against him. he had a wonderful intuitive sense and always did just the right thing at the right time." chapter xv "the bloody angle" football in its very nature is a rough game. it calls for the contact of bodies under high momentum and this means strains and bruises! thanks to the superb physical condition of players, it usually means nothing more serious. the play, be it ever so hard, is not likely to be dangerous provided it is clean, and the worst indictment that can be framed against a player of to-day, and that by his fellows, is that he is given to dirty tactics. this attitude has now been established by public opinion, and is reflected in turn by the strictness of officials, the sentiment of coaches and football authorities generally. so scientific is the game to-day that only the player who can keep his head, and clear his mind of angry emotions, is really a valuable man in a crisis. again, the keynote of success in football to-day is team work, perfect interlocking of all parts. in the old days play was individual, man against man, and this gave rise in many cases to personal animosity which frequently reduced great football contests to little more than pitched battles. those who to-day are prone to decry football as a rough and brutal sport--which it no longer is--might at least reverse their opinions of the present game, could they have spent a certain lurid afternoon in the fall of ' at jarvis field where the elevens of harvard and princeton fought a battle so sanguinary as to come down to us through the years legended as a real _crimson_ affair. one of the saddest accidents that ever occurred on a university football field happened in this contest and suggested the caption of "the bloody angle," the historic shambles of the great gettysburg battle. luther price, who played halfback on the princeton teams of ' and ' and who was acting captain the larger part of the latter season, tells the following story of the game: "princeton's contest with harvard in the autumn of ' was the bloodiest game that i ever experienced or saw. at that period the football relations between the two colleges were fast approaching a crisis and the long break between the institutions followed a couple of seasons later. it is perhaps true that the ' game was largely responsible for the rupture because it left secret bitterness. "in fact, the game was pretty near butchery and the defects of the rules contributed to this end. both sides realized that the contest was going to be a hummer but neither imagined the extent of the casualties. had the present rules applied there would have been a long string of substitutes in the game and the caption of 'the bloody angle' could not have been applied. "in those days an injured player was not allowed to leave the field of play without the consent of the opponents' captain. one can easily grasp the fact that your adversaries' captain was not apt to permit a player, battered almost to worthlessness, to go to the bench and to allow you to substitute a strong and fresh player. therein lies the tale of this game. "princeton was confident of winning but not overconfident. we went out to jarvis field on a tallyho from boston, and i recall how eagerly we dashed upon the field, anxious for the scrap to begin. it was a clear, cold day with a firm turf--a condition that helped us, as we were lighter than harvard, especially behind the line. none of our backs weighed more than pounds. "holden, the crimson captain, was probably the most dangerous of our opponents. he was a deceptive running back owing to the difficulty of gauging his pace. he was one of the speediest sprinters in the eastern colleges and if he managed to circle either end it was almost good-bye to his opponents. "we were all lying in wait for holden, not to cripple him or take any unfair advantage, but to see that he did not cross our goal line. it was not long before we had no cause to be concerned on that score. but before holden was disposed of we suffered a most grievous loss in the disqualification of hector cowan, our left guard and our main source of strength. princeton worked a majority of the tricks through cowan and when he was gone we lost the larger part of our offensive power. "cowan's disqualification was unjustified by his record or by any tendency toward unfair play, though this statement should not be regarded as a reflection on the fairness of wyllys terry, the old yale player, who was the umpire. walter camp, by the way, was the referee. "there never was a fairer player than cowan, and such a misfortune as losing him by disqualification for any act on the field was never dreamt of by the princeton men. the trouble was that terry mistook an accident for a deliberate act. holden was skirting princeton's left end when cowan made a lunge to reach him. holden's deceptive pace was nearly too much for even such a star as cowan, whose hands slipped from the harvard captain's waist down to below his knees until the ankles were touched. cowan could have kept his hands on holden's ankles, but as tackling below the knees was foul, he quickly let go. but holden tumbled and several princeton men were on him in a jiffy. "harvard immediately claimed that it was a foul tackle. it was a desperate claim but it proved successful. to our astonishment and chagrin, terry ruled cowan off the field. cowan was thunderstruck at the decision and protested that he never meant to tackle unfairly. we argued with terry but he was unrelenting. to him it seemed that cowan meant to make a foul tackle. the situation was disheartening but we still felt that we had a good chance of pulling through even without cowan. "what was particularly galling to us was that we had allowed two touchdowns to slip from our grasp. twice we had carried the ball to within a few yards of the harvard line and had dropped the ball when about to cross it. both errors were hardly excusable and were traceable to over-anxiety to score. with cowan on the field we had found that he could open up the harvard line for the backs to make long runs but now that he was gone we could be sure of nothing except grilling work. "soon after occurred the most dramatic and lamentable incident which put holden out of the game. we had been warned long before the contest that holden was a fierce tackler and that if we, who were back of the princeton line, wished to stay in the game it would be necessary to watch out for his catapultic lunges. "holden made his tackles low, a kind of a running dive with his head thrust into his quarry's stomach. the best policy seemed, in case holden had you cornered, to go at him with a stiff arm and a suddenly raised knee to check his onslaught and, if possible, shake him off in the shuffle, but that was a mighty difficult matter for light backs to do. "first the line was opened up so that i went through. harding, the harvard quarter, who was running up and down the crimson line like a panther, didn't get me. my hand went against his face and somehow i got rid of him. finally i reached holden, who played the fullback position while on the defensive, and had him to pass in order to get a touchdown. there was a savage onslaught and holden had me on the ground. "a few moments later ames, who played back with channing and me, went through the harvard line and again holden was the only obstacle to a touchdown for princeton. there was another savage impact and both players rolled upon the ground, but this time holden did not get up. he got his man but he was unconscious or at least seemingly so. his chest bone had been broken. it was a tense moment. we all felt a pang of sympathy, for holden was a square, if rough, player. harvard's cheers subsided into murmurs of sorrow and holden was carried tenderly off the field. "the accident made harvard desperate, and as we were without cowan we were in the same mental condition. it was hammer and tongs from that time on. i don't know that there was any intention to put players out of business, but there was not much mercy shown. "it appeared to me that some doubt existed on the harvard side as to who caused holden's chest bone to be broken, but that the suspicion was mainly directed at me. several years later an article written at harvard and published in the _public ledger_ in philadelphia gave a long account of how i broke holden's chest bone. this seemed to confirm my notion that there was a mixup of identity. however that may be, it soon became evident in the game that i was marked for slaughter. "vic harding made a profound and lasting impression on me both with his hands and feet. in fact, harding played in few games of importance in which he was not disqualified. he was not a bad fellow at all in social relations, but on a football field he was the limit of 'frightfulness.' i don't know of any player that i took so much pleasure in punching as harding. ames and harding also took delight in trying to make each other's faces change radically in appearance. "i think that harding began to paint my face from the start of the game and that as it proceeded he warmed up to the task, seeing that he was making a pretty good job of it. he had several mighty able assistants. the work was done with several hundred wellesley college girls, who were seated on benches close to the sideline, looking on with the deepest interest and, as it soon appeared, with much sympathy. i will not forget how concerned they looked. "by the middle of the second half i guess they did see a spectacle in me for they began to call to me and hold out handkerchiefs. at first i didn't realize what they meant for i was so much engaged with the duties that lay in front of me that it was difficult to notice them, but their entreaties soon enlightened me. they were asking me as a special favor to clean my face with their handkerchiefs, but i replied--perhaps rather abruptly--that i really didn't have time to attend to my facial toilet. "my nose had been broken, both eyes well closed and my canvas jacket and doeskin knickerbockers were scarlet or crimson--whichever you prefer--in hue. strength was quickly leaving me and the field swam. i finally propped myself up against a goal post. the next thing i knew was that i was being helped off the field. my brother, billy, who was highly indignant over the developments, took my place. this was about ten or fifteen minutes before the end of the game, which then consisted of two minute periods. "ames emerged from the game with nothing more than the usual number of cuts and bruises. at that time we did not have any nose-guards, head-guards and other paraphernalia such as are used nowadays, except that we could get ankle braces, and ames wore one. that ankle stood the test during the fight. "a majority of the other players were pretty well cut up. after cowan was disqualified bob (j. robb) church, subsequently major in the united states army medical corps and formerly the surgeon of roosevelt's rough riders in the spanish war, was shifted from tackle to cowan's position at guard. chapin, a brilliant student, who had changed from amherst to princeton, went in at tackle. he was a rather erratic player, and harvard kept pounding in his direction with the result that bob church had a sea of trouble and i was forced to move up close to the line for defensive work. it was this that really put me out of business. my left shoulder had been hurt early in the season and it was bound in rubber, but fortunately it was not much worse off than at the beginning of the game. "bob church risked his life more than once in the spanish war and for his valor he received a medal of honor from congress, but it is safe to say that he never got such a gruelling as in this harvard game. he was battered to the extent of finding it difficult to rise after tackling and finally he was lining up on his knees. it was a magnificent exhibition of pluck. as i recall, bob lasted to the end of the game. "it was not until near the close that any scoring took place and then harvard made two touchdowns in quick succession. we lacked substitutes to put in and, even if we had had them, it is doubtful whether we could have got them in as long as a player was able to stand up. the only satisfaction we had was that we had done the best we could to win and our confidence that with cowan we could have won even if holden had not been hurt. we had beaten harvard the year before with essentially the same team that we played in this game." chapter xvi the family in football it is almost possible, i think, to divide football men into two distinct classes--those who are made into players (and often very good ones) by the coaches and those who are born with the football instinct. just how to define football instinct is a puzzle, but it is very easy to discern it in a candidate, even if he never saw a football till he set foot on the campus. by and large, it will be read first in a natural aptitude for following the ball. after that, in the general way he has of handling himself, from falling on the ball to dodging and straight arm. watch the head coach grin when some green six-foot freshman dives for a rolling ball and instinctively clutches it into the soft part of his body as he falls on it. nobody told him to do it just that way, or to keep his long arms and legs under control so as to avoid accident, but he does it nevertheless and thus shows his football instinct. there is still another kind of football instinct, and that is the kind that is passed down from father to son and from brother to brother. they say that the lacemakers of nottingham don't have to be taught how to make lace because, as children, they somehow absorb most of the necessary knowledge in the bosom of their family, and i think the same thing is true of sons and brothers of football players. generally, they pick up the essentials of the game from "pop" long before they get to school or college or else are properly educated by an argus-eyed brother. [illustration: johnson edgar allen arthur nelson gresham johnny the poe family] but the matter of getting football knowledge--of developing the instinct--isn't always left to the boy. unless i'm grievously mistaken it's more often the fond father who takes the first step. in fact, some fathers i've known have, with a commendable eye to future victories, even dated the preparation of their offspring from the hour when he was first shown them by the nurse: "let me take a squint at the little rascal," says the beaming father and expertly examines the young hopeful's legs. "ah, hah, bully! we'll make a real football player out of _him_!" and so, some day when dick or ken is six or seven, father produces a strange looking, leather-cased bladder out of a trunk where mother hasn't discovered it and blows it up out on the front porch under the youngster's inquisitive eye and tucks in the neck and laces it up. "what is it, pop? what you going to do with it?" "that's what men call a football, son. and right now i'm going to _kick_ it." and kick it he does--all around the lot--until after a particularly good lift he chuckles to himself, the old war horse, and with the smell of ancient battles in his nostrils sits down to give the boy his first lesson in the manliest and best game on earth. and this first lesson is tackling. perhaps the picture on the opposite page will remind you of the time you taught _your_ boys the good old game. this particular kind of football instinct has produced many of the finest players the colleges have ever seen. in a real football family there isn't much bluffing as to what you can do nor are there many excuses for a fumble or a missed tackle. with your big brothers' ears open and their tongues ready with a caustic remark, it doesn't need "pop's" keen eye to keep you within the realms of truth as to the length of your run or why you missed that catch. quite often, as it happens, "pop" is thinking of a certain big game he once played in and remembering a play--ah! if only he could forget that play!--in which he fumbled and missed the chance of a life-time. like some inexorable motion picture film that refuses to throw anything but one fatal scene on the screen, his recollections make the actors take their well-remembered positions and the play begins. for the thousandth time he gnashes his teeth as he sees the ball slip from his grasp. "dog-gone it," he mutters, "if my boy doesn't do better in the big game than _i_ did, i'll whale the hide off him!" strangely enough not all brothers of a football family follow one another to the same college, and there have been several cases where brother played against brother. but for the only son of a great player to go anywhere else than to his father's college would be rank heresy. i daresay even the other college wouldn't like it. [illustration: just boys] of famous fathers whose football instinct descended without dilution into their sons perhaps the easiest remembered have been walter camp, who captained the elis in ' and ' and whose son, walter, jr., played fullback in --alfred t. baker, one of the princeton backs in ' , and ' , whose son hobey captained his team in --snake ames, who played in four championship games for princeton against both yale and harvard, and whose son, knowlton ames, jr., played on the princeton teams of ' , ' and ' --and that sterling yale tackle of ' and ' , "wallie" winter, whose son, wallace, jr., played on his freshman team in . when we come to enumerating the brothers who have played, it is the poe family which comes first to mind. laying aside friendship or natural bias, i feel that my readers will agree with me in the belief that it would be hard to find six football players ranking higher than the six poe brothers. altogether, princeton has seen some twenty-two years of poes, during at least thirteen of which there was a poe on the varsity team. johnson poe, ' , came first, to be followed by edgar allen, twice captain, then by johnny, now in his last resting place "somewhere in france," then by nelson, then arthur, twice the fly in yale's ointment, and lastly by gresham poe. i haven't a doubt but that after due lapse of time this wonderful family will produce other poes, sons and cousins, to carry on the precious tradition. next in point of numbers probably comes the riggs family of five brothers, of whom three, lawrence, jesse and dudley, played on princeton teams, while harry and frank were substitutes. the hodge family were four who played at princeton--jack, hugh, dick and sam. after the riggs family comes the young family of cornell--ed., charles, george and will--all of whom played tremendously for the carnelian and white in the nineties. charles young later studied at the theological seminary at princeton and played wonderful football on the scrub in my time from sheer love of sport, since as he is, at this writing, physical director at cornell. amherst boasts of the wonderful pratt brothers, who did much for amherst football. of threes there are quite a number. prominent among them have been the wilsons of both yale and princeton, tom being a guard on the princeton teams of and , while alex captained yale in and saw another brother in orange and black waiting on the side lines across the field. situations like this are always productive of thrills. let the brother who has been waiting longingly throw off his blanket and rush across the field into his position and instantly the news flashes through the stands. "brother against brother!" goes the thrilling whisper--and every heart gives an extra throb as it hungers in an unholy but perfectly human way for a clash between the two. there were three harlan brothers who played at princeton in ' , ' , ' . at harvard lothrope, paul and ted withington; percy, jack and sam wendell. in cornell a redoubtable trio were the taussigs. of these j. hawley taussig played end for four years ending with the ' team. charles followed in the same position in ' , ' and ' and joseph k., later lieutenant commander of the torpedoboat destroyer _wadsworth_ played quarter on the naval academy team in ' and ' . a third trio of brothers were the greenways of yale. of these, john and gil greenway played both football and baseball while jim greenway rowed on the crew. another princeton family, well known, has been the moffats. the first of these to play football was henry, who played on the ' team which was the first to beat yale. he was followed by the redoubtable alex, who kicked goals from all over the field in ' , ' , and ' , by will moffat who was a varsity first baseman and by ned moffat who played with me at lawrenceville. equally well known have been the hallowells of harvard--f. w. hallowell, ' , r. h. hallowell, ' , and j. w. hallowell, ' . another hallowell--penrose--was on the track team, while colonel hallowell, the father, was always a power in harvard athletics. when we come to cite the pairs of brothers who have played, the list seems endless. the first to come to mind are laurie bliss of the yale teams of ' , ' and ' and "pop" bliss of the ' team, principally, i think, because of laurie's wonderful end running behind interference and because "pop" bliss, at a crucial moment in a harvard-yale game deliberately disobeyed the signal to plunge through centre on harvard's -yard line and ingeniously ran around the end for a touchdown. tommy baker and alfred baker were brothers. continuing the yale list, there have been the hinkeys, frank and louis, who need no praise as wonderful players--charlie and johnny de saulles--sherman and "ted" coy--w. o. hickok, the famous guard of ' , ' and ' and his brother ross--herbert and malcolm mcbride, both of whom played fullback--tad jones and his brother howard--the philbins, steve and holliday--charlie chadwick and his younger brother, george, who captained his team in . their father before them was an athlete. in harvard there have been the traffords, perry and bernie--arthur brewer and charley the fleet of foot, who ran ninety yards in the harvard-princeton game of and caught suter from behind--the two shaws,--evarts wrenn, ' and his famous cousin bob who played tennis quite as well as he played football. [illustration: hobey baker walter camp, jr. snake ames, jr.] princeton, too, has seen many pairs of brothers--"beef" wheeler, the famous guard of ' , ' and ' and bert wheeler, the splendid fullback of ' and ' whose cool-headed playing helped us win from yale both in princeton and at new haven--the rosengartens, albert and his cousin fritz and albert's brother who played for pennsylvania--the tibbotts, dave and fred--j. r. church, ' , and bill church, the roaring, stamping tackle of ' and ' --ross and steve mcclave--harry and george lathrope--jarvis geer and marshall geer who played with me on teams at both school and college--billy bannard and horace bannard--fred kafer and dana kafer, the first named being also the very best amateur catcher i have ever seen. fred kafer, by the way, furnished an interesting anachronism in that while he was one of the ablest mathematicians of his time in college he found it wellnigh impossible to remember his football signals! let us not forget, too, bal ballin, who was a princeton captain, and his brother cyril. in other colleges, the instances of football skill developed by brotherly emulation have been nearly as well marked. dartmouth, for instance, produced the bankhart brothers--cornell, the starbucks--one of them, raymond, captaining his team--the cools, frank and gib--the latter being picked by good judges as the all-america center in --and the warners, bill and glenn. the greatest three players from any one family that ever played the backfield would probably be the three draper brothers--louis, phil and fred. all went to williams and all were stars; heavy, fast backs, who were good both on defense and offense, capable of doing an immense amount of work and never getting hurt. at pennsylvania, there have been the folwells, nate and r. c. folwell and the woodruffs, george and wiley, although george woodruff, originator of the celebrated "guards back," was a yale man long before he coached at pennsylvania. it is impossible for any one who saw jack minds play to forget this great back of ' , ' , ' and ' , whose brother also wore the red and blue a few years later. doubtless there have been many more fathers, brothers and sons who have been equally famous and i ask indulgence for my sins of omission, for the list is long. principally, i have recalled their names for the reason that i knew or now know many of these great players intimately and so have learned the curious longing--perhaps "passion"--for the game which is passed from one to the other of a football family. in a way this might be compared with the military spirit which allows a family to state proudly that "_we_ have always been army (or navy) people." and who shall say that the clash and conflict of this game, invented and played only by thoroughly virile men, are not productive of precisely those qualities of which the race may, some day, well stand in need. if by the passing down from father to son and from brother to brother of a spirit of cheerful self-denial throughout the hard fall months--of grim doggedness under imminent defeat and of fair play at all times, whether victor or vanquished--a finer, truer sense of what a man may be and do is forged out of the raw material, then football may feel that it has served a purpose even nobler than that of being simply america's greatest college game. chapter xvii our good old trainers there are not many football enthusiasts who analyze the factors that bring victory. many of us do not appreciate the importance attached to the trainer, or realize the great part that he plays, until we are out of college. we know that the men who bore the brunt of the battle have received their full share of glory--the players and coaches. but there arises in the midst of our athletic world men who trained, men who safeguarded the players. trainers have been associated with football since the early eighties, and a careful trainer's eye should ever be on the lookout wherever football is played. players, coaches and trainers go hand in hand in football. every one of these men that i have known has had a strong personality. each one, however, differed somewhat from the others. there is a great affection on the part of the players for the man who cares for their athletic welfare. these men are often more than mere trainers. their personalities have carried them farther than the dressing room. their interest in the boys has continued after they left college. their influence has been a lasting one, morally, as well as physically. on account of their association, the trainers keep pace with the men about them; not limiting their interest to athletics. they are always found entertaining at the athletic banquets, and their personalities count for much on the campus. they are all but boys grown up, with well known athletic records behind them. in the hospital, or in the quietness of a college room, or on trips, the trainer is a friend and adviser. go and talk to the trainer of the football team if you want to get an unbiased opinion of the team's work or of the value of the individual coaches. some of our trainers know much about the game of football--the technical side--and their advice is valuable. every trainer longs to handle good material, but more power to the trainer who goes ahead with what he's got and makes the best out of it without a murmur. in our recollections we know of teams that were reported to be going stale--"over-trained"--"a team of cripples"--who slumped--could not stand the test--were easily winded--could not endure. they were nightmares to the trainer. soon you read in the daily press indications that a change of trainer is about to take place in such a college. then we turn to another page of our recollections where we read: "the team is fit to play the game of their lives." "only eleven men were used in to-day's game." "great tribute to the trainer." "men could have played all day"--"no time taken out"--"not a man injured"--"pink of condition." usually all this spells victory. jack mcmasters was the first trainer that i met. "scottie," as every one affectionately called him, never asked a man to work for him any harder than he would work himself. in a former chapter you have read how jack and i put in some hard work together. i recall a trip to boston, where princeton was to play harvard. most of the princeton team had retired for the night. about ten o'clock arthur poe came down into the corridor of the vendome hotel and told "scottie" that bill church and johnny baird were upstairs taking a cold shower. jack was furious, and without stopping for the elevator hustled upstairs two steps at a time only to find both of these players sound asleep in bed. needless to say that arthur poe kept out of sight until jack retired for the night. a trainer's life is not all pleasure. once after the train had started from princeton this same devilish arthur poe, as jack would call him, rushed up forward to where jack was sitting in the train and said: "jack, i don't see bummie booth anywhere on the train. i guess he must have been left behind." with much haste and worry jack made a hurried search of the entire train to find booth sitting in the last seat in the rear car with a broad grin on his face. jack's training experience was a very broad one. he trained many victorious teams at harvard after he left princeton and was finally trainer at annapolis. a pronounced decoration that adorns "scottie" is a much admired bunch of gold footballs and baseballs, which he wears suspended from his watch chain--in fact, so many, that he has had to have his chain reinforced. if you could but sit down with jack and admire this prized collection and listen to some of his prized achievements--humorous stories of the men he has trained and some of the victories which these trophies designate you would agree with me that no two covers could hold them. but we must leave jack for the present at home with his family in sandy hook cottage, drummore by stranraer, scotland, in the best of health, happy in his recollection of a service well rendered and appreciated by every one who knew him. jim robinson there was something about jim robinson that made the men who knew him in his training days refer to him as "dear old jim," and although he no longer cries out from the side lines "trot up, men," a favorite expression of his when he wanted to keep the men stirring about, there still lives within all of us who knew him a keen appreciation of his service and loyalty to the different colleges where he trained. he began training at princeton in and he finished his work there. how fine was the tribute that was paid him on the day of his funeral! dolly dillon, captain of the team, and his loyal team mates, all of whom had been carefully attended by jim robinson on the football field that fall, acted as pallbearers. there was also a host of old athletes and friends from all over the country who came to pay their last tribute to this great sportsman and trainer. mike murphy and jim robinson were always contesting trainers. at princeton that day with the team gathered around, murphy related some interesting and touching experiences of jim's career. jim's family still lives at princeton, and on one of my recent visits there, i called upon mrs. robinson. we talked of jim, and i saw again the loving cups and trophies that jim had shown me years before. jim robinson trained many of the heroes of the old days, hector cowan being one of them. in later years he idolized the playing of that great football hero, john dewitt, who appreciated all that jim did to make his team the winner. the spirit of jim robinson was comforting as well as humorous. no mention of jim would be complete without his dialect. [illustration: the elect] he was an englishman and abused his h's in a way that was a delight to the team. ross mcclave tells of fun at the training table one day when he asked jim how to spell "saloon." jim, smiling broadly and knowing he was to amuse these fellows as he had the men in days gone by, said: "hess--hay--hell--two hoes--and--a hen." few men got more work out of a team than did jim robinson. there was always a time for play and a time for work with jim. mike murphy mike murphy was the dean of trainers. bob torrey, one of the most remarkable center-rushes that pennsylvania ever had, is perhaps one of the greatest admirers of mike murphy during his latter years. torrey can tell it better than i can. "murphy's sense of system was wonderful; he was a keen observer and had a remarkable memory; he seemed to do very little in the way of bookkeeping, but his mind was carefully pigeon-holed and was a perfect card index. "he could have thirty men on the field at once and carry on conversations with visitors and graduates; issue orders to workmen and never lose sight of a single one of his men. he was popular wherever he went. his fame was not only known here, but abroad. his charm of manner and his cheerful courage will be remembered by all who knew him, but only those who knew him well realize what an influence he had on the boys with whom he worked, and how high were his ideals of manhood. the amount of good done by mike murphy in steering boys into the right track can never be estimated." prep' school boys athletically inclined followed murphy. many a man went to college in order to get murphy's training. he was an athletic magnet. "the old mike" the town of natick, mass., boasts of mike murphy's early days. wonderful athletic traditions centered there. his early days were eventful for his athletic success, as he won all kinds of professional prizes for short distance running. boyhood friends of mike murphy tell of the comradeship among mike murphy, keene fitzpatrick, pooch and piper donovan--all natick boys. they give glowing accounts of the "truck team" consisting of this clever quartet, each of whom were "ten-second" men in the sprinting game. if that great event which was run off at the marlboro fair and cattle show could be witnessed to-day, thousands of admirers would love to see in action those trainers, see them as the natick hose truck defeated the westboro team that day, and sent the westboro contingent home with shattered hopes and empty pocketbooks. "in connection with army-navy games," writes crolius of dartmouth, "i'll never forget mike murphy's wonderful ability to read men's condition by their 'mental attitude.' he was nearly infallible in his diagnosis." once we questioned mike. he said, "go get last year's money back, you're going to lick them!" and true to his uncanny understanding he was right. was it any wonder that men gave murphy the credit due him? mike murphy had a strong influence over the players. he was their ever-present friend. he could talk to a man, and his personality could reach farther than any of the coaches. the teams that murphy talked to between the halves, both at yale and pennsylvania, were always inspired. mike murphy always gave a man something of himself. it is interesting to read what a fellow trainer, keene fitzpatrick, has to say of mike: "mike first started to train at yale. then he went to the detroit athletic club in detroit; then he came back to yale; then he went to the university of pennsylvania; then back to yale again, and finally back to the university of penn', where he died. "we were always great friends and got together every summer; we used to go up to a little country town, westboro, on a farm; had a little room in a farmhouse outside of the town of natick, and there we used to get together every year (mike and fitz') and share our opinions, and compare and give each other the benefit of our discoveries of the season's work. "murphy was one of the greatest sprinters this world ever had. they called him 'stucky' because he had so much grit and determination. the year after mike died the intercollegiate was held at cambridge. all the trainers got together and a lot of flowers were sent out to mike's grave in hopkinton, massachusetts." a chat with pooch donovan pooch donovan's success at harvard goes hand in hand with that of haughton. in the great success of harvard's varsity, year after year, the fine hand of the trainer has been noticeable. harvard's teams have stood the test wonderfully well, and all the honors that go with victory have been heaped upon pooch donovan's head. every man on the harvard squad knows that donovan can get as much work out of his players as it is possible for any human being to get out of them. pooch donovan served at yale in , and , when mike murphy was trainer there. he and donovan used to have long talks together and they were ever comparing notes on the training of varsity teams. pooch donovan owes much to mike murphy, and the latter was pooch's loyal supporter. "what made mike murphy a sturdy man, was that he was such a hard loser--he could not stand to lose," says donovan. "you know the thing that keeps me young is working shoulder to shoulder with these young fellows." this to me, in the dressing-room, where we have no time for anything but cold truths. "it was the same thing that kept mike murphy going ten years after the doctors said he would soon be all in. that was when he returned to yale, after he had been at pennsylvania. there is something about this sort of work that invigorates us and keeps us young. i'm no longer a young man in years, but it is the spirit and inspiration of youth with which this work identifies me that keeps me really young." when i asked pooch about eddie mahan's great all-around ability, his face lighted up, and i saw immediately that what i had heard was true--that donovan simply idolized eddie mahan. mahan lives in natick, massachusetts, where donovan also has his home. he has seen ned mahan grow to manhood. mahan had his first football training as a player on the natick high school team. "ned mahan," said pooch, "was the best all-around football man i have ever handled. he was easy to handle, eager to do as he was told, and he never caused the trainer any worry. up to the very last moment he played, he was eager to learn everything he could that would improve his game. he had lots of football ability. "you know mahan was a great star at andover. he kicked wonderfully there and was good in all departments of the game, and he improved a hundred per cent. after he came to harvard." pooch donovan told me about the first day that eddie mahan came out upon the harvard field. at cambridge, little is known by the head coach about a freshman's ability. one day haughton said to pooch donovan: "where is that natick friend of yours? bring him over to the stadium and let's see him kick." donovan got mahan and haughton said to mahan: "let's see you kick." mahan boosted the ball seventy yards, and haughton said: "what kind of a kick is that?" mahan thought it was a great kick. "how do you think any ends can cover that?" said haughton. mahan thereupon kicked a couple more, low ones, but they went about as far. "who told you _you_ could kick?" quoth haughton. "you must kick high enough for your ends to cover the distance." "take it easy and don't get excited," donovan was whispering to mahan on the side. "take your time, ned." but mahan continued kicking from bad to worse. haughton was getting disgusted, and finally remarked: "your ends never can cover those punts." mahan then kicked one straight up over his head, and the first word ever uttered by him on the harvard field, was his reply to haughton: "i guess almost any end can cover _that_ punt," he said. donovan tells me that he used to carry in his pocket a few blank cartridges for starting sprinters. sitting on a bench with some friends, on soldiers' field, one day he reached into his hip pocket for some loose tobacco. unconsciously he stuffed into the heel of his pipe a blank cartridge that had become mixed with the tobacco. the gun club was practicing within hearing distance of the field. as donovan lighted his pipe the cartridge went off. he thought he was shot. leaping to his feet he ran down the field, his friends after him. "i was surprised at my own physical condition--at my being able to stand so well the shock of being shot," says donovan in telling the story. "my friends thought also that i was shot. but when i slowed up, still bewildered, and they caught up with me, they were puzzled to see my face covered with powder marks and a broken pipe stem sticking out of my mouth. "not until then did any of us realize what had really happened. the cartridge had grazed my nose slightly, but outside of that i was all right. since then i am very careful what i put in my tobacco." eddie is known as "pooch donovan's pet." probably the bluest time that donovan ever had--in fact, he says it was the bluest--was when eddie mahan had an off-day in the stadium. that was the day when cornell beat harvard. mahan himself says it was the worst day he ever had in his life, and he blames himself. "it was just as things will come sometimes," pooch said to me. "nobody knows why they will come, but come they will once in a while." "burr, the great harvard captain," said pooch, "was a natural born leader of men. he knew a lot of football and haughton thought the world of him. burr went along finely until the last week of the season. then, in falling on the ball, he bruised his shoulder, and would not allow himself to go into the yale game. it was really this display of good judgment on his part that enabled harvard to win. "too often a team has been handicapped by the playing of a crippled veteran. as a matter of fact, the worst kind of a substitute is often better than a crippled player. the fact that the great captain, burr, stood on the side lines while his team was playing, urged his team mates on to greater efforts. "in this same game the opposite side of this question was demonstrated. bobbie burch, the yale captain, who had been injured the week before the game, was put in the game. his injury handicapped the yale team considerably." pooch donovan has been eight years at harvard. he has five gold footballs, which he prizes and wears on his watch chain. during the eight years there have been five victories over yale, two ties and one defeat. pooch has been a football player himself and the experience has made him a better trainer. in he played on temple's team of the duquesne athletic club. he was trainer and halfback, and was very fond of the game. later on he played in cleveland against the chicago athletic club, on whose team played heffelfinger, sport donnelly, and other famous knights of the gridiron. "in the morning we did everything we could to make the stay of the visiting team pleasant," says donovan, regarding those days, "but in the afternoon it was different, and in the midst of the game a fellow couldn't help wondering how men could be so nice to each other in the morning and so rough in the afternoon." pooch donovan cannot say enough in favor of doctor e. h. nichols, the doctor for the harvard team. pooch's judgment is endorsed by many a harvard man that i have talked to. keene fitzpatrick when biffy lea was coaching at the university of michigan in , it was my opportunity and privilege to see something of western football. i was at ann arbor assisting lea the last week before michigan played chicago. michigan was defeated. that night at a banquet given to the michigan team, there arose a man to respond to a toast. his words were cheering to the men and roused them out of the gloom of despair and defeat to a strong hope for the coming year. that man was keene fitzpatrick. i had heard much about him, but now that i really had come to meet him i realized what a magnetic man he was. he knew men and how to get the best out of them. fitzpatrick went from michigan to yale, from yale back to michigan, and then to princeton, where princeton men hope he will always stay. michigan admirers were loath to lose fitzpatrick and their tribute to him on leaving was as follows: "the university of michigan combination was broken yesterday when keene fitzpatrick announced that he had accepted princeton's offer, to take effect in the fall of . he was trainer for michigan for years. for five years fitz' has been sought by every large university in the east. "what was michigan's loss, was princeton's gain. he made men better, not alone physically, but morally. his work has been uplifting along all lines of university activities. in character and example he is as great and untiring as in his teaching and precept. the final and definite knowledge of his determination to leave michigan is a severe blow to the students all of whom know and appreciate his work. next to president angell, no man of the university of michigan, in the last ten years, has exerted a more wholesome influence upon the students than has keene fitzpatrick. his work brought him in close touch with the students and his influence over them for good has been wonderful. he is a man of ideals and clean life." "to 'fitz,' as the boys called him, as much as to the great coach yost is due michigan's fine record in football. his place will be hard to fill. fitz has aided morally in placing athletics on a high plane and in cultivating a fine spirit of sportsmanship. he was elected an honorary member of the class of at princeton. the secretary of the class wrote him a letter in which he said: 'the senior class deeply appreciates your successful efforts, and in behalf of the university takes this opportunity of expressing its indebtedness to you for the valuable results which you have accomplished.'" yost had a high opinion of fitzpatrick. "fitz and i worked together for nine years," writes yost. "we were like brothers during that association at michigan. there is no one person who contributed so much to the university of michigan as this great trainer. his wonderful personality, his expert assistance and that great optimism of his stood out as his leading qualifications. my association with him is one of the pleasantest recollections of my life. he put the men in shape, trained them and developed them. they were 'usable' all the time. he is a trainer who has his men in the finest mental condition possible. i don't think there was ever a trainer who kept men more fit, physically and mentally, than keene fitzpatrick." there were in michigan two players, brothers, who were far apart in skill. keene says one was of varsity calibre, but wanted his brother, too, to make the eleven. "once," says keene, "when we were going on a trip, john, who was a better player, said, 'i will not go if joe cannot go,' so in order to get john, we had to take joe." fitzpatrick tells of an odd experience in football. "in michigan went out to southern california and played leland stanford university at pasadena, january . when the michigan team left ann arbor for california in december, it was ° below zero and when they played on new year's it was ° at p. m." stanford was supposed to have a big advantage due to the climate. michigan won by a score of to . michigan used but eleven men in the game, and it was their first scrimmage since thanksgiving day. a funny thing happened en route to pasadena. "every time the train stopped," said keene, "we hustled the men out to give them practice running through signals and passing the ball. everything went well until we arrived in ogden, utah. we hustled the men out as usual for a work-out, and in less than two minutes the men were all in, lying down on the ground, gasping for breath. we could not understand what was wrong, until some one came along and reminded us that we were in a very high altitude and that it affected people who were not accustomed to it. we all felt better when we received that information." michael j. sweeney there are few trainers in our prep. schools who can match the record of mike sweeney. he has been an important part of the hill school's athletics for years. many of the traditions of this school are grouped, in fact, about his personality. hill school boys are loud in their praises of sweeney's achievements. he always had a strong hold on the students there. he has given many a boy words of encouragement that have helped him on in the school, and this same boy has come back to him in after life to get words of advice. many colleges tried to sever his connection with hill school. i know that at one time princeton was very anxious to get sweeney's services. he was happy at hill school, however, and decided to stay. it was there at hill school that sweeney turned out some star athletes. perhaps one of the most prominent was tom shevlin. sweeney saw great possibilities in shevlin. he taught him the fundamentals that made shevlin one of the greatest ends that ever played at yale. he typified sweeney's ideal football player. shevlin never lost an opportunity to express appreciation of what sweeney had done for him. tom gave all credit for his athletic ability to mike sweeney of hill and mike murphy of yale. his last desire for yale athletics was to bring sweeney to yale and have him installed, not as a direct coach or trainer of any team, but more as a general athletic director, connected with the faculty, to advise and help in all branches of college sport. tom shevlin idolized sweeney. those who were at the banquet of the team at cambridge will recall the tribute that shevlin then paid to him. he declared that he regarded sweeney as "the world's greatest brain on all forms of athletics." whenever mike sweeney puts his heart into his work he is one of the most completely absorbed men i know. sweeney possesses an uncanny insight into the workings of the games and individuals. oftentimes as he sits on the side lines he can foretell an accident coming to a player. mike was sitting on the yale side lines one day, and remarked to ed wylie, a former hill school player--a yale substitute at that time: "they ought to take smith out of the game; he shows signs of weakening. you'd better go tell the trainer to do it." but before wylie could get to the trainer, several plays had been run off and the man who had played too long received an injury, and was done for. sweeney's predictions generally ring true. it is rather remarkable, and especially fortunate that a prep. school should have such an efficient athletic director. for thirteen years sweeney acted in that capacity and coached all the teams. he taught other men to teach football. jack moakley had any one gone to ithaca in the hope of obtaining the services of jack moakley, the cornell trainer, he would have found this popular trainer's friends rising up and showing him the way to the station, because there never has been a human being who could sever the relations between jack moakley and cornell. the record he has made with his track teams alone entitles him to a high place, if not the highest place, on the trainer's roll of honor. to tell of his achievements would fill an entire chapter, but as we are confining ourselves to football, his work in this department of cornell sports stands on a par with any football trainer. jack moakley takes his work very seriously and no man works any harder on the cornell squad than does their trainer. costello, a cornell captain of years ago, relates the following incident: "jack moakley had a man on his squad who had a great habit of digging up unusual fads, generally in the matter of diet. at this particular time he had decided to live solely on grape nuts. as he was one of the best men on the team, jack did not burden himself with trouble over this fad, although at several times moakley told him that he might improve if he would eat some real food. however, when this man started a grape nut campaign among the younger members of the squad he aroused jack's ire and upon his arrival at the field house he wiped the black board clean of all instructions and in letters a foot high wrote: "they who eat beef are beefy." "they who eat nuts are nutty." the resultant kidding finally made the old beefsteak popular with our friend. johnny mack it would not seem natural if one failed to see johnny mack on the side lines where yale is playing. in eleven years at new haven yale teams were never criticised on account of their condition. the physical condition of the yale team has always been left entirely in johnny mack's hands, and the hard contests that they went through in the season of were enough to worry any trainer. johnny mack was always optimistic. there is much humor in johnny mack. it is amusing to hear johnny tell of the experience that he and pooch donovan had in a paris restaurant, and i'm sure you can all imagine the rest. johnny said they got along pretty well with their french until they ordered potatoes and the waiters brought in a peck of peas. it is a difficult task for a trainer to tell whether a player is fully conscious of all that is going on in a game. sometimes a hard tackle or a blow on the head will upset a man. johnny mack tells a story that illustrates this fact: "there was a quarterback working in the game one day. i thought he was going wrong. i said to the coach: 'i think something has happened to our quarterback.' he told me to go out and look him over. i went out and called the captain to one side after i had permission from the referee. i asked him if he thought the quarterback was going right. he replied that he thought he was, but called out some signals to him to see if he knew them. the quarter answered the captain's questions after a fashion and the captain was satisfied, but, just the same, he didn't look good to me. i asked the captain to let me give him a signal; one we never used, and one the captain did not even know. "said i, 'what's this one-- - - - ?' "'that's me through the right end,' he said. "'not on your life, old man,' said i, 'that's you and me to the side lines!' "i remember one fall," says johnny, "when we were very shy on big material at yale. the coaches told me to take a walk about the campus and hunt up some big fellows who might possibly come out for football. while going along the commons at noon, the first fellow i met was a big, fine looking man, a pounder at least, with big, broad shoulders. i stopped him and asked if he had ever played football. "'yes,' he said, 'i played a little at school. i'll come out next week.' i told him not to bother about next week, but to come out that afternoon--that i'd meet him at the gym' at one o'clock and have some clothes for him. he came at one o'clock and i told one of the rubbers to have some clothes ready. when i came back at : and looked around i couldn't recognize him. 'where in the world is my big fellow?' i said to jim the rubber. "'your big fellow? why, he just passed you,' said jim. "'no,' said i, 'that can't be the man; that must be some consumptive.' "'just the same, that's your big fellow in his football suit,' said jim. 'the biggest part of him is hanging up in there on a nail.' "_some_ tailors, these fellows have nowadays." johnny mack further tells of an amusing incident in foster sanford's coaching. "at early practice in new haven sanford was working the linemen," says johnny. "he picked a green, husky looking boy out of the line of candidates and was soon playing against him. he didn't know who sandy was, and believe me, sandy was handling him pretty rough to see what he was made of. the first thing you know the fellow was talking to himself and, when sandy was careless, suddenly shot over a stiff one on sandy's face and yelled: "'i'm going to have you know that no man's going to push _me_ around this field.' "sandy was happy as could be. he patted the chap on the back and roared, 'good stuff; you're all right. you're the kind of a man i want. we can use men like you!' "but foster sanford was not the only old-timer who could take the young ones' hard knocks," says johnny. "i've seen heffelfinger come back to yale field after being out of college twenty years and play with the scrubs for fifty-five minutes without a layoff! i never saw a man with such endurance. "ted coy was a big, good-natured fellow. he was never known to take time out in a game in the four years he played football. in his senior year he didn't play until the west point game. while west point was putting it all over us, coy was on the side lines, frantically running up and down. but we had strict instructions from the doctor not to play him, no matter what happened. "suddenly coy said: 'johnny, let me in. i'm not going to have my team licked by this crowd.' and in he jumped. "i saw him call philbin up alongside of him and the first thing i knew i saw philbin and coy running up the field like a couple of deer. in just three plays they took the ball from our own -yard line to a touchdown. after that there was a different spirit in the team. coy was an inspiration to his players." "one more story," says johnny. "there were two boys at new haven. their first names were jack, and both were substitutes on the scrub. about the middle of the second half in the harvard game, the coach told me to go and warm up jack. one of the jacks jumped up, while the other jack sank back on the bench with surprise and sorrow on his face. seeing that a mistake had been made, i said, 'not you, but _you_, jack,' and pointed to the other. as the right jack jumped up, the cloudy face turned to sunshine, as only a football player can imagine, and the sunny smile of the first jack turned to deepest gloom, an affecting sight i shall never forget." "huggins of brown" i know of no college trainer who seems to get more pleasure out of his work than huggins of brown. there are numerous incidents that are recorded in this book that have been the experiences of this good-natured trainer. a trainer's life is not always a merry one. many things occur that tend to worry him, but he gets a lot of fun out of it just the same. huggins says: "some few years ago brown had a big lineman on its team who had never been to new york, where we went that year to meet carlisle. the players put in quite a bit of time jollying him and having all sorts of fun at his expense. we stopped at one of the big hotels, and the rooms were on the seventh and eighth floors. in the rooms were the rope fire escapes, common in those days, knotted every foot or so. the big lineman asked what it was for, and the other fellows told him, but added that this room was the only one so equipped and that he must look sharp that none of the others helped themselves to it for their protection against fire. "that night, as usual, i was making my rounds after the fellows had gone to bed. coming into this player's room i saw that he was asleep, but that there appeared to be some strange, unusual lump in the bed. i immediately woke him to find out what it was. much to my amusement, i discovered that he had wound about fifteen feet of the rope around his body and i had an awful job trying to assure him that the boys had been fooling him. nothing that i could say, however, would convince him, and i left him to resume his slumbers with the rope still wrapped tightly about his body." huggins not only believes that brown university is a good place to train, but he thinks it is a good place to send his boy. he has a son who is a freshman at brown as i write. huggins went to brown in the fall of , as trainer. here is another good huggins story: "sprackling, our all-american quarterback of a few years ago, always had his nerve with him and, however tight the place, generally managed to get out with a whole skin. but i recall one occasion when the wind was taken out of his sails; he was at a loss what to say or how to act. we were talking over prospects on the steps in front of the brown union one morning just before college opened, the fall that he was captain, when a young chap came up and said: "'are you sprackling, captain of the team?' "'that's me,' replied sprack. "'well, i'm coming out for quarterback,' the young man declared, 'and i expect to make it. i can run the in ten-one and the in evens and i'm a good quarterback. i'm going to beat you out of your job.' "sprack, for once in his life, was flustered to death. when several of the boys who were nearby and had heard the conversation, began to laugh, he grew red in the face and quickly got up and walked away without a word. but before i could recover myself, the promising candidate had disappeared." harry tuthill, specialist in knees and ankles, was the first trainer west point ever had. when he turned up at the academy he was none too sure that a football was made of leather and blown up. he got his job at the point through the bandaging of ty cobb's ankle. an army coach saw him do it and said: "harry, if you can do that, the way you do it, come to west point and do it for us." tuthill was none too welcome to the authorities other than the football men. in the eyes of the superintendent every cadet was fit to do anything that might be required of him. "you've got to make good with the supe," said the coaches. so harry went out and watched the dress parade and the ensuing double time review. after the battalion was dismissed, tuthill was introduced to the superintendent. "well, mr. tuthill," said the superintendent, "i'm glad to meet you, but i really do not see what we need of a trainer." harry shifted his feet and gathering courage blurted out: "run those boys around again and then ask them to whistle." * * * * * there are many other trainers who deserve mention in this chapter, men who are earnestly and loyally giving up their lives to the training of the young men in our different colleges, but space will not permit to take up any more of these interesting characters. their tribute must be a silent one, not only from myself but from the undergraduates and graduates of the colleges to which they belong and upon whose shoulders are heaped year after year honors which are due them. first doctor in charge of any team doctor w. m. conant, harvard ' , says: "i believe i was the first doctor associated with the harvard team, and so far as i know, the first doctor who was in charge of any team at any college. at harvard this custom has been kept up. i was requested by arthur cumnock, who had been beaten the previous year by yale, to come out and help him win a game. this i consented to do provided i had absolute control of the medical end of the team, which consisted not only of taking care of the men who were injured, but also of their diet. this has since been taken up by the trainer. "the late george stewart and the late george adams were the coaches in charge that year, and my recollections of some of the difficulties that arose because of new methods are very enjoyable--even at this late day. so far as i know this was the first season men were played in the same position opposite one another. in other words, there was an attempt to form a second eleven--which is now a well recognized condition. "i had a house built under the grandstand where every man from our team was stripped, rubbed dry and put into a new suit of clothes, also given a certain amount of hot drink as seemed necessary. this was a thing which had never been done before, and in my opinion had a large influence in deciding the game in harvard's favor; as the men went out upon the field in the second half almost as fresh as when they started the first half. "i remember that i had not seen a victory over yale since i was graduated from college in . some of the suggestions that i made about the time men should be played were laughed at. the standpoint i took was that a man should not be allowed by the coach to play until he was deemed fit. the physician in charge was also a matter of serious discussion. many of these points are now so well established that to the present generation it is hardly possible to make them realize that from to it was necessary to make a fight to establish certain well-known methods. "what would the present football man think of being played for one and one-half hours whether he was in shape or not? the present football man does not appreciate what some of the older college graduates went through in order to bring about the present reasonable methods adopted in handling the game." [illustration: how it hurts to lose] chapter xviii nightmares there are few players who never experienced defeat in football. at such a time sadness reigns. men who are big in mind and body have broken down and cried bitterly. how often in our experience have we seen men taken out of the game leaving it as though their hearts would break, only to go to the side lines, and there through dimmed eyes view the inevitable defeat, realizing that they were no longer a factor in the struggle. such an experience came to frank morse in that savage penn-princeton game of years ago at trenton. he had given of his best; he played a wonderful game, but through an injury he had to be removed to the side lines. let this great hero of the past tell us something about the pangs of defeat as he summons them to mind in his san francisco office after an interval of twenty-two years. "the average american university football player takes his defeats too seriously--in the light of my retrospect--much too seriously," writes morse. "as my memory harks back to the blubbering bunch of stalwart young manhood that rent the close air of the dressing-room with its dismal howls after each of the five defeats in which i participated, i am convinced that this is not what the world expects of strong men in the hour of adversity. "a stiff upper lip is what the world admires, and it will extend the hand of sympathy and help to the man who can wear it. this should be taught by football coaches to their men as a part of the lessons of life that football generally is credited with teaching. "alex moffat, than whom no more loyal and enthusiastic princetonian ever lived, to my mind, had the right idea. during one of those periods of abysmal depths of despondency into which a losing team is plunged, he rushed into the room, waving his arms over his head in his characteristic manner, and in his high-pitched voice yelled: "'here, boys, get down to work; cut out this crying and get to cussing.' "doubtless much of this was due to the strain and the high tension to which the men were subjected, but much of it was mere lack of effort at restraint. "johnny poe, as stout-hearted a man as ever has, or ever will stand on a football field, once said to me: "'this sob stuff gives me a pain in the neck but, like sea-sickness, when the rest of the crowd start business, it's hard to keep out of it. besides, i don't suppose there's any use getting the reputation of being exclusive and too stuck up to do what the rest of the gang do.' "of the defeats in which i participated, probably none was more disheartening than the one suffered at the hands of the university of pennsylvania in at the manheim cricket grounds near philadelphia. i shall always believe that the better princeton team would have won with comparative ease had it not been for the wind. in no game in which i ever played was the wind so largely the deciding factor in the result. the flags on the poles along the stands stood out stiffly as they snapped in the half gale. "pennsylvania won the toss and elected to have the wind at their backs. for forty-five minutes every effort made against the red and blue was more than nullified by the blustering god Ã�olus. when pennsylvania kicked, it was the rule and not the exception for the ball to go sailing for from one-half to three quarters the length of the field. on the other hand, i can see in my mind's eye to-day, as clearly as i did during the game, a punt by sheppard homans, the princeton fullback, which started over the battling lines into pennsylvania territory, slowed up, hung for an instant in the air and then was swept back to a point approximating the line from where it started. "it was the most helpless and exasperating feeling that i ever experienced. the football player who can conceive of a game in which under no circumstances was it permissible to kick, but instead provided a penalty, can perhaps appreciate the circumstances. "in the second half, when we changed goals, the flags hung limply against their staffs, but we had spent ourselves in the unequal contest during the first half." nightmares, even those of football, do not always beget sympathy. upon occasion a deal of fun is poked at the victim, and this holds true even in the family circle. tom shevlin was noted as the father of a great many good stories, but it was proverbial that he refrained from telling one upon himself. however, in at least one instance he deviated from habit to the extent of relating an incident concerning his father and the father of charlie rafferty, captain of the yale eleven. tom at the time was a sophomore, and shevlin, senior, who idolized his son, made it a practice of attending all important contests in which he participated, came on from minneapolis in his private car to witness the spectacle of tom's single-handed defeat of "the princetons." as it chanced the shevlin car was put upon a siding adjoining that on which the car of gill rafferty lay. rafferty, as a matter of fact, was making his laborious way down the steps as mr. shevlin emerged from his car. mr. rafferty looked up, blinked in the november sunlight and then nodded cheerfully. "well, shevlin," he said, "i suppose by to-night we'll be known simply as the fathers of two great yale favorites." shevlin nodded and said "he fancied such would be the case." a few hours later, in the gloom of the twilight, after yale had been defeated, the elder shevlin was finding his somber way to the steps of his car and met rafferty face to face. shevlin nodded and was about to pass on without speaking, when rafferty placed his hand upon his shoulder. "well, shevlin," he said solemnly, "i see we are still old man shevlin and old man rafferty." w. c. rhodes one has only to hear jim rodgers tell the story of billy rhodes to realize how deeply the iron of football disaster sinks into the soul. "rhodes was captain of the losing team in the fall of ' , when yale's eleven was beaten by harvard's," rodgers tells us. "arthur cumnock was the harvard captain, and the score was to . two remarkable runs for touchdowns made by dudley dean and jim lee decided the contest. "for twenty years afterwards, back to springfield, new haven or cambridge, wherever the yale-harvard games were played, came with the regularity of their occurrence, billy rhodes. "he was to be seen the night before, and the morning of the game. he always had his tickets for the side line and wore the badge as an ex-yale captain. but the game itself billy rhodes never saw. "if at springfield, he was to be found in the massasoit house, walking the floor until the result of the game was known. if at new haven, he was not at the yale field. he walked around the field and out into the woods. if the game was at cambridge, he was not at holmes field, or later, at soldiers' field. "when the game was over he would join in the celebration of victory, or sink into the misery of defeat, as the case might be. but he never could witness a game. the sting of defeat had left its permanent wound." a yale nightmare those who saw the army defeat yale at west point in must realize what a blow it was to the blue. the first score came as a result of a blocked kick by west point, which was recovered by erwin, who picked up the ball and dashed across the line for a touchdown. the army scored the second time when torney cut loose and ran yards for a touchdown. sam morse, captain of the yale team, who played right halfback in this game, tells how the nightmare of defeat may come upon us at any time, even in the early season, and incidentally how it may have its compensations. "an instance of the psychology of football is to be found in the fall of , when jim hogan was captain of the yale team," says morse. "i had the pleasure of playing back of him on the defensive in almost every game of that year, and i got to depend so much on those bull-like charges of his that i fear that if i had been obliged to play back of some one else my playing would have been of inferior quality. "yale had a fine team that year, defeating both harvard and princeton with something to spare. the only eleven that scored on us was west point, and they beat us. it is a strange thing that the cadets always seem to give yale a close game, as in that year even though beaten by both harvard and princeton by safe scores, and even though yale beat harvard and princeton handily, the army played us to a standstill. "after the game, as is so often the case when men have played themselves out, there was a good deal of sobbing and a good many real tears were shed. every man who has played football will appreciate that there are times when it is a very common matter for even a big husky man to weep. we were all in the west point dressing-room when jim hogan arose. he felt what we all took to be a disgrace more keenly than any of us. there was no shake in his voice, however, or any tears in his eyes when he bellowed at us to stop blubbering. "'don't feel sorry for yourselves. i hope this thing will hurt us all enough so that we will profit by it. it isn't a matter to cry over--it's a matter to analyze closely and to take into yourself and to digest, and finally to prevent its happening again.' "he drove it home as only jim hogan could. at the close ralph bloomer jumped to his feet and cried: "'jim, old man, we are with you, and you are right about it, and we will wipe this thing out in a way which will satisfy you and all the rest of the college.' "the whole team followed him. right then and there that aggregation became a yale football team in the proper sense, and one of the greatest yale football teams that ever played. it was the game followed by jim's speech that made the eleven men a unit for victory. "if jim had been allowed to live a few more years the quality of leadership that he possessed would have made of him a very prominent and powerful man. his memory is one of the dearest things to all of us who were team mates or friends of his, but i hardly ever think of him without picturing him that particular day in the dressing-room at west point, when in five minutes he made of eleven men a really great football team." even eddie mahan is not immune to the haunting memory of defeat, and perhaps because of the very fact that disaster came into his brilliant gridiron career only once, and then in his senior year, it hit him hard. the manner of its telling by this great player is sufficient proof of that. here is eddie's story: [illustration: hunkin tilley bailey snyder jewett gillies miller lalley shiverick anderson menler barrett cool shelton collins eckley schock schlicter zander cornell's great team-- ] "i enjoyed my football days at harvard so well that i would like to go back each fall and play football for the rest of my life. i wish to goodness i could go back and play just one game over--that is the cornell game of . my freshman team won all its games, and during the three years that i played for the harvard varsity i never figured in a losing game except that one. cornell beat harvard to . the score of that game will haunt me all my life long. this game has been a nightmare to me ever since. every time i think of football that game is one of the first things that comes to mind. i fumbled a lot. i don't know why, but i couldn't seem to hold onto the ball. "we blocked four kicks, but cornell recovered every one. we sort of felt that there was more than the cornell team playing against us--a goal from the field and a touchdown. shiverick, of cornell, stands out in my recollection of that game. he was a good kicker. once he had to kick out from behind the goal post down in his own territory. watson and i were both laying for a line buck; playing up close. shiverick kicked one over my head, out of bounds at his own -yard line. "i felt like a burglar after this game, because i felt that i had lost it. i was feeling pretty blue until the monday after the game, when the coaches picked eleven men as the varsity team, and just as soon as they sent these eleven men to a section of the field to get acquainted with each other--that was the beginning of team work. from the way those fellows went at it that day, and from the spirit they showed, we felt that no team could ever lick us again, neither princeton nor yale. the cornell game acted like a tonic on the whole crowd. instead of disheartening the team it instilled in us determination. we said: "'we know what it is to be licked, and we'll be damned if we'll be licked again.'" jack de saulles' football ambitions were realized when he made the yale team at quarterback, the position which his brother charlie, before him, had occupied. his spectacular runs, his able generalship, his ability to handle punts, coupled with that characteristic de saulles' grit, made him a famous player. let this game little quarterback tell his own story: "billy bull and i have often discussed the fact that when an attempt for a goal from the field failed, one of the players of the opposing side always touched the ball back of the goal line (thereby making it dead), and brought it out to the -yard line to kick. of course, the ball is never dead until it is touched down. it was in the fall of when we were playing west point. in the latter part of the second half of that game, with the score to , charlie daly attempted a field goal, which was unsuccessful. what billy bull and i had discussed many times came into my mind like a flash. i picked the ball up and walked out with it as if it had been touched back of the goal. when i passed the -yard line, walking along casually, bucky vail, who was the referee, yelled to me to stop. i walked over to him unconcerned and said: 'bucky, old boy! this ball is not dead, because i did not touch it down. and i am going down the field with it.' by that time the west point men had taken their positions in order to receive the kick from the -yard line. while i was still walking down the field, in order to pass all the west point men, before making my dash for a certain touchdown, it struck bucky vail that i was right, and he yelled out at the top of his voice. 'the ball is not dead. it is free.' whereupon the west point men started after me. an army man tackled me on their -yard line, after i had taken the ball down the field for nearly a touchdown. i have often turned over in my bed at night since that time, cursing the action of referee vail. if he had not interfered with my play i would have walked down the field for a touchdown and victory for yale. the final score remained to . "i have often thought of the painful hours i would have suffered had i missed the two open field chances in the disastrous game at cambridge in the fall of , when yale was beaten to . on two different occasions in that game a harvard runner with interference had passed the whole yale team. i was the only yale man between the harvard man and a touchdown. the supreme satisfaction i had in nailing both of those runners is one of the most pleasant recollections of my football career. "when i was a little shaver, back in , i lived at south bethlehem, pa. paul dashiell and mathew mcclung, who were then playing football at lehigh university, took an interest in me. paul dashiell took me to the first football game i ever saw. dibby mcclung gave me one of the old practice balls of the lehigh team. this was the first football i ever had in my hands. for weeks afterwards that football was my nightly companion in bed. these two lehigh stars have always been my football heroes, and it was a happy day for me when i played quarterback on the yale team and these two men acted as officials that day." [illustration: one scene never photographed in football] chapter xix men who coached the picture on the opposite page will recall to mind many a serious moment in the career of men who coached; when something had gone wrong; when some player had not come up to expectation; when a combination of poor judgment and ill luck was threatening to throw away the results of a season's work. such scenes are never photographed, but they are preserved no less indelibly in the minds of all who have played this rôle. where is the old football player, who, gazing at this picture, will not be carried back to those days that will never come again; hours when you listened perhaps guiltily to the stinging words of the coach; moments when spurred on by the thunder and lightning of his wrath you could hardly wait to get out upon the field to grapple with your opponents. at such times, all that was worth while seemed to surge up within you, fiercely demanding a chance, while if you were a coach you yearned to get into the game, only to realize as the team trotted out on the field that yours was no longer a playing part. all you could expect henceforth would be to walk nervously up and down the side line with chills and thrills alternating along your spine. there were no coaches in the old days. football history relates that in the beginning fellows who wanted fun and exercise would chip in and buy a leather cover for a beef bladder. it was necessary to have a supply of these bladders on hand, for stout kicks frequently burst them. in those days the ball was tossed up in the air and all hands rushed for it. there was no organization then, very few rules, and the football players developed themselves. to-day the old-time player stands on the side lines and hears the coach yelling: "play hard! fall on the ball! tackle low! start quick! charge hard and fast!" as far as the fundamentals go, the game seems to him much the same, but when he begins to recollect he sees how far it has really progressed. he recalls how the football coach became a reality and how a teacher of football appeared upon the gridiron. better coaching systems were installed as football progressed. rules were expanded, trainers crept in, intercollegiate games were scheduled and competition and keen rivalry developed everywhere. in fact, the desire to win has become so firmly established in the minds of college men that we now have a finished product in our great american game of football--wonderfully attractive, but very expensive. competition has grown to such an extent that our coaching systems of to-day resemble, in a way, the plans for national preparedness--costly, but apparently necessary. all this means that the american football man, like the american captain of industry, or the american pioneer in any field of activity, is never content to stand still. his motto is, "ever onward." it is not always the star player that makes the greatest coach. the mediocre man is quite likely to have absorbed as much football teaching ability as the star; and when his opportunity comes to coach, he sometimes gets more out of the men than the man with the big reputation. personality counts in coaching. in addition to a coach's keen sense of football, there must be a strong personality around which the players may rally. all this inspires confidence. it is a joy for a coach to work with good material--the real foundation of success. the rules of to-day, however, give what, under old standards, was the weaker team a much broader opportunity for victory over physically larger and stronger opponents. but there are days nevertheless when every coach gets discouraged; times when there is no response from the men he is coaching--when their slowness of mind and body seem to justify the despair of charlie daly who said to his team: "you fellows are made of crockery from the neck down and ivory from the neck up." football is fickle. to-day you may be a hero. after the last game you may be carried off on the shoulders of enthusiastic admirers and dined and wined by hosts of friends; but across the field there is a grim faced coach who may already be scheming out a play for next year which will snatch you back from the "hall of fame" and make your friends describe you sadly as a "back-number." haughton arrived at harvard at the psychological moment. harvard had passed through many distressing years playing for the football supremacy. he found something to build upon, because, although the game at cambridge was in the doldrums, there had been keen and capable coaching in the past. prominent among those who have worked hard for harvard and whose work has been more than welcome, are arthur cumnock, that brilliant end rush, george stewart, doctor william a. brooks, a former harvard captain, lewis, upton, john cranston, deland, hallowell, thatcher, forbes, waters, newell, dibblee, bill reid, mike farley, josh crane, charlie daly, pot graves, leo leary, and others well versed in the game of football. haughton had had some experience not only in coaching at cambridge but coaching at cornell, and the harvard football authorities realized that of all the harvard graduates haughton would probably be the best man to turn the tide in harvard football. percy, who played tackle on a winning crimson eleven, and sam felton will be well remembered as the fastest punters of their day. the first harvard team coached by haughton defeated yale. it was in when haughton used a spectacular method, when he rushed vic kennard into the crimson backfield after ver wiebe had brought the ball up the field where haughton's craft sent vic kennard in to make the winning three points and kennard himself will tell the story of that game. the next year percy haughton's team could not defeat the great ted coy, who kicked two goals from the field. the performance of the harvard team was the more remarkable because burr, who was the captain and the great punter at that time, had been injured and the team was without his services. how well i remember him on the side lines keenly following the play, but brilliant in his self-denial. there have been times when victories did not come to harvard with the regularity that they have under the haughton régime, but the scales go up and down year by year, game by game, and from defeats we learn much. let us read what this premier coach says upon reflection: "surely the game of football brings out the best there is in one. aside from the mental and physical exercise, the game develops that inestimable quality of doing one's best under pressure. what better training for the game of life than the acid test of a championship game. such a test comes not alone to the player but to the coach as well. "what truer and finer friends can one have than those whom we have met through the medium of football! and finally as the years tend to narrow this precious list, through death, what greater privilege than to associate with the fellow whose muscles are lithe and whose mind is clean. such a man was francis h. burr, captain of the harvard team in . words fail me to express my sincere regard for that gallant leader. his spirit still lives at cambridge; his type we miss. "i am proud of the men who worked shoulder to shoulder in bringing about harvard victories. the list is a long one. i shall always cherish the hearty co-operation of these men who gave their best for harvard." it was al sharpe, that great cornell coach, who, in the fall of found it possible to break through the harvard line of victories, and hanging on the walls in the trophy room at cornell university is a much prized souvenir of cornell's visit to cambridge. that was the only defeat on the harvard schedule. but sometimes defeats have to come to insure victory, and perhaps in that defeat by cornell lay the reason for the overwhelming score against yale. [illustration: whitney dadmun harte l. curtis dougherty harris haughton taylor mckintock weatherhead r. curtis cowen blanchard king parson gilman mahan watson wallace soucy boles robinson coolidge horneen rollins harvard, ] slowly, but surely, al sharpe has won his way into the front ranks of football coaches. working steadfastly year after year he has built up and established a system that has set cornell's football machinery upon a firm foundation. glenn warner glenn warner has contributed a great deal to football, both as a player and coach. warner was one of the greatest linemen that ever played on the cornell team. after leaving college he began his coaching career in at the university of georgia. his success there was remarkable. it attracted so much attention that he was called back to cornell in and . in warner moved again and began his historic work at the carlisle indian school, turning out a team year after year that gave the big colleges a close battle and sometimes beat them. there never was a team that attracted so much attention as the carlisle indians. they were popular everywhere and drew large crowds, not only on account of their being redmen, but on account of their adaptability to the game. warner, as their coach, wrought wonders with them, and really all the colleges at one time or another had their scalps taken by the indians. they were the champion travelers of the game. their games were generally all away from home, and yet the long trips did not seem to hamper them in their play. they got enjoyment out of traveling. going from princeton to new york one friday night some years ago, i was told by the conductor that the carlisle football team was in the last car. i went back and talked with warner. the indian team were amusing themselves in one end of the car, and thus passing the time away by entering into a game they were accustomed to play on trips. one of the carlisle players would stand in the center of the aisle and some fifteen or so men would group about him, in and about and on top of the seats. this central figure would bend over and close his eyes. then some one from the crowd would reach over and spank the crouching indian a terrific blow, hastily drawing back his hand. then the indian who had received the blow would straighten up and try, by the expression of guilt on the face of the one who had delivered the blow, to find his man. their faces were a study, yet nearly every time the right man was detected. who is there in football who will ever forget the indian team, their red blankets and all that was typical of them; the yells that the crowds gave as the indians appeared. they seemed always to be fit. they were full of spirit and anxious to clash with their opponents. [illustration: the greatest indian of them all] i recall an incident in a princeton-carlisle game, when the game was being fiercely waged. miller, the great indian halfback, had scored a touchdown, after a long run. it was not long after this that a princeton player was injured. maybe the play was being slowed up a little. anyway, time was taken out. one of the indians seemed to sense the situation. the princeton players were lying on the ground while the carlisle men were prancing about eager to resume the fray, when one of the indians remarked: "white man play for wind. indian play football." in warner went to the university of pittsburgh. here he has already begun to duplicate former successes. cruikshank, peck, and wagner are three of pittsburgh's many stars. probably the greatest football player that warner ever developed at the carlisle indian school was jim thorpe, whose picture appears on the opposite page. unhappy the end, and not infrequently the back, who had to face this versatile player. thorpe was a raider. billy bull billy bull of yale is one of the old heroes who has kept in very close touch with the game. he has been a valuable coach at yale and the elis' kicking game is left entirely in his hands. he is an enthusiastic believer in the game. immediately after leaving new haven in he started to coach and since that time he has not missed a year. years ago he inaugurated a routine system of coaching for the various styles of kicks. "my object," he said recently, "has been to turn out consistent rather than wonderful kickers. as a player i was early impressed with the value of kicking, not only in a general way but also in a particular way, such as the punt in an offensive way. for more than twenty-five years i have talked it up. for a long time i talked it to deaf ears, especially at yale. i talked it when i coached at west point for ten years and was generally set down as a harmless crank on the subject, but i have lived to see the time when every one agrees on the great value of this offensive kick. "when i entered yale i was an absolute greenhorn, but the greenhorn had a chance then, for he was able to play in actual scrimmage every day; now the squads are so big that opportunities for playing the game for long daily periods are entirely wanting. "to-day it is a case of a heap big talk, a coach for every position, more talk, lots of system, blackboard exercises and mighty little actual play. "i have often wondered if things were not being overdone as far as coaching goes in the preparatory schools at the present time. the superabundance of coaches and the demand for victory combine to force the boy. "if there is any forcing to do, the college is the place for it, when the boy is older and better able to stand the strain. in recent years i have seen not a few brokendown boys enter college. boys are coming to college now who needs must be told everything, and if there is not a large body of coaches about to tell them, they mutiny. they seem to forget, or not to know, that most is up to the man himself. "when a boy comes to college with the idea that all that is necessary is for him to be told, constantly told how to do this and that, and he will deliver in the last ditch, i cannot help thinking that something is wrong. "i have in mind right now a player in the line, who came to college after four years of school football. ever since his entry he has complained that no one has told him anything. now this particular player spends ten months of each year loafing, and expects in his two months of football to do a man's job in a big game. "no amount of blackboard and other talk is going to make a player do a man's job and whip his opponent. no man can play a tackle job properly if he does not realize the kind of a proposition he is up against twelve months in the year and act accordingly. he has got to do his own thinking, and see to it himself that he has the necessary strength and toughness, to play the game, as one must to win." sanford the unique george foster sanford is unique in football. he made splendid teams when he coached at columbia, while his subsequent record with the rutgers eleven attracted wide attention. in the _columbia alumni news_ of october, , albert w. putnam, a former player, reviews seven years of morningside football, and pays the following tribute to foster sanford: "sanford coached the teams of , and . he coached them ably, conscientiously and thoroughly, and in my opinion was the best football coach in the country." "during my three years' experience as coach at columbia," says sanford, "we beat all the big teams except harvard. i was fortunate enough to develop such men as weekes, morley, wright, and berrien, players whose records will always stand high in the hall of football fame at columbia. i was particularly well satisfied with the work i got out of slocovitch, a former yale player, whom the yale coaches had never seemed to handle properly. i did not allow him to play over one day a week. this was because i had discovered that he was very heavily muscled; that if he played continuously he would become muscle bound. my treatment proved to fit the case exactly and slocovitch became a star end for columbia. we defeated yale the first year; the next year at new haven the contest was a strenuous one, and the game attracted unusual attention. it was in my own home town, and i had to stand for a lot of good natured kidding, but those who were there will remember how scared the yale coaches got during the last part of the game, when columbia made terrific advances. how columbia's team fought gordon brown's eleven almost to a standstill that day is something that the yale coaches of that time will long remember." an old yale player, bob loree, whose father is a trustee of rutgers, induced sanford to lend the college his assistance. apparently this connection was an unmixed blessing. "mr. l. f. loree, bob's father," says sandy, "has frankly admitted that in his opinion sanford's gift to the college (for he works without remuneration) has brought a spirit and a betterment of conditions which is worth fully as much as donations of thousands of dollars. "from the first day i went there," continues sandy, "i started to build up football for rutgers and to rely on rutgers men for my assistants. it was there that i met the best football man i ever coached, john t. toohey. this remarkable tackle weighed pounds. the life he led and the example he set will always have a lasting influence upon rutgers men. for sad to relate, toohey was killed in the railroad yards at oneonta, where he was yard master. toohey was a great leader, possessing a wonderful personality, and winning the immediate respect of every one who knew him." twenty-five years have passed since i saw sanford that morning in the fifth avenue hotel. since then i have followed his football career with enthusiasm. boyhood heroes live long in mind. he is what might be called a major surgeon in football, for it is a matter of record that he has been called back to yale, not when the patient was merely sick, but in a serious condition. usually the operation has been performed with such skill that the patient has rallied with disconcerting suddenness. talking to the yale teams between the halves, giving instructions, which have turned dubious prospects into flaming victories, is a service which sanford has rendered yale more than once. victory, as it happens, is the principal characteristic of sanford's work. long is the list of players whom sanford has developed. "in my coaching experience," sandy tells us, "i doubt if i ever coached a man where my hard work counted for more at yale than the case of charlie chadwick in . for many years there has been a saying that a one man defense is as good as an eleven men defense, providing you can get one man who can do it. "of course this never worked out literally, but the case of charlie chadwick is probably the best explanation of its value. besides being overdeveloped, he was temperamental. at times he would show great form and at other times his playing was hopeless. this year i was asked to come to new haven and began coaching the linemen. chadwick looked good to me, in spite of much criticism that was made by the coaches. in their opinion they thought he was not to be relied upon, so i decided to stake my reputation, and began in my own way, feeling sure that i could get results, in preparing him for the harvard and princeton games. [illustration: learning the charge] "i started out purposely annoying chadwick in every possible way, going with him wherever he went. i went with him to his room evenings and did not leave until he had become so bored that he fell asleep, or that he got mad and told me to get out. i planned it that chadwick approach the coaches whenever he saw them together and say: 'i wish you would let me play on this team. if you will i will play the game of my life. i will play like hell.' after he had made this speech two or three times, they were very positive that he was more than temperamental. i kept steadily at my plan, however, and felt sure it would work out. "the line was finally turned over to me and i had opportunity to slip chadwick in for two or three plays at left guard. he played like a demon; he was literally a one man defense, but he received no credit. i immediately removed him from the game and criticised him severely and told him to follow up the play and in case i needed him he would be handy. i realized what a great player he was proving to be, and my great problem then was how i was to convince the coaches that chadwick should start the game. i tried it out a few times, but saw it was useless trying to convince them, so i decided to concentrate on jim rodgers, the captain. jim consented. my plan was to tell no one except marshall, the man whose place chadwick was to take. the lineup was called out in the dressing room before the game. chadwick's name was not included. i had arranged with julian curtis, who was in close touch with the cheer leaders, that when i gave the signal, the yale crowd would be instructed to stand and yell nothing but 'chadwick, chadwick, chadwick.' the yale team ran out upon the field. i stayed behind with chadwick and came in through the gate holding him by the arm. before going on the side lines i stopped him and said: 'look here, chadwick. it doesn't look as though you're going to play, but if i put you in that lineup how will you play?' like a shot from a cannon he roared: 'i'll play like hell.' "you could have heard him a mile. 'well then, give me your sweater and warm up,' i said, and as i gave the signal to julian curtis, he passed the word on to the cheer leaders and the sight of chadwick running up and down those side lines will never be forgotten. it is estimated that he leaped five yards at a stride, and with the students cheering, 'chadwick, chadwick, chadwick,' he was sent out into the lineup--and the rest, well, you'd better ask the men who played on the harvard team that day. it was a stream of men going on and off the field and they were headed for right guard position on the harvard side. harvard could not beat chadwick, so the game ended in a tie." jim rodgers, captain of that team, also has something to say of chadwick. "in the harvard-yale game," rodgers writes, "charlie chadwick played the game of his life. he used up about six men who played against him that day, but he never could put out bill edwards the day we played princeton. i played against chadwick on the scrub, and the first charge he made against me i went clean back to fullback. it was just as though an automobile had hit me. i played against heffelfinger and a lot of them. i could hold those fellows. gee! but i was sore. i said to myself, you won't do that again, and the next time i was set back just as far. "one feature of this yale-princeton game impressed me tremendously, that of bill edwards' stand, against what i considered a superman, charles chadwick. before the game i had confidently expected big bill to resign after about five minutes' play, knowing, as i did, how chadwick was going. in this, however, edwards was a great disappointment, as he stuck the game out and was stronger at the end, than at the start or half way through. had he weakened at all, ad kelly's great offensive work would have been doomed to failure. edwards finished up the game against chadwick with a face that resembled a raw beefsteak. to my mind he was the worst punished man i have ever seen. he stood by his guns to the finish, and ever since then my hat has been off to him." one of the most interesting characters in southern football is w. r. tichenor, a thorough enthusiast in the game and known wherever there is a football in the south. his father was president of the alabama polytechnic. he was a fine player and weighed about pounds. he is the emergency football man of the south. whenever there is a football dispute tichenor settles it. whenever a coach is taken sick, tichenor is called upon to take his place. whenever an emergency official is needed, tich comes to the rescue. he tells the following story: "every boy who has been to auburn in the last twenty years knows bob frazier. many of them, however, may not recognize that name, as he has been called bob 'sponsor' for so long that few of them know his real name. bob is as black as the inside of a coal mine and has rubbed and worked for the various teams at auburn 'since the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.' [illustration: billy bull advising with captain talbot] "just after the christmas holidays one year in the middle nineties, bob, with the view of making a touch, called at bill williams' room one night. "after asking bill if he had had a good christmas, 'sponsor' remarked: 'you know, mr. williams, us auburn niggers went down and played dem tuskegee niggers a game of football during christmas.' "'who did you have on the team, bob?' inquired bill. "'oh--we had a lot of dese niggers roun' town yere. they was me, an' crooksie, an' homer, an' bear, an' cockeye, an' a lot of dese yer town niggers.' "'how did you come out?' asked bill. "'oh, dem tuskegee niggers give us a good lickin'.' "'what position did you play?' "'me?' said bob, 'i was de cap'en. i played all roun'. i played center. den i played quarterback. den i played halfback.' "'what system of signals did you use and who called them?' was bill's next inquiry. "'ain't i tole you, mr. williams, i was de cap'en. i called the signals. dem niggers of mine couldn't learn no signals, so we jus' played lack we had some. i'd give some numbers to fool the tuskegee niggers. but dem numbers didn't mean nothin'. i'd say, "two, four, six, eight, ten--tek dat ball, homer, an' go roun' the end." dat's de only sort of signals dem niggers could learn and sometimes dey missed dem. dat's de reason we got beat and dem tuskegee niggers got all my money. mr. williams, i'm jus' as nickless as a ha'nt. can't you lem' me two bits til' sadday night, please suh? honest to god, i'll pay you back den, shore.'" listening to yost "hurry up" yost is one of the most interesting and enthusiastic football coaches in the country. the title of "hurry up" has been given him on account of the "pep" he puts into his men and the speed at which they work. whether in a restaurant or a crowded street, hotel lobby or on a railroad train, yost will proceed to demonstrate this or that play and carefully explain many of the things well worth while in football. he is always in deadly earnest. out of the football season, during business hours, he is ever ready to talk the game. yost's football experience as a player began at the university of west virginia, where he played tackle. lafayette beat them that year to . shortly after this yost entered lafayette. his early experience in football there was under the famous football expert and writer, parke davis. yost and rinehart wear a broad smile as they tell of the way parke davis used to entertain teams off the field. he always kept them in the finest of humor. parke davis, they say, is a born entertainer, and many an evening in the club house did he keep their minds off football by a wonderful demonstration of sleight-of-hand with the cards. "if parke davis had taken his coat off and stuck to coaching he would have been one of the greatest leaders in that line in the country to-day," says yost. "he was more or a less a bug on football. you know that to be good in anything one must be crazy about it. davis was certainly a bug on football and so am i. everybody knows that. "i shall never forget davis after lafayette had beaten cornell to , in , at ithaca. that night in the course of the celebration parke uncovered everything he had in the way of entertainment and gave an exhibition of his famous dance, so aptly named the 'dance du venture,' by that enthusiastic lafayette alumnus, john clarke. "i have been at michigan fifteen seasons. my team is perhaps the most remarkable in the history of football in many ways. it scored points to opponents' nothing, and journeyed miles. we played stanford on new year's day, using no substitutes. on this great team were neil snow, and the remarkable quarterback boss weeks. willie heston, who was playing his first year at michigan, was another star on this team. a picture of michigan's great team appears on the opposite page. "boss weeks' two teams scored more than points. if that team had been in front of the chinese wall and got the signal to go, not a man would have hesitated. every man that played under boss weeks idolized him, and when word was brought to the university that he had died, every michigan man felt that its university had lost one of its greatest men. "i am perhaps more of a boy's man to-day than i ever was. there is a great satisfaction in feeling that you have an influence in the lives of the men under you. coaching is a sacred job. there's no question about it. "there is a wonderful athletic spirit at michigan, and when we have mass meetings in the hill auditorium men turn out. at such a time one feels the great power behind an athletic team. some of the great michigan football players within my recollection were jimmy baird, jack mclain, neil snow, boss weeks, tom hammond, willie heston, herrnstein, grand old germany schultz, benbrook, stan wells, dan mcgugin, dave allerdice, hugh white and others i might mention on down to john maulbetsch." reggie brown is probably one of the most famous of the harvard coaches. his work in harvard football is to find out what the other teams are doing. he is on hand at yale field every saturday when the yale team plays. he is unique in his scouting work, in that he carries his findings in his head. his memory is his mental note book. [illustration: craft mcgugin gregory yost graver baird fitzpatrick wilson snow white shorts heston sweeley weeks redden redner herrnstein michigan's famous team] in talking with harvard men i have found that the general impression is that the work of this coach is one of harvard's biggest assets. jimmy knox of harvard is one of haughton's most valued scouts. every fall princeton is his haven of scouting. he does it most successfully and in a truly sportsmanlike way. one day en route to princeton i met knox on the train and sat with him as far as princeton junction. when we arrived at princeton, a friend of mine called me aside and said: "who is that loyal princeton man who seems never to miss a game?" "he is not a princeton man," i replied. "he is knox the harvard scout. he will be with haughton to-morrow at cambridge with his dope book." "from questions asked me i am quite sure that there is an utter misconception of the work of the scouts for the big league teams," says jimmy. "i have frequently been asked how i get in to see the practice of our opponents, how i manage to get their signals, how i anticipate what they are going to do, what is the value of scouting anyway. from five years' experience, i can say that i have never seen our opponents except in public games. i have never unconsciously noted a signal even for a kick, much less made a deliberate attempt to learn the opponents' signals or code. what little i know of their ultimate plans is merely by applying common sense to their problem, based on the material and methods which they command. as to the value of scouting, volumes might be written, but suffice it to say that it is the principal means of standardizing the game. if the big teams of the country played throughout the season in seclusion, the final games would be a hodge-podge of varying systems which would curtail the interest of the spectator and all but block the development of the game. "the reports of the scouts give the various coaching corps a fixed objective so that the various teams come to their final game with what might be considered a uniform examination to pass. the result is a steady, logical development of the game from the inside and the maximum interest for the spectator. it is unfortunate that the public has misconstrued scouting to mean spying, for there is nothing underhanded in the scouting department of football as any big team coach will testify." knox tells of an interesting experience of his freshman year. "i never hear the question debated as to whether character is born in a man or developed as time goes on," says he, "without recalling my first meeting with marshall newell, probably the best loved man that ever graduated from harvard. in the middle ' 's it was considered beneath the dignity of a former varsity player to coach any but varsity candidates. marshall newell was an exception. without solicitation he came over to the freshman field many times and gave us youngsters the benefit of his advice. on his first trip he went into the lineup and gave us an example of how the game could be played by a master. when the practice was over, ma newell came up to me and said: 'i guess i was a little rough, my boy, but i just wanted to test your grit. you had better come over to the varsity field to-morrow with two or three of the other fellows that i am going to speak to. i'll watch you and help you after you get there.' and he did. he was loved because he was big enough to disregard convention, to sympathize with the less proficient and to make an inferior feel as if he were on a plane of equality. the highest type of manhood was born with marshall newell and developed through every hour of a too short life. "only those who played football in the old days and have carefully followed it since appreciate the difference in the two types of game. i frequently wonder if the old type of game did not develop more in a man than the modern. as a freshman i was playing halfback on the second varsity one afternoon when a sudden blow knocked me unconscious while the play was at one end of the field. when i regained consciousness the play was at the other end of the field, not a soul was near me or thinking of me. i had hardly got within ear-shot of the scrimmage when i heard lewis, one of the varsity coaches, call out, 'come on, get in here, they can't kill fellows like you.' i went into the scrimmage and played the rest of the afternoon. it was a simple incident, but i learned two lessons of life from it: first, you can expect mighty little sympathy when you are down; second, you are not out if you will only go back and stick to it." dartmouth holds a unique position in college football. there are many men who were responsible for dartmouth's success, men who have stood by year after year and worked out the football policy there. it is my experience that dartmouth men universally call ed hall the father of dartmouth football. he has served faithfully on the rules committee as well as an official in the game. myron e. witham, that great player and captain of the dartmouth team which was victorious over harvard the day that harvard opened the stadium, says: "if one goes back to hanover and visits the trophy room he will see hanging there the winning football which dartmouth men glory over as they recall that wonderful victory over harvard. ed hall is the man who is often called upon to speak to the men between the halves. his talks have a telling effect. hall's name is traditional at our college." there are many football enthusiasts who recall that wonderful backfield that dartmouth had, mccornack, eckstrom, mcandrews and crolius. these men got away wonderfully fast and hit the line like one man. they played every game without a substitute for two years. fred crolius, who takes great delight in recalling the old days, has the following to say about one who coached: "one man, whose influence more than any other one thing, succeeded in laying a foundation for dartmouth's wonderful results, but whose name is seldom mentioned in that connection is doctor wurtenberg, who was brought up in the early yale football school. he had the keenest sense of fundamental football and the greatest intensity of spirit in transmitting his hard earned knowledge. four critical years he worked with us filling every one with his enthusiasm and those four years dartmouth football gained such headway that nothing could stop its growth." enough space cannot be given to pay proper tribute to walter mccornack, dartmouth ' . myron witham relates a humorous incident that happened in practice when mccornack was coach at dartmouth. "mac's serious and exacting demeanor on the practice field occasionally relaxed to enjoy a humorous situation. he chose to give a personal demonstration of my position and duty as quarterback in a particular formation around the end. he took my place and giving the proper signal, the team or rather ten-elevenths of the team went through with the play, leaving mac behind standing in his tracks. mac naturally was at a loss to locate the quarter, during the execution of the play and madly yelled, 'where in the devil is that quarterback?' but immediately joined with the squad in the joke upon himself." mccornack coached dartmouth in the falls of and . he brought the team up from nothing to a two years' defeat of brown and two years' scoring on harvard. the game with harvard in the fall of resulted in a score of to , dartmouth out-rushing harvard at least to . mccornack then resigned, but left a wealth of material and a scientific game at dartmouth, which was as good as any in the country. this was the beginning of dartmouth's success in modern football, and for it mccornack has been named the father of modern football at dartmouth. the greatest compliment ever paid mccornack, in so far as athletics were concerned, was by president william jewett tucker of dartmouth, who told an alumnus of the institution: "the discipline that mccornack maintained on the football field at dartmouth was to the advantage of the general discipline of the institution." for ten years after mccornack had stopped coaching at dartmouth, the captain of the dartmouth team would wear his sweater in a harvard game as an emblem to go by. the sweater is now worn out, and no one knows where it is. if eddie holt's record at princeton told of nothing else than the making of a great guard, this would be enough to establish holt's ability as a guard coach. eddie and sam craig played alongside of each other in the yale defeat of ' . holt says: "the story of the making of sam craig is the old story of the stone the builders rejected, which is now the head stone of the corner. sam never forgot the ' defeat and i never have myself. after this game sam gave up football, although he was eligible to play. two years later, after princeton had been defeated by cornell, something had to be done to strengthen the princeton line. sam craig was at the seminary. i remembered him," said holt, "and went over to his room and told him that he was needed. i shall never forget how his face lit up as he felt there was an opportunity to serve princeton and a chance to play on a winning team; a chance to come back. he responded to my hurry call, eager to make good. coaching him was the finest thing i ever did in football. good old sam, i can see him now, standing on the side lines telling me that he guessed he was no good. you can never imagine how happy i was to see him improve day by day after i had taken a hold of him. the great game he played against yale in ' will always be one of my happiest recollections in football. my joy was supreme; the joy that comes to a coach as he sees his man make good--sam sure did." it is very doubtful whether the inside story of harvard's victory over yale in has ever been told. those who remember this game know that the way for victory was paved by ver wiebe and vic kennard. harry kersburg, a harvard coach, writes of that incident: "the summer of and , kennard worked for several hours each day perfecting his kicking. this fact was known to only one of the coaches. in and , kennard played as a substitute but was most unfortunate in being smashed up in nearly every game in which he played. on account of this record, he was given little or no attention at the beginning of the season, even though the one coach who had great confidence in kennard's ability as a kicker rooted hard for him at every coaches' meeting. about the middle of the season, dave campbell came on from the west and with the one lone coach became interested in kennard. on the day of the springfield training school game, most of the harvard coaches went down to new haven, leaving the team in charge of campbell and kennard's other rooter. the psychological moment had arrived. just as soon as the harvard team had rolled up a tidy little score, kennard was sent into the game and instructions were given to the quarterback that he was to signal for a drop kick every time the harvard team was within forty yards of the opponent's goal--no matter what the angle might be. the game ended with kennard having kicked four goals from the field out of six tries. nearly all of them were kicked from an average distance of thirty yards and at very difficult angles. at the next coaches' meeting serious consideration was given to what kennard had done and from that time on he came into his own. "now for rex ver wiebe. for two years he had plugged away at a line position on the second team. in his senior year he was advanced to the varsity squad. with all his hard work it seemed impossible for him to develop into anything but a mediocre lineman. the line coaches, with much regret, had about given up all hope. one afternoon, two weeks before the yale game, one of the line coaches was standing on the side lines talking with pooch donovan about ver wiebe. pooch said little, but kept a close watch on ver wiebe for the next two or three days. at the end of that time he came out with the statement that if ver wiebe could be taught how to start, he would rapidly develop into one of the best halfbacks on the squad. pooch's advice was followed and in the yale game, ver wiebe's rushes outside tackle were one of the features of the game and were directly responsible for the ball being brought down the field to such a position that it was possible to substitute kennard, who kicked a goal from the field and won the first victory for harvard against yale in many years. "it is a strange coincidence that the first of harvard's string of victories against yale was won by two men who a few weeks before the game were in the so-called football discard." no greater honor can be accorded a football man than the invitation to come back to his alma mater and take charge of the football situation. such a man has been selected after he has served efficiently at other institutions, for it takes long experience to become a great coach and there are very few men who have given up all their time to consecutive coaching. successful coaches, as a rule, are men who have a genius for it, and whose strong personalities bring out the natural ability of the men under them. successful football is the result of a good system, plus good material. of the men who coach to-day, the experience of john h. rush, popularly known as speedy rush, stands out as unique. rush never played football, for he preferred track athletics, but he understood the theory of the game. at the university school in cleveland where rush taught for many years, he took charge of the football team, and although coaching mere boys, his results were marvelous, and in , when the princeton coaching system was in a slough of despond, it was decided to give rush an opportunity to show what he could do at princeton. [illustration: metcalf peterson mumford monroe elmer stover donnell norton dwyer weed bullwinkle mccabe franklin schulte thorpe moffat simmonds degraff buermeyer cochran fairfield todd thompson calder aimee noble gallagher wadleton columbia back in the game, ] rush makes no boasts. he is a silent worker, and football people at large were unanimous in their praise of his work at princeton in the fall of . whatever the future holds in store for this coach, princeton men at least are sure that an efficient policy has been established which will be followed out year after year, and that the loyal support of the alumni is behind rush. there was never a time in yale's history when so much general discussion and care entered into the selection of its football coach as in . from the long list of yale football graduates the honor was bestowed upon tad jones, a man whose remarkable playing record at yale is well known. football records tell of his wonderful runs. his personality enables him to get close to the men, and he was wonderfully successful at exeter, coaching his old school. tad jones represents one of the highest types of college athletes. in when the college authorities decided columbia might re-enter the football arena, after a lapse of ten years, it was a wonderful victory for the loyal columbia football supporters. a most thorough and exhaustive search was then made for the proper man to teach columbia the new football. the man who won the committee's unanimous vote was thomas n. metcalf, who played football at oberlin, ohio. metcalf earned recognition in his first year. he realized that columbia's re-entrance into football must be gradual, and his schedule was arranged accordingly. he developed miller, a quarterback who stood on a par with the best quarterbacks in . columbia had great confidence in metcalf, and the pick of the old men, notably tom thorp, one of the gamest players any team ever had, volunteered their aid. one of the most prominent football coaches which pennsylvania boasts of to-day, is bob folwell. always a brilliant player, full of spirit and endowed with a great power of leadership, he was a huge success as a coach at lafayette. his team beat princeton. at washington and jefferson, he beat yale twice. his ability as a coach was watched carefully not only by the graduates of penn, but by the football world as a whole. in this hard-working, energetic up-to-date coach assumed control of the football situation on franklin field. chapter xx umpire and referee there is a group of individuals connected with football to whom the football public pays little attention, until at a most inopportune time in the game, a whistle is blown, or a horn is tooted and you see a presumptuous individual stepping off a damaging five yard penalty against your favorite team. at such a time you arise in your wrath and demand: "who is that guy anyway? where did he come from? why did he give that penalty?" other muffled tributes are paid him. in calmer moments you realize that the officials are the caretakers of football. they see to it that the game is preserved to us year after year. an official is generally a man who has served his time as a player. those days over, he enters the arena as umpire, referee or linesman. one who has a keen desire to succeed in this line of work ought to train himself properly for the season's work. in anticipation of the afternoon's work, he must get his proper sleep; no night cafés or late hours should be his before a big contest. the workings of football minds towards an official are most narrow and critical at times. the really wise official will remain away from both teams until just before the game, lest some one accuse him of being too familiar with the other side. he can offer no opinion upon the game before the contest. each college has its preferred list of officials. much time is given to the selection of officials for the different games. before a man can be chosen for any game it must be shown that he has had no ancestors at either of the colleges in whose game he will act and that he is always unprejudiced. at the same time the fact that a man has been approved as a football official by three of four big colleges is about as fine a football diploma as any one would wish. for the larger games an official receives one hundred dollars and expenses. this seems a lot of money for an afternoon's work just for sport's sake, but there are many officials on the discarded list to-day who would gladly return all the money they ever received, if they could but regain their former popularity and prestige in the game. certainly an official is not an over-paid man. the wise official arrives at the field only a scant half hour before the game. generally the head coach sends for you, and as he takes you to a secluded spot he describes in his most serious way an important play he will use in the game. he tells you that it is within the rules, but for some curious reason, anxiously asks your opinion. he informs you that the _opposing_ team has a certain play which is clearly illegal and wants you to watch for it constantly. he furthermore warns you solemnly that the other team is going to try to put one of his best players out of the game and beseeches you to anticipate this cowardly action, and you smile inwardly. football seriousness is oftentimes amusing. some of our best umpires always have a little talk with the team before the game. i often remember the old days when paul dashiell, the famous umpire, used to come into our dressing room. standing in the center of the room, he would make an appeal to us in his earnest, inimitable way, not to play off-side. he would explain just how he interpreted holding and the use of arms in the game. he would urge us to be thoroughbreds and to play the game fair; to make it a clean game, so that it might be unnecessary to inflict penalties. "football," he would say, "is a game for the players, not for the officials." then he would depart, leaving behind him a very clear conviction with us that he meant business. if we broke the rules our team would unquestionably suffer. some of my most pleasant football recollections are those gained as an official in the game. i count it a rare privilege to have worked in many games year after year where i came in close contact with the players on different college teams; there to catch their spirit and to see the working out of victories and defeats at close range. here it is that one comes in close touch with the great power of leadership, that "do or die" spirit, which makes a player ready to go in a little harder with each play. knocked over, he comes up with a grin and sets his jaw a little stiffer for next time. as an official you are often thrilled as you see a man making a great play; you long to pat him on the back and say, "well done!" if you see an undiscovered fumbled ball you yearn to yell out--"here it is!" but all this you realize cannot be done unless one momentarily forgets himself like john bell. "my recollection is that i acted as an official in but one game," says he. "i was too intense a partisan. nevertheless, i was pressed into service in a lehigh-penn game in the late ' 's. i recall that duncan spaeth, now professor of english at princeton and coach of the princeton crew, was playing on pennsylvania's team. he made a long run with the ball; was thrown about the -yard line; rose, pushed on and was thrown again between the - and -yard line. refusing to be downed, he continued to roll over a number of times, with several lehigh players hanging on to him, until finally he was stopped, within about a foot of the goal line. forgetting his official duties, in the excitement of the moment, it is alleged that the referee (myself) jumped up and down excitedly, calling out: 'roll over, spaethy, just _once_ more!' and spaethy did. a touchdown resulted. but the referee's fate after the game was like that of st. stephen--he was stoned." [illustration: close to a thriller erwin of pennsylvania scoring against cornell.] in the old days one official used to handle the entire game. a man would even officiate in a game where his own college was a contestant. this was true in the case of walter camp, tracy harris, and other heroes of the past. later the number of officials was increased. such a list records wyllys terry, alex moffat, pa corbin, ray tompkins, s. v. coffin, appleton and other men who protected the game in the early stages. within my recollection, for many years the two most prominent, as well as most efficient officials, whose names were always coupled, were mcclung, referee, and dashiell, umpire. no two better officials ever worked together and there is as much necessity for team work in officiating as there is in playing. both graduated from lehigh, and the prominent position that they took in football was a source of great satisfaction to their university. officials come and go. these men have had their day, but no two ever contributed better work. the game of football was safe in their hands. paul dashiell and walter camp are the only two survivors of the original rules committee. dashiell's reminiscences "as an official, the first big game i umpired was in between yale and princeton, following this with nine consecutive years of umpiring the match," writes dashiell. "after harvard and yale resumed relations, i umpired their games for six years running. i officiated in practically all the harvard-penn' games and penn'-cornell games during those years, as well as many of the minor games, having had practically every saturday taken each fall during those twelve years, so i saw about all the football there was. when i look back on those years and what they taught me i feel that i'd not be without them for the world. they showed so much human nature, so many hundreds of plucky things, mingled with a lot of mean ones; such a show of manhood under pressure. i learned to know so many wonderful chaps and some of my most valued friendships were formed at those times. i liked the responsibility, too; although i knew that from one game to another i was walking on ice so thin that one bad mistake, however unintended, would break it. "the rules were so incomplete that common sense was needed and, frequently, interpretation was simply by mutual consent. bitterness of feeling between the big colleges made my duties all the harder. but it was an untold satisfaction when i could feel that i had done well, and as i said, the responsibility had its fascination and, in the main, was a great satisfaction. "and then came the inevitable, a foul seen only by me, which called for an immediate penalty. this led to scathing criticism and accusations of unfairness by many that did not understand the incident, altogether leaving a sting that will go down with me to my grave in spite of my happy recollections of the game. i had always taken a great pride in the job, and in what the confidence of the big universities from one year to another meant. i knew a little better than anybody else how conscientiously i had tried to be fair and to use sense and judgment, and the end of it all hurt a lot. "one friendship was made in these years that has been worth more than words can tell. i refer to that of matthew mcclung. to be known as a co-official with mcclung was a privilege that only those who knew him can appreciate. i had known him before at lehigh in his undergraduate days, and had played on the same teams with him. in after years we were officials together in a great many of the big games where feeling ran high and manliness and fairness, as well as judgment, were often put to a pretty severe test at short notice. never was there a squarer sportsman, or a fairer, more conscientious and efficient official; nor a truer, more gallant type of real man than he. his early death took out of the game a man of the kind we can ill afford to lose and no tribute that i could pay him would be high enough. "one night after a yale-harvard game at cambridge, i was boarding the midnight train for new york. the porter had my bag, and as we entered the car, he confided in me, in an almost awestruck tone, that: 'dad dere gentlemin in de smokin' compartment am john l. sullivan.' "i crept into my berth, but next morning, in the washroom, i recognized john l. as the only man left. he emerged from his basin and asked: "'were you at that football game yesterday?' and then 'who won?' "i told him, and by way of making conversation, asked him if he was interested in all those outdoor games. but his voice dropped to the sepulchral and confidential, as he said: "'there's murder in that game!' "i answered: 'well! how about the fighting game?' "he came back with: 'sparring! it doesn't compare in roughness, or danger, with football. in sparring you know what you are doing. you know what your opponent is trying to do, and he's right there in front of you, and, there's only one! but in football! say, there's twenty-two people trying to do you!' "there being only twenty-one other than the player concerned, i could not but infer that he meant to indicate the umpire as the twenty-second." my personal experiences in my experience as an official i recall the fact that i began officiating as a referee, and had been engaged and notified in the regular way to referee the penn'-harvard game on franklin field in . when i arrived at the field, mcclung was the other official. he had never umpired but had always acted as a referee. in my opinion a man should be either referee or umpire. each position requires a different kind of experience and i do not believe officials can successfully interchange these positions. those who have officiated can appreciate the predicament i was in, especially just at that time when there was so much talk of football reform, by means of changing the rules, changing the style of the game, stopping mass plays. however, i consented; for appreciating that mcclung was sincere in his statement that he would do nothing but referee, i was forced to accept the umpire's task. it was a game full of intense rivalry. the desire to win was carrying the men beyond the bounds of an ordinarily spirited contest, and the umpire's job proved a most severe task. it was in this game that either four or five men were disqualified. i continued several years after this in the capacity of umpire. one unfortunate experience as umpire came as a result of a penalty inflicted upon wauseka, an indian player who had tackled too vigorously a penn' player who was out of bounds. much wrangling ensued and a policeman was called upon the field. it was the quickest way to keep the game from getting out of hand. washington and jefferson played the indians at pittsburgh some years ago. i acted as umpire. the game was played in a driving rain storm and a muddier field i never saw. the players, as well as the officials, were covered with mud. in fact my sweater was saturated, the players having used it as a sort of towel to dry their hands. a kicked ball had been fumbled on the goal line and there was a battle royal on the part of the players to get the coveted ball. i dived into the scramble of wriggling, mud-covered players to detect the man who might have the ball. the stockings and jerseys of the players were so covered with mud that you could not tell them apart. as i was forcing my way down into the mass of players i heard a man shouting for dear life: "i'm an indian! i'm an indian! it's my ball!" when i finally got hold of the fellow with the ball i could not for the life of me tell whether he was an indian or not. however, i held up the decision until some one got a bucket and sponge and the player's face was mopped off, whereupon i saw that he was an indian all right. he had scored a touchdown for his team. an official in the game is subject to all sorts of criticisms and abuse. sometimes they are humorous and others have a sting which is not readily forgotten. i admit, on account of my size, there were times in a game when i would get in a player's way; sometimes in the spectators' way. during a yale-harvard game, in which i was acting as an official, the play came close to the side line, and i had taken my position directly between the players and the spectators, when some kind friend from the bleachers yelled out: "get off the field, how do you expect us to see the game?" i shall never forget one poor little fellow who had recovered a fumbled ball, while on top of him was a wriggling mass of players trying to get the ball. as i slowly, but surely, forced my way down through the pile of players i finally landed on top of him. i shall never forget how he grunted and yelled, "six or seven of you fellows get off of me." it was in the same game that some man from the bleachers called out as i was running up the field: "here comes the beef trust." there was a coach of a southern college who tried to put over a new one on me, when i caught him coaching from the side lines in a game with pennsylvania on franklin field. i first warned him, and when he persisted in the offense, i put him behind the ropes, on a bench, besides imposing the regular penalty. it was not long after this, that i discovered he had left the bench. i found him again on the side line, wearing a heavy ulster and change of hat to disguise himself, but this quick change artist promptly got the gate. i knew a player who had an opportunity to get back at an official, but there was no rule to meet the situation. a penalty had been imposed, because the player had used improper language. a heated argument followed, and i am afraid the umpire was guilty of a like offense, when the player exclaimed: "well! well! why don't you penalize yourself?" he surely was right. i should have been penalized. one sometimes unconsciously fails to deal out a kindness for a courtesy done. that was my experience in a harvard-yale game at cambridge one year. on the morning before the game, while i was at the hotel touraine, i was making an earnest effort to get, what seemed almost impossible, a seat for a friend of mine. i had finally purchased one for ten dollars, and so made known the fact to two or three of my friends in the corridor. about this time a tall, athletic, chap, who had heard that i wanted an extra ticket, volunteered to get me one at the regular price, which he succeeded in doing. i had no difficulty in returning my speculator's ticket. i thanked the fellow cordially for getting me the ticket. i did not see him again until late that afternoon when the game was nearly over. some rough work in one of the scrimmages compelled me to withdraw one of the harvard players from the game. as i walked with him to the side lines, i glanced at his face, only to recognize my friend--the ticket producer. the umpire's task then became harder than ever, as i gave him a seat on the side line. that player was vic kennard. evarts wrenn, one of our foremost officials a few years ago, has had some interesting experiences of his own. "while umpiring a game between michigan and ohio state, at columbus," he says, "heston, michigan's fullback, carrying the ball, broke through the line, was tackled and thrown; recovered his feet, started again, was tackled and thrown again, threw off his tacklers only to be thrown again. again he broke away. all this time i was backing up in front of the play. as heston broke away from the last tacklers, i backed suddenly into the outstretched arms of the ohio state fullback, who, it appears, had been backing up step by step with me. heston ran thirty yards for a touchdown. you can imagine how unpopular i was with the home team, and how ridiculous my plight appeared. "another instance occurred in a chicago-cornell game at marshall field," wrenn goes on to say. "you know it always seems good to an official to get through a game without having to make any disagreeable decisions. i was congratulating myself on having got through this game so fortunately. as i was hurrying off the field, i was stopped by the little cornell trainer, who had been very much in evidence on the side lines during the game. he called to me. "'mr. wrenn' (and i straightened, chucking out my chest and getting my hand ready for congratulations). 'that was the ---- ---- piece of umpiring i ever saw in my life.' i cannot describe my feelings. i was standing there with my mouth open when he had got yards away." dan hurley, who was captain of the harvard team, writes me, as follows: "football rules are changed from year to year. the causes of these changes are usually new points which have arisen the year previous during football games. a good many rules are interpreted according to the judgment of each individual official. i remember two points that arose in the harvard-penn' game in , at soldiers' field. in this year there was great rivalry between the players representing harvard and pennsylvania. the contest was sharp and bitterly fought all the way through. both teams had complained frequently to edwards, the umpire. finally he caught two men red-handed, so to speak. there was no argument. both men admitted it. it so happened that both men were very valuable to their respective teams. the loss of either man would be greatly felt. both captains cornered edwards and both agreed that he was perfectly right in his contention that both men should have to leave the field, but--and it was this that caused the new rule to be enforced the next year. both captains suggested that they were perfectly willing for both men to remain in the game despite the penalty, and with eager faces both captains watched edwards' face as he pondered whether he should or should not permit them to remain in the game. he did, however, allow both to play. of course, this ruling was establishing a dangerous precedent; therefore, the next year the rules committee incorporated a new rule to the effect that two captains of opposing teams could not by mutual agreement permit a player who ought to be removed for committing a foul to remain in the game." bill crowell of swarthmore, later a coach at lafayette, is another official who has had curious experiences. "in a lehigh-indian game a few years ago at south bethlehem, in which i was acting as referee," he says, "in the early part of the game lehigh held carlisle for four downs inside of the three-yard line, and when on the last try, powell, the indian back, failed to take it over, contrary to the opinion of warner, their coach. i called out, 'lehigh's ball,' and moved behind the lehigh team which was forming to take the ball out of danger. just before the ball was snapped, and everything was quiet in the stands, warner called across the field: "'hey! crowell! you're the best defensive man lehigh's got.'" phil draper, famous in williams football, and without doubt one of the greatest halfbacks that ever played, also served his time as an official. he says: "from my experience as an official, i believe that most of their troubles come from the coaches. if things are not going as well with their team as they ought to go, they have a tendency to blame it on the officials in order to protect themselves." "there was, in my playing days, as now, the usual controversy in reference to the officials of the game," says wyllys terry, "and the same controversies arose in those days in regard to the decisions which were given. my sympathies have always been with the officials in the game in all decisions that they have rendered. it is impossible for them to see everything, but when they come to make a decision they are the only ones that are on the spot and simply have to decide on what they see at the moment. "it is a difficult position. thousands say you are right, thousands say you are wrong--but my belief has always been that nine times out of ten the official's decision is correct. it was my misfortune to officiate in but one large game; that between harvard and princeton in the fall of ' . this was the year that there was a great outcry regarding the rules, particularly in reference to tackling. it was decided that a tackle below the waist was a foul and the penalty was disqualification. i was appointed umpire in the harvard-princeton game of that year. before the game i called the teams together and told them what the representatives of the three colleges had agreed upon. they had authorized me to carry the rules out in strict accordance with their instructions and i proposed to do so. in the early part of the game there was a scrimmage on one side of the field and after the mass had been cleared away, i heard somebody call for me. on looking around i found that the call came from holden, captain of the harvard team. he called my attention to the fact that he was still being tackled and that the man had both his arms around his knee, with his head resting on it. he demanded, under the agreed interpretation of the rules, that the tackle be decided a foul, and that the man be disqualified and sent from the field. the question of intent was not allowed me, for i had to decide on the facts as they presented themselves. the result was that cowan, one of the most powerful, and one of the best linemen that ever stood on a football field, was disqualified. the captain of the princeton team remarked at the time, 'i would rather have any three men disqualified than cowan.' as the game up to that time had been very close, and the princeton sympathizers were sure of victory, i believe i was the most cordially hated ex-football player that ever existed. shortly after this the harvard men had the princeton team near their goal line and in possession of the ball. two linemen used their hands, which on the offense is illegal, and made a hole through which the harvard halfback passed and crossed the line for a touchdown amid tremendous cheers from the harvard contingent. this touchdown was not allowed by the umpire. again i was the most hated football man that lived, so far as harvard was concerned. the result was i had no friends on either side of the field. "after the game, in talking it over with walter camp, he assured me that the decisions had been correct, but that he was very glad he had not had to make them. in spite of these decisions, i was asked to umpire in a number of big games the next year: but that one experience had been enough for me. i never appeared again in that or any other official capacity. i have been trying for the last thirty-two years to get back the friends which, before that game, i had in both princeton and harvard circles, with only a fair amount of success." i have always considered it a great privilege to have been associated as an official in the game with pa corbin. i know of no man that ever worked as earnestly and intelligently to carry out his official duties, and year after year he has kept up his interest in the game, not only as a coach, but as a thoroughly competent official. as a favorite with all colleges his services were eagerly sought. he recollects the following:-- "the experience that made as much of an impression upon me as any, was the game with penn-lafayette which came just after the experience of the year before which developed so much rough play. the man agreed upon for umpire, did not appear, and after waiting a while the two captains came to me and asked if i would umpire in addition to acting as referee. i accused them of conspiracy to put me entirely out of business, but they insisted and i reluctantly acquiesced. i told both teams that i would be so busy that i would have no time for arguments or even investigation and any move that seemed to me like roughness would be penalized to the full extent of the rules regardless of whom he was or of how many. the result was that it was one of the most decent games and in fact almost gentlemanly that i have ever experienced." joe pendleton has been an official for twenty years. he is an alert, conscientious officer in the game. i have worked many times with joe and he is a very interesting partner in the official end of the game. in the fall of joe had a very severe illness and his absence from the football field was deeply regretted. joe always wore his old bowdoin sweater and when out upon the field, the big b on the chest of joe's white sweater almost covered him up. "a few years ago i had occasion to remove a player from a game for a foul play," says joe, "and in a second the quarterback was telling me of my mistake. 'why, you can't put that man out,' he said, and when i questioned him as to where he got such a mistaken idea, his reply was: "'why, he is our captain!' "in another game after the umpire had disqualified a player for kicking an opponent, the offending player appealed to me, basing his claim on the ground that he had not kicked the man until after the whistle had been blown and the play was over. another man on the same team claimed exemption from a penalty on the ground that he had slugged his opponent while out of bounds. he actually believed that we could not penalize for fouls off the playing field. "the funniest appeal i ever had made to me was made by a player years ago who asked that time be taken out in order that he might change a perfectly good jersey for one of a different color. it seems he had lost his jersey and had borrowed one from a player on the home team. when i asked him why he wanted to change his jersey he replied: "'because my own team are kicking the stuffing out of me and i must get a different colored jersey. at times my team mates take me for an opponent.' "in a game where it was necessary to caution the players against talking too much to their opponents one particularly curious incident occurred. "one team, in order to give one of the larger college elevens a stiff practice game, had put in the field two or three ringers. the big college team men were rather suspicious that their opponents were not entirely made up of bona fide students. a big tackle on the larger team made the following remark to a supposed ringer: "'i'll bet you five to one you cannot name the president of your college.' the answer came back, 'well, old boy, perhaps i can't, but perhaps i can show you how to play tackle and that's all i'm here for.'" the princeton-yale game of was one of the most bitterly contested in the history of football. princeton was a strong favorite, but yale forced the fighting and had their opponents on the defensive almost from the beginning. princeton's chances were materially hurt by a number of severe penalties which cost her considerably in excess of one hundred yards. each of the officials had a hand in the infliction of the penalties, but the referee, who happened to be nate tufts of brown, had, of course, to enforce them all by marking off the distance given to yale and putting the ball in the proper place. in the evening after the game, a number of football officials and others were dining in new york; in the party was a princeton graduate, who was introduced to mr. tufts, the referee of the game of the afternoon. at the introduction the princeton man remarked that when he was a boy he had read of jesse james, the mccoy brothers, and other noted bandits and train robbers, but that he took off his hat to mr. tufts as the king of them all. okeson, a star player of lehigh and prominent official, recalls this game: "in i umpired in a memorable game which took place at new haven between yale and princeton, which resulted in a victory for yale, - . this was before any rule was inserted calling for the referee to notify the teams to appear on the field at the beginning of the second half. at that time a ten-minute intermission was allowed between the halves. the first half closed with the score - in favor of princeton. at the end of about seven minutes mike thompson, who was referee, following the custom that had grown up, although no rule required it, left the field to notify the teams to return. when he came back i asked him if he had found them, for on the old yale field it was something of a job to locate the teams once they had passed through the gates. mike said that they were in the field house on the other side of the baseball field and that he had called in to them. the princeton players appeared in a minute or two, but no sign of yale. finally, getting suspicious, mike asked bill roper, who was head coach at princeton that year, if the yale team had been in the field house. the answer was 'no,' and we suddenly woke up to the fact that although time for the intermission had ended three or four minutes before, the yale team was not notified, and furthermore, no one knew where they were except that they were somewhere under the stands. there were many gates and to leave by one to search meant running a chance that the yale team might appear almost immediately through another and then the game be further delayed by the absence of the referee. this being the case, mike had no choice but to do as he did, namely, send messengers through all gates. one of these messengers met the yale team coming along under the stands. the coaches had decided that time must be up, although none of them had kept a record of it, and had started back finally without any notice. eight minutes over the legal ten had been taken before they appeared on the field and bill roper was raging. as yale won in the second half it was only natural that we officials were greatly censored by princeton, and yale did not escape criticism. yet the whole thing came from the fact that a custom had grown up of depending on the referee to find and bring the teams back to the field instead of each team either staying on the field, or failing that, taking the responsibility on themselves of getting back in time. yale simply followed the usual custom and 'mike' was misled due to being told that both teams had gone to the field house by one of those ready volunteers who furnish information whether they know anything about the subject in hand or not." [illustration: crash of conflict when charge meets charge.] chapter xxi crash of conflict the start of a football game is most exciting; not alone for the players, but for the spectators as well. every one is keyed up in anticipation of the contest. the referee's whistle blows; the ball is kicked off--the game has begun. opponents now meet face to face on the field of battle. what happens on the gridiron is plainly seen by the spectators, but it is not possible for them to hear the conversations which take place. there is much good natured joshing between the players, which brings out the humorous as well as the serious side of the contest. in a game, and during the hard days of practice, many remarks are made which, if overheard, would give the spectators an insight into the personal, human side of the sport. it behooves every team to make the most of the first five minutes of play. every coach in the country will tell his team to get the charge on their opponents from the start. a good start usually means a good ending. from the side lines we see the men put their shoulders to their work, charging and pushing their opponents aside to make a hole in the line, through which the man with the ball may gain his distance; or we may see a man on the defensive, full of grim determination to meet the oncoming charges of his opponent. as we glance at the accompanying picture of a yale-west point game, we will observe the earnest effort that is being made in the great game of football--the crash of conflict. one particularly amusing story is told about a former lehigh player in a princeton game several years ago. "after the match had been in progress twenty minutes or more," says a princeton man who played, "we began to show a large number of bruises on our faces. this was especially the case with house janeway, whose opponent, at tackle, was a big husky lehigh player. janeway finally became suspicious of the big husky, whose arms often struck him during the scrimmage. "'what have you got on your arm?' shouted janeway at his adversary. "'never you mind. i'm playing my game,' was the big tackle's retort. "janeway insisted that the game be stopped temporarily for an inspection. the lehigh tackle demurred. hector cowan, whose face had suffered, backed up janeway's demand. "'have you anything on your arm?' demanded the referee of the lehigh player. "'my sleeve,' was the curt reply. "'well, turn up your sleeve then.' "the big tackle was forced to comply with the official's request, and disclosed a silver bracelet. "'either take that off or go out of the game,' was the referee's orders. "'but i promised a girl friend that i would wear it through the match,' protested lehigh's tackle. 'i can't take it off. don't you understand--it was _wished_ on!' "'well! i "wish" it off,' the referee replied. 'this is no society affair.' "the big tackle objected to this, declaring he would sooner quit the game than be disloyal to the girl. "'then you will quit,' was the command of the umpire, and the big tackle left the field, a substitute taking his place." lueder, a cornell tackle, one of the best in his day, mentions a personal affair that occurred in the penn game in , between blondy wallace and himself. blondy's friends when they read this will think he had an off day in his general football courtesy. lueder states: "when i was trying to take advantage of my opponent, i was outwitted and was told to play on the square. i took wallace's advice and never played a nicer game of football in my life. just this little reprimand, from an older player, taught me a lot of football." in the yale-brown game, back in , richardson, that wonderful brown quarterback, received the ball on a double pass from dave fultz and ran -yards before he was downed by charlie de saulles, the yale quarterback, on yale's -yard line. when richardson got up, he turned to de saulles and said: "you fool, why did you tackle me? i lost a chance to be a hero." yale, by the way, won that game by a score of to . yost relates a humorous experience he had at michigan in , which was his most successful season at that university. "buffalo university came to michigan with a much-heralded team. they were coached by a dartmouth man and had not been scored upon. buffalo papers referred to michigan as the woolly westerners, and the buffalo enthusiasts placed bets that michigan would not score. the time regulation of the game, two halves, was thirty-five minutes, without intermission. at the end of the first half the score was to . during this time many substitutions had been made, some nineteen or twenty men, so that every player buffalo brought with them had at one time or another participated in the game. "the buffalo coach came to me and said: "'yost, we will have to cut this next half short.' "'why?' i asked. of course, i did not realize that every available man he had with him was used up, but i felt rather liberal at that stage of the game and said: "'let them rest fifteen or twenty minutes for the intermission, and then use them over again; use them as often as you like. i don't care.' "about fifteen minutes after the second half had started, i discovered on michigan's side of the field, covered up in a blanket, a big fellow named simpson, one of the buffalo players. i was naturally curious, and said: "'simpson, what are you doing over here? you are on the wrong side.' "'don't say anything,' came the quick response, 'i know where i am at. the coach has put me in three times already and i'm not going in there again. enough is enough for any one. _i've had mine._' "the score was then to , in favor of michigan, and the buffalo team quit fifteen minutes before the game should have ended. "it may be interesting to note that from this experience of buffalo with michigan the expression, 'i've got you buffaloed,' is said to have originated, and to-day michigan players use it as a fighting word." yost smiled triumphantly as he related the following: "the day we played the michigan agricultural college we, of course, were at our best. the m. a. c. was taken on as a preliminary game, which was to be two twenty-minute halves. "at the beginning of the second half the score was to , in favor of michigan. "at this time, a big husky tackle, after a very severe scrimmage had taken place, stood up, took off his head gear, threw it across the field and started for the side line, passing near where i was standing, when i yelled at him: "'the game is not over yet. go back.' "'oh,' he said, 'we came down here to get some experience. i've had all i want. let the other fellows stay, if they want to; me for the dressing room.' "and when this fellow quit, all the other m. a. c. players stopped, and the game ended right there. there were but four minutes left to play." somebody circulated a rumor that yost had made the statement that michigan would beat iowa one year to . of course, this rumor came out in the papers on the day of the game, but yost says: "i never really said any such thing. however, we did beat them to , whereupon some fellow from iowa sent me a telegram, after the game, which read: 'ain't it awful. box their remains and send them home.'" in tom shevlin's year at yale, , mike sweeney, his old trainer and coach at hill school, was in new haven watching practice for about four days before the first game. practice that day was a sort of survival of the fittest, for they were weeding out the backs, who were doing the catching. about five backs were knocked out. a couple had been carried off, with twisted knees, and still the coaches were trying for more speed and diving tackles. tom had just obliterated a -pound halfback, who had lost the ball, the use of his legs and his varsity aspirations altogether. stopped by sweeney, on his way back up the field, tom remarked: "mike, this isn't football. it's war." a brown man tells the following interesting story: "in a game that we were playing with some small college back in out on andrews field, brown had been continually hammering one tackle for big gains. the ball was in the middle of the field and time had been taken out for some reason or other. huggins and robby were standing on the side lines, and just as play was about to be resumed, robby noticed that the end on the opposing team was playing out about fifteen feet from his tackle, and was standing near us, when robby said to him: "'what's the idea? why don't you get in there where you belong?' "the end's reply was: "'i'm wise. do you think i'm a fool? i don't want to be killed.'" during a scrub game, the year that brown had the team that trimmed yale to , huggins says: "goldberg, a big guard who, at that time, was playing on the second eleven, kept holding brent smith's foot. brent was a tackle; one of the best, by the way, that we ever had here at brown. smith complained to the coaches, who told him not to bother, but to get back into the game and play football. this he did, but before he settled down to business, he said to goldberg: "'if you hold my foot again, i'll kick you in the face.' "about two plays had been run off, when smith once more shouted: "'he's holding me.' robby went in back of him and said: "'why didn't you kick him?' "'kick him!' replied brent. 'he held _both_ my feet!'" hardwick recalls another incident that has its share of humor, which occurred in the yale bowl on the day of its christening. "yale was far behind--some thirty points--playing rather raggedly. they had possession of the ball on harvard's -yard line and were attempting a strong rushing attack in anticipation of a touchdown. they were meeting with little or no success in penetrating pennock and trumbull, backed by bradlee. and on the third down they were one yard farther away from the goal than at the start. they attempted another plunge on tackle, and were using that uncertain form of offense, the direct pass. the center was a trifle mixed and passed to the wrong man, with the result that yale recovered the ball on harvard's -yard line. wilson, then a quarter for yale, turned to his center and asked him sharply: "'why don't you keep track of the signals?' "in a flash, the center rush turned and replied: "'how do you expect me to keep track of signals, when i can hardly keep track of the touchdowns.'" brown university was playing the carlisle indians some ten years ago at the polo grounds at new york city. bemus pierce, the indian captain, called time just as a play was about to be run off, and the brown team continued in line, while hawley pierce, his brother, a tackle on the indian team, complained, in an audible voice, that some one on the brown team had been slugging him. bemus walked over to the brown line with his brother, saying to him: "pick out the man who did it." hawley pierce looked the brunonians over, but could not decide which player had been guilty of the rough work. by this time, the two minutes were up, and the officials ordered play resumed. bemus shouted to hawley: "now keep your eyes open and find out who it was. show him to me, and after the game i'll take care of him properly." it is interesting to note that bemus only weighed pounds and his little brother tipped the scale at pounds. in brown played the university of chicago, at chicago. during the second half, bates, the brown captain, was injured and was taken from the game, and sheehan, a big tackle, was made temporary captain. at that time the score was to . sheehan called the team together and addressed them in this manner: "look here, boys, we've got thirteen minutes to play. get in and play like hell. every one of you make a touchdown. we can beat 'em with ease." for many years the last statement was one of brown's battle-cries. brown, by the way, won that game by a score of to . a former brown man says that in a harvard game some few years ago, brown had been steadily plowing through the crimson's left guard. goldberg, of the brown team, had been opening up big holes and jake high, brown's fullback, had been going through for eight and ten yards at a time. goldberg, who was a big, stout fellow, not only was taking care of the harvard guard, but was going through and making an endeavor to clean up the secondary defense. high, occasionally, when he had the ball, instead of looking where he was going, would run blindly into goldberg and the play would stop dead. finally, after one of these experiences, jake cried out: [illustration: ainsworth, yale's terror in an uphill game] "goldberg, if you would only keep out of my way, i would make the all-american." in the same game, high, on a line plunge, got through, dodged the secondary defense and was finally brought down by harvard's backfield man, o'flaherty. jake always ran with his mouth wide open, and o'flaherty, who made a high tackle, was unfortunate enough to stick his finger in high's mouth. he let out a yell as jake came down on it: "what are you biting my finger for?" high as quickly responded: "what are you sticking it in my mouth for?" huggins of brown says: "the year that we beat pennsylvania so badly out on andrews field, brown had the ball on penn's -yard line. time was called for some reason, and we noticed that the backfield men were clustered about crowther, our quarterback. we afterwards learned that all four of the backfield wanted to carry the ball over. crowther reached down and plucked three blades of grass and the halfbacks and the fullback each drew one with the understanding that the one drawing the shortest blade could carry the ball. much to their astonishment, they found that all the pieces of grass were of the same length. crowther, who made the all-american that year, shouted: "you all lose. i'll take it myself," and over the line he went with the ball tucked away under his arm. "johnny poe was behind the door when fear went by," says garry cochran. "every one knows of his wonderful courage. i remember that in the harvard ' game, at cambridge, near the end of the first half, two of our best men (ad kelly and sport armstrong) were seriously hurt, which disorganized the team. the men were desperate and near the breaking point. johnny, with his true princeton spirit, sent this message to each man on the team: "'if you won't be beat, you can't be beat.'" "this message brought about a miracle. it put iron in each man's soul, and never from that moment did harvard gain a yard, and for four succeeding years--'if you won't be beat, you can't be beat,' was princeton's battle-cry. "the good that johnny did for princeton teams was never heralded abroad. his work was noiseless, but always to the point. "i remember the indian game in ' . the score in the first half was to , in favor of the indians. i believe they had beaten harvard and penn, and tied yale. there wasn't a word said in the club house when the team came off the field, but each man was digging in his locker for a special pair of shoes, which we had prepared for yale. naturally i was very bitter and refused to speak to any one. then i heard the quiet, confident voice talking to johnny baird, who had his locker next to mine. i can't remember all he said, but this is the gist of his conversation: "'johnny, you're backing up the center. why can't you make that line into a fighting unit? tell 'em their grandfathers licked a hundred better indians than these fellows are, and it's up to them to show they haven't back-bred.' "johnny baird carried out these orders, and the score, to , favoring princeton, showed the result. "once more johnny poe's brains lifted princeton out of a hole. i could mention many cases where johnny has helped princetonians, but they are personal and could not be published. "i can only say, that when i lost johnny poe, i lost one who can never be replaced, and i feel like a traitor because i was not beside him when he fell." * * * * * rinehart tells how he tried to get even with sam boyle. "i went into professional football, after leaving lafayette," says rinehart. "i joined the greensburg athletic club team at greensburg, pennsylvania, solely for the purpose of getting back at sam boyle, formerly of the university of penn. he was playing on the pittsburgh athletic club." when i asked rinehart why he wanted to get square with sam boyle, he said: "for the reason that sam, during the penn-lafayette contest in ' , had acted in a very unsportsmanlike manner and kept telling his associates to kill the lafayette men and not to forget what lafayette did to them last year, and a lot more, but possibly it was fortunate for sam that he did not play in our greensburg-pittsburgh athletic club game. i was ready to square myself for lafayette." a lot of good football stories have been going the rounds, some old, some new, but none of them better than the one barkie donald, afterward a member of the harvard advisory football committee, tells on himself, in a game that harvard played against the carlisle indians in . it was the first time harvard and carlisle had met--harvard winning-- to --and donald played tackle against bemus pierce. donald, none too gentle a player, for he had to fight every day against bert waters, then a coach, knew how to use his arms against the indian, and also when charging, how to do a little execution with his elbows and the open hand, just as the play was coming off. he was playing legitimately under the old game. he roughed it with the big indian and caught him hard several times, but finally bemus pierce had something to say. "mr. donald," he said, quietly, "you have been hitting me and if you do it again, i shall hit you." but donald did not heed the warning, and in the next play he bowled at bemus harder than ever for extra measure. still the big indian did not retaliate. "but i thought i was hit by a sledge hammer in the next scrimmage," said donald after the game. "i remember charging, but that was all. i was down and out, but when i came to i somehow wabbled to my feet and went back against the indian. i was so dazed i could just see the big fellow moving about and as we sparred off for the next play he said in a matter of fact tone: "'mr. donald, you hit me, one, two, three times, i hit you only one--we're square.' "and you bet we were square," donald always adds as he tells the story. tacks hardwick, in common with most football players, thinks the world of eddie mahan. "i have played football and baseball with eddie," he says, "and am naturally an ardent admirer of his ability, his keen wit and his thorough sportsmanship. one of eddie's greatest assets is his temperament. he seldom gets nervous. i have seen him with the bases full, and with three balls on the batter, turn about in the box with a smile on his face, wave the outfield back, and then groove the ball waist high. nothing worried him. his ability to avoid tacklers in the broken field had always puzzled me. i had studied the usual methods quite carefully. change of pace, reversing the field, spinning when tackled, etc.,--most of the tricks i had given thought to, but apparently eddie relied little on these. he used them all instinctively, but favored none. "charlie brickley had a favorite trick of allowing his arm to be tackled flat against his leg, then, at the very moment his opponent thought he had him, charlie would wrench up his arm and break the grip. "percy wendell used to bowl over the tackler by running very low. i relied almost exclusively on a straight arm, and 'riding a man.' this means that when a tackler comes with such force that a straight arm is not sufficient to hold him off, and you know he will break through, you put your hand on the top of his head, throw your hips sharply away, and vault as you would over a fence rail, using his head as a support. if he is coming hard, his head has sufficient power to give you quite a boost, and you can 'ride him' a considerable distance--often four or five yards. when his momentum dies, drop off and leave him. well, eddie didn't use any of these. finally i asked him how he figured on getting by the tackler, and what the trick was he used so effectively. "'it's a cinch,' eddie replied. 'all i do is poke my foot out at him, give it to him; he goes to grab it, and i take it away!' [illustration: two to one he gets away brickley being tackled by wilson and avery.] "leo leary had been giving the ends a talk on being 'cagey.' 'cagey' play is foxy--such as never getting in the same position on every play, moving about, doing the unexpected. if you wish to put your tackle out, play outside him, and draw him out, and then at the last moment hop in close to your own tackle, and then charge your opponent. the reverse is true as well. the unexpected and unusual make up 'cagey' play. much emphasis had been laid on this, and we were all thoroughly impressed, especially weatherhead, that year a substitute. "weatherhead's appearance and actions on the field were well adapted to cagey play. opponents could learn nothing by analyzing his expression. it seldom varied. his walk had a sort of tip-toe roll to it, much similar to the conventional stage villain, inspecting a room before robbing a safe. in the course of the afternoon game, weatherhead put his coaching in practice. "we had a habit--practically every team has--of shouting 'signal' whenever a player did not understand the orders of the quarterback. mal logan had just snapped out his signals, when al weatherhead left his position. casting furtive glances at the opponents, and tip-toeing along like an indian scout at his best, the very personification of 'caginess,' weatherhead approached logan. logan, thinking al had discovered some important weak spot in the defense, leaned forward attentively. weatherhead rolled up, and carefully shielding his mouth with his hand, asked in a stage whisper 'signal.' "a piece of thoughtfulness that expressed the spirit of the man who did it, and also the whole team, took place at the algonquin hotel at new london, on the eve of the harvard-yale game in . the algonquin is fundamentally a summer hotel, although it is open all the year. the harvard team had their headquarters there, and naturally the place was packed with the squad and the numerous followers. eddie mahan and i roomed together, and in the room adjoining were watson and swigert, two substitute quarterbacks. folding doors separated the rooms, and these had been flung open. in the night, it turned cold, and the summer bedding was insufficient. swigert couldn't sleep, he was so chilled, so he got up, and went in search of blankets. he examined all the closets on that floor, without success; then he explored the floors above and below, and finally went down to the night clerk, and demanded some blankets of him. after considerable delay, he obtained two thin blankets, and thoroughly chilled from his walk in his bare feet, returned to the room. passing our door, he spied eddie curled up and shivering, about half asleep. i was asleep, but a cold, uncomfortable sleep that is no real rest. he walked in, and placing one blanket over eddie and one over me, went back to his own bed colder than ever. "i am a firm believer in rough, rugged, aggressive, bruising football," says hardwick. "the rougher, the better, if, and only if, it is legitimate and clean football. i am glad to say that clean football has been prevalent in my experience. only on the rarest occasions have i felt any unclean actions have been intentional and premeditated. we have made it a point to play fierce, hard and clean football, and have nearly always received the same treatment. "in my freshman year, however, i felt that i had been wronged, and foolishly i took it to heart. since that time i have changed my mind as i have had an opportunity to know the player personally and my own observation and the general high reputation he has for sportsmanship have thoroughly convinced me of my mistake. the particular play in question was in the yale game. we started a wide end run, and i was attempting to take out the end. i dived at his knees but aimed too far in front, falling at his feet. he leaped in the air to avoid me, and came down on the small of my back, gouging me quite severely with his heel cleats. i felt that it was unnecessary and foolishly resented it." one of the most famous games in football was the harvard-yale encounter at springfield in ' . bob emmons was captain of the harvard team and frank hinkey captain of yale. this game was so severely fought that it was decided best to discontinue football relations between these two universities and no game took place until three years later. jim rodgers, who was a substitute at yale that year, relates some interesting incidents of that game: "in those old strenuous days, they put so much fear of god in you, it scared you so you couldn't play. when we went up to springfield, we were all over-trained. instead of putting us up at a regular hotel, they put us up at the christian workers, that stagg was interested in. the bedrooms looked like cells, with a little iron bed and one lamp in each room," says jim. "you know after one is defeated he recalls these facts as terrible experiences. none of us slept at all well that night, and my knees were so stiff i could hardly walk. yale relied much on fred murphy. harvard had coached hallowell to get murphy excited. murphy was quick tempered. if you got his goat, he was pretty liable to use his hands, and harvard was anxious to have him put out of the game. hallowell went to his task with earnestness. he got murphy to the point of rage, but murphy had been up against bill odlin, who used to coach at andover, and bill used to give you hell if you slugged when the umpire was looking. but when his back was turned you could do anything. "murphy stood about all he could and when he saw the officials were in a conference he gave hallowell a back-hander, and dropped him like a brick. his nose was flattened right over his cheek-bone. fortunately that happened on the yale side of the field. if it had happened on the harvard side, there would have been a riot. there was some noise when that blow was delivered; the whole crowd in the stand stood aghast and held its breath. so harvard laid for murphy and in about two plays they got him. how they got him we never knew, but suddenly it was apparent that murphy was gone. the trainer finally helped murphy up and the captain of the team told him in which direction his goal was. he would break through just as fine and fast as before, but the moment his head got down to a certain angle, he would go down in a heap. he was game to the core, however, and he kept on going. "it was in this game that wrightington, the halfback, was injured, though this never came out in the newspapers. wrightington caught a punt and started back up the field. in those days you could wriggle and squirm all you wanted to and you could pile on a thousand strong, if you liked. frank hinkey was at the other end of the field playing wide, and ready if wrightington should take a dodge. murphy caught wrightington and he started to wriggle. it was at this time that louis hinkey came charging down the field on a dead run. in trying to prevent wrightington from advancing any further with the ball, louis hinkey's knee hit wrightington and came down with a crash on his collar-bone and neck. wrightington gave one moan, rolled over and fainted dead away. frank hinkey was not within fifteen yards of the play, and louis did it with no evil intention. frank thought that wrightington had been killed and he came over and took louis hinkey by the hand, appreciating the severe criticism which was bound to be heaped upon his brother louis. there was a furor. it was on everybody's tongue that frank hinkey had purposely broken wrightington's collar-bone. frank knew who did it, but the 'silent hinkey' never revealed the real truth. he protected his brother. "yale took issue on the point, and as a result the athletic relationship was suspended. "it was in this game that bronc armstrong established the world's brief record for staying in the game. he was on the field for twenty seconds--then was ruled out. i think frank hinkey is the greatest end that was ever on a field. to my mind he never did a dirty thing, but he tackled hard. when frank hinkey tackled a man, he left him there. in later years when i was coaching, an old harvard player who was visiting me, came out to yale field. he had never seen hinkey play football, but he had read much about him. i pointed out several of the men to him, such as heffelfinger, and others of about his type, all of whom measured up to his ideas, and finally said: [illustration: snapping the ball with lewis] [illustration: "two inseparables" frank hinkey and the ball.] "'where is that fellow hinkey?' and when i pointed hinkey out to him, he said: "'great guns, harvard complaining about that little shrimp, i'm ashamed of harvard.' "hinkey was a wonderful leader. every man that ever played under him worshipped him. he had his team so buffaloed that they obeyed every order, down to the most minute detail. "when hinkey entered yale, there were two corking end rushes in college, crosby and josh hartwell. after about two weeks of practice, there was no longer a question as to whether hinkey was going to make the team. it was a question of which one of the old players was going to lose his job. they called him 'consumptive hinkey.'" every football player, great though he himself was in his prime, has his gridiron idol. the man, usually some years his elder, whose exploits as a boy he has followed. joe beacham's paragon was and is frank hinkey and the depth of esteem in which the former cornell star held hinkey is well exemplified in the following incident, which occurred on the black diamond express, eastbound, as it was passing through tonawanda, new york. beacham had been dozing, but awoke in time to catch a glimpse of the signboard as the train flashed by. leaning slightly forward he tapped a drummer upon the shoulder. the salesman turned around. "take off your hat," came the command. "why?" the salesman began. "take off your hat," repeated beacham. the man did so. "thank you; now put it on," came the command. the drummer summing up courage, faced beacham and said, "now will you kindly tell me why you asked me to do this?" joe smiled with the satisfied feeling of an act well performed and said: "i told you to lift your hat because we are passing through the town where frank hinkey was born." later, in the smoking room, joe heard the drummer discussing the incident with a crowd of fellow salesmen, and he said, concluding, "what i'd like to know is who in hell is frank hinkey?" and late that evening when the train arrived in new york joe beacham and the traveling man had become the best of friends. in parting, joe said: "if there's anything i haven't told you, i'll write you about it." sandy hunt, a famous cornell guard and captain, says: "here is one on bill hollenback, the last year he played for pennsylvania against cornell. bill went into the game, thoroughly fit, but mike murphy, then training the team, was worried lest he be injured. in an early scrimmage bill's ear was nearly ripped off. blood flowed and mike left the side lines to aid. mike was waved away by bill. 'it's nothing but a scratch, mike, let me get back in the game.' play was resumed. following a scrimmage, mike saw bill rolling on the ground in agony. 'his ankle is gone,' quoth mike, as he ran out to the field. leaning over bill, mike said: 'is it your ankle, or knee, bill?' bill, writhing in agony, gasped: "'no; somebody stepped on my corn.'" hardwick has this to tell of the days when he coached annapolis: "one afternoon at annapolis, the varsity were playing a practice game and were not playing to form, or better, possibly, they were not playing as the coaches had reason to hope. there was an indifference in their play and a lack of snap and drive in their work that roused head coach ingram's fighting blood. incidentally, ingram is a fighter from his feet up, every inch, as broad-minded as he is broad-shouldered, and a keen student of football. the constant letting up of play, and the lack of fight, annoyed him more and more. at last, a varsity player sat down and called for water. immediately, the cry was taken up by his team mates. this was more than ingram could stand. out he dashed from the side lines, right into the group of players, shaking his fist and shrieking: "'water! water! what you need is fire, not water!'" fred crolius tells a good story about foster sanford when he was coaching at west point. one of the most interesting institutions to coach is west point. even in football field practice the same military spirit is in control, most of the coaches being officers. only when a unique character like sandy appears is the monotony shattered. sandy is often humorous in his most serious moments. one afternoon not many weeks before the navy game sandy, as crolius tells it, was paying particular attention to moss, a guard whom sanford tried to teach to play low. moss was very tall and had never appreciated the necessity of bending his knees and straightening his back. sanford disgusted with moss as he saw him standing nearly erect in a scrimmage, and sandy's voice would ring out, "stop the play, lieutenant smith. give mr. moss a side line badge. moss, if you want to watch this game, put on a badge, then everybody will know you've got a right to watch it." in the silence of the parade ground those few words sounded like a trumpet for a cavalry charge, but sandy accomplished his purpose and made a guard of moss. the day princeton played yale at new haven in , i had a brother on each side of the field; one was princeton class, , and the other was an undergraduate at yale, class of . my brother, dick, told me that his friends at yale would joke him as to whether he would root for yale or princeton on november th of that year. i did not worry, for i had an idea. a friend of his told me the following story a week after the game: "you had been injured in a mass play and were left alone, for the moment, laid out upon the ground. no one seemed to see you as the play continued. but dick was watching your every move, and when he saw you were injured he voluntarily arose from his seat and rushed down the aisle to a place opposite to where you were and was about to go out on the field, when the princeton trainer rushed out upon the field and stood you on your feet, and as dick came back, he took his seat in the yale grandstand. yale men knew then where his interest in the game lay." after arthur poe had kicked his goal from the field, princeton men lost themselves completely and rushed out upon the field. in the midst of the excitement, i remember my brother, george, coming out and enthusiastically congratulating me. chapter xxii lest we forget marshall newell there is no hero of the past whose name has been handed down in harvard's football traditions as that of marshall newell. he left many lasting impressions upon the men who came in contact with him. the men that played under his coaching idolized him, and this extended even beyond the confines of harvard university. this is borne out in the following tribute which is paid newell by herbert reed, that was on the cornell scrub when newell was their coach. "it is poignantly difficult, even to-day, years after what was to so many of us a very real tragedy," says reed, "to accept the fact that marshall newell is dead. the ache is still as keen as on that christmas morning when the brief news dispatches told us that he had been killed in a snowstorm on a railroad track at springfield. it requires no great summoning of the imagination to picture this fine figure of a man, in heart and body so like his beloved berkshire oaks, bending forward, head down, and driving into the storm in the path of the everyday duty that led to his death. it was, as the world goes, a short life, but a fruitful one--a life given over simply and without questioning to whatever work or whatever play was at hand. [illustration: marshall newell] "to the vast crowds of lovers of football who journeyed to springfield to see this superman of sport in action in defense of his alma mater he will always remain as the personification of sportsmanship combined with the hard, clean, honest effort that marks your true football player. to a great many others who enjoyed the privilege of adventuring afield with him, the memory will be that of a man strong enough to be gentle, of magnetic personality, and yet withal, with a certain reserve that is found only in men whose character is growing steadily under the urge of quiet introspection. yet, for a man so self-contained, he had much to give to those about him, whether these were men already enjoying place and power or merely boys just on the horizon of a real man's life. it was not so much the mere joy and exuberance of living, as the wonder and appreciation of living that were the springs of marshall newell's being. "it was this that made him the richest poor man it was ever my fortune to know. "the world about him was to newell rich in expression of things beautiful, things mysterious, things that struck in great measure awe and reverence into his soul. a man with so much light within could not fail to shine upon others. he had no heart for the city or the life of the city, and for him, too, the quest of money had no attraction. even before he went to school at phillips exeter, the character of this sturdy boy had begun to develop in the surroundings he loved throughout his life. is it any wonder, then, that from the moment he arrived at school he became a favorite with his associates, indeed, at a very early stage, something of an idol to the other boys? he expressed an ideal in his very presence--an ideal that was instantly recognizable as true and just--an ideal unspoken, but an ideal lived. just what that ideal was may perhaps be best understood if i quote a word or two from that little diary of his, never intended for other eyes but privileged now, a quotation that has its own little, delicate touch of humor in conjunction with the finer phrases: "'there is a fine selection from carmen to whistle on a load of logs when driving over frozen ground; every jolt gives a delightful emphasis to the notes, and the musician is carried along by the dictatorial leader as it were. what a strength there is in the air! it may be rough at times, but it is true and does not lie. what would the world be if all were open and frank as the day or the sunshine?' "i want to record certain impressions made upon a certain freshman at cornell, whither newell went to coach the football team after his graduation from harvard. those impressions are as fresh to-day as they were in that scarlet and gold autumn years ago. "here was a man built like the bole of a tree, alight with fire, determination, love of sport, and hunger for the task in hand. he was no easy taskmaster, but always a just one. many a young man of that period will remember, as i do, the grinding day's work when everything seemed to go wrong, when mere discouragement was gradually giving way to actual despair, when, somewhat clogged with mud and dust and blood, he felt a sudden slap on the back, and heard a cheery voice saying, 'good work to-day. keep it up.' playing hard football himself, newell demanded hard football of his pupils. i wish, indeed, that some of the players of to-day who groan over a few minutes' session with the soft tackling dummy of these times could see that hard, sole leather tackling dummy swung from a joist that went clear through it and armed with a shield that hit one over the head when he did not get properly down to his work, that newell used. "it was grinding work this, but through it one learned. "that ancient and battered dummy is stowed away, a forgotten relic of the old days, in the gymnasium at cornell. there are not a few of us who, when returning to ithaca, hunt it up to do it reverence. "let him for a moment transfer his allegiance to the scrub eleven, and in that moment the varsity team knew that it was in a real football game. they were hard days indeed on percy field, but good days. i have seen newell play single-handed against one side of the varsity line, tear up the interference like a whirlwind, and bring down his man. many of us have played in our small way on the scrub when for purposes of illustration newell occupied some point in the varsity line. we knew then what would be on top of us the instant the ball was snapped. yet when the heap was at its thickest newell would still be in the middle of it or at the bottom, as the case might be, still working, and still coaching. both in his coaching at harvard and at cornell he developed men whose names will not be forgotten while the game endures, and some of these developments were in the nature of eleventh-hour triumphs for skill and forceful, yet none the less sympathetic, personality. "after all, despite his remarkable work as a gridiron player and tutor, i like best to think of him as newell, the man; i like best to recall those long sunday afternoons when he walked through the woodland paths in the two big gorges, or over the fields at ithaca in company much of the time with--not the captain of the team, not the star halfback, not the great forward, but some young fellow fresh from school who was still down in the ruck of the squad. more than once he called at now one, now another fraternity house and hailed us: 'where is that young freshman that is out for my team? i would like to have him take a little walk with me.' and these walks, incidentally, had little or nothing to do with football. they were great opportunities for the little freshman who wanted to get closer to the character of the man himself. no flower, no bit of moss, no striking patch of foliage escaped his notice, for he loved them all, and loved to talk about them. one felt, returning from one of these impromptu rambles, that he had been spending valuable time in that most wonderful church of all, the great outdoors, and spending it with no casual interpreter. memories of those days in the sharp practice on the field grow dim, but these others i know will always endure. "this i know because no month passes, indeed it is almost safe to say, hardly a week, year in and year out, in which they are not insistently resurgent. "marshall newell was born in clifton, n. j., on april , . his early life was spent largely on his father's farm in great barrington, mass., that farm and countryside which seemed to mean so much to him in later years. he entered phillips exeter academy in the fall of , and was graduated in . almost at once he achieved, utterly without effort, a popularity rare in its quality. because of his relation with his schoolmates and his unostentatious way of looking after the welfare of others, he soon came to be known as ma newell, and this affectionate sobriquet not only clung to him through all the years at exeter and harvard, but followed him after graduation whithersoever he went. while at school he took up athletics ardently as he always took up everything. thus he came up to harvard with an athletic reputation ready made. "it was not long before the class of ' began to feel that subtler influence of character that distinguished all his days. he was a member of the victorious football eleven of , and of the winning crew of , both in his freshman year. he also played on the freshman football team and on the university team of ' , ' , ' , and rowed on the varsity crews of ' and ' . in the meantime he was gaining not only the respect and friendship of his classmates, but those of the instructors as well. socially, and despite the fact that he was little endowed with this world's goods, he enjoyed a remarkable popularity. he was a member of the institute of , dickey, hasty pudding, and signet. in addition, he was the unanimous choice of his class for second marshal on class day. many other honors he might have had if he had cared to seek them. he accepted only those that were literally forced upon him. "in the course of his college career he returned each summer to his home in great barrington and quietly resumed his work on the farm. "after graduation he was a remarkably successful football coach at cornell university, and was also a vast help in preparing harvard elevens. his annual appearance in the fall at cambridge was always the means of putting fresh heart and confidence in the crimson players. "he turned to railroading in the fall of , acting as assistant superintendent of the springfield division of the boston and albany railroad. here, as at college, he made a profound personal impression on his associates. the end came on the evening of december th, in . "in a memorial from his classmates and friends, the following significant paragraph appears: 'marshall newell belonged to the whole university. he cannot be claimed by any clique or class. let us, his classmates, simply express our gratitude that we have had the privilege of knowing him and of observing his simple, grand life. we rejoice in memories of his comradeship; we deeply mourn our loss. to those whose affliction has been even greater than our own, we extend our sympathy.' this memorial was signed by bertram gordon waters, lincoln davis, and george c. lee, jr., for the class, men who knew him well. "harvard men, i feel sure, will forgive me if i like to believe that newell belonged not merely to the whole harvard university, but to every group of men that came under his influence, whether the football squad at cornell or the humble track walkers of the boston and albany. "remains, i think, little more for me to say, and this can best be said in newell's own words, selections from that diary of which i have already spoken, and which set the stamp on the character of the man for all time. this, for instance: "'it is amusing to notice the expression in the faces of the horses on the street as you walk along; how much they resemble people, not in feature, but in spirit. some are cross and snap at the men who pass; others asleep; and some will almost thank you for speaking to them or patting their noses.' and this, in more serious vein: 'happened to think how there was a resemblance in water and our spirits, or rather in their sources. some people are like springs, always bubbling over with freshness and life; others are wells and have to be pumped; while some are only reservoirs whose spirits are pumped in and there stagnate unless drawn off immediately. most people are like the wells, but the pump handle is not always visible or may be broken off. many of the springs are known only to their shady nooks and velvet marshes, but, once found, the path is soon worn to them, which constantly widens and deepens. it may be used only by animals, but it is a blessing and comfort if only to the flowers and grasses that grow on its edge.' "serious as the man was, there are glints and gleams of quiet humor throughout this remarkable human document. one night in may he wrote, 'stars and moon are bright this evening; frogs are singing in the meadow, and the fire-flies are twinkling over the grass by the spring. tree toads have been singing to-day. set two hens to-night, nailed them in. if you want to see determination, look in a setting hen's eye. robins have been carrying food to their nests in the pine trees, and the barn swallows fighting for feathers in the air; the big barn is filled with their conversation.' "in the city he missed, as he wrote, 'the light upon the hills.' again, 'the stars are the eyes of the sky. the sun sets like a god bowing his head. pine needles catch the light that has streamed through them for a hundred years. the wind drives the clouds one day as if they were waves of crested brown.' where indeed in the crowded city streets was he to listen 'to the language of the leaves,' and how indeed, 'feel the colors of the west.' "is it not possible that something more even than the example and influence of his character was lost to the world in his death? what possibilities were there not in store for a man who could feel and write like this: 'grand thunderstorm this evening. vibrations shook the house and the flashes of lightning were continuous for a short time. it is authority and majesty personified, and one instinctively bows in its presence, not with a feeling of dread, but of admiration and respect.' "it was in the thunder and shock and blaze of just such a storm that i stood not long ago among his own berkshire hills, hoping thus to prepare myself by pilgrimage for this halting but earnest tribute to a great-hearted gentleman, who, in his quiet way, meant so much to so many of his fellow humans." walter b. street w. l. sawtelle of williams, who knew this great player in his playing days, writes as follows: "no williams contemporary of walter bullard street can forget two outstanding facts of his college career: his immaculate personal character and his undisputed title to first rank among the football men whom williams has developed. he was idolized because of his athletic prowess; he was loved because he was every inch a man. his personality lifted his game from the level of an intercollegiate contest to the plane of a man's expression of loyalty to his college, and his supremacy on the football field gave a new dignity to the undergraduate's ideals of true manhood. "his name is indelibly written in the athletic annals of williams, and his influence, apparently cut off by his early death, is still a vital force among those who cheered his memorable gains on the gridiron and who admired him for his virile character." w. d. osgood gone from among us is that great old-time hero, win osgood. in this chapter of thoroughbreds, let us read the tribute george woodruff pays him: "when my thoughts turn to the scores of fine, manly football players i have known intimately, win osgood claims, if not first place, at least a unique place, among my memories. as a player he has never been surpassed in his specialty of making long and brilliant runs, not only around, but through the ranks of his opponents. after one of his seventy- or eighty-yard runs his path was always marked by a zig-zag line of opposing tacklers just collecting their wits and slowly starting to get up from the ground. none of them was ever hurt, but they seemed temporarily stunned as though, when they struck osgood's mighty legs, they received an electric shock. "while at cornell in , osgood made, by his own prowess, two to three touchdowns against each of the strong yale, harvard and princeton elevens, and in the harvard-pennsylvania game at philadelphia in , he thrilled the spectators with his runs more than i have ever seen any man do in any other one game. "but i would belittle my own sense of osgood's real worth if i confined myself to expatiating on his brilliant physical achievements. his moral worth and gentle bravery were to me the chief points in him that arouse true admiration. when i, as coach of penn's football team, discovered that osgood had quietly matriculated at pennsylvania, without letting anybody know of his intention, i naturally cultivated his friendship, in order to get from him his value as a player; but i found he was of even more value as a moral force among the players and students. in this way he helped me as much as by his play, because, to my mind, a football team is good or bad according to whether the bad elements or the good, both of which are in every set of men, predominate. "in the winter of , osgood nearly persuaded me to go with him on his expedition to help the cubans, and i have often regretted not having been with him through that experience. he went as a major of artillery to be sure, but not for the title, nor the adventure only, but i am sure from love of freedom and overwhelming sympathy for the oppressed. he said to me: "'the cubans may not be very lovely, but they are human, and their cause is lovely.' "when osgood, with almost foolhardy bravery, sat his horse directing his dilapidated artillery fire in cuba, and thus conspicuous, made himself even more marked by wearing a white sombrero, he was not playing the part of a fool; he was following his natural impulse to exert a moral force on his comrades who could understand little but liberty and bravery. "when the angel of death gave him the accolade of nobility by touching his brow in the form of a mauser bullet, win osgood simply welcomed his friend by gently breathing 'well,' a word typical of the man, and even in death, it is reported, continued to sit erect upon his horse." gordon brown there are many young men who lost a true friend when gordon brown died. he was their ideal. after his college days were over, he became very much interested in settlement work on the east side in new york. he devoted much of his time after business to this great work which still stands as a monument to him. he was as loyal to it as he was to football when he played at yale. gordon brown's career at yale was a remarkable one. he was captain of the greatest football team yale ever had. whenever the team is mentioned it is spoken of as gordon brown's team. the spirit of this great thoroughbred still lives at yale, still lives at groton school where he spent six years. he was captain there and leader in all the activities in the school. he was one of the highest type college men i have ever known. he typified all the best there was in yale. he was strong mentally, as well as physically. it was my pleasure to have played against him in two yale-princeton games, ' and ' . i have never known a finer sportsman than he. he played the game hard, and he played it fair. he had nothing to say to his opponents in the game. he was there for business. always urging his fellow players on to better work. every one who knew this gallant leader had absolute confidence in him. all admired and loved him. there was no one at yale who was more universally liked and acknowledged as a leader in all the relations of the university than was gordon brown. the influence of such a man cannot but live as a guide and inspiration for all that is best at yale university. gordon brown's name will live in song and story. there were with him yale men not less efficient in the football sense, as witnesses the following: a yale song verse from the _yale daily news_, november th, : jimmy wear and gordon brown, fincke and stillman gaining ground; olcott in the center stands with perry hale as a battering ram-- no hope for princeton; james j. hogan the boys who were at exeter when that big raw-boned fellow, jim hogan, entered there will tell of the noble fight he made to get an education. he worked with his hands early and late to make enough money to pay his way. his effort was a splendid one. he was never idle, and was an honor man for the greater part of his stay at school. he found time to go out for football, however, and turned out to be one of the greatest players that ever went to exeter. jim hogan was one of the highest type of exeter men, held up as an example of what an exeter boy should be. his spirit still lives in the school. in speaking of hogan recently, professor ford of exeter, said: "whenever hogan played football his hands were always moving in the football line. it was almost like that in the classroom, always on the edge of his seat fighting for every bit of information that he could get and determined to master any particularly difficult subject. it was interesting and almost amusing at times to watch him. one could not help respecting such earnestness. he possessed great powers of leadership and there was never any question as to his sincerity and perfect earnestness. he was not selfish, but always trying to help his fellow students accomplish something. his influence among the boys was thoroughly good, and he held positions of honor and trust from the time of his admission." jim was hungry for an education--eager to forge ahead. his whole college career was an earnest endeavor. he never knew what it was to lose heart. "letting go" had no part in his life. jim was a physical marvel. his pounds of bone and muscle counted for much in the yale rush line. members of the faculty considered him the highest type of yale man, and it is said that president hadley of yale once referred to as "hogan's class." as a football player, jim had few equals. he was captain of the yale team in his senior year and was picked by the experts as an "all-american tackle." jim hogan at his place in the yale rush line was a sight worth seeing. with his jersey sleeves rolled up above his elbows and a smile on his face, he would break into the opposing line, smash up the interference and throw the backs for a loss. i can see him rushing the ball, scoring touchdowns, making holes in the line, doing everything that a great player could do, and urging on his team mates: "harder, yale; hard, harder, yale." he was a hard, strong, cheerful player; that is, he was cheerful as long as the other men fought fair. great was jim hogan. to work with him shoulder to shoulder was my privilege. to know him, was to love, honor and respect him. jim spent his last hours in new haven, and later in a humble home on the hillside in torrington, conn., surrounded by loving friends, and the individual pictures of that strong gordon brown team hanging on the wall above him, a loving coterie of friends said good-bye. many a boy now out of college realizes that he owes a great deal to the brotherly spirit of jim hogan. [illustration: mcclung, referee shevlin hogan] thomas j. shevlin there is a college tradition which embodies the thought that a man can never do as much for the university as the university has done for him. but in that great athletic victory of , when yale defeated princeton at new haven, i believe tom shevlin came nearer upsetting that tradition than any one i know of. he contributed as much as any human being possibly could to the university that brought him forth. tom shevlin's undergraduate life at new haven was not all strewn with roses, but he was glad always to go back when requested and put his shoulder to the wheel. the request came usually at a time when yale's football was in the slough of despond. he was known as yale's emergency coach. tom shevlin had nerve. he must have been full of it to tackle the great job which was put before him in the fall of . willingly did he respond and great was the reward. when i saw him in new york, on his way to new haven, i told him what a great honor i thought it was for yale to single him out from all her coaches at this critical time to come back and try to put the yale team in shape. it did not seem either to enthuse or worry him very much. he said: "i just got a telegram from mike sweeney to wait and see him in new york before going to new haven. i suppose he wants to advise me not to go and tackle the job, but i'm going just the same. yale can't be much worse off for my going than she is to-day." the result of shevlin's coaching is well known to all, and i shall always remember him after the game with that contented happy look upon his face as i congratulated him while he stood on a bench in front of the yale stand, watching the yale undergraduates carry their victorious team off the field. walter camp stood in the distance and shevlin yelled to him: "well, how about it, walter?" this victory will go down in yale's football history as an almost miraculous event. here was a team beaten many times by small colleges, humiliated and frowned upon not only by yale, but by the entire college world. they presented themselves in the yale bowl ready to make their last stand. as for princeton it seemed only a question as to how large her score would be. men had gone to cheer for princeton who for many years had looked forward to a decisive victory over yale. the game was already bottled up before it started; but when yale's future football history is written, when captain and coaches talk to the team before the game next year, when mass meetings are called to arouse college spirit, at banquets where victorious teams are the heroes of the occasion, some one will stand forth and tell the story of the great fighting spirit that captain wilson and his gallant team exhibited in the yale bowl that november day. although tom shevlin, the man that made it possible, is now dead, his memory at yale is sacred and will live long. many will recall his wonderful playing, his power of leadership, his yale captaincy, his devotion to yale at a time when he was most needed. if, in the last game against harvard, the team that fought so wonderfully well against princeton could not do the impossible and defeat the great haughton machine, it was not shevlin's fault. it simply could not be done. it lessens in not the slightest degree the tribute that we pay to tom shevlin. francis h. burr ham fish was a great harvard player in his day. when his playing days were over walter camp paid him the high tribute of placing him on the all time, all-american team at tackle. fish played at harvard in and , and was captain of the team in . i know of no harvard man who is in a better position to pay a tribute to francis burr, whose spirit still lives at cambridge, than ham fish. they were team mates, and when in burr remained on the side lines on account of injuries, ham fish was the acting harvard captain. fish tells us the following regarding burr: "francis burr was of gigantic frame, standing six feet three and agile as a young mountain lion. he weighed pounds. the incoming class of was signalized by having this man who came from andover. he stood out above his fellows, not only in athletic prowess but in all around manly qualities, both mental and moral. burr had no trouble in making a place on the varsity team at guard. he was a punter of exceeding worth. in the year of he was captain of the harvard team and wrought the most inestimable service to harvard athletics by securing percy haughton as head coach. hooks burr was primarily responsible for haughton and the abundance of subsequent victories. just when burr's abilities as player and captain were most needed he dislocated his collar bone in practice. i shall never forget the night before the yale game how burr, who had partially recovered, and was very anxious to play, reluctantly and unselfishly yielded to the coaches who insisted that he should not incur the risk of a more serious break. harvard won that day, the first time in seven years and a large share of the credit should go to the injured leader. we were all happy over the result but none of us were as happy as he. "stricken with pneumonia while attending the harvard law school in he died, leaving a legacy full of encouragement and inspiration to all harvard men. he exemplified in his life the golden rule,--'do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' of him it can be truly said, his life was gentle as a whole, and the elements so mixed in him that 'nature might stand up and say to all the world,--"he was a man."'" neil snow the university of michigan never graduated a man who was more universally loved than neil snow. what he did and the way he did it has become a tradition at michigan. he was idolized by every one who knew him. as a player and captain he set a wonderful example for his men to pattern after. he was a powerful player; possessing such determination and fortitude that he would go through a stone wall if he had to. he was their great all-around athlete; good in football, baseball and track. he had the unique record of winning his michigan m twelve times during his college course at ann arbor. he played his last game of football at pasadena, california. neil was very fond of exercise. he believed in exercise, and when word was sent out that neil snow had gone, it was found that he had just finished playing in a game of racquets in detroit, and before the flush and zest were entirely gone, the last struggle and participation in athletic contests for neil snow were over. it was my experience to have been at ann arbor in , when biffy lee coached the michigan team. it was at this time that i met neil snow, who was captain of the team, and when i grew to know him, i soon realized how his great, quiet, modest, though wonderful personality, made everybody idolize him. modesty was his most noticeable characteristic. he was always the last to talk of his own athletic achievements. he believed in action, more than in words. after his playing days were over he made a great name for himself as an official in the big games. the larger colleges in the east had come to realize with what great efficiency neil snow acted as an official and his services were eagerly sought. neil snow loved athletics. he often referred to his college experiences. his example was one held up as ideal among the men who knew him. when billy bannard died johnny poe wrote to mrs. bannard a letter, a portion of which follows: i greatly enjoy thinking of those glorious days in the fall of ' , ' and ' , when i was coaching at princeton and saw so much of billy, and if i live to a ripe old age i do not think i shall forget how he and ad kelly came on in the yale game of ' , and with the score of - against us started in by steadily rushing the ball up to and over the yale goal, and after the kick-off, once more started on the march for another touchdown. it was a superb exhibition of nerve in the face of almost certain defeat and showed a spirit that would not be downed, and i have often thought of this game in different far-off parts of the world. while yale finally won - still billy showed the same spirit that farragut showed when told that the river was filled with torpedoes and that it would be suicidal to proceed. he replied, "damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead!" i love to think of billy's famous fifty yard run for a touchdown through the harvard team in ' at cambridge, when the score had been a tie, and how he with ad kelly and johnny baird went through the yale team in that ' game and ran the score up to , representing five touchdowns. never before had a yale team been driven like chaff before the wind, as that blue team was driven. billy bannard and ad kelly's names were always coupled in their playing days at princeton. these two halfbacks were great team mates. when bill bannard died ad kelly lost one of his best friends. in ad kelly's recollections, we read: "whenever i think of my playing days i always recall the harvard-princeton game of , and with it comes a tribute to one of us who has passed to the great beyond; one with whom i played side by side for three years, bill bannard. i always thought that in this particular game he never received the credit due him. in my opinion his run on that memorable day was the best i have ever seen. his running and dodging and his excellent judgment had no superior in the football annals of our day. "in speaking of great individual plays that have won close games, his name should go down with charlie daly, clint wyckoff, arthur poe, snake ames and dudley dean, for with reiter's splendid interference in putting out the harvard left end, billy bannard's touchdown gave princeton the confidence to carry her to victory that day and to the ultimate championship two weeks later." harry hooper when henry hooper, one of dartmouth's greatest players, was taken away, every man who knew hooper felt it a great personal loss. those who had seen him play at exeter and there formed his acquaintance and later at dartmouth saw him develop into the mighty center rush of the dartmouth team, idolized him. c. e. bolser of dartmouth, who knew him well, says: "harry hooper was a great center on a great team. the success of this eleven was due to its good fellowship and team work. the central figure was the idol of his fellow players. such was hooper. shortly after the football season that year he was operated upon for appendicitis and it soon became evident that he could not recover. he was told of his plight. "he bravely faced the inevitable and expressed the wish that if he really had to go he might have with him at the last his comrades of the football field. these team mates rallied at his request. they surrounded him; they talked the old days over, and supported by those with whom he had fought for the glory of his college this real hero passed into the great beyond, and deep down in the traditions of dartmouth and exeter the name of harry hooper is indelibly written." the game of football is growing old. the ranks of its heroes are being slowly but surely thinned. the players are retiring from the game of life; some old and some young. the list might go on indefinitely. there are many names that deserve mention. but this cannot be. the list of thoroughbreds is a long one. yours must be a silent tribute. doctor andrew j. mccosh, ned peace, gus holly, dudley riggs, harry brown, symmes, bill black, pringle jones, jerry mccauley, jim rhodes, bill swartz, frank peters, george stillman, h. schoellkopf, wilson of the navy and byrne of the army, eddie ward, albert rosengarten, mcclung, dudley and matthews. richard harding davis and matthew mcclung were two lehigh men whose position in the football world was most prominent. the esteem in which they are held by their alma mater is enduring. i had talked with dick davis when this book was in its infancy. he was very much interested and asked that i write him a letter outlining what i would like to have him send me. just before he died i received this letter from him. i regret he did not live to tell the story he had in mind. [illustration: (handwritten letter) richard harding davis mount kisco new york april nd my dear edwards, yes, indeed. as soon as i finish something i am at work on, i'll "think back", and write you some memoirs. with all good wishes richard harding davis] his interest in football had been a keen one. he was one of the leaders at lehigh, who first organized that university's football team. he was a truly remarkable player. what he did in football is well known to men of his day. he loved the game; he wrote about the game; he did much to help the game. chapter xxiii aloha "hail and farewell," crowded by the hawaiians into one pregnant word! would that this message might mean as much in as little compass. i can promise only brevity and all that brevity means in so vast a matter as football to a man who would love nothing better than to talk on forever. we know that football has really progressed and improved, and that the boys of to-day are putting football on a higher plane than it has ever been on before. we are a progressive, sporting public. gone are the old fifth avenue horse buses, that used to carry the men to the field of battle; gone, too, are the fifth avenue hotel and the hoffman house, with their recollections of great victories fittingly celebrated. the old water bucket and sponge, with which trainer jim robinson used to rush upon the field to freshen up a tired player, are now things of the past. to-day we have the spectacle of pooch donovan giving the harvard players water from individual sanitary drinking cups! the old block game is no more. heavy mass play has been opened up. to-day there is something for the public to _see_; something interesting to watch at every point; something significant in every move. as a result, greatly increased multitudes witness the game. no longer do football enthusiasts stand behind ropes on the side lines. the popularity of the game has made it necessary to build huge _stadia_ for the sport, to take the place of the old wooden stands. college games, for the most part, nowadays are played on college grounds. accordingly the sport has been withdrawn from the miscellaneous multitude and confined to the field where it really belongs and the spirit of the game is now just what it should be--exclusively collegiate. best of all, the modern style of play has made the game more than ever a heroic see-saw, with one side uppermost for a time only to jar the very ground with the shock of its fall. yet, victorious or defeated, the spirit through it all is one of splendid and overflowing college enthusiasm. while there is abounding joy in an unforeseen or hard won victory there is also much that is inspirational in the sturdy, courageous, devoted support of college-mates in the hour of defeat. isaac h. bromley, yale ' , once summed up eloquently the spirit of college life and sport in the following words: "these contests and these triumphs are not all there is of college life, but they are a not unimportant part of it. the best education, the most useful training, come not from the classroom and from books, but from the attrition of mind on mind, from the wholesome emulation engendered by a common aim and purpose, from the whetting of wits by good-natured rivalry, the inspiration of youthful enthusiasms, the blending together of all of us in undying love for our common mother. "as to the future: we may not expect this unbroken round of victories to go on forever; we shall need sometimes, more than the inspiration of victory, the discipline of defeat. and it will come some day. our champions will not last forever. some time stagg must make his last home run, and camp his final touchdown. some day bob cook will 'hear the dip of the golden oars' and 'pass from sight with the boatman pale.' "it would be too much to think that all their successors will equally succeed. it might be monotonous. but of one thing we may be assured--that whatever happens, we shall never fail to extend the meed of praise to the victors. we shall be hereafter, as in the past we have always been, as stout in adversity as we have been merry in sunshine." * * * * * "then strip, lads, and to it though sharp be the weather; and if, by mischance you should happen to fall there are worse things in life than a tumble on heather and life is itself, but a game, of football." [transcriber's note: many words in this text were inconsistently hyphenated or spelled, so i have normalized them. the majority are football terms that originally appeared inconsistently as "full-back," "fullback," and "full back," for example.] the school of recreation: or a guide to the most ingenious exercises of hunting. hawking. riding. tennis. racing. bowling. fireworks. ringing. military singing. discipline. cock-fighting. the science of fowling. defence. angling. by _r. h._ _london_, printed for _h. rhodes_, at the _star_, the corner of _bride lane, fleet-street_. . _the school of recreation._ [illustration] _printed for henry rodes near bride lane in fleet streete._ the preface to the reader. _reader, in this small book you will find such variety of recreations, that nothing of the nature ever appeared so like accomplish'd in any one volume, of what largeness soever: for besides my own experience in these acceptable and delightful particulars, reduced under proper heads, easy to be understood, and put in practice; i have taken the opinions of those whose ingenuity had led them to these exercises in particular or general, and are approved for the performance of them in the exactest manner, whose judicious approbations the more embolden'd me to a publication of them: in which you will not only find pleasure, and keep up a healthful constitution in moderately pursuing them, but in most or all of them find considerable profit and advantage, when you can spare leisure hours from your devotions, or to unbend your cares after the tiresome drudgery of weighty_ temporal matters; _not that i think it is proper so eagerly to pursue them, as if you made them rather a_ business _than a_ recreation; _for though in themselves they are harmless, yet a continual or insatiate prosecution of any thing, not only lessens the pleasure, but may render it hurtful, if not to your self, yet in giving offence to others, who will be apt to reflect upon such as seem to doat upon them, and wholly neglect their other affairs._ _we find the taste of honey is delicious and desirable, yet nature over-burthened with too great a quantity, surfeits, and begets a loathing of it. wherefore to conclude, i commend them as they are,_ viz. _suitable_ recreations _for the_ gentry _of_ england, _and others, wherein to please and delight themselves. and so not doubting this_ work _will be accepted, as it was well meant to serve my_ country-men, _i take leave to subscribe myself, kind reader_, your most humble and obliging servant, _r. h._ of hunting. hunting, being a recreation that challenges the sublime epithets of royal, artificial, manly, and warlike, for its stateliness, cunning, and indurance, claims above all other sports the precedency; and therefore i was induced to place it at the head to usher in the rest. but to come to the purpose: the young hunter, as yet raw in the true knowledge of this royal sport, with what is meerly necessary and useful, without amusing him with superfluous observations for his instruction: i shall therefore observe throughout this treatise this method: . the several _chases_ or games which fall under the first denomination, hunting. . the genuine of infallible rules whereby we are to direct our selves, for the obtaining the true pleasure in prosecuting the same, and the desired effects of it. know than; the beasts of venery or forest, are, _viz._ the _hart_, _hinde_, _hare_. as likewise the wild beasts, or beasts of chace are, _viz._ the _buck_, _doe_, _fox_, _marten_, _roe_. the beasts of warren, are, _viz._ _hares_, _coneys_, _roes_. _note_, the _hart_ and _hind_ before spoken of, though they are of one kind, yet, because their seasons are several, are esteemed distinct beasts; and in the _hart_ is included the _stag_, and all red _deer_ of antlier. and because i reckon it the most necessary part of the hunter to understand the names, degrees, ages, and seasons of the aforesaid different beasts of forest or venery, chase, and warren, i therefore, present him with these following _beasts of forest_, &c. the _hart_, the first year is called a _hind-calf_, a _knobber_, a _brock_ a _staggard_, a _stag_, a _hart_. the _hind_ the first year a _calf_, a _hearse_, a _hind_. the _hare_, the first year a _leveret_, a _hare_, a great _hare_. _beasts of chase._ the _buck_, the first year is called a _fawn_, a _pricket_, a _sorrel_, a _sore_, a _buck_ of the first head, a great _buck_. the _doe_, the first year a _fawn_, a _teg_, a _doe_. the _fox_, the first year a _cub_, a _fox_. the _marten_, the first year a _cub_, a _marten_. the _roe_ the first year a _kid_, a _gyrl_, a _hemuse_, a _roe-buck_ of the first head, a fair _roe-buck_. as for the beasts of warren, the _hare_ being spoken of before, little or nothing is to be said. the _coney_ is first a _rabbet_, and then an old _coney_. thus much for their names, degrees, and ages: now let us next observe their proper seasons for hunting. the _hart_ or _buck_, beginneth fifteen days after _mid-summer-day_, and lasteth till _holy-rood-day_. the _fox_, from _christmass_, and lasteth till the annunciation of the blessed _virgin mary_. the _hind_ or _doe_, from _holy-rood-day_, till _candlemas_. the _roe-buck_, from _easter_, till _michaelmas_. the _roe_, from _michaelmas_, till _candlemas_. the _hare_, from _michaelmas_, to the end of _february_. thus much i thought fit to speak briefly of the proper names, degrees, ages, and seasons of the several chases which we hunt: but having almost forgot some, i shall insert here, as intending to speak somewhat of them, and they are the _badger_, _otter_, and wild _goat_. as for the terms of art appropriated to hunting. and now i bring you to the second thing i proposed, _viz._ the rules and measures we are to learn and observe in the aforementioned sports or chases; and in this we must begin with the pursuers or conquerors of these chases, namely. _of hounds._ there are several kinds of hounds, endued with qualities suitable to the country where they are bred; and therefore consult his country, and you will soon understand his nature and use: as for instance, the western countries of _england_, and wood-land, mountainous countries, as also _cheshire_, and _lancashire_, breed the _slow-hound_; a large great dog, tall and heavy. _worcestershire_, _bedfordshire_, and many other well mixt soyls, where the champaign and covert are equally large, produce the _middle sized_ dog, of a more nimble composure than the fore-mentioned, and fitter for chase. _yorkshire_, _cumberland_, _northumberland_, and the north parts, breed the light, nimble, swift slender dog. and our open champaigns train up excellent grey-hounds, hugely admired for his swiftness, strength, and sagacity. and lastly, the little _beagle_ bred in all countries, is of exceeding cunning, and curious scent in hunting. for the choice of hounds we are to rely much on their colours, and accordingly make our election. the best and most beautiful of all for a general kennel, is, the white hound, with black ears, and a black spot at the setting on of the tail, and is ever found to be both of good scent, and good condition, and will hunt any chase, but especially the _hare_, _stag_, _buck roe_, or _otter_, not sticking at woods or waters. the next is the black, the blacktann'd, or all liver hew'd, or the milk white hound, which is the true _talbot_, is best for the string, or line, as delighting in blood; the largest is the comliest and best. the _grizled_, usually shag-hair'd, are the best verminers; and so fittest for the _fox_, _badger_, or other hot scents; a couple of which let not your kennel be without, as being exceeding good cunning finders. for the shape of your hound, you must consult the climate of his breed, and the natural composition of his body; but by these following characters you may know a good hound. if you like a large, heavy, true _talbot_ like hound, see his head be round and thick. nose short and uprising. nostrils wide and large. ears larger and down-hanging. upper lip-flews lower than his nether chaps. back strong and rising. fillets thick and great. thighs and huckle-bones round. hams streight. tail long and rush grown. the hair of his belly hard and stiff. legs big and lean. foot like a _fox's_, well clawed and round. sole dry and hard. all these shew an able hound. if you would choose a swift light hound, the _yorkshire_ one in the generality will please you; for that (as these have) he ought to have a slenderer head, longer nose, shallower ears and flews, broad back, gaunt belly, small tail, long joynts, round foot; and in fine of a gray-hound-like make. thus much to direct the choice of hounds; now something ought to be spoken of the composition of kennels, wherein i must appeal to the affection of the gentleman, the lover of this sport, and let him tell me the reasons that induced him take pleasure in hounds, whether it be he fancies cunning in hunting? or sweetness, loudness, or deepness of cry? or for the training his horses? or for the exercise of his body only? if for cunning hunting; breed your dogs from the slowest and largest of the forementioned northern hounds, and the swiftest and slenderest of the west country, of both kinds, approved to be not given to lie off, or look for advantages, but staunch, fair, even running, and of perfect fine scent. these will make a horse gallop fast, and not run; being middle-siz'd, not too swift as to out-run, or too slow as to lose the scent; are the best for the true art and use of hunting. if for sweetness of cry; compound your kennel of some large dogs, of deep solemn mouths, and swift in spending, as the _base_ in the consort; then twice so many roaring, loud ringing mouths, as the _counter-tenor_: and lastly, some hollow plain sweet mouths, as the _mean_: so shall your cry be perfect. observe that this composition be of the swiftest and largest deep mouth'd dog, the slowest and middle-siz'd, and the shortest legged slender dog. for these run even together. if for loudness of mouth, choose the loud clanging (redoubling as it were) mouth, and to this put the roaring, spending, and whining mouth, which will be loud, smart, and pleasant: such are for the most part your _shropshire_, and _worcestershire_ dogs. if (lastly) for deepness of cry, the largest dogs having the greatest mouths, and deepest flews, are the best; such are your west-country, _cheshire_, and _lancashire_ dogs. but if you have your kennel for training horses only; then compound your kennel of the lightest, nimblest, and swiftest dogs, such as your northern hounds are. for the strong and violent exercises of their horses, through the natural velocity of their hounds, in the north parts, have render'd them famous for truth and swiftness above all other parts of _england_. lastly, if for the maintenance of your health, by preventing infirmities and grossness of humours, you compose your kennel; consult first your own ability for this exercise; and if you think you are able to foot it away, then the biggest and slowest dogs you can get are best. but if you would pad it away through an unability of footing it, than choose the slowest or middle-siz'd hounds, of good mouths and noses, for loud cry, and ready scent. thus far for the composing a kennel: i come now to the _kennel it self_, of which i need say little, as indeed unnecessary, leaving that to the discretion of the _huntsman_; only i would have him observe, that it be built some pretty way distant from the dwelling-house, in a warm dry place, free from vermine, and near some pond or river of fresh water; and so placed, that the morning sun may shine upon it. be sure to keep it clean, and let them not want fresh straw every day. feed them early in the morning at sun-rising, and at sun-set in the evening. as for the meat, i leave to the ingenious huntsman to get when they come from hunting; after you have fed them well, let them to their kennel, and wash their feet with beer and butter, or some such thing, and pick and search their cleys, for thorns, stubs, or the like: if it is in _winter_, let a fire be made, and let them beak and stretch themselves for an hour or so at the fire, and suffer them to lick, pick, and trim themselves; hereby to prevent the _diseases_ incident to them, upon sudden cooling, as the _mange_, _itch_, _fevers_, &c. but before i treat of the keeping your hounds in health by curing their diseases, i must speak a word or two of the way to _breed good whelps_, viz. having a hound and a bratch of that general goodness in size, voice, speed, scent, and proportion you like, put them together to ingender in _january_, _february_, or _march_, as the properest months for hounds, bitches, and bratches to be limed in; because of not _losing time_ to enter them. when you put them together, observe, as near as you can, if the _moon_ be in _aquarius_ or _gemini_; because the whelps will then never run mad, and the litter will be double as many dogs, as bitch-whelps. when your bitch is near her _whelping_, separate her from the other hounds, and make her a kennel particularly by her self; and see her kennell'd every night, that she might be acquainted and delighted with it, and so not seek out unwholsom places; for if you remove the whelps after they are whelp'd, the bitch will carry them up and down till she come to their first place of littering; and that's very dangerous. suffer not your whelps to suck above two months, and then _wean_ them. when your whelps are brought up, _enter_ them not into hunting till they are at least a year and half old: that is, if whelpt in _march_, enter them _september_ come twelve month; if in _april_, in _october_ come twelve months after, _&c_. when you would _enter_ them, bring them abroad, with the most staunch and best hunting hounds; (all babling and flying curs being left at home:) and a _hare being the best entering chase_, get a _hare_ ready before, and putting her from her form, view which way she takes, and then lay on your hounds, giving them all the advantages may be; if she is caught, do not suffer them to break her, but immediately taking her, strip off her skin, and cutting her to pieces, give every part to your young whelps; and that beget in them a delight in hunting. _diseases incident to dogs, and their cures._ _for sick dogs._ take sheeps-heads, wooll and all, hack, and bruise them into pieces, make pottage of it with oatmeal, and _penny-royal_, and give it warm. _lice and fleas._ boyl four or five handfuls of _rue_, or _herb of grace_, in a gallon of running water, till a pottle be consumed, strain it, and put two ounces of _staves-acre_ poudered, and bathe them with it warm. _itch._ take oyl of _flower-de-lys_, powder of _brimstone_, and dry'd _elicampane-roots_, of each a like quantity, and _bay-salt_ powdered; mix these powders with the oyl, and warm it, anoint, scratch, and make it bleed, it will do well. _tetter._ take _black ink_, juice of _mint_ and _vinegar_, of each alike, mix them altogether with powder of _brimstone_ to a salve, and anoint it. _worms._ give your hound _brimstone_ and new _milk_, it will kill them. _gauling._ may _butter_, yellow _wax_ and unflackt _lime_, made to a salve, and anoint therewith, is a present remedy. _mange._ take two handfuls of _wild-cresses_, of _elicampane_, of the leaves and roots of _roerb_ and _sorrel_, the like quantity, and two pound of the roots of _frodels_, boyl them all well in lye and vinegar, strain it, and put therein two pound of _grey soap_, and after 'tis melted, rub your hound with it four or five days together. _for any ear disease._ mix _verjuice_ and _chervile_ water together, and drop into his ears a spoonful or two, morning and evening. _sore eyes._ chew a leaf or two of _ground ivy_, and spit the juice into his eyes. _surbaiting._ wash his feet with _beer_ and _butter_, and bind young red _nettles_ beaten to a salve to his soles. _biting by snake, adder_, &c. beat the herb _calaminth_ with _turpentine_, and yellow _wax_ to a salve, and apply it. to expel the inward poyson, give the said herb in milk. _biting by a mad dog._ wash the place with _sea-water_; or strong _brine_, will cure him. the quantity of a hazel-nut of _mithridate_, dissolved in sweet wine, will prevent inward infection. _madness._ lastly, if your hound be mad, which you will soon find by his separating himself from the rest, throwing his head into the wind, foaming and slavering at mouth, snatching at every thing he meets, red fiery eyes, stinking filthy breath; then to knock him in the head, is a present remedy, and you'l prevent infinite dangers. and now i proceed to give some brief instructions for hunting the several chases, _viz._ the _time when?_ and the _manner how?_ having your kennel of hounds in good order and plight, lead them forth, and to your game; only take this caution; do not forget to have in your pack a couple of _hounds_, called _hunters in the high-wayes_, that will scent upon hard ground, where we cannot perceive pricks or impressions; and let a couple of _old stench hounds_ accompany you, by whose sure scent, the too great swiftness of the young and unexperienced ones may be restrained and regulated. _of hart_ or _stag hunting._ to understand the _age_ of this our game, it is known by several marks, amongst which this is the most authentick: that if you take his view in the ground, and perceive he has a large foot, a thick heel, a deep print, open cleft and long space, then be assured he is old; as the contrary concludes him young. to find him? examine the following annual, or monethly. _november_, in heaths among furs, shrubs, and whines. _december_, in forests among thick and strong woods. _january_, in corners of the forests, corn-fields, _wheat_, _rye_, &c. _february_ and _march_, amongst young and thick bushes. _april_ and _may_, in coppices and springs. _june_ and _july_, in out-woods and purlieus nearest the corn-fields. _september_ and _october_, after the first showers of rain, they leave their thickets, and go to rut, during which time there is no certain place to find them in. when you have found him in any of these places, be careful to go up the wind; and the best time to find him is before _sun-rising_, when he goes to feed; then watch him to his leir, and having lodged him, go and prepare; if he is not forced, he will not budge till evening. approaching his lodging, cast off your _finders_, who having hunted him a ring or two, cast in the rest; and being in full cry and maine chase, comfort and cheer them with horn and voice. be sure to take notice of him by some _mark_, and if your dogs make _default_, rate them off and bring them to the _default_ back, and make them cast about till they have undertaken the first _deer_; then cheer them to the utmost, and so continue till they have either set up or slain him. it is the nature of a _stag_, to seek for one of his kind, when he is imbost or weary, and beating him up, ly down in his place; therefore have a watchful eye unto _change_. as likewise by taking _soil_ (i.e. water) he will swim a river just in the middle down the stream, covering himself all over, but his nose, keeping the middle, least by touching any boughs he leave a scent for the _hounds_; and by his crossings and doublings he will endeavour to baffle his persuers: in these cases have regard to your _old hounds_, as i said before. when he is imbost or weary, may be known thus: by his creeping into holes, and often lying down, or by his running stiff, high and lumpering, slavering and foaming at mouth, shining and blackness of his hair, and much sweat; and thus much for _stag_ or _hart hunting_. as for the _buck_ i shall not speak any thing, for he that can hunt a _stag_ well, cannot fail hunting a _buck_ well. as likewise for the _roe hunting_, i refer you to what is spoken of the _hart_ or _stag_. _of hare hunting._ as for the _time_, the most proper to begin this game, note; that about the middle of _september_ is best, and to end towards the latter end of _february_, when surcease, and destroy not the young early brood of _leverets_; and this season is most agreeable likewise to the nature of _hounds_; moist and cool. now for the _place_ where to find her, you must examine and observe the seasons of the year; for in summer or spring time, you shall find them in corn-fields and open places, not sitting in bushes, for fear of snakes, adders, _&c_. in _winter_ they love tuffs of thorns and brambles, near houses: in these places you must regard the _oldness_ or _newness_ of her _form_ or _seat_, to prevent labour in vain: if it be plain and smooth within, and the pad before it flat and worn, and the prickles so new and perceptible, that the earth seems black, and fresh broken, then assure your self the form is new, and from thence you may hunt and recover the _hare_; if the contrary, it is old, and if your _hounds_ call upon it, rate them off. when the _hare_ is started and on foot, step in where you saw her pass, and hollow in your _hounds_ till they have undertaken it, then go on with full cry. above all, be sure to observe her first doubling, which must be your direction for all that day; for all her other after doublings, will be like that. when she is thus reduced to the _slights_ and _shifts_ she makes by doublings and windings, give your dogs _time_ and _place_ enough to cast about your rings, for unwinding the same; and observe her _leaps_ and _skips_ before she squat, and beat curiously all likely places of harbour: she is soon your prey now. _of coney catching._ their _seasons_ are always, and the way of taking them thus: set pursenets on their holes, and put in a _ferret_ close muzzled, and she will boult them out into the nets: or blow on a sudden the drone of a bag-pipe into the burrows, and they will boult out: or for want of either of these two, take powder of _orpiment_ and _brimstone_, and boult them out with the smother: but pray use this last seldom, unless you would destroy your warren. but for this sport _hays_ are to be preferred above all. _of fox-hunting._ _january_, _february_, and _march_, are the best seasons for hunting the _fox_ above ground, the scent being then strong, and the coldest weather for the _hounds_, and best finding his earthing. cast off your sure finders first, and as the _drag_ mends, more; but not too many at once, because of the variety of chaces in woods and coverts. the night before the day of hunting, when the _fox_ goes to prey at midnight, find his earths, and stop them with black thorns and earth. to find him draw your _hounds_ about groves, thickets, and bushes near villages; pigs and poultry inviting him to such places to lurk in. they make their earths in hard clay, stony grounds, and amongst roots of trees; and have but one hole straight and long. he is usually taken with _hounds_, _grey-hounds_, _terriers_, _nets_ and _gins_. _of badger hunting._ this creature has several names, as _gray brock_, _boreson_, or _bauson_; and is hunted thus. first go seek the earths and burrows where he lieth, and in a clear moon-shine night, stop all the holes but one or two, and in these fasten sacks with drawing strings; and being thus set, cast off your _hounds_, and beat all the groves, hedges, and tuffs within a mile or two about, and being alarm'd by the dogs they will repair to their burrows and kennels, and running into the bags, are taken. _of the martern or wild cat._ these two chases are usually hunted in _england_, and are as great infesters of warrens, as the two last mentioned vermine, but are not purposely to be sought after; unless the huntsman see their place of prey, and can go to it; and if the _hound_ chance to cross them, sport may be had. but no rule can be prescribed how to find or hunt them. _of the otter._ this creature useth to lye near rivers in his lodging, which he cunningly and artificially builds with boughs, twigs and sticks. a great devourer of fish. it is a very sagacious and exquisitely smelling creature, and much cunning and craft is required to hunt him. but to take him, observe this in short. being provided with _otter-spears_ to watch his vents, and good _otter-hounds_, beat both sides of the river's banks, and you'll soon find if there is any. if you find him, and perceive where he swims under water, get to stand before him when he _vents_, (_i.e._ takes breath) and endeavour to strike him with the spear: if you miss him, follow him with your _hound_, and if they are good for _otter_, they will certainly beat every tree root, _bul-rush bed_, or _osier-bed_, so that he cannot escape you. _of the wild goat._ the _wild-goat_ is as big and as fleshy as a _hart_, but not so long-legg'd. the best time for hunting them is, at _all-hallontide_; and having observed the advantages of the coasts, rocks, and places where the _goats_ lie, set nets and toils towards the rivers and bottoms; for 'tis not to be imagined, the dogs can follow them down every place of the mountains. stand some on the tops of the rocks, and as occasion offers throw down stones; and place your relays at the small brooks or waters, where the _goat_ comes down; but let them not tarry, till the _hounds_ come in, that were cast off. _thus much for hunting._ _of riding._ here we must first examine the ends and design of our proposing this art to our selves, and accordingly lay down as briefly as may be the necessary rules and lessons are to be observed and learnt; and i take these to be the usual perfections we aim at. _to ride well the great_ horse, _for the wars or service, and the_ horse _for pleasure_; of both which as concisely as i can, in their order. we must begin with _taming a young colt_. after you have kept him at home some time, and made him so familiar with you, as to suffer _combing_, _currying_, _handling_, and _stroaking_ any part, 'tis high time then to offer him the saddle, which you must lay in the _manger_ first, that by its smell, he may not be afraid of it, or the _styrrups_ noise. then gently saddling him (after his dressing) take a sweet _watering trench_, anointed with honey and salt, and place it in his mouth so, that it may hang directly over his _tush_; then lead him abroad in your hand, and water him; and after he has stood an hour rein'd take off his bridle and saddle, and let him feed till evening; then do as in the morning; dress and cloath him, having _cherisht_, by the voice delivered smoothly and gently; or by the hand by gently stroaking and clapping him on the neck, or buttock; or lastly by the _rod_, by rubbing it on his withers or main. on the next day as before; and after that, put him on a strong _musrole_, or sharp _cavezan_, and _martingale_; which is the best guide to a horse for setting his head in due place, forming the rein, and appearing graceful and comely; it corrects the yerking out his head, or nose, and prevents his running away with his rider. observe therefore to place it right, that it be not buckled straight, but loose, and so low, that it rest on the tender grizsle of his nose, to make him the more sensible of his fault, and correction; and so as you see you win his head, bring him straighter by degrees; let him but gently feel it, till his head be brought to its true perfection. having observed this well, lead him forth into some soft or new plowed land, trot him about in your hand a good while: then offer to mount; if he refuse to suffer you, trot him again; then putting your foot into the _styrrop_, mount half way; if he takes it impatient, correct him, and about again; if not, cherish him, and place your self a moment in the saddle, dismount, cherish, and feed him with _grass_, or _bread_: all things being well, remount, even in the saddle, keeping your rod from his eye; then let one lead him by the _chaff-halter_, and ever and a-non make him stand, and cherish him, till he will of his own accord go forward; then come home, alight gently, _dress and feed him well_. this course in few dayes will bring him to trot, by following some other horse-man, stop him now and then gently, and forward; not forgetting seasonable _cherishings_ and _corrections_, by voice, _bridle_, _rod_, _spurs_. being thus brought to some certainty of _rein_, and _trotting_ forth-right, then to the treading _forth of the large rings_. and here first examine your horses nature, before you choose your ground, for, if his nature be dull and sloathful, yet strong, then _new-plow'd-field_ is best; if _active_, _quick_ and _fiery_, then _sandy-ground_ is to be preferred; in the most proper of which mark out a large ring, of a hundred paces circumference. walk about it on the right seven or eight times, then by a little straightning your right rein, and laying your left leg calf to his side, make a half circle within the ring upon your right down to its center; then by straightning a little your left rein, and laying your right leg calf to his side, make a half circle to your left hand, from the center to the outmost verge, and these you see contrary turned make a roman _s_. now to your first large compass, walk him about on your left hand, as oft as before on the right, and change to your right within your ring; then trot him first on the right-hand, then on the left, as long as you judge fit, and as often mornings and evenings, as the nature of your horse shall require. in the same manner you may make him to _gallop_ the same rings, though you must not enter it all at once, but by degrees, first a quarter, then a half-quarter; and the lightness and cheerfulness of your body, not the spur, must induce him to it. the next lesson is to _stop fair_, _comely_, and without danger. first see that the ground be hard and firm, then having cherisht your horse, bring him to a swift trot, about fifty paces, and then straightly & suddenly draw in your bridle hand; then ease a little your hand to make him give backward, and in so doing, give him liberty and cherish him; then drawing in your bridle hand, make him retire, and go back; if he strike, ease your hand: if he refuse, let some by-stander put him back, that he may learn your intention and thus he may learn these two lessons at once. _to advance before_, when he stoppeth, is thus taught: when you stop your horse, without easing your hand, lay close and hard to his sides both calves of your legs, and shaking your rod cry, _up_, _up_; which he will understand by frequent repetition, and practice: this is a gracefull, and comely motion, makes a horse agile, and nimble, and ready to turn; and therefore be careful in it: that he take up his legs even together, and bending to his body; not too high, for fear of his coming over; not sprawling, or pawing; or for his own pleasure; in these faults correct him with spur and rod. to _yerk out behind_ is the next lesson, thus learnt, presently upon your making him stop give him a good brisk jerk near his flank, which will make him soon understand you. when he does it, cherish him; and see he does it comely, for to yerk out his hinder legs, till his forelegs be above ground, is not graceful; or one leg yerk't farther out than the other; or one leg out while the other is on the ground; in this case a single spur on the faulty side, is best. but to help him in yerking, staying his mouth on the bridle, striking your rod under his belly, or touching him on the rump with it. to _turn readily on both hands_, thus: bring his large rings narrower, and therein gently walk him, till acquainted. then carry your bridle-hand steady and straight, the outmost rather straighter than the inmost rein, to look from, rather than to the ring; trot him thus about, on one side and the other successively, as aforesaid. after some time stop, and make him advance twice or more, and retire in an even line; then stop and cherish him. to it again, after the same manner, making him lap his outmost leg above a foot over his inner. and thus the _terra a terra_, _incavalere & chambletta_, are all taught together. perfect your horse in the large ring, and the straight ring is easily learnt. your horse being brought thus far to perfection, with the _musrole_ and _trench_, now let a gentle _cavezan_ take their place; with a smooth cannon-bit in his mouth, and a plain watering chain, cheek large, and the kirble thick, round and big, loosely hanging on his nether lip; and thus mount him, and perfect your horse with the _bit_ in all the aforesaid lessons, as you did with the _snaffle_; which indeed is the easier to be done of the two. to teach your horse _to go a side_, as a necessary motion for shunning a blow from an enemy, is thus: draw up your bridle hand somewhat straight, and if you would have him go on the right, lay your left rein close to his neck, and your left calf likewise close to his side (as in the _incavalere_ before) making him lap his left leg over his right; then turning your rod backward jerking him on the left hinder thigh gently, make him to bring to the right side his hinder parts, and stand as at first in an even direct line: then make him remove his fore parts more, that he may stand as it were cross over the even line, and then bring his hinder parts after, and stand in an even line, again. and thus you must do, if you would have him go on the left hand, using your corrections and cherishings on the right. use it, and you may be sure of perfection. for the _carreere_, only take this: let it not extend in length above six score yards, give your horse warning before you start him by the bridle hand, and running full speed, stop him suddenly, firm and close on his buttock. for the _horse of pleasure_, these following lessons are to be learnt. as first to _bound aloft_, to do which: trot him some sixteen yards, then stop, and make him twice advance; then straighten your bridle-hand; then clap briskly both your spurs even together to him, and he will rise, tho' it may at first amaze him; if he does it, cherish him, and repeat it often every day, till perfect. next to _corvet_ and _capriole_ are motions of the same nature, and in short are thus taught. hollow the ground between two joyning walls a horses length, by the side of which put a strong smooth post of the same length from the wall, and fasten at the wall an iron ring over against the post: thus done, ride into the hollow place, and fasten one of the _cavezan_ reins to the post, and the other to the ring; then cherish him, and by the help of the calves of your legs, make him advance two or three times; then pause, and cherish him; make him advance again a dozen times more, and then rest; double your advancings, and repeat them till it becomes habitual to him, to keep his ground certain, advance of an _equal hight_ before and behind, and observe a _due time_ with the motions of your legs. the inequality of his advancing his hinder legs, is helpt by a jerk on the fillets by some body behind him with a rod. _of racing._ a racer must have the _finest cleanest shape_ possible, and above all, _nimble_, _quick_, and _fiery_, _apt to fly with the least motion_; nor is a long bodied contemptible, it assuring _speed_, tho' it signifies _weakness_ too. the _arabian_, _barbary_, or his bastard, are esteemed the best for this use, these excelling _fennets_, tho' they are good too. having furnished your self with a horse thus qualified, you are to observe his right and due _ordering_, before your designed _racing_. _bartholomew-tide_ is the most proper time to _take him from grass_; the day before being dry, fair, and pleasant: that night let him stand conveniently, to empty his body; the next day _stable_ him, and feed him with _wheat-straw_ that day, and no longer; lest you exceeding that time, it straighten his _guts_, heat his _liver_, and hurt his _blood_; for want of _straw_, riding him morning and evening to water, airing, or other moderate exercises will serve. then feed him with good old sweet _hay_, and according to the season, and temperature of his body clothe him; for a _smooth coat_ shews _cloth_ enough, and a _rough coat_ want of it. observe likewise where you _water_, your _race-horse_, that it be a running _water_, or clear _spring_, far distant (a mile or more) from the _stable_, adjoyning to some _level_; where after he has once well drank gallop him, and so water and scope him till that he refuse to drink more, for that time; then walk him gently home (being an hour on your way, or more) clothe, and stop him round with soft _whisps_, and let him stand an hour upon his _bridle_, and after feed him with sweet sound _oats_, throughly dryed either with _age_, _kilne_, or _sun_; if he be low of flesh, or bad stomacht, add a third part of clean old _beans_, or two parts of _oats_, or wash his _oats_ in strong _beer_ or _ale_. for _dressing_ take these rules. _dress_ your horse twice a day, before you water him, both morning, and evening, thus: _curry_ him after he is uncloath'd, from his _ear-tips_ to his _tayle_, and his whole body intirely (save his legs under the knees, and cambrels) with an _iron-comb_; then dust him, and rub him with a brush of _bristles_ over again; dust him again, and wetting your hand in clean water, rub off all the loose hairs, and so rub him dry as at first; then with a fine _hair cloth_ rub him all over; and lastly, with a fine linnen cloth; and then pick his eyes, nostrils, sheath, cods, tuel, and feet clean. the best food for your _racer_, is good, sweet, well dryed, sunned, and beaten _oats_: or else bread made of one part beans, and two parts _wheat_ (_i.e._) two bushels _wheat_, to one of _beans_, ground together: boult through a fine range half a bushel of fine _meal_, and bake that into two or three loaves by it self, and with water and good store of _barm_, knead up, and bake the rest in great loaves, having sifted it through a _meal-sieve_: (but to your finer, you would do well to put the whites of twenty or thirty _eggs_, and with the _barm_ a little _ale_, 'tis no matter how little water:) with the courser feed him on his resting days, on his labouring days with the finer. the best time for feeding your _runner_ on his resting days is, after his watering in the morning, at one a clock at noon, after his watering in the evening, and at nine or ten a clock at nights: on his days of labour, two hours after he is throughly cold outwardly and inwardly, as before. as for the proportion of meat, i shall not confine your love to a quantity, only give him a little at once, as long as his appetite is good: when he begins to fumble and play with his meat, hold your hand, shut up your sack. as for his _exercise_ it ought to be thrice a week, as his bodily condition requires; if he be foul, moderate exercise will break his grease; if clean, then as you judge best, taking heed of breaking his mettle, or discouraging him, or laming his limbs. before you air him, to add to his wind, it is requisite to give him a raw egg broken in his mouth: if your horse be very fat, air him before sun rising and after sun-set; if lean, deprive him not of the least strength and comfort of the sun you can devise. to make him sweat sometimes by coursing him in his cloaths is necessary, if moderate; but without his cloaths, let it be sharp and swift. see that he be empty before you course him; and it is wholesome to wash his tongue and nostrils with _vinegar_; or _piss_ in his mouth, before you back him. and after his exercise, cool him before you come home, house, litter and rub him well and dry; then cloath him, and give him after every course a scouring thus prepared. _for scouring a race-horse._ take _raisins_ of the _sun_ stoned, _figs_ slit in the midst, boyl them till they be thick in a pottle of fair water, mix it with powder of _annis-seeds_, _lycoras_, and _sugar-candy_, till it come to a stiff paste, make them into round balls, roul them in butter, and give him three or four of them the next morning after his course, and ride him an hour after, and then set him up warm. or this may be preferred, being both a purge and a restorative, a cleanser and a comforter, thus prepared. take three ounces of _annis-seeds_, six drams of _cummin-seeds_, one dram and half of _carthamus_, one ounce and two drams of _fennugreek-seed_, one ounce and half of _brimstone_; beat all these to a fine powder, and searse them; then take a pint and two ounces of _sallet-oyl_, a pint and half of _honey_, and a pottle of _white-wine_; then with a sufficient quantity of fine white meal, knead and work all well into a stiff paste; keep it in a clean cloath, for use. when occasion requires, dissolve a ball of it in a pail of water, and after exercise give it him to drink in the dark, that he may not see the colour, and refuse it: if he does refuse, let fasting force him to be of another mind. to conclude, these instructions, i will give you 'em in short before you run, and then away as fast as you can. _course not your horse hard four or five days before your match, lest you make his limbs sore, and abate his speed._ _muzzle him not (except a foul feeder) above two or three nights before the race, and the night before his bloody courses._ _give him sharp, as well at gentle, courses on the race he is to run._ _shoe him a day before you run him._ _let him be empty on the match day._ _saddle him in the stable, and fix to him the girths and pannel with shoe-makers wax._ _lead him with all gentleness to his course, and let him smell other horses dung to provoke him to stale_, &c. and lastly, being come to the starting place, rub him well, uncloath him; then take his back, and the word given, with all gentleness and quietness possible, start and away; _and god speed you well_. school _of_ recreation. _how to make artificial fire-works of all sorts, for pleasure_, &c. of artificial fire-works for recreation, there are three general sorts, _viz._ those that ascend or mount in the air. those that consume on the earth: and such as burn on the water. and these are again divided into three particulars, _viz._ for the air, the sky-rocket, the flying saucisson, and balloon: for the earth, the ground-rocket, the fiery lances, and the saucissons descendent. for the water-globes or balls, double rockets, and single rockets; and of these in their particular orders, to make them, and such other matters as may occur relating to fire-works. but before i enter particularly on them, it will not be amiss to give the unlearned instructions for making his moulds for rockets, _&c._ this mould must be of a substantial piece of wood, well season'd, and not subject to split or warp; and first the caliber or bore of it, being an inch in diameter; the mould must be six inches long, and breech an inch and half; the broach that enters into the choaking part, three inches and a half long, and in thickness a quarter of an inch. the rowler on which you wrap the paper or paste board, being three quarters of an inch diameter, and the rammer somewhat less, that it may easily pass and re-pass, made hollow to receive the broach; for the cartoush coffin must be filled with the materials, the broach being in. if the bore be two inches diameter, the rocket must be twelve inches in length: if an inch and a half in bore, then nine inches long, and so proportionably to any other diameter. the cartoush or case must be either strong paper or fine paste-board, choaked within an inch and a quarter of the top, rowled on the rowler with a thin paste, to keep the doublings the higher together, that it may have the greater force and higher flight. having thus far considered your mould and cartoush or case, i proceed to the composition and filling part, &c. _a_ sky-rocket, _how to make it_, &c. in the composition of your filling materials be very cautious that you exceed not the just proportion, for which i shall give directions to be a standard in this case, _viz._ having beat a pound of powder very fine, and sifted it through a lawn sieve that no whole corns remain in it; do the like by two ounces of charcole; then sift them together, so that they may mix well, which done, fill a small rocket with this mixture, and if it break in mounting before it come to the supposed height, or burns out too fierce, then is there too much powder, and more fine sifted charcole must be added; but if there be too much charcole in the composition, then upon tryal it will not ascend, or very little. observe in charging your rocket, at every quarter of an ounce of ingredients or thereabouts, you ram it down very hard, forcing your rammer with a wooden mallet, or some weighty piece of wood, but no iron or stone, for fear any sparkles of fire fly out and take your combustible matter; so fill it by degrees: if you design neither to place stars, quills, or small rockets on its head, you may put in about an inch and a half of dry powder for the bounce, but if you are to place the fore-mention'd things on the head of a great rocket, you must close down the paper or paste-board very hard, and prick two or three holes with a bodkin, that it may give fire to them when it expires, placing a large cartoush or paste-board on the head of the rocket, into which you must put the stars or small rockets, paper-serpents, or quill-serpents; of which i shall speak more hereafter. note further, that if you would have your rocket sparkle much, you must put some grosly bruised salt peter into the composition; but then it must not lie long before it be let off, for fear it give and damp the powder. if you would have it leave a blue stream, as it ascends, put fine beaten and sifted sulphur into it, but of neither of these more than a third part of charcole; and in this manner greater and lesser rockets are made, but the lesser must have more powder and less charcole than the greater, by a fifth part in six. _golden rain, and golden hair._ for golden rain, or streams of fire, that will, when at height, descend in the air like rain: take large goose-quills, take only the hollow quill as long as may be, fill it with beaten powder and charcole; as for the air rocket only add a little powder of sulphur. being hard filled to a quarter of an inch, stop that with wet powder, called wild-fire; place as many as you think convenient on the head of a great rocket, pasted on in a rowl of paper, so that it may not fall off till the rocket bursts, there being a little dry powder in it to force the end when the stream of fire ceases, at which time they taking, will appear like a shower of fire of a golden colour, spreading themselves in the air, and then tending directly downwards. this is to be considered when you stand directly, or something near under them; but if you are at some distance, then they will appear to you like the blazing tail of a comet or golden hair. _silver stars, how to make them._ to make stars that will expand in flame, and appear like natural stars in the firmament for a time: take half a pound of salt-peter, the like quantity of brimstone, finely beaten together, sifted and mingled with a quarter of a pound of gunpowder so ordered: then wrap up the composition in linnen rags or fine paper, to the quantity of a walnut, bind them with small thread, and prick holes in the rag or paper with a bodkin, and place six or ten of them on the head of a great rocket, as you did the quills, and when the rocket expires, they take fire and spread into a flame, hovering in the air like stars, and descend leisurely till the matter is spent that gives them light. _red fiery colour'd stars, how to make them._ take in this case half a pound of powder, and double the quantity of salt-peter; as much fine flower of brimstone as powder, wet them with fair water and oyl of petrolum till they will stick together like pellets; then make them up somewhat less than the former, and rowl them in sifted dry powder, then let them harden, by drying in the sun or air, and place them on a great rocket, as you did the other stars, and you will perceive them when the rocket is at the height, fall, like bodies or globes of fire, in the manner as if real stars were shooting or falling from the sky, for by reason of their wetness or density they cannot expand into flame, which occasions them by the pressure of their weight to descend with greater impetuosity till they waste and vanish into air, _&c._ _another sort of stars that give great reports in the air, as if armies were fighting._ here you must observe to place six, seven, or eight small rockets on the head of a great one, filled only with dry powder, but indifferently rammed, and on the ends of them holes being prick'd through, place any of the sorts of stars, or a mixture, as your fancy leads you; and when the small rockets go off like thunder in the air, the stars will take fire, so that the noise will seem to the spectators as if it proceeded from them, because they will be seen on fire before the sound of the reports can be heard. _to make paste-board mortars for balloons._ these stately prospects of fire are to be carried into the air by the force of powder, by the help of mortars; and therefore the making of the mortars are in the first place to be considered. take a rowler of wood, about inches diameter, and three foot and a half in length, wet strong paste-board, and rowl upon it as close as may be, glewing the paste-board between each rowling; then being about five inches thick, bind over it strong pitch'd rope, though indifferent small: then choak the breech of it, which must be beyond the length of the rowler, with a strong cord; pitch or glue it over that the powder may not force its vent that way, and so when the mortar is well dry'd, draw out the rowler, and make it as even as can be; bore a touch-hole two inches from the breech, that it may enter into the hollow of the mortar, and set it by for use. _to make balloons, the rarity of fire-works._ take strong paper, or paste-board, rowl it on a inch rowler, near as thick as 'tis long, then with a strong small cord choke it at one end only, leaving a port-fire, which is a place to put in a quill of wild-fire, that will last till being shot out of the mortar it comes to its height; then next to that put on an ounce and a half of loose powder, and place in it as many small rockets and stars as it will hold; so choak up the other end quite. you may also put into it little quills of wild-fire, then being closed up, only a port-fire remaining, which made of a quill of wild-fire, as is said, or stopple, to make which in the close of this head i shall instruct you, charge the mortar, being set sloaping upwards with half a pound of corn powder, and it will by giving fire at the priming holes, send the balloon up into the air a prodigeous height, and when it comes to the dry powder, that will break the balloon; and then the stars and rockets in it taking fire, will scatter abroad in various curious figures delightful to the spectators; and as they are cunningly placed, they will represent crowns, cyphers, characters, dates of the year, _&c._ _the airy or flying saucisson, how to make it._ this curious fire-work must be made in the composition matter for filling mostly of corned powder, putting before it when you fill the cartoush or case as much fine sifted powder and charcole as composed for the rocket, will carry it to its height; leave a hole for the port-fire in the choaking as big as a goose-quill will enter filling it with dust-powder and charcole, and so close up the open end, by turning in the paper or paste-board corner-wise, either glewing or waxing it down. _paste-board guns to cast the saucissons into the air, how to make them._ to make these kind of guns, take a rowler, some what less than for the balloon, rowel on it your paste-board, and cord it over with strong packthread, making their touch-holes at the bottom, because they must be placed upright on a plank or board in a row fixed into the plank or board in holes cut proportionable to them, and lashed fast to staples above and beneath with strong cords, and being charged with a quarter of a pound of powder, fire by match or otherways, given to the touch-hole underneath the plank, when the saucisson is lightly put in with the neck or port-fire downward, so that it may touch the powder; and this will serve for use a considerable time. _saucissons for the earth or water, to make them._ make your cartoushes or cases about inches long, and an inch in the diameter of the calliber, by rowling paper or thin paste-board on a woodden rowler; choak the ends only, leaving at one end a passage to thrust in a goose-quill filled with dust-powder and charcole well mixed, at a port-fire, glue them over, or use small cord glued or pitched to strengthen the case that it burst not unseasonably by the force of the composition, with which you must fill them when you have choaked; only at the port-fire end, the composition being about inches, the same as the former, the rest corned powder, having primed and fixed them on a plank in a row about a foot distance, lay a train of stouple, and they will fire gradually, flying about on the earth or the water, according as you place them, giving reports like a volley of muskets. this stouple is useful for trains; and port-fire is no more than cotton-wool well dressed in water and gun-powder dryed in the sun, or in a clean swept warm oven, that it may come somewhat near tinder, but more swift and fiercer in its fire when it has taken. _fire-boxes, to make them._ take a great cartoush or case made, as for the balloon, croud it full of small rockets or serpents, with the choaked part downward, prime them with stouple or wild-fire; fix it firm on a pole, make a priming hole in the side towards the lower end, and run in a quill of fine beaten powder, and they will fly out (the upper end being left open) one by one as swift as may, or if you scatter loose powder they will fly out several together with a prodigeous noise, and breaking, imitating a deal of thunder. _firey lances, how to make them._ these are usually for running on the water making there a very pleasant pass-time: their cartoush or cases are made like the small rocket, with thin paste-board glued and rowled up on a wooden rowler about inches long: if you would have it carry a long fiery tail on the water, the composition must be ounces of charcole, half a pound of brimstone, half a pound of powder, and half a pound of salt-peter, or proportionable for so many as you make, bruised finely and sifted; but if you would have it burn bright like a torch, put only four ounces of powder to the fore-named quantity of brimstone and salt-peter, without any charcole-dust, tying to each line a rod in the same nature as to the sky-rocket; but not of that largeness; and they will float about a long time, making a strange shew in a dark night, their ends being so placed on a frame when you give fire, that they may leap out of them selves one, two, or three, at a time, or as you design them, by putting more or less stouple for port-fires; scatter a very small quantity of loose powder underneath. _to make the appearance of trees and fountains of fire._ this is done by placing many little rockets on the head of a great one, by passing their slender rods through its large cartoush; and if they take fire whilst the rocket is vigorously ascending, they will spring up like branches or fiery trees; but if they go off just as the rocket is spent, and descending, they will appear like a fountain of fire. _girondels or fire-wheels, how to make them._ take a wheel of light wood, like the circle of a spinning-wheel, on which the band is placed; tie small rockets round it in the nature of a band, so fast that they cannot fly off, and so head to tail, that the first fired when it bursts may give fire to the next, whose force will carry the wheel (which must be placed on a strong pin in the axeltree) round so fast that although but one rocket go off at a time, it will seem all on fire, and so continue whilst all are gradually spent; and this especially at the angles of great fire-works are very ornamental. _ground-rockets, and the best way of making serpents._ the mould of the ground-rocket may be made in all particulars like that for the sky-rocket, but less in length and circumference, six, seven, or eight inches being a warrantable length; rowl on the cartoush or case to a moderate thickness; choak it at one end, fill it, the broach being in as the sky-rocket; with this composition. put but an ounce of charcole to a pound of powder, and about half an ounce of salt-peter; beat, mingle and sift them finely; put in about a quarter of an ounce between every raming till it is full with in an inch with corned powder, lightly raming it, leaving only so much room as may choak it at that end, cutting then off what hangs over, and leaving it with a picked end; being thus finished, prime it with a little wet powder, and lay it a drying till you dispose of it for your pass-time. the serpent is a kind of a small rocket; to make them therefore well, make a case of strong white paper, about six inches and a half, the rowler being about the thickness of a small arrow, it must have a head and a broach proportionable, being rowled up hard, past the edg that turns over; choak it with a strong pack-thread, and fill it with a composition of six ounces of powder to one of charcole, both beaten finely, sifted and well mingled; put in a little and little at time in, and every time you put any in, ram it down hard till within an inch full; then put in corned powder, press it down gently, and with the end of your rammer force down the end that stands a little above; so that it may cover the powder, and then seal it down with wax; prime with dust-powder, and a little flower of brimstone, and with your match having a good coal on it, give fire as you see occasion. _fiery globes or comets, to make them._ take half a pound of powder, two onces of brimstone, an ounce of salt-peter, bruise these grosly, and wet them; aqua-vitæ and oyl of petrolum, that they may be moulded like a paste, that so they may be made up into balls, as big as ordinary wash-balls; then dry them very hard, and wrap them up in cerecloaths made of brimstone, rosin, and turpentine, in which make a little whole, and prime with wild-fire: put the ball then into a sling, and the wild-fire being touched, throw it up as high as you can into the air, and when the body of the ball fires, it will appear to the beholders like a fiery globe, with a stream or blaze, like as if a comet or blazing star were ascending or descending, according to its height or declination, _to try the goodness of powder, that you may know its strength._ observe whether it be well dryed and corned, which you have taken notice of, and approved; lay a few corns scattered on a sheet of white paper, and fire them; when if they leave a black and sooty mark behind them, with a noisom smell, and sindg the paper, then is that powder gross and earthy, and will fail your expectation, if you use it in your fire-works: but if in the sprinkling and firing there appear few or no marks, or those of a clear bluish colour, then it is airy and light, well made, full of fire, and fit for service; half a pound of it having more strength than a pound of the other. and thus reader, have i given you an insight into the making fire-works, _&c._ such as are very pleasing, and now used on occasions in all christian countries, in making which, by a little you may soon be perfect. _st._ george _and the_ dragon _fighting_ &c. _also mermaids, whales_, &c. form your figures of paste-board, strengthen'd with wicker, small sticks within pasted to the board to keep it hollow, tight, and bearing out; and place a hollow trunk in the body for a large line to pass through, and likewise for a smaller to draw them too, and from each other, that they may the better seem in combats, which must be fattened at the _dragons_ breast, and let one end of the cord be tied, which must pass through the body of st. _george_, turning about a pully at the other end, and fastning it to his back, and tye another at his breast, which must pass through the body of the _dragon_, or a trunk at his back; and so returning about a pully at that end, it must be drawn streight, and fastened to the _dragons_ tail; so that as you turn that wheel, they will run furiously at each other, and as you please you may make them retreat and meet again, soaping the line to make them slip the easier; at the _dragons_ tail, in his mouth and eyes you must fix serpents, or small rockets, which being fired at their setting out, will cause a dreadful sight in a dark night. thus a mermaid, or a whale, may be made to float on the water, but then the figure must be fixed on a convenient piece of board, with two fire wheels fixed on an axle, run through the poised part of the body, by the force of which it moves in a swift line in the water; the wheels must have little rockets or serpents tyed round them, as the girondel before mentioned. _a fire-drake on a line._ having made the figure of paste-board to the proper form of a dragon with paste-board and wicker, as has been taught before, make a hollow trunk through the body of it for a great line to pass through, and fasten small lines to draw it too and from you at the breast and tail of the drake; put into the eyes, mouth and tail of it rockets so fixed, that they cannot fly out, as you may put wild-fire rowled up hard and long in paper: then fire that in the eyes and mouth first, and draw it with pullies from one end of the line to the other; then that in the tail, and draw it back, and it will seem as retreating from danger, with fire coming out of the belly of it. _a burning castle and dragon on the water._ make the dragon of paste-board and wicker, as before; the bottom of the castle of light wood, and the work of paste-board with paper, turrets and battlements of a foot height, in the portal of the castle fasten a line that it may come level with the water and therefore some part of the castle must be under water; this line must be fastened to the other side of the water, or in the water, if it be broad, and admit not the former on a pole or stake knocked down, and pass in a hollow trunk through the belly of a dragon, that being in the castle, may upon firing the rockets, placed advantageously in the tail, eyes and mouth, come out of the castle and move on the line; to meet which, you may at the other end of the line, in the same manner, prepare a neptune in a chariot, or riding on a sea-horse, with a burning trident, or a whale with a rocket or wild-fire in his mouth; which if it ly low, by spouting out, will make the water fly about, as if it spouted fire and water out of its mouth; then by a train fire, some little paste-board guns in the castle, which if the composition of the train be made of wild-fire, or stouple, will go off by degrees, and coming to a train of brimstone, rosin and powder, make the whole frame expire in a terrible blaze. _a wheel of fire-works to run backwards and forwards on the ground._ procure a pair of wheels, being of light wood, like that of a spinning wheel, fasten them on an axel-tree, and place rockets round them, as bands are fastened round a wheel, and so primed at tail and head, that when one expires the other may take fire, half of them placed with their heads and tails the contrary way to the first: so that when the first are spent, and the wheels have run on plain ground a great way, the other firing will turn them again, and bring them to the place where they first set out. _a fire that will burn in the water, or water-ball._ sow up a case of canvas, like that of a foot-ball, but lesser, pitch or glue it over: then take one pound of powder, eight ounces of roch-alom, four ounces of live sulphur, two ounces of camphire, linseed-oyl, and that of petrolum, each an ounce and half, an ounce of oyl of spike, with two ounces of colophonium bruis'd and well mixed together, and stuff the ball hard with it, with a stick pitch or glue it over again, binding it with marline on pitch, on that leave two vents or port-fires, set it on fire, trundle it on the water, and it will burn under it. _the exactest military discipline for the exercise of_ foot _and_ horse, _as in use at this day, at home and abroad, in all the words of command_, &c. to be well disciplin'd and train'd up in military affairs, has been the study and pride of all warlike nations, whereby they have acquired to themselves fame and riches, by being able to defend themselves against invaders, and gain conquests abroad; but above all other, for many hundred years past the _english_ have excelled in this, being much helped by their natural courage. but since i only at this time intended to write to the learner, to train him up in his exercise, by which means his own industry and experience may lead him forth to greater matters. i shall not enumerate the many brave men, who from mean conditions have rais'd themselves by arms, to the highest pitch of honour and preferment; but shew our youth what they are to do and observe in their first training, as to the words of command, to order their arms in their various postures with dexterity. and first of foot exercise, i shall speak of the _pike_, because it is the most ancient, to train which, many, who are now great commanders, have taken it as an honour. _the exercise of the_ pike_, by word of command,_ &c. . =pikes take: advance your pikes.= to do this, as the first thing required, move in a direct line with your _pike_ upward, with your left-hand near your side, your right-hand almost as high as you can reach, keeping your left by a depression, as low as you can, your fingers being strait out; and so raise the _pike_ till the butt-end come to your hand, then place it between your breast and shoulder, keeping the butt-end close, that it may be the more steady and upright. . =to the front.= to do this, put your left-hand on your _pike_, even with the top of your shoulder, keeping your fingers strait, and bring your _pike_ right before you with a swift motion; drawing your right-heel into your left-instep, and so keep the _pike_ strait. . =charge.= here you must fall back with your right-leg, placing the heel of your left foot against the middle of your right, and bring down your _pike_ with a quick motion, support it with your left-elbow, and charge breast high; and upon yielding your body forward, bend your left-knee to fix your self firmer, holding the butt end of your _pike_ in the palm of your right-hand, your left-toe pointing in a line with the spear of the _pike_, your feet set at a moderate distance: then bring it down somewhat beneath your breast, be cautious of clattering, and when it is charged, close it to your breast. . =to the right four times.= here turn your left-toe to the right, then make your left-heel come up to your right-instep with a sudden motion, recovering your _pike_ strait before you, and having turn'd, fall back with your right-leg, and charge as before. . =to the right about.= now by turning your left-toe, bring it to the right about, bringing up your right-heel; your _pike_ being recovered, charge with much swiftness. . =as you were.= to do this, by turning to the _left about_, bring up your left toe; so bringing your _pike_ recovered, observe that your left hand be never higher than your mouth, your feet placed in order, and when turn'd, you must fall back with your right-leg and charge, bringing your _pike_ strait up without any clattering. . =to the left four times.= . =to the left about.= . =as you were.= . =advance your pike.= these must be done, as has been shewed in the right, only making your observation of eight left motions, &c. and the better to do this, bring your right-heel to your left-instep; your _pike_ being before you, fall out with your right-foot, and so bring your _pike_ to your right-thigh. . =shoulder your pike.= here extend your fingers on the left-hand, and lay it on the _pike_ level with your shoulder; make your right-heel come up even with your left-instep, your _pike_ right before you, fall back with your right-leg, and as far as may be put back your right-arm, keeping your _pike_ about half a foot from your side, your eye fixed on the spear directly to the rear, your _pike_ sloped: then forsake it with your left-hand, and bring in your right-leg, laying your _pike_ on your right-shoulder, closing your elbow to your body, the butt of your _pike_ being about half a foot from the ground, in the middle of the distance. . =charge to the front.= in doing this, fall back with your right-leg, keeping as much as may be your arm back, and the spear exactly to the rear, sloaping the _pike_ to the same height as shouldering; then bring with your left-hand the butt-end backwards, turning the head with your right; so quit it with that hand, then taking hold on the butt-end, charge breast high, keeping the palm of your hand open against the butt-end, your left-elbow under the _pike_, and your left-toe in line with the spear; and when you charge it must be directly forward, your left-heel being just against the middle of your right. . =shoulder as you were.= here raise your _pike_ with both hands, so quit it with the right, and with the left turn the head backwards, the spear even with the rear; so with your right-hand seize it again as high as you can reach with little straining, and stand with it from your body aslope; bring up your right-leg, and then forsake your _pike_ with your left-hand, and lay it on your shoulder, ever keeping the spear in a direct point to the rear, not crossing your fellows. . =charge to the right.= in this case fall back with your right-arm and leg, the spear being kept in the rear sloping at the height of shouldering; then turn your left-toe to the right, suffering the right to fall behind the left-foot; so that the middle of your right-foot may be over against your left-heel; then bring up your _pike_ in this action, and turn backwards the butt-end by your right-side; then pressing it in your right palm, charge. . =shoulder as you were.= make your left-toe come to the left, and the middle of your right-foot come also against your left-heel, with your _pike_ up; and then turn the head to the right, (that is) directly to the rear, doing it at one motion: so take hold of your _pike_ with your right-hand, and keep it sloped with both hands a little distance from your body; as in shouldering, at what time bring up your right-leg, and lay your _pike_ on your shoulder. . =charge to the right about.= in this case give back with your hand and leg, then stand with your _pike_ a little distant from your side, and turning your left-toe to the right about, bring the butt end of your _pike_ to the right-side, falling back with your right-leg and charge, keeping the spear all the while to the rear a shouldering height; and when you are to face to the right about, level your _pike_ and charge. . =as you were.= in this, turn your left-toe to the left about, advancing your right-foot a moderate step, that the middle of it may stand against your left-heel; then with your left-hand bring the butt-end by your left-side, taking notice the spear be exactly with the rear a shouldering height; then lay on your right-hand as high as you can easily reach, and stand with it in form; after which, bring up your right-leg, and shoulder. . =charge to the left.= here fall back with your left-arm and leg, as in the former chargings: turn the left-toe and the butt-end of your _pike_ with your left-hand to the right, after which, bring up your left-leg, and charge. . =as you were.= raise the spear with both your hands, turn the left-toe to the right, and so fall back with your left-leg and arm, keeping your _pike_ from your side, the spear to the rear; then bring up your left-leg, and shoulder. . =charge to the left about.= here fall with your arm and leg back, bringing the _pike_ over your head with both your hands, the spear directly to the rear at a shouldering height: turn your left-toe to the left about, then bring up your right-toe, that the middle may come with your left-heel, and charge. . =port.= observe here, as in charging in the front; being wary that you sink not the spear of your _pike_, rest it between the thumb and fore-finger, keeping your elbow close to your side. . =comport.= as far as may be bring your left-hand backward, at the same time stretching out the right, make thereupon a step forward with the right-foot, grasping fast the _pike_ as high as you can reach with the right-hand, not tossing the spear too high; then forsake it with your left-hand, and bring back your right-leg even with your left; then close it to your side, keeping the spear the height of your head. . =charge to the front.= here extend your right-arm, advancing at the same time your right-leg, drawing back your left-hand as far as may be; and bringing your _pike_ forward, give a step back with your right-leg, and take hold of the butt with your right-hand; then charge; and in all chargings observe it be done breast high. . =fire.= herein face to the right about, suffering the spear of your _pike_ to fall behind, you; after which, quit your right-hand from the butt-end, without any motion of the left, and be cautious not to strike upon the spear. . =charge as you were.= here turn to the left about, place the butt-end in the palm of your right-hand, and charge, the spear being kept an even height. . =advance your pike.= in this exercise bring your right-heel to your left-instep, your _pike_ directly before you to the recovery; and so fall out with your right-foot that it may come even with your left, and so bring the _pike_ to your right thigh. . =order your pikes.= raise your left-hand, so that it may come even with the upper part of your shoulder, place it on your _pike_, stretching out your fingers; then sinking your left-hand, raise your right; and then raise the _pike_, that when the butt-end your right-hand may be against your eye; keep the _pike_ near your head by clapping the butt-end to the latchet of your shoe; and here all the butt-ends of as many as are exercised must fall to the ground at one and the same time. . =pikes to you inside order.= place the butt-end on the inside your right-foot to the middle, not moving your foot, but only your _pike_. . =lay down your pikes.= as many as exercise in this case, must step altogether with their right-legs; stoop together with a very quick motion, and lay their _pikes_ down very strait with their right-hands. . =quit your pikes.= fall back with your left-leg, bringing it even with your right: then quit your _pike_ absolutely, and rise up with a quick motion. . =handle your pikes.= here you must step forward in a quick motion with your left-leg, and then as many as exercise must stoop together, and extend their right-hands as far as they can reach, and then grasp the _pike_. . =order you pikes.= with your right-hand raise the pike, and step back with your left leg, with a swift motion, clapping the butt-end of the _pike_ to facilitate the raising of it on the inside of your right-foot about the middle. . =pikes to your outside order.= in this exercise place the butt-end of your _pike_ on the out-side of your foot, not moving your foot, but the _pike_. . =advance your pike.= this must be done, as the fore-going; and thus much for the exercise of the _pike_ in particular by it self, till i come to speak of its exercise conjunctly with the _musquet_, in the general exercising a company or battalion. _the words of command in the exercise of the_ musquet, _and how they are to be observed and performed_. when you enter on this exercise, be sure to keep your footing firm, your feet at a moderate distance; that at all times, and on all occasions, you may retain your full strength. observe moreover to keep the right heel firm, and set the right foot steady, and then attend to the words of command, which you are summoned to do by this expression of the commander, viz. _musketiers, have a care of the exercise, and carry your arms well._ after which, the proper words of command follow in their order. . =lay your right-hand on your musket.= here the lock being uppermost, turn the barrel towards you, and extending your fingers, lay your right-hand directly behind the lock; so close the butt end to your shoulder, suffering the _musket_ to be in all parts of an equal height. . =poise your musket.= in doing this, you must hold it with a hard grasp, facing to the right, and turning with a quick motion on your left-heel, your _musket_ kept directly before you the height of it, between your shoulders; your right elbow on your side, keeping your feet at a moderate distance, that when you turn about, your left-toe may stand to the front, and your right-toe as you face to the left; let your left-heel be against the middle of your right-foot; and by such means you will be in a resting posture. . =rest your musket.= here slide your _musket_ down to your left-hand bearing your arm as low as possible without stooping, and so receive your _musket_ where the scowrer enters into the stock, touching with your hand no part of the barrel, keeping it about half a foot from your side sloping, your right-hand, with your fingers, extended being behind the lock. . =cock your musket.= place the right-thumb and your finger behind the trigger, so clap your _musket_ against your thigh, and cock; keeping it that it slip not your thumb, now removed steady on the head of the cock. . =guard your musket.= bring it with a very swift motion strait before you, to recover your left-hand even with your mouth, about half a foot distance from it, not suffering your _musket_ to sink, nor stooping your body, observing in bringing up the _musket_ before, which is a recovering, that the right-heel be brought to the left-instep, your _musket_ being perpendicular. . =present.= here fall back with your right-leg, that the middle of the right foot may be against the left-heel; cause the butt-end to rise to your shoulder, fixing it firm, and keep your right elbow even with the height of the piece, being in a readiness with the fourth finger of your right-hand to pull the trigger, bowing the left-knee keeping the right firm and steady, and so level your _musket_ breast high. . =fire.= keep here an exact motion in drawing the trigger, every one drawing at once, so that the whole fire of a company or battalion may be as of one report: keep your body steady, and your _musket_ hard against your shoulder after you have fired, till the next word of command is given, _viz_. . =recover your arms.= here let the butt-end sink in both your hands, and bringing it strait before you, keep your right hand under the cock and the left even with your mouth. . =half bend your musket.= fall back with your right-leg, and let the _musket_ at once rest, placing the right-thumb upon the cock, and the fingers of that hand behind the trigger; then closing it to your thigh, half bend the cock, and keep it rested with your fingers extended. . =clean the pan.= do this with the ball of your thumb, pressed into the pan, keeping your fingers of the right-hand behind the lock. . =handle your primer.= take the little end between your finger and thumb, turning the other end to the back of your hand, your arm bearing backwards. . =prime.= level your piece, and strike your bruised powder into the pan half full, or some what more, keeping your left-toe to the front. . =shut your pan.= this do by using your two first fingers, casting back your primer and bringing up your right-heel to your left-instep, your _musket_ strait up before you, as in the recovery, with the barrel towards you; do it with a quick motion with the thumb of your right-hand on the top of the steel, levelling your left with your mouth. . =blow off the loose corns.= bring your mouth within four inches of the pan, give a strong blast without declining your head, casting out your arm, and suffering the _musket_ to sink from its former posture. . =cast about and charge.= advance your right leg, turn the barrel of your _musket_ downwards, bring it to your left-side a little backward, with your left-hand, not touching the barrel with your fingers; place the toes of your right foot to the front and the right-heel against the middle of the left-foot, ballancing your _musket_ in the left hand, the muzzle to the proper front, in an equal height, half a foot from you, joining your right-hand to the muzzle, your thumb extended to the side of the barrel. . =handle your charger.= gripe fast your bandilier or charger, hold it even with the muzzle of the _musket_ underneath, about an inch distant. . =open your charger with your teeth.= in this case, bring it up to your mouth without declining your head, then bring your charger within an inch of your muzzle, about an inch from it, covering your chargers mouth with the ball of your thumb. . =charge with powder.= pat the powder into the barrel with a quick motion, and put the charger underneath as before. . =draw forth your scowrer.= in this let fall your charger, and upon turning your hand, draw forth your scowrer at three motions, holding it level the height of your forehead, with an extended arm, as if you designed to dart it. . =shorten it to an inch.= turn the great end of your scowrer towards you, sinking it till within an inch of your hand, rest it some what below your right-breast, bearing forward a little. . =charge with bullet.= take the bullet out of your mouth with your right-hand, put it into the barrel with a swift motion, holding the big end of your scowrer near the muzzle of your musket. . =ram down powder and ball.= grasp full with your thumb and fore-finger from the muzzle, your thumb on the top of the scowrer reserving a handful in your hand. . =withdraw your scowrer.= your hand, thumb and fore-finger turned towards the muzzle, clear your scowrer at three motions, and hold it up even with your forehead, extending your arm as if you were about to dart it. . =shorten it to an handful.= turn the butt-end of your scowrer towards you; sink it till within an inch of the end, letting it rest against your body a little below your right-breast, the scowrer sloping. . =return your scowrer.= put it up in its proper place; grasp the muzzle of your _musket_ with your right-hand, extending your thumb upon the scowrer, keep it half a foot distant from your side. . =poise your musket.= here before you bring up your _musket_ with your left-hand, grasp it under the cock with your right, falling with your right-leg to your left: keep it poised against your nose, and when faced to the front, let your right-elbow rest upon your body. . =shoulder your musket.= in this do as has been taught in the like case before. . =order your musket.= sink a little your right-hand, and take hold on the stock on the top of the scowrer with your left-hand, then suffer that hand to sink, and take hold on the muzzle with the right-hand, letting the butt-end easily sink near the ground; then let it after a little pause come down: as many as exercise grounding them together, then close to the right-foot, and place the butt-end about the middle of it, your right-hand an inch below the muzzle, the lock being outward. . =lay down your musket.= turning it with the back upwards, step forwards with your left-leg, so with your right-hand place it on the ground, that it may lye with the rest in a strait line; this some call grounding a _musket_. . =quit your musket.= here stand upright with a quick motion, rising with a falling back of your left-leg to your right. . =handle your musket.= with your left-leg step forward, and lay your right hand on the muzzle. . =order your musket.= raise the muzzle, and fall back with your left-leg to your right, turning the lock outwards by the middle of your foot. and thus much for the exercise of the _musket_ by it self, which may be much advantageous to young trainers, who have occasion to be called or sent out upon duty in the city or country and country militia of the _trained bands_, or for any other who is desirous to be knowing in, and entering upon military affairs, from whence i shall proceed to the brief exercise of the _pike_ and _musket_, jointly, as they are exercised in companies, battalions, _&c._ _the exercise of_ pike _and_ musket _jointly._ we now supposing the _muskets_ shouldered, and the _pikes_ advanced; the word next is, . =musketiers, make ready.= hereupon you must perform all the postures and motions together, till you stand cock'd and guarded with your _musket_ before you; and for the better security your thumb on the cock; whereupon the _pikes_ are to be recovered before the _pike-men_: the butt-ends in the palms of their hands, and the spear upright on their left hands to the height of their mouths, when the commander gives the word =charge.= then the _muskets_ and _pikes_ must be brought at once, by turning the left-toe that way the charge is made, and the left-heel against the middle of the right-foot in every charge, charging directly forward; not at the first charging, closing the _pikes_ to your breasts; but in bringing down the _pike_, charge a little way distant, and when they are brought down, then close them. the _charge_ is, _to the right_ four times; then to the _right about_, and so, _as you were_. then to the _left charge_ four times; then to the _left about_, and so, _as you were_. furthermore the _pike-men_ must turn as the _musketiers_, bearing up their right-heels to their left-insteps, their arms being extended as they turn; so that they bring their _muskets_ straight before them, carrying their left-hands as high as their mouths, bearing back their arms; and when they face, fall back with their right-legs, not bringing down their arms till the word _charge_ is given; and then it must be done with a decent quick motion, not suffering the _pikes_ to clatter. after this, the words of command are, _viz._ =recover your arms.= =half bend your muskets.= =poise your muskets.= =shoulder your muskets.= this exercise is to be observ'd, as is before laid down in the exercise of the _musket_. the _musketiers_ upon this, being at shoulder; and the _pikes_ that stood recovered falling out with their right-legs, whereupon the _pikes_ are brought to their thighs in their advance. then the next is. =poise your muskets.= upon this, the _pike-men_ with their left hands must grasp their _pikes_ over against their shoulders, after which the words are, =order your arms.= =pikes, to your inside order.= =lay down your arms.= =quit your arms.= =to the right about.= =march.= you must observe these, as directed in the exercise, only over and above, when you are clear of your arms; you must disperse, and upon the beat of _drum_, close hastily together with a huzza, your swords unsheathed, with their points upwards. then further observe the words of command, _viz._ =return your swords.= =handle your arms.= =order your arms.= =pikes, to your out-side order.= =advance.= in ordering your arms, observe you make a little stop before you let the butt-ends come to the ground; so that each one may bear you company, and they may fall together at once; and after they are laid down, and quitted, you must stand up together so suddenly, as all your risings may appear as it were but one motion. when you march from your arms, step front and rear at once, with the left-feet marching but a little distance. then lay your right-hand on your sword, taking hold of your scabbard with your left; and then drawing, hold your swords upright before you; after you have held them there a while, bring them down at one motion, and when by command your swords are returned, stand upright to your arms, facing to your proper front; and if any thing is to be further known, consider the exercise of the _pike_ and _musket_ distinctly, and you will be informed to your satisfaction. _of the match-lock._ these locks were formerly in more use than _fire-locks_, and at this day they are sometimes mixed among them; wherefore i shall speak somewhat relating to the words of command, that seem to differ from the _fire-lock_, _viz._ = . lay down your match,= = . handle your match,= = . blow your match,= = . cock and try your match,= = . return your match.= all these chiefly consist in keeping your match in order, with a good hard and well lighted coal, fastning it on command, advantageous in your skrew, blowing the coal, and so by pulling the trigger, trying your pan with false flashes, laying it down at command, and by the same order taking it up again; shortning it to the pan, that it may give true fire, and upon firing, to return it, and recover the coal, if it be shattered by the force of the powder. you must observe also to keep your match dry, that on occasion you may not be disappointed. and this in brief is all materially relating to the _match-lock_; the other postures of the _musket_ are all ready described, being sufficient to direct the exercise; yet seeing many lay much stress on the beat of _drum_, take that a long with you, as it relates to exercise, and so i shall take leave of the foot, and make a visit to the horse. _exercise by beat of drum, relating to the foot._ there are usually observed in this, six points, which are called points of war, and are said to be semi-vocal; because by them the soldiers understand what is to be done; and can distinguish their duty and exercise; and of these in their order. . _the call._ this is to summon the soldiers together to their arms, or upon any other occasion, as to hear proclamation, or receive directions, _&c._ from the officers, and are not without leave to ramble, especially in time of war, beyond the hearing of it, under great penalties. . _the troop._ when the soldiers hear this, they must advance their _pikes_, shoulder their _muskets_, and close their ranks and files to order, following their leaders or commanders to the place of rendezvous, quarters, or elsewhere. . _the march._ when you hear this, you must betake you to your open orders in ranks, shoulder both _musket_ and _pike_; and so as the _drum_ beats, you march slower or quicker. . _the preparative._ is to warn you to close your proportionable or due distance, when you are to prepare for battle or skirmish; and to see every thing be in order that may turn to advantage. . _the battle._ this is by some called the charge, or signal to charge the enemy, and is beat in the beginning of the fight to animate the soldiers courage. . _the retreat._ this is beat when being over-powered, it is thought convenient to draw off and save a total rout, or sometimes when an enemy you suppose stronger than your self advances towards you to engage, but by retreating you avoid him. there are two more things on the _drum_, somewhat to our purpose, _viz._ . _the tatto or tapto._ this is used in a rounds and garisons, to give notice to the soldiers and inhabitants when they ought to repair to their quarters and houses. . _revalley._ is to let them know when it is time to rise in the morning, and attend on their duty also. in garisons, to let the people know when its safe to go abroad, the out scouts being relieved. _the exercise of horse in troops or squadrons_, &c. the exercise of the horse is various from that of the foot, and therefore that i may not be wanting in what is necessary to the young soldier in their exercising in the county troops, or those that may enter the present service abroad, i shall endeavour to give the words of command proper with their explanation. and first, when troop or squadron is drawn out to exercise, i suppose their _carbines_ and _pistols_ loaden, and the corporals passing through the ranks to see they are all ready, upon which, observe the chief officer commands silence, and gives the following words of command, _viz._ . =lay your right hands on your swords.= . =draw your swords.= . =put your swords in your bridle-hand.= . =lay your hands on your pistols.= . =hold up your hands. give fire.= when you have fired, let not your pistol-hand sink till the next word of command, _viz._ . =return your pistols.= and this you must observe in firing to the left and right; then, . =lay your hands on your carbines.= . =advance your carbines.= . =cock your carbines. fire.= . =let fall your carbines.= . =take your swords from your bridle-hands.= these must be done with a swift and exact motion, all as near as may be doing it at one and the same time. if a squadron of horse is to wheel to the right, the right-hand-man must not close to the left, as has in ancient times been; for that many times disorders the rank; but you must keep your ground, suffering the left to come about whilst you only turn your horses heads, observing your left-hand-man. _to close the file._ _the right wing file stand._ . =close your files.= . =to the right.= . =to the left as you were.= . =to the left wing, and stand.= . =to the left by files close the squadron.= . =to the right as you were.= . =the right and left wing files stand.= . =by half ranks, close files to the right and left.= and by closing files you may cleave or divide the squadron. _the order of closing ranks._ . =file-leader stand.= } { or open on the front, . =by ranks close the= } { or the first distances. =squadron to the front.= } { . =on the front as= } { and so be cautious in =you were.= } { observing each motion. _how doubling ranks must be ordered._ . =by half files to the right, double your ranks to the front.= . =file-leaders, advance your ranks, file-leaders, take your ground.= and in this manner command likewise to the left, the order being one and the same in the words of command. [again,] . =the first half files stand.= . =by half file-leaders on the left-wing, double your rank to the front.= now to reduce this, take the following method; . =right-wing half ranks, advance your ranks.= . =half file-leader take your ground.= . =the first half file stand.= . =by half file-leaders on the right and left-wings, double your ranks to the front, carocoling to the right and left. then the last half file stand, and the first half file by carocol in the right and left on the wings; then double our ranks to the rear.= here observe the first file must open the half rank to the right and left, the first half file by carocol. then =to the right and left double your ranks to the rear.= here observe the last half file must open the half rank to the right and left. as for the word _carocol_, it signifies no more when you wheel by it, than that it is made by the depth of the flank of the squadron, by which order not the files, but the ranks make the motion. there is an other word which some may not well understand at the first setting out, which is called _controversion_; and this in wheeling is performed by the front of the squadron, so that whilst the rank makes the motion, the file remains. _instructions for wheeling, with the proper words of command._ when the word is given, _viz._ _to the right by conversion_, understand that you must close your right-leg to the horse, your knee touching that of your right-hand-mans, and in like manner observe in the word of command to the left; as when it is said, _close to the left_, then must the leg be closed. by half ranks and conversion, divide the squadron into two _troops_. if you would reduce the squadron, the word of command is. _by controversion_: the squadron into one troop, else the left-wing advance by conversion. when you wheel by carocol, observe the word of command as follows, _the right-wing to the left by carocol, face about to the rear_: or it may be done by half ranks in this manner, by quarter ranks, and by carocol, divide the squadron into three troops. then if you would reduce them, order quarter ranks and troops into squadrons. if the volt, face or facing about be required, observe thus, _face about to the right: face to the right by controversion; face about by carocol to the right: face about to the left by half files: face about to the right and left._ and thus much may serve for wheeling. _the manner of filing off._ in this case observe, to file by ranks on the right-wing, from the squadron, _file off by ranks, on the left-wing, from the squadron on the right_, _file off by three files from the squadron, the left-wing_: and this is found the most expedient way, though some have used to file off by ranks. _in_ hay, _what order is to be considered in drawing up._ do this, by half ranks to the right: _to the right and left drawing in_ hay: _to the front_. and if it requires to be reduced again, then proceed by carocol, _viz._ _to the right and left as you were._ _by half ranks, and by carocol to the right and left._ then draw up in _hay_ to the rear. in reduction the command is; _to the front as you were._ _by half ranks to the right and left, and draw up in_ hay. reduction by carocol. _to the right draw up in_ hay. reduction by carocol. _to the left as you were._ _of doublings._ doublings are very useful, especially in strengthening any party, that needs succour in the battle; and is to be noted under these general heads. . doubling of length, front and rear. . doubling of depth, both flanks. but in the particular, they are numbered six, that is to say, first of ranks, when every rank doubles into the odd, and if it so fall out, that the odd ranks are to double, then must the body face to the rear, without any word of command expected. . half files. . bringers up. here they are held to double when the rear is doubled into the front. . in doubling the rear observe it done, when the half files double the rear. . here take notice that doubling of half ranks must be by one rank doubling the other. _the noble science of defence, in all its useful particulars, for defending and offending, with the rapier or final sword; after the exactest method now in use._ this science, if well understood, as to the fining and using it, is not only a noble exercise, but of great importance to the saving our lives on emergent occasions, if it extend not to vain-glory and presumption, by too much relying on our skill, to carry us into quarrels, which we may reasonably, and without loss of honour or reputation avoid. wherefore i have thought it convenient to lay down such rules as may enable the learner to proceed in the practice. the first thing to be considered in this case, is, the sword it self, understanding only in this the small sword or rapier, which is divided into two parts, _viz._ the hilt and the blade. the hilt is again divided into three parts, _viz._ the pommel or ball at the far end, sometimes round and sometimes oval in shape. this keeps the hilt fast, by being well riveted, and by its poise makes the sword well mounted, or light before the hand. the next is that part on which you grasp your hand, commonly called the handle: and then the shell, which is that part of the hilt next the blade, to preserve your hand (if you are any thing weary in managing it) from a thrust or blow. the blade is divided into two parts only. the first next to the hilt, being termed the strong part or fort. the other, which is the extream, is termed the feeble, or they are otherways termed the prime, and the second. the strong fort or prime of the blade, is measured from the shell to the middle of the blade, and being the strongest, is made use of in parying, or to put by thrusts or blows. the feeble, weak or second part, is accounted from the middle to the point, and is properly made use of in offending or giving thrusts or blows; and thus much may serve for the description of the sword: now i proceed to the explanation of the terms, fit to be known by a practitioner. _a guard._ this is a proper posture you must place your self in, for the better defending your self from the thrusts or blows of those you fence with, or defend your self from. _to parie._ observe that this is to put by a blow or thrust, that it may not touch you, but be cast off without hurt or danger. _quart._ here you must hold the nails of your sword-hand upwards, with a steady arm; and then it is said to be held in quart. _terce._ this is the contrary to the former, for the nails of your hand must be held downwards; and then the sword is held in _terce_. _within the sword._ this is that part of your body, (which having your right-side towards your adversary) is between your sword and left-breast. _within the sword._ this is the part of the body, that (when you hold your sword towards your left-side) is above it the breadth of your body. _the approach or advance._ this is done, when being out of your adversaries reach, or at a pretty distance from him; you make your approach or advance towards him. _to retire or retreat._ this is when you are within your adversaries reach, that you get put of it by stepping or jumping backwards; which you must observe to do on a strait line. _measure._ this is only a distance between you and your adversary, which must be cautiously and exactly observed when he is thrusting at you; so that you may be without his measure or reach, and that taking the advantage of this, it may be so, that when you thrust your thrusts may be home. _to break measure._ observe here, just as your adversary is thrusting at you, at his full elonge, he may come short of you, because you are, or escape out of his measure, or reach, and so break his measure, of which i shall say somewhat more hereafter. _to elonge._ this is to streach forward your right arm and leg, and keep a close left-foot; and this you do when you give in a thrust, and when you do it, you are said to make an elonge. _respost._ this is when you give in a thrust before you recover your body, receiving a thrust after your adversary hath paried your sword. then is it said to be a thrust on the respost or back of the parade, which is the surest and safest you can give. _feinting or falsifying._ this is a dodging or deceiving your adversary, making him believe you give back in earnest, and make an offer to thrust in one place when you really design to do it in another. _beating._ this is no other than striking the feeble of your adversaries sword with the edg and fort of yours, either with your right-hand only, or the help of your left, joyned to the blade, about a foot from the hilt; and so you will cause the beat to have the greater spring or force. _battery._ the difference from beating in this, is only striking with the edg of the feeble, upon the edg of the feeble of your adversaries sword, though beating secures his sword a great deal better than battery. _binding._ this method is taken to secure your adversaries sword, with eight or ten inches of yours upon five or six inches of his. _caveating or disengaging._ here you must, if you can, flip your adversaries sword, when you perceive him about to bind or secure yours. _to take time._ in taking time, you must observe never to thrust, but when you see a fair opportunity, or otherwise it is the thrusting at your adversary when he is making the feint, or the flipping of him, when you perceive him about to bind or bear your sword. _counter temps._ this is when you thrust without a good opportunity, or when you thrust, at the same time your adversary do's the like. _quarting on the strait line._ this is done by carrying your head and shoulders very much back from your adversaries sword, and are giving in a thrust within it, and that each of you at that time receive a thrust. _quarting of the strait line, called de quarting._ here you must observe to throw in your left-foot, and body backwards off the strait line, towards your adversary, keeping your right-foot firm. _volting._ this is a leaping by your adversaries left-side quite out of his reach or measure, which on many emergent occasions is very proper. these terms a practitioner must be knowing in before he proceeds to the other lessons, or adventures on sharp, especially in earnest; from whence i proceed to the next thing materially to be considered, which is the _holding of the sword._ in doing this according to art, and to the most advantage, hold your thumb on the broad side of the handle, and your fingers quite round it; hold it in this manner firm and fair; so that your adversary, with the least sudden beat or twist, may not force it out of your hand, which the hazard in holding it loosely may occasion to your damage. _of keeping a guard._ the guards are in general but two; the one in _quart_ and the other in _terce_; but again the _quart_ guard is subdivided into two, _viz._ the _quart_ with the strait point, and the _quart_ with the point sloaping near to the ground. the _terce_ is so likewise divided, that is, the _terce_ with the point higher than the hilt, and the _terce_ with the point lower than the hilt. there is yet another guard, that requires you to hold your sword with both your hands; and of these in their order. _of the quart guard, with the strait point._ you have two ways with this guard to defend your self, either by parying or using contraries to what your adversary plays, as i shall more fully shew you when i come to discourse of the five parades; however here observe in the strait guard, which is most in use, to keep a thin body, which is done by shewing your right-side to your adversary, managing your feet in a strait line from him; so that for your right he cannot see your left-leg, yet set them not too wide, for that will make your elong the shorter; nor too close, for that will hinder the firmness of standing; and let the point of your right foot be turned somewhat outwards from the strait line, but the broad side of your left must look towards your adversary. you are also to sink with your thighs your left-knee, a little more bent than your right, which may be done by your leaning somewhat back on your left-thigh; when you present your sword, you must hold it with your nails upwards, as has been directed in _quart_. the hilt of your sword must be as high as your right-pap, keeping your arm a little bent, for the better and easier pursuing your adversary; or for the quicker giving in a thrust: the point must be towards your adversaries right-side, two or three inches lower than the hilt, your left-hand held up as high as your left-ear, about half a foot from it, the palm directly against your adversaries face, your fingers pointing as it were towards him. _the quart-guard, with the sloping point._ in this guard you must stand much straiter than in the former, the point of your sword sloping within half a foot of the ground, your hilt as low as your wast, your arm bended, and the nails of your sword-hand between _terce_ and _quart_; here you are also to make use of your left-hand, and therefore the more readily to do it, you must advance your left shoulder almost as far forward as your right, keeping your belly in as much as may be, so that it stand well, and your breast out, your left-hand as high as the side of your head, though about half a foot from it. this is a very open guard, yet to those that know not how to pursue it, it is much surprizing. and you may pursue this; first, by raising up or gathering your adversaries sword. secondly, by striking at his sword, and making half thrusts at the body, by which he will be doubtful when you intend to give in your thrust, and finding an opportunity give it home; and ever when you persue this guard, let your left-hand be in a readiness to parie your opponents thrust, if he thrust just as you are thrusting, which is the main defence on this guard. thirdly you may give a stroak at his left-hand; after you give a beat at his sword, and see if by so doing, you can force him to betake himself to another guard. fourthly, you may volt, and in your so doing, give him the thrust, which being clearly done, will mainly surprize him. _the-terce-guard, with the point higher than the hilt._ in this you must hold the nails of your sword-hand downwards, as in terce, and your hand lower than in the quart-guard, with a strait point, presenting the point of your sword towards your adversaries left-shoulder; if he be a tall man; but if short, then to his left-eye, keeping your arm somewhat bent, for the better persuing: lean therefore a little forward with your body, and make use of your left-hand for a parade, holding it somewhat lower than in the former guard. the rest of your body being kept, as in the quart-guard, with the strait point. this guard may be pursued either with striking, binding, volting, or passing, for a feint on this guard will signifie little or nothing if your adversary understand it; for as in no guard, he is to answer feints, least of all in this, the right defence being to secure your self without your sword, which is done by presenting your sword to the left-shoulder of your adversary, or as said, his eye, so that your body be quite covered without your sword. _the terce-guard, with the point lower than the hilt._ here you must in this bow your head, holding up your arm high, so that if you come to give a thrust, your head may be, as it were, under it, your nails being in quart till you make your thrust, and then change them into terce; your feet must be kept at their due distance, and not as at a full elong; your sword must be presented towards your adversaries left-side, and you must make use of your left-hand for the parade, and it is to be pursued and defended, as the forgoing terce-guard, only in defending it, you must not make so much use of your left-hand, but more of your sword. _the guard of both hands._ this is a guard, that i find not any proper name for, though it is sometimes used as very necessary, how ever, as to the holding your sword in this guard, keep your body exactly in the posture of the quart-guard with the strait point; but joyn your left-hand to your sword, about eight or ten inches from the hilt, the blade being held between your formost finger and thumb, secure your self within your sword, as soon as you present it, _viz._ present the point towards your adversaries right-thigh, with your point sloping towards the ground a little; for to pursue this guard, you must endeavour to take away your adversaries left-hand by striking at it, and immediately after the stroak, proffer a thrust at his body, that he may be doubtful when you really intend to give in your thrust; and indeed the pursuit is much like that of the quart-guard, with the sloping point, and thus much for the five sorts of guards. _of the several parades._ the parades are generally two, but are sub-divided as the guard, and those two are the parade in quart, and the parade in terce, which are as is said, divided again into the parade in quart, with the point a little higher than the hilt. the parade in quart, with the point sloping towards your adversaries right-thigh, and as though without it. . the parade in terce, with the point a little higher than the hilt, and the parade in terce, with the point sloping towards your adversaries thigh on the left-side. there is yet an other parade of some use, and used by many fencing masters, which may be properly termed counter-caveating parade; by reason what ever lesson your adversary makes use of, or upon what side so ever he thrusts, if you make use of this parade, as you ought, you will undoubtedly meet with his sword, and the easier cross his purpose, than by any of the former; and of these i shall give proper directions, . the quart parade, or the parade within the sword, is so called, because in putting by the thrust, you do it on the inside your sword, or on that side the nails of your hand are next. . the next is called the terce parade, or the parade without the sword; for here, contrary to the former, you put by the thrust upon that side which is without the sword, and as the other is termed the quart, for as much as it is within your sword, or on that side your nails look to; so this is called terce because it is without your sword, or on that side the back of your hand is to. observe a little more, _viz._ when you are to hold your hand or nails in terce, that you hold your nails quite downward; and now to parie these five several ways. you must do the first parade in quart, with the point somewhat higher than the hilt, _viz._ when you are standing to your guard, if your adversary offers to give a home thrust on that side his sword lieth, which i presume to be within your sword, without disengaging and is the simplest and plainest thrust that can be given with the small sword; yet frequently it surprizes a man, i say, when so it is, that when you perceive your adversary offer to give a home thrust, which observe by keeping your eye steady on the hilt of his sword; you must then immediately turn your wrist with so small a motion of the arm, that it can scarcely be perceived, to your left-side; and by that means you may put by his sword, with the fort of yours upon the left-side, keeping the point of your sword after the parade towards his right-shoulder; you may in putting by your adversaries sword use a little beat or spring towards the ground, by which you will more certainly disappoint him immediately bringing your sword to its right posture again, and by, this way of parying you may have the luck to spring or beat your adversaries sword out of his hand. the second parade in quart is with the point sloping towards your adversaries right-thigh, and as tho' without it, in this manner; when you perceive your adversary is thrusting with your sword, turn the nails of your sword-hand in quart, with a full stretched arm, and your hand as high as your face, and when you do this, slope your point to the lowness of your adversaries thigh; and by that means, with the fort of your sword, on the feeble of his, put by his thrust, always observing to parie with the fort of your sword, and not the feeble, lest your adversary having the stronger arm, force upon you the thrust in spite of all you can do. the first parade in terce, or without the sword, the point a little higher than the hilt, must be thus managed, _viz._ perceiving your adversary giving in the thrust without your sword; take notice immediately to turn your wrist with some small motion of the arm, as in the first parie in quart, till your nails, be in terce, and so parie his thrust, remembring in this to keep the point of your sword, after you have paried him towards your adversaries left-shoulder, as in the first parade in quart, you are to keep it towards his right. this parade is most effectually done with a spring, to put by the sword or gain an advantage of disarming your adversary. the second parade in terce, is called that within the sword bearing a sloping point towards your adversaries thigh, and as though within it. this observe to do when you perceive your adversary giving in his thrust without, or below your sword, as it were at your arm-pit, immediately letting the point of your sword sink as low as his thigh, turning your nails quite round to your right-side, until they are from you, keeping your hand as high as your head, and so put by the thrust on your right-side; and when you are parading, let your head be close as if it were under your arm; and this preserves your face from your adversaries scattering or counter-temps thrusts. thus having shewn you the defensive part, i shall now proceed to the offensive, or how you may offend your adversary when necessity requires it; but before i directly enter upon it, let me speak some thing of the counter-caveating parade; though some there are who refuse to use it, yet it is the safest of all. _the counter caveating parade_, &c. when you observe your adversaries thrust coming home within your sword, then immediately slope your point, and bring it up again with a quick motion on the other side of your adversaries, and parie his thrust without your sword, that he intended, to give within your sword, holding your nails neither in terce nor in quart, but so hold them as when you presented your sword; and observe further to do this, parade with a spring, and if you perceive he is about to give in his thrust without your sword, instantly slope your point, and bring it up again with a quick motion upon the inside of his sword, and so parie his thrust, that was to be given without your sword, within your sword, and if you do this very quick you will rarely be hit with a home thrust; and in this parade there is great advantage, because by it all feints, which in other parades cannot be so well noted or shunned, are by this baffled and confounded. lessons offensive. . _of approaching or advancing._ observe here; (when you are standing to your guard, and your adversary without your measure, so that without approaching you cannot reach him) that you lift your right-foot about a foot forward, and presently let your left-foot follow close by the ground, your left-knee a little bowed, taking notice at the end of every step, that your feet be at the same equal distance as when you first presented your sword, or if in any thing you vary, let it be in bringing them something nearer; and so your elong will come as much nearer to your adversary as you brought your left-foot nearer to your right: always then remember to redouble this step, or any other that is to be used on this occasion till you think your adversary is within your measure. this step must be always made on plain ground, lest you trip and fall, which is very dangerous; but if it be on rugged uneven ground, there is another suitable to it, called the double step, after this manner; in the first place throw your left-foot before your right, (which may be done, by raising your body a little on your right-foot) about a foot, then bring your right-foot forward again, as far before your left, as when you presented your sword; these two motions must be done immediately after the other, or else doing of this step will appear ungraceful; and here you must keep a thin body as possible, because the throwing your left foot before your right, lays your body open, and so redouble this step, as the former, according to the distance you are from your adversary, till you approach within his measure. lesson . _of retiring._ this may be done three ways, first with the single step, the same way you approach with it, only whereas in approaching with the single step you lift your right-foot first, here you must lift your left-foot first, and the rest observe, as in the approach with the single step. the second is, that with the double step, and is done the same way as in the advance, only in approaching you throw your left-foot before right, when in retiring you must throw your right-foot backward behind your left; and the rest is done as in advancing with the double step. the third is done by a sudden jump backwards on the strait line, with both your feet in the air at once, but you must lift your right-foot first, and after your jump is done, stand to your guard again, unless you find occasion to redouble your jump to be farther out of reach. lesson . _of giving in the thrust._ to thrust or make an elong, observe (when you stand to your guard, and your adversary be within your measure) that your sword be as you please, either within or without your adversaries sword, and suppose within, then stretch out your right-arm, and step forward with your right-foot as far as may be, keeping the point strait forwards, and let the motion of your arm begin a thought before you move your foot, so that the thrust may be given home before your adversary can hear your foot touch the ground; and when you are at your full stretch, keep your left-hand stretched, and ever observe to keep a close left-foot, which must be done by keeping your left-heel and broad side of your foot close to the ground, without any drawing it after you, for keeping a close foot is one of the chiefest things to be observed in this science. when you give in your thrust throw your left-hand behind you, or so place it on your left-side, that your sword and both your arms may make a strait line from your adversary. this must be when you design not to make use of your left-hand for a parade, but if you do, then in the very time of giving in your thrust, throw your left-arm forward as far as you can, without putting the rest of your body into disorder, turning the palm from you, by turning your thumb down, and your little fingers up, and so parie your adversaries thrust, if you find he will thrust, upon the same time you make your thrust, always remembring when you thrust within the sword, to do it with your nails in quart or upwards, and quart well your hand and shoulder; but when a thrust is made without the sword, then give it in with your nails in terce or downwards, and keep your hilt much lower than your point, and your head as clear as may be from you adversaries sword. take notice in all lessons in which you do not first secure or bind your adversaries sword, that you are to thrust close by the feeble of his sword, with the fort of yours. but there is a difference when you first secure your adversaries sword, for after your securing or binding, you quit his sword, and give a strait home thrust, without touching it, after it is bound. in these rules there is great advantage, as in the quarting of your hand, when you thrust within, the sword, preserves them from your adversaries counter-temps thrusts in the face; so likewise does your thrusting close by the feeble of the sword, and keeping your hilt lower than the point, when you thrust without the sword, as also the holding of your head to the contrary side your adversaries sword is on, preserve you from counter-temps, ever observing as a general rule; to keep your head on the contrary side of your adversaries sword, on what side soever you thrust, for this will frequently preserve your face from being hit. lesson . _of caveating or disengaging._ in this case, when your sword is presented within your adversaries sword, and you would have it without (keeping your nails in quart) slope your point so low that you may bring it up under the out-side of his. this must be done with the wrist, and not any motion of the arm, because when you disengage, if the arm move, your body would be too much discovered; so that your adversary would have an advantage to give in his thrust, which he could not do if only your wrist moved, and this must be done with a sudden motion; and by this you may learn to slip your adversaries sword at pleasure. lesson . _feinting or falsifying_ of these, there are several kinds, and the first retreat on is _the ordinary single feint_; when you are on your guard, and within your adversaries sword, disengage and make your feint without, which you must do with a beat of your right-foot against the ground, just as you disengage, and your sword on the out-side of your adversaries, and immediately after, if you perceive him answer your feint, and offer to parie, disengage again, and give him the thrust within the sword. lesson . _the double feint._ there is a difference between this and the single feint; for in the single one you must make two motions, _viz._ with the first you make your feint, and with the next you give in your thrust, unless you make your feint on that side your sword lyeth, which may be done without disengaging, and is the simplest of all others in all single feints, it must be given in upon the side your sword was before you made your feint; but in the double feint you are to make three motions, and the thrust (unless when you make your first motion on that side your sword was presented) is given in on the other side, and not on the side the sword was just before you began to make your feint; and to play this, there are two ways, _viz._ when you are within measure, you must play it one way, and without measure another way. as to the first, your sword being presented within your adversaries sword, then disengage and make your first motion without his sword, to stand a thought on it to try whether he will answer you, by offering to proceed to the parade; if he do not answer, it is useless, but if he do, then presently make your second motion within his sword, and your third motion without it, by giving the thrust; both these motions must be done with admirable quickness; at every motion give a beat with your foot, and disengage; turning your nails in quart. if you are without distance, make a motion to see if he will answer your feint, and if he do begin again, make your first motion, as within distance, approaching at the same time, and so your second and third. there is a contrary to these, that is to be observed when your adversary makes use of them against you, then you must make use either of the counter-caveating parade, or keep your sword point immoveable towards his face that opposes you, your arm as much stretched out as possible; and when you do so you must recover your body, by drawing your right foot close to your left, stand as it were on tip-toe, and if for all this your adversary give a home thrust, then you must counter-temps him in the face, and parie his thrust with your left-hand; or if you perceive him make variety of feints, then upon every one of them make a half thrust, which will oblige him to betake himself to the parade, and so when you please you may take the pursuit, or when he makes variety of feints, give a plain home thrust, as smart as may be, and endeavour to defend your self from counter-temps with your left-hand, and to prevent them, it is always in this case best when you give a thrust, to use your left-hand. lesson . _the single feint at the head._ being within distance you may present your sword within or without your opponents sword, making a feint or motion at his face, if your sword be presented without, by a little stretching out your right-arm, your nails in quart, and when you make the motion, give a little beat with your right-foot, and if the feint be answered, then immediately give in your thrust at his arm-pit your head under your sword-arm, your left-hand held before you, with the palm of it looking towards your right-side, and that part of your arm, from the points of your fingers to your elbow, must stand in a manner strait upwards, which posture you must ever observe when you give in this thrust, because in doing it, it defends you from the thrust of your adversary, if it be above, and without your sword; and you may at the same time make a motion at his face. lesson . _of the double feint at the head._ being within distance, make your first motion or feint, as before, at the face, your second motion low without your adversaries sword, towards his belly; and with the third, give a thrust without, and above his sword, your nails in quart, marking every motion with your head, hands and feet; and when you make your second motion, hold your hand as in the single feint, and when you give in your thrust above sword, you must quart your head well, because you must give it in with your nails in quart; and by this means your body will be kept secure within your sword, when in terce it would ly open, especially to counter-temps. there is a parying the contrary, either with the counter-caveating parade, or by answering every motion, by what means you will fall to parie your adversaries with the first parade in terce. lesson . _containing the manner of the feint at the head on the true parade._ the contrary to the second parade is this, and to do it you must make your motion at your adversaries face, and if you imagine he intends to parie you with the second counter-caveating parade, make round his sword, as it were going a circle about it, and so give a thrust at his arm-pit, and with your left-hand avoid counter-temps, and being within distance, approach with your first motion, and in so doing you caveat his sword and shun his parade, or if your adversary follows your sword, you may make two or three circles till you find a fit time to let in your thrust. lesson . _of the low feint._ when you intend to proceed in this, you must have your sword without your adversaries and when it is so, make directly the second motion of the double feint at the head, and give in the thrust above, and when you are without distance, make your approach with the feint, or first motion; and make in your thrust with the second. and this may be paryed, by answering every motion, or using the counter-caveating parade. the contrary to it, is, when your adversary is making his low feint, to take time, and give in the thrust above his sword, your nails in quart. lesson . _of battery._ this is a kind of a beat from whence it derives its name, and therefore when you play it you must present your sword either without or within your adversaries, if within, and he within your measure, then keep your sword half a foot from his, and when you intend to play, strike a small stroak on the edg, and feeble of your sword on the edg, and feeble of his, and at the same moment give a beat with your foot, which will surprize your adversary, if not well skilled; if it does not, nor that he answers you by offering to parie, give a strait home thrust at his right-pap, as you give in a plain thrust within the sword, moving the sword only with your wrist, and thereby keeping your body close. if your adversary offers to answer your stroak, and go to the parade, then your best way is to slip him, and give in a thrust without, and above the sword, or when you perceive him going to parade, then suddenly slip and make a double feint on the other side, and thrust on that side you gave the beat. in the contrary of this parie, with the counter-caveating parade, or meet his stroak, and make a half thrust, which will force him to the parade; and so you may pursue. lesson . _of volt coupe._ in this observe to present your sword within your adversaries, he being within your measure; then make a feint at the face your nails in quart, and upon this give a beat with your foot, and carry your hand well quarted, and if by offering to parie, he answers this, and that high, then thrust at the belly, your nails in terce, and keep your left-hand as a guard from counter-temps; if by parying low, you are disappointed of this advantage, then after you have made your feint, instead of a thrust in the belly, slip his parade, and give the thrust without, and above the sword; and when you are within distance approach with the first motion: if your sword be presented without your adversaries, you must first then disengage. the contrary to this is either to parie his sword with the second parade in quart, or to take time and give your thrust the way he was to give it in upon you, at the instant he makes his motion at your face, or you may pass without his thrust. lesson . _of binding your adversaries sword._ this is the securest play, and chiefest mistery in the art of fencing, wherefore to do it after you have presented your sword, either within or without your adversaries, on a sudden over-lap six or seven inches of his with eight or ten of yours; and this is sufficient to secure it; but this must be always done with the edg of the sword, whether you present it within or without, and immediately after you have bound it, give a thrust strait home. in this case, always observing to keep a close left-foot, also to give a beat with your foot, and to bind with a spring, _viz._ press your sword almost to the ground, but stay not with it, but immediately bring it up again and then give the thrust; and this prevents counter-temps, and the best parade against it is, the counter caveating parade, and if your adversary flips your sword, you must endeavour to bind him within or without the sword again. you may also put upon him the double or single feint, or having bound your sword without, you may give in your thrust, as in playing the single feint at the head. lesson . _of the flancanade._ to do this, when you have presented within your adversaries sword, over-lap it with inches of yours, within eight of his, and give in the thrust on his right-flank, on the other side of the sword, and beneath it your nails side-ways, throwing forward your left-hand and turning the palm from you to keep off counter-temps in the belly, and in thrusting let your hilt be lower than the point, which secures his sword; and note when you lap over to do it with the flat, and not with the edg as when you bind. and thus much may serve for an introduction to the learner in the science of defence, and therefore for other lessons, not here set down, i refer him to a master. _of hawking._ _of hawks there are two sorts._ the long-winged hawks. _faulcon_ and _tiercle-gentle_, _gerfaulcon_ and _jerkin_. _saker_ and _sakaret_. _lanner_ and _lanneret_. _barbary falcon._ _merlin_ and _jack_. _hobby_ and _jack_. the short winged hawks. _eagle_ and _iron_. _goshawk_ and _tiercle_. _sparrow-hawk_ and _musket_. there are others too of inferiour sort, as, _ring-tail._ _raven_ and _buzzard_. _forked kite._ _hen-driver_, &c. and as the age of these _hawks_ is, so we name them, as the first year a _soarage_. the second year an _intermewer_. the third year a _white hawk_. the fourth year a _hawk of the first coat_. thus much for their names, now we come to speak of the flights of these _hawks_; which are these, the _faulcon-gentle_, for _partridge_ or _mallard_. _gerfaulcon_, will fly at the _herne_. _saker_, at the _crane_ or _bittern_. _lanner_, at the _partridge_, _pheasant_ or _choofe_ _barbary faulcon_, at the _partridge_ only. _merlin_ and _hobby_, at the _lark_, or any small bird. _goshawk_ and _tiercle_, at the _partridge_, or _hare_. _sparrow-hawk_, at the _partridge_ or _black-bird_. and the _musket_, at the _bush_. your _hawk_ watch, and keep from sleep, continually carrying him upon your fist, familiarly stroak him with a wing of some dead fowl, or the like, and play with him; accustom to gaze, and look in his face with a loving, smiling, gentle countenance; and that will make him acquainted, and familiar with men. having made him familiar, the next thing is to _bring him to the lure_, (which the _faulconer_ makes of feathers and leather, much like a fowl, which he casts into the air, and calls the _hawk_ to) which is after this manner. set your _hawk_ on the perch, unhood him and shew him some meat within your fist, call him by _chirping_, _whistling_, or the like, till he comes, then feed him with it; if he comes not, let him fast, and be sharp set: short-winged _hawks_ are properly said to be called, not _lured_. make him bold, and acquainted with men, dogs, and horses, and let him be eager and sharp-set, before you shew him the _lure_, knowing his _luring_ hours; and let both sides of the _lure_, be garnished with warm and bloody meat; let him likewise know your voice well; so that being well acquainted with voice, and _lure_, the hearing of the one, or sight of the other, makes him obedient; which you must reward by feeding, or punish by fasting. but before _luring_ (or any flight) it is requisite to bathe your _hawk_ in some quiet and still shallow brook, or for want of that in a large bason, shallow tub, or the like, lest being at liberty, you lose your _hawk_, (whose nature requires such bathing) and make him range. now to make him know his _lure_, is thus: give your _hawk_ to another, and having loosned in readiness his hood-strings, and fastened a _pullet_ to the _lure_, go a little distance, cast it half the length of the string about your head, still _luring_ with your voice, unhood your _hawk_, and throw it a little way from him; if he stoop and seize, let his plum the _pullet_, and feed on it upon the _lure_: then take him and meat on your fist, hood him and give him the tiring of the wing, or foot of the said _pullet_. having manned and _lured_ your _hawk_ before you bring him to his flight, one thing is to be observed and done, called in the _faulconers dialect_, _enseaming_, which is to cleanse him from fat, grease, and glut, know by his round thighs, and full meutings; and thus you may do it: in the morning when you feed him, give him a bit or two of hot-meat, and at night very little or nothing. then feed him morning and evening with a _rook_, wash't twice till the pinions be tender; then give a casting of feathers as his nature will bear; and once in two or three dayes give him a hens-neck well joynted and washt: then a quick train _pigeon_ every morning; and after by these and his own exercise, he has broken and dissolved the grease, give him three or four _pellets_ of the root of _sallandine_, as big as a garden pease, steept in the sirup of _roses_; and you have done this part of your duty. to enter your _hawks_, for _partridge_ or fowl, lay an old field _partridge_ in a hole, covered with something, and fasten to it a small _creance_ (_i.e._ a fine small long line of strong and even-wound packthread fastned to the _hawks_ leash when first lured,) and uncoupling your ranging spaniels, pluck off the covering of the train _partridge_ and let it go, and the _hawk_ after it; and as soon as he has slain it, reward him well with it. and thus to make him fly at fowl, feed him well with the train of the fowl you would have; doing afterwards as above. the fault of _hawks_ differ according to their nature and make. long-winged _hawks_ faults are thus helped. if he used to take stand, flying at the river, or in champaign fields, shun flying near trees or covert, or otherwise, let several persons have trains, and as he offers to stand, let him that's next cast out his train, and he killing it reward him. and indeed you ought never to be without some live bird or fowl in your bag, as _pigeon_, _duck_, _mallard_, &c. if he be froward and coy; when he kills, reward him not as usually, but slide some other meat under him and let him take his pleasure on it; giving him some feathers to make him scour and cast. if he be _wild_, _look not inward_; but mind check, (_i.e._ other game, as crows, &c. that fly cross him) then lure him back, and stooping to it, reward him presently. the faults of short-winged _hawks_ thus are helped. sometimes the _goshawk_ and _sparrow-hawks_, will neither kill, nor fly the game to mark, but will turn tail to it: then encourage your dogs to hunt, cast a train _partridge_ before your _hawk_, make him seize it, and feed well upon it. if a hawk take a tree, and will not fly at all, feed him then upon quick birds, and make him foot them, and in the plain champaign fields unhood him, and rising up and down awhile let one cast out a field _partridge_ before him, let him fly at it, and footing it, feed on it. if they be too fond of a man, that after a stroke or two will not fly, be seldom familiar with him, and reward him not as he comes so improperly: otherwise reward him well. as for _mewing_ of _hawks_, the best time for long-winged _hawks_ is about the middle of _april_, and _march_ for the short-winged _hawks_. there are two kinds of _mewings_. . _at the stock or stone_; so called from its being low upon the ground, free from noise, vermin or ill air. . _at large_; so called from being in a high room, with open windows towards the _north_ or _north-east_. the former is accounted the best _mewing_. the faulconer, before he _mews_ his _hawks_, see if they have _lice_, to pepper and scower them too. the best time to draw the field _hawk_ from the _mew_, is in _june_, and he will be ready to fly in _august_; the _hawks_ for the river in _august_, will be ready in _september_. _cures for hawks diseases._ the faulconer ought diligently to observe the complexions of his _hawks castings_ and _mewtings_, to judge of their maladies, an assured sign of knowing whether they are sick or distempered in this. take your _hawk_, turning up her train, if you see her tuel or fundament swelleth, or looketh red; or, if her eyes or ears be of a fiery complexion, it is an infallible sign of her being not well and in good health; and then scouring is necessary first; which is done by _aloes cicatrine_, about the quantity of a pea wrapt up in her meat; and this avoids grease, and kills worms too. _for the cataract_: take one scruple of washt _aloes_ finely beaten, and two scruples of _sugar-candy_, mix these together, and with a quill blow it three or four times a day into your _hawks_ eye. _pantus_ or _asthma_: pour the oyl of sweet _almonds_ into a chickens gut, well washt, and give it the _hawk_: or, scower him with _sallandine_-pellets, and oyl of _roses_, and then wash his meat in the decoction of _coltsfoot_. _filanders_ or _worms_: to prevent them, seeing your _hawk_ low and poor, give her once a month a clove of _garlick_. to cure or kill them; take half a dozen cloves of _garlick_, boil them very tender in milk, dry the milk out of them; put them into a spoonful of the best oyl of _olives_, and having steept them all night, give them both to your _hawk_, when she has cast, in the morning: feed him not till two hours after, and then with warm meat, and keep him warm all that day. _lice_: mail your _hawk_ in some woollen cloth, put between his head and hood a little wool, and take a pipe of tobacco, put the little end in at the tream, blow the smoak, and the _lice_ that escape killing, will creep into the cloth: _probatum_. _formica_: take a little of the gall of a bull, and beating it with _aloes_, anoint the beak of the _hawk_, morning and evening, _frounce_: take the powder of _allume_, reduced to a salve with strong wine vinegar, and wash her mouth with it; then take juice of _lolium_ and _raddish_, mixt with salt, and anoint the sore. _apoplex_: gather the herb _asterion_, wash your hawks meat with the juice thereof when you feed him. _wounds_: take the juice of _english tobacco_, or _mouse-ears_, after you have sticht it up with a little lint, bathe the place. _of bowling._ the first and greatest cunning to be observed in _bowling_, is the right chusing your bowl, which must be suitable to the grounds you design to run on, thus: for _close alleys_, your best choice is the _flat bowl_: . for _open grounds_ of advantage, the round-byassed-bowl. . for _green swarths_, that are plain and level, the bowl that is _round as a ball_. the next thing requires your care is, the chusing out your ground, and preventing the windings, hangings, and many turning advantages of the same, whether it be in open wide places, as bares & bowling-greens, or in close bowling-alleys. lastly, have your judgment about you to observe and distinguish the risings, fallings and advantages of the places where you bowl: have your wits about you to avoid being rookt of your money: and have your understanding about you, to know your best time and opportunity for this recreation; and finally a studious care of your words and passions, and then bowl away, and you may deserve, _well have you bowled indeed_. but methinks i cannot conclude here, without admiring how aptly a bowling-green is by the divine _quarles_ characterized, in the following verses, thus, _brave pastime,_ readers, _to consume that day, which without pastime flies too swift away! see how they labour, as if day and night were both too short to serve their loose delight? see how their curved bodies wreath, and skrue such antick shapes as_ proteus _never knew: one rapps an oath, another deals a curse, he never better bowl'd, this never worse; one rubs his itchless elbow, shrugs and laughs, the t'other bends his beetle-brows, and chafes; sometimes they whoop, sometimes the_ stygian _cryes, send their black_ santo's _to the blushing skies: thus mingling humours in a mad confusion they make bad premisses and worse conclusion._ thus much for bowling. _of tennis._ this recreation is of the same date for its antiquity of invention with bowling, and for the violence of its exercise to be preferred before it. this sport indeed is of so universal an acceptance, that majesty it self is pleased to design it its recommendation, by tracking its laborious steps; and princes and lords admire it too for the most proper recreation, to suit with innocence, and true nobility. here the body is briskly exercised more than ordinary, and inured in agility and nimbleness; this renders the limbs flexible and mettlesom, and adapts them for the most vigorous enterprize. _tennis_ and _baloon_ are sports which are play'd almost with the same instruments; and therefore may be under one and the same head: the first is a pastime, used in close or open courts, by striking a little round ball to and fro, either with the palms of the hands (and then is called _pila palmaria_ in latin) or else a _racket_, made for the purpose, round with net or cat-gut, with a handle: the other a strong and moving sport in the open fields with a great ball of a double leather filled with wind, and so driven to and fro with the strength of a mans arm, armed in a brace of wood. and thus much shall suffice to speak of the _baloon_ and _tennis_; only let me desire you, let not this or any other pastime disturb your minds; divert you from the diligent and careful prosecution of your lawful business; or invite you to throw away your time and money too lavishly and idley; nor engage you in any passion; that so you may not offend god, dislike your neighbour, nor incomode your self and family in your well-being and felicity; and then you may recreate your self without fear: and in this recreation observe the ensuing morality of the =tennis-court=. _when as the hand at_ tennis _plays, and men to gaming fall_, love _is the_ court, hope _is the_ house, _and_ favour _serves the_ ball, _this_ ball _it self is due desert, the line that measure shows is_ reason _whereon_ judgment _looks where players win and lose._ _the_ tutties _are deceitful shifts, the_ stoppers, jealousy, _which hath sir_ argus _hundred eyes, wherewith to watch and pry._ _the fault whereon_ fifteen is lost, _is want of_ wit _and_ sense, _and he that brings the_ racket _in is_ double diligence. _but now the_ racket _is_ free-will, _which makes the_ ball _rebound, and noble_ beauty _is the_ choice, _and of each game the ground._ _then_ racket _strikes the_ ball _away, and there is_ over-sight, _a_ bandy _ho! the people cry, and so the_ ball _takes flight._ _now at the length_ good-liking _proves content to be their gain: thus in the tennis-court,_ love is a pleasure mixt with pain. _of ringing._ whosoever would become an accurate master of this excellent art and pleasure, and is very desirous to be esteemed an elaborate and ingenious ringer, and be enrolled amongst that honoured society of =college youths=; i must beg leave to instruct him before he enters the bell-free, in these ensuing short rules; which he must strictly observe, _viz._ . that as all _musick_ consists in these six plain _notes_, _la sol fa mi re ut_; so in _ringing_, a peal of bells is tuned according to these principles of musick: for as each _bell takes its denomination from the note it sounds_, by its being flatter or deeper, as, _first_, or treble, _second_, _third_, _fourth_, &c. as they are in number to _ten_ or _twelve_ bells, the last being called the _tenor_; so must they successively strike one after another both _fore-stroke_ and _back-stroke_, in a due musical time or equi-distance, to render their harmony the more pleasant, and to make the young practitioner the better informed to observe the _life of musick_, and indeed of true ringing, _time_; and therefore is called, _round-ringing_. . as in musick, so in ringing there are three _concords_, so called from their melodious harmony and agreement, which principally are these; _thirds_, _viz._ , , _&c._ _fifths_ , , _&c._ _eights_ , , , _&c._ and these are the more pleasant according to the number of bells they are struck on, and as they are struck, whether separately or mutually. from hence _changes_ are made, which is only a changing place of one _note_ with another, so variously, as musick may be heard a thousand ways of harmony; which being so obvious to common observation, i shall not go about to demonstrate; for that if two may be varied two ways, surely by the rule of _multiplication_, a man may easily learn how many times , , , , , or bells notes may be varied; which will run almost _ad infinitum_. . for the better observing the ringing of _changes_ or _rounds_, these three things are to be noted. . _the raising true in peal._ . _ringing at a low compass_; and . _ceasing in true peal_; all which three are the most essential parts to render a practitioner _excellent_. . for _raising a peal of bells true_, the modern and best practice recommends the _swiftest and quickest possible_, every one taking assistance to raise his bell, as its going requires: the _lesser_ bells as _treble_, _&c._ being by main strength _held down_ in their first sway (or pull) to get time for the striking of the rest of larger compass; and so continued to be strong pulled till frame-high, and then may be slackned: the bigger, as _tenor_, &c. must be pincht or checkt overhead, that the notes may be hard to strike roundly and hansomely. observe that all the notes strike round at one pull: i do not mean the first; but 'tis according to the bigness and weightiness of your bells: however in raising a peal, do not let one bell strike before the rest, or miss when the rest do; this is contrary to the strict rules of _true ringing_: and this is called _round-ringing_. now if you design to raise a peal of bells for _changes_, you ought to raise them to a set-pull, as the most proper for commanding the notes, and he who is not well skilled to manage his bell at a set-pull, will be apt to drop or overturn it, be in a wood, and fruitlessly toil and moil himself. therefore in practising the setting of a bell, cast your eye about the other bell-ropes, during your managing your own, that you may accustom your self to manage it according to the _change_. . for _ringing at a low compass_, is thus observed: by keeping a due _punctum_ or beat of time, in the successive striking one after another of every bell; the best ringer being set to the _treble_, that may guide and direct the rest of the notes in their due measure. . _for ceasing a peal of bells_; let them fall gradually from a set peal, checking them only at sally, till the low compass renders it useless; and when so low, that for want of compass, they can scarce strike at back-stroak; then let the _treble_-ringer stamp, as a signal, to notify, that the next time they come to strike at the fore-stroke, to check them down, to hinder their striking the back-stroke; yet fore-stroke continued, till brought to a neat and graceful chime, which may be the finis to that peal. thus much in short, for _raising_, _round-ringing_, and _ceasing a peal_ of bells; i come next to lead you forth into that spacious field of variety of _changes_, and present you with instructions that may be meerly necessary, for the right understanding the several kinds of them. now in _ringing changes_, two of our best senses, are to be employed, _viz._ the ear, and the eye: the ear, hearing when to make a _change_; and the eye directing the bell in making it: the bells being the object of the former, and the bell-ropes the object of the latter: and to render both the eye and ear useful in ringing _changes_, these five things are throughly to be understood. _first_, endeavour to distinguish the _notes_ of a _peal_ of _bells_, one from another while ringing. _secondly_, learn to apprehend the places of the _notes_. _thirdly_, understand the precedency of _notes_. _fourthly_, how to make a _change_ in _ringing_. _fifthly_, and _lastly_, how to practice the four fore-going notions, in general. . _to know the notes of a peal of bells asunder_ (which is easy in _round-ringing_) in _changes_ is thus: get the skill of tuning them with your _voice_, by imitating their notes while _ringing_. or if you are acquainted, either by your self or friend, with some _singing-master_, or one who has skill in _singing_, get him to instruct you in the true pitch of any _note_, and aid your distinguishing them; otherwise you may be puzzled in this, to know which is _treble_, which _second_, &c. as in , _&c._ . to know the places of the _notes_, is no way better to be apprehended than thus: the practitioner ought to form an _idea_ in his head of the place of each _note_, whether in a direct _line_, or _obliquely_; and representing them by a _figure_ in his mind, see (as it were) by the eye of the understanding, each stroke of the _bell_, as the _treble_, . _second_ . _third_ . _&c._ so that as the _ear_ is to direct him, when to make the change, so a right apprehension of the _motion_ and _places_ of the _notes_, ought to be a means to guide his ear. . the precedency of _notes_, is of a very obvious demonstration; thus: in ringing _changes_ the fore and back-stroke, successively following one another, are properly said to _lye behind_ one another, according to their places of striking. or in short, in , the _note_ that leads either at fore or back-stroke, is said to _lye before_ the rest, and the last to be behind, as the is said to lye behind the , so it lyeth before the , as the lyeth behind , so it lyeth before the . and so of as many as are _rung_. . the manner of making a _change_, is very common, and needs no particular, but general rule; that it is made by moving one _note_ into anothers place, up and down, as occasion requires; but usually made by two _notes_ standing one next the other, as hereafter may be observed. _lastly_, in your ringing _changes_, these two things (in which consists the practick part of this art) are to be rightly considered, _first_, readily to know which two _bells_ are to make the succeeding _change_. and _secondly_, to consider (if you are concerned in it) what _bell_ you are to follow in making it. to understand which the more perfectly, you must imprint in your memory, the method of the _changes_ prick'd in _figures_, and to be expert likewise in setting them down divers ways, and making any _figure_ a _hunt_ at pleasure; and thus without pausing or hesitating to consider the course, you may throughly understand the methods; the four preceding observations being first perfectly understood. there are two ways of _ringing changes_, viz. by _walking_ them, as the artists stile it; or by _whole pulls_ or _half-pulls_: _walking_ is, when in one _change_ the _bells_ go round, _four_, _six_, or _eight_ times; which is a most incomparable way to improve a young practitioner, by giving him time to consider, which two _bells_ do make the next succeeding _change_, and in making it, what _bell_ each is to follow; so that by this means (by his industry) he may be capable of ringing at _whole pulls_; which is, when the _bells_ go round in a _change_ at fore and back-stroke; and a new _change_ is made every time they are pulled down at sally: this was an ancient practice, but is now laid aside, since we have learnt a more advantageous way of hanging our _bells_, that we can manage a _bell_ with more ease at a _set-pull_ than formerly: so that ringing at _half-pulls_ is now the modern general practice; that is, when one _change_ is made at fore-stroke, another at back-stroke, _&c._ he that rings the slowest _hunt_, ought to notify the _extream changes_; which is, when the leading _bell_ is pulling down, that he might make the _change_ next before the extreme, he ought to say, _extreme_. by this means, betwixt the warning and the extreme there will be one compleat _change_. _of changes_, &c. there are _two kinds of changes_, viz. _plain changes_, and _cross-peals_; which terms do denote the _nature_ of them; for as the first is stiled _plain_, so are its methods easy; and as the second is called _cross_, so are its methods cross and intricate: the first have a general method, in which all the notes (except three) have a direct _hunting-course_, moving gradually under each other, plainly and uniformly: _plain_ are likewise termed _single changes_, because there is but one single change made in the striking all the notes round, either at fore or back-stroke. but the second is _various_, each _peal_ differing in its course from all others; and in _cross-peals as many changes may be made as the notes will permit_. in short, as to _plain-changes_, i shall not dilate on them here, it being so _plainly_ understood by every one that lately have rung a _bell_ in peal; all therefore i shall add is this, that any two notes that strike next together may make a change, which may be done either _single or double_, as you list. the _single_, by changing two notes; and the _double_, by changing four, _i.e._ two to make one change and two another; which is however called _one double change_, and not two changes; because tis made in striking the notes of the _bells_ once round. _of cross-peals._ or in these _cross-peals_ we must observe the _prime movement_, which sets the whole frame a going, and that is called the _hunt_, which hath _one constant uniform motion throughout the peal_, and different from that of the other notes; and indeed by this the whole course of the peal is steered. this keeps a continual motion through the other notes, _i.e._ from leading, to strike behind, and from thence again to lead; which is called one _compleat course_. some peals upon _five bells_ consist of single courses, wherein are ten changes, and twelve courses make the peal. others upon five consist of double courses, wherein are twenty changes to every course, and six courses in the peal. upon _six bells_ there are likewise _single_ and _double_ courses, _viz._ twelve changes in every single course, as in _grandsire-bob_, _&c._ and twenty-four changes in every double course, as in _college bobs_, that being the first change of every course, wherein the _hunt_ leaves leading: in short, judiciously observe the first course of any _cross-peal_, and you will soon see the general method of the whole peal: all courses in cross-peals agreeing in these following three respects. first, _in the motion of the hunt_. secondly _in the motion of the rest of the notes_: and thirdly, _in making the changes_. which three things being well (to omit instance of demonstration) and narrowly observed, will be very helpful both in pricking and ringing courses; the first and third for directing you in pricking them, and the first and second in ringing them. there is one difficulty to be removed e're i can come to prick down those peals i design to be the subject of the discourse of this _epitome_, and that is, _how to make the first changes at the beginning of each peal_; i mean to make the _second_, _third_, _fourth_, &c. _whole hunts_; and this in short is thus directed: in any _cross-peal_ the _whole hunt_ may move either up or down at the beginning; and the motion of the _whole hunt_, in the first course of each of the following peals will direct the first motion of any _cross-hunt_, and by consequence of making the first changes in that peal. taking along with you this observation. that whensoever the first change of any peal happens to be _single_, it must be made at the back-stroke, to prevent _cutting compass_, and the like when a double change happens first in a peal of _triples and doubles_: but when it happens, that the first change is made at the back-stroke, then consequently the bells at the end of the peal will come round at a fore-stroke change. i shall omit speaking to any of the several peals on _four or five bells_; for that in my opinion little _musick_ is heard, though much _practical observation_ is made, from them; and therefore shall begin with _grandsire-bob_, as having mentioned it but just before in my general view i made of _cross-peals_. _grandsire bob._ _bob_ changes take their name from this; _viz._ when the _treble_ leads in the _second_ and _third_, and the _fifth_ and _sixth's_ places, then they are called _bob-changes_. in ringing which you are to observe these rules, _viz._ whatsoever bells you follow when you _hunt up_, the same bells in the same order you must follow in _hunting down_; as in the changes here prickt, where the _treble_ hunting up _first_ follows _second_, then _fourth_, and then _sixth_; when it comes behind, _first_ follows _second_, in hunting down _fourth_; and when hunting up follows _sixth_ in the same order: the like may be observed in ringing any other bell, with this difference betwixt the whole hunt and the rest, _viz._ every time the whole hunt leaves the _treble's_ place, and hunts up, it followeth different bells, from what it did at its first hunting up. in the ensuing peal here prickt are _eighteen-score_ changes, wanting one. it may be rung with any _hunts_, and begin the changes _triple_ and _double_: you may make your extream at the first, second, or third _single bob_; or the first, second, or third time, that the half and _quarter-hunts_ dodge behind; the _single_ must be made behind in either of these. | _bob._ | | | ------ | | | | ------ | | | ------ | | | | | | | | | ------ | | | ------ | | | | | | | | | ------ | | | ------ | | | | | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | _bob._ | | | | | ------ | | | ------ | | | | | | | | | ------ | | | ------ | | | | | | | | | ------ | | | ------ | | | | | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | _bob._ | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | | | _bob._ | | | | | ------ | | | ------ | | | | | ------ | | | | | | | ------ | ====== | | | | thus much for the _grandsire-bob_; i shall next collect what _london peals_ i think most harmonious, and agreeable, without troubling my self to go to _oxford_, or _nottingham_, or _redding_, to enquire after their different methods of peals, as indeed needless; and my reason is this: because i think the same rules for _peals_ that are suitable to our _london genius_, may challenge likewise an acceptance amongst other _cities_; provided their _steeples_ are furnished with as many, and as good _bells_, and their _belfree's_ with as ingenious and elaborate _ringers_ as here in _london_. i shall begin then with _peals upon six bells,_ and herein in order, measure out the delights on _peals_ from _six_ to _eight bells_, and setting out early, present you with _the morning exercise._ _doubles_ and _singles_. the whole _hunt_ is the _treble_, which hunteth up into the _second_, _third_, and _fourth_ places, lying twice in each; and then lyeth still in the _sixth_ place, having dodged behind, and makes another, and then _hunts_ down as it _hunted_ up, and then leads four times. observing the manner of its pricking, and its practice, may excuse any further defining it. | ------ | | | | | | ------ | | | | | ------ | | | | | ------ | | | | | | | | | | ------ | | _bob._ | | | ------ | | | | | | | _bob._ | | ------ | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | | | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | ------ this will go a _changes_, and by making _bobs_, , , . _a cure for_ melancholy. _doubles_ and _singles_. i should think it needless to explain the method of prick'd _peals_, and give a large definition of them, when their plain demonstration might be sufficient; however, as the old _phrase_ is, _because 'tis usual_, something shall be said of this too. the _treble_ is the whole _hunt_, as in the former, and leads four times, and lyeth behind as many, and twice in every other place; the two _bells_ in the d. and th. places continue dodging, when the _treble_ moves out of the th. place, until it comes down there again, and then the two hindmost dodge, till the _treble_ displaceth them; who maketh every double _change_, except when it lieth behind, and then the double is on the four first, and on the four last when it leads. every single (except when the _treble_ lies there) is in the th. and th. places; or if possessed by the _treble_, then in the d. and th. places: every _bell_ (except the _treble_) lies four times in the second place: but enough; a word is enough to the wise. see it here deciphered. | ------ | | | | | | ------ | | _bob._ | | | ------ | | | | | | | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | | | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | ------ this will go _six-score changes_, but by making _bobs_, it will go , , or . the _bob_ is a double _change_ at the leading of the _treble_, in which the _bell_ in the th. place lyeth still. london nightingale. _doubles_ and _singles_. the whole-hunt is the _treble_, who lyeth four times before, and as many behind, and twice in every other place: the two hind _bells_ continue dodging, when the _treble_ moves down out of the _fifth_ place, till he comes there again, the _bell_ in the _fourth_ place lying still all the while: when the two hind _bells_ aforesaid leave dodging, then the two _first bells_ take their dodging places, till dispossessed again, by the return of the said hind _bells_ to their dodging; and then they cease. | ------ | | | | | | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | | | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | | | | | | ------ | | _bob._ | | | ------ | | | | | | | _bob._ | | ------ | ------ | | | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | this will go , and by making _bobs_, , , or . _college bobs._ in this _bob_, when the _treble_ leaves the two hind _bells_, they dodge till it comes there again, and till the _treble_ gives way for the dodging again of the said two hind _bell_, the two _first bells_ dodge, but after cease dodging, when the two hind _bells_ dodge. | ------ | | | | | | | | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | | _&c._ | | | | | ------ | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | ------ | | | | | | _bob._ | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | _another._ here, every _bell_, when it comes to lead, makes a dodge before, then after one _change_, it lyeth still; after it has made another dodge, it moves up into the th. place, where twice it lyeth still; and down again; except the _treble_ happens to dodge with it in the th. place, then it hunts up behind. when the _treble_ moves down out of the _ d_. place, the two _bells_ in the _ d._ and _ th._ place continue there, till the _treble_ comes up thither again, the two hind _bells_ dodging in the mean time. | ------ | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | | | | _bob._ | | | ------ | | | | | ------ | | _&c._ | | | | | ------ | | | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | ------ | | _bob._ | _bob._ | both these _bobs_ will go _one hundred_ and _twenty changes_, and by making of _bobs_, they will go, , , or . and thus with little variation, there are other _bobs_ may be made after the same manner, and afford as admirable musick, as possibly can be made on _bells_. i shall therefore hasten to finish this days work, only first present you with this one more called, the city delight: _doubles and singles._ the whole _hunt_ is the _treble_, and lieth as before in the _nightingale_: when the _treble_ moves out of the _ d._ place, the _singles_ are made in the _ d._ and _ d._ place, till the _treble_ repossesses his _ d._ place, and then behind, till it moves up again out of the _ d._ place. the two hind _bells_ dodge, when the _treble_ moves out of the _ th._ place, till he returns again; the _bell_ in the _ th._ place lying still all the while. | | | | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | ------ | | | | | | | | | | | | _bob._ | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | ------ | | | | | | _bob._ | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | | | | ------ | this will go as many _changes_ as the last mentioned, by making _bobs_. and here i will shut up this days peal upon six _bells_ with the evening delight. _doubles_ and _singles_. the whole _hunt_ is the _treble_, and lyes as before specified, with this exception only: that it dodges in the _ d._ and _ d._ places, every time it _hunts_ up, and down. observe when _treble_ goes to lead, and leaves of leading, the _bells_ in the _ d._ and _ th_ places lye still, _&c._ note the pricking this _peal_. | ------ | | | | | | ------ | | _bob._ | | | ------ | | | | | | | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | | | | | | | | ------ | ------ | | _bob._ | | | | | | | ------ | | | _bob._ | | ------ | | | | | ------ this peal will go _changes_, and by making _bobs_, as many as above. note that in all the foregoing peals upon _six bells_, the _bobs_ are double _changes_, and made always at the leadings of the _whole-hunt_. he that rings the _half-hunt_, may best call _bob_ in all peals. i come now to the _changes_ upon seven _bells_, which though the seldom practice of them might excuse my omitting them; yet, because i promised to say somewhat of them, i shall be as good as my word, (the character of an honest man) and present you with a couple of examples, and then proceed to _peals_ upon _eight_: but this i must crave leave to premise, that variety of _changes_ may be prick'd upon seven _bells_, as _triples_, and _doubles_, _triples doubles_, and _single doubles_, &c. and the same methods may be prick'd upon _seven_, as may be upon _five_, the true difference of proportion being observed; but to proceed. _dodging triples._ _triples_ and _doubles_, and indeed all _peals_ upon six, may likewise go upon seven _bells_, thus, | ------- | | | | | | | | | | | plain triples. | ------- | | | | | | | | | | | in this all the bells have a hunting _course_. _college triples_, dodging before, and behind, | ------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | this peal thus prick't, will go, _changes_, and the _treble_ leading, and the _half hunt_ lying next it, and a parting _change_ (which is a double on the four middlemost of the six hind _bells_) being made, it will go , and by making _bobs_ . thus much shall suffice for _peals_ upon seven _bells_, i proceed to _changes_ upon _eight_. _peals of eight bells._ without amusing our selves with what notes are most _musical_, to _lye behind_, we will come to the matter of fact; for those methods of _peals_ that are prick'd on _six_, may be the same upon _eight_, observing only, that _triples_ and _doubles_ upon _six_, must be _quadruples_, and _triples_ upon _eight_. the imperial bob. _quadruples_ and _triples_. the _treble_ hath a dodging _course_, the two first, and two last _bells_ always dodge, till hindered by the _treble_, the two next to these, lying still one _change_, dodge the next, till the _treble_ hinders them too, those in the th. and th. places dodge (the _treble_ being behind) and those in the d. and th. places likewise dodge (the _treble_ being before) and so till hindered by the _treble_. | -------- | | | | | | -------- | | -------- | | | | | | _bob._ | -------- | | | | | -------- | _bob._ | | | | | _bob._ | -------- | | | | | -------- | _bob._ | | | | | | -------- | | -------- | | | | | | | -------- | | -------- | | | | | | | -------- | | -------- | | _&c._ | | -------- by this method the peal will go changes, and by making of _bobs_ it will go , , . the _bob_ is a _triple_ change at the leading of the _treble_, wherein the bell in the _fourth_ place lies still. the next that comes to our observation, and answers to what we first hinted at in the beginning of this discourse of _peals_ upon _eight_ bells, i mean _precedency in title_, is the bob major. _plain quadruples_ and _triples_. in this all the _bells_ have a direct _hunting course_, until the _treble_ leads, and then the six hindmost _bells_ dodge. | -------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | by this method this will go . and by making _bobs_, , , or . the _bob_ is a _triple change_, as in the foregoing _imperial_ is specified. by making two _extreams_, it will go , and with four _extreams_, . all peals upon six bells, wherein half the changes are _triples_, will go upon _eight_ according to the method before-going, thus; if it be a peal upon six consisting of , or changes, then there must be five _hunts_ in the ringing of it upon _eight_, the _treble_ being the first, the second, _&c._ college bob major. _quadruples_ and _triples_. there is four ways of pricking these. the first hath single dodging behind, and is thus peal'd. the first. | -------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | the second. this hath single dodging before and behind, thus prickt. | -------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | the third. this hath double dodging behind, thus prickt. -------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | the fourth. this hath double dodging before and behind both, thus. -------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | these may be prick't several other ways, but that i omit here for brevities sake; the _dodging_ is without intermission, except an hinderence comes by the _treble_; as likewise between two bells, until _treble_ parts the fray. the _bobs_ are _triple changes_, as the _treble_ leads; in the _ st._ _ d._ and _ th._ the bell in the _ th._ place lies still at the _bobs_, and in the _ d._ _ th._ and _ th._ that in the _ d._ place lies still. each of these will go changes, and by making _bobs_ , , or . college triples dodging both before and behind. this peal is the same for _bobs_, as the _bob major_, and will go as many changes by making _bobs_, or otherwise, as any of the foregoing four, and is thus peal'd. | -------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | the wild-goose chase _triples._ the explanation shall follow the peal; intending here to put an end to my _epitome_ of the _art of ringing_, and therefore shall first present you with this prick't thus. | | -------- | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | in this change the th. bell must first hunt up into the sevenths place, and then the and always dodge behind throughout the peal, unless when obstructed by the _treble_. the bell that moves up into the th. place, when the _treble_ moves thence down, lies still there, till displaced by the _treble_; during which time the two hind bells dodge, and the _five first_ go a perfect _hunting-course_: and when likewise the _treble_ moveth out of the ths. place the five first bells go a _hunting-course_, till it comes down there again: by this method it will go changes, and by _bobs_ , , or . the _bob_ is made as in the foregoing changes. and here i thought to make an end of the _art of ringing_, but _cynthius aurem vellit_, the young practitioner, whose only information is hereby aimed at, plucks me by the sleeve, and tells me in the ear, that tho' peals upon six, as _triples_ and _doubles_, &c. make excellent musick upon eight _bells_, , , , or lying behind: or, _triples_ and _doubles_ upon the six middle bells, the _tenor_ lying behind; yet for him who is not arrived to such a perfection of skill, as to ring these compleat peals, the most proper and easy for him are _set-changes_, which are founded on these _grounds_. first, _placing the bells fifths_; thus the must hunt up behind the , the behind the , and the behind the ; or the one may hunt down under the other, as the under the , the under , and under : or if you will, first let a _single_, next a _double_, and then a _triple_ change be made on the middle _bells_, all coming to the same effect; for then the changes will lye _fifths_ thus: , , , . in the peal four _concords_ are to be regarded, the first , the second , the third , and the fourth . these four _concords_ may go the methods of any changes upon four _bells_; , being taken for the _treble_; , for the _second_; , for the _third_; and , for the _fourth_; and the _concords_ may change places with one another, as you lift. in which this observation is highly necessary, that the two notes of every _concord_ must constantly attend each other in their motion; that is, whenever one of the two notes moves, the other must follow it. or secondly, _place the bells thirds_; thus: the and must hunt up, or else the down; or otherwise on the middlemost _bells_ let a _triple_, _double_ or _single_ change be made, are to one effect; and then the _bells_ will lye _thirds_ thus, . . . . herein are four _concords observable_; as in the former peal, _viz._ . . . . these _concords_ may go the methods of any changes upon four _bells_, , being taking for the _treble_, , for the second; , for the third; and , for the fourth; moving in the same manner; as before shewed. by these _grounds_ variety of excellent and musical changes are to be rung; _any concord may be made a hunt_, and to move up and down at the beginning. in ringing these _set-changes_, the note will lye sometimes _fifths_, sometimes _thirds_ and both, and then to _clam_ them, is admirable musick: clamming is, when each _concord_ strike together; which being done true the will strike as but four _bells_, and make a melodious harmony. you may _clam_ two or three bouts, and then strike as many times open, alternatively, one _clam_ one pull, and open the next, &c. vocal musick: _or, plain and easy directions to sing by notes, wherein with a little help, any one who is musically given, may be perfected in a short time_. musick, especially vocal, has been of such high esteem in all ages, that it is accounted no less than a divine science producing such concordance, and harmony, that it cheereth and rejoyceth the hearts of men, and is delightful to every creature. it is certainly an addition to the joy in heaven, where the saints and angels sing halleluja's and songs of praises before the throne of god. st. _austin_ tells us, that it is the gift of god to men, as well as to angels, and a representation and admonition of the sweet consent and harmony which his wisdom hath made in the creation and administration of the world. but not to prologue on what everywhere so much commends it self, i shall sum up what in that nature is expedient in a few verses, and so proceed to the subject matter, _viz._ _nature, which is the vast creations soul, that steady curious agent in the whole, the art of heaven, the order of this frame is only musick in an other name: and as some king conquering what was his own hath choice of various titles to his crown, so harmony on this score now, that then, yet still is all that takes and governs men: beauty is but composure, and we find content is but the concord of the mind; friendship the unison of well tun'd hearts, honour the chorus of the noblest parts. and all the worlds good on which we can reflect is musick to the ear, or to the intellect._ there are to make up a musical harmony computed seven notes; now in the easiest way expressed by the seven letters of the alphbet, _viz._ a. b. c. d. e. f. g. and if it so fall out, that a voice or musick gradually rise or fall more than seven notes; the subsequent th, th, or th, will in the same order proceed, bearing the like relation each to the other, as the st. d. d, _&c._ to which they respectively are _eights_. and so that from hence every eighth note, being in nature alike, is called by the name of that to which it is in an eighth; however above or below it; and for the better understanding the various musical compositions out of these notes, musicians have devised and make use of lines and characters, that as a language they may be understood and communicated by book, for the instruction of the unlearned: as in the following introductory example, you will perceive; [illustration: music] in this example, before i come nearer to particulars in general, observe first, that those characters you observe at the beginning of the lines, are termed cliffs or claves, keys to open and signify what part or pitch of voice, _viz._ the _treble_, _mean_, or _basse_ properly the notes belong to; as likewise on what line or space the seven letters expressing the notes is placed. and then again, the five lines and spaces between them are useful, as steps or gradations whereon the degrees of sound are to be expressed, or the notes ascending and descending: then thirdly, the characters placed on the five lines, express the notes themselves, or stand for them; and their difference in form, signify their quality, whether they be longer or shorter. your care must therefore be in this, and the chapters following, to consider well in the first place, the _gam-ut_, to learn the use of the cliffs: next to that, the names of the lines and spaces, whereby you may readily know how to call a note, as it stands on any of the lines; and thirdly, how you should sing those notes in right tune, as well by degrees, as leaps; and last of all, to give each note its due quantity of time. this in general, being observed, and seriously weighed; that you may take a prospect of your task, i from it proceed to the _gam-ut_, so far as i think necessary to my present design, which is to let you understand by it the use of the cliffs, with the order and distances of the notes, as the parts in a body lye together. [illustration: the gamut or scale of music] the consistence of this scale is of eleven lines, with the intermediate spaces, and contains the places of all the notes that are made use of ordinarily in vocal musick. in the first column you will find placed the old notes, being set down, that you may see what they are. and in the second column you are shewed which of the seven letters properly belongs to each line and space. the third column contains the cliffs, or signed keys, demonstrating how many degrees of notes they are one above another, which once circumspectly observed and known, the other degrees of distance are with more ease computed. and here five of these lines, with their spaces, are usually sufficient for the pricking down any tune, for which reason this scale is divided into three parts or staves, compassed in with arched lines; and of these the lowermost five are proper and belonging to the _bass_, and are known by this mark [symbol: bass clef] on the line of _f_. usually, therefore called the _f. fa-ut_ cliff or key; because it opens to us the letters standing on the other lines and spaces, as in the ensuing chapter will appear. as for the uppermost five lines, they contain the highest of the notes, and so belong to the treble or highest part. the key to which is marked in this manner, [symbol: g clef] and sometimes _g s._ on the lower line but one. the middle part or tenor, usually takes in two of the upper treble lines; also two of the bass lines, that in the middle only being proper to it self, known by this mark placed on it, [symbol: tenor clef mark] for the cliff or key, its place being properly in the middle line, however it is many times placed on one or other of the other lines; and note which ever the cliff stands on, that line is the place of _c._ and accordingly the other lines are to be reckoned: sometimes likewise we find the _bass cliff_ is removed to the middle line, and upon such removal, that line is _f, &c._ and tho' this manner of shifting the _cliff_ is troublesome, yet custom and practice having made the knowing of them necessary, you ought to be very well understanding in the manner of them, if you would be well skilled in vocal or instrumental musick. _the names of the lines and spaces._ having thus far plainly proceeded to introduce the beginner or learner, i now lead a step further to the names of the lines and spaces, which is a thing very materal in the beginning of learning. for in the _gam-ut_ having seen how the notes lye together in a body, it will be proper to know how you must take them into parts according to the several cliffs, which are three in number, three beginning usually, as most common with the uppermost. and in these your first care will be to learn the names of the lines and spaces, which are opened to you by the cliff or key; and these are in number seven, expressed in the seven letters, _a. b. c. d. e. f. g._ which for a more perfect sounds sake, and other reasons to be given, you must pronounce or call _la, b, ce, d, læ, fâ, g_. and this _fa_ must be pronounced broad, _&c_. these and the like names the notes receive for two reasons; the first is, because the voice is best sent forth in expressing some syllable; as likewise that this number of notes might be known by as many distinct names, as for their places in the cliffs: see the plate following. [illustration: music] and it will be very necessary, that you should begin with and keep to one _cliff_ at the first, as it pleases you to chuse, or as either of the three best agrees with your voice for a high or low pitch. having gone through all the rules, and being perfect in that, then it is fit you should proceed to the other. there is no need you should meddle or trouble your self with the _tenor_ or _c cliff_ because it keeps no certain place; you must observe however, before you go further, to be ready at naming the lines and spaces, so readily to tell, as soon as you look on them, what letter any line or space is called or named by. as for the rest, the _cliff_ leads you to them, for beginning there, and ascending, you will find the letters lying in order, and in descending; it is only your naming them backwards. the dash lines, which you perceive above and below, are added only when the notes ascend above the _staff_, or descend below it. _directions as to the distances of one note from another, as to sound._ in this case, the distances are not all equal, but that in the rising and falling of any eight notes, there are two lesser distances; and these are named _semitones_, or the _half notes_, which must be well observed and known, in remarquing their places in the _staff_ of lines; and the better to have them in your memory at all times take a rule from certain rhimes that point at their places, _viz._ _in every octave there are half notes two, which do to us their proper places shew; one half note you will find from_ b _to_ ce, _the other half one lyes twixt_ fa _and_ le. the _octave_ mentioned as an eighth, and this rule denotes the ordinary places where you are to sing the half notes, when there are no flats or sharps placed or set in the lines, _viz._ between _b_ and _ce_, and twixt _le_ and _fâ_; these flats and sharps you will find thus marked [symbol: for flat] [symbol: for sharp] and when the _semitones_, or _half notes_ are shifted, they are known by them when they are found upon the lines. [illustration: music] observe, that in these staves or lines, you find the notes gradually ascending, of which the pairs marked with arches are half a note distant. +-------+ g. | | +-------+ f. +-------+ e. | | +-------+ d. | | +-------+ c. +-------+ b. | | +-------+ a. | | +-------+ g. this marginal figure, shews to the eye the distance of the seven notes one from another, the letters guiding or directing to the particulars, whereas you perceive _b_, _ce_, and _lâ_, _fa_, lying near unto the rest, so must their sounds be nearer when you come to tune your voice in harmony, _&c._ and the better to express with your voice, and so observe the difference between half and whole distances of notes; sing often over these six mona-syllables, _viz._ _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, _five_, _six_, distinctly, as is to be observed in the tune of six bells; and when you have done it many times, sing only _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, and there stop, repeating three four by them selves for they are _semitones_ distant in sound, and the rest are alone, or a whole note distant each from the next; so that by a little judicial observation you will perceive the three and four bells to be a lesser distant in sound, than the other. the figures or number , , , , , , in the foregoing marginal figures, shew the several distances to the eye of the six notes where _le_ is the first, _d_ the second, _&c._ and the third and fourth, are _ce_, _b_, distant half a note or tune. _directions for the tuning of notes, &c._ the properest and most easy way for tuning your notes rightly, must be considered either in following the voice of one skilled in musick, or singing, or some such tuned instrument, as is accomodated with frets or keys, which are the readiest and only ways as yet made use of by practitioners. that of a matter being most common, but where none of these can be had by the party desirous to learn, i shall lay down the following directions, which will very much instruct one that hath a musical ear, especially such a one as has heard, and can sing the notes of the six bells, of which, i presume, there are few, whose genius leads them to the science of musick, are ignorant. let me put then, supposing that you can sing, _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, _five_, _six_, right; then shall i by the help of these notes, proceed to set you further in the right, and lead you to all the rest. consider well then, that beginning to sing the first note, let it stand on what line or space it will, you may sing it with what tune you think fit, either higher low, (as to the pitch of your voice) but with this caution, that you reckon how many notes you have above or below it, that your voice in its pitch may be so managed as to reach them both without squeaking or grumbling, or any harsh or rough indecency of sound. for applying which six notes, observe this first example; make your beginning with the first _bar_, and with a high voice sing the _six notes_ you view on the _staff_ divers times, calling them over by the number, _viz._ _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, _five_, _six_, as in the foregoing section; when that is done; sing the same notes by their names, _viz._ _la_, _g_, _fâ_, _le_, _d_, _ce_, in the tune of six bells. [illustration: music] . in the second and third _bars_, you must sing the two first notes of the six by themselves, forward and backward: repeat all six in the fourth _bar_, and in the fifth and sixth _bars_, let the two last notes be repeated, _viz._ _d_, _ce_, forward and backward, and these notes are a whole tone distant, and by often repeating these notes in the second, third fourth and fifth _bars_, you will be better capable to know and distinguish their distance from the letter. [illustration: music] in the seventh _bar_ repeat the last three often over after all the six. first, down, _le_, _d_, _ce_, _le_, _d_, _ce_, &c. and then proceed backwards, as _ce_, _d_, _le_, _ce_, _d_, _le_, &c. [illustration: music] observe in this eighth _bar_ after all six often to repeat the four first, as, _la_, _g_, _fa_, _le_, and when you sing them particularly, observe the two notes _fâ_, _le_, by reason their distance is a _semitone_; wherefore you must take notice in the ninth _bar_ to sing them by themselves so many times as you can conveniently fix them in your memory, as to their distance, for in this you will find it somewhat difficult to sing the half notes true in their proper places. [illustration: music] observe here in the tenth _bar_ to sing the four first notes in their order downwards and upwards, and in the eleventh _bar_ you must first sing the six notes in their proper order: after this repeat the four last notes, _viz._ _fâ_, _le_, _d_, _ce_, taking notice to leave out the two first notes, _viz._ _la_, _g_, continually observing to mark the _semitone_ between _fâ_, _le_, which two notes you must sing by themselves in the twelfth _bar_. [illustration: music] take notice now further, that in the thirteenth _bar_ you sing _fâ_, _le_, _d_, _ce_, down and up, as you find them pricked, and observe especially the three last, _viz._ _fâ_, _le_, _fa_, for this reason, _viz._ that it is a common close or ending of tunes. also observe, if in any place you doubt you sing right a repeated part of the six notes, premised as are noted in the eleventh and thirteenth _bars_: let all the six notes be sung over again in order, and so proceed distinctly to try at the parts themselves. the second example. [illustration: music] you having now gone over the former examples, must proceed by the same clue of six notes to descend three gradations or steps lower, _viz._ to _g._ which is to the second note of the first six, an _octave_ or eighth. first then, in the first _bar_ you must begin with a high pitch in your voice, and so having sung, as in the former examples, _la_, _g_, _fâ_, _le_, _d_, _ce_, leave out _la_, and only sing the five last: then repeat only three in the second bar, _viz._ the three last _la_, _d_, _ce_, calling them now not by those names, but by that of _one_, _two_, _three_, and though the names are altered, you must not alter the tune or tone. having thus proceeded, observe in the third bar to sing the six notes from _le_, to _g_, naming them as the bells _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, _five_, _six_; in such a manner, that the three first of these be in tune, the same with the three last of the former six; after, as i said, you have sung them as the bells, _viz._ _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, _five_, at least four or five times, then as often sing them again by their proper names, _viz._ _le_, _d_, _ce_, _b_, _la_, _g_. observe again, that in the fourth bar you sing the four first notes, _la_, _d_, _ce_, _b_, about four times over; after that repeat _ce_, _b_, by themselves taking good notice of their distance or differences, which is a _semitone_ like to _fâ_, _le_ above, _&c._ consider once more, as to this example, as to the fifth bar after all the six are sung by you, repeat the last four, _viz._ _ce_, _b_, _lâ_, _g_, do it often over, keeping them up in the same tone they had in all six, by which means _ce_ and _b_ will be distant half a note, whereupon sing them backward, _viz._ _g_, _lâ_, _b_, _ce_, and at the end repeat _d ce_, as you did _le fâ_ at the thirteenth bar before set down. [illustration: music] observe further now in these six bars, that when you have sung all six in order, sing the three first _le_, _d_, _ce_, and there stop; then proceed to sing those three over again in the same tune, nor calling them _le_, _d_, _ce_, but _three_, _four_, _five_; do it several times, and so proceed to the seventh bar, adding two notes above, and sing them on the five bells, _viz._ _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, _five_, three or four times; then call them by their names, _viz._ _g_, _fâ_, _le_, _d_, _ce_, then proceed to the eighth bar, and add to the other five _d_, _la_, _g_, to make up an _octave_, keeping in your mind the distances, as you sing them in the former examples; and by this means you have the whole _octave_ or eight notes from _g_ to _g_, which must be practised down and up, and when you are perfect in it, so as to sing your distances true with the _semi-tones_ in their right places, the following directions will lead you through the rest of the notes to sing any other _octave_, beginning at any other letter. [illustration: music] begin at _le_ again in the ninth bar, and begin the six notes, _viz._ _le_, _d_, _ce_, _b_, _la_, _g_, in proper order, that done, repeat the two last notes, _viz._ _la_, _g_, by themselves: so proceed to the tenth bar, and sing _la_, _g_, _fâ_, _le_, _d_, _ce_, so that _la_ and _g_, may be the same in tune as you found them in the former six; and if so be your voice will not reach _ce_, at the pitch you began the first bar, then sing as far as you can, or begin at _le_, at the ninth bar higher, singing these three last bars distinctly from the foregoing. [illustration: music] in the eleventh bar you must sing backward, your six last notes, _viz._ _ce_, _d_, _le_, _fâ_, _g_, _la_. rising from _ce_, to _la_, so going one step backward to _g_, rise to _ce_, as in the foregoing fifth bar, which is an _octave_ to the lower _ce_. and thus much may suffice for the beginner to practice on, which, if well understood, will bring him in to sing notes in any tune. _of cock-fighting._ herein let us first observe the choice of a _cock_ of the game, directed by these four characters following: that he be: . of a strong _shape_, proud and upright, and for this the _middle-sized_, neither too small or too large, is best, because most matchable, strong and nimble. his _head_ small like a _sparrow-hawks_; his _eye_ large and quick; _back_ strong crook't at the setting on, and coloured as the plume of his feathers; the _beam of his leg_ very strong, and colour'd as his plume; _spurs_ long, rough, and sharp, hooking inward. . of a good _colour_, and herein the gray, yellow, or red pyle, with a black breast, are to be preferred; the pyde rarely good, and the white and dun never. a scarlet head is a demonstration of courage, but a pale and wan of faintness. . of _courage true_, which you shall observe by his proud, stately, upright landing and walking, and his frequent crowing in his pen. . _of a sharp and ready heel_, which (in the opinion of the best _cock-masters_,) of high estimation; a _sharp-heel'd cock, tho' somewhat false, is better_ (as dispatching his business soonest) _than a true cock with a dull heel_. for _breeding_, the best season is from the moon's encrease in _february_, to her encrease in _march_. the _march_ bird is best. and now first get a _perfect cock, to a perfect hen_, as the best breeding, and see the _hen_ be of an excellent complexion (_i.e._) rightly plumed, as black, brown, speckt, grey, grissel, or yellowish; tufted on her crown, large bodied, well poked, and having weapons, are demonstrations of excellency and courage. observe further her comportment, if friendly to her chickens, and revengeful of injuries from other hens. when the _cock_ and _hen-chickens_, (going till now promiscuously one with another) begin to quarrel and peck each other, part them and separate their walks: and the best for a fighting cock, are private and undisturbed walks, as, _wind-mills_, _water-mills_, _grange-houses_, _park-lodges_, &c. and their _feeding-place_ on soft ground, or boards; and have for his meet, _white corn_, or _white-bread tosts_, steept in drink, or urine, is good, both to scower, and cool them. and do not debilitate and debauch his courage and strength, by having too many _hens_ to walk with; three _hens_ are enough for one _cock_. if before they be six months old, any of your _chickens crow_ clear and loud, and unseasonable, then to the pot or spit with them, they are cowards; the true _cock_ is long ere he gets his voice, and when he has gotten it, keeps good and judicious time in crowing. next observe your _roosting perch_, for this makes or marrs a _cock_; for forming of which, consult the best _cock-masters_ feeding pens, and the perches there, and accordingly proportion your own; take care that the ground underneath the perch be soft, for if it be rough and hard, in leaping down he will hurt his feet, and make them gouty and knotty. for the _dieting_, and _ordering_ of your _cock_ for battle, observe these rules. let your _cock_ be full two years old, then in the latter end of _august_, take up and pen him, (it being now _cocking-time_ till the end of _may_) and see that he be sound, hard feather'd, and full summed. the first four days after penning, feed him with the crumb of old _manchet_ cut into square bits, thrice a day, and with the coldest, and sweetest spring-water that can be had. and after you think by this time he is throughly purged of his _corn_, _worms_, _gravel_, and other course feeding, take him in the morning out of the pen, and let him _sparr_ with another _cock_ some time to heat and chafe their bodies, break fat and glut, and fit them for purgation; first having covered their spurs with hots of leather, to hinder their wounding and drawing blood of one another. after they have sufficiently _sparred_, that they pant again, take them up, and remove their hots, and prepare them for a sweating bout thus: take _butter_, and _rosemary_, finely chopt, and _white-sugar-candy_, mixt together; and give them the quantity of a _wallnut_; which will scower, strengthen, and prolong breath: then having (purposely) deep _straw baskets_, fill them half way with _straw_, put in your _cock_, and cover him with _straw_ to the top; lay the lid close, and let him stove till the evening. at five a clock take him out, and lick his head and eyes with your tongue, then pen him, and fill his trough with _manchet_ and hot _urine_. after this, take a gallon of _wheat_, and _oatmeal-flower_, and with _ale_, half a score _whites_ of _eggs_, and _butter_, work it into a stiff _past_; bake it into broad _cakes_, and when four days old, cut it into square bits. the second day after _sparring_, bring your _cock_ into a green-close, and shew him in your arms a _dung-hill-cock_, then run from him, and allure him thus to follow, suffering him now and then to strike the _dung-hill-cock_, and so chase him up and down for half an hour, till he pants again; and thus heated, carry him home, and scour him with half a pound of _fresh-butter_, beaten with the leaves of the _herb of grace_, _hysop_, and _rosemary_, to the consistence of a _salve_, and give him the quantity of a _wallnut_; then _stove_, and _feed_ him as above. and thus for the first fortnight, spar or chase him every other day. the second fortnight, twice a week will be enough to chase or spar your _cock_: observing that you stove and scour him, proportionable to his heating. the third and last fortnight (for six weeks is long enough) feed him as before, but do not spar him, but chase him moderately twice, or thrice, as before; then roll his aforesaid scouring in _brown-sugar-candy_, to prevent his being sick; rest him four days, and then to the pit. now gentlemen, match your cock carefully, or what you have hitherto done, is nothing. and here observe the length, and strength of cocks. the length is thus known: gripe the cock by the waste, and make him shoot out his legs, and in this posture compare, _and have your judgment about you_. the strength is known by this maxim, _the largest in the garth, is the strongest cock_. the dimension of the _garth_ is thus known: gripe the _cock_ about from the joynts of your thumb, to the points of your great finger, and you will find the disadvantage, _the weak long cock is the quickest easier riser, and the short strong one, the surest striker._ thus being well matcht, accoutre him for the pit. clip his _main_ off close to his neck, from his head to his shoulders. clip his tail close to his rump, the redder it appears the better. his wings sloping, with sharp points; scrape smooth, and sharpen his spurs; leave no feathers on his crown; then moisten his head with spittle. the battle done, search and suck your cocks wounds, and wash them well with hot _urine_, then give him a roll of your best scouring, and stove him for that night. if he be swelled, the next morning, suck and bathe his wounds again, and pounce them with the powder of the herb _robert_, through a fine bag; give him an handful of bread in warm _urine_, and stove him, till swelling be down. if he be hurt in his eye, chew a little ground _ivy_, and spit the juice in it; which is good for _films_, _haws_, _warts_, &c. or if he hath _veined_ himself in his fight, by narrow striking, or other cross blows, when you have found the hurt, bind the soft down of hair to it, will cure it. when you visit your wounded _cocks_, a month or two after you have put them to their walks, if you find about their heads any swollen bunches, hard and blackish at one end, then there are unsound cores undoubtedly in them; therefore open them, and with your thumb crush them out, suck out the corruption, and fill the holes with fresh butter; and that will infallibly cure them. _cures for distempers incident to the cock or chick of the game._ for _lice_, being most common, i begin with; proceeding from corrup meat, and want of bathing, _&c._ take _pepper_ beaten to powder, mix it with warm water, and wash them with it. for the _roup_; a filthy swelling on the rump, and very contagious to the whole body; the staring and turning back of the feathers is its symptom. pull away the feathers, open and thrust out the core, and wash the sore with water and salt, or brine. for the _pip_; visit the mouth, and examine what hinders your _cocks_, _hen_, or _chicks_ feeding, and you'll find a white thin scale on the tip of the tongue, which pull off with your nail, and rubbing the tongue with salt, will cure it. for the _flux_; proceeding from eating too moist meat, give them pease-bran scalded, will stop it. for the _stoppage of the belly_, that they cannot mute; anoint their vents, and give them either small bits of bread or corn, steep'd in _urine_ of man. and now i have one word of advice to him that is a lover (or would be so) of this _royal-sport_: and then have done: _come not to the pit without money in your breeches, and a judgment of matches_; done and done is _cock-pit_ law, and if you venture beyond your pocket, you must look well to it, or you may lose an eye by the battle. _of fowling._ the _ingenious fowler_, like a politick and sagacious warrier, must first furnish and store himself with those several stratagems and engines, as suit with the diversities of _occasion_, _i.e._ _time_, _place_, and _game_; or else he cannot expect the _conquest_. and first of _nets_, which must be made of the best pack-thread; and for taking great _fowl_, the meshes must be large, two inches at least from point to point, the larger the better; (provided the _fowl_ creep not through;) two fathom deep, and six in length, is the best and most manageable proportion; verged with strong cord on each side, and extended with long poles at each end made on purpose. but for small _water-fowl_, let your nets be of the smallest and strongest pack-thread, the meshes so big, as for the great _fowl_, about two or three foot deep: line these on both sides with false nets, every mesh a foot and half square. for the _day-net_, it must be made of fine pack-thread, the mesh an inch square, three fathom long, and one broad, and extended on poles according to its length, as aforesaid. _birdlime_ is the next, and thus made. pill the bark of _holly_ from the tree at _midsummer_, fill a vessel, and put to it running water; boil it over the fire till the grey and white bark rise from the green; take it off the fire, drain the water well away, and separate the barks; and take the green, lay it on some moist floor and close place, and cover it with weeds; let it lye a fortnight, and in that time it will rot, and turn to a filthy slimy substance: then put it into a morter, beat it well; take it out and wash it at some running stream, till the foulness is gone: then put it in a close earthen pot; let it stand four or five days, look to its purging, and scum it: when clean, put it into another earthen pot, and keep it close for use. your _setting-dog_ must be elected and train'd thus: he must be of exquisite scent, and love naturally to hunt feathers. the land spaniel is best, being of good nimble size, and couragious mettle, which you may know by his breed; being of a good ranger, _&c._ the first lesson is, to make him _crouch and lie down_ close to the ground; its done by frequent laying him on the ground and crying _lye close_; upon his doing well reward him with bread; and on the contrary chastise him with words, not blows. next, _to creep to you with his body and head close upon the ground_ by saying, _come nearer, come nearer_, or the like words; to understand and do it, entice him with shewing him bread, or the like: thrusting down any rising part of his body or head, and roughly threatning him; if he slight that, a good jerk or two with a slash of whip-cord will reclaim his obstinacy. repeat his lessons, and encourage his well doing. and this you may exercise in the fields as you walk, calling him from his busie ranging to his duty. and then teach him to follow you close at the heels in a line or string, without straining. by this time he is a year old, now (the season fit) into the field, and let him range, [obediently.] if he wantonly babble or causelesly open, correct him by biting soundly the roots of his ears, or lashing. assoon as you find he approaches the haunt of the _partridge_, known by his whining, and willing, but not daring, to open, speak and bid him, _take heed_: if notwithstanding this he rush in and spring the _partridge_, or opens, and so they escape, correct him severely. then cast him off to another haunt of a _covy_, and if he mends his error, and you take any by drawing your net over them swiftly, reward him with the heads, necks, and pinions. as for the water-dog, the instructions above for the _setter_ will serve; only to fetch and bring by losing a glove, or the like; keep a strict subjection in him, and observance to your commands. the longest _barrel is the best fowling piece_, five and half, or six foot long, with an indifferent bore, under an _harquebuse_; and shooting with the wind, and side-ways, or behind the fowl, not in their faces, is to be observed; having your dog in command not to stir till you have shot. _a stalking-horse_ for shelter, to avoid being seen by the shie fowl, is an old jade trained on purpose; but this being rare and troublesome, have recourse to art, to take canvas stuft and painted in the shape of a horse grazing, and so light that you-may carry him on one hand (not too big:) others do make them in the shape of _ox_, _cow_, for variety; and _stag_, _trees_, &c. the _great fowl_, or those who divide the foot, reside by shallow rivers sides, brooks and plashes of water; and in low and boggy places, and sedgie, marish, rotten grounds. they also delight in the dry parts of drowned fens, overgrown with long reeds, rushes and sedges; as likewise in half fens drowned moors, hollow vales or downs, heaths, _&c._ where obscurely they may lurk under the shelter of hedges, hills, bushes, _&c._ the lesser, or web footed, _fowl_, always haunt drowned fens, as likewise the main streams of rivers not subject to freeze, the deeper and broader, the better; (tho' of these the _wild-goose_ and _barnacle_, if they cannot sound the depth, and reach the ouze, change their residence for shallow places, and delight in green winter corn, especially if the lands ends have water about them:) small fowl also frequent hugely little brooks, ponds, drowned meadows, pastures, moors, plashes, meres, loughs, and lakes, stored with unfrequented islands, shrubs, _&c._ _how to take all manner of fowl or birds._ for taking the first (i mean the greater fowl) with nets, observe in general this: come two hours before their feeding hours, morning and evening; and spreading your net on the ground smooth and flat, stake the two lower ends firm, and let the upper ends be extended on the long cord; of which the further end must be fastned to the ground, three fathoms from the net, the stake in a direct line with the lower verge of the net; the other, ten or twelve fathom long, have in your hand at the aforsaid distance, and get some shelter of art or nature, to keep you from the curious and shy eye of the game; having your net so ready that the least pull may do your work, strew'd over with grass as it lies to hide it: a live _hern_, or some other fowl lately taken, according to what you seek for, will be very requisite for a stale. and you will have sport from the dawning, till the sun is about an hour high; but no longer; and from sun-set till twilight; these being their feeding times. for the small (water) fowl. observe the evening is best before sun-set. stake down your nets on each side the river half a foot within the water, the lower part so plumb'd as to sink no further; the upper slantwise shoaling against, but not touching by two foot, the water, and the strings which bear up this upper side fastned to small yielding sticks prickt in the bank, that as the fowl strike may ply to the nets to intangle them. and thus lay your nets (as many as you please) about twelve score one from another, as the river or brook will afford. and doubt not your success. to expedite it however, a gun fired three or four times in the fens and plashes, a good distance from your nets, will affright and post them to your snares; and so do at the rivers, when you lay in the fens. winter time is the most proper for taking all manner of small birds, as flocking then promiscuosly together, _larks_, _lennets_, _chaffinches_, _goldfinches_, _yellow-hammers_, &c. with this _bird-lime_, put to a quarter of a pound of _bird-lime_, an ounce of fresh _lard_, or _capons-grease_, and let it gently melt together over the fire, but not boyl; then take a quantity of _wheat-ears_, as you think your use shall require, and cut the straw about a foot long besides the ears, and from the ear lime the straw six inches; the warmer it is, the less discernible it will be. then to the field adjacent, carrying a bag of chaff, and thresh'd ears, scatter them twenty yards wide, and stick the lim'd ears (declining downwards) here, and there; then traverse the fields, disturb their haunts, and they will repair to your snare, and pecking at the ears, finding they stick to them, mount; and the lim'd straws, lapping under their wings, dead their flight, they cannot be disengaged, but fall and be taken they must. do not go near them, till they rise of their own accord, and let not five or six entangled lead you to spoil your game, and incur the loss of five or six dozen. _lime-twigs_, is another expedient for taking of great fowl, being rods that are long, small, strait, and pliable, the upper part apt to play to and fro; being besmeared with _bird-lime_ warm. thus to be used, observe the haunts of the fowl, have a stale, (a living fowl of the same kind you would take) and cross pricking your rods, one into, and another against the wind sloping, a foot distant one from the other; pin down your stale, some distance from them, tying some small string to him, to pull and make him flutter to allure the fowl down. if any be caught, do not run presently upon them, their fluttering will encrease your game. a well taught _spaniel_ is not amiss to retake those that are entangled, and yet flutter away. thus likewise for the water; consult the rivers depth, and let your rods be proportionable; what is lim'd of them being above the water, and a _mallard_, &c. as a stale placed here and there, as aforesaid. you need not wait on them, but three times a day visit them, and see your game; if you miss any rods (therefore know their number) some fowl entangled is got away with it, into some hole, _&c._ and here your _spaniel_ will be serviceable to find him. for _small-birds_, a _lime-bush_ is best; thus, cut down a great bough of a _birch_, or _willow-tree_, trim it clean, and lime it handsomely, within four fingers of the bottom: place this bush so ordered, in some quick-set, or dead _hedge_, in spring time: in harvest, or summer, in _groves_, _bushes_, _hedges_, _fruit-trees_, _flax_, and _hemp_-lands: in winter, about _houses_, _hovells_, _barns_, _stacks_, &c. a _bird-call_ is here also necessary, or your own industrious skill in the notes of several birds. and because gentlemen who have fish-ponds, wonder they lose so many fish, and are apt to censure sometimes undeservedly their neighbours, when it is the insatiable _hern_, that is the true cause: i shall next lay down the best and most approved way of taking the great fish-devouring _hern_, whose haunt having found, observe this method to take him. get three or four small _roaches_, or _dace_, take a strong hook, (not too rank) with wyre to it, and draw the wyre just within the skin, from the side of the gills, to the tail of the said fish, and he will live four or five days, (if dead the _hern_ will not touch it.) then have a strong line, of a dark green-silk, twisted with wyre, about three yards long, tie a round stone of a pound to it, and lay three or four such hooks, but not too deep in the water, out of the _herns_ wading; and two or three nights will answer your expectation. _the several wayes of taking_ pheasants. you must learn and understand the several notes of a natural _pheasant-call_, and how usefully to apply them. in the morning just before or at _sun-rising_, call them to feed, and so at _sun-setting_: in the fornoon, and afternoon, your note must be to cluck them together to brood, or to chide them for straggling, or to notify some danger at hand. thus skilled in their notes; and by the darkness, solitaryness, and strong undergrowth of the place assured of their haunts, closely lodge yourself, and softly at first call; lest being near you, a loud note affright them; and no reply made, raise your note gradually, to the highest; and if there be a _pheasant_ in hearing, he will answer you, in as loud a note. be sure it be tunable. as soon as you are answered, creep nearer to it; if far off, and a single fowl, as you call, and approach, so will the _pheasant_. having gotten sight of her, on the ground, or perch, cease calling, and with all silence possible, spread your net conveniently, between the _pheasant_, and you, one end of the net fastned to the ground, and the other end, hold by a long line in your hand, by which you may pull it together, if strained; then call again, and as you see the _pheasant_ come under your net, rise and shew your self, and affrighting her, she will mount, and so is taken. thus if on the contrary you have divers answers, from several _corners_, of the _coppice_, and you keep your place and not stir, they will come to your call; and then having a pair of nets, spread one on each side, and do as before. your nets, must be made of green or black double-twin'd thread, the mesh about an inch square, between knot, and knot, the whole net about three fathom long, and seven foot broad, verged with strong small cord on each side and ends, to lye hollow and compass-wise. the next way of taking _pheasant-powts_, is by driving, thus. having found the haunt of an _eye of pheasants_, known by the _barrenness_ of the place, _mutings_ and loose feathers, then in the little pads and wayes, like sheep tracks, they have made, place your nets (taking the wind with you) a-cross these paths hollow, loose and circularly, the nether part fixt to the ground, and the upper side hollow, _&c._ as aforesaid: then to their haunt, and there call them together, if feattered; then with a driver, an instrument like that of _cloath-dressers_, rake gently the bushes and boughs about you, the _powts_ will run, and stop and listen; then give another rake, and so you will drive them like sheep into your nets: observe in this _secrecy_, _time_ and _leisure_, or you spoil your sport; _secrecy_ in concealing your self from being seen by them; and _time_ and _leisure_, by not being too hasty. lastly for taking _pheasants_ with the _lime-bush_, or rods, order these, as i have before prescribed; your rods about twelve inches long, and your bush containing not above eight twigs, with a pretty long handle, sharpned to stick in the ground, or bushes, shrubs, _&c._ and let it be planted as near the _pheasants pearching branch_, as may be. place your rods on the ground, near the bush; for when some are taken below by they rods, they will scare up the others to get on the bushes to seek what's become of their fellows, and there become your prey themselves. _for taking partridge._ you must first find the _partridges_ haunt. which is mostly in standing corn-fields, where they breed; as likewise in stubble after the corn is cut, especially wheat-stubble till it is trodden, and then they repair to barley-stubble, if fresh; and the furrows amongst the clots, brambles and long grass, are sometimes their lurking places, for twenty and upward in a covy. in the winter in up-land meadows, in the dead grass or fog under hedges, among mole-hills; or under the roots of trees, &c. various and uncertain are their haunts. and tho' some by the eye, by distinguishing their colour from the ground, others by the ear, by hearing the cock call earnestly the hen, and the hens answering, and chattering with joy at meeting, do find _partridge_; yet the best, easiest and safest way of finding them is (as you do the _pheasant_) by the call or pipe: notes seasonable, as before prescribed, and they will come near to you, and you may count their numbers; and to your sport. surround your covy, prepare your nets, and pricking a stick fast in the ground, tye the one end to it, and let your nets fall as you walk briskly round without stopping, and cover the _partridge_; then rush in upon them to frighten them, and as they rise they are taken. for taking them with _bird-lime_, thus: call first near the _haunt_; if answered, stick about your _lime-straws_, a-cross in ranks at some distance from you; then call again, and as they approach you, they are intercepted by the straws; and so your prey. this way is used most successfully in stubble-fields, from _august_ to _september_: and rods in woods, pastures, _&c._ as for the _pheasant_. the most pleasant way of taking partridge is with a _setting-dog_, who having set them, use your net; and by these rules and method, the _rails_, _quales_, _moorpoots_, &c. are to be taken; and are for _hawks_ flight too. and here i must make an end of the most material part of _fowling_. _of fishing._ it has been the method of this whole treatise, to divide the several distinct heads of each recreation into three parts, to render the observations and rules the more plain and easy, for the prosecuting the recreation we treat of. . _what_ it is we pursue. . _where_ and _when_ to find that we would delight our selves in. . _with what_ proper _mediums_ or measures we may obtain the desired effects of our endeavours therein. first then, _what_ we pursue is fish, distinguish'd according to their sundry kinds by these following names. the _barbel_, _bream_, _bleak_, _bulhead_, or _millers-thumb_; _chevin_, _char_, _chub_, _carp_; _dace_; _dare_; _ele_; _flounder_; _grayling_, _gudgeon_, _guiniad_; _loach_; _minnow_; _pope_ or _pike_, _pearch_; _rud_, _roach_; _sticklebag_ or _bansticle_, _salmon_, _shad_, _suant_; _tench_, _torcoth_, _trout_, _thwait_, and _umber_. all these alphabetically thus named are the different sorts of fish, in taking which the angler commonly exercises his art. we come next, _where_ to find them. . to know the haunts and resorts of fish, in which they are to be usually found, is the most material thing the angler ought to be instructed in, lest he vainly prepare _how to take_ them, and preposterously seek _where to find_ that he prepar'd for. to prevent which you are first to understand, that as the season of the year is, so fish change their places: in _summer_, some keep near the top, others the bottom of the waters. in _winter_, all fish in general resort to deep waters. but more particularly, the _barbel_, _roach_, _dace_, and _ruff_, covet most _sandy, gravelly ground_, the deepest part of the river, and the shadows of _trees_. _bream_, _pike_, and _chub_ delight in a _clay_, and _owzie ground_: the _bream_ chooseth the middle of the river, in a gentle, not too rapid stream: the _pike_ preferreth still waters, full of _fry_, and absconding himself amongst _bull-rushes_, _water-docks_, or under _bushes_, that under these shelters he may more securely surprize and seize his prey: the _chub_ too chooses the same ground, large rivers and streams, and is rarely destitute of some tree to cover and shade him. _carp_, _tench_ and _eel_, frequent foul muddy still waters. the greatest _eels_ lurk under stones, or roots; the smallest ones are found in all sorts of rivers or soils: the _carp_ is for the deepest stillest part of pond or river, and so is the _tench_, and both delight in green weeds. _pearch_ delighteth in gentle streams of a reasonable depth, not too shallow; close by a hollow bank is their common sanctuary. _gudgeon_ covets sandy, gravelly, gentle streams, and smaller rivers; not so much abounding in brooks. he bites best in spring, till they spawn, and a little after till _wasp_ time. the _salmon_ delights in large swift rivers, which ebb and flow; and are there plentifully to be found: as likewise rocky and weedy rivers. but in the latter end of the year he is to be found high up in the country, in swift and violent cataracts, coming thither to spawn. the _trout_ loves small swift purling brooks or rivers, that run upon stones or gravel, and in the swiftest deepest part of them, getteth behind some stone-block and there feeds. he delights in a point of a river where the water comes whirling like the eddy, to catch what the stream brings down, especially if he has the shade of a tree: he hugely delights to lurk under some hollow bank or stone; seldom among weeds. _shad_, _thwait_, _plaice_, _peel_, _mullet_, _suant_, and _flownder_, covet chiefly to be in or near the salt or brackish waters, which ebb and flow: the last, _viz._ the _flownder_, have been taken in fresh rivers, as coveting sand and gravel, deep gentle streams, near banks, _&c._ lastly the _umber_ affects marly clay ground, clear and swift streams, far from the sea; the greatest plenty of these fish is found in _darbyshire_ and _staffordshire_. thus much for the haunts of fish; i come next to know _when_ is the most _seasonable time_ to catch them; which before i speak to, let him that would become a compleat angler, take this rule. that he observe narrowly what pond or river soever he fisheth in, whether it be slimy, muddy, stony or gravelly, whether of a swift or slow motion; as likewise that he know the nature of each fish, and what baits are most proper for every kind: not to let his knowledge be circumscribed to one or two particular rivers, whither he is invited to angle and take his observations by the vicinity of his house; but to let his knowledge be _general_, and consequently his sport will be so too. his ignorance otherwise will oblige him to be a spectator in another river, when his excellency is confined to that only experienced one in or near his own parish or house. but to proceed, ii. to understand the best _time when_ to angle in, we must first consider affirmatively, when most _seasonable_: or, . negatively, when _unseasonable_. . _seasonable_ angling is, when the weather is calm, serene and clear; tho' the cool cloudy weather in summer is to be preferred, provided the wind blow not too boistrously, to hinder your easy guiding your tools; in the hottest months the cooler the better. . when a violent shower hath disturbed the water and mudded it, then with a red worm, angle in the stream at the ground. . a little before fish spawn, when they repair to gravelly fords to rub and loosen their full bellies; they bite freely. . from sun-rising till eight of the clock in the morning, and from four in the afternoon till night for _carp_ and _tench_. in _june_ and _july_, _carps_ shew themselves on the very rim of the water, then fish with a lob-worm, as you would with a natural fly. but be sure to keep out of sight. . in _march_, _april_, and _september_, and all winter, when the air is clear, serene and warm. and after a shower of rain, which hath only beaten the _gnats_, and _flies_ into the river, without muddying. the two first mentioned months with _may_, and part of _june_, are most proper for the _fly_; nine in the morning, and three a clock in the afternoon, is the best time; as likewise, when the _gnats_ play much in a warm evening. . in a _cloudy_, and _windy_ day, after a moonshine clear night, for the brightness of the night (through fear) making them abstain from feeding, and the gloominess of the day emboldening and rendering them (through hunger) sharp, and eager upon food, they bite then freely. . lastly, at the opening of _milldams_ or _sluces_, you will find _trouts_, &c. come forth seeking food, brought down by the water. we come next to demonstrate the time not proper, _i.e._ . _unseasonable_ angling, in short is, when the earth is parched, and scorched with vehement heat, and drought; benummed and frozen with cold, frost, and snow; or refrigerated with spring hoar-frosts; or blasted with the sharp, bitter, nipping, north, or east winds: or when blustring _boreas_ disorders your well guiding your tackling; or the _sheep-shearers washings_ glutted the fish, and anticipated your bait; when the withdrawing of your sport, foretells a storm, and advises you to some shelter; or lastly, when the night proves dark, and cloudy, you need not trouble your self the next day, 'tis to no purpose, _&c._ iii. for providing _stocks_, the best time is the winter _solstice_, when the sap is in the roots of trees, and their leaves gone. it is improper after _january_, the sap then ascending into the trunk, and expending it self over all the branches. see that your stocks be _taper-grown_, and your tops of the best _ground-hazle_, that can be had, smooth, slender, and strait, of an ell long, pliant and bendings and yet of a strength, that a reasonable jerk cannot break it, but it will return to its first straightness; left otherwise you endanger your line. keep them two full years, before you use them; having preserved them from worm-eating, or rotting, by thrice a year rubbing, and chaffing them well with butter (if sweet) or linsed or sallet-oyl; and if bored, oyl poured into the holes, and bathed four and twenty hours in it, and then thrown out again, will exceedingly preserve them. the line, to make it neat, handsom and strong, twist the hair you make it of _even_, having seen if the hair be of an equal bigness; then steep your line in water, to see if the hairs shrink, if so, you must twist them over again. the colour of the hair is best of _sorrel_, _white_ and _grey_; _sorrel_ for muddy boggy rivers, and the two last for clear waters. nor is the _pale watery green_ contemptible, died thus: take a pint of strong _ale_, half a pound of _soot_, a little of the juice of _walnut-leaves_ and _allum_; boil these together in a pipkin half an hour, take it off, and when 'tis cold, put in your hair. in making your line of hair mix not silk; but either all hair, or all silk; as likewise distinguish the line for the ground angle, and that for the fly-rod, the last must be stronger than the first; in that for the artificial fly, making the uppermost link twenty hairs long, less in the next, and so less till you come to the fly. lastly at each end of your line make a loop (called a _bout_) the one larger, to fasten to, and take it from the top of your rod, and the other lesser to hang your hook-line on. your hook must be long in the shank, something round in compass, the point strait and even, and bending in the shank. set on your hook with strong small silk, laying your hair on the inside of the hook. your _flote_ challenges divers ways of making. some using _muscovy_ duck quills for still waters. others the best sound cork without flaws or holes, bored through with a hot iron, and a quill of a fit proportion put into it; then pared into a pyramidal form, or in the fashion of a small pear, to what bigness you please, and ground smooth with grindstone or pumice; this is best for strong streams. in fine, _to plum the ground_, get a _carbine_ bullet bored through, and in a strong twist hanged on your _hook_ or rod. to sharpen your _hook_, carry a little _whetstone_. to carry your several utensils without incommoding your tackle, have several _partitions_ of parchment. and in short the ingenious angler will not be unprovided of his _bob_ and _palmer_; his boxes of all sizes for his _hooks_, _corks_, _silk_, _thread_, _flies_, _lead_, &c. his _linning_ and _woollen bait-bags_; his splinted _osier light pannier_; and lastly his _landen hook_, with a screw at the end to screw it into the socket of a pole, and stricken into the fish, to draw it to land: to which socket, a hook to cut up the weeds, and another to pull out wood, may be fastned. _baits_ are branched into three kinds. first, the _life-baits_, which are all kind of _worms_, _redworm_, _maggot_, _dors_, _frogs_, _bobb_, _brown-flies_, _grasshoppers_, _hornets_, _wasps_, _bees_, _snails_, small _roaches_, _bleak_, _gudgeon_, or _loaches_. secondly, _artificial living baits_, of _flies_ of all sorts and shapes, made about your hooks with silk and feathers, at all times seasonable, especially in blustering weather. lastly, _dead baits_, pasts of all makings, wasps dryed or undryed, clotted _sheeps-blood_, _cheese_, _bramble-berries_, _corn_, _seed_, _cherries_, &c. the two first good in _may_, _june_ and _july_, the two next, in _april_; and the last in the fall of the leaf. _of flies._ of _natural_ flies there are innumerable, and therefore it cannot be expected i can particularize all; but some of their names i shall nominate, _viz._ the _dun-fly_, _red-fly_, _may-fly_; _tawny-fly_, _moor-fly_, _shell-fly_, _flag-fly_, _vine-fly_, _cloudy_ or _blackish-fly_, _canker-flies_, _bear-flies_, _caterpillars_, and thousands more, differing according to the soils, rivers or plants. _artificial flies_, are made by the ingenious angler, according to art, in shape, colour and proportion like the natural fly, of _fur_, _wool_, _silk_, _feathers_, &c. to delineate which i must confess my self not so accurate and skilful a painter, nor can any pen-drawing, illustrate their various colours so, as to direct their artificial counterfeit; nature will help him in this by observation, curiously flourishing their several orient and bright colours, after which they take their names, as before said: and therefore to furnish your self with both natural and artificial flies, repair in the morning to the river, and with a rod beat the bushes that hang over the water, and take your choice. . observe to angle with the artificial fly in rivers disturbed somewhat by rain, or in a cloudy day, the wind blowing gently: if the wind be not so high, but you may well guide your tackle, in plain deeps is to be found the best fish, and best sport: if small wind breeze, in swift streams is best angling: be sure to keep your fly in perpetual slow motion; and observe that the weather suit the colour of your fly, as the light colour'd in a clear day, the darkish in a dark, _&c._ as likewise according to the waters complexions, have your fly suitable. . let your line be twice as long as your rod: keep as far as you can from the waterside, the sun on your back; in casting your fly, let that fall first; your line not touching the water. . have a nimble eye, and active quick hand to strike presently upon the rising of the fish, lest finding his mistake he spew out the hook. . in slow rivers cast your fly cross them, let it sink a little, draw it back gently, without breaking or circling the water; let the fly float with the current, and you will not fail of excellent sport. . observe to let the wings of your _salmon-flies_ to be one behind another, whether two or four, and they and the tail long, and of the finest gaudiest colours you can choose. _lastly_, in clear rivers a small fly with slender wings is best, and in muddied rivers a fly of a more than ordinary large body. thus much for flies, i come next to that i called _dead-baits_, and shall begin with the several ways of making pastes. _of pastes._ . beat in a mortar the leg of a young _coney_ (vulgarly called the _almond_) or of a whelp or catling, and a quantity of virgins wax and sheeps suet, till they are incorporated, and temper them with clarified _honey_ into paste. . _sheeps-blood_, _cheese_, fine _manchet_ and clarified _honey_ tempered as before. . _sheeps-kidney-suit_, _cheese_, fine _flower_, with clarified _honey_ tempered. . _cherries_, _sheeps-blood_, _saffron_ and fine _manchet_ made into a paste. . beat into a paste; the fattest old _cheese_, the strongest _rennet_ can be got, fine _wheat-flower_ and _annis-seed_ water: if for a _chub_ you make the paste, put a little rasty _bacon_, lastly, _mutton-kidney-suit_, and _turmerick_ reduced to a fine powder, the fattest old _cheese_ and strongest _rennet_, wrought to a paste, adding _turmerick_ till the paste be of a curious yellow; and is excellent for _chevin_. anoint your bait with this confection: take the oyl of _aspray_, _coculus india_, and _assa-foetida_ beaten, and mix with it as much life-honey; then dissolve them in the oyl of _polypody_, and keep it in a close glass for your use. and that your paste may not wash off your hook, beat cotten-wool or flax into it. _of keeping baits._ the _red-worm_, must be kept in a bag of red cloth, with a handful of chopt _fennel_, mixt with half so much fresh, black and fertile mould will scoure and preserve them: all other worms, with the leaves of trees they are bred on, renewing them often in a day. only the _cad-bait_, _bob_ and _canker_, &c. must be kept in the same things you find them. the great _white maggots_, keep them in sheeps tallow, or little bits of a beasts liver; and to scour them, hang them warm in a bag of blanketing with sand. the _frogs and grasshoppers_, in wet moss and long grass, frequently moistned; and when used, the legs of the first, and the wings of the other must be cut close off. the _flies_, use them as you take them. only, the _wasps_, _hornets_ and _humble-bee_, must be dryed in an oven, their heads dipt in sheeps blood, and dryed again, may be kept in a box for use. and now thus equipt let us walk to the rivers side. to begin then with the _barbel_. the best time for angling for this fish is at the latter end of _may_, _june_, _july_, and beginning of _august_, in his haunts aforementioned; and the best bait (omitting others) is the well scoured _lob-worm _(being of a curious cleanly palate as well as shape) or cheese steept an hour or two in clarified honey. he is a subtile fish, extraordinary strong, and dogged to be dealt with, and therefore be sure to have your rod and line strong and long, or you may endanger to break it. for the _breame_. the most seasonable time to angle is from st. _james_ tide till _bartholomew_ tide. he spawneth in _june_ or beginning of _july_; is easily taken, as falling on his side after one or two gentle turns, and so drawn easily to land. the best bait for him (most delightful to him) is the _red-worm_ (found in commons and chalky grounds after rain) at the root of a great dock, wrapt up in a round clue. he loves also paste, flag-worms, wasps, green-flies, butter-flies and a grass-hopper, without legs. bait your ground the night before with gross-ground malt, boiled and strained, and then in the morning with the red-worm, bait your hook, and plumbing your ground within half an inch, fish. the _bleak_, an eager fish, is caught with all sorts of worms bred on trees or herbs, also with _flies_, _cad-bait_, _bobs_, _paste_, _sheeps-blood_, _white snails_, _wasps_, _gnats_, &c. in a warm clear day the small fly at the rim of the water is best; in a cloudy day, _gentles_ or _cad_-baits two foot in the water. the _bull-head_ or _millers-thumb_, being childrens recreation, i shall speak little of them, only being serviceable for baits, i shall only say he is easily taken with a small worm, being lazy and simple, and will swallow any thing; and the _minnow_, _loach_, and _bansticle_ being of the same diet, i place here too. the _chevin_, loveth all sorts of worms, _flies_, _cheese_, _grain_, and _black worms_, their bellies being slit, that the white may be seen: and very much delighteth in the pith of an oxes back, the tough outward skin being carefully taken off, without breaking the inward tender skin. in the morning early angle for _chevins_, with a _snail_; in the heat of the day, with some other bait; in the afternoon with the fly; the great _moth_, with a great head, yellow body, and whitish wings, usually found in gardens, about the evening: the larger the _chevin_, the sooner taken; loving his bait larger, and variety on a hook. the _char_ is a _lancashire_ fish, found in a _mere_, called _winander-mere_ in that country, the largest in _england_. for the _chub_, called by some a _chevin_, by others a _villain_. bait your hook with a grass-hopper, find the hole where he lies, accompanied in a hot-day, with twenty or more, floating almost on the very superficies of the water; choose which you think best, and fairest, and drop your hook some two foot before him, and he will bite at it greedily, and cannot break hold with his _leather mouth_; let him play and tire, lest you break your line. if you cannot get a _grass-hopper_, then any worm, or fly you will. in cold weather, fish for him near the bottom, and the _humble-bee_ is the best bait. some appropriate baits according to the month, but i shall omit that; the _chub_ (being best and in his prime in the winter) a paste made of cheese, and turpentine, is the only bait to take him. the _carp_ is subtle, and full of policy, will never bite in cold weather, but in hot you cannot be too early, or too late. in _march_, he seldom refuseth the _red-worm_, in _june_ the _cad_ bait and the three next months the _grass-hopper_: pastes that are sweet, of which i have spoken before, are very delightful to _carps_: and especially, if you bait your ground two or three dayes before you angle, with pellets of course paste, _chickens-guts_, _garbage_, &c. _gentles_ anointed, and a piece of _scarlet_ dipt in _honey_, put them on the hook, is an approved way. the _dace_, _dare_, _rudd_, and _roach_, being much of a kind, and feeding, i shall put together, and are easily taken with small worms, _bobs_, _cad-baits_, _flies_, _sheeps-blood_, all sorts of worms bred on trees or herbs, _paste_, _wasps_, _gnats_, _lipberries_, &c. the heads of the _wasps_, being dipt in blood, is good for _dace_, and _dare_; as is likewise the _ant fly_. the _eel_, takes great _red-worms_, _beef_, _wasps_, _guts_ of _fowl_, or _fish_, _menows_, or small _roaches_ are good bait for night hooks; the hooks being in the mouth of the _fish_. now because this is very delightful to most, i shall prescribe three ways of taking them, as are most full of pleasure. the first way is called; _sniggling_, or _broggling_ for _eels_, thus: take a strong line and hook baited with a _lob_, or _garden-worm_, and observing where _eels_ lurk in the day time, with a stick forked at the top, gently put your bait into the hole, and if there be any _eels_ there, you will not fail of a bite, of as large as can be had, but pull not too hard lest you spoyl all. the second is called _bobbing_, which is thus done: take some large well scoured _lobs_, and with a needle, run some strong twisted silk through them, from end to end, so many as are enough to wrap about a board near a dozen times; tye them fast with the two ends of the silk to hang in so many hanks; then fasten all to a strong cord, and a handful above the worms fasten a plumbet of three quarters of a pound, and your cord to a strong pole, and in muddy waters, you may fish, and find the _eels_ tug lustily, and when you think they have swallowed them, draw up your line, and ashore with them. lastly the _eel-spear_ made with four teeth, jagged on both sides, stricken into the mud, on the bottom of a river, and if you chance to strike where they lye, you infallibly take. there is likewise an assured way of taking _eels_, thus done: take some bottles of hay, mixt with green _osiers_ of _willows_, bait them with sheeps-guts, or other beasts garbage, sink them down in the middle, to the bottom of your pond or by the bank sides, having fastned a cord to the bottles, that you may twitch them up at your pleasure, and all the best _eels_ will resort to them. the _flounder_, _shad_, _thwait_, _suant_, and _mullet_, are taken with _red-worms_ of all sorts, _wasps_, and _gentles_. for the _grayling_, you must head your hook upon the shank, with a slender and narrow plate of lead, that the bait (a large grass-hopper) may the more easily come over it; and at the point put a _cad-bait_, and keep the bait in continual motion; not forgetting to pull off the grass-hoppers wings. the _gudgeon_, takes the smallest red-worm, _wasps_, _gentles_, and _cadbaits_. when you fish for him, stir up the sand or gravel with a pole, which will make them gather thither, and bite more eagerly. the _guiniad_, i shall remit speaking to, only mentioning it in course, being no where found, but in a place called _pemble-mere_, in which place they abound, as the river _dee_ does with _salmon_. the _pope_, or _ruff_, is excellent for a young angler, bites greedily, and quantities may be taken, by baiting the ground with fat earth, and your hook with small red-worms. the _pike_, loveth all sorts of baits (unless the fly) _gudgeon_, _dace_, _roaches_ and _loaches_; and young _frogs_ in summer time, of which the yellowest is best. the _pearch_, taketh all sorts of earth-worms, especially the _lob-worm_, and _brandling_, well scowred, _bobs_, _oak-worms_, _dors_, _gentles_, _cole-wort-worms_, _wasps_, _cad-baits_, and _menow_, or a little _frog_, the hook being fastned through the skin of his leg, towards the upper part of it. be sure you give the _pearch_ time enough to pouch his bait, before you strike. the _salmon_, is taken best with _lob-worms_, scented with the oyl of ivy berries, or the oyl of _polypody_, of the _oak_ mixt with _turpentine_: or the well scowred garden-worm, is an excellent bait: the _salmon_, bites best in _may_, _june_, and _july_, at three a clock in the afternoon, if the water be clear, a little wind stirring, especially near the sea. the _tench_, is a great lover of large red worms first dipt in tar. as also all sorts of paste, made up with strong scented oyls, or tar, or a paste made up of brown bread, and honey. he will bite too at a _cad-worm_, _lob-worm_, _flag-worm_, green _gentle_, _cadbait_, _marsh-worm_, or soft boil'd _bread-grain_, &c. the _torcoth_, being before mentioned, i only let you know, that he is only found, in the pool _linperis_ in _carnarvon-shire_; and leave you to the _welchmens_ description, both of him and his bait. the _trout_, is fattest, and in his prime in _may_, and is caught with all sorts of worms, especially _brandlings_, commonly found in an old _dung-hill_, _cow-dung_, _hogs-dung_, or _tanners-bark_: also with flies, natural and artificial, with young _frogs_, _menow_, _marsh_, _dock_, or _flag-worms_; all sorts of _cadbait_, _dors_, _bobs_, _palmers_, _gentles_, _wasps_, _hornets_, &c. and with the _caterpillar_, used according to the rule before prescribed for the _grayling_. _lastly_ the _umber_, is taken as the _trout_, just now mentioned; and therefore now to your sport: to assist your well effecting which, i have but this to add; cast into your haunts where you use to fish, once in four or five days, soft boiled corn (or oftner for carp, and tench) also garbage, beasts livers, chopt worms, grains steept in blood, to attract them to the place; and to keep them together, throw in half a handful of grains or ground malt: but in a stream, cast it above your hook, that floating towards you you may draw the fish thither. _sundry curious baits for fish._ these grow on the cuccow pints, or wak-robin, and are found in dry ditches, overgrown with brambles; they are about the bigness of pease, and in _july_ and _august_, are of a lovely transparent red, and are excellent baits for roaches, and chubs; and for the first, two will serve, but for the latter, you may put four or five at a time on the hook. _oat-cakes with cheese._ beat these together into a paste, the cheese being new, and stick them together, with a little honey, letting the paste lye all night in a wet linnen cloath, then fit it up in baits, and cover your hook with it. _to keep baits for the pike, or night-hooks._ for this, take a small roach, dace, loach, minnow, smelt, small trout, or pearch, cutting off the finns on the back, or small eels well scoured in wheat-bran, which will keep them better and longer, taking a way the slime and watery substance, that causes them to rot or decay the sooner. _fishes eyes._ take out the eyes of such fish as you catch, and put three or four of them on a hook, and they will prove an excellent bait for most sorts of fish. _fat bacon._ cut this in little small long snips, and especially at snap, it is exceeding good to take a chub or pike, from the latter end of _august_ to the beginning of _april_. _the pith of the back-bone of a sheep._ take out the pith that runs through the back-bone, and take off the tough outward skin, and leave the thin tender white skin on, and bait with about half an inch of it, and it takes a chevin to admiration. _grain, wheat, malt._ bruise either of these finely, fry them in honey, make them up into pasts with oyl of peter; and either in winter or summer they take chub, roach, dace or bleak. _how to bring fish, if any in the pond or river, to the place you desire._ boyl clean barly in water till it bursts, with licorice, and a little mummy; add some honey and beat them together in a mortar into a stiff paste, and boyl about the quantity of a wall-nut of this paste with a quart of barly till it grows glutenous, and then lay it for a ground bait, and the fish will flock about it from all parts. _to make worms for baits come out of the ground._ boyl an ounce of verdigrise in a quart of strong vinegar, and sprinkle a little in places where you suspect worms are, and they will crawl out of the ground. _another approved bait._ take the fat of a heron, mummy, and galbanum; of each two drams, scent them with a grain of musk, and make them up with two ounces of _aqua-vitæ_, stir them over a gentle fire in an earthen vessel till they become thick, and with this rub the hook, and end of the line, and the scent of it will draw the fish to it; you must also have at the same time a proper bait on your hook for such fish as are in the place you angle. _the artificial cod or cad bait._ make the body of yellow bees-wax, and head of black dubin and black silk, or you may make the body of yellow washed leather, shamey or buff, and the head all of black silk, and this is an incomparable bait for trout, salmon or smelts, and those that are natural are most excellent baits for trout, grayling, salmons, tench, roach, chub, dace, carp, tench, ruff, bream and bleak; but then you must fish with it in clear water only. _rules and considerations about baits in general._ fish in general take all such baits freely, as nature at that season affords in or near the places where you angle, for being used to them they are not afraid of any deceit, but take them as their common food. and for flies in this case, in a morning or evening, when you go to angle beat the bushes about the rivers or ponds, and such flies as you rouse there, fish with, either natural, or imitate them by art; as also see what worms or other insects fit for baits stick on the leaves, grass, or are in the water; and in this observation you cannot miss of good sport; and when you have struck gently the backway, draw a little, and be not too hasty to take up before the fish has had her play and spent her strength lest she break your tackle. if your fish be large, you must use your landing net. _to take fish in the night with a light._ this is an admirable way to supply you with a sudden dish, _viz._ take a glass in the form of a urinal very deep, put as much clay in the bottom of it as will sink the mouth of it within an inch of the water, floating on pieces of cork, tied about the neck to keep it steadily upright, then place a candle in it, by sticking it in the clay-socket, anointing the out side of the glass with oyl of asper. this light will shine a great way in a still water, so that the fish being amazed at so unusual a sight, will come out of their holes about it, and be detained with the scent of the oyl so long, that with a hoop-net you may take great store of them. _flies proper for every month._ _for february_, little red brow palmer flies, the plain hackle, the silver hackle, the gold hackle, the great dun, the great blew dun, the dark brown. _for march_, the little whirling dun, the early bright brown, the whitish dun, the thorn-tree fly, the blue dun, the little black gnat, the little bright brown. _for april_, the small bright brown, the little dark brown, the great whirling dun, the violet fly, the yellow dun, the horse-flesh-fly. _for may_, the dun-cout, the green-drake, the stone-fly, the black may fly, the little yellow may fly, the gray-drake, the camlet fly, the turkey fly, the yellow palmer, the black-flat fly, the light-brown, the little dun, the white gnat, the peacock fly, the cow-lady, the cowturd-fly. _for june_, from the first to the th the green drake and stone fly, the owl fly, the barn fly, the purple hackle, the purple gold hackle, the flesh fly, the little flesh fly, the peacock fly, the ant fly, the brown gnat, the little black gnat, the green-grasshopper, the dun grasshopper, the brown hackle. _for july_, the badger fly, the orange fly, the little white dun, the wasp fly, the black hackle, the shell fly, the black brown dun. _for august_. the late ant fly, the fern fly, the white hackle, the harry-long-legs. _for september_. the cammel brown fly, the late badger fly. _for october_. the same flies that were used in _march_. _the best time to angle in._ . if in the hot months, cloudy weather is best, when a small gale stirs the water. . when the floods have carryed away the fish that sudden showers incumbered the water withall, and the river and pond retains its usual bounds, looking of a whitish colour. . when a violent shower has troubled or muddied the river, or a little before the fish spawn, at what time they come into the sandy ground to loosen their bellies. . after rains, when the rivers keep their bounds, yet rise and run swiftly, for then they seek shelter in creeks and little rivulets running into the river. . fish for carp and tench early, that is, before sun rise, till eight in the morning, and from four in the afternoon till after sun set. in _march_, the beginning of _april_, and the latter end of _september_ and all winter, when there are no great frosts, the fish bite in the warm of the day, the wind being still; but in summer months, morning and evening is best. . fish rise best at the fly, after the shower has muddied or clouded the waters, and fish with flies in generally _march_, _april_, _may_, and the beginning of _june_, is the best for trout; you may angle in a clear star light night, for they are then roaving about for prey; he bites best in muddy water, and the best time of fishing for him is from to in the morning, and from three till five in the afternoon. . the salmon fishery is best in _may_, _june_, _july_, and _august_, from three in the afternoon till sun set, and in the morning as before. . the barble bites best early in the morning, till ten or eleven in _may_, _june_, _july_, and the beginning of _august_. . the pearch and ruff bites best all day in cool cloudy weather. . the carp and tench bite early and late in the still parts of the river; _june_, _july_, and _august_; as likewise do the chevin, whose chief bait is white snails, and small lamperies. . the breem bites from sun rise till nine or ten in the morning in muddy water, especially the wind blowing hard, for the most part; keeping in the middle of the pond or river in _may_, _june_, _july_, and _august_. . angle for the pike in clear water, when it is stirred by a gentle gale in _july_, _august_, _september_, and _october_, and then he bites best about three in the afternoon; but all the day in winter, and in _april_, _may_, and the beginning of _june_, early in the morning and late at evening. . the roach and dace bite all the day long at the top of the water at flies natural, and artificial, also at grass-hoppers, and all sorts of worms, if the water be shady. . the gudgeon bites best in _april_, till she has spawned in _may_, or if the weather be cold till wasp time, and at the end of the year all day long, near to a gentle stream. observe when you angle for her, to stir and rake the ground, and the bait will be taken the better. . the flounder in _april_ bites all day, _may_, _june_, and _july_, especially in swift streams, yet he will bite, tho' not so freely in a still deep. _of fish-ponds_. grounds most fit and proper to be cast into a pond, are those which are marshy, or boggy, or full of springs, unfit for grazing, or to be put to any profitable use besides. of these the last, full of springs, will yield the best water; that which is marshy will feed fish; and what is boggy is best for a defence against thieves. first draw by small trenches all the springs into one place, and so drain the rest of the ground; then mark out the head of your pond, and make it the highest part of the ground in the eye, tho' it be the lowest in a level: cut the trench of your floodgate so, that when the water is let out, it may have a swift fall: on each side of which trench drive in stakes of oak, ash or elm six foot long, and six inches square; place these in rows near four foot distance, as broad and wide from the _floodgate_ as you intend the head of your pond shall go: dig it in as big and large a compass as the ground will permit; throw your earth amongst the said stakes, and ram it down hard till you have covered the stakes: drive in as many new ones next the first stakes, and ram more earth above them, with stakes above stakes till the head-sides be of a convenient height: taking care, that the inside of your banks be smooth, even, hard and strong, that the current of the water, may not wear off the earth. having thus digged eight foot deep, that so it may carry six foot water, pave the bottom and banks of the pond with sods of _flot-grass_, laying them close together, pin them down with stakes and windings: this grass is a great feeder of fish, and grows naturally under water. stake to the bottom of one side of the pond bavens and brush-wood-faggots, into which the fish may cast their spawn. lay sods upon sods, to nourish and breed eels. the pond being made, let in water, and thus store it: put carp, bream and tench by themselves: pike, pearch, eel, and tench (the fishes physician) by themselves; for food of the greater fishes, put store of roach, dace, loach and menow; and lastly to one melter, put three spawners, and in three years the increase will be great, and in five years with difficulty be destroyed. in years _sue your pond_; which you must continue to do, for the roach will increase in such abundance, that eating up the sweet food, will make other fish, as carps, &c. be very lean: therefore every year view your pond, and observe if any such fry appears, thin them. _to make_ carps _grow large_, &c. about _april_, when your pond is low rake the sides where the water is fallen with an iron rake, sow _hay-seeds_ there, rake it well; and at the end of summer you shall have store of grass: in _winter_ the water will over-top the grass, and being water enough for them, the carps will resort to the sides, and feed briskly, and grow fat: thus do every summer, till you sue your pond, and no river carp can surpass them. _finis._ generously made available by the library of congress) from the ball-room to hell by t. a. faulkner ex-dancing master formerly proprietor of the los angeles dancing academy and ex-president of dancing masters' association of the pacific coast. the henry publishing co. washington st., room . chicago. copyright by r. f. henry. preface. you will, my dear reader, find many very plain things between the two covers of this little book; things which will, perhaps, shock your modesty and probably disgust you altogether. but if you find merely the reading of the facts disgusting, think how much more disgusting is the reality, and how essential that _some_ one should portray the evil to the public in a manner impressive and not to be misunderstood. i have numerous reasons for undertaking this work, chief among them, however, being because i have for many months, felt it to be a duty to my god, and to my fellow-man. nay, i may put it in a yet more concise form; and simply say, because of a sense of duty to my god, for i believe the two to be inseparable. as the green calyx of the rosebud holds within its embrace everything required to make up the perfect rose in all its beauty of form, texture, tint and perfume, so my duty to my god embraces my whole duty to my fellow-man in all its beauty of kindness, love, and any help or warning i may be able to give, and if that duty shall lead me to speak out boldly and plainly a warning against the evil of a popular amusement, i will boldly and plainly speak, and leave the result with him whose i am and whom i serve. many will, doubtless, object to the book on account of the plainness of the language used; but, my friends, i have endeavored to tell the truth, and to do this on such a subject, does not admit of the use of delicate language. a mild hint at such a fact, clothed in flowery language, would only serve to give a vague impression, and would fall far short of the mission i wish this little book to accomplish, viz.: the opening of the eyes of the people, particularly parents, who are blind to the awful dangers there are for young girls in the dancing academy and ball-room, and of leading some, if possible, to forsake (as i have done) the old unsatisfactory life of selfish pleasure and sinful indulgence and enter upon the purer, nobler and far happier life, which i have found in the service of the lord. i do not undertake to write upon a subject of which i am ignorant. there are, perhaps, few people living who have had more practical experience or better opportunities of finding out the evil influences of dancing than myself. i began to dance at the age of twelve and have spent most of my life since that time, until within a few months, in the dancing parlors and academies. for the last six years i have been a teacher of dancing and for several years held the championship of the pacific coast in fancy and round dancing. i am also the author of many of the round dances which are the popular fads of the day. i merely tell you these things to prove to you that i know whereof i speak, and not because i am proud of them. on the contrary, it is the greatest sorrow of my life that i have been so long and in such an influential way connected with an evil which i know to have been the ruin, both of soul and body, to many a bright young life. and if, in the hands of god, i can be the means of leading one-fiftieth as many souls to christ as i have seen led to a life of vice and crime through the influence of dancing academies with which i have been connected, i shall be more proud than i have ever been of any previous achievements. and if this little book shall, in any degree, help in the accomplishment of this purpose, i shall feel that i am more than repaid for my trouble in its writing, and shall willingly and gladly endure all the harsh criticism and condemnation i know its writing will bring upon me. t. a. faulkner. from the ball-room to hell. chapter i. first and last step. since my conversion from a dancing master and a servant of the "evil one" to an earnest christian and a servant of the lord jesus christ, the question has been repeatedly asked me: "is there any harm in dancing?" and letters innumerable have been coming in with questions to the same effect. the more i mingle with people outside the dancing circle the more forcibly i am made to realize how many there are who are seeking to know the truth concerning the evil of dancing, and how many thousands more who, if they are not seeking that knowledge, certainly ought to have it. +---------------------------------+ | ~have you read the preface?~ | +---------------------------------+ let me assure you in the first place that i am well aware that there are many church members and professing christians who dance; but, if on the strength of this you deem it a safe amusement, come with me for a few evenings, and when you have seen all that i can show you, let your judgment tell you, whether you can, with safety, place your pure, beautiful daughter in the dancing academy or ball-room. let us first take an instance from the "select" dancing academy, and thus begin at the root of the matter. here is a beautiful young girl. let me take her for an example. she is the daughter of wealthy parents; they have been called to mourn the loss of two of their children; and this is their only remaining treasure, their darling, their idol almost, whom they love more than their own lives. they wish to bestow upon her every accomplishment which modern society demands, so when it is announced that prof. ---- will open his select dancing academy they hasten to place her under his instruction. at first she seems shocked at the manner in which he embraces her to teach her the latest waltz. it is her first experience in the arms of a strange man, with his limbs pressed to hers, and in her natural modesty she shrinks from so familiar a touch. it brings a bright flush of indignation to her cheek as she thinks what an unladylike and indecent position to assume with a man who, but a few hours before, was an utter stranger, but she says to herself: "this is the position every one must take who waltzes in the most approved style--church members and all--so of course it is no harm for me." she thus takes the first step in casting aside that delicate god-given instinct which should be the guide of every pure woman in such matters. she is very bright and learns rapidly, but a few weeks have passed before she is able to waltz well, and is surrounded by the handsomest and most gallant men in the room, who flatter her until her head is quite turned. she has entirely overcome her delicacy about being embraced in public for half an hour by strange men. in fact she rather likes it now. she wonders all day, before dancing school, if that handsome man who dances so "elegantly" and says such nice things to her, will ask her to dance with him to-night, and finds herself dreaming of how delightful it would be to feel his arm about her. the evening at last comes; the uninteresting square dances are gone through with, and the music of the waltz begins. her partner is the apollo of her day dreams. he presses her close to his breast, and they glide over the floor together as if the two were but one. when she raises her eyes, timidly at first, to that handsome but deceitful face, now so close to her own, the look that is in his eyes as they meet hers, seems to burn into her very soul. a strange, sweet thrill shakes her very being and leaves her weak and powerless and obliged to depend for support upon the arm which is pressing her to himself in such a suggestive manner, but the sensation is a pleasant one and grows to be the very essence of her life. if a partner fails, through ignorance or innocence, to arouse in her these feelings, she does not enjoy the dance, mentally styles him a "bore," and wastes no more waltzes on him. she grows more bold, and from being able to return shy glances at first, is soon able to meet more daring ones until, with heart beating against heart, hand clasped in hand, and eyes looking burning words which lips dare not speak, the waltz becomes one long, sweet and purely sensual pleasure. the more profitable things upon which she has been accustomed to spend her time and thought, lose all attraction for her, and during the time which intervenes between dancing school evenings, she feeds her romantic passion on novels, unfit for any person to read, and which would have been without special interest to her before she entered the dancing school. she spends much thought upon those things which tend to develop her lower nature, for "as a man thinketh, so is he." she has never before had a thought she would not willingly express to her mother. but now she thinks of and discusses with her girl friends of the dancing school, subjects which she would shrink from mentioning to her mother. o, foolish girl, if she had but remembered that her best friend was her mother, and that thoughts she could not express to her were thoughts in which she should never indulge, what untold sorrow and shame she might have been spared. she graduates from the academy and is caught into the whirl of society, and her life becomes what is called one round of pleasure--one round certainly of parlor dances, social hops and grand balls with champaign dinners and early goings home (early in the morning, _of course_). this evening there is to be a ball of unusual grandeur. the last of the season of gaiety, and the closing of the dancing-school term. our friend will surely be present. let us attend. what a scene of beauty, gayety and splendor. it must have been of just such scenes the poet wrote: "there was a sound of revelry by night, and belgium's capital had gathered then-- her beauty and chivalry"-- but see, there is our friend of the dancing academy just entering on the arm of her devoted father. three months have passed since we first met her. she is much changed, yet one can scarcely see in what the change consists. the face is the same, yet not the same. there is just the shadow of coarseness in it, a little less of frank innocence and true refinement, and a trace, not exactly of ill-health, but a want of freshness. this last is, however, well concealed by the use of cosmetics, and she is still a very beautiful girl, and the fond father's heart swells with pride as he sees the handsomest and most fashionable gentlemen of the ball-room press eagerly forward to ask her hand for the different dances of the evening. her father remains for a few of the square dances, but soon retires, knowing that his fair daughter will not want for attention from--gentlemen whose attentions he is sure must be desirable, certainly desirable, why not? are these admirers not rich and handsome, and do they not move in the highest society. ah, foolish father, how little he knows of the ways of ball-room society. but let us turn our attention again to the dancers, at two o'clock next morning. this is the favorite waltz, and the last and most furious of the night, as well as the most disgusting. let us notice, as an example, our fair friend once more. she is now in the vile embrace of the apollo of the evening. her head rests upon his shoulder, her face is upturned to his, her bare arm is almost around his neck, her partly nude swelling breast heaves tumultuously against his, face to face they whirl on, his limbs interwoven with hers, his strong right arm around her yielding form, he presses her to him until every curve in the contour of her body thrills with the amorous contact. her eyes look into his, but she sees nothing; the soft music fills the room, but she hears it not; he bends her body to and fro, but she knows it not; his hot breath, tainted with strong drink, is on her hair and cheek, his lips almost touch her forehead, yet she does not shrink; his eyes, gleaming with a fierce, intolerable lust, gloat over her, yet she does not quail. she is filled with the rapture of sin in its intensity; her spirit is inflamed with passion and lust is gratified in thought. with a last low wail the music ceases, and the dance for the night is ended, but not the evil work of the night. the girl whose blood is hot from the exertion and whose every carnal sense is aroused and aflame by the repetition of such scenes as we have witnessed, is led to the ever-waiting carriage, where she sinks exhausted on the cushioned seat. oh, if i could picture to you the fiendish look that comes into his eyes as he sees his helpless victim before him. now is his golden opportunity. he must not miss it, and he does not, and that beautiful girl who entered the dancing school as pure and innocent as an angel three months ago returns to her home that night robbed of that most precious jewel of womanhood--virtue! when she awakes the next morning to a realizing sense of her position her first impulse is to self-destruction, but she deludes herself with the thought that her "dancing" companion will right the wrong by marriage, but that is the farthest from his thoughts, and he casts her off--"_he_ wishes a pure woman for _his_ wife." she has no longer any claim to purity; her self-respect is lost; she sinks lower and lower; society shuns her, and she is to-day a brothel inmate, the toy and plaything of the libertine and drunkard. how can i picture to you the awful anguish of that mother's heart, the sadness of that father's face, or the dreadful gloom which settles over that once happy home. neither their love nor their gold can repair the damage done. their sighs and tears cannot restore that virtue. it is lost, gone forever. ah, better, yes, infinitely better, would it have been if instead of placing their only darling in the dancing school, they had laid her in the grave by her little sister's side while her soul was pure and spotless. but how is it with her ball-room apollo? does society shun him? does he pine away and die? oh, no; he continues in the dancing school, constantly seeking new victims among the pure and innocent. like flowers, the choicest ones are plucked first, and most admired, their beauty soon fades and they are cast aside for new ones. parents, do not discredit my statement. there is no mistake; i know whereof i speak when i say that just such villains as i have described are to be found in, and leaders of, the select dancing school, in the ball room and at the parlor dance, figuring in what is called the best society, as the most refined and highly polished society gentlemen of the day. nor is the ball-room scene an imaginary one. i have seen it, just as described, hundreds, yes, thousands of times, and have known of many and many a case with the same sad ending. do not delude yourself, my dear reader, with the thought that such scenes occur only at low public dances. some of the lowest and most disgusting deeds of which i have had any knowledge, have occurred at and in connection with, the most fashionable parlor dances. the following infamous deeds were done on one of the principal avenues and at the home of one of the most aristocratic families of this city. the occasion was a fashionable dance of which i was manager. there was present the _creme de la creme_ of the city's society. among them two beautiful young women who were actors in the play i am about to put before you. the play is in five acts. the first scene is of exquisite loveliness. it is a large drawing room, elegant in all its appointments. its coloring as seen by gas light is soft, rich, and beautifully blended or prettily contrasted. its pictures are rare bits of art from the brush of the most popular artists of ancient and modern times, and all its ornamentation is forcibly suggestive of culture and refinement. all these things we feel rather than see, for our attention is riveted upon the gay company assembled. we hear the hum of many voices and see before us scenes of fair women and handsome men, diamonds flash, silks rustle, and no garden of flowers ever displayed a greater variety of rich and dainty color intermingled, or flashed more brightly its gems of morning dew. but hark! from behind that bower of blossoms and evergreens in yonder recess come strains of music which set the little white slipper to tapping out the time as its wearer waits impatiently for the waltz to begin, and now the room presents a scene of whirling, whirling figures. notice particularly this couple near us and that one in yonder corner, for i know them well. the ladies are beautiful and respectable. to be sure, one not accustomed to such scenes would consider them anything but respectably dressed, with their nude arms, neck and partially exposed breast, and tightly clinging skirts which more than suggest the contour of body and limb. but society and fashion demand such dress; vile men demand it; for them the waltz would be spoiled of half its pleasure if the woman was not as nearly nude as she dare be. the male companions of the two girls are handsome and fashionable, but of their character not so much can be said, except in condemnation. they are certainly pleasing, and are in every way endeavoring to be so to their young lady companions, and appear to have succeeded very well in their efforts, for, as they whirl over the floor, they gaze into the eyes gloating over them and gleaming with a fury of lust. they allow words to be whispered to them which they would not listen to at any other time; listening now, they come closer still, and in response to a pressure of her hand, his arm tightens its clasp of her waist, and she, losing all restraint, yields herself to the evil passion of the moment. thus the fury of lustful thought becomes mutual and is mutually enjoyed. the second scene is in a summer house. only four characters are required for this act. they are the four we have particularly noticed in the ball-room scene. this, too, would be a pretty scene, if the pleasure of it were not spoiled for us by the evil we see in it and know may result from it. the summer house, covered with vines and flowers, is in a beautiful garden filled with shrubs and trees. the night is calm and cloudless, and the silvery moon looks sadly down upon the scene through the branches of the trees. the girls have been invited to retire thither for rest and refreshment. the men have previously arranged with a servant for the refreshments, with plenty of old wine provided for their use, and now they urge the ladies to partake, saying they will feel refreshed and be sustained by it for the remainder of the evening. after much coaxing and pleading they are induced to take a glass. this accomplished, the men feel that their object is as good as achieved. the wine soon has a visible effect upon the unaccustomed brain, and the girls are easily induced to drink more. the third and fourth acts are only repetitions of the first and second, and the last and fifth takes place behind the scene. the curtain must fall between us and the going home scene in two hacks to which the half intoxicated girls have been conveyed by brutes in human form. we only know that these girls are now unable to resist, if they were to try, the deed of shame their male companions are bent upon doing, in that closed carriage, whose driver has been ordered to go slowly, and we know what has taken place, as in after days we see these girls no more in respectable society, although their accomplices still appear as most elegant and highly respectable gentlemen, alias ball-room apollos. this tragedy, my friends, was acted out in real life, and is only a sample of hundreds and hundreds of cases of which i have had personal knowledge. "but," some mothers say, "i know that i can trust my daughter. the waltz may be the means of leading astray some shallow, low-minded girls, and may arouse the lower nature of some of those whose lower nature lies very near the surface, but such girls would go astray anyway. my daughter is a pure, high-minded girl, and i am sure she is trustworthy." i am glad she is. keep her so, my friend, _keep her so_. do not risk making her otherwise by placing her under the greatest temptation that can possibly come to a girl. if you place her in the dancing academy or ball-room she cannot and will not remain what you say she now is, and she has but a comparatively small chance of escaping ruin--comparatively only a small chance, i say. it is a startling fact, but a fact nevertheless, that _two-thirds of the girls who are ruined fall through the influence of dancing_. mark my words, i know this to be true. let me give you two reasons why it is so. in the first place i do not believe that any woman can or does waltz without being improperly aroused, to a greater or less degree. she may not, at first, understand her feelings, or recognize as harmful or sinful those emotions which must come to every woman who has a particle of warmth in her nature, when in such close connection with the opposite sex; but she is, though unconsciously, none the less surely sowing seed which will one day ripen, if not into open sin and shame, into a nature more or less depraved and health more or less impaired. and any woman with a nature so cold as not to be aroused by the perfect execution of the waltz, is entirely unfit to make any man happy as his wife, and if she be willing to indulge in such pleasures with every ball-room libertine, she is not the woman any man wants for a wife. it is a noticeable fact that a man who knows the ways of a ball-room rarely seeks a wife there. when he wishes to marry he chooses for a wife a woman who has not been fondled and embraced by every dancing man in town. it is also noticeable that after marriage few men care to dance, or to have their wives dance. the second reason why so many dancing girls are ruined is obvious, when one considers how many fiends there are hanging about the dancing schools and ball-rooms, for this purpose alone, some of them for their own gratification, and others for the living there is to be made from it. i am personally acquainted with men who are professional seducers, and who are to-day making a living in just this way. they are fine looking, good conversationalists and elegant dancers. they buy their admittance to the select (?) dancing school by paying an extra fee, and know just what snares to lay and what arts to practice upon the innocent girls they meet there to induce them to yield to their diabolical solicitations, and after having satisfied their own desires and ruined the girls they entice them to the brothel where they receive a certain sum of money from the landlady, rated according to their beauty and form. can you wonder when the degrading, lust-creating influence of the waltz itself is united with the efforts of such vile demons of men as i have, described, that two-thirds of the dancing-school girls are ruined. it is a greater wonder that any of them escape. the question is often asked: if what you say be true, why do not more of the dancing girls become mothers? i will tell you why. it is because they dance away all fear of maternity. it is the knowledge that the dancing floor _exercise_ will relieve if they get into trouble that makes many a woman bold enough to take risks. dancing and drinking invariably go together. one rarely finds a dance hall without a bar in it, or a saloon within a few steps of it, and sooner or later those who dance will indulge in drink, which is the devil's best agent in the carrying on of the vile business transacted in, and in connection with, the dance hall. chapter ii. from the ball-room to the grave. let me tell you a true story which will illustrate this point. it was a saturday night in the month of december, in the year ' . the girls who toil daily in the stores and shops on spring street were hastening to their homes after the long week of toil. as they pass along we notice among them the tall, graceful figure of a young woman who seems to be the favorite of the group of girls about her. she is a handsome blonde of nineteen years, with a face as sweet and loving as that of an angel. she was born in a country town in new england, of respectable parents. her mother died while she was yet but a little girl, leaving her to the care of a devoted father, who, with loving interest, reared and educated her. after the completion of her education she entered a printing office, to serve an apprenticeship, but the close confinement, following, as it did, in close proximity to the confinement of the school room, soon undermined her health and a change of climate was prescribed. the father felt he could not part from her even for a few months, but as it seemed for her good, he reluctantly consented to her going to los angeles, the "city of the angels," for a year. it was a sad day for both when that father and his only daughter parted. little could he know of the fate that was in store for his pure and loving child in the far west. little did he think when she kissed him an affectionate farewell, and told him she would return in just one year, that he would never see her smiling face again. nor did she dream that she was journeying to her doom; that far beyond the mountains she should be laid to rest 'neath the sod of mother earth. but to return to the scene on spring street. as the little group pass up the street her very beautiful face does not escape the notice of the crowd of idlers gathered on the corners gazing impudently at the passers by. among these idlers is one of the city's most popular society gentlemen and ball-room devotees, and we hear him mutter to himself as he stares impudently at her pretty face: "ah, my beauty, i shall locate _your_ dwelling place later on. you are too fine a bird to be lost sight of." he follows her to her lodging, and day by day studies her habits. he discovers that she goes nowhere except to her daily toil and to church. he visits the church, and finding no opportunity to approach her there, is about to give up the chase when he finds out that the denomination does not condemn dancing. "ah, now," he says, "i have you." he goes to one of the most fashionable dancing schools, where he is well known, and explains his difficulties to the dancing master, who is ever ready to take part in just such dirty work, for it is from the pay for such work that he derives much of the profit of his school. he sends her a highly colored, gilt-edged card containing a pressing invitation to attend his _select_ school. she does not respond, so he finally sends his wife to press the invitation. the girl, not dreaming of the net that is being woven about her, promises that if her pastor does not disapprove she will attend. her pastor _does not disapprove_. he tells her that he sees no harm in dancing. why does he not see harm in dancing? has he never been where he _could_ see? she takes it for granted that he _knows_, and acting on his advice attends the school. she is met at the door by the dancing master, who is very polite and so kindly attentive. the society man who is plotting her ruin is the first person presented to her. he is a graceful dancer and makes the evening pass pleasantly for her, by his kind attentions and praise of her grace in dancing, and when the school is dismissed he escorts her home, which courtesy she accepts, because the dancing master vouches for him, and she thinks that is sufficient. he continues his attentions, and finally invites her to attend, with him, a grand full dress ball to be given at one of the principal hotels. she has never attended a grand ball in her life, and looks forward to this with the greatest pleasure. the evening at last arrives. her escort calls for her in an elegant carriage. she looks more beautiful than ever in her pretty, modest evening dress, and he says to himself, "ah, my greek goddess, i shall have the 'belle of the ball' for my victim to-night." as they enter the ball-room she is quite charmed and dazzled by its splendor and the gaiety of the scene, which is so novel to her. during the first of the evening her companion finds her more reserved than is to his taste, but he says to himself, only wait, my fair one, until supper time, and the wine will do the work desired. twelve o'clock at last comes, and with it the summons to the supper room. here the well-spread table, the brilliant lights, the flowers, the music and the gay conversation are all sources of the greatest pleasure to the unaccustomed girl, but there is one thing which does not please her. it is the fact that wine is flowing freely and that all are partaking of it. she feels that she can never consent to drink. it is something she has never done in her life. yet she dares not refuse, for all the others are drinking, and she knows that to refuse would bring upon herself the ridicule of all the party. she hears her companion order a bottle of wine opened. he pours and offers it, saying, "just a social glass, it will refresh you." she looks at him as if to protest, but he returns the gaze and hands her the fatal glass, and she has not the moral courage to say no. as they raise their glasses he murmurs softly, "here's hoping we may be perfectly happy in each other's love, and that the cup of bliss now raised to our lips may never spill." one glass and then another and the brain unaccustomed to wine is whirling and giddy. the vile wretch sees that his game is won. he whispers in her ear many soft and foolish lies, tells her that he loves her, and that if she can return that love, he is hers, and hers alone, so long as life shall last. she sits tipped back in one chair, with her feet in another, laughs loudly at every poor little joke, and responds, in a silly affectionate manner, to all his words of love, and when he makes proposals to which she would have scorned to listen at any other time, she not only listens but gives consent to all, and does not leave the house that night. when she awakens next morning, it is in a strange room. her head whirls, she gazes abstractedly about her and tries to shake off what seems to her to be a horrid dream, but she is brought suddenly to realize that it is no sleeping fancy, but a steam reality, as a low voice by her side says, "did you rest easy, my dear?" "my god!" she fairly shrieks, as the awful truth bursts upon her, "is it possible, or am i dreaming?" and she passes her hand wildly across her face. "do not excite yourself, my dear; you are not well. you will feel better presently." "better!" she cries, bursting into tears. "better!! what is life to me now that you have robbed me of my virtue? oh! that i should have sunken into such depths of sin, and that you, vile man, whom i trusted, should have led me to it." she tries to rise, but finds herself too weak and dizzy, and falls back heavily upon her pillow. "lie still, my love, and when you are able i will let you go. but do not blame me for what has occurred, it was by your own consent. you know i am going to marry you, and all will be well." "no," she sobs, "all will not be well; nothing will ever be well with me again," and she returns to the room which she has left a few hours before as a bright and happy girl, now broken hearted and on the verge of despair, with a blot upon her young life which nothing on earth can efface. to be sure, he who has brought all this upon her has promised to right the wrong by marriage, but poor consolation it seems to her to have to marry a man whom she feels to be worse than a murderer; even this poor consolation is denied her, however, for the wretch, when he gave the promise, had no thought of fulfilling it. such trifles as this _he_ thinks nothing of. it is the way of most high society men, and when he comes to her again it is not to marry her, but to seek to drag her lower down. she repels him and he is seen by her no more. he has no further use for her. days grow to months, and now added sorrow fills her cup of grief to overflowing. she is to become a mother, and the poor girl cries out in bitter anguish: "my god, what shall i do, must i commit murder. oh, that i had never entered a ball-room." all her old companions shun her, every one shuns her, even he who led her to her ruin shuns her. she goes to him, hoping he will have compassion upon her, but he meets her with a sneer, calls her a fool, and tells her to commit a yet greater crime than the first, which in her despair she does and "seals the band of death." she soon became very ill and sank rapidly, and then came a time when she felt that life was short, and that if she wished to leave a message on earth it must be delivered quickly. having heard of my conversion and that i intended exposing the evils which germinate in the ball-room she sent a messenger requesting me to call immediately. on entering the house i was led to a couch in a cosy room where lay the beautiful young woman whose pale face showed all to plainly, an amount of sorrow and suffering unwarranted by her years. the countenance of the sufferer brightened as i entered, and she extended her hand saying: "i am so glad you came to see me, so glad to know that you are to expose the evil which buds in the dance hall. do not delay your work. i have prayed god to spare my life that i might go and warn young girls against that which has made such a sad wreck of my once pure and happy life, for, when i entered dancing school, i was as innocent as a child and free from sin and sorrow, but under its influence and in its association i lost my purity, my innocence, my _all_, but i know that god has forgiven the sin which is sending me to my early grave, where i shall soon be forgotten by all earthly friends. "do not grieve for me. i am leaving this dark world for a bright and happy one where sin and sorrow are unknown. mother is waiting for me there and i am not afraid to go." we spoke of a hope that she might yet recover, but she only closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "no," she said, with considerable effort, "i shall never leave this room alive, never see the green hills of home, never see my father's face, but tell him not to mourn for me, i shall be happy in the arms of jesus." "is there nothing i can do for you?" i asked. "yes," said she faintly, looking earnestly into my face, "yes, there is one thing; that which i had hoped i might live to do myself. promise me that you will do that and i shall die content. promise me that you will go before the world and speak out a warning against the awful dangers of the dance hall, and try to save young girls from the sin, disgrace and destruction dancing has brought upon me." i made a solemn promise before god that her request should be complied with. the dying girl showed unmistakable signs of pleasure at having my faithful promise. she pressed my hand and said in a voice scarcely audible, "you have seen ball-rooms as they are, my friend, and there is a great and good work before you. may god bless you in it. i seal your promise with death," and before i could speak she was dead and her soul had winged its flight to a heaven of love and peace, where weary hearts shall find perfect love and perfect justice--where not man, but god, judges his children. i know the man who was the perpetrator of the crime which was the cause of this sad death. he, to-day, instead of being hung for murder, as he so richly deserved, is a leader in society. his name often appears in the social columns of the daily papers of los angeles, as the leader of some fashionable dancing party or kirmess. he has been the winner of several prizes in dancing, in fact, is an elegant dancer and is wealthy. these facts gain for him admission to whatsoever society he chooses to enter. think, ye parents who have daughters who dance, of their being night after night in the embrace of such men as he, as they most certainly are if they dance much. such men as he flock to places of dancing for that very purpose. some may say that places of dancing are not the only places where such men are to be found. true, but at no other place would they be allowed to take such liberties with your daughters that they may there. this they well know and consequently there are more of them to be found in places of dancing than elsewhere, and it is not the whirling that they go for and enjoy. how long would dancing be kept up if they were to whirl alone, or if men were to dance with men and women with women? ah, no; it is not the whirling, but the liberties the waltz affords, which forms its chief attraction. you, perhaps, think your daughter is in the most select society, and only in such, and will accept only the most respectable gentlemen as partners. but, how are you to know this? how can you be sure that this very man of whom i have been speaking, or another of the same type, is not among those considered the most respectable in the select parlor dances? you may be perfectly certain that _he_ will never publish his own misdeeds, and the girl cannot expose him without making public her own disgrace, so his base deeds go undiscovered and he may still be found at dancing parties or on the street corners engaged in the occupation in which we first met him, viz.: seeking whom he might destroy. what decent woman, if she knew his real character, would wish to throw herself into the arms of such a man. if she were a true women she would almost rather die than have such a man even touch her, to say nothing of being in his close embrace for the space of a waltz. or, what lady would allow any man, in any other public place, except the ball-room, to take the liberties with her that he takes there? would a lady with a spark of self-respect, at any other place, lay her head upon his shoulder, place her breast against his, and allow him to encircle her waist with his arm, place his foot between hers and clasp her hands in his? this is the position assumed in waltzing, and i tell you, my friends, that such a position tends, in a greater or less degree, to develop the lower nature of sexes. it cannot be otherwise. it is in perfect accordance with nature. i have heard girls express utter innocence of having any improper emotion aroused by the waltz, but i do not believe this to be strictly true of any girl. if it is, i am sorry for that girl, for she has a sad lack in her nature. "male and female, god created them" and placed within them emotions intended to be shared only by man and wife, and if others indulge in those emotions, and continually arouse them by assuming the waltz position, which is only fit for man and wife, they commit a sin against god and nature. against god because he has said "thou shalt not commit adultery," and "i say unto you that whosoever looketh on a woman, to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." and against nature, because a girl thus constantly aroused, soon breaks her health. one may work six days in the week and arise fresh every morning, but let him attend a dance for only a few hours each evening and see what will occur. health and vigor vanish like the dew before the sun. it is not the exercise which harms the dancer in mind and body, but the coming in such close contact with the opposite sex. did you ever know a lady who danced to excess to live to be over twenty-five years of age? if she does she is, in most instances, broken in health physically and morally. doctors claim it to be a most harmful exercise physically for both sexes. the average age of the excessive male dancer is thirty-one. beside the harmful exercise there is great danger from the exposure, a girl is so often subjected to in a ball room. she gets in a perspiration during the dance, and as soon as it is over rushes to an open door or window with arms and chest exposed. is there any wonder that so many women of to-day are unhealthy? chapter iii. parlor dancing. some contend that there is no harm in parlor dancing. how many parents are able to restrict their children to parlor dancing only? not one in ten thousand. dancing is too fascinating, and they who were at first content with parlor dancing soon want something else, and will, for the sake of dancing, go to almost any place. if private dancing is allowed, and all else strictly forbidden, the child will often deceive his parents and dance at times and in places that they know not of. i have known young people to be at sunday night dances, and in low company, when their parents (who only allow parlor dancing) thought they were at church. they made a practice of going to the church and remaining long enough to get the text of the pastor's discourse, and then going away to spend the time in dancing, and if questioned, they were able to give the text of the evening's sermon, and the trusting parents would not dream of their having been any where but at church. i only wish that certain parents, who think they are restricting their children to "parlor dancing at home only," could have been with me the night of may th, , and seen, as i did, their girls, some of them but twelve or fourteen years of age, dancing in a public saloon, where so much beer had been spilt on the floor that the women had to hold their dresses up to keep them from getting soiled and wet as they danced. this is usually the result of teaching the child to dance and then restricting them to home dancing. if they once become fascinated with it they must and will, by some means, fair or foul, have more of it than their homes afford. there are professing christians who condemn the sale of liquor, advocate the closing of saloons, and frown on sunday picnics and other amusements, who allow their own children to attend so-called select dancing parties. in these places are taught the rudiments of an education which may make them graduates of the saloon or the brothel. i do not say that it _always_ does, but i do say that it _often_ does. the safe side is the best side. keep them from taking the first step to ruin, and they can never take the last. where did the majority of the drunkards take their first drink? where did the gambler play his first card? where did three-fourths of the women, who are to-day living a life of shame, have a man's arm about them for the first time? let me answer. the first drink of the drunkard was just a social glass. the first game of the gambler was just a social game. and three-fourths of the outcasts had a man's arm about them for the first time when they were young girls at a social dance. there are in san francisco , abandoned women. prof. la floris says: "i can safely say that three-fourths of these women were led to their downfall through the influence of dancing." the lot of a negress in the equatorial forest is not, perhaps, a very happy one, but it is not much worse than that of many a pretty orphan girl in our christian land. we talk of the brutalities of the dark, dark ages, and profess to shudder as we read in books of the shameful practices of those times, and yet, here beneath our very eyes, in our ball-rooms and theatres and in many other places, the same hideous abuse, which must be nameless here, flourishes unchecked: a young penniless girl, if she be pretty, is often haunted from pillar to post by her employer, and if he fails to get her to submit to his diabolical solicitations outside of the ball room, he will manage to get her to attend a dancing school, where he has the _right_ to encircle her with his arms and press her to himself until she is inflamed with passion. she hears in the ball room no warning voice, finds no helping hand to guide her in the path of virtue. the only helping hands there are those of which byron wrote, "hands which may freely range in public sight were ne'er before--" and which helps her rapidly down the road to ruin. when the poor girl is once induced to sacrifice her virtue she is treated as a slave and outcast by the very man who brought her ruin upon her. her self-respect is gone. her life becomes valueless to her, and she is swept downward, ever downward, into the bottomless pit of prostitution, and becomes an outcast from her fellow-beings. but she is far nearer the loving, pitying heart of christ than all the men who forced her down. and who shall say that jesus loves her less than he does those who profess to be his followers and the soldiers of his cross, and yet stand silently and idly by while all this fearful wrong goes on. the matron of a home for fallen women in los angeles, says: "seven-tenths of the girls received here have fallen through dancing and its influence." of course, some of these, either from inherited passion or evil education, have deliberately and of free choice entered upon a life of shame; but the great majority do so under the stress of temptation; sometimes because of poverty or chafing against uncongenial employment, with meager wages. they are told that in the profession of prostitution, they can, if they are lucky, make more in a single night than they could by sewing a week. can you wonder that many a girl, aroused by the waltz and then lured by such glittering bait, is led to sell herself, soul and body, to those who make use of her and then cast her aside for another? and yet ball-rooms, where this corruption germinates, flourish and are countenanced by many preachers of the gospel, and attended and encouraged by church members whose pastors have not the moral courage to condemn the evil, for fear of offending some of their members who dance. the ministers, in a great measure, set the standard of morality in our land, and when they will rise to the occasion and make a long strike, a strong strike, a strike altogether against this ball-room curse, christian people will strike with them. then, and not until then, will this evil be wiped out. it is at the cause and not the effect that the strike must be made. in some cities the advisability of closing all the houses of prostitution by laws has been discussed. one might as well try to stop the mississippi river from flowing by damming it at its mouth, as to try to stop this great stream of vice by closing the doors of the brothel. to dam the river at its mouth would only cause it to overflow its banks and seek another outlet, and to close the doors of the brothels on one street would only drive them to another. to stop this great tide of sin we must begin at its source. to close the doors of the brothel, close first the doors of the dancing school. chapter iv. abandoned women the best dancers. the most accomplished and most perfect dancers are to be found among the abandoned women. why? because they are graduates of dancing schools. if any should wish to ascertain the truth of this let him ask the girls themselves. i have for several months been working in a mission of los angeles, and where i have before seen causes at work, i have now had ample opportunity of seeing the effect, and i have often heard some of these unfortunate ones cry out in bitter anguish "would to god that i had never entered a dancing school." the following were cases of girls who are to-day inmates of the brothel whom i talked with personally. they were frank to answer to my questions in regard to the direct cause of their downfall, and i gathered that these were ruined by: dancing school and ball rooms drink given by parents willful choice poverty and abuse ---- i know of a select dancing school where in a course of three months eleven of its victims are brothel inmates to-day. chapter v. equally a sin for both sexes. i have, in the preceding pages, spoken chiefly of the harm that comes to women from dancing, and have shown how vile men make use of the privileges the waltz and its surroundings afford to lead once pure girls to impurity and often to crime. but do not think for a moment that because i have here thus spoken, that i hold the women blameless or the dance to the man harmless. while the woman is more often disgraced in the sight of man, i believe that in the sight of god the sin of dancing is equally a sin for both sexes. a girl is often ensnared into intoxication and thus into greater sin by vile men, but she is not wholly excusable. if she goes to a ball she must take the consequences. every woman has a god-given instinct which teaches her right from wrong, and she cannot but know that to indulge in such emotions as the modern waltz fosters is wrong. it is a horrible fact, but a fact none the less, that it is absolutely necessary that a woman shall be able and willing to reciprocate the feelings of her partner before she can graduate a perfect dancer. so, even if it be allowed that a woman may waltz virtuously, she cannot, in that case, waltz well. it matters not how perfectly she knows and takes the steps, she must yield herself entirely to her partner's embrace, and also to his emotions. until a girl can and will do this she is regarded a scrub by the male experts. i would that young women who dance could just once be "behind the scenes" when young men meet after an evening's dance to discuss it together, and hear such remarks as "that miss ---- is a perfect stick. i would not give a fig to dance with her. you can't arouse any more passion in her than you could in a putty man. to waltz with such as she is not what i go for." or, another says: "ah! but that beautiful miss smith is a daisy. she is posted. this waltzing is the greatest thing in the world. while you are whirling one of these dear creatures, if you do the thing correctly, you can whisper in her ear things she would shoot you for saying at any other time, but she likes it all the same. they take to it naturally enough if they are properly taught. if you don't know just how it is done go to a dancing master, or any professional dancer. they know, and they will soon let you know. you will soon become a waltzer and thus find out what there is in it." such remarks, and worse than these, (remarks unfit to publish even in this plainly written book) are made, my fair young ladies, after the ball, about you by the very young men who, at the dance, you thought so nice and who are so considered. i am ashamed to say in by-gone days, i have been among these young men myself, and i know that to hear them give free expression, loose-tongued, to the lewd emotions and sensual pleasures in which they indulge while in your embrace, is almost as common as the waltz itself. i repeat what i have said before, that i do not refer to rough, uncultured men, but to those who are looked upon by society as most polished, refined and desirable young men. if it be true that a woman, however innocent in thought, is the subject of such vile comment, if there is the barest possibility that it may be true, is it not also true that if she is possessed of a remnant of delicacy, she will shrink from exposing herself to such comment, and flee from places of dancing as from a den of vipers? chapter vi. the approval of society is no proof against the degradation. i know that there are many who will contend that i have some selfish or spiteful motive in writing thus strongly in condemnation of the waltz. many will doubtless claim that the waltz is very moral and healthful, is indulged in by the best people of every land, seemingly tolerated by all, and that he who raises his voice against it does so from other motives than a disinterested desire to warn his fellow-men against it. i admit that it is indulged in by a great multitude (not of the best) but the most aristocratic society people. but does the fact that society has permitted itself to be carried by storm into a toleration of the modern dance make the dance any less degrading and sinful. no more so, it seems to me, than does the fact of the universal use of alcohol make its effect less harmful or make it any the less a destroyer of homes, happiness and character. no, its universality does not prove its morality, and it is certain that results prove conclusively its immorality, and all who try to make it out otherwise, are either those who know nothing at all about it and are unwilling to believe that such an evil could be in their midst without their knowledge, or those who know and practice the abominations, but enjoy it far too well to confess what they know. these last will be loudest in their clamor against this book and its author, and in their profession of perfect innocence. they believe themselves to be the sole possessors of the secret which makes the waltz their pet amusement. they do not mean that their secret shall be divulged, and they seize every opportunity of praising the "beauty and variety" of the waltz. its "health giving exercise," "its innocent amusement" and its grace-giving qualities. grace-giving, forsooth. the grace of the harlot, to my mind, is not the most desirable possession. i have known many and many a non-dancing mother to encourage her child to learn to dance, because she wanted her to become graceful, and in many a case that daughter has lost grace, health, virtue and all that a woman holds dear. if you have a choice of a saloon for your son, and a so-called select dancing school for your daughter, i beseech you, in the name of god, place your son in the saloon, but keep your daughter out of the dancing school. if you wish her to become graceful there are schools of physical culture which are much better adapted to the development of health and grace, and much less to the development of vile passions and depraved natures. what i have said before will be no surprise to those who waltz, though, of course, they will feign great surprise, ignorance, and innocence of it all. but dancing schools are often made use of in a way that is not so well known. professional thieves often frequent these places. many of them are perfect dancers and good conversationalists. they appear most respectable and are, of course, so considered, since they are found in the select school, where references are required. they gain admittance to the school either by practising fraud upon the dancing master, or inducing him to practice fraud upon the public by admitting such a man for a liberal compensation, to what he advertises to be a select school. when once in a school it is an easy matter to form the acquaintance of the wives and daughters of wealthy men. to these he makes himself most agreeable, as he well knows how to do, and, if possible, manages by some means or other, to get an invitation to call. if he fails, he makes some excuse to call without an invitation. during his calls he manages, if opportunity presents itself, to seize some valuables; if not he will locate them, to be called for upon some future dark night, and he is quite safe from arrest, for even if suspected he knows that the ladies of the house who have been seen with him in public would only bring disgrace upon themselves by arresting for theft a man upon whose breast they often reclined in public. this, however, is of small account. if it was the only evil connected with dancing, this book would never have been written. the loss of earthly possessions is of little consequence when compared with the loss of health, happiness, purity and virtue. i simply tell you this to show you how many evils a dancing master is cognizant of in connection with dancing, that the generality of people know little or nothing about. some one has said that few people know better than the dancing master and saloon keeper, how many souls are sent through the port holes of hell between the ages of fourteen and twenty by these two agencies of the devil. and he is right. the heart of the dancing master must be even harder than that of the saloon keeper, for while the saloon keeper must witness the harmful and disgraceful indulgence of men, principally, he knows that there is a chance that it may prove only a harmful indulgence. but the man who can constantly see pure and lovely women being whirled to a disgrace from which she can never recover must have a heart hard indeed. yet this is what i have witnessed and helped to perpetuate by teaching dancing. still i heedlessly continued in the business, until something occurred which set me to thinking. i met on a train, while leaving town, one day a young woman, who, a few months before, had been a member of my select dancing academy. she had been ruined there, and was one of the discarded ones when the school was closed for a few weeks, as all dancing-schools have to be every little while, to get rid of those girls who have met with a fate similar to hers. i entered into conversation with her and found she could no longer endure being shunned and slighted by all her old companions, and was running away from home. i knew that her parents would be heart broken, and that she, without the protection of a home, would soon sink to utter abandonment, and i tried every persuasion to induce her to return to the home she was leaving. i--who was still teaching the very thing which had been her ruin, now that self-respect and all for which life was worth the living, was lost to her forever--i tried to save her from further degradation. after i had argued for some time with her she turned fiercely upon me, her once beautiful eyes now filled with a desperation born of despair, and said, with a look and tone of reproach which i shall never forget: "mr. faulkner, when you will close your dancing schools and stop this business, which is sending so many girls by swift stages on a straight road to hell, _then, sir_, and not till then, will i think of reform." i was stirred by her words as i had never been stirred before. but for them i might, perhaps, not have been writing this book to-day. at this i know many may sneer and say that i have myself done more than most men towards the furtherance of the evil i so strongly condemn. i bow my acknowledgements. i own it all. "i lived for self, i thought for self, for self and none beside, just as if christ had never lived. as though he had never died." i sinned against heaven and in the sight of god and man, and was in no wise worthy to become a child of him to whom i came ten months ago, and he received me just as i was, all stained with many, many sins, and in his boundless love and mercy he forgave them all. i feel i cannot close this book without just a word to any of my old companions who may chance to read it, and to others who are leading the life i once led. i want you to forsake that old life i once shared with you and, as i have done, give yourselves into the hands of the master, jesus christ. you don't know what you are missing of happiness in this world and what you may miss in the world to come. i do not ask you to take my life for an example. that would be a poor example, indeed. we do not have to take any human life for a copy. the life of christ is the one true example for us all, and i believe that when we stand before, the great judge of all, the question will not be,_ if we have lived as well as this professing christian or that church member_, but if we have lived our life as nearly like the life of christ as we could. and right here let me say a few words to professing christians and church members who dance. i say "professing" christians because i believe there is a vast difference between a _christian_ and a "professing" christian and church member who dances. to be a _christian is to be christlike_, and i believe there is nothing _christlike_ in partaking of such pleasures as have been described in the foregoing pages, even though you indulge no further than the license of the waltz. and even granting (if this were possible) that you only engage in the indecent and suggestive position and motions, without a single sinful thought or feeling, do you believe that your heavenly father could say to you, "well done, thou good and faithful servant. thou hast spent the evening to my honor and glory. thou art in the world and not of it. thou hast done nothing that could cause thy brother to offend, but hast set a good and godly example. thou art letting thy light so shine before men that they will see your good works and glorify your father which is in heaven. thou art denying thyself and taking thy cross daily and following me. i left my home in glory and lived and suffered and died the death of the crucified that thou mightest take thine ease, dance, drink, and be merry, and then, lay down thy cross and take up thy _crown_ in glory to be with thy savior and be like him." "the son of man cometh at an hour when ye know not." if he should come and find you at the dance, locked in the embrace of another woman's husband, do you feel that he would consider you ready? do you not feel the slightest fear that he would say, "depart from me, i never knew you?" ah, my friends, i should fear it very much. i should fear that to my account would be laid the sin of the harlot. you say that you dance very properly. what have you to say for those who, looking to you for a christian example, see that you, a church member, dance, and conclude that there can be no harm in it for them, so they indulge and are ruined by it, and in after days are to be found leading a life of shame in the brothel, all because of your example which led them to take the first step on the downward road? do you believe that when you shall both stand before the bar of god for just judgment that none of her sin will be laid to your charge? christian friends, a great responsibility rests upon us all, not only to see that we "keep ourselves unspotted from the world," but that we do all in our power to drive from our fair land this awful blot and curse. testimonials. we have just finished reading mr. faulkner's book, called "from the ball-room to hell," and we are profoundly moved by it. we believe every word of it is true, and that his characterization of the demoralization and ruin wrought by the modern dance is none too strongly put. surely nothing worse could have been found in sodom than these dancing academies, as a reason why the righteous god sent fire and brimstone and destroyed them all. these exposures are as carefully and delicately written as could be, and yet not fail to be fully understood. we hope the book will find a wide reading and help to open many eyes that are blind and startle many that are careless, and prove to be a barbed wire fence around many homes of the innocent. may the holy spirit of god bless our christian brother in his efforts to expose these hot-beds of vice. we advise all pastors and members of our churches to read this book, and send it to friends. signed by the following ministers, of los angeles, california. rev. bresee, pastor simpson m. e. church. rev. d. read, pastor first baptist church. rev. h. u. crabbe, pastor united presbyterian. rev. m. h. stine, first english lutheran church. rev. a. c. smithers, temple st. christian church. rev. f. v. fesher, vincent m. e. church. rev. a. b. phillips, city and county missionary. rev. j. h. collins, third congregational church. rev. a. anderson, universalist. rev. father morley, catholic priest. rev. o. read writes--"you have photographed the ball-room correctly." rev. b. fay mills says: may god bless you in your work, and hope that great good will be accomplished by this book. i believe what you say is true. i know of such cases as you have described. it should be read by all christians. capt. e. r. jennings: "among those who have spoken in praise of your powerfully written little book, 'from the ball-room to hell,' let my name be enrolled." rev. e. s. taylor writes: "last evening i purchased a copy of 'from the ball-room to hell.' i read it through at one sitting, and hasten to thank you for your noble utterance. i know from my own experience that every word is true." rev. s. e. wilson, in a long and eulogistic letter, says: "this book fills a vacant niche in the temple of literature, not occupied by sermons or homilies." prof. homes, ex-dancing master, writes: "this book is founded on facts." the rev. father morley, a catholic priest of california, writes: "having carefully read your excellent book, 'from the ball-room to hell,' i cannot forbear expressing my full approval, therefore i cheerfully endorse every line contained therein. you have opened, dear sir, a campaign against public evil. you can send to me one hundred copies, which i shall place in the hands of my followers." "the author writes evidently under a deep conviction of the truth, and gives a voice of warning in terms that will nigh take away the breath of many parents who read it. we think that every pastor ought to see that one of these books should be placed in the hands of all members of their church."--_california christian advocate._ the lady principal of one of the chief female educational establishments on the pacific slope writes: "myself and lady friends of mine have read the book 'from the ball-room to hell,' and think you have done a noble work, and think it ought to be read by all parents." prof. a. t. sullivan, ex-dancing master, says: "waltzing is the spur of lust." "we feel pleased that there exists a pen bold enough to denounce the evil complained of in so masterly a manner and in such vigorous english. if we mistake not, it will work great good in the social world."--_los angeles evening express._ "this book has created a greater flutter in social circles than anything published within our remembrance. its pages should receive careful perusal of parents, and the equally careful attention of the young. we believe every word of it is true."--_los angeles times._ note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) transcriber's note: on page a printing error left a word or two not printed. the place is marked in the text: [**missing words**] holidays at the grange, or a week's delight. games and stories for parlor and fireside. by emily mayer higgins. [illustration: publisher's logo] philadelphia: porter & coates. copyright, , by porter & coates. [illustration: wyndham grange.] contents. chapter i. page the gathering.--christmas eve.--"consequences."--"how do you like it?" chapter ii. christmas day.--"rhymes."--"cento."--"genteel lady."--the fairy wood. chapter iii. "the rhyming game."--orikama, or the white water-lily; an indian tale. chapter iv. "proverbs."--"twenty questions."--the spectre of alcantra, or the conde's daughters; a tale of spain. chapter v. a skating adventure.--"what is my thought like?"--"questions."--the orphan's tale, or the vicissitudes of fortune. chapter vi. sunday.--bible stories.--"capping bible verses."--bible-class. chapter vii. sequel to the orphan's tale.--"who can he be?"--"elements."--the astrologers. chapter viii. "confidante."--"lead-merchant."--"trades."--the rose of hesperus; a fairy tale. chapter ix. new-year's day.--"characters, or who am i?"--"quotations."--"acting charades."--"riddles." chapter x. whispering gallery.--potentates.--three young men. games and stories. chapter i. the gathering.--christmas eve.--consequences.--how do you like it? not many miles from philadelphia, in a beautifully wooded and hilly country, may be seen a large rambling mansion, whose substantial walls show that it was built at a time when more attention was paid to the durability of dwellings than at present. it is, indeed, quite an ancient house for this part of the world, having been erected by a certain john wyndham, a hundred years ago; and it has remained in the family ever since, the owner of it generally inheriting the name of john, a taste for rural life, and the old homestead together. it was constructed in good taste, and with great regard for comfort; the broad hall, the favorite resort in summer, was ornamented with family portraits of many ages back, and a complete suit of armor, visor and all, struck awe into the hearts of young visitors, who almost expected its former occupant to resume possession, with his gauntleted hand to draw the sword from its scabbard, and, seizing the flag over his head, to drive the modern usurpers from the house. large antlers, bows and arrows, and rusty fowling-pieces against the wall, intimated that the descendants of the grim warrior had exercised their valor in the chase; while a guitar with blue ribbon, in the corner, told that gentler days had come, and spoke of peace, domestic joys, and woman's influence. many were the bright sunshiny chambers in that cheerful home; but i will describe one apartment only, the sitting-room, with which we are chiefly concerned. the furniture is quaint and massive; but it is the rich mellow light streaming through the room that principally attracts the eye. is it the western sun, tinted by the colored glass of the bay-window, or is it the ruddy hickory fire? what a remarkable chimney-place! few such can be seen now-a-days; they had gone out of date a hundred years ago; but it was ancient john wyndham's fancy, as far as possible, to possess a fac-simile of the family mansion in england, in which his childish days had been spent. what elaborate carving upon the huge mantel-piece!--hunters with their guns and dogs; shepherds and shepherdesses, with crooks and sheep; scriptural scenes and rural incidents, afford endless amusement to the groups gathered before the fire. before, did i say? around, is the right expression; for so large is the chimney, that while crackling up-piled logs blaze upon the hearth, a number might be accommodated on the benches at the side, as well as in front. it is the most sociable gathering-place in the world, and the stiffest and most formal person would soon relax there; while fingers are thawed, hearts are melted by that fire--warm and kind affections are drawn out--sparkles of wit fly about the room, as if in emulation of the good hickory: it is a chimney corner most provocative of ancient legends, of frightful ghost-stories, of tales of knight-errantry and romantic love, of dangers and of hair-breadth escapes; in short, of all that can draw both old and young away from their every-day cares, into the brighter world of fiction and poesy. in the recess on one side is a small library, comfortable enough to entice the student from the merry group so near him; on the other, is a room looked upon with great affection by the juvenile members of the family, for here does aunt lucy manufacture and keep for distribution those delicious cakes, never to be refused at lunch time; and those pies, jellies, whips, and creams, which promise to carry down her name to posterity as the very nonpareil of housekeepers. three persons are sitting in the room, whom in common politeness i should introduce to the reader: very pleasant people are they to know and to visit. uncle john and aunt lucy wyndham, the master and mistress of the house, are remarkable for kindness, and make their nephews and nieces, and whole troops of friends, feel perfectly at home at once; they are uncle john and aunt lucy to all their young acquaintances, and delight in the title. perhaps they would not have been generally called so, had they any children of their own; but they have none, and the only young person in the house at present is mary dalton--cousin mary--an orphan niece of mrs. wyndham, whom they have brought up from a child. she looks like her aunt, plump, rosy, good natured and sensible; she is just seventeen, and very popular with the whole cousinhood. she has many accomplishments: she does not talk french, spanish, or italian, but she knows how to play every game that ever was invented, can tell stories to suit every age, can soothe a screaming child sooner than any one else, can rattle off cotillions on the piano-forte of a winter's evening without thinking it hard that she cannot join in the dance; and lastly, can lay down an interesting book or piece of crochet work to run on an errand for aunt, or untangle the bob-tails of a kite, without showing any signs of crossness. self is a very subordinate person with her, and indeed she seems hardly to realize her separate individuality; she is everybody's cousin mary, and frowns vanish, and smiles brighten up the countenance, wherever she appears. a very happy looking group they are, but restless, this afternoon of the th of december; uncle john frequently goes to the hall door; aunt lucy lays down her knitting to listen; and cousin mary does not pretend to read the book she holds, but gazes out of the window, down the long avenue of elms, as if she expected an arrival. old cæsar, "the last of the servants," as mr. wyndham styles him, a white-haired negro who was born in the house, and is devoted to the family, always speaking of _our_ house, _our_ carriage, and _our_ children, as if he were chief owner, vibrates constantly between the kitchen and the porter's lodge, feeling it to be his especial duty and prerogative to give the first welcome to the guests. and soon the sound of wheels is heard, and merry voices resound through the hall, and cheeks rosy with the cold are made yet rosier by hearty kisses; it is the young wyndhams, come to spend their christmas holidays at the grange with uncle john. there is cornelia, a bright, intelligent girl of sixteen, full of fun, with sparkling black eyes. john, a boy of fourteen, matter-of fact and practical, a comical miniature of uncle john, whom he regards with veneration, as the greatest, wisest, and best of living men, and only slightly inferior to general washington himself; and george, his twin brother and very devoted friend, a good boy in the main, but so very full of mischief! he would get into a thousand scrapes, if his more sober companion did not restrain him. we must not overlook little amy, the sweet child of twelve, with flowing golden hair and languishing eyes, the gentle, unspoiled pet and playmate of all. her cheek is pale, for she has ever been the delicate flower of the family, and the winter winds must not visit her too roughly: she is one to be carefully nurtured. and the more so, as her mind is highly imaginative and much in advance of her age; already does the light of genius shine forth in her eye. scarcely are these visitors well ensconced in the chimney corner, after their fur wrappings are removed, before the sound of wheels is again heard, and shouts of joy announce the arrival of the greens. that tall, slender, intellectual girl, with pale oval face and expressive eyes, is ellen. her cousins are very proud of her, for she has just returned from boarding-school with a high character for scholarship, and has carried away the prize medal for poetry from all competitors; the children think that she can speak every language, and she is really a refined and accomplished girl. she has not seen mary or cornelia for a couple of years, and great are the rejoicings at their meeting; they are warm friends already. her manly brother tom, although younger, looks older than she does: a fine, handsome fellow he is. the younger greens are almost too numerous to particularize; harry and louis, anna and gertrude--merry children all, noisy and frolicsome, but well-inclined and tolerably submissive to authority; they ranged from nine years old, upward. just as the sun was setting, and aunt lucy had almost given them up, the third family of cousins arrived, the boltons. charlie bolton is the elder of the two--he will be called charlie to the end of his days, if he live to be a white-haired grandfather, he is so pleasant and full of fun, so ready with his joke and merry laugh; he is cornelia's great friend and ally, and the two together would keep any house wide awake. his sister alice is rather sentimental, for which she is heartily laughed at by her harum-skarum brother; but she is at an age when girls are apt to take this turn--fourteen; she will leave it all behind her when she is older. sentimentality may be considered the last disease of childhood; measles, hooping-cough, and scarlatina having been successfully overcome, if the girl passes through this peril unscathed, and no weakness is left in her mental constitution, she will probably be a woman of sane body and mind. alice is much given to day-dreams, and to reading novels by stealth; she is very romantic, and would dearly love to be a heroine, if she could. the only objection to the scheme, in her mind, is that her eyes have a very slight cast, and that her nose is _un petit nez retroussé_--in other words, something of a pug; and alice has always been under the impression that a heroine must have straight vision, and a grecian nose. hers is a face that will look very arch and _piquante_, when she acquires more sense, and lays aside her lack-a-daisical airs; but, at present, the expression and the features are very incongruous. it is excessively mortifying! but it cannot be helped; many times a day does she cast her eyes on the glass, but the obstinate pug remains a pug, and alice is forced to conclude that she is not intended for a heroine. yet she always holds herself ready for any marvellous adventure that may turn up, and she is perfectly convinced that there must be concealed doors, long winding passages in the walls, and perhaps a charmingly horrible dungeon, at the grange. why not? such things are of constant occurrence in story books, and that house is the oldest one she knows. she is determined on this visit to explore it thoroughly, and perhaps she may become the happy discoverer of a casket of jewels, or a skeleton, or some other treasure. thirteen young people there are in all, with pleasant faces and joyful hearts; and none of them, i am happy to say were of the perfect sort you read of in books. had they been, their aunt lucy, who was used to real children, would have entertained serious fears for their longevity. they all required a caution or a reprimand now and then, and none were so wise as not to make an occasional silly speech, or to do a heedless action. but they were good-tempered and obliging, as healthy children should always be, and were seldom cross unless they felt a twinge of toothache. how fast did their tongues run, that first hour! how much had all to tell, and how much to hear! and how happy did uncle john appear, as he sat in the centre of the group, with little amy on his lap, leaning her languid head against his broad and manly chest, while a cluster of the younger ones contended together for possession of the unoccupied knee. after the hearty, cheerful country supper, the whole party of visitors was escorted into a dark room adjoining the hall, while aunt lucy and cousin mary were engaged in certain preparations, well understood by the older guests, who were too discreet to allay the curiosity of the younger ones, who for the first time were allowed to share the hospitality of the grange at christmas. at last the folding-doors were thrown open, and the hall appeared to be in a blaze of light; colored lamps were suspended in festoons from the ceiling, showing how prettily the old portraits were adorned with evergreens. even the man in armor looked less grim, as if his temper was mollified by the ivy wreath wound around his helmet. but the chief object of interest was a stately tree at the end of the hall, from whose trunk proceeded thirteen branches, brilliantly illuminated with wax lights and pendant lamps of various hues; while gilded fruit, and baskets of flowers and confectionary, looked to the uninitiated as if the fairies themselves had been at work. many were the exclamations of delight, and intense the excitement; the old hall echoed with the shouts of the boys. uncle john, ever happy in the enjoyment of others, declared that he believed himself to be the youngest child there, and that he enjoyed the revels of christmas eve more than any of them. when the noise and rapture had somewhat subsided, cousin mary proposed that they should try some games, by way of variety. chess, checkers, backgammon, chinese puzzles, dominoes, jack-straws, etc., were mentioned, and each one of them was declared by different members of the group to be exceedingly entertaining; but charlie bolton said that "although he was neither grand turk nor perpetual dictator, he must put his veto upon all such games as being of an unsocial nature. it was all very well, when only two persons were together, to amuse themselves with such things; but for his part, he did hate to see people ride in sulkies, and play _solitaire_, when they could have such agreeable society as was there gathered together;" making, as he spoke, a dashing bow to the girls. "has not any one wit enough to think of a game at which we can all assist?" "do you know how to play 'consequences?'" said mary. "i never heard of it," replied cornelia; "how do you play it?" "with paper and pencils. here is my writing-desk full of paper, and my drawing-box with pencils ready sharpened, and you have nothing to do but all to write according to my directions, and doubling down the paper, to hand it to a neighbor, so that each time you have a different slip. when it is finished, i will read them aloud, supplying some words which will make sense--or, what is much better, arrant nonsense--of the whole. so begin by writing a term descriptive of a gentleman." "now write a gentleman's name--some one you know, or some distinguished person." "next, an adjective descriptive of a lady." "and now, a lady's name." "mention a place, and describe it." "now write down some date, or period of time when a thing might happen." "put a speech into the gentleman's mouth." "make the lady reply." "tell what the consequences were." "and what the world said of it." "and now allow me to enlighten the company. here is one specimen: "the gallant and accomplished nero met the beautiful, but rather coquettish mrs. wyndham at gretna green, that place once so famous for runaway couples and matrimonial blacksmiths, upon the th of july, a.d. he said, 'dearest madam, my tender heart will break if you refuse my hand;' but she replied, 'la, sir, don't talk such nonsense!' the consequences were, that their names were embalmed together in history; and the world said, 'it is exactly what i expected.'" "are you sure, mary," said mrs. wyndham, laughing, "that you are not taking any liberties with my name?" "here it is ma'am, you can see it yourself; but i think you escaped very well. here's another: "the refined and dandified jack the giant-killer met the modest, retiring cleopatra, queen of egypt, at the pyramids, (ah! some one peeped!) those wonderful monuments of ages long since passed away, on christmas day, in the year one. he said, 'i never entertained a very lofty opinion of your ladyship;' she replied, 'i perfectly agree with the noble sentiments you have just uttered: our hearts shall henceforward be united in the strictest friendship.' the consequences were that they parted, to meet no more; and the partial world remarked, 'what a pair of fools!'" "here is another: "the brave, daring, thoughtless king solomon met the elegant, fashionable queen semiramis upon the top of mont blanc, that lofty mountain, crowned with perpetual snow, on the th of february. he remarked, 'do you like the last style of bonnets, madam?' she answered, 'sir, do not press the matter. i am but young; you can speak to my papa.' the consequences were, that they took an ice-cream, and went up to the clouds in an air-balloon; and the amiable world said, 'who would have believed it?'" after reading all the papers, which caused much diversion, one of the party proposed playing "how do you like it." while tom green was waiting in another room, the remainder of the company fixed upon a word of double or treble meaning, which it was his duty to discover by the answers given to three questions he was to ask of all in succession. if unable to guess the word at the end of the third round, he would be crowned with the dunce-cap, and must recommence his questions: if, on the contrary, he hit upon the right word, the person whose answer led him to conjecture it must take his place. "anna," said tom, "how do you like it? now, don't tell me you like it very well, or not at all; give me something descriptive." "i like it with a large capital." "you do? then it may either be a word, a state, a pillar, or a man of business. cousin alice, how do you like it?" "i like it shady and covered with moss." "and you, sister ellen?" "with vaults secure and well filled." "what do you say, gertrude?" "i like it covered with violets." "how do you prefer it, charlie?" "with a good board of directors." "and you, amy?" "covered with strong and skilful rowers." "what is your preference, george?" "i like it high and picturesque." "how do you like it, john?" "with numerous branches." "it can't be a tree--how do you like it, mary?" "very green." "and you, harry?" "of red brick or white marble." "how contradictory! what have you to answer, cornelia?" "i like it steep and rocky." "and you, louis?" "i like it warranted not to break." "when do you like it, anna?" "when i have an account in it." "when do you like it, alice?" "when i am in the country, and feel weary." "and you, ellen?" "when i hold a check in my hand." "and you, gertrude?" "in the spring of the year, when i feel languid and sentimental." "when do you prefer it, charlie?" "when i want a loan, and can give good security." "and you, amy?" "when i am in a boat, and becalmed." "and you, george?" "when i am at sea, anxiously looking out for land." "what say you, john?" "when i am a merchant, engaged in large transactions." "when do you like it, mary?" "when my eye is weary of a flat, dull country." "and you, harry?" "when i am a stockholder." "so i should think, if it paid a good dividend. and if i were to ask you my third question, 'where will you put it!' one would place it under an umbrageous tree, another by the sea, a third by a river, and a fourth on a good business street, near the exchange. my good friends, i would be dull indeed if i did not guess it to be a bank; and you, sister ellen, may take my place; your well-filled vaults first gave me the clue." after amusing themselves a little longer, they adjourned to the sitting-room, as the tall, old-fashioned clock in the hall gave warning of the rapid flight of time; and mary, as was her custom, brought to her uncle the large family bible. when he opened the holy book, the very youngest and wildest of the children listened with reverence to the solemn words, and tried to join in the thanks which the good man offered up to heaven for bringing them together in health and peace, and granting them so much happiness. and then kisses and good-nights were exchanged, and the young group was scattered; but not without a parting charge to each from aunt lucy, "not to forget to hang up the stocking for kriss-kinkle, near the chimney place; and not on any account to lock their doors--for they might easily be taken sick in the night." chapter ii. christmas day.--rhymes.--cento.--genteel lady.--the fairy wood. sound were the slumbers that night at the grange, notwithstanding the determination of little amy to lie awake and catch kriss-kinkle for once; although as she said, "i know it _must_ be cousin mary." those happy days of innocence and unsuspecting faith have passed away, when children believed in a literal kriss-kinkle, clad in furs, and laden with presents for the good, and sticks of wood for the naughty little urchins who refuse to learn their a, b, c's, and to stand still while mamma combs out their hair. the "infantry" of america have quite given up their old-fashioned credulity, and as, according to the obsolete saying of the older philosophers, "nature abhors a vacuum," and there must be some children in the world, to keep the balance, the spirit-rappers have kindly stepped into their vacant places, and may be regarded as the true and only children on this side the atlantic. the frightful skepticism of the young ones with regard to kriss-kinkle has come to such a pass, that a little girl of three years old, who had been kept, as her relations thought, in all the verdure becoming to her tender years, upon her aunt telling her that she ought not to expect many gifts that season, as it was such stormy weather that poor kriss-kinkle could scarcely venture out, replied: "but, aunty! could he not take grandma's carriage--he would not get wet then!" if the merry old soul really came down the chimney at the grange, he shewed great discernment in the gifts he bestowed, for each found in the stocking some article that had been ardently desired. ellen, who was deeply interested in the study of italian, found a beautiful copy of dante's "divina commedia;" mary, who possessed a fine talent for drawing, and frequently sketched from nature, discovered that a complete set of artist's colors and brushes had fallen to her lot; george, who was devoted to skating, found a pair of skates, "real beauties," as he said, appended to his stocking; all plainly saw that their individual tastes and peculiarities had been consulted in a very gratifying manner. of course they did not neglect to express their pleasure and gratitude to their kind friends, requesting them to inform that very worthy old gentleman, mr. kriss-kinkle, of their delight at his selection. nor were uncle john and aunt lucy forgotten: their nephews and nieces had all provided some little gifts, as expressions of love. mrs. wyndham declared that she was quite set up in crochet bags and purses, for a year to come; and tastefully worked book-markers, with appropriate sentiments, were very plentiful. tom green made himself exceedingly agreeable to the whole party, by presenting to each some pretty little box, thimble-case, or other ingenious trifle, which he had made at his leisure with the aid of his turning-lathe; whereupon charlie bolton assumed an irresistibly ludicrous air of dejection, and asserted that he felt quite crushed by tom's superior gallantry. "really, a fellow is not much thought of now-a-days, unless he can do something in the pretty line. i must get a turning-lathe at once, or else learn to carve brooches out of marbles, and rings out of peach-stones, and baskets out of cherry and apricot stones. if i can't get up that much artistic talent, i might as well resign myself to complete insignificance all my life." cornelia wyndham highly approved of his intentions, and told him that when he had come to perfection in the fancy business, she hoped he would remember her devoted and perfectly disinterested friendship; her cousinly affection was of the warmest and truest quality, especially when there were any hopes of cherry-stone baskets. full of enjoyment as they were, none were too intent upon fun and frolic to neglect accompanying their kind relatives to the pretty little country church, for it was their uncle's habit to begin the day with religious exercises: he said it seemed to him ungrateful to spend it in unbroken jollity, and to forget entirely the original motive of its institution. it was a very pleasant custom, and very conducive to mutual attachment, for friends and relations to give and to receive presents: but this should be subordinate to the remembrance of god's great gift to the children of men, which was celebrated on that happy day. so the young people passed a unanimous vote that church-going was as regular a part of keeping christmas as presents or mince-pie, and gladly set off to walk through the frosty air to the ivy-covered church, shaded by ancient trees. it was situated on a hill, and was approached by numerous paths running across the fields; and as ellen gazed upon its spire, standing in relief against the deep blue sky, she thought of that beautiful line of wordsworth, "pointing its taper finger up to heaven!" the chime of bells, too, joyfully pealing out, appeared to be the voice of the church calling upon all who heard it, to return thanks to him who blesses the families of men; it seemed to say, "both young men and maidens, old men and children, let them praise the name of the lord." what a mistake it is, to think of religion only as a refuge from sorrow, and a solace for the disappointments of the world! it is that, truly, but it is also the sanctifier of joy: the happy young heart should be laid upon god's altar, as well as the stricken spirit, and the eye moistened with tears. that the services of the church had not a depressing effect upon the minds of any, was very evident from the heart-felt greetings and warm shakes of the hand which were exchanged by all, as they left the house of prayer. it was a very pleasant sight to behold young and old, rich and poor, joined together in one common feeling of brotherhood, under the genial influences of the season. "a merry christmas" seemed not only to spring from every tongue, but to sparkle in every eye. if i were to attempt to describe the varied pleasures of that day, which was declared by charlie bolton to be the most glorious one he had ever spent, i should be obliged to dip my pen, not in ink, but in a solution of rainbow, or dancing sun-beams, or in any thing else that is proved to be the most joyful thing in nature. at dinner-table, after being helped the second time to a slice of "splendid" turkey with oyster sauce, little louis green, the youngest of the party, occasioned a general burst of laughter by laying down his knife and fork, which certainly deserved a little rest if activity ever can earn it, and leaning back in his chair, saying with the greatest earnestness: "uncle, if i were asked to point out the very happiest time of the whole year, i would fix upon christmas day, at exactly this hour--the dinner hour--as the thing for me!" "o you gormandizer!" said his sister ellen, "you don't really think the dinner the best part of the day?" "indeed i do, though," replied louis; "and i rather guess a good many people are of the same opinion. and, sister ellen, if you were a boy, and just come home from boarding-school, where they always want you to eat potatoes, i think you'd value turkey and mince-pie as much as i do! hurra for christmas, i say!" there was some conversation at the dinner-table about the origin of the different modes of keeping christmas day in our country. mr. wyndham remarked, that probably the reason why it was so universally kept in philadelphia, was from the large mixture of the german element in the population of pennsylvania: perhaps the little swedish colony which penn found already settled on the ground when he came over, may have had some influence, as the nations in the middle and north of europe have always celebrated the day, making it a sort of festival of home, and fireside pleasures. he said that when he was a young man he had passed a winter in germany, and was spending some time in the house of a friend, in the month of december: being very intimate with all the family, he had been admitted into numerous little secrets, both by young and old. he had seen beforehand the drawings and the ornamental needle-work which were intended as a surprise to the parents, and were executed after they had retired to rest; and he had been allowed to hear the new songs and pieces of instrumental music, learnt by stealth during their absence from home; and had even been privileged to hear the little boy of eight, the pet of the family, recite the verses composed in honor of the joyful occasion, by his oldest sister. and the parents, also, had their own mysteries: for a fortnight before the eventful day, the blooming, comfortable mamma rode out regularly, and returned laden with bundles, which were immediately transferred to a certain large parlor, the windows of which were carefully bolted, the door locked, and the very key-hole stopped up, so that nothing was visible. the children were sent out of the way, and then there were raps at the door, and the carrying of heavy articles along the hall, into the mysterious chamber--blue beard's room of horrors was not more eagerly gazed at, than was this parlor, but its blank walls told no secrets. at length the long-expected day arrived; on christmas eve all were assembled in a dark room adjacent--you see i have taken a few hints from my german friends--and at last the doors being thrown open, the mystery was revealed. the room was ornamented with evergreens and colored lamps, very much in the style of our hall, and a large tree blazed with light and sparkled with candied fruits and gilded cornucopias; i made up my mind then, that if ever i had a house of my own, i would keep christmas eve in the same way. the little children stood a while, awe-struck by the grandeur of the spectacle: for i can tell you, young people, that the german children are kept in a state of innocence--what you would call _greenness_--that would amaze you. the good mother then came forward, and took them by the hand: "come in, carl; come in, hermann; fear nothing, little ida; come in and see if there is any thing here for you." encouraged by this invitation, all entered, and the room was found to be lined with tables, piled with articles both for use and pleasure; there was a separate table for every one in the house, including the servants, who in germany live many years in one family, and even for the baby. their guest also was not forgotten; i found upon my table a pair of slippers, and sundry other gifts, some of which i still keep with care, as a memorial of that very happy evening. "that must have been really charming! i think the mystery adds very much to the pleasure," said alice. "and, uncle, is not the custom of hanging up the stocking derived from germany?" "i think it is. in holland there is a little variation, for there the _shoe_ is placed at the door of the chamber, for adults as well as children enter into the sport. i heard an amusing story connected with this practice, when i was in holland; if you like, i will relate it; the event is said really to have happened." "do tell it, uncle!" said john wyndham. "i like true stories." "there was a poor, but very handsome and excellent young minister, a licentiate, i think they call it, when a young man is not yet settled in a church; to support himself until he was appointed to a congregation, he took the place of tutor in a rich burgomaster's family, where he fell in love with the pretty, amiable, and mischievous daughter. she fully reciprocated his feelings, and as her parents approved of the match, she gave the bashful young man all the encouragement she could: she felt very sure as to the nature of his sentiments towards her, but notwithstanding all she could do, the young man _would not propose_--as she rightly concluded, the thought of her superior wealth deterred him; and meantime the foolish fellow became pale and melancholy, as if he seriously meditated going into a decline. so the merry maiden thought, 'this will never do; i must take strong measures, or the poor soul will mope himself to death.' christmas eve came round, and the assembled family were joking about the presents they expected. 'put your slippers outside your door to-night, dominie,' said the father, calling him by the title commonly applied to clergymen in holland, and among the descendants of the dutch in the state of new york, 'i have no doubt your friend caterina has something to put in them.' 'oh, it is not worth while--no one cares for me, sir.' 'but, indeed, we do,' replied little caterina; 'i have something for you, but i am not at all sure you will condescend to accept it. 'have you indeed, miss caterina? i shall feel highly honored; i give you my word that whatever it is, i will accept it joyfully.' 'very well: only please to remember this, when you see what is in your slippers.' "the next morning, when the young dominie opened his door, full of eagerness to see what was in store for him, lo and behold! his slippers had vanished. 'i might have known that the light-hearted, mischievous maiden was only laughing at me--and well i deserve it--fool that i am to dream about one so much above me!' thus trying to scold himself into stoicism, the young man went over to the breakfast-table, where all were gathered together except caterina. 'a very merry christmas! but my dear dominie, how sober you look!' 'do i, indeed? that is very improper; but i've been thinking of going away--i had better do so--that makes me look rather sad, perhaps; i've spent so many happy hours among you all.' 'going away! oh, no, you are not to think of that; i cannot allow such a word. by the way, what have you found in your slippers?' 'to reprove my presumption, no doubt, my slippers have been spirited away in the night: it is not for a poor fellow like me to receive gifts from lovely young ladies.' as he spoke these words, the door opened, and caterina entered, bright as the morning, her face covered with smiles and blushes; she shuffled along in a strange way, and all eyes naturally fell upon her little feet, which were sailing about in the dominie's slippers! amid the general laughter, she walked up to the diffident youth, who could scarcely believe his eyes, and said with an air of irresistible drollery, by which she tried to cover her confusion: 'here is your christmas present, sir; do you hold to your promise of accepting it?' of course, the lady having broken the ice, the dominie could do no less than speak out, and, all being willing, the two were soon converted into one; a good church was procured for him by the influence of the burgomaster, and they lived as happily as possible all their days." "she was a determined damsel!" cried cornelia; "i think she had brass enough to set up a foundry." "probably it was leap-year, cornelia," replied ellen; "you know it is then the ladies' _privilege_--great privilege, forsooth!--to pay attention to the lords of the creation." "i hope, when women take advantage of their prescriptive rights, they will wear the bloomer costume, and make themselves look as little like the rest of their sex as possible!" said mary. "come, girls," cried charlie bolton, "you are too hard on that frank little caterina; i approve of such conduct entirely, and some ten years hence, when i am ready to be appropriated, i shall certainly leave my slippers outside my door as a hint to whomsoever it may concern. it would save us men a great deal of trouble, if all girls were as sensible as caterina." "us men, indeed! how long since?" said cornelia. "ever since i got out of frocks and into trowsers," replied charlie, laughing good-naturedly. he and cornelia were always sparring, but never quarrelled. in the evening they played at various games; among others, at writing rhymes. each had a slip of paper, and would write a line, then double it down, and hand it to the next, telling the last word; the second person then added a line rhyming with the first, the third started a fresh rhyme, and so it went on. when read, it of course made the greatest farrago of nonsense imaginable. ellen then proposed "cento," a spanish or italian game, which requires great readiness of memory, and a large acquaintance with poetry. one person quotes a well-known line, the next another that rhymes with it, and so on, making some sort of connection whenever it can be done; but after trying it, and finding that only three or four of the eldest could think of appropriate passages, they voted cento _a bore_, cornelia remarking that there was great stupidity somewhere; of course they could not think it was in themselves, and therefore it must be in the game. mary said that there was another game requiring a good memory, but the advantage of it was, that the more you forgot the more merriment you made; if you were not witty yourself, you were the cause of wit in others. it was called _genteel lady_, and was played by one person politely bowing to his neighbor, and reciting a certain formula, which must be repeated, with an addition, by the next, and so round the circle; whenever the least mistake or omission was made, the person had to drop the title of genteel lady, or genteel gentleman, and putting a horn of twisted paper in the hair or button-hole, could now glory in the dignity of being a one-horned lady or gentleman. very soon horns become so plenty that few can claim any gentility; as the description proceeds, and becomes more complicated, it is perfectly laughable, and the whole party look ludicrous enough. "here is a whole bundle of lamp-lighters," said cornelia; "let us begin the game, i think it must be comical." mary bowed to tom green, and commenced. "good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel, i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that genteel lady, ever genteel, to tell you that she owns a little dog with hair on its back." tom bowed to ellen: "good evening, genteel lady, ever genteel, i, a genteel gentleman, ever genteel, come from that genteel lady, ever genteel (bowing to mary), to tell you that she owns a little dog with hair on its back, and a red tongue in its mouth." ellen took up the play: "good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel, i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that genteel gentleman, ever genteel, to tell you that he owns a little dog with hair on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, and two ears on its head." it was now charlie bolton's turn: "good evening, genteel lady, ever genteel, i, a genteel gentleman, _ever_ genteel, come from that genteel lady, ever genteel, to say that she owns a little dog with ears on its back, a tongue in its head, hair in its mouth, and a bone between its teeth." "charlie! charlie! three horns!" "all honorable horns! hurra! i'm the only one with horns!" "you'll soon have companions in misfortune," said mary, laughing. "good morning, genteel lady, ever genteel," said gertrude, bowing to alice, "i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that three-horned gentleman, ever three-horned, to say that he owns a little dog with hair on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, two ears on its head, a bone between its teeth, and a tail a yard long." "good morning, she said! that's one horn!" cried the other children. "good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel," said alice, reverently bowing to john wyndham, "i, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that one-horned lady, ever one-horned, to say that she owns a little dog with hair on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, a bone between its teeth, a fell a yard long, and three legs and a half." "you left out two ears on its head! a horn!" "i'm resigned," said alice, "gentility seems to be at a discount." so the game went on, becoming every moment more difficult and more ludicrous--as charlie called it, more _trippy_--and by the time it went round the second time, none escaped the horns. any thing will do for the genteel lady to own, and it makes it more agreeable to vary it each time it is played: for instance, an eagle with a golden beak, silver claws, diamond eyes, ostrich feathers, bird-of-paradise tail, a crown on its head, a diamond ring on its thumb, a gold chain round its neck, a pocket-handkerchief in its hand, and any other nonsense you can string together. a lady's étagère or what-not would be a good medium for collecting together absurdities--mont blanc at the top, a gridiron below, a gold thimble at the side, the poets in a corner, a breakfast set on one shelf, a card-case above, a smelling-bottle at the side, a work-box, a writing-desk, a piece of coral, etc. a _genteel_ lady's description of her mansion--certainly an extraordinary one--would be suitable; a modern-built house, with a _porto-ricco_ in front, and a _pizarro_ in the rear, a summer-house _contagious_, and _turpentine_ walks, etc. being now weary of games, amy proposed that they should vary their pleasures by a tale, which gained the general approval; and ellen green was commissioned to relate it. ever ready to oblige, she told them she would, if they chose a subject. "what sort of a story will you have?" "an indian story!" exclaimed the younger boys. "do tell us about some great historical character--washington, or king alfred, or napoleon bonaparte, or some other hero!" cried john wyndham. "i go in for a very frightful ghost-story, that will make our hair stand on end, and make the girls afraid to go to bed!" said his brother george. "tell us a romantic narrative about a knight going to the crusades, and his fair lady following him in the disguise of a page!" said alice bolton. "that's exactly like you!" cried her brother charlie; "now, i say give us some exciting adventures by sea or by land; a real fish-story, or escape from a lion or tiger, or a tale of a bear, or something of that sort." "poor cousin ellen! how can she please you all?" said mary. "as amy first proposed it, let us leave it to her to choose the kind of story she prefers, and so settle the difficulty." "agreed! agreed! choose, amy!" "as for me, i always like a real fairy-tale," said amy, her eyes sparkling with pleasure as she saw with what good nature all had left the choice to her. "then you shall have it; and i don't doubt that aunt lucy or cousin mary will contrive to please all in turn, another day." "most especially, i hope they will not forget to give charlie that brush with the _bear's tail_ that he wants so much!" said cornelia, with a saucy glance of her eye. "attention, miss cornelia! or you will prove that you deserve it yourself. don't you see that ellen is ready to begin?" the fairy wood. upon the banks of the rhine there stand the ruins of an ancient castle, which still attracts the attention of the passer-by, from its gigantic remains, and the exceeding beauty of its situation. and if now, when its glory has departed, the traveller is irresistibly impelled to ask its name, how imposing must it have been when its dark shadow was thrown unbroken upon the smooth waters below, and troops of cavaliers and armed retainers rode over its drawbridge, and mounted its battlements. here, in the olden time, dwelt the noble baron sigismund; and here, nothing daunted by the gloomy grandeur of the fortress, his little son rudolph romped and frolicked the live-long day. a charming fellow he was, with eyes of heavenly blue, and a complexion of pure milk and roses; a true boy, full of activity and vivacity, and with not a slight touch of mischief in his composition. and yet he was such an affectionate and good-hearted little soul, that his arms would be about your neck in a moment, if he thought you were offended by his conduct; and so generous, that he would take the cake from his own lips to give it to the beggar--no trifling stretch of charity in a boy. is it wonderful, that rudolph was the idol of his parents, the favorite of his playmates, and the cherished darling of the whole castle? his merry spirit and winning ways completely gained the hearts of the servants and retainers, and many voices in the adjacent cottages were loud in the praise of the beautiful, golden-haired boy. what a proud man was fritz, the old seneschal, when he taught him to manage the horse, to couch the lance, and draw the bow! and when, for the first time, the young heir followed him to the chase, who so happy as he? and rudolph reciprocated his affection; next to papa and dear mamma, sweet little black-eyed cousin bertha, and the ugly, shaggy mastiff to which he was devoted, old fritz came in for his warmest love. and some people were malicious enough to say that there was a strong resemblance between these last two favorites, both in countenance and character; certain it is, that both bruno and fritz were faithful, every ready to contribute to his amusement, and although rough with other people, gentle enough with their young master. one day, in the absence of his father, he set out to ride, with fritz for his only attendant. it was a splendid afternoon; the sky was of that pure exquisite blue you sometimes see, rendered deeper by a pile of snowy clouds in the west; the birds were silent, as if unwilling to disturb the holy calm of nature; not a leaf stirred, save here and there a quivering aspen, emblem of a restless, discontented mind. rudolph was in excellent spirits, and saladin, his good arab steed, flew like the wind; old fritz tried to restrain his ardor, but in vain; the impetuous boy kept far ahead. they were soon some miles from home, and rudolph saw before him a point where the road branched off in several directions, one of them leading back again to the castle, another taking a circuit of some distance, and a third, a narrow, unfrequented path, entering into a dark forest. into this wood the boy had never been allowed to enter, from the evil name it had acquired in the traditions of the peasantry. some said that robbers haunted its deep recesses, for travellers had entered it, notwithstanding all the entreaties of those who would have detained them, but had never been seen again; in fact, none had ever been known to return, who had been fool-hardy enough to enter into that snare. others argued that they had been devoured by the wild beasts, whose savage roar might sometimes be heard at night; or that, losing their way, they had perished with hunger. but the older and wiser shook their heads at these suggestions, insinuating that skepticism on such awful subjects might bring down vengeance upon the unbelieving; and intimated, more by look and by gesture than by word, that the whole forest was enchanted ground, and that powers more than mortal claimed it as their own. all agreed that the fairy wood--so it was called--was a dangerous place, and few, indeed, would venture into its shady depths. rudolph's curiosity had been excited in the most vivid manner by what he had heard concerning the mysteries of the forest, and he had long determined to seize the first opportunity of gratifying it. old fritz would not have consented to his entering it, if he had given him his weight in gold, but the worthy seneschal was now out of sight, and here was a glorious opportunity for the boy--he dashed into the wood, and urging saladin onward, was soon involved in the intricacies of the forest. on went the fearless boy, determined to explore, and doubting nothing, although the dark, gloomy shades might well have appalled an older person, and the numerous, faintly defined paths would certainly have made an experienced one hesitate. on he went, deeper and deeper into the wood, until he was suddenly startled by low, prolonged, growling thunder. he tried to retrace his steps, but was only more entangled in the maze: the sky had become black as midnight, the rain fell in torrents, the lightnings flashed fearfully, and all nature appeared convulsed. rudolph had never before witnessed such a storm, and brave boy as he was, his heart quaked with terror--he felt how powerless a human being is, when, unsheltered, he is brought face to face with the elements, lashed up to fury. he now realized, in addition, that he had lost his way, and feared that in his efforts to extricate himself, he might penetrate still deeper into the wood; so he determined to throw the reins upon his horse's head, and trust to his instinct, as he had often heard that travellers had done successfully, when they had wandered out of their road. he accordingly did so, and speaking cheerily to saladin, allowed him to choose his own path: to his surprise his beautiful arab left the track, and set off on what he concluded to be a short cut out of the forest. after about an hour, however, poor little rudolph began to doubt the instinct of horses, for the aspect of every thing around him became wilder every moment; but, happily, the rain had ceased falling, and as far as he could judge from the occasional glimpse he got of the sky, it had cleared up. on went saladin, and did not stop until they entered an open glade; when, as if his task were quite accomplished, he came to a dead halt. rudolph alighted, and looked about him: all was so still and beautiful, that it had the effect of calming the agitation of his spirits, and filling his mind with an indescribable awe,--it looked pure and holy, as if the foot of man had never trod there, from the foundation of the world. the setting sun, at this moment, pierced through the clouds, tinting them with purple, crimson, and gold, and revealing the full beauty of the scene. rudolph found himself in a circular opening, around which lofty trees, overgrown with moss and lichen, seemed planted as a wall of defence. as he approached, seeking to leave the spot, they tossed their long arms as if warning him away, and the thick darkness behind appeared to become denser, and to frown him back. a superstitious fear crept into his heart, and he turned his eyes to the sweet glade rejoicing in the sunlight, where all looked smiling and inviting. in the centre, upon a gentle mound covered with a carpet of the softest, richest green, there towered a majestic oak, which had looked upward to the sky for centuries, while generation after generation of men had entered the world, had laughed and wept, grown old and died. it showed no signs of the decrepitude of age, and raised up its head proudly like the monarch of the forest; but a deep rent in its heart showed that decay was at work, and that the lofty tree would, one day, he laid low in the dust. led by an irresistible impulse, rudolph ascended the mound, and entered the little chamber in the oak. the boy was exhausted by fatigue and excitement, and, insensibly, his eyes closed, and his weary frame was wrapt in slumber. and now a strange thing occurred. whether he dreamed, or whether he waked, he scarcely knew; but delicious music stole through his soul, and he opened his eyes. the little woodland glen was steeped in soft moonlight; and, if it looked wonderful and beautiful when the sun shone upon it, how much more so now, when the very light was mysterious, and suggestive of something beyond! around the mound there doated--for that word only can express their motion--like bright and fleecy clouds, a band of lovely beings, resembling none he had ever seen before. as he gazed upon them, he thought not of creatures of earthly mould, but of the most rapturous and fleeting sights and sounds of nature;--of the rainbow, spanning the sky after a storm; of the dashing cataract, descending in mist from stupendous heights; of the nightingale, singing in her hidden nest; of harmless sheet-lightning, suddenly revealing hills, domes, and castles in the clouds, then as suddenly dispelling the illusion. as he looked more closely, he found that, as with linked hands they glided round, their gossamer wings moving through the air waked up a melody like that of the eolian harp; while a few, standing apart, made silvery music by shaking instruments, which looked like spikes of bell-shaped flowers, and deeper tones were evolved from larger, single bells, struck with rays of light. as the bells swung to the breeze, and the cadence swelled and rose, a delicious fragrance of wild-flowers filled the air, and from the depths of the forest all animated creatures came forth to gaze upon the spectacle. the glow-worm crept there, but his tiny lamp was dimmed by brighter fairy eyes; the noisy cricket and the songsters of the grove hushed their notes, to listen to the harmony. the wolf and the bear drew near together, but laid aside their fierceness; the deer and the hare came forward fearlessly, under the influence of the potent spell. suddenly, from a hollow in the oak, an owl with glaring eyes flew down: the music and the dance were hushed, and all listened to his voice. to his surprise, rudolph found that he could understand the language of all animals, which had formerly seemed to him mere unmeaning sounds. "bright fairy queen, shall mortal dare on beauty gaze beyond compare; shall one of earth unpunish'd see the mazes of your revelry? that ancient oak, by your donation, for years has been my habitation; and now a child usurps my right, sleeping within its heart to-night; nor that alone, but dares to view the mysteries of nature too. and shall he go, unscath'd, away? as privy counsellor, i say nay! else man will learn our secrets dread. and higher raise his haughty head: all nature soon would subject be, nor place be left us, on land or sea. e'en now, prophetic, i see the day when steam exerts resistless sway-- and iron monsters, with breath of flame, shall blot from earth the fairy name. then to the beasts that throng the wild, dread queen, give up the intruding child!" at this address, to which the wolves howled a dismal chorus of assent, all eyes were turned upon the chamber in the ancient oak, in which rudolph sat, his heart quaking with terror at the thought of the fate before him. but a sweet voice, clear and piercing, spoke his name, and commanded him to descend, fearing nothing if his conscience was pure, and if he had not obtruded through vain curiosity upon the revels of the queen of fairy land. rudolph obeyed. the queen was standing, with the ladies of her court ranged on either side. they all were beautiful, but she was like the brightness of the morning and the freshness of flowers. dazzling loveliness distinguished her, and a dignity to which all paid obeisance. upon her brow sparkled the evening star, her only diadem. she gazed mildly, yet searchingly, upon the boy, as if she read his very thoughts; and then she spoke: "'tis true, wise counsellor, that according to our laws of fairy realm, the child should die; and yet my heart yearns to the innocent, blue-eyed boy. does no one have compassion upon him? have none a plea to offer for his pardon? i solemnly declare that he shall be saved, were my very crown and life endangered, if but one act of kindness and mercy shown by him to weaker creatures, can be proved. for to the kind and merciful, mercy should ever be shown; this law stands higher than any judicial enactment." as she spoke these words, a dove with gentle eyes and downy breast flew to her feet, and thus timidly offered her prayer: "i plead for mercy, gracious queen, i pray you to forgive! and if my voice were silent now, i were not fit to live. one day, when absent from my nest, a falcon, fierce and strong, seized me, all helpless to resist-- soon would have ceased my song. just then, young rudolph, brave and fair, perceived my urgent need; he risk'd his life in saving mine-- and shall that kind heart bleed?" "it shall not: he is saved; and you, gentle dove, ever wear this collar round your neck as a token of my approbation; it shall descend in your family to the latest generations." the queen then touched rudolph with her golden wand; an electric thrill passed through his frame, and he fell down senseless to the ground. when he awoke, he found himself lying upon a couch of purple and gold, in a superb crystal hall, whose pillars, sparkling with gems, rose upward to a lofty transparent dome of blue, through which the sun was shining brilliantly. over him bent the fairy queen, radiant in beauty, and eying him with indescribable tenderness. at last she spoke, kindly caressing him: "my son, you are now in my dwelling, where no harm shall befall you; fear nothing. here you shall live forever, in splendor and happiness; your every wish shall be gratified; no more scorching suns, no more dark and gloomy days for you--all shall be joy, unvaried pleasure, eternal youth and health. one solitary restriction i must lay upon you, but that is positive; on no account shed a tear, for on that day when you weep, you must return to earth--even my power could not keep you here. tears must never sully the palace of the fairy queen. but why should you weep? i myself will take care of you, teach you, be a mother to you: when you feel a desire, mention it to me, and it is already accomplished." with ardent gratitude and passionate love and admiration, rudolph embraced the beautiful queen, and said, "is this really true? and is this splendid place to be my own home?" "it really is; i have adopted you for my son. it is my intention to educate you myself." "how very good of you! how i love you! and my papa and mamma, and dear little bertha, can they live here too? and may bruno, and saladin, and old fritz come too?" "oh no, little rudolph, you must not talk about those other people; they belong to the earth--let them stay there. you must forget about that old home of yours, for all that has passed away; your home is with me, in fairy land. it is much more beautiful here; there is nothing on earth that can compare with it. i will show you such splendid things! i will teach you how to paint the flowers, and to make diamonds, and emeralds, and pearls. you shall see me mix the rainbow, and scatter the dew upon the flowers at night. i have a thousand pretty things i want to teach you: do you not wish to learn them?" "oh, very much indeed! i should like to do such things; i love dearly to work: mamma often lets me water her flowers with a little watering-pot; is that the way you scatter the dew?" "child, child! how ignorant he is! but under my tuition he will soon learn to understand the mysteries of nature. on earth, children are so mismanaged--no wonder they become the sort of men they do. my rudolph shall be different; he shall hear no silly nursery tales, shall waste no time in learning exploded nonsense, but shall early become acquainted with _things_, and shall learn to value science. i quite long to begin! it is a grand experiment; the work of education is a noble one. and when he is a man, and has become under my teaching a perfect specimen of what a man should be, what then? shall i let him return to earth? it is time enough yet to think of that." "may i go now, and play, pretty lady? you are not talking to me." "true, i forgot myself; come with me, rudolph, and i will show you through my palace and pleasure-grounds: recollect that you are now my son." what words can describe the sights of beauty that awaited him? all spectacles that could enchant the eye, all melodies that could ravish the ear, were collected together, in infinite variety. nothing that was exquisite upon earth was unrepresented; but the grossness and the imperfection which will cleave to every thing earthly, was left out. it was the very palace of delights. and nothing faded here--the flowers were ever-blooming, and if picked, were instantly replaced by fairer blossoms. delicious fruit, ever ripe, but never decaying, hung from the boughs; streams of milk, wine, sherbet, and other delicious drinks, trickled from the rocks into marble basins, and gold cups were suspended near, to invite the thirsty to partake; while pure, sparkling water rose high into the air, as if ambitious to greet the kindred clouds, and then fell into large receptacles, fashioned out of one pearl, emerald, or ruby. the pleasure-grounds were separated from the gross outer world by a thick and lofty wall of evergreens, impervious to mortals, which forbade both ingress and egress: at least, rudolph's eyes could see no mode of exit. but what could be wished for beyond? it was a paradise! rudolph was allowed to roam undisturbed through the splendid saloons, vast halls, and pillared galleries of the palace, where at every step he saw some new subject of wonder. no treasure-house of princes could for one moment compare with the wealth and grandeur here exhibited, and the fairy queen informed him that all should be his, when by knowledge he had earned a title to it--it should be the reward of his application to the noble studies to which she wished to introduce him. "i would do a good deal to get all these beautiful things: i hope the lessons are not very hard, for i never did like to study. i love play a great deal better." "but play is only meant for babies and kittens, rudolph: it is unworthy of a being who can think. i know you have great talents, and i am the one to develop them. i mean to teach you mineralogy and chemistry, natural philosophy and history, astronomy and geology, botany and geometry. you shall be wise, and shall learn to look beyond the surface of things into their natures and constituent parts. you shall know _why_ every thing was made just as it is, and shall understand the exact proportions of all things to each other, and to the universe, so that the whole system goes on in perfect and beautiful harmony. you shall learn the balancings of the clouds, and the potent spell which keeps the sun in its place, and makes the moon circle round the world. you shall go with me into the dark caverns of the earth, and see how rocks and metals are made in nature's forging shop. you shall witness the operation of the subterranean forces which have altered the whole aspect of this planet, and thrown up the lofty mountains, and tossed out from the treasury below the varied wealth it held, making the world both beautiful and rich. and i will show you ancient creatures, more huge than whales, which once frolicked on the earth, before man was made: oh, i have a thousand wonders to point out to you, and a great deal to teach." "thank you; you are very good. but indeed it sounds very hard, and i don't like such things at all. i'd much rather play ball." "silly child!" thought the fairy queen, "he has been too long perverted by the trifling ways of man: i should have taken him younger. i see that i cannot at once indoctrinate him into the arcana of nature; i must gradually lead him on, as if in play. good! a bright idea! that must be the right way to educate frivolous, frolicksome childhood. science in sport! excellent. yes, i'll teach him the vocabularies in rhyme, and set them to lively music--that will do; he'll like it nearly as well as if it were nonsense. i'll lead him on to the knowledge of principles, by means of beautiful experiments: he'll think i am amusing him, when i am gravely in earnest in the work of instruction. i will set rewards before him, to impel him onward: i will excite his curiosity, and make it a favor to gratify it; and then the boy will swallow knowledge as if it were cake." "come with me, rudolph, i have something pretty to show you." "that i will: i love to see pretty things, dear lady." "call me mamma, rudolph: you are now my son." "indeed i cannot: nobody is mamma but my own dear mamma who loves me so--oh, i do _so_ wish i could see her!" "hush, child, that's silly. now keep very quiet in this dark room, and you'll see something. what is this i hold in my hand?" "a great glass jar, like one of mamma's preserve jars, only much larger." "do you see any thing in it?" "yes, ma'am, ever so much iron wire twisted round and round." "is there any thing else in the jar?" "nothing at all." "nothing you can see, but there is a kind of gas we call oxygen, which will burn when i put in a lighted piece of stick, very carefully. look!" "oh, beautiful, beautiful! how the wire burns! only look at the sparks! that is very pretty indeed, ma'am. now it has all burnt out--what a pity!" "now, rudolph, i want to tell you about it. you must know that the air we breathe is made up of this oxygen, of nitrogen, a very little carbonic acid gas, and a small quantity of water. if the oxygen was taken out of the air, you could not live for one moment: i'll show you. you see this jar? it is full of nitrogen--of air with the oxygen taken out." "but what are you putting into it? a little mouse, i declare!" "yes: but you see it dies instantly; it cannot live because there is no oxygen in the air." "poor little mouse, how i wish you had not killed it! it is a shame! if _i_ did such a cruel thing, my mamma would punish me." "don't talk so, child! it's silly. the mouse died without any pain, and if one principle of science is fixed in your head, it is well worth the sacrifice of its insignificant life. there will be less cheese eaten in the world--that's all. now, do you understand about oxygen and nitrogen, which chiefly make up the atmospheric air?" "i know that oxygen made the wire burn beautifully, and i know that horrid nitrogen killed the poor little mouse; but i don't half believe that they are in the air i breathe. i like to see pretty experiments, but i do hate explanations. now will you let me fly a kite?" "yes; come out into the open air--remember it is composed of oxygen and nitrogen--and i'll make you a kite." so saying, she led him into the gardens, and waving her wand over a piece of birch bark, behold three splendid kites! the larger one resembled an eagle, and as it mounted into the air, and its light wings flapped in the wind, it seemed about to pounce upon the two smaller kites, which were in shape like pigeons. rudolph was enchanted, and clapped his hands with glee. after allowing him to enjoy the novelty for some time, the fairy said to him, "to-morrow i will show you another kite, more wonderful than these. i will make it so, that it will draw down the electricity from the sky. have you ever rubbed a cat's fur the wrong way, in the dark?" "oh, that i have! it's great fun. there's our black cat, at home, i have often done it to her, and i can see the sparks in cold weather." "well, that is electricity, and there is electricity in every thing, only some objects have more than others. when you see the sparks, it is the electricity leaving a thing which is overcharged with it, for another which has less, to keep up a balance. the lightning is nothing but electricity, and to-morrow i'll make a storm, to show you how to draw down this subtle element from the clouds." "oh, don't trouble yourself! i like this kind of kite well enough: if i have to learn about that old electricity, i'd rather give up playing kite." "rudolph, would you like to play at soap-bubbles?" "that i would! how i wish bertha was here--wouldn't she clap her hands and jump, as the large bubbles fly up into the air!" "i do not wish you to think about little bertha. here are your basin of soapsuds and your golden pipe; now blow away, my boy!" "oh, how very pretty! do you see that big fellow, how he shines in the sun, and shows all the colors of the rainbow? isn't it fine?" "that is the very thing i want to tell you about. the sun, shining upon vapor and falling water, makes all these beautiful colors. that is the way i mix the rainbow. the science which teaches about the rays of light, their reflection and refraction, and the coloring they give to different objects, is called optics: it is an interesting study, and i wish you to be a proficient in it." "optics, is it? that seems to me very different from blowing soap-bubbles. i do hate to be cheated into learning big words, and understanding things, when i am playing." "the child has no brains for science, i fear!" thought the fairy. "i almost repent my bargain! however, i will not be discouraged quite yet, perhaps the proper chord has not been struck." accordingly, she invented for him various pretty toys, since then copied by men: the kaleidoscope, with its infinite variety of shifting figures; the orrery; the prism; the burning-glass; the microscope and the telescope; and the magic lantern, with its vast variety of entertainment. another magic spell she put into operation, by which, with the aid of an instrument in a little square box, the sun was compelled to paint landscapes and portraits, so true to life that they seemed only to lack motion. rudolph was very happy, playing with these beautiful and ingenious toys: he thought them more entertaining than marbles, or battledore and shuttle-cock. but when the _rationale_ came to be explained, his preceptress found her labor was all lost--there was no mistaking the fact that the child had an invincible dislike to science. "i believe i see my mistake," thought the unconquerable fairy. "i began at the wrong end. children _feel_ before they _think_. i must elevate his fancy, and train his imagination by communion with forms of beauty. i see that he cannot yet penetrate into the reason of things around him; but he can feel the power of the external, and when his nature is sufficiently exalted and matured, then he will of his own accord seek knowledge. yes, sentiment comes first, and reflection will follow in its train." accordingly, the fairy queen commenced his poetical training, and for some time she flattered herself that it advanced charmingly. as the attraction of novelty had worn off from her extensive pleasure-grounds, she caused the landscape daily to change, so that all the beauties, scattered over the wide earth, were in succession placed before him. at one time, the lofty alps rose to the sky, filling his soul with the sense of the sublime; and the chamois, with fleet foot, climbed their snowy pinnacles; while the deep, frowning precipices and the dark valleys gave him a sensation of terror, not unmingled with pleasure. suddenly the scene would change, and he stood upon an island of the pacific, a little emerald gem of the ocean. around the coral reefs the waves lashed themselves into fury, and the white surf flew upward; but one little opening admitted the water gently into a quiet bay, where the deep blue rivalled that of the sky, and the water-birds swam in peace. the cocoa-nut, the plantain, and the banana spread their broad leaves to the sun, and flowers of brilliant hues and exquisite fragrance enlivened the landscape. behind, there uprose tall cliffs covered with the richest foliage, and cascades, like silver threads, dashed downward to the sea. again the spectacle changed, and vesuvius appeared in flames, reddening the sky, and paling the moon; floods of lava rolled down, and rocks and ashes were tossed aloft. it seemed as if evil spirits were sporting beneath, and the mountain shook in agony. in the distance, peacefully slept the city of naples, and that broad and beautiful bay, the admiration of the world. these objects, however, did not last. rudolph soon lingered among sweet-scented orange groves, and plucked the golden fruit by the light of the moon, and rejoiced in perfect beauty; or wandered off into a magnolia forest, where the huge white flowers shone forth among the dark glistening leaves, and the air was heavy with fragrance. or he paddled his small canoe among the waters of the amazon, and saw those magnificent water-lilies, on one of whose round green leaves, with up-turned edges, he could float with perfect safety; while the brilliant tropical birds flew around, and monkeys climbed the tall trees, which were festooned with vines of luxuriant growth. again did the scene vary--and niagara thundered down its cliffs, filling his heart with delighted awe; resistless and changeless, rolled it then, when the deer wandered undisturbed upon its shores, as now, when thousands of visitors marvel at its grandeur, and feel the infinitude of nature and the insignificance of man. one day the rhine was presented to his view--its vine-clad hills, its frowning castles, its romantic scenery, and the happy peasants coming from the vintage, with songs of rejoicing. but this struck a chord untouched before. it brought up home and homely pleasures with a force and vividness that made the boy, in the midst of all sensual delights, feel a sudden sickness of the heart, a longing for the fireside, and for the every-day occupations from which he had been snatched. he thought of his father and mother, so kind and good; of merry little bertha, ever so pleased to frolic with him--and he almost felt her chubby arm around his neck; he remembered old fritz, and his rides upon saladin, with his arched neck and flowing mane. he thought of the ancient hall, in which he had played such mad pranks with bruno--even the black cat came in for a portion of his regret. and never, never more was he to behold these objects of his love! so feels the swiss, when in a foreign land, when breathing the balmy air of italy, or wandering amid the gayeties of paris, he hears the ranz des vaches; the simple notes recall the alpine home, the mother and the friends: he sickens and dies. rudolph's sad countenance soon attracted the notice of his kind protectress, who eagerly asked what she could do to promote his happiness. he told his trouble, and especially dwelt upon his loneliness; he longed to see his papa and mamma, and little bertha; and he wanted companions of his own age--human children, with whom he could laugh and play, whom he could toss in the snow in winter, and with whom he could rove the fields in summer, picking the flowers and chasing the butterflies. the fairy queen shook her head: "you ask an impossibility, rudolph; my very existence was endangered by bringing you here, and how can i convey other mortals to the crystal palace, the inner temple of nature? it cannot be--however, now i think of a plan; yes, to-morrow you shall have your wish, only you must smile and be happy once more, rudolph." on the morrow, with the early dawn, a troop of merry, rosy children awaited his waking: how soon they were friends! children, and child-like hearts, are not long in knowing each other. they were all pretty, but different, both in appearance and disposition; they were crowned with flowers and green leaves, of various sorts. "what funny names you have!" said rudolph, as they introduced themselves. "yes; but we did not name ourselves," they replied; "it is not our fault if we have hard names--you'll soon learn them." and so he did: there was cochlearia, a sharp-witted girl, who made rather biting speeches occasionally; there was daucus, a red-headed youngster, and raphanus, a pretty child of brilliant complexion, crowned with violet-colored flowers; there was brassica, and zea, and maranta, and capsicum, a fiery fellow, and nasturtium, crowned with bright orange-flowers, and a great many others. rudolph liked most of them very much, but his especial favorites were little solanum and farinacea, brother and sister, both crowned with blue flowers. he thought they were so good, he could never get tired of them; perhaps brassica and zea were sweeter, and raphanus was more piquant, but these two friends of his could never cloy his taste; he should always love them. as for cochlearia, he could not abide her: she was so pert. several times she came near disturbing the harmony of the little band by her speeches: she reproached daucus with his carroty head, and told capsicum that his temper was too hot, and called nasturtium only a weedy fellow, after all. hereupon, solanum, who was a very amiable soul, told her she was enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes; and at that, she turned round, and informed him that he was such a mealy-mouthed fellow, he was no judge at all. at last rudolph was obliged to tell her that he had never known a child whose society he relished so little, and that he would be compelled to complain of her, unless she went away; accordingly she did so, and then they enjoyed uninterrupted peace. how happy was that day! how varied the amusements! what joyful shouts! what heart-felt laughter! rudolph, long debarred from the company of other children, was almost out of his wits with excitement. but the sun now approached the west, and with one accord they hastened away, notwithstanding all his entreaties. "why must they go? they could sleep with him; there was plenty of room in the palace; they should not leave." "they would return to-morrow, but now they must go; before the sun set--good-by, good-by." "you shall _not_ go," cried rudolph, seizing hold of solanum and farinacea, who struggled hard to evade him, while their companions swiftly passed them, and vanished through a little postern gate he had never seen before, into the forest beyond. "why should you want to go? do you not love me?" said rudolph, as the two struggled yet more earnestly to escape his grasp. "i assure you we _have_ hearts, but we cannot now stay," was all they could utter, for at that moment the sun sank below the horizon, and the beautiful children vanished from his sight: in their place, there fell to the ground--two potatoes! scarcely believing his eyes, he quickly opened the little gate, calling to his friends to return; but no voice replied, and no children were to be seen. instead, scattered about upon the ground, were radishes, carrots, turnips, parsneps, cabbages--all that remained of his playmates. the disappointed child burst into a fit of passionate weeping. was all deception, illusion? was there nothing real, naught to satisfy the heart? was he ever to be alone, consumed by vain longings for affection he was destined never to receive? what did _he_ care for all that beauty and grandeur--one heart-given human kiss was worth it all. the child was still sobbing bitterly when the fairy queen drew near. her starry crown was dim, like the evening star seen through a mist; the sparkle had gone out of her eye and her face. she was sad, for she knew that she must lose her little protégé; she was vexed, for she had been completely baffled. "and cannot i make you happy?" she said. "is all the power, and the grandeur, and the wisdom, and the beauty you see in fairy land, insufficient to satisfy that foolish heart of yours? silly boy! he longs for human love. go then--even if i _could_ keep you, i think i scarcely would; i can teach you nothing." "and may i really go? go to my own dear, sweet mamma? oh, how happy i am!" "you little ungrateful wretch! is that all the thanks i get for the pains i have taken to make a man of you?" "of course you are very good: but indeed i always told you i wanted to remain a little boy." "out of my sight!" said she, stamping her tiny foot upon the rock on which she was standing--sympathizing with her passion, it threw out sparks, which hardened into diamonds when they cooled. "my experiment has proved a signal failure; i see a child will be a child, in spite of all the charms of science: if ever i take another--if ever i try again to bring up a philosopher, may i lose my crown!" rudolph, affrighted, had run through the little gate, which immediately closed behind him. he looked around; the scene was strangely familiar. he found himself at the border of a wood, in a place where three roads crossed. "it was there," thought he, "that, a year or two ago, i dashed into the forest on saladin, and got lost: and since then i have been in fairy land." at that moment he lifted up his eyes, and saw old fritz approach, leading saladin; he ran forward to meet him, and fritz, on his part, seemed overjoyed at seeing his young master. "you dear old soul! how glad i am to see you! why, you don't look a day older than when we parted!" "it would be queer if i did, as we only parted company an hour ago, when you rode off and left your poor old fritz. how you have frightened me! i thought you had gone home the nearest way, and rode there to see: but no, you were not at the castle. so i came back again, very much worried about you on account of the shower that came up so suddenly, and met your horse, quite near the wood. i'm glad to find you at last!" "is it possible it was only an hour ago? i can hardly believe it." "oh yes, no more, though it has seemed longer to me, i have been so anxious." rudolph laughed. "i do believe i have been asleep! and i have had the funniest dream! do you know, i thought i was in fairy land? it was all so sweet, and so grand, and learned, and tiresome--oh, i am glad it was only a dream. i did want so much to get home again, and have some fun." "how could he wish to leave such a charming place, where there was every thing that was lovely on earth?" cried gertrude. "i think he had very little taste." "there was all there," said aunt lucy, "but the very things he wanted--his father and mother, his playmates, kind old fritz, and his horse and dog--not to speak of a very important thing in a boy's eyes, liberty to play without being pestered with continual lectures." "i think your fairy queen has a tart temper of her own, sister ellen," said tom. "when she was rating the poor little fellow for ingratitude, i thought of that passage in virgil, where the rage of the gods is spoken of--'tantæne animis coelestibus iræ!'" "do translate, for the benefit of the unlearned. it is so _mannish_ to quote latin," said cornelia. "'can such anger dwell in celestial souls?' you see i am all obedience," answered tom. "you should remember, my dear critic, that fairies never yet claimed to be perfect beings. they are very far from being angels, and are decidedly of the earth, earthy. you know that the inferior specimens of the race--the vulgar fairies--delight in playing tricks upon careless housekeepers, spilling their cream and spoiling their butter: that is not very angelic, i'm sure. of course, the queen would be too dignified and too spiritual for such frolics; but she could not understand much about human nature, or child-nature, and especially she would think the affections to be great nonsense. but she has bought her experience now, with rudolph." "one comfort is, that she does not intend to take another child to educate--she has had enough!" said amy. "she could not, if she would," replied mary. "i think the day has now come, foreseen by the prophetic owl, 'when iron monsters, with breath of flame, shall blot from earth the fairy name.'" "steam engines and locomotives?" said louis. "nothing else," replied ellen. "i do not doubt in the least that the whole of that fairy wood has been carefully surveyed and graded, and iron tracks run directly through the palace itself." "oh what a shame!" cried harry. "'tis very sad, indeed, to have all romance spoiled in this way," said mrs. wyndham. "but we have a modern substitute for the magic of elfdom--this very steam-engine, which works such wonders; the electric telegraph, which beats time itself, making news depart from philadelphia for st. louis, and reach its destination an hour before it started, if you may believe the clock. and some of those toys, originally invented by the fairy queen, if we may credit ellen--the telescope, bringing down the moon so near to you, that you feel inclined to take a long step, and place yourself in another planet--and photography, which enables you in one moment to possess upon metal or paper an exact fac-simile of your friend. if these things do not surpass all we read of in fairy land, i know nothing about it." "i have one very serious objection to your fairy queen, cousin ellen," said charlie bolton, trying to keep a long, sober face. "what is that? poor queen, how she is criticised! if she were here, she would show her temper now, i think!" "she is such a horrid _blue_. it's all very well for her to dance, and mix the rainbow, and sprinkle the dew upon her flowers, and wear the evening star on her forehead, if she does not find its weight oppressive--that's all feminine enough. but when she tries to come over us as an _esprit fort_--a strong-minded woman--it's rather too much. oxygen and hydrogen, and all the _ologies_--i never can stand that sort of thing in a woman." "just as if we had not a right to knowledge as well as the lords of the creation! and besides, i want to know, master charlie, which is the most disgusting--for a woman to lisp learning, or for a man to talk politics, as the creatures will do!" "oh, i beg your pardon--i very humbly retract, my dear coz. i must use the words of that sensible 'coon, who has earned immortality by meeting his death like a philosopher--'is that you, captain scott?' 'yes.' 'then you need not fire--don't take the trouble to raise your rifle--if it's you, captain scott, i might as well come down.' so, if it's you, miss cornelia wyndham, you can spare your shot, for i'll come down at once;--i would rather face the woman's rights' convention, in full conclave assembled, than my cousin cornelia, when she stands up for the rights of her sex to be pedantic and disagreeable!" "i was quite amused at the queen's experiments in education," said mr. wyndham. "she is not the only one who has tried to force knowledge upon unwilling minds, and to develop children as we would spring peas and asparagus, by subjecting them to hot-house stimulants. these fancy methods of training the young idea do not appear to succeed very well; to see some of the cards used in infant schools, and to read occasional school advertisements, you would deem it quite impossible that any dunces could escape the elevating processes now applied to the unfortunate little ones--yet, happily, the constitutions of most children are very elastic, and there are not as many instances of dropsy on the brain as we might expect." "i wonder the fairy did not take a hint from the bees," remarked mary. "how is that? have they any particular mode of training?" "very much so: when they want to rear up a sovereign who shall be fitted to govern the hive with wisdom, they take any one of their hundred little grubs at random, and put it under tutors and governors. these cram it, not with lectures on political economy, books on international law, or any thing of that sort, but with food much more to its taste--the very best honey, and a kind of _royal food_, which i suppose it is considered high treason for a subject to touch. day by day, the grub becomes more and more the princess, and finally expands into queenly magnificence, when, of course, she must have a hive of her own, or do as dido of tyre--colonize, and found a carthage." "quite amusing! but is it true?" "yes, actually; and if only some such process could be applied to children, would it not save trouble?" "and wouldn't we like it!" cried george wyndham, "ah, but i'd make a bonfire of my euclid and virgil, and all the other worthies, or bury them, as the fellows do yearly at yale college--i had much rather be fed with some essence of knowledge, like the bees." "this talk about fancy modes of mental culture," remarked mr. wyndham, "reminds me of a life i lately read of mr. day, the author of that delightful book, sandford and merton. he was a remarkably benevolent and excellent man, but visionary, and had some peculiar crotchets about education. when quite a young man, he took charge of two poor, pretty orphan girls, and had them trained up in accordance with his own ideas, intending to make one of them his wife. both grew to be fine women, but to spoil the romance, fell in love with other men! so that he enjoyed the pleasure of sedulously educating good wives for two worthy tradesmen, and being left in the lurch himself. a second experiment turned out yet worse, for it cost him his life: he had doubtless had enough of girls, so he took another animal, which he thought might be tamer and more tractable--a horse. he would not allow it to be broken in the usual method, which he considered very cruel: he would talk to it, caress it, make it his friend, win it by kindness. but unfortunately for his experiment, the horse killed him, by a kick, i believe, before it had succeeded." "poor day! uncle, you remind me of the cow that the man wanted to train so as to consider eating a superfluity--she was coming on admirably, but unfortunately for the full success of the experiment, she perversely died, the very day her owner had reduced her to one straw." "how very unlucky!" "aunt lucy," said alice, "when ellen gave us the queen's theorizing in education, i could not help thinking of the old saw, 'bachelors' wives and old maids' bairns are always the best guided.' it's very easy to manage _dream_ children; but when you come to real flesh and blood, it's quite another matter. it does not appear to me that all this systematizing and speculation does much good." "not a bit of it," cried george wyndham. "we boys must be boys to the end of the chapter; and i tell you, some of us are pretty tough subjects! the only hope is that we may turn out not quite so horrid, when we grow up." "i once heard a plan proposed for getting rid of boys of your age, brother george," said cornelia. "much obliged; what was that?" "to bury them at seven, and dig them out at seventeen; how do you like it?" "'tis a bad plan. there would be nobody left in the world to run errands for older sisters--it would never do." "when little rudolph was so fond of his vegetable friends," said mary, "and found them so good, so sweet, so much to his taste, i thought of an account i had somewhere read, written, i think, by the witty sydney smith, of a conversation a new missionary in the south sea islands held about his predecessor, who had been eaten by the cannibals. he asked the natives if they had known him--we will call him mr. brown, as it's rather fabulous. 'mr. brown? oh yes! very good man--mr. brown! very good.' 'and did you know his family?' 'oh yes! such sweet little children! so nice and tender! but mrs. brown was a bad woman--she was _so very tough_.' she was not to their taste." "but, cousin ellen," said amy, "i want to know about those vegetable friends of rudolph. i know that capsicum is a kind of pepper, and i have often met nasturtium, crowned with his orange-flowers; i suppose, of course, that solanum and farinacea are potatoes--but who is that sharp cochlearia, who told solanum he was a mealy-mouthed fellow?" "horse-radish--which solanum thought enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes." "and daucus--was he a carrot?" "yes; and raphanus, with his brilliant complexion, was a radish. maranta was arrow-root, zea was indian corn, and brassica, a turnip--we often enjoy their society at table." "i shall always think of cochlearia when i eat horse-radish on my beef," said charlie bolton. "especially when i take too much, by mistake." "and when i find, to my sorrow, that potatoes have hearts i shall think of solanum." chapter iii. the rhyming game.--orikama, or the white water lily, an indian tale. great was the chagrin of our young party on the following morning, to find that a storm had set in, giving no prospect of amusements out of doors for the day: the rain came down in a determined manner, as if it had no intention of clearing up for a week, and the winds whistled and scolded in every variety of note; even the boys, who prided themselves upon a manly contempt for wind and weather, agreed that the chimney corner was the best place under the circumstances, and that they must try to make themselves as agreeable as possible at home. cornelia quoted, for the benefit of the rest, a receipt she had somewhere met with for the "manufacture of sunshine," which she thought would be especially valuable on such a darksome day: "take a good handful of industry, mix it thoroughly with family love, and season well with good-nature and mutual forbearance. gradually stir in smiles, and jokes, and laughter, to make it light, but take care these ingredients do not run over, or it will make a cloud instead of what you wish. follow this receipt carefully, and you have an excellent supply of sunshine, warranted to keep in all weathers." accordingly, it was resolved to make sunshine, and aunt lucy offered to provide the industry, if they would furnish the other materials. soon were heaps of flannel and other stout fabrics produced from her "dorcas closet," as she called it, in which her provisions for the poor were laid up, in nice order; for even in our happy land does it hold true that "the poor ye have always with you, and whensoever ye _will_ ye may do them good," and kind aunt lucy was not one to neglect this duty. on the day preceding christmas, according to her principle of making as many happy as possible, she had ordered a barrel of flour to be baked into cakes and pies, and had distributed them, along with a turkey and a bushel of potatoes to each, among all the poor families of the neighborhood; and this was only one specimen of the numerous kindly acts by which she drew together the hearts of all around her, and made them realize the christian brotherhood of man. where there were children, she made them happy by the present of a few penny toys; a very cheap investment, yielding a large return of rapture! she could never deny herself the pleasure of giving these little offerings of love with her own hands, and wishing her poor neighbors a "happy christmas;" and on this occasion she had learnt the destitution of a poor widow, who struggled hard to support her young family and to maintain a decent appearance, but who was now laid up with sickness, and unable to provide clothing and fuel for herself and her little ones. mr. wyndham had immediately sent her a load of wood, and his wife was now anxious to furnish the necessary garments. the young girls were rejoiced to aid in the good work, and soon all fingers were busy, and needles were in swift operation; while the boys took turns in the entertainment of the sewers, by alternately reading aloud from a pleasant book. tom green was an excellent reader; his agreeable tones of voice made it a pleasure to listen to him, and his clear articulation and varied expression added greatly to the interest of the narrative. why is it that this desirable accomplishment, which promotes so much the happiness of the home circle, is not more cultivated? after dinner, charlie bolton proposed some games, as he said that quite enough of industry and gravity had been put into the preparation, and he feared the sunshine would not be properly made without the smiles, jokes, and laughter spoken of in the receipt. "how do those lines of milton run, ellen, in l'allegro? my favorite piece--before the old fellow got to be so very sublime, as he is in the paradise lost." "you irreverent jackanapes! to speak so of the immortal bard! i suppose you mean, 'but come, thou goddess fair and free, in heaven yclept euphrosyne, and by men, heart-easing mirth; haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee jest, and youthful jollity, quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, nods and becks, and wreathed smiles, such as hang on hebe's cheek, and love to live in dimple sleek: sport, that wrinkled care derides, and laughter, holding both his sides.'" "that is the passage i mean, and that is the very company i should like to invite, if the rest have no objection." all approved of the suggestion, and soon the whole party was busily engaged in various lively games, "graces," "battledore and shuttlecock," "hunt the slipper," etc., which combined bodily exercise with healthful excitement of the mirthful organs, which some philosophers assert to be, after all, the distinguishing trait of mankind. some call man a "thinking animal," but this is so self-evident a slander upon the great majority of the species, that no words are needed to refute it: one attempted to define him as "a biped without feathers," but when a plucked fowl was brought forward as a specimen of his man, he was obliged to give up that definition. others again describe him as "a cooking animal," but while dogs can act as turnspits, and monkeys can roast chestnuts, he cannot claim this lofty epithet as peculiarly his own; besides, some savages have been found so degraded as to be unacquainted with the use of fire. but wherever man is found, whether under the heats of an african sun, or shivering in the cold of a lapland winter, upon the steppes of tartary, or the pampas of south america, his joyful laughter shows that he is a man, intended for social life and for happiness. 'tis true, we read of the _hyena laugh_, but we protest against such a misapplication of terms: the fierce, mocking yell of that ferocious creature has nothing in common with hearty, genial, human laughter: other animals can weep, but man alone can laugh. and how great a refreshment is it! it relieves the overtasked brain, and the heart laden with cares; it makes the blood dance in the veins of youth, and gives a new impetus to the spirits; work goes on more briskly, when a gay heart sets the active powers in motion. well did the wise king say, "a merry heart doeth good like a medicine:" it keeps off gray hairs and wrinkles, better than any cosmetic that ever was invented. the ancient greeks realized its value, when they placed a jester in the society of their gods upon olympus: as their deities were clothed with human attributes, they did not omit to provide for their amusement. the young ladies were not too dignified and fastidious, nor aunt lucy too wise to join in the sports, and the old lady's spectacles and cap did not feel at all insulted when the handkerchief was tied round them in "blind man's buff," and the hall rang with the jocund shouts of the children, whose greater activity eluded her grasp. when even the youngest acknowledged that they had enjoyed enough romping for one day, mary proposed a new amusement of a quieter character, which she had just heard of, entitled "the rhyming game." as it was found very pleasant, i will give a specimen, that the reader may try it of a winter's evening. one person thinks of a word, but instead of naming it, mentions another with which it rhymes; the next thinks of another rhyme, which is to be _described_, not spoken, and then the leader of the game, guessing from the description what word is meant, says it is, or it is not, such a thing. and so all round the circle. "i've thought of a word that rhymes with _sat_," said mary. "is it that sly animal of the tiger species which is domesticated by man, and delights to steal the cream and to torture poor little mice?" said amy. "no, it is not a _cat_." "is it that useful article which covers the floor in summer, that is on the dinner-table every day in the year, and may be seen behind or before almost every front door?" said cornelia. "no, it is not a _mat_." "is it that nondescript winged quadruped, something like a bird, something like a mouse, something like a kangaroo, which troubles us sometimes of a summer's evening, by flying about the room and entangling itself in our hair?" said ellen. "no, it is not a _bat_." "is it that other agreeable creature, which infests old houses, but is prudent enough to leave them when they begin to fall down: that is very voracious, and sometimes eats babies' noses off?" said tom. "no, it is not a _rat_." "is it a very gentle slap, indicative of love?" "no, it is not a _pat_." "is it one of the wooden pieces of which blinds are composed?" "no, it is not a _slat_." "is it a manly covering for the head?" "no, it is not a _hat_." "is it that word sometimes applied to a disagreeable child?" "no, it is not a _brat_." "is it the opposite of leanness?" "no, it is not _fat_." "is it that covering for the head occasionally worn by young misses, and also a frequent quality of their conversation?" said charlie bolton. "no, insulting sir, it is _not_ a _flat_." "is it that amiable insect, so anxious to discover whether all are made of the same blood, which pays such particular attention to visitors among pine forests?" "no, it is not a _gnat_." "is it a large receptacle used in the brewery and tannery?" "no, it is not a _vat_." "is it an ornamental way of dressing the hair?" said gertrude. "yes, it is a _plait_. now it's your turn, gertrude." "i've thought of a word that rhymes with _rock_." "is it an important part of woman's attire?" "no, it is not a _frock_." "is it an article of infants' clothing?" "no, it is not a _sock_." "is it the thing that brokers buy and sell?" "no, it is not _stock_." "is it a common weed, and also the place where ships are built?" "no, it is not a _dock_." "is it a collection of sheep?" "no, it's not a _flock_." "is it a german wine, highly prized by connoisseurs?" "no, it is not _hock_." "is it a rap at the door?" "no, it is not _knock_." "is it a curious instrument that has hands, but no eyes or ears, and that always weighs its actions, but never does any thing but reprove other people's laziness?" "no, it is not a _clock_." "is it that word, which followed by head, shows what we all are, for not guessing it sooner?" "yes, you are right, it is a _block_." in the evening, mary was appointed by general consent to tell that eagerly-desired indian story. "and mind you give us scalping enough," said charlie bolton; "i'm a little afraid you are too tender-hearted to give your story the proper dramatic effect. it's worth nothing unless there is a great deal of blood spilt, and a whole string of scalps." "horrible, charlie! how can you bear such things! however, i needn't be afraid, if cousin mary is to tell the tale," said amy. "how can i possibly please the taste of both?" replied mary; "i plainly see that only one way is left for me; to suit myself--so, if you'll excuse me, that's the thing i'll do." "we'll be compelled to excuse you, i suppose," said charlie with a shrug: "well, go on then, and be as merciful as your weak woman's nature compels you to be." accordingly, with this encouraging permission, mary began her story, which she called orikama, or the white water-lily: an indian tale. nearly a hundred years ago, when the greater part of pennsylvania was still covered with forests, and was peopled chiefly by wild deer and yet wilder indians, there might have been seen, upon the banks of the beautiful susquehanna, a log cottage of very pretty appearance. it consisted of two stories, and was surrounded by a piazza, whose pillars, trunks of trees unstripped of their bark, were encircled by a luxuriant growth of ivies and honeysuckles, which ran up to the roof, and hung down in graceful festoons. the house was situated so as to command the finest prospect of the river and the distant hills, and gave the traveller the impression that it was erected by people of more refinement than the common settlers of that region, rough backwoodsmen, who thought of little else than the very necessary work of subduing the wild, planting corn and potatoes, and shooting bears and deer. and so it was: james buckingham, who with his young wife had settled there, having purchased land in that vicinity, was a man accustomed to a more polished state of society, and had received a college education in new england. but having become deeply attached to a young girl whose parents refused consent to their union, the impetuosity of his character prevailed over his sense of filial piety, and he persuaded the beautiful ellen farmington to leave her home and duty, and to give him a husband's right to protect her. in all probability, patience and submission might have prevailed upon her parents to give up an opposition, which was in reality unreasonable and groundless, as buckingham was a young man in every way calculated to make their daughter happy; but this rash act of youthful folly had embittered their feelings, and the young couple were forbidden ever to show their faces in the old homestead, lest a parent's curse should light upon their heads. too proud to show any repentance, even if he felt it, james buckingham determined to settle in another state, where nothing should recall the past, and where his small amount of capital, and large stock of energy and industry, might be employed to advantage; accordingly, he fixed his lot among the pioneers of penn's colony, and chose a romantic situation upon the susquehanna for his dwelling. very toilsome were the first years of their settlement, and great their privations; but they were young and happy, and willing hands and loving hearts made toil a pleasure. in a few years, woods were cleared, fields inclosed, barns built, and then, agreeably to solomon's advice, the buckinghams thought of building a commodious dwelling. "prepare thy work without, and make it fit for thyself in the field, and afterwards build thy house." the aid of neighbors, ever ready for such an undertaking, was called into requisition, and soon they removed from the small and only too well ventilated hut, through the chinks of which the sun shone in by day and the moon by night, and the rain penetrated whenever it would, to the ample, pleasant home already described. here it was that little emily buckingham, their only child, first saw the light; and then the cup of their happiness seemed only too full for mortals to quaff. as the child daily grew in beauty, and her engaging ways filled their hearts with delight, then first did they realize the absorbing nature of a parent's love, and regret that _they_ were separated from those who had so felt to emily's mother, when she lay, a helpless infant, in their arms. yet pride prevailed, and no overtures were made to those whom they still thought severe and unrelenting. few, and scattered far, were the farmers in that region, for they were on the very outskirts of civilization. at a short distance rose a primeval forest, untouched by the axe of the settler, where the deer roamed freely, unless shot by the indian hunter; and many were the friendly indians who visited the cottage, and exchanged their game, their baskets, and their ornamented moccasins, for the much-coveted goods of civilized life. frequent among these guests was towandahoc, great black eagle,--so called from his first boyish feat, when, riding at full gallop, he had shot down an eagle on the wing, so unerring was his aim; and its feathers now adorned his head. towandahoc was a great hunter, and did not disdain to traffic with the "pale faces," not only for rifles and gunpowder, but for many domestic comforts to which most indians are indifferent. but great black eagle, although fearless as the bird whose name he bore, was a humane man, more gentle in character than most of his race, and a great friend of the whites, the brethren of the good onas, as the red men called the man who laid the foundations of our commonwealth in peace, by a treaty which, in the language of voltaire, "is the only one never confirmed by an oath, and never broken." especially was towandahoc attached to the buckingham family, who ever treated him kindly, and to the little girl who played with his bow and arrows, and tried in her artless prattle to pronounce his name. unbroken peace had hitherto prevailed between the red men and the pale faces, owing to the just and friendly treatment the natives had experienced; but symptoms of another spirit began now to appear. the war waged between england and france had extended to the colonies, and the french were unremitting in their efforts to gain the indians to their side. a line of fortifications was erected by them, extending from canada to the ohio and mississippi, and they were strongly intrenched at fort du quesne, the site of the city of pittsburg. braddock's expedition and memorable defeat had just taken place; and it was thought by many that the pennsylvania tribes, enraged by the honorable refusal of the assembly to accept their tomahawks and scalping-knives in the war, and courted, on the other hand, by the french, were cherishing a secret, but deep hostility. many of mr. buckingham's neighbors erected blockhouses, protected by palisades, to which they might retreat in case of an attack, and stored them with arms, ammunition, and provisions; but his confidence in the good disposition of the aborigines was too great to allow him to appear suspicious of those who came backward and forward to his dwelling in so much apparent friendship. such was the posture of affairs when emily had reached her fourth year: dear as she was to her parents, the return of her birthday found her unspoilt, and as sweet and well-trained a child as any in the colony. it was worth a walk to see her: her golden curls fell upon a neck of alabaster, and her delicate, regular features were illuminated by dark vivacious eyes: she strongly resembled her mother, who had one of those faces which once seen, are never forgotten, and that seem to ripen merely, not to change, from youth to old age. but this extreme loveliness of person formed but the setting of the gem; emily herself combined so much sweetness and liveliness of disposition, was so affectionate, gentle, and docile, that it was no wonder her parents made her the centre of all their plans and enjoyments. it was she who must always outstrip her mother, in welcoming her father in from the field, "and climbed his knee, the envied kiss to share," and to listen to the delightful tale, that could never be repeated too often: she must bring his slippers, and place his seat near the fire in winter. and she must "help mamma" in all her concerns; and although such help was only a delicious kind of hindrance, her bright face and winsome ways made all tasks light and pleasant. never had she looked so lovely in her mother's eyes as she did on the evening of her birthday, when in her little white night-slip, with bare feet and folded hands, she knelt down to recite the simple prayer she had been taught that day, as a reward for good conduct; the setting sun streamed in at the window, and as its rays lingered among her curls, as if they belonged there, and were reluctant to leave, the mother thought of a kneeling cherub, with a glory encirling her head--but blessed god that her child was yet upon the earth. long did that picture dwell upon her memory. after singing her to sleep with a gentle lullaby, such as a mother only can employ, she imprinted a tender kiss upon the sleeping child, and having seen that all things were well and safely arranged in the house, she and her husband left, intending to spend the evening with mr. markley and his family, who lived at a distance of five or six miles. they were on more intimate terms with them than with any other neighbors, and took back with them roland markley, a boy of ten, who had spent the day with little emily, his especial friend and pet, whom he was never weary of assisting and amusing. it was a pleasure to see the children together: the little girl looked up to him as almost a man, and he made her every whim a law. for her he would make the trip little vessel, and launch it upon the water; for her he would construct the bridge of stones across the brook, and guide her little feet safely to the other side. the conversation at mr. markley's house was of an alarming character; it was said that sure information had been received of a speedy rising of the indians, and the buckinghams were urged instantly to remove to that more thickly settled spot, where a large blockhouse was erected, and all preparations were made to give the enemy a warm reception. the addition of even one able-bodied man to their force was desirable, and they strove to impress upon their neighbors the imminent peril of their exposed situation. so earnest were they, and so probable did the news appear, that mr. buckingham resolved to comply with their wishes, and to remove on the morrow; and with hearts heavier than when they left home, they started to return to it. "do you perceive the smell of smoke? if it should be our cottage!" said ellen buckingham, first breaking the silence in which they rode along. "the woods may be on fire again: do not be alarmed; the conversation this evening has unnerved you," replied her husband; but he could not conceal the tremor of his own voice, as a horrible fear entered into his heart; a fear, soon to become a more horrible certainty! as they drew near, the air became thick with smoke, and when they entered the cleared ground and looked for their home, no home was there! instead, burning rafters and smoking ruins: around, the ground was trodden down by many feet of moccasined men. partly consumed by the fire, lay the bodies of two farm-servants who had been in mr. buckingham's employ; a tomahawk, smeared with fresh blood, lay among the smoking embers; and a golden curl singed by fire, was near it--all they could discover of little emily! the murderers had left, doubtless disappointed that, their prey was so small; and in the first moments of agony, the bereaved parents wished that they too had fallen victims to their fiendish rage. emily was dead, certainly dead! the fresh blood, the lock of hair, proved it only too clearly; her body had been consumed by the flames. the light of their lives had been put out, the glory had passed away from their sky, and they must now go mourning all their days; they felt as did a parent in the olden time, whose words are recorded in scripture, "if i am bereaved of my children, i am bereaved." one little hour had changed the aspect of the whole earth to them. and yet, broken-hearted as they were, they must act: not now could they fold their hands in despair. soon was the news of the indian rising spread among the settlers; and while all flew to arms, and joined in the necessary preparations, tears fell from eyes that were never known to weep before, and rough men spoke soothing words to the mourners; for little emily was known and loved by all for miles around, and many said "she need not change much to be made an angel." it was agreed that with the earliest dawn, when the women and children were safely disposed of, they should meet at the ruins of the hopedale cottage, so was it called, and follow the trail of the savages through the woods; some sanguine spirits, chief among whom was little roland markley, still asserted that emily might live, and have been carried away into captivity; but her parents could not so deceive themselves--that lock of hair had convinced them of her death; hope could not enter their hearts, it had died with emily. one entire day did the indian-hunters follow in the trail and came upon the spot where their enemies had encamped; and there, three trails in different directions, looked as if the savages had scattered. what was to be done? to follow all was impossible, as their own force was a small one; and meantime night had come on, wrapping all things in her mantle of secrecy, and fatigue required them to rest their weary frames. setting a watch, and lighting a fire, with loaded rifles within reach, they slept; such a sleep as men can take, when they dream of a red hand at their throats, and a tomahawk glancing before their eyes. light hearts make heavy sleep; but such a deed as had been committed in the midst of them, makes men start from their slumbers if but a cricket chirps, or a withered leaf falls to the ground. during the night, heavy rains began to fall, and when morning light appeared, all traces of the pathway of their enemy had disappeared; the leaves fell abundantly from the trees, and no mark was left upon the earth to show where they had passed. the baffled party did not give up the search for several days, but nothing transpired to throw any light upon the subject; and they were obliged reluctantly to return, in order to defend their own homes and families from a similar fate. few doubted little emily's death; but some still clung to the hope that she was in the land of the living, and might yet be recovered. but her father and mother hoped nothing: grief entirely filled up their hearts. and with the grief arose a new feeling--bitter and poignant remorse. "this is the just punishment," they thought, "that offended heaven has inflicted upon us, for having wrung _our_ parents' hearts with anguish. now we feel a parent's agony: now can we realize what we made them suffer. this was the tender spot on which a wound would penetrate to the heart; and here it is that a retributive providence has struck us. the arrows of the almighty have pierced us--shall we any longer strive against our maker? we will humble ourselves in the dust, o righteous judge, and will return to duty: if it be not yet too late--if our parents still live--incline their hearts to forgive!" and their pitying god heard their prayer, and brought them in safety to their childhood's home, and prepared for them pardon and peace of conscience. for ellen buckingham's father had been brought to the brink of the grave by sudden illness, and the stern old man wept like a child, when the village pastor, a faithful minister of the gospel, told him that the most faultless creed would not avail him if he cherished a hardened, unforgiving spirit, and exhorted him to pardon and bless his exiled son and daughter. his iron heart was subdued within him, and when his wife, whose gentler nature had long since pined for a reconciliation, joined her entreaties to the commands of religion, then, like the sudden breaking up of the ice upon a noble river, his feelings gushed forth beyond control; all coldness and hardness vanished. at this moment it was that james and ellen buckingham arrived: they had come in the spirit of the prodigal son, not thinking themselves worthy to be called the children of those they had offended; and they were greeted with the same tenderness and overflowing affection described in the parable--their confessions of guilt were stopped by kisses and embraces, and soon they were weeping and recounting their loss, with arms encircling their long-estranged parents. when the doctor paid his next visit, he said that a greater physician than he had interfered, and had administered a new medicine, not very bitter to take, which threw all his drugs into the shade: it was called _heart's ease_, and nothing more was wanting to his patient's recovery, than very tender nursing, and daily applications of the same dose. and tender nursing indeed did he receive from his daughter ellen, and proudly did he lean on the strong arm of his son, when sufficiently convalescent to venture abroad: it seemed as if the affection, restrained within their bosoms for so long a time, now gushed forth more fully and freely than if there had never been a coldness. and thus did sorrow on one side, and sickness on the other, guided by an overruling providence, join together long severed hearts, purify affections too much fixed upon the earth, and lead all to look upward to him who ruleth in the affairs of mankind. truly, "he doth not afflict _willingly_ nor grieve the children of men." at the earnest request of ellen's parents, her husband agreed to continue with them, acting in all respects as their son, and taking off from them the burdens of life: and their latter years were made happy by religion and filial piety. after their death, the buckinghams removed once more to their farm upon the susquehanna, and rebuilt their cottage, in all respects as it was before its destruction. soon again did the vines clamber up the pillars, and hang in beautiful festoons from the roof; but where was she, the beloved one, who had so wound herself round their feelings, that death itself could not unclasp the tendrils? joy had vanished with her, and no portion remained for them in this life but peace, which will ever follow the diligent discharge of duty: the hope of happiness they transferred to that better world, where little emily awaited to welcome them. what, meantime, had been her fate? on that eventful evening she lay upon her little crib, in a darkened corner of the room, buried in the sweet slumber of childhood and innocence. the savage yells did not disturb her, she peacefully slept on; angels must have guarded her bed when a fierce indian, with bloody tomahawk in hand, rushed into the room, but saw her not in her little nest, and returned to his comrades, reporting that all the rest of the inhabitants had fled. determined to do all the mischief in their power, they set fire to the house and barns, and then pushed off into the woods, to seek new victims in the unoffending moravian settlement of guadenhutten. little emily was first awakened by a suffocating heat and smoke, and by the crackling of the flames: she screamed aloud to her father for help, and tried to approach the stairs, but the blinding smoke and the quickly spreading fire drove her back. just then, a tall and noble form, arrayed in indian garb, forced a passage through the raging flames and among the falling rafters, and guided by her cries, sought her chamber, caught her in his arms, and rushed down to the outer air. not without peril to both: the arm which encircled her was burnt so as to bear the scar ever after, but still it sustained its precious burden, and the little girl was unharmed, save that some of her long golden tresses, hanging loosely behind her, were severed from her head by the fire: hence the lock of hair that remained unconsumed, convincing her friends of her death. and who was her brave preserver? towandahoc, great black eagle, the friend of the pale faces! the secret plans of his tribe had been kept from his ears, from the fear that he might betray them to the unsuspecting whites; and it was not until after the expedition had departed for the banks of the susquehanna, that he learned their hostile intentions towards his friends. he lost no time, but followed rapidly in their steps, hoping by his representations to induce his people to give up their murderous purpose, or perhaps, by a short but difficult route through the mountains, to reach the cottage of hopedale before them. but hate is as swift as love in its flight, and as he approached the spot, and saw the flames mounting up to the sky, he thought himself too late, and the work of murder and of destruction complete. just then he heard little emily's cries, and rushed in at the peril of his life, to save the child. supposing her parents to be dead, he resolved to take the helpless little one to his wigwam, and to adopt her as his own. his home was at the distance of several days' journey from the susquehanna, in a retired valley of the alleghany mountains, and thither, through a dense forest, he bent his steps. the greater part of the way he carried the child, her white arm wound round his dusky neck, her fair head lying upon his shoulder; he dried her tears, he picked berries in the wood to refresh her, and strove to comfort her little heart, which was very heavy with sorrow. at last they arrived at his wigwam; his wife ponawtan, or wild rose, ran out to meet her husband, and great was her wonder at the sight of his beautiful burden. he said to her:-- "ponawtan, i have brought you home a child, as the great spirit has taken away our own, and sent them to the good hunting grounds, where forever they hunt the deer. take good care of the child, for she is like a white water-lily, encircled by troubled waters: in our wigwam may she find rest and peace." ponawtan, with a woman's tenderness, took into her arms the trembling, weeping child, who, with the quick instinct of childhood, soon learned that she was a friend. the indian woman understood not even the few words of english by which towandahoc made his kind intentions intelligible, but the language of the heart is a universal one, and in that she was a proficient. well was it for little emily--or orikama, white water-lily, as she was henceforth called, that she had fallen into such good hands. ponawtan was a kind, affectionate being, who had deeply mourned the loneliness of her cabin; and now that a child was given her, that a little motherless, homeless outcast was thrown upon her love, she was happy, and her sweet voice was again heard singing snatches of wild indian melodies at the door of her hut, and about her work. for some weeks orikama drooped her head, and her pale cheek looked indeed like the flower whose name had been given her; and ponawtan grieved when she beheld her languid step, and the sad expression in her large speaking eyes, or when she found her weeping in a corner of the hut. but childhood is happily elastic in its feelings, and again the merry glance came back to her eye, and the little feet danced upon the green grass, and the soft baby voice caught up the indian words she heard, and learned to call her kind protectors by the holy name of father and mother. and was the memory of the past blotted out from her mind? not so--indelibly painted there, was the image of a whitewashed cottage, overgrown with vines, near which a noble river rolled, seen through an opening of the trees; and of a kind father, who wore no plumes in his hair, who bore no bow and arrows, whom she had run to greet, and on whose knee she daily sat, listening to beautiful tales. and of a sweet, pretty mother, in whose face she loved to look, who taught her to say a prayer, kneeling with clasped hands; especially did she think of her as she appeared on that last evening, when she kissed her good-night, and sang her to sleep with a gentle lullaby. and never did she forget to kneel down, before she lay upon her bed of sweet grass, and with folded hands and reverent look to recite her evening prayer. what though the full meaning of the words did not enter into her mind--with childlike piety she looked upward to her maker, and impressions of purity and goodness were made upon her heart. in the beautiful language of keble, "oh, say not, dream not, heavenly notes to childish ears are vain, that the young mind at random floats, and cannot reach the strain. dim or unheard, the words may fell, and yet the heaven-taught mind may learn the sacred air, and all the harmony unwind. and if some tones be false or low, what are all prayers beneath, but cries of babes, that cannot know half the deep thoughts they breathe. in his own words we christ adore, but angels, as we speak, higher above our meaning soar than we o'er children weak: and yet his words mean more than they, and yet he owns their praise: why should we think, he turns away from infants' simple lays?" towandahoc and ponawtan wondered when they saw her kneeling in prayer, but did not interfere with the lovely child; and doubtless this daily habit not only kept up within her mind purer notions of god and duty than she could otherwise have entertained, but enabled her to cherish a more vivid remembrance of the parents she believed to be dead, and of the beautiful home of her infancy. never hearing aught spoken but the indian tongue, the little girl would soon have entirely forgotten her native language, had it not been for this daily practice, which kept at least some words of english fresh in her memory. among the indistinct, but most pleasing recollections of the home of her early childhood, was one of a boy with curly black hair and smiling face, who brought her beautiful flowers, and made for her rabbits out of his handkerchief, and pretty little boats out of nut-shells. she remembered eagerly leaning over the water, watching the tiny bark till it got out of sight, while he held her hand tightly, for fear she should fall into the water. another scene, of a different character, was imprinted upon her mind, never to be erased--that fearful waking, when the flames crackled and roared around her, and the thick smoke filled the air, when she called upon her father for help, but no father was there; and when her dark-skinned father towandahoc rushed in to her rescue. when she thought of this night of horror, she instinctively clasped her hands before her eyes, to shut out the fearful sight. these remembrances, however, did not hinder the bright and lively child from being very happy in her new life. and why not? true, here were none of the conveniences or refinements of civilized life, but the little girl grew up without the feeling of their loss, and "where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." no mirrors reflected her erect and graceful figure, unspoiled by corset or by long, wearisome hours of confinement at the school-bench; it was lithe and well-proportioned as one of diana's nymphs; but instead, she arranged her golden tresses, and decked her head with a wreath of wild-flowers, bending over a small mountain lake, which she had appropriated to her own use, and which served her as bathing-house, dressing-room, and looking-glass, all in one. no turkey or persian carpets were spread upon the floor, no sofa with rich carving and velvet seat invited her to indolence; but instead, she trod upon soft green moss, sweet grass and flowers, and when weary, reposed upon such seat as dame nature provides for her children in her beautiful mansion--the old stump, the mossy bank, the well-washed rock, or the tree prostrated by a storm. no sparkling fountain rose into the air, and fell into its ornamented basin, to please her taste; but the mountain waterfall, of which this is but a feeble imitation, rushed down the rocks in snow-white foam, near her cabin; and she would gaze upon it for hours with delight. to the imaginative mind, to the eye and the ear open to the impressions of beauty, nature has many school-books, unopened in the great city, and amid the busy haunts of men; and her ready scholars may gain many a lesson from the great common mother, undreamt of amid the cares of business, the dreams of ambition, and the bustle of fictitious wants. to orikama the world was one vast temple: instead of marble pillars with corinthian capitals, instead of gothic aisles and dark cathedrals, her eye rested with admiration upon the nobler, loftier columns of trees that had grown for centuries, crowned with graceful spreading foliage; upon long avenues, whose overlapping branches formed a natural arch, imitated long since by man, and called an invention; upon the deep recesses of forests, with their "dim religious light," or with their sudden, glorious illumination, when the last rays of the sun stream in lengthwise, with coloring as rich as any painted window can furnish. her choristers were the birds; her incense the sweet perfume which the grateful earth and her innocent children the flowers continually offer up to their maker: instead of the gaudy chandelier, she gazed upon the full-orbed moon, hanging like a silver lamp from its dome of blue, and forcibly recalling the divine hand which placed it there. all nature had a voice and a meaning to her, and in the absence of the ordinary means of education, and of the invaluable aids of the christian ministry, her pure and religious soul "found tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing." living thus constantly in the open air, while her mind expanded in tranquil beauty, she grew up a blooming, healthful maiden, whose kindly, candid nature shone out through a countenance of rare loveliness. "thoughtless of beauty, she was beauty's self." none were there to flatter the young girl, and to awaken that uneasy vanity which fills the mind with the consciousness of observation, and gives awkwardness to the timid, and affectation to the self-possessed. seeing herself so different from those she loved the best, the fair water-lily often wished she could darken her skin and hair, that she might more resemble others. nor think that orikama was totally unaccomplished; her kind mother ponawtan taught her all she herself knew--to fear and love the great spirit; to be obedient, kind, and patient; to speak the truth, and to bear pain without a murmur. she learned that important part of the indian woman's duty, to raise the vegetables needed for their simple repasts, and to prepare savory dishes of venison and other game; to fabricate their garments, ornamenting them with uncommon skill and taste, and to manufacture baskets of exquisite workmanship. these were her tasks: and when they were accomplished, how joyfully did she bound off to the woods, or up the hills, to gather herbs and barks, such as observation and tradition taught the children of the forest to employ in the cure of diseases: she knew all the trees, shrubs, and roots which grew in that region, and was skilled in domestic surgery, such as woman has ever practised where medical colleges are unknown. in her frequent and distant excursions for this purpose, she had attained one accomplishment not to be taught in schools; her voice was one of exquisite tone and great compass, peculiarly rich and mellow; and she had learned to imitate the birds in their varied warblings, so that frequently answers would be returned to her from the deceived songsters of the wood. then, louder still would ring the notes, and the feathered tribe were excited to emulation by the young girl, singing in the gayety of her heart. thus passed the early youth of orikama, in intercourse with sweet nature, under the kind protection of two of the best specimens of the indian tribes, and almost debarred from any other society. seldom did a moccasined hunter enter their wigwam, yet seldomer did a squaw pass through that lonely valley; and a white man, never. when she had attained the age of thirteen, a change occurred, which threw a shadow over her young life, and was greatly regretted by towandahoc and ponawtan. a detachment of their tribe having determined to migrate, fixed upon that beautiful and fertile vale for the place of their settlement, and soon an indian village arose, where before had rested the holy, maiden calmness of a region almost untrod by man. now, all was dirt, confusion, discord: the vices of civilized life were added to those of the savage, without the decency or refinement which seeks to throw a veil over their deformity. orikama woke up as from a beautiful dream, to find that those whom she would love to think of as brethren, were vile and degraded: she saw lazy, drunken men, lounging about at the doors of smoky huts, or administering chastisement to yelping curs, or to women as noisy, reduced by ill-treatment and domestic drudgery to be the cunning, spiteful slaves they were. every thing shocked the noble and pure spirit of orikama: there were none here that she could make companions and friends, nor would towandahoc and ponawtan have been pleased to have her associate with them. it could not be expected that she should be a favorite with the young girls of the tribe, who were jealous of her superior attractions, and hated her for her reserve; and their conduct made her feel sensibly that she was of another race, and of another nature. their malice was perhaps quickened by the fact, that some slight hostilities had again arisen between the red men and the pale faces, in which their tribe had been very prominent. so unpleasantly changed did the whole family find their beautiful valley, that it was resolved to remove to some distant spot, where they should not be crowded out by uncongenial companionship. accordingly, towandahoc departed for an absence of some weeks, to choose a situation for settlement; the less reluctantly, as all the warriors of the tribe had already left upon an expedition, which he had reason to suspect was aimed against the whites. none remained behind but old men, squaws, and pappooses, not to forget the indian dogs, ever ready by their snarl to recall their unwelcome existence to your mind. one day during her husband's absence, ponawtan departed early in the morning, with a view to gather some herbs which grew upon one spot alone, a marsh at a considerable distance: she left orikama to take charge of the wigwam till her return, which would not be before nightfall. soon after she had left, the crack of the rifle was heard, and the indian village was startled from its repose by the shout of the white man, and armed backwoodsmen rushed in, expecting to meet their enemies: but the warriors were absent, and the rough but generous foe disdained to wreak vengeance upon old men, women, and children. all were taken prisoners, and the cabins were fired: but how great was their amazement, upon coming to the larger, handsomer wigwam of towandahoc, which they concluded from its appearance to belong to a sachem, to see there, shrinking back with terror, a fair young girl of their own blood! few words could she speak in english, and but little could she understand of that tongue which for ten years she had not heard spoken, except by herself in prayer; she had even forgotten her own former name. great was the excitement when the news flew through the band, that a lost or stolen child was recovered, and all rushed eagerly to see her. and she, what mingled feelings filled her heart! childish memories of just such men crowded into her mind. she was lost in wonder and vague remembrance. just then, full of ardor, there rushed forward a youth of twenty, who exclaimed the moment his eyes fell upon her, "it _is_ she! i knew she was living! it is little emily buckingham!" as she gazed upon his open brow, round which the crisp black curls were clustered, and heard the long-forgotten name, she was troubled--she thought of the boy who held her hand as she leaned over the edge of the stream to watch the mimic boat, and with faltering tongue she repeated her name. "the voice and all! do you not see, comrades, how she resembles her mother, ellen buckingham? oh, hasten homeward, to give joy to the hearts of her father and mother!" "father, mother, dead. towandahoc, ponawtan, indian father, mother." after some difficulty, roland markley, for it was really he, succeeded in explaining to her that her parents still lived: and against her tears and prayers, determined at once to break all bonds with her indian home, they tore her away, without waiting for the return of towandahoc and ponawtan; but left their wigwam standing, out of gratitude for the care they had taken of the child. the indians had made an incursion into the territory of the whites, and committed many ravages, and it was with the intention of breaking up their villages, and driving them away, that this expedition had been undertaken. the prisoners they had captured were ransomed on condition of their removal, and the whole tribe passed to the other side of the alleghanies. as the band travelled homeward, and first came across the beautiful susquehanna, orikama--or emily, as we should again call her--started, and gazed eagerly around her: the broad stream called up memories of the past. and when they arrived at the cottage of hopedale, and she beheld the house and grounds, the river and the woods, and the distant hills, she recognized her home, and her earliest recollections were vividly recalled. soon was she folded in the arms of her mother, who so long had mourned for her; and by her father she was welcomed back as one from the grave. the news spread far and wide, and great was the gathering of friends and neighbors to wish joy to the parents, and to welcome back the pride of hopedale: much to the confusion and distress of poor emily. all noticed the strong likeness she bore her mother, in person, voice, and countenance; and if now she resembled her, how much more was this the case when she had exchanged her indian garb for one more suitable to the american maiden! soon were the bonds of love knit together most closely between the parents and their recovered treasure; her tongue relearned the lost language of her childhood, and happiness again brightened the hearth at hopedale; the birds sang more sweetly to her mother's ears, and the sun shone more cheerfully than it had done for years. amidst all her new joys, emily very often thought of her beloved indian parents, towandahoc and ponawtan, and longed to see them again; but indian life, as developed in the village, was abhorrent to her very soul, and here she enjoyed all the freedom and communion with nature she had once so highly prized, with society, and advantages for mental cultivation she was now at an age to appreciate. all were delighted to teach the docile and intelligent girl, so ready to take up ideas, so judicious in the application of them; but roland markley, the playmate of her childhood, installed himself as head tutor, and soon every setting sun saw him on the way to the cottage, eager to apply himself to the task. ten other years have passed; and near the cottage of hopedale stands another, within whose porch, overgrown by the prairie rose, at her spinning wheel, sits a beautiful young matron; perfect contentment is enthroned upon her brow, and happiness beams out from her radiant smile; golden curls cluster gracefully around her well-shaped head, and dark, lustrous eyes follow lovingly a little girl at play, although her skilful fingers do not forget their task. "what is the matter, my little ellen?" she said, as the child ran to hide her face in her lap. "an indian, mamma! an indian, coming out of the wood!" at these words emily springs up; she will ever love the red man for the sake of those who nourished her childhood, and never will a son of the forest be sent away uncheered from her door. but times have greatly changed since her father built the neighboring cottage: seldom now does the indian visit that comparatively thickly settled spot; his course is still westward, and ever onward, with the setting sun. when emily emerged from the thickly shaded porch, she saw indeed a red man approach from the forest; he was old, but his majestic figure was still erect, his eye bright and piercing; black eagle plumes adorned his stately head--it was towandahoc! he was soon clasped in the embrace of his long-lost water-lily, and indian though he was, the old man wept over his recovered darling. he told her how ponawtan had returned by nightfall, to find her daughter gone, and the village in ashes: their own wigwam had caught fire from the flying cinders, and was entirely consumed. she had lingered around the spot of her former happiness till his return; after a little time, as they could hear no news of orikama, they had removed far away from the scene of desolation, to the valley of the mohawk. grief for the loss of her daughter had injured the health of ponawtan, although time had now somewhat reconciled her to it: but towandahoc said that the wild rose was drooping, that her leaves were withered, and her flowers falling one by one; and much he feared that another winter would lay her low in the dust. when little ellen understood that this was the dear indian grandpa of whom she had so often heard, her shyness passed away, and soon she drew near to the aged hunter, handling his bow and arrows, and even presuming to climb up and scrutinize the feathers, that were at once her admiration and her dread. the old man took her upon his knee, and was showing her his bow, when roland returned home; he eagerly seconded his wife's persuasions, to induce towandahoc to remain with them for some time, and then to return for ponawtan, that both might pass the remnant of their days within their daughter's dwelling. but the aged hunter shook his head: "it cannot be," he said; "the great spirit has made the pale faces to dwell in houses, to plough the fields, and to listen to the voice which comes from the printed book, held up before his eyes; but he has made the red man to hunt the deer, and to live alone in the open air. when the great spirit created man, he made his red child first, out of the best clay: he then made the pale faces; and lastly, out of what was left he made the black man. and he placed before them three boxes; and because his red child was the favorite, he told him to choose which he would have. so he chose the box containing a bow and arrows, a tomahawk, and a pipe. then the pale face chose; and he took the box which held a plough, carpenters' tools, a gun, and a book. and the black man took what was left: in his box was an overseer's whip, a spade, and a hoe. and this has been the portion of each ever since. i am a red man, and i cannot breathe where men are thicker than trees: to me belong the bow and arrows, the wild deer, and the open sky. the old man has returned to visit the graves of his ancestors; but soon, far away from them, he will drop to the ground, like the ripe persimmon after a frost. orikama has returned to the ways of her fathers, and i do not blame her, for she is a pale face. but the old man cannot change, like a leaf in october; soon will his sun set in yonder western heaven, and he must now keep on his course. i have said." when the moon arose, towandahoc left the house, bending his steps to the forest: but he did not go without passing his word that he would bring ponawtan to see her daughter. before the winter set in, they arrived, and emily's tender heart was grieved as she gazed upon the wasting form of her who had so often sheltered her in her arms: it was only too evident that another summer would not see her upon the earth. ponawtan was greatly cheered by her visit; but could only be prevailed upon to stay for a few days, when she departed, never more to return. in the spring, towandahoc came alone; his sorrowful face and drooping form told the tale of sorrow before he opened his lips: his energy and vital powers seemed to have died with ponawtan. he never came again; and doubtless he soon found a resting-place by the side of her who had been his life-long companion. "so, you didn't kill any of your people off, but the two farm-servants, for whom we do not care a fig!" cried charlie bolton. "not i," replied mary; "i'm not very partial to blood and murder; i would not have put them out of the way, except to please you; i lay the manslaughter at your door, cousin mine." "i'm very willing to bear the penalty: if it's a hanging matter, please to imagine that my neck has paid the forfeit--just consider me hung--as the man said at the crowded dinner table, when an irritable fool took offence at something he had spoken, and being too far off to throw his glass of wine in his face, told him '_to consider the wine as thrown at him_.' 'very well, i will,' replied the first; 'and do you consider this sword as run through your body.'" "a very good retaliation! and what did they do then? did they fight?" "not they! they did much better--they laughed, shook hands, and were good friends ever after." "and their honor was as well satisfied as if they had made targets of their bodies, i dare say: it was much more sensible." "but, cousin mary," said amy thoughtfully, "i've been trying to find out the reason why towandahoc did not take little emily to the nearest white settler, instead of carrying her off into the wild woods; i think it would have been much better for the poor child." "what do you think was the reason?" replied mary. "i know!" cried george. "the indians are such dunces, that old thunder-gust, or whatever his name is, hadn't the sense to do such a straightforward thing as that, but must drag the child off through the woods, scratching her finely with the blackberry and whortleberry bushes, no doubt. i'll warrant she screamed and tried to get away, although cousin mary does try to made her out so gentle--i know i would." "i declare you do not know how to appreciate my fine sentiment! are you boys made of different stuff from us, i want to know?" "i rather suppose we are," said george, laughing. "well, am i right in my explanation?" "not in the least; some one else must try." "i concluded," said alice, "that it was the natural kindness of his heart, and his fondness for the little girl, which made him wish to have her for his own child. of course, he did not realize that he was only a savage, and not fit to bring her up rightly." "that's nearer the truth than the other guess," rejoined mary. "but none of you have mentioned the great reason why towandahoc carried her off." "what can it be?" "simply this--if he had not, what would have become of my story, i'd like to know? i made him take her home with him, on the same principle that novel writers place their heroines in a thousand distressing situations--that they may extricate them from their difficulties, and make a longer tale." "but what's the moral of your story?" said practical, matter-of-fact john. "i don't see much use in a tale, unless there's a regular drawn moral in it, that everybody can discover at once." "oh nonsense! i do hate morals!" said cornelia. "just as if we were to be instructed the whole livelong day, and never to have amusement without a good reason being given! that's too tiresome! i always skip the morals and the _good talk_, when i read stories--if they're pleasant, that's enough: i hate to be cheated into a sermon when i want a story. i feel something as the man did who was fishing for a pike: he caught a cat-fish instead, and throwing it back into the river, exclaimed, 'when i go a-catting, i go a-catting; but when i go a-piking, i go a-piking.'" "i'm afraid a good many people think as you do, cornelia," said mrs. wyndham, laughing. "but perhaps we can find a moral for john, if we look sharply enough. let's see--there are good, kind people in every race, of every complexion; and if we only make the most of our opportunities, there are means of education open to all who have eyes and ears, and willing minds. do you see any other moral?" "oh yes, indeed!" replied ellen. "when the buckinghams were deprived of their child, it was a sort of punishment to them for disobedience to their parents; and they understood it in that way." "true enough," said mr. wyndham. "and i have often noticed that disobedient children are punished in after life, by means of their own offspring: either by their suffering or death, or, still more frequently, by their ingratitude and disrespectful conduct. and then they feel themselves, as their parents did before them, 'how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child!'" "i have often remarked this also," rejoined mrs. wyndham. "and it appears to be consistent with all the dealings of the disposer of events: he himself says that he will treat us as we treat our fellow-creatures: 'with the merciful thou wilt show thyself merciful, and with the just thou wilt show thyself just, and with the froward thou wilt show thyself froward.'" "and, when we notice these coincidences, is it not an argument for a superintending providence?" said tom green. "undoubtedly it is," replied his uncle; "and although evil conduct here is frequently unpunished, being left for the more perfect retributions of eternity, yet it is so often followed by unhappiness, and by a reward in kind, that no thinking mind can doubt the moral government of god. and it appears to me that of all the commandments, that one which says 'honor thy father and thy mother, that it may be well with thee,' is the one taken under the especial protection of providence. i have ever noticed that dutiful children are honored by the world, and honored in their own family circle, and that, on the other hand, it is ill with the rebellious and unthankful." "then there is another thing i was thinking of," said amy; "the good uses of sorrow: you know it brought the buckinghams to repentance; and ellen's father being taken ill, he repented too--i think he had as much need of it as they. i'm glad my father is not cross and severe." "so am i, heartily. would you run off, amy, if he were?" said cornelia. "oh! i hope not! i should think 'how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child.' i shall not forget that passage, uncle, as long as i live: who wrote it?" "shakspeare: and as a general rule you may conclude, when you meet a particularly striking passage, that it is either in shakspeare or milton. but it is getting late: will mary be kind enough to bring the bible, for it will then be time to say, good-night to you all!" chapter iv. proverbs.--twenty questions.--the spectre of alcantra, or the conde's daughters, a tale of spain. brightly and joyfully did the sun arise after the storm, like a prisoner released from dungeon and chains, again to look upon the faces of those he loved; and all nature put on a holiday garb to greet him. every tree and bush was sparkling, as if with rapture. if a magician of superhuman power had waved his wand over the earth, it could not have been more changed. long icicles were suspended from the fences and the overhanging roofs, and even the sheds looked brilliant and beautiful in their icy covering; but the trees! what words can describe them? the pines bristled themselves up like stiff warriors arrayed in steel, their armor making a clanking sound when the cold winds whistled by; and the sycamores, with their little dependent balls, looked like christmas trees hung with bon-bons and confectionery for good children. every stray leaf that had resisted the storms of winter, every seed-vessel upon the shrubs, shone with beauty; the ground was one glittering sheet, like a mirror; the sky was of a deep blue, washed from all impurities, and the sun smiled down upon the beautiful earth, like a crowned king upon his bride, decked with sparkling diamonds. it was one of nature's gala-days, in which she appears to invite all her children to be happy; one of those scenes which forbid us to call winter a dreary time, and which outshine in brilliancy all the verdure of the tropics. at any time we enjoy the clear sky after a sullen rain, or a driving, impetuous storm, and young people especially feel the truth and beauty of solomon's expression, "truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun;" but when, in addition, such a spectacle as this is presented to those long pent up within city walls, how does the heart swell with rapture! no introduction at court, no coronation, no theatrical exhibition, can for a moment compare with it in splendor; nature has shows more beautiful by far than any that man can produce, and all she asks for in exchange is the seeing eye and the feeling heart. truly, the best gifts of heaven to man are free and universal, bestowed without money and without price, and maybe enjoyed by the penniless as well as by the millionaire, if the spirit be only opened to the impressions of happiness they were intended to convey--the good god is daily blessing and feasting his creatures with impartial liberality. what exclamations of delight were heard in the grange when the fairy scene was first beheld! every room in the house was visited, to see which presented the finest prospect, and soon, with feet well provided with gum-elastics, and with old-fashioned socks, still better preservatives from falling, all sallied forth to enjoy the spectacle more fully. the clear sky and the keen air raised their spirits, and an occasional slip and tumble was only an additional provocative to laughter; youth and health, and merry hearts, that had never yet tasted of sorrow, made life appear to them, not a desert, not a valley of tears, as it is felt by many to be, but a paradise of sweets, a joyful festival. to combine duty and pleasure, mrs. wyndham proposed that they should bend their steps to the humble home of mrs. norton, the poor widow for whom their fingers had been so busily plying the preceding day. accordingly, laden with bundles, and with a basket of comforts which would prove very acceptable to a sick person, they walked towards her little cottage. the boys, after a private consultation, declared that they did not intend to allow the girls to do all the charitable, and that they wished to invest some of their surplus christmas cash in a pair of large warm blankets, for the widow's benefit. their aunt heartily approved of the suggestion, and all agreed that a far better interest would accrue from a capital so laid up, than from shares taken in the confectioner's or the toymaker's stock; and the walk was considerably prolonged by a visit to the country store, where the desired purchases were made. joy lighted up the sick woman's eyes when she saw this unexpected provision for her wants, and witnessed the kindly interest of the young people of the grange: she thanked them with few words, but with overflowing eyes and heart. she was an interesting woman, kind and motherly, and looked as if she had seen better days: her little black-eyed children also were well trained, with manners much superior to their station. one little girl of about twelve attracted mrs. wyndham's particular notice; she appeared to have installed herself into the office of chief nurse, and the younger children seemed to look to her for help and advice: when not engaged in waiting upon them or the sick mother, she seated herself near the window, busily occupied with a piece of needlework. she was a very pretty child, of fair complexion and deep blue eyes, with the beseeching look that you sometimes see in the young face, when trouble and hard treatment have too early visited the little heart--like an untimely frost, nipping the tender blossoms of spring. sad indeed it is to see that look in childhood, when, under the sheltering wings of parents and friends, the body and mind should expand together in an atmosphere of love and gentleness--such is the great creator's will. mrs. wyndham observed to her mother, "that oldest child of yours does not resemble you and the other children." the sick woman smiled: "no, ma'am, she is an adopted child, although i love margaret as much as any of my other children." "indeed! with so many little ones, could you take another?" "yes, ma'am, she was thrown into our keeping by providence, at a time when we wanted nothing; my husband was then living, and in excellent business as a saddler, and we enjoyed every comfort. times are now sadly changed, but margaret shall share our last crust; but indeed she is our main stay--i should be obliged to give up entirely, and perhaps to go to the almshouse, if it were not for her help." "i am glad to see that she makes herself so useful; is she any relation to you?" "none at all. i will tell you her story, if you will hear it, some time when we are alone: it is rather a long one." the young people left mrs. wyndham still conversing with mrs. norton, and returned homeward. after tea, various games amused the fleeting hours, and among them "proverbs" was played as follows: while one is absent from the circle, all fix upon some well-known old saw or proverb; the absentee then returns and asks a question of every individual, to which an answer must be returned, embracing some one word of the sentence, care being taken not to emphasize it. the first proverb was this: "when the cat's away, the mice will play." cornelia had been out of the room. "cousin mary, didn't you enjoy the clear-up to-day?" "yes, _when_ it clears after a storm, one always does." "charlie, are you tired from your long walk this morning?" "o no, _the_ day was so fine, _the_ walk so pleasant, and _the_ company so agreeable, that i did not feel _the_ fatigue." "ellen, didn't you pity poor mrs. norton?" "yes, and i pitied her _cats_, they looked so thin." "cats! i thought she had only one. cats? hum! tom, don't you hope we'll have a story to-night?" "yes, i enjoy it vastly, and will take care not to be _away_ when it's told." "gertrude, don't you think _the mice will play_ to-night?" "yes--but from whom did you take the idea? who let that cat out of the bag?" "ellen, to be sure, with her plural number for mrs. norton's cat, which does not look starved at all--so go into the hall, miss ellen, while we think of a proverb." "let's have 'it is more blessed to give than to receive,'" said amy, "i thought of that to-day at mrs. norton's." "very well, that will do. come in, ellen; cornelia will bring in the first two words, as they are small." "cornelia, have you finished your crochet purse?" "_it is_ almost done." "amy, are you not almost roasted in that hot corner of the chimney?" "it would be _more_ pleasant further from the fire." "george, you are so fond of skating, don't you hope to enjoy the sport to-morrow?" "yes indeed--i think we'll have a _blessed_ cold night, and then we'll have skating." "john, how many miles did you walk to-day?" "_two_," said john. "that's not fair! that's not fair!" cried some of the younger children. however, it was agreed that playing upon words, where the sound was the same, was quite allowable. "tom, do you like to ask questions?" "yes, i like to _give_ a question to be answered." "aunt lucy, what shall be our story to-night?" "that is more easy to ask _than_ to answer." "charlie, are you fond of mince-pie?" "yes, and of cherry pie _too_." "alice, are you not almost tired of this game?" "yes, i'd _receive_ pleasure from a change." "let me see--george's _blessed_, and john's _two_--blessed too--oh, i know, 'it is more blessed to give than to receive.' now let's play 'twenty questions.'" "how is that played? it is quite a new game to me." "it used to be a favorite game in distinguished circles in england; canning, the celebrated minister, was very fond of it; and it really requires some knowledge and skill in the lawyer-like craft of cross-examination, to play it well--so have your wits about you, young people, for the more ready you are, the better you'll like it. one person thinks of a thing, and by a skillful questioning on the part of one, two, or the whole party, as you prefer it, your thought can always be found out. twenty questions and three guesses are allowed. if cornelia will think of something, i'll discover what it is, to show you how it is played." "i have a thought," said cornelia, "but you never can find it out." "we'll see: does it belong to the animal, vegetable, mineral, or spiritual kingdoms?" "the animal." "is it biped or quadruped, fish, flesh, fowl, or insect?" "biped." "man, monkey, or bird?" "bird." "wild or tame?" "tame." "is it the species you think of, or one individual of it?" "one particular individual." "is it used for the table?" "the species is--but i doubt that this individual was ever used for food." "did this bird live in ancient or modern times--before or after the christian era?" "very ancient; before the christian era." "does this ancient bird belong to the goose, duck, chicken, peacock, or turkey tribe?" "turkey." "was it very thin?" "very, indeed--to a proverb." "job's turkey?" "you've guessed it, and with ten questions too. now you can think, ellen, and the rest of us will question you, in turn." "i have a thought," said ellen. "treasure it then," said charlie bolton; "thoughts are very rare things with me. animal, vegetable, mineral, or spiritual?" "vegetable." "in its natural or prepared state?" "natural." "is it the whole, or only a part of the plant?" "a part." "is it a part of a tree, a shrub, a vine, or is it of the grass kind?" "a vine." "is it the root, stem, leaf, flower, or fruit?" "fruit." "is it used for food?" "the species is--this one was not." "is this fruit pulpy like the grape, or mealy like the bean?" "mealy like the bean." "is it a bean?" "yes--that's one guess." "was this bean an ancient or modern one?" "very ancient." "i know!" cried amy; "it was the bean jack the giant killer planted, which grew up to the moon in one night, and fastened itself round one of the horns." "you are right--eight questions and two guesses; that's pretty well. now, amy, 'tis your turn to think." "i have a thought." "animal, vegetable, or mineral?" "animal." "quadruped or biped, fish, snake, or insect?" "none of these; it is the production of a biped." "in its natural or prepared state?" "natural--but a slight alteration was made in its shape at the time to which i refer." "what time is it--before or after the christian era?" "after." "before or after the year ?" "very much about that time." "had it any thing to do with columbus?" "yes; at least columbus had something to do with it." "was it columbus' egg?" "the very thing. and now, shall we not vary the scene by having a story?" "agreed, we are all ready to listen; but who shall tell the tale?" "it is alice's turn; and do give us a ghost story, for once, a nice frightful one that will make our teeth chatter and our hair stand on end--do, alice!" "i'm afraid you'll be disappointed, but i'll tell you some sort of a tale, and hope that you will make allowances for a young beginner. i'm no scheherezade." "no _what_?" said amy. "is it possible you have not read the arabian nights? scheherezade was the princess who saved her life by telling such interesting stories; the tyrant of a sultan intended to put her to death in the morning, but she left off in such an important part of her tale, that his curiosity led him to spare her head till she had finished the narrative. of course she took good care to tell what the sailors call 'long yarns,' and the sultan found out he could not live without her to divert him." the spectre of alcantra, or the conde's daughters. a spanish tale. the conde de alcantra was a spanish nobleman, universally esteemed by those who knew him, as a man of high honor and moral worth. in person he was tall, dark, and commanding, in manner grave and dignified. the grandee of spain is never one with whom you feel inclined to take a liberty, but the noble conde was uncommonly reserved and serious, even sad, in the expression of his countenance. he was a widower, with two lovely children, daughters, of the ages of sixteen and eighteen. clara, the elder, a very handsome girl, strikingly resembled her father in appearance, save that a bright, hopeful, energetic spirit was displayed in her face and in almost every motion. magdalena, the younger, and the cherished darling of both father and sister, scarcely looked as if she belonged to the same family: she inherited from her mother the transparent, delicate complexion, azure eyes, and fair, clustering curls, sometimes seen in spain and italy, and always so highly prized from their rarity. gentleness, and an up-looking for love and protection, were the characteristics both of her face and mind; and doubtless her timidity and dependence upon others was much fostered by the loving cares and constant vigilance of her father. their ordinary residence was in madrid, where the conde was much engaged in affairs of state; his strict integrity, political wisdom, and fidelity in the discharge of duty, caused business of the highest moment to be committed to him by his sovereign. but, as is only too frequently the case, public cares engrossed him to the detriment of his private concerns, and some little entanglements in money matters made him resolve to look more closely into his account books, and see where the difficulty lay. it was certainly surprising, that the hereditary estates which brought in so large an income till within fifteen years, had so unaccountably decreased in value, and that the castellan, or mayordomo, who managed them, was continually complaining of the difficulty he found in raising from the peasantry the comparatively small sums he yearly transmitted to his master. but so it was: and although the conde carried his confidence in his dependents, and his easiness of disposition, to such an extent as almost to become a fault, yet as he examined the accounts of some years' standing, a strong suspicion arose in his mind that somehow he had been most egregiously cheated, and that while he had so skilfully managed the finances of the country as almost to double her revenues, he himself had been as completely managed by a cunning knave. being a kind and a just man, he was anxious not to run the risk of wronging a faithful servant, who was always profuse in expressions of attachment to the family, and he determined to keep his suspicions within his own breast, until he had given the matter a personal investigation. great was the astonishment and delight of clara and her sister when he announced to them his intention of paying a visit to the castle of alcantra. it was there that magdalena first saw the light, and it was there that her mother closed her eyes upon the world, leaving her husband almost distracted; he immediately removed with his little children from the scene of this great affliction. it was soon after this sad event that the old and faithful mayordomo died; he had long been intrusted with the entire control of the estate, and was greatly beloved by his fellow-servants and by the peasantry. the conde gave orders that the sub-steward, who had lately come into his service, and who was acquainted with the duties of the office, should take his vacant place; his feelings were at that time too much engrossed with his recent loss to institute the proper inquiries into his character and capabilities, and from that time it was that, from some cause, either from misfortune, negligence, or corruption, the entanglement of his affairs was to be dated. the conde had never before been willing to revisit the castle; and his daughters, with the ardent curiosity of youth, longed to behold the place in which a long line of their ancestors had lived, and eagerly availed themselves of his invitation to accompany him. their imaginations were fired by all they had heard of the old chateau; and the ruinous condition into which it had fallen of late years, only added fuel to the flame. clara remembered, or fancied that she remembered, a vast dark building, with huge towers and buttresses; she often tried to picture to her mind the home of her infancy, and to describe it to magdalena, but these vague remembrances were all that she could recall. don alonzo informed his daughters that the journey was to be commenced on the morrow, without much preparation, or any thing like an ostentatious style of travelling; they themselves would set out in the old family coach, accompanied by his secretary, señor roberto, and would be followed by another carriage containing their maid, fernando, his valet, and anselmo, a trusty servant. he intended to take with them a supply of comforts indispensable to persons of their condition, as it was probable that the castle might be destitute of them, having so long been without the presence of its master; and this was the more needful, as the castellan had received no intimation of the proposed visit. on the following morning they set out: the castle of alcantra was situated in the north of spain, among the wildest mountains, and as they travelled onward, scenery of the most diversified kind passed before their eyes. it was the time of the vintage; and the noble peasants of castile, in their picturesque costume, came homeward laden with the rich purple grapes, singing the romantic lays of love and chivalry, which have passed down from one generation to another. the ballads of the cid, and the laments of the moors, formed the chief burden of their song. every now and then they could distinguish some well-known passage in "admiral guarinos," "baviaca," or "don roderick," or that sad-chorus, which sounds like a moorish sigh, "woe is me, alhama!" at sunset, they would see the peasants seated at the doors of their cottages, cheerfully feasting upon bread and fruit, varied by the light wine of the country, preserved in goat-skins, as it is in the east: one leg of the skin forms the mouth of the bottle; and they noticed, what is generally reported by travellers, that even in this time of rejoicing, intoxication was nowhere to be witnessed. many were the groups they met dancing upon the grass by the light of the moon; and a pleasant thing it was to see the white-haired grandsire looking on, and occasionally joining the merry band of his descendants in innocent sport and festivity, keeping a young heart under the weight of years. clara and magdalena were particularly struck by the native grace displayed by the youths and maidens in the bolero, a dance originally introduced by the moors: with castanets in their hands, accompanying their steps with unpremeditated music, they would alternately advance and retreat, fly and pursue, until, exhausted by the exercise, they would rest upon the rustic bench or the green bank, and while away the hours with song and guitar. what noble-looking men are the peasants of spain! every one of them, from the dignity of his deportment, might well pass for a hidalgo in disguise; and the feeling of self-respect is so common, that it has passed into a proverb among the people that they are "as good gentlemen as the king, only not so rich." proud and independent, and jealous of any encroachment upon their rights, they are yet scrupulously polite to others, and pay marked attention to strangers. while in italy the foreigner will meet with imposition at every step, the spaniard disdains to take advantage of his ignorance, and the significant reply, "señor, i am a spaniard," is sufficient answer to any suspicion of meanness or duplicity. their tall, manly forms, wrapped in the ample cloak which the spaniard wears with unequalled grace, their oval faces, dark complexions, and flashing eyes, make them most interesting features in the landscape. probably in no country does man, in the humbler walks of life, appear so universally clothed with the majesty suitable to his rank as lord of the creation, as he does in spain. as they travelled through castile, the scene was occasionally varied by meeting a band of strolling gitanas, or gipsies, whose swarthy hue, slender forms, and wild appearance, clearly pointed out their foreign origin; of course, they were anxious to tell the fortunes of the beautiful señoritas, and on one occasion their father consented to gratify their curiosity. but he repented of his compliance, when he heard the woman predict to the timid and somewhat superstitious magdalena, a speedy and imminent danger as about to befall her, and he noticed with concern the changing color with which she heard these hints of peril: but clara, whose fearless and joyful spirit could not be daunted by such prophecies, soon laughed the roses back again into her sister's cheeks, and made the wrinkled hag retreat, full of rage at her incredulity. they also met some of those immense flocks of sheep, which form such an important item in the national wealth of spain, and which are led southward early in the autumn, to enjoy the rich pasture grounds of estremadura and andalusia. as they proceeded towards the north, the country became more rugged and mountainous, and changes in the costume of the peasantry showed that they had passed into another province: the black velvet cap of the castilian, ever worn so as to display to advantage his noble, lofty forehead, was replaced by one of woollen material, of a brilliant red, long, and hanging down behind. the scenery every moment became more grand and sublime, and the young girls, who had spent their lives chiefly in madrid, were full of delight and admiration. "how can people live in the city," they exclaimed, "when such a free and happy life is before them? how can they prefer brick and stone to the everlasting hills, the soft green turf, and the majestic forests? here, you can really behold the sky, with its beautiful fleecy clouds, ever changing in shape and hue, and you can see the starry universe spread out before you; there, you can perhaps catch a glimpse of a few stars, and a small piece of a cloud, but the rest is hidden by dead walls. in the city, our time is taken up, and our hearts are frozen, by ceremonious visits, stately dinners, and the rules of etiquette; here, in the country, a real, true life could be spent, free from insincerity and busy idleness. dear father, will you not give up your offices at court, and live henceforth at alcantra?" their father smiled at their enthusiasm, and felt himself almost rejuvenated, as he listened to their raptures, flowing fresh from young and ardent hearts; but told them that they had not yet seen their ancestral castle, and that perhaps their expectations might be grievously disappointed; he would wait until they had spent some time there, before he gave them his answer. as they approached the termination of their journey, the country became yet wilder, and the villages were more thinly scattered; while here and there a wooden cross appeared upon the roadside, with some simple inscription, calculated to inspire terror in proportion to its very simplicity. "here they killed iago," or "here the robbers killed señor jose blanco." they noticed, on their last day of travel, when they had entered into the territory of the conde, that the roadside crosses became more frequent, and the cottages of the peasantry assumed a look of poverty they certainly did not bear in former times, when the lords of the manor resided upon their estate, and were able to see to the welfare of the people. when they entered the little inn of the village of alcantra, about four miles from the castle, the garrulous old landlord greeted the conde most warmly. "and a good thing it is for the country that your excellencia has returned once more to his estates. now we may hope to have a little peace; now the peasants will not be ground down to the dust, as they have been; now some villanous upstarts i know of, will not dare to ride over them rough-shod, and to treat them as if they were beasts of the field. viva! viva! the illustrious conde has returned!" the count was much affected by the representations of this man, whom he knew to be an honest and worthy fellow, and was full of regret for what he now felt to be criminal negligence on his own part; and promised him that full investigations should take place, and that perfect justice should be done. the innkeeper asked him if his servants were well armed; "for," said he, "the nearness of the castle is no protection to you from robbery. many travellers have left this inn, in high health and spirits, and with trunks laden with merchandise, but have never arrived at their destinations. the road is, as you well know, rough and precipitous, over-hung by huge rocks and dark forests, and the banditti have taken up their quarters somewhere in this neighborhood, though where it is none can discover. many murders have been committed here, and many a poor fellow lies buried in unconsecrated ground, heaven have mercy on their souls! but the murderers have never yet been caught. it is not thought that the band can be a large one, but they are very daring; it is now more safe than usual, for an atrocious murder occurred a few miles from this place within the last week, and a company of soldiers is expected here every moment; they will stay a week, and will try to capture them, but unless the saints defend us, and all the martyrs, heaven only knows what will become of us all." don alonzo assured him that he feared nothing, as including the coachmen they were six well-armed men, upon every one of whom he could entirely depend. "and," said he, smiling, "if matters come to a bad pass, i could count upon my daughter here, my brave clara, as my seventh soldier; i have taught her to fire a pistol without shrieking, and to hit the mark, too, and with her protection magdalena and i need fear nothing." after this conversation, it is not wonderful that all were on the qui vive as they ascended the mountain road leading to the castle of alcantra. magdalena started at every sound, and even clara, fearless as she was, felt relieved when she saw the lofty turrets and extensive battlements she had dimly remembered, spreading out before her, their dark outline relieved against the blue sky. if the approach was romantic and alarming, it was a good preparation to their minds for the castle itself; it was built in the times of feudal power and intestine wars, and its massive walls had well performed their part in the defence of its inmates during many sieges. and yet, strong as it was, and built, as it appeared, for eternity, a portion of this noble structure was going to decay; one wing had been very much battered in the last siege it had sustained, and the cannon-balls had done the work of centuries; but the main building looked very imposing, as if able to resist the lapse of ages, and appeared, from its elevation, to frown down upon intruders, and to scorn the very idea of danger. it was exactly such a place as was calculated to fire the imaginations and to win the hearts of young girls, brought up in a gay metropolis, from the very contrast to all they had ever seen before; there was a romance about its very gloom that was attractive to them. associated as it was with much historic interest, and with many family traditions, they had ardently longed to behold it, and now that they saw it rise, in its dark grandeur, before them, they acknowledged that their expectations were more than realized. there were no signs of life to be seen about the castle, and it was long before the loud, imperious knocking at the gate-way brought any one to open it; and then a man appeared, whose hesitating manner and vacant countenance plainly showed that he had never been gifted with a large share of mother-wit. with some difficulty he was made to understand that the party had a right to admittance, and the carriages entered within the courtyard. the rest of the household was by this time aware of an unusual arrival, and came forward to receive them; but it was very evident that their visit was not only unexpected, but undesired, although the castellan and his wife strove very hard to throw into their hard, dark countenances, an expression of welcome. señor don juan baptista--so was the castellan called--was a man of most repellant countenance; his eye had a sinister, cunning look, and there was something in his large, shaggy, overhanging brow, that was really appalling; it was to be supposed that he had now put on his most amiable expression, but unless his face greatly belied him, fierce, ungoverned passions were accustomed to rule his being. his wife, francisca, had one of those countenances that appear to dare you to find them out: hard, silent, and sullen, she looked as if the rack itself could not force her to speak unless she willed it; and her face reminded you constantly of a _wooden mask_, which not even the strongest emotions could make transparent, and allow you to catch a glimpse of the soul behind. both were loud in their expressions of regret that their dear lord and the sweet, beautiful señoritas had not let them know, beforehand, of their visit, that they might have had things more fit for their reception; the castle was rather disarranged, and not anticipating this honor, they had allowed most of the servants to depart, to enjoy a holiday for a few weeks--their household was at present very small. don alonzo cut short their apologies by telling them that he had attendants with him sufficient to supply the wants of himself and his daughters, although it was certainly unfortunate that it should have occurred just at this juncture; and entering the castle, he tenderly embraced clara and magdalena, welcoming them to their ancestral home. the girls almost shuddered, as they gazed upon the the huge hall, with its lofty carved ceiling, and its dark oak panelling. in ancient times, when it was crowded by armed retainers, or echoed to the joyful chorus of the feast and the minstrel's song, it must have been admirably suited to its purpose; but now it looked solitary and desolate, like a fit abode for the owl and the raven. at one end, a wide, substantial stone staircase led to the upper regions of the castle, branching off above in many directions; a long oak-table, capable of accommodating more than a hundred guests, extended for some distance along the hall, but it was scarcely noticed in the vast apartment. a large chimney, surrounded by stone settles, and richly ornamented with curious antique carving, formed a prominent feature in it; the tapestry on the wall, from which hunters and grim warriors appeared to look down upon our little party with surprise and displeasure, hung loosely, in many places was completely tattered, and waved in the wind as the keen air of the mountains whistled through, making clara and magdalena shiver with cold. don alonzo looked round with concern; "it is indeed many years since i have been here," said he, "and things look considerably altered; but now, my daughters, let me advise you, with the aid of your waiting-woman, to make yourselves as comfortable as possible in your own rooms, and meanwhile señor baptista will be kind enough to have a large fire built in the hall, for it will really prove very acceptable." francisca showed them to their rooms: large, magnificent chambers, fitted up with massive furniture of the richest description; but the tapestry was faded and worn, and every thing showed neglect and desertion. francisca, after escorting them to these apartments, told them that she would send maria, the housemaid, to make up fires, bring water, and provide every thing else that they wished, but the girl was always out of the way when she was wanted, and was really not worth the salt she ate. maria speedily appeared, however: a pale young girl of dejected aspect, with black hair drawn off from a forehead of marble whiteness, and large, sad eyes cast upon the ground. her appearance greatly interested the kind feelings of clara and magdalena; she looked sorrowful and reserved, as if her heart had been chilled, and her spirit broken by harsh treatment; and the girls, who were very much of her own age, felt an instinctive pity, and resolved to win her confidence. they learned by their questions that she was an orphan, and had been brought up in the castle. she had never known any other home, and had no relations in the world, so it was not wonderful that she appeared unhappy. as their maid appeared to be quite unwell from the journey, they dispensed with any further services from her for the day, and descended to the hall. its aspect was considerably changed by a large, sparkling fire which blazed upon the hearth; and, after supper, don alonzo and his daughters drew around it, with a feeling of comfort they had not experienced since they had entered the castle. as the conde wished to discover the character of the castellan as much as possible from personal observation, he ordered him to be sent for, and invited him to a seat with them by the fire; and they were soon engaged in interesting conversation. señor baptista was undoubtedly a person of quick intelligence, and endowed with the gift of imparting a vivid, dramatic interest to any narrative: he told several ancient legends connected with the castle, in such a manner as to enchain the attention of his hearers. one story excited the deepest interest in magdalena: we will call it doÑa inez; or the castellan's tale. several centuries ago, as my lord the conde and the noble señoritas very well know, this castle was in the possession of an older branch of the alcantra family, long since extinct; and at that time the lord of the manor was a certain don pedro, a dark, stern man, whose portrait, clad in armor, the señoritas may see on the morrow in the old picture-gallery. don pedro was a man of unflinching bravery, and indomitable will; his word was law. his vassals obeyed his very looks, and flew to execute his behests. accustomed from infancy to command, he became absolute and tyrannical; his gentle wife was all submission, and his fair daughter inez was educated in the practice of the strictest obedience, so as scarcely to know that she had a mind of her own, when her father was nigh. is it wonderful that when the unnatural constraint was removed by his absence, her innate gayety of disposition broke out with all the impulsiveness of youth, and her young affections clung to the nearest object? such an object was found in bernardo, a handsome and noble young man, an orphan, and distant relative, who had been reared in the castle: he had been the playmate of inez in childhood; her comforter, companion, and teacher in girlhood; and now, as she advanced to woman's estate, they made the discovery that their hearts were knit together by a love which had grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength, till it had become a part of their very souls. but how dare to reveal their affection? bernardo, although of noble lineage, and in himself every thing that the fondest father could desire for his daughter, had his fortune yet to win by his good sword; and inez was heiress to broad lands, and might well aspire to a princely alliance. but love scorns all such distinctions: humble thoughts of herself, and proud thoughts of her bernardo, filled the heart of inez, and as she plighted her troth to him, she vowed she would wed none but him, and would patiently wait until the time should come when her betrothed could claim her as his own. bernardo went to the wars, and greatly distinguished himself against the moors: ferdinand conferred upon him various marks of favor, and the noble and lovely queen isabel girded on the sword presented by the king with her own jewelled fingers. and now, with a heart beating high with hope, and with the prospect of great advancement before him, the young man returned to visit the home of his childhood: it was his purpose, with the sweetness of a few weeks' holiday, to repay himself for all the toils, dangers, and privations of a year. but when he arrived, how changed was the whole aspect of the castle! inez was in disgrace, and was ordered by her tyrannical father to be shut up in her room, and to be fed with the bread of affliction and the water of humiliation. bernardo was deeply distressed: he at length succeeded, through the pity of the servants, in obtaining an interview, and the poor girl, weeping upon his breast, where she had so often been comforted before, told him the sad tale of her trials. soon after he had left, a noble marquis, of great wealth, had made overtures for her hand, which don pedro, without consulting her, had at once accepted, and promised that within a year the bridal feast should be celebrated. when he informed his daughter of her fate, she besought him with tears not to send her from her home; but his only reply was that the matter was determined, and that all she had to do was to submit and to prepare for the wedding. dreading as she did her father's wrath, she dreaded yet more this hateful, compulsory marriage, and kneeling down at his feet, with streaming eyes, she prayed him in the humblest manner to spare his only child; she could never survive the union--it would break her heart--she was young, and wished still to remain for some years under the paternal roof. but tears and entreaties were unavailing. don pedro commanded her, in the most peremptory manner, to obey. rising, with a dignity and composure of manner he had never seen in her before, for she had ever appeared in his presence only a timid and frightened child, she professed her readiness to make his will her law in every other point; she would serve him like a slave, die for him; she would never marry against his wishes, but would ever strive to approve herself a dutiful daughter. but in this point she must imitate his own firmness, and prove herself his child; a vow was upon her soul that she must not break, and she could not, she would not, marry the marquis de oviedo. as she stood there, so young and so determined, with all the pride of her race and all the dignity of womanhood rising up to aid the true love which beat in her heart, even her father was struck with admiration, and for a moment hesitated. but vindictive passion triumphed over better feelings, and he ordered her to be placed in her chamber, under strict confinement. once a month, since then, had he visited her apartment, to ask her if she were now ready to yield her submission; and, upon her reply that she would rather die than wed the marquis de oviedo, with an angry scowl he would leave her room. poor inez looked thin and care-worn, but was greatly comforted by seeing her betrothed; and they agreed that it was better, whatever the consequences might be, to inform her father of their engagement, and to endeavor to mollify his heart. as bernardo had returned from the wars with such distinction, he had some slight hope that the crime of loving don pedro's daughter might possibly be forgiven. they were still engaged in these discussions, when the door opened, and don pedro appeared; his face was wild with passion, black with rage. he roughly snatched doña inez from the arms of her lover, to whom she clung with all the energy of despair, as the shipwrecked mariner holds fast to the mast or beam which is his only hope of safety, or even to the anchor which will surely sink him to the lowest depths. turning to his followers, who were trained to obey his every command without a question, he ordered them to convey don bernardo to the deepest dungeon of the castle, and to chain him to the wall; and then to bring the key to him. doña inez, in a phrensy of terror, knelt at his feet, and begged that all his anger might be visited upon her; but spurning her from him, he told her that she should feel enough of it yet, and need pray for no more--he had a punishment still in store for her, and in due time she should realize what it was to defy his power. he left her in a swoon, and did not see her again until after ten days, when he entered her apartment, and grimly smiling, commanded her to accompany him, as he wished to conduct her to her lover; adding, with a peculiar look, that if it were her wish, as he was all devotion to her slightest whim, he would never henceforth separate them. scarcely knowing what to think, but dreading the worst from the ironical tone of mock gallantry with which he spoke, she followed him with faltering steps, a vague terror dimming her eyes and chilling her heart. he led her through many winding passages, opening heavy iron gates, until they at length reached the deep dungeons which are found beneath this castle. there, in a damp cell, heavily chained to the wall, she beheld, by the light of the torch don pedro carried, her own bernardo! but, oh, how changed! how emaciated! he seemed to be asleep. her father told her to awake him; she took his hand, but started back--that icy touch had told her all--he was dead, starved to death by her own father! that moment reason forsook the agonized mind of doña inez; the vaults were filled with her shrieks, and so awful was the spectacle of her despair, that even her father was terrified. he tried to soothe her, but it was too late; he carried her back again to her room, a raving maniac. a brain fever ensued, of the most violent description; and happily for the distracted girl, in a few days she was released by death from all her sufferings. and now it was that, in the consequences of his own actions, don pedro found his punishment; as he witnessed the agony of his afflicted daughter, as he heard her ravings, as he saw her toss her white arms and pitifully cry out for bernardo, or tear her long, black, dishevelled tresses, horror and despair filled his heart. his conscience, so long torpid, at length awoke, and remorse preyed upon his soul like a vulture. and when he beheld that form, lately so lovely and blooming, stretched out, pale and motionless, upon the bed of death, anguish seized upon him to such a degree that, rushing into his own chamber, he put a period to his miserable existence. queen isabella, when she heard the particulars of these tragical events, ordered the lovers to be interred within one tomb; the señoritas may see it in the old chapel, in the north-east corner--their effigies are on the top, carved in marble, with clasped hands, with this inscription: amor morte, or love in death. the old branch being now extinct, having, as it were, burnt itself out with its fiery passions, the estates passed into the hands of your honorable ancestry; may it remain in the family for a thousand years! but my tale is not yet done--would that it were! there would be more peace in this castle if this were the case! for people do say that don pedro cannot rest, even in purgatory. i am not one at all given to credulity, and it takes something to startle me; but i must own that i would never willingly be found in the old parts of the castle after nightfall. i myself have seen strange lights and startling forms, and have heard noises for which i could not account, groans, and shrieks, and the clanking of chains. none of the peasants in the neighborhood will venture here after night; and the servants can scarcely be induced to stay in, what they call, the haunted castle. the story runs, that about midnight don pedro begins his peregrinations, clad in armor, as he is represented in his portrait; in one hand he bears a flaming torch; in the other a large bunch of keys, and a chain which trails upon the ground. he has been seen bearing in his arms a female form, clad in white, with long black hair streaming to the wind, tossing her arms in wild despair, and uttering piteous cries. it is thought that his punishment consists in nightly visits to the cell in which bernardo died, and nightly endurance of the sight of his daughter's anguish; some also say that the skeleton of his victim is presented to his eyes, beaming with light, and that every ray eats into his soul like a canker. i do not answer for all these tales, but this is the universal belief. i merely relate to your favors the common talk of the peasantry, ever given to superstition. "i dimly remember hearing some such story in my childhood, from the old castellan, from whom, i suppose, you have received the legend," said the conde; "but old don pedro never walked in my day, and if he does now, his conscience must have become more tender with the lapse of years. cheer up, magdalena, light of my eyes! you look quite pale from this horrible tale. i'll answer for it that don pedro will not appear to you; if he does, i'll settle his uneasy spirit for him. surely, you do not believe in ghosts? you are not so weak?" "no, dear father; i know that it cannot be; and yet i own to feeling some nervousness on the subject. much as i long to live here, if i thought there were any truth in such a spectral appearance, i would beg you to leave to-morrow." "that would be a sad loss to this castle, señorita," said baptista, furtively glancing at her pallid face from under his shaggy eyebrows. "we must hope that don pedro may not walk to-night." "another romantic tale is told about a daughter of our house," said don alonzo, wishing to draw off magdalena'a thoughts from the subject which filled them. "if you feel inclined to hear it, i will relate it." "nothing would be more pleasant," said the girls, who delighted in these traditions. doÑa isabel, or the secret passage. about a hundred and fifty years ago, when our branch had been long-established at alcantra, there flourished here a certain don alphonso, who also had a beautiful daughter, isabel by name. her portrait hangs in the gallery, and is remarkable for a sweet bravery of look, and for a merry, piquant glance of her black eye, which i greatly admired when a young man, and of which i have been often reminded when i looked at my clara. i think, my daughters, that you will agree with me in seeing a strong resemblance in person, as i also do in character; you can judge of that as my story proceeds. and by the way, clara mia, tradition gives the room you occupy to the lady isabel; it has ever since been called doña isabel's chamber; so, when lying upon her bed to-night, you can dream of your fair predecessor. her father, also, was rather fond of having his own way, and in this the daughter fully sympathized with him; it is said to be a characteristic of our race, so we had better call this obstinacy a noble firmness, and thereby save our self-love. don alphonso, however, was not quite such a bloody-minded tyrant as don pedro: how could he be, as he was one of our ancestors? the matter is clearly impossible. and i wish you to notice, my daughters, how, with the lapse of years, the race of fathers improves: beginning with a murderous don pedro, a self-willed don alphonso then walks upon the stage; and lastly, as a perfect specimen of a dutiful, obsequious papa, behold me, ladies--at your feet! i have told you that isabel had a mind of her own; she showed it very plainly by falling in love in a most unorthodox, unfilial, enthusiastic sort of way--with whom? you will be so shocked, my daughters, that i almost dread to tell you. if she had waited, like a dutiful child, till her father had told her she _might_ love, it would have been another thing! but this headstrong girl seemed to think she had as good a right to be happy in her own way as a peasant! true, the man of her choice was not a reprobate: he was not even a low-born, unmannerly churl: don fernando de velasquez stood foremost among the young cavaliers of spain, in gallantry and in that nobility of mind which, should ever accompany gentle birth. but yet it was in that very gentle birth that all the offence lay, for fernando's ancestors had long been at enmity with the house of alcantra, and this ancient feud had been embittered by years. but, sometimes, there appears to be a fate in the affairs of men, especially when a woman, and a pretty woman, is in question: so it happened that don fernando was, one day, riding at some distance from his home, when his good fortune enabled him to rescue a lady, whose horse, frightened by some object in the road, reared and plunged in a most alarming manner. it was doña isabel, who had out-ridden her attendants, and who now felt that she owed her life to this very handsome, polite, and noble-looking cavalier. could he do less than soothe her fluttered nerves, guide her horse, and make himself as agreeable as possible? could she do less than feel ardently grateful, and manifest it in every look and accent? very improper it was, certainly, as i said before, for a daughter to think of a young man until her parents' permission is given; but i have heard of one or two other instances in which this occurred; and before either made the discovery who the agreeable companion was, when, of course, if they were dutiful, antagonism and animosity would have filled their bosoms, they were both unmistakably, undeniably, desperately in love! is it wonderful that don fernando escorted her to the gate of the castle? or that proud don alphonso did not invite him in, notwithstanding his daughter's imploring looks, even after he had heard from her lips of her deliverance? are my daughters very much astonished that little perfumed notes, exquisitely written, doubtless with little kissing doves stamped in the corners, and signed 'yours till death,' passed between the two castles? there was a prodigious waste of sentiment on the occasion, quite enough to set up twenty pairs of well-behaved, proper, respectable lovers. it came to such a pass that fernando declared, and i believe the fellow was in earnest, that existence would be intolerable to him unless he could meet his isabel; and the lady, although feeling some qualms of conscience about the matter, agreed to see him daily, when the evening star rose in the sky. so, while her poor old father--good easy man! thought that his daughter was in her chamber, or piously engaged in the oratory saying her _ave marias_ and _pater nosters_, and singing a vesper hymn to the virgin, the naughty girl had gone by a secret passage underground to a wood at some distance, where she met her betrothed. this passage is said to begin in one of the chambers of the castle, and winding along in the wall, to proceed downward towards the dungeons underground, and then to pass away to the wood already mentioned. it was originally intended, no doubt, as a means of escape, or of communication with the outer world, in case of a siege; but, at that time, it had almost passed into oblivion. after the events i am relating, the outlet into the wood was stopped up, and where the passage is to be found no one knows: so that if clara wishes to imitate the conduct of her beautiful kinswoman, and to arrange clandestine meetings, she will have to spoil the romance of the proceeding by quietly walking through the open gate. but at length, some prying eyes found out these nocturnal interviews, and great was the rage of don alphonso. the lovers were seized, brought back in tribulation to the castle, and imprisoned, one in her chamber, the other in a dungeon. but love finds many devices: whether it was a golden key that opened her door, or whether it was her eloquent tongue and pleading looks, i know not, but certain it is that in the dead of night, when all but two in the castle were sunk in profound slumber, a fair lady softly stepped into her father's apartment, drew a large bunch of keys from under his pillow, and proceeding down to the dungeons by the secret passage, set don fernando at liberty! soon did they breathe the sweet, fresh air of freedom: soon did they find their way to the territory of the count de velasquez, and to the chapel where an obedient priest spoke over their kneeling forms those words which can never be unsaid, by which holy mother church sanctions the union of loving hearts. and the father? he stormed considerably--we fathers generally do in such cases. but, upon mature consideration, he concluded that amiability was, under the circumstances, the best policy: and being in reality a kind-hearted man, he forgave the young couple, and invited them to dinner! and thus ended the ancient feud between the houses of alcantra and velasquez! after the termination of the tale, señor baptista retired, and the conde and his daughters remained chatting by the fire for some time; at length the wasting embers, and the increasing chilliness of the air, warned them that it was time to seek repose. with a reverence unhappily too much wanting in our land of youthful independence, clara and magdalena knelt before their father, and as he imprinted the warm kiss upon their brows, and uttered the heart-felt "god bless you, my daughters!" their feelings, both of piety and of filial love, feelings, how closely united! were certainly freshened. taking their little night-lamps, they proceeded up the staircase, but soon parted, as their rooms were situated in different galleries. from the dim light, and the many branching corridors, magdalena mistook her way, and was just convinced of her mistake, when a sudden puff of wind put out her lamp. feeble glimmering as it gave, it yet would have enabled her to find her way, and she was just on the point of calling out for aid, when she perceived a light approach from an adjacent gallery. she thought it must be a servant, but upon stepping where she could command a better view of it, what was her horror to see a form advance like that described in the story of the castellan! it appeared to be a tall man, clad in complete armor, with visor down: in one hand he bore a torch, which seemed to emit a supernatural light and in the other, a bunch of keys, and a long chain, dragging upon the ground. she distinctly heard the clanking sound of the chain, and the ringing noise of his footstep upon the stone, ere she distinguished the figure, so exactly similar to that of the spectre of alcantra, the vengeful don pedro which was so vividly impressed upon her imagination. she did not shriek, she did not faint; but quickly bounding along the corridor, she flew like lightning down the broad staircase, and found herself in the hall. she had hoped to find her father still there, but it was dark and deserted, and looked so vast and so gloomy, by the cold light of the moon, which streamed in at the furthest windows, that she felt a cold chill creep over her. at this moment the clock struck twelve: as she counted the strokes, which seemed to her excited fancy as if they would never cease tolling, she thought she heard the ringing footsteps approach: in an agony of terror, she rushed through the darkness, which was indeed to her a darkness which could be felt, a palpable thing, towards the chimney place, hoping to find enough of flame to light her lamp; but in vain. the air felt to her so thick and heavy, as if her lungs could scarcely breathe it: she listened for the sound of a step, but heard only the beating of her own heart. at length she summoned courage to retrace her steps, to find either her own room or her sister's, for the silence and solitude of that vast hall were too oppressive to be endured. softly and slowly she crept up the staircase, when suddenly she felt her wrist clasped by a cold iron hand: she gave one piercing shriek, and fell senseless to the ground. when she came to herself, she was lying upon her bed, in the same clothes she wore the preceding day, and the bright sun was streaming in at the windows. she arose, with a sense of pain and confusion, as if some dreadful thing had happened, which she could not recall to her mind; but suddenly the whole scene of the preceding night flashed upon her. she thought, it is impossible: certainly it was a painful dream, caused by the exciting conversation of last evening, and by my impressions of the castle. but all the minute circumstances crowded so vividly into her mind, that she thought it could not be that a mere vision of the night should produce so powerful an effect. but what convinced her of the reality of these occurrences, was the fact that she had not undressed for the night: casting her eyes down upon her person, as she thought this, they fell upon her hand; and there she distinctly saw the marks left upon her delicate skin by that iron grip to which she had been subjected! as she saw this, all the crawling horror and choking fear of the preceding evening came back thick upon her, and a feeling of faintness which she could scarcely resist: but just then her eye fell upon the crucifix, and with a sensation of self-reproach that she had so long forgotten the supports and comforts of religion, she knelt down, and fervently besought aid from on high. and never, under any circumstances, is such a prayer in vain: her mind, so fearfully tried, resumed its self-command, and calmness and peace stole back again into her heart. she opened her window: it was a lovely day, and the mountain air, so bracing and reviving, so deadly to sickly fears and nervous sentimentalities, had an inspiring effect upon her; she laved herself in the cold spring water, arranged her dress, and sought her sister's room. when there, she felt her tremors return, as she related to her the events of the night; but clara's brave and joyous spirit was not of the kind to yield, even for a moment, to supernatural terrors. with her arm around her sister, as if to shield her from all harm, she told her that the first thing to do was to remove all magdalena's effects to her chamber, as she did not think she could trust her out of her sight for one moment, after such an adventure. "but, surely, it must have been your excited imagination!" "how then do you account for my finding myself on top of my bed, and dressed? and how do you make out these purple marks?" "true; but it's very certain a ghost could not have carried you in his arms to your room--it makes me laugh, the very idea! you are not very heavy, but rather too substantial for a ghost, i should think! and he must have been a very smart hobgoblin to know so well which was your room--that seems to me as if he must be an acquaintance of our very earthly-looking castellan. and just as if a ghost could make such a mark upon your wrist! bah! what a clumsy contrivance! i've read of these amiable spirits _burning_ their marks into your flesh, but the blue spots! they are made by good strong muscles. was your _spook_ polite enough to bring your lamp, as well as yourself, into your room?" "i never thought of that! i am sure not, for i always put it on the dressing-table; come and see!" they looked, and no lamp was there; they examined the staircase, and there was a large grease spot, but no lamp. "see, sister! here is a corroboration of my tale!" "oh, i don't doubt a word of it; and i don't doubt the ghost put the lamp into the pantry this morning, nicely trimmed. there is villany here, magdalena; i believe that rascal of a baptista--i must call him so, he has such a hang-dog look--wants to drive us away, for reasons of his own: i can never forgive him for frightening my poor darling so. we'll see if the ghost assail you, or pay you any polite attentions, while you are with me! i've never been so lucky as to see any of the creatures, and should like to try a few experiments upon them: i never even meet snakes in the woods, or any of those things that frighten others. so, señor hobgoblin, come and welcome!" by this time clara had completely chased away her sister's lowness of spirits, and they descended to the breakfast-room, pleasantly talking together. the castellan was in the hall, and clara did not fail to notice that he fixed his eye searchingly upon magdalena as they passed, and did not take it off while he asked, with an obsequious air, if the señoritas had passed a comfortable night in the cheerless old castle? "an uncommonly refreshing one, owing to the hospitable cares of yourself and francisca," said clara, answering for both; "my sister had something like the nightmare, but otherwise we were very comfortable." when they were alone, they told their father the events of the night, and it was his first impulse at once to charge the castellan with villany, and to dismiss him from his post; but clara persuaded him to wait yet some days, until the whole matter was well cleared up, before he took any action. "but, magdalena! i cannot have my little girl's cheek blanched, and her mind filled with ghostly terrors!" "don't be afraid for me, dear father," said his daughter, smiling; "clara's bravery has quite reanimated mine, and she has laughed me out of the belief of its being a spirit at all; i now wonder i could ever have thought so." "all very well, my beloved; but there is a great difference between breakfast time, when the sun is shining brightly into the room, and midnight, with dark corridors and a feebly burning lamp--especially when it goes out." "true, father," said clara, laughing; "but i intend to provide for quite an illumination to-night, and do not expect to let poor magdalena stir from my sight all day." that day passed off without any incidents, and was very agreeably spent in an examination of the ancient castle, with its many relics of by-gone times, its collection of portraits, its spacious rooms, winding galleries, and magazine of armory and weapons. from the battlements they enjoyed a view of the country beneath them, unsurpassed in extent and grandeur: it spread out before their eyes a beautiful panorama, comprising hill and dale, forest and cultivated land; the little whitewashed cottage, with its ascending smoke, and the flocks of sheep scattered about, gave a lively interest to the scene, and endeared it to their hearts: man ever loves to see tokens of the nearness of brother man. magdalena clasped her father's hand: "o, may we not always live here?" "but what about that ghost?" "o, i forgot; but if clara lays the uneasy spirit of don pedro, then will you not remove here?" "i think i will, my daughters, if you both desire it. i dreaded to come here, but find that time has so mellowed and softened my grief, that i can now feel pleasure in revisiting the spots made sacred to me by your dear mother's presence. and i also feel as if i had neglected my duty, through too great an abandonment to grief; here, in my ancestral possessions, it certainly lies. the peasants, i fear, have greatly suffered from my absence, and now they scarcely know me; and i am almost a stranger to the neighboring gentry. if we remove here, will you, my daughters, aid me in making this castle the scene of hospitality and kindness, and will you extend your care to the neglected poor and ignorant, who are scattered through these valleys?" the girls answered with joy in the affirmative, and already began laying plans for visiting the sick, reading to the old, and teaching the young. that night magdalena's fair head was encircled by clara's arm, and their hands clasped together; the younger sister soon fell asleep, after some light confidential chat, such as sisters only can have, there being in that connection the sensation of perfect safety, of the fellow-feeling of youth, and of that entire understanding of every thought and allusion, resulting from intimate intercourse from birth. but clara was wakeful; she thought over the strange events of the preceding night, and the more she reflected, the more convinced she was of some plan on the part of the castellan, for she connected together his looks, his tale, and the sequel of magdalena's ghost, as the merry girl would call the spectral appearance. while engaged in these thoughts, the clock struck twelve: "the witching hour!" she thought; "i wonder if the illustrious don pedro is walking now!" just then her sharp ear detected a little clinking noise on the opposite side of her large, dark chamber; she was all attention, but not a motion did she make to disturb her sleeping sister; her arm still encircled her lovingly, her hand clasped magdalena's. gazing into the darkness, there suddenly appeared in the room a luminous skeleton, frightful enough, truly, to weak nerves; but clara was gifted with a calm and fearless spirit, _mens sana in corpore sano_; and her unspoken thought was--"ah, phosphorus! pretty well done that, for the country! it is really worthy of one of our madrid conjurers!" watching intently to see if any other show was forthcoming, the skeleton as suddenly disappeared as it had come, and she heard various sepulchral groans and sighs, with a running commentary of the rattling of chains and jingling of keys. at last this pleasing interlude, as she termed it, ceased altogether, and in a few moments she again distinguished that clinking sound, and all was silence in her chamber. "well!" thought clara, "the show is certainly over for the night, i might as well go to sleep. very kind, certainly, to provide for our entertainment! but i am glad magdalena did not wake." the following day clara told her adventure in such a mirthful manner to her father and sister, that it was impossible to avoid seeing it in a ludicrous light. however, arrangements were made to stop any further display of theatricals, if they should be attempted the ensuing night; and clara spent some time in her own room, examining the wall opposite her bed. the result was, that upon raising the tapestry, and carefully striking every panel, she observed that one gave a hollow sound: she tried to slide it up, she tried to slide it down, she tried to slide it sideways, but it was unavailing. determined not to give it up, she felt in every part, and at last, after spending several hours in the search, her perseverance was rewarded; it suddenly flew open! she had at last touched the hidden spring, and here, in her own room, as she had suspected, was doña isabel's secret passage! greatly was she tempted to explore the dark and narrow way, and to descend the stairs she saw through the gloom; but prudence prevailed, and she comforted herself with the thought that she had made discoveries enough for one day. another awaited her, however: she had scarcely closed the panel and replaced the tapestry, when there was a knock at the door; it was maria bringing in wood and water. poor maria appeared to be the general drudge of the house, and her slender, delicate frame was borne down with labor. clara's bright and cheerful kindness had quite gained the young girl's heart, unused as she was to aught but harshness and reprimand. her soul expanded, and her silent lips were opened under the genial influence--it was like the sun shining upon the little flower, shut up against the chilling dews of night, but spontaneously opening under his joyful beams. she told her her history: she was the only grandchild of the former castellan, the faithful servant of the house, so beloved by don alonzo: at his death she was a little child, and had ever spent her life in the service of his successor. when very young, she had met with kindness from the other servants; but they were soon dismissed, and for years there had been none in the castle but those she now saw--the castellan and his wife, the half-witted sebastiano, and herself. but she said that occasionally señor baptista had company--and she shuddered as she said it--ferocious-looking men, armed to the teeth, and generally wearing masks. she always kept out of the way when they were about; but one thing she knew, that they did not enter nor depart by the gate of the castle, and that señor baptista must have some other way of admitting them. "do you think they can be the banditti they talk of?" "i do not doubt it, and i have so longed to get away from this wicked place, that i often lie awake at night thinking about it. they would kill me if they thought i had betrayed them;--will you protect me?" "[**missing words**] my poor maria: and so you are the old castellan's grandchild! i remember hearing my father say that he yearly transmitted to baptista a handsome annuity for this poor orphan: of course you never got any portion of it?" "not a single quarto: but now i must go, i should be missed; á dios, señorita querida!" clara lost not a moment in seeking her father, and in communicating to him her important intelligence. cool action was indispensably necessary: for the first and the last time in their lives, there was a secret between the sisters. after dinner, don alonzo expressed a wish to ride, to see if any changes had taken place in the neighborhood, and his daughters declining to accompany him, as had been agreed between them, he invited his secretary, with the castellan and his wife, to accompany him--an honor which they gladly accepted. soon after their departure, clara sent a note don alonzo had written, by the hands of their trusty anselmo, to the village of alcantra, requiring the immediate attendance of the band of soldiers stationed there; and before the return of the carriage, they were admitted by maria, and conducted to a room adjoining clara's, the weak-minded sebastiano being easily kept out of the way. at night, a change of apartments took place: clara and magdalena slept, or rather waked, in their father's room, and he quietly awaited in theirs the progress of events. at twelve o'clock, he heard the slight sound described by his daughter, as proceeding from the opening of the panel. he waited a few moments, to allow the intruders to enter, and then, beholding forms arrayed in flames and white winding-sheets before him, he raised the pistol he held in his hand, pulled the trigger, and the foremost fell groaning to the ground. instantly the soldiers and servants stationed in the adjoining chamber rushed into the room with lights, and before the rest of the villains could recover from their surprise, they were all captured. upon raising the wounded man, they beheld, gnashing his teeth with fury, señor baptista himself, the leader of the band! ten men were they in all, and as they subsequently discovered, this comprised the whole of the banditti. entirely under the control of the artful baptista, their object was not to injure, but to alarm the conde's family, hoping thus to drive them away from a place filled with supernatural horror; whereas any harm done to them would have infallibly brought down upon their heads the vengeance of government. francisca, also, was secured, and the whole band was sent off to the nearest prison, to await their trial. the attempt was made to work upon the woman's fears of francisca, to induce her to make confession, and to implicate her companions. iron can be fashioned into any shape upon the anvil, but a will like hers no fire is hot enough to melt, no hammer hard enough to break or subdue. they promised her pardon, if she would open her lips; but her scornful smile showed that she would remain true to her own code of honor, be the consequences what they might. abundant evidence proved the guilt of all concerned: the men suffered the penalty of offended justice, and francisca was condemned to perpetual imprisonment, but managed to escape, and was never heard of more. on the morning following the capture, the secret passage was thoroughly explored, and a discovery made, involving many important results. a number of the dungeons were found piled up with merchandise of various descriptions, and whole chests of gold and silver were there deposited: information was immediately transmitted to government, but the king himself wrote a letter to don alonzo, thanking him for his many faithful and unrequited services, and begging his acceptance of the treasure found within his walls, much of which was no doubt his own. the conde gratefully accepted this evidence of his sovereign's favor, and took great pains to discover the relatives of those who had been murdered by the banditti, restoring to them fourfold. the treasure that remained was more than sufficient to disencumber his estates, and to restore them to the flourishing condition of olden times. he endowed hospitals, churches, and schools with the residue; and the peasants of all that region will long have cause to bless doña clara's bravery and don alonzo's munificence. it is almost needless to add that maria, in whom every day developed new graces under the quickening influence of kindness, was well provided for by the conde; and upon her marriage with his secretary, señor roberto, he presented her with a handsome dowry. the old castle of alcantra, delivered from its spectre, was soon converted by masons, carpenters, and upholsterers, into a most comfortable abode; and the hospitality of its noble master, and the charms of his fair daughters, attracted to it all that was worthy, intelligent, and lovely in the adjacent country. "is that all?" said amy, who had been listening with glistening eyes. "all? i hope so indeed; for do you know, my dears," said mrs. wyndham, "that it is past eleven o'clock? hasten away now to your nests, and take care not to dream of the spectre of alcantra." chapter v. a skating adventure.--what is my thought like?--questions.--the orphan's tale, or the vicissitudes of fortune. saturday morning was so bright and cold--such a frosty, finger-pinching winter day, that, at breakfast, george proposed the riddle, "what two fishes would you tie together on a day like this?" as none were able to guess it, he pronounced the assembled company intolerably stupid, and gave as the solution, _skates_ and _soles_. he declared the weather was made on purpose for skating; and although his uncle expressed some doubts as to the thickness of the ice, george's eloquence and earnestness carried the point, especially as, from his own account, his experience was so great that you would have concluded he was at least sixty years old. so the boys set off for a large pond, at the distance of about a mile, accompanied by the girls, well wrapt up in cloaks, furs, and mufflers, of every description, all in the highest spirits, and quite ready for fun and frolic; and the quick walk through the frosty air, broken by many a hop, skip, and jump, certainly did not tend to repress the exuberance of their laughter and excitement. is any one too grave and too wise to approve of such conduct? allow me to ask, reverend sir, or venerable madam, as the case may be, how many centuries are pressing their weight upon your silver locks? methuselah himself might remember that he once was young, and sympathize with the innocent light-heartedness of youth: and surely you cannot have arrived at quite his length of years. 'tis a great mistake to suppose that dullness and moping gravity have any thing in common with either goodness or wisdom: they are but the base imitations, the spurious counterfeits, which can pass only with the undiscerning. welcome, joyous laugh, and youthful glee! the world has quite enough of care and sorrow, without repressing the merry heart of childhood. wiser would it be for you, oh sad and weary spirit, sick of the buffetings of the cold and selfish crowd, for a little time to come out of your unhappy self, and by sympathy with others, again to become a little child. your soul would be refreshed and strengthened by bathing in the morning dews of youth; here would you find a balm for the wounds inflicted by the careless world; many a mourner has been drawn away from that sorrow which feeds upon the very springs of life, by the innocent caresses and gay converse of a child. cleave then to your liveliness, young people! and throw away from you all vapors, megrims, and melancholic feelings! believe me, real sorrow will come soon enough, and your groundless depression of spirits may have more in common with ill-nature than with thoughtfulness or earnestness of mind: true wisdom is both cheerful and loving. the girls staid for some time admiring the evolutions of the skaters as they gracefully wound about in intricate figures, or cut their names upon the ice; but they declared at last that they must retreat before the attacks of jack frost, who pinched their noses, fingers, and toes in an unmerciful manner. the boys, ardent in the pursuit of sport, still persevered, and george especially, who was devoted to this amusement, distinguished himself by his skill. "take care, george!" said his brother john, "you are going too far from the shore; it's hardly safe out there. please to recollect, that neither you nor i can swim, and we'd be in a fine case if you fell in." "who's afraid? i'm not for one!" cried george, fearlessly dashing off to the centre of the pond: but at the very moment when he was raising a triumphant shout, and calling upon the rest to follow him, a sharp crack was heard, the ice gave way under him, and he disappeared in the water! a cry of dismay broke from the group of his companions: instinctively john rushed forward to save him, but was held back by the others, who well knew that two would then be lost, instead of one. but in an instant, before george rose again to the surface, tom green, the oldest of the cousins, and a tall, manly fellow, had stripped off his coat, and gaining the spot, had plunged into the water. it was intensely cold, and he was obliged to break away the ice for some distance round before he was able to seize hold of poor george, who had risen up only to find a glassy wall, impenetrable to all his efforts, between himself and the outer air, and who had given himself up for lost. tom at length succeeded in forcing his way to ice thick enough to sustain his weight, and giving up his precious burden to the anxious group above, he reached the shore in safety. both were chilled through, and almost numb, from the excessive cold of the water, and tom's hands were cut by the ice, which he had been obliged to break: but they were not the lads tamely to give up, and moan over their condition, when they were able to act. "now, boys, for a race!" cried tom: "it's the only hope of putting a little life into us, and of keeping off the rheumatism--let us see who will be the first at the grange!" they accordingly started, running as fast as the numbness of their feet would allow, and soon arrived at the house; but what remarkable objects were tom and george, when they presented themselves before the eyes of their astonished aunt and cousins! their dress, soaked with water, was now perfectly stiff, like a coat of armor, and the edges hung with icicles, as did their hair; cornelia, concerned as she was for her brother and cousin, could not, when she thought of it, long afterwards, refrain from merry peals of laughter at the ludicrous appearance they made--they looked as if they had come from the north pole, representatives from the regions of eternal ice and snow. mrs. wyndham very soon had beds prepared for them, where, wrapt up in blankets, and comforted by a warm drink, which the advocates of the maine liquor law would not have altogether approved of, they speedily recovered their vital warmth, and the elasticity of their spirits. uncle john assured the young party, who were full of fears for their health, that his anticipations of evil consequences had been scattered by seeing those piled-up plates at dinner-time return to him to be replenished: he thought that such fine appetites were very good symptoms. they spent the day in bed, but were so much recruited from their exhaustion by a sound sleep, that aunt lucy mercifully took off her restriction, and allowed them to join the family group at supper. tom's hands were bound up, on account of "those honorable scars," as cornelia called them, and the two, the rescued and the rescuer, were decidedly the heroes of the evening: the girls, ever full of admiration of gallant conduct, looked upon good-natured and pleasant tom green with a respect they had not felt before. one of the games this evening was "what is my thought like?" mary went round the circle asking the question, and when she announced that her thought was _president taylor_, there was some amusement at the incongruity of the replies. she then asked each one for a reason of the resemblance, and an answer was to be given immediately, or a forfeit to be paid. "cornelia, why was president taylor like a _sunset_?" "because his career was splendid like the sun, and his loss equally regretted." "john, why was he like a _brick_?" "so substantial." "amy, why was he like a _cat_?" "why--because he was so 'cute." "alice, why was he like a _sigh_?" "he always excited so much sympathy in the hearts of the people." "george, how did he resemble _cream_?" "because he was the very best and tip-top of all that was good." "tom, why was he like a _cow_?" "because he did not know how to run." "ellen, why was he like an _umbrella_?" "because he sheltered many." "gertrude, how did he resemble the _alps_?" "he towered aloft majestically above his fellow-men." "harry, how did you make him out like a _laugh_?" "oh, he was such a merry old soul." "then, how does anna make him resemble a _tear_?" "he was so sympathetic with the woes of others." "aunt lucy, how was he like a _fire_?" "he was warm-hearted, and the centre of attraction to so many." "and, louis, how do you make him like a _flower_?" "his presidential career was bright, and short-lived, like a flower." "charlie, why was he like a _vine_?" "that's plain enough--his motto was _'a little more grape_.'" amy went round collecting resemblances for her thought, and then said that she had the watch-dog, trusty, in her mind. "why is trusty like _paper_?" "because he's white." "then, why is he like _ink_?" "because he's so useful." "why is he like a _table_?" "because he's a quadruped." "why is he like _aunt lucy_?" "he is so good and faithful." "why is he like a _bed_?" "his steadiness at his post enables us to enjoy undisturbed sleep." "how does he resemble a _carpet_?" "he generally lies on the floor, but is sometimes brushed off." "how is he like a _lion_?" "he is very fond of meat." "how does he resemble _cousin mary_?" "he has a collar round his neck." "how is he like a _tree_?" "he is so very full of bark." gertrude then proposed trying another game she had seen played, which was called "questions." she said it was generally done by using playing-cards, but as she knew uncle and aunt had an objection to having them in the house, she had prepared a set of blank cards for the purpose. there were duplicates of every one, and she had numbered them, , , , etc., in large characters: one set was placed in the centre of the table, around which they drew up, and the duplicates were shuffled and dealt to each in turn. when they were all supplied, one would draw a card from the table, asking some personal question; and all looking at their cards, the one who had the duplicate must throw it upon the table, and say, "it is i." it was found that the sillier and more impertinent the question, the more laughter it caused. "who comes down last to breakfast?" said tom, drawing from the pack one marked . "i do," replied aunt lucy, throwing down her corresponding . "who is the prettiest person present?" said aunt lucy, drawing out a . "i am," said george, with a grin--being quite reconciled to the fact that he was decidedly the ugliest one of the party; at the same time mating his with its companion on the table. "who loves mince-pie the best?" said amy "i do," replied ellen, with a laugh. "which of us is the old maid of the company?" said cornelia. "it is i," cried tom, in a tone of triumph. "which of us has a hole in her stocking?" said alice. "oh, it is i myself." and so it went on until the pack was exhausted, when all agreed that it was time for the daily story, which they seemed to think as much a matter of course as the supper. aunt lucy said that she would gladly tell them a short one, which should be called the orphan's tale, or the vicissitudes of fortune. the early days of margaret roscoe were spent in the beautiful manse of linlithgow, in the north of scotland, where her venerable grandfather had for half a century been engaged in breaking the bread of life to a large congregation of humble parishioners. no wealth or grandeur was to be seen within the walls of the kirk where alan roscoe officiated: there were no waving plumes, no flashing jewels, no rustling silks; and when, as a young man, he accepted his appointment to this remote parish, his college friends grieved that his noble talents should be wasted, and his refinement of mind thrown away upon rough country folks, unable to appreciate him. but the young minister was convinced that his proper field of labor was now before him, and resolutely putting aside the temptings of ambition, he devoted himself in the most exemplary manner to his parochial duties. although he and his family were debarred from the advantages of cultivated society, and from the mental excitement which only such intercourse can afford, they cheerfully made the sacrifice, for the sake of the cause to which they were wholly given up; and they thought themselves more than repaid by the improvement and the reverent love of the people. it is a great mistake to suppose that plain, unlettered men cannot rightly estimate superior abilities, erudition, and refinement; where there is any native shrewdness and strength of mind, these higher gifts are quickly discerned, and add greatly to the influence which sincerity and earnestness of character will ever command. in scotland this is especially true, for the countrymen of bruce and wallace are distinguished for their sagacity; and their acquaintance with scripture is so extensive that their natural intelligence is sharpened, and superficial knowledge and flowery discourses are not tolerated from the pulpit. certain it is, that as years rolled on, and the white hairs became thicker on mr. roscoe's head, love and veneration were the universal feelings entertained toward him: and at the time when our story commences, when the infant margaret and her young widowed mother removed beneath the shelter of his roof, he was the respected pastor, the beloved friend, and the revered father of all within the circle of his influence. malcom roscoe, margaret's father, was a young man of superior abilities, but of great original delicacy of constitution; he was retiring, studious, meditative, and in all respects a contrast to his older and only brother, alan, who early developed those qualities which are necessary to the active man of business. a very warm attachment united these two young men, and a sad blow it was to malcom, when his brother, with the energy and decision natural to his character, announced his intention of emigrating to america, where bright prospects had opened before him. an old friend had commenced a large commercial establishment in one of the atlantic cities, and had offered him a clerkship, with the prospect of speedy admission into the firm: he regretted to leave his aged father, and his only brother, but such an excellent opportunity of advancing himself in life was not to be neglected, and he gratefully accepted the proposition. with many tears, he bade adieu to the beloved inmates of the manse, and set out for the new world: his industry and integrity had been greatly prospered, and in a few years he was an honored partner of the house into which he had entered as a penniless clerk. what, meantime, had been malcom's lot? he had applied himself with assiduity to the study of divinity, for which both his character and his abilities had admirably fitted him, but his health was unequal to the demands made upon it. he passed his examination with great honor, was immediately called to a parish, and went there to settle, accompanied by his young wife, a delicate and interesting orphan girl, to whom he had been long attached. his zealous spirit saw much to rectify, and many labors to perform, in his new sphere: he entered with ardor into the discharge of his duties, but soon he found that his frail body had been overtasked by its imperious master the soul, and was no longer able to do his bidding. he faded away from earth, as do so many of the best and noblest of the race, when just ready to apply to the loftiest purposes the faculties so carefully trained. to us, such occurrences appear to be very mysterious dispensations of providence: but the individual himself has attained the true object of his being, the full development of all his powers, and is prepared for a more elevated existence. and we may believe, since not even a sparrow falls to the ground unheeded by our father, and since no waste is allowed in nature, so that even the dead leaf ministers to new combinations of being, that the noble gifts of the mind will not be unused after death. in other spheres, amid other society, they will doubtless be employed for the benefit of immortal beings. mutual beneficence must form a large part of the business and pleasure of heaven. after malcom's death, his widow and infant child came to live with old mr. roscoe at linlithgow. happily for the young mourner, the household cares of the manse now devolved upon her, in addition to the charge of margaret; and these occupations, no doubt, aided greatly in restoring the serenity of her spirit. she had little time to brood over her sorrows--those small solicitudes and minute attentions to the feelings and comfort of others, which fill up so large a portion of a true woman's time, were with her a double blessing, cheering both the giver and receiver. she realized that it is woman's honor and happiness to be, in an especial manner, a ministering spirit; and thus she learned to resemble the bright hosts above, whom she hoped one day to join, and grow in the likeness of him who declared, "the son of man came not into the world to be ministered unto, but to minister." no wonder is it that the gentle young widow, whose face ever beamed with kindness, whose hand was ever outstretched to aid the unfortunate, was looked up to with a love and veneration only inferior to that with which mr. roscoe himself was regarded. in such an atmosphere of affection, and under the best influences of unaffected piety and refinement, little margaret expanded in beauty and goodness, like a sweet flower planted in a fertile soil, and refreshed by soft-falling dews and healthful breezes. she was something like her own scottish heather--distinguished by no uncommon brilliancy of mind or person, but yet one upon whom your eye delighted to fall, and on whom your heart could dwell with pleasure. her clear, rosy complexion showed that she had inherited none of her parent's delicacy of constitution; and large, deep, violet-colored eyes, shaded by long lashes, made her face a very interesting one. she was a most lovable little girl, gentle and thoughtful beyond her years; it seemed as if something of the shadow of her mother's grief had fallen upon her young spirit, repressing the volatility of childhood, and making her ever considerate of the feelings and studious of the comfort of others. she was her grandfather's constant companion; and it was very beautiful to see these two, so widely separated by years, and so closely united by affection, entwining their lives together--the old man imparting instruction and guidance, and the child warming his heart with the bright hopes and sweet ways of her innocent age. and so the three lived on, in perfect contentment and uninterrupted peace, until margaret was seven years old, when her grandfather was taken ill, and the manse, once so happy, was filled with sorrow. he lingered for some time, faithfully nursed by his daughter, who overtaxed her own strength by her daily toils and nightly watchings. he at last sank into the tomb, as a shock of corn, fully ripe, bends to the earth: he was full of years, and of the honor merited by a life spent in the arduous discharge of duty. his only regret was that he was unavoidably separated from his son; and he advised his daughter, as soon as she had settled his affairs, to accept alan's pressing invitation to her to make her home with him, and to depart with her child for america, where she would be gladly welcomed. after the funeral, as the new incumbent of the parish wished to take possession of the manse as soon as possible, mrs. roscoe made arrangements to leave the spot she loved so well: and disposing of the furniture, and settling the debts incurred by her father's illness, she found that no very large sum would be left after the passages across the atlantic were paid for. in alan roscoe's last letter, he had entered into many details about his circumstances, in order to take from her mind the objections which delicacy might urge as to her dependent position. he told her that he had been eminently successful as a merchant in charleston, and had amassed so considerable a fortune that he intended very soon to retire from business; and that he had some thoughts of settling in one of the northern cities, as his health, and that of his family, had suffered from the climate. he said that a dear and only sister, as she was, ought to have no reluctance in sharing the superfluity of his wealth: she would thereby give far more than she received. and his brother's orphan should be most heartily welcomed to his heart and home: she should be taught with his children, and should share in every respect the situation and prospects of his own little ones, for he must receive malcom's child, not as a niece, but as a daughter. he advised her sailing direct for charleston, as it would save all trouble and difficulty: he should be on the wharf to meet her, and if, as was frequently the case with business men, he was unavoidably absent, his very attentive partner would be there to greet her, in company with mrs. roscoe. she accordingly wrote, accepting his kind proposition, and stating that they should sail in the first vessel bound for charleston, as she was anxious to have little maggie again settled in a home; and the more so, as her own health was very delicate, and she knew not how long her dear child might have a mother to watch over her. then taking leave of the humble friends, who would gladly have kept them ever in scotland, mrs. roscoe and her daughter set off for the nearest seaport, where the shrinking young widow, entirely friendless and unknown, was obliged herself to make inquiries among the shipping offices and wharves. she found that no vessel would start for some weeks for charleston, and she felt that every day was of consequence to her: but she was at last relieved of her distress by a bluff, good-natured captain, who told her that although he didn't hail from charleston, it was exactly the same thing; he sailed to boston, and the two places were as close together as twin cherries on one stalk, or kernels in a nut, and that he would see to it she had no trouble in finding her friends. being a scotchman, and partaking of that ignorance of american geography which is so common both in great britain and on the continent, he naturally mistook charleston, south carolina, for which she was inquiring, for charlestown, near boston--an error which has frequently been made. nor is it as gross a one as some others which have been perpetrated; as, for instance, that of the late prince schwartzenberg, minister of austria, who directed some dispatches for our government to "the united states of new york." and now behold little margaret actually launched upon the stormy ocean of life! for her small bark was destined soon to be severed from its guide and conductor, and to be left, without a pilot, to the wildly tossing waves and bleak winds of a selfish world. did i say without a pilot? not so! a hand, unseen, directed her fate, and although she was called to pass thus early through troubled waters, the end will doubtless show that all was well. but the present trial was a very bitter one. a few days only after the embarkation, mrs. roscoe's weak frame gave way, under the combined influence of sorrow, fatigue, and anxiety; she was only ill a week, then sank, and was consigned to a watery grave. little margaret could not be separated from her for one moment during her illness, but, clasping her mother's hand in hers, remained by her, smoothing her pillow, bringing her the cooling draught, and seeking, in a thousand loving ways, to cheer and relieve her. before her death, mrs. roscoe called the captain, and committed little maggie to his especial care. she told him of her expectation that her brother, mr. alan roscoe, a prominent importing merchant in charleston, would immediately come on board to claim his niece, when the vessel arrived; but to guard against any possibility of a mistake, she gave him the number of the street in which he resided. the bluff, but kind-hearted man drew his red, hard hand repeatedly across his eyes, as he listened to her anxious directions about the little girl she was so soon to leave. he told her he didn't know much himself about either charleston or the people who lived in it, as he had been engaged until very lately in the south sea trade; but, of course, his consignees at boston would, and if there were any difficulty, he should put the matter into their hands. he begged her to be under no uneasiness--her daughter should be well attended to. on the last day of her illness, the little girl sat by her in the berth, and for the first time appeared to realize that her mother, her only earthly friend, was about to die. her little cheek was now almost as white as the dying woman's, and she moistened the bed with tears: she could not restrain her sobs. her mother passed her arm around her, and strove to comfort her: she told her that, although she must now leave her, and go where her dear father and grandfather awaited her, her little girl had one friend who would never cast her off, and who could never die, who had promised to be the father of the fatherless. whatever should befall her, she must put all her trust in him who had said, "when thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then the lord shall take thee up." with all the energy which the love of a dying woman could give, she besought her child to cleave with perfect love to him who was so kind and pitiful. she then placed around her neck a medallion, inclosing a portrait of herself and her husband, with their initials, the date of their marriage, and locks of their hair, and told her never to part with it, but to wear it next her heart. she directed her to be in all respects obedient to her uncle, and ever to act toward him as if he were her own father. at last, exhausted by the the long conversation she had held, she sank back and fell asleep: it was so sweet and natural a rest, that margaret long waited by her side, afraid to stir lest she should awake her mother. a happy smile seemed diffused over that face, lately so earnest and so anxious; it appeared to say, my troubles are now over, my work is done, i have entered into my reward. and so it was! the sorrow-stricken woman had gently passed away from earth, and little margaret was watching beside the dead. shall i attempt to describe the grief of the child, deprived of all she loved? the rough, but kindly sailors were much moved by it, and strove, in their uncouth way, to comfort her. after the first few days of passionate lamentation, the motherless girl became more quiet in her sorrow, and then the demonstrations of sympathy ceased: but any one who gazed upon her wasted form, her white cheek, and languid steps, might have guessed the tears she shed upon her pillow at night. at last the vessel arrived in boston, and margaret's heart beat quick each time she saw a good-looking gentleman step on board, for every instant she thought her unknown uncle would arrive. she tried to fancy how he looked, and although she had heard that he and her father were very unlike, still her imagination brought up before her a face like that within her highly-prized medallion. so passed the day, in anxious waiting and nervous tremors, but her uncle came not; and as the night drew near, a sense of perfect loneliness and desertion came over her, and she leaned her head upon her hands, and tears, wrung from the heart, trickled through them. all around her was bustle; every one had an object, all had a home, and a place in the world, and some to love them--all but she; she felt completely the orphan. some think that children do not suffer mentally as their elders do--what a mistake! their emotions are more transitory, but frequently more violent while they last. many an angry child, if he had the physical strength, would commit deeds from which reason and conscience deter the man--and keen and bitter, although fleeting, are the sorrows they experience. as the little creature, so tenderly reared and now so utterly desolate, sat upon the deck, with no earthly being to look up to for love and sympathy, surely a pitying angel must have wafted into her heart her mother's dying words, "when thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then the lord shall take thee up." it stole into her soul like oil upon the troubled waters: it seemed as if a voice had said to the tempest within her, "peace, be still." she felt that there still was one who cared for her--one who could neither die nor change; and the prayer of faith ascended from those young lips to "_our father_ who art in heaven." soothing, blessed influence of religion! felt by young as well as old--how, in trouble, could we dispense with it? would not our hearts sink under their load? would not our spirits be crushed within us? the next day the captain set himself in earnest to fulfill his promise to the dying woman. the head of the firm to which his goods were consigned was absent from home, but a very kind-hearted young fellow, a junior partner, attended to the business during his absence, and accordingly he directed his inquiries to him. "mr. alan roscoe, a merchant of charlestown!" said young howard, "why, i never heard the name--there is surely some mistake. i know all the business men of the place, and there is no such person. have you the direction?" "yes, sir, no. meeting-street." "why, captain, here is a complete blunder! there is no street of that name in charlestown. i should not wonder, now i come to think of it, if charleston, south carolina, were meant; meeting-street is, i know, one of the most fashionable promenades. and i remember hearing of a mr. roscoe, a great southern merchant--either in charleston, or mobile, or new orleans, i don't rightly know where--but somewhere in the south. i'll tell you what, captain, you're full of business, and can't attend to her; i'll take her home with me, for she's a dear little thing, and then i can inquire about her uncle, and send her on by the first opportunity. great pity such a blunder was made!" accordingly, mr. howard engaged a hack, which was piled up with little maggie's trunks, and he was about jumping in, when he was nearly run over by his friend russell. "hallo, howard!" "is that you, russell?" "no one else; but what on earth are you doing with such a heap of trunks? has a friend arrived?" "only a little orphan, who came in one of our ships; her mother died on board, and to crown the misfortune, they got into the wrong vessel. they wanted to go to charleston, s.c., where this child has an uncle, mr. alan roscoe, a rich merchant; so they came to charlestown by mistake. i'm taking the little creature home with me, until i find out about him." "the luckiest thing in the world! why, i know mr. roscoe myself; he lives in meeting-street; i became acquainted with him in charleston last winter. but he has either given up business, or intends to do so; he is in new york at this moment; i saw him the other day at the astor house, and he told me he had some thought of removing to new york or philadelphia." "in new york, is he? what a piece of good fortune! how i wish i knew some one going on there. if i were not so uncommonly busy, now that mr. field is away, i would take her myself." "if you'd like it, my dear fellow, i'll take charge of the child--you know i always have acquaintances going on to new york--i know every one in the two cities, pretty much. i'll give her over to some safe person, and then she'll be with her uncle to-night." "thank you, you're a real good soul; you can attend to it as well as i, of course. and i am anxious to get the poor little thing to her relations as soon as possible, so i'll be much obliged to you." "good-by, then;--driver, go as fast as your horses can carry you to the new york depot, for we're rather late." when they arrived, they were only a few minutes before the time. mr. russell walked through the cars, looking on either side, but, to his chagrin, he saw no one he knew. any one who has ever sought for an acquaintance, while the steam was puffing, and panting, and screeching, as if in mortal pain until it was allowed to have its own way, and send the train along at the rate of forty miles an hour, can understand the flustered, bewildered feelings of young russell, as, with the child in one hand, he perambulated the cars. "is any gentleman here willing to take charge of this little girl?" said he. "what's to be done with her when we get to new york?" answered a man near him. "her uncle, mr. alan roscoe, is staying at the astor house; all you have to do is to take the child and her baggage to him, and as he is a southern gentleman, and very rich, he'll see that you are well paid for your trouble." "i'll take charge of her; have you got her ticket?" "no; and i declare i have no more than half a dollar with me--can you advance the money? you will be paid tenfold when you get to new york." "i'll do it as a speculation: here, my pretty young lady, sit in my seat while i see to your baggage." "just got it in the baggage-car in time,--good-by, sir!" "good-by--good-by, miss roscoe!" "good-by, sir--i wish it were _you_ going on to new york!" little maggie did not like her travelling companion at all. children are great physiognomists, and their simple instincts are frequently surer guides than the experience and wisdom of older persons, in detecting character. she could not bear to talk to him--his conversation, garnished with low cant phrases, was so different from any thing to which she had ever been accustomed. but when she looked up into his face, the repugnance she had at first felt became changed into aversion--the low, narrow forehead, the furtive, but insolent glance of his eye, and the expression of vulgar cunning about the mouth, formed a countenance which might well justify her in shrinking back into her seat, as far from him as possible. when they arrived in new york, smith, for that was the man's name, engaged a carriage, and drove with little margaret to the astor house; but, in answer to his inquiries, he was told that no one of the name of roscoe was lodging, or had been boarding there for the past month. he muttered a curse, and jumped again into the hack. "what do you make of this? that uncle of yours is not there." "oh dear, what _shall_ i do? but, indeed, the gentleman said he saw him in the astor house." "what is the gentleman's name, can you tell me?" "i don't know his name." "don't know his name, don't you? i'm prettily bit! but perhaps he may be in some other hotel, we'll go and see." they accordingly drove round to the chief hotels, but no mr. roscoe was to be found at any of them. smith flew into a terrible passion. "cheated for once in my life! sold, if ever a fellow was! it's a regular trick that was played! they wanted to get rid of their beggar's brat, and palmed her off upon me, with that humbug story of the nabob of an uncle. i'll nabob her! and there's her ticket, which i was fool enough to pay for, and the carriage hire, and my trouble with this saucy thing, who holds her head up so high; if ever i am swindled again, my name's not sam smith!" "i'm sure i'm very sorry; what are you going to do with me, sir?" "take you home with me, until i can get rid of you, and pay myself out of your trunks, unless they're filled with stones. it wouldn't be such a bad idea to lose you in the streets, accidentally; but no, on second thoughts, it's better not; there are always some troublesome philanthropists about." "oh, sir, if you can't find my uncle, won't you send me on to boston again? the captain told my mother he'd find him for me--or that good gentleman would." "the captain's a rogue, and so is your _good gentleman_. are you such an eternal fool as to think i'll pay your passage again? you're mightily mistaken, i can tell you. i don't believe you ever had an uncle, you little cheat--and if you don't hush up about him, i'll find a way to make you." little margaret was too much frightened to answer, and they kept on their way, through narrow muddy streets lined with lofty warehouses, and alleys filled with low german and irish lodging-houses and beer-shops, until they came to a wider highway, at the corners of which margaret read the name of chatham street. on each side of the way were shops of the strangest appearance--furniture, old and new, was piled up together, coats and cloaks hung out at the doors, watches and jewelry of a tawdry description made a show in the windows, and men with keen black eyes and hooked noses, and stooping backs which looked as if they had never been erect in their lives, stood at the entrances, trying to attract the attention of the passer-by. as margaret looked at them, she thought of the stories her mother had read to her of the ant-lion, stealthily watching at the bottom of its funnel-shaped den for its prey, which the deceitful sand brings within its reach, if once the victim comes to the edge of the pit; and of the spider, so politely inviting the fly within its parlor. "will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly, "'tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy; the way into my parlor is up a winding stair, and i've many curious things to show you when you're there." "oh no, no," said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain, for who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again." at the door of some of the shops, she saw a man standing upon a box, with a hammer in his hand, and a crowd around him, eager, and bidding against one another. "going, going, a splendid gold watch at five dollars--the greatest bargain in the world--tremendous sacrifice--going, going, _gone_!" at last they came to his den; a shop like the rest, piled up with old brass andirons, sofas, bureaus, tables, lamps, coats and pants, ropes, feather-beds, and hideous daubs of pictures. old-fashioned mantel-ornaments, looking-glasses, clocks pointing to all hours of the day, waiters with the paint rubbed off, old silver candlesticks, and a heap of other trash, completed the furniture of the room. stumbling through this lumber, smith led her up to a little garret, where the bare rafters were covered with dust, and one hole of a window let in some light, enough to reveal the nakedness of the place. in one corner, upon the dirty floor, was an old bed; a piece of a mirror was fastened against the wall, which looked quite innocent of the whitewash brush; and a stool, which had lost one of its legs, was lying in a very dejected attitude near the door. "here you are to lodge," said smith, with a sardonic grin, as he noticed the child's dismay at the announcement. "you can stay up here till i want you, and when you are hungry, you can go down stairs to the little back kitchen and get a slice of bread; but don't dare to show your face in the shop." "when will my trunks come?" said the little girl, whose wits were sharpened by the necessity of looking out for her own interests. "never you mind about them trunks," replied smith; "i advise you to keep quiet, and it will be the better for you." so saying, he descended into his shop, and left the poor child to her meditations, which were none of the pleasantest. two days passed without smith making his appearance, and margaret worked up her courage to the point of going into the shop, even if it did excite his anger, and insisting upon his taking her to her uncle, or sending her back to the ship. she walked in, unnoticed, and the first object that met her sight was one of her mother's large trunks, open and empty, with the price marked upon the top. around the room she saw the others, and the contents, so precious to her from association with her deceased parent, were hanging about upon pegs, looking ashamed of their positions. horrified, the little girl ran up to smith: "these are my things," she said; "how dare you put them into the shop?" "you had better hush up, little vixen," replied the man, "or i'll take the very clothes from off your back. you don't think i am going to keep you without receiving board, do you?" "but i'm not going to stay here. i'll go back to the ship--the captain will _make_ you give me my things," cried the child, bursting into passionate tears. "go--i'd like nothing better; go back to boston as fast as you can, cry-baby, and give my compliments to the gentleman who cheated me into taking you," replied smith, with his odious smile. "then why will you not take me to my uncle? i don't want to stay in this horrid place." "take care, or you'll get into a worse--as for your uncle, i saw in the paper yesterday an account of his death, so you need have no hopes from him." "dead! all dead!" said margaret, sinking down into the nearest seat, for her head swam, and her knees trembled so that she could not stand. "yes, he's dead as a door nail--no mistake about that. so you had better not be troublesome, or you won't fare as well as you do. here, jackson," he said to a rough, bloated-looking, elderly countryman, who had been purchasing some old furniture, and had now re-entered the shop, "didn't you say that you wanted a little girl to do your work?" "yes, i did," replied the man, "my old woman is not worth any thing any more. but i must have some one that will not be interfered with: i intend to get an orphan from the alms-house, that will suit me best." "here is an orphan, who is the very thing: she has no relations or friends in the world, and i'm rather tired of keeping her--i'll give her to you for nothing." "that would do, but she does not look like a poor child: she is dressed like a little lady, and her hands are small and white, as if she wasn't used to rough work." "she _is_ dressed up more than she should be, but you can soon mend that; and i'll answer for it, she'll learn to do the rough work soon enough." "well, i'll take her: have her bundle ready by the afternoon, and i'll call for her in the wagon, and take the girl and the other baggage at the same time." "agreed--she shall be ready." it would be hard to describe little margaret's feelings during the preceding dialogue: she plainly saw that there was no escape for her, unless she rushed into the street, and claimed the protection of any chance passer-by, and that honest smith took pains to prevent, by locking her up in her room. when there alone, she threw herself down upon the bed, and sobbed as if her heart would break: "if my mother, my dear, dear mother, was living, _she_ would take care of me. she would not let me stay in this filthy place--she would not let me eat dry bread and water--she would not let that ugly old man take me away, to do servants' work. oh mother! mother! i wish i were dead too!" when her passion of grief was exhausted, comfort and hope began to dawn upon her, and she thought, "it cannot certainly be as bad in the country, where the old man lives, as here, in this vile hole, with all these disgusting smells and sights. and my mother said, that god is a friend who can never die or change, who will never leave or forsake the poor orphan. i will try to be a better child, and then god will love me: perhaps i deserve this, for being naughty. i certainly will try to be good." in the afternoon, jackson came for his baggage, as he called it, and after the furniture was stowed away, smith brought down the little girl, and gave into her hand a very small bundle of clothes, bidding her tell no tales, or she should find she was in his power yet. she was put into the wagon, on top of the furniture, and the old man, whose face was red, and whose breath smelt of liquor, set off at a smart pace. it was late in the evening before they reached the solitary and desolate farm-house, which jackson called his home: margaret scrambled out as best she could, and entered the dwelling. although it was now late in the autumn, there was no fire upon the hearth, and the room looked to the last degree dismal. it had something more of a habitable aspect when the furniture was brought in, but it was evident that no "neat-handed phillis" had been accustomed to range through the house; and the spiders had provided the only ornaments to be found anywhere about, by hanging the walls with tapestry, which certainly could not be produced in the looms of france. margaret found that there were two other inhabitants of this neglected house--jackson's wife, a sad, heart-broken woman, only too evidently in a dying condition, and a son of about fifteen, rude, stubborn, and rebellious, whose only good-feeling seemed to be love to his poor mother. jackson brought out some food, of which margaret stood greatly in need, and she was then happy to be allowed to retire to the loft allotted to her, as she was exhausted by the ride and the agitation of mind she had gone through during the past week. miserable as was her attic, she slept soundly until waked by the sun shining into her eyes: she quickly dressed, but did not escape a scolding from her sullen master, who commanded her to make a fire, and get his breakfast for him. margaret was remarkably quick and handy for a child of her age, as her affection to her mother and grandfather had prompted her to do many little things for them which so young a girl seldom thinks of; but her delicate white fingers were unused to menial tasks, and to make a fire was quite beyond the circle of her accomplishments. jackson then called upon his son to do it, but told her that he should not make it a second time, and grumbled and swore at her while he remained in the house. it is astonishing how human nature can adapt itself to circumstances, so that the thing which we must do we can do: little margaret, who had ever been so tenderly nurtured, soon learned to make the fire, to sweep the rooms, and cook the meals. not in the most scientific manner, truly; her cookery would scarcely have been approved by kitchener, glass, or soyer, but it was done to the best of her slender ability. while poor mrs. jackson lived, maggie had at least the satisfaction of feeling that her efforts to please her were understood: the grateful look, the languid smile, and the half-expressed pity for the little slave, who was now to fill her place, reminded the child of her mother, and made her more contented with her situation. but when, exhausted by the life of hardship and cruelty which the drunkard's wife must ever experience, mrs. jackson slept her last sleep, and went to the home appointed for all the living, "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest," then the little girl had none to feel for her. in a few days, the boy, bill jackson, told her that now his mother was dead, he wasn't such a fool as to stay there to be kicked and starved by his father; he intended to run off and go to sea, and he advised her too "to make herself scarce" as soon as she could. when he had gone, all the brutality which had been divided between the mother and son, was now visited on the innocent head of little maggie; and unassisted even by counsel, she had to perform all the household tasks. if she had received kind words in payment, she could have overlooked many of the hardships of her condition; but these she never got. let her be as diligent and pains taking as she would, severity and reproaches were all she met: jackson was always sullen and morose in the morning, and at night, frequent potations from a large stone jug worked him up to a passion. then he would knock the furniture about, throw chairs at margaret's head if she came in his way, and swear in such a dreadful manner that the little girl was glad to seek shelter in her cold and cheerless loft, where at least she could be alone, and could pray to the one friend she had left. as the winter advanced, the child's sufferings greatly increased. the cold was intense, the situation a bleak one, and the old farm-house full of cracks and crannies which admitted the winter winds. her clothing was of a thin description, and nearly worn out by hard usage: at night also, in her airy loft, she was often kept awake by the cold, or cried herself to sleep. but the more severe the weather was, the more did jackson think it needful to take something a little warming, and the stone jug was frequently replenished: of course his temper became more violent, and margaret was the sufferer. she kept out of the way as much as possible, but had no place to which she could retreat, except her loft. here she would frequently solace herself by bringing out her medallion, which, according to her mother's directions, she wore next her heart, and gazing upon the beloved countenances of her parents--this dying gift was the only relic she had left of former times. one day a snow-storm set in, which reminded her of those she had seen among her own scottish hills, where the drifts are so great that the shepherd frequently loses his life in returning to his distant home. the wind was piercing, and the snow was so driven about that you could scarcely see a few feet before you; and by evening it lay in deep piles against the door, and around the house. jackson had of course resorted to the whiskey jug very frequently during the day, for consolation; and little margaret, seeing him more than usually excited, had sought refuge in the cold and dismal loft, wrapping herself up as well as she could. as she sat there, shivering, and thinking how differently she was situated on the last snow-storm she remembered, when she was seated on a little stool, between her mother and grandfather, holding a hand of each, before a large blazing fire, and listening to beautiful tales--she heard jackson call her name in savage tones. she hastened, but before she could get down the ladder which led to the room below, he called her again and again, each time more fiercely so that her heart trembled like a leaf upon a tree, dreading to meet his rage. he received her with oaths and abuse; called her a lazy little wretch, who did not earn the bread she eat, and commanded her to bring in an armful of wood from the pile, as the fire was going out. she ventured to tell him that she had already tried to find some, but ineffectually; in some places the snow was above her head, and the air was so thick with it, now that night had come on, that she could not see before her. but the violent man would take no excuse: he drove her out with threats, and long she groped about, vainly trying to discover the wood, which was completely hidden by the snow. her hands and feet became numb, and she felt that she _must_ return to the house, if he killed her--she would otherwise die of the cold. she came, timidly crawling into the room--the moment her master saw her, he started up; fury made him look like a demon. seizing a stick of wood which still remained, he assailed her violently: the child, so tender hearted, and so delicately reared, who could be recalled to duty by one glance of the eye, was now subjected to the chastisement of a brutal, insensate drunkard! at last he stopped, but his rage was not exhausted. opening the door, he told her never to darken it again--never more should she dare to show herself within his house. falling upon her knees, the little girl besought him with tears not to expel her--she had no one to go to, no father, no mother to take care of her. if she was driven out into the snow, she should die with cold--if he would only allow her to stay that night, she would leave on the morrow, if he wished it! but tears and prayers were unavailing; all of man he had ever had in his nature was now brutified by strong drink; as well might she have knelt to the tiger thirsting for blood, as to him. driving her out with a curse, he shut and bolted the door. the depths of distress call up energies, even in the childish heart which have never been felt before. what was there upon earth to revive the spirit of the little orphan, so utterly deserted, so ready to perish? nothing. but there was something in heaven--and within that girlish bosom there lived a faith in the unseen realities, which might well have shamed many an older person. with her uncovered head exposed to the falling snow, she knelt down, and this time she bent the knee to no hard, cruel master; but with the confidence of filial love, she uttered her fervent prayer to him who is a very present help in time of trouble. she called upon her father to save a little helpless orphan; or, if it were his will, to take her up to heaven--"_thy_ will be done." and she rose with a tranquillity and calm determination which many would have deemed impossible in one so young; but there is a promise, and many weak ones can testify to its fulfilment, "as thy day, so shall thy strength be." margaret went onward towards the public road: there was no farm-house nearer than about a mile, and the child greatly doubted her ability to reach it; but she had resolved to persevere in her efforts, while any power remained in her muscles, any vital warmth in her heart. onward went that little child, painfully, but still steadily onward; she struggled against the drowsiness that attacked her, but at last she began to feel that she could do no more. but yield not yet to despair, thou gentle and brave orphan! one stronger than thou has come to thy assistance. for hearest thou not the subdued sound of horses' hoofs scattering the snow? thou art saved! a traveller approaches, made of other stuff than the crafty smiths and the brutal jacksons of the earth,--he sees that slight childish figure, that bare head, those failing steps,--he thinks of his own little ones at home, seated by the sparkling fire, and awaiting his return. he is not one of those who hold the creed of impious cain, "am i my brother's keeper?" but, instead, he is a follower of the good samaritan, or rather, i should say, of him who taught that lesson and practised it, seeking and saving those who were lost. he stopped his horse. "my little girl, what are you doing out of doors on a night like this? you will be frozen to death. why are you not at home with your father and mother?" "i wish i were!" she said. "they are both dead--i wish i were with them!" "but, my child, you must have a home; why are you out on such a stormy night?" "i have no home, sir," replied poor margaret. "i lived at the nearest farm-house, but my master was angry with me for not bringing in the wood, and beat me, and turned me out of doors; and i shall die of cold very soon, unless you take care of me, sir." "poor little deserted one!" said the gentleman, jumping off from his horse. "such a tiny thing as she, cannot have done any thing very bad--and to send her out to die! poor child! god sent me to you, and i will surely take care of you." so saying, he took off his cloak, lined with warm fur, and shaking the snow from her hair and clothes, carefully wrapped it around her, and placed her in front of him upon his horse. "my good, thoughtful wife!" said he; "when i laughed at you this morning for insisting upon my wearing this cloak outside my great-coat, little did i think it would save a precious life--i always do find it to my advantage to mind your womanly, wifely instincts. and now, little girl, we will go home as fast as we can--i will try to keep jack frost away from you with this cloak." urging his horse onward, mr. norton, for that was the good man's name, every now and then spoke cheerily to the child whom he sustained with one arm, striving to keep her awake, and telling her of the bright warm fire she should see when they got home. at last they arrived there: when mr. norton jumped off his horse, margaret saw that they had come to a small town, which looked very pretty as the snow lay upon the roofs and fences. before he could ring, the door flew open, and the warm light, which looked like an embodiment of the love and happiness of home and fireside pleasures, streamed out upon the pure, cold snow, revealing, to the group within doors, the father carefully holding his burden. "dear father! are you not almost perished?" cried his oldest son, frederic, a manly little fellow, muffled up in cap, and coat, and worsted scarf. "you must let me take old charlie to the stable, and come in yourself and thaw--you see i am all ready." "well, my son, i believe i will; particularly as i have a bundle here that i must take care of." "what has father got?" said the younger children, wonderingly. "why, it as large as a bag of potatoes!" "i have brought you home a little sister, children," mr. norton replied, entering the sitting-room and unwrapping poor margaret. "my dear wife, i found this child upon the road, almost perished with cold: she is an orphan, and was cruelly treated by the wretch of a master who turned her out of doors to-night. only look at her thin, worn-out gingham dress--and at the holes in her shoes!" "poor little lamb!" said mrs. norton, gazing on her with a mother's pity--blessed effect of paternal and maternal love, that it opens the heart to all helpless little ones! "don't cry, my dear, you will not be turned out of this house!" "indeed, i cannot help it, ma'am; you are so very kind--like my mother." "but, wife and children, we must not stand here talking; we must get a tub of cold water, and keep her hands and feet in it for some time, or she will be all frost-bitten. sally, my child, you need not place that chair for her so near the fire, for she cannot sit there: help your mother to bring the water." sally, although rather younger than little margaret, was a large child for her age, and while the latter was getting thawed, and the good mother was making a warming drink, she hunted up her thickest clothes, and begged that the poor stranger might wear them. "and may she not sleep with me to-night, mother?" "oh no, mother, let her sleep with us," said kate and lucy, the two younger children. "i am glad to see you want to have her with you," replied their mother, "but as sally is the nearest her age, and spoke the first, i think i must gratify her. but if kate and lucy wish it, she may sit between them at table." "thank you, thank you, dear mother, that will be pleasant. oh how glad we are we have a new sister!" soon was the story of the orphan's trials confided to the sympathizing ears of those who had now adopted her as one of themselves, and soon did the little girl feel at home in that household of love. every day, as it developed her warm feelings, her lively gratitude, and the intrinsic worth of a character which seemed to inherit the virtues of her pious ancestors, attached her new friends to her more closely. mrs. norton declared that margaret was the best child she had ever seen, and perfectly invaluable to her: if she did not keep her because it was her duty, and because she loved her, she certainly would as a daily pattern to her own children. and besides, she had such pretty manners, and knew so much, that it was better than sending the children to school, to have them with her. if i were making up a story for your entertainment, my dear nieces and nephews, i should tell you that margaret always lived with this admirable family, in perfect happiness, and that when she became a woman she married frederic, the oldest son, thus keeping the place of a daughter in the house. but i am telling you the truth, which, you know, is often stranger than fiction, and often sadder also. in stories, good people are generally rewarded with uninterrupted prosperity, just as some very judicious parents give their children plum-cake and sweetmeats when they say their lessons well and do not scratch each others' eyes out. but it is not so in the real world: the all-wise father above, acts on other principles. he knows that his children require evil, as well as good, and that the best soil will become dry, hard, and sterile, if the sun always shines upon it;--therefore it is that he sends dark, heavy clouds and gloomy days. unwise and unthankful as we are, we grievously complain; but the showers still descend, and when we least expect it, behold the beautiful sun! all nature is again gay and joyous: the birds sing cheerily, the flowers raise up their dripping heads, new blossoms are put forth, and, to use the language of scripture, the little hills skip like rams, the valleys shout, they also sing, and all the trees of the field do clap their hands. my heroine is still under the cloud of adversity, sharing in the fate of her protectors, and lightening their trials by her ready hand and most affectionate heart. two years after she entered mr. norton's home, her benefactor was taken ill, and lingered for some months before he was transferred to that better mansion which is provided for each one of the faithful. sad was the desolation caused by his death. i will not speak of the sorrow of the widow and of the orphans--you can all imagine that--but, in addition, they were deprived of their home, and cast out upon the world. after the bills were paid--the physician's, the apothecary's, and the undertaker's, in addition to those necessarily contracted for the household while the father was earning nothing, mrs. norton found that not a penny was left her. selling what she could, she removed to philadelphia, where she had resided in her youth, thinking that she could easily obtain employment for her needle, and so support her young family, while they shared the advantages of our excellent system of public schools. but she found herself friendless and unknown in the great city, with many competitors for a very little sewing; and she came to the conclusion that it is the very poorest way by which a woman can support herself. she obtained a situation for frederic in a store, where he receives rather more than is necessary for his own wants; and, removing to the country, she took a little cottage for the sum which one room would have cost her in town. frederic is able to pay her rent: and when she is well, with the aid of our little margaret, she can maintain herself and her helpless children in tolerable comfort. thus the orphan has it in her power to repay the kindness shown to her, and by exercising the noble virtue of gratitude, to rise daily higher in the scale of being." "dear aunty!" cried amy, with all eagerness, "have you not been telling us the story of _our_ mrs. norton, and that pretty little adopted daughter of hers, with the large, deep blue eyes?" "you have guessed my riddle, amy," replied her aunt, smiling. "i called there this morning while you were all out--while george was amusing himself by falling into the pond--and heard the whole history from the sick woman's lips. i felt so deeply interested in it, that i thought you could spend an hour worse than in listening to the simple tale." "are you sure that you have not embellished it?" asked mr. wyndham, with a smile. "quite sure: for, although i filled up a few gaps in the narrative by using my very common-place imagination, i assure you that all the facts are substantially the same. and i don't doubt that if i had witnessed the scenes described, i should have been able to make my story far more pathetic, and far more romantic, because it would then have been a daguerreotype of the truth. i have talked with little margaret herself, and certainly i have never seen a more engaging and lovely child. at my urgent request, she consented to lend me her precious medallion for a few days--and here it is." "what a spiritual, poetical face!" exclaimed mr. wyndham. "i declare it reminds me of a portrait of schiller which i once saw." "and the mother, too--there is no doubt of that woman being a real lady," said ellen. "did you ever see a sweeter, gentler countenance?" "never," replied alice. "but, uncle, do you not know that i have an idea? i guessed all along that margaret roscoe was _our_ little friend--but i feel sure that rascal of a smith was lying, when he said he had seen her uncle's death in the paper. it's not very likely such a fellow as he was, would object to telling an untruth! he only wanted to get her trunks, and to quiet her, you may be sure. and i believe that mr. alan roscoe is now living in philadelphia--and i believe that i know him, uncle!" her uncle started, and exclamations of surprise and delight burst from all the circle. "it might very well be," mr. wyndham said; "i remember thinking our amiable friend smith was speaking an untruth, at the time, although i did not carry out the idea. but do you know any one of that name, alice? surely, it cannot be mr. roscoe, the retired merchant, who is so prominent for his benevolence and liberality?" "yes, sir, it is--i am intimate with his oldest child, carrie. and i know that he is a scotchman, and they used to live in charleston, and his name is alan, and his little boy is called malcom! that's after margaret's father, i am sure. carrie told me he had been named after an uncle in scotland who was dead!" "is it possible?" replied mr. wyndham. "it really does look like it--if it be actually so, my dear wife, here is another reverse of fortune for your heroine, which you did not expect. the contrast would be great indeed, between the little whitewashed cottage, and the magnificent mansion on walnut-street!" "i hope it will not turn her head!" said charlie bolton. "there is little fear of that, i think," rejoined mrs. wyndham. "margaret has early been tried in the furnace of affliction, and she has come out gold: i believe she really possesses that gospel charity, one of the marks of which is, that it is not, and cannot be, puffed up. but what shall we do? shall we tell her of our hopes?" "by no means," replied her husband. "it would only excite expectations which, after all, may be disappointed--although i am strongly convinced that our suppositions are correct. for the first time in my life, i regret that to-morrow will be sunday; but early on monday morning i shall set out for the city, and for mr. roscoe's house or counting-room. with my good wife's permission, i will take this medallion with me, and show it to mr. roscoe--then i shall know in a moment if he is really margaret's uncle." "will you be so kind as to take me with you?" asked a dozen voices at once. "no, i will not," replied mr. wyndham, laughing. "the carriage cannot possibly hold you all. if alice wishes it, i will take her, both as a reward for her quickness in making this discovery, and as a means of introduction to mr. roscoe, with whom i am not acquainted. and if our surmises prove correct, i expect to bring mr. roscoe back with me, which is another reason for not riding twenty or thirty in a carriage." "oh, uncle! uncle! twenty or thirty!" "well, you are a baker's dozen, at least, that you cannot deny. i quite long to get to town! i believe i am as much of a boy as harry, there, or lewis--i _really_ wish i could put off sunday just for one day, i am so impatient!" "it will be an admirable exercise of your noblest faculties, uncle," said cornelia, slyly. "i am rather impatient myself, even at my mature age. but the _moral discipline_, uncle, that is so invaluable that we ought not to wish it to be otherwise." "ah, you witch! i believe in my heart this is your revenge for my refusing to take you to town with me," rejoined her uncle. "not a bit of it--i bear no malice--it is only my native and unconquerable pertness, which i sometimes fear may get me into a difficulty with some one yet. but i am not at all afraid of you, dear uncle; i know you understand that it's only my way." "certainly, certainly; i should be a cross old fellow if i wished to repress your youthful spirits." "but, uncle," said charlie bolton, "couldn't you put off sunday as dean swift, or somebody or other, put off the eclipse? that would obviate all the difficulty." "i never heard that story," cried george wyndham, "but every one knows about 'hail columbia' _putting on_ an eclipse." "i don't, i must own," replied cornelia, laughing. "do tell it straight, if you can, you monkey." "i'll try, my own true sister. if it wasn't hail columbia, it was columbus, and that's all one, the whole world knows. when the indians began to discover that the spaniards were not gods, as they at first thought, they became a little obstreperous, and wanted to starve them out--quite natural, under the circumstances. but columbus, from his knowledge of astronomy, was aware that a total eclipse of the moon would take place the next night. so he called a meeting of the natives, and informed them that they had brought upon themselves the vengeance of the great spirit by their conduct--that at a certain hour, the light of the moon would be nearly put out, and its orb would look like blood, as a sign to them of the displeasure of heaven. and when the poor creatures really saw it happen as he had said, they were nearly frightened to death, and came to him, laden with provisions, and begging him to pray to the great spirit, that he might remove his wrath from them. now i call that putting on an eclipse." "the funniest circumstance in relation to an eclipse, happened to me," said mrs. wyndham. "when i was a very small child, i thought that quite as great a miracle was about to happen, as the indians did. you must know that there came to philadelphia a certain famous race-horse named eclipse, of whose speed great marvels were told. handbills about him were thrown into the house, and i thought he must really be a wonderful animal. just at that epoch, i heard my father say something about an eclipse that night, and the moon in connection with it. my imagination was instantly fired. "did you say, father, that eclipse would go over the _moon_? why, can that be true?" "oh yes, my dear, the eclipse is really going over the moon: if you wish it, you can stay up till nine o'clock, to see it." "thank you, thank you, i should like to very much. but i don't see how it can be!" "more wonderful things than that happen, my child: you'll understand it better when you are older; but you shall see it to-night, if you are not too sleepy." "no danger of that--i wouldn't miss it for the world!" "how much interest little lucy seems to feel in the eclipse, mother!" said my father. "we must certainly let her stay up." night came on, and the show began. the best seat at an upper window was reserved for me, and i looked at the moon constantly, afraid that if i turned away my eyes for one moment the wonderful event might take place without my observing it. all were interested in my seeing it. "lucy, do you see it, dear i do you see the moon getting dark?" "oh yes, i see that, but i don't see eclipse." "why, that's the eclipse--when the dark shadow goes over the moon, that is an eclipse of the moon." "but i don't see the horse jumping over the moon, at all." "the _horse_? what do you mean, child?" "you said that eclipse was to go over the moon, but i can't see him in the least!" "oh, auntie! were you, really, such a _green_ child as that?" "yes, it is a literal fact. i thought it a most astonishing thing that it could happen; but since my father so gravely said it would, my faith was equal to the demand made upon it. when i found it was only something about the shadow of the earth falling on the moon, i went to bed, grievously disappointed and quite disgusted: i felt somewhat as the amiable smith did, that i had been _sold_." "ah, auntie, we children could not be taken in so now, i can tell you!" said lewis. "i know it," replied his aunt, smiling. "i am quite aware that the age of faith has passed away, and that republican institutions have made the young ones as wise and incredulous as their elders. i don't half like it myself!" chapter vi. sunday.--bible stories.--capping bible verses.--bible class. sunday morning arose upon the earth, so clear, and calm, and beautiful, that it almost seemed as if it were conscious of the blessings bestowed by it upon millions of the human family. happy day! when the man bent under the heavy load of oppressive labor and corroding care, may take the rest which the maker of his frame intended for him, from the very beginning. now, throwing off the weight, he can realize that he is a man--made in the image of his creator, and made for happiness and immortality. now, he can afford to think: he is no longer the mechanical drudge; he is no longer one little wheel in the great social machine; he is to-day a reflecting being, and the desire for mental and spiritual elevation throbs strongly within his heart. he sits at his hearth, whether in the proud palace or in the humble cottage, for the working-man is equally to be found in both, and feels himself to be the centre of the home. he enjoys sweet converse with the wife of his youth, and his children cluster round him, delighted to have his society. he walks to the house of prayer, surrounded by those he loves, and joins with his fellow-men in adoration of the great supreme. he is happy, and is prepared by the sweet sabbaths below for the bliss above. nor should we forget, on this day, the numerous attractive circles to be found throughout our highly-favored land, gathered together for sunday-school instruction. here, the voluntary system works to a charm: both teachers and scholars, drawn together by love, assemble, with sparkling eyes and kindly words, in their respective classes. here, all ages can find something to interest them: the rosy-cheeked, chubby child runs along to its infant school, fearing to be one moment behind the time, and singing, "oh, let us be joyful, joyful, joyful," with a full understanding of at least that part of the duty to be performed. and the adult walks quietly to the bible class, where mutual study and conversation about some passages of the sacred word elicit its meaning, and throw new light upon the holy page. and, in the ages intermediate between these two extremes, how bright and joyous are the groups clustered around each loving teacher! if the toil be great, how much greater the reward! how delightful is it to see the young mind expand, and the warm affections glow, beneath the hallowing influence of religion! and how pleasant and how good is it to find the hearts of adults and of children, of rich and poor, knit together by a common feeling of interest in the common cause! some such thoughts arose in the minds of our party at the grange, and were fostered by the lovely calm of nature, which is so observable on sunday in the country, where the very animals seem to know that they are included within the merciful commandment of rest. mr. wyndham was religiously observant of the day, but exceedingly disliked the gloom by which many worthy people think it a duty to lessen their own happiness, and to throw a chill and constraint upon that of others on this joyful festival. he thought that the weekly commemoration of the saviour's resurrection should fill us with bright hopes and an enlivening piety; and that an air of cheerfulness should be thrown around it, which might say to all who had not yet entered within the gates of zion, "come ye, and taste that the lord is gracious." people are doubtless much affected, in these minor shades of difference, by their natural temperaments. mr. wyndham's frame of mind was so kindly and hopeful, and so open to all that is pleasant and animating, that his religion partook of the genial influence. on sunday, his face beamed with a more radiant smile than on other days, and he appeared to realize that it was indeed the foretaste of eternal joy. in the morning, both old and young repaired with one consent to the little country church, in which they filled up quite a number of pews. being the last sunday in the year, the venerable clergyman, whose earnest manner and silver hairs made his message doubly impressive to the hearts of his hearers, exhorted all, of every age, to bring back to their minds the fleeting days of that division of time which was so soon to pass away, and to be numbered with those laid up against the judgment. when that year had begun, what resolutions of improvement had been formed, what vows of greater fidelity had been made? and how had they been kept? all had, during the seasons past, received new proofs of the kindness and long-suffering of the father above; but had the goodness of the lord led them to repentance? or had it fallen upon hard, unfeeling hearts, which it could not penetrate? how stood they in their accounts? not their ledgers, not their cash-books did he now call upon them to examine; but records of a far higher character, which affected their heavenly interests, as well as their temporal prosperity--the deeds, the words, the cherished feelings of that year, which had left an impress upon their souls forever, and made them richer or poorer for eternity. they owed debts to their maker and redeemer, and to their fellow-men: how had they paid them? they continually received--did they also dispense the goodness of god? if unwilling now to think of these unsettled accounts, they should remember that one debt, notwithstanding all their reluctance, they would be obliged to pay--the debt of nature: and then would follow the final adjustment of all things--then would each one reap as he had sowed below. all listened with deep attention to the discourse, which was well calculated to arrest the most careless trifler; and thoughts were suggested, and resolves were formed that day, which acted, long afterward, as a stimulus to the discharge of duty. the hand which scattered that precious seed has since been laid low in the dust; but the "winged words" did not fall to the ground: they still live, and produce results, in immortal spirits. there was no service in the afternoon. "oh dear!" said george, "i suppose it's not right to say so, but it's rather stupid, i think. how we do miss sunday school! we can't play to-day, and a fellow like me doesn't want to read the whole time: what on earth can we do? cousin mary, are you too much engaged with your book to help us poor souls?" with a smile, mary shut it up. "how would you like bible stories?" said she. "if you please, i'll tell you one, keeping to scriptural facts, but clothing them in my own language, and omitting the name, or giving a false one. and then you are to find out whom it is i have been telling you about, and to answer the questions i may ask you. how would you like that?" it was agreed that it would be delightful: so mary began by telling the story of the good grandmother. in ancient times, in a country of the east, there lived a queen dowager, whose heart was eaten up by ambition. she was a king's daughter, and had ever been accustomed to rule. while her husband lived she had exerted great influence at court, and had turned away his heart from the true and established religion of the state to the cruel worship of the idols of her native land; and this she accomplished, although he had been religiously educated, and was the son of an eminently good man. little did it affect her, that a highly-distinguished prophet of god wrote a letter to the king her husband, foretelling the evils that should befall himself, his family, and his kingdom, and that this prophecy had been literally fulfilled. little did it humble her proud spirit, that by the common consent, her degenerate husband, who, through _her_ persuasions and example, had been led away from the path of duty, was judged unworthy to be interred within the sepulchres of his ancestors, and was buried apart. she had too much of her mother within her to be daunted by such trifles as these; for both of her parents had acquired an eminence in wickedness which have made their names by-words: but her mother's especially is considered almost a synonym for every thing that is unlovely in woman. after her husband's death, her son succeeded to the throne, and he also did wickedly, for he had been educated under his mother's eyes, trod in her footsteps, and courted the society of her connections. and this was the cause of his death; for while paying a visit at the court of his uncle, her brother, they both were killed together in a successful insurrection. and now, if ever, if any thing of the woman was left in her nature, the queen's heart would be softened and humbled: at one fell swoop, death had carried off her only son, her brother, and every member of her father's house; she only was left, of all that proud and numerous family. her aged mother, aged, but not venerable, although now a great-grandmother, had met her fate in a characteristic manner. determined, if she must die, to do so like a queen, she had put on her royal robes, and adorned herself with jewels, and caused her withered face, upon which every evil passion had left its mark, to be painted into some semblance of youth and beauty. her eyelids were stained with the dark antimony still used in the east, to restore, if possible, the former brilliant softness to eyes of hard, blazing, wicked blackness. gazing from an upper window of the palace upon the usurper, as he drove into the courtyard, the fearless woman, resolved to show her spirit to the last, railed upon him, and quoted a notable instance from history of one who, like him, had been a successful rebel, but had reigned for only seven days. enraged at her insolence, her enemy, looking up, asked, "who in the palace is on my side?" at these words, some officers of the household cast her down from the window: thus ingloriously she died, and the prancing horses of the chariot trampled over her. he who now was universally acknowledged to be the king, soon gave orders that she should be buried, observing that, wretch as she was, she was of royal blood. but the vulture and the jackal had been before him: naught remained of that haughty, revengeful, and heaven-defying woman, save the skull, the feet, and the palms of her hands. thus, to the very letter, was fulfilled the prediction of a prophet, one of her contemporaries: it was the same individual who had sent an epistle to her son-in-law, the late husband of our heroine, announcing his fate. this fearless reprover of kings did not live to see the accomplishment of the divine messages he was commissioned to deliver, and yet he had not died: read me that riddle, if you can. when the queen, who, from one distinguishing act of her life, i have called _the good grandmother_, heard the sad tidings of the death of her only son, of her mother, and of all her kin, what did she? mourn, and weep, and give herself up to melancholy? she was quite incapable of such weakness. if she had no children left, she at least had grandchildren--she must take care of them--the tender little playful babes, her own flesh and blood, and all that was left upon the earth of her late son. and she did take care of them--the care that pharaoh took of the israelitish infants--the care that herod took of the nurslings at bethlehem--the care that the tiger takes of the lamb. she was worse than the tigress; for the latter will at least defend her young ones from all attacks, even at the peril of her own life. but she--shame of her sex!--commanded the immediate execution of all the children of her son, that she might reign alone, and never be called upon to resign the sceptre to a lawful heir. they are slain! the shouts and laughter of that band of little ones is stopped forever--the galleries will never more re-echo to their youthful voices; vainly did they rush into the arms of their nurses for protection. they are slain; all save one! for if they have a grandmother they also have an aunt, and one who is ruled by different principles. she is the sister of their father, but probably had not the same mother as he: she early chose the paths of piety and goodness, and was wedded to a man of uncommon firmness and of the noblest character--the high priest of the nation. soon as she had an intimation of the intentions of the queen, she hastened to the palace. but one only could she save--a little crowing babe, whom, with his nurse, she secreted in a safe place, until, under cover of the night, she was able to convey them to her own abode. there, in the house of the lord, the young child was reared. for six years he was hidden, and tenderly and carefully trained in the fear of god, while his grandmother reigned supreme in the land, to the subversion of all law and order. but when the prince was seven years old, the high priest, his uncle, took measures to secure to him the possession of his rights. he consulted with the wisest of the nation, and brought together the levites from all parts of the land, and divided them into bands, giving each a particular post, to guard against surprise. he then brought forth from the treasuries of the temple the spears, shields, and bucklers which had belonged to king david, and distributed them among the captains of the several divisions. when all arrangements were made, and the people who were gathered together in the spacious courts for worship, waited to see what was about to happen, he retired; and came back, in his priestly garments, with the mitre upon his head, on which was written, on a golden plate, holiness to the lord--this sentence showing the intention of the priestly office. his robe, or under-garment, which hung in rich folds down to his feet, was of deep blue, and around the hem were alternate pomegranates of brilliant colors, and little golden bells, which made a tinkling sound as he moved along. above this was worn the ephod, splendidly embroidered in gold, and blue, and purple, and scarlet, with a long and broad girdle at the waist, manufactured of the same gorgeous materials. upon his bosom flashed the breastplate, composed of twelve large precious stones, all different, upon each one of which was engraved the name of a tribe of israel; so that the high priest bore them all upon his heart, when he ministered before the lord. well was this magnificent dress, which was made "for glory and for beauty," calculated to set off the dignity of the holy office, and to make the people gaze in admiring awe. but it was not the splendor of the pontifical robes, it was not the inspiring person of the high priest, at which the assembled multitudes eagerly gazed, when the head of the church again appeared before them. it was a little boy, of seven years old, who now attracted their attention--a pretty child, arrayed in royal garments, who was led forward by the venerable man. his stand was taken beside a pillar, and the guards, with drawn swords, gathered round him: his uncle placed upon his clustering curls the golden circlet, the symbol of how much power, what heavy cares, and what fearful responsibility! and when the people, long crushed to the earth by tyrannical rule, beheld it, hope again awaked in their hearts, and, with one accord, they clapped their hands, and shouted out, "god save the king!" and the trumpeters sounded aloud, and the harpers struck up the notes of praise and joy, and the full choir of trained singers joined in the jubilee. and thus was the young king proclaimed--while, in the innocence of childhood, he wonderingly looked on. but the queen heard the shouts in her palace. for the first time in her life, it is most probable, she came to the house of god--but she came not to worship. "what means this riotous assembly?" she thought. "can it be, that the vile rabble dare to think of revolt--against _me_? i will go, even alone, and awe them by my presence: it shall never be said that my mother's daughter feared aught in heaven above or the earth beneath." she went, that audacious woman, with all her crimes upon her head, and entered alone into the temple of the holy one. she went to her death. the people made way for her, although they gazed upon her with loathing; and within the sanctuary she beheld the grandson, whom she had long thought to be numbered with the dead, in royal array, with the crown upon his head. when she saw this, she rent her clothes, and cried loudly, "treason! treason!" but none joined in the cry: an ominous silence pervaded that vast assembly, and looks of hatred were cast upon her from the crowd. seeing plainly that all were against her, her insolent pride gave way, and she turned to flee from that mass of stern, relentless eyes, all gazing, as it were, into her black and blood-stained heart. as she passed along, the people shrank back, as if an accursed thing were near them; and when she had passed from the consecrated limits, she was slain. none shed a tear over her grave, but the people enjoyed rest and peace, now that her tyranny was terminated. "and that was the end of her!" said george. "and well she deserved her fate. a good grandmother, indeed! but who was she?" "that's the very thing i want to know," replied mary. "but perhaps some of you can tell me who her very lovely mother was?" "there is no mistaking her," said amy. "there is only one jezebel in the world, i hope. think of the horrid old thing, painting herself off, and trying to look like a beauty! i wonder if she thought she could possibly captivate the murderer of her son!" "hardly that, i should think. perhaps it was on the same principle that julius cæsar drew his robe around him, before his death--an idea of the proprieties becoming the station they occupied. it reminds me of a passage in pope, describing 'the ruling passion strong in death:' "'odious--in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke,' (were the last words that poor narcissa spoke;) no, let a charming chintz and brussels' lace wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face; one would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead: and--betty--give this cheek a little red.' and now, can you tell me who was that prophet that sent a letter to the husband of 'the good grandmother,' and who predicted the fate of her parents, ahab and jezebel?" "he who did not _live to see_ their accomplishment, and yet was not dead," said cornelia. "oh, i remember well about that: it was elijah, the tishbite, who had ascended to heaven without dying. by the way, how do you understand that saying of elisha's, mary--'my father, my father! the chariot of israel, and the horsemen thereof?' i never knew rightly whether the latter part of his exclamation referred to the ascending prophet, or to the chariot and horses of fire." "i once asked our clergyman that very question; and he told me that it alluded to elijah himself, and meant to say, that he was the defence of the country, and a whole host in himself: comprising cavalry, and those heavy chariots filled with warriors, and armed with scythes on either side, which did such deadly execution in ancient warfare. i suppose elisha thought, how can _i_, how can our country exist without you!" "i remember now the name of 'the good grandmother,'" said ellen, smiling. "it was athaliah--and a worthy daughter she was for ahab and jezebel to leave as a legacy to the world. and her son was ahaziah, who was killed in samaria, while on a visit to his uncle, king jehoram. and now i think some one else should tell who the usurper was, under whose chariot-wheels the wicked jezebel was slain." "it was jehu, the furious driver," answered her brother tom; "the same eminently pious individual who invited a friend to 'go with him and see his zeal for the lord,' when he intended to murder the rest of ahab's relations. a fine way of showing goodness, that!" "and who was the good aunt?" "you must really let me look for that," said amy, getting a bible. "it was jehosheba, and her husband, the high priest, was named jehoiada, and the little king was joash, or jehoash. i'm sorry to see that he was only kept straight by his uncle: as soon as he died, the young monarch, appears to have become as bad as any of them." "and now, cousin mary, tell us another story!" said harry. "very well, if you wish it. i'll call this tale the prophet and the fortune-tellers. in former times there was a king of judah, an excellent man, who, through some unaccountable ideas of policy, had entered into an alliance with a very wicked king of israel, and had even encouraged his son to marry the daughter of his idolatrous neighbor. on one occasion, he was paying a visit to his ally, when the latter proposed to him that they should join together in recovering a city which had formerly belonged to the jewish nation, from their enemy, the king of syria. he replied, that they were of one blood, and had but one interest, and that he should most gladly aid him; but cautiously added, that it was his particular wish that god's oracle should be consulted, as he did not like to undertake any thing without his direction. to gratify this superstitious whim, as he considered it, the israelitish monarch collected together about four hundred false prophets, who were ready to say any thing that would give him pleasure, and asked whether he should or should not go up against the city. of course, they obsequiously replied, "go up; for the lord shall deliver it into the hand of the king." but the king of judah wag not satisfied. he had seen real, true prophets of god, and they had neither looked nor acted like these very smooth, courtier-like men. he mistrusted these pretenders, and said to his brother-monarch, "is there not another, a prophet of jehovah, of whom we could inquire the lord's will?" the latter answered, "yes, there _is_ another man; but i did not send for him, for i hate the very sight of his face. instead of predicting good, he makes a point of foretelling evil; i detest that man." but his more amiable and pious friend said, "pray, do not speak so, your highness: it is not right." seeing that he was unwilling to go until he had consulted the prophet, the king of israel ordered the latter to be sent for. the two sovereigns awaited him in state, in their royal robes upon their thrones, at the large open space always left in oriental cities at the entrance of the gates, for public meetings, business, and courts of justice. before the messenger returned, the false prophets had renewed their predictions of a safe and successful career to the two kings; and one of them had distinguished himself by making horns of iron, which he placed upon his head, agreeably to the allegorical style of the east, and said: "thus shalt thou push against thy enemies, and shalt overcome them, until they be utterly consumed." meanwhile, the royal messenger approached with the prophet; and being a good-natured man and a courtier, he begged the latter not to affront his master, by speaking differently from the other seers, who all, with one accord, joined in predicting peace and success. but the undaunted man of god replied, that what jehovah revealed to him he would speak, neither more nor less. at last, they arrived in the presence of royalty; and the king of israel said to him, "speak, and declare the counsel of god: shall we go up against the city, or shall we abandon our undertaking?" with a manner of cutting irony--for he well knew that the monarch neither cared to know the will of the lord, nor would obey it, when known--the prophet answered, quoting the language of the fortune-tellers around him: "go up, and prosper; for the lord will deliver it into the hand of the king." but it was so evident that there was something behind this satire, that the idolatrous prince replied to him, "how often must i be compelled to tell you to speak the truth, and to declare the will of heaven?" then the prophet spoke, and this time the mockery had vanished from his tone and manner, and his voice was serious and sad: "i see a vision that distresses me: all israel is scattered upon the hills, like sheep which have no shepherd. and jehovah says, 'these have no master: let each one return to his house in peace.'" when he heard this, the king of israel turned to his friend: "now you see a proof of my words," said he. "did i not tell you that he would never predict aught but evil of me?" but the prophet still spoke on: "i have a parable to tell thee, o mighty king. i saw, sitting upon his lofty throne, one mightier than thou--the king of kings; and upon his right hand and upon his left were ranged all the host of heaven. and he said, 'who shall persuade the lord of israel to go up against ramoth-gilead to his destruction?' and various counsel was given from different sources. at last, a power spoke, and offered to go forth as a lying spirit in the mouth of all the king's prophets. the lord answered him, 'go, and thou shalt likewise succeed.' this, o monarch, is my parable: a lying spirit has gone forth into thy prophets; for truly, jehovah hath spoken evil concerning thee." at these words, the man who had made himself so especially prominent in predicting good fortune to the expedition came up to the prophet, and struck him upon the cheek, with an insulting speech; and the king commanded that he should be carried to the governor of the city, and kept closely confined, upon bread and water, until he returned in peace and triumph, having conquered all his enemies. but the prophet answered, "if thou return at all in peace, the lord hath not spoken by me." but, unrestrained by any thing he said, the two princes went forth to the battle. more completely to insure his safety, the israelitish monarch disguised himself, and requested the king of judah to wear his royal robes, which he accordingly did. but the syrians had received orders to aim only at the enemy's head and leader, and not to attack the common people. this nearly caused the death of the king of judah, who wore his friend's conspicuous garments, and who was pursued, and almost slain, before the mistake was discovered. but notwithstanding his precaution in wearing a counterfeit dress, the fated king did not escape. an arrow, shot by chance, struck him in a vital part, and he died. when the death of their lord was known, all israel fled in dismay, and every man sought the shelter of his own home. we may presume that the true prophet was liberated from his confinement, and that the base and impudent impostor was punished as he deserved. "are not these kings near relatives of 'the good grandmother?'" said charlie bolton. "you are right," replied mary. "they are her father, ahab, and her father-in-law, jehoshaphat. who was the true prophet, and who the false?" "the true prophet was micaiah, the son of imlah; and the other--i think his horns should have been made of _brass_, impudent fellow that he was--was called zedekiah." other bible stories were called for, which were found so interesting, and, as the younger children confessed, so _new_ to many of them, that all agreed to begin a more systematic mode of reading the scriptures--that treasury of historic truth, of varied biography, and of poetic beauty. john wyndham remarked that the best thing about the romantic incidents in the bible was, that you could be sure they had all really happened: and the events were told with so much simplicity, and the characters were so natural and life-like, that even a dull fellow like him, who had no more imagination than a door-post, could see it as if it were passing before his eyes. and another thing that struck him was, that all was related without the exclamations, and the comments upon the incidents and the people, which you find in common books: you were treated as if you had both sense and conscience enough to find out the moral intention of the narrative, and that made you think a great deal more than if it was explained out in full. the young people all got their bibles, and counting the chapters, formed a plan for reading through the whole book once a year. they found that if they read three chapters a day, and occasionally an extra one, they could accomplish it: and resolved to begin in genesis, the psalms, and st. matthew's gospel, in order to give more variety. when this point was settled, amy proposed capping bible verses: she said they could have their books before them to help them a little, if their memories failed. one was to recite a verse, and the next another, beginning with the letter which ended the preceding passage; and if the person, whose turn it was, hesitated, any one else who first thought of a suitable sentence should recite it. but it ought to be something which made good sense, when disconnected from the adjoining verses: and it was a rule of the game, that if any one present did not understand the meaning of a quotation, they should talk it over until they got some light upon the subject. amy began: "'blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.'" "stop!" cried lewis. "for if that means that gentle, patient, forgiving people, shall become rich and great, i don't understand it at all." "certainly it cannot mean that," replied his sister ellen. "i have heard it explained in this way:--they shall possess the best blessings of earth, by living in love and peace, and having easy consciences." "that makes a very good sense, i think," said tom; "but i have heard another explanation given, which i like better. the earth, in that place and in many others, can be translated _land_, with equal propriety; and as the land of canaan was promised to the jews as a reward, the heavenly canaan is held out as a recompense to christians." "i'm satisfied," said lewis. "let me see--h--'hear, o heavens, and give ear, o earth, for the lord hath spoken.'" "'never man spake like this man,'" added george. "i think there are some words in the verse before that n," said gertrude. "but that is of no consequence," replied amy. "when a clause makes a complete sense in itself, that answers, even if it is not at the beginning of a verse. you know that the division of the bible into chapters and verses is quite a modern thing." "indeed, i did not know it," said gertrude. "are you quite sure?" "oh, yes, certain. i don't know when, or by whom it was divided into chapters--but my sunday-school teacher has told me that the books of the old testament were not parcelled out in that way among the jews. they had other, and longer divisions, one of which was read every sabbath day in the synagogues, so that the whole was heard by the people, in the course of the year. she told me that the new testament was first distributed into chapters--it was not originally written so--and then the old; and that in some places it would make better sense if the end of one chapter was joined to the beginning of the next." "and how is it about the verses, amy?" "it was first separated into verses by robert stephens, a publisher, when riding on horseback between paris and lyons: he marked it thus as he rode along. he was about to publish an edition of the bible, and a concordance, and divided it for facility of reference. this was in the middle of the sixteenth century." "there is one thing i've always wanted to know," said john. "along the margin, among the references, every now and then there are a few words--generally, _or_ so and so. what is the meaning of that?" "that occurs when the translators were doubtful which of two words gives the right meaning," said mrs. wyndham, coming forward. "and i have frequently noticed, that the one in the margin is preferable to the other." "another point i wish to have explained," said cornelia. "why is it that in all bibles some words are put in italics? there must be a reason." "yes, my dear, there certainly is. the translators did not find these in the original text, but thought them necessary to make up the sense. you know that you are obliged to take such liberties in rendering any foreign language into english. but they very properly distinguished _their_ words from those found in the original; and occasionally, when the former are omitted, the passage is more forcible, and gives a slightly different sense. it is well to remember this." "but we have wandered very far from our game," said charlie bolton. "'never man spake like this man,' was the last--another n--'not unto us, o lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory.'" "'ye are the light of the world. a city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.'" "'divers weights and divers measures, both of them are alike abomination unto the lord.'" "'drink waters out of thy own cistern, and running waters out of thy own well.'" "'love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty.'" and so the game went on, until, to the surprise of all, cæsar announced that tea was ready, and they found that the afternoon had quite passed away, in pleasant and profitable talk. in the evening, ellen green asked her aunt if she would not consent to convert them into a bible-class, as an hour could be spent very agreeably in that way. of course, mrs. wyndham agreed to the proposition, and requested the young party to bring bibles in as many different languages as they could understand. they had latin, greek, and german versions in the library, which the boys would find useful, as all the older ones were pretty well versed in the classics, and tom green was studying german; and as she had seen amy reading her french testament, and ellen the italian, she knew they were provided for. accordingly, they ran to get their books; and by comparing the various translations, they found that the sense was frequently made clearer. each one read a verse; and then, before the next person proceeded, mrs. wyndham explained it, and asked questions, which frequently led to the most animated conversation. by requiring a definition of all words which were not perfectly familiar, she arrested their attention. when she, or any other member of the class, thought of a passage in scripture which threw light upon the subject, all searched for it, with the aid of the concordance. any peculiarity of rites, manners, customs, etc., was made more intelligible by the bible dictionary; and when the whole lesson was finished, the young people gave a summary of the religious truth, and practical inferences to be deduced from it. a quotation from the book of daniel led to some pleasant talk about that prophet, his greatly diversified life, and the important changes in the world's history which he witnessed. mrs. wyndham remarked that the jews have a tradition which in itself is very probable, that the venerable man pointed out to cyrus, after his conquest of babylon, the verses in isaiah, wherein he is spoken of by name, as conquering by the power of the lord, and giving orders to rebuild jerusalem and the temple: and also that other passage, in which the destruction of the babylonish empire by the medes is foretold, both prophecies being recorded more than a hundred years before the birth of the mighty king by whom they were accomplished. "i never heard of that," said cornelia. "but, of course, it would be the most likely thing for daniel to do. you can imagine the interest with which cyrus would listen to these predictions about himself--and from the lips of such a noble, lovely, white-haired man as daniel must have been. i don't wonder at all that he gave the decree to rebuild jerusalem." "this reminds me of another jewish tradition, recorded in josephus," rejoined mrs. wyndham. "this one, i think, is not at all probable; but as it would interest you, i will narrate it. alexander the great, while engaged in the siege of tyre, sent orders to the high priest at jerusalem, to furnish his army with provisions, as they had been in the habit of doing to darius. but jaddus, the high priest, gave answer that they were still bound by their oath to the king of persia, and that, while he lived, they could not transfer their allegiance to another. this noble response awakened the rage of alexander, who, as soon as tyre was reduced, marched towards jerusalem, determined to inflict signal vengeance upon that city. the inhabitants, totally unable to withstand the conqueror, were filled with consternation. their town was, indeed, admirably fortified; but since tyre, the queen of the sea, had been subdued, how could they hope to escape? weeping and loud lamentations were heard throughout the streets. the high priest knew that his only hope was in help from on high: he ordered prayers and sacrifices to be offered up, and awaited the result, confident that he had at least discharged his duty. "but on the night before the mighty greek arrived, jaddus received directions, in a dream, to array the streets with flowers, and to go forth, in his pontifical robes, to meet the victor, followed by the people, dressed in white. he awoke, with fresh hope and energy, told his dream to the assembled populace, and gave orders that the city should be decked with garlands, triumphal arches, and gay streamers, and that the gates should be left open. when all preparations were made, he marched out, agreeably to the commandment, at the head of the priests and people, and awaited the approach of the invaders, at a point commanding a beautiful view of the city, with its open gates, unarmed walls, and smiling environs. at last, the clank of weapons was heard; and, with military music, the victorious army moved along, anxious for fresh conquests. but how different was their reception from that they had anticipated! many, it is true, had come out to meet them, but all in the garb of peace; dressed in white, and crowned with flowers, as if for a festival. hostility died away in the bosoms of the warriors, as they gazed on these defenceless men,--few are so brutal as to attack the unresisting and the friendly. but what was the astonishment of the whole army, when they beheld the fiery alexander himself go forward towards the jewish high priest, who headed the brilliant procession, and humbly kneel down at his feet! then rising, he embraced him. the israelites themselves were amazed, and acknowledged the merciful interposition of god. at length, parmenio addressed the king, and asked why he, before whom monarchs and nations trembled, and at whose feet all were ready to fall, should condescend thus to do homage to a man? alexander replied, 'that he did not bow down to the man, but to the mighty name which was written upon his forehead--to the great god to whom he was consecrated. for that, while he was yet in macedon, meditating the expedition to asia, he had been favored with a remarkable dream, in which he had beheld this very man, in his pontifical robes, who had addressed him, encouraging him to persevere in his undertaking. he told him that he, alexander, was acting under the immediate guidance of god, and that he should prosper. and now,' continued the king, 'i do not pay obeisance to the man, but to the god whose high priest he is, and who has given success to my arms.' "the jews escorted him into their capital with shouts of applause and loud rejoicings. the grecian monarch then entered the temple, and offered sacrifices, complying with all the requirements of the law: and jaddus showed him, in the book of daniel, the prophecy concerning himself and his kingdom overcoming the medo-persian realm. mary, will you be kind enough to read it?" mary opened the book at the th chapter, d verse: "then i lifted up mine eyes, and behold, there stood before the river a ram which had two horns: and the two horns were high; but one was higher than the other, and the higher came up last. "i saw the ram pushing westward, and northward, and southward; so that no beast might stand before him, neither was there any that could deliver out of his hand; but he did according to his will, and became great. "and as i was considering, behold, an he-goat came from the west on the face of the whole earth, and touched not the ground: and the goat had a notable horn between his eyes. "and he came to the ram which had two horns, which i had seen standing before the river, and ran unto him in the fury of his power. "and i saw him come close unto the ram, and he was moved with choler against him, and smote the ram, and brake his two horns: and there was no power in the ram to stand before him, but he cast him down to the ground, and stamped upon him: and there was none that could deliver the ram out of his hand. "therefore the he-goat waxed very great: and when he was strong, the great horn was broken; and for it came up four notable ones towards the four winds of heaven." and at the twentieth verse it says: "the ram which thou sawest having two horns are the kings of media and persia. "and the rough goat is the king of grecia: and the great horn which is between his eyes is the first king. "now that being broken, whereas four stood up for it, four kingdoms shall stand up out of the nation, but not in his power." "this is very plain, aunt lucy," said mary; "and i suppose that the larger horn of the ram, which came up last, refers to the power of persia, which overshadowed media, originally so much its superior. if you notice, the ram comes from the east, and pushes westward, northward, and southward: while the he-goat comes from the west to attack the ram, and so rapidly, that he is represented as not touching the ground." "i suppose that is a poetical expression," said john; "but if it were anywhere else but in the bible, i'd say it was far-fetched." "it is exactly in unison with the figurative language of the east," replied mrs. wyndham. "the arab praises the swiftness of his steed, at this day, by saying, that before his hoof touches the ground, he is out of sight. that's a bold figure for you." "i love poetical expressions," said amy. "and i prefer plain english, not arabian," answered john. "i think i can answer for one thing," said charlie. "when jaddus showed alexander that prediction, he did not lay much stress upon the verse about the great horn being broken while it was yet strong, and four others coming up in its place. it all came true enough, but alexander would not have liked that part as well as the rest, about his conquests." "do you, who are fresh from school, remember the names of the four generals and kingdoms who succeeded him?" rejoined mrs. wyndham. "ptolemy seized egypt; seleucus, syria and babylon; lysimachus, asia minor; and cassander took greece for his share of the plunder. but though these were notable horns, they were none of them in _his_ power--none could compare with alexander." "auntie," said amy, "don't you think alexander must have seen these predictions--you know how much he favored the jews, and what especial privileges he gave them in his city, alexandria?" "well, perhaps so," said mrs. wyndham, smiling. "i see you want to believe it, at any rate. there is no proof to the contrary, so you might as well indulge your organ of wonder." chapter vii. sequel to the orphan's tale.--who can he be?--elements.--the astrologers. on monday morning, our merry party at the grange breakfasted rather earlier than usual, and mr. wyndham and alice bolton set off for philadelphia, full of eagerness to hunt up an uncle for little margaret roscoe. charlie told him, laughingly, that he was sure he would persuade some one to be her uncle, if rich mr. roscoe did not prove to be the right man: he could pick one up somewhere along the streets. but mr. wyndham replied, with an offended air, that he was sorry he had not yet learned his worth: good uncles, like him, were not to be met with every day--they should be valued accordingly. "do you remember the anecdote about frederic the great, of prussia?" asked his wife. "there are many funny stories told of him," answered mr. wyndham; "which is the one you refer to?" "one sunday, a young minister preached an admirable sermon before him, showing uncommon talent and erudition. frederic afterwards sent for him, and asked where he was settled. 'unfortunately, sire, i have had no opportunity of being installed anywhere: i have never had a living presented to me.' 'but what is the reason?--you preach an excellent discourse, and appear to be an active young man.' 'alas! sire, i have no uncle.' 'then i'll be your uncle, said frederic. and he kept his word: the next vacancy in the ecclesiastical appointments was filled up with the name of his adopted nephew." "but, aunt," said harry, "i can't see what his having no uncle had to do with it." "you know that in most other parts of christendom, where the stars and the stripes do not float in the breeze, what we call the voluntary principle in church maintenance and government is not the rule at all. here, people choose their own clergymen, and of course it is their business to support them. but in nearly the whole of europe, rulers are so very paternal as to take that trouble and responsibility off the shoulders of the people: they are kind enough to do all their thinking for them. the subjects pay very heavy taxes; and from these, and from old endowments, all the expenses of the national establishments are discharged. they look at it in the same light as your parents do, when they pay your school-bills--it's a duty they owe you to see that you are properly taught; but it would be very weak in them to consult you as to which teacher you preferred, and what school you chose to go to--they're the best judges, of course." "but, aunt lucy! you surely don't mean to say that the governments are the best judges as to what church the people shall attend, and what ministers they shall have?" "i do not mean to say that is my opinion, of course--that would be rather anti-american, and not at all aunty-lucyish. no, no; i stand up for the rights of conscience, and approve of treating grown men, and children too, as if they had reason and common sense; and then they will be far more likely to possess it, than if they are always kept under an iron rule. but, on the other side of the water, they have not so exalted an opinion of the mass of the people as we have; and the government, in some form--either through ecclesiastical boards, or inspectors of churches, or members of the aristocracy--exercises the power of filling vacant churches. this is the reason why it is important to have an uncle; in other words, some influential person to aid you in rising." "even the _memory_ of an illustrious uncle is sometimes a stepping-stone," remarked charlie bolton. "the late emperor louis napoleon is an example--lucky fellow; his uncle's name and fame got him a throne--with the help of considerable cheating." "not so lucky, if you look at his end," said john. "but from other and quite disinterested motives, i intend to keep as close to _my_ uncle as he. i shall very soon begin to subscribe myself john wyndham, junior, and i am determined to be like you, uncle--as like as your own shadow." "then you will be an illustrious example of failure, my boy--for my shadow, although always near me, is generally cast down, which i never am--and it always looks away from the sunny side, you know, which i don't do. besides, a shadow has no particular character: any one's shadow would suit me as well as my own." "i intend to be an original, for my part!" cried cornelia, laughing. "i won't be cast in anybody's mould, as if i were a bullet--not i!" "that's right, my dear original!" said her uncle, pinching her rosy, dimpled, laughter-loving cheek. "the grave world always wants a pert little cornelia to tease it out of its peculiarities: people in old times kept their jesters, and you're nearly as good!" "why, uncle! you insult me! you've quite mistaken my character; i intend to be the dignified miss wyndham!" "oh, pray, spare us that infliction!" replied her uncle, laughingly, jumping into the carriage. mr. wyndham met with good success. he arrived at mr. roscoe's door at the moment that gentleman was about to leave home. alice bolton, who was an especial favorite of his, introduced her uncle; and when he understood that they had private business with him, he led them up to his library, where, hanging over the mantle-piece, mr. wyndham immediately saw a portrait, the counterpart of the one in his possession, although evidently taken some years before the miniature. involuntarily, he stopped before it, and gazed earnestly. mr. roscoe sighed. "here is all that remains," said he, "of a dear and only brother. i value this picture more than any thing else in my house, except its living furniture." "had your brother no family, sir? no wife or child?" rejoined mr. wyndham. "that is rather a tender subject, my dear sir," answered mr. roscoe: "one that has caused me much sorrow, and some self-reproach. he left a wife and child, indeed, who were to join me in america. i have reason to think they sailed; but from that day to this, i have heard no tidings from them. would to god i knew their fate! whether the unknown ship in which they took passage went down at sea, or what else may have happened, i know not. all my efforts to unravel the mystery have been in vain." "perhaps i can help you," said mr. wyndham, with that peculiarly benevolent smile, which opened all hearts to him, as if by magic. "you recognize this countenance?" continued he, holding up to him little maggie's medallion. "my brother malcom! tell me, sir, tell me where you got this; it was his wife's!" "his sweet little daughter--your niece, margaret roscoe--handed it to my wife a few days ago. she knows not she has an uncle living: her mother is dead, and she is dwelling in comparative poverty near my house." "i cannot doubt it, from this picture--although it is all a mystery still. but i must see her--my dear brother's child. i will order up my carriage immediately, and beg you to take seats in it. i must see her as soon as possible." "on that very account i have made arrangements for you to come out to the grange in mine," replied mr. wyndham. "we can explain all things by the way; and you can return whenever you say the word. you will find old cæsar quite at your disposal." "i gratefully accept your offer, my dear sir, and can never be sufficiently thankful to you, if you indeed restore to me my brother's child. i will order my carriage to follow us to the grange." accordingly, he acquainted his family, in few words and great haste, with the discovery that had been made, and left carrie, alan, and malcom in an intense state of excitement, at the idea of regaining the long-lost cousin. the three then drove immediately to mrs. norton's little cottage, where the gentle and womanly child was busily engaged at her work-- "stitch, stitch, stitch, band, gusset, and seam--" striving, by her small, but active fingers, to aid in the support of that family which had sheltered her in adversity. as the door opened, she raised her deep blue eyes--the very reflection of her father's. the work fell from her hands; that face reminded her of home, of her grandfather, of her unknown uncle. they have recognized each other; the ties of blood speak out in their hearts; the long-severed are now united. i will not attempt to raise the veil which hides from the world the strongest and purest affections of our nature: they were never intended for the common eye. but now, after the first rapture of meeting had subsided, there arose a tumult within the soul of our affectionate and grateful little maggie: her heart urged her in two opposite directions. she felt, in an ardent and uncommon degree, that instinctive love of kindred which is implanted in our nature, and manifested so strongly by the natives of scotland; but, on the other hand, gratitude and duty appeared to bid her stay with her benefactors. mr. roscoe perceived the struggle, and it raised his little niece highly in his estimation. he told her that it was not his wish to separate her entirely from the family to which she was so warmly attached; that she should come very frequently to see them, and that, as his niece, she would find it was in her power to aid them more effectually than she could do as their adopted daughter. mrs. norton, although with tears in her eyes, told her that she could not now dare to detain her; her duty was clear, to follow her uncle, who filled her father's place. having made the arrangement to call for her in the afternoon, mr. roscoe accompanied mr. wyndham and alice to the grange, where he dined, and spent the intermediate time; greatly to the pleasure of our young party, who could not have felt sure of maggie's future happiness, had they not themselves experienced the attractive influence of his kind, gentlemanly, and paternal manner. after dinner, the two gentlemen had a little private conversation about mrs. norton. they wished to place her above poverty, and yet to do so in a way which should not mortify her feelings of independence. mr. roscoe remarked that "he had it in his power to bring frederic forward in business; and that, if he were an industrious and intelligent lad, he should enjoy as good an opportunity of rising in the world as the son of the richest merchant in the land. he would see to it that the girls had the best advantages of education; and if they showed sufficient talent, they should be trained for teachers. but, meantime, what was to be done for mrs. norton? would she accept from him an annuity, which, after all, was only a small return for her kindness to his brother's child?" mr. wyndham thought that it would be a better plan to establish her in a neat dwelling and well-furnished shop, either in the country or in the city, where frederic could board with her. he knew, from his wife's account, that she had an acquaintance with business, and had thought of setting her up, himself, in a small way: he should be happy to aid in the good work. but mr. roscoe insisted that the debt was all his own, and that no one should share with him the privilege of helping her; and, accordingly, this plan was determined upon as combining the most efficient assistance to the widow, with a regard to her self-respect. in the evening, after the excitement produced by the unexpected turn in the fortunes of little maggie and of her generous protectors had somewhat subsided, our happy party drew up to the fire, which crackled and blazed as if conscious of the animation it imparted to the group around it. "what game shall we play to-night?" said cornelia, who possessed such an active mind as to think it stupid and "poking," unless some visible fun was in progress. she never could think the fire was burning, unless the sparks flew right and left. "what do you say to 'who can he be?" asked mary. "'tis a game, partly of my own invention, that i think may prove entertaining. i've seen a set of historical cards, in which a description is read of a general, king, or other illustrious character; and any one having the card on which the corresponding name is printed, calls it out, and gains the other one. but if a beautiful queen of egypt, who lived a short time before the christian era, is portrayed, it's quite as well for boys who own a moses or a mary of scotland, not to be in too great a hurry to speak." "we wouldn't be such dunces, i hope," cried harry. "but, cousin mary, what's your improvement? i don't see any cards here at all." "oh no: i think when people have brains, they can play much better without them. my plan is, for a person to describe the individual, naming the country and age in which he lived, what gained him distinction, and every thing else that is interesting; and then any one of the circle can guess who the hero is, having the privilege of asking one question previously. if the conjecture be correct, the guesser describes another character, and so the game proceeds. or, if you prefer it, you can narrate one well-known anecdote of your hero, and then three questions are allowed previous to a guess. i call it 'who can he be?'" "i think i shall like it," said ellen. "if you please, i'll begin. once there lived a roman emperor--he was a nephew, like louis napoleon and cousin john. we often say people lived in the year one: he certainly did. he was a great patron of literature and the fine arts, and was a munificent friend to virgil. who can he be?" "i can tell you, without asking my question," cried tom. "augustus was eminently the nephew, and succeeded his uncle, julius cæsar, in the empire. he was reigning at the time of our saviour's birth, and of course lived in the year one: every thing fits--he's the man." "you are right. now 'tis your turn, brother tom." "the first of the english poets--who wrote splendid poetry, if only one could read it. 'tis such hard, tough, jaw-breaking english, that it is little wonder his very name shows we must use the muscles of our mouths when we attempt it. he lived soon after the time of wickliffe, and imbibed some of his ideas. who can he be?" "who but chaucer?" said cornelia. "now who is the hero who was almost elected king of poland, but who lost that honor through the interference of a queen of england, unwilling to lose the brightest jewel of her crown by parting with him? he is mortally wounded on the battle-field, and thirsting for water. his soldiers procure some, with great difficulty, and he is about to raise it to his lips, when he sees the longing eye of a dying man, at his side, fixed upon it. 'he wants it more than i,' said he, and gave it to the poor fellow. who can he be?" "we are allowed three questions to an anecdote," said alice, "but none are required here. there is only one sir philip sydney. but who was the selfish queen, unwilling to have her noblest subject exalted beyond her control?" "none other than good queen bess," answered cornelia. "and who is the poet that has immortalized sydney's sister, in the following lines? "'underneath this marble hearse lies the subject of all verse: sydney's sister, pembroke's mother-- death, ere thou hast slain another good, and fair, and wise as she, time shall throw his dart at thee!'" "was it 'rare ben jonson?'" cried charlie bolton. "even so, charlie: now, what have you got to say for yourself?" "i intend to disprove the assertion of alice, that there is only one sir philip sydney. who was that other equally valiant knight, and much sweeter poet, who used to sing his own verses, accompanying himself upon the harp; and could thereby soothe the most troubled spirit? on one occasion, this brilliant genius, whose romantic adventures might fill a volume, and who subsequently became a king, was in exile, and was hidden, with some devoted followers, in a large cave. the enemies of his country were encamped around, and lay, in strong force, between his hiding-place and the small town where he had spent his childish years, which they also garrisoned. while in this situation, cut off from all intercourse with his home and friends, his heart turned to them with an intense longing; and in a moment of thoughtlessness, he said before three of his captains, 'oh, what would i not give, could i once more drink water from the well, outside the gate of my native town!' at the peril of their lives, the gallant men fought their way through the hosts of the enemy, and returned with the water. but the poet-warrior would not drink: he poured it out as a libation to god, saying, 'can i indeed drink the blood of these noble friends, who have risked their lives to gratify my idle whim? i cannot do it.' now, who can be this poet, warrior, and king?" "did he live about a thousand years before the christian era?" said amy. "he did." "it was the sweet psalmist of israel, david, son of jesse, the bethlehemite. now, who is the man that long ago published a book of jests, said to be greatly studied now-a-days by diners-out and professed wits, and endlessly copied into other works of a similar character. his reputation is so high, that many anecdotes are called by his name. who can he be?" "is it punch?" said lewis. "how silly!" cried harry, with the knowing look of a boy two years older: "punch is a newspaper. was it hood?" "no: do you all give it up?" "yes: we can't imagine who he can be." "joe miller, of jesting memory." "now let us try another game," said gertrude. "of course, cousin mary has an endless store at her disposal." "let us try 'elements,'" mary answered. "i will throw my handkerchief at some one, calling out water, air, or earth; and the person who catches it must immediately name an animal living in or upon the element. but if i say _fire_, you must be silent. the answer should be given before i count ten; and then the one in possession of the handkerchief must throw it to another, carrying on the game. any one who repeats an animal that has been already mentioned, pays a forfeit--except that i think forfeits are stupid things." "instead of that," said charlie, "let the unlucky wight who makes the greatest number of blunders, have the privilege of proposing the first game to-morrow." "very well," said mary, throwing her handkerchief at tom. "water." "codfish," answered he, tossing it to cornelia. "earth." "elephant," replied cornelia, sending the missive to charlie. "fire." "water," rejoined charlie, flinging it to amy. "eel," responded amy, casting it into anna's lap. "air." "eagle," cried the latter, hurling the embroidered cambric at george's face. "earth." "have pity upon my poor little handkerchief!" said mary. and so the game proceeded; and simple though it was, it caused diversion. "who shall be appointed to tell the story to-night?" asked ellen. "it seems to me that tom or charlie, george or john should be selected; as it generally happens, 'the softer sex' has done the chief talking. isn't it right and proper for the boys to take their equal share?" "oh, by no means!" answered charlie. "it is the ladies' privilege--it would be very ungallant to deprive them of it. besides, my trade is that of a critic, not an author: you must be aware that it is a higher branch, giving larger scope to my superior judgment and exquisite powers of fault-finding. yes, criticism is my forte: do you tell stories, ellen, and i'm the chap to slash them up." "you are only too kind," replied his cousin, laughing. "after such a generous offer, who wouldn't be tempted?" "i know you are right, sister ellen," said tom, "and that it is our duty to help in the entertainment of the company; but, for my part, i throw myself upon your mercy. i wouldn't, for the world, hint that we are more solid than the girls, but 'tis very certain that we are more lumbering. if i were to begin a tale, i'd flounder through it, like a whale with a harpoon in its body; while any of the girls, even down to little anna, would glide along, like a graceful, snow-white swan upon a silver lake--happy in her element, and giving pleasure to all who witnessed her undulating motions." "very pretty that, tom!" cried cornelia. "after such a well-turned compliment, our hearts would be flinty indeed, if we didn't excuse you. but what do george and john say?" "as for me," responded george, "it appears to be my vocation, at present, to eat hearty dinners, grumble over my lessons, skate, and now-and-then, by way of a frolic, fall into a pond. you may be thankful if i don't get into all sorts of mischief. you need not expect me to make myself agreeable till i arrive at the 'digging-up' age, that cornelia spoke of." "for my part," added john, "you know that i couldn't invent a story, to save my life. i've no fancy at all; and have made up my mind, as i can't be agreeable, that i'll at least be useful. everybody ought to be one or the other." "we should aim to be both," said mr. wyndham. "but, indeed, uncle, 'tis hard work for a fellow, when he's plain-spoken and rather dull, like me. i'd prefer sawing wood, any day, to entertaining a parcel of girls!" "that being the case," answered mrs. wyndham, smiling, "we couldn't be hard-hearted enough to impose such an arduous duty upon you. i appoint cornelia to the honorable office of story-teller this evening." "then i bargain that i make my tale as short as i like, and that i am not compelled to lug in a moral by the hair of its head, as the germans express it," said cornelia. "i approve of every one following the bent of his genius, and mine is not of the didactic order." "we certainly should not expect a moral essay or an instructive treatise from our wild little girl," replied mr. wyndham. "i suppose there is no danger of its being immoral." "i don't know, indeed," answered she, tossing her black curls, and looking archly at her uncle, whom she dearly loved to tease. "i'll leave you to judge of that: i don't answer for the injurious effect it may have upon these unformed minds around me. i call my story the astrologers. william forsythe and edward barrington were lively young fellows of twenty, who had left their homes in the south to complete their education at one of our northern colleges. i don't think my strict uncle would call them "immoral" young men, but they certainly did not carry gray heads upon their green shoulders: they loved fun and mischief about as well as i do. they did not neglect study, and were up to the mark in their recitations; and they never perpetrated any thing really bad. they would not have intentionally hurt any one's feelings for the world; but yet, were any frolic to be carried into execution, these two were "the head and front of the offending." the grave professors, while they entertained their families at home with some of their exploits, were obliged to put on a very sober face in public, and even to hint at expulsion from the "alma mater," if the merry and thoughtless youngsters persevered in their course. i must relate one or two instances which caused considerable laughter at the time, and have added to the stock of traditionary stories that may be found in every boarding college throughout our land. contraband turkeys or geese, roasted in their room for supper, and intended for a jolly party of friends who would collect together, were, of course, quite common affairs. on one occasion, just as the odor had become very exciting to their gastric organs, and the skin had assumed that tempting brown hue betokening a near approach to perfection in their culinary operations, the watchful tutor scented out either the supper or some mischief, and rap-rap-rap was heard at the door. every sound was instantly hushed, and the offending bird was quickly transferred to a hiding-place in the room. after some little delay, the door was opened, with many apologies; and the tutor, looking suspiciously through his spectacles, entered the apartment. "very studious, gentlemen! very studious, i see!" he said, glancing at the array of learned volumes open before them. "let me beg you not to injure your health by too close application to books. but what a very curious smell! one would think you had been carrying out the classical lessons contained in apicius. allow me to examine: ah, mr. forsythe, i see that you grease your boots to keep out the wet--a good precaution." so saying, he pulled out the nice little goose from a new boot in the corner, to the mingled mortification and amusement of the young men. "suppers are doubtless agreeable things at night," added the tutor; "but the worst is, that they often leave unpleasant consequences the next morning: of course, you are aware that you meet the faculty, to-morrow, gentlemen." on another occasion, our two heroes were out all night, exerting themselves strenuously for the public good. i suppose they thought that if some of the impediments to familiar intercourse in the neighborhood were removed, the state of society would be greatly benefited. some such grave purpose they must have had in view; for, in the morning, when the inhabitants of the town awoke, they found to their surprise that all the gates, small and great, had been removed from their hinges, and collected in one large pile, in the middle of the campus! to complain to the faculty would do no good: it would only raise the laugh against them. so, when any of the townspeople, or the farmers in the neighborhood, came to select their gates from the pile, the cry was given, "heads out!" and from all the windows surrounding the campus, roguish eyes peeped forth, to watch the proceedings; and frequently the property-owner returned, feeling very much as if he had been the culprit. one day, a countryman drove up with a load of wood. as he disappeared around an angle of the building in search of the purveyor, our heroes approached, with a select party of classmates, weary of recitations, and longing for a change. forsythe, whose genius for military tactics was so striking that he was dubbed, by universal consent, "the general," instantly formed his plan of attack; and, being nobly seconded by his quick-witted aids, he carried it into execution with the rapidity and decision characteristic of a great commander. in five minutes, the farmer returned, having concluded his bargain; but where was his cart, and horse, and load of wood? nothing of the kind was to be seen; and it was very evident that patient dobbin had, for once in his life, resolved to take a frolic, and see a little of life; or else that some rogue had gotten possession of him and his appurtenances without the formality of a purchase. the town was searched, and all the adjacent roads. the neighbors, ever ready, from a principle of pure benevolence, to take a lively interest in all that was going on, gave advice in rich profusion, and sent the poor man flying hither and thither, in vain. but, at last, the contradictory reports appeared to settle down into the following facts: that many persons had seen the cart enter the town, but that none had witnessed its departure--wherein might be traced a strange likeness to the old fable of the sick lion and his visitors. the suspicion at last became general, that the students were somehow at the bottom of it; so just an appreciation did the townspeople possess of their capabilities for mischief, that no tricks of diablerie seemed too much to ascribe to them. as the weary countryman and his sympathizing companions approached those academic shades, where earnest study and severe meditation filled up all the hours, a stir was apparent within the building; and the tramping of feet upon the stone staircase, and the laughter of many voices, told that something unusual had occurred. with ill-disguised merriment, the worthy rustic was escorted up three flights of stairs, until, uneasily stamping upon the brick pavement of the hall, his wondering eyes fell upon his horse, looking decidedly out of his element. how came he there? behind him was the cart, loaded with wood--not a buckle of his tackling was amiss--it looked as if old dobbin had marched up the stairway, load and all. no one knew any thing of the prodigy--no one ever does, in such cases. the horse looked indignant, as if he had a tale to tell; but the words wouldn't come. no other witness could be produced in court; and the end of it was, that all, except the unfortunate animal himself, indulged in a hearty horse-laugh. in what way they drove the cart down stairs, history does not mention. that was the concern of the owner and of the college authorities, and not mine nor my heroes--it may be in the hall to this day, for aught i know. but how they got up so high in the world is another matter, and i will let you into my secret, merely to convince my incredulous hearers that the thing was possible. each of the fellows shouldered as many logs as he could carry, conveyed them to the appointed place, and returned swiftly to the charge. the wheels were now off, and ready for four of them, and the body of the cart for eight more. forsythe and barrington reserved for themselves the honor and glory of managing the live-stock. slipping woollen socks over his feet, they somehow got him up-stairs with marvellous celerity; and whilst his owner was gazing up and down for his vanished property, the astonished horse was again tackled to the loaded cart, his hose were taken off, and he was left to his meditations, in solitary possession of the hall. so quietly was all this done, that, although students and tutors were in the rooms adjoining, nothing was suspected, until the horse, who felt himself to be placed, without any fault of his own, in a false position, made known his sentiments by his impatient movements. the worst trick our heroes ever played, and one of a somewhat kindred character, consisted in ornamenting professor x's horse. at midnight, when the authorities were sound asleep, they took the poor animal out of his comfortable stable, and shoeing him with an extra quantity of felt, to prevent any noise, they conveyed him, with great difficulty, up the staircase, to the hall in the third floor. that might have satisfied them; but no, they were not pleased with his color. he was of pure white, and the scapegraces wished a variegated hue. so, after a preliminary shaving, they painted him in green stripes, and when they had arranged it to their satisfaction, they went to their own rooms. the unfortunate victim was not well contented, either with his quarters or his condition, and stamped about at a great rate, being quite unable to get down stairs. in the morning, when the professor was ready for his usual ride, where was his horse? it had vanished, and the stable-door was open: thieves must have been prowling about in the night. at last, the trick was discovered; and then, as will forsythe said, "i could paint that horse, which was rather restive, but i would not undertake to paint the wrath of the professor." of course, no one did it--it was impossible to discover the guilty individuals. but the poor animal did not enjoy the frolic as much as the wild youngsters, for he died in consequence; and this unfortunate termination of the exploit put a stop to any practical jokes for the enormous period of several months. to make up the unexpected loss to the professor, the two friends sent him, anonymously, a sum of money equal to the value of the horse. but the moral discipline inflicted by the luckless death of the green and white horse, did not endure forever. they say, that when a subterranean fire exists, and old craters are abandoned, new ones are thrown up: the inward, irresistible power must have a vent. perhaps it's somewhat so with us, lovers of fun. i see uncle shake his head at me, and know that he thinks i'm inculcating bad morality: but indeed, nature will out, as well as murder. you must know that the excellent president, who had a great deal of dry humor in his composition, had procured a nice new vehicle. every one liked the old gentleman, and yet, so great is the love of frolic inherent in some reprobate minds, that when the idea of carrying off his carriage was first broached at one of their little private suppers, by that wicked imp will forsythe, it was met with shouts of applause. it was resolved to convey it away, in the dead of the night, to a little piece of woods belonging to the doctor, at a distance of about three miles from the college, and there to leave it. the plan was to be carried into execution that very night. accordingly, at midnight, eight forms might have been seen carefully descending from eight windows, and skulking along in the shade, for the moon was shining brilliantly, until they got beyond the college limits. they drew out the carriage, and proceeded slowly along the road: no one was astir except themselves. when they had passed all the houses, they no longer felt the need of keeping the strict silence they had at first thought necessary, and the merry laugh and the gay repartee went round. "hallo, forsythe!" exclaimed barrington, "how do you stand it? i think this concern is as ponderous as if the old fat doctor were inside it himself!" "i conceive this joke to be rather a heavy one," replied his friend, laughing. "i begin to wonder if we are not fools for our pains: dr. franklin would say that we paid too dear for our whistle." "never give up the ship, my boy!" cried the other. "only think how the old doctor will stare about him to-morrow, when he misses it! it will be a second edition of the professor's horse." "now, 'an thou lovest me, hal,' don't say a word about the professor's horse, or i'll turn back with the carriage. that cost me to the tune of a hundred dollars, and more, not to speak of the remorse i felt when the poor creature died. but didn't he look comical when i had put on the green!" thus, with jocund peals of laughter, they shortened the way, until they reached the little piece of woods in which they intended to deposit the coach. had they been obliged to toil as much to gain their daily bread, they would probably have thought it hard work. they took down the bars, drew in the carriage, and placed it in a snug position, out of sight. "and now for home!" said forsythe. "won't we get there a little sooner than we came?" at that moment the carriage window was thrown up, a large white head was put forth into the moonlight, and, to the horror of all concerned, they beheld the doctor! whether to run, or what to do, they did not know. the old president enjoyed their confusion for a few moments, and then said, "much obliged to you for a pleasant ride, young gentlemen: now, suppose we go home again." putting in his head, and shutting the window and blind, he left them to their dismay. completely taken in! they had been betrayed, somehow. they might look for an expulsion, after that; and, what was worse, would be heartily laughed at besides. between their mortification and the unwonted hard work, the perspiration rolled off their faces in large drops by the time they got home--that is to say, to the coach-house. forsythe humbly opened the coach-door and let down the steps. "many thanks," said the doctor, with a grave face: "i have seldom enjoyed a more agreeable ride. i don't know when i have had horses i liked so well." every day for a fortnight "the horses" were trembling, in expectation of a notice to canter off from the college, in disgrace; but no such intimation came. the worthy old doctor was contented with the punishment he had already inflicted, but reminded them occasionally of their midnight frolic, and brought blushes up to their cheeks, by some sly allusion. college days are now over: our heroes have graduated with some distinction, notwithstanding their many peccadilloes, and have bid farewell forever to the "academic shades," figuratively speaking, of their alma mater. they have amazed, delighted, and edified the ladies present at the commencement by the eloquence of their greek and latin orations: the pretty creatures listened with rapt attention, and most intelligent countenances, to the whole. had it been cherokee, it would have proved the same thing. they did not enlighten the audience, as a learned old scotchman, who, some fifty years ago, was president of one of our northern colleges, actually did at a commencement speech. he had a board of trustees, whom he looked upon with great contempt, as illiterate men; and not being on the best terms with them, he determined upon a characteristic revenge. turning round to one side of the stage, where some of them were seated, whenever he quoted latin, he gave the explanation, "that's _latin_, gentlemen;" and again, when he introduced any greek, bowing to the other side, "that's _greek_, gentlemen." but one incident occurred, showing equal respect to the classical acquirements of those around him: will forsythe, whose memory was none of the best, feeling a sudden lapse of it in the very middle of his speech, with imperturbable impudence, recommenced from his starting-point, and made an admirable impression. thunders of applause rewarded him when he made his parting bow. the two friends still kept together. they visited the falls of niagara, canada, saratoga, and newport; and yet, strange to say, their purses were not exhausted. what shall they do next? they are ready for any frolic that presents itself. they have money in their pockets, young blood in their veins, unlimited time at their disposal, and, of course, they must be in some mischief, as neither of them has lost his heart, and become sentimental. while in new york, forsythe accidentally took up a newspaper, and that determined the especial kind of wickedness in which they should engage. he noticed a number of pompous advertisements of fortune-tellers under the head of astrology, which gave him an idea. he showed them to barrington, who observed that "it was astonishing how many fools and ignoramuses there were still in the nineteenth century, when the schoolmaster was abroad." "a very sage remark," answered his friend. "if the schoolmaster would stay at home, and mind his own business, instead of being abroad so much, perhaps the world would be better taught. i notice that he is always going to an education convention. but i didn't show you that for the purpose of eliciting wisdom: quite the contrary--folly is what i'm after, just now. what do you think of our turning astrologers?" "grand! you're a genius, will! that's the very thing to wake us up! here are you and i, dashing blades, who have been doing penance by trying to be fine gentlemen at watering-places, when it wasn't at all in our line. i began to think we looked as much like fops as the rest of the scented and bearded dress-coats, who strut about, and imagine the world is looking at them. this would throw us into quite another rank of life, and give us new ideas. how shall we manage it though, my fine fellow?" "nothing easier in the world. let us rent a small house, somewhere near the bowery--that's the right neighborhood; and when we have fitted it up suitably to our trade, i'll engage to put an advertisement in the papers that shall draw us customers. how do you think i could pass for a jew?" "pretty well, with your coal-black eyes and hooked nose: but what is that notion?" "i think it would cause a great sensation if the wandering jew were to appear again in real life. what between croly and eugene sue, he has been kept very extensively before the public in books: but i believe no one has had the audacity as yet to represent him in an every-day, money-getting capacity, at least in america. how do you like my plan?" "superb! the only objection is that you are rather youthful in appearance for one who has wandered over the earth for more than eighteen hundred years. could you alter that, will?" "somewhat, with the aid of a snow-white wig and yellow dye; and you know i always possessed the accomplishment of furrowing up my face with wrinkles when i chose. i don't doubt i could look the character pretty well, in a rich, flowing oriental dress. and the little hebrew we picked up at college from our good friend the learned young rabbi, will also stand us in hand. have you any objection to being my servant, ned?" "none at all; i shall feel quite honored by the position. i don't consider myself competent to play the first fiddle in this amusing duet, but can follow your lead very well." "remember, then, that our english is rather broken, and that we communicate our meaning to one another in french, spanish, scraps of hebrew, or latin and greek. i have not quite yet forgotten all i learned at college, though i suppose i shall do so in another month." "you remember your speech, at least--eh, will?" "the first half; if it is necessary to make a great sensation, i can come out with that." full of the new plan of diversion, the boys, for they were boys at heart, although men in stature, set out to hunt a house; and were successful in finding one that suited their notions. very soon it was furnished in oriental style, and an inner room was fitted up with various occult instruments, calculated to inspire the minds of the vulgar with a wholesome dread. it was agreed that barrington should make very little change in his wardrobe, and merely dye his hair and whiskers, and add a richer brown to his complexion, to give a more travelled look, and, as he said, to hinder any of the saratoga belles from finding him out, if they came to have their fortunes told. but forsythe took infinite pains to alter his appearance, and was so successful, that his friend assured him his own mother could not detect his identity, and that garrick himself, who could look any character and any age he pleased, would have been jealous had he seen how successfully he had hidden his youth and beauty. when all preparations were made, the advertisement was written. it stated that "the wandering jew, having reached new york in his peregrinations, would stay for the space of one fortnight only, it being then indispensably necessary that his travels should recommence, and highly probable that he might not revisit the city for a century. being now the sole depository of the mysterious knowledge acquired in egypt in ancient times, some scraps of which had been picked up by the astrologers of the middle ages, and especially by merlin, michael scott, cornelius agrippa, and friar bacon, he was ready, during the short period of his stay, to lift the veil which separates the present from the future. not being actuated in the slightest degree by a lust for gain, the illustrious exile would not consent to gratify mere idle curiosity, and to afford amusement to the gay and frivolous; but where an earnest, inquiring mind was intent upon discovering the hidden things of life, upon investigating the secrets of the past, or searching into futurity, the wanderer would give his mighty assistance. by books and science, by spells and conjurations, the powers were compelled to reveal their arcana, and fate itself whispered its dark mysteries into his ear. the spirits being subjects of the great magician, their aid would be called in when desired. where this mode was preferred to the ordinary methods of consulting the stars, the cabala, and black-letter volumes, these intelligences answered all questions by significant raps, or in writing, guiding the hand of the wanderer, who acted as their medium." the first day that the advertisement appeared, no visitors of any distinction came to see the wanderer, who yawned, and smoked cigars, and read through the last novel, declaring that it was intolerable to be dressed up for a show, and to have nobody come to see them. but in the evening, they were rewarded for their trouble. there was a quick, nervous ring, and barrington opened the door: a timid little man walked in, looking back over his shoulder to see if he were observed. when he found himself alone with barrington, he asked, with some surprise, if he were the great magician. "i! oh, no, my lord: far be it from me. i am the humblest of his slaves. i will see if my venerable master can now receive you." opening the door leading into a back apartment, he made a low salam to the wanderer, who was seated in state upon a divan, immersed in his studies. addressing him in hebrew, with a few words of greek to make out the sense, he received a response which he interpreted to the newcomer as a permission to approach the august presence. the little man went in, feeling at every step an increase of reverential awe. the oriental, costumed with all magnificence, his hoary head bent with age, his brow, from beneath which black eyes flashed brightly, furrowed with years and care, filled him with admiration. every thing around heightened the impression. a curious-carved cabinet, whose doors looked as if they concealed a mystery, was surmounted by folio volumes filled, of course, with potent spells: and above these again, a skull and cross-bones made him shudder. in one corner was a globe, covered with strange figures, dragons, scorpions, distressed damsels fastened to a rock, etc. scattered about the room were singular instruments of various kinds, jars with hideous snakes preserved in spirits, books in unknown tongues, and parchments upon which cabalistic diagrams were portrayed, which no doubt had power to command the spirits and to reveal futurity. the wanderer waved his hand, to invite his visitor to a seat: the humble slave stood, with head meekly bowed down, near the door. with some difficulty the little man, who was frightened nearly out of his small stock of wits, explained his errand. it seems that he had fallen heir to a property, the deed of which had been lost. he had tried every method he could think of to discover it: he had rummaged over all the drawers and chests in his relative's house; he had said his prayers backwards, so that a dream might be sent him in the night; and he had been to three fortune-tellers, but strange to say, had returned no wiser than he was when he went. and now, this was his last hope: if the wandering jew, of whom he had heard so much, could not help him, he knew that no one could. he was asked in which way he wished to receive the desired information: should the answer appear in flames before him, should it be discovered by the magic books, or should the spirit of his deceased friend signify his presence to him by a rap, and then respond to the question? the stranger evidently preferred the last mode of operating, and let out the fact, in the course of conversation, that his relative had been lost at sea. the wanderer then performed various evolutions, burning incense, bowing to unseen visitors, who were admitted into the room by the slave upon a rap being heard at the door, and muttering, meanwhile, mysterious words in an unknown tongue, to which his attendant occasionally responded. the poor little man began to quake all over: he felt as if surrounded by charms, and spells, and wicked spirits. he wished himself heartily out of the house: but there was no retreat now--some ghosts it is easier to raise than to lay. when the room was filled with fragrant smoke, and the subject of the conjuration was completely mystified and frightened, selim, for so the wanderer called his assistant, brought in a circular table, around which the three seated themselves in profound silence; but the venerable oriental, who acted as the medium of communication, alone placed his hand upon it. a rap, which caused the little man nearly to jump off his chair, announced that the spirit was ready to be consulted. the medium asked, "whether the inquirer should recover his rights, and obtain a copy of the deed?" three impressive, decided raps gave an affirmative reply. "will he be satisfied upon this point to-morrow?" again three raps. "will the spirit condescend to signify, in writing, in what way he shall act to obtain this end?" three raps again testified that the amiable spirit was willing to oblige. accordingly, selim having produced an antique ink-stand and an eagle's quill--a goose quill and steel pens would have been quite too common--the hand of the medium was guided in tracing strange characters, which looked like a jumble of the greek, arabic, and cuneiform alphabets. this "spirit dialect" was translated to the inquirer: it contained a direction to call early the next morning, between the hours of eight and nine--for during that hour the fates were propitious to him--at the office of a lawyer named warren, no. broadway. upon seeing him, he was to lay down a $ gold piece, and to say that he wanted him to procure a copy of the missing will. he must answer all questions mr. warren might ask, and, above all, must feel implicit faith in him, as the agent appointed by the spirits to restore to him his property. full of awe as he was, the little man still wished to gratify his curiosity as to the manner of his kinsman's death: could that be done? "oh, yes," answered the mysterious one, "nothing is easier." as he was speaking, the table began to creak, as a ship would do in a storm. it was excessively agitated; the noise of the rudder was heard, and at last, after a series of agonizing movements, the whole concern fell over, with a sudden crash. and yet no one appeared to touch it--the passive hand of the venerable exile could scarcely have affected it so strangely. "you see the fate of the ship," said the wanderer; "it has gone to the bottom in a storm." "how very odd!" replied the simple-hearted little man; "when it came home, the captain said he had fallen overboard." "he did," answered the magician, in a solemn manner, avoiding, however, to look in the direction of selim. "did you not hear the plunge into the sea? this describes the ultimate fate of the vessel." the good, easy man was perfectly satisfied. he was directed to come on the morrow, when the deed had been found, and the correctness of the spirit's directions was fully proved: and payment was indignantly' refused. the next day, various sentimental chambermaids visited them, desiring to be shown the likeness of their future husbands. this was done, greatly to their satisfaction, by exhibiting to them one and the same hyalotype, magnified by the magic lantern, so that the life-like countenance appeared to approach them from the opposite wall in the darkened room. it was observed, that the more ignorant they were, the more were they affected with horror by the sight of the cross-bones, skull, and chemical apparatus. still, this was rather tame work; and both the aged one and selim were relieved when they saw their dupe of the preceding night reappear, with happiness beaming in every feature of his countenance. "the lawyer," he said, "had not appeared at all surprised at being told to get him a copy of the will: he said something about the recorder's office. he was a young-looking man to be chosen by the spirits: and he wanted to know who had sent him to himself. of course i told him, and then he laughed, and said it was a great humbug. i was very much afraid that the spirits would be offended, and refuse to discover to him the will: but he told me to return towards evening, and lo! here it is." the poor little man was full of the warmest gratitude, and wanted to force a purse upon the unwilling astrologers: but they finally overcame his importunities by representing that the spirits would not obey their summons, if made a subject of bargain and sale, and that he should best please them by distributing it among the sick and poor. this circumstance, which found its way into one of the daily papers, with many embellishments, brought crowds of believers in "the night side of nature" to our mischievous youngsters, who were ready to humor the credulous public to the top of its bent. very many people looked sage, and quoted the passage-- "there are more things in heaven and earth, horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." select circles of intelligent people insisted upon it, that although they could not give in their adhesion to such mysteries, yet they greatly disapproved of the spirit of skepticism which had been so prevalent for the last fifty years. the new discoveries in science plainly showed that nature had many secrets yet unrevealed to man: and no one should audaciously set a limit to his powers. did not animal magnetism, containing so many things which could not be explained away, plainly prove it? could they have seen our merry graduates, when the door was locked for the night, and the venerable wig was thrown aside, jollifying over their supper! could they have heard the peals of laughter caused by the unlooked-for success of the frolic, how would their cheeks have been covered with blushes! the astrologers became decidedly the rage: had it been their object to gain wealth, they could have charged any price they pleased for their conjurations, and would have obtained it. but their popularity was of course increased by the fact that the mysterious wanderer uniformly refused to accept any compensation, and majestically commanded those who sought his aid, to apply the sum of money offered him to the relief of the first poor widow, orphan, or aged person they met. this peculiarity induced many young persons, of a rank in life and a style of education who do not commonly patronize fortune-telling, to visit the great unknown, partly in fun, partly in earnest; for there is a vast deal of superstition hidden in the recesses of most characters, and ready to start forth at the first call. bright eyes, obscured by thick veils, excited the curiosity even of the venerable wanderer; and white, jewelled hands were extended, that his searching glance might decipher the lines of life. several interesting love-tales were poured into the sympathizing ear of benign old age, and the recollections of centuries were called up, to furnish suitable counsel and to encourage the despairing heart to hope. forsythe assured his friend that he would not exchange the knowledge of human nature, and especially of woman nature, which he had acquired in this fortnight, for the experience of ten years of ordinary life. the joke was very consistently carried out. our youngsters were both possessed of ready mother wit, and the world was charmingly mystified. the answers furnished to inquirers partook much of the dimness and ambiguity of the ancient oracular responses, when delphi was yet in its glory, and the oaks of dodona reflected some of their own rich green tint upon those who consulted its priestesses. on one occasion, "selim" found it very difficult to retain the gravity of his sad, oriental countenance. a sharp, quick-witted young fellow, frank warren, their former college chum, to whom they had sent his first fee, had accompanied the grateful little man who had made their reputation, ostensibly for the purpose of consulting the spirit of milton, but really, as they plainly perceived, to detect their tricks. they were on their guard: they had not seen warren for some time, but their former habits of intimacy made the danger of discovery imminent. it was warren's wish that the spirit should guide the pen of his medium, and accordingly our ancient sat down, and tried to indite miltonic lines. "very blank verse, indeed, it was," as he subsequently confessed to his familiar, at their midnight conference. the face of the visitor twitched convulsively as he read the so-called poetry, and the young fellows, ever ready to enjoy a joke, would have dearly loved to join him in a loud and merry peal of laughter. by a great effort, all three restrained themselves; but the inquirer remarked, with a grave countenance, that "it appeared as if the genius of milton had not expanded in the upper world--he certainly never wrote such trash when he was upon the earth. it reminded him of the saying of the wits of athens: that although apollo was the god and patron of poetry, any common rhymster would be ashamed of the lines which emanated from the deity at delphos." when selim escorted the gentleman into the outer apartment, the skeptic slipped some gold into his palm, which the former at first pretended to receive; and by cunning cross-examination, strove to make him confess that his master was not so old as he assumed to be. "how long have you been in his service?" "not very long, myself." "but do you think him as ancient as he pretends to be?" "that is a delicate question: i hardly like to answer it. to be frank, i have sometimes had doubts about the great length of his life, although i cannot feel any hesitation on the subject of his wonderful powers." "but how long have you known him?" "let me see. it was friar bacon who first introduced me to his eminence, and advised me to enlist in his service. he did not look so very old at that time, and it was only six centuries ago. this occurred at oxford, on the magic eve of st. john's day, in a.d.--i remember the date distinctly. no, between ourselves, i have some suspicions that he is not quite so old as he says he is." very soon after that, the investigator left. one thing was certain, that he had not recognized them. on the last day of their intended stay, an incident occurred which furnished a proper termination to their frolic. a rough, boorish fellow came to visit them, who evidently "hailed" from remote country districts, into which the civilizing influences of education had not penetrated. all his utterances, for his words should scarcely be dignified with the name of conversation, showed him to be ignorant in the extreme, and to be credulous in proportion. he had come to new york, hoping, in that centre of light and science, medical and theological, to find relief from a certain demon which possessed him. this wicked spirit made him often do things he didn't wish to do--caused him to foam at the mouth, tear his clothes, etc., and he wanted to know whether the wanderer was not possessed of a spell to quiet the tormentor. "certainly; follow our directions, and you never shall be troubled with him again." accordingly, the patient was brought into the back room, which had been darkened up purposely. a circle was described, within which incense was burnt, and in the centre stood the awful one in his flowing robe, with his magical wand in his hand, uttering terrible conjurations. "do you feel any thing?" he would occasionally ask the countryman, who was gaping with wonder and admiration. "n--no, i dunna that i do," the man would reply. "then it has not left you yet: you'll be sure to know when it does. you'll feel a sort of shock go all through you, and will see sparks: then open your mouth wide, and the spirit will jump out." as it was some time before the sufferer obtained relief, selim was called to his aid; and the way in which their latin and greek orations were tossed about at one another, would have astonished the professors. at last the wanderer placed the patient upon a stool, and proceeded with his incantations. suddenly the countryman uttered a shriek, and jumping into the air, cut a pigeon-wing. "he's gone! i felt him go!" he had touched the electrical machine, which had been fully charged, and was put there, as it were, in ambush. "do you feel much better?" "yes; i'm another man." the poor fellow went away, declaring himself a perfect cure. and forsythe and barrington agreed, that after such a brilliant finale it was as well to beat a retreat: just as some gentlemen, at the close of an evening visit, relate a witty anecdote, or sparkle out a brilliant repartee, snatch up their hats, make their bows, and leave you in the middle of a laugh. but another adventure was in store for them, which had not entered into their calculations at all. the play-bills show us that after a tragedy there generally comes a farce: the case was reversed with them, for they had enjoyed their farce, and had laughed over it heartily--and now there was danger of its ending in a tragedy. when their preparations were nearly complete for a sudden and inexplicable disappearance, our astrologers were horrified by the apparition, in the day time, of stars they had never consulted--stars of this gross, lower world--stars which, in case of resistance, become shooting stars, and which revolve, in very eccentric orbits, around the central police station. what these portended, it needed no wisdom of chaldean sage to decipher--exposure, ridicule, disgrace, and the prison. they had enjoyed their laugh at the world--now the tables would be turned, and the world's dread laugh be raised against them. resistance was utterly in vain. attired as they were, in flowing oriental garb, the distressed wanderer and his faithful selim were hurried into a cab, which no conjuration, not even that of "the golden eagle," could prevent from driving to the mayor's office. here they beheld their former friend, warren, evidently the "very head and front of the offending:" he was talking to the little man of the famous will case, who appeared to be on the verge of a violent nervous fever. the latter wished to escape, but the lawyer was too resolute and pertinacious to be conquered by his weak irritability, and he was obliged to resign himself into his hands. the exile had time allowed him to reflect upon his course of action. a multitude of petty cases were up for examination, and the patience of his honor, the mayor, was heavily taxed, especially as he knew that a very capital dinner and excellent company were waiting for him at home. at last this case of deception, imposture, and swindling came up in turn; but not before the aged, wrinkled, care-worn man had whispered a few words into the ears of the young lawyer, which made him start, and give the other an admiring glance of surprise, as if he recognized in him a genius of the highest order. his honor was angry and tired, and gave rather a savage look at the culprits. "a case like this needs very little proof--they are arrant swindlers, evidently--with all that foolery of dress about them! remove that wig and beard." the red blood rushed up to the cheeks and forehead of poor will forsythe, and showed itself through the yellow dye of his skin, as he was obliged to submit to this indignity; and he mentally exclaimed: "if ever i pretend again to be any thing i am not, may my head come off too!" "you appear in this case, mr. warren," said the mayor. "let me hear what can be urged against these men, and produce your witnesses." "i find that i have very little to say on the subject, your honor. it is true, i can prove that this gentleman went to consult the prisoner as to a missing will, and that he is under the impression that spirits were consulted on the occasion. but i can also prove that very sensible advice was given to my client--to consult a lawyer of great respectability and high promise; and accordingly he came to me. and further, i can prove that the astrologers did not receive one farthing in payment for their counsel, and, indeed, positively refused the offer of a handsome gratuity from my grateful client. and i can challenge any one in the city of new york to prove that, in any one case, the prisoners received money in return for advice or assistance given to any visitor. this fact takes from the case the appearance of a swindling transaction, according to the well-known law of george iii., which doubtless your honor thoroughly remembers." "there appears, then, to be no prosecution in this case? i find that, like a true lawyer, you can argue on one side as well as the other." "there is none, your honor: my client withdraws the prosecution. may i be allowed a word in private?" after a whispered consultation of some minutes, during which our unmasked jesters observed his honor cast very highly-amused glances in their direction, and heard occasional snatches of the conversation,--"ha, indeed? sons of *** and ****, do you say? the first families in the south! i knew their fathers well! tell them to come to dinner just as they are--the ladies will make allowances." but that degree of impudence was too much for the brass of even forsythe and barrington. they respectfully declined, and hastened homeward, accompanied by frank warren. one more merry supper did they eat in that house which had been the theatre for the display of so many strange adventures, and then they vanished. when morning came, no trace of the astrologers was to be found. the furniture had gone, the house was shut up, the birds had flown. had there been a storm in the night, the believers in gotham would have thought they had been claimed by their dread master, and had been snatched away in a blaze of lightning. as it was, there was nothing to reveal the mystery. the good little man, who never quite understood the scene in the mayor's office, is gratefully enjoying his property, and thinks that the wandering jew may now be in the centre of africa, or climbing the heights of the himalaya mountains. but as i happen to be better informed, i know that both he and his faithful selim slipped out of new york as quietly as possible, and returned to their homes in the sunny south. they have since then married, have settled down into quiet orderly citizens, and have given up all practical jokes; but they frequently amuse their wives with some of their varied experience, obtained when playing the rôle of astrologers in new york. "but you do not really think people could be so cheated now-a-days, uncle!" cried george. "i certainly do not consider the world too wise to be fooled in almost any way," answered his uncle. "look at the various _isms_ which have sprung up, even in our own day. think of the imposture of mormonism,--it has fairly peopled a territory. think of the pretensions of clairvoyance, claiming almost omniscience and omnipresence for the human spirit. think of matthias and his followers. but remarkable as that delusion was, it is almost forgotten now, so many extravagancies tread upon one another's heels, and hustle each its predecessor off the stage. spirit-rapping is the last, and is spreading like wildfire throughout the land: some characters have so much tinder in their composition, that they catch in a moment. but it will soon go out--'tis like the crackling of thorns under the pot--a quick blaze for a moment, and then it expires." "the alarm about witchcraft, both in england and america, was, i think, one of the most noticeable delusions of modern times," said mrs. wyndham. "how many eminent and excellent men were deceived by it! the learned, judicious, and pious sir matthew hale condemned at least one witch to be burnt alive--although, i believe, it cost him some remorse afterwards. and in new england, cotton mather was prominent in hunting out those who were supposed by their neighbors to be on too familiar terms with a certain nameless individual. i am glad i did not live in those days! if a poor old woman was ugly, and cross, and mumbled to herself, as we old women will do sometimes, and above all, if she kept a large black cat, woe betide her! her fate was well-nigh sealed." "i don't think you would have been in any danger, aunt lucy," said amy, laughing. "i don't know, indeed--probably not, while i had such an array of young people around me. but if i were left desolate and alone in the world, and became peevish and odd from the mere fact of having no one to love me, i would not have answered for the consequences at all." "i had to laugh," added ellen, "at the marvellous cure effected by the electrical machine. it reminded me of a well-attested anecdote i have read of the beneficial effects wrought by a thermometer, through the medium of the imagination. the physician intended to try whether the galvanic battery could not be usefully employed in a case of paralysis, but before commencing operations, he applied a small thermometer to the tongue of the patient. upon removing it, he was told by the latter that it gave him very curious feelings, and that he thought himself a little better. seeing the mistake he had made, the doctor resolved not to undeceive him, but to persevere in the application of the thermometer. he did so, and the man was soon a complete cure." "i have heard of instances of sudden joy or fright restoring the vital energies to poor bed-ridden mortals," said cornelia, "but to be cured by a thermometer is too comical!" "it was that powerful principle, faith," answered mrs. wyndham. "i remember very well the time when certain metallic tractors were all the fashion, to draw away pain from the parts affected, by magnetic influence. well-authenticated cures were wrought; but at last a physician applied a test, which proved the beneficial results to be entirely the work of the imagination. he had wooden tractors made, painted so as to resemble the metal ones, and they exerted equal powers. when this fact was published, of course the cures ceased, and metallic tractors became things that were." "another fact is told to show how the imagination can kill or cure," said mr. wyndham. "a criminal was condemned to death for some atrocious deed, and it was resolved to try an experiment upon him, as he would have to die at any rate. he was informed that he would be bled to death; and when the appointed time had arrived, his eyes were effectually bandaged, his arm bared, and the surgeon pretended to cut the artery. luke-warm water was poured, in a steady current, upon his arm, and trickled down into a basin below: and the physician held his hand, feeling the pulse. the wretched criminal became paler and paler, his pulse beat more faintly, and at last he died, a victim to his own imagination." "poor creature!" added mary. "and i have repeatedly heard of cases, uncle, in which persons fancied themselves about to die at a certain hour, from having had a dream to that effect, or some other supernatural indication of the will of heaven. and sometimes they actually expired, from sheer fright. but when the clock was put back an hour or two, the time passed without any fatal result ensuing." "those chaps were wilder than we are, charlie!" cried george, with an air of triumph. "yes," answered his cousin. "but i very much fear that does not prove our innocence, but only their depravity. it reminds me of that line in milton-- 'and in the lowest deep, a lower deep.'" chapter viii. confidante.--lead-merchant.--trades.--the rose of hesperus; a fairy tale. as the time drew nigh when our young party would be called upon to separate, and to return to the every-day duties of the boarding or day school, and the home, the centralizing influences of affection appeared to be felt in an increasing degree. aunt lucy remarked that they greatly resembled a flock of birds or of sheep: where one came, the rest were sure very soon to follow. cousin mary asked george, with a look of great concern, if he felt very unwell indeed. "i? oh no, i never was better in my life. what could have put the notion into your head that i was ill?" "my dear coz, you are so uncommonly good. you have not teased anna or gertrude at all to-day, and i begin to feel seriously alarmed for your health. i have so often noticed a sudden attack of meekness to precede a sudden attack of fever, that i really think it would be wiser to send for the doctor in time." "don't concern yourself," replied he. "if that be all, i can soon prove that my pulse is in good order." so saying, he gave mary's work-basket a sudden twitch, which sent her spools of cotton, winders, thimble, and emery-bag flying in every direction; when, of course, with the malice peculiar to things of such small natures, they carefully hid themselves in the darkest corners, and ran behind the legs of tables and sofas for protection, "preserve me from boys!" said mary with a laugh, as george ran out of the room. "if it were not unladylike, i really should box those ears of yours!" "they are quite large enough to bear it--no danger of their being crushed," he replied, giving a pinch to the protruding members. in the evening, as gertrude claimed the honor of having been the most stupid person in playing "elements" the night before, it was agreed that it appertained to her to introduce to the company another game. she said she had seen one played that resembled "consequences," in so far that you wrote what you were ordered, and read it aloud when it was finished: but you were not obliged to turn down the papers after writing, as you did not change them with the rest of the company. she would call this game "confidante," as she had never heard a name for it. accordingly, every one got a pencil and sheet of paper, and wrote agreeably to her directions. "let each boy write a lady's name, and each girl a gentleman's name." "now, any past time--some date, if you please; yesterday, or a thousand years ago--it makes no difference." "the name of a place." "either yes or no." "yes or no, again." "every boy write a lady's name, every girl a gentleman's." "some time to come." "write yes or no." "yes or no, again." "mention a place." "tell us your favorite color." "set down any number not exceeding ." "another color." "yes or no." "let all write a lady's name." "let all write a gentleman's name." "all, another lady's name." "every boy write a gentleman's name, every girl a lady's." "set down the name of a clergyman." "now, any sum of money." "the name of a place." "and lastly, any number." "now that we have finished, every one must read aloud his or her paper, without cheating, whatever it contains--each portion as an answer to a question. charlie, to whom did you make your first offer?" "happily, to no one present: it was to queen victoria." "when was it?" "in the year : the day columbus discovered america." "where did this interesting event take place?" "in the tower of babel." "does she love you?" "yes: how could she help it?" "do you love her?" "yes: to distraction." "whom will you marry?" "queen jezebel." "how soon does this auspicious match come off? for i want to have my wedding-dress ready." "to-morrow--new-year's day." "do you love her?" "no, not at all." "does she love you?" "no, alas!" "where does she live?" "in calcutta." "what is the color of her hair?" "brilliant scarlet." "what is her height?" "nine and a half feet." "please to mention the color of her eyes." "a charming green." "is she pretty?" "yes, very." "who is to be bridesmaid at this happy wedding?" "miss alice bolton." "who will wait upon her?" "king nebuchadnezzar." "who is your sympathizing confidante?" "cousin cornelia." "pray, tell us the name of your rival?" "his majesty, william the conqueror of normandy and england. i should not be sorry if he carried off my gentle dame." "what clergyman will marry you?" "the archbishop of canterbury." "how much is the lady worth?" "three cents." "where will you live?" "in the black-hole of calcutta." "how many servants will you keep?" "two millions, five hundred thousand." "i must say, you are moderate, considering the lady's fortune. in asking the girls, i merely reverse the questions: 'from whom did you receive your first offer?' etc. as the game wants a name, i think it should be called 'confidante:' the reader not only has a confidante in the play, but is called upon to intrust his secrets to the whole assembled company." "but isn't this rather silly--all this about love and marriage?" asked mr. wyndham, with the hesitating manner of one who knows that he shall instantly be put down. "certainly it is, my dear uncle," answered cornelia. "if it were not, we should not like it half so well, i can tell you. you know we must be foolish some time in our life--so, for my share, i'm taking it out now." "well, well--there's no harm in it, any how. though you wouldn't believe it, i was young once myself, and don't like to be too hard upon the rising generation. there's a game i remember playing when i was a youngster, that is not too wise for you, but ought to have more solidity in it than the last, as it is all about lead. it is called the 'lead-merchant.' one tries in every mode to dispose of his lead to the company, asking question after question, to which you must answer without introducing the words _lead_, _i_, _yes_, or _no_. he tries to trip you in every way, and as soon as you say one of the forbidden words, you are out of the game. would you like to try it?" "very much, uncle. will you be the lead-merchant?" "if you wish it. amy, will you buy any lead?" "not any at present." "but pray, why not?" "because none is desired at my house." "shall i call next week?" "it is scarcely worth while: we do not wish any." "i will stop to-morrow: your little boys want lead to make some bullets." "they would only burn their sweet little fingers in melting it: they must not have any." "then you will not buy my lead?" "positively not." "i noticed that the lead upon your roof wanted repairing: the rain will beat in, and you'll all be taken ill, unless you buy my lead. 'tis only one cent a pound." "if you gave it to me as a present, i wouldn't take your lead." "amy, you're caught! you said both _i_ and _lead_." notwithstanding all their care, the persevering lead-merchant entrapped every one in some moment of weakness; and the company agreed that he would make his fortune as a yankee pedlar, or as an agent for some book that nobody wanted,--many would buy to get rid of him, on the same principle that the lady married her tiresome lover. "and now," said charlie, "let us play 'trades.' we apprentice our son or daughter to some business, and mention that the first thing sold begins with a specified letter: but we must never repeat an article. the person who guesses, apprentices his son the next. i apprenticed my son to a carpenter, and the first thing he sold was a t." "a table?" asked mary. "i apprenticed my daughter to a milliner, and the first thing she sold was a yard of r. r." "red ribbon?" added gertrude. "i apprenticed my son to a grocer, and the first thing he sold was a b. of r." "box of raisins?" inquired cornelia. "i apprenticed my son to a cabinet-maker, and the first thing he sold was a s." "sofa?" said tom. "i apprenticed my daughter to a dry-goods store, and the first thing she sold was ten yards of l." "lace?" asked ellen. "no--guess again." "linen? i see that's right. i apprenticed my son to a tinman, and the first thing he sold was a n. g." "nutmeg-grater?" inquired george. "now, i apprenticed my son to a hardware man, and the first thing he sold was a p. of s." "pair of skates?" said amy. "i apprenticed my son to a book-store, and the first thing he sold was a p. b." "prayer-book? i apprenticed my daughter to a dressmaker, and the first thing she made was a v. m." "velvet mantilla?" and so the game proceeded, the questions and answers being tossed from one to another, like ball or shuttlecock, so that the general interest was kept up. "i think it high time we had our daily story," said amy. "so do i," replied her uncle; "and i commission you to tell it." "i? oh no, uncle, i'm too young. i think the older ones should have the monopoly of that trade--i wasn't apprenticed to it." "not at all--you are of suitable age to be apprenticed now, so you may consider the bargain struck. begin, my little amy, and if you break down in the middle of your tale, i'll promise to finish it myself." "very well, uncle; i feel quite tempted to fail, to inveigle you into a sensible termination to a foolish story. we often invent tales in the interval at school, and i'll give you one that my schoolmates like. it is called the rose of hesperus; a fairy tale. every one has heard of the garden of hesperus, famous in all ancient times for its exquisite beauty. its golden fruit, more precious by far than the fleece of jason, in search of which heroes perilled their lives on board the good ship argo, was watched by a terrible dragon, whose eyes were never sealed by slumber. a hundred heads belonged to the monster, a hundred flames of fire issued from his numerous throats, and a hundred voices resounded threats against the audacious being who should invade his province. hercules alone, of all the children of men, was able to overcome him: but although he then expired, the next rising sun again beheld him full of life and vigor. the dragons of earth are never annihilated. each generation has the same work to perform, has its monsters to conquer; and this it is that makes the noble heroes whom we all delight to praise. so small was the number of mortals ever favored with a sight of this earthly paradise, that it is not surprising its site is now unknown. even among the ancients, it was a matter of speculation and mystery. the majority placed it in the north of africa; and it is not improbable that travellers who for the first time beheld them, mistook for the gardens of hesperus the oases of the desert, those gems of nature which are all the more brilliant for being set in sand and clay. others again asserted that this region of delight was to be sought beyond the western main, in a lone isle if the ocean. but all agreed that it was at the west, towards the sunset, that this treasure of earth was to be found: and thence it was that the name of hesperus was bestowed upon it. strange it is, that mankind has ever followed the sun in its path; and that while human life, religious truth, and science all point to the east as their source, they hasten westward for the fulfillment of their destiny. the east belongs to the past--it is the land of memory: the west to the future--it is the land of hope: and there it is that man seeks his happiness. it is in the yet unrevealed--in the mysterious west that the golden fruits and the perennial flowers bloom for him: not in oriental climes, where, in his infancy, the garden of eden sheltered him. so great is the lust for gold, and so small the love of moral beauty among the fallen race of man, that of all the varied productions of hesperus, the golden apples alone have been mentioned in tradition and poetry. but in truth, these were far inferior to the precious roses which grew in the very centre of this paradise, and which were endowed, not only with exquisite form, hue, and fragrance, but with certain magic properties, invaluable to their possessors. if the bosom on which the flower rested were candid, pure, and kind, the rose bloomed with still richer loveliness, and emitted a delicious sweetness: and a grace was shed over the person of its owner, which grief and sickness could not dim, and old age itself was powerless to destroy. this indescribable something shone out in the eye, spoke in the voice, made the plainest features pleasing, and imparted an irresistible charm to the manner. it was as far superior to mere external beauty as the latter is to revolting ugliness. nothing could destroy it: once gained, it was a lasting heritage. but on the other hand, if this rose were possessed by the false-hearted, the sensual, and the selfish, it sickened and paled day by day, giving forth a fainter fragrance continually, until it was completely withered. and in proportion as it lost its bloom, did the hideous heart of the wearer imprint itself upon the countenance, until the eye would turn away in disgust from the most brilliant complexion and chiselled regularity of features. it acted as a moral test, making evident to the dull eye of man, ever prone to think only of outside show, the beauty or the deformity within. until the time of our story no roses had been dipt from the magic tree; and men, always ready to look to the bright side of the wonderful unknown, thought merely of the charm it could impart, and not of the danger incurred by the unlovely in heart and life. i will not attempt to fix the date of my tale with historic accuracy. it is sufficient to say that the events occurred in that period of unreasoning faith, when the myths of greece and rome were mingled in the popular mind with the fairy legends of the north; and both were baptized in the waters of christianity. it was a charming period for all lovers of romance: it was the childhood of modern europe. but i must warn you that it is in vain to search for the names of my emperors in chronological tables. they lived at a time when the historian was somewhat at a discount, and the minstrel wrote the only records, with his harp and voice, upon the memory of his hearers; save that here and there a solitary monk wore out his days in copying the treasures of antiquity, and used his imagination in embellishing the lives of saints and martyrs. when the manuscript is found which settles the exact date of king lear's reign, i cannot doubt that it will give all particulars about my kings also. in those happy, misty days, there lived an emperor of germany, hildebrand by name, a potent monarch. his court was splendid, and his retinue large and magnificent. but the chief glory of his palace, and the pride of his heart, was his daughter clotilda, whose amazing beauty formed the theme of poets' praise, and whose fame was spread far beyond the limits of the empire. her form was of queenly majesty, her movements swan-like. her glossy raven tresses set off a complexion of the greatest brilliancy: her faultless features would have served as a model to the sculptor. large, sparkling eyes gave animation to her countenance, and took all hearts by storm. add to these rare endowments a lively though malicious wit, great skill in all showy accomplishments, and especially in the arts of coquetry, and is it wonderful that she was almost worshipped in her father's court as a divinity? to win her hand, embassies were sent from distant lands, and kings even came in person to plead their cause; but, hitherto, none had been successful. the fair clotilda knew that she could choose among very many suitors, and her heart was none of the softest. besides, she was well aware that she should be no portionless bride, as she and her younger sister edith were her father's only heirs. she loved to keep many admirers in her train, but possessed too high a spirit to throw herself away upon any one inferior to herself in rank, power, or wealth. in addition to this, she had too keen a wit not to perceive and to enjoy the ridiculous, even in a suitor anxiously striving to gain her love. truth to say, the adorable clotilda had one small fault, unperceived by her worshippers, and hidden by the splendor of her beauty. she was heartless. if born with that important organ, she had early offered it up upon the altar of her own pride and vanity. deprived of her mother at a very early age, and deferred to by all around, including her imperious father, she had soon learned to issue her commands with authority, and to rule the household and the court as a mistress. love of power had now become her ruling passion, and fierce and headstrong was the will hidden under that brilliant and winning exterior. it was like a wild beast, slumbering behind a bank of roses. far different, both in person and character, was the neglected edith, who grew up in the imperial court like a sweet wild-flower, overlooked when the gorgeous exotic is nigh. her slender girlish figure, with its undeveloped grace; her airy step; her color, coming and going with the varying feelings of her quick sensibility, like the delicate pink clouds at sunset; her soft brown hair, waving around a face of child-like purity and womanly tenderness: and her large gray eye, from whose transparent depths an earnest and loving spirit looked out upon the world--these were not the traits to win admiration in a sensual, splendor-loving court, where all acknowledged the sway of clotilda. her father lavished the whole of his affection upon his elder daughter: the latter seldom noticed her, and thought her more fit for a nunnery or for a peasant's cottage, than for the station of a princess. and so edith grew to womanhood, unspoiled by flattery--that incense was reserved for clotilda's shrine. not in that crowd of selfish courtiers and of worldly women, wholly given up to dress and gayety, could the refinement and simplicity of the gentle edith be appreciated. she was with them, but not of them: hers was the loneliness most felt when in a crowd, the want of congenial companionship. her unassuming modesty and poor opinion of her own worth, saved her heart from the sharp pangs of envy at the thought of her sister's superiority: and thus, even in the impure atmosphere of the palace, did this artless maiden live on, humbly looking up to one infinitely her inferior, and dwelling in love and peace. her greatest enjoyments were of a kind despised by clotilda. it was her delight to steal away from the gay assembly, where she was never missed, and to pore over the romantic lays of troubadours and monkish legends, and to make to herself a world, different from the one in which her lot was cast. then she would be the lowly peasant-girl, singing while she worked, beloved by those for whom she toiled, and rising before the sun to deck the shrine of the virgin with flowers. or, if she were a princess, she lived but to bless and to relieve her people, and possessed the power of scattering happiness, as the beneficent night sprinkles dew-drops from her lap. from these day-dreams, the play of an active mind which had not yet found its true place in the universe, she would rouse herself to some deed of kindness, which others were too much immersed in pleasure to fulfil. if one of her maidens was ill, it was she who watched untiringly by her pillow, administering the medicines and the cooling draught. and it was she who rose by daybreak, while most of the menials of the palace were yet sleeping, and gave the daily portion of alms to the poor who waited at the gate--making the brown bread sweet by the gentle tones and kind words of sympathy. it is not strange, therefore, that edith was beloved by all the children of affliction, and that she became universally known to the common people as "the good princess." in honor of clotilda's birthday, a tournament was proclaimed, to which princes and knights from all the neighboring countries were invited. the anxiously-expected day at length arrived: the sky was cloudless, and all nature appeared to smile upon the festival. every thing was there united that could please and dazzle the eye. there were satins and damasks, cloth of gold and velvet; flowers, and cheeks more rosy; gems, and eyes more brilliant. at one end of the lists, upon his throne of gold and ivory, sat the emperor, blazing with jewels. near him stood his ministers of state, in their official robes, bearing aloft the insignia of royalty; and around him were his faithful guards, in complete armor, with drawn swords. opposite sat his queenly daughter, the beautiful clotilda, the cynosure of all admiring eyes. she was magnificently arrayed, and surrounded by a bevy of fair damsels, who shone like stars, eclipsed by the superior brightness of the moon. seated a little apart, attired in simple white with a sash of blue, and wearing no ornament save her favorite flowers, the wood-violet and the lily of the valley, was edith, gazing with unusual interest on that lively, gorgeous scene. and truly, the amphitheatre crowded with spectators, themselves a show, and the lists filled with gallant knights, whose pawing steeds seemed impatient for the combat to begin, might excite the imagination of the dullest, and was well calculated to fire her ardent spirit. unusual splendor marked this tournament, in honor of certain distinguished guests who had arrived, candidates for the hand of the princess clotilda. the most eminent among them for knightly bearing was the young duke of milan. he was handsome, proud, and imperious, but withal brave and courteous as became his gentle birth; and he was a magnificent patron of minstrels and men of letters, aiming to make his court the centre of literature and the fine arts. his personal qualities and accomplishments were such as to win for him the admiration of the fair princess, who had never before been wooed by a suitor so much to her taste. his rank and possessions were so great that all would have acknowledged the match a suitable one even for clotilda's pretensions. but a wider career of ambition was now opening before the vision of the aspiring lady. who would stoop to be a duchess, when the diadem of an empress was placed at her disposal? certainly not the princess clotilda, be her preferences what they might: she would have considered it childish folly to hesitate in her choice. and three emperors now graced the court, each provided with a numerous and splendid retinue. these daily vied with each other in gorgeous fêtes and costly presents to the proud beauty whom they hoped to win. in flowing robe of richest fabric, stiff with sparkling gems, behold the emperor of china, the sacred son of heaven, the supreme ruler of the earth! his shaven head is surmounted by a conical cap, at the crown of which one pearl of uncommon size points out his rank: beneath it hangs down a jet-black queue below his waist. his small, oblique eyes, his yellow complexion, and thin beard show him unmistakably to belong to the central flowery land. he is a heathen: but perhaps for her sake he might be baptized. at any rate, there would be little difficulty in procuring a dispensation from holy mother church, which is ever hopeful that such alliances may bring converts into her bosom. will she, can she accept him? she will at least accept his gifts and his attentions, and will decide hereafter. millions, unnumbered millions of slaves call him their lord; vast is his power and wealth; provinces would be her dowry. but would she not, herself, merely add another to his list of slaves? secluded within his palace, with many rivals to counteract her, would she not gather thorns, as well as blossoms, in the flowery land? it is a matter to be considered. but who are these two other asiatics, as they appear by their dress, fashioned in oriental magnificence? one is from the frozen north, the other from the sunny south, and they divide the east of europe between them. that pompous, formal old man, whose small heart and head are stuffed full of etiquette, and who lives and breathes only in a sense of his own importance, is the ruler of the byzantine empire. he was born in the purple chamber, and wears the purple; he eats purple, drinks purple, sleeps purple--only as the emperor does he exist--he could live as well without his head, as without his crown. he is so imbued with notions of his own dignity that he would prove a tough subject to manage. but his rival from the north is still undescribed. tremble at the sight of this ugly cossack, with small dull eye, flat nose, and bushy red beard; for in him behold the autocrat of all the russias! not yet had the genius and perseverance of peter the great introduced the arts and sciences into that vast region of snow and mental darkness. ivan, the squinter, ruled over his serfs with oriental despotism: he was ignorant, coarse, and profligate. at his feasts, the dishes were of gold from the ural mountains, and the attendants who waited upon the monarch were arrayed in all the grandeur of eastern princes; but the slightest blunder on their part subjected them to death, to the more dreaded knout, or to banishment in siberia. nominally a christian, the emperor of china is quite a saint when compared with him, and infinitely more respectable. but the czar is a fool, chiefly immersed in the pleasures of the table; and clotilda, if empress of russia, could easily seize all real power, and sway the sceptre over millions of obsequious subjects. these potentates are seated on thrones near hildebrand, to witness the spectacle. but udolpho, duke of milan, is among the combatants, mounted on a powerful charger, in armor blazing with gold: he looks like the flower of chivalry. he wears the colors of the princess clotilda, scarlet and green; and having ridden to the end of the lists, and made a lowly obeisance to his fair lady, he has returned to his place among the competitors for honor. others there are who wear the same colors, but none to compare with him in rank and knightly bearing; and as the princess gazed upon him, she wished him success. but what cavalier is this, with closed vizor, whose head towers above the rest like the cedar of lebanon above all the trees of the forest? a kingly majesty marks every motion, and notwithstanding the unusual plainness of his accoutrements, all eyes are turned upon him with interest and curiosity. he is clad in brightly-shining steel, and no heraldic emblems show his rank. his moorish page bears before him his shield, upon the black ground of which one blooming rose, and the motto _quero_, "i seek," form the only device. he is an utter stranger to all: yet both emperor and princess command the herald to discover who he is. that he is illustrious, none can doubt. a blue ribbon, worn upon his arm, shows that he has not enlisted himself among the admirers of the lady clotilda: in whose honor can he wear it? when the heralds have taken the oath of the combatants that they will in all respects obey the laws of chivalry in the approaching conflict, the names and titles of those who were about to engage in it were called aloud, with the sound of the trumpet. when the unknown knight was courteously requested to announce his name, he gave that of "the knight of the blooming rose." the mystery as to who he could be increased the interest felt in him; and as one after another of the cavaliers was unhorsed by his firm and skilful arm and rolled in the dust, the excitement became intense. the grand duke udolpho had also greatly distinguished himself, and it was soon very evident that the victory would lie between these two. clotilda's sympathies were enlisted on the side of udolpho: edith's, for the knight of the blooming rose, whose success she watched with breathless interest. the contest was not long undetermined: the shouts of the populace, and the waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs by fair hands, soon proclaimed the unknown cavalier to be the victor. escorted by the heralds he approached the emperor, who, after pronouncing a eulogy upon his bravery and skill, threw round his neck a costly chain, and placed in his hand the wreath to be worn by the queen of love and beauty, whose duty it should be to preside over the games during the remainder of the week, and to distribute prizes to the winners. it was his envied privilege to confer this dignity upon the lady who was fairest in his eyes. as he rode round the barriers, gazing at the numberless lovely faces assembled there, many a heart thrilled with emotion; and as he passed the princess clotilda, surprise, mortification, and resentment could only too plainly be traced upon her countenance. never before had she been so slighted. but when the knight stopped before the lady edith, and kneeling down, besought her to confer dignity upon the office of queen of love and beauty by filling it, the young girl's astonishment was great, as she had not for a moment thought of herself as a candidate for the honor. quickly recovering herself, however, with the native courtesy of the high-born lady, agreeably to the manners of the day, she raised the cavalier, and taking off her blue sash, fastened it round his waist with her own hands, begging him to wear it as her knight, and ever to prove himself faithful and brave. thus ended the first day's tournament. meanwhile, the burghers and yeomanry joined in the general festivity, having wrestling-matches, quoits and bowls, and various other rural games. a purse of gold was conferred upon the victors, and barrels of beer were continually running for the benefit of the public. the noble guests were invited to a banquet at the palace, which was to be repeated daily during the continuance of the games. the knight of the blooming rose was, of course, a prominent person in these gay assemblies, and his noble person and courtly bearing greatly excited the admiration of the ladies of clotilda's circle. but while courteous to all, his marked deference to the gentle edith plainly showed that he was faithful to his allegiance. it was a new experience to the timid girl to be thus singled out in preference to the more brilliant beauties around her; and while it raised her in the estimation of others, it gave a decision and self-possession to her character in which it was previously deficient. and the intimate intercourse which she thus enjoyed with a kindred mind of high cultivation, earnest thought, and large acquaintance with mankind, gave a stimulus to her mental powers which only human sympathy can impart. the emperor himself was greatly pleased with the gallant knight, and frequently honored him with confidential conversation. and yet no one could discover who he was. free and unreserved in his communications with those around him, when this subject was approached, his lips were sealed in silence, and a certain dignity of manner warned off all intrusion. efforts were made to arrive at the truth through the medium of his page; but the noble-looking moor was a mute, and would only hold intercourse with those around him by gestures and expressive looks. in the succeeding days of the tournament, various games of knightly skill and prowess engaged the attention of the competitors for honors, and in all of them did our cavalier come off victorious. in the use of the bow he was unrivalled, ever piercing the centre of the target, and bringing down the bird upon the wing. udolpho of milan was the second in distinction, and the two were united by a generous friendship. the last day was a trial of minstrelsy. in this, also, the knight of the blooming rose bore the palm away from all his rivals, both professional and amateur. accompanying himself upon the harp, he sang spirit-stirring lays which awakened the enthusiasm of all his auditors. in the evening, the emperor requested him to give the meaning of his motto, and of the emblem on his shield. taking the harp, and striking up a bold and brilliant prelude which gradually arranged itself into a simple air of great beauty, he sang as follows: "not wealth nor trappings proud, nor shouts of envying crowd, that swell both long and loud, 'i seek.' "no jewels from the mine, nor gold, so pure and fine, nor generous, sparkling wine, 'i seek.' "soft pleasure's bonds are vain-- i feel for them disdain; and still, through toil and pain, 'i seek.' "it is not kingly crown-- that subjects may kneel down, and tremble at my frown-- 'i seek.' "to keep my knightly oath, be faithful to my troth, to god and jesu both, 'i seek.' "to help the poor that cry-- to wipe the widow's eye-- to humble tyrants high, 'i seek.' "the maiden weak to save, to free the christian slave, and punish impious knave, 'i seek.' "at noblest deeds i aim. to win a lofty name upon the roll of fame, 'i seek.' "to pluck the magic rose in hesperus which grows, and fadeless beauty knows, 'i seek.' "to wear it on my breast-- there may it ever rest!-- honor and truth to test, 'i seek.' "to lay it at the feet of noble lady sweet: for her an off'ring meet! 'i seek.' "to win fair edith's praise-- merit the poet's lays-- grow nobler all my days-- 'i seek.'" "and is it really the wonderful rose of hesperus which you seek?" asked the monarch: "that magic flower hitherto unplucked by mortals? bring one to each of my daughters, and i here pledge you my word that you shall wed one of them, if you can gain her consent!" the knight, full of gratitude, knelt down to express his thanks. he then told the emperor and the listening edith in what manner he had been led to take the vow to acquire these precious roses, and to place this emblem upon his shield. he had been engaged in defence of his native land against the invader and the oppressor, but his efforts, and those of a small, brave band of friends, had been wholly in vain: his country was crushed by the ruthless heel of despotism. on that night when it had been agreed in assembled council that all resistance was fruitless, and that nothing now remained for patriots but to seek freedom in exile, after tossing in troubled slumbers, he had been visited with a calming and inspiring dream. he saw bending over him a lovely female form, which he knew instinctively to be that of his guardian angel. she was clothed in white, and a soft light streamed out from her soul. the morning before the tournament, as he rode along at break of day, he had seen the princess edith bending down to speak encouragement to a poor cripple, and he had at once recognized the earthly form of which he had then seen the glorified image. the angel spoke, and commanded him not to yield to despair: she had work for him still to do. she said that, with her help, he should pluck roses from the gardens of hesperus, which mortal man had never yet done. she gave him exact directions how to reach the spot where the invisible gate was placed, through which alone he could enter the charmed paradise. only at sunrise, upon the repetition of a form of words, which she gave him, could a brave knight, of unsullied honor and purity, obtain admittance. and only at sunset could he leave, upon reciting the same formula. and then telling him that the accomplishment of this feat would lead to the fulfilment of his destiny, and that a crown yet awaited him, she had suddenly vanished, leaving a smile upon the air. the next day, having bid adieu to his friends at court, the cavalier departed with his moorish page. they travelled in a southwesterly direction, towards the mediterranean sea. it is worthy of remark, that when they had passed away from towns and populous districts, the page rode alongside of his master, instead of following at his former humble distance. and, miraculous as it may appear, it is very certain that they no longer conversed together by signs, but with audible sounds. at length they reached the borders of the sea. following it for a few days, they came to a lofty rock: here they alighted, and searching carefully along the water's edge, the knight perceived a small entrance, so covered up by overhanging grass and ferns that one unacquainted with its existence could never have detected it. entering, they found themselves in a lofty and spacious cave, where nature had amused herself by uniting in strange confusion the odd and the beautiful. the roof was hung with sparkling stalactites, and wonderful forms were ranged around. there was an organ, with its numerous pipes--but the wind was the only musician. there was a lofty throne--but the king was not yet born who would fill it with dignity. there was a pulpit--but solitude was the only preacher. strange shapes, like those in a hindoo rock-temple, were ranged along into the darkness. stars and flowers of crystal were strewed around, and the grotto looked like a fit abode for sylphids or fairies. the deep blue water formed a lake in the centre, upon the bosom of which a small boat lay sleeping like a swan. when the knight and his page had sufficiently admired the beauties of the place, the cavalier advanced to the edge of the lagoon and called the boat. it instantly waked up, and came like a living thing to crouch at his feet. the two friends stepped into it, and it shot out of the cave into the broad open sea, darting across the water with the speed of the wind. no visible means of motion could be detected; no sail or oars were there in the fairy boat--there was nothing mechanical about it; but it sped on its way like a water-bird or a graceful nautilus. once, indeed, gazing into deep blue water, the knight fancied that he saw a soft white hand, with rings of pearl and bracelet of coral, guiding it in its course; but if this were not the effect of his heated fancy, the hand was at least speedily withdrawn, and he saw it no more. when the moon had risen upon the expanse of waters, which reflected her image, breaking it into a thousand fragments--while the waves danced up to greet her bright face, like children clamoring for a mother's kiss--the little boat ran into a quiet inlet, and stopped to let its passengers alight. they rested that night in an orange-grove, and awoke refreshed, to begin their search while the bright morning-star was still shining. at the break of day they arrived at lofty perpendicular rocks, which, after pursuing a straight line, suddenly formed a right-angle. here the knight and his companion stopped, and turning to the east, awaited the sunrise. at the moment when the glorious orb of day started up from his couch, impatient to commence his course, the cavalier spoke: "open, thou gate of stone, for the hour has come, and the man." at these words, with a noise like that of thunder, the rock was rent asunder, and a wide passage was opened, through which the friends proceeded. it had appeared to be a lofty chain of mountains, but they were soon at the end of it, and came out into the open air. but an obstacle opposed itself. a huge dragon, ladon the terrible, reared up his hundred heads, his eyes flashing fire and fury, his mouths emitting baleful flames and pestilential breath, his tail, covered with metallic scales of green, scarlet, and blue, coiling away to a great distance. the page drew his sword; but the knight took a little black book and aimed it at the volcanic heads. it was a holy book, and the names therein quenched the threatening fire and quelled the rage of the monster, who sank back exhausted upon the green sod, and slept the sleep of death. "that little book can do more than the sword," remarked the cavalier. they proceeded onward: the earthly paradise was unfolded to their view; the air was balmy, and laden with rich fragrance from the numberless flowers around; but instead of filling the spirit with soft languor, and indisposing the body to exertion, the gentle breezes imparted new vigor to the frame, and the buoyant, hilarious feelings of early youth shot through the veins, making the thoughtful eye sparkle, and giving to the grave foot of saddened maturity the elasticity of childhood. a new, unsuspected power of enjoyment was awakened in the bosom of the friends, combining somewhat of the gladness of the child, and the ardor of the youth--qualities, alas, how transitory!--with the appreciating taste and refined feelings of riper years. many faculties lie dormant in our nature: the capacity for much higher happiness is one of them; and it will be awakened in the breast of all the good in the resurrection morn. they may have lain down to die, weary and heart sore, but they shall find that "light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." with joyful spirits, their eyes drinking in beauty, and their ears harmony, the knight and his comrade moved along, guided by wayward fancy. here a sparkling, dancing rivulet would entice them to follow its course, amid mossy rocks, flowery banks, and drooping trees, which whispered their secrets to its babbling waves; and then suddenly it would vanish into the earth, like a child playing at hide-and-seek, gurgling a merry laugh at its bewildered followers. at every step a new beauty was unfolded. now the brilliancy of hue and splendor of coloring in the sky, the flowers, the birds, filled their minds with admiration: but when they wandered into the deep, cool woods, with their sober tints, and their mysterious whispers, they gave the latter the preference. and when they left these green recesses, and viewed the extensive landscape opened before them--gently swelling hills, distant mountains, and the boundless ocean--then they wondered that more limited scenery could have given such entire satisfaction. climbing among the rocks, wild and sublime views, of a rugged grandeur, prepared their souls for nature's masterpiece, the foaming waterfall. down the stupendous precipice rolled the torrent, masses upon masses of water, almost lost to the eye in the dark distance below; while, above, the gorgeous rainbow closed it in, as if a crown of glory were bestowed upon it in recompense for its agony. and day and night a voice might be heard from its mighty heart, "i can endure forever and forever." then the friends felt how deep is that bliss which takes away all words--they felt how great a joy there is in awe. descending from these heights, soft scenes of beauty attracted their gaze. the setting sun threw its mellow light over a landscape of italian character; it seemed as if nature and art were here combined to make perfection. statues of rare loveliness took them by surprise when strolling over the grassy walks, or sauntering under the deep umbrage of the trees; mossy grottoes, adorned with shells, invited them to repose; unexpected openings in the woods revealed vistas beyond, exciting to the imagination. lakes of crystal clearness reflected the fleecy clouds, and the snowy forms of the swans upon their azure surface; and gold and silver fishes chased each other through their pellucid waves. birds of brilliant plumage came there to lave in the pure water, and then shaking off the diamonds from their wings, rose into the air with a gush of melody, pouring out their souls to their maker. and all gentle and exquisite creatures were met together in that spot, to glad the eye with life--the soft-eyed gazelle, the swift antelope, the graceful stag, the java deer, smallest of its kind: nothing was absent which could add beauty and variety to the scene. amid such innocent joys, drinking in poetry at its very fount, several days were passed, each shorter than the one preceding. their hunger was satisfied with delicious fruits; and when weary, a natural couch of moss received them, and the trees locked their arms together, and bent over them, as if to keep off all harm, if harm could have existed in that place. it seemed that life could glide away in perfect bliss in those gardens of beauty, where naught repulsive or annoying could enter, and delight succeeded delight. could glide away, did i say?--not there; for in the centre of that paradise flowed the fountain of eternal youth, and over its brink hung the bush whose magic roses were famed abroad. the sight of them awoke the sleeping energies of the noble and resolute knight. "and shall i falsify my motto?" said he. "shall the bliss of the present satisfy me, while so much remains unaccomplished--while might is triumphant over right, innocence is oppressed, and brute force bears rule upon the earth? shall i lap my soul in indolent ease while the work of life is before me? not so: still must i seek what is higher, purer, nobler; still must my heart pant for excellence; still must i learn bravely to endure." speaking thus, he plucked three roses from the magic tree, and placed them upon his breast, and as the sun approached the western horizon, the comrades drew near to the gate which separated them from the world of common life. the stony barrier opened before the charmed words, and when they had emerged from its gloom, closed again with a clap of thunder. never since has mortal man profaned those regions of unclouded happiness. their little fairy skiff speedily conveyed them to the cave, and with the early morning they resumed their journey. their route lay, as before, through an attractive country, and the peasants, in picturesque costumes, were engaged in the various labors of rural life: but how changed did all at first appear! it seemed as if scales had fallen off their eyes, showing coarseness and deformity, where previously none had appeared. they had tasted the rapture of a more beautiful life; and now the ordinary toils of humanity appeared "stale, flat, and unprofitable," and common men and women tedious, rude, and mean. but the brave knight struggled against this feeling. "shall we be so ungrateful, because a glimpse of the earthly paradise has been vouchsafed us, as to sink into idle, repining dreamers? shall we allow the visions of fancy, or the charms of nature, to steal away our hearts from human sympathy? rather let these remembered joys excite us to fresh effort; let the useful and the good be ever clad with beauty, in our eyes; let us act as men, strive and be strong in our rightful purposes, sure that in the end the true will ever prove to be the beautiful." he might have said, in the language of a modern poet, "i slept, and dream'd that life was beauty; i woke, and found that life was duty: was then thy dream a shadowy lie? toil on, sad heart, courageously, and thou shall find thy dream to be a noonday light and truth to thee." in due time, they arrived at the imperial court. some important events had taken place during their absence. the splendors of royalty had not been able to preserve the emperor from a loathsome disease, from which his attendants fled away in horror. the princess clotilda could not endanger her beauty by approaching his side; neither did the cares and toils of a sick-bed comport with her views of life. but edith now took her rightful position, and by her fearless example recalled those around her to a sense of duty. she was her father's gentle, untiring nurse: his wishes were forestalled, his fretfulness soothed, and his thoughts directed to higher things. she rose in her father's love day by day, as he felt her worth; and bitterly did he now think of the undeserved slight with which she had been treated, while the ungrateful clotilda had been his pride. he was at present recovering from his illness; but he felt himself unequal to the labors of his position, and had seriously resolved to lay down the crown and sceptre, that he might end his days in peace. he had announced the day when his daughters should fix upon one of the suitors for their hands, and when the assembly of barons and knights should decide upon the successor to his throne. the knight of the blooming rose was gladly welcomed back to court. in the emperor's presence, he presented the magic flower to each of his fair daughters,--his own bloomed sweetly upon his breast, proving the purity and fidelity of his heart. edith's cheek was pale, from her late watchings; but never had she looked more lovely than when she placed the rose upon her bosom; her face was glorified by its expression. and clotilda's ill-concealed scorn and jealousy not only detracted from her queenly beauty, but the flower paled as it touched her breast--pride and worldliness, and every selfish passion, had swayed her being too long, to be repressed at a moment's notice--like the fumes of poison, they were taking away the life of the precious rose. it was impossible that the contrast should not be noticed: comparisons were made which filled the mind of the despotic clotilda with rage against her unoffending sister; and the more violent her evil passions became, the fainter grew the perfume of her flower, and the more fading its hue. not all the flattery of her adorers could restore her equanimity; and her face showed, only too plainly, the workings of the evil spirit within. at last the day approached when the fate of the empire and of so many individuals was to be decided. clotilda, meantime, consistent in her desire for universal sway, received the homage of all her admirers, but refused to declare her preference until the day of public betrothal--the day when she proudly expected to be hailed as empress. her numerous suitors indulged in flattering hopes, each for himself; while all agreed in pitying the delusion of the rest. the electors met in the audience-chamber, which was splendidly decorated for the occasion: all the dignitaries of the state, and the great nobility were assembled, presenting a very imposing spectacle. the emperor was seated upon a throne, but the crown and sceptre, whose weight he felt himself unequal longer to endure, lay upon a cushion at his side. the people, in a dense mass, thronged the courtyard of the palace, anxious to know the result of the election, and to hail the new lord of the land. at the appointed hour, the doors were flung open, and the two royal brides entered, followed by their maids of honor. clotilda, self-possessed in her proud beauty, looked like a queen indeed. she was magnificently dressed, and the pale, scentless rose upon her breast was almost hidden by diamonds. but many there turned their eyes from her handsome, haughty face, to gaze upon young edith, who leaned upon the arm of her betrothed, the unknown knight. they wondered that they had never before remarked the exquisite delicacy and sensibility of her countenance, the very exponent of the beautiful soul within, which flashed out brightly as if through a transparent covering. when in repose, the calm and happy expression reminded the beholder of the deep purity and peace of the sunny sky--when moved by passing thoughts and feelings, of the same heavens, ever heavenly, over which the fleecy clouds are driven by the wind, in varying shapes and hues. edith's dress, though elegant, was as simple as consisted with her rank. the pearls and white jasmine in her hair well became her, and the magic rose upon her breast adorned her as no jewels could, and filled the chamber with its rich, refreshing fragrance. as the sisters stood, one on each side of their father, they might well have passed for types of spiritual and sensual beauty--of heaven and earth. the emperor arose, and addressed the assembly. he said that the cares of state weighed too heavily upon his feeble old age, and that his most earnest wishes were now directed to a tranquil retirement, in which he should enjoy the leisure he required for preparations to meet the king of kings. that his daughters were before them--he wished to see the diadem encircling the youthful brow of one, whichever they should choose. but well he knew that a firm and valiant arm was needed to sway the sceptre, and that an experienced mind must govern the nation; and therefore it was his will that the princesses should this day make known their choice of a consort from among the many candidates for their hands. his younger daughter, edith, had already plighted her faith, with his entire approval, to the stranger knight. no kingdom awaited her, for her betrothed was a landless exile; but the fame of his valor and wisdom had gone throughout the earth--and in the future husband of his daughter he now presented to them one whom he was proud to claim as a son--arthur, prince of britain, the renowned champion of christendom! at these words, shouts of enthusiastic joy rent the hall. when the tumult was hushed, the emperor called upon the suitors of the princess clotilda to come forward. the rival sovereigns approached, among whom the duke of milan was conspicuous for dignity and knightly courtesy. all wished him success; but clotilda passed him by, and placed her hand within that of the czar. at that moment, a sound was heard throughout the hushed room, resembling somewhat a deep sigh and an expiring groan--it proceeded from the rose, which fell from her bosom, shrivelled and lifeless. an expression of disdainful rage rendered her face almost repulsive, as she noticed the sensation excited by the circumstance, and the cold, gloomy silence with which her choice was received. after a short conference, the electors reported that they had chosen arthur of britain and the princess edith to be their lawful sovereigns. hildebrand then led them to a balcony, and presented them to the people; and loud and enthusiastic were the shouts of the populace: "long live our emperor, arthur the brave! long live the good princess!" the plaudits were echoed far and wide. the achievements of the noble arthur, and the kind deeds of "the good princess," formed the theme of the fireside-tale in the humble cottage, and of the troubadour's lay in castle and banquetting-hall. arthur, who in britain was mourned as dead, or as lying in enchanted sleep with his good sword excalibar at his side, ready to start up to his country's rescue in some hour of future peril--enjoyed, instead, a happier fate. long and glorious was his reign: the wicked fled away from his presence, like mists before the sun; the upright rejoiced under his protection, and peace reigned throughout all the borders of the empire. excalibar was sheathed: no foes dared to invade the land. brightly and sweetly bloomed the magic roses, which once grew on the same tree in the earthly paradise, and which were now seldom far asunder; flourishing, in their transplanted state, upon hearts which diffused a moral paradise of love and purity around them. and what became of the imperious clotilda? enraged at the decision of the electors, and at her father's acquiescence, she soon left the imperial court to accompany her lord to his distant empire. there her life passed unhappily enough amid the rude magnificence and brutal amusements of the palace. she did not find that ivan was easily managed, as she had hoped: fools seldom are--it requires a portion of good sense to perceive our deficiencies, and to allow the superiority of others. they became more and more estranged, both giving way to the evil passions most natural to them. ivan, indulging in sensual pleasures, became more and more brutified; and clotilda, yielding up her soul to the dominion of pride, hatred, and violence, became so embittered against her unfortunate husband that she compassed his death by violence, and seized the crown, reigning in the name of her infant son, constantine. and never, under the most despotic sovereigns, had the iron rule been exercised with more unrelenting vigor than during the reign of clotilda the terrible. but a day of vengeance was at hand. a secret conspiracy was formed, at the head of which her young son was placed: the palace was seized in the night, and the murderess was hurried away to a distant fortress, where she spent the remainder of her unhappy life--the victim of her own ungoverned passions. "how i wish that i possessed such a magic rose!" said alice bolton. "it might cure my unfortunate pug nose--i should so love to be beautiful!" "you own such a rose, my dear girl," said her uncle. "it is invisible, but i often perceive its fragrance. each one of you carries such an indicator of character and feeling about with you, wherever you go. we may as well call it a rose as any thing else." "but what can you mean, uncle? do you mean our tell-tale faces?" "nothing else. it is one of the many proofs of beneficent design in the formation of our frame, than we can scarcely help giving a timely warning to others of the evil passions which may fill our breasts. the angry man becomes inflamed or livid with rage before his arm is raised to strike--just as the rattle-snake is heard before he darts upon his victim. and so with the gentle and kind emotions. friendly feeling softens the eye and soothes the heart before the tongue utters a sound. then take my advice, my dear nephews and nieces, if you wish to be attractive now, seek moral beauty, and the external will follow, in some degree here below, and completely in a better world. you can afford to wait." chapter ix. new-year's day.--characters, or who am i?--quotations.--acting charades.--riddles. "a very happy new-year to you, aunt and uncle!" "the same to you, dear children! and may each one in your lives be happier than the last!" "as the spaniards say, 'may you live a thousand years!'" cried charlie bolton. "i feel glad that wish is an impossible one," answered mr. wyndham, with a smile. "how tired the world would be of seeing me, and how weary i should be of life! no, no, my boy--i hope when my season of active labor shall be closed, and i can no more be useful to my fellow-men, that my kind father in heaven will grant me a mansion above, where time is swallowed up in eternity." there was service in the morning in the pretty little country church. strange that this beautiful and appropriate mode of commencing the new-year, which is so general in continental europe, should be frequently neglected here! it appears so very natural, upon entering upon a new division of time, to consecrate its commencement by acknowledgments of our dependence upon the great creator. at least, so thought the family party assembled at the grange; and they were amply rewarded for the effort it cost them by the joyful, hopeful nature of the services, which were intended to lead the soul to repose upon god with unshaken trust for all future time. in the evening, it was agreed that there should be no story, but that games and conversation should fill up the time. mary proposed a new game she had heard of, "_characters, or who am i?_" while one left the room, the rest agreed upon some historical personage who was to be represented by the absentee upon his return. when he re-entered, unconscious whether he was a nero or a howard, they addressed him in a manner suitable to his rank and character, and he replied in such a way as to elicit further information in regard to the important question, "who am i?" as he grew more sure of his own identity with the illustrious person whose deeds they alluded to, his answers would become more unequivocal, until at last he could announce that he had solved that difficult problem, "know thyself." an amusing state of puzzle--a dreamy feeling that you might be anybody in the world, was found to pervade the first replies. cornelia, who led the way in assuming a character, declared that she felt like the little woman in mother goose's melodies, "if i be's i, as i suppose i be, i have a little dog at home, and he knows me!" and that when she found out who she really was, it was as grateful to her as was the little dog's joyous bark to the unfortunate woman, doubtful of her own identity. when cornelia entered, mary said to her: "does your majesty feel very sore from your fall?" "very little bruised, indeed." "physically, i presume that you feel nothing; but you must suffer mentally," remarked ellen. "for a queen to be so disgraced, and for a moment's pride to be brought down to the rank of a subject, and of a divorced wife, is indeed a dreadful fate." "a lofty mind," replied cornelia, "can bear reverses." "true," rejoined charlie. "i rejoice to see your majesty bear up so nobly: it is well that pride can sustain you in adversity, since it occasioned your descent. and yet, do you know, most sovereign lady, i have always entertained the idea that the reason you refused, in obedience to your royal husband's command, to unveil your beauty to the court, was not so much modesty and pride, as the fact of an unfortunate pimple upon your nose, and a sty upon your eye, which had the effect of making you look uncommonly ugly." "shame, ungallant sir! never, unless my silver mirror deceived me, did i look more lovely. but if the laws of the medes and persians cannot be changed, neither can the modest customs of their women be altered, even at the command of the king, of ahasuerus himself. i stand here, a martyr to the rights of my sex: i, vashti, queen of persia, and of all the ends of the earth, have proved myself to be strong in will, and the champion of womanhood. i shall appear before all eyes as the first asserter of woman's rights. but oh! that jewish girl! that modest, shrinking, beauteous, hateful esther! that _she_ should wear my crown!" "well done, cornelia! you have entered into the spirit of the game. and now charlie should go out, as you caught the idea from him." upon charlie's re-entrance, alice spoke: "did dante's genius inspire you, gifted mortal, or did you sit so long at the feet of isaiah, that your harp caught up some of the tones of his?" "don't know, ma'am, indeed. couldn't possibly give you any information on that subject. scarcely knew i was much of a poet until you told me." "a man like you," said ellen, "did not write for the unthinking multitude, but for the select number who could appreciate. 'fit audience, though few,' is what you ask for. how shameful is it that such worth and genius should languish in obscurity, in a pleasure-seeking age! and that, while court minions rolled in luxury, you should sell your glorious poem for the paltry sum of ten pounds!" "it was really too bad," replied charlie. "and the money went very fast, too." "and yet," answered amy, "you were never of prodigal habits. you lived simply, in the country: your supper was of bread and milk; your greatest pleasure, to play upon the organ, or to listen to the music of others. you retired early to rest: to be sure, you often awoke in the night, your brain so filled with visions of beauty that you felt obliged to arouse your daughter, that she might write them down, and so they were saved for the benefit of future ages." "what do people think," said charlie, "about my waking up my daughter, instead of taking the trouble to write down my poetry myself?" "how could you, when you are stone-blind? and of what great consequence was it that one common-place girl should sleep an hour or two later in the morning, when such strains as yours were in question? a dutiful daughter would feel honored by acting as your amanuensis, even in the night season. true, the girl did grumble occasionally, being afflicted with some portion of human weakness; and those who do not love inspiring strains have called you cross, in consequence. but you should no more regard these things than samson--your own samson agonistes--caved for the mockings of the philistines." "of man's first disobedience"--began charlie. "hurrah! i feel quite elevated since i have become miltonic. and yet, do you know, i would rather wear a strait-waistcoat than try long to sustain such a character as that. i couldn't do it, indeed." "i think you could not," replied tom. "now tell us whose speech gave you the first impression of being milton?" "oh, amy's, to be sure. so go out, little amy, and we'll try to find some very angelic character for you to fill." when amy returned, anna spoke: "what remarkable worldly prosperity! and yet, though a strikingly handsome woman, with polished manners, and italian craftiness, you do not look happy." "i am not--my heart is not at ease." "nor your conscience either," rejoined charlie. "unless you have found some way to polish that, to make it match your face and manners, i should think your majesty might find your conscience rather a disagreeable companion." "my majesty is not accustomed to rebuke." "i know it--and if i were in france, i should fear that some of your italian powders might be sprinkled in my food or wine, in consequence. but i wonder when i think of you--a simple duke's daughter--being raised to the throne; and not only that, but of your ruling so absolutely over the three kings, your sons. mother-in-law to one of the greatest kings of france, and to the most renowned of beautiful, suffering queens, what more do you want to make you celebrated?" "one thing only," answered amy. "the massacre of st. bartholomew will carry my name down to posterity. my daughter-in-law, mary, queen of scotts, was interesting, but i am great. she could kill one husband: i, catharine de medici, will not say how many men groaned out my name that night." "and now," said ellen, "let us play _quotations_. one quotes a well-known passage from some book, and if another mentions the author, she is entitled to propose the next passage. it all depends for interest upon our cleverness; so brighten up your wits, cousins mine." "as i'm a poet," said charlie, "i'll give you this: 'the poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven.'" "shakspeare!" cried tom. "now where does this come from: 'the better part of valor is--discretion.'" "shakspeare again," replied alice. "and in what book do you find this passage, which corroborates that noble sentiment: 'he that fights and runs away, may live to fight another day.'" "in butler's hudibras, i believe," rejoined ellen. "and where may that truth be found, which evidently is intended only for boys and men--'use every man after his desert, and who shall escape whipping?'" "of course it was said by no one else than will shakspeare, the deer-stealer--he knew it held good of himself, and was indulgent to others. and who was it that wrote this epitaph: 'underneath this stone doth lie as much beauty as can die: which in life did harbor give to more virtue than can live.'" "that was 'rare ben jonson,' i am sure," replied alice. "if her pale ghost could have blushed, i think it would, at such lofty and exquisite praise. for my part, i could say, 'speak of me as i am; nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.'" "that's shakspeare again," cried charlie. "it is surprising how many passages come into one's head from that wonderful man's works. where is this to be found: 'god tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.'" "in the bible, of course--though i do not remember in what part," said mary. "think again," replied charlie, "for you are quite wrong: it can never be found in the bible." "oh, but i'm sure it is there: i'll get a concordance and find the passage in a minute." accordingly she did so, but was obliged to acknowledge herself defeated: it was nowhere to be discovered. "since you are at a loss, i can set you right, for once," said mrs. wyndham. "the passage is to be found in sterne's works: i have myself heard it quoted in the pulpit as from the bible, and many people really think that it is. here's another: 'when greek meets greek, then comes the tug of war.'" "that's from shakspeare, i know," answered tom. "'tis from troilus and cressida, i imagine--that is a greek play." "then find it, my boy," said mrs. wyndham, handing him mrs. cowden clarke's elaborate volume. "it is not in the whole book," replied tom, after a diligent search, laying down the volume, with a face as blank as the leaves at the end. "if it is not in shakspeare, i give up." "'how poor are they, that have not patience!'" cried cornelia. "can you tell us where that piece of wisdom may be found?" "yes--in shakspeare--the same author who writes 'this was the most unkindest cut of all!'" "i thought of that passage concerning the greek, which seems to have baffled you all," rejoined mrs. wyndham, "because i was once a whole year on the watch to discover it. it happened to be quoted at a little literary gathering, and none of us could tell the author, although it was 'familiar in our mouths as household words.' we agreed to search for it, but it was full a year before i found it, in looking over the play--quite a celebrated one--entitled 'the rival queens,' by poor nat. lee, commonly called the 'crazy poet.' alexander the great is the hero." "we know so many quotations at second-hand," said mrs. wyndham, "that i like this game: it will set us to hunting up the original passages, and seeing their connections. if people would act upon this principle, of going to head-quarters, with regard to history--and in private life too--how many mistakes might be saved." "and now, just to keep us from becoming too wise," cornelia chimed in, "i propose that we act charades. a group of us will arrange the plot in the library, and when we open the door, the rest of you must guess from our actions what word we intend to depict. we'll choose one of several syllables, so that there will be repeated opportunities given you to sharpen your wits. and if you should conjecture the whole word before we are through, please not to spoil sport by telling it." "we are all obedience," was the reply: and cornelia, charlie, and george, after a whispered consultation, and a foraging expedition into the housekeeper's room, shut themselves up in the library. soon the door was thrown open, and the three were seen gravely seated at a small table, sipping imaginary tea, while cornelia, as hostess, was anxious to fill her part by replenishing their cups. "tea," "tea," sounded from every part of the room, and the door was closed. when again opened, the three cousins were disclosed in the very height of enjoyment: charlie's mirth-provoking face, cornelia's gay laugh, and george's loud and long haw-haw, quite upset the gravity of the spectators, and peal after peal of laughter rewarded the trio. "how merry we are!" said aunt lucy. as she spoke the word, the door was shut, showing that the right expression had been used. when re-opened, cornelia was discovered carefully arranging charlie's cravat. "shall i make a sailor's knot, or how shall i fix it?" "give it a plain tie, if you please." there was little difficulty in discovering that the word was _temerity_; and to make "assurance doubly sure," the whole of it was acted out. george and cornelia stood up, holding hands, while charlie, who had in a marvellously short time metamorphosed himself into a minister, with gown, bands, and book, put to the former the question, "will you take this woman to be your lawful wife?" "i will," responded george. "will you take this man to be your lawful husband?" "no, i will not," answered cornelia, hysterically. "you will not? what, madam, is the reason of this change of purpose? have you not well considered the matter?" "no, i have not--i have been very rash--i never saw him till yesterday!" "what _temerity_!" exclaimed the clergyman reprovingly, and the door was closed, amid great laughter. when it was re-opened, george was found seated in the centre of the room, under the hands of the doctor, who was examining his eye; while cornelia, with an appearance of great anxiety, held the light. "is it out yet?" "no, doctor: i feel it still--how it hurts!" thereupon the doctor produced a formidable instrument from his pocket, and appeared about to gouge out the eye by way of curing it; and the door was closed amid cries of "eye!" "eye!" "eye!"--quite parliamentary, as charlie said. the second scene disclosed cornelia apparently engaged in household avocations, which were interrupted by a rap at the door. she gave admittance to a man and boy who were peddling tin wares, and there ensued such a sounding of tin-pans, and such a chaffering about tins, that no doubt could exist in the minds of the spectators as to the word. to act out the third syllable, cornelia and george were seated at a table, with lamp and books, when a knock was heard, and a traveller, with carpet-bag and umbrella, entered the room. he had lost his way--he was going to the town of certainty, in the land of theoretical speculation, and wanted some plain directions. "oh, i can tell you exactly how to get there," cried cornelia. "keep along this road, the highway of inquiry, until you find it bends off to the left into the path of metaphysics. the path becomes narrower and more difficult continually, and many side-walks lead off to other spots: one, to the wilderness of atheism; another, to the populous city of thinkasyouplease; still another, to the dangerous bog of alldoubt. but if you follow the right road, you cannot possibly err." "much obliged: i'll try to keep the path." presently, the traveller returned, in a battered condition: he had wandered from the right track; his cloak of philosophical reason had been torn by the briers of difficulty; his feet pierced, through the shoes of intellectual pride, by the sharp stones of suffering: he could not hear of any town of certainty in the whole country of theoretical speculation. "i believe we have all made a mistake," replied george. "we erred in giving you a wrong direction: you erred in following it. certainty is situated in the land of truth: follow this highway of inquiry in the opposite direction, until it leads you to a well-trodden road formed by the juncture of faith and facts; and then you cannot fail to reach certainty. my sister fancy misled you into error." and when the company in the sitting-room cried out "err," "err," the shutting of the door showed they were not mistaken. for the last scene, aunt lucy was called into requisition, and formed the central object of the exhibition. but little wit was required to make, of the whole, the word _itinerant_. "now for a few puzzles and conundrums," cried charlie, "i have one which i think none of you can guess. who are the most immoral of manufacturers? do you give it up?" "i have heard the answer--we could not guess it, as it consists of puns," replied mary. "those who make you _steel_ pens, and then say they do _write_." "here's another. why is the clock the most humble of all things?" "because it covers its face with its hands, and is continually running itself down." "when is it in a passion?" "when it is ready to strike one." "pray, what can be the difference between joan of arc and noah's ark?" "one was made of gopher-wood--the other was maid of orleans." "two persons met in the street, and one of them said, 'i am _your_ son, but you are not _my_ father.' how could that be?" "it could not be, charlie!--how could it?" said lewis. "it might be, if the person happened to be his mother," answered mary, with a laugh. "it is that, of course--how silly we all are!" "my first is on the table, and under the table; my second is a kind of grain; my third and fourth combined, form what the most romantic people cannot well dispense with; and my whole is one of the united states." "let us see--california? no. massachusetts will not do, nor connecticut. oh, i have it: it is _matrimony_--not always a united state, however!" "you think not, ellen? then here is a piece of advice for you, and to make it more emphatic and intelligible, i will write it upon a card." be [a] meddling man family wife. [illustration: word puzzle] "i have it! _eureka_!" cried tom bolton. "be above meddling in a family between man and wife." "why are pens, ink, and paper like the fixed stars?" "they are stationary." "a gentleman visited a prisoner; and, pointing to him, said to the bystanders, "'brothers and sisters have i none; but this man's father was my father's son.' what relationship was there between them?" "a slight one--only that of father and son," answered cornelia. "what glorious fun we have had this week!" cried george. "it will be hard work to go back again to _hic, hæc, hoc_--i wish christmas holidays could come once a week!" "so do not i, much as i love them," replied mr. wyndham, smiling. "it is the alternation of grave and gay, of diligent study and active duty with lively social intercourse, which will make you complete men and women. i would not have you to be mere drudges, in the most useful work; nor book-worms at home, only in the library, and unfit for mingling with your fellow-men. but much less would i like to see you triflers--butterflies--living only for amusement. i hope you will become earnest men and women: choosing great and good aims in life, and working your way upward continually to greater usefulness, and to a higher moral elevation. but amusement is not wasted time: it may be so indulged as to be improving to the wits, and never to transgress the line of innocency. i have often felt the benefit of a hearty laugh, when my brain has been overtasked: it is recreation, in the strict meaning of the term--it gives new life to the exhausted spirits. yes, i approve of entertainment, in its place." "so do i, heartily, my dear sir!" chimed in cornelia. "and its place is everywhere, i think. i never heard uncle make so long a speech before!" "beware, or i will punish you by making another!" replied mr. wyndham, drawing the mischievous girl towards him. "but i have news for you all, which i think will scarcely disturb your slumbers. i received a note this afternoon, informing me that the united wisdom of your parents had concluded to prolong your holiday by one day; and so your 'week's delight,' as amy calls it, must be counted by long measure--a week and a day." "glorious!" cried george. "let's pack the day as full of fun as ever it will hold. i never shall forget the jolly time we have had this year at the grange!" "not even the ice-bath at the pond, george?" said cornelia. "no, indeed; nor my kind deliverance; nor my brave rescuer," answered george. "that might, indeed, have turned our laughter into weeping," replied mr. wyndham, lighting his lamp. "and now, good-night, and happy dreams!" chapter x. whispering gallery.--potentates.--three young men. the last day at the grange had come, and well was it filled up with active exercise and sport, song, laughter, and sweet converse. in the evening all met as usual in the library, eager for whatever amusement might turn up; for everything was _impromptu_ among our young people, and, whether story, games, or conversation, had at least the merit of spontaneity. "i have a thought," said alice. "there is a game i would call 'gossip, or whispering gallery,' which can take in the whole of us, and possibly take us all in, in a double sense. let aunt lucy sit in one corner of the room, and uncle john in another; and we young folks can range ourselves between. aunty can say anything she pleases in a low whisper to her next neighbor, only she must be careful to name some one; and he must repeat it to a third, and so through the line. the last person must announce distinctly what the whisper was, and settle any differences with aunt lucy, who originates the whisper." "very good," replied mrs. wyndham. "only it is evident to me that i am going to be victimized!" "o, you can stand it; you can stand it!" cried out several young voices. "your character for truth and prudence is established; and with uncle john at the other end of the line, you need not fear!" and so the company was arranged, and care taken that no ear heard the "gossip," save the one for which it was designed. the mysterious message was at last announced, amid laughter and shouts from the youngest. "aunt lucy says that cornelia told her that charlie reported that john had eaten ten slices of mince-pie to-day. he is very sick, and i'll send him home to his mother." "but i only said, 'cornelia and charlie both told me john hadn't eaten one slice of mince-pie to-day. i'm afraid he is sick, and it is well he is going home to his mother!' "rather a difference! but who altered it? it seems to me cornelia looks mischievous!" "o, that's a way i have! poor little me, all the mischief is put on my shoulders! but--honest now--tom whispered so low, that i thought it might as well be ten slices as one!" "and now change places," said alice, "and put cornelia head as a reward of merit--we'll fix her; and then we can try 'whispering gallery' again." no sooner said than done, and cornelia started the game by saying to her nearest neighbor, "how sorry i am to leave the grange! i never was so happy in all my life; and charlie says so too!" but the outcome of this very innocent remark was as follows: "how sorry i am i came to the grange! i never will be happy again in all my life, and charlie says so, too!" "are you sure there was no cheating?" asked mr. wyndham. "no, dear uncle, impossible," replied cornelia. "i couldn't, and they wouldn't; they are all quite too good for that; every one of them, except, perhaps, charlie, who is in a peculiar sense my own first cousin. but it seems to be a property of a whisper to be a _twister_; it is sure to get in a tangle, and comes out quite different from the way you started it." "just so," answered up charlie. "it is like what they say happens in cincinnati. you put in a grunter at one end of the machine, and in a few minutes it comes out in the form of bacon, hams, lard, sausages, and hair-brushes!" "my dear charlie," chimed in his uncle, "that is the loudest 'whisper' i've heard yet! but, seriously, boys and girls, don't you see in the game how evil reports originate, and how easy it is, by the slightest variation from the straight line, to falsify the truth?" "that's so," said mary. "and i have often noticed how whispers glide into gossip, and gossip into scandal, before people are aware. i've resolved many a time not to talk about _people_, but things, and then i'll escape doing harm with my unruly member." "i, too," said charlie, demurely, "have frequently written in my copy-book, 'speak not of the absent, or speak as a friend.'" "now for another game," cried gertrude. "here is one of mine. i call it 'potentates.' it's very simple, and you can vary it according to your taste. you visit a foreign country, and see the rulers and grandees; you can mention their names or not, as you wish. i'll begin, to show one way of playing it. "i went to england and was presented at court. i had a superb dress made for the occasion, which i will not describe, as i see the boys are all ready to laugh. but my father had to wear a special drawing-room suit for the presentation, also, and he looked as funny and quaint as if he had stepped out of an old picture. his sword hung at his side, and he had to practice walking with it, and bowing over it, or it would have played him a trick. it was worse than my long train. "when my turn came to be presented and the lord chamberlain announced my name, i felt like sinking into the ground; but i didn't. i think the dignity of my grand dress supported me. somehow i reached the throne, where sat in state victoria, queen of great britain and ireland, empress of india, defender of the faith, etc. on either side were princesses of the blood, ladies of honor, and others according to rank. i had seen my predecessors kneel before her majesty, so i had to put my democratic feelings into my pocket and do the same. i made believe to myself that i knelt because she is a pattern woman, is the best queen england ever had, and is old enough to be my grandmother, having reigned fifty years. she graciously extended her hand. i did not shake it, as report says one fair american savage did, but humbly kissed it, and then retreated backward with eyes still fixed upon the queen in all her glory, and scarcely knowing which gave me the most trouble, my long train or my wounded self-respect. "i afterwards saw the prince and princess of wales, the archbishop of canterbury, dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies--a brilliant constellation. but i very much doubt if they saw me. and these are the potentates of old england." "as for me," said charlie bolton, "i saw the dey of algiers, and a very brilliant dey he was! by way of contrast, i determined to visit the knights of malta, but on inquiry found that they had not been in existence for nearly ninety years, and therefore gave it up. instead i concluded to see the knights of labor, who abound in this favored land, and appear to be potentates, as they can stop railroad travel, mines, manufactories, etc., at their own sweet will." "as charlie was in north africa," remarked john, "i went to egypt to be in his neighborhood, and had the privilege of seeing the khedive. i found the country quite demoralized, the finances in a very bad condition, and few appeared to know who was the real potentate of the land, the khedive, the sultan of turkey, or the money kings of england. general gordon had been murdered, and el mahdi, the false prophet, was dead also. those two men were the greatest potentates africa has had for centuries!" "and i crossed over into turkey," continued tom green, "and had an audience with the sultan. i saw numerous pashas in attendance of one, two, and three tails." "o, tom!" cried gertrude, "that can't be! even darwin doesn't claim that for man in the nineteenth century!" "my dear young friend," answered tom, "these tails were not carried monkey-fashion, but were insignia of office, the man having three tails holding the highest rank. they are of horse-hair, placed on a long staff with a gilt ball on top, and are always carried before the pasha on his military expeditions. always ask for information," said he, bowing to the circle, "and i shall be happy to impart such as is suitable to juvenile minds!" "very condescending!" "deeply interesting!" "just from college, isn't he?" were some of the remarks of the girls. "the grand vizier presented me," continued tom. "we had a good deal of pleasant conversation together, the sultan and i; and i tried to convince him that the republican form of government was the best. strange to say, my eloquence failed in effect. but he was very friendly, and asked me to stay to tea, and he'd introduce me to his little family--" "tom! tom!" cried several voices, "do keep probability in view." "i declined, of course, even at the risk of hurting his feelings. _i_ don't want to see women with thick veils on; some may think it romantic--i know alice does, for it is so mysterious--but _i_ think it looks as if they were marked with small-pox! just then, the muezzin sounded for prayers from the nearest minaret, and the sultan instantly fell prostrate on his rich turkish rug, and began his devotions. he was just saying, 'do come, tom, for'--but he stopped in the midst, and i'll never know what strong inducement he was going to offer; perhaps he wanted me to be grand vizier. i slipped out while he was at his prayers." "o tom, tom!" cried john. "i didn't think you could draw so long a bow!" "it is quite understood that we are indulging in fiction," replied he. "you know that falsehood consists in the _intent to deceive_. no one will be taken in by my yarns, dear coz!" "nor mine, either," said cornelia. "for i was in paris before the french revolution, at the same time as our philosopher, benjamin franklin. i was present at court on a grand occasion. the king, louis sixteenth, a handsome and amiable monarch, and the beautiful and graceful queen, marie antoinette, were there of course; the young dauphin was, i hope, sound asleep. the ladies of the court were brilliant, and everything as gay as gay could be. but to my surprise, our plain, simple republican dr. franklin was the central object, the 'cynosure of all beholders.' the king was quite secondary. philosophy was then quite the rage, and republican simplicity--in the abstract--was adored by these potentates. one of the grand, gay ladies crowned franklin with a wreath of flowers! and he was wonderfully pleased with all the attention he received, i assure you. it was a different scene from any in the philadelphia of those days--with our staid citizens, and sweet, gentle, modest quaker ladies in their plain dress!" "and now," said amy, "aren't you all tired of potentates? i am. this is our last evening, and i want dear uncle to tell us a story--something from his own life, if he will--to finish up our pleasures." "it would finish up your pleasures by putting you to sleep," mr. wyndham answered, laughing gayly. "mine has been an unusually happy life, but not an adventurous one. i was never even in a railroad collision. do you remember the story of dr. samuel johnson, when writing his 'lives of the poets'?" "do tell us, uncle," chimed in the young voices. "he was trying to get information in a certain case, but could not elicit anything of interest. at last, out of patience, he burst forth: 'tell me, didn't he break his leg?' i never broke mine; i can't get up an incident." "and i'm very glad you didn't, uncle mine," said little amy. "and now i speak by permission in the name of the assembled company: you are unanimously requested to tell us your life, or something that happened to yourself." "'story! why, bless you, i have none to tell, sir,' as canning's needy knife-grinder says. but if you all insist, as a good uncle, i must e'en obey; so prepare for those comfortable slumbers i have predicted. i will call my story three young men. "now you must not expect from me," said mr. wyndham, "exciting tales of adventure, and hairbreadth escapes by sea and land. i have never read a dime novel in my life, and therefore couldn't undertake to rival them in highway robbery, scalping indians, and bowie-knives and revolvers. my heroes were never left on a desert island, nor escaped with difficulty from the hands of cannibals, nor were pursued by hungry wolves; and never even saw a lion or tiger except behind the bars of a menagerie. they were not strikingly handsome nor charmingly hideous, nor had they rich uncles to die opportunely and leave them heirs to a few millions; indeed, they were very much such young men as you see every day walking the streets of your own city. "i would gladly leave my name entirely out of the story if i could; but as it is an 'o'er true tale,' and i happened to be mixed up with the other two, whom i have known from childhood, i am very sure my dear nephews and nieces will not accuse me of egotism. it is the other two who are my heroes--not myself. "john howard and mortimer willing were my schoolmates, in the same class for years, neighbors and playfellows, so that i know them well. and i speak of them the more freely because they are now both living at a great distance from here, one being the honored governor of a western state, and the other residing in a remote town in the interior of texas. such are the changes in our land of freedom. "but to begin with our school-days. we had not a genius in the class, neither had we a dunce; we were average boys, digging our way through the classics and mathematics, and not too familiar with science, history and geography. the world we live in was not much studied then. such minor knowledge we were somehow expected to pick up at home, and we did after a fashion. i liked both these boys; but while willing was the more self-possessed, showy and brilliant, i always felt howard to be the most true; he was the very soul of honor, as transparent as glass without a flaw in it. willing did things with a dash, and by his superior tact and ready language often appeared to know more than he really did. if he got into a scrape he was pretty sure to get out of it smoothly. "i have sometimes known him, for example, to go unprepared to a recitation, depending upon his luck not to be called upon to recite, when, with his ready wit and retentive memory, he would gather up what it required hard study for the rest of us to put into our craniums. but it sometimes happened that dame fortune, wicked jade! forsook him, and willing had to march up, as we thought, to certain disgrace. but whatever forsook him, one thing never did--invincible assurance. he would bear himself in so composed a manner, talk round the subject so ably, and bring what little he knew so prominently forward, that the professor himself was often deceived, and was sometimes entrapped into telling the very thing willing most wanted to know. "if any side-helps were given by sympathizing friends--for willing was a general favorite--he availed himself of them without scruple. i remember the question was once put to him, 'what is the latin name of the earth?' any boy surely should know that; but for once his memory failed him. he nudged the boy next him, saying in a stage whisper, 'tell us.' the teacher's ears were quick, and his wit also; he answered, with a quizzical look--before the boy could speak--'that's right, tellus is one of the names; but you should direct your answer to the desk, and not to your neighbor.' "in composition he was sometimes brilliant, but not always sustained or original, for i have more than once detected a striking likeness to addison and other well-known worthies of our english tongue. evidently the same muse inspired both, for in style and sentiment they were identical; but unfortunately for willing, they had the advantage in point of time, and made their mark in the world before he came along. the wonder to me was that the teacher did not see it; but his was not a wide range of scholarship, though thorough in what he taught. his groove was narrow but deep and well worn, i felt indignant when i heard willing praised for what should have brought him disgrace; but he was so pleasant and ready to oblige, such a good companion and playfellow, that i soon forgot my righteous anger--until next time. "another trick of his i could not like. possibly my young friends may have seen the same; for schoolboy failings are very similar throughout the ages. i don't doubt school-children cheated before the flood! they certainly have done so since. he sat at the same desk with honest jack howard, the most unsuspicious of mortals because himself so free from guile. many a time have i seen him slyly glance at howard's slate when we were solving hard problems in arithmetic or algebra. they were sure to come out even, neck and neck, as they say. but _i_ knew that if willing had been called upon to explain the process he couldn't have done it; and he was sure to get the praise. "as for howard, he plodded on, never getting all the appreciation he deserved. always prepared, but not always ready--for he was easily abashed, and then his tongue did not do justice to his thoughts. no fellow in the class--or, as we then said, no _man_ in the class--was so thorough as he, but the teachers did not always find it out. we boys did, however; and we knew, too, that what jack howard once got he kept, in the way of mental acquisition. but the best of it was, he was such a solid fellow as to worth. his word was never doubted; we could trust him in everything. '_falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus_,' holds true, and the converse is also true, faithful in one, faithful in all. howard was true and faithful from the time i first knew him, a little shaver, 'knee-high to a grasshopper,' as children say. "i'm the more particular in giving you an insight into the character of these boys as a key to their after-life. i know that the child is not always 'father to the man,' and that the insertion of a new and transforming principle into the soul will elevate and ennoble the meanest man. but as a general rule the mainsprings of character develop early, and the man is very much as the child has made him. the sowing then, brings forth a harvest afterwards. they tell us, that two natives of scotland settled in the far west, and that each took with him a memorial of his fatherland--one the thistle, the national emblem, the other the honey-bee. rather different sowing that! for while the dwellers on the pacific coast have to keep up a continual fight with the thistle, the honey of that region is now largely exported, and is worth its millions. a little time has done it--and thistles are especially prolific, you need take no pains in the sowing. "but we didn't think much of sowing and reaping in those days, though we were sowing all the time. the years flew fast till we had seen seventeen birthdays, and our fathers thought we should learn something of business if we were ever to be business men. willing had influential connections, excellent abilities, and popular manners; he was a general favorite. he was placed without difficulty in a large importing house, where he gave entire satisfaction, and was rapidly advanced to a position of great trust, collecting moneys and keeping the accounts. his salary was large, and he was considered a rising and prosperous young man; he moved in fashionable society, married a dashing girl, lived in a handsome house, gave elegant entertainments, and kept a horse. "howard and i got on more slowly. somehow, we always kept together, so that 'the two johns' became a by-word. we were clerks in the same commercial house, and, although self-praise is no recommendation, i may say that both of us did our whole duty. we worked hard, as was then expected; were at the store soon after sunrise, and had everything in order before our employers arrived. young gentlemen in those days did many things that are now the porter's work, making fires, sweeping the store, etc., quite new duties to us, who were fresh from academic shades, and from communion with homer, virgil, and horace. i can't say we enjoyed it much. neither did we like the lifting of heavy packages and being ordered about as if we were inferiors. but we did not shirk our duty, and kept our tempers. john, good fellow, came out of the ordeal sweet-tempered, kind, and obliging; and i don't doubt that we both feel the benefit of this practical training to this day. certain it is, that we mastered all the details of the business, and knew what to expect from others, when our time came to employ them. "'the two johns' went into business together, and for a time everything was prosperous. we married happily, and lived in comfort and moderation, as becomes young people who have to make their way in the world. meantime we saw less and less of willing, for in the daytime we were busy, and our evenings were very differently employed. he and his young wife--a pretty and attractive creature she was--cultivated the society of the gay and rich, gave entertainments, or were seen in full dress at balls, concerts, the opera, and the theatre. i sometimes wondered how a clerk on a three-thousand-dollar salary could live at the rate of eight or ten thousand. and so, with all kind feeling, we drifted apart; your dear aunt and john's wife found their style of living so different, ideas on all subjects so opposite, and friends so dissimilar, that visits were only exchanged once or twice a year. "when we were about thirty, commercial disasters befel us. a financial crisis swept over the land, by which some houses closely connected with our own were engulfed, and could not meet their engagements. we lost heavily. we struggled through it for a time, but were compelled at last to call a meeting of our creditors, lay our statements and books before them, and offer to give up all we had to satisfy their claims. that was the best we could do, and we then could not pay more than fifty cents on the dollar. "our creditors behaved most nobly and generously. they expressed the utmost confidence in our integrity and business skill, uttered no word of blame but much of encouragement, and begged us to go on and retrieve our fortunes. they settled upon fifty cents in the dollar as full satisfaction for our debts, and told us to take our own time for the payment; nothing could have been kinder and more considerate. for my part, knowing we were not to blame, i bore up bravely till that point; but there i broke down. i am not ashamed to say, that i wept like a child. "howard was the bookkeeper of our house, and a beautiful set of books he kept. the accounts were exact, the writing clear, the figures unmistakable--not a blot or erasure in the whole. they excited great admiration, and from none more than from stewart & gamble, who were prominent creditors. after the meeting, they invited howard to look over their books in the evening, remarking that although they had all confidence in their head clerk, their receipts had fallen off considerably of late, and as they wished to understand the reason, they had concluded to get the services of an expert, which howard certainly was. john accepted the offer, although he looked grave when he remembered that willing had been head clerk for years. "as our business perplexity was now comparatively settled, we went on as usual, only taking in sail and trimming the boat for the storm. but in our private affairs both families resolved to retrench. our wives came nobly to our support, proving themselves true women; they themselves proposed to _double-up_--the two families to occupy one house, and in several ways to reduce our expenses one-half. such an arrangement would never have answered if we had not all thoroughly understood one another--but we did. my wife is, as you all very well know, a model of amiability and of every household virtue, and the other john thinks as well of his rib, and i suppose is right. the old saying is, 'if a man wishes to be rich let him ask his wife;' i can add, if a man wishes to be honest and pay his debts, let him ask her counsel, aid and coöperation also. we were determined to be honest; and our good wives helped us in this effort with all their might. "how they managed it you can't expect a man to explain--it is a problem too deep for our limited intelligence--but certain it is, that while we always sat down to a plentiful table and maintained a respectable appearance, what had supported one family now answered for two. i don't think our wives were reduced to the straits of the irish family, whose little boy reported to his schoolmates: 'there's a great twisting and turning going on at our house. i'm having a new shirt made out of daddy's old one, and daddy's having a new shirt made out of the old sheet, and mammy's making a new sheet out of the old table-cloth.' but 'twistings and turnings' of a marvellous kind there must have been, which the male understanding could not fathom; for while the house was always in order, and the two ladies looked as neat as if they had just stepped out of a bandbox, no bills came in, and a little money went a great way. "one word more about this very practical thing of expense in living. we could have lived on as we had done, and no blame from any one, for we were in no respect extravagant; but we could not reconcile it to our consciences to spend a penny without necessity when we owed money. all four thought alike about that; we were thankful for health, and that we could provide the comforts of life for our young families. as you know, our dear children were then living. and i may here add, that both john and i lived to see the solid benefits accruing from the ten years of strict economy and active work in which all shared. our boys and girls learned betimes to help themselves and one another, and were invaluable aids to their mothers. the lessons of self-denial were not lost upon them. they attended the public schools and received a solid education there; but the languages were picked up at home, and thoroughly, too. it is astonishing how much can be learned by devoting a short time every day to any study when the heart is in it; and i found that the boys were prepared for college, when our ten years were up, and we were able to spend more freely. "but meanwhile, what about willing, and the very mixed accounts of stewart & gamble? alas, alas! how happy was our lot compared with his! we had cheerful content, hope for the future, peace in our consciences. we were respected by those around us, and by the business world, never more so than then. but poor willing! "howard found it as we had feared. there were inconsistencies between the debtor and creditor columns, increasing with each successive year; and the effort had been made to cover them up by the alteration of figures so as to appear square and correct. howard knew too much of prices to be deceived by these, being in the same business. the aggregate stealings--for it was nothing else--amounted to $ , ! and this was the payment the firm received for their liberal kindness and their blind confidence! "when all was discovered, and willing's guilt clearly proved, he was summoned to meet his injured employers. he must have gone with quakings of heart: but not even then did his cool assurance fail him, or the blush rise to his cheek, until he was made conscious that all his trickery was understood, and that public exposure and the penitentiary were before him. then he gave way, and confessed all. he had not, in the beginning, planned deliberate villany--very few ever do who have been brought up to know the right. but the temptations to extravagance had proved too much for him, and his principles, never strong, had given way. he had taken two hundred dollars, intending to return it from his salary, and none should be the wiser. but fast living is a deceitful thing--almost as deceitful as the human heart. bills came in fast--store bills, butchers' bills, carriage bills, confectionery bills, milliners' bills--swallowing up his quarter's salary; and one must have ready money, you know; so instead of returning what he had taken, as hope had whispered, he took more--still to be repaid in the future. "i need hardly say, that each time he yielded to temptation the resistance of his conscience became less and less, until finally it appeared to be paralyzed. he had woven the toils about himself until he seemed powerless to escape; no chrysalis, apparently lifeless in its silky shroud, was feebler than he. he was strong to do evil but weak to do good. everything conspired to push him down hill--circumstances were against him, he thought--but one thing was certain, he must have money, and then all would be right. "but how to break the meshes? how to retrieve himself? one way only was clear to him--speculation in stocks, and on a margin; he could borrow money for that, for he would be sure to repay. _borrowing_ was now the convenient name he applied to his stealing. he tried it, and at first succeeded; the deluded victims of all gambling, whether in the exchange or in gambling hells, are pretty sure of success at first; and so they are enticed to higher ventures. now he might have returned the ill-gotten money, and at least have saved his reputation. but no! the gambling passion was now aroused, and he felt sure he could soon realize enough to make him easy. he tried again and for a larger sum and _lost_. "and so he went on until he was tangled inextricably in the net, and felt that he was a rascal, and a lost, not a successful one. remorse seized him, but not repentance; for still he went on in his guilt. indeed, he was more reckless than ever, struggling to get out of the meshes. gay to excess at times, then gloomy; his temper became unequal, and to drown reflection he sometimes drank to excess. he was a ruined man--ruined _before_ exposure, for that only opened the eyes of others--his own down-fall had already taken place. "i am told that when the proofs of his guilt were laid before him, and his confession was made, his pleadings for mercy were most pitiful. stewart & gamble had a stern sense of justice, and their indignation was in proportion to their former confidence. they were determined that he should not escape, and that, not so much from personal vengeance as because they thought it wrong to interfere with laws due and wholesome in themselves, and necessary to deter others from evil doing. he was committed to prison, a trial took place, and poor willing was sentenced to five years in the penitentiary. "when he first stood up for trial, he was alone; all the friends of his prosperity had forsaken him. he was thoroughly stricken down, abashed, shame-faced, not lifting his eyes to the crowd in court; and no one of his intimates care to claim acquaintance with a felon. i could not hold back; much as i hated the crime, i could not hate the criminal. my schoolmate, my playfellow, stood there, alone, forsaken, despised; crushed to the ground, ready to despair. i went to him, gave my hand and stayed, while his case was up. never shall i forget the look of mingled gratitude and hopelessness in his haggard eyes which had scarcely known sleep since his disgrace. "o, it is well to be just! no doubt of that. the law should be sustained, and no sentimental pity should interfere. we must not condone crime, or the very object of law and penalty will be annulled. philanthropy should be tender, but not weak; and if tears are shed and bouquets of flowers sent, it should rather be to the victims of crime, than to the criminal. but when a man is crushed with a sense of guilt, and down on the ground, that is not the time to spurn him; when disgrace is added to trouble, friends must not stand aloof. many a poor fellow is driven to suicide by this course who might have been saved by kindness and brought to repentance. "willing's dashing friends, by whose example he had been helped in the downward career, who had eaten his dainty little suppers and enjoyed his society, now forsook him and held up their hands in horror at his conduct--it was so disreputable! i may be wrong, but i can't help despising men and women who share a poor fellow's prosperity and fall off in his adversity; giving an additional kick, if need be, to send him down the hill. of all his gay companions not one stood by him on his trial, or said one word of pity, hope, or cheer, when he was condemned. the friendship of the world is a hollow thing, more unsubstantial than a bubble. it seems to me that nothing is so hardening to the heart as self-indulgence, luxurious living, idleness, the absence of any high aim in life, or any earnest effort for the life beyond. certain it is the summer friends all vanished; their friendship wilted like flowers before a frost. "that was the time for howard and me to act like men. we were busy, very busy, but we took turns to stand by him, and show that we had not forgotten 'auld lang syne' and boyish days. poor fellow! he wept then. well did he know that we would be the last to extenuate his crime, but he saw that we pitied him while we condemned his sin. he spoke the first words of genuine repentance, or what looked like it, then and there. "after his condemnation, when immured in prison walls, dressed in convict garb, and fed on prison fare, we visited him whenever the rules allowed it. we found him quite broken up--thoroughly humiliated, ready to despair of god's mercy as well as man's forgiveness. he was in the depths of trial, all the waves and the billows had gone over him, the deeps had swallowed him up, as the psalmist poetically and truly says. we could not in conscience say one word that might lessen the weight of his guilt, but we could point him to the lamb of god that taketh away the sin not of one only, but of the whole world. we could tell him that christ came, not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance, to which he promptly added, and from the heart, 'of whom i am chief.' "calamity, sorrow, reverses and all the punishments due to iniquity, can never be relied upon to bring men to repentance; but in this case they worked well, and willing became a new man. it was a great pleasure to us to see the change in his very countenance, wrought out by the inward principle, and that his sorrow, as time went on, was not so much for his punishment and disgrace as for his guilt. he made no effort to get a commutation of his sentence, saying, it was all right; he had deserved that and much more. "of course our pity was much excited for his poor little wife, who seemed almost heart-broken. my dear lucy and john's wife, who had never cultivated intimacy with her in their prosperous days, now came forward in true womanly style, and made her feel that she had sisters in heart, whom she had not known. she had no near kindred, and the few relatives she had held aloof. truly she might say, 'my lovers and my friends stand aloof from my sore; and my kinsmen stand afar off.' no one offered her help or shelter, of all those who had enjoyed her elegant hospitality. "immediately upon the conviction of her husband she wrote to stewart & gamble, offering to give up all her handsome furniture and pictures, and even her jewels, as a small indemnity for their losses; but they very nobly refused to accept it, advising her to sell and invest the proceeds. john and i, acting under the direction of our wives, who were enthusiastic in their admiration and pity for olive willing in her trouble, told her to pack her trunks at once and come to our house, where we had room enough and to spare, and that we would attend to the sale. she could scarcely believe she heard aright, and was full of surprise and gratitude, and, of course, accepted the offer. "i don't wonder you think our house was made of gum-elastic; it really seemed so. 'room in the heart, room in the house," was our motto; and the children most amiably agreed to give up one room and be sociable together; and i fancy they were, from the peals of laughter that often came from that room, so full of young life and spirits. and so poor olive was settled down as one of the family. it was a new experience to her in every way. the industry of the house surprised her, and from gratitude and a proper ambition she soon sought to help, which really was the best thing she could do to relieve her trouble, and regain a measure of cheerfulness. but she had to learn first, and found two willing teachers in the noble women who had given her a home. she was an apt scholar and soon became mistress of domestic arts, which were indispensable to her in after life. indeed, what woman should be ignorant of them, if she wishes to be helpful to herself and useful to others? who would wish to be considered a mere ornamental piece of bric à brac, good to be set upon the mantel or against the wall, but not good for everyday use and comfort? better be an eight-day clock, for that at least will regulate the goings of the household! "in these new employments and in our happy home circle olive in a few months recovered something of her wonted tone. she then formed the plan of putting her hitherto useless accomplishments to work, by taking pupils in music, drawing, and embroidery. we all approved her plan, and lucy found pupils for her among our friends--not among those who had cast her off. this supplied her with ready money, and with a little increase to the sum john and i had safely invested for her. "when his five years were accomplished, and willing was notified that he was once more a free man, we were there to receive him, and conduct him to our house. he entered it, a wiser and a sadder man. we had formed a plan for him into which he and his wife heartily entered, and had already written to correspondents in texas, to obtain information as to localities for settlement. after a week's rest willing and olive left us for their distant home, where they were soon at home on a small ranche stocked with sheep--the whole paid for by the modest sum held in olive's name. they did well and are much respected. he has been able to enlarge his operations, and is now a thriving man; and what is far better, he is upright, honest; always on the right side; fearing god, and having favor with those who know him. "but to return to ourselves. we persevered in a strict course of industry and economy, declining help proffered from outside sources. my dear grandfather, who had brought me up after my father's death, was very kind in offering financial aid; but i did not wish to involve any one in my misfortunes, or to cause embarrassment to one i so greatly loved. besides, i felt confident that we should retrieve our affairs by our own efforts. so it proved. eight years to a day from the time we attempted to make our assignment to our generous creditors we paid them, not fifty cents on the dollar, but one hundred, with compound interest. it was a glad surprise to them, but a much greater joy to us. o, boys! better it is to step forth clear of debt; to be able to look every man in the eye; to feel that you owe no man anything, than to own the mines of california, arizona, or the whole of a pacific railroad! i cannot describe to you the exquisite pleasure it gave us to pay out that money. those who have never experienced losses and embarrassments can scarcely understand it. "we now had a fresh start in business, with a good stock on hand, boundless credit, and no debts. we soon came to the front rank among merchants. indeed, so successful were we, that on my fiftieth birthday i resolved to retire, feeling that i was rich enough. my dear grandfather, who had entered into rest some years before, had left me the grange, in which my earliest years had been passed, and here, amid the beautiful scenes of nature, and with still a large scope for my activities, i have enjoyed years of happiness. my dear friend, howard, had landed property in one of the western states and fancied there was more elbow-room there for his children who were settling in life; so at last we were obliged to separate. he has risen, as you know, to prominence, being the most popular governor of the state they have had for years, and even political opponents are loud in praise of his integrity and fidelity to trusts. "i need scarcely say a word to show the meaning of my simple tale. a life of unspotted integrity and honor is the only life worth living; and to love god and keep his commandments is the only safeguard. you may have a good disposition, but that is not enough. you may have been well trained and instructed, but that is not enough. your father may be the very soul of honor and to be trusted with uncounted gold, but virtue is not an inheritance, and you must be honest for yourself, self-denying for yourself, diligent for yourself, if you wish to build up a character respected by men and pleasing to god. 'tis true, this is only one part of your duty, but it is a very important part. truth and rectitude are pillars in family life, and the very bulwarks of society. if these fail, all else fails. "and now, a pleasant and a dreamless sleep to you all. to-morrow you return to the studies and duties of the new year, which has begun so happily for us all. i dislike to say that word, farewell, and so i will only wish you now, good-night!" [illustration:] indian conjuring by major l. h. branson m.i.m.c. indian army with illustrations london george routledge & sons ltd. new york: e. p. dutton & co. * * * * * _i dedicate this small volume to_ my wife _who has always been my best audience and my keenest critic at the innumerable sleight-of-hand performances that i have had the pleasure of giving in her presence._ * * * * * _portions of this book were published by the times of india, illustrated weekly, by whose kind permission they are reprinted._ * * * * * contents chapter page i. a comparison ii. the cup and balls iii. the bamboo-sticks the ring on the stick iv. the glass box the bunder boat v. the bowl of rice the coloured sands vi. a rope trick the swastika the egg bag vii. the dancing duck the mango tree trick viii. the basket trick ix. the indian rope trick x. snakes and crocodiles xi. generalities and other myths * * * * * list of illustrations my old friend shah mahommed, aged years, son of ghaus mahommed, who died aged years, and grandson of nur mahommed who died at the age of years, all three were itinerant conjurers and had never seen the rope trick front shah mahommed singing ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay between two experiments facing page shah mahommed with two assistants for the ring on the stick facing page preliminaries of the restored rope, the only rope trick that i have ever seen performed in india facing page shah mahommed performing the egg bag trick facing page the dancing duck, performed with an enamel bowl instead of the cocoa-nut shell facing page the preliminary stage of the mango tree trick as shewn by shah mahommed facing page conclusion of the mango tree trick facing page * * * * * indian conjuring chapter i a comparison since the world began magic and wizardy seem to have held a great fascination for mankind, an example being in the story of the witch of endor. that this tendency has in no wise altered is clear from the popularity of conjurors, illusionists, and so called magicians who still, be it east or west, attract an audience so easily and so surely. this little volume is written in the hopes that it may prove of interest to the thousands who reside in india, and those other thousands who, visiting its coral shores from time to time, often discuss in wondering amazement how the indian conjuror performs his tricks. it is also written to uphold the reputation of the western conjuror against the spurious ascendancy held by his eastern confrere. before describing the many well known tricks that are shewn by the "house to house" jadoo-wallah, and explaining how they are done, we will compare the average indian conjuror with his mystic friends in europe, america and china. let us for a moment picture in our mind's eye the stage and person of the european or american conjuror. a few small tables with spindle legs (upon them a steel frame or so, transparent and decorative) are exposed to our view. the performer appears with rolled up sleeves in close fitting clothes and by the end of his performance has filled the stage with several large flags, a bouquet of flowers and, may be, a beautiful lady, all, possibly produced from a top hat. his performance is given to the accompaniment of amusing patter and is brightened with the colour of the articles he produces. he may be an illusionist pure and simple and does not indulge in sleight-of-hand at all. in this case the comparison with the indian jadoo-wallah is not a fair one, as the latter has not the means to purchase the complicated mechanism necessary for up-to-date illusions as shewn by european magicians. whether or no his superior education is the reason, the european conjuror gains in skill and shows his inventive genius as time goes on. his effects are studied, and his paraphernalia embraces more and more varied articles. the disappearance of a christmas tree with all its candles lighted is an excellent example to what he has risen. he takes an interest in his profession or calling and strives to outdo others in neatness or by inventing an exclusive trick to which his name can be given and handed down to posterity. this may be the result of large fees that can be earned at the "halls" or by private entertainments by those at the top of the tree. but these fees are open to a conjuror of any nationality, and i am confident that the interest the european takes in his hobby has more to do with his superiority than education and large fees. the ruling princes of india are very fond of watching a clever conjuror and can pay enormous fees, but no indian conjuror appears to appeal to them. a western performer always wants to give his best to his audience and takes a pride in mystifying them. david devant, who is one of the greatest living exponents has quite recently written an article in the strand magazine of his dreams of tricks that he would like to be able to do. to meet the late charles bertram "at home" was a study in itself. to have seen him playing, as a child would play, with a pack of cards until he stumbled across a new sleight and watched the enjoyment written all over his face, was a proof of his deep interest in his hobby. can anyone imagine an indian conjuror dreaming of a new trick? "ghee and khana" (clarified butter and food) form the subject of the majority of his dreams. when he does play with anything it is to caress lovingly the "paisa" or pieces of money that he last earned, not to improve his dexterity but because they will give him a good meal, a cup of arak, (or intoxicating liquor) and a long lazy sleep. the chinaman gives his entertainment with his stage well filled with tables covered with gorgeous dragon-be-decked draperies that reach the ground, and behind which useful assistants could be easily concealed. his own garments are roomy and his sleeves could contain a multitude of billiard balls and rabbits. but he gives a showy performance with clean bright articles, ending up occasionally, as i have seen, with the production of twelve large chinese lanterns all lit! the chinaman is the inventor of many of the most beautiful illusions that are performed. one of the prettiest tricks imaginable is that of the production of bowls of gold fish in real water, one of chinese origin. he has improved from ancient times as an up-to-date showman, and is a wonderful illusionist. to show what can be done in the voluminous garments of a chinaman, on one occasion, i, in his national costume, produced a large bowl of water which took two men to carry away, then a little boy aged ten, and his younger brother aged five, ostensibly from a shawl without moving from the centre of a stage devoid of trap doors, or any furniture. it was more a feat of strength than skill at conjuring, though, as one may readily imagine, extremely effective. the chinaman is also a clever productionist and excels in producing flowers, lanterns and similar articles. his dexterity or sleight-of-hand is good but inferior to that of the european. he has and uses well, many extremely ingenious devices, or "fakes." one in particular has always appealed to me and is worth describing. he takes a piece of tissue paper which he either chews, or moistens somehow and rolls it into a small ball like pulp. this he places on his fan and tosses up into the air several times while it gradually assumes the shape of an egg. after some few seconds it has become a large duck's egg which he places in an egg cup on the table in full view of the audience. this little trick is very effective, easy to do, and can be purchased for half-a-crown at any magical depot in london. i hope that i have gained my point in showing that the chinaman is an ingenious and a neat performer. there are many other amazing tricks which were originated in china and the far east, (as the japanese are as good, if not better than the chinese) but this egg trick is to my mind the most symbolical of chinese magic. the indian juggler or jadoo-wallah arrives with a basket large enough to contain a man, as we will see later, a huge dilapidated bag, a voluminous dhotie or loin cloth, and possibly a snake basket or two. he is a poor man or "gareeb admi" and looks it. he starts a whine in the hope of getting an audience through sympathy. if he does not whine he assumes an air of superiority that is somewhat exasperating. at sleight-of-hand he is far below the level of the average european performer. he spoils his art by the continual diving into his bag ostentatiously to dig out the bone of a cow or an antiquated "dolly," of the rag doll type. if only he would do his little tricks away from his impedimenta in clean clothes he would add % to the merit of his performance though it would probably be not so entertaining to those newly arrived in india. i have very little praise to give to the indian conjuror as an artist, either in sleight-of-hand, in juggling, or as an illusionist. his tricks are as "old as my unpaid bills" and from time immemorial have been performed with the same monotonous patter and the irritating drone of the "bean" or so called musical instrument. i may here say that this musical torture is used to disguise movements of the showman's hand in the same way as the european uses his magic wand, an instrument that does not appeal to me at all, though at times very useful. the articles used by the indian conjuror are very very primitive and of indifferent manufacture. the jadoo-wallah has remained as he was , , or years ago. the old gentleman whose portrait forms the first illustration of this book told me that the tricks he does were learnt by his great grandfather from a friend in lahore. this takes us back some years. the tricks have remained the same as when taught at lahore though my old friend has brought them up-to-date by singing "ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay" between each experiment! the indian conjuror has never indulged in pure sleight-of-hand to any extent, and has never improved upon any of his illusions. [illustration: shah mahommed singing ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay between two experiments.] he seldom has any patter worth listening to and that which he uses consists usually of "beggie, beggie, aow" or "beggie beggie jaow." "bun, two, three, four, five, white, bite, fight, kite." amusing to a casual observer but hopeless from an artists point of view. latterly some indian conjurors have attempted to give in india performances on european lines. they have purchased the necessary paraphernalia from london and have as much idea of using it to its best advantage as a crocodile has of arranging the flowers on a dinner table. our indian jadoo-wallah usually gets himself into a very tight fitting third or fourth hand evening dress on these occasions, to show, i presume, how european he is. the audience is more concerned with the possibility of its bursting and their having to leave the theatre for decency's sake than they are of the feats he is attempting to imitate. his patter is excruciating and, to hide his want of skill in sleight-of-hand, he moves his hands and arms in grotesque curves, with his body so bent that it is almost impossible to see what he is trying to do. i have never yet seen any indian give an english performance that would be tolerated on the sands at slushton-on-sea the seat of my ancestral home. while writing the above i have in mind one of these indians, an impossible person, who, as court performer to several of the ruling indian princes, makes the astonishing total of rs. or £ a month. the only native conjurors that i have seen who are consistently good at sleight-of-hand, (and they are arabs or egyptians) are the invaders of the ships at port said, and their one and only good point, magically, is their manipulation of those unfortunate chickens. their "gillie, gillie, mrs. langtry" is more up-to-date and an improvement upon the "beggie, beggie, aow" of india. it has always been a marvel to me how the indian conjuror has gained his spurious reputation. i can only ascribe the fact to the idea that the audience start with the impression, sub-conscious though it may be--of mahatmaism, jadoo, or any other synonym by which oriental magic is designated. this allows them to watch with amazement tricks that are so simple that no english conjuror would dare to show them to his youngest child. without partiality i can safely assert that of the three types under discussion, the european, the chinaman, and the indian, the average european conjuror is the most skilled particularly at sleight-of-hand. he certainly excels in card manipulation which is seldom touched by the oriental magician. in illusions he is beyond comparison, as many of our readers may certify who have seen the wonderful productions by messrs. maskelyn and cooke, devant, and their many followers. the gradual disappearance of a lady in evening dress, visibly, and in mid stage growing smaller and smaller until she is small enough to be put into a paper bag, which is rolled into a ball and thrown away, is an illusion that no oriental will ever attempt to compete with. such illusions can be seen at any time of the year at the palace theatre and other halls in london, in paris and even bombay. there may be many who will readily disagree with my disparagement of the indian jadoo-wallah. i admit that magic may have come originally from the east. the egyptians for instance, had wonderful illusions that were freely used by their priests in the temples mainly for the extortion of money or valuables from their gullible disciples. these illusions were merely mechanical devices such as the mysterious opening and shutting of doors on the sound of a certain word like "abracadabra." these devices can be duplicated by our skilful mechanics, but would not be worth very much these enlightened days as a lucrative investment. it may also be said that the comparison to the detriment of the indian is not a fair one as he has no stage upon which to perform, whereas the european gives his show usually in a roped off portion of the drawing room, or on the stage of a concert hall. the reason of this is that the european cannot as a rule collect his audience in the open. when he does get an outdoor assembly he is just as much an adept as he is indoors. many of my readers may have regrettably to agree with me, especially those who have met our "three card trick" friend, or the perfectly good gentleman with the thimbles and the pea, at ascot. chapter ii when the jadoo-wallah has sat himself down with his bag and baskets in their correct places he usually proceeds to show the following tricks:-- the cups and balls. the bamboo sticks. the ring on the stick. the ball in the glass box. the bunder-boat. the bowl of rice. the coloured sands. the rope trick. the egg bag. the swastika. the dancing duck. the mango tree. the basket trick. i will attempt to describe each trick for the benefit of those who have not actually seen them performed, and will then attempt to give a lucid explanation of how these tricks are done. the cup and balls the performer has three cups of wood, somewhat similar to crude wine glasses overturned, the base of the wine glass forming the handle by which the cup is manipulated. under these he places, without detection, little woollen or cloth balls and extracts them in the same mysterious manner. similarly he shows two balls, one under each of two cups, and by a drone on the "bean" or musical instrument, one ball flies magically from the one cup to join its mate under the other. various combinations and permutations of this sleight complete the experiment which is accompanied by a running patter of "go bombay" "go london." in my opinion this trick is the only one in which the indian conjuror shows any aptitude at sleight-of-hand, and the average jadoo-wallah is very good at it. it is a trick that at first needs a little practice, but it is easy to learn and can be made into a first-class stage or drawing room entertainment. one of our greatest exponents in london performs the trick with three breakfast cups inverted, three lumps of sugar, some walnuts, and tangerine oranges to a most amusing patter about cuthbert, clarence, and algernon, who are represented by the three lumps of sugar and undergo all sorts of misadventures in the night clubs in the west end of london. the explanation is simple. [illustration] instead of three balls the performer has four. one of these he conceals in the palm of the hand by which he lifts the cup. the handle of the cup can be grasped between the outstretched fingers--(first and second)--and the ball is securely held by the muscle at the ball of the thumb. by bending the first and second fingers that hold the cup, its lip is brought in close proximity to the secreted ball. by a sharp or jerky movement forward to place the cup on the ground, and at the same time releasing the muscle of the ball of the thumb, the woollen ball naturally finds its place under the cup and the deception is complete. the performer then picks up one of the three exposed balls and pretends to place it in his bag or into the other hand. a blow on the "bean" and hey! presto! the ball appears under the cup that a moment ago was placed apparently empty on the ground. [illustration] i will not go any further into the combinations and permutations, which are unlimited, of the trick. once a person has mastered the easy dexterity described above to get the ball into the cup, he can devise further developments for himself. the diagrams given will, i trust, clear up any misunderstanding that may be left after reading my explanation. if there is still any uncertainty, for a few annas or pence, any itinerant conjuror will show the sleight, and ten minutes practice ought to bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. this may be a fitting opportunity to disabuse the minds of some about the amount of practice undertaken by a really first-class performer. i consider that a man who is an expert needs no practice at all. sleight-of-hand to him is just as innate as hitting any shaped ball with any shaped stick, is to a man with an eye for games. the artists who drew these illustrations, draw anything instinctively. years of practice will never make the faces of a pretty girl that i draw look less like an amphibious cow. but i have frequently given performances of two hour's duration without any previous practice whatever, beyond a quick rehearsal to see that all the various properties are in their correct places, ready at hand when wanted. i do not want the person who wishes to do a few tricks like the cups and balls, and those which i will describe later, to be discouraged under the impression that not being a born conjuror it will be useless for him to attempt small tricks without constant and monotonous practice. a little attention and trouble will make him "hot stuff" with the cups and balls and will lead him on to higher things. chapter iii the bamboo-sticks we have now the second trick that is usually shewn by the jadoo-wallah, that of the bamboo sticks, essentially one of purely indian origin. the performer takes two small bamboo sticks which have threaded through them a piece of string at each end of which is a bead. he holds these sticks together and when he pulls one bead the other is naturally drawn into its stick. he now takes a knife and passes it between the sticks ostensibly cutting the string between them. he again pulls one bead and wonderful to relate the other bead is still drawn in towards its stick, as before. he now separates the sticks and holds them in the shape of a "v," and one can see that there is no string between the sticks. still the same thing happens. when he pulls one bead the other is drawn into its stick. [illustration: sticks held together till the knife is passed between them] [illustration: held in "v" position] this little trick is usually sold as one of a box of tricks for children at any of the toy shops in england. the explanation is given in the diagrams below, which show that the string does not pass directly through each stick, but from one side only, then through its centre down to the bottom, across to the other stick, up through its centre, and out through its side. consequently passing the knife between the sticks cannot harm the string in any way. the indian conjuror goes still farther than the trick as supplied in the child's box of tricks. after pulling the string to and fro while the sticks are held as a "v" he separates the sticks completely. the same result occurs nevertheless. when he pulls one end of the string the other end is drawn towards its stick. this is brought about by a different construction of the apparatus than that described above. in this case the string is put through one side of the stick and is attached to a small weight that can move freely up and down the hollowed out centre of the bamboo. when the stick is held vertically the weight will drop and the bead attached to the visible end of the string will be automatically drawn in. when the performer wishes to leave the pulled string out, he must incline the stick to a horizontal position when the weight will not slide down. the diagrams will show how the sticks should be held while showing the trick. it can be easily manufactured or bought in a bazaar for a few annas. [illustration: both sticks held vertically and both beads in] [illustration: one stick held horizontally allows the bead to remain out, while the other being held vertically has the bead drawn in] [illustration: vice-versa with sticks separated] the ring on the stick the sticks are put away into the basket, and the magic wand is produced for our next little experiment, that of putting a borrowed ring on to the middle of a stick that is held at both ends. almost every european in india has seen this performed in india for it is the favourite of the jadoo-wallah, and is the most effective of the small tricks that he can show. it takes up a considerable time and is simplicity itself. in case any of my readers have not seen the trick in india, or on their way out at port said, i will describe it. the performer either borrows or uses his own thin cane, and passes it round to his audience to show that it is devoid of all mechanism. he then borrows a wedding ring, which he also allows to be freely examined. he gets a and b, two of his audience, to hold the ends of the stick each by one hand. he then boldly proclaims that he proposes to pass the ring on to the middle of the stick without either a or b letting go of their respective ends. in order, however, not to divulge the secret he must pass it on under cover of a handkerchief. he takes the borrowed ring and wraps it up in the middle of the handkerchief which he asks some one to hold, and to feel the ring wrapped up in it. in order to let everyone know that the ring is really there, he takes the stick from a and b and gives a tap on the ring. he then gets a and b to hold the stick once more and persuades c, who is assisting with the handkerchief, to hold it over the middle of the stick. the performer holds the corner of the handkerchief and instructs c to let go his hold on the word "three." "one! two! three!" the handkerchief is sharply pulled away and the borrowed ring is seen to be spinning on the middle of the stick! [illustration: shah mahommed with two assistants for the ring on the stick.] this is how it is done. the stick is an ordinary one, thin enough to pass easily through a wedding ring. the only prepared article is the handkerchief, in one corner of which is a duplicate wedding ring sewn into a small pocket. it does not matter whether or no it is exactly similar to the ring that is borrowed, as the performer takes care that the owner of the borrowed ring does not get a chance of feeling the duplicate even through the folds of the handkerchief. when the performer takes the borrowed ring to fold in the handkerchief, he folds the one that is already sewn in it, and secretes the borrowed ring in his hand. he takes the stick from a and b to tap on the ring folded in the handkerchief, really to slide the borrowed ring into the middle of it. he hands the stick back to be held by a and b but keeps his hand over the ring now on it, thus concealing it until it is covered by the handkerchief. when the handkerchief is pulled away on the word "three" it takes with it the ring sewn into its corner and as it brushes the stick it makes the borrowed ring on the stick revolve apparently as if it had just arrived in that position. for simplicity's sake let us take the various moves as they occur. a. borrow a stick and hand it round for examination. b. get a and b to hold it at the ends. c. borrow a wedding ring. d. take the handkerchief from the pocket. (the duplicate ring sewn in the corner being held preferably in the right hand.) e. pretend to wrap up the borrowed ring in the handkerchief, in reality wrapping up the corner ring, and secrete the borrowed ring in the right hand. f. take the stick from a and b and tap the folded ring with it, now being held by c. while doing so, slip the borrowed ring into the middle of the stick. g. hand the stick back to a and b but keep the hand on the stick over the ring. h. get c to cover this hand with the handkerchief, holding the ring over the middle of the stick and instruct him to let go on the word "three." a neat little trick that can be performed by anybody who takes the trouble to practice it a couple of times. chapter iv the glass box _the glass box and ball._ the next trick presented to us is usually the glass box and woollen ball. the performer takes a very badly constructed glass box through which one can see in any direction. he covers this with a handkerchief and places it on the ground. having played his "bean" for some moments he takes up the box. there is a loud click, and snatching away the handkerchief the jadoo-wallah shows the box filled with a variegated cloth ball. he opens the lid, takes the ball out, and after casually showing it to the audience thrusts it into his bag. he is inordinately proud of this effort, as he assures one that it is from "bilayat" (england), a slander that is at once discountenanced by a glimpse at the box, obviously made by the most indifferent "teen banane wallah" (tinsmith) that ever had the impertinence to undertake to make anything. [illustration] the construction of the box is shewn in the diagram below. its sides are of glass but the top and bottom are of tin. before presenting the trick a cloth ball, made of a spiral spring covered with cloth, (triangular pieces of different colours sewn together), is compressed and placed between the bottom of the box and a glass flap which is pressed down over it until caught by a pin at the back of the box. when the ball is to appear, this pin is pressed and the catch releases the glass flap. the spring in the ball forces it up against one of the sides while the ball fills the box and holds the flap up. [illustration] it is a most futile trick with little effect and usually uncommonly badly shewn. but the man of mystery himself is delighted with it and thinks it is the best trick in his repertoire. _the bunder boat._ our next trick--so called because the toy boat used is intended to be a miniature of the harbour or "bander" boat used in bombay--is a trick which depends entirely on natural principles, and only needs a careful eye to time its required patter. it is a trick that is more commonly shewn in the bombay districts than elsewhere, though there is no reason why it should not have travelled throughout india since its invention countless years ago. [illustration: small hole out of which the water pours into the boat while the bottom of the mast is free of the water in the boat. cocoa-nut shell full of water hollow mast hole through which the water leaks. this leakage is not observed owing to the careless(!) spilling of the water referred to in the text.] a piece of wood cut into the shape of a boat is placed on the ground, and a mast about inches high is fixed into its one and only seat by being firmly pressed into the hole cut through the seat. to the top of the mast is affixed a cocoa-nut shell which has a small hole cut into it about one third of the way up. prior to the fixing of the mast and the shell, the boat and the shell are filled with water. the bottom of the mast--which is hollowed down its centre--just touches the top of the water in the boat. while filling the articles with water the performer carelessly--very carelessly--spills some on the ground all round the boat. he then blows his "bean." after a short interval he orders water to pour out of the hole in the shell. it does so until he tells it to stop. he again blows his "bean." again he orders the water to pour out of the shell. again it pours out until told to stop. and so on until the shell is quite empty and the trick is at an end. wonderful isn't it? marvellous! mahatmaism! now let us have the explanation. the cocoa-nut shell is full of water. it has only one outlet, the small hole in its side. this is so small that the air cannot get in to let the water out. the only way the air can get in is up the hollowed mast, the bottom of which is immersed in the water in the boat. there is a small hole in the bottom of the boat through which the water in it leaks away. this lowers the water until it has cleared from the bottom of the mast through which a puff of air goes up into the shell, allowing some of the water in the shell to pour out into the water in the boat. now the water from the shell pours out in greater volume into the boat than the water that is leaking out of the boat. this fills it up again until the bottom of the mast is again immersed, stopping any air going up into the shell and the water stops pouring out of it. the performer drones away on his musical instrument until he sees that the water level in the boat is just about to clear the bottom of the mast. he then orders the water to come out of the shell. he watches until the newly added water to that in the boat is about to cover the bottom of the mast again, and then gives that wonderful and much used order "bus" that, possibly, many of my readers may use from time to time after the sun has set. the water stops pouring out of the mast. wonderful isn't it? mahatma. ghandi ki jai! chapter v the bowl of rice a surprising little trick was once shewn to me by a performer whose exhibition of magic was otherwise of a very low class. he borrowed a "lota" or brass water bowl of one of the servants. these lotas are invariably so shaped that the circumference of the top is about half that of the widest part, thus:-- [illustration] he then borrowed some uncooked rice with which he proceeded to fill the bowl to its utmost capacity. while doing so he kept on bumping the bowl on the ground so that the rice was packed as closely as possible inside it, until finally one could see the last few grains in a pyramid on top. he then borrowed a large table knife, and as it were, stabbed it into the rice down into the bowl. little stabs at first, and then deeper and deeper until the whole of the blade of the knife was in the rice, and the handle alone remained to be seen. after an incantation and jadoo-music, he caught hold of the handle and raised the bowl and the rice slowly into space. he then swung it to and fro and eventually spun round and round, holding the handle of the knife while the bowl and its contents of rice clung tenaciously to the blade. beginning to slow down, he at last replaced the bowl on the ground, extracted the knife and handed it to me for examination. he emptied the bowl pouring the rice into some paper laid out to receive it. the closest scrutiny revealed no trace of "gadgets" or of any artifice that had enabled him to thus lift the filled bowl. a small bribe could not tempt him to reveal the secret, and in such cases i make it a rule to try the trick exactly as i have seen it done. i took a similar bowl, filled it with rice, and stabbed it with a table knife. gently at first and then more firmly. to my astonishment i found that after three or four stabs in exactly the same place, the rice below the blade seemed to get harder, until i pressed down the knife and found that i could not extract it with a straight pull! i lifted the bowl of rice, and could with impunity swing it round over my head just as one uses an indian club. to extract the knife one has to twist the handle slightly, when it comes out immediately. try it and see. _the coloured sands._ occasionally our conjuring friend breaks out from the stereotyped programme already described, and one of the most common additions to his programme is the "coloured sand" trick. he has a bowl of water on the ground, and from a number of small packets of paper he takes a corresponding number of different coloured powders. let us say "green, red, white, orange and blue." he pours all these into the bowl of water, which assumes a dirty blue colour when stirred up well. finally, from a box containing common sand he puts two or three handsfull into the basin of water and thoroughly mixes up the contents of the bowl. he then asks his audience which coloured sand they would like extracted from the water. the reply may be "green." "wet or dry?" asks the conjuror. let us ask for "dry." he dips his hand into the water and grasping, apparently, a handful of the mixture, draws it out again, and squeezes out a shower of dry green sand, unmixed with any other colour! "now what colour will you have?" asks the magician. let us ask for "wet blue sand." he dips his empty hand into the water, and draws out a handful of wet blue sand, for, when he opens his hand, a damp ball of blue sand falls on to the ground. he can deal with the other coloured sands in the same way, bringing out each colour separately, and wet or dry as desired. how on earth is it done? the different coloured sands or powders are put into the water in a fair and square manner. but the solution of the trick is to be found in the way in which he puts the common sand into the water. this common sand is kept in a box, and in it are little balls of prepared powders or sand of colours corresponding to those already put into the water. these balls are prepared by being mixed with a little water, rolled into a ball, which is smeared all over with grease, and then baked until dry. each ball can then be immersed in water for a minute or so without crumbling or being damaged by the water. these balls are put into the common sand box, so that they are only just visible to the performer. he puts his hand into the box and extracts a handful of common sand, together with a ball of powder. he thrusts his hand into the bowl leaving the ball immersed, and notes its position. he again takes a handful of common sand and with it another ball which he places in the water. similarly he places all the coloured balls into the water, under the guise of adding plenty of common sand, to make the trick more difficult and wonderful. he notes very carefully the position of each coloured ball as he puts it into the water, as when immersed they cannot be seen either by him or the audience, owing to the dirty blue-ishness of the whole mixture. the audience now select the colour of the powder to be extracted. the performer remembers the position of the required ball and takes it out. if it is to be poured out wet, he opens his hand and drops it on to the ground. if it is wanted "dry," by squeezing the ball, its baked shell is cracked and its contents pour out. there is no difficulty in performing the trick. it is very effective and one that is included in the programme of many european conjurors, though their modus operandi is more efficient and needs less preparation. chapter vi a rope trick the only rope trick i have ever seen performed by an indian conjuror, is that of "the cut string restored," as it is called in england. the idea is to get one of the audience to cut a piece of string or rope ostensibly in half and by magic to restore it, without the use of knots. [illustration: preliminaries of the restored rope. the only rope trick that i have ever seen performed in india.] the explanation of this trick is given in many books for beginners in magic. the author of "modern magic"--the best work to my mind on elementary conjuring--says of it "this trick is of such venerable antiquity, that we should not have ventured to allude to it, were it not that the mode of working, which we are about to describe, though old in principle is new in detail and much superior in neatness to the generally known methods." after offering the rope for thorough examination shah mahommed took the two ends and manipulated the rope in such a manner that when it was held out to be cut it was in this wise:-- [illustration] held at a by the left hand and at b by the right. it was cut at x and consequently was in two pieces not of equal length, but of which one was practically the whole length of the rope while the other was the piece ax, or possibly some six inches long. while gathering up the rope to be magically restored, the old scoundrel simply got rid of this small piece and showed the longer one as the restored rope. to go into details and to give the "drill" as to how to get the string or rope into the required position would be tedious and difficult to understand. the illustration, i trust, explains sufficiently clearly the secret of the trick, and if one tries to get it into this position it will be found quite easy to do, "chacun à son gout." shah mahommed made quite a feature of the trick, using two assistants for it, one to hold the rope occasionally and the other to cut it. the first time i remember seeing it was when uncle george showed it to me on my fourth birthday, many long weary years ago. [illustration] the string (as shewn in the above illustration) being held for the audience to cut at x. the swastika i remember on one occasion some years ago, being very puzzled by a trick that is often performed in bengal. the magician gets from one of the servants a broken "chatti" or earthenware bowl. he selects a piece about two inches square and asks one of his audience to draw upon it with a piece of charcoal, borrowed from the "khansamah" or cook, the sign of the swastika, with which most people are familiar. [illustration] the draftsman is then requested to place the piece of earthenware or tile on the ground and after gazing intently at the swastika to crush it to powder with the heel of his boot. these instructions are accordingly carried out. the man of magic now asks his assistant to look at the palm of his hand and see that there is no mark upon it. there is no mark. the hand is then held out palm upwards over the powdered tile and the assistant is told to gaze at it intently. after a few seconds the performer turns the assistant's hand over so that it is now palm downwards. a little music on the "bean," a magic pass, a mystic word, and the assistant is requested to look at the palm of his hand, when to his astonishment, there is a distinct mark of the swastika upon it! truly a miracle! the trick is a most effective one, and when well performed, with intervals for gazing at the dust, the clean palm, mystic words and so forth, it would baffle most audiences. yet it is simplicity itself, and this is the secret. when the swastika is drawn on the piece of tile, the performer in placing it on the ground to be trodden upon, puts his thumb on the drawing, and thereby gets an inverse print of it on the ball of his thumb. the tile is powdered and the hand held palm upwards over it. when turning the assistant's hand palm downwards, the conjuror does so with his fingers at the back of the assistant's hand and the thumb on the clean palm, leaving the imprint of the swastika upon it. a rub with his thumb on his garment, or the ground, removes instantly all trace of the medium between the tile and the assistant's palm. charcoal must be used as it is soft to write with and gives the best imprints. an "hh" pencil for instance, might do, but the imprint would be hardly visible on the palm. i consider this little trick to be one of the most mystifying of the indian conjuror. the egg bag an effective little trick usually follows that of the cut and restored string in the form of an egg being put into a small bag. a magic pass is made over the mouth of the bag, which is then turned inside out, stamped upon if necessary, and slapped all over to show that it is quite empty and that the egg has disappeared. at will, and with another magic pass, the egg reappears from the bag when it is turned over, mouth downwards. [illustration: shah mahommed performing the egg bag trick.] the secret lies in the fact that the bag, which is of some opaque material, and is nine inches deep and six inches broad, has one of its sides double. the easiest way to make such a bag is to take a piece of cloth six inches broad and inches long. fold six inches of one end over and then turn the other end to where the cloth has been folded. stitch up either side, thus making a bag. when the egg is put in, it drops to the bottom of the bag. when the performer dips his hand in again to take out the egg, in doing so he slips it into the pocket formed inside, and leaves it there, bringing his hand out empty and from which the egg has disappeared. the bag being turned inside out does not expose the egg which is in the inner pocket. when treading on or slapping the bag, care should of course be taken to miss the egg. chapter vii the dancing duck as his last trick was with water the jadoo-wallah sensibly enough proceeds to show another with water, though an english conjuror would separate such tricks from an artistic point of view, thinking that a change of diet in magic is just as necessary as it is in a meal. the trick is that of the dancing duck. [illustration: the dancing duck, performed with an enamel bowl instead of the cocoa-nut shell.] a half cocoa-nut shell is dug out of the bag. it is wrapped up in a piece of cloth and very carefully unfolded, for reasons that will be apparent later. in this shell is a little wooden duck. the shell is placed on the ground and filled with water upon which the duck floats. the performer takes his "tom tom" and while playing it the duck begins to dance, as it were, upon the water. after an interval it is commanded to pay its obeisances or in other words, to "salaam," which it does by going right under water. on the word "bas" it comes up again. and so forth and so on. it is a clever little trick and we will now see how it is done. the cocoa-nut shell has a hole through the bottom of it. through this hole passes a horse hair that is attached at one end to the duck and at the other to a piece of bees wax. the hair is about two feet long. the whole apparatus is wrapped in a piece of cloth as otherwise the horse hair would get unwound and broken. when placing it on the ground, the bees wax enables the performer to see where the end of the hair is when unwound. the shell is filled with water, some being carelessly spilt to prevent the leakage through the little hole at the bottom being too noticeable. when picking up his "tom-tom" the performer also picks up the bees wax, and attaching it to the "tom-tom" the arrangements are complete. bringing the "tom-tom" closer to the body makes the duck dive under water. the ordinary shaking of the drum makes the duck dance. this is not a trick that can be conveniently shewn by europeans, because of the inconvenience of doing it on the ground. the leakage of the water is not so apparent on the earth, which hides the horse hair. but at a small distance the trick can be done on a table, as the horse hair is quite invisible at a range of five feet, especially when it is against a dark back ground. it can be easily made or bought for a few annas, and with good patter presents a neat little after dinner experiment. _the mango tree trick._ to my mind it is amazing what a spurious reputation this trick has gained. from a technical point of view, it is possibly the worst performance of the indian conjuror. from a physiological point of view the gullibility of the audience is astounding. wherever one goes in england, france or america, in fact anywhere out of india, and the conversation turns to magic, one is asked about the mango tree trick, and whether one has seen it done. i have heard the most gorgeously elaborated descriptions of this trick, given not only by persons who had heard about it but, i regret to say, by persons who said that they had seen it done. on one occasion on board ship a eurasian, who hailed from ---- and indulged in the mahommedan name of macpherson, gave me the following details of the trick as he had seen it performed, of course many many years ago. when he was only two years old i expect. "a conjuror came into the compound, and my father told him to clear out. the man, however, persisted in remaining, saying that he had something very wonderful to show us. my father eventually agreed to watch the performance. we all sat down on the verandah, which was of solid concrete, and the jadoo-wallah took off his "dhoti" or loin cloth, and squatted in front of us. he produced a mango stone and put it under some loose earth, which he had gathered up from our own garden. he played on his flute, and as he did so the stone began to sprout until the little shrub was about two inches high. he then watered it a little and again began playing the most beautiful music to it. the little plant grew higher and higher as he did so, until it was quite two feet high with a number of leaves upon it. he then watered it a second time, and again played his flute until the tree was four feet high with fruit on it. he then stopped his music and cut one of the mangoes off the tree, which my father ate and found to be delicious." that was macpherson's story. i have never seen the trick done this way, and do not know of anyone who has. but i have an explanation to give. in fact four explanations. these are:-- that macpherson and baron münchausen were relations. that macpherson's cousin was louis de rougement. that the trick as above was explained to me late at night, after macpherson had had "one or two." that it was never done at all. of course i do not want to call macpherson a liar. it would be rude. he is a bigger man than i am, and he might meet me again. i will now describe the mango trick as i have seen it performed many many times. [illustration: the preliminary stage of the mango tree trick as shewn by shah mahommed.] the jadoo-wallah, sitting under the porch and not upon a concrete verandah, heaps up some earth in front of him. he wets this until it has the consistency of mud. he then places in this little mound a mango stone and covers the whole with a cloth. he plays the "bean" and takes away the cloth when the heap is found to be as before. he takes the lid of his basket, and covering it with the cloth, places it over the heap of mud propping up one end of it, that towards himself, with a little piece of stick. more "bean." he then takes away the lid and cloth. still no result. he puts back the covering again. (i am going to call this point "a" for my explanation.) after a certain amount of manipulation, during which is heard the rustling of leaves, he lifts it up and lo! and behold! there is a small plant in view. he administers to it with water and adjusts its leaves. he again goes through the same performance as above. each time that he takes away the basket cover the tree has grown larger. the most developed finale that i have seen, is when the tree was about two feet high with a number of leaves and two diminutive unripe mangoes on it. my explanation will rob those who like to imagine that magic pure and simple, accounts for the mango tree trick of a great deal of their enjoyment in that belief. the making of the loose earth into a mud pie is necessary, because, otherwise the bits of branches that are to be stuck into it from time to time will not stand upright. at the point "a" referred to above, when the performer takes the basket lid away, with the cloth he picks up a small bundle by his side which contains a small piece of a mango twig with two or three leaves upon it. under cover of the replaced lid he undoes the bundle, gets out the twig, and sticks it into the mud heap pressing it firmly down, so that it stands erect and appears to have grown there. he plays a little music and carries away the lid, and with it the empty rag that contained the twig. he places the lid on the ground and so gets rid of the rag. while his audience are showing their surprise at the development of the twig, he picks up still another larger bundle containing a still bigger branch of a mango tree. he replaces the lid, and under cover of it unfolds the bundle, gets out the branch, adds it to the twig already in the mud heap and makes all secure by again pressing down the mud. [illustration: conclusion of the mango tree trick.] finally he plants in the same way, the branch which has possibly two mangoes upon it. it might even have ripe fruit, the means of getting them there being just the same, though the ripe fruit being brought to view will of course depend upon the season of the year at which the trick is being shewn. when the necessary monetary subscription that follows this trick has been completed, the jadoo-wallah sweeps the branches, earth, and all away in one fell destructive swoop which does not allow his audience to ascertain whether or no the tree had any roots. occasionally, instead of the basket lid, the magician uses three sticks tied together in the form of a tripod over which he places his cloth under which he works his mysteries. this was the method of ghaus mahommed. many of my readers may say that the above cannot be the explanation of the trick. all i can say is, that the next time they see the mango trick being performed, let them take a copy of this little book and refer to it as the trick progresses, when i feel confident that they will accept this true and only explanation. if they are still unbelievers, or rather believers in the real magic of the trick, let them offer untold gold to any man who will do the mango tree trick in india in january, or february, culminating in the tree having ripe or unripe fruit upon it. as far as i know, the mango tree does not give fruit in these two months and the money will never be forfeited. now that we know the explanation, does it not strike the reader as amazing that such a crude, simple trick should have gained the reputation it has done. i can only attribute the fact to persons like our mahommedan and scotch friend macpherson, who tell "traveller's yarns" until they in time begin to believe them themselves. chapter viii the basket trick when we discussed the mango tree trick, i commented unfavourably upon the veracity of our friend macpherson. let me here state definitely that there is no such person as far as i know, though the description of the trick as i have given it, was related to me word for word in the smoking room of an outward bound ship. it was capped by some one saying that they had seen the tree grown without earth, on the deck of a steamer on its way to australia. i make no comment on this version of the mango tree trick. there are many people who describe tricks to me and ask how they could have been done. some of these baffle all explanation. they are so marvellous, that i am convinced that they have never been done and could never be performed. such tricks as described to me are usually the fruit of a vivid imagination, pure and simple. as an instance of this, i will relate an incident that happened some time ago in calcutta. i gave a performance in a public place in which i did a billiard ball trick. in the trick, the greatest number of billiard balls that i have at any one time in my hands is two. throughout the whole of the trick i use no more than one red, two white, and two smaller white balls. five in all. after the performance, i was having a well earned drink, when a complete stranger to me asked if i had seen "that chap who did the tricks." i could truthfully answer "no" and did so. "he was an absolute marvel," said the stranger "there he was on the stage in evening dress with both arms bared (i never bare my arms) and he produced the whole set of pool balls, every single colour of them." this was said to me within ten minutes of my having performed the trick, and the five balls that i used had been exaggerated into sixteen or seventeen. i forget how many balls are used at the game of pool. the french police truthfully say that no two untrained persons can describe accurately in detail a scene witnessed an hour previously. i am sure that all our indian judges can verify this statement. it can be easily proved by any one of my readers trying with his friends. it is this inability to accurately describe what has been seen that assists the conjuror so much in deceiving his audience. it is this inability which unfortunately results in rumours being spread of wonderful performances being given by magicians in distant lands, notably the rope trick, with which i will deal later. such rumours and stories are started by persons who from bravado will swear that they have seen this, that, and the other, in order generally to be the centre of their astounded listeners. a trick that is most frequently described is that known as the basket trick, which is in my opinion the chef d'oeuvre of the indian jadoo-wallah. it is a wonderful bluff usually wonderfully shewn. a perfectly good basket is placed on the ground. it is shewn to be quite empty and devoid of any trap, false bottoms or other mechanism. after a well conducted altercation with his assistant, a small boy, the performer tells him to get into the basket. the boy attempts to do so, but finds that it is too small to contain more than his feet and legs doubled up. the jadoo-wallah presses forward the little boy's head and this leaves only his shoulders and back visible. a large cloth of thick texture is then thrown over the little boy who is half in and half out of the basket, and the lid is balanced on top of all. a little more altercation ensues when the maestro takes a big stick and aims a mighty blow at the basket. as the blow falls the lid sinks down on to the top of the basket, and a terrible silence is the result. the jadoo-wallah realises that he has killed his assistant, and, if a good showman, bewails his lot suitably. he then decides to get rid of the body and, in some cases, to restore it to life again. in order to show that a tune on the "bean" has the required effect of making the body disappear, he lifts the lid of the basket and first with one foot and then the other steps on to the cloth covering the basket and presses it down to the bottom. there is nothing in the basket! to further prove the emptiness of the basket he replaces the lid, through the middle of which there is a hole, and through this hole thrusts down in all directions a sword. occasionally he thrusts it through the sides. there is nothing in the basket. the body has disappeared. this ends the trick, though on occasions the performer orders the lad to re-appear from the end of the garden, or elsewhere. the collection is made, the basket is hitched up on the shoulder pole and with his bag of tricks the jadoo-wallah moves on to the next bungalow. how can it be done? [illustration] first let us note carefully the shape of the basket. it is oblong, about two feet high with a bulge in all its sides, so that the bottom of the basket is larger than the top. when the boy gets into the basket he places both feet into it and sits down, filling the basket thus:-- [illustration] when the performer pushes his head forward the boy gets into this position:-- [illustration] the cloth is then thrown over all, the boy and the basket, and while the lid is being placed on top, and the altercation continues, the boy gets into this position, holding the basket lid up with one hand. [illustration] the lid of the basket being held up like this causes the audience to think that his former position is unaltered. if one were to take away the cloth and look inside the basket one would see the boy lying something like this. [illustration] the performer takes away the lid which the boy has allowed to sink into its proper place after the terrible blow with the big stick, and to show the emptiness of the basket, puts his feet into the basket, between the body and bent up legs of the boy, and sits down on top of the assistant. by doing so he pushes the cloth down close on to the boy. he then gets out again, replaces the lid and thrusts the sword through the hole in the lid twisting it in all directions. were it not for the thickness of the cloth, which is by now close to the body of the boy by reason of the performer having pressed it down by sitting in the basket, the sword would certainly hurt the little chap. incidentally the sword is none too sharp. the sword is withdrawn and pushed through the sides, above the body of the boy. the basket is proved undeniably empty. if my readers doubt this explanation, let them offer the jadoo-wallah, at this stage of the game, two thousand rupees to be allowed to fire a no. cartridge from a bore gun from a range of thirty yards at the empty basket. the performer will not accept the offer unless he values the boy at less than two thousand rupees and has a good chance of escaping arrest for murder. i have offered it twice with impunity. the trick divides into two endings. one can always tell which ending it will have by a glance at the basket. if it has two ropes which pass underneath it, permanently attached, the betting is that the boy will appear from the end of the garden. the reason of this is that after the re-appearance of the boy--a duplicate of the one in the basket--the permanent ropes on the basket allow it to be hitched up on the shoulder pole and carried away, with the disappeared boy still inside it. when the jadoo-wallah gets round the corner, the little assistant gets out while his impersonator goes a round about way into the next compound ready to re-appear at the end of the next performance of the trick. if the basket has no ropes attached to it, odds are on the performance ending by the magician apologising profusely to his gods who restore the boy from the depths of the basket again. the performer in this case has no duplicate, and the trick if well presented is almost as effective as the other, with the more elaborate ending. chapter ix the indian rope trick we have now gone through the average performance of the indian jadoo-wallah and have, i trust, some idea at any rate of how his tricks are done. though this is as far as i know the first time that such explanations have been published in detail i do not want anyone to accuse me of trying to deprive the poor fellow of his means of livelihood, which is far from my intention. in fact, though people who have read these pages have a glimmering of how he does his tricks, few of these will be able to imitate them, and those who are really interested will probably call in the next jadoo-wallah that appears, to get him to give his show with the intention of checking my explanations while the tricks are being performed. i sincerely trust that this will be the case as i shall have done at least one jadoo-wallah a good turn. it is true that conjurors have a code of honour--this may not be believed of such deceptive people--in that they do not divulge each others tricks which are performed exclusively. for instance, suppose that mr. a invented a new trick and showed it to mr. b, who is also a finished artist. though mr. b could see the modus operandi of the trick he would be quite unjustified in giving it away or in doing the trick himself without the permission of mr. a. this is an inviolate law of members of the magic circle and applies equally, or should do, to showmen who do not belong to the circle. there is no harm, however, in one of us explaining tricks that have been performed for centuries and are almost common property. these tricks have lost, as it were, their patent rights. personally, i do not mind explaining any tricks of my own that i am certain an unskilled person could never possibly do. having completed the average programme of our jadoo-wallah, i feel sure that people will say to each other "yes" but what about the rope trick? he cannot explain that and has avoided the best known trick of all indian conjuring tricks. in self-defence therefore, we will deal with the great rope trick. i will describe it as it has been described to me. the performer, in one's own compound, throws up the end of an ordinary rope into the air. by some mysterious means this end remains suspended in mid-air, without any visible means of support, so much so that the little boy assistant climbs up the rope to its very highest point, whence, after an interval, he entirely disappears. the performer then takes a sword and waves it in the air, when the legs and arms, disjointed, and finally the trunk and head of the little boy fall with a profusion of blood upon the ground at the foot of the rope. by means of an incantation these resume their natural positions, and the little boy gets up and walks off, apparently none the worse for his most trying ordeal. this trick was first described in writing by one ibn batuta, an arab, who made a journey round the world about the year . (i am not quite sure of this date). as far as i remember he saw it in china. he gives the most blood curdling description of the trick, and ends up with "so much so that we had to have another drink." please note the expression "another drink." i am of opinion that "this other little drink" did all the harm. missionaries have from time to time stated that they have seen this trick performed, though in no instance do they give the place or the name of the wonderful man who did it. although i have been most anxious to see the trick for the last twenty-three years, during which period i would gladly have travelled from one end of india to the other to do so, i have never yet met anyone who has definitely told me that he with his own eyes had seen the trick. there is one exception to this statement, an irish bandmaster of a gurkha regiment, who was i think, trying to pull my leg. i have met innumerable people whose aunt's sister's cousin saw it done, but never have i had the pleasure of meeting anyone directly deceived by it. a reward of a year's pay has been open to every sepoy (or indian soldier) i have met, who has seen the trick and can give me the name and residence of the performer. this for years. so far there have been no acceptances. eminent conjurors have travelled throughout india on purpose to get into touch with any man who does the trick, but their travels have been in vain. large rewards have been offered for such a meeting, and larger still for the performance of the trick. one single performance only, not the exposition of it. these rewards have never been claimed. the late mr. charles bertram was one of these eminent men, and though he travelled twice throughout india, he returned to england without having been shewn the trick. in , captain holmes, v.c., gave a lecture on this illusion before the members of the magic circle at anderton's hotel, fleet street, london, at which all the press correspondents of the leading news-papers were present. he produced a snapshot of a man purporting to be showing the rope trick in poona, or kirkee, one of its suburbs. captain holmes explained that though the boy did climb up what he (holmes) thought was a rope, he did not disappear at the top, nor did the disgusting exhibition of blood and disjointed limbs take place. this snapshot was carefully examined through a powerful magnifying glass, and the supposed rope had distinct joints in it similar to any bamboo pole, which japanese jugglers use when showing the feat of balancing a pole on their chins and allowing a boy to climb to its top. a trick that most of us have seen many times in the music halls of london. at his lecture, captain holmes stated that he did not see the man throw the rope up into the air, as he arrived late just in time to take a photo of the boy while in the air. many explanations have been given from time to time as to how this mythical trick has been done. the most amusing is that which was quoted at the mass meeting referred to above, and as far as my memory goes i will quote it here. "the trick is performed during the heat of the day, when the sun is at its zenith. the performer gets his audience to sit in a verandah facing the most powerful glare of the sun. the rope is thrown up and the boy climbs to its topmost end. on the explosion of a gun the boy completely disappears only to re-appear from the other side of the house or garden. the explanation is simple, on the sound of the gun, when the audience are somewhat startled, the boy jumps from the rope on to the top of the verandah up which he climbs, coming down the other side of the house and re-appears." i make no comment on this explanation. it is not worthy of one. "it is done by mesmerism." how many times have i heard this futile remark when discussing the rope trick. what always defeats me is this. supposing it could be done by mesmerism, why does this wonderful mesmerist, hypnotist, or suggestionist limit his powers, marvellous as they are, to making people believe that they see a boy climb up a rope. why does he not make people believe that he is mahatma ghandi and the ali brothers rolled into one? as the trick is done for a means of livelihood, why does he not make people see him as dr. barnardo asking for funds for charities. his limitations are unbounded, yet he sticks to this absurd rope and the boy climbing up it. "tum tua res agito paries cum proximus ardet." i do not know what this latin quotation means, but i would like it to convey "don't you think it rot yourself?" ask any medical man about the explanation of hypnotism and kindred other "isms" being accountable for the performance of this trick. i understand that a hypnotist can persuade a patient to believe that his finger is momentarily stiff, and that when released from this suggestion, the patient can remember that it had been made to him. but in order to persuade a person that he sees such a thing as a rope being thrown in the air and so forth, that person must be so much under the influence that when he is released from it he is totally unable to remember what he saw when under the trance. how then, can he describe what he saw when he comes to? some people say that photos have been taken of the trick and that when the plate was developed it was found to be blank. as i say, a person to be sufficiently mesmerised to imagine that he sees the trick being done, must perforce be so much under the influence that he cannot remember what he saw or anything that he did when under that influence. how does he know that he took a photo? or that anyone else took one? or remember anything at all about it? i hope that the above arguments will do away with the plea of mesmeric power being accountable for this myth. the plea is to my mind too absurd for words, yet it is wonderful that many people put it forward in all good faith. while on the subject of photography, let me now point out that although the magicians of europe and america have for ages been trying to get in touch with the trick, and although the ubiquitous kodak has been in vogue for at least thirty years, not one single photo or snapshot is available that depicts any part or portion of this trick. if there is such a snapshot, and its owner cares to communicate with me through my publishers, i can get him a good price for the plate or film, even for a copy of the picture. a really handsome price for it. to sum up i maintain that the trick has never been performed out of doors. that is to say that a rope thrown up into the air has not remained suspended in mid-air, nor has any boy ever climbed up it. that when at the top he has not disappeared and that after his disappearance he did not come down in bits, covered with blood or otherwise. i further maintain that no one has seen this trick, as described above, or in any way similar to the above description, who can come forward to give the approximate date, of such a performance, the place, and the names of the performer, his assistants, or of any two other persons who saw the trick done at that time and place. i only wish there might be such a person. we might then get in touch with the indian rope trick and ibn batuta's character might be vindicated. i offer rs. . (_£_ ) to anyone who will show me the rope trick in the open. this amount will be payable to anyone who will arrange that the trick is performed for my benefit, in my presence. the trick must be similar to the description given by ibn batuta, and must be brought to a successful conclusion before the reward can be claimed. it is to be performed at a place selected by me, either in india or england. this offer holds good for five years from the st january, . my address is:-- major l. h. branson, m.i.m.c., the magic circle, anderton's hotel, fleet street, london, england. chapter x snakes and crocodiles the best trick i have ever seen in india during my years in that country, was one that was performed especially for my benefit twice before i tumbled to the way in which it was done. we were in our own compound or garden in a military station not far from bombay, having tea on a small lawn--green grass--of which we were inordinately proud. suddenly we heard the chanter of the itinerant jadoo-wallah, and as usual i called him in to ask him if he had anything new. i wanted a really wonderful trick. "yes saheb" he replied "i have something really good, that few sahebs have seen before." "what is it" said i, thoroughly aroused by his earnest manner, and hoping that at last i should have an opportunity of seeing an oriental miracle worthy of the spurious reputation held by eastern magicians. "it is a trick with some snakes and a crocodile" said our friend "and if the saheb will sit down with the memsaheb, and will call the orderly, i will show it now." no sooner said than done. we sat down and called aba nalaode, our mabratta orderly. [illustration: filling the assistant's hands with earth.] while he came from his quarters, the jadoo-wallah proceeded to divest himself of all his clothing, with the exception of his dhotie or loin cloth. on the arrival of our orderly, he too was made to take off his shirt, leaving him dressed in a similarly negligé manner to our entertainer. the jadoo-wallah then took some earth and made our orderly hold it in his two hands held together in front of his body. he then pranced round the orderly two or three times, making, as he did so an imaginary circle round his assistant. he next called our attention to the fact that he had nothing concealed about his person. [illustration: the performer showing that he has nothing concealed about him.] [illustration: the actual moment of the appearance of the snakes and crocodiles.] we could see that this was so as regards his bare chest, arms and waist, and to convince us that he had nothing hidden in his dhotie he showed us one bare leg at a time, avoiding barely any immodesty. concealing our blushes, we felt satisfied that his dhotie was the only worldly possession that he had with him at the moment. he picked up his chanter and continued to circle round and round our orderly, gradually closing into him. suddenly he ran towards the outstretched hands with a crouching movement and struck them a smart blow, causing the orderly to pull his parted hands away and a small cloud of dust to appear from the falling earth. the cloud faded in a moment and there, to our intense astonishment, on the ground at our retainers feet were three snakes, two of which were cobras, and a baby crocodile! needless to say that as soon as our orderly saw these unpleasant creatures writhing at his feet he cleared off to a safe distance. the jadoo-wallah caught the reptiles and placed them in his snake basket. i took him aside and asked him to divulge the secret of the trick. "ha! ha! saheb" said he "at last i have shewn you something that you do not know. i will not tell you how it is done, but will come again in a week's time and will perform it once more for your benefit." i agreed, and after the usual remuneration or bucksheesh, with a little extra, had passed hands, away went our friend down the road to the bazaar. the following week he sent word that he was coming on a particular day, and that if i got some friends to come he would repeat the trick. the more friends, the more bucksheesh! i gathered a few people in to have tea, and in due course the magician arrived, and with our head servant again performed the trick with the same wonderful result. this time i solved the mystery. i told the performer my impressions of it and was glad to get his corroboration. there was of course no collusion with the volunteer assistants. the secret of the trick lies in a bag suspended mouth downwards from a string round the magician's waist so that it lies between his legs. this bag contained the three snakes and the small crocodile. the mouth of the bag was threaded with a string, and naturally remained closed until the string was pulled right away when the weight of the wriggling contents caused the mouth to open and the reptiles to fall upon the ground beneath. the crouching position of the magician enabled him to get his legs spanning the ground immediately beneath the orderly's hands, and the earth falling in a dust prevented the possibility of our seeing the snakes during the brief interval of their falling from under the dhotie to the ground. needless to say that the cobras had had their fangs extracted, that the third snake was harmless, and that the baby crocodile was too small to inflict any damage, though all four participants could hiss like a young steam engine. it was, as i say, the best trick i have ever seen in india, and from a magician's artistic point of view, the beauty of it lies in the fact that the bag is concealed through the modesty of the performer, and that in consequence the trick is not likely to be found out except by reasoning and the careful watching of all his movements. chapter xi generalities, and other myths. this little book is written on indian conjuring, and with the exception of a dissertation upon the great indian rope imagination, we have confined ourselves to tricks that we ourselves have seen, and which are common to the indian conjuror. it would however, be incomplete without touching on one or two other broadcast myths that are frequently talked about. messrs. maskelyn & devant used to show a very clever illusion called the new page, in which a page boy was tied up in an upright position in a cabinet just large enough to contain him. the showman then took a doll--a small model of the page boy--and illustrated that whatever happened to the doll would happen to the boy in the box. as a convincing example he turned the doll upside down. miraculous to relate, when the cabinet was opened the page boy was found to be upside down with the original knots and seals intact! this experiment according to the excellent patter of the showman, was based upon the prevalent idea that in india certain magicians make a small effigy of a person on whom some dire calamity is intended, and that whatever is done to this doll, happens to the unfortunate person at any distance, but at that identical moment. i am glad to say that i have never seen or heard of this myth being verified. on one occasion a medical officer knowing that i was interested in magic, told me that he was attending an idiot girl who was covered with sores and that the common idea in the bazaar was that some person was working "jadoo" upon her, using this doll method of doing so. he kindly allowed me to visit the girl with him, and, being an ordinary mortal and unused to horrible sights, i was shocked at her appearance. she had nasty open sores on her cheeks, arms and forehead. she was certainly an imbecile. her father was adamant in his belief that "jadoo" and nothing else accounted for her state. her imbecility was due, we found, to her having had a fall as a baby. in order to ascertain the cause of the sores the medical officer removed her to the cantonment (government) hospital, where after a period they yielded to treatment and were eventually cured. evidently the "jadoo" had ceased. on her return to her ancestral hut, these sores again appeared. with the permission of the medical officer and the parents, i employed a reliable attendant to watch the girl. in three days i received the following report. the previous evening, when the girl thought that she was not being watched, the attendant saw her take something from a hiding place and rub her face with it two or three times. he watched her replace whatever it was, and later found it. he gave it to us with his report. it proved to be a piece of nut used by "dhobies" or indian washermen to mark the clothing committed to their destruction-care, i should say. on every article of clothing returned by the "dhobie" there is in one corner a small brown mark, corresponding to the stitched mark used by laundries in england, by which the owner of the article washed is identified. this nut is called, i believe, "areca nut." when applied to the human skin it causes a sore. the illness from which the poor girl was suffering was an "inclination to maim or disfigure oneself," commonly found with imbeciles. (i have touched wood, you medical people, so please don't abuse me if i am wrong!) as the parents were not fully convinced that "jadoo" was not being worked, we again took the girl to hospital and again was she cured of the ghastly sores. this is the only case of such "jadoo" that has come to my personal knowledge. there is another form of "jadoo" that is believed in by the inhabitants of the bazaar. a maliciously inclined person has a spite against another. he makes a small bouquet of tomato leaves, or cabbage or some such herb, sprinkles it with salt, green powder, and so forth and so on, and lays this down as close as possible to the door of the person to whom he wants to bring bad luck for months! it is true that we had this delightful bouquet thrown into our compound on one occasion, and that shortly afterwards-- ( ) our gardener's wife died in childbirth. ( ) my wife got hay fever. ( ) my agents declined to meet any more of my cheques until they had received a substantial instalment. ( ) we were again ordered to move to another station. i regret to say that of the above, , and were of such frequent occurrence that we did not assign them to the receipt of the bouquet. the gardener however, was convinced that it caused his wife to die in childbirth as she had never done so before. i have no explanation for the "denouément" and give the story as it happened, allowing my readers to judge for themselves whether or no any credence should be given to the fable after such convincing proof. * * * * * transcriber's note: this text file incudes "pictures" which are best viewed using a mono-spaced typeface such as courier. page numbers are given in parenthesis. round games by baxter-wray. round games with cards. a practical treatise on all the most popular games, with their different variations, and hints for their practice. by baxter-wray. contents. page nap ... loo ... poker ... vingt-un ... commerce ... speculation ... pope joan ... spin ... newmarket ... snip-snap-snorum ... jig ... cassino ... my bird sings ... spoil five ... loto ... [ ] "nap," or "napoleon." the game of napoleon, or as it is more generally and popularly called "nap," was introduced into this country from the united states, it is believed, about , although it is recorded that the game had previously been played for high stakes at some of the more notorious gambling clubs. it is named after the great napoleon, as the principal player in the game becomes, for the time being, an ishmaelite, whose "hand" is against every man's, and every man's against his, as was the case with the "grand adventurer" in - (_see_ variations)--whence we have the terms wellington, blücher, etc. it is an admirable game for three, four, or five persons, and is also available for two and six, though four is the ideal number, and it is played with an ordinary pack of fifty-two cards. (for nap with thirty-two card pack, _see_ page ). with six persons taking part in the game the dealer stands out of the play, not dealing any cards to himself, though he receives and pays for the tricks like the others, and the same system is sometimes adopted when there are five players; as, if all the players took active part in the game, it would become most difficult to make the tricks, because more cards would be in use. the popularity of the game is no doubt owing to the short time necessary for playing the hands, and to the fact [ ] that it can be terminated at any moment, for no game or deal need exceed two or three minutes, except when a pool or "kitty" is introduced (_see_ variations). in this case provision has to be made for the distribution of the amount of the kitty. while care in playing is necessary, no great amount of skill is required to render the game diverting as an amusement, while it also affords ample scope for the exercise of speculation and the other elements of excitement. _description_. the main idea of the play, as already stated, is for one of the competitors to stand against the united efforts of the others, who, in turn, use their powers to prevent his securing the object for which he is striving--in this case to win the whole or a certain number of tricks. the number of the tricks to be won is variable, and it depends on the value of the cards in each player's hand to decide what number he will endeavour to secure. the greatest possible achievement is to win the whole of the tricks (which are five in number), and the player who succeeds in doing this scores a "nap," and receives double stakes from each of his companions; if however, after declaring his intention to try for nap he fails, he only pays a single, _i.e._, for five tricks; and, as will be shown later on, this condition attaching to a nap becomes an important feature in deciding on the number of tricks to be played for, when a good hand is secured. the only safe and perfect nap is ace, king, queen, knave, and ten of the same suit, but as this combination of cards does not often occur in actual practice, it remains for the player to speculate on his chances with the cards he holds. [ ] it is this speculation of possibilities which forms the principal feature of the game, and it is the ability of a competitor to make an immediate decision on this point that governs his success or failure in its practice. very much, however, depends on the temperament of the player. a bold, enterprising person will risk much in the hope of winning much, and one player will declare for nap on the same cards which another would consider only safe for three tricks, and, in like manner, one will declare for three tricks where his neighbour would hesitate to risk two. another important matter for consideration is the number of players engaged, and the consequent proportion of cards in use. each player receives five cards, so that it follows, with three players engaged, that fifteen are in use, and thirty-seven remain in the pack unexposed; whereas if five are playing there are twenty-five cards in use, and only twenty-seven remaining unexposed. the calculation necessary is, therefore, as to the probability of certain superior cards being in the hands of the opponents, or remaining in the undealt surplus of the pack. _tactics_. as a perfect nap is of such rarity we must content ourselves with substitutes, and in this respect we may regard the following combinations as good ordinary hands on which to declare for the full number of tricks: a flush of fairly high cards, _i.e._, the five all of one suit; four of one suit (headed with ace or king), and one high card of another suit; or three high cards of one suit, with two high cards of a second suit. it is dangerous to risk a nap on a hand of three suits, unless it consists of three high cards of one suit with two other aces; then it is often possible to [ ] win the five tricks, by first exhausting the trumps, and then playing the aces, which must win; but if one of the opponents starts with four trumps, no matter how small, success is, of course, impossible. if a player does not consider his cards good enough to permit of his declaring for nap--and it is fair to suppose that not once in a hundred they will be absolutely safe--he has to decide what they are worth, and declare accordingly. it is not often that four tricks are called, because a hand good enough for four is usually regarded as sufficiently good for nap, on account of the additional stakes received by the player who succeeds in making the whole of the tricks, which amount to a difference of six points from each competitor, as for four tricks he receives four, while for nap he receives ten, paying only five, however, if he loses. on the same principle as already shown in regard to a "perfect" nap, it will be understood that ace, king, queen, is the only certain combination with which to secure three tricks, but these cards, again, are seldom met with in a hand, and speculation is once more the principal matter for consideration. ace, knave, and ten of a suit is generally good for three tricks, as the only possibility against such a combination is that one of the other players holds king or queen of the same suit, with a smaller trump to throw away when the ace is led. three tricks are, however, often called on much lower cards than ace, knave, ten, especially when the other cards in the hand are of one suit, or are sufficiently high to admit of the possibility of one of them securing a trick. the same line of reasoning holds good in regard to a declaration of two tricks, the only certainty in that case being ace and king. it must not be considered, after these comments on the game, that there is any great difficulty to surmount in acquiring [ ] a knowledge of napoleon. as we said at the commencement of our remarks no great skill is essential, but considerable care is necessary to secure anything like success at the game, the chief factor in which is so-called luck. it is impossible to make tricks, or even declare an intention to try for them, unless one receives a certain number of high cards. one may even go further, and say that luck goes far beyond the actual cards dealt to each player, for the best of hands often fail, and poor cards frequently achieve success; whilst it happens, in numerous cases, that the playing of the cards demonstrates that really weak hands would have secured success if the holder had had the pluck, or impudence, we may term it, to declare more than the value of the cards seemed to justify. on the other hand it is often astonishing to find the number of high cards of a given suit included among the fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five in the hands of the players engaged in the game. taking all matters into consideration, it must be regarded as virtually impossible to give any precise rules for deciding the number of tricks to declare, and it is equally difficult to lay down any definite plan for playing the cards to the tricks. we can only generalize for the information of our readers, who must decide for themselves whether they will play an adventurous game, with its greater risks, and greater possibilities of success; or whether they will adopt a quieter and less speculative course, standing to win or lose less on their own declarations. it must always be borne in mind, however, that whichever course is pursued it is only his own actions that can be governed by each player. one may adopt a quiet, safe game, and risk little, while some or all of the opponents may adopt the opposite extreme, and force all the competitors, [ ] in a manner of speaking, to share in their risky speculations. if the bold player wins, and we think the chances are in his favour, the quieter ones, no matter how safe their own declarations may be, must necessarily lose, and _vice versâ_ so that we have, not only the numberless possible combinations of the cards to consider, but also the temperament and position of those engaged in each game. care should be taken to remember, as far as possible, the cards thrown away by the other players, when they cannot follow suit to any particular lead, and it will be found in practice that much information can be derived as to the character of the remaining cards from a careful study of the hands during the progress of the play, and this knowledge is particularly valuable when a player is left with two cards of equal, or nearly equal value, and his chance of success depends upon his winning a trick with one of them. we shall now proceed to consider the various parts of the game, and the variations that have been introduced into the method of playing it. _stakes_. the stakes may consist of any amount previously arranged, and whatever is decided upon, whether it be counters or money, is recognised as the limit per trick, only changed when a player having declared for nap, succeeds in making it, in which case each player pays double, or as though he had lost ten tricks. in other cases the players win or lose one stake for each trick that the senior hand has declared for. say, for example, he declared to win three tricks, and succeeded, then each of the other players would pay him three times the amount of the stake; if the senior hand did not succeed, he would have to pay a similar amount to each of the others. [ ] _dealing_. the deal is decided by the cards being turned face upwards before each player, until the first knave is exposed. the player to whom the knave falls then becomes the first dealer. it is better to play with two separate packs of cards, as considerable time is saved in collecting and shuffling, which operations are to be performed by the player on the next dealer's left hand side. when shuffled the cards are to be placed on the right hand side of the dealer, where they are to be left until the player on his right cuts them. the dealer distributes five cards to each player, going from left to might, and dealing the cards one at a time. as the deal is a disadvantage, inasmuch as the dealer has the last call, there is no penalty attaching to a misdeal, unless the game is being played with the addition of a pool or kitty (_see_ page ), in which case the player making a misdeal pays a penalty to the pool equal to the stake of one trick. in the event of a misdeal, or accidental exposure of a card, the whole pack must be collected, shuffled and re-cut, as before, after which the cards are to be re-dealt by the same player who made the mistake. the players must not interfere with the cards during the deal, under a similar penalty, nor touch the remainder of the pack when once it has left the dealer's hands. _calling_. the deal having been completed the players are entitled to look at their cards, and then declare, in turn, whether they will "stand" or "pass," the player on the dealer's left having the first call. if he decide to stand he declares the number of tricks he will stand for, while if he elects to pass [ ] he simply states his intention of so doing, but it is understood that the first caller must stand for one trick, should all the others decide to pass, except in the case where the double header is agreed to (_see_ page ). the next player then announces his intention. if he cannot stand for more tricks than have already been called he must pass, and the same holds good all round, until the dealer is reached. no player may make a second declaration, or alter one once made. _playing the hands_. the player who has called the highest number of tricks now becomes senior hand, and his object is to make the tricks he has declared, in opposition to the united efforts of the other players, who combine --without consultation or arrangement of any kind--to defeat his purpose. the senior hand may make trumps of any suit he chooses, and this he signifies by leading one of the suit he selects. it will thus be seen that the first card played in each deal decides the trumps for that deal. the player on the left of the leader then follows. if he has a card of the suit led he must play it, but if not he may throw off any card he chooses. if he has more than one card of the suit he can play either, as he is not forced to head the trick even if he has a card higher than that led but in practice it is seldom desirable to pass a trick in the first round, when headed by the senior hand, except under exceptional circumstances, such for instance as holding ace and a small one, with knave or a lower card led. provided no player has headed the trick, _i.e._, played a higher card of the same suit as the one led, the trick is scored by the senior hand, and he leads for the second [ ] round. if, however, one of the players has taken the trick, then the lead passes to the winner of that trick, and the same occurs after the second, third and fourth tricks. in the second and subsequent rounds the leader may play whatever card he chooses, just as in the first, the trumps remaining unaltered. a player having one of the suit led in either round must play it, but if he has none of the suit he may either discard one of the others, or head the trick by playing a trump. this continues throughout the five rounds, unless the senior hand shall have previously won the number of tricks he declared, or shall have lost such a number as to render his success impossible, in either of which cases the cards are collected for the next deal. variations. there are several innovations and different methods of play which may be introduced into the game of napoleon, but any divergence from the plain game should be carefully settled by the company _before the play is commenced_. failing a proper understanding on this point, the rules applicable to the simple game must be adhered to. _pool or kitty_. when a pool is agreed to, payment is made by each dealer according to the value of the stake of the game, but it is more convenient for all of the players to pay in when it is the original dealer's turn to play. the kitty thus formed becomes the property of the caller who makes nap, and he takes it in addition to the double stakes he [ ] receives from each player, as already mentioned. when it is found desirable to conclude the game before a nap has been secured, the amount of the kitty is to be equally divided between the players, or it may be drawn for, in which case a card is distributed to each player by the regular dealer, who has the cards properly shuffled and cut for the purpose, when the holder of the lowest card (ace here reckoning as highest) takes the pool. _misery or misÉre_. this is the most common variation, and is the antithesis of napoleon, inasmuch as the caller must not make a single trick. the caller leads off in the ordinary way--the suit led being trumps, as usual, unless it is agreed, as is sometimes done, that there shall be no trumps in this variation. the caller of misére must always follow suit, if he can, but is not obliged to trump if he has none of the suit led. he must, however, play the cards so as to avoid taking a trick. should he be compelled to win one of the tricks, or should his original lead remain unheaded by any of the other players, then he fails in his declaration, and has to pay, but if he avoids making a trick, the other players have to pay him. the usual stake for "misery," either for winner or loser, is three; but any player declaring he can make three tricks takes precedence, and plays accordingly. _buying cards_. after the cards have been distributed, _but before any declaration has been made_, the dealer asks each player in turn, beginning with the player on his left, whether he wishes to buy a card or cards. the player wishing to purchase must first throw away the cards he desires to eject, [ ] face downwards, and must place in the pool the value of one trick for each card he desires to receive from the dealer. the card or cards must be taken from the top of the pack, and handed unexposed to the player. _spare hand_. an extra hand is dealt, which each player in turn has the option of adding to his own hand, selecting from the ten cards thus held five with which to play, but he must then stand for nap, and, if there is a pool or kitty, he must put therein the value of two tricks if he fails to score, in addition to paying each of the players the ordinary stake on losing five tricks. _double header_. if each player "passes," then the stakes for the next deal are doubled, and remain so until the person declaring has won. in cases where this variation is decided upon, it is usual to agree that the lowest call be "three," so that the double header occurs at frequent intervals. _wellington_. if a player calls napoleon, and another player on his left considers he can also make five tricks, he may call "wellington," in which case the stakes are doubled, the caller winning or losing . as this rule, however, is regarded with disfavour by some, in consequence of its raising the limit of a loss on any particular hand from to , it is sometimes played differently. the player who calls wellington does not receive more than he would have done for napoleon, but pays double, _i.e._, . [ ] _blÜcher_. this is called in the same manner, that is to say over the player calling wellington, and then the stakes are trebled, the caller winning or losing . in the modification of this variety, as referred to in connection with wellington, the caller would still only receive for winning, but would pay to each player if he lost. this may appear a severe penalty, but it must be remembered that both wellington and blücher are declarations outside the ordinary limit of the game, and it is not possible for the first caller to claim them, even though he may have the first five cards of a suit, and therefore be certain of winning everything. he calls napoleon as the limit allowed by the game, and it is therefore unfair that he should lose the advantages of his good hand. another variety of this game is to allow the caller of napoleon the opportunity of altering his call to wellington or blücher if challenged by any of the others to do so. if he thinks he can scare he stands for the higher call; if not, then the player who challenges him does so. the settlement of these extended calls should be particularly agreed upon before commencing play, or disagreement is all but inevitable, as the player who insists on the forced increase of the limit is certainly in the wrong, unless arrangement has previously been made. _thirty-two card packs_. if piquet or bézique cards are used, _i.e._, packs with the , , , and of each suit omitted--leaving but cards in the set--the ordinary rules are observed. when playing with this smaller pack the hands will _apparently_ be of far [ ] greater value than usual. this arises from the fact that all the lower cards of each suit are omitted, and after a few deals it will be found very difficult to make even a small number of tricks with hands which, if a full pack of cards was in use, would be exceptionally good. there being but thirty-two cards to deal with, the number of players must not exceed three, or perhaps four. _six- or seven-card nap_. in this variation six or seven cards are dealt to each player, who, before making his call, has to throw away (face downwards and unexposed) one or two, as the case may be, of his cards, so as to leave the number in his hand five, when the game is played on the regular lines. _nine-card nap_. this may be described as the last innovation in the game. it is conducted on exactly similar lines to the five card method, except that nine cards are held by each player, none being discarded as in the last mentioned variation, but it has not yet become popular, and in view of the fact that even with only three players more than half the pack is in use, its scope is far more limited than any other variety. in this variation the person calling nap would have to make all nine tricks, a most difficult and very unfrequent occurrence. it will be found to be a pleasing variety for two players who are of about equal skill at the ordinary game, its possibilities being so different from that method, but we doubt its ever being made as popular as the five card game. [ ] loo. loo (or, as formerly it was sometimes called, lue) is a very lively and popular round game, justly described as one of the best and yet one of the simplest known. indeed, until the introduction of "nap," it was the most fashionable of its class in this country. the date of its origin is not on record, but that some amount of antiquity can be claimed for it may be inferred from the fact that a description of the game appears in works published at the beginning of the present century, when the method of playing it was virtually the same as is recognised at the present day, except that then the five-card variation was the most popular, whereas now the three-card game is in vogue. loo is usually played with an ordinary pack of fifty-two cards, but in some variations the thirty-two card pack is used. the number of players who can take part in it is practically unlimited within the range of the pack played with. a writer of thirty years since justly remarks that the game is good for any number up to a dozen, although the best game is played with five, or not more than seven persons. five players are sometimes regarded as the limit, and if more than that number desire to take part, relief is sought by the dealer standing out of the play, neither paying nor receiving on the tricks of that hand. this arrangement, however, is one that can be decided at the option of the company playing. [ ] as is the case with nap, a very short time is necessary for completing the hands in the game, and a finish may be made at any moment, either by an equal division of the amount in the pool among the players, or by releasing those who failed to win a trick in the previous deal from the penalty which usually attaches to such a result, and which is known as a "loo." in this case all "stand" on the last round, and there is no "miss." it is usual, however, to play on until what is known as a "single" occurs, _i.e._, when each of the players who declared to stand has secured a trick, and, as a consequence, no one has been looed. if, however, a finish is desired before a single occurs, it is best to arrange it so as to fall immediately before the original dealer's turn to deal comes round again, as, in that case, all the players will have paid for an equal number of deals. a player may withdraw from the game at any time when it is his turn to deal. in that case he pays for his deal (as explained later on), and also for his loo, if he was looed the previous hand, but he does not deal any cards to himself, or take any part in the play of that round. _description_. three-card loo being the most popular at the present day, we shall devote ourselves more particularly to that game, leaving the five-card variety to be considered later on, under the heading of variations. the object of each player is to win one, two, or all of the three tricks into which each deal is divided, and in doing so he is opposed by all the other players who have elected to stand, and who, in turn, try to secure the tricks for themselves. the stakes are first decided on--usually three counters [ ] or coins for the deal, and six for a loo. it is desirable that the amount in the pool should be divisible by three, so as to allow of its equal apportionment among the winners of the three tricks. the first dealer is then chosen, and he, having paid to the pool the agreed amount for his deal, proceeds to distribute the cards for what is termed a single, a term denoting that merely the dealer's stake is to be played for. the pack having been duly shuffled and cut, the dealer turns the top card face upwards in the middle of the table, and then distributes one card, similarly exposed, to each player. if either of the players receives a higher card of the same suit as the one turned up, he wins the amount in the pool. if two or more receive superior cards, the higher takes the stake. the others are looed, each having to contribute the agreed amount of a loo to the pool, for the next deal. it is usually agreed that the penalty for a loo on the single shall be half the amount of the ordinary loo, or the same amount as for a deal. if neither player receives a higher card of the same suit as that turned up all are looed, and the amount in the pool remains, being included in the stakes for the next deal. the amount of the loos having been placed in the pool, as also the sum agreed upon to be contributed by the next dealer, the cards are re-gathered, shuffled, and cut, and the second deal is proceeded with. three cards are distributed to each player, and a spare hand, or miss, as it is generally called,¹ is left in the middle of the table. the top [ ] card of the undealt portion of the pack is next turned up, to decide which of the suits shall be trump, and then each of the players --commencing with the one on the left hand side of the dealer--in turn looks at his cards, and decides whether he will stand, whether he will take the miss, or whether he will throw up his cards for that deal, unless the rule for "club law" shall have been previously decided upon, when all the players have to stand, and the miss is withdrawn--see page . if he decides to stand, the player retains the three cards originally dealt him, and says, "i play"; if he elects to throw up his cards, he places them, unexposed, on the top of the undealt portion of the pack, and takes no share in the remainder of that hand, neither paying nor receiving in connection with the play; while if he determines to take the miss, his original cards are added to the undealt portion of the pack, as before, and he takes up the spare hand. in this latter case he is compelled to stand, that is, it is not optional with him to throw up the miss, when once he has elected to take it. ¹ the spare hand is not always called the "miss." some players designate it the "cat"; the term possibly originating from its un-certainty; hence the expression, often used in connection with the spare hand--"let us hope she will not scratch us." the player on the dealer's left having determined which course he will pursue, the one on his left has to decide, and so on, until the dealer is reached; he may, in like manner, stand, throw up, or take miss, provided the spare hand has not already been appropriated. if none of the players take the miss it is added to the pack, but in that case it must not be exposed, or looked at by any of the players. should it happen that each of the players in front of the dealer has thrown up his own cards, and neither has taken the miss, then the dealer is entitled to the amount in the pool, no matter what his cards are. should it happen that only one player has declared to stand on his own hand, [ ] then the dealer, if he cannot stand on his own cards, may take the miss. if he does not care to do either he must play the miss for the benefit of the pool, against the single player who declared to play on his own cards, and anything he may then win with the miss is left in the pool for the next deal. should it happen that all the players in front of the dealer have thrown up their cards, and one has taken the miss, then the dealer may stand, or not, as he chooses; but if he also throws up his cards, then the holder of miss, being the only standing hand, takes the whole amount of the pool. these contingencies are seldom, if ever, met with in actual play, but being possible it is necessary to fix laws to govern them. the players who have decided to stand, either on their own cards, or on the miss, then proceed to play the tricks, the one nearest the dealer's left having to lead. it is, however, sometimes agreed that the holder of miss for the time being shall lead, but this is hardly a desirable departure from the more regular course of leaving the lead to the elder hand, and we cannot recommend its adoption. if the leader holds the ace of trumps he must lead it, and similarly, if the ace is turned up, and he holds the king, he must start off with that card. if he has two or three trumps (of any denomination) he must lead the highest. "two or more trumps, lead _one_," is the rule of some players, but unless this matter is specially decided upon before the commencement of play the rule to lead the _highest_ of two or three must govern the point. in all other cases the leader may start off with whichever card he chooses. the play proceeds from left to right, and each player, in turn, has to follow suit if he can; as it is his desire to secure the trick for himself he will play as high as possible [ ] if he has the power to head the trick. if he cannot follow suit he must play a trump if he has one, provided his trump is higher than any previously played to the trick, but it is not compulsory to trump a suit when it is not possible to head the trick by doing so. failing the ability to head the trick, he may discard as he chooses. it is compulsory, however, for each player, in turn, to head the trick if he is able to do so, and herein lies one of the greatest differences between loo and nap, for in the latter game, as we have shown, it is optional with a player whether he will head the trick, or pass it. the trick is won by the player who plays the highest of the suit led, or, if trumped, the highest trump. as winner, he has the privilege of leading for the next trick, which is conducted on similar lines to the first. this applies also to the third trick, the only stipulations being that if the player who won the first trick has a trump he must lead it, and if he be left with two trumps he must play the higher of the two as the lead for the second trick. the three tricks having been disposed of the amount in the pool is divided equitably among the winners, while those who stood--either on their own hand or on miss,--and did not succeed in winning a trick are looed. if all who stood succeeded in making one or more tricks, so that neither of the players was looed, it becomes a single again, and the cards are dealt as already described for that round (see p. ). a player infringing any of the rules, or playing in an irregular manner, is looed, and the amount of his winnings, if any, is left in the pool. the hands must, however, be replayed in proper order, and if then the tricks are secured by different players, that must be considered the result of the hand, and the losers by the proper play are looed, even though by the first and erroneous method they secured one [ ] or more of the tricks. briefly, no player can he looed, or secure any part of the pool through the irregularity of either of the other players. in any case the player who transgressed the law does not win anything. if his cards secure one or all of the tricks the amount of his winnings is left in the pool for the next deal, and he is looed. this does not apply to penalties for looking at the hands, or declaring out of turn, or making a misdeal. in those cases the offending player pays the penalty into the pool for the current deal, and stands an equal chance with the others in fighting for the tricks. the cards as played are left in front of the players, not being turned or otherwise interfered with until the completion of the three tricks, when, as already described, they are gathered up for the next round. we will now proceed to consider the various points of the game not touched upon in the description already given. _stakes_. for the reason already mentioned the stakes should be so arranged that the amount in the pool can always be divided by three. thus, supposing that three counters, or coins, are fixed as the amount for the deal, and six for a loo, there cannot possibly be any surplus after the division among the winners of the three tricks, no matter how many may have paid in. if, however, the pool consists of such an amount as to render equal division impossible, the division is made as nearly equal as can be, and the winners of the first and second tricks have the preference. it is not necessary that the loo should be twice the amount of the deal, indeed any sum may be fixed for either the one or the other, and it is not unusual when the [ ] deal is settled at ½_d_. for the loo to be _d_., or when the one is _d_. for the other to be _s_. _d_., and so on. another method is to make the stake for a loo unlimited, and yet another to make it somewhat of a combination, unlimited up to a certain amount (_see_ variations), but the more general course is to have a definite price fixed (_a_) for the deal, (_b_) for an ordinary loo, and (_c_) for a single loo, which latter is generally half the amount of the full loo. before commencing play in the game, it is desirable to settle whether club law (_see_ variations) is to be enforced, and whether any alteration is to be made in the law compelling the holder of two or more trumps to lead the _highest_ on the original lead. the modification of this rule is "two or more trumps lead _one_." _dealing_. the deal is settled in the same way as already described in connection with nap, and the cards having been shuffled and cut, the single is dealt, as described on page . in other rounds the dealer must distribute the cards to the players one card at a time, in regular order from left to right, and must deal to the spare hand, or miss immediately after dealing his own card each time. with some players deviation is permitted, the dealer being allowed to distribute the cards in any order he likes, and either singly or three at a time; or the miss is left until last, when the three cards for the spare hand are dealt at once. these departures are not desirable, and we strongly recommend the enforcement of the rule compelling the regular distribution of cards, as herein set out. in the event of a misdeal, an irregular distribution of the cards, or the exposure of a card during the dealing, the dealer is looed--the amount of the loo in this, and most [ ] other cases of penalty prior to the commencement of the playing of the cards being the same as settled for a single loo--and he immediately places the amount in the pool. the whole pack is collected, re-shuffled, and dealt again by the same player, and the game proceeds. any player interfering with the cards during the deal is looed, but the cards are not re-dealt, unless they have been mixed, or a card has been exposed. _declaring_. the cards having been dealt, and the trump card turned up, the player on the left of the dealer has the right to look at his cards, and declares his intention to stand, throw up, or take miss. he having decided, the player on his left does the same, and so on all round. any player looking at his cards before it is his turn to do so, or declaring out of turn, or looking at the miss without taking it, or looking at either of the thrown up cards, or at any part of the undealt portion of the pack, is looed a single, and pays the penalty into the pool at once, but he is not debarred by any of these irregularities--except when he looks at either of the opponent's hands--from taking part in the play of that deal. if he looks at the cards of any other player he is looed the full loo, and must throw up his own cards, unexposed, unless he has already declared to stand, or has taken the miss, in which case he has to play to the tricks, having first paid his loo into the pool; in the event of his cards securing either of the tricks the amount won is left in the pool for the next deal. no player may make a second declaration, or alter one once made, and a player who decides to stand, or who takes the miss, must play his cards with the others interested in [ ] the stakes; he not being permitted to stand out, lest his doing so should affect the others' play. _playing the hands_. the players having decided whether they will stand or not, the leader plays his card. if he holds ace, or with ace turned up holds king, and fails to lead it, he is looed; similarly, with two or more trumps if he fails to lead the highest he is looed. any player neglecting to follow the suit led, when he is able to do so; or omitting to trump a suit, when by so doing he can head the trick, is likewise looed; as also is any one playing out of turn, or exposing or mentioning the value of his own, or opponent's unplayed cards, or of either of those in the miss, or among the undealt portion of the pack. if the winner of the first trick remains with a trump, and fails to lead it; or having two trumps left fails to lead the highest, he is looed. in all these cases the penalty is the amount of a full loo, and it is added to the pool for the _next_ deal. the cards must he replayed in proper order, and if the player who transgressed wins either of the tricks his winnings must be left in the pool for the next deal. variations. as mentioned in the case of nap, any divergence from the plain game must be carefully settled by the company before play is commenced, and failing any special agreement it is understood that the rules of the simple game are to be adhered to. [ ] _club law_. this is the most common variation, and its object is to force a number of loos, especially when a large number of players are engaged in the game. when it is adopted, all the players have to stand on their own cards, whenever the card turned up for trump proves to be a club. in that case the miss is withdrawn, and is added to the undealt portion of the pack without being exposed. _unlimited loo_. in this variation the penalty to be paid for a loo varies with the amount in the pool, and becomes the same as the total stakes of the previous deal. by the adoption of this variation a considerable sum may be lost in a very few minutes, and, in consequence, it is not often played outside the regular gambling clubs. of course the amount goes on increasing by rapid strides until a single occurs, when a fresh start is made with only the stake of the dealer to fight for. at unlimited loo the amount payable for the deal remains unaltered, no matter how much was in the pool the previous round. _mixed loo_. this is played on the same lines as the unlimited variation, except that a limit is fixed, beyond which the loo does not go. for instance, suppose the original stakes to be _d_. for a deal, and _d_. for a loo--limited to _s_. _d_., a player would be looed the amount in the pool, up to the limit, but if the amount exceeded the _s_. _d_., he would not be called upon for a larger sum. [ ] _five-card loo_. this is the old-fashioned game, and we may go back to old books for a description of it. it is said to be a much more amusing game than three-card loo for a company not inclined to play for high stakes, but is not suitable for more than six players, even if five should not be regarded as the limit. each of those engaged in the game has five cards dealt him, either first three, and then two, or one at a time, the latter method being by far the best, and the following card is turned up for trump. there is no miss, but each player has the liberty of changing, for others from the pack, all or any of the five cards dealt him, or of throwing up the hand altogether. if he decides to change any of his cards, the player, whose turn it is to declare, places the cards he wishes exchanged, face downwards, on the table, and the dealer gives him a like number from the top of the pack. no second exchange is allowable, nor can a card once put out be taken back into the hand; neither may a player who makes an exchange afterwards throw up his cards; he must play them out. the knave of clubs generally, or sometimes the knave of the trump suit, as agreed upon, is the highest card, and is styled _pam;_ the ace of trumps is next in value, and the rest in succession, as in the three card variation, where the cards rank in the ordinary way: ace, king, queen, knave, ten, nine, etc., down to the two. those who play their cards, either with or without changing, and do not gain a trick, are looed. when a flush occurs, that is, five cards of the same suit, or four cards of a suit with pam, the holder of the flush--who does not declare it until all the players have settled whether they will stand or not--besides taking the amount in the pool, [ ] receives from each of the players, whether they stood or not, the amount of a loo, and the next deal becomes a single, there being no payments to the pool, beyond the dealer's fee. a flush in trumps is superior to a flush in any other suit, but if there is more than one flush--neither of which is of the trump suit--then the flush which includes pam wins, or if neither contains that card then the elder hand, that is, the player nearest the dealer's left hand, scores the flush, and the holder of the other flush takes nothing; he, however, is exempt from the loo, which is payable by the other players. when the ace of trumps is led it is usual for the player of it to say, "pam, be civil," in which case the holder of pam must pass the trick, if he can do so without revoking; but if he has no trump he may win the trick with pam. _irish loo_. this is virtually the same as the five-card variety, except that three cards only are dealt to each player, and pam is unknown. _thirty-two card packs_. as described in connection with nap, piquet or bézique cards may be used for loo, but in that case the number of players must, of necessity, be more limited, only cards being available. in all other respects the rules applicable to the full packs apply. [ ] _hints to players_. _i_.--_declaring_. in deciding whether to stand on one's own cards, or whether to take the miss, the amount in the pool is a matter for special consideration. with a heavy stake to fight for, a player will run greater risks than when a small amount is available. therefore, the first question to decide should be the amount per trick in the pool, as compared with the amount to be paid if one is looed. it is unwise to stand on any hand that does not contain a trump; but if the cards are very high ones, and the amount in the pool warrants it, the risk may be taken. with very few exceptions a player should stand on two trumps, however small, but the first player should have a tolerably high card, in addition to two small trumps, other wise the hand is a risky one. an honour in trumps and high cards in other suits are generally safe, especially for the player who has to lead; indeed, the first player may stand on almost any single trump, if his other cards are high ones of different suits--queens at least. king of trumps with small cards in other suits is generally safe, although cautious players throw up such a hand. very much depends on the amount in the pool, although we should not reject such cards under any conditions. queen or knave of trumps with small cards of other suits are matters which must be left to individual opinion--based on the number of players and the stake to be played for. they are undoubtedly risky hands, but if one only stands on certainties half the amusement and all the excitement vanishes. after a few rounds have been played, a fair opinion can [ ] be formed as to what cards are likely to make a trick, and if the sum in the pool is considerable, risky cards may be kept, or the miss taken at an early stage, although it must not be overlooked that the other players will likewise stand on risky hands, and, as a consequence, there will be more competition, with fewer chances of securing a trick. the first hand should seldom take the miss, nor should either of the other players if each of those in front of him has decided to stand on his own cards, as it may be assumed that in such cases there is strength. with five playing, two of whom have thrown up, miss may be taken, but with three players standing on their own cards, miss should not be attempted. _ii_.--_playing_. the laws of the game define what shall be led with two or three trumps, or with ace only (or king only, if ace is turned up), and therefore the only hints necessary are when the leader has but one trump. with one trump and high cards of other suits, the trump should be led if several players remain in, but if only two or three are standing, either of the others should be led, the higher of the two for preference. with one high trump and small other cards, we prefer leading the smallest, relying on the second and third tricks for opportunities of making our single trump. [ ] poker. _description_. the game of poker is played with an ordinary pack of fifty-two cards. the number of players is limited only by the number of cards, but in practice it is found better to limit each table to five, or at most six, players. the cards have the same values as at whist, _i.e._ ace is the highest in each suit; then follow king, queen, knave, ten, etc., down to two. in "sequences," however, the ace is the lowest card, and the king the highest. the suit of hearts, _ceteris paribus_, takes precedence of other suits. before beginning play, it is customary and advisable to agree upon a sum (technically called the "limit" or "rise") which shall be the maximum stake permitted to be made by a player at one time; or, in other words, which shall be the greatest sum by which he may increase the stake at any one time. the "limit," of course, does not refer to the total amount of a player's stakes, and it is understood that a player may stake _less_ than the limit at any time, but not _more_. after being seated, the players cut for the deal, and the player who cuts the lowest card deals first. if two or more players cut equal lowest cards, these players must cut again for the deal. [ ] the duty of dealing in each game after the first, devolves upon the player to the left of the previous dealer. before beginning play, every player has a right to shuffle the pack; the dealer has a right to the last shuffle. after being shuffled, the pack must be cut by the player to the right of the dealer. the player to the left of the dealer then stakes a certain fixed sum (generally small in comparison with the limit) which is called the "ante." this initial stake must in every game be laid by the player to the left of the dealer, before the cards are dealt. he is, in fact, identified with this initial stake, and is known as "ante" throughout the game. after "ante" has staked, the player to his left, who is called no. , has the option of "straddling," _i.e._ of staking a sum double that of the ante. if no. does not straddle the ante, no other player may do so, and the dealer proceeds to deal the cards. if no. straddle the ante, the player to his left has the same option, and may increase the straddle by the amount of the ante. this may go on round the table, each player in turn having the right to increase the straddle before the deal; but the ante may not be increased by any straddle, or by successive straddles, to an amount exceeding one-half of the limit. to illustrate this, let us suppose the limit be two shillings and the ante be one penny. this latter sum is staked (_i.e._ placed in the middle of the table before him) by the player on the left of the dealer. no. then has the right to straddle the ante, and he may stake two pence. no. then has the same option, and may, if he wish, increase the straddle by one penny. when the sum staked in this way by successive players reaches one shilling (half the limit), the straddling must cease, and the cards must be dealt. [ ] it should be fully understood that if no. does not exercise his right to straddle, no other player may do so. the dealer, beginning with the player at his left hand, then deals one card, face downwards, to each player (himself included) in succession, until every player has received five cards.¹ he then places the remainder of the pack before him on the table, face downwards. after the cards have been dealt the betting before the draw begins. ¹ these five cards constitute the "hand," and in no case may a player have a greater or less number of cards than five. _if the ante has not been straddled_, the player to the left of ante has the "say," and may begin the betting before the draw. he looks at his cards, and may either-- (a) reject them, and elect not to play. (b) accept them, and so "open the game." if (a) he reject his cards, he throws them, face downwards, on the table, and is out of the game until the next deal. if (b) he accept his cards, he must stake a sum at least twice the amount of ante. he may, of course, increase the ante by any sum not exceeding the limit; but it is not usual or advisable to do more than double the ante. no. , who is the player on the left of no. , has now the same option. he looks at his cards, and may reject them without staking (throwing them, in this case, face downwards, on the table), or he may accept them and elect to take part in the game. in this latter case he must stake a sum equal to that staked by his predecessor, or he may increase this sum by an amount not exceeding the limit. each succeeding player, including and ending with the [ ] dealer, has, in his turn, the same privilege. he must either reject his cards and not play until the next deal, or accept them and stake a sum at least equal to that staked by his predecessor. it is not advisable for any player to increase the stake on this first round, since to do so would probably cause succeeding players with moderate hands to reject their cards and not stake. the dealer or last player frequently, however, raises the stake with the object of inducing ante, who may hold a weak hand, to relinquish his initial stake. ante is the last to look at his cards, or in other words, has the last say. if he pass, _i.e._ elect not to play, he throws his cards, face downwards, on the table, and retires from the game until the next deal, losing his original stake. if he accept his cards and elect to play, he must make his stake at least equal to that of the player on his right. _if the ante has been straddled_, the player to the left of the straddler (or of the last straddler, if there be more than one) has the say, _i.e._ has the option of beginning the betting before the draw. he may, after looking at his cards, either (a) throw them, face downwards, on the table, and elect not to play. (b) accept them and "open the game." if he open the game, he must stake a sum at least equal to double the ante and straddles together, and he may also, if he choose, stake a further sum not exceeding the limit. whichever he elect to do, the say afterwards passes to the player at his left hand, who has a similar option; and so on round the table. the last straddler has thus the last say. beginning with ante, or with the first player on the left of the dealer, each player may then exchange all or any number of the cards he holds for others from the remainder [ ] of the pack. he must first throw on the table, face downwards, the number of cards he wishes to exchange (this is called "discarding"), and the dealer then gives him an equal number from the top of the pack. before exchanging any of his cards, however, each player must make his stake equal to that of ante, or of the last player. it is not compulsory for a player to exchange all or any of his cards; but he must exercise or relinquish the privilege of doing so when his turn comes, once for all; and he cannot afterwards modify his choice, nor take back any card or cards he may have discarded. whether he exchange any of his cards, or whether he retains the hand first dealt out to him, each player must make his stake equal to that of ante, or of the last player, so that when all players have been supplied with, or refused, new cards, the stakes are all equal, and are all placed in the pool. to give a practical illustration of this process, let us suppose that there are five players taking part in the game, that the ante is fixed at threepence, and the limit at a shilling. the players cut for deal, and the deal falls to _a_. (no. ) c /¯¯¯¯\ d (no. ) ( ) (ante) b \____/ e (no. ) a (dealer) _b_ then is ante, _c_ no. , etc. _b_ (ante) stakes threepence. [ ] _c_, who has the right to straddle the ante does not do so, so no other player may. _a_ then deals five rounds of one card each to each player, beginning with _b_, and then puts the remainder of the pack on the table. _c_ (no. ) then looks at his cards, elects to play, and stakes sixpence (double ante's stake). _d_ (no. ) looks at his cards, rejects them, throwing them face downwards on the table, and retiring from the game until the next deal. _e_ (no. ) looks at his cards, elects to play, and stakes sixpence. _a_ (dealer) looks at his cards, elects to play, and stakes one shilling and sixpence (he must stake sixpence, but he raises the stakes by the maximum amount allowed). _b_ (ante) looks at his cards, elects to play, and stakes one shilling and threepence, making his stake equal to _a's_. _b_ then discards two of his cards, places them face downwards on the table, and receives from _a_ two in their place. _c_ (no. ) adds a shilling to his stake, making it equal to _a's_ and _b's_, and throws down all his cards, receiving five new ones in their place. _e_ (no. ), rather than increase his stake to one shilling and sixpence, relinquishes his hand, throwing down his cards, and losing the sixpence he has already staked. _a_ (dealer), who has already staked one shilling and sixpence, throws down one card and takes another in its place from the top of the pack. there are now three players, _a_, _b_, and _c_, each of whom has staked one shilling and sixpence on his hand, and there is a sum of five shillings, including _e's_ first stake in the pool. no. then begins play by betting a sum not exceeding [ ] the limit. he may, if he choose, "stand," decline to bet until the next round, or he may throw his cards face downwards on the table and retire from the game, losing the money he has already staked. the turn then passes to no. . let us suppose, in the first place, that he does bet. the next player on his left must then-- (_a_) make his stake equal to that of no. , in which case he is said to "call" no. , and he has the right to see no. 's hand when the game is over, or-- (_b_) make his stake greater than that of no. by a sum not exceeding the limit, in which case he is said to "raise" no. ; or-- (_c_) resign the game, place his cards face downwards on the table, and lose the sum he has already staked. each player in succession has a similar choice. he must-- (_a_) call the preceding player; or (_b_) raise the preceding player; or (_c_) resign his stake and the game. if no. had "stood," _i.e._ not bet when it was first his turn to play, he would have to do so when the turn came round to him again, or else relinquish his cards and his stake. when all the stakes are equal, each player throws his cards face upwards on the table, and the player with the best hand takes the pool and all the stakes. it will be seen thus that there is no play of the cards in poker, as in most other card games. the best hand exposed wins the game and takes the stakes; and the play of the game consists in estimating the probable value of the opponents' hands as compared with the player's own hand. [ ] to resume our illustration (page ). _c_ begins play by betting sixpence. _a_ also bets sixpence, making his stake equal to _c's_, and by doing so is said to call _c_. _b_ bets one shilling and sixpence, _i.e._ raises _c_ a shilling. he makes his stake equal to _c's_ and _a's_, and has exercised his right to increase it by a sum not exceeding the limit. _c_, whose turn it now is again, adds two shillings to his stake, raising _b_ a shilling. _a_ will not stake more, so relinquishes the game and his stake, placing his cards face downwards on the table. _b_ adds one shilling to his stake, making it equal to _c's_, and _c_ is therefore compelled to show his hand. it happens to be better than _b's_, so _c_ claims _b's_ stake (two shillings and sixpence) and the pool (five shillings and sixpence); and the game is over. _value of the_ "_hands_." the "hands" at poker are as follows, in order of value:-- no. . _sequence flush_, or _straight flush_.--a sequence of five cards of the same suit. in sequences the ace is the lowest card, and therefore ace to five is the lowest possible sequence. nine to king is the highest possible sequence, and if a "flush," _i.e._ all the cards of the same suit, is the best possible hand in poker. no. . _fours_, or _four of a kind_.--four cards of equal value, and one other card of no value. four aces take precedence, then four kings, etc. no. . _full hand_.--three cards of equal value, and two [ ] cards of equal value (for instance, three queens and two aces). the relative values of two or more "full hands" are fixed by the threes they contain, the highest three taking precedence, without regard to the value of the other two cards. thus, a "full hand" consisting of three tens and two fours, is better than a "full hand" consisting of three nines and two kings. no. . _flush_.--five cards of one suit. the relative values of two or more "flush" hands depend upon the value of the cards they comprise, --the highest card taking precedence. no. . _sequence_, or _straight_.--a sequence in value of cards, not being all of one suit. nine to king is the highest sequence, and wins, of course, against any lower sequence. no. . _triplets_, or _threes_.--three cards of the same value, and two other cards which are of no value. three aces are highest, then three kings, three queens, etc. no. . _two pairs_.--two sets of two cards each, of equal value (_i.e._ knaves and fours for instance), and one card of no value. the relative values of two or more "two pair" hands is decided by the highest pair. if two hands have equally high pairs, the value is decided by the second pair. no. . _a pair_.--two cards of equal value, and three of no value. two aces are the highest pair. if, when the cards are exposed after a game, no player holds any of the foregoing "hands," the player whose hand contains the card highest in value wins the stakes. if two or more players hold cards equally high in value, the player who holds the next highest card wins. [ ] _the jack-pot_. if all the players reject their cards, declining to play, ante's stake remains in the pool; and the deal passes to him. before he deals, however, he and every other player must put into the pool a sum equal to the ante. the next hand is called a jack-pot, and the game cannot be opened by any player unless he has at least a pair of knaves in his hand. any better hand entitles him to open the game of course, but he must have at least two knaves. if there be no players in a jack-pot, the stakes still remain in the pool, every player again puts in a sum equal to the ante, and the deal passes on as before. in this second jack-pot, however, two queens is the lowest hand with which the game may be opened. if there are again no players, the pool is again replenished, and the next game cannot be opened with anything less than two kings; then the jack-pot comes down to two knaves again, and continues the same series of minimum hands-- knaves, queens, kings--until the game is opened by a player holding the requisite or a better hand. a jack-pot having been opened, the winner takes the accumulated pool, and the succeeding game reverts to the ordinary conditions, _i.e._ may be opened by any player in his turn and without reference to his hand. if a player open a jack-pot, and all the other players pass, he must, before he can claim the pool, show, by laying his cards face upwards on the table, that he really does possess the minimum hand necessary to open the game with. if he have the minimum hand, or better, he takes the pool; but if he have not, the next game is a jack-pot, just as if the previous game had not been opened, and the player who opened the game improperly must pay a sum double that of the ante into the pool as a penalty. [ ] _modifications_. modifications of the game have been from time to time introduced, but few have any claim to permanence or popularity. the best known in this country are the blaze and the joker. _the blaze_ is an additional hand which consists of five court cards. it takes precedence of two pairs, but is beaten by triplets. the relative values of two or more blaze hands are fixed by the highest card, a hand containing ace or aces being best. _the joker_ is an additional card, sometimes included in the pack, and to which any value may be given by the player holding it. if for instance, a player hold king, queen, knave, and ten of hearts, and the joker, he may call the joker ace of hearts, and so claim a sequence flush. the joker is a higher card, moreover, than the actual card whose name it takes, _i.e._ a joker which is called the king of spades is better than the real king of spades. _technical terms_. for convenience of reference we annex explanations of the few technical terms used in poker. _age_.--the eldest hand, _i.e._ the player to the left of the dealer. generally called the ante-man or "ante." _ante_.--the first stake in the game. it must be made before the cards have been dealt, by the player on the left of the dealer. it is the only compulsory stake, and for this reason the amount is fixed, and is generally small. it must not exceed one half the limit. the player to the left of the dealer is identified with his stake, and is familiarly called ante. [ ] _bluff_.--to stake an unwarrantable sum on a weak hand for the purpose of inducing the other players to relinquish their stakes rather than continue betting. to pretend to have a good hand. _blaze_.--a hand consisting of five court cards (see p. ). _chips_.--counters. an american term, little used by english players. _to chip_ means to stake chips, to bet. _call_.--to call the preceding player is to stake an amount equal to his stake (see p. ). _discard_.--to throw away cards so as to receive others in exchange for them (see p. ). _draw_.--to receive cards from the dealer in exchange for an equal number discarded. _eldest hand_.--the player to the left of the dealer. see _ante_. _foul hand_.--a hand containing more or less than five cards. such hand must be relinquished, and the owner must retire from that game, losing any sum he may have staked. _go better_.--see _raise_. _go in_.--to stake a sum equal to double the ante and any straddles or raises which may have been added to it, in order to qualify for drawing and playing for the pool. _hand_.--the five cards held by any player. _jack-pot_.--the game which follows an unopened game, _i.e._ which follows a game in which every player had rejected his cards (see p. ). _joker_.--an extra card, to which any value may be assigned by the player holding it (see p. ). _kitty_.--a portion of the stakes set aside in every game, either to defray the expenses of the table, or as a reward for some specially good hand. _limit_.--the maximum amount by which stakes may be [ ] increased at one time. the limit, which has a tendency to prevent wild and unreasonable betting, is generally fixed before play begins. _make good_.--to make good is really the same as to call, but a player may make good his previous bet, _i.e._ may make it equal to that of the previous player, and may afterwards raise. _no_. .--the player to the left of ante--the next player is no. , and so on round to the dealer. _pass_.--to give up the game. to throw the cards, face downwards, on the table, and cease playing until the next deal. the player who passes loses any sum he may have staked. _pat_.--a term used in reference to the hand originally dealt to each player in a game. to play pat is to bet on the hand originally dealt, without drawing. a pat hand is a hand of high value, which has been dealt to the player, a hand which he cannot hope to improve by drawing. _player_.--this is not strictly a technical term, but the tyro should note that the persons seated at the table are not necessarily all players. one or more may retire from the game, and on doing so forfeit all their interest, and cease to be players in that game. there are seldom more than two or three players remaining at the end of a game. _pool_.--the whole of the stakes in a game. _pot_.--the pool. _raise_.--to raise the preceding player is to stake a sum in excess of that staked by him. _rise_.--see _limit_. _say_.--the option, which comes to each player in turn, of playing, and therefore betting, or of passing, _i.e._ throwing down his cards and resigning the game. _see_.--to see or call your opponent is to make your [ ] stake equal to his. if the stake be not then raised by succeeding players, every hand must be exposed (see p. ). _show_.--the exposure of a hand or hands at the end of the game. _skip straight or skip sequence_.--a sequence of alternate cards--two, four, six, eight, ten, for instance. this hand is sometimes introduced, and takes precedence of _triplets_. it is beaten by an ordinary sequence. _straddle_.--to raise the ante. to double the initial stake made by ante in every game before the cards are dealt. straddling the ante gives the straddler (or the last straddler, if there be more than one) the advantage of the last say before the draw. _straight_.--a sequence, a series of five cards in regular order (see p. ). _the stakes_. as before stated, the ante and limit should be fixed before play begins, and once fixed should not be altered in any circumstances. players who have lost sometimes apply to have the limit raised. this should be refused. the ante should be a small sum, the smaller the better. it must not exceed half the limit, and for general play a much lower proportion is desirable. if the limit be one shilling, the ante may be fixed at one penny. counters are desirable for play in all cases; they are in every way more convenient, and avoid the constant trouble of giving change. they should be circular in form, and all of one size, but of three values, represented by different colours:-- , say red; the value of ante. , say white; treble the value of ante. , say blue; the value of the limit. [ ] the counters should be sold to each player before the game begins, and be bought back at the same rate after play. _hints to players_. a few words of advice to the tyro may not, in conclusion, be out of place. they will not make him into a good player--practice and experience alone can do that,--but they may prevent him paying for his experience more than is necessary:-- do not play with folk you do not know. never play with a man you cannot implicitly trust. the game needs all your attention, and it becomes a toil instead of a pleasure if you have to be on the watch for unfair play. never play for a stake you are not prepared to lose. fix a limit to your losses and cease play at once when they reach it. the temptation to continue is greater when losing than when winning. fix a time to cease play--and keep to it. perfect self-control is, it is needless to say, essential to successful play. the man whose losses make him ill-tempered, must not play at all. he certainly cannot win, since loss of temper involves loss of judgment. a game like poker, which it must be confessed is not calculated to rouse the finer feelings of humanity, is only tolerable when played under the severest self-imposed restraint. avoid playing, moreover, with an opponent who cannot keep his temper. you will beat him, no doubt, but anger is infectious, and, unless you are blessed with extraordinary self-command, the risk of catching it is too great. neither voice, manner, nor features should give the [ ] slightest clue to your hand. one or other will do so at first inevitably, and all will need a constant effort to control. the perfect poker player sits like an automaton, and his face is a mask. study your opponents, their features and manner, in success and failure. to an accurate observer they will generally betray themselves. an american authority says, "the study of my adversaries is, of more value than the study of my cards." bluffing is at best a very dangerous game, seldom worth the risk, and it involves, even for its occasional success, a very just estimate of your opponents. remember that you cannot bluff even a tyro out of "fours." if you do bluff, bluff when you are winning, and have established a fear of your hands in the minds of your opponents. to bluff when losing is insanity. in actual play there are few maxims which hold good for all cases. all depends on what is termed luck, and nearly every poker player recognises luck, whatever that may be, as an important factor in the game--one they often allow to override calculable chances. some players seem to have almost persistent good luck, and win with comparatively poor hands. others are just as unlucky, losing with high cards. with a pair, if you decide to play, discard the remaining three cards. you have then three chances of triplets. with triplets discard one, your chance of getting fours is remote, and you leave your opponents in doubt as to whether you are not trying for a flush. with triplets you may generally risk _seeing_ your opponent. never try for the completing card of a sequence. if, for instance, you have , , , and king, do not play--[ ] discarding the king on the chance of receiving a . throw up your hand. with a sequence you may generally wait till your opponents think fit to see you. with fours, discard the odd card, in order to mislead your opponents. this hand, or anything better, so seldom comes to a player, that he is justified in staking as much as possible upon it. be content to pass sometimes with the better hand. the best players do so, since it costs less than the habit of calling. neither borrow nor lend a penny at the table. _rules of the game_. _the deal_. . the cards shall be the ordinary pack of fifty-two cards. . the players, after being seated, shall each draw a card from the pack, face downwards, and the player drawing the card lowest in value (ace being lowest), shall deal in the first game. if two or more players draw cards of equal value, such cards being the lowest, such players only shall draw again for the deal. . any player may demand to shuffle the cards, but the dealer shall have a right to the last shuffle before the cards are cut. . the pack shall be shuffled by the dealer, and cut by the player on the right of the dealer, before every deal. . the cards shall be shuffled, face downwards, above the table. . the cards shall be dealt, face downwards, so that their faces cannot be seen; and they must be placed by the dealer on the table in front of the players to whom they are severally dealt. [ ] . the dealer shall give one card from the top of the pack to each player in turn from right to left, beginning with the player at his left hand, and in this order shall give to each player five cards. . if the cards be dealt without the pack having been cut, and if the fact be pointed out to the dealer before the deal is finished, it is a misdeal, and there shall be a new deal by the same dealer. . if the fact that the cards have been dealt without the pack having been cut for such deal be not pointed out to the dealer before such deal is finished, the deal shall stand. . if a card be found face upwards in the pack before the deal is finished, it is a misdeal, and there shall be a new deal by the same dealer. . if the dealer, while dealing, accidentally expose a card, such card shall be accepted by the player to whom it is dealt, as though it had not been exposed, and the dealer shall not, nor shall any player, exchange such exposed card for another, except in the regular course of discarding after the deal is completed. . if any player have more or less than five cards dealt to him, and if such player, or any player, announce the fact before the cards are raised from the table, it is a misdeal, and there shall be a new deal by the same dealer. . if any player have more or less than five cards dealt to him, and if the fact be not announced before any portion of the hand is raised from the table, such hand is a foul hand, and the player to whom it is dealt shall place his cards, face downwards, on the table, and retire from the game, and shall forfeit his stake in that game. . if a player be compelled to retire from the game in consequence of having a foul hand dealt to him, his stake, [ ] if he has staked, shall remain in the pool, and the dealer shall refund such player the amount of his ante or straddle only in that game. . no player shall speak to the dealer while the cards are being dealt.. . if any player speak to the dealer, or distract him by noise or gesture, while the cards are being dealt, such player, and not the dealer, shall refund, as provided by rule , the ante or straddle of any player to whom a foul hand is dealt in that deal. . the deal shall be finished when every player has received five cards. . the duty of dealing shall devolve upon each player in turn, from right to left; the player to the left of the last dealer shall be the dealer in the next game. if the dealer in a game pass and retire, he shall continue his duty as dealer in that game. _the ante_. . the ante shall not exceed one-half the amount of the limit. . the ante shall be staked by the player to the left of the dealer before the cards are dealt. . the right to straddle shall belong to the player to the left of ante. if he does not straddle, no other player shall, do so; but if he does straddle, the succeeding players shall have, in turn from right to left, and ending with the dealer, the right to increase the straddle in every case by the amount of the ante. . the ante shall not be straddled by a player, or by successive players, to an amount exceeding one-half the limit. . if the ante be not straddled, the player to the left of [ ] ante shall have first say after the deal, and ante shall have the last say. . if the ante be straddled, the player to the left of the straddler (or of the last straddler, if there be more than one) shall have first say after the deal, and the last straddler shall have the last say. _the play_. . the turn to say shall pads from right to left, and the player who has first say after the deal shall, if he open the game, stake a sum at least double the amount of ante. . each succeeding player shall, if he play, at least make good his stake to that of the preceding player. . if a player pass, he shall place his cards, face downwards, on the table, and shall not again take them into his hand, and he shall forfeit unconditionally his stake and his right to play in that game. . a player who retires from the game shall not divulge the cards nor the value of the hand he has thrown down. _the jack-pot_. . if the game be not opened by any player, the ante and straddles, if any, shall remain in the pool, and the next game shall be a jack-pot. . in a jack-pot every player shall pay into the pool a sum equal to the ante, and the game shall not be opened by any player unless he have two knaves, or better, in his original hand. . if a jack-pot be not opened by any player, each player shall again pay into the pool a sum equal to the ante, and the next game shall be a jack-pot, and shall not be opened by any player unless he have two queens, or better, in his original hand. [ ] . a third successive jack-pot shall not be opened with less than two kings, and for successive jack-pots the series of two knaves, two queens, two kings shall be maintained as the minimum hands with which the games may severally be opened. . if a player open a jack-pot and win the stakes, he shall show his hand (notwithstanding any law which in ordinary circumstances permits him to keep it concealed) before he shall claim the pool; and if he have not two knaves, or the minimum hand with which the game may be opened according to the above laws, or a better hand, he shall not claim the pool, and he shall pay into the pool, as penalty, a sum equal to double the ante, and the next game shall be a jack-pot as if the previous game had not been opened. _the draw_. . the first player to the left of the dealer shall have first draw. . the turn to draw shall pass from right to left. . before drawing any card or cards, a player shall make his stake equal to the highest stake on the table, and he shall discard as many cards, and no more, as he intends to draw. . cards discarded shall be placed on the table, face downwards, and shall not again be taken into the hand of the player discarding them. . if a player, when it is his turn to draw, do not discard or have not discarded, he shall forfeit his right to discard and draw in that game. . each player, after discarding, shall ask for the same number of cards he has discarded, and the dealer shall place on the table, in front of such player, such number of cards, face downwards, from the top of the pack. [ ] . if the dealer, in giving to any player the number of cards demanded after the discard, expose a card or cards; such exposed card or cards shall be returned to the pack, and shall not be given to the player. . if the dealer have not sufficient cards remaining in the pack to give to every player the number of cards demanded after the discard, the dealer shall call upon any player who has not discarded, but who intends to discard, to do so, and to announce the number he discards, and the dealer also shall discard, and the dealer (or some player for him) shall then collect the whole of the cards discarded, and shall collect them in a pack and shuffle them, and shall have them cut by the player at his right hand, and shall then use them to supply the players who have discarded. . if the dealer give to any player more than the number of cards demanded by such player, and such player or any player point out the excess before any of the cards so given are raised from the table, the dealer shall take back and return to the pack the card or cards given in excess of the number demanded. . if the dealer give to any player less than the number of cards demanded by such player, the dealer shall make good such deficiency if it be pointed out by any player before the cards already given have been raised from the table. . if a player demand a greater or less number of cards than he has discarded, the dealer need not give him such wrong number, but may demand to see how many cards have been discarded, and give him that number. . if the dealer give to a player the number of cards demanded by such player, and such number prove to be more or less than the number of cards discarded, the hand of such player shall be a foul hand, whether it be raised from [ ] the table or not, and such player shall retire from the game and forfeit his stake in that game. . it there be a dispute between a player and the dealer, as to the number of cards demanded, the evidence of the person at the left hand of the dealer (whether he be playing in that game or have retired) shall be taken as deciding the matter; and if the person at the left hand of the dealer cannot give evidence, or if he be the player who is disputing with the dealer, the evidence of the person to the right of the dealer shall be taken, and shall be held conclusive, and if the person to the right of the dealer cannot give evidence, the evidence of the first person (beginning with the first person to the left of the disputing player, and going in succession to each person from right to left) who can give evidence, shall be taken as conclusive; and if no person at the table can give evidence, the disputing player shall be held to have demanded the proper number of cards. . if the dealer draw more or less than the number of cards he has discarded, he shall be held to have demanded such improper number, and his hand shall be a foul hand, and he shall retire from the game and shall forfeit his state in that game. . if cards drawn be raised from the table, and the hand be found to contain more or less than five cards, such hand shall be a foul hand, and the player to whom it belongs shall retire from the game and shall forfeit his stake in that game. . any player after drawing, but before raising his hand from the table, may ask the dealer how many cards he, the dealer, drew, and the dealer shall answer correctly. . if a player raise from the table the cards he has drawn, or if he bet, he shall forfeit his right to ask the dealer how many cards he, the dealer, drew. [ ] . the dealer shall not give any information as to the number of cards drawn by any other player. _the betting_. . all bets shall be deposited in the pool. . the first player to the left of the ante shall have first right to bet after the draw, whether the ante-man have retired or not. the turn to bet shall pass to each player from right to left, and each player shall stake a sum at least equal to that staked by the preceding player. . if, when his turn comes, any player have not staked, and does not stake a sum at least equal to that staked by the preceding player, such player shall place his cards, face downwards, on the table, and shall retire from the game, and shall forfeit his stake in that game. . a bet once made, whether made in proper turn or not, cannot be recalled. . a bet¹ is complete and irrevocable when the player making it has deposited the amount in money or value on the table, and such deposit shall be considered as a deposit into the pool. ¹ _i.e._: the bet is the actual amount deposited, and the player's statement that he intends or intended depositing another amount is of no value. . the statement of his intention to bet, or to refrain from betting, shall not invalidate the right of any player to bet or pass when his turn comes. . if a player bet or raise the stake of a previous player, and no other player call or raise him, such player wins the pool, and shall not be compelled to show his hand. . when the bets of all the players are equal, each player in turn, beginning with the player to the left of the [ ] last player, shall show his hand, and the player with the best hand shall win the pool. . if a player's bet be raised, and such player have not funds to call the raise, he may deposit in the pool whatever funds he has, and demand a show for that amount. if, when the game is over, he prove to hold the best hand, he shall claim from the pool the amount of the ante and straddle or straddles (if any), and also a sum equal to his stake from every player in the game at the time of his demanding a show, out of their stakes. the holder of the next best hand shall claim the remainder of the pool. . a player demanding a show for a certain sum under the above rule, shall not stop the game if there be other players who wish to continue the betting, and he shall not show his hand until the game is over. . if a player borrow money to raise, he shall borrow to call. . if a player bet with a foul hand, he shall lose his stake. . if any player be found to have a foul hand at the end of the game, he shall forfeit his stake; and if there be only one other player, that player shall claim the pool; and if there be more than one other player, the holder of the best hand shall claim the pool. _the hands_. . the following shall be the hands in order of value; the first being the highest:-- , sequence flush; , fours; , full; , flush; , sequence not a flush; , threes; , two pairs; , a pair. . if there be two or more flush sequences shown, the player whose sequence contains the highest card (ace being the lowest) shall be held to have the best hand. [ ] . if there be two or more fours shown, fours being the best hand, the player who has the four cards highest in value shall be held to have the best hand. . if there be two or more full hands shown, a full hand being the best hand, the player whose full hand contains threes highest in value shall be held to have the best hand. . if there be two or more flush hands shown, a flush hand being the best hand, a flush in hearts shall be held to be the best hand; and if there be no flush hand in hearts, the flush hand which contains the card highest in value, and which is not tied by a card of equal value in another flush hand, shall be the best hand. . if there be two or more sequences shown, a sequence being the best hand, the player whose sequence contains the highest card (ace being the lowest) shall be held to be the best hand; and if there be two or more sequences of cards of equal value, a sequence in hearts, _ceteris paribus_, shall be the best hand. . the ace shall only begin a sequence; it shall not end a sequence after a king, nor shall it be an intermediate card between a king and a two.¹ ¹ this law, and the others which are involved in it, has only the authority of custom in this country. some american writers permit of the ace being used at the beginning or end of a sequence, making ten to ace the highest sequence. . if there be two or more threes shown, threes being the best hand, the hand containing the threes highest in value shall be the best hand. . if there be two or more two-pairs shown, two-pairs being the best hand, the hand containing the pair highest in value shall be the best hand; and if two two-pair hands contain pairs equally high in value, such pairs being the [ ] highest, the value of the other pair shall decide which is the better hand. . if there be two or more pairs, pairs being the best hand, the hand containing the pair highest in value shall be the best hand; and if two hands contain equally high pairs, the hand containing the highest card which is not tied by an equally high card in the other hand shall be the better hand. . if no pair hand nor any better hand be shown, the player whose hand contains the card highest in value which is not tied by a card of similar value in another competing hand, shall be held to have the best hand. . if, when the final call is made and the hands shown, two or more players hold hands identical in value, such players shall share the pool equally between them. _disputes_. . any dispute shall be referred to the dealer, unless he be one of the disputing persons; and if on a matter of fact his decision shall be final and binding; and if on a matter of law, he shall interpret these laws literally, and not by implication. . if the dealer be one of the disputing persons, the dispute shall be referred to the person on the left of the dealer, and if he be one of the disputing persons, it shall be referred to the person on the tight of the dealer. . in a dispute, the dealer, or any player appointed to settle such dispute, may appeal to any person at the table for evidence, and if such person can give evidence, he shall do so. . if the players agree to waive a particular rule on a particular occasion, a like concession cannot be claimed on another similar occasion. [ ] . these rules shall be binding on all players, unless a departure from them has been agreed upon unanimously before play begins, and if one or more rules he abrogated by common consent, such abrogation shall hold only for that sitting, and for that sitting only so long as there is no change of players, and it shall not apply to any future sitting. [ ] vingt-un. vingt-un, or twenty-one, is another game we find described in books published at the commencement of the present century. its name would seem to imply that it is of french origin; but in reference to this, as well as in regard to the date of its introduction into the country, we have no definite details. the manner of playing it at the present time is very little different from that practised at the earlier date mentioned, although modifications have been introduced in some minor points, and the tendency is to make yet further departures from the methods adopted in years gone by. the game is well suited for a large number of players, and may also be engaged in by smaller parties; its practice, with even only two competing, being both interesting and exciting. it is purely a game of chance, and little or no skill is required in playing it, although a little judgment may often prove of advantage to the player who exercises it. vingt-un is played with an ordinary pack of fifty-two cards, which count in accordance with the number of pips on each, the ace reckoning as either one or eleven, at the option of the player, and each of the court cards counting ten. no distinction is made during any part of the game in the various suits, each of the four sorts being of equal value in counting the points. a player may retire after the completion of any hand, [ ] and the game itself may be concluded at the same period, although it is desirable to arrive at some understanding, previous to the commencement of play, as to the method to be adopted in closing it, as, from the fact of the deal being an advantage, it is unfair to conclude until each of those engaged has had a turn, or equal number of turns, as dealer. this is assuming that the deal goes round in rotation, which is the arrangement now generally adopted, in lieu of the old-fashioned method of transferring the privilege to the player throwing the dealer out by the declaration of a "natural" vingt-un, as explained later on. it must be understood, however, that with several players engaged it may take a considerable time for the deal to pass round, unless it be further agreed that each player shall hold the deal for a limited period, another modification, and one possessing many advantages over the old system, which was, in reality, a mere question of chance, and often resulted in the privilege of dealing being very unevenly divided among those engaged in play. as already mentioned, the deal is an advantage, and the earliest consideration should be to decide who is first to enjoy the privilege, and for how long. by the old system one player retained the deal until put out by one of the others receiving a natural vingt-un, that is, an ace (counting as ) and a , or court card (counting as ), and, as a consequence, the deal often remained for a considerable period with the same person, to the disadvantage of all the others engaged in the game; and even when a change was made, it was not in any definite order, but by mere chance, governed by the fall of the cards. modern innovations in the method of playing the game have tended to remove these objections,--firstly, by arranging that the deal shall pass in regular order from left to right; [ ] and secondly, by placing a limit on the number of rounds to be dealt by each player in turn. although the latter of these changes is not yet generally adopted, the former is almost universal; and we shall now proceed to explain the game on that basis, ignoring the second point, for the time being, as, although its adoption may make matters more equal, it has, perhaps, the disadvantage of depriving the game of one of its main elements of chance, and, in the opinion of many, thereby robs it of much of its attractiveness. the limits of the stakes are first determined, and then the dealer is decided upon. the minimum is usually one coin or counter, and the maximum whatever may be agreed upon. the maximum is understood to mean the highest amount that may be staked by a player on his card, and not the maximum that may be lost or won over any hand, for, by the rules of the game, the dealer is allowed to double the stakes, even if a player has staked the maximum. if after that any one secures a vingt-un, _i_._e_ twenty-one points, that again doubles the stakes, and thus it is quite possible for a player to win or lose four times the amount of the maximum over one hand. _description_. the object of the players is to secure from their cards--the pips on which count as already mentioned--twenty-one points, or as near that number as possible; hence the title. during the progress of the game the dealer pays those players who secure better hands than his own, and receives from all who over-draw, or whose points are lower or equal to his, the only exception being in the case of a tie with a natural vingt-un, when neither the holder nor the dealer pays anything to the other, the tie in such a case [ ] simply nullifying matters between the two. if the dealer over-draws, he only pays to those who are standing in, and does not return anything to those players who have paid him on their over-drawing; and herein lies the main advantage of the deal, for, as will be found in practice, the majority of hands are decided by over-drawing, which must necessarily be to the benefit of the dealer. the dealer having been decided upon, takes the pack of cards and shuffles them, after which he has the pack cut by the player on his right-hand side, and then proceeds to distribute one card, face downwards and unexposed, to each player, dealing in regular order from left to right. each player, in turn, looks at his card, and stakes on it whatever amount he chooses--which he usually does by placing coins or counters in front of him. in deciding on the amount of his stake, a player is guided by the chance he considers the card gives him of ultimately making twenty-one, or a near approach thereto. when it comes round to the dealer's turn, he also looks at his card, but does not stake anything upon it; he may, however, if he considers his card a good one, double the stakes of the other players, which he does by calling "double." in that case the individual players add the "double" to their stake, and the amounts being thus settled all round, the dealer gives a second card to each player, in the same order as the first, and also unexposed. the dealer then looks at his own two cards, and if he should have received a natural vingt-un, he at once declares it; throws the two cards, face upwards, on the table, and collects the stakes from the other players, the amount in this case being double from each, as the result of the vingt-un; so that, if the dealer had previously doubled, as he probably would have done when he found his first card was an ace or a (or court card), [ ] he would collect four times the amount staked by each o the players on their original card. the only exception to this is in the case of a player who, like the dealer, has received a natural vingt-un--in that case neither pays to the other, as previously mentioned. if either of the players other than the dealer should receive a natural vingt-un, he should at once declare it, and claim double the amount of his stake, or of the double, if that was called, from the dealer, who is thereupon deprived of his privilege of dealing, the right of continuing the deal passing to the player on his left-hand side.--it is often agreed that a natural shall not throw out the dealer, and in some cases the holder of a natural receives a stake from each of the other players. (_see_ variations in regard to the two points.) if the dealer has not secured a natural vingt-un, he turns to the player on his left, and, if that player desires it, he gives him--face upwards, and from off the top of the remainder of the pack--a third, fourth, or fifth card; in fact, as many more as may be required by the player, until he considers it safe to stand, or has over-drawn, _i.e._, got beyond the points. for instance, suppose a player receives at first a , and then a , making ; he asks for a third card, and may receive a , making his total , on which he would stand. had his third card been a , it would have been an over-draw, and the player would have had to pay the dealer the amount he staked, or the double, if the dealer had doubled. at the same time he would throw up his cards, or hand them to the player on the dealer's right, who is termed the pone, and whose duty it is to collect the cards as they are played and keep them in readiness for the dealer when he requires a further supply. a player when throwing up his cards must not expose the two first dealt [ ] to him, neither may the pone or either of the other players look at them. having settled with the player on his left, the dealer goes to the next in order, and treats him in a similar manner, and so on, until he has gone the round of the table. he then turns up his own two cards in front of him, and in view of the company, and decides, as the others have done, as to whether he will stand on the two he has, or take a further card or cards. if he decides to stand on the two he already has, he calls on those players who have not over-drawn to declare their hands, and each in turn does so, the dealer receiving the stakes when his points are higher or are equal to those of the other players, and paying when his points are lower than theirs. if he elects to take a third card, he deals it from the top of the pack; and if the third card does not satisfy him, he may take more; when satisfied, he challenges the others, as just explained. if, however, he over-draws, he pays to all who are standing, but not to those who have previously over-drawn and thrown up. if the dealer should succeed in securing such cards (other than an ace and ) as to make exactly points--a "drawn" vingt-un--he receives double stakes from each of the players, excepting those who have also drawn a vingt-un, who only pay the amount staked; and those who have previously over-drawn and thrown up, who do not have to pay anything further. if a player has a drawn vingt-un and the dealer has not, or the dealer has over-drawn, then the dealer has to pay the holder of the vingt-un double the amount of his stake, or of the double if that has been called. should any of the players receive for the first cards two of the same denomination,--for instance, two aces, two twos, two kings, two queens, etc.,--he has the option of staking a [ ] separate amount on each of them, but it is not compulsory that he should do so. if he decides to divide his pair, he puts on the second card a separate stake, the amount of which need not be similar to that of his original one, and then asks the dealer for two other cards with which to complete the two hands he then possesses. if either of these later cards should be of the same denomination as the first two, the player may also stand independently on that card, in which case he would, of course, have three hands, with a separate stake on each. the same opportunity would occur if he received all four of the kind --he could then play on four independent hands. this division of cards is equally available for the dealer, or all or any of the other players, so that two or more may have duplicate hands in the same round, provided they receive similar cards at the outset, for it is only when the original pairs occur in the first two cards that it is permissible to divide them; that is to say, if the third card received by any player matches either of those already in the hand, no division is allowable. at this game the pack of cards is not re-united after each round; the dealer works with the one pack until he gets to the last card, and the pone collects the used cards as they are disposed of by the players. when the dealer comes to the last card of the pack, he does not deal it or otherwise use it as he has done with the others, but hands it, unexposed, to the pone, who adds it to those already in his care, shuffles them, and hands them to the dealer, who proceeds with the game as before. the same procedure is repeated until one of the players secures a natural vingt-un, which, unless the dealer also holds a natural that hand, puts the dealer out, and the deal passes, either to the next player, or to the holder of the natural, as may have been decided upon. it is, however, [ ] best to adopt the former system, for the reason already given, and in that case it is often considered desirable to have a pool, which is secured by the player declaring the natural. (_see_ variations.) there is one exception to the power of a natural vingt-un to put the dealer out--namely, when it occurs in the first hand of the deal; then the dealer disregards it, except that he has to pay to the holder as for a drawn vingt-un, and proceeds with his deal until a second natural occurs. we will now amplify, as far as is necessary, the points already touched upon, and introduce the variations recognised in connection with the game. _dealing_. the first dealer is settled by one of the company distributing the cards in the same manner as explained in connection with "nap" (see page ), except that in the case of vingt-un the player to whom the first _ace_ is dealt becomes the dealer. he proceeds with the game as explained on page . if, in preparing the pack for the dealer, any confusion occurs, or any card or cards are exposed, the whole pack must be re-shuffled and cut again. if two cards are dealt to one player, the error may be rectified if discovered before a third card is dealt; but if a third card has been dealt, then the player receiving the surplus card must look at his hand, and reject which of the two he chooses. if the dealer gives himself two cards at one time, and the mistake is not discovered until another card has been dealt, then the pone must take one of the cards, at random, and add it to the used portion of the pack. a card exposed in dealing may be kept or rejected at the [ ] option of the player; but if the dealer exposes one of his own cards, he must retain it. _drawing_. the whole of the hands having been dealt--that is, two cards given to each player, and also to cases of divided pairs, the drawing of further cards commences. the dealer begins with the player on his left-hand side, and he, if he does not require any more cards, says "content." if he does require more, he says "yes," or, "a card," when the dealer delivers one from the top of the undealt portion of the pack, placing it face upwards on the table in front of the player. if another card or cards is needed, it must be given in like manner, until the player is content or has over-drawn. the dealer must settle with one player before he attends to the next, and similarly, when a player is standing on divided pairs, he must settle with one hand before attending to the other. if the dealer gives a player two cards while the process of drawing is going on, the player may keep either or both of them; but if he rejects one, he must be regarded as content, and cannot draw another card. the one rejected is added to the stock in the hands of the pone. if the dealer in drawing gives himself two cards, he must keep them both, and suffer the consequences of an over-draw if then his points exceed . if the dealer distributes the draw cards out of order, the player or players missed may either be supplied at any time from the top of the pack, or they may throw up their cards. if a player draws separately on his two cards, when they do not pair, he has to pay the dealer on each hand, and forfeits any amount he may have won. [ ] in any of these cases of irregularity, the offender pays a penalty to the pool, if there be one. _pool_. a pool may be formed for any purpose that may be decided upon, and may be made up according to arrangement. for this purpose, it may be agreed (a) that each player contribute a coin or counter to the pool at the commencement of each deal; (b) that whenever the dealer over-draws, he pay a penalty to the pool; (c) that whenever the dealer receives on ties, he pay a proportion to the pool, say one-fourth or one-third of his receipts. other methods of increasing the pool will present themselves in actual play, those here inserted being intended as specimens of what may be done, or to form a basis on which to work. _limiting the deal_. in the game we have described we have adopted the principle that the declaration of a natural vingt-un throws the dealer out; but another method is to limit the deal to a certain number of hands, or to allow the dealer to go through the pack twice, or to have two packs of cards shuffled together, and go through them once. in these cases the dealer is allowed to draw from the used pack as many cards as may be necessary to complete a round started upon with his limited supply, and the cards are prepared by the pone for the purpose, being all collected, shuffled, and cut before they are used by the dealer. _selling the deal_. should a player object to take his turn at dealing, or desire to part with it for other reason, he is at liberty to sell the right to any other player; and in view of the fact that [ ] the deal is an advantage, a purchaser will generally be found. the buyer has to deal the cards, but does not change his seat. he has to commence each time with the player on the left-hand side of the proper dealer, and when the buyer loses his turn, the deal reverts to the player who would have had the next turn had there been no sale. the buyer takes his turn with the others in the ordinary course. _additional privileges for a natural_. it is sometimes agreed that the holder of a natural vingt-un, providing the dealer has not also received a natural, shall be entitled to an amount equal to, or double that of his own stake from each of the other players, unless there be other vingt-uns, the holders of which are exempted from payment. this is the old fashioned method of playing the game, and in many quarters the rule had been abolished, because, as the deal formerly passed to the holder of the natural vingt-un, who threw the dealer out, that was considered sufficient reward for holding the two cards. now, however, that the deal merely passes to the next in order, it is desirable that some further reward should follow from the best possible hand, and the payment of a stake or a double from each player appears to be the fairest method, especially as the declaration of a natural brings the deal nearer to all. the same result may be achieved by agreeing that the contents of a pool, for which provision has already been made, shall go to the player declaring the natural. [ ] commerce. _description of the game_. ninety years ago the game of commerce was recognised as being played in two distinct ways, the new and the old mode, so that it may justly be termed one of the oldest round games now practised. although it is not so popular as some of the others treated of in this volume, it will be found to be a good game; exciting, entertaining, and well deserving of more extended popularity than it has lately enjoyed. commerce is usually played with the full pack of fifty-two cards, but if the number of players does not exceed seven the smaller pack of thirty-two may be used, the game being available for any number of players within the range of the pack, say seven with the thirty-two cards, and twelve with the fifty-two. the cards count in the usual way, except that in reckoning the number of pips upon them, which is sometimes necessary in the course of play, the ace counts for eleven, and the court cards for ten each. there is no particular suit or trumps recognised in the game, the object of the players being to secure special combinations of the cards, technically termed (_a_) tricon, (_b_) sequence, (_c_) flush, (_d_) pair, (_e_) point, which range in value in the order given. the holder of the best combination in each [ ] round is the winner, and he takes the pool or whatever other stake may have been decided upon. the five combinations just mentioned consist of the following:-- (_a_) _tricon_.--three cards of the same denominations as, for example, three aces, three fives, three knaves, etc. (_b_) _sequence_.--three following cards of the same suit, as, for instance, ace, two, three; ten, knave, queen; queen, king, ace, etc. although the ace may be used at either end to form a sequence, it must not be so used between a king and a two. king, ace, two, is not, therefore, permissible as a sequence. (_c_) _flush_.--three cards of the same suit, irrespective of value. (_d_) _pair_.--two cards of the same denomination, the third one being different. (_e_) _point_.--the total number of pips on the three cards, ace reckoning for eleven, and either of the court cards for ten. in case of a tie between two or more of the players in any round, the following rules are observed:-- (_a_) with tricons, the highest wins, aces being first in this respect; then kings, queens, etc., down to twos. (_b_) with sequences, the highest wins; the ace, king, queen sequence reckoning as the best, and the three, two, ace sequence as the lowest. (_c_) with flushes, the one making the best "point"--as already described --wins. (_d_) with pairs, the highest wins. if two players are alike, then the holder of the highest third card has the preference. (_e_) with point a tie is very rare; but if equality does [ ] occur, then the holder of the first highest card different from the opponent's wins. the deal is an advantage, and on that account it is best, when a finish is desired, to conclude the game just before the first dealer's turn comes round again, as then all the players will have had an equal number of deals. should it be found necessary, however, to conclude before the original dealer's turn, play may be discontinued after the completion of any deal, although such a course is somewhat unfair to the intervening players. there is only one stake recognised in the game, so that it is simply necessary to decide what shall be regarded as the value of a counter, or what coin shall constitute the limit. the amount of the stake having been settled, the dealer is decided upon in the same manner as described in connection with the game of "nap" (see page ). each of the players then pays the amount of the stake into the pool, the dealer also contributing on account of his deal, so that he has to pay double. the pack having been shuffled by the dealer, and cut by the player on his right-hand side, three cards are distributed to each player, face downwards and unexposed. the cards may be dealt either singly or all three at a time, at the option of the dealer. the players having looked at their cards, the dealer first addresses the one on his left-hand side, and asks if he will trade; and he must either do so or stand on the cards dealt him. if he decides to stand on the cards he has received, he turns his hand face upwards on the table, and all the other players do the same, when the holder of the best hand takes the amount in the pool, and also receives the amount of a stake from the dealer, who is thus penalised for the [ ] advantage that accrues to him from selling cards to those who wish to trade for ready money, the amount he receives on that account becoming his own property, subject to the payment mentioned. should the player who declares to stand be beaten by any of the others, he has to pay an additional stake to the holders of the better hands. if the player decides to trade, he may either do so for "ready money" or by "barter." if for ready money, he continues operations with the dealer; if by barter, with the next player in order round the table, who, in turn, must exchange a card, unless he has a hand sufficiently strong to stand upon, in which case he at once declares it. if the player trades for ready money, he throws out a card from his hand, pays a stake to the dealer, and receives the top card from the pack; his rejected card being placed at the bottom of the pack without being exposed. if the player decides to barter, he turns to the player on his left-hand side and offers a card, which must be exchanged for one of those in the next player's hand, unless that player considers his cards sufficiently strong to stand upon, in which case the winner is decided by the method just described. if the player has traded, either for ready money or barter, and has secured a hand strong enough, he at once stands, and exposes his cards; if not, the dealer passes or to the next player, and acts in a similar manner, going round and round the table until one of the players decides to stand, when the hands are exposed and the round settled. a player may only purchase or exchange one card at each turn; he must not do both, but he is compelled to do the one or the other, unless he decides to stand. when once a player agrees to stand, the commerce on that round ceases, and all the hands must be exposed. [ ] _the old game_. the older mode of playing the game of commerce differs materially from the description given above, and as it does not present such chances, but is of a more limited character, it is not so interesting, nor does it afford so much scope for speculation and excitement. the deal is decided and the cards are distributed in the same way as in the more modern game, but here an additional hand, of three cards, is dealt, and placed face upwards in the middle of the table. there is no trading with the dealer or any of the players, the operations of commerce being confined to the three cards exposed on the table. the player to the left of the dealer has the first turn, and he must either stand, pass, or exchange a card. in the latter case he takes one of those lying face upwards on the table, adds it to his hand, and places one of his own cards, face upwards, in place of the one removed. if the player passes, he says, "i pass," and is then debarred from afterwards exchanging any of his cards during that hand; while if he decides to stand, the next player decides what he will do, and so on round the table, until two of the players are satisfied with their hands, or all have declared to pass. if two of the players stand then each of the other players may make one more exchange (if they have not previously passed), and then the whole of the hands are exposed, just as described in connection with the modern game. there is no pool in this variation, the winner receiving instead the amount of the stake from each of the other players. in case of absolute equality between the two best hands, which may be regarded as an almost impossible event, then each of the winners receives a stake from all the other players. [ ] _pool commerce_. this is a variation of the old method of conducting the game, and is played on somewhat similar lines, except that a pool is made up, by each player paying in an equal sum, for which he receives three counters. play then proceeds in the manner just described as the old game. the winner of the hand, instead of receiving a stake from each of the players, takes a previously arranged sum from the pool, while the player who has the worst hand puts one counter into the pool. the game continues until all but one of the players have exhausted their three counters, when the player who remains with the last counter or counters takes the amount left in the pool. as soon as a player has exhausted his counters he has to stand out of the game, and no cards are dealt to him, so that the adoption of this variation makes the game very tedious for those who are first out, as they may have to wait a considerable time before the stock of the other players is exhausted. the player who is first out has the option of buying one counter from the pool, which is termed "buying a horse." he has to pay for the same into the pool such sum as may be agreed upon--usually one-third or one-half the amount of the original stake. _limited commerce_. it may be agreed that only the tricon, sequence, flush, and point shall be recognised in the game, or even tricon, sequence, and point only; but the greater the number of combinations permissible the greater the enjoyment to be derived from the game, so that limitations of this character have little to recommend them. [ ] _penalties for the dealer_. it is sometimes agreed that when the dealer holds a tricon, sequence, flush, or pair, and his hand is beaten by either of the others, he has to pay the amount of a stake to each player, or only to those who have better hands than his. the former course will be found to be a severe tax on the dealer, and is not to be recommended. the dealer only has the same chances as the others, and such a penalty seems unjust. _extended commerce_. this is only applicable to the modern mode of playing the game, which in this variation is extended until all the players are satisfied, that is, they may keep on trading, either for ready money or by barter, until they all receive cards sufficiently good to stand upon. the great objection to this variation is that it makes the game wearisome for those players who are soon enabled to stand, as they have to wait while the others are being satisfied. _continuous dealing_. another method of playing the modern game is to allow the same dealer to remain in until one of the players secures a tricon, sequence, or flush, when the deal passes to the next player, on the left-hand side. this variation is based on the same principle as governs the game of vingt-un. [ ] speculation. this is a round game which for very many years has been one of the most popular of its class. it requires little skill in its conduct, being essentially a game of chance. the players do not look at their hands, and therefore cannot in any way influence their possibilities of success with the three cards dealt them. the only element of skill associated is in connection with the speculations which form part of the play, and which may be carried on by each of the players during its progress. the ordinary packs of fifty-two or thirty-two cards may be used, and the number of players who may take part in the game is practically unlimited within the range of the pack; but it will be found that not more than ten players are desirable with the fifty-two card pack, and not more than six with the thirty-two card one, as otherwise too great a proportion of the pack is brought into use each deal, and there is not much scope for speculation as to what remains in the undealt portion of the pack. in playing the game the ace is reckoned the highest card, then follow king, queen, knave, ten, etc., down to two. the first dealer is decided in the manner explained in connection with "nap" (see page ), and he has to pay two coins or counters into the pool, each of the other players contributing one. three cards are then dealt to each player, one at a time, and going round from left to right. the top card remaining on the pack is turned up for trump, but [ ] before turning it the dealer may sell it to any other of the players. if the dealer sells the turn-up card, the buyer becomes entitled to all the privileges that may ultimately attach to it, taking the entire amount in the pool if no higher trump is turned up during the progress of the hands. the player next to the dealer, or if the dealer sold the turn-up card the one next to the purchaser, then turns up the top card of the three dealt him. if it proves to be a higher card of the trump suit than that already exposed, he becomes the chief hand, and may either retain the card, with the ultimate prospect of winning the pool, or he may sell it to either of the other players if a speculation can be arranged. if he sells the card, he passes it over to the purchaser, and the player on the left-hand side of the new holder becomes the next player. if the card turned up is not a trump, or is a lower trump than that already exposed, it is of no value, and the next player has to follow on with his top card. the same proceeding is continued round and round until all the players, except the holder of the highest trump, have exposed their three cards. the owner of the leading trump, or the dealer, if he did not sell the turn-up and it remains unbeaten, does not expose his cards in the various rounds, but retains them until last. even then he may sell them, before they are turned up, either singly or all together. when all the cards have been exposed, the holder of the highest trump takes the amount in the pool, and a fresh deal, with new payments to the pool, is started upon. if the card turned up proves to be an ace, king, queen, or knave, it is usual for the deal to pass. in that case the dealer, or the purchaser of the trump card if the dealer has sold it, takes the pool, when all the players contribute as before, the next in turn becoming the dealer, and using the next top card of the pack for his trump card. this method [ ] saves the time of going all round with the hands, when with so high a card turned up there are so few chances of either of the players having a better one, as to virtually put an end to all speculation that hand. during the progress of the game either of the players may sell the card which it is his turn to expose. in that case he turns it up without disturbing the order of play, and retains it if it is not a superior trump. if it is a superior one, it has to be handed over to the purchaser, and the player on his left has to proceed with the play. the holder of the highest trump card may sell it at any time, so that it may change hands several times during the same deal, and each time there is a change the player on the buyer's left-hand side is the next to proceed. any player looking at a card out of turn has to pay a penalty into the pool, and should he prove the winner he cannot take the amount in the pool, but must leave it to be added to the stakes for the next deal. it is sometimes agreed that the turn-up card shall belong to the pool, and in that case it is not offered for sale. if it proves the ultimate winner of the round, the amount is left in the pool, and added to the stake for the next deal, the amount of which is made up just as if the previous one had been taken by one of the players. a second method of benefiting the pool is to deal a spare hand, which is left in the middle of the table until all the other hands have been finished. the spare hand is then turned up, and if it contains a winning card the amount in the pool is added to the stake for the next round. another variation is to impose a penalty when a knave or five is turned up, the penalty being paid into the pool by the owner of the card, that is, the original holder or the purchaser if it was sold before being turned up. [ ] pope joan. for the game of pope, or pope joan, a special board, or a pool with eight compartments, is required, or the divisions may be marked on a sheet of paper or card. the game is available for any number of players, and an ordinary pack of fifty-two cards is used, the eight of diamonds being taken out, so as to form what is termed a stop, that is, a break in the sequence of the cards, which are here reckoned in regular order from ace to king, the four suits being kept distinct throughout the play. the seven of diamonds thus becomes a stop, and the king of each suit is also a stop, there being no "following" card in either case. the turn-up or trump card, as will be further explained later on, forms another stop, and thus there are six regular known stops at the commencement of each game, with a number of unknown ones caused by the cards in the spare hand which forms part of the game. the object of the players is to dispose of their cards as rapidly as possible, under certain conditions, and the player who first succeeds in clearing his hand wins the stake set apart for game, as well as a contribution from the other players for each of the cards remaining in their hands. the holders of certain other cards secure the stakes contributed for them if they play them out during the progress of the hands. [ ] the earliest matter for consideration is to determine who shall be the first dealer, and that is settled in the same way as at "nap" (see page ). the players then contribute between them fifteen (or more) counters or coins to form a pool, the dealer giving double the amount paid by the other players. the counters or coins are then distributed so as to dress the eight divisions of the board, which are named as follows:-- pope joan (the nine of diamonds), matrimony (king and queen of trumps), intrigue (queen and knave of trumps), ace, king, queen, knave (of trumps), and game, which latter is secured by the player who first succeeds in disposing of all the cards dealt him. six of the counters are placed for pope joan, two each for matrimony and intrigue, one each for ace, king, queen, and knave, and the remainder for game. to save the trouble and time of collecting the stakes from the several players for each round, it is often agreed that the dealer for the time being shall dress the board, in which case it is necessary that the game should be finished just before the original dealer's turn comes round again, else the payments to the pool will not have been equitably divided. the stakes being completed, the pack, from which the eight of diamonds has been removed, is shuffled and cut. the dealer then proceeds to distribute the cards, one at a time, as equally among the players as possible, dealing a spare hand, which is left unexposed on the table, for the purpose of forming further stops, and turning up the last card for trump. if any odd cards remain after dealing round to the players, it is best to add the surplus to the spare hand. for instance, with five players there will be eight cards for each hand, one to turn up, and two remaining; these two should be added to the spare hand. with eight players there will be five each, and five remaining; so [ ] that the spare hand will be increased to ten, but that will only cause a greater number of stops, which will not prove any disadvantage with so many players engaged. should the trump card prove to be the nine of diamonds--pope joan,--the dealer takes the amount staked for that card, and, in addition, receives from each player a stake for every card dealt. if there are but few players engaged in the game, it is best to agree that the payment for pope joan shall be limited to either four or six counters or coins, and it may be best to do so, no matter what number of players are engaged. if the card turned up for trump be either ace, king, queen or knave, the dealer takes whatever stake is deposited on the hoard in the corresponding division, and the game proceeds, as is also the case if any lower card is turned up. during the progress of the game, the holder of pope joan, matrimony, intrigue, or ace, king, queen, or knave of trumps can, if he has the opportunity, play those cards, in which event he takes the amount of the stake on the corresponding part of the board, and, in the case of pope joan, he receives a stake from every player for each card remaining in hand. neither of these combinations or cards wins anything, however, if not played out during the progress of the game, and they can only be declared in the ordinary course of play. for this reason pope joan or ace of trumps should be led on the first opportunity, as neither of them can be played up to, each following a stop. when any or all of the special cards are not played out, the stake on their particular division of the board is left for the next deal, so that it may happen that either of the compartments except game, which is won every deal, may be considerably increased before it is secured by one of the players. for this reason it is desirable to study the state [ ] of the board, so as to see if the stake on any particular card in hand is sufficient to warrant its being played at an early stage, even though lower cards of the same suit are in hand, which would, in the ordinary course, be cleared off first. it is sometimes agreed that when intrigue or matrimony is played by different hands, the amount staked on those chances shall be divided between the two-players concerned, and in each case the player of knave, queen, or king takes the stake on those chances in addition. play in the game is commenced by the elder hand, that is, the player on the left-hand side of the dealer, leading a card, to which the other players have to follow on in the same suit and in sequence, passing where they are unable to follow, until a stop occurs, when the competitor who plays the stop has the next lead. the played cards are turned over, face downwards on the table, after each stop. it must be remembered that the object of the players is to dispose of their cards as soon as possible, and on that account the known stops should be played out at the first opportunity, or led up to as early as possible. to better explain the method of play, we will take an imaginary hand. we will suppose there are five players, and that the one on the dealer's left-hand side receives and of diamonds, and knave of hearts, knave and king of spades, ace and queen of clubs. the turn-up card proves to be the of hearts. the player thus knows he has two stops among his eight cards, viz., the of diamonds and king of spades; but in each case he has lower cards of the same suit, and he must therefore consider how best to clear them off. the king of spades being a stop, and the player having the knave and king of that suit, [ ] he cannot do wrong in leading the knave, as, if the queen is played he follows on with the king, and if by chance the queen should be in the spare hand, he still gets rid of the king, having to follow on, after his knave having proved a stop. the same argument holds good in the case of the diamonds, of which he first leads the five and clears the suit. the ace of clubs must next be played, as unless he leads that himself there is no possibility of his being able to play it, as no card can lead up to an ace. he therefore plays the club ace for his fifth card, the two and three follow on from different hands, and then a stop occurs, so that it is assumed the four is in the spare hand, and thus the three is a stop. the player of the three has, among his other cards, the queen and king of hearts, plays them (taking the stake on matrimony, as hearts are trumps), and follows on with the seven of spades, of which he also holds the ten, which, as knave, queen, and king have been played, he knows to be a stop. by playing off queen and king of hearts, this player made the knave of hearts in the first hand a stop. later on the game leads up to the queen of clubs, which also proves to be a stop, the king being in the spare hand, and the original leader is left with the lead with only two cards in hand, of which one is known to be a stop. he therefore first plays this knave of hearts, following on with his four, clearing his hand and winning the game. he takes the stake on game from the board, and receives one counter from the other players for each card remaining in their hand, the only exception in such cases being in favour of the holder of pope joan, who is exempt if he has not played that card, but who has to pay as the rest if he has played it. [ ] variations. the most popular variation from the foregoing game is for the winner, _i.e._ the one who first plays out his cards, to only take the stake for game from the board, the players paying to the pool the penalty for their unplayed card or cards, and distributing them on whichever chance they prefer, except that all the eight must be covered. in such a case the regular dressing of the board by the players at the commencement of each deal as previously described is omitted, the dealer alone paying a single stake, which he may also place where he chooses. _five-pool pope_. the board or pool may be made with five divisions only, in which case pope joan, matrimony, intrigue, ace, and game are retained, king, queen, and knave being omitted. in other respects the game is conducted on the ordinary lines, except that twelve coins or counters are sufficient to dress the board. _pope joan wins_. in this variation, when pope joan is turned up the dealer at once wins the game, and takes the stake standing to game on the board, in addition to that on pope and the payment from each of the players already referred to. this is by no means a desirable innovation, and simply causes extra trouble for dealing, etc., with little or no recompense. _limited stops_. in lieu of the spare hand being dealt, with the object of making extra stops, it may be arranged that a definite [ ] number of cards be taken from the pack, either from the top or the bottom, for the purpose, or the remainder, after dealing the cards round as far as possible equally among the players, may be so set apart. the best way, however, is to deal a spare hand with the others, as then the number of stops bears an equitable proportion to the number of players engaged in the game. _looking at the spare hand_. among amateurs and inexperienced players it is sometimes agreed that the dealer shall look at the spare hand, so as to see what cards are stops; but after a few rounds have been played, the absurdity of this rule will be manifest. it gives so much advantage to the dealer, who can play cards which he alone knows to be stops, that in such a case he ought to stand out, no cards being dealt him that round. it is an altogether objectionable variation, and not at all a necessary one. pope joan is sometimes allowed to be played at any time in lieu of a stop, thus: suppose a player has pope and (say) knave of spades. in the course of the game the nine of spades is played, and proves to be a stop. the holder of pope may play it in lieu of the ten of spades, and then continue with his knave of that suit, first taking his winnings on pope. [ ] spin. spin may be regarded somewhat as a variation or offshoot of pope joan, which game it very much resembles. the dealer will therefore do well to refer to the description given of that game, on pages to , for further and more extended details. at spin the two of hearts is taken out of the pack, in addition to the eight of diamonds, but in distributing the cards no spare hand is dealt, so that there are always six regular stops in the game. in addition, the ace of diamonds, which is called spin, may also be used as a stop, if the player chooses to make it one, and he has the necessary card with which to follow, as explained later on. there are only three pool chances to play for in this game: matrimony (king and queen of diamonds), intrigue (queen and knave of diamonds), and game, or first out. in addition to these three chances, the holder of spin receives a stake (usually three counters) from the other competitors, provided the card is played out in the ordinary course of the game; while each king entitles its holder to one counter from every competitor when they are played out. in both these cases the amounts must be collected before another card is played, or they are forfeited. the pool is made by each player, except the dealer, paying in a stake for game, while the dealer has to contribute a double stake to make a pool for matrimony, and a single stake for intrigue. he is sometimes called upon to con[ ]tribute to game also, but that is putting a tax upon him disproportionate to what is required from the other players. the two of hearts and eight of diamonds having been taken out, the cards are shuffled and then dealt out, as near equally as possible, among the players. no turn-up card is needed, as there are no trumps in this game. the player on the dealer's left has the lead, and he proceeds in the manner described for pope joan (see page ). the holder of matrimony or intrigue can declare them at any time after he plays a stop, and he then takes the stake for those chances in the pool. he need not play the cards, but simply shows them, and may then follow on, as he has a right to do after a stop, with any card he chooses. the holder of spin can play it at any time when either of his other cards comes in sequence in the progress of the game, or after a stop. in the former case, the playing of spin makes it a stop, but it must be played out with the card which follows on, or the holder loses his chance of playing it. for instance, suppose clubs are in play, that the six is the last card, and that the holder of the seven has spin. he plays the two cards together, and says, "seven and spin." the other competitors then pay him the agreed stake for spin, and the game proceeds. if the holder of spin does not succeed in playing it he has to pay double to the winner of the game for every card remaining in his hand. when one of the players has played all his cards, he becomes the winner, and the others pay him a stake for each card remaining in their hands. in addition he takes the amount of the pool set apart for first out. the winner of the game is also exempt from payment towards the next pool for game. if, however, the winner is the next dealer, then he has to contribute to matrimony and intrigue in the ordinary course. [ ] newmarket. this is another variation of pope joan, or spin, and is played on similar lines. the seven of each suit is taken out to form stops, and four cards are turned up in the middle of the table. these must be the four principal cards, viz., ace, king, queen, and knave, but of different suits, so that each of the four are represented in the pool; say, for example, knave of diamonds, queen of hearts, king of clubs, and ace of spades may be turned up. the several players pay a coin or counter to form the first pool, and may put it on whichever card of the four turned up they choose, provided that all four are covered. the dealer pays one extra throughout the game. the whole of the cards are then dealt, as nearly equal as possible, as for spin. play proceeds as in that game, the holder of the card immediately preceding those in the pool taking the stake upon it when he plays his card. for this purpose the ace is considered both as lowest and highest, so that, in the supposed cases given above, the holders of king of spades, queen of clubs, knave of hearts, and ten of diamonds become winners of pool stakes on playing out their respective cards. these would in each case become stops, and the player would have the right to play another card. the one who first succeeds in clearing his hand wins the game, and receives from each of the other competitors a stake for every remaining card. the pool stakes cannot be taken unless the cards are played up to, and if this is not done the amounts are carried on to the next deal. the hints and fuller explanation given in pope joan and spin should be studied in connection with this game. [ ] snip-snap-snorum. there are two distinct methods of playing this game, so unlike as to lead to the conclusion that at some time or other two separate games must have been confused by being called under the same name, and have since been so associated with each other. there is hardly one point in common between the two methods in vogue; and while one is entirely different from anything yet described in the present volume, the other is, to a great extent, played on the lines of pope joan, spin, and newmarket, and may be regarded as an offshoot of those games--rather than as an independent one--which has got mixed with the one known under the title of snip-snap-snorum, and has come to be recognised under that name. as preference in such a case should be given to the independent game, we shall first describe that, and afterwards devote attention to the other system. in doing so we must excuse ourselves for the manifest inconsistency of associating two distinct games under the one title, on the ground of custom and practice among different individuals, and in order to avoid confusion as far as possible, we have re-named the game we shall describe last, as jig, that being one of the terms used in the game, and sufficiently distinctive for every purpose. snip-snap-snorum is a round game, available for any number, of players from two to ten, when the full pack of fifty-two cards is played with, or for any number up to six [ ] when the smaller pack of thirty-two is used. probably the best number of players is five or six in the former case, and three or four in the latter; the greatest objection to a large number of players being that those first out have to wait until the others have exhausted their stakes, which may not occur until several more rounds have been completed. at the commencement of the game each player has to be provided with five coins or counters, of equal value, and the game is decided when all but one of the players has exhausted those five stakes. the player who holds out the longest becomes the winner, and secures the whole of the pool, which is contributed to during the progress of the game as described later on. the deal is decided in the ordinary way, the player to whom the first knave is turned up having the first right to deal the cards. he shuffles the pack, has it cut, and then distributes five cards to each player, one at a time, and commencing with the one on his left-hand side. there is no turn-up card needed; when all have received their five cards the hands are looked at, and the game begins. the object of the players is to play cards of equal value to those of their right-hand adversaries, and if they do so the player has to pay a penalty into the pool; one stake for snip, which is the first pairing of a card; two stakes for snap, the second pairing of the same card; and three stakes for snorum, the third pairing. for instance, suppose there are five players, _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, and _e_. _a_ is the dealer, and, the cards having been dealt, _b_ has to lead; he plays a nine, and calls it when he places it on the table face upwards in front of him; _c_ likewise has a nine, which he must play by also placing it face upwards on the table in front of him, and says "snip," upon which _b_ has to pay a stake into the pool, his card having been paired _d_ also has [ ] a nine, which he plays in similar manner, and says "snap," upon which _c_ has to pay two stakes into the pool, his card having been also paired; _e_ then has to follow on, and also having a nine in hand, he must play it, and says "snorum," which imposes a penalty of three stakes upon _d_. this having disposed of the four nines in the pack, _a_, whose turn it now is to play, has to start upon a new card, and he has the option of playing whichever of the five in his hand he chooses. the penalties of snip-snap-snorum do not remain in force if any other card intervenes between the pairs, so that it is only the player next in order of play who has the opportunity of securing a stack& for the pool from any of the others. taking the illustration given above, we will suppose that _d_ had no nine, and was accordingly compelled to play, say, a ten. _b_ would have had to pay the penalty for snip, as before; but _c_ could have nothing to pay, his card not having been paired. then suppose _e_, in his turn, played a nine, and a also played one, that would only "snip" _e's_ nine, although the other two nines had just been played; _e_ would have to pay one stake to the pool. as soon as the five cards dealt to each player are exhausted, the next in order becomes the dealer, and distributes five cards to each player, as before, and the game is conducted round and round on exactly similar lines until one of the party has lost the last of his five stakes. he is then out of the game, and if he has any cards left he must add them, face downwards and unexposed, to the top of the undealt portion of the pack. the other players proceed with the game, and as each loses his last stake he is left out, and no fresh cards are dealt him. this goes on until all but one have lost their stakes, when, as already described, the game is finished, and the last in takes the pool. [ ] if a new game is started on, the first out in the previous game becomes the new dealer. the lead is a disadvantage in this game, as, after a few cards have been played, it is often possible to know that certain cards remaining in hand are absolutely safe, or nearly so. for instance, suppose two knaves have been played during the first round or two, and that a third knave is in a player's hand, that card may be played as an almost safe one, as there is only one other that can pair with it, and the odds of the fourth knave being in the next player's hand are very remote. for the same reason a player having two of a kind in his own hand should always play one of them when his turn comes round, provided, of course, he is not able to pair with the player immediately preceding him. if a player has a card similar to that played immediately before him, he must play it. in the event of his failing to do so, he has to pay a double penalty to the pool, while the player who would have been penalized has to contribute just as though the right card had been played. these penalties must be enforced before the cards are cut for the next deal. variations. this method of playing the game is sometimes varied as follows: instead of dealing five cards to each player, the whole of the pack is distributed, equally; or as nearly equal as possible, among the players, each of whom starts with five coins or counters, as in the other game. the player on the dealer's left-hand side, whom we will call _b_, as above, has to lead, and he keeps on playing one card after another until the opponent on his left (_c_) can pair one of them. when _c_ succeeds in doing this, he says "snip," and _b_ has to pay a stake into the pool, while he remains in [ ] active until the game has proceeded right round the table. play now rests between _c_ and _d_. if _d_ can pair _c's_ card with which he snipped _b_ he does so, and calls "snap," when _c_ has to pay two stakes to the pool; if then _e_ can also pair the card, he cries "snorum," and _d_ has to pay three stakes to the pool. if, however, the players cannot pair, then _c_ has to keep on playing out his cards until _d_ can pair one, in which case _c_ is snipped, and the game proceeds as just described. the game goes round until all have played their cards, when the pack is again shuffled, and a new deal started upon, the game being won and the stakes secured by the player who holds out the longest with his five stakes, as in the other game. this variation may be altered again by agreeing that an unlimited number of coins or counters may be used, and that the player who first succeeds in getting rid of his cards shall be the winner of the pool. by this system each deal becomes complete in itself, but it will not be found a very desirable innovation if many players are engaged, as in that case the cards are so divided that it becomes an easy matter to clear a hand. _turn-up snip_. it is sometimes agreed that the dealer shall turn up the top card of the undealt portion of the pack, and if then the first player can match it, the dealer has to pay the penalty for snip. a much better way of playing this variation, however, is for the pool to pay the penalty for this first snip. in that case the player takes one counter out of the pool and adds it to his own stock. [ ] jig. we have already mentioned that our reason for adopting the above title is to distinguish this method of playing the game of snip-snap-snorum from the one just described, and it will be evident to those who study the two systems that we are quite justified in introducing a distinctive name for the one we are now about to deal with, which, as we have said, has little or nothing--beyond former title and use of similar terms--in common with the other. the first dealer having been settled, and the pack shuffled, the cards are dealt out one at a time until the pack is exhausted. the object of the players is to get rid of their cards as speedily as possible, the one first out winning a coin or counter from each of the other players for every card remaining in their hands. the player on the dealer's left-hand side has to play first, and he leads whichever card he chooses, placing it face upwards on the table in front of him, and saying "snip"; the holder of the next highest card of the same suit (ace counting as lowest and king as highest) has to follow on, and says "snap"; then the three next highest cards are played, the holders of them saying "snorum," "hicockalorum" and "jig" respectively, when playing them. the one who plays jig has the next lead, and may follow on with whichever card he chooses. if either of the cards played is a stop,--that is to say, the succeeding card has been played out, or it is a king,--then the player says "jig" after announcing what card he plays, as, for [ ] instance, "snip-jig," "snap-jig," and so on. the player of the stop has to lead the next card. it will thus be seen that the object of the players should be to lead such cards as will bring the jig into their own hand again whenever possible, as then another card has to be led, and a greater chance exists of clearing the hand. to do this successfully, it is necessary to remember what cards are played during the progress of the game, so as to know which are stops, and then, if the stops are in hand, such cards should be played as would lead up to them. it will be well to bear in mind the following, which gives a list of the "jigs" to the several cards of the pack:-- the five is "jig" to the ace. | the ten is "jig" to six. " six " two. | " knave " seven. " seven " three. | " queen " eight. " eight " four. | " king " nine, ten, " nine " five. | knave or queen. similarly, if the two, three, or four is a stop, the ace, two or three may be played so as to lead up to them and thus secure the jig. when one of the party has exhausted his cards, he says "out," and then receives a coin or counter from each player for every card they have left, and he also wins the amount in the pool if one has been formed. this is possible in many ways: either by each player contributing to it equally, by calling upon the dealer to pay in, or by the infliction of fines or penalties for incorrect calls, etc. it is hardly necessary to give further details of the method of playing the hands, the game being so similar to pope joan, spin, and newmarket, which are fully described elsewhere. players will do well to refer to those games for further information in regard to this variation of snip-snap-snorum. [ ] cassino. this game, which is of considerable antiquity, is available for two, three, four, or more persons, but is usually played by four, when two of the players act as partners against the other two. it is, however, equally available for four players acting independently, in which case each scores his individual points, whereas in the partnership game, as with only two players, the lesser number of points is taken from the greater, and the difference only is scored by the winner. with three players it is also necessary to score independently, although in all these independent scorings it is sometimes decided that the lowest scorer shall not reckon anything, while the number of his points is deducted from those of each of the others; as, for instance: suppose _a_ made point, _b_ , _c_ and _d_ ; _a_ would not score anything, while _b_ would score , _c_ , and _d_ . similarly, if _a_ made points, _b_ , _c_ and _d_ ; _d_ would be the only one to score, and he would count . it is usual to play with the full pack of fifty-two cards; there is however no reason why the smaller pack of thirty-two should not be used, but in that case the hands would be of shorter duration. assuming that four persons intend to take part in the game, and that they decide to play in pairs, the first question to settle will be as to who shall be partners, and who the first dealer. this is arranged by each of the four [ ] players taking a card from the top or other part of the pack, when those who draw the two lowest cards have to play against the drawers of the two highest. the lowest of the four (ace counting as lowest) becomes the first dealer. in the event of a tie, which prevents the decision being thus made, only those whose cards are alike draw a second time. the partners sit opposite to each other, and the cards of each player are kept distinct until the hands are completed by the entire pack having been played through. the cards having been shuffled and cut, the dealer distributes four cards to each of the players, dealing them one at a time. he also places four other cards face upwards in the middle of the table. it is usual to deal these latter one at a time when going round with the regular hands, but they may be taken all at one time from the top of the pack, after the players have received their cards. the player on the left-hand side of the dealer then plays a card from his own hand, and takes with it every card of the same denomination among those exposed on the table, as well as all that will combine and make the same number. for instance, a ten not only takes every other ten, but also nine and ace, eight and two, seven and three, six and four, or two fives, two threes and a four, and other combinations. if the player is able to pair or combine any of the cards, he places them with his own card face downwards on the table in front of him; but if he is not able to pair or combine, he must add a card, face upwards, to those already exposed on the table. the next player does the same, and so on round the table until the four cards in hand have either been paired, combined, or added to the exposed stock on the table. the original dealer then distributes four fresh cards to each of the players, but does not expose any on the table as in the first round. the same proceeding [ ] is repeated until the whole pack has been exhausted, the player who is last able to pair or combine any of the exposed cards taking all the remaining cards off the table, and scoring one point for thus "sweeping the board," as it is termed. if a player is able to sweep the board at any other time during the progress of the game, he also scores a point, and the following player has to commence a new board by laying out a card. the whole of the cards having thus been played, the partners combine their winnings, and the counting of the cards commences, the various points of the game being as follow: the winner of great cassino (the ten of diamonds) reckons ... ... ... ... points. the winner of little cassino (the two of spades) reckons ... ... ... ... ... point. the winner of each ace reckons ... ... ... " the winner of the majority of the cards of the spade suit reckons ... ... ... " the winner of the majority of the entire pack of cards reckons ... ... ... ... ... points. the partners whose winnings show the greater number of points then deduct the points of their opponents from their own, and score the remainder to their game; thus, if one sides secures , and the other side , the former score point and the latter score nothing; while if the respective scores were and , the winners of the seven points would add to their score. the object of those engaged in the game being to secure great cassino, little cassino, the four aces, the majority of spades, and the greater number of cards, a few rules will at once suggest themselves to guide the play of the hands. [ ] secure the cassino cards on the first opportunity, also aces and spades, after which aim to make as many combinations as possible, leaving the pairs until last, unless they be the ten or the two, which are always best got off the board as early as possible, so as to prevent the opponents making the cassinos if they have them in hand. when three players are engaged, it is sometimes agreed that the two lowest shall add their points together, and subtract them from the highest. in such a case, if the two lower numbers together either amount to or exceed the higher, then neither party scores. this method will not be found desirable in actual play, as it leads to so many hands resulting in a negative score. if a card is exposed by the dealer in the first round, other than those dealt for the exposed hand, then the deal is forfeited, but the exposure of a card at a subsequent period does not disqualify the dealer, the player being compelled to take the exposed card, although it is best to impose some penalty for the fault. [ ] my bird sings. this game may be played by any number of persons up to thirteen, if a full pack of cards be used; or by any number up to eight with the smaller pack of thirty-two cards. a pool is formed by each player contributing a counter or coin, the dealer paying one extra. four cards are then dealt to each player, and all have the right to look at their hands. the object of the players is to secure a flush, four cards of one suit; or four cards of different suits; and when either of these combinations is secured, the player says: "my bird sings," and he becomes the winner, and thereby entitled to the amount in the pool. there are two methods of conducting the game: either by each player in turn throwing out a card from his hand, or by allowing the opponent on his left-hand side to take one. the competitor on the dealer's left is the first to play, and, supposing his "bird" does not already "sing," and the first-named method is adopted, he throws out one of his cards, face downwards, on the table. the player on his left adds this card to his own four, and if his "bird" does not "sing," he in like manner throws one of his cards out for the next player; the same plan being adopted round and round, until one of the players secures the four cards necessary. if the second method is adopted the player does not [ ] himself reject a card, but turns his hand, without exposing it, to the next player, who selects whichever card he chooses, and proceeds with the game as in the other variation. after going completely round among the players three times, the original leader may exchange one of his cards for the top card of the undealt portion of the pack, and if it should happen to be of the same suit as the one he threw out, he rejects it, and takes the next or following one, until he gets a different suit; but before introducing a new card into the game he must throw out one of those in hand. this introduction of new cards may be made each round, after the first three of a hand, until one of the players secures a winning set of cards, otherwise it may be a tedious matter to get a winning combination. variations. the game is sometimes played for flushes only; that is, the four cards must be of one suit before a player's "bird sings," and sometimes only three cards are dealt to each player, in which latter case flushes alone are recognised. the game may also be continued until the whole pack of cards is exhausted; in which case, whenever a player's bird sings, he turns the four cards over and regards them as one trick. four other cards are then given him from the top of the undealt portion of the pack, and the game proceeds as before. the ultimate winner is he who secures the greatest number of tricks. in the case of a tie the stakes are divided between the two or more players who have an equal number. [ ] spoil-five spoil-five may be played by any number of persons not exceeding ten; the best game, however, is when four or live take part, as then about half the cards are in play. in this game the cards run in different order to the ordinary course, vary in the two colours, and further, change in the trump suit, as follows: . _in hearts and diamonds, when not trumps_.--king, queen, knave, , , down to ace (the ace of hearts is always a trump card, and never counts as a heart). . _in clubs and spades, when not trumps_.--king, queen, knave, ace, , down to . . _in hearts and diamonds, when trumps_.-- , knave, ace of hearts, ace of trumps, king, queen, , , , , , , , . (if hearts are trumps, there is only one ace.) . _in clubs and spades, when trumps_.-- , knave, ace of hearts, ace of trumps, king, queen, , , , , , , , . a simple method of remembering the order of the cards is to notice that the highest of the minor ones are the best in the red suits, and the lowest in the black ones. a pool is made up by each player contributing two or three coins or counters for the purpose, the dealer paying an additional stake. the pool thus formed goes to the player who succeeds in winning three tricks in one hand; but if neither player succeeds in doing so, the game is said to be "spoilt," and the amount remains in the pool, the players contributing for the next round only one coin or [ ] counter, and paying that number into the pool each deal until one of the party succeeds in winning three tricks, when he takes the total amount in the pool, and a new one is started by each player contributing the full stake as at the commencement. the dealer pays the sum agreed for the deal each time, no matter whether the pool was won, or the game spoilt, the previous round. if there are only two players engaged, or with four, if it is agreed that two of the players combine against the other two, there can be no spoils, as one must win three of the tricks, and thus secure the pool, each round. to determine the first dealer, the cards are dealt round as in "nap" (see p. ), when the player to whom the first knave falls becomes dealer. he shuffles the pack, has it cut by the player on his right-hand side, and proceeds to distribute five cards to each player, dealing them in regular order from left to right, and either first two and then three to each player, or first three and then two. the top card of the undealt portion of the pack is turned up for trump, and if it proves to be the ace, the dealer has the option of "robbing," as explained hereafter; and if it is not the ace, any one holding that card must rob before he plays, before his turn comes round. if the dealer makes a misdeal, or deals out of order, or exposes a card, he loses his turn of dealing, and the next player in order takes his place; or it may be agreed that in case of a misdeal the dealer shall have the option of dealing again after paying a second stake for dealing into the pool. the deal is an advantage, and in case of a slip in the distribution of the cards, it will generally be found best to pay the penalty and deal again. the game is opened by the player on the left-hand side of the dealer leading whichever of his cards he chooses. [ ] if the card led be a trump, then all the players must follow suit if they are able to do so, subject to certain exceptions explained below under the heading of "reneging." if the ace of hearts is led, and another suit is trumps, it does not necessitate all the players following suit, even though the ace of hearts is always reckoned as a trump. the lead in this case is considered as made from a plain suit, and the rules governing them are enforced. if the card is not a trump, then the other players may trump the card, or follow suit, as they please, but each must do the one or the other if he holds a card of the suit led if he does not hold one of the suit, then he may discard either of the others, or play a trump, as he prefers. the player of the highest card of the suit led, or of the highest trump, if trumps have been played, wins the trick, and he plays first to the next. in deciding the winner the cards are reckoned in the special order given above. the game is continued until one player wins three tricks, when he takes the pool; or, failing that, till all of the cards are played, when the game is spoilt, and each contributes to the pool the reduced stake agreed upon. _robbing_. robbing is one of the most important features of the game, inasmuch as if the player who holds the ace of trumps omits to rob when his turn comes round, he is de-barred from winning the pool that hand, even though he may secure the necessary number of tricks. the method of robbing if the ace is turned up, is for the dealer to place one of his own cards on the table face downwards in front of him, which card must not be exposed at any time during the progress of the hand. he does not take the ace into his own hand until the others [ ] have played to the first trick, but when it comes to his turn he adds it to his hand, or he may at once use it. he must, however, throw out the card with which he intends to rob the ace before the first card of the round is played, and reasonable time must be allowed to do so. the turn-up suit remains trump throughout the hand. in the case of the ace not being turned up, and being in the hand of either of the players, then the holder must rob the turn-up card when it comes to his turn to play to the first trick. the manner of doing this is somewhat similar to that just described; the holder of the ace rejects a card placing it face downwards on the table, and takes the turn-up card into his hand. he must do this when it is his turn to play, and before showing his first card, otherwise he forfeits the privilege, and is, moreover, prohibited from winning the pool that round, no matter how many tricks he may secure. the same penalty is attached to the player who robs the turn-up card without holding the ace. as a variation, it may be agreed that robbing shall be optional, or shall not be recognised as a part of the game. _reneging_. the holder of the five of trumps, the knave of trumps, or the ace of hearts, enjoys the privilege of not being obliged to play them when a trump is led; but this privilege (which is called reneging) only holds when the trump led is a lower one. for instance, if the knave be led, the holder of the ace of hearts is obliged to play it. variations. a very good game may be played by allowing the cards to retain their ordinary sequence. as this avoids confusion, it is more suitable for family play. [ ] _two tricks win_. if five or more players are taking part in the game, it may be found desirable that the winner of two tricks shall take the pool, or partnerships can be formed; otherwise a long continuation of spoils may occur. _fiving_. this variation is sometimes played when two persons, or two sets of partners are engaged in the game. it consists in allowing the non-dealer, providing he is not satisfied with his cards, to ask the dealer to "five" it, when, if the dealer agrees, the trump card is removed, and the next card is turned up for trump. if that proves to be of the same suit as the original turn-up, the next is taken, and so on until a change occurs. the right to five can only be exercised once each hand. _jinking_. a variation is sometimes made by the introduction of "jinking." the winner of all five tricks receives from each player his original stake in addition to the amount in the pool; if, however, any player who has won three tricks goes on playing, thinking he can jink, and fails to do so, he loses the pool which he would otherwise have won for his three tricks. _twenty-five and forty-five_. instead of the game being finished in one hand, it may continue until one player makes twenty-five, or forty-five. in this case there are no spoils, and every trick scores five to the winner. any player "jinking," _i.e._, winning the five tricks, wins the game. [ ] loto. there are many varieties of loto, with pictures, flowers, letters, etc., instead of numbers, which are known as picture loto, botanical loto, spelling loto, geographical loto, historical loto, and so on. these are mostly games for children, and are played in exactly the same way as numbered loto. this game in england is usually regarded as an amusement for young children; but it is one capable of affording amusement to grown-up people, as may be seen by the interest shown in "keno" by the americans. "keno," or american loto, is played in various places of public resort, by adults, for considerable stakes, and is esteemed capital practice in reading numbers rapidly and correctly. the requisite paraphernalia for this game--which may be played by any number of persons, not exceeding twenty-four--are boxes containing counters; fishes, each of which is reckoned as counters; contracts, valued at fish or counters apiece; a pack of very large cards with fifteen different numbers marked on each, and a bag containing knobs or discs, numbered from to . #==========================# # ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ # #--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--# # ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ # #--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--# # ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ # #==========================# fig. . in addition, a board with ten cavities cut therein for the purpose of placing the knobs as drawn, is required. [ ] a loto card, on which are inscribed, in the manner shown in the diagram, numbers ranging from to --five numbers on each line, is represented in fig . the units are arranged in the first column, the tens in the second, the twenties in the third, and so on. the number of these cards supplied in a loto box varies, but the general number is twenty-four, although sometimes there are only eighteen. with twenty-four cards, each number appears in four different cards. there are several different methods of playing this game, of which we will give the two principal ones. the first method makes it a game of chance and skill, or rather quickness in reading figures; and the second, purely a game of luck. _first method_.--before commencing the game, a dealer has to be chosen, and his duties consist of shuffling the cards and dealing to each player one or more cards. the dealer is unable to join in the game, and is obliged to stand out. each player should stake a certain sum, which should be reserved for the winner; and a certain number of counters of no value, but merely to be used for covering the numbers as called, should be placed in the pool. sometimes each player contributes a certain number of counters to the pool, then each saves out of his stake the number of counters he has on his card or cards; and the winner obtains the money for his fifteen counters on his card, and receives in addition all the pool which remains. in order to render the game still more interesting, the contributions to the pool should be so arranged that it is capable of being divided into four parts. then a fourth part of the pool is won by the player who first succeeds in covering one horizontal row; another fourth part of the [ ] pool is won by the player who first succeeds in covering two horizontal rows, and the remaining half is reserved for the winner who first covers the whole of his card. the dealer then, having deposited the knobs in a bag, draws them forth rapidly, one by one, and calls out the number which appears or the knob in a clear tone. the player, having the corresponding number on his cards or cards, who first answers to the number called, covers the number on the card or cards with one of the counters in the pool, which should be so placed on the table as to be available for the use of all the players. the player who first succeeds in covering all the numbers on his card or cards wins the game. _the second method_.--every player should draw two cards, and deposit a stake previously agreed upon; and if the party is not too numerous, then any may take four or six cards, laying down a double or treble stake accordingly; and when the players are more than twelve, then some are only to have one card, paying half a stake, and likewise should the players not take all the cards among them, the remainder of the pack is to be laid aside until some other persons join the set. from the cards not taken, players may exchange one or more of those drawn, or they may change with one another; similar exchanges, if the company consent, may also be made previous to each drawing, and likewise prior to replenishing the pool. cards may be thrown up, or additional ones drawn from those put by; stakes being paid proportionably. the stakes are to be put together in a pool, placed in the middle of the table, and also on the table there should be a quantity of counters sufficient for the number of cards taken; upon the counters a value is to be fixed adequate to the stakes first deposited, from the whole of which a sum [ ] must be reserved, enough to pay, at the conclusion of the game, all the counters laid upon the table. then, after counting the knobs, so as to be certain they are right, the eldest hand shall first shake them well together in the bag, and afterwards draw out ten successively, not only declaring the number of each as drawn, but also placing the same conspicuously on the board. as soon as a number is declared, each player having that number on one or more of his cards, is to take up counters, sufficient to lay one upon that number every time it occurs, and so on until the ten knobs are drawn. when only part of the pack is taken, and a number drawn happens not to be upon any player's card, then the players may put away that knob till some person takes a card on which it is printed. when ten knobs are drawn out, every player examining the cards separately, and having only one counter upon any horizontal line, wins for that no more than the said counter, which is styled gaining by _abstract;_ where two counters are on the same horizontal line of a separate card, the player gains an _ambo_, and becomes entitled to five counters besides the two; when three are upon the same line, the player obtains a _terne_, and is to receive additional counters; if four are on the same line, that is called a _quaterne_ winning counters additional; when five occur on the same line, that makes a _quinterne_, gaining additional counters, and the player is entitled to payment out of the pool for all the above-mentioned acquisitions previous to another drawing. instead of giving counters, payment for the same may at once be made from the stock in the pool. the knobs are then to be returned, and the bag given to the next player in rotation, who is to shake the same, and draw, etc., as before stated. [ ] whenever the pool is exhausted, the players must contribute again, according to the number of cards taken; and when it is resolved to finish the game, they agree among themselves to have only a fixed number of drawings more. at the last drawing each player proceeds as heretofore directed, but the drawing concludes when no more counters are left on the table. the players then, beginning with the eldest hand, are to be paid out of the pool, as far as the money will go; and when that is expended, the others remain unpaid, which is styled a bankruptcy; lastly, the players should re-unite the counters obtained from the pool with those that were on their cards, and receive payment for them out of the fund reserved at the commencement of the game. the counters requisite for the payment of the players are:-- for cards times ten. " " " " " " " " " consequently, counters should be contributed for every card taken by a player note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) pung-chow the game of a hundred intelligences _also known as_ mah-diao mah-jong mah-cheuk mah-juck _and_ pe-ling by l. l. harr [illustration] harper & brothers, _publishers_ new york and london copyright, by l. l. harr printed in the u. s. a. note mr. l. l. harr's skill in the game of pung chow has been acquired through more than twenty years of intimate contact with the business and official circles of cultured chinese in canton, shanghai, tientsin, pekin and other centers of china. mr. harr has enjoyed more opportunity to mingle in polite chinese society than any other european or american resident i knew in china. mr. harr, in consequence, was perhaps one of the first foreigners who learned the game from the best players in china. what is more, mr. harr's unusually keen appreciation and enthusiasm were largely instrumental in arousing the popularity of this extraordinarily fascinating chinese game in the western hemisphere. to use a familiar american phrase, mr. harr was unquestionably one of the pioneers who put "pung chow" on the map west of suez. mr. harr has not only brought the game to america, but has written the first authoritative book on "pung chow," based on the best modern methods of chinese play. j. d. bush, professor of english literature, pekin national university, pekin, china. january, . pung-chow score card for hands played without a limit winning hand bonus scores for mah-jong points for no sequences in hand or on table points for no other score than mah-jong in hand or on table points for winning on a draw from the loose tiles points for drawing the winning piece points for filling in the only place to win points combination scores on table in hand (exposed) (concealed) for of a kind of twos, threes, fours, fives, sixes, sevens or eights points points for of a kind of ones, nines, winds or dragons points points for of a kind of twos, threes, fours, fives, sixes, sevens or eights points points for of a kind of ones, nines, winds or dragons points points for a pair of any dragon or the player's own wind points doubling honors for three (or four) green dragons, double total score once. for three (or four) red dragons, double total score once. for three (or four) white dragons, double total score once. for three (or four) of own wind, double total score once. for having all one suit except honor pieces, double total score once. for all one suit, double total score times. for all honor pieces, double total score times. for winning on original hand as drawn from the wall, double total score times. see page for scoring values when hands are played with a limit. introduction out of china has come this stately game with the lure of oriental mysticism to whet jaded appetites and with possibilities for study that challenge the keenest intelligence. there is a mysticism about the oriental and his mode of life that challenges the imagination and induces a curiosity hard to decipher. the dress of the chinese, their strange customs, their difficult language, and their apparently impenetrable mask-like faces appeal to the fancy and throw a veil of mystery around even the commonplace. the origin of this game is lost in the mist of centuries past. there is, though, an oral tradition to the effect that it was originated in the court of the king of wu, now known as ning-po, during the year of b.c. to entertain his consort and her court ladies and to help them while away the time which lay heavily on their hands. this was about the time of confucius. it is, however, known to have been the royal game, restricted to the use of emperors and their friends of the mandarin class for two thousand years. to them it was known as pe-ling (pronounced bah-ling) taking its name from the "bird of a hundred intelligences," the lark-like creature sacred in the chinese faith which now may be seen reproduced on most chinese tapestries and embroideries. the penalty paid by one of any other class for playing pe-ling at that time, was the loss of his head. later--no one knows just when--the privilege of playing this wonder game was extended to the merchant or middle classes--and when, some years ago--a social uprising threatened, one of the concessions granted to calm the unrest was the universal privilege of playing this game. in this way was caused the confusion of names for the game which exists even to-day in china; for, with the abolishing of pe-ling, each province applied their own name and pronunciation to the game, with the result that now we have from twelve to eighteen different names, by which the game is known. a few of these are ma-cheuk, mah-jong, mah-juck, mah-diao and mah-jongg. pung chow is made to withstand the climatic conditions which soon destroy the article imported under the name of mah-jongg and the other corruptions of mah-diao, and it is the true and original chinese game translated by the addition of numerals just enough to be readily understood and not enough to spoil the artistry of the tiles. the addition of numerals has been overdone in the marking of many of the cheaper imported sets, and give the appearance of having had numerals sprinkled on them regardless of where they may land and permitted to stay. the fundamentals of this game are simple and require only practice to master. the science of pung chow must in the greater part be studied out by the individual player and one may spend the rest of his life in attaining to past mastery in its thousand-fold intricacies. summary of the game before going thoroughly into the details of the playing of the game, it is better to give a general view of the play and its object. pung chow is played by thoroughly shuffling all of the tiles face down in the middle of the table, and forming them in a double-tiered, hollow square, called the wall. this wall is then broken at some point determined by the dice and each player draws an original hand of tiles. this leaves about two-thirds of the wall intact, and the rest of the play is devoted to drawing and discarding from this remainder of the wall; each player improving and matching his own individual hand until having arranged it into four sets and a pair, some player wins. a set is three of a kind, four of a kind or three in a sequence. every set has a scoring value, and the players add their scores and settle after every hand. a player may win with a score as low as points or scores may run to , points. these possibilities will unfold as the following pages on the details of the play are read. [illustration: illustration no. . the thirty-four different tiles and the counters] description of tiles the game is played with tiles, which are divided into four distinct and separate suits. these four suits are called the _bamboo_, _dot_, _character_ and _honor suits_. the first three of these suits score equally and are arranged in the same manner, that is, there are tiles in each, numbering from one to nine, and there are four tiles of each numeral. the fourth suit, known as the honor suit, is divided into three parts: the _dragons_, the _winds_ and the _mandarins_. of the _dragons_, there are four apiece of three different kinds, the red, green and white dragons. the _winds_ are north, south, east and west with four tiles alike for each. the _mandarins_ (also called _seasons_, and _flowers_), are in number, and as they are only used in limit hands, will be discussed later. from illustration no. a player will see that there are four of every different tile in the set, and that there are different tiles. [illustration: illustration no. --the complete set of tiles] procedure of play a. east wind. position of the players for the first game is determined by a throw of the dice; all players throw once, the one throwing the highest number becoming first _east wind_. in the event of a tie, players tieing throw again. the player sitting opposite _east wind_ will be known as _west wind_, to the right of _east wind_ as _south wind_, and the left of _east wind_, as _north wind_. the dice need only be thrown to determine _east wind_ for the first game of an evening's play, for if the player representing _east wind_ wins, or if the game is a draw, he remains _east wind_. if he loses, the player to his right becomes _east wind_, he in turn becoming _north wind_. _east wind_ is sometimes called _banker_, for he must pay double stakes when he loses, and wins double stakes when he wins. west +-----------+ | | | | north | | south | | | | +-----------+ east [illustration: illustration no. . positions of winds about table.] b. building and breaking the wall. before building the wall the tiles must all be turned face down on the table and thoroughly shuffled. then each player proceeds to build one side of the wall by taking of the tiles at random, and arranging them side by side in a row tiles long and tiers high. [illustration: illustration no. .] each player then moves his side of the wall forward, the four sides forming a hollow square. this represents a chinese wall or fort common in the protection of cities. [illustration: illustration no. .] to find the point at which the wall is to be broken, _east wind_ always throws the dice. the number thrown will indicate the player who is to break the wall. the player is found by _east wind_ counting around the table to the right, starting with himself as "one," until he reaches the number thrown which will designate the player to break the wall. w - - +-----------+ | | n | | s - - | | - - | | +-----------+ e - [illustration: illustration no. .] in this illustration, if _east wind_ threw a " ," starting with himself as one, _south_ would be , _west_ , _north_ , _east_ , _south_ , and _west_ , designating _west_ as the player to break the wall. the player who has been designated to break the wall then throws the dice to determine the exact tile at which he shall break the wall, adding this throw to _east wind_. this sum will indicate the tile at which the wall is to be broken, the player to break the wall counting the sum off from the right end of his own side, i.e., if is the sum of the two throws, the wall will be broken by lifting out the th tile from the right with the one under it and placing both on the top of the wall to the right of where it was broken. these two are called loose tiles and they mark the end of the wall. [illustration: illustration no. . _east wind_ threw " " indicating _west wind_ as the wall-breaker. _west wind_ then threw " " designating the th tile from the right end of his side of the wall, as the exact spot where the wall was to be broken. the loose tiles are shown in correct position.] c. drawing the original hand: each player then draws the tiles which go to make up his original hand. _east wind_ starts the drawing by taking the first four tiles ( blocks of each) at the beginning of the wall, the player on his right the next four and so on around the table three times which will give each player tiles. then one tile apiece is drawn in regular order giving every player tiles, except _east wind_ who draws an extra tile as he must make the first discard. d. playing the hand: [illustration: illustration no. . the wall--after the original hands have been drawn. wall showing draw.] each player then takes his original hand and arranges it to suit his own convenience. it is advised, however, that he arrange it in suits in order to see at a glance, the value of any one tile to his hand in the drawing and discarding of which the rest of the game consists. when the hands have been arranged, _east wind_ starts the play by discarding any tile in his hand, face up in the center of the table. it is because of this first discard that he drew an extra tile. the play then goes to the right, it becoming the turn of _south wind_ to draw the next tile in the wall and discard any one he may choose. _west wind_ then draws and discards and so on around the table, constantly in a counter-clockwise direction. the players during this drawing and discarding are gradually improving their hands, and matching them into four sets and an extra tile, a set being _three of a kind_, _four of a kind_, or _three in a sequence_. [illustration: illustration no. . examples of three of a kind four of a kind three in sequence ] when a player accomplishes this, he must only match the extra tile forming a _pair_ and thus, completing his hand, having four complete sets and a pair. he announces "_mah-jongg_" wins, the game is over, the scores are settled and the wall built up for the next game. [illustration: illustration no. . several completed hands] as completing a hand entirely by draw from the wall would be a difficult task, the players are permitted to make use of any discard, _as it is discarded_, provided they have the required tiles already in their hand as explained below in "_chow_" and "_pung_." e. to chow: a player having two tiles in his hand which, together with the tile just discarded by the player before him (to his left), would form a sequence or run of three, may by announcing "_chow_" pick up the discard, add it to the two in his hand, and place the three in sequence face up on the table to the right of his hand. this appropriating the discard serves as the player's draw and he must then discard and the play goes on in the usual manner. for example: if one has a - of _character_ and the player preceding him discards either a or a of _character_, he may "_chow_" the tile, and discard; or ignore it and draw from the wall and discard, in hopes of building a better hand, as often will be found advisable. the main point to be remembered in "_chowing_" is that a player may "_chow_" _only in his regular turn_, i.e., he may "_chow_" only tiles discarded by the player to his left and then _only when he has the other two tiles in his hand_ to form the sequence. sequences can only be built up in sets of three. [illustration: illustration no. . in this illustration the player having a and of character in his hand has "_chowed_" the character which the player to his left discarded and after setting out his sequence, discards himself, leaving the usual tiles in his hand.] f. to pung: a player may also appropriate another player's discard to fill a set of three of a kind or four of a kind by announcing "_pung_." in order to do this, the player must have _a pair_, or _three of a kind in his hand_ to match with the discard, thus completing three or four of a kind, which he places, as in the case of a "_chow_," to the right of his hand, face up on the table. for example: a player having a pair or three fives of the character suit, may _pung_ when another player discards a five character, expose his set and discard, the play going on in the regular direction from him. it is not necessary for it to be the player's turn to draw in order to "_pung_" as it is in the case of a "_chow_." a player having a pair similar to a tile discarded, may announce "_pung_" and appropriate the tile, _regardless of who discarded it and of whose turn it is to draw_. also after a player "_pungs_" and discards, the play goes on from him to the right. it can be seen that due to _punging_ one or even two players are liable to lose their turn. [illustration: illustration no. . in this illustration, _east_ played in regular turn and _south_ drew the _character_, which, having no use for, he discarded. _east_ having a pair of nines _character_ in his hand "_punged_," completing the set and causing _west_ and _north winds_ to lose their turns. _east_ then exposed his set of nines next to the sequence of three he had previously _chowed_ and exposed, discarded and play went on in the usual routine, _north_ drawing and discarding.] there are a few rules applying to the "_chow_" and "_pung_." they are as follows: . all tiles must be "_punged_" or "_chowed_" _as they are discarded_; for a tile discarded by a player and allowed to remain in discard until the next player discards, becomes "dead" and _cannot be_ touched during the rest of the game. . it has been stated that one cannot "_pung_" unless it makes up three or four of a kind. this is true with one exception. in the case: when a tile will complete a player's hand allowing him to "_mah-jongg_," the tile may be punged. example: a player with four sets and an odd tile may _pung_ a tile which matches his odd one. the rule is that "_a player may at any time 'pung' a discard which will complete his hand and allow him to mah-jongg_." . the denomination and suit of each tile must be announced as it is discarded, a player discarding a of _character_, announcing _ character_, to prevent confusion of a player who may be studying his hand. this is more of a courtesy of the game, than a rule. . a "_pung_" has precedence over a "_chow_" and if one player can pung the same discard that another player can chow, the former has the right to appropriate the tile. . if a player can pung a discard which will complete his _hand_ and another player can pung the same discard to complete a _set_, the former has the right to take the discard. . if two players pung the same tile to complete their hands, the precedence is given to the player claiming the tile nearest to the discarder in a counter-clockwise direction around the table. four of a kind: before speaking of "_four of a kind_," it is better to give the reason for exposing a set made up of a pair and a punged discard, and make clear at the same time, what is to be done when three of a kind are completed by draw. a set made up of a pair and a punged discard must be "exposed" by setting it out face up, on the table to the right of the players' tiles, first, to show to the other players that he had the required pair, which gave him the right to appropriate the discard, and secondly, to separate the set from those completed entirely by draw from the wall. sets completed by help of an appropriated (punged) discard, have only one-half the scoring value of exactly the same sets, completed by draw from the wall and kept in the hand. thus there are many advantages in drawing the third tile to complete a set of three of a kind when compared to "punging" the same, for in the former case, the set has twice as much scoring value, they are kept concealed in the hand and the opponents can only guess as to how nearly complete a concealed hand may be. a concealed set is counted as one of the four sets required to win, just as an exposed set would be, and a player having a set of three of a kind concealed has very good chances of filling it and thus forming four of a kind which counts a great deal higher. a player may complete a set of four of a kind either by draw from the wall or "punging" an opponent's discard, if he has three of a kind _already in his hand_. in _either_ case he must place the completed set on the table to the right of his tiles; all four face up if he "punged" the fourth, the two end tiles face down if he has "drawn" the fourth. the player must immediately draw a "_loose tile_" (one of the two tiles on top of, and marking the end of the wall). usually the one farthest from the end is taken, the one on the end moved up, and replaced by a tile from the end of the wall itself. the "_loose tile_" was drawn because every time a player completes a set of four of a kind, he causes the rest of his hand to be one tile short. this must be made up every time four of a kind is filled by an extra tile drawn from the "_loose_" tiles. [illustration: illustration no. . in this illustration the player had three one dots in his hand when one of the opponents discarded the fourth one dot. this player "_punged_" it, matched the four of a kind, exposed them, drew a "loose tile" and discarded.] [illustration: illustration no. . in this illustration the player had three one dots in his hand and _drew_ the fourth in his regular turn to draw. this set counts in scoring as much as it would in his hand but must be exposed in order to draw the "loose tile." therefore the end tiles are turned down to show that in counting the score that the set is counted as if it were held in the hand.] [illustration: illustration no. . in this illustration the player has one set of one dots punged and completed, and is now trying to match up the rest of his hand. if another player discards a one dot he cannot touch it and must let it go by. however, if he draws the fourth one dot himself, he may add it on to his set of , draw a loose tile and discard as usual. as can be seen from the last three illustrations, the rule in the case of four of a kind is as follows:] _in any set which a player may have exposed on the table there must not be more than_ ( ) _punged tile_. a player having three of a kind in his hand may _pung_ the fourth when it is discarded or having three of a kind on the table and drawing the fourth may add it to his exposed tiles. the rule, however, bars him from appropriating some one else's discard to make a fourth for an exposed set of three of a kind because in order to appropriate this discard he would have to pung it. this he has not the privilege of doing, because he already must have one "_punged_" tile in his exposed set or it wouldn't be exposed. mah-jongg or mah-diao as has been mentioned before when a player has matched his hand into four ( ) sets and by a draw or a pung has mated the final pair he wins and announces "_mah-jongg_" or "_mah-diao_" (dee-o), either being correct and in common usage, the latter being the most logical because of its english translation "mating the pair." a player must at all times during the game have thirteen ( ) tiles, his draw every round momentarily giving him fourteen ( ), his discard leaving him the thirteen ( ). then for every four of a kind that he fills he should have an extra tile in his hand on account of the extra loose tile draw. thus one is able at any time during the game to check his hand and ascertain whether or not he has the correct number of tiles in it. if he has not sets of four of a kind he should have thirteen tiles in his hand. if he _has_ one set of four of a kind he should have fourteen tiles in his hand, two sets of four of kind tiles, and so on. if, at any time during the game, a player has an incorrect number of tiles in his hand, it becomes "dead." he must continue drawing and discarding, but when the scores are settled his score does not count and therefore he must pay all players. his only chance lies in endeavoring to prevent the other players from completing their hands, by holding the tiles which he believes they need and thus causing a draw game. settling the scores when the first player to complete his hand calls "_mah-jongg_" the game is ended, and all players expose their hands and count up their scores. the winner of the game collects full value of his score from each of the other players and throwing his hand into the discard is thru for that game. the remaining three players then settle among themselves the _difference_ of their scores, the high hand of the three collecting the difference between his score and each of the remaining two players. then throwing his hand into the discard, leaves the remaining two to settle their scores, the highest hand of which collects the difference. it must be remembered here that east wind (or banker) pays or collects double, if he loses or wins. scores are most conveniently settled by the use of the counters which are furnished with the sets. these are spotted to denote different denominations and at the end of every hand the actual scores or differences in scores are settled between players by the exchange of these counters. there are several styles of counter sets. the one in most common usage contains counters valued as follows: points gold dot , black dots black dot red dots red dots suggestions for careful playing of hands in a game of this nature where every hand is different from the preceding one and so much depends on the draw, it is very hard to lay down any specific rules of how it should be played. there are, however, a few points which would help if kept in mind during the play. a player should study his original hand and after the first few draws and discards form a general plan of what he is going to try and fill in his hand and decide on how high a score he will have a good chance of making. this will be decided by: . the condition of his own hand. . the discards of the other three players. if he has an exceptionally strong hand in any one suit he will play for that suit regardless of the other players. if he has a well-divided hand, by watching the other players' discards, he will be able to form a fairly good opinion of what they are doing with their hand. after judging his hand, visualizing the sort of hand that he is to try to fill, he should use his own judgment in drawing and discarding, constantly watching his own hand for opportunities and his opponents' discards for disclosures, and upon the slightest suspicion that one of these opponents is nearing the completion of his hand, should immediately forego any thoughts of a higher hand himself and seek to complete his own hand as quickly as possible. summing this up; a player should plan and play to win at all times with as high a hand as possible, then as the wall grows shorter and the probability of one of the opponents completing his hand grows larger, the player should reconsider, and . if he has at that stage an exceptionally good hand which will win back for him from the other two players that which he loses to the winner, should go on improving his hand and take the chance of another player winning. . if he has just an ordinarily good hand he should stop playing to improve his hand and start to complete it as quickly as possible, i.e., form sequences and mix suits, in order to win before the other players and save himself. . if his hand has not improved at all or very little since the beginning of the game and he has small chance of completing his hand in any way before some other player does, his only plan is to hold the tiles which he thinks would help the other players and discard only those which he is sure they will not pung. these tiles can be ascertained by carefully searching the discards in the center of the table and the sets already exposed by the other players. by playing this way he may be able to cause the game to be a draw. there are a few other points which are taken up in the last four layouts in part i. use of the mandarins (flowers and seasons) the _mandarins_, also called _flowers_ and _seasons_, are eight in number, two for each of the four winds. they may be eliminated from the set and are not usually used in the play, as they add a large element of chance into the game. if they are used, each side of the wall is increased by two tiles, making each side a double tiered row of tiles side by side. then, if a player draws one of his own _wind mandarins_, he exposes it on the table and draws a "loose tile," the _mandarin_ of his own wind permitting him to double his score once. if then he draws the other _mandarin_ of his own wind he repeats the above process and may double his total score again. where "_seasons_ and _flowers_" are used instead of _mandarins_ the numbers on them, , , and , represent _east, south, west and north winds_ respectively. the red numbers are the "_seasons_" and the green numbers are the "_flowers_." they are used exactly as are the _mandarins_, i.e., one's own "_season_" will double the value of his hand, as _will_ his own "_flower_." both of them will double the value twice. score card it will be seen at a glance that the scoring values are divided into three parts. first, the bonus scores which only the winner can use; secondly, the combination scores which all four players can use; finally the doubling honors which all four players may use, so it is that in settling the scores the winner starts at the top with twenty ( ) points for "_mah-jongg_" or for winning and goes down the list scoring ten points, if he has no sequence in his hand and so on thru the bonus scores, adding to these whatever scores he obtains from combinations in his hand or on the table and doubling the sum as many times as he has doubling honors. in the bonus scores for the winning hand only there are six items: . "_mah-jongg_" which gives points for winning the hand. . _no sequence in hand or on table._ this is a bonus of points given to a player if he wins without use of sequences. . _drawing the winning piece._ this is a bonus of points given to the winning player if he _draws_ the tile which completes his hand from the wall. of course _punging_ the winning tile will forfeit this bonus. . _filling the only place to win._ this is a bonus of points given to a player who fills the only possible place to win, i.e., winning by matching the pair or drawing the middle tile of a sequence. . _winning on a draw from a loose tile._ this of course is a bonus of ten points given to the winning player if any of his loose tile draws have been fortunate enough to complete his hand. . _no other score than "mah-jongg" in hand or on table._ this is a bonus of ten points given to the winning player having only points for "_mah-jongg_" as his score, and is a hand made up of four sequences and a pair in which there is no score, a sequence having no scoring value whatsoever. of course even drawing the winning piece will forfeit this bonus as can easily be seen. in the combination scores exposed sets are those on the table; face up to the right of the player, concealed sets are those which are in his hand at the time of winning. as will be seen by the score card, concealed sets having been made up by the player without the assistance of a pung or chow score twice as much as the same set would if it were on the table. this together with the fact that sets of ones, nines, winds or dragons score twice as much as sets of twos, threes, fours, fives, sixes, sevens and eights should be helpful in memorizing the score which is essential to the careful playing of each hand. as for the doubling honors, each set or combination doubles the total score once, and if there are five _doubling honors_ in a hand, the total score should be doubled five times--for example: a player goes _mah-jongg_ or _mah-diao_ having points in bonus scores, in combination scores, making his total score . then if he has five _doubling honors_ his final score is , points, i.e., - - - - - , . example of hands and how they are scored [illustration: example no. .] for mah-jongg for three dots ---- total score no double honors: final score in this hand the player punged the dot which completed his hand, for _mah-jongg_ as the only bonus score he has because: . he has sequences. . he did not draw the winning piece. . he did not fill the only place to win. . he has other score than _mah-jongg_. . he did not win on a loose tile draw. in combination value, he has only two points for the set of three dots, the sets of sequences helping complete the hand, but scoring nothing. there are no doubling honors in the hand so the final score is . this is the lowest winning hand that can be scored. [illustration: example no. ] winner chowed the character to complete hand. score is mah-jongg ---- no other scores on hand or on table ---- total score no combination scores or doubling honors final score [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg-- no sequences-- filling only place to win-- drawing wins p.-- ---- ones concealed threes concealed fives exposed fours exposed ---- total score no doubling honors: final score [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no sequence drawing winning piece ---- sixes (concealed) twos (exposed) dragons (exposed) threes (exposed) ---- total score double once for red dragons final score [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no sequence drawing winning piece filling only place to win ---- twos (exposed) nines (exposed) ones (exposed) dragons (exposed) ---- total score double once for green dragons double once for all one suit except winds or dragons final score [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no sequence drawing winning piece filling only place to win ---- nines (concealed) sevens (exposed) fours (concealed) ones (concealed) ---- total score double three times for all one suit total score [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no sequence ---- dragons (concealed) winds (exposed) dragons (exposed) dragons (concealed) ---- total score double three times for all one suit (honor) double once for red dragons double once for white dragons double once for green dragons total score if this hand is held by the east wind he may double again for having a set of his own wind, making his score , , and being east wind, he collects double from each player when he wins, making his total , from each of the other three players or , in all. [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no sequence ---- dragons (exposed) fours (exposed) eights (exposed) dragons (concealed) ---- total score double once for white dragons double once for green dragons final score if player is east wind, he collects double, or from each player. if any other wind, he collects from east wind and from the other two players. [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no other score in hand or on table ---- total score double three times for all one suit final score note: in this hand the player did not even fill the only place to win as a character would have won also. if player is east wind, he collects from each of the other three players. if any other wind, he collects from east wind and from the other two players. [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no sequence winning on loose tile draw drawing winning piece filling only place to win ---- nines (exposed) ones (concealed) dragons (exposed) dragons (exposed) ---- total score double once for red dragons double once for green dragons final score [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg no sequence drawing winning piece ---- winds (concealed) dragons (concealed) twos (concealed) nines (concealed) ---- total score double once for all one suit except winds or dragons double once for red dragons double once for own wind final score this illustration assumes player to be north wind. this player collects double, or , from east wind and each from south and west winds. [illustration: example no. ] mah-jongg ---- fives (exposed) winds (exposed) dragons ---- total score double once for all one suit except winds or dragons final score note: two points for pair of red dragons. dragons and own wind are only pairs that score, and they are limited to two points. [illustration: example no. ] player is east wind mah-jongg no sequence ---- winds (exposed) ones (exposed) fours (exposed) dragons (exposed) ---- total score double once for all one suit except winds or dragons double once for red dragons double once for own wind collect double from each player being east wind and winning final score from each player [illustration: example no. ] player is west wind mah-jongg no sequence draw winning piece ---- winds (concealed) winds (concealed) winds (concealed) winds (exposed) ---- double times for all one suit (honor) double once for own wind collects from east wind and apiece from north and south winds. [illustration: example no. ] player is east wind mah-jongg no sequence only place to win ---- ones (concealed) nines (concealed) fours (exposed) sevens (exposed) ---- total score double times for all one suit double once because player is east wind and won final score from each player [illustration: example no. ] player is east wind mah-jongg ---- fours (concealed) dragons (concealed) ---- total score double times for winning on original hand double once for red dragons collects double because is east wind and won final score from each player [illustration: example no. ] player is south wind mah-jongg drawing winning piece filling only place to win ---- ones (concealed) fours (concealed) winds (concealed) own wind ---- total score double once for all one suit except winds or dragons final score collects double, or , from east wind; from north and south respectively. [illustration: example no. ] player is north wind mah-jongg no sequence ---- ones (concealed) nines (exposed) nines (concealed) dragons (concealed) ---- total score double once for green dragons final score collects double, or , from east wind: from west and south winds respectively. [illustration: example no. ] player is west wind mah-jongg ---- winds (concealed) dragons (exposed) ---- double once for all one suit except winds or dragons double once for white dragons double once for own wind collects from east wind, from north and south, respectively. [illustration: example no. ] player is east wind mah-jongg no sequence winning on loose tile draw drawing winning piece filling only place to win ---- dragons (concealed) dragons (concealed) dragons (concealed) winds (concealed) ---- total score double times for all of one suit (honor) double once for green dragons double once for white dragons double once for red dragons double once for own wind double once because everyone must pay east wind double when he wins final score east wind collects this amount from each of the other three players, making a total of , points that east may win in one hand. this is the highest hand which is probable. there is a hand composed of sets of of a kind, similar to this, which, if drawn on the original draw, will yield more points than this, but it is highly improbable that the hand will ever actually be drawn by any given player. illustrations of score settling in the four layouts following, the illustrations represent all the hands together as they are laid down after one of the players wins. they serve to clear up "settling" of the scores and also bring out important points in the playing of the hands. in each case the score of the four players is given in total and practice in the calculating of scores can be obtained by beginners by scoring these hands and comparing their results with the given scores. west wind +-----------+ | | north wind | | south wind | | | | +-----------+ east wind [illustration: west wind south wind east wind north wind ] east wind "mah-jongged" with a total score of points. he collects double this amount from each of the other three winds because he is east wind, and winning, collects double. this makes from each player or a total of . he then throws his hand into the discard and the other three players settle, the high hand collecting the difference between his hand and the remaining two. in the illustration, west wind is the high hand and he collects from south wind and from north wind, the difference between his hand and those of south and north winds, respectively. he then discards his hand and leaves the south and north winds to settle. they do this by south wind collecting points from north; both discard their tiles, and the scores are settled. it might be best here to analyze the above layout to see how the play went. east wind's hand appeared harmless enough because he had most of it concealed, only exposing two sets. on this account, none of the other opponents would hesitate about discarding the eight of bamboo which allowed him to mah-jongg. north and south winds having poor hands themselves might have held the eight of bamboo and not have taken a chance on it "putting him out" if they had been warned how near he was to winning, for west wind had an exceptionally fine hand with the best part of it concealed and he won back from north and south winds more than half of his payment to east, the winner. north and south winds fell in a conflict of suits, one of the most frequent occurrences of the game and one which spoils a great many otherwise good hands. they were both attempting to complete "all dot" hands and each has two conflicting pairs, namely, and of dots. either of them to win can only have one pair in their hand, and each was holding the other from any chance of winning. when two players play for the same suit, it is best for both to give up any idea of obtaining all of one suit, and fill in the hand with one or two sets of winds or dragons. very often one can get three doubles in this way when it would be impossible to complete a hand of all one suit. [illustration: west wind south wind east wind north wind ] north wind mah-jonggs north wind mah-jonggs with points as his total score. he collects points apiece from north wind and south wind. east, however, must pay him double or , being banker and losing. this gives north wind a total of . the other three then settle west wind with a total of ; collects the difference between his hand and east wind's which is , doubled because he won from east wind and east wind must pay double when he loses. this gives west wind from east wind, and just the difference in their hands from south wind which is . then south wind in settling with east wind collects the difference, , double or . this layout demonstrates the point that it is not always necessary to mah-jongg or win, in order to take in the highest number of points. north wind "mah-jongged" and collected only points, whereas west wind collected a total of , points. what evidently took place in this hand goes as follows: west wind was exceptionally fortunate in the draw and soon had three sets of winds and dragons exposed, or on the table. the other three players seeing in this a dangerous hand, "ran for cover," this consisting of gathering all the sequences possible together, and mixing the suits. by doing this a player can very quickly complete his hand and win, although his score will be low when he does win. however, the one who does "mah-jongg," no matter how low his score may be, collects that amount, and escapes any exceptionally high scoring hands which the other players may hold. in this case it was north wind who won out and avoided paying many points to west wind by doing so. [illustration: west wind south wind east wind north wind ] north wind mah-jonggs in the above layout, north wind winning, scores ; west wind ; south wind , and east wind ; north wind then takes from east wind, and from west and south winds. west wind collects from south wind and from east wind; east wind then collects doubled or from south wind. in this game both north and west winds played for all dot hands; north wind foreseeing this early in the game filled in his hand with winds and dragons, in this way winning out over west wind; east wind starting with a pair of green dragons kept them until he had all characters except the pair. then came the time for him to decide on whether he would discard the pair and try to fill an all character hand, or use the dragons. he decided on the latter because looking at north wind's exposed tiles he saw that north wind was dangerously near to winning. he filled his dragons and attempted to win as quickly as possible, almost succeeding and needing only one tile to complete his hand. [illustration: west wind south wind east wind north wind ] north wind mah-jonggs north wind "mah-jongged," collects from east and from west and south respectively. then--east wind collects doubled or from west and doubled or from south. west wind wins from south who is the loser all around. east wind's difficulty above was that he decided on all bamboo hand at the start of the game without having a sufficient number of pairs in that suit. the result was that by the time that he _drew_ the pairs and was ready to pung discards the other players had already discarded a number of tiles which he needed in his hand. they were then dead. the result of all this can be seen in his hand above; he has still two pairs and a sequence to fill and the particular tiles needed to do this (the , and of bamboo) have probably all been discarded early in the game by the other players. the point thus illustrated being: it is not advisable to attempt the completing of a suit which all the other players are discarding unless sufficient pairs are held from the start to withstand their attacks. part two playing with a limit playing with a limit pung-chow, as it has been described in the foregoing pages, represents the game as it is played with unlimited hands, that is where no limits are set on the number of points permissible in the score of a hand. it is impractical, however, to play with unlimited hands in a game where a stake has been set due to the inconsistencies of the winning hand scores; one _may_ win with a hand of , points, whereas the ordinary or average winning hand numbers approximately only to , . on this account the chinese use a lower scoring system and set limits on the hands whenever placing stakes on the game, with a view of limiting losses between all players. this setting of a limit changes the game considerably, for while the procedure of the play is similar to that of the unlimited hand, the scoring is almost totally different and the actual playing of the hand is changed. a player in a limited hand gains nothing by completing a hand scoring high in the thousands when held down to the limit which is comparatively low. this changes entirely the playing of hands, making each player's object no longer to score as high a hand as possible and win, but to score as closely to the limit as possible and win, which in practice amounts to completing the hand as quickly as possible, mixing sequences and sets of all suits and taking all good scoring sets as they come, planning for none. it can be seen that there is a larger element of fortune or "luck" in this method of playing than there is in playing the unlimited hand, though in either case the best player will win consistently. the procedure of play [illustration: indicators wind box] in playing this sort of a game the wind indicators in their container, the cheung huen or wind box, are always used, and their use changes the method of commencing the game. to start the game when using the wind markers the seats are preliminarily chosen and any one of the four players throws the two dice once, the result of this throw deciding which player is to throw again for playing position. counting of players being done in a counter-clockwise direction as previously explained. the players thus designated will shuffle the wind indicators thoroughly face downward and places any one of them still face downward on top of wind box. he then arranges the whole lot in a perpendicular straight line in front of them all face downward, placing the box with the wind indicator still on top of it in any order he pleases. (see illustration no. .) [illustration: illustration no. ] in this illustration, c first threw the dice; the number was seven, deciding a as the player who was to throw again for playing position or seat. a has shuffled the markers and arranged them perpendicularly in front of him, placing the wind box in second position. he had the privilege of placing it in st, rd or th position if he had chosen. he then throws with the dice, an ; this designates d as the player to take the first indicator; a the second (also the wind box), b the third, and c the fourth. he then throws the two dice and the number thrown will decide which player is to pick up the indicator farthest from him (or the first indicator in the accompanying illustration) counting in the usual manner one player at a time in counter-clockwise direction, starting with himself as . the player indicated will pick up the first indicator, the player on his right the second indicator, the player opposite the third and the player to his left the east. the wind box goes to the player picking up the indicator on top of it who then places it in front of him to mark the seat of east wind. the players then look at their indicators; the one drawing the east wind indicator becomes east wind, and occupies the seat marked by the wind box. the remaining three players seat themselves about the table according to their draw or wind marker, i.e., draw of west wind indicator opposite to east, north wind to the left and south wind to the right of him (east). east wind now takes charge of the wind box and the four indicators which are placed in the wind box face up with east wind on top. the east wind player retains the box until he loses a hand. when this occurs the box goes to the right to the player who was south, but now becomes east wind. the east wind indicator, however, still remaining on top as this designates that the east wind round is being played. the east wind round is over as soon as the fourth player to be east wind in turn loses. he is the one to take charge of the east wind indicator and placing the south wind indicator on top to indicate the south wind round, hands the box to the original east wind who now becomes the first east wind of the south wind round. it will now be seen that four games make up a round and four rounds make up a set. in every case the new wind-round must commence from the original east wind player and the box is for the purpose of indicating which round of the wind is being played and who is the east wind in that particular hand. it should be decided before starting how many sets are to be played. chinese players generally play from to sets in an evening. the seats having been chosen and winds positioned, the procedure of play continues exactly as has been described before. the wall is broken and the tiles drawn in the same manner, "chowing," "punging" and filling four of a kind are processes gone about in the same manner as they are in the other type of game. mah-jongg also is attained in the same way, i.e., completing four sets and a pair. almost the entire difference in the two ways of playing the game is found in the scoring. in the scoring many new combinations have been added, scoring values have been changed, and special bonuses, limit hands and new doubling honors have been introduced which must now be taken, one at a time, and explained in detail. the most important change is that _the last tiles in the wall are never drawn and the game_ ends and is a draw if it reaches this point without conclusion. loose tiles may be drawn of course during the play, but even a loose tile cannot be drawn if there are only tiles left in the wall including the loose tiles. these last tiles are usually separated a little from the rest of the wall to indicate the end. the limit hand. to keep the hands down to a reasonable amount when players are playing for stakes, the system of setting a limit as to the number of points that can be scored in a hand. this is usually points; in games giving a bonus of points for mah-jongg, and in games giving a bonus of points for mah-jongg. east wind of course is liable for double the limit and at the same time may win as high as double the limit from each player. to non-winners settling their scores, settle the difference in the score up to the limit if neither is east wind, and up to double the limit if either is east wind. the limit is of course entirely optional, and may be set by the players at the beginning of the play. a limit of points between players seems the most popular at present in america. washing the tiles. it is necessary before going into "washing the tiles" to explain the meaning of "heads." a head is a one, nine, wind or a dragon, and a hand containing or more different "heads" on the original hand drawn from the wall entitles the player to "wash tiles." he calls out "no play" and exposes his hand, collecting according to the following table: from each player heads points heads points heads points heads points heads points when washing the tiles takes place, the tiles must be reshuffled and the wall built over. east wind retains the "cheung" (wind box) and not collecting double when he "washes tiles" does not have to pay any of the other players double when they "wash tiles." it must be remembered that in order to wash the tiles the heads must be different, that the hand must be the original tiles ( in case of east wind) and no drawing is permitted. bonus scores . for mah-jongg or completing a hand a bonus is given and this is generally points unless specially agreed upon to be so. . for winning hand of absolutely no scoring value than mah-jongg, points is given as a bonus. . for winning tile drawn by the player himself from the last tile which may be drawn in the wall doubles the total score once (i.e., the th tile from the end of the wall). . winning on a draw from a loose tile doubles total score once. . to win on first card played a bonus of half the limit hand is given. washing cards have preference over this wind. . for completing the hand with the fourth card of an exposed set of three of a kind--for example, if a player has an exposed set of of a kind and he draws or pungs the fourth tile, and if this very tile is the winning tile, he may double the total score once. limit hands a player holding a winning hand of any one of the following combinations receives from each of the players the full amount agreed upon. . a winning hand of single heads one only of each with a pair of heads different from the rest representing the final pair. [illustration: illustration no. ] . a winning hand containing _sets_ of heads _only_ with a pair of _heads_ as the final pair. [illustration: illustration no. ] . a winning hand of four different sets of winds and any kind of a final pair. in china this hand is called the four happinesses and superstition has it that one holding this hand has much good fortune coming to him having the four happinesses at his door. [illustration: illustration no. ] . the winning hand of different sets of winds with a pair of the other winds as the final pair. [illustration: illustration no. ] . a winning hand made up entirely of sets of four of a kind with any pair as the final pair. [illustration: illustration no. ] . east wind winning on original draw from the wall. this wind has preference over washing cards. the chinese consider this hand as a forecast of misfortunes to come. . a winning hand containing the sets of dragons; red, green and white. in china these are known as the doctors of literature. the inference of course being that many tiles must be turned away before these three sets can be made up just as many students in china are turned away by competitive examinations before the three best scholars are chosen to pursue their studies at the royal court with the title of doctors of literature. scoring values [a]winning hand. mah-jongg points no other score in hand or on table than mah-jong points on table in hand of three of a kind of to of three of a kind of heads of four of a kind to of four of a kind of heads pair of to punged to complete hand pair of to drawn to complete hand pair of heads punged to complete hand pair of heads drawn to complete hand pair of the player's own wind punged by him in his own wind round to complete hand pair of the player's own wind drawn by him in his own wind round to complete hand filling a sequence in the middle on the only open end to complete hand by chow filling a sequence with both ends open by draw to complete hand by draw [footnote a: count for winning hand only.] other hands on table in hand three of a kind of to three of a kind of heads four of a kind to four of a kind heads one pair of a kind any dragon .. one pair of own wind .. one pair of wind of the round .. one pair of players own wind in the wind of his own wind round .. explanation of items in the table of scoring values . pair of - punged to complete hand. a player must have four sets and a pair to win. the above scoring value is given if the pair is from to and if he pungs one of them to win. . pair of - drawn to complete hand. this score is given as above when the player's extra pair is from - , but he must match the pair by draw. . pair of heads punged to complete hand. this four points is given when player pungs to match his final pair. . pair of heads drawn to complete hand. this six points is given when player draws and matches his final pair. . pair of player's own wind punged by him in his own wind round to complete his hand. this six points is given to a player who "pungs" to match this final pair when his final pair is his own wind and it is his own wind round. . pair of the player's own wind in his own wind round drawn by him to complete his hand. this is similar to the one above except that the player draws the tile instead of punging it, thereby getting points instead of points. . filling a sequence in the middle or on the only open end to complete hand. an example would be chowing a character, have a character and a character, or have the and chowing the (only open end). filling a sequence with both ends open, by draw to complete hand. an example would be, having a and of character and drawing a or a . in both this and the above case when the sequence is filled by draw, it must immediately be set out face up on the table to the right of player, with the draw tile drawn on top of the other two according to the illustration. doubling honor scores . a set of a player's own wind doubles his total score once. . a set of a player's own wind in his own wind round doubles his total score twice. . a set of red dragons doubles his total score once. . a set of green dragons doubles his total score once. . a set of white dragons doubles his total score once. [b] . a hand of all one suit except winds or dragons doubles his total score once. [b] . a winning hand having no sequences in it doubles the total score once. this hand is known as "tei tei woo" (mixed sets or no sequences) among the cantonese chinese. [b] . a winning hand entirely of one suit, doubles the total score three times. [footnote b: count for winning hand only.] penalties . in the event of a player announcing mah-jongg when his hand is not complete, the player making the error must pay to each of the other players half of the limit. east wind receiving full limit or paying full limit as the case may be. . the one discarding a tile that permits another player to win must bear the entire losses of all other players; if the player winning had any of the following four combinations of tiles exposed at the time of discarding, _unless the discarder himself had two complete doubling honors and was waiting for the winning tile_ or _was waiting for the winning tile which would give him more than two doubling honors_. . when nine tiles or more of the same suit are exposed and the discarded tile gives a winning hand on entirely one suit. . when nine heads or more are exposed and the discarded tile gives a winning hand of entirely heads. . when two sets of dragons are exposed and the discard of the other kind of dragon gives the third set of dragon in a winning hand. . when three different sets of winds are exposed and the discard of the other wind gives a winning hand. [illustration: illustration no. a] example . any player discarding a one or a four of dot would complete this hand and unless he had two complete doubling honors and was waiting for the winning card or was waiting for the winning card to complete his hand, with more than doubling honors, he must pay the winner for all. [illustration: illustration no. b] example . any player discarding a red dragon will permit this player to win and will be penalized for his recklessness by having to pay all scores, unless his own hand fulfills the requirements set out in example no. . [illustration: illustration no. c] example . a player discarding a white dragon is liable to the penalty above mentioned, unless his own hand fulfills the requirements given above in no. ; anyone may discard a one of dot which, though permitting the player with the above hand to win, would not bring a penalty down upon the discarder. [illustration: illustration no. d] example . a player discarding an east wind would allow this player to win and would be penalized unless excepted as in the other examples. here as in ex. , a discard to the other pair, i.e., a three of bamboo, would not be penalized. note. (a) if a player has no choice in his discard; that is if he discards the winning dot to an all dot hand when he has only dots to discard, he is not penalized. (b) when a penalty is imposed, all scores except that of the winning hand are canceled. example of winning hands note: arrow indicates tile which completed the hand in the following examples. [illustration: no. ] player is east wind; south wind round. mah-jongg three character (concealed) three bamboo (concealed) three heads ( dot) (concealed) three character (exposed) pair of heads drawn ( character) ---- total score for no sequences double once total score east wind collects double if winning double once from each player [illustration: no. ] player is north wind in north wind round. mah-jongg three of heads ( character) (concealed) three of heads (north wind) (concealed) three bamboo (concealed) three of heads (red dragon) (exposed) ---- for three red dragons double once for three of own wind in own wind round double twice for no sequence double once player would collect from east wind and from other two winds. if his score were over the limit he would collect double the limit from east and only the limit from south and west respectively. [illustration: no. ] north wind--east wind round. mah-jongg three heads (red dragon) (exposed) three character (exposed) ---- for three red dragons double once player collects from east wind; from south and west. [illustration: no. ] player is north wind in east wind round. mah-jongg three of heads (red dragons) (exposed) three of heads (green dragons) (concealed) three of heads (nine bamboo) (concealed) three of bamboo (concealed) completing pair of player's own wind in his own wind round by draw ---- total score for no sequences double once for three red dragons double once for three green dragons double once final score players collect from east; from west and south. [illustration: no. ] winning hand of "single heads." one of the "limit" hands, player collecting double the limit from east and only the limit from the others. [illustration: no. ] winning hand containing sets of heads only; this is a "limit hand," winner collecting double the limit from east and only the limit from the other two players. [illustration: no. ] winning hand containing all three sets of dragons and any other set and pair. this is a "limit hand," winner collecting double from east and the limit from the other two players. in all limit hand cases, east wind, if winner, collects double limit from all players. [illustration: no. ] player is south wind in south wind round. mah-jongg three heads (white dragons) (concealed) three dot (exposed) three heads ( dot) (exposed) filling sequence in middle by draw to win pair of own wind in own wind round ---- total score for three white dragons double once for all one suit except winds and dragons double once final score players collect from east, from north and west. [illustration: no. ] player is east wind in south wind round. mah-jongg three bamboo (exposed) three bamboo (exposed) pair of heads, completed by draw ---- total score for all one suit double three times final score double because east wind collects double when winning from each player. [illustration: no. ] player's west wind--east wind round. mah-jongg four heads (red dragons) (exposed) three characters (exposed) filling a sequence on the only open end ---- total score for four red dragons double once final score player collects from east and from west and south. two and three-handed games three or even two may play pung chow, though the game is essentially a four-handed affair. it is played by two or three people in exactly the same way that it is played by four, each player building up his own side of the wall and then combining to build the fourth side. this fourth side is regarded as the dummy wall. in the building and breaking down of the wall, east wind acts for the dummy, throwing the dice for it whenever indicated. the three players then draw their original hand and ignore the dummy the rest of the game, playing in regular routine and omitting the dummy's turn of play. when two play alone, each builds two sides of the wall and arrange the usual wall. then they throw the dice, east wind throwing for either of the two dummies, both draw their original hands and draw and discard alternately until one wins. of course when two or three play there is less opposition or conflict and far greater possibilities in the draw than in the four-handed game. on this account, higher scores are the rule rather than the exception, making a more exciting and entertaining game but hardly one upon which stakes could be safely set. table of contents part i playing without a limit introduction summary of the game description of tiles procedure of play a--east wind b--building and breaking the wall c--drawing original hand d--playing the hand e--to "chow" f--to "pung" four of a kind mah-jongg or mah-diao settling the scores suggestions for careful playing of hands use of the mandarins (flowers and seasons) score card examples of hands and how they are scored illustrations of score settling part ii playing with a limit procedure of play a--the limit hand b--washing the tiles bonus scores limit hands scoring values explanation of scoring values doubling honor scores penalties examples of winning hands two and three-handed games pung-chow _the_ game _of_ a hundred intelligences the game which is rapidly replacing bridge and other card games, as well as other forms of indoor pastimes. pung chow is an american product differing from the imported sets only in the following points: it is more pleasing to the eye and the touch. the beautiful oriental colors are fast and cannot rub off, even though the pieces be scrubbed with soap and water. the pieces will not become sticky from the moisture of the hand. pung chow pieces are not affected by the climate and will never work loose. should one or more pieces be lost they may be easily and quickly replaced. pung chow is an article of beauty and quality and is practically indestructible. manufactured by pung chow co., inc. church street, new york city errata page . the concealed one of circle in illustration should be a one of bamboo. page . two points should be scored for a pair of dragons in example . page . in example the three dragons completed by a pung should be exposed at right with the other three sets. page . two points should be scored for a pair of dragons in example . page . at top of page, "drew to complete hand" should read "punged to complete hand." page . in example the three dragons completed by a pung should be exposed at right with the other three sets. in the same example " dragons (concealed) ... " should read " dragons (exposed) ... ." page and . east wind scores instead of ; west wind scores instead of . page . all character tiles in hand of west wind should be bamboo tiles. page . lines and "eight of bamboo" should read "eight of character." page . west wind scores instead of . page . in north wind hand the three sevens of circles should be exposed instead of in hand. page . lines and . read " " instead of " ," and " " instead of " ." page . example . " " and " " should read " " and " " respectively. example . player is east wind instead of north wind. * * * * * transcriber's note the errata page above is transcribed from the original text. as it is not possible to easily correct all the scoring errors noted, none of these errors have been corrected in this e-text. punctuation has been normalized, and the following obvious typographical errors in the original text have been corrected: on page (a: east wind): "south wind, and the the left of" changed to "south wind, and the left of." on page (b: building and breaking the wall): "if in the sum" changed to "if is the sum." on page (example ): "double times for all suit(honors)" changed to "double times for all one suit(honors)" on page (note. a): "if he discard the winning" changed to "if he discards the winning." on page (no. ): "for bo sequences double once" changed to "for no sequences double once." additionally it is noted that: on page the phrase " points apiece from north" should likely read " points apiece from west." on page the phrase "washing cards have preference over this wind" should read either "washing cards ... this hand" or "washing cards ... this win." on page the phrase "this wind has preference" should read either "this hand has preference," or "this win has preference." on page the phrase "the and chowing the " should most likely read "the and and chowing the ." on page the phrase "players collect from" should likely read "player collects from." on page the phrase "players collect from" should likely read "player collects from." there are a number of inconsistencies between the chapter headings and the table of contents. these have not been corrected. in part ii, the numbering of illustrations is non-continuous: there is no illustration no. in the original. the art of stage dancing. [illustration: ned wayburn] the art of stage dancing _the story of a beautiful and profitable profession_ [illustration] a manual of stage-craft _by_ ned wayburn price $ . new york the ned wayburn studios of stage dancing, _inc._ publishers [illustration] copyright, , by ned wayburn studios of stage dancing, inc. made in u.s.a. greetings! [illustration] someway i don't care for the word "preface." as i think the matter over, i'm not sure that i ever read a preface to any book; and this fact suggests to me that possibly others would pass by this page in my book if i dubbed it by that much-worn and very trite word. so i've hailed you all with a much more cheery and stimulating title for my opening page; and perhaps, in consequence, some may read it. [illustration: nw] my greetings are specially extended to certain chosen groups of people: first, to all students of the past, the present, and those hoped for in the future; second, to the hundreds of teachers of the art of dancing who esteem my original methods of instruction sufficiently to care about what i may print on the subject; and third, to a public that has sat "in front" at any or many of my productions, and enjoyed them, and is, in consequence, interested to know something about the hard work, the thought and the skill, necessary to bring about such pleasing results. lest so narrow a limit to my greetings may be misunderstood, on second thought i will extend my greetings to that world of people who love life and beauty and happiness; who appreciate honest effort to make living more enjoyable and brighter; who love laughter and smiles and the good things that go with them. and if all that kind of people will read and appreciate my book, i shall not miss the others. but still, to them, as well as to you, i extend greetings! ned wayburn [illustration: nw] an apology [illustration] as a writer of books, i confess myself to be a good stage craftsman. i have never before attempted authorship, and this volume is simply a spontaneous outpouring of my personal love and knowledge of a great art that has filled my years with joy and happiness, and some renown in the theatrical world. to have been one modest part of an instrument that has piped to pleasure many millions of my fellows, is surely justification for personal satisfaction. how this playing has been done, how it is being done today in greater degree than ever before, is what i have in mind to tell a curious public. and so i became an author for this once, and what you may discover that i lack in literary ability, let me trust you will find compensated for in the plainness and simplicity of the facts, incidents and reminiscences that i relate. if not the manner, at least the matter is worthy of your approval. my story is presented in the first person, and this is because i find it easiest to write from a personal viewpoint--not, i hope, as the result of any special desire to see the letter i in print. a more experienced author would be able to write this book with less suggestion of ego in its pages, i have little doubt, and so i have called this explanatory word an apology that you may understand why things are as they are, and not demand of the tyro the same quality of literary excellence that you would be justified in expecting of the better qualified writer. to paraphrase one of my earliest school-boy speeches,--"if this be an apology, make the most of it." [illustration: nw] contents page a bit of ancient history modern stage dancing ned wayburn--an inspiration the ned wayburn method of training ned wayburn stage dances ned wayburn's foundation technique mr. wayburn addresses the beginners' class in foundation technique ned wayburn's musical comedy dancing mr. wayburn addresses a class in musical comedy dancing ned wayburn's tap and step dancing (clogging) mr. wayburn addresses a class in tap and step dancing ned wayburn's acrobatic dancing mr. wayburn addresses a class in acrobatic dancing ned wayburn's modern americanized ballet technique terms used in ned wayburn's modern americanized ballet technique mr. wayburn addresses the beginners' class in ballet technique ned wayburn's toe dancing ned wayburn's specialty dancing ned wayburn's exhibition dancing ned wayburn's professional stage makeup stage costumes dancing tempos diet and dancing dancing and good health showmanship "who's who" in the show professional coaching and producing for amateur entertainments private instruction experience inspiration atmosphere dancing children dancing hands dancing feet dancing shoes the quest of beauty who's afraid! (stage fright) the dance and the drama personality in the dance dancing and ease of manner dancing and civilization dancing and cheerfulness dancing and country life dancing as a social accomplishment universal appreciation of the dance the melting pot of the dance your opportunities stage-craft making a name forms of stage contracts list of halftone plates all portraits are of artists whose careers have been directed by ned wayburn. all stage scenes are of productions staged by ned wayburn. all interior views are of classrooms and other departments of the ned wayburn studios of stage dancing, inc., broadway (at columbus circle), entrance on th street, new york city. photographs used by courtesy of art studios and art photographers whose names are appended. * * * * * ned wayburn (white studio, n.y.). gilda gray and ned wayburn pupils in "it's getting darker on broadway," follies of . one view of grand ball room in ned wayburn studios. lace ballet, follies of . the fairbanks twins, in the "follies," and stars of "two little girls in blue" (white studio, n.y.). oscar shaw, featured with "good morning, dearie," "the music box revue," "two little girls in blue," etc. (white studio, n.y.). dolly sisters, internationally famous musical comedy stars (alfred cheney johnston, n.y.). one of over twenty daily dancing classes at the ned wayburn studios. vivienne segal, prima donna of the "follies" and many other musical comedies, featured in light opera (white studio, n.y.). paulette duval and ned wayburn pupils, follies of . class in dancing foundation technique at the ned wayburn studios. louise groody, featured with "good morning, dearie," "no, no, nanette," etc. (white studio, n.y.). partial view of demi-tasse theatre, ned wayburn studios. conditioning class in the ned wayburn studios. the astaires, fred and adele, featured in "lady, be good!" in america, and in "stop flirting," london (white studio, n.y.). cecil lean, featured in "no, no, nanette," "the time, the place and the girl," "the blue paradise," etc. (apeda, n.y.). scene from "ned wayburn's symphonic jazz revue." ann pennington, star dancer with the "follies" (alfred cheney johnston, n.y.). private lockers in dressing rooms. the three reillys, alice, gracie and johnny, remarkable tap dancers (white studio, n.y.). acrobatic dancing practice at the ned wayburn studios. evelyn law, principal dancer in the "follies," and "louie the fourteenth" (white studio, n.y.). lina basquette, premiere dancer in the "follies," and other musical productions (white studio, n.y.). marion chambers, premiere dancer in "poppy," and in ned wayburn productions (white studio, n.y.). "the birth of venus." a ned wayburn pantomime presented in leading motion picture and vaudeville theatres. virginia bacon, vaudeville dancing star, and with ned wayburn productions (young and carl, cincinnati). gilda gray, dancing star, who made her biggest success with the "follies." (alfred cheney johnston, n.y.). maurice, internationally known exhibition dancer (ira l. hill, n.y.). the ned wayburn professional stage makeup box and outfit. mary eaton, premiere dancer with the "follies," and co-starred in "kid boots" (white studio, n.y.). class in stage makeup at the ned wayburn studios. one hundred thousand dollars' worth of dancing costumes are immediately available. corner of the wardrobe department. mildred leisy, recently with geraldine farrar's operatic fantasie, "carmen"; wearing type of costume favored for ballet practice. polly archer, late with the "follies," wearing type of costume (bathing suit) preferred for limbering and stretching and acrobatic dancing. olive brady, with "ned wayburn's honeymoon cruise," dressed in special practice romper, designed by ned wayburn, recommended for use in all dancing classes except the ballet. scene from "ned wayburn's honeymoon cruise." frances white, featured with the "follies," "midnight frolics," vaudeville, etc. (white studio, n.y.). group of ned wayburn show girls, follies of . ann constance, with "greenwich village follies," and famous players pictures (showing her physical condition before and after she entered the ned wayburn studios) (edward thayer monroe, n.y.) helen fables, vaudeville dancing star, and with ned wayburn productions (white studio, n.y.). w.c. fields, featured with the "follies," "the ham tree," etc. (white studio, n.y.). ray dooley, featured with the "follies," "hitchy koo," etc. (white studio, n.y.). moonlight ballet, follies of . will rogers, celebrated american cowboy humorist and "roper," featured in the "follies" (white studio, n.y.). dorothy dickson, starred in london productions of "sally" and "the cabaret girl," shown with her dancing partner, carl hyson (white studio, n.y.). corner in one of the ladies' dressing rooms, showing shower baths. private dancing lesson at the ned wayburn studios. marion davies, in the "follies," and famous movie star (alfred cheney johnston, n.y.). charlotte greenwood, star of "so long letty," featured with the "music box revue," "ritz revue," winter garden productions, etc. (white studio, n.y.). children's saturday hour at the ned wayburn studios. ned wayburn and two tiny pupils, herbert colton, , and patty coakley, . gertrude lawrence, english star, featured in andre charlot's revue (hugh cecil, london). types of dancing shoes. janet stone and nick long, jr., formerly with the musical comedy, "lady butterfly," etc. (white studio, n.y.). cleo mayfield, featured in "no, no, nanette," "the blue paradise," etc. (white studio, n.y.). al jolson, famous new york winter garden star, who popularized "mammy" songs (white studio, n.y.). mr. wayburn's private office. "little old new york," follies of . rita owen, with the "follies" (white studio, n.y.). ada may (weeks), star of "lollipop" (white studio, n.y.). grand ball room in ned wayburn studios. marilyn miller, musical comedy star, in the "follies," "sally" and "sunny" (alfred cheney johnston, n.y.). scene from "ned wayburn's demi-tasse revue." rita howard, vaudeville dancing star, and with ned wayburn productions (white studio, n.y.). corridor on third floor of ned wayburn studios. "by the south sea moon," follies of , with gilda gray. belle baker, vaudeville star (lowell, chicago). business office of the ned wayburn studios. pearl regay, dancing star in "rose-marie" (white studio, n.y.). eddie cantor, star of "kid boots," "follies," etc. (white studio, n.y.). fifteen thousand square feet of floor space, two floors, comprised in ned wayburn's studios of stage dancing, at columbus circle and broadway, new york. _the art of stage dancing_ [illustration] _ned wayburn_ [illustration: gilda gray and ned wayburn pupils in "it's getting darker on broadway," follies of ] the art of stage dancing [illustration: overture] a bit of ancient history every age has had its ways of dancing; every people has expressed itself in some form of rhythmic motion. the dance originally was the natural expression of the simple emotions of a primitive people. triumph, defeat, war, love, hate, desire, propitiation of the gods of nature, all were danced by the hero or the tribe to the rhythm of beaten drums. over six thousand years ago egypt made use of the dance in its religious ritual. at a very early period the hebrews gave dancing a high place in their ceremony of worship. moses bade the children of israel dance after the crossing of the red sea. david danced before the ark of the covenant. the bible is replete with instances showing the place of the dance in the lives of the people of that time. greece in its palmy days was the greatest dancing nation the world has ever known. here it was protected by priesthood and state, practiced by rich and poor, high and lowly born. one of the nine muses was devoted to the fostering of this particular art. great ballets memorialized great events; simple rustic dances celebrated the coming of the flowers and the gathering of the crops. priestesses performed the sacred numbers; eccentric comedy teams enlivened the streets of athens. philosophers taught it to pupils for its salutary effect on body and mind; it was employed to give soldiers poise, agility and health. the dance was undoubtedly among the causes of greek vigor of mind and body. physicians prescribed its rhythmic exercise for many ailments. plato specifies dancing among the necessities for the ideal republic, and socrates urged it upon his pupils. the beauty of harmonized movements of healthy bodies, engendered by dancing, had its effect on the art of greece. since the days of classic greece, scenery, music and costume have created effects then undreamed of, but notwithstanding the lack of incidental factors, the greatness and frequency of municipal ballets, the variety of motives that dancing was made to express, combine to give greece a rank never surpassed as a dancing nation. the greek stage of this age was rich in scope, and for its effects drew upon poetry, music, dancing, grouping and posing. then came the dark ages of history, and in a degraded world dancing was saved and taken under the protection of the christian church, where it remained for the greater part of a thousand years. the vehicle that carried the ballet through this period was known as the "spectacle." these sacred spectacles, in grouping, evolution, decoration and music, possessed qualities that entitle them to a respectable place in the annals of opera ballet. the steps were primitive, but they sufficed for the times. however, the organization of the first real opera ballet conforming to standards of modern excellence did not come till the latter part of the fifteenth century, when cardinal riario, a nephew of pope sixtus iv, composed and staged a number of important ballet productions. but the greatest development of the modern type of ballet received its impetus under the reign of louis xiv of france, who founded the national ballet academy at paris in , and often played prominent parts himself. under this influence great performers began to appear, artists whose work, by grace of beauty alone, attested that perfection in ballet technique was approaching. the growth of the ballet since the time of louis xiv has been the contribution of individual artists, who by giving expression to their own original ideas have thus advanced the art to the pinnacle attained by the modern russian ballet of today. the above outline of the history of the dance is made brief intentionally, with no attempt to touch upon the various forms of dancing as practiced by the many nations and tribes. numerous books have been written covering all aspects of this subject, and giving in detail the steps and rhythms of the people of every age, and of every continent and the isles of the sea; and as matters of interest, education and research they are competent and complete, and especially edifying to the student of terpsichore. but the subject that interests us is not concerned with ancient lore nor with historical data, however delightful they may be. i am writing for the american of today about present-day matters in the american theatrical world, and to that end choose to ignore all other phases of the subject. in our day the development of the dance has reached its greatest heights, in both the social circle and the stage picture. the advance made in stage dancing within the last generation has been very pronounced, yet so gradual has been this growth and improvement, that only the elders of the present time can visualize its progress, and that only by a backward look to the period of paucity and monotony that ruled in their junior years, and contrast the dearth of then with the abundance of now. for really, whether in our multitude of revues or in our many musical shows, the dance, the pose, the rhythm and the melody that enhance our delight are all parts of the modern art of stage dancing. and it is of this art that the writer seeks to tell the story in the present volume. both the theatre and the dance have had their abundant historians. the dance is ages older than the theatre. the time of the coming of the dance to the theatre and their fitting union ever after has been recorded. they have advanced together hand in hand through the years since their first meeting and are closer companions at this hour than ever before. stage dancing is no longer the haphazard stepping of feet to music that it was in the beginning. from its earlier crude efforts it has developed into a modern art, a profession of the first class, calling for brain and ability at their very best, its devotees giving years of labor to perfecting themselves in their chosen art. [illustration] [illustration: one view of grand ball room] [illustration: ned wayburn revue] modern stage dancing modern stage dancing differs from social or ballroom dancing in that it is the kind of dancing that one can commercialize. most of the artistic and financial successes of the stage today are built upon music and dancing. we find these two essential elements in opera, revue, musical comedy, pantomime and vaudeville, while the place of the dance in moving pictures may well be recognized. should the old-time minstrel show come back, as it is certain to do, there will be added another name to the list of active entertainments that call for a union of music and dancing to insure their prosperity. the follies, the frolics, the scandals, the music box, the vanities, the passing shows--by whatever name the modern revue is spread before an eager public, the basis of its appeal is always the same. and when the junior leagues--the various charity organizations and the social and college clubs of our cities stage a performance that shall appeal to the interest of their public, and consequently gather in the shekels to their coffers, these amateur organizations turn naturally to music and dance and spectacle as the mediums with the widest appeal; an appeal to both the performer and the spectator. incidentally, let me say that the appeal of music and the dance to the performer, whether on the professional or the amateur stage, is not given the consideration to which it is entitled. perhaps nobody in the audience cares whether or not the dancer is enjoying the dance. but let me tell you, the dancer is having just as good a time up there on the stage as you are down in front; and probably you never gave the matter a thought! the dancers' enjoyment of the art is an essential factor in the causes that lead to the popularity of our modern type of stage entertainment. to have acquired proficiency in their chosen profession the dancers have labored strenuously and long, and now the reward of years of effort is theirs. they love their art as well as its emoluments. by industry and perhaps frugality they have acquired an independent career for life. they have made much of their opportunities. they have a right to be happy. and they are. probably no man ever lived who knows personally so many dancing folks as i do, and among all my stage acquaintances and friends i can count on a very few fingers the number that i would not class as supremely happy in their profession, and those few who might be considered as unhappy are made so by circumstances entirely apart from the stage, or, in a few instances, because of their own folly and indiscretions. the stage world is a happy world in the main. its rewards are abundant in friendships as well as in cash, and the happiness radiated to you from behind the footlights is the direct result of the happiness that permeates the very being of the smiling favorite of the gods whose efforts to please you have met with your approbation. so the pleasure of dancer and spectator are in a degree mutual, which in great measure explains the fascination that the dancing show has for the public. in nearly every amateur stage performance in my long experience there have been present some few who exhibited natural ability as dancers, and possessed foundation requirements for professional stage work. in cases where these favored ones have placed themselves under my instruction their improvement has been rapid and sure. there is no such thing as an untrained successful dancer; there never has been; there never will be. given that one has the ability requisite to a knowledge of the dance, the rest comes from active training, and nothing else. and by "ability" i do not mean experience, but rather that natural talent to step to music and observe tempo and rhythm that every dancer must possess. it is a talent inborn in the dancer, and needs only proper development under competent instruction to bring out all the possibilities that are in one. beyond that, and after the days of instruction are over, the only limit is the personality, the mental ability and the originality of the dancer himself, and these we encourage in every possible manner, for that way lies the electric sign in front of a broadway theatre, and all that goes with it in glory and gold. it is to the amateur dancer of today that the professional stage looks for its recruits. there never before has been so great a demand for stage dancers as exists now, and the supply for both solo and ensemble work barely suffices. talent naturally is encouraged by this condition of the market for its wares, and all who take advantage of this popularity and qualify for the better grade positions will find little difficulty in securing what they are entitled to. i am anxious to get over with one part of this book that seems necessary to its complete understanding by a reading public, and that is the very personal subject of myself, its author. i am going to permit entrance into these pages of a brief biography of ned wayburn for two distinct reasons: first, to establish by what route i came to be an authority on stage-craft and stage dancing; and second, by a recital of my personal struggle and effort and final success, to encourage all young men and young women of ambition to themselves enter upon the stage of our great calling, with every hope of future success. to that end, i am permitting a friend to come on the stage with his story of my stage career and experience. as i look back upon my own history, it seems like a romance. and it is; a romance in real life; every word of it true, and the entire scenario as wonderful as anything in the movies. [illustration: nw] [illustration: lace ballet, follies of ] ned wayburn--an inspiration by carleton b. case every line of endeavor has its outstanding leaders. the men and women who do great things in a grand way ever command our admiration. we like to hear about their public careers and the intimate side of their exceptional lives is of decided interest to us. this i think is especially true where the noted ones are among our public entertainers, the player-folk, who bring so much joy and happiness into the world out of nothing--creators of innocent pleasure. long years before this was penned, and while yet my locks were innocent of the whiteness that now typifies my years, i was closely associated with the family of wayburn. i was a man in chicago when ned wayburn was a boy in the same city, starting on what was destined to become a truly remarkable career. i know ned wayburn well. he is a king and a thoroughbred, as man or as manager, and to know him is to esteem him. [illustration: cinderella] his fame is peculiar in that it is based so largely on the success of other people--the actors and dancers whom he has discovered or directed and so helped to become stars of the first magnitude. to name them by hundreds is easy; to number all who are approaching stardom or who, now well placed on the professional stage, have materially profited by his aid and instruction, will go into the thousands. surely such a record of achievement is ample cause for pride. ned wayburn possesses an almost uncanny faculty of discerning latent talent in the line of his profession. you may not know one dance step from another, yet his discerning eye will detect a possibility for you in some branch of the dancing art that results will later prove as correct as they are surprising to yourself. i have heard him tell of evelyn law, that when she first came to the studio she exhibited a tap and step dance as her specialty. "this type of dancing was totally unsuited to her," said ned, "and i told her so. and i also told her what her 'line' was. she took my advice, and today she leads the world in that type of dancing, and her salary has four figures in it every week." the man who can do that is a genius, and ned wayburn has done it many, many times. there is one outstanding fact in his entire career as producer of shows and director of the education of his pupils in his dancing studios: he insists that everything and everybody about him shall be "the best." his studios are fitted up "the best," regardless of cost. sixty thousand dollars he paid for the fittings and furnishings of the two floors contained in his perfect establishment for teaching dancing at columbus circle, broadway and sixtieth street, new york. his instructing staff must be "the best." his pupils must be "the best." i mean by that, not that the pupils are so qualified when they enter, but that when they are ready to graduate from his institution into the professional life of the stage, then they must be "the best"; nothing else will do. so, too, in his own stage productions, and he has several, and more are in prospect. they are nowhere slighted. the best cast, music, dancing, costumes, scenery--everything--always. ned never was a piker. he wasn't born that way. lavish some consider him, but he finds his luxuriant presentations are appreciated by the line in front of the box office. he couldn't put on a "cheap" show if he wanted to. one goes to a ned wayburn show with the assurance of getting his money's worth in beauty and pleasurable entertainment. it pays; and the financial test is after all the one criterion by which to form a final judgment in things theatrical. now i am going to give some details of the inspiring career that began with an ambitious boy possessed of an artistic temperament, a love of music and of the beautiful, and who was at the same time a "hustler" and a born executive--a career developed by experience, still in progress and not yet at its culmination. as you read, it will seem almost incredible that one man, still comparatively young, could in so brief a period have accomplished so much that calls for great mental stress and extraordinary physical activity. * * * * * ned wayburn was born in pittsburgh, pennsylvania, where his parents were socially prominent. later the wayburn family moved to atlanta, georgia, and thence to chicago. during his school days he first attracted attention as an amateur athlete, winning recognition as a fast runner, trick skater, tennis player, center rush on various football teams, and finally as a semi-professional baseball pitcher and home-run hitter. while employed in his father's manufacturing plant in chicago, he took part in many amateur theatricals, and became noted as a dramatic coach for charity entertainments and clubs, leading cotillions and taking part in many society and club entertainments. it was at that time that his success in directing and writing dialogue for amateur theatricals attracted the attention of hart conway, of the chicago school of acting, who promptly engaged him as assistant. at the same time, he had the privilege of seeing and studying the greatest stars and the best attractions at the chicago grand opera house, where he began at the very bottom of the ladder as an usher in the gallery, balcony and main floor. finally he became chief usher--then sold tickets for the gallery--took tickets at the main door. the late aaron hoffman, famous playwright, was opera glass boy at that time with him, and the well-known star, taylor holmes, was one of his ushers! eventually he became assistant superintendent of that theatre. to gain additional experience, ned worked as a "super" with many different attractions, including the companies of olga nethersole, otis skinner, walker whiteside, julia stuart, etc., finally playing small parts in the legitimate and shakespearian drama. having displayed a natural aptitude as a director while holding "prompt books" at rehearsals, he became a dramatic director and actor of eccentric comedy and character parts. then his natural instinct for dancing asserted itself, and he became a specialty dancer, practicing from three to eight hours a day to perfect his dancing, incidentally developing his talent as a musician. the late col. john hopkins saw ned wayburn at a society benefit performance in chicago, and induced him to play one week's engagement. thus ned wayburn made his first professional appearance at hopkins' theatre, state street, chicago, being billed as "chicago's leading amateur"--a singing and dancing "black-faced" comedian, doing a "ragtime piano" specialty, and dancing act. this led to other engagements. the "piano specialty," which he originated, started the "ragtime" craze. he played in and around chicago and the middle west. he came east to new york, and was booked by the late phil nash, on the keith circuit, billed as "the man who invented ragtime." in his piano specialty he created the idea of playing the classics in "ragtime," being the first person on the stage to play "mendelssohn's wedding march," "oh promise me," "star-spangled banner," etc., in syncopated rhythm or "ragtime." he was also the first on the stage to do imitations of the harp, bagpipe, mandolin, banjo, etc., on the piano. his act was much imitated all over the world. upon reaching new york he met with misfortune. there was no piano for him at his opening performance and his original act had been stolen and performed in new york ahead of his appearance. this culminated in a period without work. finally he found himself walking broadway from one thursday morning until late saturday night, with neither food nor money! having looked forward so much to new york and what he expected it to bring him, he was at first discouraged and inclined to give up and go back home with each succeeding rebuff, but he made up his mind to stick it out, no matter what he had to do until he got on in a first class company. after months of patient canvassing of all managers' and agents' offices where he was denied recognition, he was finally given an opportunity, through an acquaintance who heard him play in a th st. theatrical boarding house, to demonstrate his ability in a tryout for the most popular star on broadway at the time, may irwin. she immediately recognized his ability and gave him an engagement at $ . per week, to introduce ragtime to broadway. (he was receiving $ . per week when he first came to new york.) he wrote for miss irwin the first ragtime song, "syncopated sandy." he was so hard up at the time that he sold a one-half interest in this song to a man named stanley whiting for $ . , so this man could have his name on the song as co-author. for an entire season she sang it and he played it in the performances of "the swell miss fitzwell" at the old bijou theatre, new york city (broadway between th and st sts.). "syncopated sandy" sold over , , copies. it was used to teach people to play ragtime. all mr. wayburn ever received out of its publication was a $ . advance royalty, which he was glad to get. he also helped write the third act of "the swell miss fitzwell," and re-wrote the second act, including some of the musical numbers, for which he received no royalty. incidentally, he was promoted to the position of stage director by miss irwin, and wrote some of her most successful songs, receiving a salary of $ . per week. he taught society to play ragtime and to cakewalk. however, he had confidence in his ability and worked hard to gain experience. he canvassed the music stores while en route with the company and sold sheet music which helped defray his expenses, and he saved his spare pennies. finally, he signed up with mathews and bulger, a very popular team of stars. from that moment the star of success glowed brightly for ned wayburn. for two years following he toured the united states and canada with dunne and ryley's musical comedy success, "by the sad sea waves," which he helped write and stage, introducing "ragtime," now known as "jazz," to america in nearly every city of over , population. gertrude hoffmann was one of his dancing girls in the chorus of this show. [illustration: fairbanks twins] being a born musician he turned his talents, in his spare time, to writing songs, many of which became quite popular, and from which he derived considerable revenue. "he ain't no relation of mine," "spend your money while you live 'cause you're gonna be a long time dead," "ragtime jimmie's jamboree," etc., etc. mr. wayburn then staged george m. cohan's first musical play, "the governor's son," and george ade's first musical play, "the night of the th," the latter at hammerstein's victoria theatre, new york, with joseph coyne and harry bulger as the featured comedians. thus began an unending succession of triumphs as a theatrical producer and stage director. mr. wayburn was engaged by oscar hammerstein as producing stage director for hammerstein's victoria theatre paradise roof gardens, at nd street and th avenue, where the rialto theatre now stands, where he had charge three summers and staged the very first "girl" acts, including ned wayburn's "jockey club" with the countess von hatzfeldt, which toured to the pacific coast and back to new york, booked by martin beck. he was then engaged by sire bros. as producing stage director for their new york theatre and roof gardens where he, a mere boy, staged and directed the greatest company of stars ever assembled under one roof, including jessie bartlett davis, mabelle gilman, virginia earle, marie dressler, nina farrington, thomas q. seabrooke, dan mcavoy, junie mccree, louis harrison, marion winchester, emma carus, etc., etc. "the hall of fame" was one of many productions staged for them. he then became producing stage director for klaw and erlanger. during the next four years produced and helped to create: "the billionaire" with jerome sykes, "bluebeard" with eddie foy, "the rogers brothers in london," "the rogers brothers in paris," "the rogers brothers in ireland," "the rogers brothers in panama," "the ham tree" with mcintyre and heath, "mother goose" with joseph cawthorne, "humpty-dumpty," "the white cat," "the pearl and the pumpkin," "little of everything" with fay templeton and pete dailey, and many other productions for the new amsterdam theatre and roof, also for the new york theatre roof, acting as general stage director of both. he leased and managed the new york theatre roof gardens, where he conceived and produced some very successful headline vaudeville acts, among them, "ned wayburn's minstrel misses," and "ned wayburn's rain-dears," which afterward played the keith circuit and other vaudeville theatres to previously unequaled success. left klaw and erlanger to engage in the vaudeville producing field for himself through the encouragement of b.f. keith, e.f. albee, percy g. williams, william hammerstein, f.f. proctor and martin beck. owned and produced the following headline acts: "the futurity winner," "the star bout," "the rain-dears," with neva aymar; "the dancing daisies," with dorothy jardon; "the phantastic phantoms," with larry and rosie ceballos; "the side show," with harry pilcer, and about other big acts. produced his own musical comedy attraction, "a one horse town." for mortimer h. singer at the la salle theatre, chicago, produced the following musical comedies: "the time, the place and the girl," starring cecil lean--and which ran consecutive performances to "standing room only"; "the girl question," "the golden girl," "the goddess of liberty," "honeymoon trail," "the girl at the helm," "the heart breakers," etc. founded "ned wayburn's training school for the stage," which first occupied the american savings bank building, west nd street, between broadway and th avenue, new york city, and then expanded to the entire five-story building at west th street, next to the hudson theatre and opposite the lambs club. john emerson, president of the actor's equity association, and zelda sears, author of "the lollypop," and many other successes, were then members of his faculty. for the shuberts and lew fields staged "the mimic world," at the casino theatre, new york. for lew fields (of weber and fields), at the broadway theatre and herald square theatre staged: "the midnight sons," "the jolly bachelors," "the hen pecks," "the summer widowers," "the never homes," "the wife hunters," "tillie's nightmare," starring marie dressler; lew fields in "old dutch," victor herbert's "the rose of algeria," etc. for the messrs. shubert at the casino theatre, n.y., the following musical comedies: "the girl and the wizard," starring sam bernard; "havana," with james t. powers (made the american version of this libretto); "the prince of bohemia," with andrew mack, and "mlle. mischief," starring lulu glaser. staged and appeared in "the producer," written by william lebaron, a headline vaudeville production (fifty people) which opened at hammerstein's victoria theatre, new york city, and played for months in vaudeville, headlining in all principal eastern cities. staged "the military girl," starring cecil lean and cleo mayfield, at the ziegfeld theatre in chicago. engaged by lee and j.j. shubert as producer for new york winter garden, created a policy for that theatre and a formula for musical productions still used there; staged "the passing show of ," "the honeymoon express," with al jolson and gaby deslys, "broadway to paris," "the passing show of ," etc. for the english manager, albert de courville, at the hippodrome, london, england, at the highest terms ever paid a stage director, he directed george robey, ethel levey, harry tate, billy merson, shirley kellogg, and other famous continental stars. he staged "hullo tango" (ran over one year), "zig-zag" (ran one and one-half years), "box of tricks," "joybells," etc. opened offices in london, producing "the honeymoon express," which ran five years in london and the provinces; produced "dora's doze," at palladium music hall, and leased middlesex music hall, london, to stage his own musical productions with american, french and english stars, in association with oswald stoll, but was obliged to stop productions there when war was declared. * * * * * next he staged and presented his own production of a farce, "she's in again," at gaiety theatre, new york city; also put on his own $ , production of "town topics," with will rogers, at the century theatre, new york, for which playhouse he created a continental music hall policy. it was soon after this that he accepted an engagement as producer and general stage director for florenz ziegfeld and staged the "follies of ," "follies of ," "follies of ," and "follies of ." [illustration: oscar shaw] in addition to the above, mr. wayburn devised and staged for mr. ziegfeld nine successful midnight frolics and two nine o'clock revues atop the new amsterdam theatre, new york, during this time. for mesmore kendall, devised and staged the opening presentation for the capitol theatre, new york city, september, , including an elaborate and very successful revue. for dillingham and ziegfeld, at century theatre, new york, he devised and staged the sensationally successful second act finale to "the century girl" ( ), where the -foot circular revolving stage was employed so ingeniously in the "uncle sam" finale. staged "miss " at the century theatre, new york, with irene castle, elsie janis and other stars. for lew fields: "the poor little ritz girl." for a.l. erlanger and b.c. whitney: "the ed wynn carnival," at the new amsterdam theatre, n.y. for a.l. erlanger: "two little girls in blue" (with the fairbanks twins, oscar shaw and evelyn law), at the george m. cohan theatre, n.y. founded ned wayburn studios of stage dancing and ned wayburn booking offices. staged f. ziegfeld's production, starring will rogers, also "follies of ," which ran consecutive weeks in new york city and about weeks on tour. no other "follies" up to this time ever ran over weeks in new york. produced many vaudeville acts, among them, "ned wayburn's dancing dozen." arranged motion-picture presentations for the famous players-lasky theatres. in association with ben ali haggin produced several tableaux, including "simonetta," "dubarry," and "the green gong," which were presented in many of the principal cities. staged the musical comedy "lady butterfly," at globe theatre, new york. staged the anatol friedland headline girl act for the keith-albee and orpheum vaudeville circuits, and "the birth of venus," a series of beautiful tableaux which were shown in many principal motion picture and vaudeville theatres. staged for florenz ziegfeld "follies of ," at new amsterdam theatre, new york, which attraction played to the largest week's receipts of any follies ever produced at new amsterdam theatre. staged the following headline vaudeville productions: "ned wayburn's honeymoon cruise" --an elaborate junior musical comedy, adapted for vaudeville, with a cast of dancers, principals and ensemble, composed entirely of pupils of the ned wayburn studios. this act, the highest priced in vaudeville, started on tour in january, , and broke all box-office records of the poli theatres in new england, as well as those of many other theatres on the keith-albee circuit, including the premiere vaudeville theatre of the world, keith-albee palace theatre, new york, and the new $ , , earle theatre in philadelphia. it is still breaking records, and is one of the most sought-after acts in vaudeville. "ned wayburn's demi-tasse revue" --another headline act, composed entirely of pupils of the ned wayburn studios. now on the keith-albee and orpheum circuits. the opening engagement at bridgeport broke the attendance record of the palace theatre there and the same results followed at new haven, hartford and worcester, when the audiences and newspaper critics alike declared the revue even better than ned wayburn's "honeymoon cruise," which had previously held the attendance records in those cities. "ned wayburn's symphonic jazz revue" another new production, also composed of pupils of the ned wayburn studios--touring the principal motion picture theatres in the middle west and also keith-albee and orpheum circuits. staged the dances for geraldine farrar in an operatic fantasie--"carmen" (all the dancers in this production being pupils of the ned wayburn studios). society, university and private entertainments for mrs. william k. vanderbilt, nd, devised and staged her "mah jong fête" at the hotel plaza, new york, for the big sisters charity, december, , and her "persian jazz fête," december, . the princeton triangle club's musical comedy, "drake's drum" last year and "the scarlet coat" this year. the filene store's musical comedy, "the caddie girl," colonial theatre, boston, in april, , and "barbara lee," in april, , presented at the tremont theatre, boston, for one week, with leah ainsworth, a ned wayburn pupil, in the title role. penn. state college thespian club's show, "the magazine cover girl" last year, and "wooden shoes" this year. the third annual masonic fashion and home exposition at madison square garden, new york, may, . elaborate entertainments for the willys-overland company, at the hotel biltmore, new york (three years). jewelers' -karat club annual entertainment at the waldorf-astoria hotel, new york (three successive years). "own your own home exposition," at trenton, new jersey. shriner's frolic, at washington, d.c. kansas city "junior league follies" (december, ). atlanta "junior league follies" (february, ). a musical revue for the new york edison co., (so successful it had to be repeated). the providence junior league show, . the new haven "junior league nautical bal cabaret," . the vincent club musical comedy, "fez," in boston (april, ). "the chatterbox revue" in rochester (april, ). the massachusetts "tech" show, "the duchess of broadway" ( ),--and a great many other society, charity, masonic and church entertainments. it is out of this amazingly wide and varied experience that ned wayburn evolved the courses in stage dancing, stage-craft and showmanship which are being taught with such great success today at the ned wayburn studios. ned wayburn is known to thousands as the genius who staged the very best editions of "the follies" and "midnight frolics" at the new amsterdam theatre, n.y. but in the world of the theatre--among those who _know_--he is recognized as america's foremost creator, producer and director of musical comedies, revues, headline vaudeville productions, motion picture presentations, fêtes and every other form of entertainment that features beautiful, original or spectacular dancing. [illustration: dolly sisters] his versatility knows almost no limit. his wealth of theatrical experience runs the gamut from his own first appearance as an amateur actor and coach to a succession of triumphs as producing director of the most gorgeous theatrical presentations both here and abroad. added to his practical stage-craft there is the vital flame of imaginative genius, a creative faculty that clearly stamps all his work. it is this, as well as his extraordinary executive ability and his all-embracing knowledge of stage technique, that makes him the most sought-after of all directors. it also explains the distinct advantage which pupils of the ned wayburn studios have over all others, in that they are being constantly sought for desirable engagements because of the thorough way in which they are trained, both physically and mentally, in dancing. [illustration: nw] the ned wayburn method of training [illustration] there are five basic types of stage dancing that i teach, covering the modern field in full, and supplying the pupil with a complete knowledge of all the steps needed for a successful stage career. these five types consist of: musical comedy dancing, tap and step dancing (clogging), acrobatic dancing, exhibition dancing (ball-room), modern americanized ballet dancing. the last named includes all the best variety of ballet dances, such as toe, classical, character, interpretive, oriental, folk, national, covering spanish, russian, greek, javanese, etc. instruction is given in any or all of the above to beginners, advanced amateurs, professionals and teachers, and is preceded in every case by the ned wayburn foundation technique, which includes my limbering and stretching process, and is one of the most important courses ever devised for the student of dancing in that it saves years of study. this original technique is described in a succeeding chapter. in addition to the types of dancing mentioned above, we also give instruction in the art of making up for the stage. accompanying the technical instruction, each class and pupil receives without cost the benefit of the valuable stage-craft, managerial and producer's knowledge that i have acquired during my years of activity in the theatrical world. this is given in occasional lectures or inspirational talks before the class. students also, when duly fitted, will be informed as to where and how to obtain engagements, correct forms of contract to be entered into, and other valuable business information concerning the practical side of selling their services to the best advantage, saving them much time and possible embarrassment and loss. in all probability, if you love dancing and aspire to make it a career, you possess an innate sense of rhythm. you feel the swing of music and love to move your body to the strains of a lilting melody. the first great possessions of the successful stage dancer are a love of harmonious sounds and a sense of rhythmic motion. if you haven't these, you might better abandon the idea of studying with me as far as any hope is concerned of my developing you into a stage artist. while you would find much to enjoy and to benefit your health and appearance in taking my dancing exercises, if you are minus the very first dancing essentials you could not expect us to advance you beyond your own limitations. another important qualification for the stage dancer, which if not possessed at its fullest may be acquired under our instruction, is a sense of direction. this sense of direction is of maximum importance in stage dancing, because, as you can readily understand, since you have your audience in front of you and to your left and your right, you must do your dances so that they will appeal to all sections of your audience. and there are certain stage directions which you must know in order to grasp my method of instruction. that you may get absolute precision in direction, let us proceed as follows: imagine that you are standing on a stage, in a circle the diameter of your own feet; we will call that circle "your place." [illustration: _your place_] divide the stage into eight different directions. you are now facing the "front." face the "left," the "back," the "right," and then "front" again. that makes four directions--front, left, back and right. face half-way to the left--that is called "left oblique." face half-way to the back--that is called "left oblique back." now face back. face half-way to the right--that is called "right oblique back." now face half-way to the front. that is called "right oblique." that makes eight different directions, very easy to memorize and never forgotten after once learned, and you will employ them in your stage work every day. that they may become familiar with the necessary directions, students are given brief instructions at their first lesson, as i stand before them and take the turns with them and announce the name of each direction as i take it. [illustration: _the eight different directions_] [illustration: _left turn_] [illustration: _right turn_] in making the turn from wall to wall, when you turn to the left around, you should turn on the right heel, which thus acts as a pivot and keeps you in "your place"; like this--left oblique, left, left oblique back, back, right oblique back, right, right oblique, and front. in going around to the right turn on the left heel. fix these directions firmly in your mind. you will need them when you get into stage dancing. [illustration: _turning the head_] the eight different directions are in eight counts. the first direction to the left is left oblique. that is counted "one." left is "two." left oblique back, "three." back, "four." right oblique back, "five." right, "six." right oblique, "seven." front is "eight." all of our steps are taught in counts of eight. we begin to count from one and go as far as eight, then repeat. we count, , , , , , , , , or we count " -and, -and, -and, -and, -and, -and, -and, -and," as may be required. after the steps have been taught by counts and learned properly, through much patient practice, they are fitted to music. without turning the rest of the body, turn the head sharply to the left wall, so that your face is square to the wall. you are now looking left. look front. look to the right (square around). look front. look left oblique. front. right oblique. front. now throw the head back and look up (without straining the muscles of the neck)--hold the head at an angle of about degrees. your head should not be tilted to one side, but straight back. now look "front" again--now "down," now "front." there is a difference between _turning_ it to the left or right and _inclining_ to left or right. incline your head to the left shoulder--hold your face up a little and keep it square to the front--chin high--now incline your head to the right shoulder--up straight--now turn it to the left (around as far as you can)--turn it front--turn it to the "right"--turn it "front"--throw it "back"--look up, now "front"--drop "down" and now "front." [illustration: one of over twenty daily dancing classes at the ned wayburn studios.] [illustration: _inclining the head_] the lesson to a class is as follows now, be careful to keep your lines straight up and down, directly behind one another. let those in the first line _across_ raise the right hand. second line across raise hands up; third line across, and fourth line across. this is called across stage (indicating left to right). this is called up and down stage (indicating front to back), and going down this way (to the footlights) is moving down-stage. going toward the back wall is moving up-stage or back-stage. [illustration: _diagram of modern theatre stage_] concerning entrances and exits if you come in sight of the audience from that side (indicating left) you are making an entrance from the left. if you leave in that direction, you are making an exit to the left. it is an artistic feat to make a good exit. it requires not only specialized training, but also practical experience in front of an audience. it may be a vocal exit, a dramatic or spoken exit, or a dancing exit, and one must reach a decided climax at the exit. if the dance consists of eight steps, properly spaced, the most effective steps are put in where they will provoke applause. the last or finish step must get the most applause or the dancer fails. so we put a climactic "trick" step in for a finish, and then we top that with the exit, and the exit must be a _surprise_. otherwise, the dance has not built up from the time the dancer makes an entrance and gets the attention of the audience. so making an effective exit is really a difficult thing to do. you are taught in the advanced instruction how to enter and exit properly. one draws the applause on the eighth step by assuming a certain attitude or by "striking a picture" which asks the audience for the applause, and on the exit another round of applause can be earned, and in this way the dance "gets over," or is "sold" to the audience, as we say in the show business. [illustration: _correct standing position_] now face the right, please. if you make an exit on that side you are making an exit to the right. if you come on from that side (meaning if you come in sight of the audience from that side) you are making an entrance from the right. the proper way to stand to learn my kind of stage dancing is with the left toe pointed left oblique, and the right toe right oblique. have your knees together, heels together, with the weight equally distributed between the feet, hands down at the side, arms relaxed, heads up and direct your gaze straight ahead on a line with your eyes. never recognize anyone over the footlights. always look straight front on a line with the eyes. never look at the floor when dancing unless specifically so instructed. to look at the floor while dancing gives an audience the impression that you have no confidence in yourself and that you are laboring to perform your dance. [illustration: _movements of eyes only_] in dancing, the head and arms and upper part of the body (torso or trunk) are as important as the feet and legs. the eyes are the most expressive agent of the body. now, without turning your head, using your eyes only, look left oblique, look front, look right oblique, front, look left oblique down, look front, look left oblique up, look front, look right oblique down, look right oblique up, look front. most of my instruction is based on the eight different directions which you have been told about, and on the four different parts of the foot, which you must also understand thoroughly. this makes it easy to analyze any dancing steps that we teach. these four different parts of the foot are: , the toe, or end of the shoe. , the ball of the foot (the half sole). , the heel. , the flat of the foot. [illustration: _the four different parts of the foot_] tapping the toe of the left foot to the floor makes the first count; stamping the ball of the left foot, the second count; the heel of the left, the third count; and the flat of the entire foot the fourth count. these four different parts of the foot become an exercise by counting , , , , with the left foot, and , , , , with the right foot, beginning with the right toe on the count of . this exercise if practiced faithfully will give flexibility to the muscles and ligaments that control the entire foot, all of which are used in musical comedy dancing, for the american tap, step and specialty work (clogging), for social or ballroom dancing, for exhibition dancing, as well as in the acrobatic dancing work, and for my americanized ballet training, including toe dancing. do this exercise first with the left foot, then with the right foot, to the count of , , , , , , , , and practice it often, till it becomes a perfectly natural action. it is the basis of the best "bread and butter" dancing steps, as you will discover in later lessons. in doing this exercise, remember that in dropping the toe to the floor it must be placed _straight_ back, and not left or right oblique back; straight back from the "place" where you stand. the knees should be kept together. when you stamp the ball of your foot, the feet are directly opposite each other. [illustration: _the development of a "tap" dancing step_] i want you to note that each of the four movements of this exercise has a distinct sound. the dropping of the toe, the stamping of the ball of the foot, of the heel, and of the flat foot, each creates a separate and distinct sound. i have named these sounds "taps," and it is the various combinations of these sounds that are used so effectively in musical comedy dances, in tap, step, and american specialty dancing (sometimes called clogging), as well as in some of our choicest acrobatic dancing. some of our pupils are apt at tap and step dancing, others are more apt at ballet dancing, musical comedy or acrobatic dancing. some of our young ladies take four classes a day; some take three; others two; and still others but one class a day. in addition to this, there are pupils, among them a great many young gentlemen, who take private lessons in their chosen style of dancing every day while some only take one private lesson a week. try to perfect yourselves as solo dancers. it is there that fame and fortune await you. you may not appreciate it now, but when you have mastered the ned wayburn courses, you will look back with satisfaction and realize the wonderful opportunity my simple courses have afforded you. there is no other school in the world that teaches the five basic types of dancing in the same thorough, rapid manner and with the same satisfactory results. the student who has industriously performed the essential preliminary work as i teach it has obtained a satisfactory mastery of the body, and has a large range of movement at command; is now able to control the source of movement and to relax opposing muscles so that the movement may follow through; that is, may continue from its initiative in any part of the body to the desired climax, without muscular obstruction. the entire body is now ready and responsive to any call upon it, and the act of dancing becomes a pleasure and a joy it never was before, and never would have been but for the preliminary work as i have arranged it for the making of beautiful and efficient dancers. [illustration: vivienne segal] the result is a harmony of rhythmical coördination that will echo far beyond the dancing courses and into the various activities of one's whole life. the great freedom and abandonment of movement now acquired is not a combination of erratic movements and gestures distributed at random. the freedom gained is the result of perfect control, not in any degree the result of unguided abandon. my dancers know how to work because they are sure of themselves; the controlled individual is the free individual. but the dancer has gained more than mastery of movement. valuable as are strength and skill, even more so is the resultant balance and soundness of the nervous system that directly results from such rhythmical coördination, fitting one for meeting the complex and often disturbing demands of life. now, too, in the process of acquiring such a splendid state of general physical well-being, the pupil has absorbed and acquired some understanding of the power and the wonder of a physical self, and will proudly treat this newly discovered self with respect and consideration. the mental gains as the result of this work have a right to consideration, also. the handicap of self-consciousness is largely overcome by the complete mastery of the movements of the body; the mind becomes freed, the mental horizon enlarged, as the direct result of body and nerve control. the delight of free and expressive movement with a body that responds joyously to the slightest impulse of thought and feeling, develops a new resource of pleasure, and in perfection of bodily response is found a new source of beauty with endless promise for the future. if you begin the courses with the feeling, "make me a dancer if you can," and act with indifference throughout the instruction that is given for your benefit, you are doomed to failure. no one succeeds unless they want to and work very hard. you are here to prepare for an honorable calling, a beautiful, respected and profitable profession, that when once you acquire will remain at your disposal all your life. most of our pupils recognize this and sincerely strive, with our help, to perfect themselves through incessant patient practice. we have no intention ever to let a small minority of indifferent, "i don't care" pupils, hold back the ambitious ones. those who merit success shall have every opportunity always. you, no doubt have been to good shows, seen good dancing and attractive posing and grouping, with rich scenery, proper lighting and appropriate music, and have wished that you, too, might share in the applause of the audience for your own merit as a dancer. i want to help you become what so many others of my scholars have become, the best in their line of endeavor. i am enthusiastic about my part of the work, and ask and expect you to be just as enthusiastic as i am. really, you should have _more_ enthusiasm than i have, since it is _you_ who are to go before the audiences and get the applause and the pay, and not me. whether or not you are enthusiastic about your work will show in your results. your degree of interest and improvement is recorded, so i know just what you are accomplishing. you must expect to get tired, really "tired out," in your earliest lessons and practice. that is what has invariably happened to all others before you, who are drawing down the fat salaries today. i expect it, and should be surprised indeed if any student proved to be an exception. in fact, if you do not tire, and perspire and pant after an hour of working your every muscle in a set of movements new to them, then you surely are not getting the benefit that the exercises are intended to promote. soreness during your first four or five lessons is a sign of your having taken the lessons earnestly and honestly and actively, as you should in your own interest. the soreness will work out and be gone for good after a few lessons. please get sore! then i know you are all right. but do not overdo at any time, now or later, in class work, private lessons, or home practice, and especially be careful while you are new at the work, and the novelty of it tempts your ambition to keep on and on. alternate work and rest, strenuous toil and complete relaxation, is the ideal way to build yourself into beauty and strength and suppleness by my method, without danger of straining or injury. in the classroom, if a pupil needs to sit and rest a bit occasionally it is permitted. but do not let our consideration for your comfort become an excuse for mere laziness! there are lazy girls as well as lazy men in the world, i have heard, and it is barely possible that one or two might decide to take my courses sometime. if they do, our required work will give them inspiration, as well as perspiration, and enable them to overcome an inclination to indolence that they must master if they hope to succeed as dancers--or in any other vocation. let me encourage you by saying, what i know to be true, that you will harden yourself in a few days' time so that the muscles of your body will pleasantly respond to your demands without crying out loud when called upon. just keep at it. don't get discouraged because it wearies you on the start. if you could see our advanced pupils going through their routines, and how easily they perform the same simple exercises you are required to do in the beginning, their muscles ready, trained and responsive, and every motion of their bodies a pleasure to them and a satisfaction after patient practice, you would be encouraged and would be able to smile at the few temporary discomforts of a few sore muscles. but do not be too ambitious and work to the point of exhaustion. [illustration: nw] [illustration: paulette duval and ned wayburn pupils, follies of ] ned wayburn stage dances [illustration] i have already named the five basic types of stage dancing taught in my courses. in this chapter i shall describe them in detail in such a manner that anyone can distinguish them from one another. no doubt when you have seen dances of the new type executed on the theatrical stage you may have been unable in some cases to correctly classify them. that is not at all surprising, since the classification is my own, as well as some of the steps themselves. you have realized that so-and-so did a pleasing, pretty and complicated dance, but what it is called, or if it is called at all, you are unable to state. all my dances have names and are properly classified, and what these are and to what distinct type they belong is going to be spread before you here and now. first let us consider the type that i have named american specialty dancing, the one that is more truly and distinctively american than any other type of dancing to be seen on any stage today. this classification comprises every variety of tap and step dancing, and also what is commonly known as "legmania," the latter including the high-kicking features, where the leg will execute front, back, and side kicks, and other forms of the acrobatic type of dancing. legmania is not a possible development for every student of dancing, as nearly every other form of the art is, but is available to the few who are adapted to its exacting technique, which insures that this interesting field will never grow too many blossoms, and that supply is not likely to equal demand. i will mention evelyn law in "legmania" and ann pennington in "tap and step" dancing as "sample" stars from my studios in this beautiful and lucrative type of dancing, though their dancing limitations are by no means confined to this one branch of the art. tap and step dances are made up of a series of steps that involve certain movements of the four parts of the foot as described in another chapter; namely, the toe, the ball of the foot, the heel, and the flat of the foot, which produce distinct rhythmic sounds or "taps" as they separately strike the floor or stage. under the classification of tap and step dancing, we teach the buck and wing dance, the waltz clog, the straight clog (which is like an english clog or a lancashier clog), jigs, reels, and the old form of what we call step dancing, which was popular forty years ago in the old "variety" days. they did the jigs, reels and clogs then, and these different types of dancing modernized combine to make what we today call the american specialty type of dancing. my course in tap dancing, for instance, includes beginners' "buck" and "soft-shoe" dances, intermediate, advanced, semi-professional and professional "buck" and "soft-shoe" dances. of course, when you get into the semi-professional "buck" and "soft-shoe" you will begin to get complicated "taps," and you will get difficult triple-taps in professional "buck" dancing. you are no doubt familiar in a general way with the musical comedy type of dancing, which is really an exaggerated form of fancy dancing. it includes the now popular but simpler "soft-shoe" dances, dainty, soft, pretty movements with many effective attitudes of the body, all sorts of "kicking" and "fancy" steps. as a matter of fact, this type of dancing is perhaps the most difficult of all to define exactly, because often musical comedy dances include a few tap steps and sometimes simple ballet movements, or combinations, as we term them. our musical comedy dances are arranged in routines, or sequences of not less than ten steps, including an entrance, eight steps to the dance, and an exit movement. the entrance is a travelling step, a step which gets you onto the stage; then comes the dance itself consisting of eight steps; then the exit which must include a step which will make a decided climax to the whole dance. i have already explained the importance of making an effective exit. in a subsequent chapter, i will describe more in detail a musical comedy routine. perhaps acrobatic dancing is the most difficult of all the types to master--that is, it most certainly requires a degree of strength that the other dances do not demand; sufficient strength in the arms to support the weight of the body in the hand-stand and the cartwheel, flexibility of the muscles in order to do the "limbers" and back-bends. all of the acrobatic tricks--hand-stands, cartwheels, splits, roll-overs, back-bends, front-overs, inside-outs, nip-ups, "butterflies," flip-flops, boranis, somersaults, etc., are very difficult and require special adaptability and inexhaustible patience, but almost any normal human being between the ages of four and thirty can learn even the advanced tumbling tricks in time, but only by keen application and persistent practice. the fourth of the basic types of dancing is my modern americanized ballet, a most graceful type of dance which requires and developes beauty and grace of motion of the head, the hands, the arms, the feet and legs, of the whole body, in fact. this americanized ballet is subdivided into various types of dances--toe dancing, classical dancing, character dancing, interpretive dancing, covering all kinds of national and folk dancing. these have attention elsewhere in this volume. exhibition dancing constitutes the fifth type, and is varied in its possibilities. it is the kind you see exhibited by a dancing team in public and private ballrooms and at social or club functions, and may take the form of the exhibition fox trot, the exhibition one-step, the tango, the exhibition waltz or the whirlwind dance. it is very pretty and very profitable work for those who are adapted to its interpretation. this type of dancing is not taught in classes in the ned wayburn studios, but is given special attention under qualified private tutors, in private lessons, and has prepared some remarkable dancers in this field. two of the popular dances which i have conceived and arranged and which have lately swept the world are the ballroom "charleston" dance and the exhibition "charleston." as my pupil you will discover in the course of your advancement that you have a particular preference for one of these types of dancing, or perhaps two, or three. each person has his or her own personality, and certain personalities are better suited to the tap and step style of dancing than to the ballet, for instance. but in order to meet the competition in stage dancing in the future, you require a knowledge of the five basic types, as outlined. i cannot emphasize too strongly the importance of _personality_ in a successful stage career. along with the actual mastering of the dancing steps and acquisition of health and a beautiful body, comes just as surely the development of personality. and since each individual has a distinct personality it is advisable for everyone to select the type of dancing best suited to that personality. it is because of this quality that the performance of stars like evelyn law, marilyn miller, ann pennington, gilda gray and fred and adele astaire leaves a lasting impression. every step, every movement is designed to drive home the characteristics of their individuality. even more important than the actual dancing steps they do is the manner in which they execute them--the individuality which gives expression to all that they do. it is the almost indefinable factor called personality which lifts one out of the ranks of the chorus and makes the solo dancer. in this book i am trying to help you develop your personality, in the way that i have discovered and developed the personalities of so many of today's stars. most emphatically i want to impress upon you that it is not "chorus work" that you learn in my courses. it is professional, individual dancing, taught thoroughly and completely. anyone who masters the dances takes on a certain confident feeling in time, after exercising great patience in practice. with this confidence the happy pupil radiates a new magnetic personality which the audience feels. but more about this later on, when you will learn just how one's self is injected into the dances until they are vitalized and made living exponents of a beautiful art. ned wayburn's foundation technique [illustration] the human body is the instrument of the dancer, and must be as much under the direct command of the dancer as the violin is at the command of the musician. it must respond instantaneously and without effort to every emotion and thought in the dancer's mind. to do this it is obvious that the physical mechanism of the entire body must be completely mastered and controlled. the first stage of the work to achieve command of the human frame as a dancing instrument is to bring about flexibility in all its parts and obtain muscular guidance and control. this demands a special technique that shall coördinate in harmonious functioning all parts of the body by an unconscious effort of the mind. [illustration: class in dancing foundation technique at the ned wayburn studios.] the foundation technique which i evolved for the ned wayburn courses is a limbering and stretching process for the body, which precedes the teaching of dancing steps, fitting all pupils properly with a basis, a foundation for the important work to come. without these exercises, all of which are set to inspiring music, muscles employed in dancing would remain taut or soft and not respond properly, the pupil would quickly tire, and the attempt to dance become an unavailing effort. with the limbering and stretching course, time is saved in preparing the student for the lessons to come, and the time necessary for the training and development of a dancer is much shortened from the long apprenticeship that once prevailed under the old antiquated ballet technique. what is known as the ned wayburn method brings into play all the bodily muscles that are essential to the dancer's use, gives strength, suppleness and symmetry to the entire body. all forms of outdoor exercise are valuable adjuncts to bodily health and strength and beauty, but supplementing them the dancer must carry on with just the foundation technique i have devised, in order to waken and strengthen the dancing muscles, a result not brought about by even the best of romping sports or one's other usual exercising. in connection with correct diet, which has attention in later chapters of this book, my methods of preliminary exercise will aid the over-stout to reduce pleasantly and surely, and also enable the under-developed to put on needed weight, in both cases the attendant blessings of health, strength and symmetry following in due order. my method induces perspiration, opens the pores, eliminates unhealthy tissue, and at the same time supplies new tissue replete with health, which is placed evenly over the entire body where nature wants it. do not let the words "limbering and stretching" mislead you. perhaps there may be words that describe the work better than these do. but my idea in using these words is that flexibility, suppleness, grace and freedom of movement are all covered by "limbering," while "stretching" is intended to convey the idea of a proper fitting of the body and limbs for the various forms of kicking that are absolutely essential in modern stage dancing. some people get the idea that stretching exercises will lengthen the body or limbs. this is not so. neither is the result of any mechanical operation whatever. you bend your body rhythmically, and by degrees acquire a proficiency that enables you to "stretch" and "limber up" yourself to an extent that may surprise you. no one was ever hurt by my exercises; you gradually limber and stretch yourself! all who have taken the exercises and have practiced them as directed have materially benefited. they bring health, graceful figures and a fitness for learning dancing as nothing else does of which i have knowledge. that is what these exercises are for, and just what they do. and another important fact in connection with my foundation technique for dancers, it does _not_ bunch the muscles into unsightly shape; it does _not_ make huge, knotty muscles in the arms and legs, as has long been the case with certain russian and italian ballet methods. you have no doubt seen ballet dancers with distorted bodies. the american woman will not be content with any development that mars the appearance of her figure, and she is right. you have seen the ned wayburn trained girls on many a stage, and never yet saw one that was not pleasing in figure, to put it mildly, and that is the way we insist in developing them at the studio. our pupils acquire agility without angularity or unsightly protuberances anywhere. we take the "raw material," child or adult, between four and forty, with or without any former experience or training, proceed with them through my foundation technique of limbering and stretching, and advance them from there to courses in any of the various forms of dancing, with the perfect assurance that they have the necessary basis of flexibility and muscle control that will support them on their way to perfect dancing success. in conjunction with this work, all types of kicking steps are taught, front kick, side kick, back kick, hitch kick, and the others. since strength for kicking comes from the abdominal muscles, a workout that will especially exercise these muscles around the waist line is essential, and a series of strengthening activities is given to this end. imagine that you are in practice costume, one of a class of students similarly dressed, standing in line on a padded rug in my foundation technique studio. the instructor begins with the simple exercises, and directs you through a number of them during an hour's lesson today, repeating them briefly tomorrow and adding new ones to those you learned yesterday, till soon you have progressed through the entire list. the work is done rhythmically to music, and all exercises are in eight counts. each is repeated in measured time till the class masters it, and the student is requested to practice the lessons at home faithfully and earnestly, and the proficiency thus acquired is looked for in the class work of the day after. [illustration: nw] here are a dozen of the ned wayburn series of limbering and stretching exercises selected from my foundation technique: [illustration: exercise . _for limbering and stretching the triceps, and loosening the waist line along the sides._] stand erect, head up, heels together, arms down at sides, raise right arm straight up over the head. bend body to left as far as you can, sliding left hand down the thigh. return to erect position, then with left arm raised bend to right. alternate left and right eight times to count of "one, lean; two, lean," etc. [illustration: louise groody] [illustration: exercise . _for loosening the dorsi and abdominal muscles, developing muscles of chest and waist line._] stand erect, chin in, heels together, toes pointed out, raise left arm straight over head, right arm down at side. swing right hand up over head also, and lean the body right oblique. swing both arms down, then up and lean left oblique. do this for eight counts of "one, lean; two, lean," etc. [illustration: exercise . _for limbering muscles of the back, biceps of the legs, developing abdominal muscles and reducing waist line._] (forward bend.) raise both arms straight over head the width of the shoulders apart, heels together, knees stiff. bend forward and touch the floor with the palms of both hands, if you can, if you cannot, then with the ends of the fingers. raise arms again over head and lean back as far as you can. count "one, touch; two, lean," etc., to a count of eight. [illustration: exercise . _for making the waist line flexible. it limbers the muscles of the thighs and back._] stand erect, both hands above head, arms stiff. keep hands in this position throughout, step left foot straight forward, bend the body back as far as you can. then body erect and left foot returned to position. step right foot front, bend back again. alternate with each foot for eight counts: "left, lean, straight, in; right, lean, straight, in," etc. exercise . _to strengthen calves and ankles._ stand erect, knees stiff, heels together, hands on hips. rise on the toes; down, up, down, etc., for counts. [illustration: exercise . _for limbering the back and the waist line._] kneel, knees about eight inches apart, trunk erect. extend arms horizontally in front to count "one." on count of "two" raise the hands above the head, shoulder-width apart and lean back. keep arms stiff. on count of "and," trunk again erect and arms extended front. on count of "three," hands over head and lean back. repeat for eight counts. [illustration: exercise . _to strengthen the biceps and triceps of the arm._] from kneeling position of exercise , lie flat on the stomach, palms on floor alongside the hips, elbows up, to count of "one." on count "two," raise the body, straightening arms, supporting body on hands and toes. lower body to floor on count "three." alternate raising and lowering body for sixteen counts. exercise . _for limbering and stretching the abdominal muscles._ stand erect, heels together, chin in, chest out, step right foot forward, bend body front, place both hands flat on floor (foot-race starting position). jump, bringing right foot back and left foot forward at the same time. jump, bringing left foot back and right foot forward. right, left, right, left, for sixteen counts. [illustration] [illustration: exercise . _to develop the front of the thighs and the biceps._] stand erect, feet fifteen inches apart. raise arms straight above the head, shoulder-width apart. keep toes and heels flat on the floor. squat down, lowering arms as you do so until they are horizontally straight in front of you. rise to erect position, raising arms at the same time above the head. keep arms stiff. down, up, down, up, for sixteen counts. [illustration: partial view of demi-tasse theatre, ned wayburn studios] [illustration: exercise . _to strengthen the lower abdominal muscles._] lie flat on your back, arms at sides, palms on floor. keep knees stiff and together and toes pointed. raise both feet so that toes point to ceiling. count "one"; lower the feet to the floor. count "two"; (do not hit the floor hard in lowering the feet). count "one, down; two, down;" etc., to eight. [illustration: exercise . _to strengthen the upper abdominal muscles and the diaphragm._] you are lying on your back. on count "one," sit up, bend forward, touch your toes with your hands and place your head against your knees. count "touch." on count "two," bring your trunk erect, arms straight overhead. on count of "down" you are again lying on your back. count "one, touch, two, down, three, touch, four, down," etc., to "eight, down." [illustration: exercise . _to strengthen the thighs and biceps._] stand erect, heels together. raise arms horizontally to the sides. bend the knees and assume a squatting position. rise to erect position. count "down, up, down, up," etc., eight times. * * * * * there are more than thirty different exercises given in the ned wayburn courses in this work. if you desire a complete list, address an inquiry to the ned wayburn studios of stage dancing, inc., broadway (at columbus circle) entrance on th st., new york, for prospectus of the new ned wayburn home study courses in dancing. mr. wayburn addresses the beginner's class in foundation technique you are starting on a course of not less than twenty lessons and exercises in my foundation technique for dancing, which is a feature exclusive to this studio, known as the ned wayburn limbering and stretching process for the human body. this is one of the most important things that ever came into your life. it is at once a necessary foundation upon which to build the perfect dancer and an unequaled system of cultural exercises for the correction of certain physical ills in those who have no expectation of pursuing a professional career. [illustration] primarily i originated this series of exercises to make good dancers quickly. there was nothing of the kind in existence that would do the work i wanted done, so i carefully thought it out myself, and finally developed the complete plan. some of it will be taught you here. it has proven to be all i anticipated,--a method of preparing the muscles and ligaments to respond instantly to the dancer's call upon them for precise action. it is the object of this series of exercises to eliminate fatigue, create sturdy yet symmetrical and flexible frames and increase the health, grace and beauty of the participant. it is, therefore, no wonder that others than those who expect to enter upon a stage career have sought these exercises for their own improvement in personal appearance and physical well-being. now all please stand in line around the room, stand quietly and without leaning against the wall. stand shoulder to shoulder, hands down at sides, heels together, feet flat down, toes pointing left oblique and right oblique; the weight equally distributed between the two feet. hold your chin high and look straight ahead on a line with your eyes. i organize the class by first arranging the pupils according to their height. there is a reason for this. if you are five feet tall and stand next to a girl who is five feet eleven, you at once become conscious of your size. it is to avoid this handicap of self-consciousness that i grade you by height. you are now in line as to heights. please each of you stand in front of a chair, one pupil to a chair, and number from "one" at the left end. number thirteen will be called twelve and a half. speak out your individual number loud and clear. this number you are given is your personal, distinctive number during the life of this class and is never changed. the number of this class is . as you call your number out loud please be seated in the chair back of you, and while the stenographer takes your names and the instructor collects your weekly tickets i will say a few words. i expect you to arrive promptly in the classroom, and request that you time your arrival so as to be here in the studio at least fifteen minutes before class time, so as to be in your practice costume and ready for the call to class right on the hour set. we have to observe discipline in all your work in the courses, otherwise nothing would be accomplished. we have printed rules posted in the office and elsewhere, and expect you to read and observe them. please do not talk at all during class work. it interrupts the work seriously. you have all been to school before and know that silence is one of the important rules of every school. this one is no exception. now, the first thing to do is to have your ticket ready. you must have your name signed on the ticket, where it says "signature of pupil." turn the ticket over and read it through on both sides. remember your class number and your individual number in the class. the success of our school depends largely upon the way the classes are organized and thereafter dominated. much of the success of the work depends upon the lectures you hear in the classes. they are in the form of inspirational talks based on different subjects. you are required to read all of our literature. get and read the booklet entitled "your career." every month we issue a school paper, "the ned wayburn news," which tells of the activities of pupils of the school who are now appearing in new york, or out on the road, and which has many interesting articles and information monthly for students of the dance. please get a copy and read all of our literature--because it gives you an idea of what the school and its present and graduate pupils are accomplishing. it is a well established rule of the studio that pupils shall weigh themselves every monday and keep a record of their weight from week to week. for this purpose use the scales in the main office of the studio, please. they are accurate. we have them tested and adjusted at intervals to be sure that they are right. you are requested and expected to come into my private office and talk with me once a week, and when you do so i shall ask you about your weight, and you must be prepared to tell me. i know just how much you ought to weigh, and am interested in hearing whether you are gaining or losing flesh in the proportion that you should. at the end of the four weeks' period i shall ask each of you individually in the class about the variation in your weights, and i am then able to tell who is faithfully following my instructions as to practice, diet, hours of sleep and the other simple and necessary requirements of our courses. for i know that if my regime is observed as i request that it be, you will show it, and if you neglect to follow my advice you will not have made the progress you should, and will show that. you cannot disguise the real facts from me. i do not want any of you to overexert at these limbering and stretching exercises. they are scientifically constructed to do for you what no other known cultural movements of this kind will do. at first they will tire you, leave you "all in," i have no doubt. i expect that. you see, in these exercises you are putting into play a lot of muscles that have been lying dormant, perhaps never been used in the way you will use them in this class as preparation for health, comeliness and dancing strength. you need to use these muscles. it is to stir them up and make you strong, and at the same time supple and shapely, that i have devised this series of exercises. it was not made by guess, this plan of developing and conditioning, but as the result of years of study and proof. these exercises will make you feel perfectly wonderful after a while. nothing else will do you as much good. but do not, please, expect the perfected results to show in a day or two. it cannot be done so quickly. you have been several years getting the way you are, and if you can improve greatly in a few months you must consider yourself fortunate. [illustration: conditioning class at the ned wayburn studios.] let me say, as a word of caution, that if you have any organic trouble, or have been weakened by a serious operation or recent illness, i wish you would report the facts to your class instructor or to me before you take on this work. in any event, don't overdo at any time, neither here nor in your home practice. if you find it necessary, stop at any time and sit down in your chair a few minutes till you get your breath. but don't stay out of class tomorrow because you find your muscles are tired. every other student's muscles will be sore tomorrow, as well as yours. if you remain absent you will be much slower in getting those sore muscles feeling right than if you come into class and work the soreness out. if you are absent you may miss something you will want to know. there is something new taught every day--or there may be a special lecture which you cannot afford to miss. i hope you are going to be patient. i hope you are not going to say: "this is too much for me!" no matter how tired you are this work will do you more good than any medicines. you are not to take medicines without telling me about it. you are not to eat between meals; you are not to take any liquids with your meals. masticate your food carefully. don't bolt your meals in a hurry. take time to eat properly. don't sleep more than eight hours. don't dance half the night away. you must look out for your health while you are training. some of you are underweight, because you are not properly regulated so far as your meals and living is concerned. you are eating things you should not eat. others are eating in such a hurry that the food is not properly assimilated by the body. you should drink not less than forty-five ounces of water a day. that is about nine glasses. you should drink a glass of water before and after each meal, not during your meals--one about eleven o'clock in the morning, another about four o'clock in the afternoon, and one just before you go to bed at night. not ice water. water not only flushes the system but it induces perspiration. and you must perspire freely in all of our work because you get rid of many impurities through the pores. i reduced my own weight, by diet, exercise, and dancing, from pounds to pounds. but you have got to be very patient in reducing or building up. if you take off or put on a pound a week you will be doing very well. but let me regulate that, please. sometimes pupils who are underweight when they first come here begin to lose weight, and they get worried about it. but you shouldn't worry. that means that you are losing unhealthy tissue, which will be replaced in time by healthy muscular tissue. that doesn't mean that you will get big knots of muscle on your arms and legs, such as you see in pictures in some of the magazines. the new tissue will be evenly distributed over the body. it is my business to manufacture symmetrical bodies. i have manufactured hundreds of celebrated beauties since i began my theatrical career, sometimes through facial makeup, sometimes through exercises and diet, but always with dancing as the chief feature in health and beauty culture. there is a reason why this school has grown to its present proportions. it is because i have made a thorough study of anatomy and know how to make human bodies healthy and beautiful. i could tell you a very interesting story of clan calla, a little irish princess who came to me with curvature of the spine to see if i could help her. she was very weak and hardly able to walk; they had to carry her to the studios from the subway. now she is strong and well and dances beautifully. don't try to reduce too fast. i had two friends who died as a result of reducing with medicine. they took some sort of baths for reducing, and some kind of medicine to shrink themselves. that is why i became interested in reducing and began to practice on myself. now make up your minds to make this class a success. don't make it necessary for your instructor to have to address any one of you personally. when your instructor gives an order execute it at once. always get into your places promptly. don't forget that you are going to be lame--but you must work it out. you will begin with mild calisthenics--then, later on, you will learn several kinds of kicks--the side kick, the front kick, the hitch kick, etc. but before you can kick, you must have the strength necessary for kicking. you must practice the exercises in order to get this strength. now you are organized and you can accomplish real work. if there are any questions you would like to ask me, come to my private office at the end of the hall on the second floor--broadway front. you will progress according to the way you practice. you must put in hours of faithful practice. if you take one hour of instruction a day at the studio, you should practice three hours a day at home. if you can possibly do so, always go through your foundation technique when you first get up in the morning. the lesson itself is not enough. faithful practice means success, and without practice you won't succeed at all, and you won't get your weight off or you won't build up. three times the length of a lesson is my rule for practice. some practice from three to eight hours a day so as to gain dancing strength. you must have a lot of flexibility in order to dance in a professional manner. get the habit of deep breathing. gradually you will increase your breathing capacity and deep breathing makes good blood. the oxygen you take into your lungs goes through the blood and takes off the impurities in the blood, and oxygen is necessary in properly assimilating your food. don't let anybody else advise you about diets. if a doctor has put you on a diet, let me know about it. my diets won't do you any good unless you are taking the limbering and stretching work along with them. you will enjoy them; you do not have to starve yourself. another thing let me warn you about! don't bring or wear valuable jewelry to the studios. all of our employees are trustworthy, and besides, we investigate the pupils who come into our studios. we know all about them. if the wrong kind of person does get in, he or she doesn't stay more than an hour or two. we also have detectives in the classes. but don't take any chances. don't bring valuable things into the place. do not leave pocket-books in the dressing rooms; bring them into the class room. we keep a strict record of the attendance and the progress of each individual pupil. we insist that you have the best that money can provide for you. if anything should happen at any time to which you could take exception, i hope you will report it to me. our policy of giving you the very best to be had has appealed to a world of ambitious youth. be careful about giving advice to other girls. i don't want anybody in this class to presume to give advice to anybody else in the class. many times a girl comes here to the school from clear across the continent. she comes with great hopes and aspirations, ready to work hard, and with all the enthusiasm in the world. then, some girl in her class may tell her that she doesn't dance well--and her hopes will be shattered and she will become discouraged. now none of you has any business to give advice or criticize other members of the class. if you can learn stage dancing anywhere, you can learn it in the ned wayburn studios. persistent practice will do wonders. remember all i have said about this, and keep smiling. ned wayburn's musical comedy dancing [illustration] this is one of the most useful as well as attractive types of stage dancing, and appeals strongly to all aspirants for theatrical honors and emoluments. i say "useful," for the reason that musical comedy dancing as i teach it supplies dancers with a repertoire of fancy steps and neat dance routines that should enable them to sell their services in the best theatrical markets of the world, which seems to me to be a pretty "useful" sort of a property for one to have in their permanent possession. if i here repeat that frequent practice on the part of the student is necessary for the correct acquirement of musical comedy dancing, i am merely stating what is right and necessary that all should understand who desire to make their services in this line of endeavor available for public approval and a corresponding cash return. and this applies to every other kind of dancing as well. now you may think that you know just what musical comedy dancing is, and perhaps you do, but the name of it hardly defines it so that it would be recognized for exactly what it is by one not thoroughly stage-wise. you see a pleasing ensemble or solo dance at some revue or musical show and, without seeking or desiring to classify this dance as this, that or the other kind, you are satisfied to realize in your inner consciousness that it is a pretty movement and well worth seeing. so exact is the execution that it arouses your wonder how the dancers ever manage to get so many intricate steps and rapid motions and pretty flings of their heels into a united and harmonious picture; all working in perfect unison, to a pleasing tempo, smiling the while and doing it all as a mere matter of course, with seeming unconcern, just as though the steps and kicks and posing and grouping were second nature to them all. that is a musical comedy dance, and instead of growing on bushes to be gathered by every careless hand, it is actually the result of studious endeavor and persistent drilling on the part of the participants, and of careful and conscientious training by competent dancing instructors. it is well done and gratifying to the spectator because it is the finished product of qualified teaching, earnest endeavor, tireless energy, practice, rehearsing. remember this, the next time you attend a show where dancing is a feature, and accord the dancers the credit that is their due. true musical comedy dancing is in reality an exaggerated form of what was formerly styled "fancy dancing." it is a cross between the ballet and the ned wayburn type of tap and step or american specialty dancing. it combines pretty attitudes, poses, pirouettes and the several different types of kicking steps that are now so popular. soft-shoe steps break into it here and there in unexpected ways and places, adding a pleasing variety to the menu. the tempo enhances and harmonizes the scene and the action. there is no monotony, no tiresome sameness; yet the varying forms of action blend into a perfect continuity. the dance is full of happy surprise steps, perhaps, or unexpected climaxes and variations that arouse the interest as they quickly flash by. often there is featured in musical comedy dancing a bit of so called "character" work, which may be anything--bowery, spanish, dutch, eccentric, hawaiian, or any of the countless other characteristic types. also there are touches of dainty ballet work interspersed among the other features, at times. yet to accomplish the ballet effects or the character representations exacts of the dancer no special development along strictly ballet or classical lines, when she obtains her musical comedy training here, for these features are given the required attention as part of the regular course in fitting the student for this branch of the stage dancing art, and thus our musical comedy graduates are qualified for all the variations of effort that naturally come under that head. my foundation technique is a prime factor in the successful accomplishment of any type of dancing, and the scientific limbering and stretching exercises that constitute that work are indispensable in perfecting the pupil to handle every phase of the varied demands in musical comedy dancing. hence my insistence that our foundation technique precede the entrance of the pupil into the classes of this or any of the other various types of stage dancing that we teach. [illustration: fred and adele astaire] two of my most famous pupils in musical comedy dancing are fred and adele astaire, brother and sister. they came to me to study from omaha, nebraska, as little tots of about six and seven years of age. adele was always fond of coming to her classes; but fred says that he just "followed on" through brotherly association rather than from any preconceived ambition to become a professional dancer. then, through reverses of family fortunes, the time came when they felt that they should be supporting themselves. they continued to study under me, and i was very happy to be able to place them in vaudeville in a singing and dancing act, which i had prepared for them. this started them on their career, which has led them to europe and back again. they have appeared in "over the top," "the passing show of ," "apple blossoms," and in "the love letter." they then scored a sensational success in london in "stop flirting" ( performances). now they are starring in "lady, be good," on tour after a long run in new york. in this chapter i shall now describe in detail bars of a simple musical comedy dance, a "soft shoe" routine, as we call it, to give you some understanding of how modern stage dances are developed at the ned wayburn studios. [illustration: nw] musical comedy routine-- / tempo tune: "way down upon the swanee river." the dancer enters from stage left. step right foot to right oblique on count of "one." step left foot behind to right oblique back on count of "two"; step right foot around behind the left on count of "and"; step left foot to right oblique on count of "three"; repeat same for "four," "five," "and," "six." step right foot to right oblique, count of "seven"; drag left foot in air behind to right oblique and slap left heel with right hand on count of "eight." step left foot to left on count of "one"; drag right foot in air behind to left oblique and slap right heel with left hand on count of "two"; step right foot to right on count of "three" and drag left foot across in front in air on count of "four"; step left foot to left facing left, count of "five"; right foot front small step on count "and;" step left foot back facing back, count of "six;" right foot to left, small step on "and." left foot to right facing right, count of "seven"; right foot to back, small step on "and." left foot to front facing front, count of "eight." now repeat entire movement. these two movements should take the dancer to the centre of the stage; done in eight measures of / time. step right foot to right oblique count of "one"; hop on it in same place with left foot in air behind to left oblique back, count "two"; step down to left oblique back with left foot on count of "three"; hop on left foot, extend right foot in air right oblique on count "four"; step right foot back behind left foot on count "five"; step left foot to left oblique back, count "six"; step right foot across to left oblique, count "seven"; hop on right foot, extend left foot in air right oblique back, count of "eight." now reverse this entire movement to other side. these two steps are done in four measures of / tempo in the centre of the stage. step right foot to right, count "one"; step left foot behind to right oblique back, count "and"; step right foot down in same place, count "two." reverse to left for count of "three," "and," "four"; then step right foot to right, count "five"; step left foot in front to right, turning and facing up stage, count "six"; step right foot around stage front to right, turning front again, count "seven"; drag left foot across in front of right to right, count of "eight." reverse this entire step to other side. these two steps are done in four measures of / tempo in centre of the stage. this finishes the first half of the chorus, or measures. facing left oblique, drag right foot from left oblique to right oblique back, count of "and"; hop on left foot in same place, count of "one"; drag right foot from right oblique back to left oblique, count "and"; hop on left foot same place, count of "two"; drag right foot from left oblique to right oblique back, count "and"; hop left foot same place, count of "three"; displace left foot with right foot from right oblique back, left foot extending to left oblique, all on count of "four." hop on right foot same place, count "and;" step left foot to left oblique, count "five"; step right foot across in front to left oblique, count "six"; hop on right foot same place, count of "and"; step left foot to left oblique, count of "seven"; hop on left foot same place, and turn, kick right foot to right oblique, count "eight." going up stage right oblique back facing right oblique, step right foot back to right oblique back, count "one"; step left foot to right foot, count of "and"; step right foot to right oblique back, count "two"; step left foot to right foot, count of "and"; step right foot to back, facing back, count "three"; hop on right foot turning right to face front on count "four." step left foot to left oblique on "five"; step right foot to left foot on "and"; step left foot to left oblique on "six"; step right foot to left foot on "and"; step left foot to left oblique on "seven"; hop on left foot and kick right foot to right oblique on "eight." reverse all of these steps. these are done in eight measures of / tempo in the centre of the stage. step left foot to left oblique, count "one"; step right foot behind to left, bend left knee, count "two"; hop on right foot and kick left to left oblique, count "three"; swing left foot back to right oblique back on "four"; bring right foot around behind left on count "and"; step left foot to front, count "five"; step right foot back to left on "six"; bring left foot around behind right on count "and"; step right foot to front on count of "seven"; step left foot to left oblique on count "eight." [illustration: cecil lean] step right foot to right on count "one"; swing left foot up stage and step to back on "and"; right foot straight in place, facing up stage, count "two"; step left foot to stage right on count "three"; facing right swing right foot to right, count "and"; step left foot straight in place, count "four"; now facing front, having made complete left back turn. now step right foot to right oblique back, count "five"; step left foot to right oblique back behind right foot, count "and"; straight with right foot in place, count "six"; step left to left oblique back, count "seven"; step right foot to left oblique back behind left foot, count "and"; straight with left foot in place, count "eight." reverse these steps. these steps are done in eight measures of / tempo, in the center of the stage. this completes the first chorus, or measures. [illustration: nw] mr. wayburn addresses a class in musical comedy dancing [illustration: nw] in musical comedy dancing it is necessary that you should have control of every muscle in the body in order to do the work effectively. if you have not that control you are going to fail to get the steps. that is the reason for the limbering and stretching work of our foundation technique, a necessary preliminary for all who enter this class. our foundation process will give you the mastery of the muscles of the feet, the upper leg, the lower leg and your whole body, without which you will never be able to learn this type of dancing. it requires concentration, patience, incessant practice, on your part, but you soon see the good results of your efforts in the strengthening and flexibility of all your muscles. this class is organized for a period of not less than twenty lessons, during which time you will have the satisfaction of acquiring four complete routines. each routine consists of not less than ten steps. some have more, but the average routine consists of ten steps, one to bring you onto the stage, which is called a travelling step, eight steps in the dance proper, usually set to about bars of music, or the length of two ( ) choruses of a popular song, and an exit step, which is a special step designed to form a climax to the dance and provoke applause as you go off stage. now, there may be two travelling steps to bring you onto the stage instead of one, depending upon the arrangement of the routine, but you will be taught about two steps every lesson, in the beginners' courses, so that at the end of each week, or five lessons, you will have learned one complete routine. you must learn to throw your personality into the dances. and when you get further along in the dances you can begin to work your facial expressions into your dancing. there are many things to learn about dancing besides the steps, and you will do well to improve your opportunities in every way you can while you are preparing for a stage career. go to see as many expert professional dancers as you can--study them--and absorb all you can about stage dancing from the "ned wayburn news" and other dance magazines. this course teaches complete professional routines such as you would do on the stage, and may be used as solo dances. "routine" is a professional term for musical comedy or any kind of a stage dance. it is a sequence of steps. routines are arranged so that they will provoke applause. maybe the fourth or the eighth step will be "climactic" steps, especially arranged to make a climax in the dance and win applause. in different routines, the climax you will find comes on different steps, depending upon the arrangement of the routine. in order to put over a climax you must throw your personality into it. exits as well as entrances are difficult of successful accomplishment. it takes a great artist to make an effective exit. the exit should always be made with the face toward the audience (unless there is some special reason why the back is turned), so that the audience gets the full effect of your facial expression. all the dances in my courses are taught in a professional way. that does not mean, of course, that you have to go on the professional stage. many girls and boys study with me who have no intention of ever going on the stage. they do so because they know that my limbering and stretching work and my type of dancing will make them healthy, flexible and graceful, but nevertheless they are all taught in a professional stage way, which is the only successful method. my stage dancing is the type of dancing that gets over with an audience. the old folk dances and the old-fashioned fancy dances no longer appeal to the interest. but i teach the kind of dancing that is in demand. if you should appear in any kind of entertainment for charity or any private theatrical performances, you can make use of my really professional stage dances; and since you are properly taught, you will make a success, providing you profit by expert advice and devote ample time to practice every day. one reason that we get such good results in our school is on account of the way in which we organize and conduct our classes. everybody must conform to discipline. you certainly will get discipline if you go on the stage. everybody should get a copy of our booklet, "your career", if you haven't already done so, and read it through from cover to cover. (a copy will be sent free on request.) read the call-board outside in the office. in the professional theatre the call-board is usually placed near the stage door. anything of interest to the company is posted on the call-board. pupils in my courses are required to read the call-board because in reading the call-board, the booklet and the other literature that we get out, you will absorb a lot in the way of showmanship and stage-craft. any one of you, after taking my course, should make a success on the stage because you will know how to dance in a professional way. you will know how to sell your dancing. specialized training is very necessary in order to get a foothold, and the rewards are enormous for those pupils who do get over. make an effort to acquire an easy presence. this you must get by appearing before an audience. now, i represent your audience. i come in to visit your class in order to make constructive criticism, and to watch your physical progress. whenever any of our pupils are appearing in the city theatres you should go and see them, because from their work you will get inspiration, and you _must_ have inspiration. without it you can't do anything; you won't get any benefit out of the work at all. you must concentrate on the work and enjoy it. only through patient practice will you ever make a success of it. some girls come into the musical comedy work and are inclined to take it lightly. they don't practice enough. or perhaps they get discouraged if they miss one step and can't seem to get it at first. you must be enthusiastic about your work if you are going to succeed. [illustration: scene from "ned wayburn's symphonic jazz revue"] i want to tell you about a group of my girls who recently started out on their professional work. they were in the ned wayburn "symphonic jazz revue," which was arranged by my producing department for the middle western moving picture theatres. these girls had all been around the studios for about six months, practicing and working hard, and this was the first experience for most of them. they were a wonderful bunch of girls, mentally and morally. four of the girls had their mothers with them as chaperones. one of them saved $ . in weeks out of a salary of $ . per week. ned wayburn's "honeymoon cruise" is made up of pupils from the studio, also, and has made a great success. they are girls and boys of good breeding, personality and good minds. i want you to come to me and advise with me about what you are going to do with yourself. let me be the one to guide you, please. don't listen to any girl you may meet in classes. you will learn to like some girl in the class very much and you will become great friends. all of a sudden she gets an idea about a professional engagement and she drags you along with her, and you both think you are ready to start in and do something big. but there is a right way and a wrong way to go about getting started, and you must start with the right manager for the sake of your whole future success. remember that i am always glad to talk with you and to help you about engagements when you are ready, but you must prove your ability first. no girl or boy can get an endorsement from me who misses a lesson without offering a plausible excuse. you must be regular in attendance and you must be punctual. if you miss a class you are obliged to telephone in before the class starts. if you are ill you must bring a doctor's certificate the next time you come to class. your excuses must be sent to me personally. if you telephone in, be sure that it is sent through to me. i keep track of all the past pupils, and i do not recommend pupils who have not worked faithfully or who have been irregular in attendance. there is a great incentive in class work, since you can get encouragement and inspiration from the other girls. some girls in the class will take to the work more easily than others because they are in better physical condition, but if a girl gets along faster and better than you do, don't be discouraged by it. just let it make you more ambitious to do as well. your time will come if you keep at it. do not try to practice in this room. this is a place to learn. practice your lesson, go over the exercises, at home, several hours a day or use the practice rooms we provide. don't be satisfied to come into class and try to perfect your routines there. it isn't possible. when you go on the stage professionally you will be expected to be already fully informed as to certain necessary facts that concern all actors everywhere. much information about showmanship is given in our makeup classes. you must take lessons in makeup before you go on the stage. you will do well to practice the same things here in the studio, now and all the time, in order to make you stage-wise and perfect in necessary stage deportment. one of the things required of you on the stage is to _stand still_. don't move about or turn your head or lop around or move your hands or feet. you will have a fixed position established at rehearsals, when you enter upon professional stage work, and if you do not hold it and observe the rules about standing still, you will not be wanted and will not last long. it seems a very simple thing to do, when you think of it, but unless you do it right _here_, while you are learning the basic facts about a stage career, you may fall down on it _there_. heed this advice, and you will be grateful to me for it sometime. if you are on the stage and someone is playing a scene, and your head is going from side to side, you attract the attention of the audience from the actor to yourself. when you do it here you take the attention of the class away from me, and you also take my attention away from the class, and if one or all of you do a "go as you please" about your movements, your talking and your attitudes in class, we have a pandemonium here that will drive your teacher frantic and prevent you from getting the instruction that you are paying for. in this studio we insist upon and enforce discipline, just as your stage director will do when you join some company. it is good for you to get the disciplinary practice now that you must expect to receive when you pass from here to a regular stage. those of you who really mean business and are going to succeed do pay attention to the studio discipline, always. [illustration: nw] [illustration: ann pennington] ned wayburn's tap and step dancing sometimes called clogging [illustration] you will remember that in a preceding chapter i said that tap and step dances were those composed chiefly of motions of the feet which resulted in combinations of various sounds made by different parts of the foot tapping or beating the floor, these sounds or beats being called "taps." this type of dancing expresses the american syncopated rhythms. it was the most popular type of stage dancing about forty years ago, when it was most beautifully performed by the greatest american dancing stars like the late george h. primrose, the famous american minstrel. buck-dancing is done to syncopated rhythms, and you must get the right accent on those syncopated beats or taps or you cannot get the knack of doing a buck dance properly. so it is most important that you practice over and over again the four kinds of "taps" and "hops" which i shall describe now. first of all, stand in an imaginary circle the diameter of your feet, with your heels together, your right toe pointed right oblique and your left toe pointed left oblique, your weight equally distributed between the two feet, as described in a previous chapter. every dancing step is in counts of eight. remember that all of your counts begin with the left foot unless you are instructed to the contrary. remember always, when you hop, to land with the knees bent; otherwise, the landing of the body with stiff legs after the hops will be a shock to the nervous system which in time will undermine your health. [illustration: _straight tap_] the first tap is called a "straight" tap. put your weight on the whole right foot. the left foot should be held about one inch from the floor. tap the floor with the ball of the left foot for seven counts, working the foot on a hinge from the ankle, keeping your feet directly opposite and inside the circle or place. on the eighth count put the flat of the left foot down on the floor, shifting your weight to the left foot. now in doing these straight taps count: , , , , , , , flat. and when you say "flat" you shift your weight to the left foot by putting it flat on the floor. then comes the same with the right foot--seven taps with the ball of the right foot and "flat" on the eighth count. now do the sixteen counts, first with the left, then with the right. thus: (left) , , , , , , , flat; then (right) , , , , , , , flat. [illustration: _front tap_] the next tap is a "front" tap. the front tap goes front--it gets its name from the direction it takes. swing the lower leg (from the knee down) like a pendulum. the tap is made with the inside edge of the sole of the shoe, striking the floor as the foot goes front only, clearing the floor as it goes back, the back swing being made to the count of "and." put the accent on the number as you say it out loud. "_front_-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," and "_ _-flat" (weight on the left foot). swing the lower leg from the knee back and forth, not the upper leg at all, striking or tapping the floor only on the front swing. then execute the same taps with the ball of the right foot, stopping after the count of " -flat" with both feet flat on the floor, the weight equally distributed between them. now, you have had the "straight-tap" and "front-tap" with both feet. [illustration: _back tap_] the next is the back tap. make the back tap like the snap of a whip, swinging the lower leg from the knee only, like a pendulum, with a sharply accented move to back, striking the floor with the ball of the foot as it goes back only to the counts, and swinging it front to the count of "and" when the foot must clear the floor each time. snap it down--"_back_-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-flat" (with the left foot); then with the right foot, "_back_-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-and," "_ _-flat." [illustration: _heel tap_] we now come to the heel tap, which is made and counted like this: heel, , , , , , , flat ( counts). the same with the right heel for the same counts ( ). practice these four taps, the straight, the front, the back, the heel, and the hop faithfully before you try to learn the buck dance, because from these four taps and the hop are built up many combinations which form complicated steps which you will want to learn later on. and the more you practice these fundamentals the better dancer you are going to be. be sure to review, too, over and over again, the eight stage directions--front, left oblique, left, left oblique back, back, right oblique back, right, and right oblique. in "tap" dancing, as in the musical comedy dances, there will usually be ten steps; one "travelling" or entrance step which will bring you onto the stage (from "off stage" into the line of sight of the audience), eight dance steps, and one exit-step to take you "off," out of sight of the audience, which will always be in the nature of a _climax_ to provoke applause. but, as i have said above, in buck-dancing or in any type of tap and step dancing, the rhythm is most important, and in order to be thoroughly grounded on syncopated rhythms, i shall give you first of all a beginner's "time-step." after that you will learn a beginner's "break." the "time-step" and "break" are the keys to tap dancing and must be mastered before the tap dance can be learned. the "time-step" and "break" must be perfectly timed to the syncopated rhythm. and it is going to take long, patient periods of practice in order to perfect them. do not get discouraged. apply yourself keenly to both of these fundamental steps. [illustration: private lockers in dressing rooms] the time step the purpose of the time step is to get the syncopation into the dancing step, and establish the "tempo" of the dance. with the weight on the left foot, front tap with the right, back tap with the right, hop with the left, with the right foot back and raised from the floor. the count is "and a _one_," with strong accent on "one." now straight tap with right foot to count "two" and accent it. do a front tap with the left (count "and"), left foot straight front (count "three" and accent), right foot straight (count "four" and accent). with the weight on the right foot, front tap with the left, back tap with the left, hop with the right, with the left foot back and raised from the floor. the count is "and a _one_," with strong accent on the "one." now straight tap with left foot to count "two" and accent it. do a front tap with the right (count "and"), right foot straight front (count "three" and accent), left foot straight (count "four" and accent). repeat all six times. the break with the weight on the left foot, front tap with the right foot, back tap with the right, hop with the left, with the right foot back and raised from the floor. the count is "and a _one_," with strong accent on the "one." tap right foot straight (count "two" and accent). tap left foot front, tap left foot back, then left foot straight, to the count of "and three and." now right foot straight, to count of "four" accented. hop on the right foot with the left raised from the floor in front, count "five" and accent it. front tap with the left (count "and"), straight tap front with the left (count "six" and accent it), straight tap with the right, place the right toe even with the arch of the left foot (count "and") then left foot flat front to count of "seven" accented. now, first of all you had the eight different directions; after the eight different directions the four different parts of the foot and the "hop," and then the different kinds of sounds or taps that i just gave you. we begin to make all sorts of combinations of those sounds. for instance, one of the primary steps which you must know is a combination of front, back and straight tap together. stand on the ball of each foot; the weight is off the heels, and equally distributed between the balls of the feet. now beginning with your left foot, do one front-tap, one back-tap, and one straight-tap, _accenting_ the straight tap--counting it , , _ _. now, begin with the right foot and do one front-tap, then one back-tap, and one straight-tap, counting it , , , and then alternately with each foot. on the third count your weight should rest on that foot. when perfected, that makes the first actual step in "tap and step" dancing. one of my pupils of whom i am very proud is miss ann pennington, another of the "follies" stars. she became one of the leading exponents of "tap and step" dancing, and although she has reached this high point in her career, she still comes to me for advice and for pointers, and i am glad that she does this, because it shows that she realizes the necessity of new ideas and hard work to keep herself at the top. in dancing, as in many other professions, one must "keep everlastingly at it." the story of miss pennington's career is similar to that of many who have come to me for instruction. she had innate ability, good looks, a sense of rhythm and a willingness to work hard and patiently, and with these qualities has achieved success. mr. wayburn addresses a class in tap and step dancing [illustration] what you are learning in this class i like to call "bread and butter" dances, for if you succeed in mastering them thoroughly, as you surely will if you give attention to your instruction here in class and then practice several hours daily at home, you will possess as your own individual property a means of livelihood that will remain at your command all your stage life. when you know how to execute the routines of these dances and add to and develop your routines to keep them fresh and up to the hour, you have a lot of neat steps that will get over with the producers of many of the better types of modern shows. that is what i mean by "bread and butter" dances; something you can sell most easily in the present show market, and get not only food and raiment and lodging, but build up a savings bank account for the future as well. so it is well worth while to take your instruction here seriously and earnestly, as i am sure you intend to do. there is big money in this line of dancing if you practice and keep at it long enough. there are many four-figure salaries being paid every week to qualified dancers with an established name and reputation, and the way to earn these big salaries is to become qualified yourself. we teach you right and start you right--then it's practice for you; practice and more practice. let me tell you just how you should practice from now on in order to become a competent solo specialty dancer. practice one step at a time. in a routine take the first step; practice that step until you are tired, then sit down and rest five or ten minutes. as soon as you feel like getting up again, take the second step and practice it until you are tired; sit down and rest again. then do the first and second steps--no more; then sit down and rest again. practice until you feel yourself tiring, but do not overdo it. practice faithfully and don't slight any one step. then practice the third step the same way. when tired sit down and rest--then get up again. put the first, second and third steps together, and so on all through the routine of eight or ten steps. no other way you can think of to practice will result as well as this particular way. it is a systematic, practical way. i am taking a big responsibility with you, because when you finish your course you are going to appeal to me and ask if i know of an opportunity for you; where i think there is a good chance for you to begin; how you can get started. you are now getting along in advanced work. try to get on in some charity entertainment; some place where you are employed in the day may have some benefits. try for church entertainments. some evenings in the neighborhood where you live there may be little entertainments. no matter how small an affair, try to go on. get in front of an audience and feel the tension of an audience; it will give you encouragement, and on each succeeding appearance you will gain confidence and see how you "get over" with an audience. after a few appearances any feeling of stage fright will gradually disappear, and eventually you will gain confidence in yourself. do not try to go on at first in any broadway benefit. be satisfied to make a very small beginning. you have to begin now to put yourselves in the work. you can't be looking down at the floor and wondering what step comes next. that is no longer possible. you must acquire a method of executing the step; a little smile on your face; a little personality behind it; inject character into all your work. recently the friars put on a minstrel show in new york that was a sensation. it shows that the public are gradually coming back to the old-time minstrel shows. the show business moves around in cycles; styles change in dances the same as in fashions. light operas and musical comedies are coming in. those of us who watch the theatre know that the styles are changing, and when i tell you this type of dancing is coming in you can believe it. many prominent society women are studying this style of dancing. the universities are taking it up, and we are gradually establishing it. kansas city, atlanta--the junior league follies, all did this type of work. there are , dancing teachers in america, and out of these, , are already teaching it, and there is every incentive for you to learn it, for it is popular and profitable, and with our foundation technique already acquired as a basis for this work you should not find it difficult to master. this class is going to be taught four complete professional stage dances this month. if you got that outside of this school you would have to pay not less than $ to $ for each routine. i make it a point to give my scholars the very best there is in the line of instruction, and at the same time charge them only a reasonable fee. we also give you the backing of every part of this establishment--publicity, advertising, and bookings when we can, but not until you have made good during your study. now there is one little thing i am going to talk to you about that really is a bigger thing than it seems--and that is gum--chewing gum. if you had had stage experience you would know that gum is taboo in the theatre, and the reason for this is not only that to chew in sight of an audience would be an insult and result in immediate dismissal, but also for this very important reason, that a cud of gum if dropped on the stage would destroy that stage for dancing--your own dancing and everybody else's. and it would be the same way here in the studio. we have here the finest of clear-maple dancing floors in every one of our studios. drop a piece of gum on this floor and then try your dance and see what would happen to you. you'd step on it and you'd get a fall; you couldn't help it; and an unexpected fall like that might break your ankle, very easily. it has been done before now. just make believe that you are under a theatrical producer on a broadway stage, while you are with us here, and park your gum on a lamp post before you come into this building. then you and the rest of the young ladies will not be in danger of meeting with an accident from that source. real flowers are not allowed on the professional stage for a similar reason. a flower petal falling on the floor acts as a banana skin would, making a slip and a bad fall possible to anyone on the stage. you'd not like to have your dance spoiled by a wad of gum or a flower petal, and perhaps get put out of commission and have to forfeit a contract because of a personal injury. so let's play we are on the professional stage here and do as real professionals do--cut out the cud and forego the posies. if you have flowers handed to you over the footlights when you get to be stars, ladies, let it be at the final curtain. then you won't break anybody's neck. [illustration: the three reilly's--alice, gracie and johnny] i say often to every class, and i say it again to you--come and see me in my office and tell me how you are getting along here. and i mean this for every one of you. if i wasn't certain that i am going to be able to help you i wouldn't ask you to do this. if i didn't care i might do as some others do--take your money and let you go along in the class work as you choose to without bothering myself whether you made good or not. but that is not my way--not this studio's way at all. you must make good, for your own sake--and for the sake of this school's reputation. now remember, there is absolutely no charge for my advice or counsel about anything that concerns you--your health, your reducing, your improvement in dancing--anything you want to know. one day a girl came to me for the first time after she had been in the school about four months. i asked her in some surprise why she hadn't been in to see me before. "why, mr. wayburn," she said, "i understood that you charge a high price for consultation, and i didn't feel that i could afford it." not only do i not charge anything for counseling you, i esteem it a favor to myself to be allowed to advise you. candidly, i have never yet had a girl or boy take my courses here who has made a success of a dancing career who didn't write to me or talk things over with me first. if you don't come, you cannot get my ideas, cannot coöperate with me in matters that concern you. come to my office at any time. between and , or and are usually the best times. if i am busy with some important matter i may have to ask you to wait awhile or come in at some other time. i'm a pretty busy man some of the time, myself! weigh yourself and tell me about your weight. ned wayburn's acrobatic dancing [illustration] there is a very decided distinction to be drawn between acrobatics pure and simple, and acrobatic dancing, which is quite another matter. it is, of course, acrobatic dancing that you see on the stage accompanying and accentuating the more formal dancing steps in musical comedies, revues, and spectacular performances, and it is this acrobatic dancing that receives wide attention in the teaching of the dancing art in the ned wayburn courses. there are properly two divisions into which acrobatic dancing is naturally separated: ( ) _bending exercises_; including the back bend, hand-stand, inside-out, front over, back limber, cartwheel, tinseca, nip-up, the various splits, and several more advanced feats that should be attempted only after thorough physical preparation. ( ) _high-kicking exercises_; including all the so-called "legmania" varieties of dancing, which are best acquired by thorough preparation of the body in the ned wayburn foundation technique and studious attention to the drill in the ned wayburn americanized ballet technique. all of the acrobatic dancing tricks that are properly classified under bending exercises have for their foundation the back bend and the hand stand, as they are called, both of which must be mastered absolutely before attempting other and more complicated acrobatic exercises. i want to go on record with the emphatic statement that acrobatic dancing must not be attempted except by those who are entirely and absolutely physically fit. the acrobatic dancer must possess unusual strength in the arms, in order that the weight of the body may be safely supported; and there must be strength and flexibility of the waist muscles and the abdominal muscles, and of all the muscles of the back and shoulders, to enable the performer to execute the front and back bends and their companion strenuous exercises. first, the pupil must have an unusual adaptability to this type of dancing, and then must prepare carefully and properly in advance of entering upon the real work of the course. the best development comes from our limbering and stretching exercises. there is nothing else like it nor anything equally as good as a foundation for all types of dancing, and it is especially needed by the amateur entering upon an acrobatic dancing career. we have put literally thousands of pupils through this course, and every student of our acrobatic dancing classes who has taken this essential preliminary course has come through in fine shape. you must be extremely careful if you have or ever have had any abdominal trouble. you must get the abdomen strengthened before you undertake any acrobatic work. if you have had an operation for peritonitis, appendicitis, hernia, or elsewhere in the abdominal cavity or region, you must, out of consideration for your own health, avoid any violent bending exercise. this does not imply that you should not exercise properly. you should, for it is easily possible to strengthen the tender muscles into a normal condition by suitable and systematic exercises. try this test: lie flat on your back on the floor. now, without aid of the hands or elbows or any outside assistance, bring your body to a sitting position. if you cannot do this, get your back muscles into training before you attempt any difficult exertion. if you succeed in your test, you can safely consider your abdominal muscles to be in sufficiently good condition to go ahead with acrobatic dancing. let me describe a few of the most common of the acrobatic tricks that all acrobatic dancers must know, and you will no doubt recognize them as being also favorite tumbling acts of boys and girls on the lawn. the most complicated and difficult acrobatic exercises are taught in full in the ned wayburn studios, and are printed in detail, with simple instruction for their successful accomplishment, in the ned wayburn home study course in stage dancing. the few we give you here are not difficult, and can be mastered at home by anyone who persistently practices and follows the descriptions with care. [illustration: acrobatic dancing practice.] back bend stand erect. spread the feet about fifteen inches apart. have the toes pointed well out, at about a sixty degree angle. raise the arms directly overhead, the hands shoulder-width apart. put your head back, pushing forward with your knees. lean back, bending the arms as far back as you can, till the palms of the hands rest on the floor. in doing the back bend, relax the lower jaw and keep the mouth slightly open to breathe. throw the strain of the bend in the small of the back. to come up, acquire a little rocking motion forward and back, lean forward, and you will come up easily. _how to do a back bend while standing near a wall._ stand about feet from the wall, with your back to the wall, feet about two feet apart. bend back, touch the wall with the palms and walk down the wall with your hands until you touch the floor. then walk up with your hands until you are erect. [illustration: _the back bend on the flat, and near a wall_] hand stand take a wide step forward with the left foot, place both hands flat on the floor at least eighteen inches apart in front of the left toe, fingers open and pointed directly front, right leg perfectly straight, extended straight back. swing the right leg up and over and follow it with the left leg, and when you come down bring down the left leg first, then the right leg, bringing the left knee close up to the chest. do not kick hard or you will go over. _how to do a hand stand while standing near a wall._ advance whichever foot comes natural to you to do this act (people are right and left footed as well as right and left handed); let us say your right foot. stand facing the wall with the right foot advanced to within about two feet of it. place both hands on the floor, about eighteen inches apart, in front of left foot, fingers open and pointed front, right leg extended back and straight. kick up with the left foot over your back so as to bring the soles of both feet against the wall, the left foot reaching the wall first; knees straight, heels together. [illustration: _the hand stand on the flat (a, b), and near a wall_] cartwheel the cartwheel is the hand stand done sidewise. instead of kicking up, as in the hand stand, put one hand down and then the other, going sidewise, kicking your feet up. keep your head back, so as to retain your sense of direction. [illustration: _the cartwheel_] one of my star pupils in acrobatic dancing is miss evelyn law, a principal dancer of the "follies," and in "louie the fourteenth." she came to me four years ago, a little girl fifteen years old. there are few girls who have worked so hard to succeed as has evelyn, and there are certainly few who have achieved the top line in their profession as quickly as she has. in every respect, miss law is a credit to the american stage. she started in her first appearance in an engagement which i got for her at a salary of $ . a week. then her salary jumped to $ . a week, in "two little girls in blue," plus her mother's fare; later, as a featured member of the "follies," which engagement i was also very happy to secure for her, her weekly salary reached the $ . mark. but evelyn deserves her good fortune, because she has worked hard. indeed, no girl could do the remarkable work which she is doing were she to live anything but a life of rigorous attention to every detail pertaining to health and physical fitness. she not only has ability, but she has the capacity for putting her heart into her job. she writes: "the encouragement which i have received urges me on to greater effort; and i am constantly trying to improve myself. i realize that only by constantly striving can i hope to win the recognition of producers and at the same time please the public." she writes of her present work that it is "a privilege which must be honored by my unflagging effort to put forth my best." there's inspiration for all my dancing pupils in evelyn law's success. [illustration: nw] [illustration: evelyn law] mr. wayburn addresses a class in acrobatic dancing i have watched this class with a great deal of interest. you really are getting a physical foundation here for wonderful dancing; you are beginning to handle yourselves in a scientific way. i congratulate you. to make a success at acrobatic or any other dancing you must not strain yourselves. train, but don't strain. be patient and keep practicing, and you will go far. you are very wise to develop your ability along the line of acrobatic dancing rather than as an acrobat. there is a vast difference. as a mere acrobat one has to be a top-liner and wonderfully expert to get any kind of a salary at all, but as an acrobatic dancer you can command a place in the very best stage productions, high class musical comedies, musical revues, vaudeville, etc., and also in the better grade motion pictures and presentations, and get a very good salary. but if you let the acrobatic tricks dominate your dance, you will be classed as an acrobat, and not as an acrobatic dancer; so look out--keep your dancing up to grade and throw in these acrobatic tricks as a surprise and a climax, and you've got something the public and the producers want and will pay for. [illustration] after you have acquired these wonderful tricks and gotten hold of your bodies, and succeeded in bringing out in a physical way all the grace that nature gave you, then you can be taken and schooled in the soft, beautiful americanized ballet work, and you will find that after this training you are now getting, our ballet technique will delight you and be comparatively easy for you. you know, of course, that in this course the ballet is not taught in the old, antiquated way, taking years of your time before you are permitted to do solo work. we teach you our own modern, scientific way, giving you first our foundation technique, then letting you learn how to use your arms, head, the upper part of your body and your legs gracefully and prettily, and making you as good ballet dancers as the old long-drawn-out practice ever made, enabling you to qualify for a paying engagement without a discouraging wait of years and years. pavlowa, you know, was kept subordinate twelve years before she was permitted to attempt a solo dance in public. imagine our american girls submitting to such apprenticeship! not one of you would consider such a thing. and fortunately you do not have to, for we have revolutionized all that. now you are getting a wonderful dancing repertoire, with acrobatic dancing, musical comedy work and the tap and step dancing. when you add our ballet course to that, then you are ready for any call that may come to you in your lifetime. this is my aspiration for you. we are trying to realize ideals. when you have finished here you will be accomplished dancers, not mere machines going through a bunch of set exercises. add the spiritual touch to your work now as you start on the home stretch. finish here going strong, and your speed will carry you far. don't be satisfied to qualify merely as acrobats. when you come to me for a letter of recommendation to some first-class theatrical manager, i don't want to have to say to him: "enclosed you will please find one acrobat." i have better hopes of the graduate pupils of my courses than that. i want to say a word here to any who feel that they are slow and not keeping up with the pace set by the rest of the class, and that word of advice is, take the same class for another four weeks' period. don't have any false pride about it. you want to fit yourself perfectly for your profession. if the four weeks you have already had here are not time enough to do that, go in for another month. really, two months is a very short time for completing a training of so much value to you. i tell pupils in the courses in the other branches of dancing we teach, that if they feel stiff or have difficulty in performing their steps, they would do well to go into this class, the acrobatic dancing class, for a month, because here the students get all sorts of primary acrobatic tricks and gain in strength and flexibility. all dancing is easier to those who take this work. and besides, if you go out and accept an engagement you will be proficient in cartwheels, splits, and many other neat tricks that will be of great service to you. these are stunts that you cannot learn in a theatre; no one has time to teach them to you, nor the necessary equipment or facilities, and you want to be ready when the stage director calls for those who are capable of doing something unusual, to show him on the spot. and you cannot afford to try to learn things from another girl. you may injure yourself severely if you do. these difficult feats should only be attempted under the best instruction. do not allow any girl or boy who is inexperienced to try to teach you anything in the line of acrobatic work. fresh air in your lungs, correct diet, and nine glasses of water a day will do wonders for you in many ways. you have heard me say this before. well, i shall say it a good many times more, just as long as i have students under my charge who want to be "healthy, wealthy and wise"--and good looking and good dancers. and please do not treat this advice lightly. i can only ask you to observe these simple rules. i have no way of enforcing them, and possibly because they are simple you do not give them the consideration they deserve. now let me tell you some facts, and then you decide whether or not you think it wise to neglect yourself. surely none of you will object to taking a glass of water nine times a day. do not drink ice water, nor take water with meals. liquids taken while eating will bloat you, make you fat, or make it impossible to assimilate your food properly, and that will keep you underweight. take a glass on arising, one after breakfast, one before and after dinner and luncheon, one at about eleven in the morning and another at four, and one just before getting into bed. water taken into the system this way induces a healthful perspiration which eliminates the bodily impurities. your skin must be ventilated, which means that the pores must be opened, and water-drinking as i have directed will do this. if you drink milk, sip it slowly; don't pour it down. don't eat between meals. have a meal an hour and a half before class or before a performance, then the digestive process will have had time to complete its work and leave you in the best condition for mental and physical exertion. after exercising here in your class, do not dress and hurry out into the street until your pores are closed. you have free shower baths at your disposal in your dressing rooms here in the studios, put there for just the purpose of enabling you to get into perfect condition before you go outdoors. use them, with my compliments, please, and keep fit; then take a good rub down. it is important to you to have a good clear skin and complexion. some of you have it, and you want to keep it; some will be glad to know how to get it. i am going to tell you just how to acquire it and keep it, and clear up any little blemishes on your skin,--but it is so simple i am afraid you won't think it worth doing. to have clear skins you must have pure blood and good circulation of the blood, and to obtain these you must breathe deeply and correctly and so get fresh air, full of oxygen, into your lungs. that's all there is to it. and now, here is the correct way to breathe to accomplish all this, and i wish you would practice it now here in the class as i tell you about it: breathe in through your nostrils, with the mouth closed. inhale slowly and way down deep, filling your lungs as full as you can; then exhale slowly through your mouth. do this as an exercise, and do it ten times before you stop. then do it again whenever you think of it, not less than three times a day. you cannot do it too often, no danger of that! it won't hurt you or cost you a cent. the air drawn into your lungs this way expands your chest and increases your lung capacity. this makes good wind for dancing, and all dancers need lots of wind; you have to have it, you have to call for lots of breath when you dance rapidly or long. start in right now, and by the time you have a stage engagement you will be prepared with a bellows that will furnish all the air you call for--and meanwhile watch your skin and your complexion put on the clear, healthy, beautiful appearance that every woman envies. the air in this room, as in any room, is not entirely free of impurities; it is not the best air for your breathing exercises. outdoors--say, over in central park, only a block from here--is where you find the beautifying, pure oxygen that will start your blood tingling, expand your chest, and give you the real beauty of skin and complexion that nature meant all women should have. walk. exercise. while you're out walking, take your beauty-breathing exercise as you go. in my office i have a list of foods, with sixteen rules for good health. the word "diet" suggests starvation and going hungry and a lot of disagreeable things like that, i suppose, and so you would much rather not hear about it. well, it isn't as bad as you think, and a proper diet is a health insurance, and should be carefully observed. do you know that i have made a study of diets and dieting, and of anatomy--the structure of the human body? my interest in dancing and in my pupils here--and in my own health--has prompted me to study that subject thoroughly. i could tell you a great deal about getting and keeping healthy, if you cared to hear it and if i had time to go into the subject. my best dancers, and all good dancers, diet. that is, they are careful to eat what is best for them, and not everything that may tickle the palate yet raise a rumpus inside one and upset the whole system, and make them cross and cranky and homely and bad actors generally. good food, pure air, plenty of water, internally and externally, the right amount of sleep, not more than eight hours, and not less than seven, proper exercise and practice--all of these are essential to make good dancers--to make _you_ good dancers. come in to my office tonight after class. weigh yourselves before you come in. then talk to me about yourself and get my diet list to take home, please. [illustration: lina basquette] ned wayburn's modern americanized ballet technique [illustration] i have invented a method of teaching the ballet that eliminates the long and tedious training formerly considered necessary, and fits the pupil for a stage appearance in the briefest possible length of time. that my method is a perfect success is evidenced in the best theatres everywhere. i have taken amateurs who never did a ballet step in their lives, put them in training by my personally devised method, and made perfect solo dancers of them in a few months' time, secured them engagements, and their fame as ballet dancers par excellence is today world-wide. elsewhere in this book i shall name several of these whom you know best, and you will admit that i am right in what i have just said when you peruse their names. i am assuming that you are aware of the fact that in all foreign countries the ballet student is taught for years before she is allowed to attempt a public appearance or permitted to consider a professional engagement. this ultra-conservative custom has been brought across the water, and the idea has always held here in america that the four, six, ten year apprenticeship was a necessity; that no dancer could qualify for a professional appearance in a shorter period. it was taken for granted that there was no short cut to this trade, and up to the recent present there has been none. but our american girls who are gifted with a talent for this superb form of graceful dancing will not consent to devote the best years of their lives to unproductive labor. the idea of signing away several years of their happy lives in order to become entitled merely to a critical teacher's approval, and all this time without compensation of a financial nature, does not appeal to any, and least of all to that very person, the young person who would make the best dancer. yet there was an increasing demand for capable ballet dancers, and the supply was limited and dwindling. so, in order to make a world happy, i put my wits to work and evolved a plan that has revolutionized the entire industry. and i have called it ned wayburn's modern americanized ballet technique; and it is a ballet technique at its very best. if i had done nothing else in the years of my theatrical experience, i should still feel that i had accomplished much that is worth while. and, really, it is all very simple. the wonder is that others did not figure it out before i did. and it is no secret. i am going to tell you all about it, and what the results have been, and then you can see for yourself why it is no longer best or necessary to go to foreign lands and take lessons the old way, for years and years. there is what is called the universal ballet technique. it is the standard of the dancing world, recognized and observed everywhere that the ballet is taught or danced. my method follows this universal technique closely, and is identical in many of the essentials. the chief difference between the old way and my new method is in the preparatory work. now, this will never become a world full of ballet dancers, because not everyone could learn this graceful undulation if they wanted to. (all the more reason, i say, why those who have the talent should profit by it.) not all of my pupils, nor all of my best pupils in other forms of the art, can hope to become solo artistes in ballet work. i can glance over a class at work in any of my studios, and select the few who may hope to perfect themselves in the ballet. i have had to discourage and no doubt disappoint some of my ambitious ones who have aspired to master the great art of ballet dancing; but i know i did what was best for them in advising them as i did. these same girls will be topnotchers in other fields of stage dancing, and i would rather direct their pathway to sure success than to let them wander into byways where their feet might stumble. so first of all, the candidate for ballet dancing must have my approval, she must be qualified according to my high standards, and when i say "yes," and the student enters faithfully upon the work as i lay it out, she is going to make good. and the first instruction she will receive in my courses is in the nature of a muscle culture, a foundation technique that consists of exercises, on the felt floorpad, in limbering and stretching. it is very beneficial to everyone in every way, and unqualifiedly essential to the beginner in stage dancing in any of its forms. the prospective ballet dancer, by going through these exercises in the studio for a series of twenty lessons or so, and practicing three hours or more at home daily during the same period, develops strength in the muscles of the back, legs, ankles and feet that fits her for the ballet technique; and it is this foundation work that enables her to eliminate the antiquated exercises and some combinations of steps, and the unduly long, tedious and once necessary trials that fell to the lot of the old-country ballerina. so the secret is out; it is our special foundation work in limbering and stretching combined with my americanized ballet technique that builds our american pupil into a strong, healthy, flexible, graceful person, well prepared for advancement into the beautiful art of the ballet. this does not mean that the entrant for ballet honors has nothing to do but go at once upon the stage, a completed artiste. if this statement of my easier plan suggests such a thing, let me hasten to correct so erroneous an impression. there is work, and hard work, too, and lots of it, before our pupil becomes a ballet dancer, even under our less strenuous and much shortened course of training. grace of the entire body is sought and taught, graceful movements of the head, arms, legs and torso. in addition to grace and poise, there is need of great muscular strength, and this we are able to develop in our pupils without bunching the muscles of their calves, thighs or arms into unsightly knots. and this fact is not one of the least of the recommendations of our system. we insist upon symmetry and beauty of figure. this is really more important to the professional dancer than beauty of face. to possess both, a beautiful face and form, is the ideal condition, of course, but the figure is susceptible of being made attractive by our development technique, and any imperfections of the facial contour or features, and any defects in the complexion, are easily disguised or corrected by my method of teaching stage-makeup. [illustration: marion chambers] it must be considered that in the ballet the movement of the arms is very important, and to perform it properly requires long study and extreme accuracy. just as the art of painting blends and composes colors, and by the composition of scenes and figures makes a whole that is pleasant to the eye, so the movements of the arms in dancing add many and diverse forms of grace to the body, guiding and regulating its movements so as to result in a harmonious whole. one authority has styled dancing "the music of the eye." the dancer who neglects the difficult study which the arms require because she believes that the only necessity is brilliant execution in the legs, will be an imperfect artist. it is not enough to know how to dance with one's legs; the ballet must also be executed with the trunk of the body and the arms. their movements must be graceful and in harmony with those of the legs, since they constitute a weight for the equilibrium of the body when it rests on one leg. the arms must accompany the trunk, making a frame for it. the movements of the head, of the eyes, the expression of the face, all are of tremendous importance in perfecting the ballet. it is because of the necessity of bearing constantly in mind the various attitudes of head, torso, arms and legs that i believe that the ballet contributes more than any other type of dancing to the general development of grace and poise of the whole body. in addition to teaching what we call the legitimate american ballet, we add to the students' repertoire what are known as "tricks," which earn applause for the dancer. many of our pupils go directly from our courses to the professional stage, since it would be difficult for them to earn a supporting salary in the musical comedy field doing straight ballet work alone. we teach straight toe dances, and also eccentric toe dances, as will be demonstrated in another chapter. you are now a student in our beginner's ballet class. first, you must provide yourself with soft ballet slippers, as without them it would be impossible to do this type of work. as you enter our ballet room you note full length mirrors on the walls, to enable you to watch yourself as you dance--the original "watch your step" propaganda. also you will see a wooden rod, technically known as a "bar," running around the walls of the studio. this is about three and a half feet above the floor, and is easily grasped by the hand for support in practicing. in your practice at home, in the absence of such a bar, substitute an ordinary chairback or other firm object as a support, being careful that its height is correct. now the first thing to acquire is a knowledge of the fundamental rules of the dance, since everything depends upon them, and no one may hope to attain proficiency without this knowledge. the fundamental positions of the ballet are five, and their complete mastery has been the prime factor in the success of every ballet dancer since the dance was invented. you will be constantly referred to "first position," "third position," and the others throughout your instruction, and you must know instantly and intuitively what each reference means as you hear it or read it, and to do this you must have the five position thoroughly absorbed into your inner consciousness. that means, practice the five positions over and over, day after day. no ballet dancer ever was entitled to this name without she knew these five rules of the dance. the five positions for practice at the bar are here given, and the primary exercise at each position described and pictured. _first position:_ stand erect, with the head up, the legs straight, the heels together, the toes pointed out, the weight of the body evenly distributed between the two feet. extend one arm to lightly grasp the bar, and carry the other arm straight out from the shoulder, in a slightly relaxed position, as shown in the diagram. the thumb should rest on the tip of the first finger, the middle and ring fingers slightly bent, the little finger extended so that it is slightly separated from the others, the wrist bent slightly downward. the whole attitude should be flexible and graceful. [illustration: _first ballet position_] now lower the body by bending the knees. the feet should be kept flat on the floor, the heels raised from the floor as little as possible when bending the legs. the knees should be extended to the sides, as shown in the diagram. the free arm should follow the attitude of the legs--that is, it should be lowered to the waist when the knees are bent. this bending should be repeated four times. [illustration: _second ballet position_] _second position:_ from the first position, keeping both legs straight, slide the right foot sideways until leg and foot are fully extended without moving the torso. then place the weight of the body on both feet with heels on the floor. the head should be in a straight line above the center of the space between the heels. now bend and rise slowly four times, without raising the heels from the floor. [illustration: _third ballet position_] _third position:_ from the second position, shift the weight to one leg, fully extending the foot and toes of the other leg. then glide the extended leg slowly in front of the other, the heel leading, until the ankle of the leg behind is covered by the front leg. bend and rise slowly four times; keeping the head in a straight line above the heel that is in front. [illustration: _fourth ballet position_] _fourth position:_ from the third position, slide the front leg forward as far as possible without moving the body, until foot and toes are fully extended; then put the heel on the floor, the foot turned outward. place the weight of the trunk on both legs, the head being vertically above the heel of the front foot. bend and rise slowly four times. [illustration: _fifth ballet position_] _fifth position:_ from the fourth position, shift the weight to the back leg, fully extending the front leg and foot. slide the front leg slowly back to the other leg with heel well turned out, until the feet are on a parallel line, with the heel of the front leg in front of the toes of the back leg. the weight of the body should rest on both legs, and the throat should be virtually above the ankle of the front leg. bend and rise four times. terms used in ned wayburn's modern americanized ballet technique [illustration] _arabesque_--a posture executed with one foot on the floor. _assemblé_--to bring the feet together. _attitude_--a posture executed with both feet on the floor. _balance_--a combined slide (glissé), closing of the feet, rising on the toes and lowering of the heels. _changement de pied_--changing the position of the feet. _chassé_--a chasing step in three movements: slide (glissé), cut (coupé), slide (glissé). _ciseaux_--the scissors step: a point and swing with one foot while hopping twice on the other. _coupé_--to cut. _dégager_--to sway; to transfer. _demi pas de basque_--a half or incomplete pas de basque. _Ã�carté_--to jump from a closed position, open the feet in the air, and land in a closed position. _Ã�chappée_--(escaped.) any changement done on the toes. _Ã�lever_--to rise on the toes. _entrechat_--to spring into the air and change the position of the feet as often as possible before landing. _fouetté_--a swinging of the leg. _frappé_--to stamp the foot. _glissé_--to slide. _glissade_--three movements combined: Ã�lever (to rise on the toes), glissé (to slide), assemblé (to close the feet). _grand battement_--high beating. _jeté_--to leap or throw the weight from one foot to the other. _movement_--an activity of the body from a resting position; also a change from one activity to another. [illustration: the birth of venus] the nine standard dancing movements are: ( ) _droit_--to swing the foot forward and backward; ( ) _overt_--to swing the foot from right to left; ( ) _glissé_--to slide; ( ) _tourné_--to turn; ( ) _tortiller_--to twist; ( ) _battu_--to beat; ( ) _sauté_--to hop; ( ) _jeté_--to leap; ( ) _coupé_--to cut. _pas_--a step. _pas ballonné_--a combination of hop, step, hop. _pas boiteaux_--a limping step in three movements: hop on right foot and raise left leg forward with the knee straight; step forward on left foot; step forward on right foot. _pas de basque_--a step of three movements: demi rond de jambe, jeté (describe half circle in air with leg, leap); glissé (slide); coupé (cut). _pas de bourrée_--(stuffing step.) three little steps on ball of the foot. _pas de chat_--(cat step.) four sideward movements: leap, slide, step, step. _pas marché_--(marching step.) four movements: step, swing, step, close. _pas sissonne_--imitation of opening or closing of a pair of scissors, done by bending in fifth position, hopping to one side, at the same time lifting opposite leg in second position; then leg down in front and assemblé in front with the leg that did the hop. _petit battement_--low beating. _petit battement avec port de bras_--low bending [transcriber's note: beating?] with arm movements. _petit battement sur le cou de pied_--small beatings around the ankle. _petite rond de jambe_--small foot circles described on the floor. _plier_--to bend the knees. _pirouette_--an artistic turn executed on one foot. _pointe_--the toe. _port de bras_--carriage of the arms. the five arm movements are: bending, stretching, raising, lowering, turning. _rond de jambe_--circles in the air executed by the leg. _sauté_--to hop. _step_--a placing of the foot in any direction and transferring the weight onto it. _terre à terre_--a series of pas de bourrées of four or more steps. _three-step turn_--a complete turn, right or left, in three steps. _tortiller_--to turn or twist the leg. _tour de basque_--a basque turn; pirouette de basque. _tour jeté_--jeté with a turn; one step sideward to right, one leap and complete turn; one step sideward onto right foot. _tour sauté_--one step, one hop, turning completely around in direction of the step. mr. wayburn addresses the beginners' class in ballet technique [illustration] you have now advanced in your studies to where it becomes necessary to train yourselves for the stage mentally as well as physically. you have acquired the flexibility, strength of body and symmetry of form that was promised in my earlier courses to those who faithfully attended class and persistently practiced at home. you have progressed through the hard foundation technique to a point where you are physically fitted to undertake the beautiful work of our ballet technique. but now that you are entering on a new phase of your life work, it is no time to let down and by carelessness lose what you have already acquired by your obedience to your studio instruction. i am sure you will not disappoint me by doing this. please bear in mind you have still some hard work before you, both mental and physical hard work, before you are ready to capitalize your efforts, to get the substantial rewards that come to the graduate pupils of these courses. you can by looking back a few weeks see your own improvement. you are able today to do many things of value in a stage career that when you entered here you found impossible of accomplishment. but you are still in the formative period as to the finished product, as represented by the solo ballet, the stage work par excellence, to which you all aspire, and in which you will realize your fondest hopes when you possess its full technique as we teach it. you are more fortunate than you may realize in having available the benefit of our ballet technique instead of having to go through the long years of excessive labor that would have been your lot if you lived abroad and wished to become a premier danseuse. long training, at least four years' daily instruction and practice, is required of ballet students in england, france, italy, russia, or anywhere else in the world. the foreign methods tend to bunch the muscles. you have seen dancers with knotted calves, bunchy knees, huge thighs, all the result of the old technique. as you know, we insist upon your preparing for the ballet course by taking our limbering and stretching exercises, and today you know why. you have a genuine foundation to build upon. your bodies are lithe and supple, your muscles hard yet not misshapen, and you have advanced by easy stages through the foundation work to where you are today, ready for the finishing touches. in your ballet work you must be careful how you land when you jump into the air. my system lands the body with the knees bent, otherwise you might undermine your health. to come down full weight on your heels repeatedly would prove very injurious. keep your muscles exercised. there is no better exercise for the dancer than walking, and three miles a day is none too much. take long deep breaths out of doors. horseback riding, golf, tennis, all are good for you. dancing itself is the best exercise you can have, but when you have a one-hour lesson or more, and then practice at home three or more hours daily you will find walking a rest, a relaxation, because it is a change of work. occasionally we have a pupils' frolic in our own demi-tasse theatre, to give you a chance to do a turn before a friendly audience. this is good experience and encourages talent. some of you sing. some are accomplished in other forms of dancing. i like to hear your voices and see your dances. they may be valuable aids to you in your stage work, even if not just of a stage character. i can tell about that when you sing or dance for me. anyway, they indicate that you have talent and are accomplished and able to improve yourself, and that suggests that you possess a personality of your own, one of the great essentials of your future success. sometimes we arrange special exhibitions for charity affairs and call upon our best talent to appear in these. such an opportunity is very valuable experience for you and i am glad for your sake always when i can get you a chance to appear in public or social affairs, to give you self-confidence and inspiration. now one more very important lesson you must learn before you finish here, and that is in the art of makeup. for it is an art, and one that every actress must be fully posted upon. if you don't know how much depends upon correct makeup, come and ask me about it and i will tell you. we hold classes in makeup in our demi-tasse theatre on occasional saturday afternoons. i advise you to secure a place in this class soon. you will find it very interesting and valuable. your application should be made at the counter in the main business office. the charge is $ . for a class lesson, and we teach our own methods, dry, cream, and grease-paint makeups. usually we take three girls, a blonde, a brunette and a red-head, and make them up in class, explaining the work as we do so. for private instruction in makeup our charge is $ . a lesson. it is very practical instruction and you will obtain much positive benefit from it. it is not always the girl who is most beautiful on the street or in the parlor who makes up best. often the contrary is the case, and the girl with the ordinary street appearance becomes very attractive looking on the stage with the proper makeup. in any event, my makeup directions will make a vast improvement in your appearance for stage effect, as well as for street. there is no doubt but that you are obtaining in my courses the most valuable ballet instruction in america, if not in the entire world. the instructors i am supplying you with have had years of professional ballet training and experience both abroad and in this country, as i am sure you all know. furthermore, they are not only remarkable dancers, but also very competent as teachers. so if you give attention to their instruction and watch them as they illustrate the various elements that constitute the complete ballet technique, and learn the several basic positions and the graceful movements and attitudes and kicks that go to make up the complete whole, you may expect to become expert in this beautiful art yourselves. but you must practice, practice at home, every day, many hours a day, and keep it up right along. there is no other way to succeed in any dancing, and especially in ballet work. you have been told in your former classes in this studio about keeping yourselves fit and healthy and charming by consuming nine glasses of water daily, aided by deep breathing, correct and careful diet and eight hours' sleep. continue to observe these simple laws of health and beauty, if you value your present opportunities and your future success, as i am certain you do. form regular habits now, treat your bodies well. the recompense is so great if you do, you cannot afford to be careless in any respect. feel free to come to my private office any time, or write me, and discuss with me personally any matters that concern yourself in relation to your health or prospects for the future. we are both, you and i, interested in and working steadily for your future. this is a forward-looking establishment where futures are made to order. your future, and that of the hundreds of young pupils who favor us here with their presence, may depend in large measure upon your energy and studiousness while you are with us and under our tutelage. let us help you. let me help you. it is my mission in life to direct folks straight along the pleasant paths of health, beauty and financial independence, and i feel sure i can be of aid to you and your future if you will give me the opportunity to do so. [illustration: nw] [illustration: virginia bacon] ned wayburn's toe dancing [illustration] all forms of modern toe dancing--and there are several--are based upon the ballet technique, of which a synopsis of my own americanized form appears in a preceding chapter. there is toe dancing of the really classical school in the perfected ballet. that is the kind with which we are most familiar. when a mother says, "i want my child to be taught toe dancing," she usually expects to be understood as referring to the ballet in its entirety, of which dancing on the toes seems symbolical. but of later years there has developed in the terpsichorean art other forms and combinations of toe dancing besides the strictly classical, as for instance, the eccentric toe dance and the acrobatic toe dance. as to the classical form, reference to the ballet chapter will find its present development duly set forth. the eccentric toe dance and its fellow, the acrobatic toe dance, both have their beginnings in the fundamental ballet technique, in which one must be well and properly schooled before expecting to succeed in the more advanced work of these laterday favorites. for they are favorites, as an hour at any modern playhouse where the newer dances are featured, will demonstrate. it is at the behest of the great american audience that these newer toe dances are with us. you and the rest of the public that constitute our audiences demand action, tricks--or at least tricky and novel touches here and there--in your dancing entertainment. the old stuff doesn't "get over" with you any more. so we invent new things that present what you are bound to like, and the eccentric and acrobatic toe dances are the result. it may be jumping down a flight of steps on the toes, or a continued hopping on one toe for counts to music, or a swinging of one leg back and forth, like a pendulum, in an acrobatic way while the dancer hops on one toe--such stunts as these are the applause-getters nowadays, and they are well worth applauding, too, for they are pleasing demonstrations of real skill, and are acquired by the dancer only after long and continued effort and practice. few if any, i am sure, fully appreciate the time and labor it takes to make a modern toe dancer, one who shall be able to perform something new and catchy in a clever way,--a real feat nowadays, and one that theatrical producers are quick to see and seize when it appears. the fact is, the tricks i have spoken of must never dominate the dancing, but must be entirely secondary and incidental, as it were. otherwise the dancer becomes an acrobat. you don't care for straight acrobatics, mr. public, but acrobatic dancing, or dancing with a neat acrobatic stunt thrown in incidentally as a bit of seasoning, is really very palatable and pleasing to you. it must remain a beautiful dance, aided and added to by a pretty surprise in the form of a bit of unexpected toe work--then you like to see it, so we are careful in my courses to promote in this kind of work only that form for which there is a demand,--and this is equally true with every other kind of dancing that we teach. before any toe dancing is undertaken by the ambitious student there must be a foundation laid to build upon that shall be lasting and efficient. the body must be under perfect control; every muscle immediately responsive and ready, strength placed where it is essential. our students who have passed through the limbering and stretching course (foundation technique) and have advanced to the ballet work and through that, are ready for the advanced features in modern toe dancing. we work this way with such of our more promising pupils as desire it, and then teach them the "tricks," as we call it, that are so effective when properly done. every toe dancer should have one-hour lessons five days each week till perfected, and at least three hours daily practice six days in the week at home. i have already stated and now say it once more in this connection, that children should not go on their toes in the dance until they have taken what i know to be a necessary foundation course, to fit them to do so without danger of permanent distortion of feet and legs, enlarged ankles, and other ill effects. it is the parents' fault, of course, when children are forced into toe dancing at too early an age or without proper preparation. i simply will not consent to do it. i have seen children of sixteen who ought to be at their best at that age in this work, yet because of the forcing process in early years were incapable of sustaining themselves on their deformed feet. many of my well-known graduate pupils have been seen in the follies and other first class productions. their work is an inspiration to all who love exquisite dancing of this kind. they secured the right foundations on the start, and now have strength, speed, grace, and ability to do what their dances call for. there are lots and lots of toe dancers graduated from my courses, and i cannot think of one who has failed to make good. that, i think, is because their personality plus practice plus honest and capable instruction and a knowledge of showmanship and stage-craft absorbed from my "inspirational talks" has brought forth the natural result. [illustration: nw] [illustration: gilda gray [handwritten] with sincere appreciation to ned wayburn whose producing genius created the record breaking "follies of " gilda gray] ned wayburn's specialty dancing [illustration] there is a wonderful field for the dancer who can create an appealing dance of his or her own, or who can take some type of dance and by sheer personality so develop it as to be identified with it as the representative of that form of dancing. not everyone can be a specialty dancer of this sort, but to be one is well worth the effort of every ambitious exponent of the dancing art. any kind of stage dancing may become a specialty dance. but it really takes a person with good mental capacity as well as expert dancing ability to develop what others may do well, make of it an outstanding and triumphant success, and identify it with one's self before the public as one's very own. but the rewards are great for those who accomplish this, and i am always glad to see an effort made along these lines, since it means so much in the way of fame and fortune to those who make the grade. and one may become a specialty dancer in more than one line. gilda gray, for instance, in the follies of did three separate and distinct specialties in her work at every performance: a musical comedy specialty, an hawaiian dance, and her "come along" character dance, which she built up under my direction into a pronounced hit. so with these facts before us, that any dance may be made into a specialty, taken out of the ordinary and individualized, and that no dancer is limited to a single line in this work, but can spread out over the entire field if competent to do so, there is surely ample encouragement to the dancing pupil to make an effort to profit by the opportunity my studio instruction affords, and become not only a good dancer but also a good, better, best specialty dancer--something quite worth while on every stage, european as well as american. almost any pupil will naturally specialize in some one form of dancing in the learning process. thus one may show a preference for the musical comedy work, or tap and step, clogging, acrobatic dancing, whatever it may be. it is preferred because one takes to it easiest, or is most proficient in it, or has a personal liking for it. that is the dance for you to specialize in. perfect yourself in it. do a little better than anyone else does, and you are on the boulevard headed toward becoming a specialty dancer. legmania is a form of specialty dancing. the charleston, at present so popular with the multitude, is another. the hula hula and all other kinds of character dancing are specialties. clogging, the ballet, interpretive and toe dances--why enumerate them. let it go at this: any form of dancing that you like best and are most efficient in can be made _your_ specialty dance if you give it personality, atmosphere,--if you vitalize it so that it stands out alive and distinctive--your very own. it takes brains as well as legs to become a specialty dancer of real quality, capable of controlling the public's interest. yes, and it takes competent instruction to guide you right, and it takes practice on your part after you get the instruction, too. but it is quite worth while. the rewards are sure if you merit them. [illustration: nw] ned wayburn's exhibition dancing [illustration] what is technically known as exhibition dancing is an exaggerated form of the usual social or ballroom dancing. it is "team" work, performed by two, a man and a woman, and is never given as a solo dance, by a single artist. there is no end to the styles of dances that may be employed in exhibition work. the public is thoroughly familiar with those most often presented to view in public and private ballroom, at social or other functions, which are either the exhibition fox trot, the exhibition one step, the tango, the exhibition waltz or the whirlwind dance. this by no means covers the possible field. its limitations are measured only by the ability of the "team," and the popularity that demands this or that style of dance, as the fickle public fluctuates in its preference. an exhibition dance of whatever nature must have an element of the spectacular and theatrical in its presentation in order to appeal. the dancers must inject some surprise steps in an effective place, throw in a little "tricky" stuff that is new or startling--do something neat and out of the ordinary to make the dance qualify as "exhibition" and not just the usual every-day type of some well-known form of the dance. [illustration: maurice] among the best-known exponents of exhibition dancing one naturally recalls vernon and irene castle, maurice and his several partners, florence walton, leonora hughes and barbara bennett, as well as the "teams" of clifton webb and mary hay, and basil durant and kay durban. all these and many other professional exhibition dancers have amply succeeded in their efforts to please the public, and have found the financial returns to be most satisfactory. it is a very profitable line of work for dancers of the right qualifications. exceptional personality is essential, as well as great skill in the art of dancing, and less than a commanding supremacy will not suffice to carry the work through to a successful issue. yet there is a large field here, open to many who may not as yet even dream of their adaptability to such a career as this suggests. it has been my pleasure to assist in the direction of every exhibition dancer whose name i have quoted above. some of them received their first impetus along this line from me, followed my advice and instruction, and in consequence became internationally famous and successful. i am still taking those well adapted to this line and putting them in the way they should go. i know the type of person best qualified to make a success in exhibition dancing, and if those i select will be guided by my experience and knowledge there is no reason why they should not reap the rewards their merit earns, as well as those i have named have done. there is a knack in acquiring the necessary ability as a dancer of this type that not every instructor is able to impart. i do not teach exhibition dancing in classes in my studios. individual private lessons is the only successful way, and that is my way. most other forms of dancing are learned as well or even better in classwork. i doubt if exhibition dancing will ever be overdone. it is popular, and good dancers for this line of work are not too numerous. so it seems likely to be in continued demand indefinitely. ned wayburn's professional stage makeup [illustration] the ned wayburn courses teach every form of stage makeup, for men as well as for women, and for every known character part as well as the "straight" makeup for youth. to put all the expert professional makeup knowledge into this book would be to practically crowd out everything else or so enlarge the volume as to make it cumbersome. to avoid this and at the same time meet a strong public demand, i have in contemplation a book devoted exclusively to this important subject, that shall post a world of waiting aspirants for stage honors in every detail of the art of correct makeup. meanwhile, the subject has an important bearing on the art of stage dancing and so demands a prominent place in this present work. i have, therefore, chosen for demonstration here the one most popular stage makeup, which is that adapted to the use of the professional stage woman in every modern theatre, opera house and music hall, and am here giving it a complete and thorough exposition. in presenting this form of makeup thus prominently, i do not wish in any degree to convey the idea that men and male youth are ignored in our studio teaching of makeup, and that our sole concern is to make the young woman presentable on the stage. this is not the fact. we teach makeup to men as well as to women, and every correct form of the art. do not confuse a stage makeup with the customary society makeup that milady applies in her boudoir. they are two entirely different problems. to makeup correctly for the modern stage, with its multiple lights of great intensity and all the colors of the rainbow, requires special study of yourself individually and a knowledge of what effects the various lighting schemes will produce on the human countenance. three ladies standing side by side on the same stage may require three different makeups, depending upon their types, in order to appear at their best to the audience. the brunette, the blonde, the auburn-haired, each needs a different treatment, and if through ignorance or indifference any omits proper attention to a single item of the very important detail of her facial makeup, the result will be disastrous. all of which emphasizes the need of one's being properly taught on the start just how to makeup in a manner to bring out one's personality, to enhance one's beauty, and create the most pleasing appearance before her audience. we are now speaking, of course, of the woman who is to appear in a youthful part; character makeup is an entirely different proposition, with which we are not concerned here. it is impossible to go on the stage today without makeup. should any actress try to do so, the appearance of her features would be almost deathlike. she would be repulsive to the eyes of the audience, a condition that neither she nor the producer of the show would tolerate. the very lights that render superbly beautiful the person with proper makeup cause the bare flesh to lose its natural tints, cast shadows under the brows and above the face, create hollows where they do not exist and are not wanted, and utterly destroy the pleasing picture. makeup, then, is one of the first essentials to stage success, and it makes no difference how truly beautiful you may be in features and natural coloring off the stage, the fact persists--you must makeup, and makeup right. but the uninstructed amateur, whose sole knowledge of makeup is confined to the boudoir, is very prone to overdo in her maiden attempts at stage makeup, and so disastrously decorate her face that under the unaccustomed and little understood lights of the theatre she appears hideous to the folks out in front. and this is especially true of the most beautiful type of women, who think they know, and don't. anyone with regular features can learn to apply makeup so that on the stage she will be as prepossessing as her naturally more favored sister-woman. a beauty unadorned by facial makeup, or a beauty not properly made-up, will be far outclassed in apparent beauty on the stage by the plainer woman who has mastered the art of makeup and knows how to apply it judiciously and correctly. it is all in knowing how, and the learning is not difficult. the professional actress will not fail to obtain personal instruction in this art from expert teachers, which is decidedly the best way. pupils in our studios avail themselves of our classes and private lessons in makeup and in doing this lay a foundation of invaluable knowledge that will continue with them through life. the aspirant or amateur who for personal reasons cannot come to our studios for this instruction will absorb much of value by a perusal and study of this chapter. for, while it is not possible to advise an unseen person, whose type you do not know, with the same exactness as you could if she stood before you, there is much here that is general in its application to all types, and the care we are taking to make our information broad enough to cover all these greatly simplifies matters for the absent students. there are two steps to a correct knowledge of your personal needs in the makeup art: first, what to use; and second, how to use it. i am going to start you right on both of these steps. any actress of experience will tell you that her most valuable stage possession is her makeup box. it contains the necessary tools of her trade, without which she would be helpless to carry on. it is to her what the brush and colors and palette are to the painter; the needle and thread to the seamstress; the hammer and saw and plane to the carpenter. before you enter upon a stage career supply yourself with a complete makeup box equipped with all the needed tools and ingredients for making up for the part you are to assume. this is a necessary purchase, and will prove one of the best paying investments you ever made. ordinarily a makeup box stocked with the best materials will cost about $ . and is not extravagantly expensive at that price. so many of our students sought our advice as to their purchases in this line, as they left our studios for the professional stage, that we fitted out a line of makeup boxes, completely stocked, for each complexion type, which we are selling to them over the counter at $ . . the actual cost to us of each set is about eight cents more than we sell it for; plainly indicating an absence of grasping commercialism in our nature, for which we hope and expect due commendation. [illustration: the ned wayburn professional stage makeup box and outfit a--black cosmetique. b--black mascaro. c--baby brush. d--black crayon pencil. e--dark blue pencil. f--carmine grease paint. g--blue lining grease paint. h--foundation grease paint. i--orangewood stick. j--paper felt liners. k--cosmetic stove. l--pink velour powder pad. m--face powder. n--cold cream. o--dry rouge. p--rabbit's foot. q--moist lip rouge. r--art steel box. s--special mirror.] buying expertly and in quantities has enabled us to get together this _ned wayburn professional makeup box_ of the best stuff in the world for its purpose, some of the ingredients being made in america, others in paris, and still others in berlin,--all standard goods and used every day in the year in every theatre of the civilized world,--and at the same time keep the cost to our students down below a ten dollar bill. (applause.) we thank you. now we are getting orders for our professional makeup box to be sent by mail and express to professionals and amateurs throughout this continent, and while we are glad to accommodate all who honor our own profession by their presence in it, please do not expect us to do so at cost. it is one thing to hand a box over the counter, and quite another to pack that box for shipment so as to conform to established requirements by the government post office or the express companies, prepay postage, insure it, and deliver it to the new york postal authorities. so we have put a price of $ . on this makeup outfit for parties who do not call for it in person at our studio, with postage extra, according to the zone in which you reside, if it goes by mail. we would rather send it by express and let you pay the charges for carriage at your end, if it is all the same to you. the weight of this outfit packed for shipment is about seven pounds. we insure it in transit at $ , which adds a few cents to its cost to you. it will save correspondence and the disappointment of delay if when you order you tell us your age, sex, color of hair, color of eyes, color of complexion, for what character you wish the makeup (youth, maturity, old age, advanced old age, or any of the possible character parts known to the stage); the nature of the play; whether for a large theatre or the more intimate small theatre or hall; if for moving pictures (which calls for a decidedly different makeup from all other stage work), and everything else bearing on this matter that you can think of. always bear in mind when you order, that each box is fitted for one type of person only, and cannot be used indiscriminately by a brunette and a blonde and someone else who ranks between the two in coloring and type, and that in consequence each must have a personal makeup box of her own. the ned wayburn professional makeup box for a "straight" stage makeup for a blonde youth, suited to the use of a young woman with light hair, blue eyes and light complexion, in musical comedy, light opera or any dancing or speaking part in the usual stage performance, for presentation in a hall or theatre, with modern stage lighting facilities, is as follows: _the box._ art steel, about - / in. wide by - / in. long, in. high, with handle and lock and key. strongly made on purpose to stand the wear and tear of travel and dressing room handling, and should last a lifetime. have your name painted on it as soon as you get it, to make it your very own. it may be your frequent companion for many years. _one-half pound tin of cold cream._ usually stein's, to which we give the preference, since it is slightly less hard and contains a little more oil than most of the others. this cold cream is the same for all types, blonde, brunette and the others. _one-half pound tin of face powder._ stein's no. . (brunettes would use stein's no. - / face powder.) _one glass jar moist rouge._ stein's medium. this medium lip rouge is suitable for blonde and brunette types. it is standard, can be bought anywhere, is always uniform and the colors run true. if you are ever in chicago, visit warnesson's. he specializes in lip rouge and makes a very good kind. _one stick foundation grease paint, flesh._ stein's no. . (for brunettes, stein's no. .) this is the large stick. _one stick grease paint, special blue lining color._ stein's no. . for lining the eyes. _one stick grease paint, carmine._ stein's no. . red foundation, for both blondes and brunettes. _one box mascaro, black._ leichner's no. . for darkening the eyebrows. _one package cosmetique, black._ roger and gallet. for beading the eyelashes. _one box dry rouge._ dorin, no. . _one pink velour powder pad._ gainsborough no. . this is about the finest procurable; is of large size, so it will not fall in the powder box and scatter the contents. _one black crayon pencil._ b venus, american pencil co. for putting shadows under the eyes. _one dark blue pencil._ faber no. . for shading around the eyes. _one orange wood stick._ for applying beading to the eyelashes. _one rabbit's foot._ also called rouge paw. _one baby brush_, with handle. for blending. very necessary tool. _paper felt liners_, one package. to outline lips and to place red dots in corners of the eyes. _cosmetic stove, lockwood's._ for heating cosmetique to bead the eyelashes. this stove is approved by fire insurance underwriters. it encloses a candle in a safe way and avoids the use of dangerous fuels in the dressing rooms. _one mirror._ x inches, in wood frame, with metal support. will stand alone or serve as hand mirror. strong, clear glass. the best to be had for its purpose. [illustration: mary eaton] this completes the list of contents in the ned wayburn professional makeup box, for a "straight" stage makeup, for young ladies. for other types and different characterizations the ingredients are changed to suit each case, while the price remains uniform. there is but one necessity for completing the makeup that is not included in the outfit as given, and that is liquid white, which comes in white or flesh. this is to be applied as a wash to exposed flesh not otherwise made up. it comes in liquid form only, and can be purchased locally in any first-class drug store. we know suratt's make of liquid white to be good, and there may be others. a towel, a cake of soap, a basin of water and a few yards of cheese cloth should be assembled before commencing makeup operations. a makeup is easiest applied while seated at a table with your materials spread out conveniently before you. if possible, elevate your mirror so that you can see the reflection of your features without the necessity of bending over. always make up in incandescent light, never in daylight. when making-up is a matter of daily routine the clothing will become badly soiled in a short time if worn during the process. to save your costume, either wear a washable kimono over it, or better, don the kimono over undergarments and put on the costume after the makeup is applied. in private lessons at our studios we teach all the required forms of stage makeup, taking every type of person that comes to us and developing each individually along such lines as the character or part demands. men, women, and youth come to us here for development of their correct makeup in private lessons. in our class instruction in this line of work only the "straight" makeup for youth is presented, that being the one our young lady pupils find especially adapted to their stage needs. these special classes are held as occasion requires to meet the students' demands, and are given in our own demi-tasse theatre, connected with the studios. usually a demonstration is made with a blonde, a brunette and a red-head, to show the class the different requirements of the different types. following this demonstration, each member of the class puts on a makeup under the advice and constructive criticism of the teachers, until thoroughly versed in the art, as it applies to his or her own individual type. since the reader of this may not be coming to us for either private or class lessons, we will describe the correct manner of applying makeup in simple language that will enable the distant aspirant to learn all that may be learned by reading without the presence of a personal teacher. you are now seated at your dressing table, your mirror at a convenient elevation in front of you and between two good lights, your lay-out of tools and materials spread on a towel on the table top, a kimono or other garment spread over your person. now take a strip of cheesecloth three or four inches wide and tie around the forehead, back of the ears, and behind the neck; or one may use a close-fitting skull cap. tuck in all straying locks. the idea is, of course, to keep powder, grease paint and cold cream from getting into and soiling the hair. now you are going to apply makeup. _first stage._ cold cream. apply this liberally all over the face from the hair line to the upper part of the throat, but not on the neck. rub it in thoroughly to fill all the pores of the skin. be careful to cover all the space around the eyes, also rub in on the eyelashes, using care to keep it out of the eyes, for it will cause stinging. greasing the eyelashes this way makes the removal of the makeup much easier. now rub your face with a piece of cheesecloth until all the superfluous cold cream has disappeared. if the face shines too much, you have not removed enough of the cream. the surface should give the appearance of being well oiled, but not have a sticky, pasty or greasy surface. _second stage._ foundation grease paint. the quality of your makeup depends upon this. it will be smooth or rough according to the way you develop it. rub the end of the grease paint stick several times on each cheek, once across the chin, once or twice on the forehead and once down the nose. use the ends of the fingers and pat this into place rather than rub it, till it is thoroughly worked into all the surface you have just covered with the cold cream. every pore must be filled with the grease paint. do not apply it too thick, which would give the face a pasty, unnatural look. do not forget underneath the chin. do not apply it to the ears or behind them. leave no streaks or neglected spots. have it uniform all over. blend the paint till the face has an even tone. watch your mirror carefully. it is better to have the grease paint a little too thin on the face than too thick, but you will soon learn to get it just right, which is what you are aiming at. _third stage._ under rouge; foundation red; stein's no. carmine. make a few dots with the carmine grease paint stick on each cheek and on the end of the chin. use but little, and blend it by patting with the first and second fingers of both hands, rather than by rubbing. begin well up against the nose, go under and around the eyes, and toward the temples, working it down below the ear and off the jaw in case there is a hollow in the lower part of the cheek. the color should extend down on the cheek, over on the temple and well up to the eye, patted and blended till no one can see where the red fades into the foundation. the chin is then blended in the same way, to leave no line between foundation color and under rouge. if your chin is pointed, blend in front, not below, or it draws the chin way down. put on a lighter makeup for a small, intimate theatre, and a heavier one for the large auditorium. _fourth stage._ enlarging and beautifying the eyes. this is a very important detail of correct makeup, and is indispensable on every well-lighted stage, where even the most soulful orbs with long, thick lashes will dwindle to half their size and have a faded, dull appearance if not properly made up. it is essential that the two eyes match in every detail, and to secure this result will require the taking of considerable pains and close study of your mirror. stein's no. blue lining stick is for use by the blue-eyed, regardless of the color of the hair or complexion. stein's no. , for the dark-eyed. titian-haired folks use stein's no. purple for the same purpose. with this grease paint stick of the color suited to you, draw a line across the upper eyelid between the eyebrow and the eyelashes, as close as possible to the lashes. with the fingers blend this line into a shadow, making it dark close to the upper lashes. either pencil can be used for this purpose also. do not get the shadow up to the eyebrows, but cover all the upper eyelid, and a little beyond the eye at the outer corner. use the faber no. blue pencil or venus b black for shading under the eye. draw a line with it directly under the eyelashes, and with the fingers blend this into a shadow. carried too far down this blue suggests illness, so be careful. the shadows thus placed above and below the eyes serve to outline them to the spectators in the theatre, where otherwise the eyes would practically disappear and not be seen at all owing to the strong footlights. _fifth stage._ "fixing" the makeup. powder no. for blondes; no. - / for brunettes. the creamy tints are for the dark skins, the flesh and delicate pinks for the fair ones. press the powder first on the chin. it is feminine instinct to start on the nose, but let your start in this case begin with the jaw or chin. don't rub it in. pat it on thick till the underlying paint is fully covered up. the powder absorbs the grease. from the chin work upward, reaching the nose after the pad has lost some of its original load, and the nose will not stare out so white on your face as it would if you began there first. raise the eye and powder underneath; look down, and powder the space beneath eyebrow and eyelid. _sixth stage._ smoothing off and blending. use the baby brush for this; there is nothing else so good. it is surprising in its results. do not press the brush too hard on the face; dust the surplus powder off carefully with a light touch, to leave no streaks or patches anywhere. if now the face has a greasy look, you have not used sufficient powder. _seventh stage._ high lighting. take some of your no. dorin's dry rouge on the rabbit's foot and dust a very little on your cheeks. do not press it down, just tickle about the edges of the rouge to be sure it blends perfectly with the foundation. if there is too much white about the nose, dust it lightly with the rabbit's foot. you can turn the paw around and blend with the end that is free of paint. never show a white ear to the audience. if ears come into style again, as they will, the lobe and rim should be made a healthy pink, but not a strong red, with the rabbit's foot. _eighth stage._ darkening the eyelashes and eyebrows. use leichner's no. black mascaro; dark brown for light blondes. the lower lashes are better left without the treatment, since they are almost certain to smear the face if treated, and the shadow you have already placed there takes care of the lower lashes all that is necessary. apply the mascaro to the upper lashes with the brush that comes with the mascaro, or any fine brush will do. start a delicate line on the edge of the eyelid at the outer corner of the eye, let it curve slightly downward at the start. this line should not exceed half an inch in length and is never carried beyond the eye socket. do not make the line heavy nor longer. a very little mascaro must be brushed lightly on to the eyebrows, following the curve of the upper eyelid. fix the eyebrows carefully about three-quarters the size of the mouth, using black or brown mascaro according to whether your type is dark or light. in this place we are going to tell you how to bead the eyelashes, but unless you are a professional actress and your part will be decidedly enhanced by having the eyes very much in evidence, we advise against your undertaking it. it is not a necessary stage in the makeup process, but it comes into the story of makeup naturally and we give it here for the benefit of those who may wish to make use of it. beading the lashes consists in placing a small bead of cosmetique on the extreme tip of each lash. this is best done on the upper lashes only, leaving the lower ones free. the lockwood cosmetic stove is a small affair that holds a piece of candle and a baby-size frying-pan, or skillet, and is one device for its purpose that has the approval of fire insurance companies and so will not be objected to by the theatre fireman. there are some heating devices that you are not permitted to use in any theatre, and persistence in their use after being once cautioned has caused arrest more than once. [illustration: class in stage makeup at the ned wayburn studios] in this connection many interesting true tales might be told of principal actors being taken bodily from the stage in the midst of a play and landed in the local jail, causing the curtain to be lowered and the audience dismissed. the stage fireman, assigned to every first class theatre during a performance, has authority to enforce all ordinances intended to prevent fire and eliminate fire risk in playhouses, even to go to the extremity of arresting offenders against the public's safety. so be careful to use only a lockwood cosmetic stove or some equally safe affair in your dressing room. you light the candle, place a small amount of roger and gallet black cosmetique in the little pan and heat it over the candle flame till melted. take up some of this molten cosmetique on the flat end of your orange wood stick and apply it with a deft quick stroke to the upper lashes, painting each one separately and without clotting, so that a little bead hangs to the tip of each upper lash. use care not to drop any of the black on your makeup. the effect of this beading is to beautify the appearance of the actress by bringing out her eyes in a wonderful manner under the strongest of spot lights. _ninth stage._ red dots in the inner corners of the eye. dip the paper felt liner in the moist lip rouge and with it make a tiny red dot in the extreme inner corner of each eye, but on the lid--not in the eye--to space the eyes and make them look to be the distance of one eye apart. keep these dots well away from the nose, or they will tend to make you look crosseyed from the front. _tenth stage._ rouging the lips. stein's moist lip rouge, medium. if the lips are left their natural color the footlights bleach them white and colorless. shape the upper lip into a cupid's bow and round out the lower lip. dip the little finger into the rouge and press it tightly against the lips, being careful not to smear it; open the mouth and draw the upper lip tight over the teeth. when necessary the upper lip can be shortened in appearance by blending and putting the cupid's bow a little higher. do not put color on the lips beyond the angle of the nose, otherwise it will make your mouth appear very large. a blonde should not apply the rouge full strength, as it is too dark for her. the lips should not be heavily painted, and the line about the edges should be soft and smooth. _eleventh stage._ finish with a little powder, dusting the face very gently, using a swan's-down puff. put a very little powder on the lines about the eyes, but not enough to dull them. now look in your mirror with critical eyes. your handiwork should have resulted in a velvety, soft yet rich complexion that will stand the strong lights of the modern theatre. what you have just put on is known as a grease-paint makeup. there is also a cream makeup, so called, but it is less desirable for the modern professional stage. it fails to give the right effect for a real musical show with powerful lights. i have used both and do not hesitate to give this opinion based on my own experience. there is also a dry makeup, with powder, known in theatrical parlance as a "lazy" makeup, suitable only for a "dumb" chorus girl who has no interest in her work, who comes in late and does not care whether she appears to advantage or not. to complete any makeup, apply liquid white with a soft sponge to the neck, chest, arms and other exposed flesh that is not already made up. if, as in some of the modern revues, the legs are not covered with stockings or tights, they too must have an application of liquid white. to look right, any flesh that is exposed must be made up, because the lights bleach the exposed flesh, making it appear bloodless and giving one a gruesome, corpse-like color. you are wise if in the matter of makeup you study your own face. experiment, and note the results. when you are certain you have acquired the best for your own purposes, practice it often, till you can put it on properly and always with the same result. don't seek to look made-up, ever, but to look your best for the part you are playing, always. if the makeup ingredients are in evidence to the audience you have not created the proper illusion and must practice making up until you acquire skill. it usually takes about one-half hour to put a good makeup on after you have perfected the process with your own features. _removing makeup._ first remove the beads of cosmetic from the lashes. then get rid of the little red spot in the inner corner of the eye. work this toward the nose with cold cream. then take plenty of cold cream on the fingers of both hands and massage the face thoroughly, to soften the makeup all over. wipe it off with cheesecloth or an old towel, that you can throw away. now wash the face with warm water and soap, dry thoroughly, apply a bit of powder, and you are all ready to dress. some makeup notes you makeup for the lights of the theatre, which nowadays are very strong, and may come from many directions and in various colors. the switchboard controlling all the lights is in the first entrance of the stage, and the electrician in charge has his plots and cues all carefully planned for each act. he does not throw lights on or off for the fun of it or at his pleasure, but exactly as carefully designed and mapped by the show's producing director. the front lights are those in the body of the house as distinguished from the stage. on the stage we have the footlights in red, white and blue, a row of each, and overhead are the border lights in the same three colors. there is the first border, second, third--sometimes even seven border lights, according to the size of the theatre stage. the spotlight is an arc light. it has usually a color wheel that revolves so that either red, blue, straw, light straw, or pink or any other color may be projected onto the "spot" on the stage that it is to illuminate and emphasize. there are dimmers for the footlights and the border lights. with these you can go from daylight effects to sunset, to moonlight, dawn, etc., with gentle gradation. there are two kinds of moonlights on the stage. number blue in the spotlight gives a summer moonlight; number is best for a winter moonlight scene. good gelatines, or "mediums" as they are called, are made by the gelatine products company, in brooklyn, or may be had from kliegl bros., the new york calcium light co., the display stage lighting co., all first-class concerns in new york city. under strong blue lights the under-rouge in the makeup will come to the surface, which is not desirable, so get to your dressing room and powder your makeup down if you are going to be under a blue light. the makeup will stand a white spotlight or a pale yellow, but will not look well under too much blue and never well under green. * * * * * put liquid white on with a soft sponge. put this on only exposed flesh that is not otherwise made up, as the arms. never put powder on the arms. it comes off on everything it touches. liquid white is far preferable in every way. * * * * * the baby brush for blending facial makeup is one of the most important tools in the makeup box. if you try to buy one in a small town they will insist upon your buying a tray and comb, and everything else that goes with the baby set--everything, practically, but the baby. better buy the outfit than try to go without the brush, but it is still wiser to supply yourself with the brush in time. you can buy it separately in the large cities. * * * * * never put your mirror in your makeup box, for powder and grease will ruin the best mirror made. the mirror furnished with the ned wayburn professional makeup box is almost non-breakable; it is clear as well as strong, and in every way one of the best for its purpose. it will stand up where you want it. * * * * * never makeup while in your street clothes or in stage costume. a drop of cosmetique on satin slippers or silk stockings will never come out. a washable kimono or bath-robe is the best garment to wear. long fingernails will cut and ruin thin stockings. don't ever wear the fingernails pointed. * * * * * in using the b venus pencil to darken the upper eyelid, use the side and not the point of the pencil. do not use a pencil sharpener, for it leaves too sharp a point. keep your pencil free from grease. wipe it often. * * * * * rouge will fade under bright lights. much depends upon the condition of one's health as to how long rouge will keep its color on the face. there will be certain times when rouge will disappear rapidly and you will have to renew the outer rouge, perhaps before the act is over. * * * * * do not throw powder at your face, nor rub it in or smear it. pat it on gently with the pad and use the blending brush. * * * * * the tiny dot of rouge placed in the inner corner of each eye is to fix the distance of the eyes apart. when the eyes are finished they should appear to be about the distance of one eye apart. * * * * * rarely is makeup used in the nostrils. a big nose will look very wide if made up, but a small and very straight nose can stand a very little number rouge in the nostril--not lip rouge, which would be too dark. but it is very seldom that the nostrils are made up. * * * * * unless very careful in removing makeup, your face will feel raw and chafed when you go out in the wind. take time and plenty of cold cream in the removal of makeup, and dry and powder your face before exposing it to outdoor weather. * * * * * if you wish to you can leave the mascaro on the eyelids, working over and under it in removing the rest of the makeup, and so use the mascaro on the street. on matinee days you will see shadowy eyes on broadway, as some of the ladies of the cast keep the mascaro on till the evening performance. [illustration: nw] [illustration: $ , . worth of dancing costumes immediately available.] stage costumes on the stage, as on the street, effective costuming is a matter of good taste. the dancer must be particular always to appear in a costume in keeping with the idea and character of the dance. the producer will be certain to adhere to this rule in all cases where the company supplies the stage costumes, as is customary. in vaudeville, or in a home-talent show, where the dancer furnishes the outfit, the same rule of fitness and appropriateness must be observed, or the resulting incongruity will greatly mar the presentation. have your stage costumes prepared with the idea of creating proper atmosphere for the dance you are giving or the scene in which the dance appears. there are special designers of stage costumes in all the large cities, here and abroad. bakst, the russian artist, is a name all have come to know because of the bizarre effects he creates for the stage. in london, comelli was an outstanding name as costume designer for the drury lane productions; erte, in paris, and there are many others abroad. new york has several concerns of the first grade whose work along these lines is in evidence in the best theatres throughout the country and overseas. [illustration] the first step in costume making for the stage is made when the costume designer and the scenic artist are brought together under the producing director to arrange and settle upon a definite color scheme for each act and scene, so that colors of costumes and stage settings shall be in full harmony throughout. this is most important for the pictorial effects and is given careful study. with the color schemes effectively planned, there follows a further conference between producer and costume designer, in which plot, locale, atmosphere, characters, lyrics, music, and everything else with a bearing on the dance or play in contemplation is fully gone over and considered. the personality of the principals is given attention, and the various possible effects of the ensemble or chorus groupings, evolution and pictures are carefully planned, with regard to lights and color effects. the designer thus consulted submits pencil sketches of his ideas. the next step is a water color design in the actual colors to be employed. the accepted costume plate in color becomes now the working basis for the actual process of manufacturing the garments. the cost of these color plates for each design is at least five dollars, but usually more, as high as $ . sometimes, before a garment is cut or a stitch taken, the price for a costume plate or design depending a good deal upon the standing or reputation of the designers. materials as well as colors are given careful thought. sometimes the artist's design is made around a sample of the actual materials, though usually the color idea is developed first and the goods to be used in the garments considered later. the quality of the material for stage costumes should be the very best to be had regardless of cost. it is unquestionably true that the best is the cheapest in every way. not only do costumes of cheap fabrics not hold together, and the colors fade out when exposed to the strong modern stage lights, and repairs and renewals become a frequent necessity, but the very people on the stage who are compelled to wear the inferior costumes are literally let down to a lower level in morale as a consequence. [illustration: a corner of wardrobe room] it is human nature for a well-groomed man or woman, on the stage or off, to be in better spirits and a better mental attitude for the very reason that they are correctly attired. cheap garments and inferior costumes detract from the dancer's ability to do the best work, however unconscious of this fact the dancer may be. so i contend that it pays to use the best material and employ the best workmanship, if only to keep the performers up to pitch and put the show over in a way that spells success. then, too, there is the audience to be considered. they know the difference between silk and cotton, and are quick to judge the show by the appearance of the costumes that greet them on the stage. it is little less than an insult to modern american audiences to expect them to pay modern prices for seats in the theatre and then parade a lot of second-rate costumes before them as your idea of something that will "get by" without detection or adverse comment. the cost of costumes varies, of course, and the range is wide. professional costumes worn in broadway productions under my direction have been made for as little as $ . and as high as $ . for an individual costume. chorus costumes have been shown on broadway costing $ . to $ . for each girl in the ensemble. however, a satisfactory chorus costume can be produced today for around $ . and that for a principal about $ . . there are large and satisfactory rental establishments in new york, chicago, philadelphia, boston, and others of our prominent cities where costumes can be rented for almost any character of show, in single garments or for a complete production. in the east, among the best are brooks or eaves, of new york, and van horn of philadelphia. in the wardrobe department of the ned wayburn studios there is carried a varied line of up-to-date costumes well over a hundred thousand dollars in actual cash value. there is one set of twelve dancing costumes there alone worth $ . , or approximately $ . per costume. any of my stock of costumes is available on a rental basis for amateur shows when my organization is employed to stage the productions, and an expert wardrobe mistress goes along with the outfit to insure proper adjustment and fitting of all the costumes to their wearers. the complete costume when rented from any concern includes headdress, bloomers and parasols (if the character calls for them), besides the gown or costume proper, but never includes wigs, shoes, stockings or tights, which must be purchased outright. in our studio work and during the rehearsal period on the stage we recommend the ned wayburn rompers as a form of practice dress best suited for ladies' use, except in our foundation technique and acrobatic dancing classes, in both of which the bathing suit is given the preference. [illustration: nw] [illustration: mildred leisy wearing type of practice costume worn for ballet dancing.] [illustration: polly archer wearing costume (bathing suit) for limbering and stretching, and acrobatic dancing.] [illustration: olive brady wearing practice romper suggested for use in all classes except those in ballet dancing.] dancing tempos [illustration] one must possess an inherent sense of rhythm in order to become a successful stage dancer. to be able to walk or dance to music in perfect time, and find enjoyment in doing it, is one of the first essentials. i can tell by the way a person walks across the floor when an orchestra or any musical instrument is rendering a sprightly bit of dance music, whether or not the walker has the dancing sense that is so necessary to perfection in the art. in dancing, the term "rhythm" refers to the coincidence of movement and music, and is the symmetrical regulation of time and the periodical repetition of the same arrangement. the measure of speed in music and dancing is designated as "tempo." it is the "time" in which a musical composition is written, and is shown upon the "staff" by figures. of the many kinds of dance measures, the most common are what are known as - , - , - , and - . [music: march, stars and stripes forever john philip sousa used by permission of the john church company, owner of the copyright] [music: march, over there geo. m. cohan. copyright by leo feist, inc., used by special permission] among the - rhythms, the principal ones are the march, which is indicated either in "alla breve" (c), as "the stars and stripes forever," or in - , as the more rollicking "over there," or the well known cake walk, "georgia camp meeting." by increasing the tempo of the - march it becomes the one step dance. [music: cake walk, georgia camp meeting mills copyright by mills.] marches are also written in - . then they are called two steps, as "the handicap march," and sousa's "washington post" march. [music: pizzicato polka by leo delibes] among the other - rhythms are the polka, suitable for ballet work. the "pizzicato polka" is a very good example of this type. the gallop and can can are in a very fast - tempo. [music: can-can from "orpheus" offenbach] waltzes are in - , played sometimes in a lively tempo, one in a bar, or slow, in a bar. "three o'clock in the morning," a ballroom waltz is in the slow tempo, while "in the good old summertime" is more rapid, adapted for fast movements and waltz clogs. "valse coppelia," played one in a bar, is the type for dainty ballet work. the stately minuet is in - time. [music: waltz, three o'clock in the morning by julian robledo copyright by west's ltd. london eng. leo feist sole agt.] [music: waltz, in the good old summertime geo. evans copyright by haviland.] [music: waltz from ballet coppelia leo delibes.] [music: minuet by mozart] the gavotte, played in a bar, is principally suitable for ballet, while the song and dance ("narcissus"), on account of its rhythm, is mainly adapted for the soft shoe and its kindred dances. it is also in - . the fox trot is written "alla breve," in a bar in moderate tempo. it has a somewhat strict rhythm, while the "charleston," played usually in the same tempo, is rhythmically different. as one can notice, it has an anticipated second beat. perhaps the most popular music for the charleston dance is the charleston number from "runnin' wild." [music: song and dance rhythm "narcissus" nevin] [music: fox trot. i love you by harry archer copyright by leo feist, inc., used by special permission] [music: "charleston" cecil mack & jimmy johnson copyright mcmxxiii by harms, inc., n.y.] there are a great many varieties of national dances, all having a peculiar rhythm of their own, portraying the character of their people. among these are the "american" characteristic dances, as "the rube dance" and the peculiar rhythm of the stop buck, the "essence" played in moderate - tempo, as in "comin' through the rye." [music: essence, coming thru' the rye.] among the irish dances, the most popular are the jig, a fast - ; and the reel, a fast - . the scotch have their "highland fling," a fast - , and there is the hornpipe. [music: irish jig] [music: irish reel (rory o'more)] [music: highland fling.] [music: scotch hornpipe] the spanish dancers are particularly fond of the waltz, played lively, and when still more increased in tempo it becomes the "fandango," a wild and merry dance. the tango is in - , played in moderately slow tempo; its rhythm is also adapted for the habanera. [music: valse españa (fandango) waldteufel] [music: tango (habanera)--paul dupont copyright sam fox cleveland o. ("rosita" tango fox trot)] the italians have their "tarantella." it is played very fast. it is supposed to cure the bite of the tarantula, hence the furious tempo. the egyptian (oriental) dance is of a more sensuous type, either moderately fast in - or slow (in - ). the soft shoe dance is played in a bar in schottisch tempo. [music: tarantella--burchenal] [music: egyptian ballet (fast movement) a. luigini] most any - march movement is suitable for "buck" dances, but they must be in syncopated rhythm with characteristic melodies and accompaniments and not what is called straight marches, but must have the right atmosphere musically in order to inspire the dancer. [music: egyptian ballet (slow movement)--a. luigini] there are a number of very good dance albums published annually with popular dance melodies and piano arrangements. among the best are those published by leo feist, inc., jerome h. remick & company, shapiro, bernstein & company, harms, inc., and m. witmark & sons, all of new york. [illustration] diet and dancing [illustration] there are three kinds of people who should use care in all that they put into their bodies in the way of food and drink: the thin, the just right, and the stouts. that seems to cover about everybody on earth, doesn't it? well, that is just the idea. it is my way of saying that everyone, everywhere--you and i and the other folks, will be better looking and in better health and better spirits, more capable every way, if we pay attention to our diet. this treatise is intended for men as well as for women and is equally applicable to both. it is addressed to the ladies, for reasons that surely are obvious, but the rebuilding of the figure is accomplished by the same methods in both sexes. remember this, and substitute "man" for "woman" in your reading and application of this chapter if you are a male. incidentally, it is not stage dancers alone who need to be told what is best for them, but as our professional dealings here in the studios are with dancers, we are directing our advice to them. for really the need is greater in the case of the lady whose "job" and salary depend upon her bodily appearance and health and mental condition, than it is in the case of any other of her sex. the lady of society wishes to look at her best, and usually succeeds in doing so, but her "job" doesn't depend upon it, as yours does. [illustration: scene from ned wayburn's "honeymoon cruise"] so believe me when i say that what i am about to put down here in black and white is not said for the fun of it nor for any other purpose but to enable every woman to increase her capital stock and secure the largest possible dividends in the beauty market. the thin, slight, under-nourished woman will heed my words on this subject with satisfaction. her procedure is pleasant and easy, comparatively. she can and will improve rapidly if she is determined to do so and will stick to what i tell her. the "just right" woman wants to remain in her perfect form, and the words here printed will serve as a sign-post to direct her in the way that is best for the accomplishment of that desirable end. her task is easiest of all. the stout woman who would regain the more pleasing figure that nature intended she should have can do so if she will, but her inclination to indolence and indulgence must be overcome--by herself, not by anything anyone else can do for her--and she must make up her mind that she has a real task before her, and one that calls for all her will power and stern determination. and she must be patient, for in her case results are apt to be slow. but let her be encouraged: some of the most admired women of the stage have experienced her same difficulty with too abundant flesh and have perfected themselves by this identical plan set forth here. so it has been done, and can be done in your case; but it all depends upon you, your zeal and your stick-to-it-iveness. to see how your present weight conforms to the proper standard, i present here a table of average weights based on heights and age. in this table the weights are taken in scant costume, a single garment and no shoes. any table of this kind can be only approximate, however, for the frame and general build vary in different people and the bone structure must be considered in fixing the weight. standard table of average heights and weights of men and women of various ages women _heights_ _weights_ - - - - - - - - - ft. in. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. men _heights_ _weights_ - - - - - - - - - ft. in. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. yrs. [illustration: frances white] now first of all, weigh yourself and see how near you come to the standard, and take note how many pounds you have to add or subtract to reach the perfect mark. weigh yourself at regular intervals, every sunday or monday, but weekly, if possible, and keep a record of your weights and the dates they are taken. first i am going to direct the too thin as to the best method for them to put on flesh, fill out hollows, become symmetrical and graceful and pleasing to the eye. how to gain weight . if you are thin, have an examination by a competent physician to be sure you have no organic trouble, before you try to put on flesh. . calm yourself. "learn to accept the trivial annoyances and the small misfits of life as a matter of course. to give them attention beyond their deserts is to wear the web of your life to the warp."--hubbard. . exercise and air. take at least minutes of ned wayburn exercises every morning as soon as you get up. begin with a small number of movements and increase gradually. be in the open air as much as possible. . sleep. resistance is markedly lowered by a lack of sufficient sleep. have a rest period during the day if possible. do not sleep longer than eight hours. for every hour you are in bed over that time the fat piles on or else you are losing flesh. . avoid unnecessary exertion. don't talk too much. delete the details. never talk about your ailments except to your physician. you pay him to listen (or should). . avoid tea, coffee and nicotine and other stimulants. . masticate your food thoroughly and leave your troubles behind when you go to the table. . eat. stretch your stomach and train it to take care of more food. you must eat three meals each day at regular intervals. they must consist of what your system requires and not just what tastes good on your palate. never eat between meals. give your digestive apparatus a chance to function as it should, three times daily, at the same time each day, always giving it an opportunity to rest as well. . eat. eat whether you enjoy it or not. you will enjoy it later. don't heed the advice that you should not eat as a matter of duty. you should. . eat. but no second helpings. i have seen printed advice never to eat unless you enjoy your food and to avoid eating as a mere duty. i tell you to discard that advice. do eat whether you enjoy it or not, and do eat as a matter of duty. once the food is in your system, whether you like it or not, a large part of it will be assimilated. perhaps not so well nor so readily, for we know that the enjoyment of food adds to the efficiency of the digestive juices. there is a small bird called the ortolan, which is highly esteemed by the italian gourmands. when it is fat it is very delicious, but as it feeds normally only once a day, when the sun rises, it naturally has no fat on it. so the italians confine these birds in a darkened room and succeed in getting them to eat four or five times a day in the following manner: they put a lantern at a little window in the room. the ortolans, thinking the sun has risen, hop around and eat. the lantern is withdrawn and they are left in darkness four or five hours. now the lantern is again put in place. the ortolans, evidently an unsuspicious, guileless type of bird, thinking the sun has risen again to perform its duty by telling them it is time to eat, hop down from their perches and busy themselves very seriously and dutifully with their breakfast. apparently they do not keep track of time and do not suspect that only four hours of the have elapsed. this same sun rises for them four or five times during the day and each time they obey its summons and gallantly eat. the result is that they are converted into little balls of delicious fat. you can get a lesson from these birds. diet to increase weight thick soups. thick gravies. plenty of butter and sugar. _fruits._ the best fruit to fatten is bananas, eaten slowly with cream and sugar. any kind of stewed fruits, cooked with sugar. orange juice, with plenty of sugar. grapefruit, with plenty of sugar. any kinds of berries, with plenty of cream and sugar. _cereals._ oatmeal, cream of wheat, corn flakes. avoid bran foods. _meats._ anything fried is good. roast beef, roast veal, roast pork, roast ham, veal chops, pork chops. no lamb. must have steaks rare. ham and eggs. _vegetables._ white potatoes, creamed, hashed, any kind of fried potatoes, sweet potatoes fried, mashed potatoes with butter. beets are fattening boiled--not pickled. spaghetti, macaroni, boiled onions, spinach, creamed, creamed carrots, lima beans, peas. _bread._ white bread, fresh bread, hot tea biscuits, plenty of butter. _pastries._ pies, cakes, puddings, bread puddings, any sort of french pastry, and candy (in moderation). _beverages._ sweet milk, cocoa, chocolate, malted milk. perhaps one cup of coffee a day, not too strong, with plenty of cream. weak tea with cream and sugar. keep your system well flushed. drink plenty of water, about ounces a day, say nine tumblerfuls. a glass of water before and after each meal, one in the middle of the morning, one in the afternoon, and another just before going to bed, are essential. this induces perspiration, which opens the pores and lets out the impurities, the worn out tissues, and keeps the system healthy, incidentally relieving the kidneys. never take any liquids during a meal. this interferes with the work of the digestive juices and prevents the proper assimilation of the food. there is no hardship involved in selecting one's meals from this extensive and comprehensive menu, and if proper eating were all that is necessary to perfect your figure the process would be a joy indeed. but we are seeking to make you not only pleasant to look upon, but also physically adapted to a stage career, which means that vigor, strength, endurance, "wind" and flexibility are demanded as well, so, in order to accomplish both, we unite exercise to diet, and the combination of the right food and habits and the ned wayburn foundation technique brings about the direct result; you become shapely, graceful, strong, and accomplished in a great art, all as the result of the same instruction, and simultaneously. * * * * * ned wayburn's daily menus for the underweight monday breakfast shredded wheat with sliced banana, / cup thin cream or top milk and rounding teaspoon sugar; poached egg; slices toast, squares butter; coffee with / cup hot milk or cream and sugar as desired. luncheon cream of tomato soup; saltines; swiss cheese and rye bread sandwich; square butter; prune whip, soft custard sauce; glass milk. dinner vegetable soup; roast beef with gravy; baked potato; lima beans; french roll; squares butter; hearts of lettuce, french dressing; ice cream, chocolate sauce; coffee if desired. tuesday breakfast baked apple (large) with tablespoon cream; scrambled eggs with slices bacon; cornmeal or graham muffin; square butter; coffee as above. luncheon club sandwich with mayonnaise; lemon meringue pie; coffee with half cup hot milk. dinner fillet of sole, tartar sauce; boiled potato; lettuce and tomato salad, french dressing; slices bread; squares butter; ice cream; glass of milk. wednesday breakfast grapefruit with sugar; / cup oatmeal with / cup cream and rounding teaspoon sugar; boiled eggs; slice toast; square butter; cocoa. luncheon lamb chops ( ); creamed asparagus on toast; tomato and lettuce salad, mayonnaise; rolls; squares butter; / cantaloupe. dinner broiled steak with gravy; scalloped or mashed potatoes; buttered beets; slices whole wheat bread; squares butter; ice cream; glass of milk. thursday breakfast orange; griddle cakes with squares butter and tablespoons syrup; coffee as in breakfast ( ). luncheon fruit salad, mayonnaise; raisin bread and cream cheese sandwich; doughnut; glass of milk. dinner substantial soup such as minestrone, chowder, petite marmite or pot au feu; roast chicken or duck with stuffing and gravy; candied sweet potatoes; green peas; rolls or bread; square butter; raw fruit, honey-dew melon or / cantaloupe; coffee. friday breakfast stewed prunes and juice; cornflakes with / cup top milk or cream and teaspoon sugar; slices hot buttered toast and marmalade or jam; glass milk. luncheon cream of pea soup; ham omelette; french fried potatoes; slices buttered toast or bread; strawberry ice cream; tea as desired. dinner breaded veal cutlet or roast leg of veal; spaghetti with tomato sauce; string beans; celery; french roll; square butter; apple brown betty, hard sauce; glass milk or coffee with hot milk. saturday breakfast serving strawberries, raspberries or sliced peaches with tablespoons cream and teaspoon sugar; / cup wheatena with tablespoons cream and teaspoon sugar; slices bacon; french roll; square butter; cocoa. luncheon chicken or egg salad with mayonnaise; rolls; squares butter; baked apple with cream; glass of milk. dinner cream of asparagus soup; baked ham; potato salad; mayonnaise; fresh green or red cabbage, cooked; slices rye bread; square butter; raspberry sherbet or peach ice cream. coffee. sunday breakfast glass orange juice; tablespoons grapenuts with tablespoons cream; cocoa; creamed eggs on toast. [illustration: ned wayburn show girls, follies of .] luncheon macaroni and cheese; spinach with oil and vinegar; slices whole wheat bread; squares butter; chocolate cornstarch pudding with cream. dinner beef stew with vegetables; red beet or cabbage salad, french dressing; rolls; squares butter; strawberry short cake; glass of milk or coffee with hot milk. note: if underweight is marked, it may be advantageous to take additional nourishment at a.m. and p.m., such as a glass of milk or cocoa with graham crackers and a glass of hot milk and crackers at bedtime. this will add to calories to the day's total. any one of the above breakfasts contains calories. any one of the above luncheons contains calories. any one of the above dinners contains calories. this gives a day's total of approximately calories of heat or energy. * * * * * how to lose weight to get rid of superfluous avoirdupois is one of the necessary steps to beauty. a ponderous actress has a limited field. certain character parts, a few vaudeville acts, a singing turn, or a burlesquing of her own abnormality (if she has the personality to carry it off with), and there her availability for stage purposes ends. but you cannot dance and waddle at the same time. "it isn't done." if you aspire to be the kind of stage dancer that the public demands and that we produce in our courses, you will have to submit to diet and exercise, the only coin of the realm that will buy physical beauty and perfect development. there is no other way. medicines for this purpose are dangerous, because they contain poisons, like arsenic and mercury. make up your mind to either abandon all hope of a dancing career, or to faithfully follow the prescribed routine of proper exercise and non-fattening foods. if you continue to take into your body the foods that build fatty tissue, no exercise alone will dispose of the excess fat that is sure to result. while our exercises in the studio do help greatly, they cannot entirely correct a basically wrong condition unless supplemented by proper diet. and diet alone is not sufficient, either; you must have the exercises along with it. diet to decrease weight you must partake of no soups, nothing that is fried, no gravies. the only meats that you will be permitted to eat are roast lamb, lamb chops, broiled or boiled white fish, or white meat of chicken or turkey; no other meats of any kind, no other fish of any kind. _vegetables._ you may have any green vegetables, especially plain spinach, carrots, string beans, lettuce, celery, onions, sliced tomatoes, never any stewed tomatoes or beets. but you can have beet tops. radishes are hard to digest. you are not permitted to have any pastry, and by that is meant pie, cakes or cookies; no candies of any kind; no ice cream or ice cream sodas, no sarsaparilla or ginger ale, no liquor, no smoking, no cigarettes. _you are not to take any liquids while having your meals._ you are not to partake of whole milk, cream, or white bread. use _little_ or _no_ sugar or butter. the only kind of bread that you are permitted to eat is the whole-wheat bread, gluten bread, or whole rye bread. you may take stale bread toasted. gluten bread is good when toasted. you are prohibited from taking coffee. you may take very weak tea--very weak--but there should be no sugar in the tea, nor should there be any cream in it. you may have a slice of lemon in your tea. lemon juice can be squeezed on the lettuce instead of using sugar or rich dressing. vinegar on the lettuce or spinach, and plenty of it, is permissible. buttermilk is excellent, and so is postum, but the postum should be taken without sugar and used with hot skimmed milk, not cream. for fruits: take baked apple, applesauce, grapefruit, orange juice, raspberries, blueberries, huckleberries, a few strawberries--not many--occasionally. about potatoes: no potatoes except a baked white potato, occasionally--no sweet potatoes, no french fried, home fried, hashed or creamed potatoes--no mashed potatoes; the only kind you are permitted to partake of being the _well-baked_ white potato, and you may eat the skins if you like, but do not butter the potato. for cereals: take bran, bran flakes or hominy--but the hominy must be cooked for one hour and a half. that is the best cereal for your diet. the hominy should be flavored with about one-half teaspoonful of currant jelly, put into the hominy and stirred up, just to give it a little taste. do not use any cream, milk or sugar on your hominy, which is really the most nutritious cereal when cooked this length of time. i am reproducing here the ned wayburn daily menu for a reducing diet. it is one i have worked out carefully and studiously and used successfully on many of my pupils and myself. by means of this diet and my studio exercise i reduced myself from pounds to pounds in twelve weeks--a loss of pounds, and felt better when i got through than i did when i began, but, i do not advise anyone taking off weight too fast. with my method of reducing all of the unhealthy fatty tissue will be gotten rid of before the remaining firm muscular tissue will be distributed about the body. you may get thinner in the face first, and about the thighs last. be patient; it may take you six months or longer. unless you have gland trouble or some other serious disorder it will go in time, provided you will work to get rid of it and stick to the diet for not less than three months. those taking the conditioning work lose an average of about one pound per week, while those who are trying to build up gain about one-half pound each week after they have gotten rid of all the unhealthy unnecessary tissue, those underweight frequently losing five pounds before they begin to show any gain. it will surely bring back youthful buoyancy and insure your health and figure for the future. after you have succeeded in getting down to the right poundage you can go on my balanced diet for those who have reduced, but you will still have to do about ten minutes of my exercises every morning, and you must never over-eat again. * * * * * ned wayburn's daily reducing menus monday breakfast orange (without sugar) medium; poached egg on thin slice toast; small pat butter; coffee with teaspoon sugar and / tablespoon cream or coffee with / cup hot skimmed milk. luncheon lettuce, tomato and cream cheese salad, with / tablespoon french dressing; thin slices whole wheat bread; small pat butter; glass skimmed milk. dinner bouillon, clear; lean roast beef; medium baked potato; spinach; small pat butter; pear or apple. tuesday breakfast / grapefruit (without sugar); egg and thin slice crisp bacon; thin slice toast; small pat butter; coffee with hot skimmed milk. luncheon cheese sandwich; asparagus salad with / tablespoon mayonnaise; tea with lemon. dinner roast or broiled chicken (no stuffing or gravy); green peas; lettuce and cucumber salad with / tablespoon french dressing; baked apple (no cream). wednesday breakfast / cup strawberries with rounding teaspoon powdered sugar; / cup oatmeal with / cup skimmed milk and level teaspoon sugar; glass of skimmed milk. luncheon cream of tomato soup; medium serving cold meat; thin slices rye bread; small pat butter; / small cantaloupe. dinner broiled sirloin steak, moderate serving; ear corn on cob; tomato and lettuce salad, with / tablespoon french dressing; small pat butter; cup custard (small). thursday breakfast apple; egg omelet; bran muffin; small pat butter; coffee with hot skimmed milk. luncheon macaroni and cheese; lettuce with french dressing; fruit gelatine pudding (clear). dinner beef or lamb stew with vegetables; thin slices whole wheat bread; small pat butter; tapioca cream pudding; black coffee. friday breakfast peach, with rounding teaspoon powdered sugar; shredded wheat with / cup milk; thin crisp slices bacon; thin slice dry toast. luncheon french lamb chop; medium baked potato; lettuce with / tablespoon french dressing; lemon ice. dinner vegetable soup; broiled halibut or other white fish with lemon; medium baked potato; slice bread; small pat butter; french ice cream (small serving). saturday breakfast / orange; french roll; small pat butter; glass of skimmed milk. luncheon clam or corn chowder; saltines; moderate serving peach or strawberry ice cream, or apple, cream, or custard pie. dinner small lamb chops or large one; tomato salad with french dressing; mashed turnips; thin slice whole wheat bread; small pat butter; raw peach. sunday breakfast banana; / cup cornflakes; / cup skimmed milk; slice toast; small pat butter. luncheon egg or chicken salad; slice bread; small pat butter; small piece loaf cake, or plain cookies; tea with lemon, no sugar. dinner hamburger steak with tomato sauce ( cakes); string beans or asparagus; thin slice rye bread; small pat butter; glass of skimmed milk or coffee with skimmed milk; raw apple, orange or pear. note: if overweight is _excessive_ omit all desserts given in menus except raw unsweetened fruits. any one of the above breakfasts contains calories of heat or energy. any one of the above luncheons contains calories. any one of the above dinners contains calories. the day's total will be calories. * * * * * you will no doubt be interested in hearing the story of a young lady, miss ann constance, who came to me a little over a year ago to be reduced. she was sixteen years old, was five feet five inches in height and weighed one hundred and seventy-nine pounds. at the end of nine months, under the treatment i am recommending for those who are overweight, she tipped the scales at one hundred and nineteen pounds. her photographs, in this book, taken "before and after," will tell the story better than i can in words. miss constance is in better health today than she has ever been before in her life; and she has become an exceedingly good dancer--recently with the greenwich village follies and at this writing just beginning a career in the movies with the famous players at their long island studios. she is, however, only one of many girls whom my diets and exercises have helped. [illustration: ann constance. (before she entered the ned wayburn studios.)] [illustration: ann constance. (after she entered the ned wayburn studios.)] we have never failed in reducing any of our pupils who came to us for that purpose, but we have to have their coöperation, of course. quite recently we had a very puzzling case that challenged the sherlock holmes in us, and i think it will interest you to know how we solved it. a young lady of really huge proportions, resident of another city, called on me at the studio accompanied by her mother, and placed herself in my charge for reducing. i studied her, arranged a special diet for her and she entered the class in limbering and stretching. i watch the progress of all my pupils, and expect them to record the change in their weights every week. i watched this young lady with especial care, and was dumbfounded to notice that she was steadily gaining in weight. she never lost a pound but kept on adding fat to more fat all the time, notwithstanding that she was working her head off in the classroom--when she came to class. she skipped seven lessons of the twenty in the first month's course, reporting for only thirteen, finally insisting that the lessons were not doing her any good. i felt that there must be something wrong and wrote the mother of the girl about it, as she had requested me to do. she told me that the girl had a charge account at a certain hotel where she took her meals. i asked the mother if it would be possible for me to get the meal checks signed by her daughter, which would show just what she had eaten. the meal checks were turned over to me. i found that the girl had been eating the prohibited things; that about once in two weeks she had followed my diet, and at every other time she had eaten everything she liked--enormous meals, consisting of starchy foods and all sorts of desserts--mostly sweets. i also found out that she had been taking some of the other girls at the studio along with her, fattening them up. the mother was inclined to be easy with the girl. i called her father's attention to the matter, because the girl paid no attention at all to me, and as far as i could see was hurting the school. of course she was only fooling herself. i insisted that we were not going to fail with her, and her father came to new york to see me. about this time the girl was taken ill, suffering with acute indigestion and finally the mumps. on my advice her father took her home. lately i have heard from the young lady, and she wants to re-enter the school. if i decide to take her back, she will have to keep strictly to her diet and attend regularly, which i believe she is now ready to do, as she has gained much weight since leaving here. lillian russell was a beautiful woman, with a personality and a stage presence. she was fond of the good things in life, and was obliged to watch carefully a tendency to embonpoint. she has gone on record as saying that lots of walking, lots of dancing, and two meals a day was all the reducing exercise she ever employed. she advised a light breakfast, no luncheon, and a good dinner, with no between-meals, no "piecing," no candy. the chief trouble with this plan is, that one is apt to become ravenous by dinnertime and over eat at that meal, and thus undo what you are attempting. the best way is to follow the ned wayburn diet faithfully, and take three meals each day, just as i have suggested. dancing and good health [illustration] the dance is its own justification. it needs no excuse, nor do the many millions who share its delights need to be told how beneficial it is to them. they know that they are healthier and happier men and women, and therefore get more out of life and give more to others, because they dance. if the purpose of life is, in the words of an immortal document, the pursuit of happiness, surely those who train their bodies to move in harmony with natural laws are fitting themselves for capacity to enjoy all that life brings. to live well requires good physical health, for which a prime requisite is an abundance of pleasant exercise. not alone to those who are free from the necessity of the various forms of exertion that are termed "work," but to every human being, exercise is as necessary as food. to those whose daily callings involve substantial physical labor, the need for exercise is just as great as for those of lighter employments. and nowhere can there be found so satisfactory a bodily exercise as in the dance. sports, outdoor games, horseback riding, etc., have their place, but are available to a comparatively small percentage of all the people. now that the introduction of the automobile has turned america into a nation of riders on soft cushions, the need for proper exercise has become more important than ever. to live well, breathe well, sleep well, the body demands activities that will develop and strengthen it. the most delightful form in which this want can be supplied is in the dance. the universal desire of mankind is for enjoyment; the qualification of physical, mental and aesthetic needs. to enjoy requires the possession of the roman prime essential; a sound mind in a sound body. so closely are physical and mental health related, so complex the reactions of a disordered nervous system on bodily health, or the effect on the mind of physical weakness, that the wisest doctors do not pretend to say this illness is either wholly mental or physical. they do know that some violation of the laws of right living, some neglect to follow natural impulses, is chiefly responsible for the long list of ills that afflict mankind. and they are unanimously agreed that proper diets and an abundance of exercise are far better than cures; they prevent disease. it is not necessary to go into physiological details to explain why the well-nourished body demands suitable exercise. that it does is an admitted fact. the question that confronts the millions who know that their bodily condition is not what it should be is: "what must i do to make myself stronger, and capable of enjoying life better?" the obvious answer is: "dance." in dancing there is found a form of exercise that stimulates circulation of the blood to the remotest finger tip; that develops, under proper training, every muscle; that aids digestion to perform its functions of supplying nourishment to every tissue of the body, and brings to the dancers the glow of vigor and animation. these effects of the dance have long been proved by the experience of millions of men and women. other millions who have not yet tried it will sooner or later make the experiment. they will find that life takes on a new outlook, that instead of listless indifference they are actively interested in many things that they formerly ignored; that with restored bodily vigor they have quickened minds and better appreciation of all their daily contacts with their fellows, and that they are enjoying each day's existence with a zest never known before. the dance is a physical, mental and moral upbuilding. it brings a greater capacity for success in the daily tasks and duties. it stimulates and restores. it shows the door to the glooms and welcomes gladness. it brings self-confidence in undertaking new enterprises, and banishes the mental depressions that result from bodily ills. it forms new circles of agreeable companions, and affords opportunities for congenial friendships. it avoids wasted expenditures for nauseous drugs and doctor's bills. it puts humanity in harmony with fundamental natural laws, and makes of all who resort to it healthier, happier and better men and women. [illustration: nw] showmanship [illustration] do you know what "repeaters" are in the language of the stage? they are people who like a show well enough to patronize it more than once--well enough to spend their money to see it a second or a third time, perhaps many times, and bring their friends to enjoy it with them. there are many more "repeaters" on occasions when attractions have real merit of one kind or another than the casual public dreams of. the show manager watches for them and spots them, and rejoices greatly when he finds them abundantly in evidence, night after night, for he knows then that he has displayed real showmanship in his selection of a cast, a play, and in its rendition. the frequent return of a pleased patron accompanied by his companions attests the success of a show in stronger terms than any other one thing could possibly do. i go on record as saying that no show was ever a real financial success without it produced "repeaters." it is a real test of genuine showmanship, recognized as such the world over by every shrewd theatrical manager. good showmanship consists of the ability to anticipate the verdict of the playgoing public. the successful showman must have his fingers on the public pulse in matters that concern entertainment. he cannot afford to guess. it is too expensive. he must correctly diagnose the case in advance of prescribing for its needs if he expects to be successful. the wise showman always plans his play to have the very widest possible appeal, for the public is many sided, and a single narrow idea will fail to touch it at all points, as it must do if it is to have a popular acceptance. he knows, being a wise showman, that people come to his playhouse for entertainment, pleasure, laughter and relaxation, and not for a learned discourse on some abstract or wearisome theme. there are proper places for the lecture and the "big wind," but that place is not in the theatre of the wise showman. it is his business to create his proffered entertainment into a valuable piece of property that shall declare actual cash dividends at the box office. that is being a successful showman, and he who does this exhibits real showmanship. the successful stage dancer must possess showmanship. that is why the subject is brought into this book on stage dancing--that dancers may be made to realize a need of which they may be wholly uninformed. it takes showmanship on the part of the dancer to get fully in touch with the audience, get down to their level, if you like to say it that way, and never go over their heads. successful dancers always use good judgment in their offerings. the same kind of dance does not do for vaudeville, musical comedy, revue and opera. each requires its own kind of dance. the revue has its own audience, the musical comedy one of another character, vaudeville still a third kind, and opera still another. here is where the dancer's showmanship comes in--to recognize this difference and adapt the offering to the audience before whom he or she appears. dancers who would profit to the fullest extent in their profession must learn how to absorb this essential element known as showmanship, in the various ways in which it may be done. reading along right lines is very important. read the dramatic reviews and criticisms in the daily press, and read regularly the leading theatrical weeklies. identify yourself with your profession in this way; read "shop" and talk "shop." make it a point to see and study other dancers, in vaudeville, musical comedy, opera and revue. meet your fellow dancers in their own habitat, behind the scenes. the actual experiences that you are recommended to undertake in your own behalf in the chapter i have called "making a name" will be invaluable aids to you in harvesting a lot of the best grade of showmanship. travel will help you learn a lot. the traveled and successful theatrical person is always alert, quick, bright, posted in all important matters that concern the profession and all who are connected with it. those who take my courses as students of dancing are given a wide mental as well as physical training, to prepare them to cultivate showmanship that shall complement their skill as dancers when they become professionals. i call my lectures "inspirational talks," for i do want what i say about their future careers to be inspiring to them, and encouraging and beneficial. i speak to my pupils from many years of stage experience, and i know if what i say is heeded and given full consideration they will be better dancers and secure better engagements, and do so in less time, as a result. [illustration: helen fables] good showmanship in dancing consists also in being able to "sell" one's own personality in a dance. select your offerings to suit your public. put in the effective "tricks" in your exits that are so important in inviting applause. and learn to leave your audience "hungry" for more of you. let them go away with a wish that they might see more of your dancing. that is your cue in successful showmanship, my dancers. let the audience come back to see the same show again in order to once more enjoy your pretty work. that means "repeaters," and repeaters, as i told you, mean successful showmanship, and both artistic and financial success. it is never good showmanship on the part of the dancer, or of an actor or actress in any part, to let the audience know that you know they are out there. the way you handle an audience will have much to do with the opinion of your work that will be held by the big men in the theatrical world, who may be among those present at any performance, you never can tell when--and they, remember, are hiring good dancers now and then. their judgment of how you handle an audience is worth consideration. and bear in mind, too, that the most important part of your dance is the very end of it, the finish, upon which always depends the applause and the recall. you like to earn your bow, and that is right. take your bow in front of the audience gracefully and quickly. don't milk the audience dry by your bows. never do that. get general applause, but don't work up a lot of bows. come right back, bow modestly and do a short dance, to acknowledge the applause. such good work as that will stand the inspection and secure the approval of every theatrical manager whose approbation you value. an audience does not want to see you take bows. bows simply gratify the vanity of the artist. so, you see, there is quite a bit of showmanship for the dancer to study and acquire, and it is very much worth while for all stage dancers to put it into practice, early in their career. there are entertainment values that the showman himself must be able to create from his available material, which he will find and develop in dialogue, lyrics, tuneful music, voice, singing, dancing, characterization, costumes, settings, scenery, properties, lighting, and everything else connected in any way with the stage picture or the presentation of his offering. the publicity and exploitation of the show will tax his showmanship from another angle and is of great importance to the success of the play or the artist. the selection of proper music also has much to do with the appeal to the auditors. no musical show can ever be made a success without beautiful, appealing melodies, or "song hits," as we call them. and now one final word of advice to my dancers: three minutes is long enough for your solo dance. concentrate your efforts. do not present a long-drawn-out and padded dance that will weary everyone. brevity is the soul of good dancing as well as of wit, and you will be wise to heed this from the very start of your professional stage career. never show a dance to any prospective employer unless your dance has been thoroughly set and properly rehearsed with whoever is to play the music, pianist or orchestra. never offer any excuses at such a time. be sure of yourself, and only do one dance, your very best one. "who's who" in the show [illustration] to the members of an audience attending a theatrical performance it may appear as though the actors were the entire show and the only principals concerned with the carrying on of the affair. of course the man in the box office, the ticket taker, and the ushers have been in evidence, and there is the orchestra and its leader. others than these have not been seen or heard, and so perhaps are given no consideration. who the "others" may be, or if there are any others, and of what their services to and interests in the show may consist, would puzzle many theatre-goers to determine with any degree of accuracy. let me take you "behind the scenes," as you may call it, but "back-stage," as we say in the theatre-world, in this matter and disclose the forces that move the puppets on the stage; the powerhouse that generates the current that moves the whole machinery of production. the intricacies of theatre management may come as a surprise to you. chief of all comes the owner, the promoter, known to the profession as the theatrical manager. he it is who selects the author of his contemplated production, and also the writer of the lyrics and the composer of the musical score. he engages the producer, the creative genius who realizes the possibilities of the production and directs and rehearses it, and the principal actors and singers, and some of the members of the chorus as well, but the producing director usually recruits his own chorus and dancers. a most important step is the choice the manager is to make of a producer, or production director, on whom is to devolve the entire handling of all matters back of the curtain line from the day of his selection to the rising of the curtain on the initial public performance. he is well aware of the importance of this choice, and places his reliance only on a man known to be thoroughly experienced and competent in this line of work. having selected him, the theatrical manager steps out of the picture and the producing director assumes control. and this control is absolute in his domain. not even the power behind the throne, the man who placed him in his position, is allowed to interfere in any way whatsoever with his orders or plans. the wise theatrical manager possesses full knowledge of this and keeps hands off. should he venture to countermand a single order of his producer, the latter would be certain to say "take your show and direct it yourself," and walk out. and the reason why no producer of the first magnitude will brook interference, opposition or disobedience from any source is, that he is held strictly responsible to the owner for the form that the show takes and for the manner in which it is performed. his own reputation is always at stake in every production of which he accepts control. he makes the show a success, if he is that kind of a producer, and is entitled to the credit of successful accomplishment. if, on the other hand, he gains a reputation of "breaking" rather than of "making" the show, his career is abbreviated in short order. his job depends upon making good; he is the "realizer," the dominating and master-mind of the show. let us name some of the duties that devolve upon the ubiquitous producer: he must know by heart the book, lyrics and music of the entire play, and bring out to the full, in all of the actors, principals and chorus, every possibility that their parts, acts, songs, dances and groupings permit or demand. all the comedy must be developed and emphasized, and the personality of the cast studied and properly brought to the fore. the principal artists engaged for the production are under his sole direction. he creates all solo and ensemble dances; gives all readings of the dialogue, sets the dialogue syllable by syllable, devises nearly all the entrances and exits for everyone on the stage, indicates the tempo for all songs and dances. he must be capable of inspiring the lyric writer and composer, the costume designer and the scenic artist. he must possess imagination, suggest the locale, color and architecture--the atmosphere--of all scenes, select the color schemes for all costumes and scenery. he makes up all orders for scenery, costumes and properties, and must, to that end, know both qualities and costs; prices per yard of silks, satins, and every kind of material required in the production, whether for wardrobe or in the scenic effects. he must order the correct number and size of shoes, stockings, tights, wigs--everything, in short, that the company supplies to the players, which is usually all save the street clothes which they wear into the theatre. the orders for properties include all furniture, rugs, bric-a-brac, draperies, and everything else that serves to dress the stage or the performers. if period furniture is called for, the producer must be competent to say what is correct for the locale and the period. he must furthermore make out a plot for the switchboard, to control every lighting "cue." there will be a front light plot for the "floods" and "spot-lights" as well as separate plots for side-lights, overhead lights, and all the rest, to be thrown on or off at a certain cue. this necessitates his knowing how many and what colors he requires in front of each lamp for his many different lighting effects. for each act the location on the stage of all scenery and furniture must be definitely determined, as well as the exact place for each performance, and the producer determines the location of the same, and the different heads of the mechanical staff mark the stage ground-cloth in colored crayons or water-colors for the guidance of the stage carpenter, property man, and electricians, upon whom devolves the duty of setting the stage, props and electrical equipment. the producer is absolute monarch behind the curtain line, his dominion extending not only over the actors, singers and dancers--the entire company--but also over all members of the mechanical staff and the orchestra. he alone is responsible to the owner for the successful presentation of the performance. his is a man's size job. how many american producers of the supreme type, capable of the bigger things, are there in the united states? i know five. and i know them all. five out of , , people. how many do you know of? [illustration: w.c. fields] the stage manager takes the show from the producer after the opening performance and is thereafter responsible for everything connected with the show back of the curtain line. he it is who presses the buttons that run the curtain up and down, and gets the performance under way and keeps it moving, changing the scenery and lights exactly as arranged by the producer. he is accountable to the company manager for the way every performance is given, and maintains a close supervision over the principal artists and the chorus, sees to it that they stick to their script and do not interpolate matter of their own or "guy" each other or the audience. actors or actresses who are insincere in the parts assigned to them should be barred from the professional stage. there is evidence of "guying" an audience at times in some of the best companies on the part of some players of established reputations who should be ashamed of themselves, and who certainly should be punished for such offenses. i have known some star comedians to go on the stage intoxicated, which is an unpardonable offense, and for which such persons should be driven out of the show business. if an actor would dare do such a thing in a company directed by me, i would go before the curtain and denounce him to the audience and refund the price of admission. an actor who would do a thing like that is called a "ham," which means a common person with no mentality or breeding,--a type that is practically extinct now in the theatre. the stage manager is responsible for every facial makeup, and will personally pass upon each individual's appearance. he is usually an actor of long experience, and knows makeup thoroughly, but not the straight makeup for youth as taught in the ned wayburn studios which is the makeup i perfected when glorifying the celebrated "follies" beauties. he is capable of maintaining discipline, and is the watch dog behind the curtain. he commands respect by reason of his knowledge, experience and good judgment. he has presence of mind and is able to handle any emergency that comes up. he must thoroughly know his business. he is versatile. like the several instructors in my studios, who have had long stage experiences and specialized training for their jobs, the stage manager is able to answer any question that can come up concerning stage matters, and he is able to understudy and play most any part in an emergency. the assistant stage manager is under the stage manager. in the larger productions there are often two assistants. he has charge of the chorus, male and female, and is required to make all calls, to get the principals and chorus to the stage. he calls "half hour," thirty minutes before the overture time, "fifteen minutes," fifteen minutes before the overture time, and "overture," and when the overture is called everybody in the opening of the first act must come to the stage. he does the clerical work for his department and keeps the record of attendance, etc. the musical director, who is the leader of the orchestra, is responsible to the stage manager for the way in which all music is played at every performance, as well as for the correct rendition of all vocal numbers on the stage. every tempo throughout the play is his personal responsibility, and the composer exacts of him the most careful and effective execution of the score as written. it is he, too, who conducts all music rehearsals. he and his entire orchestra are members in good standing of the american federation of musicians, and the amount and time of their service in the theatre are definitely agreed upon and duly set forth in a signed contract in established legal form and binding upon both parties. all shows carrying scenery require the services of a stage carpenter, who is the custodian of all scenery and scenic effects, drops, solid drops, cut drops, leg drops, gauze drops, borders, exteriors, interiors, ceilings--all flat stuff and set stuff. (i am using the usual stage nomenclature for these, assuming that you will know the meanings of most of them, can guess at others, and won't care especially if one or two are not in your vocabulary. stage jargon has crept pretty well into the understanding of the general public, till now most theatrical terms are matters of common knowledge.) the scenery is set for each scene on the exact floor marking indicated by the producer. stage-hands, known as "grips" in stage parlance, set the scenes. there is usually a second stage carpenter, or second-hand assigned to work at the side of the stage opposite the stage carpenter, and a boss flyman, whose station is up above in the fly-gallery. he gives the "flymen" the cues to lower and raise the scenery as required, upon receiving signals by "buzzer" or "light-flashes" from the stage. the property man, known as "props," has charge of the furniture, rugs, pianos, telephones, everything of this nature, as well as of all hand-props, such as bric-a-brac, books, flowers, fruit, food for stage banquets, table silver and china, everything in fact that the play requires--even to a prop baby or any animals required. it is his duty to see that all props are in place for each act, ready to the hand of each player as the action calls for them. there is also an assistant property man, who has charge of the clearers, the men who set the "props" and clear off the trappings after each act, preparatory to setting the scene for the act following. at the close of the last act of the play the stage is again cleared, both of props and scenery, to permit unobstructed passageway. this is a state requirement, enacted as a fire-prevention measure. the chief electrician operates the switchboard and is the custodian of all lights on the stage; that is, of all portable lamps, of all that actually light. a lamp that is merely a prop or a decoration and not used to yield light is under the control of props and no electrician will touch it. the assistant electrician has the responsibility of all lamps in the theatre other than those on the stage. nobody ever touches a light in the theatre. a call goes out for the electrician if anything goes wrong with a light anywhere. nobody ever shifts or moves any part of the scenery except the stage carpenter or the crew under him. none but props ever places a piece of furniture on the stage. if you want a chair moved half an inch you must call the property man to do it, otherwise the several unions involved will immediately and without any question stage a drama of their own that is not down on the bills; one that may really turn out to be next door to a tragedy, since the penalty for failing to observe union requirements would undoubtedly be to stop the performance, walk off the stage and fine the stage-hand who was guilty of over-stepping the bounds $ . and ban him from the union. every musical production has its wardrobe mistress, and sometimes, if large enough, her assistant, both good seamstresses. the dressing room assigned to them is called the wardrobe. all costumes are in the care and charge of the wardrobe mistress. she alters and keeps them in repair, and sends out to be pressed or cleaned when occasion demands. the wardrobe women also have a union. the company manager represents the owner of the show and controls the "front of the house." he has nothing whatever to do with matters back of the curtain line, which are strictly within the province of the producer or stage manager. he has enough cares and important duties of his own without going back stage to find more to add to them. moreover, any effort on his part to dictate to the producing end would cause an immediate rupture. he knows that, and attends strictly to his own affairs. probably in no other craft, trade or profession is the line so carefully drawn between the business end and the producing end as in the show business. it is the company manager who is the custodian of the funds, handles all the finances and acts as paymaster. he maintains a close supervision over the sale of tickets sold at each performance and with the aid of the resident house manager and house treasurer "counts up" the tickets directly after the sale has stopped for each performance, usually after the curtain goes up on the second act. he makes up the payroll at the end of every week and pays the company on saturdays during either the matinee or evening performance, as is required by the standard theatrical contracts. the company manager is the watch dog of the show from "front." the box office receipts tell him a story that he must heed, and he is quick to catch its warning. there comes a time when even the most successful play must be withdrawn from the stage or continue at a financial loss. he is a wise company manager who can correctly determine the exact point to call a halt and terminate a run for the best interests of the owner and all others concerned. and it is because he can do this that he holds the important position that he does. he is almost invariably an experienced showman. furthermore, his multiple duties require him to be a diplomat if he would maintain his standing for preeminence. when the company travels, he arranges the transportation, provides rail or other transportation, supervises and controls everything connected with the entire trip. he is held financially responsible, and signs many contracts. the company manager handles everything connected with money and transportation and is an important cog in the wheels of things theatrical. there is a press representative connected with the show who finds plenty to do in attending to all newspaper advertising and advance writeups, publicity, photographs, billboard posters, photograph lobby frames and other display matter, as well as all other printing, including the newspaper ads and the distribution of printed matter. the fixing of the prices for tickets, which is most important, is usually his duty, provided he is a shrewd showman. the press representative, or director of publicity, or "agent" as he is known professionally, is generally found about two weeks in advance of the company arranging every detail to anticipate a successful opening or presentation in each city, or "stand," as it is called. so much for the personnel of the show's management and working crew. now we will say our company has just arrived in town and taken over the theatre in which it is to appear for an engagement. it finds at the theatre a resident house manager, a resident house treasurer, in charge of the local box office, and his assistant treasurer, who acts at times as relief for his chief, opens the box office in the morning, and sells the gallery tickets at show time. there is a house music director, a permanent chief usher and the other ushers, front ticket takers, an advertising agent, bill poster, a day and night stage door tender, who are usually watchmen, who are custodians of the building, besides the janitor and cleaners. [illustration: ray dooley] there is no conflicting of authority by reason of the arrival of our show upon the scene. it is understood by all hands that the show staff takes precedence of the house staff, and all work together for the general good, to put over a perfect and complete performance and get the public's patronage and approval. one thing you will do well to remember if you ever become a member of any theatrical business or mechanical staff: if you have occasion to purchase anything for the show or theatre at any time, be sure to get the company's stage manager's ok, or order or voucher of some kind in advance. it is an invariable rule of the craft that any purchase of over five cents made without this formal sanction will not be paid by the management, but will be considered as a donation--however involuntary--on your part. there is one very important man behind the curtain at every performance on every stage, whose rule is arbitrary and absolute, and who is not on the company payroll. this is the house fireman, a city officer, with the power of the city and state behind him. the fire regulations are posted in plain sight on every stage. "no smoking" is one peremptory order that admits of no violation. woe unto the actor or actress, principal or chorus girl, who tries to sneak a smoke in a dressing room, if found out! the fireman is using his nose as well as his eyes, and the familiar odor of a surreptitious cigarette will lead him straight to the culprit. mr. fireman is authorized by law to enter any dressing room under such circumstances, and no matter what the state of your toilet, he will exercise his authority, enter your room--and remove you forthwith. fine or imprisonment, or both, are the legal penalties for violation of the no smoking law, and for using a flame or canned fuel, in most theatres. principals have before now been taken off the stage in the midst of a performance and landed in jail, necessitating the dismissal of the audience. it is a mighty important man who can do a thing like that, and consequently the fireman commands the profoundest respect of every member of every company, from the chief all the way down the line. no man is ever employed back of the curtain line in any first class theatre who is not known to be of good character. those who are old in the theatrical business know this fact. if you harbor any other idea of these men, get it right out of your mind. every theatre manager today demands that his employees be qualified in respect to character as well as in ability. now that i have taken you back of the curtain line and out into the front office and shown you just how the wheels go 'round that make the show go, you have become aware that there is something more in the theatre business than a mere group of good actors and singers and dancers doing their best to please you up on the stage. the more the machinery of the stage is kept out of sight, the better the management and the greater the satisfaction, both to the folks behind the curtain and the audience out front. your attention should not be distracted from the play, the opera, the spectacle, by the intrusion of any noise or the appearance of anything or anyone not concerned with the actual presentation. the drop curtain or the tableau curtain should move silently and without revealing the human agents that manipulate them. scenes and sets should be made in silence and out of view of the spectators. no person should ever be in evidence on the stage, not even momentarily, save only the actors, whose presence you expect and welcome. otherwise the illusion is interrupted, perhaps destroyed--and ours is an art where illusion holds a major place in imparting pleasure. such an extraneous element would also break the continuity. it is not tolerated in the best houses. so you see there is a definite reason why the "men behind the guns" in the battery of the stage are out of sight and so, often, out of mind. the hard work of the producer and his faithful subordinates is shown only in the superior attainments of his troupe and the ensemble as presented to your vision. they, themselves, the men who finance, prepare, rehearse and drill the show into shape, are seldom in evidence--never on the stage. [illustration: nw] professional coaching and producing for amateur entertainments [illustration] i am often called upon to "put on" an amateur show, and the call is not confined to new york alone, but extends to many far distant cities. these are usually community or social affairs, charity organizations, college shows, or entertainments by the employees of some large establishment. once i have put a show across for these lovers of theatrical activities, the habit of continuing the plan of giving a show seems to have become established, for with many cities and clubs and associations the call continues year after year, an annual or periodical production under my direction being demanded. this indicates that i have been successful in directing the non-professional in a theatrical way, and i am sure it is so, for i have handled the whole situation and the "company" just as i would if they were going on the professional stage, taken personal charge of everything, coached principals and subordinates, put the show across, and been on hand to see the results. spread here before you is the story of just how i organize, coach, develop and handle an amateur company in a musical comedy or revue performance to occupy a full evening's time on a theatre stage; from the first "call" of an untrained troupe of inexperienced actors to the final curtain of the actual, completed performance. [illustration: moonlight ballet, follies of ] first of all, i make a call for anyone and everyone who would like to take part in the entertainment. this call is usually made in a hall, sometimes in the ballroom of a hotel, but usually in a large hall where there is a good floor and a piano. i always have a pianist in attendance. i take the people who are going to take part in the ensemble first and arrange them according to their height, always having the shortest person to my left. sometimes a great many people will try out for a thing of this kind. i have had as many as three and four hundred at many of the calls, and possibly more than that. i have always arranged them, as i say, from my left according to their height. then i get them to stand in a huge semi-circle before me, as large a semi-circle as the hall will permit, and if i have too many for that one semi-circle, i put the others behind them into other semi-circles. i begin by placing my first semi-circle shoulder to shoulder. i watch their shoulder heights and their head-lines all the way along the semi-circle. the semi-circle will begin at my left, cover the whole side of the hall--whichever is the longest side--and the end of the semi-circle will be at my extreme right. i have my table and chair in the center, but near the wall opposite this semi-circle. the pianist i usually have on my left-hand side, if it is convenient. he must have his piano turned in such a position that by looking slightly over his shoulder he can see me as well as the group. i number the entire group, beginning with number one and running consecutively from my left as far as they will go. then they are required to sit down in the same order. each person must have a seat and they occupy the same seat at each call, after the elimination process. before i do anything else i have their names taken, with addresses and telephone numbers; the first and last names directly opposite the number that i have given them. then they stand up and i arrange them in straight lines across. sometimes i will have eight in a line across, and i may have six lines of eight to begin with; sometimes eight lines of ten, and perhaps as many as twelve in a line, all depending on the shape and size of the hall. after they have been arranged in perfectly straight lines one directly behind the other, the next thing i do is to teach them the eight different directions, which are so important. let me recall them to you: ( ) left oblique, ( ) left, ( ) left oblique back, ( ) back, ( ) right oblique back, ( ) right, ( ) right oblique, and ( ) front. they are taken through these directions until i am sure they understand them thoroughly. then i divide the foot into four different parts, just as i do in my courses: the toe (the end of the shoe), the ball (the half-sole), the heel, and the flat. i always make them stand with their knees together, their heels together, the left toe pointed to left oblique, the right toe pointed to right oblique, hands down at their sides, the weight equally distributed between the two feet, heads up, and looking straight front on a line with their eyes. i insist upon their standing this way. every time they come to their places on the floor during rehearsal, i remind them of it. now, i begin to show them simple movements in order to get them to shift their weight easily and to give them confidence. first the hopping step. when they do this i can immediately tell just how far they can go in my dancing--by giving them what i call the hopping test. they hop on the ball of the left foot eight times and they repeat that eight more times, on the ball of the right foot to a / tempo. then they hop on the ball of the left foot for eight counts, and alternately for eight on the right foot, through a number of refrains or popular choruses. i caution them to be careful about bending the knee when they land the weight of the body on the floor, because many of them have never danced before in their lives. they know nothing about it, but by bending their knee they make a cushion for their weight, and they must land on the ball of the foot, not on the heels. after i try them out doing that, i put them in a circular formation, where everybody can see me, for i stand in the middle of the ring. i turn them toward the left hand, and i start them around in a circle on the hopping steps; left hop, right hop, left, , , ; right hop, left hop, right , , ; alternately through, in time with the music of a popular / tune. this test has never failed with me. i can immediately find the clumsy, awkward ones and select the apt ones. this, of course, i do in my mind, making mental notes of their numbers. after i get them back in a straight line at the end of the hall i call out the numbers of those who have qualified, but i do not hurry to do this because many times they are nervous at a first tryout. so i encourage them as much as i dare to. one has to be tactful at such times. but right away you can find your awkward people and also those who have a natural grace. i can pick them out immediately. they move around in a circle. many times i will stop them and divide them into smaller groups, all the time noting the ones that get it and the ones that don't. i will get to know number . i will watch her or him, and i will say to myself, , , , , , , and have it; the rest haven't. then i ask them to sit down. i can find out just about the way they are going to do my work from this little tryout. i never individualize my criticism. the main idea is to find out the ones who are interested. there are always some people who come to these calls who are out for a lark, and they must be eliminated at the first call. after the hopping test i am able to pretty well decide just which ones are going to get the ensemble work--and very often you will find some splendid natural dancer in a group like this. then i have another little test that i use in a - movement. two hops on the left, two hops on the right, two on the left and two on the right. get them to do that to a - tempo. after i determine in my own mind those who are most apt, i ask the members present if they have ever done anything in the way of any individual stunt, either a dance or a song, or if they ever played a part in amateur theatricals. usually a few will stand up, and i bring them around my table one at a time to get an idea of what they have done. i get them to write down their names and addresses and exactly what they have done or what they think they can do, gradually getting the whole thing on paper. in this way i am getting all of the available talent organized. in the meantime i am watching the members of the ensemble. i am trying them out in some of the simple routines. i gradually work them into it before they realize it. i get them all enthused about it, and through long experience i am able to tell which group is going to be what i call my dancing girls or boys. they will be the smallest ones, five foot one, five foot two, three and four. then i pick out those who are a little slow in picking up the steps, and they will be the "mediums," the sort of "in between" ones. then i pick out the very best type of show girl, usually the taller girls, who can't move as fast as the smaller girls, but who have grace and good figures, and who are good looking. until i have the three final groups, of course, i make all the members of the ensemble dance. the show-girl will be more dignified perhaps, with a stately bearing. naturally i pick out the girls who have natural aptitude to do my work properly and make them the real dancers. i have eight, twelve or sixteen of these in a set, never any more. then the others who don't dance quite so well will be the mediums, and then the show-girls who can stand in the back of the stage, or at the corners, and dress the stage or do "parade numbers," or walking numbers. after i get these sets worked out i give them their next call and take the principals in hand. then i have copies of the manuscript, and usually carry along three sets of the parts. if it is a play, i have the play completely read. if it is a revue, i have all of the skits and numbers with me. i have the principals come in and sit down in a semi-circle before me while i seat myself behind the table on which i keep my papers and the brief case in which i carry the "scripts," parts, etc., and we have a meeting similar to the meeting that was held with the ensemble. the pianist is there, and they bring along their songs. whoever is going to be the stage manager of the company is also there. he is usually one of my coaches that i carry with me. the local casting director and usually the president or chairman, also sit at the table at the left side of me, with my own assistant (the "coach") at my right. now, those who want to read parts for me are put at one side into one group; that is, those who wish to try to handle important parts in the dialogue. then i place another group together which expects to do solo dancing--at the other side. they are called principal dancers. then i make a separate group of those who expect to sing, or to do any sort of a musical specialty, or any kind of a "stunt" that might be included in the show. i have had the greatest variety of specialties in a show. i have had them do magic, burlesque magic, play ukuleles, and all sorts of stunts which i have placed effectively in a show. we had a man in the princeton show who did a little trick with a cigarette that was a scream. i saw him standing around, and i asked him if he could do a specialty. "i don't think so," he said. he was smoking a cigarette at the time, and he said "this is the only thing i can do." he took the cigarette from his mouth, broke it in two, lit both ends of it, and he was smoking with both ends of the cigarette sticking out of his mouth. then he put another cigarette in his mouth and did the same, and finally he lit the third cigarette without using his fingers but from the other butts in his mouth. well, i had him do this stunt in the second act, in a proper spot, and it stopped the show every performance. some of those connected with the show told me before the show that they didn't think what he was doing was going to get over, but i told them in as nice a way as i could to mind their own business, as i always do, and i put this "bit" in. i put a -ampere spotlight (very strong) on his face, and he did just this little trick beautifully. well, there was more talk about that than anything else in the whole show. it had commercial value and it helped the box office. people went especially to see him do it. we had stunts there that had been planned for a year, and they didn't get as much favorable comment as this one little trick did. of course, it was properly fitted in, cued in, as we call it, just as everything else has to be in the right spot. [illustration: will rogers] i only point this out to you to tell you that sometimes in arranging your recitals or shows--whatever you may call them--you will find a lot of talent which you would otherwise overlook unless you go about it the thorough way that i do. i do the same with a professional organization, because after all i am a builder of entertainments and i must know entertainment values in order to make a success of my business. i must be able to recognize and fully realize talent when it is present. you must have a lot of patience to do this work. some people are able to do lots of things that will prove entertaining. after all, what you are concocting is an entertainment. you should always aim to present something different, something original or novel that will surprise and amuse your audience, not the hackneyed old stunts that everyone has seen time and again. after i get them divided into groups and get their names down, i go through the tests for principals. i will always hear the songs first; but before you hear them sing they have to put down on paper what they have ever done before, how much training they have had, and so on. then they go over to the piano and sing. but i usually try to be tactful and let amateur singers tryout for me with no one listening, to spare them embarrassment. from the piano they come up to the table and sit down before me. as they are sitting before me, i note their appearance. i engage them in conversation. i note their teeth, mannerisms and personalities, incidentally classifying them in my mind and casting them in my mind's eye. if they are in any way possible and i feel that they should be given a chance, i make a note of it and the songs i want them to try. then i grade them, number , number , , and so on. all of those who are trying for the leading parts are graded as they should be, but always on paper so that i will not forget or overlook anyone. after i am through with them i go through the solo dancers the same way and mark them and what they can do. i get them down on paper. as i see them dance i find out which is the best dancer, with the idea of placing her or him in the show to good advantage. that's the important thing in planning your show. they all have to be placed in a certain sequence in the show. if the best numbers are all in the first act, you kill the act or acts that follow. the success of any show is in the way it is laid out. it is the placement of the personalities, and what they are given to do--when they do it--that makes or mars the entertainment. one with a great deal of personality can go into your show, and if not cast properly he or she will kill the rest of the show. casting must be done with good judgment and common sense. after i have my list of singers and dancers worked out, then i pick the people who are capable of playing the parts. some of them may have had previous experience, but never perhaps professional coaching. now the reason why these amateur shows are usually so rotten is on account of the incompetent coaches who put them on. it is always the fault of the stager if the show doesn't go over. some of them are terrible. they don't know anything about the show business. they don't know how to lay out a show. they don't know how to put on the dancing. they don't know a comedy scene when they see one. they do not understand how to rehearse dialogue or how to set the inflections of the voices which make the lines get over as they should. these coaches are usually people without any actual staging experience, consequently they are not competent to rehearse anybody. amateur organizations all over the country are beginning to realize the necessity for professional stage direction in order to register success, both artistically and financially. it is not nearly so costly to employ my organization as it is to have some other which is only giving a very poor imitation of us, which means a thoroughly competent staff of real producing directors, who are up to the minute with their dance routines and everything else required. if you will take the trouble to investigate you will no doubt discover that the coach you have employed has been to my school for a very short time, just in order to get our latest dances and ideas in staging. why get this service at second hand? it will cost no more to get it from me direct. before you let them read a part for you, you should first hand them a copy of their part and tell them to go to one side and sit down and read it through thoroughly. some of them don't know anything about a part. a copy of a part is typewritten, and the dialogue that they are to speak begins at the margin. the cue that they speak on begins about an inch away and there is a dotted line in front of the cue, but always what they are to say starts at the margin when parts are properly typewritten. parts are made up of what we call speeches. it may be four lines or four words or two words or even one word. "yes" is a speech. what they should know is what their speeches are. what they have to say is called a "speech," and in parenthesis must always be the "stage business" or what they are to do. stage directions should always be in parenthesis. they are sometimes typed in red ink on the first copies of the parts. when they study the dialogue, they should try to fathom the speech; that is, they should form a mind's eye picture of what the line conveys to the audience. that is how i teach them to study. they read a sentence. a sentence is supposed to express a complete thought. they must get the proper inflection by reading it out loud. no method of expression is brought into play yet. by that i mean no pantomimic by-play or facial expression. they are only reading at first. in most of the amateur shows, the players never do anything else but read the parts. they read, crossing back and forth whenever the coach thinks they ought to cross, and it doesn't mean a thing. i watched that very thing in an amateur show not so long ago, and it was inane. nobody should move from one place on the stage to another without a reason for moving. there is a reason for every inflection of the voice. a person with common sense will read a part intelligently, but only a person with a dramatic spark inside of the body will be able to act a part naturally. if the dramatic spark is not there, no human being will put it there. if it is there, a real director will discover it and awaken it and make much of it. after this first reading rehearsal, where the parts should be cast, more than one person can be tried out for the different parts. i make a call for the dialogue rehearsal where i walk them through the action, holding the parts in their hands as they walk through the physical action of the play. you will find that each one has his or her own idea as to how it should be done. i have them speak their lines distinctly and slowly at first. while this is going on i do not allow any visitors. not one word is spoken except by the person who is reading the lines, or myself. i make notes as to who reads the parts best. many times you will find that the local folks will have ideas about who is to play this part or that part. i pay no attention to them at all. i always use my own judgment about such things; in fact, about everything concerning the production. i don't allow anybody else to dominate the show or arrange anything for me. but you must know your business before you can assume such an attitude. after the dialogue rehearsal is over, all the participants are carefully marked, noting the ones who are most natural and apt at the dialogue; those who have resonant voices that will dominate the auditorium as well as those who have positive personalities. you know there are a great many negative people on the stage; they never get anything over. i always have tried to pick personalities that will go over. i can take a crowd of professionals or amateurs and place them before me in a semi-circle, seated; get them to read a play for me and immediately pick those who will score a success. this, of course, is the result of years of experience, yet if you try this you will have some with strong personalities dominating your little semi-circles. they will usually dominate your show. there is always one personality that dominates everybody. it might be a comedian, it might be a singer, it might be a dancer, but there is always some personality that sticks out, and after all, such a personality must be reckoned with and properly cast, otherwise it may even dominate the play. it usually does. if properly cast it may carry the play to success. a rehearsal usually lasts about three hours. accomplish something every minute of the time. get on with the business of rehearsal--no discussions or arguments. when rehearsal is over make your next call for these people, at a definite time and do not change it. after dividing all of your people into groups as i have said, make separate calls for principals and the ensemble. for instance, take your dialogue and principals' songs monday, wednesday and friday evenings, from : until : , or thereabouts; and the chorus or ensemble sets tuesday, thursday and saturday at about the same time. i think you will find that you can accomplish a great deal on sundays. i usually call the principals and members of the chorus the first sunday at o'clock, and keep them until six, unless there are religious scruples against rehearsing on sunday, which is really not considered sacrilegious. (i was brought up in the episcopal church and sang in the choir as a boy.) then i run right through the play as fast as i can, to teach them the sequence of it. then i usually call the principal singers back sunday evening and give them a good rehearsal on the "business" of the numbers. at the first rehearsal for the chorus i have the musical coach teach them the music and lyrics by ear, one phrase at a time. provide a complete copy of the lyrics for every member of the chorus; we usually collect them at the end of each rehearsal. do not allow any talking, laughing or playing at any of your rehearsals; make everybody concerned take everything seriously from the very beginning. they will welcome it, since it saves time for everybody. put them under the strictest discipline; get rid of those who do not want to take you seriously; do not be annoyed by them, as they jeopardize your chances of success. sometimes i carry my own musical coach, and i have found out that when i don't carry my own pianist i always have trouble with my work. i have never found anybody who can play the piano for my rehearsals to suit me unless they have played professional rehearsals before. they must have a certain touch to inspire me, so a good pianist means a lot. insist upon one who reads easily and who can play by ear as well. if you have a rotten piano player the numbers will usually turn out to be terrible. there must be something in the way the number is played to make the members of the chorus want to dance. after we get the numbers taught--that is, the songs--then i start to teach the ensembles to dance the different routines. i pick out what i would say would be the "hit" number of the show, the best popular tune, something that appeals to me, that has a production idea in the lyric. it is usually in - tempo, what i call the song-hit tempo. i pick out this one song and we try a simple soft-shoe movement to the chorus of it. our routines fit any -bar chorus. i work with the song for a while, then give them a -minute rest. then i may pick out a waltz number and try a few steps to that / tempo. but first of all they are in a ring in a circle around me, and they first are required to walk in time to each tune in the show. [illustration: dorothy dickson and carl hyson] i show them how to walk in time to the music. you begin with your left foot and walk steps in strict time with the music, then you take four steps in half-time, counting one-and on each side, taking a step on the flat of your left foot for the count of , then bringing the ball of the right foot up behind the left heel and touching the floor with the ball of that foot for the count of "and"; the same with the right foot, and so on. the complete movement being in strict time and " -and" for half-time. there may be eight, twelve, sixteen or sometimes twenty-four numbers, and the people are made to walk around in circular formation in time with the music, until they walk gracefully without any awkward mannerisms. now, there will always be somebody who will start with the wrong foot. someone will always be out of time. some of them are born without a sense of rhythm. they don't belong in the show and they must be eliminated if you are going to make a success of the ensemble work; only people who do modern dancing well should attempt the dancing. we go along and teach our regular routines, whatever i lay out for the show, but working on every number at the same time, doing maybe four steps for one number, four for another, and so on, until i have laid out the whole show in my mind. i never lay a show out in advance. i do my best work on the spur of the moment. i have tried the other way, but whatever is cut and dried is never any good. i must be inspired at rehearsals. when those who are going to be the principals have learned the songs, i talk to them and try them out on a few little test steps to see what they can do. some of them are usually able to do some little dance movements. then i make them stand behind the ensemble and do the work i have taught them, not in front of the chorus where they would be embarrassed if they missed a step, but behind the lines where they can be picking up the work. then i eventually get them out in front, and they usually do about the same dance as the ensemble, because if they don't the ensemble shows them up. and you don't get your precision effect. you must always get in an effective finish to every number, either a final picture or an exit. if you want the chorus to get a hand, bring them on for the encore, and let the chorus exit big on the encore, but first get your effective finish. then you have them all back for the encore, then exit the chorus if you like, and let the soloist stay on and let her or him do a solo dance if it is going to be strong enough. there are different ways to finish a number and you have to use your own judgment. be patient when you handle the principals and chorus, but persistent. shape up the dialogue right away, and take the entire show through as soon as you can--the first sunday as i suggested, if possible. make them run through the show no matter how it looks. they must stand up for the ensembles and go through what they have learned, no matter how rough it is, and the principals must do whatever they are supposed to do to the best of their abilities. don't take "no" or "i'm not prepared" or anything like that for an answer. accept no excuses; go through with it. the more you go through the sequence the better they will be at the performance. along about that time i am thinking about the pictorial effects. i will have worked out a costume plot for the principals and chorus by this time. by a costume plot i mean an assignment of dresses, costumes, for both the chorus and principals. i make out two separate plots, one for the members of the chorus and one for the principals, in sequence from the opening number of the show down to the end of the show. if i have thirty-six or forty-eight members in the chorus, i put their names in and the costumes that they wear for each number, in the order that they are worn. these plots are then typewritten according to the sequence of the show. this is most important. they show every change in costume that every one of the ensemble makes during the performance. the same thing with the principals. always figure the time you have allowed each person to change costume, otherwise you will strike a snag which may ruin the performance. the show is taking a definite form by this time. i then start to give them formations or groupings on the scene. when the curtain goes up sometimes they are discovered on the scene. some scenes i arrange for the purpose of obtaining a good, effective picture, according to the architecture and atmosphere of the scene, or i may give them some very effective entrance movement coming down a staircase, through an arch or gateway, or over a fence. this is influenced by the set. i sometimes arrange surprise entrances, or little surprise exits which are inspired by the lyrics or music. sometimes i may use a personality in the ensemble and give her an entrance or exit last. i resort to any sort of producer's magic, as i call it, to get an effect or to provoke applause, always keeping the costumes and the color schemes in mind. of course, i have my own "bag of tricks" with which i can insure the success of any musical play that has any sort of entertainment appeal, and you, no doubt, will have yours in time, with experience. during the dialogue rehearsals, i make the principals speak the dialogue in time, the same as the dances are done in time. they are not allowed to use their own conception of how the lines should be spoken unless i think their conception is better than mine. every syllable they utter will have to dominate the entire auditorium. that is something that the coach must understand. when the house is full, the audience makes a difference in the acoustics. your people in the show don't know anything about that, and so you must govern the volume of the dialogue and set every inflection, attitude of the body, and gesture definitely. but never let them use gestures that are obvious. we will next assume that up to this time we have been working in a hall. now to perfect the dialogue it is sometimes necessary to go over one speech fifty times or a hundred times, to get a certain inflection and to set the accompanying "stage business." stage business--all of it--creates some dramatic value for the performance. that has to be worked out, if you want to get effective pieces of "business," much depending upon the brain power and the experience of the coach, whether he is able to devise effective business or not. sometimes you will find it indicated in the script. for a man to make a success at this business he must have inventive ability. he must thoroughly understand dialogue, how to time it and set it. they must pick up their cues, and at the proper moment, and not make "stage waits" between lines. sometimes the line is one that calls for a laugh. sometimes there is a line preceding it, preparing the audience for what is to follow. we call that a feed line. where the period comes there should be a slight pause. we time that. the actor counts to himself, " , " before proceeding with the next line, that gives a laugh a chance to get under way. if you don't give a line like that a chance, it doesn't get over and the point is lost. it doesn't get the laugh that you expect, and it would if the coaching is done properly. rehearsing dialogue is very tricky work. you must be very strict when you rehearse it. if anybody on the stage should move, if a chair is moved or if a door is opened at the wrong time while the dialogue is going on, it would detract from the line and kill the play. no one can move while a line is spoken unless it is some kind of a line that doesn't call for a point. but if it is a comedy point that you want to put over, or any other kind of an effective point, the characters must be still and the line must be delivered, and after the period, after the end of the line, you can break the picture and move. many a play is killed because people don't understand how to rehearse dialogue, don't understand how to get scenes over; amateur coaches teaching wrong business. i saw wrong business ruin a whole show once in baltimore. the chorus was walking up and down stage trying to get a lyric over, with no sense of direction. they didn't know where they were going or why. the coach just told them to walk up and down. the soloist's back was toward the audience at times; she was facing right; she was facing left; in every conceivable direction except the right one to get a song over. of course the number failed. the soloist should have been in the center of the stage so the lyric could have been heard and followed by everyone in the audience. get the verse and the first chorus over so that the audience gets the idea of the song. it creates atmosphere for the number. if you walk sideways and your face is sideways, the audience doesn't get the lyric. when i rehearse a show the faces are at least three-quarters to the audience, when a person sings or speaks. nobody must ever have their back to the audience when a line is spoken. if they sing a song or speak a line, everything must be done for the benefit of the audience. that must be kept in mind from the time you first begin to rehearse the company. whether it is a professional or an amateur company makes no difference. they are trained in the same way. now, let us say we have finally perfected the play. they know the lyrics, they know the numbers, they know the "business" that occurs during the dialogue, and they know the "business" of the ensembles. by this time the play has actually taken form, and it is time to rehearse it with the scenery. when the scenery is added, both the ensemble and the principals who do the numbers all report in their practice clothes. insist upon that. this insures their getting right down to business without "stalling," as nearly all people on the professional or amateur stage are disposed to do. go through the sets, get effective groupings so that you get the most natural and effective pictures and it all conforms to the architecture of the sets. after you have finished rehearsing with the scenery, commence to give them the hand-props. sometimes i use important hand-props in dialogue before i take on the scenery. that has to be carefully worked out and considered. otherwise i work the scene rehearsals in with hand-props. you will find that most every one who has to handle a prop will fumble it, will be terribly awkward with it. if they have to pick a chair up and set it some place else, they will drag it across the floor and make a noise with it. they can't pick it up and set it down without any noise. this must be rehearsed. if they have to handle some hand-prop, they will drop it at the wrong time. most people are very clumsy in the presence of an audience. rehearse them with hats. gentlemen have very often come on the stage in amateur performances and worn their hats in drawing rooms in the presence of ladies. i have seen them take them off and place them in the most ridiculous places, even in professional shows. figure all of this out and rehearse it carefully. i have had awful times just trying to teach them to sit down and stand up properly. [illustration: a corner in one of the ladies' dressing rooms] after the scenery and props come the costumes. we never have any trouble unless somebody is trying to rehearse everything at the same time. not even in an amateur show do i do that. i won't allow it. the sequence of final rehearsals is in this order; the scenery, the props, the costumes, the lights, the orchestra. you often have trouble with your costumes unless you get them from a good concern. there are two or three first-class establishments in new york where you can rent most anything. i have given the names of some in a preceding chapter. there is one big firm in new york that has recently bought over a million dollars' worth of costumes from the charles frohman estate, including some wonderful period costumes. i always seem to be able to get about what i have wanted for amateur productions from certain big new york establishments in this line of business; those who make costumes for the famous players, griffith, and the very best moving picture and theatrical companies. they have made many things for marion davies and her cosmopolitan pictures. i had a telegram from a girl in minneapolis the other day. she had to have a certain costume, because her engagement depended upon it. she was to work three weeks at $ a week, and she couldn't do it without the proper costumes. i had one of my men pick out the costumes for her. they cost her $ for the entire three weeks. they were sent to her by parcel post c.o.d. by one of these firms. we have an art department in our studios where we make our own designs for settings and costumes. when amateurs or professionals write to me or wire me, i am usually able to put them in touch with the right people and help to get just what they need. any of these can be gotten at reasonable prices. the prices range from $ , $ , $ . , $ , $ and $ a week for each costume, depending, of course, upon the quality of costume. i used a marvelous costume once worn by ethel barrymore in one production, and i think i paid $ for the rent of it. a costume like that would cost $ to have it made. after i am through with the costumes, i begin to do the lighting. i will use certain lights that will affect the sets, the scenery. other lights will be used for the characters. i use the side lights, overhead lights, border lights, and front lights. the spot-lights are used to pick up the characters; sometimes i use x-ray border lights down stage overhead to pick up the costumes. these lights are not focused on the scenery at all. the other lights are worked to tone the scenery to the desired effect, either to obscure it or to bring it out vividly. be very careful of the kind of light you use on the costumes. if you have trouble with the scenery or the costumes, you can usually disguise them and make them look entirely different by some sort of trick lighting effect. i remember one time staging a production at the winter garden. the management set a limit of $ for each costume; that's all they would allow. i had about sixty-four girls in that ballet, and it was staged by theodore kosloff, who is now in los angeles. he was formerly at the empire theatre in london, when i lived in london. he couldn't speak a word of english at that time. he had to sail for europe before he finished staging this ballet, and he turned the ballet over to me, with a friendly request that i personally finish it for him, which i gladly did. he had explained what he wanted in costumes, and the management finally ordered some costumes made at the above price. i just wish you could have seen what came in. when you are used to spending $ , $ , and as much as $ , on chorus costumes alone you can imagine what we got for $ . when the girls put them on i was obliged to put colored lights on them, red, blue, dark amber, and i did finally manage to get a very beautiful effect, which you can do if you find that your costumes are not up to the mark. experiment with your colors until you get the desired effect. after we get through with our costumes and lights, we are ready to add the orchestra. that is the last thing of all. i bring the orchestra in for a reading rehearsal, with the composer and musical director, and we correct whatever orchestra parts there may be wrong and smooth out the music. we always have a special orchestra rehearsal without scenery, without costumes, without the principals, without the lights, without any stage hands being around, and we perfect the musical end of the show with the orchestra and company prior to the dress rehearsal. then we have the final full dress rehearsal, orchestra, stage hands, costumes, lights, props, scenery, facial makeups, everything complete. we make them up for the dress rehearsal thinking that they will remember how to make up for the opening performance, but we always find that they can't do it, and about half past four or five in the afternoon of the opening performance we begin to make them up again. then we are all ready for the opening performance, and we drive them through this at a terrific pace, not allowing anyone or anything to _slow_ the performance up, which would be fatal. * * * * * when you sit in front and see a show going along prettily and smoothly, you little think of the amount of brain work, foot work and executive power and force that has been necessary behind the curtain to make the performance what it is! does it pay? here is a recent newspaper clipping: "the kansas city junior league follies, recently produced for a week's run at the shubert theatre, kansas city, under the personal direction of mr. ned wayburn, resulted in a net profit to them of $ , . ." [illustration: nw] [illustration: a private lesson with music, being supervised by mr. wayburn (at window)] private instruction [illustration] usually our beginner pupils at the studios enter themselves in a class, of either one or another of the types of stage dancing that are so popular, and proceed regularly along the lines of class instruction. then, in nearly every class, there will be those who "eat up" the work, who advance rapidly and get ahead of the others, because of special capability or unusual capacity along the line they are studying. others go along at a natural pace, developing at the average rate, and in the end come out as well schooled as their speedier companions. for them the regular routine of class instruction is sufficient and effective. their progress is safe and sane. still others lag. this condition is present in every walk of life, in every school, profession, trade. some always get behind, fail to grasp the meaning of their teacher's talk, are deficient in initiative ability and so may not interpret his steps in their own actions. i do not like to think or say that any of our pupils are lazy or indifferent; ours is no place for either laziness or indifference. but whatever the reason, the fact persists, a certain small proportion of nearly every class in our studios fails to advance as rapidly as their sister mates are doing. if this element will recognize its own shortcomings and is sufficiently ambitious to desire to succeed, the remedy lies in the direction of private instruction. so, too, in the case of the fast learners, those who are really getting ahead of the majority of their mates; they will profit measurably by taking our private instruction. we have special studios and special instructors for just this purpose. professionals come to us without solicitation, for new steps, new tricks, or new touches to old dances, and a few private lessons here sends them out with new stuff to please their public. the student who has come to an impasse, who finds she is not progressing in class as she wishes to, and the student who is very facile at her work and her learning, and knows herself capable of going ahead more rapidly than class routine permits--these are the two who will do well to consider the taking of private lessons. the average pupil may well be content with her class work if she is going along in good fashion, and for her, private instruction is not so essential. she may wish it later on as conditions change, but at present the ensemble instruction, with its unison work and the gentle competitions of fellow-students doing the same stunts, may be all that she requires. ask your instructor if he thinks you will best remain in class, or take private lessons, or do both. and ask me. both the teacher and i will be perfectly frank with you and advise you for your own best interest. at the desk in the main office you will learn what hours are available for private lessons, and you will be assigned an hour, an instructor and a private studio, if you and i decide that you will benefit by this course. experience [illustration] if i hadn't had many years of stage experience myself, i'd not be competent to instruct any one on the subject. i am not only a teacher of dancing, i am also a dancer, and can do all the steps as well as tell you how to do them. my experience as a stage dancer began in a store basement in chicago, where i tried to imitate the best dancers i had seen at a variety show. i put on wooden shoes and whistled my own clogs and jigs for hours at a time, till i brought myself by main strength, and no personal instruction, to a point where i could exhibit my home-made steps to a professional dancer. that is a hard way to get experience. you are more fortunate than you may realize in having everything that you have to do to become a dancer all worked out systematically for you, and told you and shown you by a simple method which anyone can learn, with perfect music and everything else that modern science can devise to aid you. in the old days the beginner in dancing went direct to the stage door and stated his or her desire to become a dancer. the applicant was sometimes accorded a tryout. if he or she appeared awkward or was slow to catch the tempo, or not physically developed to please the eye, that was the end of it. there was no time to waste in helping to overcome minor defects, no personal interest shown whatever. he or she was dismissed summarily without any advice of a helpful nature. if the candidate exhibited qualities that recommended her or him to the producer, he or she was given a stage training in chorus work following a tryout. the training was obtained in rehearsals, conducted for weeks, without compensation. the instructor might become impatient at any evidence of slowness of comprehension or execution; he might resent tardiness, absence, or slight infringement of stringent rules, and in such cases dismissal was the usual penalty. the young lady or gentleman aspiring to become a stage dancer in that day and age paid a considerable price for the experience, as you may readily imagine. contrast then with now. you are acquiring this needed preliminary experience to fit you for a stage career in our courses under conditions that recommend them to ladies and gentlemen. there are no subordinates in our courses. all are equal. there is discipline, of course. you will find discipline on the stage when you advance that far. but discipline won't hurt you, not our kind. we ask for silence, attention, practice, and the conduct that ladies and gentlemen naturally observe. if you are a lady of social prominence, studying for the grace and beauty and health that our lessons impart, and not intending to favor the stage with your presence, you are accorded the same treatment that all others receive. this is a pure democracy if ever there was one. by the old way of obtaining training and stage experience a young lady was kept for years in a subordinate place, and if she at last worked her way up out of the chorus into solo dancing, it was by "main strength," a vivid personality, aggressiveness and untiring effort. our first and primary instruction in the courses takes the place of the years of disappointing hard work that formerly prevailed. you are not held down. your personality is encouraged and developed. you have to do your part, of course; we are not going to make stars of you if you don't help us do it. but the experience you must have is ready and waiting, and is based on a knowledge of things theatrical, gleaned and gathered through a series of years of personal experience exclusively in that field. so much for the easier preliminary experience. now you have passed the portals of our studio, fitted and trained, a solo dancer, worthy of entertaining a public who waits to pay for the pleasure of seeing you do your turn. on the way through the courses you have had some small samples of what an audience is like. there have been the visitors' days when your work was on exhibition, and a frolic before your fellow students in our own demi-tasse theatre, or perhaps some neighborhood or church entertainments near your home. those have all been good experience for you. now, as you enter upon a professional career, you must be content with a moderate start. i know how far you have advanced and what you may reasonably expect to do in your first, your starting engagement. come to me before you commit yourself to any manager's care, if you possibly can arrange to do so. in a small vaudeville act you may be able to command $ to $ a week as a beginner doing a specialty. you may have a year of doing three or four shows a day on "small-time," as it is called, which is splendid experience for you. then you may advance to bigger time, playing two shows a day with bigger pay, and then, having improved yourself and your act as you go along, you are in line for the still higher grade theatres, where your work will get the eye of some production manager who will offer you a really worthwhile engagement in a production, as a broadway show is called. you cannot become a star in three or four months. it is only the foolish ones who dream of such a possibility. it takes time and experience to get on at a big time house like the palace theatre in new york city, which is recognized as broadway's best showroom for the vaudeville artist. look at the history of the stars you know. evelyn law worked four years before she reached her present broadway fame. ann pennington has been working fifteen years, fred and adele astaire nearly fourteen years--and i can name all the stars on broadway and tell you exactly how long it took them to reach the pinnacle of their present success. so expect for yourself a moderate position on the start until experience has developed you and the public learned to like you, and then your advancement should be rapid and easy. do you know that as the result of my years of experience i originated all the solo and ensemble dances taught in my courses? because of the same experience i conceive and create all of the novelties, settings, costumes, ideas and theatrical effects that are used in all the productions, professional and amateur, that i stage. there is no other school that can duplicate our service, since there is no other producing director of any standing in the theatrical world connected with such an organization as mine. you are invited to benefit by my experience in every way. it is a part of your education here that you are not asked to pay for. i tender it freely to all who become members of my family of pupils. not only are you dancing routines of my own constructing, and listening or reading at times to my class room talks on subjects bearing oh stage-craft and showmanship, but also you are earnestly invited to consult with me about your personal ambitions and desires. [illustration: marion davies] i have literally helped thousands of good girls and boys to make millions of dollars for themselves, in the aggregate, and have brought a lot of happy hours to many million people who have willingly paid their good money to see my pupils in their perfect work on the stage. profit by my experience; let me help you with my knowledge. this will make your experience easier for you, and the more quickly fit you for the lofty position that a perfectly worthy ambition prompts you to seek. [illustration: nw] inspiration [illustration] when you present yourself as a pupil it is to be inferred that you are already inspired with a desire to become a dancer of the first quality. that is good and as it should be. without inspiration no one has ever accomplished anything worth while in any line of endeavor. stage dancing is never a matter of luck or breeding; it is the direct result of hard work under competent instruction, with your being inspired to bring forth the very best that is in you. all of us here at the ned wayburn studios are inspired with a desire to create a career for you, if you desire one. whether we succeed in our endeavor or not depends upon you. we will do our part faithfully, earnestly and joyfully, and furnish you such an opportunity as no other generation of aspirants for stage honors and success ever possessed. our courses themselves, as well as our scientific method of developing you, are really inspiring to the new student with the primary inspiration of desiring a successful, honorable and profitable career. as you approach the studio building from broadway you note that its appearance is attractive. it is new, clean, impressive; and on the large second and third floor main windows, and on the broadway and th street corner windows, you note the signs, the lettering that stands out, to tell you that you have arrived at the haven of your dreams and hopes. you step off broadway and enter the corridor of the studio building through the main entrance on th street, where elevators await you, to convey you the single flight up to the second floor, and you step directly into our main business office. here is found further inspiration, for stage dancing is here treated as a business and in a business-like way, and our business office indicates that fact to the newcomer at the very first glance. the prospective pupil approaches the long counter. she is greeted by mrs. wayburn, who acts as hostess, or chaperon, or it may be by some other principal or employee, whose business it is to welcome and greet the new arrivals who come to us daily. your introduction of yourself is followed naturally by your questions as to this or that which you wish to know about our terms and methods, to confirm your own understanding of the matter. these are answered fully and courteously. our greeters welcome your inquiries. ask us just what you want to know, and their response will be politely given. anyone behind the counter thoroughly understands dancing. are you from out of the city, and do you wish to be directed to a suitable hotel, boarding house, studio apartment or private residence for your domicile while here? we have a list of desirable and investigated places to suit all purses and all needs, and are glad to pass the information on to our students. your questions being answered to your satisfaction, you decide to enroll. the booking secretary invites you behind the counter, where an enrollment card and contract is made out and signed. this contract stipulates the number of lessons you are to receive and the kind of stage dancing you are to take. you take the work just as i have personally laid it out in the courses. the matter of tuition is arranged, and you, as one of us, are invited to accompany a guide to the various classrooms, studios, offices and other departments of the two large floors--and absorb inspiration for your future work from what you observe in the way of modern facilities and actual instruction being given to live classes. there is nothing more inspiring to the new pupil than to see our various dancing classes in action. in fact, a view of our classes in progress of work is inspiring to anyone, professional or non-professional. the girls do their class work with a vim and snap that betokens their interest and their intention to make good. they are a smiling happy lot of young ladies that it does one good to look at. especially is this true of the advanced classes; the beginners' classes are busy learning the a, b, c's of dancing, and these rudiments are absorbing. but to watch the beginners today, and then see the same pupils a few weeks later as they advance in ease of movement and in a completer understanding of their work, is most inspiring of all--inspiring to you who see them and to the progressing pupils themselves. if it were possible or practical to let the public in to look at our classes at work, our present large quarters would soon prove inadequate to give foot room to the great number of inspired ladies who would wish to enroll here and join in the gayeties. there is contagion in watching our best students at their "play." our new pupil is escorted also into my private office, there to be welcomed by me personally. a large and richly furnished room is this, its walls decorated with photographs of stage stars of universal fame who have been developed by me, and incidentally helped up the ladder of fame. here is inspiration on every hand. in her progress through the two floors of the studios our newcomer is absorbing inspiration continually. to enumerate some of the features that make an impression on her receptive mind as she proceeds from room to room: there is the call board in the main office. now in the theatre the call board is an established institution, placed handily to the stage door and inspected daily by all members of the company for such information as the management wishes to impart. our call board serves a similar purpose, and we encourage its daily perusal by all the students. we post thereon press notices that our graduates send us of their own success as reported in the newspapers; also notices of my own producing activities in many cities; the date of the next makeup classes; information of every nature that concerns the studio or its clientele. there is the grand ball room, the most complete room for its purpose that was ever constructed; its floors clear-maple, its walls full-length mammoth mirrors; its windows large, its ventilation perfect and easily regulated; its double rows of practice bars; its clocks regulated and wound electrically by the western union telegraph co. every hour, striking to announce the opening and closing of the class instruction. in this grand ball room, the large ballet studio, the various classroom and private instruction and rehearsal studios, the gymnasium, and especially in the demi-tasse theatre, which is a corporate part of our studios,--in all these there is accumulated a fund of inspiration that suffices to start the new student with a hopeful and expectant spirit of future accomplishment that is a prime essential to her success. on the day in which instruction is to start, the pupil returns to the studio and is assigned to a dressing room. here she finds expert maid service, the maids being on continuous duty during all instruction periods. she is accommodated with a locker, if one is required, with her individual key. she is introduced to the row of modern shower baths, and finds accompanying them every form of up-to-date sanitary appliances and fixtures. she is now "at home," a full-fledged member of the "happy family," and her education in her chosen art is about to commence. she takes her seat in her first classroom. she finds herself surrounded by a number of other young ladies who, like her, have come here imbued with the laudable ambition to advance their interests in health, beauty, accomplishment of grace, and to fit themselves for an independent and lucrative career, not one of whom is any more advanced than she is. her inspiration is furthered by this contact with those who are to become her fellow classmates. she takes note of the heavy felt floor-pads beneath her feet, the practice bars along the wall, etc., and is thus assured that every care is being taken here for her security from harm as well as for her comfort and advancement. her instructor, she finds, is a professional dancer of wide stage experience, who knows every one of the actual steps he is teaching, for he executes them before her, aiding her eyes by a living example, while he at the same time informs her understanding by telling her what each step and motion is and why it is done. his every word and action is inspirational. she feels now that she is on the highroad to success. presently, i enter the room and proceed to organize the class for service, following which i address them on matters concerned with their courses, seeking to instill into each prospective star an ambition to reach out for perfection. and from this hour the inspiration is enhanced with each new day's progress. as i often say, in one of my class talks, "inspiration plus perspiration equals one good dancer." [illustration: charlotte greenwood] atmosphere atmosphere is something that one feels but cannot see. atmosphere on the stage is created by means of stage settings, costumes, electrical lighting effects, music, orchestration, and certain stage decorations as properties, all combined into one complete whole. [illustration] every attitude of the body that one assumes in front of an audience on the stage creates a certain dramatic atmosphere. every gesture, every expression of the face, every move of the body aids to create atmosphere. characteristic attitudes of the body, characteristic walks, characteristic dancing also creates atmosphere. in order that a solo and an ensemble dance may get over with an audience it must have atmosphere. this atmosphere must be figured out in a scientific way. it requires unusual creative faculties to produce anything original or atmospheric in the way of a solo or ensemble dance for the stage today. no novice without experience can properly create perfect atmosphere, for it requires a thorough knowledge of stage-craft and showmanship, as well as of stage dancing and the technique of the stage, to create an atmosphere in which a solo or ensemble dance, or a song number will live. without atmosphere the dance becomes all perspiration and no sense. there must be a definite idea behind a dance or underneath it. everything must be done to embellish the theme or general idea. no idea must be overproduced; just enough must be done in the way of creating atmosphere for a dance to allow it to get over properly. in other words, it must be fully realized and produced properly, in a skillful, artistic way. the first step in creating atmosphere is the selection of proper music, which will give real inspiration. without inspiration nothing worthwhile is ever accomplished in the way of stage dancing. machine-like dancers never get over. one must learn to inject one's own personality into each dance, in order to radiate an atmosphere that will bring success. this important subject of atmosphere is taken up in all our courses, and practically and thoroughly demonstrated and taught. great care must be exercised that a dance is not overproduced, because if the scenery, costumes, in other words, the background, is allowed to dominate the dance itself, the dance will fail. the pupil must always dominate the costume and the entire stage setting or surroundings in order to get the dance over. lavish production and accessories of any kind sometimes will interfere with the success of the pupil, or dancer. in other words, a too lavish production will detract from the dance itself and from the one who is performing the dance. so it really takes a person of artistic perception, who has become practical through actual experience, to set a dance properly and surround it as it should be surrounded. many a novice will have good ideas, perhaps, for atmosphere, but through lack of experience will not be able to get those ideas over on the stage. it takes, therefore, practical stage direction to realize all the possibilities of stage atmosphere in a practical way. the subject of atmosphere as it relates to the future success of our students, is given proper attention in our courses. i personally present it before the classes in talks from time to time, and demonstrate its meaning and purpose practically, by use of settings, lights and properties on the stage of my own demi-tasse theatre, connected with the studios. the recognition of atmosphere and its need in connection with stage performances is a mental process, an idealization that not every material mind is capable of grasping readily. probably no pupil would think of enrolling in a course that had atmosphere for its sole subject; yet it is an important matter to all students of the stage, and my plan of introducing it incidentally in my classroom talks, and at the same time showing them by a practical stage demonstration just what it means to them personally, has put it before our pupils in such an interesting and material way that they cannot fail to absorb some knowledge of its benefits. every producing stage director must possess an innate or an acquired sense of what we designate as atmosphere, in order to put on a production in a perfect, pleasing and profitable way. my many unqualified stage successes demonstrate my possession of this essential element, which i try to unite with originality and artistic perception, as well as a sure conception of what a fickle public will welcome and approve by its patronage. hence, my talks on atmosphere are of more than usual value. [illustration: nw] dancing children when you are teaching a child something that suggests play, and that at the same time is beneficial to health and beauty, and is also the real foundation for a future career, you are accomplishing much in an easy and pleasing way. [illustration] the activities in our saturday classes for little tots do all of this. they are called dancing classes, and they become that, but the gradation from romping play into systematic dancing instruction is accomplished practically without consciousness on their part, and thus they learn the rudiments of stage routine almost without knowing it. [illustration: children's saturday hour] i don't know of any bunch of children anywhere that have a happier time than do our littlest pupils in their dainty lessons in the studios. they love every bit of the "work." in the first place, it is adapted to their years, and their instructors are both competent and kindly; and while it is quite a problem to handle a roomful of little folks bent on mischief, and direct their playing along systematized lines, we do it, and before they know it the little feet are stepping in unison to bright music, and gradually there is awakened a pride in perfect performance, and the little playmates become little dancers, each trying his best to equal or excel his or her fellows. i go on record as saying that the age of eight years is the most favorable for the beginning of a dancing career, for then the young pupil has a mind sufficiently developed to easily comprehend instruction, and a body readily responsive to training. yet we take children from four to seven years of age for specialized training which prepares them properly in the fundamentals and technique that is so necessary. occasionally some five-year-old dancing marvel is discovered. young years are learning years the world over, and right training in foundation work for the future great dancer, as taught in our studios, is so attractive in itself and so suggestive of real "fun" to the little learner, that both child and parents give it their hearty approval. dancing teachers in other cities send promising children to new york to study for professional careers; mothers bring the little dancers to new york, anxious to put them on the stage at once. but that is not possible, as a state law prohibits any child under sixteen from appearing before a paid audience to sing or dance, while permitting them to go on for dialogue parts only, if they are past ten years. producers demand birth certificates and live up to the law. there is in new york city a gerry society, which controls the situation and is sharply on the alert. here in new york city there is a professional school for stage children, which many attend. the great majority of the children who come to our studios for dancing instruction are from families who do not want the children to take up stage careers, but wish them to be properly and thoroughly trained in every type of dancing, which incidentally brings out all the natural grace in the body, develops health, poise, charm of manner, personality and symmetrical bodies. parents naturally desire to see their little ones graceful, accomplished, pleasing in deportment, and able to exhibit a few clever steps in home or amateur entertainments--a parent's proper pride. others, especially professional stage people, active or retired, enter their young folks in my courses with a view to their ultimately becoming professional stage dancers. they know the emoluments. they know that one daughter on the dancing stage is worth ten in the parlor--financially. they know, too, that old adage "as the twig is bent," and the rest of it, so they start their twigs straight and in fertile soil with faith that in this way their child's future is well and happily provided for. a knowledge of stage dancing is a life insurance policy that pays big dividends during one's lifetime. the dancer is her own--and perhaps her parents'--beneficiary. we have tots here in the studio at our saturday classes as young as four. usually, however, they are five, six, or over. in their primary work we give them all sorts of jolly exercises--walking, running, galloping, and for the tiniest we have "skipping special," "baby work," body building and dancing games. our junior class for children (ages four, five, six and seven) devotes half an hour to very mild physical training and limbering and stretching work on the heavy felt pads, and then there is half an hour of dancing games. the hour thus passes all too quickly with our interested little pupils. as they show proficiency in this work we give them the actual dancing steps which are arranged in effective routines. all of the technique is necessary and beautiful and they love to go through it before the big wall mirrors and see themselves in graceful poses. [illustration: ned wayburn and two tiny pupils: herbert colton, ; patty coakley, ] those whose little bodies are especially adapted to it are allowed to take up so-called acrobatic dancing, and it is not surprising that the heels-over-head idea appeals as it does to the juvenile mind. it is action such as they crave, doing "cartwheels," "splits," "back-bends" and many showy "tricks," and they just love it. they are never forced in this work, but really accomplish it themselves under painstaking instructions. children eight, nine, ten and eleven years of age are assigned to the intermediate classes, beginners or advanced, according to the proficiency or talent that they show me. those twelve, thirteen, fourteen and fifteen years of age are placed in the children's senior classes, either beginners or advanced. i, personally, grade them and supervise all of their instruction. when they reach the age of sixteen, the girls are put in the adult girls' classes and the boys at sixteen are given private lessons from then on. there are no mixed adult classes. one thing we are very careful and considerate about is, putting a child on her toes in the ballet work. we find cases where teachers elsewhere have forced this too soon, before the child's feet and ankles were prepared for it. mothers are sometimes to blame for that, for they are eager to see their little daughters do this pretty work; but we insist upon proper foundation work first, developing the child gradually, and then, when the strength is there, we know we should be able to do the rest not only without danger of permanent injury but with assurance of pleasing and perfect success. children thus gradually get instruction in five basic types of dancing, i.e., musical comedy, tap and step, acrobatic, ballet, including classical, character, toe, interpretive, and exhibition dancing. they may develop best along one of these types, and choose to follow that one out to a real professional quality, or they may acquire a good working knowledge of all and thus have a diversity of accomplishments. then when they reach the age limit of sixteen that permits them legally to enter upon the profit-taking period, they are ready to respond. i watch the little folks with their instructors every saturday. they are graduated according to their ages at first, and then graded according to ability, usually at the end of each term (every twelfth or thirteenth week). the youngest group gets one hour's work, all their little bodies can stand, while those between eight and fifteen inclusive get two hours instruction each saturday. their mothers, guardians or governesses are in a spacious waiting room. we are making a lot of children happy, and at the same time laying a foundation for their health and beauty, and perhaps for their financial prosperity. the future great dancers of the next two decades are somewhere in this lot of little ones; which ones it will be is unknown to them or to us, but all are given an equal opportunity, and many will make good. [illustration: nw] dancing hands [illustration] it is not only the rhythmic movements of the feet and legs that constitute a dancer. every stage dancer employs as well her face, hands and arms in giving expression to grace, beauty, and the many interpretations of her pantomimic art. watch the next dancer or group of dancers you see at a show, and it may surprise you to discover how much the hands and arms have to do in adding to the effectiveness of the presentation. it is a compliment to the dancer's artistry that you have been absorbedly pleased by the complete effect, with no thought on your part of analyzing the structure in detail. but let her put her hands and arms out of the picture and note the disastrous result. you then realize emphatically how much the motions of the entire person, of the limbs and the torso and head, are interdependent to create the grace and rhythm that complete the perfect dance. the various functions of the hand as detailed are: , to define or indicate; , to affirm or deny; , to mold or detect; , to conceal or reveal; , to surrender or hold; , to accept or reject; , to inquire or acquire; , to support or protect; , to caress or assail. how these several functions are naturally evolved from the various movements of the hand will be readily understood when one reads the definitions: . (a) to define: first finger prominent; hand moves up and down, side to earth; (b) to indicate: first finger prominent; hand points to object to be indicated. . (a) to affirm: hand, palm down, makes movement of affirmation up and down; (b) to deny: hand, palm down, makes movement of negation from side to side. . (a) to mold: hand makes a movement as if molding a soft substance, as clay; (b) to detect: rub the thumb across the fingers as if feeling a texture held between them. (a movement often made when following a train of thought.) . (a) to conceal: bring the palm of the hand toward you, the fingers at the same time gently closing on palm; (b) to reveal: reverse the above movement, exposing palm. . (a) to surrender: closed hand opens, palm down, action as if dropping something on the ground; (b) to hold: the hand closes as if to retain something. . (a) to accept: fingers close on upturned palm as if receiving something; (b) to reject: fingers unclose from down-turned palm as if throwing something away. . (a) to inquire: a tremulous movement of the outstretched fingers as in the blind; palm down; (b) to acquire; hand drawn toward you, fingers curved toward down-turned palm. . (a) to support: palm up, making a flat surface as if supporting a weight; (b) to protect: palm down; a movement of fingers as if covering what you protect. . (a) to caress: a movement of stroking up and down, or sideways. if sideways, one caresses the animal nature; (b) to assail: palm down; the fingers make a convulsive movement of clutching. [illustration: gertrude lawrence] in other words, the hands give expression or emphasis to the thought that it is desired to convey, both in speaking and in the pantomime of the dance and the screen. learn, therefore, to use your hands correctly in every dance. there is an idea to be put across in every step from your entrance--your first greeting to your audience--through the measured cadence of your dance steps, to the final exit--your appeal for approval. while you acquire the necessary dance steps to make you a perfect dancer, also learn the hand and arm movements that complement your steps and perfect the picture into its most pleasing possibilities, movements that shall develop the idea of the dance you are portraying and carry it across the footlights. as soon as you get command of your foot work and master the technical steps of your routine, put your hands and arms into action and develop their connection with your dancing steps so that both shall coördinate as one, and thus your dance will grow into a complete and perfect expression in the easiest way. do not neglect your hand-action. it is a positive necessity to successful dancing, and the time to give it attention is while you are learning the rudiments of your art. this work is taught in the ned wayburn modern americanized ballet technique. [illustration: nw] dancing feet [illustration] good dancers will take good care of their feet--the tools of their trade. they are essential factors in your salary--drawing power. treat them kindly, and they will thank you and remain your meal ticket for many years. a hot foot bath followed by a careful pedicuring it seems unnecessary to recommend, for that is a daily habit with all dancers and other ladies. if your feet are tired and cry aloud for care, prepare a bath for them of common baking soda and warm water, using two tablespoonfuls of soda to a bowl of warm water. this will reduce the swelling of the feet and ease them greatly. now rub them with a cut lemon. this freshens them and also makes them white and pretty. allow the lemon juice to dry on them, then apply cold cream and massage them thoroughly. now wipe off all surplus cream and dust them with talcum powder. put on soft house shoes and you will feel like a new person. massage with olive oil is splendid for tired swollen feet; soaking them in salt water is also good. here is a favorite foot balm you can have put up at the drug store: calomel, ten grains; carbonate of zinc, one dram; oil of eucalyptus, five drops; ointment of rose water, one ounce. first bathe your feet in cold salt water, then rub in the balm, massaging it well into the feet at night, and powder freely with talcum in the morning. when the feet swell from long standing or tedious rehearsals, relief can be had by dissolving the following powder in the foot bath: borax, two ounces; rock salt, two ounces; alum, one ounce. if your feet are tender, soak them in this bath for ten minutes, and then dry thoroughly: hot water, five quarts; boric acid, grams; tannin, five grams. for removing callous spots, soak the feet in hot water for ten or fifteen minutes, then take a piece of pumice stone and rub the callous spot. do this every night. during the day keep a piece of cotton which has been covered with cold cream on the spot to keep it soft. this will remove any callous in a short time. can you think of a dancer with corns? what torture the idea suggests! a limping, crippled dancer would be distressing to gaze upon, and even a minute corn could create this condition. it simply isn't done. for a dancer to tolerate a corn is a confession of carelessness, of personal neglect, and indifference to everything concerning her art. to prevent corns and most other foot troubles, wear shoes that fit your feet. a too loose shoe makes corns just as quickly as does a tight shoe, for when shoes are too large there is a constant friction, which develops a corn. and see to it also that your stockings fit your feet. a short stocking cramps the foot, and a loose stocking wrinkles and rubs in spots. the first thing to do for a corn is to relieve it from all pressure. the druggist has an abundance of corn cures, most of which are effective, but if you choose to have one made up to order, here is a sure cure: salicylic acid, twenty grains; alcohol, one-eighth ounce; flexible collodion, one ounce. mix and apply to hard surface of corn with a small brush. do this once or twice daily for three days, then soak the feet in hot water, and a layer of skin will come off. repeat till corn is gone. tight shoes two sizes too small for you do not make your feet look small; in fact, they make the feet look larger, and you haven't freedom to walk or dance. tight shoes and high-heeled shoes are injurious to the health. the circulation of your whole body is interfered with by wearing them, and cold feet, corns, bunions and many other painful troubles result. wear comfortable shoes if you would have freedom in dancing and all other exercises. whatever shoes you wear, have them comfortable, so you can forget your feet as you step joyously forth to trip a measure in your chosen profession. [illustration: nw] dancing shoes [illustration] each type of dancing demands its own fashion in footwear, and the novice while learning and rehearsing requires a foot covering differing materially from that to be worn later in the perfected dance on the professional stage. it is very desirable for the newcomer into the dancing world to acquire knowledge of the correct shoes to be worn to facilitate action, make the learning as easy as possible and keep the feet in perfect condition. in taking up this subject i shall tell in simple language what is the best and most practical way to dress the feet for the various occasions that arise in dancing. one general rule can be laid down for everyone and all occasions: _have your shoes fit your feet._ do not simply "buy a pair of shoes." ascertain the size and width of shoes that correctly fit you, and ask for your shoes by these specifications. go to a first-class shoe dealer. don't buy a shoe merely because it is pretty. cheap shoes are often the most expensive, and if poorly made may injure the feet. the above advice applies to every shoe you buy, for house, sports, street or evening wear, as well as for dancing. for the courses, consider the type of dancing you are taking and dress your feet with shoes suitable for that kind of work. if your foot is short and fat, buy a short vamp shoe; if your foot is long and narrow, get shoes with a long vamp. stiff soles being bad for the arches and hard to work in, be sure to get flexible soles. [illustration: types of dancing shoes toe shoe with padded box toe, used for toe dancing. soft ballet shoe, for ballet, limbering and stretching and acrobatic lessons. stage shoe with extra flexible shank, used for high kick, etc. cut-out sandal, for oriental character and ballet work. "mary jane" type of shoe for tap and step dancing. laced type of shoe for tap and step dancing. a split clog shoe with fiber half sole attached, for advanced "tap" work. type of shoe suggested for girls doing acrobatic dancing. "greek character" low ballet shoe. russian boot. "greek character" high ballet shoe. type of man's shoe sometimes used for acrobatic dancing.] for the toe dancer there are toe shoes which have a padded box toe. these come in black and white kid and in pink satin. this toe shoe and the regular soft ballet shoe, which is used for ballet technique, should both be a perfectly snug fit, the toes of the foot coming to the very end of the shoe. to do this requires a shoe about two sizes smaller than one's regular street shoes. nothing is better for the limbering and stretching foundation technique, as given in the ned wayburn courses, than the soft ballet shoe with a quarter-inch lift at the heel. for acrobatic dancing this type of shoe is also recommended, though many prefer an elk sole cut out sandal, which is also the choice for oriental ballet dancing. these sandals if too large will bulge at the sides, hence care in their fitting is desirable. the most commonly used shoe for girls doing acrobatic and soft shoe work and one that is excellent for this purpose, is a black kid flat, as it is known, which has a low heel and flexible sole; a sensible, comfortable shoe, such as your feet thank you for. for tap and step dancing there are several types of shoes, the most common being that known as the "mary jane" or juvenile shoe with ankle strap and button or buckle. another favorite is the laced low shoe, known as the oxford, made for both men and women. the solid clog shoe has a full wood heel, arch and sole, and is used for very advanced clog dancing; not to be worn by beginners, but only the most accomplished professional solo dancers. there is also a low show for "tap" dancing called the "split-clog" shoe, used by very advanced pupils only, never by beginners, the half-sole being wood and the heel wood, as well, but most professional dancers prefer what is known as the "haney" metal plate on the end of the shoe to bring out the "taps," or else a wood-fibre half-sole, but no beginner should be worrying about this. just remember, that you must never try to learn to dance in a french, cuban or military heel, as they act as a handicap or "brake." no one can learn with them because they pitch one forward at the wrong angle and impair the health. [illustration: fibre toe] [illustration: coin jingle] [illustration: heel jingle] there are several attachments, called "jingles," "taps," fiber half soles, and the like, that the expert dancer in this type of work will wish to have on his dancing shoes, and i shall tell you about them here, but it is best to avoid their use while you are learning the dances. after you have mastered your stuff and qualified yourself without them, then have them put on, but not until after you have become a real dancer. there is a "coin jingle," as it is called, a brass disc about the size of a quarter of a dollar set loosely on the shoe shank, that sounds like two coins striking together at every shake. the heel jingle is a brass plate set into the shoe near the heel with a loose disc inside it from which extends a plug that as you step falls and hits the floor. the regulation stage shoe has a very flexible shank and a french heel. it is not a desirable shoe for the student of dancing because of the heel. but for high kicking and similar types of stage dancing after one has acquired a knowledge of the art, it is very satisfactory. be sure it is comfortable and fits well. there are other shoes that come naturally into use on the stage for certain types of dancing. there is the low ballet shoe of the greek type, and a similar one in the high ballet type. what is known as the russian boot finds its place in some dances. it is often red, green, or white, to match the costume. variations of this boot are the spanish, gypsy or hungarian, cowboy, and others. there is also a high-laced close fitting boot with a very low heel and soft sole used by men, as a rule, in certain kinds of acrobatic dancing. when you get into theatrical footwear, there is practically no limit to the possibilities and the variations. period shoes of all times and nations--grecian, roman, egyptian, etc.,--make the list almost endless. but really the only dancing shoes you will first concern yourself with are those i have designated as belonging to the learners' work for foundation technique, acrobatic, musical comedy, tap and step, ballet and toe dancing. in the exhibition dancing the usual ball room shoes are preferred. if the dance is done in character, that will determine the style of the shoes. i want to sound a warning about french-heeled shoes and high-heeled shoes in general, such as ladies find so fashionable. a pretty female foot is charming, and one's feet should be dressed in the most becoming manner. but high-heeled shoes do not make a pretty foot. it is impossible to walk gracefully or safely in them, and as for dancing, no one can ever hope to become a dancer who wears such clumsy foot-gear while attempting to learn the art. the persistent wearing of high-heeled shoes does much to bring about female troubles. it is conducive to ill health, crooked figures, weak ankles, and many internal ills. there are crippled ladies of mature years whom i know, who frankly admit that their condition is due solely to the wearing of high-heeled shoes in their younger years, "to make their feet look pretty." i want to make my abhorrence of high french heels as strong as i can. you cannot wear them in my studios. i will not permit them, for to wear them indicates that you will never learn to dance, and there is no use in wasting your time in trying. after you have learned, in suitable and proper shoes, how to do your dances, then a shoe with a baby french heel will be permitted for musical comedy dancing, and a shoe with a low common-sense (not necessarily ugly) heel for tap and step dancing. fortunately, it is not necessary to wear french-heeled shoes in order to have pretty feet. there are an abundance of attractive shoes on the market that one can choose with assurance of enhancing the beauty of their feet, without this deforming heel. if one uses the words "sensible" or "solid comfort" when speaking of shoes--women's shoes especially--it suggests something sloppy and unattractive, and some young women will have none of it. there is no intention to advocate the wearing of such shoes, nor any others that are not attractive and good looking. get becoming shoes for every occasion, by all means, but see to it that they do not have the fatal, high french heels. before you take a single lesson in the dancing art, dress your feet with proper shoes properly fitted, and thank me for starting you right. most large cities have shoe stores with dancing shoe departments, but if you are not able to supply your needs locally, write to the ned wayburn studios for information and it will be forthcoming. but please bear in mind that no shoes are dealt in at the studios and no direct orders for shoes will be considered. the quest of beauty [illustration] every person desires health, vigor, grace, poise--and i know of no woman who would object to personal beauty of form and face. beauty of face may or may not consist of bewitching features and perfect complexion; many a woman is admired for her good looks while her features may not be considered classically correct. the quality of one's complexion can be improved by exercise and correct diet, and, for stage or social purposes, by the proper makeup. beauty of form is a matter of training. the "female form divine" can be improved and kept at the "divine" standard if the possessor wills it, goes at it right and persists in the effort. bodily health is a factor in all beauty. get your body healthy, and the rest of the way to beauty is easy. when i state that stage dancing, as taught in the ned wayburn courses, is a developer of health and vigor, a sure road to grace, poise and personal beauty of form and face--in a word, a maker of beautiful and attractive women--i am making a statement of fact that is irrefutable, based on actual and frequent occurrence. you never saw a properly trained dancer who was not in perfect physical condition. many ladies learn my dances for the benefits to be derived from the training; young ladies and others not so young; the stouts and the thins, especially, and both profit alike by the health-producing activities they find in our courses. these ladies neither need nor desire a stage career; what they do want is freedom from awkwardness, a bit of pleasant reducing or filling out of hollows, a lasting development of the foundation of beauty. they come from professional, industrial and social circles. an hour a day, except saturdays and sundays, for a few weeks, and we have their blessing forevermore. [illustration: janet stone and nick long, jr.] and while on the subject of beauty, here is another thing: a girl has a pretty face. on the strength of her beauty she thinks she would make a success as an actress. (hollywood is overflowing with this type of girl.) she is a good home dancer, and surely dancing on the stage is no different! perhaps she is right in her estimate of herself, and then again she may be mistaken, for it requires more than mere physical appearance to be a top notcher in anything outside of an exclusively beauty show. not that any lady's pulchritude is a handicap to a stage career or in any way undesirable. on the contrary, the stage has always welcomed beautiful women, and will continue to do so. but, here is another girl in the same social set who makes no claim to being a beauty, and does not think of herself as being of a type that lends charm to the stage--and this cinderella may possess the very qualities that go to make the professional actress and dancer, and yet let the opportunity pass because of her failure to recognize her own value. her face, with proper makeup under our skilled direction, with the correct treatment of its features, consideration of the stage lighting, and her hair becomingly and appropriately dressed, may far outclass that of the pretty girl who has only aspiration without the necessary qualities to back it. in other words, beauty of the street and the home is a vastly different thing from beauty on the stage behind the footlights. so do not worry at what your mirror tells you. if you have the other qualities that make for professional success, my courses will instruct you fully as to the way to look your best, and you will be surprised at the latent possibilities for personal beauty that we will discover for you. [illustration: nw] who's afraid! [illustration] i have never known a graduate of our courses to have a bad case of stage fright. this doubtless is attributable to the fact that our pupils are thoroughly grounded in all their stage work before going before a critical audience. they know their steps and routines perfectly, have mastered the physical side of dancing. their first dancing is done before their class, their instructor and myself. once a month we have visitors' day, for relatives and friends, here in the studio. our students appear in action before them, and at other times before some neighborhood or church benefit audience. they are properly dressed for their part, and their makeup is right when they go "behind the footlights" for their first professional performance--all of which gives the necessary self-confidence that carries the dancer through the trying ordeal of a first appearance. stage fright--what it is and how to overcome it when you step out upon the stage to do your turn for the first time, you will be very grateful to me for having instilled into your mind the necessity for doing your work over and over till it has become second nature to you. you will thank me, too, for the long series of foundation work, limbering and stretching exercises, that you have gone through, that have kept you from being muscle-bound, given you confidence as well as ability, and left you without fear of not being able to go through with what you have undertaken. this and the knowledge that your costume and makeup are perfect, are of the greatest help in begetting that confidence that overcomes the danger of stage fright, not only on a first but also on all subsequent appearances. knowing that you look right is half the battle; the other half is the certainty that you know what you are about to do and know it perfectly. stage fright is the uncontrollable fear of an audience. it is the result of excessive nervousness. the orator, the actor and the singer experience this dread more often than does the dancer or the instrumental musician. the mouth becomes dry and the throat contracts as the speaker or singer attempts to get his voice across the footlights and out to the audience. one's voice becomes faint and unnatural, weak and uncontrollable. those who afterwards have become the world's great actors and singers have many of them been overcome with stage fright, and even left the stage on a first appearance. richard mansfield was one of these. he fainted from stage fright at his first appearance, yet he afterwards became one of the greatest dramatic stars in the world. the stage dancer does not have this difficulty with her voice, and if trained right while acquiring her art should never be subjected to the bugaboo of fear. but i am going to lay down some general rules here for the prevention and control of stage fright that will give you confidence and also serve to instruct you how to act if the worst does happen and nervousness gets the best of you. in chorus work, of course, there is little danger. your mates will carry you along if you miss a step or break your routine, and you'll soon get back all right. in solo work, don't try to look at your audience nor single out any individuals. don't glue your gaze on the orchestra leader, though he alone is the audience of which you have any right to be at all conscious. he and his baton are your friends and are giving you your tempo. be aware of them incidentally but not conspicuously, and forget the rest of the folks in front entirely. forget yourself, forget everything but the music that fills your ears, and let your dancing absorb you completely. radiate an air of conscious certainty in all you do. smile. look happy. your dance is a good one and you know how to do it well. you know you do. pretty soon a ripple of applause starts. it grows and fills that big half-dark place down there before you. that is a tonic. your stage fright or your fear of it is gone for good. your audience has accepted you. now you glow with the happiness that is yours by every right. applause is to you and your art as the shower and the sun are to the flowers. you live on it. without it you are a failure. suppose you had let your fear master you. suppose you had quit cold, got cold feet, let yourself be scared out of your wits, and not braved the thing you feared. that would have been a calamity. your promising career would have ended before it began, after all your expenditure of time and money for lessons. don't let anything scare you. go on when your turn comes. keep going. no matter what happens, don't give up--keep right on till you get your nerve back. i saw a young singer come out in front of a large audience once, get her cue from the orchestra, and stop dead. she looked out over the crowded auditorium. the leader held his baton suspended in air. "wait," she said. "i've forgotten it." the audience was dead silent, understanding just what had happened, and very sympathetic. the orchestra leader spoke a single word to her. "oh, yes!" she smiled, and her voice swelled out into the song she had so nearly forgotten. did she get a hand? i'll say she did, and a couple of encores and a press notice next morning that told all about it, and her career was launched. she had presence of mind and control of herself. cultivate this by first gaining perfect control of every muscle in your body, by persistent practice of all of your dancing exercises, technique and dance routines; great confidence in your ability will come with this. i am going to advise you to do as i have always done, and that is, write your routines down and keep them. each has a name. ask your instructor, he can tell you the name for every step. write these routines in sequence, and remember each one. go through each one every day, no matter how many you collect. the more of them you have the richer you are, for they are valuable. you will be a solo dancer one of these days and with this list you have you can make up your own routines,--take a step from this one and that one and build a new dance for yourself. after a year or two you'll find this easy to do, and it gives you a chance to work in your own personality. in writing down the routines in the first place, while still in the courses, as i have advised, you are helping yourself become fit, so fit and so familiar with your work that you couldn't get stage fright if you wanted to. so in doing this you are really accomplishing two very important things, enlarging your dance vocabulary and making yourself stage-fright proof. always go on the stage with the firm conviction that you are going to do well and make a hit. say to yourself with deep feeling, "i shall do well tonight. i shall have a big success. everything will go just as i want it to." [illustration: cleo mayfield] this is called auto-suggestion, if you want to know, and it is a self-starter, too, and makes the wheels of success go 'round. step on it! it is good for every performance. be satisfied with small beginnings at first. exhibit your work in public whenever you can, to gain confidence and experience. keep your eye on broadway and work toward that great thoroughfare, of course--all dancers do that--but don't think of making your first appearance there. the farther away from broadway you make your first appearance the better it will be. learn the art of costuming yourself for your part, and learn the art of makeup. they come next in importance to the actual dances themselves that you are patiently practicing. when you start out, take with you a knowledge of dress and makeup as well as of dancing, and when you are mistress or master of these three arts and make use of them properly, you can go on the professional stage without dread of being overcome by stage fright. no real artist ever is, although any great artist will be a little bit nervous perhaps before making the first entrance in a new play on an important first night. but the sight of the audience cures that. [illustration: nw] the dance and the drama [illustration] the art of acting as it has been known for thousands of years, derives from the dance, and is a direct evolution from the representation of the emotions as portrayed by the primitive dancers. joy, anger, love, jealousy, hatred, revenge, triumph and defeat were all interpreted in the grecian dances of the period antedating the introduction of the speaking actors, who told in words and gestures the stories that had formerly been conveyed through the dance. the victorious warriors returned from battle danced to show how they had fought and destroyed the enemy. the hunter described in a dance how he had slain wild animals. the traveller who had visited what to him were distant lands, told of the strange people he had met by imitating them while he danced. gradually there was evolved the addition of spoken words supplementing the action, accompanied by appropriate gestures and facial expression. man had discovered his ability to become for the moment another person, and to interpret certain emotions more vividly than through the medium of the dance. the stage became the opportunity not only for the representation of elemental forces and actions, but also for the principal creations of the imagination. while the slowly developing drama departed widely from the limitations of its origin, there has, nevertheless, remained an association with the dance that will continue for all time. especially is this true of the lighter branch of the drama, comedy, and the modern combination known as musical comedy or comic opera. in the popular stage entertainments of the day dancing forms an important feature of a large percentage of all productions that appear in the leading theatres. in many of the classical plays, by great dramatists, that are annually chosen for revivals, the dance appears, and the actor or actress who cannot dance misses many opportunities for profitable engagements. there has always been a kinship between the dance and the legitimate drama, and many prominent stars began their apprenticeship for the stage in the ranks of musical comedy or as vaudeville dancers. with few exceptions it will be found that the men and women who have achieved success on the stage are enthusiastic devotees of dancing, and they will agree that to those intending to make acting their life work a thorough training in the art of the dance is an essential part of their education. [illustration: nw] personality in the dance [illustration] every individual possesses something that for lack of a better word is termed "personality;" something elusive and evasive, that cannot easily be defined or explained, but nevertheless remains the essential quality that distinguishes its possessor from every other human being. but while all may have the potentiality for some distinct and special attribute, unfortunately for by far the greater number this is never developed or expressed, and they pass through their uneventful, monotonous existence, without even realizing their capacity for being or doing something outside the routine of their daily occupations. in this era of the newest of sciences, psychoanalysis, which is attracting the study and investigation of millions, much attention is being given to the explanation of the failure of so many persons to find an outlet for hidden capacities by the well-worn "inferiority complex." the flower of personality, we are told, is born to blush unseen because of an individual's belief that he or she is in some way inferior. despite all the books that have been written, and the good advice that has been given, urging the development of self-confidence as the starting point for worthy accomplishment, there is still all too prevalent an attitude of timidity and hesitation that says in effect: "i can't be what i would like to be, so what's the use of trying." this inability or unwillingness to believe in one's self; the disposition to doubt one's powers, to admit defeat before trying, is nowhere more clearly apparent than in the attitude of many persons who possess the physical and mental qualifications that with proper training would bring distinction and profit as exponents of the dance. they admire the successful dancers; they feel that they too are capable of expressing themselves through this art. but,--and here comes the cold water that quenches the spark of their ambition,--they are timid; afraid of failure; they fear that they haven't the persistence and capacity for application that is needed to assure success. perhaps they do make an attempt, but the work is hard, they just know that they won't be able to stick it out, and after a few futile efforts they give it up, and spend the rest of their lives wondering what they might have accomplished if they had persevered. to these too easily discouraged persons the message of the dance is: "what others have done you can do. you have the physique, or at least it can be developed. you have the intelligence to accept instruction. you have the patience needed for the continued repetition of movement that makes perfection. you have an individuality that can be expressed in the subtle shadings and delicate touches that growing skill will enable you to show in every graceful movement. you have in you the capacity for artistic and harmonious expression of your personality. why not develop it?" i cannot emphasize too strongly the importance of _personality_ in a successful stage career. along with the actual mastering of the dancing steps and the acquisition of health and a beautiful body, comes just as surely the development of one's personal qualities. and because each person has an individuality which is distinctive from that of everyone else, all must select the type of dancing which is best suited to their own personalities. that is why the performance of stars like evelyn law, marilyn miller, ann pennington, gilda gray and fred and adele astaire leaves a lasting impression. every step, every movement is designed to drive home the characteristics of their individuality. even more important than the actual dancing steps they do is the manner in which they execute them--the individuality that they express. it is the almost indefinable factor called personality which lifts one out of the ranks of the chorus and makes the solo dancer. in this book i am trying to help you develop your personality, in the same way that i have discovered and developed that quality in so many of today's theatrical stars. most emphatically i want to impress upon you that it is not "chorus work" you are learning in my courses. it is professional and individual dancing, that when mastered gives one that certain something that one lacked before, a feeling of having accomplished assurance of success. [illustration: al jolson] anyone who masters the dances takes on a certain confident feeling in time, after exercising great patience in practice. with this confidence, the happy pupil radiates a new magnetic personality which the audience feels--but more about this later on, when you will learn just how one's self is injected into the dances, until they are vitalized and become the living embodiment of the emotions and spirit of the dancer. this is putting one's own personality into the dance, and is one secret of every great artist's success, which we seek to instill into the minds of all our students. [illustration: nw] dancing and ease of manner [illustration] man is a gregarious animal, and eagerly seeks the company of his fellows. in civilized society men and women gathered to dine, to converse, to dance, to play games, to watch others indulging in various sports or pastimes. out of this intermingling at social gatherings there has gradually developed an accepted code of conduct termed "good manners," which are as stringently binding as any law enacted by a legislature. and there are penalties for violation of this code, that are surely imposed upon the luckless offender, ranging all the way from a snub, a sound or gesture of disapproval, to social ostracism. "manners maketh man" is an ancient aphorism that has a very wide application. while the forms and standards of what constitute good manners change with the times, their essential basis is always the same--a deference to, and consideration for, those with whom one is thrown in contact. courtesy, politeness, helpfulness, and other evidences of good breeding and careful training, are the outgrowth of a desire for eliminating selfish instincts. the rude man or woman is an egotist, seeking to assert his or her individuality without regard for the sensibilities of others. aside from the willful violation of those unwritten laws that have come to govern social intercourse, there are many who err because of excessive self-consciousness, which makes it difficult or impossible to put themselves at ease among those with whom they would like to associate. they are painfully aware of their own surplus ego; they are constrained and awkward; they feel that in some way they are outsiders, that, as the slang phrase puts it, they do not belong. it is probable that more social failures are due to this trait than to any other cause. against this self-conscious attitude a thorough training in the dance is a most effective remedy. the shy, constrained, awkward boys and girls mingle with their companions on terms of ordered freedom and equality. they are taught grace of movement; the spontaneous expression of their individuality is modified by contact with their associates; they acquire a graceful walk and carriage. to follow the various movements of the dance in harmony with the music takes their thoughts away from themselves, and provides an escape from the dread self-questioning: "am i doing the right thing?" success in mastering the technique of the dance brings assurance and poise, and adds immeasurably to the capacity for adjustment to environment that marks the well-mannered members of what is in the true sense of the word "good society." [illustration: nw] dancing and civilization [illustration] solemn professors are discussing the question "what is civilization?" the answers ranging all the way from an increase in man's power over material things that add to his comfort and happiness, up to the development of higher ethical standards of personal conduct. to one the civilized man is he who has brought to his service the hidden forces of nature, and by steam and electricity has girdled the earth, vastly increased the production of wealth, and by superior methods of transportation has brought all regions of the globe into close contact. to another the mark of civilization is the diffusion of valuable knowledge, the spread of popular education, and the sharing by a whole people of the culture and scholarship of the great creative minds. to yet another the real test of civilization is in the cultivation of a greater capacity for enjoyment of all that life has to offer. and a fourth affirms that only those are truly civilized who have learned the laws of right living and conduct, so that in seeking the fullest development and expression of their natures they are careful to avoid infringing on the rights and welfare of their fellow men. leaving the definition of civilization for future settlement, it may be taken for granted that a civilized society is one in which order and individual rights to life, personal liberty, and lawfully acquired property are respected; in which the rule of brute strength is supplanted by the higher law of reason and social justice and in which the people are free to develop their artistic and aesthetic tastes into a complete and harmonious whole. applying this standard to the world's history there are found great civilized communities that at various periods have emerged from primitive barbarism, have flourished for ages, have left their records of high achievement in architecture, sculpture, painting and other arts, in imperishable literature, and in religions that phrase the highest exaltation of human thought and ideals. such are the civilizations of ancient egypt, india, greece and rome, where the conditions attained were as greatly in advance of those prevailing at the time in practically all the other regions of the earth, as are those of modern europe and america compared with the black tribes of africa. to the student of social customs in various ages it is significant that the peoples of the most civilized countries were eager in their search for the higher enjoyments, and that among them the dance was regarded as one of the most important forms of self expression. along with the greater accumulation of wealth; the erection of great palaces, temples and other enduring movements; the mastery of form, line, and color by the sculptor and painter; the progress in music and literature toward higher levels, came the recognition of the dance as one of the greater arts, worthy of encouragement by rulers and statesmen. the fact that at the period of highest civilization in the four countries referred to the dance was held to be an important and honorable art, is testimony to its inherent value as a means of satisfying the universal desire for human expression of the beauty of form and harmonious movement. it is not a mere coincidence that the most enlightened peoples of all ages have regarded the dance not only as an amusement or diversion, but as exemplifying the eternal laws that bind mankind to its earthly environment. poets, philosophers, scholars, leaders and teachers of men, have at the times that they have been most highly regarded because of their special qualities or abilities, joined in rendering homage to the dancer as an interpretative artist. coming down to modern times and our own country, it is found that as america has vastly increased in population, wealth, knowledge and material comfort, along with the widest extension of popular education of any great nation on the earth, there has arisen a greatly increased and steadily-growing interest in the dance, both as means of individual enjoyment, and as an artistic entertainment ranking high among all forms of creative effort. with the growth of great cities and industrial centers social activities have been greatly multiplied, and of these the dance is easily the most popular. at all seasons; at the winter resorts of the south, or the seashore, and in the mountains in summer, the story is the same; dancing is the one diversion that never palls, and is constantly engaged in everywhere. golf, with its hundreds of thousands of devotees, has brought with it the country club, where the dance flourishes until the wee sma' hours. in the home, in hotels, restaurants and supper clubs, the dance reigns supreme. learning to dance has become a part of the boy's or girl's education, along with the ordinary school studies. not to dance is to be distinctly outside of practically all social circles in american cities and towns, and each year finds the number of one's dancing acquaintances increasing. from the select few who are assumed to be "smart society," down to the multitudes who make no social pretentions, everyone dances, and enjoys it. if a poll could be taken of the population over twelve years of age in any american city, asking for their favorite amusement, it would doubtless be found that dancing comes first. [illustration: ned wayburn's private office] in the field of public entertainment dancing holds an equally prominent place. the musical comedies, vaudeville acts, and other theatrical productions in which the dance is the chief or an important feature, testify to the popular appreciation of the highly skilled and highly paid artists who delight the public eye. the motion picture is reputed to have seriously affected the prosperity of the legitimate drama, but it does not appear to have lessened the interest of amusement seekers in shows of which dancing is an essential part. the percentage of theatrical productions in which dancing figures has in recent years steadily increased, and the financial success of so many of this class of entertainments proves that the public knows what it wants, and is getting it. the enthusiastic crowds attracted by the great dancing artists also testify to the growing appreciation by the american people of what is distinctively the product of advanced culture and the higher civilization. as population grows, and as the percentage of urban residents, as compared with the dwellers in rural districts, increases, there will be an ever-increasing interest taken in the dance and all that pertains to it. dancing and cheerfulness "for the good are always the merry," says william butler yeats, ireland's foremost living poet, in "the fiddler of dorney." this is an old truth, too often ignored or forgotten. there are, unhappily, many persons who have conceived the strange notion that goodness means a gloomy outlook toward the world and those who inhabit it. to them this earth is a vale of tears; everything is evil and steadily growing worse; if every prospect pleases it only emphasizes their conviction that man is vile. natural instincts that prompt mankind to rejoice and be glad, to lift up their voices in cheerful songs, or to express their abundant vitality by joyous dances, are to them evidence of sin and depravity. if they could have their way they would abolish every manifestation of happiness, and carry their conviction that man is doomed to endless pain and woe into the life beyond. [illustration] that this peculiar idea of the relation of goodness to happiness at one time represented the prevailing sentiment of what are termed the enlightened peoples, is undeniably true. yet always there has been a saving remnant that protested against the solemn, serious, and sad railers against mirth and merriment, and at last these dissenters are finding that they are rapidly becoming the majority. no longer are normal men and women ashamed to show that they are glad to be alive; that they believe that they were meant to be happy and should seek happiness; that they do not agree that goodness means repression of natural impulses. perhaps they are less concerned with abstract standards of conduct than were their ancestors. for them life is a joyous adventure, and they wish so to live that they may experience to the full all that it has to offer. not the least encouraging sign of the changed and changing attitude of humanity toward the old repressions and fears, is the world-wide extension of interest in all forms of popular amusement. people no longer think that to be good--or moral--whatever those words may mean, is to be a doleful machine, wearily going the rounds of earning a livelihood. they question the authority of those who try to inflict upon them their narrow standards of life. they ask questions. they want to know many things. why, they ask, should it be a virtue to wear a gloomy face, to shun pleasure, to avoid their impulses to sing, play or dance? they have capacity for enjoyment. why should they starve their natures, and go without pleasures that are rightfully theirs? it has often been said that americans have not as a rule known how to play. they are changing all that, and as the level of education and intelligence rises, as wealth accumulates and is more widely diffused, as old inhibitions lose their force, this country is destined to become the great playground of the world. the american people are above all else cheerful and optimistic. they know what they can do because they know what has been done, ever since their brave pioneer forefathers cleared the forests, subdued the wilderness, spread out across the wide prairies, and established the mightiest empire of the earth. the present and all coming generations that enjoy the fruits of pioneer labor and sacrifices have a right to be joyous. they are free, prosperous and filled with vitality, vim, pep and go. they want more from life than any other people. there are among them no country peasants, or city proletariat, no class distinctions, no artificial aristocracy. strong, confident, fearless, they work not merely, as the masses in other lands, for a bare existence, but as a means for providing the comforts and pleasures to which they feel they are entitled. whether people are cheerful because they dance, or dance because they are cheerful, may not easily be decided. one thing is certain, that if from an assemblage of men and women there should be selected those with smiling, happy faces, by far the greater percentage would be found to be dancers. "for the good are always the merry," the lighthearted, free from care and worry, who sing, or dance, or play because of their superabundance of vital energy, and because in so doing they are in harmony with the primal laws of being. [illustration: nw] [illustration: "little old new york," follies of ] dancing and country life [illustration] for more than a generation the problem of checking the steady drift of the young people from american farms into the cities has occupied the attention of statesmen, able editors, farm leaders and economists. it is universally agreed that agriculture is the basic industry upon which the prosperity of manufacturing and commerce depends. when the farmers are prosperous their demands for all kinds of manufactured goods sets in motion the wheels of industry, labor is fully employed and merchants find increased sales to the rural communities and factory workers. when, as happened five years ago, there is a widespread depression among the farmers, it is felt by manufacturers, railways, merchants and industrial workers in every field. today, as one hundred years ago, when thomas jefferson wrote that agriculture was the most important of all industries, the welfare of the american people as a whole is indissolubly bound up with the existence of a large and prosperous agricultural interest. president roosevelt twenty years ago recognized the importance of keeping on the farms the young and vigorous american men and women who are needed to maintain the enormous food supplies required by the vast populations of the great cities and industrial centers, and appointed a country life commission to investigate and report on the conditions that were making life on the farms unattractive as compared with the cities. one of the reasons found by the commission for the increasing flow of country youth cityward was the lack of social activities and amusements in the rural districts, and the consequent desire to migrate to localities where a denser population brought wide opportunities for social diversions. curiously enough, the dance as a means of promoting sociability among the farm population was not discussed, possibly because of an old-fashioned prejudice against dancing that still prevails in many rural regions. why certain good people should object to the dance, innocent, joyous and beneficial as it is in practically all its manifestations and associations, can only be explained on the grounds given by lord macaulay from the british puritan's objection to the sport of bear-baiting. "the puritan condemned bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators." there was a time when it was considered frivolous and wicked to be happy, and dancing and many other innocent amusements were put under the ban. this narrow view of life is, fortunately, becoming outgrown, and no power is now invoked to prevent pleasure-seekers finding diversion in sports, games, or the dance. with the gradual disappearance of the ancient view of pleasure as akin to sinfulness, there is no good reason why dancing should not become as popular in the rural districts as it is in the cities. the automobile and good rural roads have combined to make possible social gatherings in central localities that would have been impossible twenty years ago. improved farm machinery and implements have shortened working hours on the farm, so that the evenings are no longer devoted to finishing up the day's work. then there are the long winter evenings when the heart of youth calls to youth, and when in every village or country hamlet there should be assembled joyous groups, finding in the dance an escape from the routine of daily cares. picnics and outings would take on new attractions, and under the spur of rivalry the simpler forms of dancing would evolve into its more artistic branches. there would be something to look forward to outside the family circle; new acquaintances and agreeable companions. with the dance would come a wider knowledge and love of music that would stimulate its study and practice. in many thousands of farm homes the radio is now installed, and programs of dance music are arranged that make it possible for millions to join in moving to the strains of the best metropolitan bands and orchestras. the contrast between the city residents and their "country cousins" is in no respect more marked than in their walk and carriage. watch the city crowds, as with heads up, chins in, and shoulders back, they step out briskly along the sidewalks. they know how to walk. they may be going somewhere in a hurry, or sauntering to see and be seen, but in either case they carry themselves as individual personages. they have been taught grace of movement, and their self-confidence expresses their individuality. compare with them a group of rural walkers. too often the latter slouch carelessly and drag limbs that are awkward and aimless. they are frequently bent and listless, as though walking were hard labor imposed as a penalty. they do not know how to hold their arms to keep them in accord with their bodily progress. it is not an injustice to the country folk to say that by their walk they can nearly always be distinguished from the city resident. instruction in even the simplest forms of the dance, and practice in their movements, will bring about a far-reaching change. the country boys and girls will learn to hold themselves erect, they will quickly see the difference between the sort of progress by what has been described as a process of falling over and recovering one's balance, and real walking by a coördinated entity. they will take pride in well developed bodies, and will show in every movement the results of the training that has enabled them to become proficient in the dance. is it not possible that the answer to the old query: "how you goin' to keep them down on the farm?" may be found in the advice: "teach them to dance"? perhaps you are asking yourself, "what has country dancing to do with stage dancing?" and i will answer you: just this: the city has no monopoly of talent in any field. the candidate for dancing honors and emoluments comes as often from rural communities as from metropolitan. but first, whether in city or hamlet, there must be present in the aspirant the true love of dancing as an art, a sense of rhythm, an urge to step to music,--and these he or she discovers only as the ballroom dancing in the home community develops them. this is no lure; it is a true word: there are young ladies and gentlemen in all localities who, if they but knew it, could rise to heights worth while, because possessed of genuine talent needing only correct training to develop its possibilities to the full. the country-bred girls and boys in our courses have equal opportunity with their city cousins, and both are thriving alike. [illustration: rita owen] dancing as a social accomplishment [illustration] some years ago the editor of a great new york newspaper, who was nationally known as one of the foremost personalities of his era, invited a group of his friends to his home to enjoy a performance by the then celebrated spanish dancer carmencita. after the plaudits of the delighted guests had died away, a lady eminent in society inquired of her appreciative husband: "why didn't we ever think of arranging for something of this kind?" and her worser half agreed that for the future they would follow their host's example, and make dancing by great artists a feature of their social entertainments. ever since that time there has been an increasing demand by those whose wealth, culture and good taste have made them the dominant force in american society, for the services of the leading exponents of the creative art of the dance. to the ballrooms of the great mansions that adorn every city of any considerable size there have come brilliant assemblages of the men and women who by reason of their special qualifications are recognized as social leaders, to see, enjoy and appreciate the charm and beauty of "woven paces and of weaving arms." the hosts whose invitation includes the announcement "special dances by miss ---- or mr. ----" know that there will be few declinations because of other engagements. the fortunate ones who are able to command the presence of any of the well known stars in the dancing firmament at a social gathering, are assured that their guests will carry away with them only pleasant recollections of a delightful occasion. even to those who may have often seen the artist in public performances, there is an additional charm in the dances as given in the more intimate conditions of a private gathering. the knowledge that the audience appreciates every detail, down to the slightest touch, stimulates the dancer to the highest mood of artistic endeavor. "art," wrote william morris, "is the expression of man's joy in his work." emphatically is this true of the dancer's art, and the exaltation of joyousness into perfect harmony of motion comes only when the artist knows that the message conveyed is understood by the onlookers. to those who wish to make their impress upon society by distinctive gatherings, the artist affords an ever new and always pleasing entertainment. as knowledge of the illimitable possibilities of the dance expands, there is certain to be a growing demand for the types of dancers whose gifts make them peculiarly adapted to the exercise of their art at social functions. [illustration: nw] universal appreciation of the dance [illustration] the chief reason why dancing as a public entertainment will always maintain its present popularity, and will be in even greater demand in the future than in the past, is to be found in the fact that to appreciate and enjoy to the fullest degree the work of the creative dancer requires no special knowledge of the art itself on the part of the spectator. there are many who do not understand or appreciate classical music. to many others the speaking drama makes no appeal. still others care nothing for the motion picture, and cannot be induced to witness a performance on the screen. but everyone--men and women, young or mature, can enjoy the beauty, harmony, and exhilaration of a well conceived and well executed dance. there is something in the nature of us all that responds immediately to the message that the dancer conveys. perfection of form, grace of movement, harmony of action with appropriate music, all combine to make up a spectacle that thrills and inspires. to slightly paraphrase robert browning: "others may reason and welcome, but seeing the dance, we know." as was said of the athenians of old, the american people are always looking for something new. they are quick to take up this or that fad in dress, games, sports or amusements, and after a brief time throw it aside. there is nothing of the fancy of the hour in the popular acceptance of the dance, either for personal practice, or as a stage entertainment. what has been seen in all the american cities during the past ten or twenty years--the steady growth in popularity of the dance in all its forms--is no whim that will presently pass. on the contrary, nothing can be more certain than that each year will find a greater increase in dancing, both by the people themselves, and for them by the artists of the profession. it was said for a long time by visiting foreigners that americans had not learned how to enjoy themselves. this may have been true at one time, but it is not today. the chief object of life, it has been discovered, is to live abundantly and joyously. everything that helps to make living more cheerful, healthful and agreeable; that satisfies aesthetic needs; that ministers to the sense of beauty and harmony, will be encouraged and developed, and as one important means to these ends, the dance must of necessity flourish and endure. [illustration: nw] the melting pot of the dance [illustration] a great deal is being talked and written about changing the millions who have come to this country from foreign lands, or are the children of immigrants, into per cent americans. so far as the advocacy of measures for this purpose is based on a sincere desire to bring home to everyone living under the national flag a knowledge of the essential principles of our government and institutions, this is worthy of the encouragement and aid of all patriotic citizens. there is, however, another aspect of the americanization movement, that is not so admirable. this is the attack on ideas, manners, customs and amusements peculiar to certain foreign peoples, not because they are necessarily wrong, or antagonistic to genuine americanism, but merely because they are different. according to some of these self-constituted authorities the way to instill patriotism and love of country into the benighted aliens is to persuade them to abandon all that links them with the land of their ancestors, and become exactly like the prevailing type of bangor, maine, augusta, georgia, or portland, oregon. oliver wendell holmes tells how when he was a boy living in cambridge, mass., there was a constant warfare between the boys of his district and those who lived down by the water front, who were regarded as foreigners, because they seemed to be in some way different. he concluded that most of the racial antagonisms and hatreds that so often lead to quarrels and war are due to the same notion; that the foreign man is inferior because his ways are different from ours. against the narrow ideas that would reject many things of great value because they are of foreign origin, there is need for a wise and discriminating selection of the best that all regions of the earth have to offer in the domain of science, literature, music, painting, the dance, and other arts, and their combination with the results attained by american creative effort. in no respect is there a more urgent need for the development of a truly american art spirit than in the wide field offered by artistic dancing, yet it would surely be a mistake to ignore all that has been learned and accomplished in the long experience of other peoples. a foolish prejudice against foreign dances should not be allowed to prevent the incorporation of their best features into what will ultimately be the distinctive american school. that there assuredly will be an essentially american type of dancing in all its branches, that will reach heights far above that yet achieved by any other country, cannot be doubtful. as the increase of wealth, not only for a few, but for the great mass of the people, gives more leisure, creates new desires, and brings increased capacity for enjoyment, it is inevitable that more and more will the public appreciation of the dance call for still greater advances. as the various races from other lands have mingled their several qualities and gifts, and have produced the highest civilization on a broad scale that the world has ever seen, so will the creators of new and more beautiful dance forms utilize the characteristic dances of all nations in achieving what will be the per cent american dance. your opportunities [illustration] those of you who are perfecting yourselves for a stage career are naturally giving consideration to your future as you advance in the courses, and are wondering just how you will go about it to get well placed in your chosen line of work. i am going to tell you how some have tried to do this, and then tell you the best, surest and safest way. and do not for a moment think that i am guessing about what i tell you. i know the theatrical world and theatrical ways and methods, and i know the managers, the producers, and all the principals connected with our profession, and they know me. so i am not guessing when i say that your personal interests in all matters connected with the stage will be best conserved by entrusting them to me. in our classes here in the studio there is apt to be one or more dominating spirits who become anxious to go around the booking offices and seek for a tryout and an engagement. it is true that to go to any office and say that you are a recent or prospective graduate of the ned wayburn studios is a good recommendation, and you may get a hearing and a tryout on the strength of it. but please be advised by me and let me give you the tryout first when i am sure you are ready for it. your teacher should first be given a chance to see what you can do individually. his advice is invaluable and impartial. when he reports that you are advanced sufficiently to deserve consideration for a solo role, then come and dance for me. i am glad to have you do this, and shall always give you my decision honestly and fairly, and let me add, freely--no charge whatever. if i see that you are deficient in any way, i will be frank and tell you so, and will also suggest what you should do to correct your fault. in other words, you will get constructive criticism, and kindly advice, in my office, whereas anything short of perfection shown to a booking agent or possible employer would be apt to insure abrupt dismissal. they would give you no helpful advice, and you would prejudice yourself, for your effrontery, in their eyes for any future engagement you might seek. so be advised by me. i respect an ambition that prompts you to go out and hunt an engagement, but, believe me, yours is not the best way. there are agents and agents. some would do right by you, and perhaps some would be unscrupulous. i am not going on record in this book with any details that would seem to reflect in the least on anyone, so i'll not enlarge upon this subject here. but i will tell you more about this if you come to my office and ask me to. now if any pupil in the school asks you to go around the theatrical agencies, please don't do it, but come and tell me. perhaps some day you both will come to me and say "thank you." [illustration: ada may (weeks)] oftentimes we send out groups of our students, two, four, six or eight, to go on the professional stage for something special. sometimes they are paid; sometimes it is done gratuitously; but the experience alone is worth money to them. the regular theatrical season opens about labor day and lasts till around decoration day. summer engagements begin about the first monday in june and end about the last saturday in august. calls are sent out about the middle of april for summer work, and about the middle of july for the winter or regular season. if you are able to qualify, you will get the benefit of these calls for dancers, and when you go with my recommendation, it will be only to the best managers. i will inform you fully as to the best forms of contract for you to sign in every case, and make no charge for this. you know, when you engage to go with a show, you do not simply take the manager's word for it that he will employ you for so many weeks at so much a week, nor does the manager simply take your "yes, i'll come," and let it go at that. this matter of entering his employ is a business affair, a transaction of importance to you both, and calls for a signed agreement that binds him, the manager, as to his responsibility to you, and binds you as to your duties to him. it is a legal document, binding on both parties, the manager and you--and let me tell you right here, you feel mighty big with your first stage contract duly signed and delivered, and in your pocket, and while you may in future seasons get contracts that specify much larger salaries than your first one does, no contract will ever _seem_ so big and important to you as this first one, the start, the goal of your ambition. i love to see my pupils with their first professional contracts! they are so happy and hopeful; the world opens up new delights for them; they have arrived. the reward of their untiring exertions here in the courses is at hand, and they have earned it and deserved it. "good for you!" i feel like saying; and i am truly happy to think that i have been in some degree instrumental in bringing this about. my experience has been paid for. i have learned to profit by my own mistakes, and i can and will save you all the risk in closing deals that involve so much--perhaps your entire future stage career. i can and will do this, if you let me. [illustration] stage-craft [illustration] when my pupils become professional dancers and "sign up" for their first stage engagement they will wish not to be or appear ignorant of the marvelous mechanism that is the modern theatrical stage. not that they will learn it all from any book, but my knowledge of things back stage will be of help, and i have jotted down here some of them for that purpose. the rest of it the new entrant upon the real stage will absorb in time, but with the help of my condensed explanation herein no one who reads need appear lost or totally bewildered in the new environment back of the curtain line. let me tell you some of the important things that every pupil of mine who contemplates a professional career should know about the theatre, the building itself and the stage upon which you expect to present your offerings to the public. [illustration: _proscenium arch, the frame of the stage pictures_] in the first place, the theatre building is divided into two parts, the auditorium and the stage. the dividing line is known as the curtain line. in stage parlance the auditorium side of the dividing line is the "front of the house," or "out front," and the stage side is always "back stage." the proscenium arch of the stage makes the frame for the pictures on the stage. "the opening" means to the professional the width across stage at the proscenium arch, and varies according to the size of the auditorium and the line of sight of the auditors. it may be thirty feet, forty, or even more, as is the case in the new york hippodrome and other large city theatres. the height is sometimes the same as the width, or slightly less, the complete frame of the arch being usually of an oblong shape, possibly thirty-five feet wide and twenty-five feet high. [illustration: _diagram of a modern theatre_] the fire laws require a fireproof curtain, which is on the outer or audience side of the two or more curtains that hang on the stage side of the proscenium arch. next to this asbestos affair is the "act curtain," that raises and lowers, and is usually painted on fire-proofed or heavy duck canvas. there may be used instead or in addition to the act curtain, what is known as a tableau curtain, that works in a traveler above, which can be drawn straight off stage, both ways, parting in the middle, or be pulled to a drape at each side. this is always made of material and sometimes painted in aniline dye; if painted in water color or oil it would crack. there is never any curtain in front of "the arch" or proscenium. the footlights and the apron are in front of the fireproof curtain. the apron may be deep or shallow, and at its front edge is the footlight trough and a masking piece, fireproof always, to shield the eyes of the audience and reflect the footlights onto the stage. the footlights follow the front curvature of the apron, when it is curved, as is usually the case, although many of the modern stages have no apron at all, the footlights running in a straight line across, sometimes within a foot of the fire curtain. the stage itself extends from the curtain line to the back wall of the theatre, and from left wall to right wall. under the roof of the stage, anywhere from sixty-five to ninety feet above the floor, there is a horizontal lattice work of steel or iron covering the entire spread of the stage, and known as the gridiron. the space on top of the gridiron is called the rigging loft. the roof of the stage over the rigging loft is a huge skylight, opened or closed from the stage. the skylight is made light-proof for matinee performances. on the gridiron are rigged the blocks and pulleys through which pass the lines attached to all the scenery that goes up in the air, or "up in the flies," which is the name given the space between the top of the proscenium arch and the gridiron. to take scenery up, is "flying it," in stage language, leaving the sight of the audience; whatever goes up "flies," and whatever is carried off to one side or back is "struck." the stage manager, when he wants the scene taken away, gives the order "strike" to the stage hands, or "grips," as they are called, who are on the stage level, and he pushes a button for the head-flyman in the "fly-gallery" to fly whatever scenery goes up. [illustration: grand ball room in ned wayburn studios] there is a "fly-gallery," as it is called, usually ten to fifteen feet wide, some twenty-five to thirty-five feet above the stage level and extending from the front to the back walls of the stage on one side, against the side wall, usually of steel and concrete. then there is the "paint-bridge," perhaps five feet wide, extending across the stage at the back wall from side to side, on a line with the "fly-gallery." sometimes there is a "paint-frame" attached to the back wall on which scenery is painted. it is movable up and down. sometimes twenty to twenty-five feet above the stage level is a light-gallery, on each side of the stage running parallel to the fly-gallery, but under it. these galleries are for the purpose of holding calcium lights and operators. running from the back wall of the stage to the proscenium wall all the way of the fly-gallery on the front edge nearest the stage is the pin-rail, very strong and imbedded in the wall front and back of the stage; it holds all the scenery that goes aloft. when the scenery is raised, the "lines," as the ropes or cables are called in stage language, are pulled down and tied off to this "pin-rail." these lines attached to the scenery are usually in sets of three, sometimes four, and extend straight up through the blocks in the gridiron and across the gridiron down to the pin-rail in the fly-gallery. as they are usually fastened to three or four different points on each piece of scenery they are necessarily of three or four different lengths, but the lines are tied and handled as one at the pin-rail, and pulled all together. in a set of three lines, the line nearest the pin-rail is called the "short line," the next one the middle line, the far one the long line. "trim it," you hear the order given. this means to "level" whatever piece of scenery it is. "tie it off" is the way they direct that the lines be made fast to the pin-rail. in rainy or damp weather the ropes get longer; in dry they shrink; then it is necessary to "trim the drops," letting out the lines and tying them over before the performance. this is done under the direction of the master mechanic or stage carpenter. often there is a counterweight or bag attached to the lines above the fly-gallery to help carry the weight of the heavy scenery as it is sent aloft to its resting place in the flies, out of sight of the audience and out of the way of everybody on stage. the various drops are known on the stage as "solid," "cut" or "leg" drops. borders about forty feet long by twelve feet deep, hung horizontally, mask in the top of all scenery, and hide the "flies" from the audience on the lower floor, and may be interior, exterior, foliage, straight, arched, or sky borders (plain blue). in troughs hung across the stage by steel cables from the gridiron, their height regulated from the fly-gallery, are the various border lights, each usually in three circuits, red, white and blue. these are hung at intervals of about six feet, the first being about that distance back of the act curtain and the others spaced about every six feet to the back wall of the stage. on the average practical modern stage there will be anywhere from four to seven border lights. on the stage, between the curtain line and first border light, are the first entrances, known as left first entrance and right first entrance. the right and left of the stage are always the dancer's right and left as she or he faces the audience. about six feet back of this is located the second entrance, and about each six feet interval is a successively numbered entrance, as "third entrance," etc. in a "full-stage" setting the last entrance to the rear is called "upper entrance." a scene in the space covering the entire first entrance is spoken of as being "in one"; in the second entrance, "in two." when one passes out of sight of the audience he is "off stage." the various entrances and exits are designated in writing and print by characters that carry their meaning plainly, as rue (right upper entrance), l e (left second entrance). so, too, with spoken directions on the stage. when you are told to "exit lue," for instance, you are supposed to know that you are to go off stage at the left upper entrance. no one in the theatre ever speaks of standing "in the wings"; always it is "in the entrance." the prompt side in a theatre is usually the left first entrance, though sometimes it is on the other side, where are located the electric switchboard controlling every light in the building, under the personal direction of the chief electrician, and a series of buttons above a shelf or prompt desk attached to the wall about the height of a bookkeeper's desk, where the stage manager makes his headquarters during each performance, the stage manager being like the captain or skipper of the ship. all signals are given by the stage manager, the buttons usually placed immediately above or at one side of the prompt desk, within easy reach controlling buzzers, lights or bells that tell as plainly as shouted words could do what is to be done and who is to do it. sometimes lights flash to give directions and warnings, instead of the buzzer sounding. every action of the stage hands below and aloft is directed in this manner from one central point of control by one master mind, the stage manager of the show. the orchestra usually has a music room of its own somewhere under the stage or in the cellar of the theatre, where the musicians congregate before the performance and during their "waits." a buzzer or bell warning to them is said to "ring the orchestra in," and they are usually allowed about three minutes to get into their places in the orchestra pit after it sounds. there is also a "drop" signal buzzer or light to give the head flyman in the fly-gallery the signals that indicate when to raise and lower certain "drops," or hanging pieces. a bell would be heard by the audience and detract from the performance. a curtain buzzer or light gives the "warning" and "go" signals to the stage hands in the fly-gallery who are called "flymen," for raising and lowering the curtains or other scenery, like "drops," "borders," and any other pieces of scenery that have been "hung" to fly. in some modern theatres the switchboard and its operator are raised some ten feet above the stage. in such a case a buzzer signal from the stage manager's prompt desk directs the manipulation of the lights for the guidance of the chief electrician in his elevated perch, these signals being given at a certain "cue" in the performance, and he knows from his cue sheet, always before him, just what lights are required on each succeeding cue. stage dressing rooms are by law required to be separated from the stage proper by a permanent wall. access to them is usually found near the front wall of the stage, seldom along the back wall. in modern city theatres dressing rooms are in tiers, as in the new amsterdam theatre, new york, where there are seven floors of dressing rooms reached by a private elevator used for no other purpose. the modern stage dressing rooms in city theatres have every known arrangement for comfort, sanitation and convenience. stage artists have no business in the front of the house, nor, conversely, have those whose employment is in the front of the house any business on the stage. both keep their separate places at all times. artists are always required to enter and leave the theatre through the stage door. all first-class managers forbid the artists to be seen in "the front of the house." members of the company usually are required to report for matinee performances about : p.m. and for evening shows about : p.m., but always before the "half hour" is called, which is thirty minutes before the overture is played. the stage watchman, known as the stage door tender, is always at the stage door before and during a performance and permits none to pass in who are not directly connected with the stage end of the theatre, the day stage door tender being on duty usually from a.m. to p.m., and the night stage door tender from p.m. to a.m. the night watchman goes his rounds regularly throughout the night at required intervals, registering on a time-clock from different stations throughout the theatre building; all outer doors and windows are locked about one-half hour after the evening performance. no messages, calls, telegrams or information of any character from outside is permitted to enter the theatre for any actor or actress who is inside and hence secluded from all outside contact and purely in the realm of the playhouse. this and absolute exclusion of all interlopers is one of the strictest rules of the theatre, and woe to him who attempts its violations, or to the doorkeeper who permits it. any messages received are given to the artist after the performance. no person who is not a member of the company should ever be permitted to visit a dressing room during a performance, only afterwards; such a contact takes the mind of the artist off her or his work. men who have obtained wrong ideas about members of the theatrical profession and have boldly sought to force their presence onto the stage have been summarily dealt with before now--and in some cases i have helped in the good work myself. sometimes, after the performance, relatives, friends or escorts are permitted to enter the stage door and there await the street-clad and departing performers. but strangers and would-be "stage-door johnnies" are always barred out. there is no "green room" in the modern american theatre. we have all read about a meeting place in the rear of the stage that went by this title in the old english novels and biographies. they may exist still in some foreign theatres, i am not sure--but i doubt it. what i am sure of is that the american stage is sacred to its artists, principals and subordinates alike, and to its stage manager and the stage hands who keep things moving behind the curtain line. it is a business and not a game. a theatrical life is taken seriously by all who wish to succeed in it. no triflers need apply nowadays. after every performance the stage is cleared of all obstacles, scenery and everything else. the last member of the company out of each dressing room is required to put the light out, lock the dressing-room door and leave the key to the room with the stage door tender who is held responsible for the contents of the rooms. the act curtain and the asbestos curtain are raised. a single electric bulb or pilot light on a portable iron stand about three feet high is placed centre of the stage near the footlights, and casts its beam across the stage and throughout the auditorium. the show is over and the fire-laws are obeyed. [illustration: marilyn miller] making a name [illustration: sally with marilyn miller marilyn miller in sally] one may see big electric signs carrying bright-light messages similar to the above placed conspicuously over theatre entrances in all cities of any magnitude. such signs convey to the passing populace the interesting information that here is located a certain play, and also that in this play a certain person appears as a main attraction. now to the passerby whose knowledge of things theatrical is merely cursory, scant or non-existent, the two signs given above may have exactly the same meaning, bear the same message in both cases. but to all those "in the know" as to stage matters the two signs tell two entirely different stories, and the location of the names of the play and the actor convey important information in the theatre code that the wise ones interpret at a glance. here are the two readings as the stage-wise render them, and when i have told you about this you will catch the point at once and ever after be able to "read the signs" with a clear conception of their import: the name at the top of each sign is "starred"; the other is "featured." in one, the play is given the star position and miss miller is featured; in the other, marilyn miller is starred and the play featured. "well, what of that?" you ask. just this, and here is where the importance of it all comes in: the one that is starred carries the burden of the success of the show. if the play is starred, its failure does not reflect on the person featured; but if the actor is starred and failure follows, the actor and not the play is considered responsible, the actor not having proven a _magnet_, not having drawn business on the strength of his or her name. the personal difference to the actor is really very great, yet "to star" is the actor's great ambition. no one should ever be starred unless popular enough to attract plenty of patronage and thereby insure "packed houses." this applies not alone in the signs over the door, but also in all the theatre's publicity. pick up today's newspaper, and look at the stage announcements. "mary pickford in--" you don't care what the play is when you see the star's name. the star carries the play, in such a case. "rose-marie, with mary ellis and william kent." you are glad to go and see the featured pair, but in this case the play is given the star position, it having registered success, the profits from this musical play having been as high as $ , . per week during its run in one new york theatre. now the point of all this, that has to do with the stage dancer, is, "how did marilyn miller get a name that entitled her to this conspicuous exploitation, and how can i go about it to become equally well-known and famous, myself?" you are wise to ask this question seriously early in your stage career, and if you have or develop the quality that makes for stardom you can read this chapter with confidence that it is an accurate and correct account of how many a stage celebrity has progressed from an unknown and unheralded place in the theatrical world, to one where broadway producing managers have solicited the privilege of elevating her or his name over the doors of their playhouses. bear in mind that your name is to you what a trademark is to a manufacturer. and, to continue the analogy, you cannot establish a name in a day or two, any more than the manufacturer can make his trademarked goods universally known in a short period. you are starting out now with the laudable ambition to make a name for yourself, and have still to seek your first engagement. you know your dances, are continuing your practice, and have confidence in your ability to make good. don't hurry to get yourself before any producing manager until you have had a little experience in some hideaway place, like at a church or charity benefit performance, some local entertainment, or club affair, anything of this nature, that will enable you to try yourself out before a small or friendly audience, test your ability to overcome stage fright, and get hold of yourself before a crowd. having done this away from broadway and gained assurance, then an appearance in some regular theatre, preferably at some benefit performance, usually given sundays, should come next, where the dancer is sure to be seen by someone who has the authority and position to offer an engagement. any sort of an engagement with a reputable management is a good beginning and should be accepted without expectation of a fancy salary, an opportunity being what one always needs in order to prove one's ability. if you do not succeed in creating a demand for your services at appearances like this, do not become discouraged; make up your mind to keep on trying until you do attract the attention of the right manager. always be willing to make any sacrifice as far as remuneration is concerned for an opportunity to appear to advantage, and be everlastingly grateful to whoever gives you your first opportunity, or foothold which enables you to establish yourself. send a brief letter to the offices of various managers announcing your forthcoming appearance. enclose a good full-length photograph, preferably in stage costume, the best you can afford, i.e., taken by the best photographer you can get. some of these managers or their representatives will be there and see your performance. be sure you are "making good" before you try to interest any of the big managers. it is better for you to be seen by the manager before an audience than in an empty theatre. be satisfied to make a small beginning for the experience, provided you get a chance to do your best dance. this will help you establish yourself, but it is going to take a long time to prove your ability. travel, and make territory for yourself. go in a vaudeville act, if offered such an engagement. keep on "small time" for a year, if necessary, and get your name known in a certain territory for a pleasing entertainer. get on with some act, big or little, as a solo dancer, at a reasonable salary, and expect the first two weeks to be at half salary, as is usual. do not demand a large salary until managers are clamoring for your services--make it an inducement for someone to employ you in the beginning. when you start on a road tour your first inquiry of your company manager will be for a "copy of the route." you want to know where you are going, what towns your itinerary takes you to, so that friends can be advised in advance of your location day by day, and letters and communications reach you with certainty. [illustration: one scene from ned wayburn's "demi-tasse revue."] to the trouper, a town is a "stand." a week's showing in a place is spoken of as a "week stand"; the first and last half of the week is each a "three-day stand," or "four-day stand," or the "first" or "last-half." then there is a "two-day stand" and a "one-night stand," which are self-explanatory. a "run" is a greater period than a "week stand," and you hear of a "two-week run," an "eight-week run," "six months run," and "one year run," etc. there is a solid season, a theatrical year of forty weeks, of travel, experience and development, beginning about labor day and ending about decoration day, and a summer season beginning about the first monday in june and ending about the last saturday in august. your work and progress is being watched unknown to you at every performance. the manager back home finally knows all about your work through "reports" which are kept in the main booking office and to which he and all other managers on his particular circuit have access. now you are ready to try for something bigger and better, ready for "big time" vaudeville, perhaps in your own act; if not that, then in someone else's act. your second year's advancement is based on the weekly report that has been sent to headquarters regarding your reception by the public and the way in which your act has got over. big time may mean chicago, boston, philadelphia, and any or all the larger cities on the various "circuits." it may include the keith-albee palace theatre in new york, the mecca of all vaudeville artists. it is at the palace that you know you and your act are seen by every revue, musical comedy, or dramatic manager, casting director whose business it is to pick and engage artists. there is no school like vaudeville for the dancer, singer, actor or actress in any line of musical work. most of the brightest stars in the theatrical firmament have graduated from vaudeville into greater things, and many of them return to the vaudeville stage for a flier now and then. it is there that you come in contact with different wise audiences in different cities and learn how to handle them. you watch your fellows in their various acts, note the bills as they change every week, or usually twice weekly, and your audience with them. you are in two, three or four shows a day in your short time, and learning how to get over better at every show. the vaudeville audience knows what's what. you can't fool them. you've got to do your best for them all the time--and you will, or you will not remain in vaudeville, where you have to "make good" every performance. it is an invaluable experience, your first stage years, and you will gather lasting benefit from your active vaudeville appearances. you must not complain of the number of shows you are required to give daily--the more you give the more practice you get before a paid audience, and remember you are gaining experience while being paid for it. you may follow a season of this with a road show over your former territory another year, and you will find your old friends in the audience ready to boost you. you are on the right road to the "making of a name," which after all is what you are after. for although they will not remember your name yet, if you really pleased them they will remember your offering; about your third trip around they will learn your name and never forget it--provided you "make good." if you fail, the audience will forget you; but _not_ the manager. once you fail in his opinion, he will never forget or forgive it. he will never give anyone who fails a second chance. that is "show business." your fourth year should find you in a new york production in some good company. for new york is always the objective point, since the best and most opportunities are always there. there follows naturally a year on the road in the same company, as the show abandons new york for a tour of the larger cities. always make the road trip in order to create territory for yourself, to establish a following, to make a still bigger name and demand for you, which means a larger salary eventually. you are sufficiently established now, after five successful years, to be able to expect another new york engagement, under the same management in all likelihood but with a new vehicle. this new york engagement and another year on tour with the same play puts you seven years along the way to a name in the big lights, and your name has been growing day by day, until it is now known in good territory, and consequently, through wise exploitation--publicity--it has become a magnet and attracts patronage. when the time comes that your name is to go up in front of the theatre, choose to be featured at first rather than starred. if anything must fail, let it be the show, and not you. don't risk failing to "draw business" to the box office. there will come a time somewhere along in your progress to fame when you will need a business manager or an agent versed in all matters of a theatrical nature, favorably known to all the large producing managers, and able to advance your fortunes materially by protecting and looking after your interests. he is entitled to receive ten percent of your earnings from whatever source, and the services he can render you are well worth it. nearly every successful actor and actress has a manager. stage celebrities have not the time, let alone the experience and ability, to promote their own business interests, watch for opportunities to secure the choice engagements, and attend to the very necessary publicity and negotiations for contracts for the future. the reputable agent or artist's manager is always on the ground and in touch with the best managements and things theatrical daily. but no such representative worth while will bother with you until you have made good. the best artist managers or agents know in advance what is being planned for the coming theatrical season. they are in close contact with the very high-ups in the theatrical world, men whose contracts you hope to sign on the dotted line soon. a good agent may save you several years' time in advancing to a stellar position. he knows the value of publicity, which often is half the battle in getting yourself before the public. you must have publicity, whether or not you secure a representative to attend to it for you. interesting newsy stories about you, with effective art studies of yourself in costume accompanying them, are gladly accepted by many newspapers and magazines. the rotogravure sections of sunday papers contain many pictures of theatrical folks. a beautiful picture will usually carry a story, and you are wise to get a few good ones rather than many cheap prints. every first-class theatre has its own press agent, and every production of any size its own press representative. both are glad to coöperate with you if you have real ability, and help you with the preparation of your stories and photographs and getting them into the daily newspaper. there are also many publicity concerns who make it a business to keep your name and picture in the public eye at a moderate charge. but you must be able to _make good_ first. neither publicity nor anything else will avail to establish a permanent name for you unless you are prepared to deliver the goods. duds and dumb ones never make a big noise in the world. there is no star name awaiting the inferior person in this profession. all the front-page publicity in christendom won't do the trick if you haven't back of you real talent and something the public is clamoring for. and you cannot hope to fool the wary producer by any false representation or exaggerated claims. you are not wasting your time while on the way to the bigger things. seven years may seem a long time to wait, but you are not starving on the way, and you are really not "waiting" at all. you start with a reasonable salary that advances from year to year and engagement to engagement, as you deserve it. you must build all the way on solid rock, then the structure that you finally rear, because of its firm foundation will endure forever. build up a public interest in yourself if you expect any producing manager to pay you what you are worth. perhaps he will never pay you what you think you are worth, but if you bring money into the house he knows he must pay you well in his own interest. and believe me, he knows whether you are an asset or a liability to his show. you have simply got to prove to the box office that you are producing--not stage money--but the real stuff. there is such a thing in stage lingo as an "overnight hit." someone suddenly "stops the show" in a town; that is, gets an unusual number of recalls. but wait a while before you decide that you are ready to star on the strength of that. your next audience or the audience in the next town may not be so enthusiastic over your act. an "overnight hit" is seldom continued beyond the single performance. it is pleasant while it lasts, but it doesn't last long. you must perform consistently and "make a hit" at every performance, with every audience. be patient, you who would star and see your name go up in the bright lights on the great white way. do not get discouraged. you will meet with obstacles on the route to fame undoubtedly, as others have done, and, like the others who have finally arrived, you must overcome them one at a time as they appear, by sheer force of willpower, determination, pluck or whatever you desire to call it. if you are a weakling and lack strength of character do not ever take up a stage career, for you will get many a bump; so be prepared to stand it. for only those who are determined to succeed will ever reach the top, where there is plenty of room always. [illustration: nw] [illustration: marilyn] [illustration: rita howard] forms of stage contracts [illustration] i offer no apology for posting the inexperienced ones about to enter upon a stage career as to how best to make the start. the signing of a mutual contract, entering into a legal engagement on the part of manager and dancer to perform certain duties and pay certain salaries for a stated period of time, is of sufficient importance to have serious consideration. i want my pupils to know in advance just what a proper stage contract looks like, how it reads, and what they will be called upon to sign as "party of the second part" when the hoped for time comes that their dances are to have public presentation on the professional stage. to this end, i reproduce here the wording of various forms of approved contracts now in general use by american theatrical managers, and commend their reading to all who are interested in the intimate side of stage affairs. the theatrical law requires that a chorus girl or boy be paid not less than $ . per week in new york city and $ . outside of new york, besides their transportation. this is the lowest salary. all first class managers pay choristers not less than $ . per week in new york and $ . on the road. the salary always includes transportation, but _not_ living expenses, which you are required to pay. some chorus girls receive as much as $ . or $ . weekly, depending upon what they can do, their appearance, personality, etc. about the smallest salary ever offered a solo dancer with a vaudeville act would be $ . in new york and $ . on tour, while the majority of solo dancers without name or reputation would receive $ . , $ . or $ . per week, to start, provided they really can do a real dance in a professional manner and "put it over" with some personality. one who receives $ . per week in new york should receive $ . on tour. after one's salary reaches $ . per week it can be increased on a sliding scale to $ . and $ . on tour, then $ . in new york and $ . on tour. from $ . to $ . . after reaching $ . it generally jumps to $ . , from $ . to $ . , after that to $ . , then $ . to $ . , thence to $ . a week, and then to ten percent of the gross receipts, usually a star's contract, though contracts and terms vary. a salary is fixed for one theatrical year and usually increased each year as indicated, but is never increased at all unless there is a demand for your services by reason of the fact that you have made a "hit" and registered genuine success. [illustration: cinderella your name] * * * * * [transcriber's note: in the following contract forms, the original has rows of dots representing the blanks to be filled in. in this e-book, each set of dots has been replaced with a long dash (----).] form--ind: e.m. no. this contract must not be issued to the chorus equity minimum contract standard form issued by the _actors' equity association_ (affiliated with the american federation of labor) west th street, new york city los angeles office hollywood blvd. san francisco office theodore hale, pine st. chicago office capitol bldg. kansas city office gayety theatre bldg. _to be used by "independent" new york managers and others playing same class of attractions._ agreement made this ---- day of ----, --, between ---- ("manager") and ---- (hereinafter called "actor"). _regulations and rules over leaf_ regulations covering rehearsals, notice of termination before and during rehearsals, lost rehearsals, individual termination, closing of play and season, clothes, number of performances, lost performances, transportation, lay-off, method of giving notice and other matters are set forth in the "regulations" on the reverse side of this page and in "rules governing minimum standard contract," on the pages following, and except as hereinafter provided, are a part hereof. _agreement of employment_ . the manager engages the actor to render service in part of ---- (here insert name of part; also if actor is required to understudy.) in the play now called ---- (here insert present title of play) and the actor hereby accepts such employment upon the terms herein set forth. _opening date_ . the date of the first public performance shall be the ---- day of ----, --, or not later than fourteen days thereafter. employment hereunder shall begin on the date of the beginning of rehearsals, and shall continue until terminated by notice given as herein provided and not otherwise. _compensation_ . the manager agrees to pay the actor the sum of ---- dollars ($----) each week on saturday thereof, from and after the date named in paragraph , and until this agreement is duly terminated. _duties of the actor_ . the actor agrees to be prompt at rehearsals, to pay strict regard to makeup and dress, to perform his services in a competent and painstaking manner, to abide by all reasonable rules and regulations of the manager, and, except as otherwise herein provided, to render services exclusively to the manager from the date of beginning of rehearsals, and shall not render services to any other person, firm or corporation without the consent of the manager. . the manager agrees that he has notice that the actor herein is a member of the actors' equity association and as such member is bound to conform to its lawful rules and regulations, and that it is a lawful rule and regulation of said association that, as far as the manager herein is concerned, the actor is to work only in companies operated by the manager herein when all members of said company or companies are members of the actors' equity association in good standing and continue to be such during the entire term of employment hereunder. and the manager agrees that the actor shall not be required to work hereunder in violation of said rule or other lawful rule of said association, and further agrees to the full extent to which said agreement is lawful that all actors in the company in which the actor herein is employed, shall be and shall continue throughout the term hereof to be members in good standing of the actors' equity association, except as provided in paragraph of the rules. should the manager employ any non-member of the actors' equity association, or any member not fully paid up or not in good standing, or one who fails to continue himself in good standing, or should the manager breach any covenant herein made, the actor may (the actors' equity association consenting) not only terminate this agreement forthwith, but the manager also agrees to pay the actor all sums due to the date of termination, plus his return fare and plus, as liquidated damages, no present basis for calculation existing, a sum equal to two weeks' salary. _arbitration_ . in event that any dispute shall arise between the parties as to any matter or thing covered by this agreement, or as to the meaning of any part thereof, then said dispute or claim shall be arbitrated. the manager shall choose one arbitrator and the actors' equity association the second. ---- shall be the third. these three shall constitute the board and the decision of a majority of the arbitrators shall be the decision of all and shall be binding upon both parties and shall be final. the board shall hear the parties and within seven ( ) days shall decide the dispute or claim. the board shall determine by whom and in what proportion the cost of arbitration shall be paid, and the parties hereby constitute said board their agents and agree that its decision shall constitute an agreement between them, having the same binding force as if agreed to by the parties themselves. further, that they and each of them will, if required, sign such individual arbitration agreement as to make said arbitration comply with a legal arbitration under the laws of the state of new york, and the rules of the supreme court thereof, and that judgment upon the award may be entered in the supreme court of the state of new york. the oath of the members of the board of arbitration shall not be necessary unless specifically requested by one of the parties. in witness whereof we have signed this agreement on the day and year first above written. ---- manager ---- actor regulations (to be printed on independent standard minimum contract) _rehearsals_ a. ( ) the actor, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay (in case of musical comedy, revue or spectacular production, five weeks), and obligates himself to be ready to rehearse four (or five) weeks before the date mentioned in paragraph on face of contract hereof; if further rehearsals are required then for each additional week or part thereof the manager shall pay the actor full compensation, as provided in paragraph on face of contract hereof on saturday night of each week. ( ) it is agreed that rehearsals shall be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play, as stated in paragraph on the face hereof. _notice of termination before rehearsal_ b. this contract may before the beginning of rehearsals be terminated as follows: ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into prior to two months before the specific date mentioned in paragraph on face hereof; by the manager giving to the actor written notice and paying him two weeks' salary. if, however, previously to giving such written notice and making such payment, the manager shall have given to the actor written notice that the play will not be produced or that the actor will not be called for rehearsals, and the actor thereafter secures a new engagement under which payments to him are to begin not later than the date specified in paragraph on the face hereof, then and in that event, instead of said two weeks' salary, the only sum, if any, which the manager need pay the actor, shall be the amount, if any, by which said two weeks' salary exceeds two weeks' salary of the actor under said new engagement. ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof and the play is not placed in rehearsal or is abandoned, the manager shall pay the actor a sum equal to one week's salary. _notice of termination during rehearsal_ c. this contract may during rehearsals be terminated as follows: ( ) at any time during the first seven days' rehearsals of the actor by either party by giving written notice, if this contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof, except in case the actor be re-engaged by the manager for a part which he has previously played, in which event he shall be paid two weeks' compensation; or ( ) any time after the first seven days' rehearsals of the actor by the manager giving written notice to the actor and by paying him forthwith a sum equal to two weeks' compensation. (note: in the above two subdivisions (c- and c- ), wherever the word "seven" appears in reference to the probationary period of rehearsals the word "ten" shall be substituted if the actor be employed in a musical comedy, revue or spectacular production.) ( ) the actor may cancel the contract by giving written notice and with the same paying to the manager a sum equal to two weeks' compensation. _individual termination after opening_ d. either party may terminate this contract at any time on or after the date of the first public performance of the play by giving the other party two weeks' written notice. e. ( ) if the play runs four weeks or less, the manager may close the play and company without notice, and terminate the right of the actor to further compensation, provided he has paid the actor for all services rendered to date, and in no event less than two weeks' compensation. ( ) if the play shall run more than four weeks, the manager shall give one week's notice of the closing of the season of the play and company, or pay one week's compensation in lieu thereof. _clothes_ f. ( ) if the actor be a man, he shall furnish and pay for such conventional morning, afternoon and evening clothes as are customarily worn by civilians of the present day in this country, together with wigs and footwear necessarily appurtenant thereto. all other wigs, footwear, costumes, clothes, appurtenances and "properties," including those peculiar to any trade, occupation or sport, to be furnished by the manager. ( ) if the actor be a woman, all wigs, gowns, hats, footwear and all "properties" shall be furnished by the manager. ( ) it is understood that in every case where the manager furnishes costumes, if the notice of cancellation of this contract be given by the actor, he or she shall reimburse the manager for the necessary and reasonable expense to which he may actually be put in having costumes altered or rearranged for the successor, and repay for current shoes. _notices_ (g) all communications which refer to the company in general shall be posted upon the call-board. notice to the manager must be given to him personally or to his company or stage manager. _number of performances work_ (h) ( ) eight performances shall constitute a week's work. ( ) a week's compensation shall be paid even if a less number than eight performances are given, except as herein otherwise provided in paragraph j. ( ) a sum equal to one-eighth of the weekly compensation shall be paid for each performance over eight in each week. (this also applies to understudies.) ( ) it is assumed that sunday rehearsals and performances will take place only where it is lawful, and the actor shall not be required to perform in the play and part above named on sunday in any theatre except those where sunday performances were customarily given on may , . _lost performances_ (i) the actor shall travel with the company by such routes as the manager may direct, and the actor shall not demand compensation for any performance lost through unavoidable delay in travel which prevents the giving of performances by the company. (j) ( ) it is further agreed if the company cannot perform because of fire, accident, strikes, riot, act of god, the public enemy, or for any other cause of the same general class which could not be reasonably anticipated or prevented, or if the actor cannot perform on account of illness or any other valid reason, then the actor shall not be entitled to any salary (except as otherwise herein specified) for the time during which said services shall not for such reason or reasons be rendered. should any of the foregoing conditions continue for a period of ten days or more, either party may terminate the contract and the manager will pay for all services to date and transportation back to new york city. ( ) strikes, within the meaning of this paragraph, is construed to mean any strike of any name or nature which shall prevent the manager from giving performances in the usual course of his business in any of his theatre or theatres. _lost rehearsals_ (k) if the manager is prevented from giving rehearsals because of fire, accident, riot, strikes, illness of star or prominent member of the cast, act of god, public enemy or any other cause of the same general class which could not reasonably be anticipated or prevented, then the time so lost shall not be counted as part of the four (or five, as the case may be) weeks' rehearsal period herein provided. after the fourth (or fifth, as the case may be) week of rehearsal, including any lay-off period on the above account, the manager will pay half salaries for two weeks, at the end of which time the actor shall be free, unless the manager wishes to continue the services of the actor and pays him full salary therefor. _transportation_ (l) the manager agrees to transport the actor when required to travel, including transportation from new york city to the point of opening and back to new york city from the point of closing; also the actor's personal baggage up to two hundred pounds weight. (m) the manager shall reimburse the actor for all loss or damage to his property used and/or to be used in connection with the play while it is wholly or partly in the possession or control or under the supervision of the manager or of any of his representatives and also when such baggage and property has been in any way shipped, forwarded or stored by the manager or any of his representatives, but the actor shall have no claim if the loss or damage occurs while the baggage or property is under his control. upon payment of said loss or damage the manager shall be subrogated to all rights of the actor therefor. (n) ( ) if individual notice of termination is given by the manager he agrees to pay the actor in cash the amount of the cost of transportation of the actor and his baggage back to new york city whether the actor returns immediately or not. ( ) if this contract is cancelled by the actor, he agrees to pay his own railroad fare back to new york city and to reimburse the manager for any railroad fare the manager may have to pay for the actor's successor up to an amount not exceeding railroad fare from new york city to the point where said successor joins the company, whether for rehearsal or for playing. ( ) if the company is organized outside of new york city, the name of such place is herein agreed to be substituted for new york city in paragraph l, n- and n- and elsewhere. (o) the manager shall not be responsible for any loss occurring to the personal baggage of the actor whose duty it is, if he desires to protect himself against loss, to insure the same. (p) the actor herein may play in any benefit performance given by or under the auspices of the actors' equity association. deputies of said association will be permitted in each company and a duly authorized representative shall have the right to be on the stage before and after rehearsals and before and after performances, and said association may represent its members in any dispute which may arise with the managers. actors will be tentatively engaged on their paid up cards only, which card will be prima facie evidence of membership in said association until the manager is otherwise notified. rules governing minimum standard contracts (to be printed on independent standard minimum contracts) . should the manager of any production consider the same "spectacular" and therefore entitled to five weeks of free rehearsals, he shall notify the actors' equity association before the beginning of rehearsals and advise fully as to the nature of the production and secure its allowance of his claim. . rehearsals begin with the date when the actor is first called. if the manager chooses to start with a reading to the company, or substantial part thereof, said reading is a part of and begins the rehearsal period. . in case of company rehearsals being held _before opening_ at a place different from that of organization, the manager shall pay the actor his reasonable living expenses during said rehearsals, except that the manager shall be allowed two days of free rehearsal in cities within one thousand miles of new york city and one additional day free for each additional one thousand miles or fraction thereof. . if the actor shall absent himself from rehearsals for seven days or more by reason of illness, the manager may cancel this contract without payment for service to date. the association may, in its discretion, upon appeal by the manager, reduce this period. . contracts between manager and actor shall be deemed to be entered into between the said parties on the date when the terms of the contract are agreed upon between the parties, and contracts must be issued and signed as of that date. . if after joining a company, which has opened and is on tour, an actor is dismissed at rehearsals within the seven day probationary period (provided the seven day probationary period has not already been deleted from his contract) the manager shall pay to the actor his transportation both ways and for each day of rehearsal a sum equal to one-fourteenth of the weekly salary agreed upon, said rehearsals to be deemed continuous and to begin not later than the day after the actor's arrival. in case the actor is dismissed after the seven day probationary period, the manager shall pay the actor two weeks' salary and his transportation both ways. . if the full rehearsal period to which the manager is entitled be not used by him before the date of opening, he may employ the balance thereof immediately before the new york opening, provided that said new york opening takes place within six weeks of the original opening of the play. . all performances for which admission is charged (except bona fide benefits) are to be counted and considered as performances under the minimum standard contract. . if the employment under any contract relates to the second or subsequent season of any play then the period of free rehearsals is three weeks instead of four, but this provision shall not obtain if per cent or more of the cast were not members of the production the preceding year. [illustration: a third floor corridor] . if the play for which the actor is engaged is rehearsed seven days or less and then rehearsals are discontinued or postponed, or if the production is abandoned during rehearsals on or before the seven day probationary period would have expired, the manager shall pay the actor as follows: if the contract has been signed or entered into within two months of the date mentioned in paragraph of the standard minimum contract, a sum equal to one week's salary, otherwise a sum equal to two weeks' salary. . in case the play is abandoned before rehearsals or the actor is entitled to compensation under the preceding paragraph, payment shall be made by the manager to the actor not later than three weeks prior to date of opening specified in paragraph of the main contract. . seven days' rehearsals means seven consecutive calendar days, counting sunday (when sunday is used for rehearsals), and said seven days terminate with the dismissal of rehearsal on the seventh day as herein reckoned. . if the part of an actor who shall have been dismissed before the end of the rehearsal on the seventh day shall be cut out, the manager shall pay to the actor a sum equal to one week's salary. . the manager shall use reasonable care that his press department shall not announce the engagement of the actor until after the seven day probationary period, and shall drop the name of the actor from advertising and publicity matter as soon as is possible after the actor leaves the company. . if the actor is not allowed to work out any notice properly given under his contract the amount to which he is entitled to shall be paid forthwith upon the giving of the notice. . the right of the manager to close a play and company without a week's notice within four weeks after the opening date does not apply to the second or subsequent season thereof. . notices of termination or closing given at or before the end of the performance on monday night, effective at the end of the saturday night following, shall be deemed one week's notice and such notice effective at the end of saturday week following shall be deemed two weeks' notice. . the essence of this contract is continuous employment and a play once closed shall not be re-opened during the same season within eight weeks of the date of previous closing, without the consent of the actors' equity association. such consent, if given, shall be upon such terms and conditions as may be considered just and equitable by such association. . except in a case of notice given on monday, as otherwise provided in these rules, a week's notice shall be seven calendar days and two weeks' notice fourteen calendar days. . should the manager require the actor to purchase his clothes from a special tailor or shall require exclusive or unique designs or unusually expensive clothes, then the manager shall pay for such clothes, anything to the contrary in clause g of the standard minimum contract notwithstanding. . the actor shall be responsible for transporting his own baggage to and from the station or theatre in new york city. the manager will pay the cost of or reimburse the actor for such transportation anywhere on manhattan island. . should the citizens' jury provided for in new york decide adversely to the continuance of a production because salacious or against public morals, the actor shall forthwith terminate his employment without notice, payment or penalty. . should the production in which the actor is engaged be complained of as being in violation of any statute, ordinance or law of the united states, any state or any municipality in any state and should a claim or charge be made against the actor on account of his being engaged in such production, either civil or criminal, the manager shall defend the actor at his own expense, or shall pay any and all reasonable charges laid out or incurred by the actor in his defense, and the manager agrees to indemnify the actor against any loss or damage which he may suffer on account of being engaged in any such production. this rule shall not apply to any case or any set of conditions where its enforcement would be illegal or against public policy. . the manager shall have the right to lay off his company the week before christmas and holy week. should such lay off take place the manager shall not during said lay off period be entitled to the services of the company except for a run-through rehearsal on the day of re-opening, and except further that additional rehearsals may be allowed by the actors' equity association in case of illness of the star or prominent member of the company or change of cast. . if in any production the star or featured member of the cast shall be ill and a lay off shall take place on that account, actors receiving less than $ . weekly (but no others) shall be paid by the manager an amount equal to their board and lodging for the first week. if said lay off continues beyond one week, half salaries shall be paid to the entire company for each day the actors are retained up to and including two further weeks. from and after the beginning of the fourth week the manager shall either pay full salaries to all members of the company or may abandon the production. . when understudies are employed or there is a change in the cast, announcement shall be made to this effect, either by a slip in the program, or by announcement from the stage at the rise of the curtain, or by conspicuously posting a notice to that effect a reasonable time before the rise of the curtain, at the box office. . in case after the opening of the play and after at least two weeks' employment, the manager shall desire a lay off for the purpose of re-writing or making changes in the cast or any other reason deemed sufficient by him, he may apply to the actors' equity association for the right to do so. if the association agrees to such lay-off it may do so upon such terms and conditions as may seem equitable to it under the circumstances. but in any event if a change or changes in the cast is made the actor or actors dismissed and not employed upon the renewed run of the play shall be paid at least one week's additional salary. . musical comedies, revues or spectacular plays shall immediately after a new york run be allowed one day's lay off before the opening in either boston or chicago. this does not apply to premieres, i.e., original openings in those cities. . should the actor deem that he has any claim against the manager under his contract he shall present the same to the actors' equity association or to the manager or both within two months after the time when such claim has arisen, unless he shall give to the board of arbitration good and sufficient reason for any delay after such period of two months. . should either party give the other any notice under his contract which terminates the same at any future date and should the actor have or secure a new engagement he shall be permitted to attend the rehearsals under the new engagement as may be necessary and as do not conflict with his performances under his then existing contract. . the actual salary of the actor agreed upon shall be stated in the contract and a lesser or fictitious salary shall not be stated in the contract. . unless special consent otherwise is given by the manager, understudies shall be present at each performance. . "tryouts" during may, june and july are permissible where the manager agrees to pay and pays one week's salary for two weeks' rehearsals and an additional half week's salary for each additional week of rehearsal, one week's salary to be guaranteed. payment for part of a week's rehearsal shall be pro rata. . sunday performances referred to in "regulations," under subdivision of paragraph h, are regular dramatic and musical productions and do not include vaudeville, recitals, concerts and the like. . equity will raise no objection to the trying out of vaudeville acts in revues or similar type of productions for one performance, provided the act understands and is agreeable to this arrangement and provided further that this entails on the company no rehearsals. . the actor shall be required to work only with a manager who employs members (who are and continue to be members in good standing) of the actors' equity association, exclusively, in his company or companies. . the parties have notice that, pursuant to special resolution of the actors' equity association, there is on file at its office an exempt list containing the names of non-members of said association with whom the actor herein will work, thus creating an exception under paragraph on the face of this agreement. the parties know they may examine this list at any time and therefore know the names of non-members with whom the actor herein will work while the resolution of the association creating said exempt list continues in force; and the actor is not required to work with any other non-member in any company. [illustration: nw] * * * * * equity minimum contract standard form as agreed upon by the _managers protective association, inc._ and the _actors' equity association_ (affiliated with the american federation of labor) west th street, new york city los angeles office hollywood blvd. san francisco office theodore hale, pine st. chicago office capitol bldg. kansas city office gayety theatre bldg. _to be used with members of the managers protective association, inc. only._ agreement made this ---- day of ----, --, between ---- ("manager") and ---- (hereinafter called "actor"). the regulations on the other side hereto are a part hereof, as though printed herein at length. to insure in this contract a sufficient degree of flexibility to meet the contingencies and necessities of theatre production as the same may arise, separately printed "rules governing minimum standard contract" are also made a part hereof as though printed herein at length. _agreement of employment_ . the manager engages the actor to render services in part of ---- (here insert name of part; also if actor is required to understudy) in the play now called ---- (here insert present title of play) and the actor hereby accepts such employment upon the terms herein set forth. _opening date_ . the date of the first public performance shall be the ---- day of ----, --, or not later than fourteen days thereafter. employment hereunder shall begin on the date of the beginning of rehearsals, and shall continue until terminated by notice given as herein provided and not otherwise. _compensation_ . the manager agrees to pay the actor the sum of ---- dollars ($----) each week on saturday thereof, from and after the date named in paragraph , and until this agreement is duly terminated. _regulations on reverse side_ regulations covering rehearsals, notice of termination before and during rehearsals, lost rehearsals, individual termination, closing of play and season, clothes, number of performances, lost performances, transportation, lay-off, method of giving notice and other matters are set forth in the "regulations" on the reverse side of this page and in "rules governing minimum standard contract," and except as hereinafter provided are a part hereof. _duties of the actor_ . the actor agrees to be prompt at rehearsals, to pay strict regard to makeup and dress, to perform his services in a competent and painstaking manner, to abide by all reasonable rules and regulations of the manager, and, except as otherwise herein provided, to render services exclusively to the manager from the date of beginning of rehearsals, and shall not render services to any other person, firm or corporation without the consent of the manager. . (a) the actor's employment hereunder is conditional upon the membership of the companies of the manager being in accordance with the equity association rules, set forth in the agreement between the actors' equity association and the managers' protective association, inc., dated may , , and the actor shall not be required to work hereunder in violation of any such rules. should at any time the membership of any such company fail to be in accordance with any such rules, or should the manager fail to comply with any of the provisions of paragraphs "seventh" or "eighth" of said agreement, the actor shall at his option, provided the actors' equity association consents, be released from this agreement and the manager agrees to pay to him and he may recover from the manager, all sums due to date of said release plus his return fare, as provided in the transportation clause, plus, as liquidated damages, a sum equal to two weeks' salary. any claim under this paragraph must be made by the actor through and with the consent of the actors' equity association and any dispute regarding the same shall be arbitrated under the provisions of this agreement. (b) this agreement is dependent upon and subject to all the terms and conditions of said agreement with the managers' protective association, inc., dated may , . _arbitration_ . in event that any dispute shall arise between the parties as to any matter or thing covered by this agreement, or as to the meaning of any part thereof, then said dispute or claim shall be arbitrated. the manager shall choose one arbitrator and the actors' equity association the second. ---- shall be the third. these three shall constitute the board and the decision of a majority of the arbitrators shall be the decision of all and shall be binding upon both parties and shall be final. the board shall hear the parties and within seven ( ) days shall decide the dispute or claim. the board shall determine by whom and in what proportion the cost of arbitration shall be paid, and the parties hereby constitute said board their agents and agree that its decision shall constitute an agreement between them, having the same binding force as if agreed to by the parties themselves. further, that they and each of them will, if required, sign such individual arbitration agreement as to make said arbitration comply with a legal arbitration under the laws of the state of new york, and the rules of the supreme court thereof, and that judgment upon the award may be entered in the supreme court of the state of new york. the oath of the members of the board of arbitration shall not be necessary unless specifically requested by one of the parties. in witness whereof we have signed this agreement on the day and year first above written. ---- manager ---- actor regulations (to be printed on standard minimum contract) _rehearsals_ a. ( ) the actor, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay (in case of musical comedy, revue or spectacular production, five weeks), and obligates himself to be ready to rehearse four (or five) weeks before the date mentioned in paragraph on the face of contract hereof; if further rehearsals are required then for each additional week or part thereof the manager shall pay the actor full compensation, as provided in paragraph on face of contract hereof on saturday night of each week. ( ) it is agreed that rehearsals shall be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play, as stated in paragraph on the face hereof. _notice of termination before rehearsal_ b. this contract may before the beginning of rehearsals be terminated as follows: ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into prior to two months before the specific date mentioned in paragraph on face hereof; (a) by the manager giving to the actor written notice and paying him two weeks' salary. if, however, previously to giving such written notice and making such payment, the manager shall have given to the actor written notice that the play will not be produced or that the actor will not be called for rehearsals, and the actor thereafter secures a new engagement under which payments to him are to begin not later than the date specified in paragraph on the face hereof, then and in that event, instead of said two weeks' salary, the only sum, if any, which the manager need pay the actor, shall be the amount, if any, by which said two weeks' salary exceeds two weeks' salary of the actor under said new engagement. ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof and the play is not placed in rehearsal or is abandoned, the manager shall pay the actor a sum equal to one week's salary. _notice of termination during rehearsal_ c. this contract may during rehearsals be terminated as follows: ( ) at any time during the first seven days' rehearsals of the actor by either party by giving written notice, if this contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof, except in case the actor be re-engaged by the manager for a part which he has previously played, in which event he shall be paid two weeks' compensation; or ( ) any time after the first seven days' rehearsals of the actor by the manager giving written notice to the actor and by paying him forthwith a sum equal to two weeks' compensation. (note: in the above two subdivisions (c- and c- ), wherever the word "seven" appears in reference to the probationary period of rehearsals the word "ten" shall be substituted if the actor be employed in a musical comedy, revue or spectacular production.) ( ) the actor may cancel the contract by giving written notice and with the same paying to the manager a sum equal to two weeks' compensation. d. either party may terminate this contract at any time on or after the date of the first public performance of the play by giving the other party two weeks' written notice. _individual termination after opening_ e. ( ) if the play runs four weeks or less, the manager may close the play and company without notice, and terminate the right of the actor to further compensation, provided he has paid the actor for all services rendered to date, and in no event less than two weeks' compensation. ( ) if the play shall run more than four weeks, the manager shall give one week's notice of the closing of the season of the play and company, or pay one week's compensation in lieu thereof. _clothes_ f. ( ) if the actor be a man, he shall furnish and pay for such conventional morning, afternoon and evening clothes as are customarily worn by civilians of the present day in this country, together with wigs and footwear necessarily appurtenant thereto. all other wigs, footwear, costumes, clothes, appurtenances and "properties," including those peculiar to any trade, occupation or sport, to be furnished by the manager. ( ) if the actor be a woman, all wigs, gowns, hats, footwear and all "properties" shall be furnished by the manager. ( ) it is understood that in every case where the manager furnishes costumes, if the notice of cancellation of this contract be given by the actor, he or she shall reimburse the manager for the necessary and reasonable expense to which he may actually be put in having costumes altered or rearranged for the successor, and repay for current shoes. _notices_ (g) all communications which refer to the company in general shall be posted upon the call-board. notice to the manager must be given to him personally or to his company or stage manager. _number of performances work_ (h) ( ) eight performances shall constitute a week's work. ( ) a week's compensation shall be paid even if a less number than eight performances are given, except as herein otherwise provided in paragraph j. ( ) a sum equal to one-eighth of the weekly compensation shall be paid for each performance over eight in each week. (this also applies to understudies.) ( ) it is assumed that sunday rehearsals and performances will take place only where it is lawful, and the actor shall not be required to perform in the play and part above named on sunday in any theatre except those where sunday performances were customarily given on may , . _lost performances_ (i) the actor shall travel with the company by such routes as the manager may direct, and the actor shall not demand compensation for any performance lost through unavoidable delay in travel which prevents the giving of performances by the company. (j) it is further agreed if the company cannot perform because of fire, accident, strikes, riot, act of god, the public enemy, or for any other cause of the same general class which could not be reasonably anticipated or prevented, or if the actor cannot perform on account of illness or any other valid reason, then the actor shall not be entitled to any salary (except as otherwise herein specified) for the time during which said services shall not for such reason or reasons be rendered. should any of the foregoing conditions continue for a period of ten days or more, either party may terminate the contract and the manager will pay for all services to date and transportation back to new york city. _lost rehearsals_ (k) if the manager is prevented from giving rehearsals because of fire, accident, riot, strikes, illness of star or prominent member of the cast, act of god, public enemy or any other cause of the same general class which could not reasonably be anticipated or prevented, then the time so lost shall not be counted as part of the four (or five, as the case may be) weeks' rehearsal period herein provided. after the fourth week of rehearsal, including any lay-off period on the above account, the manager will pay half salaries for two weeks, at the end of which time the actor shall be free, unless the manager wishes to continue the services of the actor and pays him full salary therefor. _transportation_ (l) the manager agrees to transport the actor when required to travel, including transportation from new york city to the point of opening and back to new york city from the point of closing; also the actor's personal baggage up to two hundred pounds weight. (m) the manager shall reimburse the actor for all loss or damage to his property used and/or to be used in connection with the play while they are wholly or partly in the possession or control or under the supervision of the manager or of any of his representatives and also when such baggage and property has been in any way shipped, forwarded or stored by the manager or any of his representatives, but the actor shall have no claim if the loss or damage occurs while the baggage or property is under his own control. upon payment of said loss or damage the manager shall be subrogated to all rights of the actor therefor. (n) ( ) if individual notice of termination is given by the manager he agrees to pay the actor in cash the amount of the cost of transportation of the actor and his baggage back to new york city whether the actor returns immediately or not. ( ) if this contract is cancelled by the actor, he agrees to pay his own railroad fare back to new york city and to reimburse the manager for any railroad fare the manager may have to pay for the actor's successor up to an amount not exceeding the railroad fare from new york city to the point where said successor joins the company, whether for rehearsal or for playing. ( ) if the company is organized outside of new york city, the name of such place is herein agreed to be substituted for new york city in paragraphs l, n- and n- and elsewhere. (o) the manager shall not be responsible for any loss occurring to the personal baggage of the actor whose duty it is, if he desires to protect himself against loss, to insure the same. (p) strikes, within the meaning of paragraph j hereof, is construed to mean any strike of any name or nature which shall prevent the manager from giving performances in the usual course of his business in any of his theatre or theatres. [illustration: "by the south sea moon," follies of ] rules governing minimum standard contracts (to be printed on standard minimum contracts) . should the manager of any production consider the same "spectacular" and therefore entitled to five weeks of free rehearsals, he shall notify the actors' equity association before the beginning of rehearsals and advise fully as to the nature of the production and secure its allowance of his claim. . rehearsals begin with the date when the actor is first called. if the manager chooses to start with a reading to the company, or substantial part thereof, said reading is a part of and begins the rehearsal period. . in case of company rehearsals being held before opening at a place different from that of organization, the manager shall pay the actor his reasonable living expenses during said rehearsals, except that the manager shall be allowed two days of free rehearsals in cities within one thousand miles of new york city and one additional day free for each additional one thousand miles or fraction thereof. . if the actor shall absent himself from rehearsals for seven days or more by reason of illness, the manager may cancel this contract without payment for service to date. the association may, in its discretion, upon appeal by the manager, reduce this period. . contracts between manager and actor shall be deemed to be entered into between the said parties on the date when the terms of the contract are agreed upon between the parties, and contracts must be issued and signed as of that date. . if after joining a company, which has opened and is on tour, an actor is dismissed at rehearsals within the seven day probationary period (provided the seven day probationary period has not already been deleted from his contract) the manager shall pay to the actor his transportation both ways and for each day of rehearsal a sum equal to one-fourteenth of the weekly salary agreed upon, said rehearsals to be deemed continuous and to begin not later than the day after the actor's arrival. in case the actor is dismissed after the seven day probationary period, the manager shall pay the actor two weeks' salary and his transportation both ways. . if the full rehearsal period to which the manager is entitled be not used by him before the date of opening, he may employ the balance thereof immediately before the new york opening, provided that said new york opening takes place within six weeks of the original opening of the play. . all performances for which admission is charged (except bona fide benefits) are to be counted and considered as performances under the minimum standard contract. . if the employment under any contract relates to the second or subsequent season of any play then the period of free rehearsals is three weeks instead of four, but this provision shall not obtain if per cent or more of the cast were not members of the production the preceding year. . if the play for which the actor is engaged is rehearsed seven days or less and then rehearsals are discontinued or postponed, or if the production is abandoned during rehearsals on or before the seven day probationary period would have expired, the manager shall pay the actor as follows: if the contract has been signed or entered into within two months of the date mentioned in paragraph of the standard minimum contract, a sum equal to one week's salary, otherwise a sum equal to two weeks' salary. . in case the play is abandoned before rehearsals or the actor is entitled to compensation under the preceding paragraph, payment shall be made by the manager to the actor not later than three weeks prior to date of opening specified in paragraph of the main contract. . seven days' rehearsals means seven consecutive calendar days, counting sunday (when sunday is used for rehearsals), and said seven days terminate with the dismissal of rehearsal on the seventh day as herein reckoned. . if the part of an actor who shall have been dismissed before the end of the rehearsal on the seventh day shall be cut out, the manager shall pay to the actor a sum equal to one week's salary. . the manager shall use reasonable care that his press department shall not announce the engagement of the actor until after the seven day probationary period, and shall drop the name of the actor from advertising and publicity matter as soon as is possible after the actor leaves the company. . if the actor is not allowed to work out any notice properly given under his contract the amount to which he is entitled to shall be paid forthwith upon the giving of the notice. . the right of the manager to close a play and company without a week's notice within four weeks after the opening date does not apply to the second or subsequent season thereof. . notices of termination or closing given at or before the end of the performance on monday night, effective at the end of the saturday night following, shall be deemed one week's notice and such notice effective at the end of the saturday week following shall be deemed two weeks' notice. . the essence of this contract is continuous employment and a play once closed shall not be re-opened during the same season within eight weeks of the date of previous closing, without the consent of the actors' equity association. such consent, if given, shall be upon such terms and conditions as may be considered just and equitable by such association. . except in a case of notice given on monday, as otherwise provided in these rules, a week's notice shall be seven calendar days and two weeks' notice fourteen calendar days. . should the manager require the actor purchasing his clothes from a special tailor or shall require exclusive or unique designs or unusually expensive clothes, then the manager shall pay for such clothes, anything to the contrary in clause g of the standard minimum contract notwithstanding. . the actor shall be responsible for transporting his own baggage to and from the station or theatre in new york city. the manager will pay the cost of or reimburse the actor for such transportation anywhere on manhattan island. . should the citizens' jury provided for in new york decide adversely to the continuance of a production because salacious or against public morals, the actor shall forthwith terminate his employment without notice, payment or penalty. . should the production in which the actor is engaged be complained of as being in violation of any statute, ordinance or law of the united states, any state or any municipality in any state and should a claim or charge be made against the actor on account of his being engaged in such production, either civil or criminal, the manager shall defend the actor at his own expense, or shall pay any and all reasonable charges laid out or incurred by the actor in his defense, and the manager agrees to indemnify the actor against any loss or damage which he may suffer on account of being engaged in any such production. this rule shall not apply to any case or set of conditions where its enforcement would be illegal or against public policy. . the manager shall have the right to lay off his company the week before christmas and holy week. should such lay off take place the manager shall not during said lay off period be entitled to the services of the company except for a run-through rehearsal on the day of re-opening, and except further that additional rehearsals may be allowed by the actors' equity association in case of illness of the star or prominent member of the company or change of cast. . if in any production the star or featured member of the cast shall be ill and a lay off shall take place on that account, actors receiving less than $ . weekly (but no others) shall be paid by the manager an amount equal to their board and lodging for the first week. if said lay off continues beyond one week, half salaries shall be paid to the entire company for each day the actors are retained up to and including two further weeks. from and after the beginning of the fourth week the manager shall either pay full salaries to all members of the company or may abandon the production. . when understudies are employed or there is a change in the cast, announcement shall be made to this effect, either by a slip in the program, or by announcement from the stage at the rise of the curtain, or by conspicuously posting a notice to that effect a reasonable time before the rise of the curtain, at the box office. . in case after the opening of the play and after at least two weeks' employment, the manager shall desire a lay off for the purpose of re-writing or making changes in the cast or any other reason deemed sufficient by him, he may apply to the actors' equity association for the right to do so. if the association agrees to such lay-off it may do so upon such terms and conditions as may seem equitable to it under the circumstances. but in any event if a change or changes in the cast is made the actor or actors dismissed and not employed upon the renewed run of the play shall be paid at least one week's additional salary. . musical comedies, revues or spectacular plays shall immediately after a new york run be allowed one day's lay off before the opening in either boston or chicago. this does not apply to premieres, i.e., original openings in those cities. . should the actor deem that he has any claim against the manager under his contract he shall present the same to the actors' equity association or to the manager or both within two months after the time when such claim has arisen, unless he shall give to the board of arbitration good and sufficient reason for any delay after such period of two months. . should either party give the other any notice under his contract which terminates the same at any future date and should the actor have or secure a new engagement he shall be permitted to attend the rehearsals under the new engagement as may be necessary and as do not conflict with his performances under his then existing contract. . the actual salary of the actor agreed upon shall be stated in the contract and a lesser or fictitious salary shall not be stated in the contract. . unless special consent otherwise is given by the manager, understudies shall be present at each performance. . "tryouts" during may, june and july are permissible; the actor to receive employment commencing with the opening date for at least one-half the time spent in rehearsals; minimum employment one week. . sunday performances referred to in "regulations," under subdivision of paragraph h, are regular dramatic and musical productions and do not include vaudeville, recitals, concerts and the like. . equity will raise no objection to the trying out of vaudeville acts in revues or similar type of productions for one performance, provided the act understands and is agreeable to this arrangement and provided further that this entails on the company no rehearsals. * * * * * form i.r. no. this contract must not be issued to the chorus _actors' equity association_ (affiliated with the american federation of labor) west th street, new york city los angeles office hollywood blvd. san francisco office theodore hale, pine st. chicago office capitol bldg. kansas city office gayety theatre bldg. run-of-the-play standard contract _for independent new york managers and others playing the same class of attractions_ agreement made this ---- day of ----, --, between ---- (hereinafter called "manager") and ---- (hereinafter called "actor"). the regulations and rules contained on the reverse side are a part hereof as though set forth on this page in full. _agreement of employment_ . the manager hereby hires the actor to render services, as such in the part of ----, in the play hereinafter mentioned, and the actor hereby accepts the said engagement; such hiring to be subject to the terms hereinafter set forth. _period of employment_ . the term of employment shall be the run of the play now called ---- during the season of -- -- which said season is agreed to be the period between the first day of september and the following first day of june. _opening date_ . the date of first public performance shall be the ---- day of ----, --, or not later than fourteen days thereafter. employment hereunder shall begin upon the date of beginning of rehearsals, which date shall be not earlier than four weeks prior to the date of first public performance. _compensation_ . the manager agrees, as compensation for services hereunder, to pay the actor from and after the date named in paragraph and continuing for and during the run of the production for which the actor is engaged, the sum of ---- dollars ($----) each and every week (on saturday). _guaranteed period_ . the manager agrees and guarantees that under this contract he will give the actor not less than ---- consecutive weeks' work, commencing with the date of the first public performance, and pay him therefor. _rehearsals_ . the actor, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay; if further rehearsals are required, then, for each additional week or part thereof, the manager shall pay the actor, on saturday of that week, at the rate of the full salary mentioned in paragraph four. rehearsals shall be considered to be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play as provided in paragraph three. if the above play is a musical play, or a spectacular production, then, wherever the word "four" appears in this paragraph and in paragraph three the word "five" shall be substituted. _notice of closing_ . the manager shall give one week's notice of the closing of the production and company for which the actor is engaged. _duties of the actor_ . the actor agrees to be prompt at rehearsals, to pay strict regard to makeup and dress, to perform the services herein required in a competent and painstaking manner, to abide by all reasonable rules and regulations, and to render services exclusively to the manager from the date of beginning of rehearsals, and not to render services to any other person, firm or corporation without the consent of the manager. _miscellaneous_ . lay-offs, unless caused through the fault of the actor, shall not be counted as part of the guaranteed period. . if the blank in paragraph five is not filled in, and no guaranteed period is agreed upon, the manager agrees that this contract shall call for a minimum guaranty of two weeks' employment from the date named in paragraph three hereof. . the manager agrees that he has notice that the actor herein is a member of the actors' equity association and as such member is bound to conform to its lawful rules and regulations, and that it is a lawful rule and regulation of said association that, as far as the manager herein is concerned, the actor is to work only in companies operated by the manager herein when all members of said company or companies are members of the actors' equity association in good standing and continue to be such during the entire term of employment hereunder. and the manager agrees that the actor shall not be required to work hereunder in violation of said rule or other lawful rule of said association, and further agrees to the full extent to which said agreement is lawful that all actors in the company in which the actor herein is employed, shall be and shall continue throughout the term hereof to be members in good standing of the actors' equity association, except as provided in paragraph of the rules. should the manager employ any non-member of the actors' equity association, or any member not fully paid up or not in good standing, or one who fails to continue himself in good standing, or should the manager breach any covenant herein made, the actor may (the actors' equity association consenting) not only terminate this agreement forthwith, but the manager also agrees to pay the actor all sums due to the date of termination, plus his return fare and plus, as liquidated damages, no present basis for calculation existing, a sum equal to two weeks' salary. _arbitration_ . in event that any dispute shall arise between the parties as to any matter or thing covered by this agreement, or as to the meaning of any part thereof, then said dispute or claim shall be arbitrated. the manager shall choose one arbitrator and the actors' equity association the second; ---- shall be the third. these three shall constitute the board and the decision of a majority of the arbitrators shall be the decision of all and shall be binding upon both parties and shall be final. the board shall hear the parties and within seven ( ) days shall decide the dispute or claim. the board shall determine by whom and in what proportion the cost of arbitration shall be paid, and the parties hereby constitute said board their agents and agree that its decision shall constitute an agreement between them, having the same binding force as if agreed to by the parties themselves. further, that they and each of them will, if required, sign such individual arbitration agreement as to make said arbitration comply with a legal arbitration under the laws of the state of new york, and the rules of the supreme court thereof, and that judgment upon the award may be entered in the supreme court of the state of new york. the oath of the members of the board of arbitration shall not be necessary unless specifically requested by one of the parties. in witness whereof we have signed this agreement on the day and year first above written. ---- manager ---- actor regulations _rehearsals_ a. ( ) the actor, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay (in case of musical comedy, revue or spectacular production, five weeks), and obligates himself to be ready to rehearse four (or five) weeks before the date mentioned in paragraph three on face of contract hereof; if further rehearsals are required then for each additional week or part thereof the manager shall pay the actor full compensation, as provided in paragraph four on face of contract hereof on saturday night of each week. ( ) it is agreed that rehearsals shall be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play, as stated in paragraph three on the face hereof. _clothes_ b. ( ) if the actor be a man, he shall furnish and pay for such conventional morning, afternoon and evening clothes as are customarily worn by civilians of the present day in this country, together with wigs and footwear necessarily appurtenant thereto. all other wigs, footwear, costumes, clothes, appurtenances and "properties," including those peculiar to any trade, occupation or sport, to be furnished by the manager. ( ) if the actor be a woman, all wigs, gowns, hats, footwear and all "properties" shall be furnished by the manager. [illustration: belle baker] _notices_ c. all communications which refer to the company in general shall be posted upon the call-board. notice to the manager must be given to him personally or to his company or stage manager. _number of performances_ d. ( ) eight performances shall constitute a week's work. ( ) a week's compensation shall be paid even if a less number than eight performances are given, except as herein otherwise provided in paragraph f. ( ) a sum equal to one-eighth of the weekly compensation shall be paid for each performance over eight in each week. (this also applies to understudies.) ( ) it is assumed that sunday rehearsals and performances will take place only where it is lawful, and the actor shall not be required to perform in the play and part above named on sunday in any theatre except those where sunday performances were customarily given on may , . e. the actor shall travel with the company by such routes as the manager may direct, and the actor shall not demand compensation for any performance lost through unavoidable delay in travel which prevents the giving of performances by the company. _lost performances_ f. ( ) it is further agreed if the company cannot perform because of fire, accident, strikes, riot, act of god, the public enemy, or for any other cause of the same general class which could not be reasonably anticipated or prevented, or if the actor cannot perform on account of illness or any other valid reason, then the actor shall not be entitled to any salary (except as otherwise herein specified) for the time during which said services shall not for such reason or reasons be rendered. should any of the foregoing conditions continue for a period of ten days or more, the actor may terminate the contract and the manager will pay for all services to date and transportation back to new york city. _lost rehearsals_ g. if the manager is prevented from giving rehearsals because of fire, accident, riot, strikes, illness of star or prominent member of the cast, act of god, public enemy or any other cause of the same general class which could not reasonably be anticipated or prevented, then the time so lost shall not be counted as part of the four (or five, as the case may be) weeks' rehearsal period herein provided. after the fourth week of rehearsal, including any lay-off period on the above account, the manager will pay half salaries for two weeks, at the end of which time the actor shall be free, unless the manager wishes to continue the services of the actor and pays him full salary therefor. _transportation_ h. the manager agrees to transport the actor when required to travel, including transportation from new york city to the point of opening and back to new york city from the point of closing; also the actor's personal baggage up to two hundred pounds weight. i. the manager shall reimburse the actor for all loss or damage to his property used and/or to be used in connection with the play while they are wholly or partly in the possession or control or under the supervision of the manager or of any of his representatives and also when such baggage and property has been in any way shipped, forwarded or stored by the manager or any of his representatives, but the actor shall have no claim if the loss or damage occurs while the baggage or property is under his own control. upon payment of said loss or damage the manager shall be subrogated to all rights of the actor therefor. j. if the company is organized outside of new york city, the name of such place is herein agreed to be substituted for new york city in paragraph h, and elsewhere. k. the manager shall not be responsible for any loss occurring to the personal baggage of the actor, whose duty it is, if he desires to protect himself against loss, to insure the same. l. the actor herein may play in any benefit performance given by or under the auspices of the actors' equity association. deputies of said association will be permitted in each company and a duly authorized representative shall have the right to be on the stage before and after rehearsals and before and after performances, and said association may represent its members in any dispute which may arise with the managers. actors will be tentatively engaged on their paid up cards only, which card will be prima facie evidence of membership in said association until the manager is otherwise notified. rules . should the manager of any production consider the same "spectacular" and therefore entitled to five weeks of free rehearsals, he shall notify the actors' equity association before the beginning of rehearsals and advise fully as to the nature of the production and secure its allowance of his claim. . rehearsals begin with the date when the actor is first called. if the manager chooses to start with a reading to the company, or substantial part thereof, said reading is a part of and begins the rehearsal period. . in case of company rehearsals being held _before the opening of the play_ at a place different from that of organization, the manager shall pay the actor his reasonable living expenses during said rehearsals, except that the manager shall be allowed two days of free rehearsals in cities within one thousand miles of new york city and one additional day free for each additional one thousand miles or fraction thereof. . if the actor shall absent himself from rehearsals for seven days or more by reason of illness, the manager may cancel this contract without payment for service to date. the association may, in its discretion, upon appeal by the manager, reduce this period. . contracts between manager and actor shall be deemed to be entered into between the said parties on the date the terms of the contract are agreed upon between the parties, and contracts must be issued and signed as of that date. . if the full rehearsal period to which the manager is entitled be not used by him before the date of opening, he may employ the balance thereof immediately before the new york opening, provided that said new york opening takes place within six weeks of the original opening of the play. . if the employment under any contract relates to the second or subsequent season of any play then the period of free rehearsals is three weeks instead of four, but this provision shall not obtain if per cent or more of the cast were not members of the production the preceding year. . notices of termination or closing given at or before the end of the performance on monday night effective at the end of the saturday night following, shall be deemed one week's notice. . the essence of this contract is continuous employment and a play once closed shall not be re-opened during the same season within eight weeks of the date of previous closing, without the consent of the actors' equity association. such consent, if given, shall be upon such terms and conditions as may be considered just and equitable by such association. . should the manager require the actor purchasing his clothes from a special tailor or shall require exclusive or unique designs or unusually expensive clothes, then the manager shall pay for such clothes, anything to the contrary in clause b of the standard run of the play contract notwithstanding. . the actor shall be responsible for transporting his own baggage to and from the station or theatre in new york city. the manager will pay the cost of or reimburse the actor for such transportation anywhere on manhattan island. . should the citizens' jury provided for in new york decide adversely, to the continuance of a production because salacious or against public morals the actor shall forthwith terminate his employment without notice, payment or penalty. . should the production in which the actor is engaged be complained of as being in violation of any statute, ordinance or law of the united states, any state or any municipality in any state and should a claim or charge be made against the actor on account of his being engaged in such production, either civil or criminal, the manager shall defend the actor at his own expense, or shall pay any and all reasonable charges laid out or incurred by the actor in his defense, and the manager agrees to indemnify the actor against any loss or damage which he may suffer on account of being engaged in any such production. this rule shall not apply to any case or any set of conditions where its enforcement would be illegal or against public policy. . the manager shall have the right to lay off his company the week before christmas and holy week. should such lay off take place the manager shall not during said lay off period be entitled to the services of the company except for a run-through rehearsal on the day of re-opening, and except further that additional rehearsals may be allowed by the actors' equity association in case of illness of the star or prominent member of the company or change of cast. . if in any production the star or featured member of the cast shall be ill and a lay off takes place on that account, actors receiving less than $ . weekly (but no others) shall be paid by the manager an amount equal to their board and lodging for the first week. if said lay off continues beyond one week, half salaries shall be paid to the entire company for each day the actors are retained up to and including two further weeks. from and after the beginning of the fourth week the manager shall either pay full salaries to all members of the company or may abandon the production. . when understudies are employed or there is a change in the cast, announcement shall be made to this effect, either by a slip in the program, or by announcement from the stage at the rise of the curtain, or by conspicuously posting a notice to that effect a reasonable time before the rise of the curtain, at the box office. . in case after the opening of the play and after at least two weeks' employment, the manager shall desire a lay off for the purpose of re-writing or making changes in the cast or any other reason deemed sufficient by him, he may apply to the actors' equity association for the right to do so. if the association agrees to such lay off it may do so upon such terms and conditions as may seem equitable to it under the circumstances. but in any event if a change or changes in the cast is made the actor or actors dismissed and not employed upon the renewed run of the play shall be paid at least one week's additional salary. . musical comedies, revues or spectacular plays shall immediately after a new york run be allowed one day's lay off before the opening in either boston or chicago. this does not apply to premieres, i.e., original openings in those cities. . should either party give the other any notice permitted under this contract which terminates the same at any future date and should the actor have or secure a new engagement he shall be permitted to attend the rehearsals under the new engagement as may be necessary and as do not conflict with his performances under his then existing contract. . should the actor deem that he has any claim against the manager under his contract he shall present the same to the actors' equity association or to the manager or both within two months after the time when such claim has arisen, unless he shall give to the board of arbitration good and sufficient reason for any delay after such period of two months. . the actual salary of the actor agreed upon shall be stated in the contract and a lesser or fictitious salary shall not be stated in the contract. . sunday performances referred to in "regulations" under subdivision of paragraph d are regular dramatic and musical productions and do not include vaudeville, recitals, concerts and the like. . the actor shall be required to work only with a manager who employs exclusively in his company or companies actors who are, and who continue to be, members in good standing of the actors' equity association. . the parties have notice that, pursuant to special resolution of the actors' equity association, there is on file at its office an exempt list containing the names of non-members of said association with whom the actor herein will work, thus creating an exception under paragraph on the face of this agreement. the parties know they may examine this list at any time and therefore know the names of non-members with whom the actor herein will work while the resolution of the association creating said exempt list continues in force; and the actor is not required to work with any other non-member in any company. [illustration: nw] [illustration: business office, ned wayburn studios] * * * * * form m.p.a.r. no. this contract must not be issued to the chorus. _actors' equity association_ (affiliated with the american federation of labor) west th street, new york city los angeles office hollywood blvd. san francisco office theodore hale, pine st. chicago office capitol bldg. kansas city office gayety theatre bldg. run-of-the-play standard contract _for use by members of the managers' protective association_ agreement made this ---- day of ----, --, between ---- (hereinafter called "manager") and ---- (hereinafter called "actor"). the regulations and rules contained on the reverse side are a part hereof as though set forth on this page in full. _agreement of employment_ . the manager hereby hires the actor to render services, as such, in the part of ----, in the play hereinafter mentioned, and the actor hereby accepts the said engagement; such hiring to be subject to the terms hereinafter set forth. _period of employment_ . the term of employment shall be the run of the play now called ---- during the season of -- -- which said season is agreed to be the period between the first day of september and the following first day of june. _opening date_ . the date of first public performance shall be the ---- day of ----, --, or not later than fourteen days thereafter. employment hereunder shall begin upon the date of beginning of rehearsals, which date shall be not earlier than four weeks prior to the date of first public performance. _compensation_ . the manager agrees, as compensation for services hereunder, to pay the actor from and after the date named in paragraph and continuing for and during the run of the production for which the actor is engaged, the sum of ---- dollars ($----) each and every week (on saturday). _guaranteed period_ . the manager agrees and guarantees that under this contract he will give the actor not less than ---- consecutive weeks' work, commencing with the date of the first public performance, and pay him therefor. if the blank in this paragraph is not filled in, and no guaranteed period is agreed upon, the manager agrees that this contract shall call for a minimum guaranty of two weeks' employment from the date named in paragraph three hereof. _rehearsals_ . the actor, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay; if further rehearsals are required, then, for each additional week or part thereof, the manager shall pay the actor, on saturday of that week, at the rate of the full salary mentioned in paragraph four. rehearsals shall be considered to be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play as provided in paragraph three. if the above play is a musical play, or a spectacular production, then, wherever the word "four" appears in this paragraph and in paragraph three the word "five" shall be substituted. _notice of closing_ . the manager shall give one week's notice of the closing of the production and company for which the actor is engaged. _duties of the actor_ . the actor agrees to be prompt at rehearsals, to pay strict regard to makeup and dress, to perform the services herein required in a competent and painstaking manner to abide by all reasonable rules and regulations, and to render services exclusively to the manager from the date of beginning of rehearsals, and not to render services to any other person, firm or corporation without the consent of the manager. _miscellaneous_ . lay-offs, unless caused through the fault of the actor, shall not be counted as part of the guaranteed period. . (a) the actor's employment hereunder is conditional upon the membership of the companies of the manager being in accordance with the equity association rules, set forth in the agreement between the actors' equity association and the managers' protective association, inc., dated may , , and the actor shall not be required to work hereunder in violation of any such rules. should at any time the membership of any such company fail to be in accordance with any such rules, or should the manager fail to comply with any of the provisions of paragraphs "seventh" or "eighth" of said agreement, the actor shall at his option, provided the actors' equity association consents, be released from this agreement and the manager agrees to pay to him and he may recover from the manager, all sums due to date of said release plus his return fare, as provided in the transportation clause, plus, as liquidated damages, a sum equal to two weeks' salary. any claim under this paragraph must be made by the actor through and with the consent of the actors' equity association and any dispute regarding the same shall be arbitrated under the provisions of this agreement. (b) this agreement is dependent upon and subject to all the terms and conditions of said agreement with the managers' protective association, inc., dated may , , omitting the "equity minimum contract" made a part of said agreement. _arbitration_ . in event that any dispute shall arise between the parties as to any matter or thing covered by this agreement, or as to the meaning of any part thereof, then said dispute or claim shall be arbitrated. the manager shall choose one arbitrator and the actors' equity association the second: ---- shall be the third. these three shall constitute the board and the decision of a majority of the arbitrators shall be the decision of all and shall be binding upon both parties and shall be final. the board shall hear the parties and within seven ( ) days shall decide the dispute or claim. the board shall determine by whom and in what proportion the cost of arbitration shall be paid, and the parties hereby constitute said board their agents and agree that its decision shall constitute an agreement between them, having the same binding force as if agreed to by the parties themselves. further, that they and each of them will, if required, sign such individual arbitration agreement as to make said arbitration comply with a legal arbitration under the laws of the state of new york, and the rules of supreme court thereof, and that judgment upon the award may be entered in the supreme court of the state of new york. the oath of the members of the board of arbitration shall not be necessary unless specifically requested by one of the parties. in witness whereof we have signed this agreement on the day and year first above written. ---- manager ---- actor regulations _rehearsals_ a. ( ) the actor, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay (in case of musical comedy, revue or spectacular production, five weeks), and obligates himself to be ready to rehearse four (or five) weeks before the date mentioned in paragraph three on face of contract hereof; if further rehearsals are required then for each additional week or part thereof the manager shall pay the actor full compensation, as provided in paragraph four on face of contract hereof on saturday night of each week. ( ) it is agreed that rehearsals shall be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play, as stated in paragraph three on the face hereof. _clothes_ b. ( ) if the actor be a man, he shall furnish and pay for such conventional morning, afternoon and evening clothes as are customarily worn by civilians of the present day in this country, together with wigs and footwear necessarily appurtenant thereto. all other wigs, footwear, costumes, clothes, appurtenances and "properties," including those peculiar to any trade, occupation or sport, to be furnished by the manager. ( ) if the actor be a woman, all wigs, gowns, hats, footwear and all "properties" shall be furnished by the manager. _notices_ c. all communications which refer to the company in general shall be posted upon the call-board. notice to the manager must be given to him personally or to his company or stage manager. _number of performances_ d. ( ) eight performances shall constitute a week's work. ( ) a week's compensation shall be paid even if a less number than eight performances are given, except as herein provided in paragraph f. ( ) a sum equal to one-eighth of the weekly compensation shall be paid for each performance over eight in each week. (this also applies to understudies.) ( ) it is assumed that sunday rehearsals and performances will take place only where it is lawful, and the actor shall not be required to perform in the play and part above named on sunday in any theatre except those where sunday performances were customarily given on may , . e. the actor shall travel with the company by such routes as the manager may direct, and the actor shall not demand compensation for any performance lost through unavoidable delay in travel which prevents the giving of performances by the company. _rules of travel and lost performances_ f. ( ) it is further agreed if the company cannot perform because of fire, accident, strikes, riot, act of god, the public enemy, or for any other cause of the same general class which could not be reasonably anticipated or prevented, or if the actor cannot perform on account of illness or any other valid reason, then the actor shall not be entitled to any salary (except as otherwise herein specified) for the time during which said services shall not for such reason or reasons be rendered. should any of the foregoing conditions continue for a period of ten days or more, the actor may terminate the contract and the manager will pay for all services to date and transportation back to new york city. should the manager for any of the foregoing reasons close the company and later on reopen, the actor shall be re-engaged upon the same terms herein specified, should the actor desire such engagement. [illustration: pearl regay] _lost rehearsals_ g. if the manager is prevented from giving rehearsals because of fire, accident, riot, strikes, illness of star or prominent member of the cast, act of god, public enemy or any other cause of the same general class which could not reasonably be anticipated or prevented, then the time so lost shall not be counted as part of the four (or five, as the case may be) weeks' rehearsal period herein provided. after the fourth week of rehearsal, including any lay-off period on the above account, the manager will pay half salaries for two weeks, at the end of which time the actor shall be free, unless the manager wishes to continue the services of the actor and pays him full salary therefor. _transportation_ h. the manager agrees to transport the actor when required to travel, including transportation from new york city to the point of opening and back to new york city from the point of closing; also the actor's personal baggage up to two hundred pounds weight. i. the manager shall reimburse the actor for all loss or damage to his property used and/or to be used in connection with the play while they are wholly or partly in the possession or control or under the supervision of the manager or of any of his representatives and also when such baggage and property has been in any way shipped, forwarded or stored by the manager or any of his representatives, but the actor shall have no claim if the loss or damage occurs while the baggage or property is under his own control. upon payment of said loss or damage the manager shall be subrogated to all rights of the actor therefor. j. if the company is organized outside of new york city, the name of such place is herein agreed to be substituted for new york city in paragraph h, and elsewhere. k. the manager shall not be responsible for any loss occurring to the personal baggage of the actor whose duty it is, if he desires to protect himself against loss, to insure the same. l. the actor herein may play in any benefit performance given by or under the auspices of the actors' equity association. m. strikes, within the meaning of paragraph f hereof, are construed to mean any strike of any name or nature which shall prevent the manager from giving performances in the usual course of his business in any of his theatre or theatres. rules . should the manager of any production consider the same "spectacular" and therefore entitled to five weeks of free rehearsals, he shall notify the actors' equity association before the beginning of rehearsals and advise fully as to the nature of the production and secure its allowance of his claim. . rehearsals begin with the date when the actor is first called. if the manager chooses to start with a reading to the company, or substantial part thereof, said reading is a part of and begins the rehearsal period. . in case of company rehearsals being held _before the opening of the play_ at a place different from that of organization, the manager shall pay the actor his reasonable living expenses during said rehearsals, except that the manager shall be allowed two days of free rehearsal in cities within one thousand miles of new york city and one additional day free for each additional one thousand miles or fraction thereof. . if the actor shall absent himself from rehearsals for seven days or more by reason of illness, the manager may cancel this contract without payment for service to date. the association may, in its discretion, upon appeal by the manager, reduce this period. . contracts between manager and actor shall be deemed to be entered into between the said parties on the date when the terms of the contract are agreed upon between the parties, and contracts must be issued and signed as of that date. . if the full rehearsal period to which the manager is entitled be not used by him before the date of opening, he may employ the balance thereof immediately before the new york opening, provided that said new york opening takes place within six weeks of the original opening of the play. . if the employment under any contract relates to the second or subsequent season of any play then the period of free rehearsals is three weeks instead of four, but this provision shall not obtain if per cent or more of the cast were not members of the production the preceding year. . notices of termination or closing given at or before the end of the performance on monday night effective at the end of the saturday night following, shall be deemed one week's notice. . the essence of this contract is continuous employment and a play once closed shall not be re-opened during the same season within eight weeks of the date of previous closing, without the consent of the actors' equity association. such consent, if given, shall be upon such terms and conditions as may be considered just and equitable by such association. . should the manager require the actor "to purchase" his clothes from a special tailor or shall require exclusive or unique designs or unusually expensive clothes, then the manager shall pay for such clothes, anything to the contrary in clause b of the standard run of the play contract notwithstanding. . the actor shall be responsible for transporting his own baggage to and from the station or theatre in new york city. the manager will pay the cost of or reimburse the actor for such transportation anywhere on manhattan island. . should the citizens' jury provided for in new york decide adversely to the continuance of a production because salacious or against public morals the actor shall forthwith terminate his employment without notice, payment or penalty. . should the production in which the actor is engaged be complained of as being in violation of any statute, ordinance or law of the united states, any state or any municipality in any state and should a claim or charge be made against the actor on account of his being engaged in such production, either civil or criminal, the manager shall defend the actor at his own expense, or shall pay any and all reasonable charges laid out or incurred by the actor in his defense, and the manager agrees to indemnify the actor against any loss or damage which he may suffer on account of being engaged in any such production. this rule shall not apply to any case or any set of conditions where its enforcement would be illegal or against public policy. . the manager shall have the right to lay off his company the week before christmas and holy week. should such lay off take place the manager shall not during said lay off period be entitled to the services of the company except for a run-through rehearsal on the day of re-opening, and except further that additional rehearsals may be allowed by the actors' equity association in case of illness of the star or prominent member of the company or change of cast. . if in any production the star or featured member of the cast shall be ill and a lay off shall take place on that account, actors receiving less than $ . weekly (but no others) shall be paid by the manager an amount equal to their board and lodging for the first week. if said lay off continues beyond one week, half salaries shall be paid to the entire company for each day the actors are retained up to and including two further weeks. from and after the beginning of the fourth week the manager shall either pay full salaries to all members of the company or may abandon the production. . when understudies are employed or there is a change in the cast, announcement shall be made to this effect, either by a slip in the program, or by announcement from the stage at the rise of the curtain, or by conspicuously posting a notice to that effect a reasonable time before the rise of the curtain, at the box office. . in case after the opening of the play and after at least two weeks' employment, the manager shall desire a lay off for the purpose of re-writing or making changes in the cast where the contracts of such individual actors permits him to take such action as to them or any other reason deemed sufficient by him, he may apply to the actors' equity association for the right to do so. if the association agrees to such lay off it may do so upon such terms and conditions as may seem equitable to it under the circumstances. . musical comedies, revues or spectacular plays shall immediately after a new york run be allowed one day's lay off before the opening in either boston or chicago. this does not apply to premieres, i.e., original openings in those cities. . should either party give the other any notice permitted under this contract which terminates the same at any future date and should the actor have or secure a new engagement he shall be permitted to attend the rehearsals under the new engagement as may be necessary and as do not conflict with his performances under his then existing contract. . should the actor deem that he has any claim against the manager under his contract he shall present the same to the actors' equity association or to the manager or both within two months after the time when such claim has arisen, unless he shall give to the board of arbitration good and sufficient reason for any delay after such period of two months. . the actual salary of the actor agreed upon shall be stated in the contract and a lesser or fictitious salary shall not be stated in the contract. . sunday performances referred to in "regulations" under subdivision of paragraph d are regular dramatic and musical productions and do not include vaudeville, recitals, concerts and the like. * * * * * form b b chorus equity minimum contract standard form as agreed upon by the _managers protective association, inc._ _chorus equity association_ (affiliated with the american federation of labor) west th street, new york city los angeles office hollywood blvd. san francisco office theodore hale, pine st. chicago office capitol bldg. kansas city office gayety theatre bldg. agreement made this ---- day of ----, -, between ---- (hereinafter called "manager") and ---- (hereinafter called "chorus"). the regulations on the other side hereto are a part hereof, as though printed herein at length. to insure in this contract a sufficient degree of flexibility to meet the contingencies and necessities of theatre production as the same may arise, separately printed "rules governing chorus equity minimum contract, standard form," are also made a part hereof as though printed herein at length. _agreement of employment_ . the manager engages the chorus to render services in ----, (here insert present title of play.) and the chorus hereby accepts such engagement upon the terms herein set forth. _opening date_ . the date of the first public performance shall be the ---- day of ----, --, or not later than fourteen days thereafter. employment hereunder shall begin on the date of the beginning of rehearsals and shall continue until terminated by notice given as herein provided and not otherwise. _compensation_ . the manager agrees to pay the chorus the sum of ---- dollars ($----) each week, in new york city, and ---- dollars ($----) each week outside of new york city, on saturday thereof, from and after the date named in paragraph " " and until this agreement is duly terminated. the minimum salary of this contract shall be the sum of thirty ($ ) dollars weekly in new york city; outside of new york city the minimum salary shall be the sum of thirty-five ($ ) dollars, unless the production shall be designated by the chorus equity association of america, as a number attraction, in which case the road salary shall be thirty ($ ) dollars. _regulations on reverse side_ regulations covering rehearsals, notice of termination before and during rehearsals, lost rehearsals, individual termination, closing of play and season, clothes, number of performances, lost performances, transportation, lay-off, method of giving notice and other matters are set forth in the "regulations" on the reverse side of this page and in "rules governing chorus equity minimum contract standard form," and as hereinbefore provided are a part hereof. _duties of the chorus_ . the chorus agrees to be prompt at rehearsals, to pay strict regard to makeup and dress, to perform his services in a competent and painstaking manner, to abide by all reasonable rules and regulations of the manager, and, except as otherwise herein provided, to render services exclusively to the manager from the date of beginning of rehearsals, and shall not render services to any other person, firm or corporation without the consent of the manager. . (a) the chorus's employment hereunder is conditional upon the membership of the companies of the manager being in accordance with the chorus equity association rules, set forth in the agreement between the chorus equity association and the managers' protective association, dated may , , and the chorus shall not be required to work hereunder in violation if any such company fail to be in accordance with any such rules, or should the manager fail to comply with any of the provisions of paragraph "seventh" of said agreement, or paragraph "eighth" of the managers' protective association-actors' equity association basic agreement, dated may , , as modified and incorporated into said chorus equity association m.p.a. basic agreement, the chorus shall at his option, provided the chorus equity association consents, be released from this agreement and the manager agrees to pay to him and he may recover from the manager all sums due to date of said release, plus his return fare, as provided in the transportation clause, plus, as liquidated damages, a sum equal to two weeks' salary. any claim under this paragraph must be made by the chorus through and with the consent of the chorus equity association and any dispute regarding the same shall be arbitrated under the provisions of this agreement. (b) this agreement is dependent upon and subject to all the terms and conditions of said agreement with managers' protective association, dated may , . _arbitration_ . in event that any dispute shall arise between the parties as to any matter or thing covered by this agreement, or as to the meaning of any part thereof, then said dispute or claim shall be arbitrated. the manager shall choose one arbitrator, and the chorus equity association the second. ---- shall be the third. these three shall constitute the board and the decision of a majority of the arbitrators shall be the decision of all and shall be binding upon both parties and shall be final. the board shall hear the parties and within seven ( ) days shall decide the dispute or claim. the board shall determine by whom and in what proportion the cost of arbitration shall be paid, and the parties hereby constitute said board their agents and agree that its decision shall constitute an agreement between them, having the same binding force as if agreed to by the parties themselves. further, that they and each of them will, if required, sign such individual arbitration agreement as to make said arbitration comply with a legal arbitration under the laws of the state of new york and the rules of the supreme court thereof, and that judgment upon the award may be entered in the supreme court of the state of new york. the oath of the members of the board of arbitration shall not be necessary unless specifically requested by one of the parties. in witness whereof we have signed this agreement on the day and year first above written. ---- manager. ---- chorus. regulations (to be printed on chorus equity minimum contracts, standard form) _rehearsals_ a. ( ) the chorus, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay; if further rehearsals are required then for each additional week or part thereof the manager shall pay the chorus half salary for the next two weeks and full salary thereafter. all payments for rehearsals beyond the four weeks shall be made on or before the saturday of each week. ( ) it is agreed that rehearsals shall be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play, as stated in paragraph on the face hereof. _notice of termination before rehearsal_ b. this contract may, before the beginning of rehearsals, be terminated as follows: ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into prior to two months before the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof, by the manager's giving the chorus written notice and paying him two weeks' salary. if, however, previously to giving such written notice, the manager shall have given to the chorus written notice that the play will not be produced or that the chorus will not be called for rehearsals, and the chorus thereafter secures a new engagement under which payments to him are to begin not later than the date specified in paragraph on the face hereof, then and in that event, instead of said two weeks' salary, the only sum, if any, which the manager need pay the chorus, shall be the amount, if any, by which said two weeks' salary exceeds two weeks' salary to the chorus under said new engagement. _notice of termination during rehearsal_ c. this contract may, during rehearsals, be terminated as follows: ( ) at any time during the first ten days rehearsal of the chorus, by either party, by giving written notice, if this contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof, except in case the chorus be re-engaged by the manager for a chorus in which he has previously worked, in which event he shall be paid two weeks' compensation; or ( ) any time after the first ten days rehearsals of the chorus by the manager paying the chorus immediately a sum equal to two weeks' compensation; or ( ) if this contract be signed and entered into prior to two months of the date mentioned in paragraph , by the manager giving written notice to the chorus and paying two weeks' compensation. ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof and the play is not placed in rehearsal or is abandoned, the manager shall pay the chorus a sum equal to one week's salary. _individual termination after opening_ d. either party may terminate this contract at any time on or after the date of the first public performance of the play by giving the other party two weeks' written notice. _termination by closing of play and season_ e. ( ) if the play runs four weeks or less, the manager may close the play and company without notice, and terminate the right of the chorus to further compensation, provided he has paid the chorus for all services rendered to date, and in no event less than two weeks' compensation. ( ) if the play shall run more than four weeks, the manager shall give one week's notice of the closing of the season of the play and company, or pay one week's compensation in lieu thereof. _clothes_ f. all hats, costumes, wigs, shoes, tights and stockings shall be furnished the chorus by the manager. _notices_ g. all communications which refer to the company in general shall be posted upon the call-board. notice to the manager must be given to him personally or to his company or stage manager. _number of performances_ h. ( ) eight performances shall constitute a week's work. ( ) a week's compensation shall be paid even if a less number than eight performances are given, except as herein otherwise provided in paragraph j. ( ) a sum equal to one-eighth of the weekly compensation shall be paid for each performance over eight in each week. (this also applies to understudies.) ( ) it is assumed that sunday rehearsals and performances will take place only where it is lawful, and the chorus shall not be required to perform in the play and part above named on sunday in any theatre except those where sunday performances were customarily given on may st, . _lost performances_ i. the chorus shall travel with the company by such routes as the manager may direct, and the chorus shall not demand compensation for any performance lost through unavoidable delay in travel which prevents the giving of performances by the company. j. it is further agreed if the company cannot perform because of fire, accident, strikes, riot, act of god, the public enemy, or for any other cause of the same general class which could not be reasonably anticipated or prevented, or if the chorus cannot perform on account of illness or any other valid reason, then the chorus shall not be entitled to any salary (except as otherwise herein specified) for the time during which said services shall not for such reason or reasons be rendered. should any of the foregoing conditions continue for a period of ten days or more the manager may terminate the contract by paying in cash for all services and transportation of the chorus back to new york city, including sleeper. _lost rehearsals_ k. if the manager is prevented from giving rehearsals because of fire, accident, riot, strikes, illness of star or prominent member of the cast, act of god, public enemy or any other cause of the same general class which could not reasonably be anticipated or prevented, then the time so lost shall not be counted as part of the four weeks' rehearsal period herein provided. after the fourth week of rehearsal, including any lay-off period on the above account, the manager will pay half salaries for two weeks, at the end of which time the chorus shall be free, unless the manager wishes to continue the services of the chorus and pays him full salary therefor. _transportation_ l. the manager agrees to pay for transportation of the chorus when required to travel, including transportation from new york city to the opening point and back to new york city from the closing point, including sleepers. the manager has the right to put two in a lower berth and only one in an upper berth. the manager also agrees to pay the cost of transportation of the chorus' personal baggage up to pounds weight. sleepers must be supplied for the chorus for all travel begun before five o'clock in the morning. m. ( ) if individual notice of termination is given by the manager, he agrees to pay the chorus in cash the amount of the cost of transportation and sleeper of the chorus and his baggage back to new york city, whether the chorus returns immediately or not. ( ) if this contract is cancelled by the chorus, he agrees to pay his own railroad fare back to new york city. ( ) if the company is organized outside of new york city, the name of such place is herein agreed to be substituted for new york city in paragraphs l, m- and m- and elsewhere. n. the manager shall not be responsible for any loss occurring to the personal baggage of the chorus, whose duty it is, if he desires to protect himself against loss, to insure the same. o. strikes, within the meaning of paragraph j hereof, is construed to mean any strike of any name or nature which shall prevent the manager from giving performances in the usual course of his business in any of his theatre or theatres. rules governing chorus equity minimum contracts standard form (to be printed on chorus equity minimum contracts, standard form) . a list or lists of all members of the chorus of the play, stating the full names and salaries of each member, shall be filed by the manager with the chorus equity association not later than the termination of the first week of performance. if the manager prefers, triplicate copies of all chorus contracts may be so filed instead. . rehearsals begin on the day for which the individual chorus is called--whether he works or not--next following the second day of tryout. if after the second day of tryout the chorus is required or permitted to work, he shall be deemed to have been called for a rehearsal. tryouts may, if necessary, be on two separate days, one day for voice, and one day for dancing and for general qualifications. if said two days of tryout are not consecutive, the chorus shall not be required to report for any purpose on the intervening days between such tryouts. if the chorus is called for any day, or works on any day, after the second tryout day, the probation period of ten days starts on that day. . in case of company rehearsals being held before opening at a place different from that of organization, the manager shall pay the chorus his reasonable living expenses during said rehearsals, except that the manager shall be allowed two days of free rehearsal in cities within one thousand miles of new york city and one additional day free for each additional one thousand miles or fraction thereof. . if the chorus shall absent himself from rehearsals for seven days or more by reason of illness, the manager may cancel this contract without payment for service to date. the association may, in its discretion, upon appeal by the manager, reduce this period. . contracts between manager and chorus shall be deemed to be entered into between the said parties no later than the date of the first rehearsal, and written contracts must be given and signed before the end of the ten-day probationary period for rehearsals. if such written agreement is not offered to the chorus, fully made out and ready for signatures, on or before the tenth day of rehearsal, the chorus, at his option may terminate the employment, in which event the manager shall pay to the chorus a sum equal to one week's minimum compensation. if such contract has not been so offered within said ten day period (and if the chorus has not then terminated the employment) and such contract is not offered at the end of the twentieth day of rehearsal, the chorus, at his option, may terminate the employment, in which event the manager shall pay him a sum equal to two weeks' minimum compensation. . if after joining a company, which has opened and is on tour, a chorus is dismissed at rehearsals within the ten day probationary period (provided the ten day probationary period has not already been deleted from his contract) the manager shall pay to the chorus his transportation and sleeper both ways and for each day of rehearsal a sum equal to one-seventh of the weekly salary agreed upon, said rehearsals to be deemed continuous and to begin not later than the day after the chorus's arrival. in case the chorus is dismissed after the ten day probationary period the manager shall pay the chorus two weeks' salary and his transportation and sleeper both ways. . if the full rehearsal period to which the manager is entitled be not used by him before the date of opening, he may employ the balance thereof immediately before the new york opening, provided the said new york opening takes place within six weeks of the original opening of the play. . all performances for which admission is charged (except bona fide benefits) are to be counted and considered as performances under the chorus equity minimum contract. . if the employment under any contract relates to the second or subsequent season of any play, then the period of free rehearsals is three weeks instead of four, but this provision shall not obtain if per cent or more of the cast were not members of the production the preceding year. . if the play for which the chorus is engaged is rehearsed seven days or less and then rehearsals are discontinued or postponed, or if the production is abandoned during rehearsals on or before the ten day probationary period would have expired, the manager shall pay the chorus as follows: if the contract has been signed or entered into within two months of the date mentioned in paragraph of the standard minimum contract, a sum equal to one week's salary, otherwise a sum equal to two weeks' salary. . in case the play is abandoned before rehearsals or the chorus is entitled to compensation under the preceding paragraph, payment shall be made by the manager to the chorus not later than three weeks prior to date of opening specified in paragraph of the main contract. . ten days' rehearsals means ten consecutive calendar days, counting sunday (when sunday is used for rehearsals) and said ten days terminate with the dismissal of rehearsal on the tenth day, as herein reckoned. . if the chorus is not allowed or required to work out any notice of dismissal properly given under his contract the amount to which he is entitled shall be paid forthwith upon the giving of the notice. . the right of the manager to close a play and company without a week's notice within four weeks after the opening date does not apply to the second or subsequent season thereof. . notices of termination or closing given at or before the end of the performance on monday night, effective at the end of the saturday night following, shall be deemed one week's notice; and such notice effective at the end of saturday week following shall be deemed two weeks' notice. . the essence of this contract is continuous employment and a play once closed shall not be re-opened during the same season within eight weeks of the date of previous closing, without the consent of the chorus equity association. such consent, if given, shall be upon such terms and conditions as may be considered just and equitable by such association. . except in a case of notice given on monday as otherwise provided in these rules, a week's notice shall be seven calendar days and two weeks' notice fourteen calendar days. . the chorus shall be responsible for transporting his own baggage to and from the station or theatre in new york city. the manager will pay the cost of or reimburse the chorus for such transportation anywhere on manhattan island. . should the citizens' jury provided for in new york decide adversely to the continuance of a production because salacious or against public morals, the chorus shall forthwith terminate his employment without notice, payment or penalty. . should the production in which the chorus is engaged be complained of as being in violation of any statute, ordinance or law of the united states, any state or municipality in any state and should a claim or charge be made against the chorus on account of his being engaged in such a production, either civil or criminal, the manager shall defend the chorus at his own expense, or shall pay any and all reasonable charges laid out or incurred by the chorus in his defense, and the manager agrees to indemnify the chorus against any loss or damage which he may suffer on account of being engaged in any such production. this rule shall not apply to any case or any set of conditions where its enforcement would be illegal or against public policy. . the manager shall have the right to lay off his company the week before christmas and holy week without pay. should such lay-off take place the manager shall not during said lay-off period be entitled to the services of the company except for a run-through rehearsal on the day of re-opening, and except further that additional rehearsals may be allowed by the chorus equity association in case of illness of the star or prominent member of the company or change of cast. [illustration: eddie cantor] . if in any production, the star or featured member of the cast shall be ill and a lay-off shall take place on that account, chorus receiving less than $ weekly (but no others) shall be paid by the manager an amount equal to their board and lodging for the first week. if said lay-off continues beyond one week half salaries shall be paid to the entire company for each day the chorus are retained up to and including two further weeks. from and after the beginning of the fourth week the manager shall either pay full salaries to all members of the company or may abandon the production. . in case after the opening of the play and after at least two weeks' employment the manager shall desire a lay-off for the purpose of re-writing or making changes in the cast or any other reason deemed sufficient by him, he may apply to the chorus equity association for the right to do so, which right shall be granted if the actors' equity association grants the same right, and shall be granted upon the terms and conditions that are acceptable to the actors' equity association. but in any event if a change or changes in the cast is made the chorus dismissed and not employed upon the renewed run of the play shall be paid at least one week's additional salary. . musical comedies, revues or spectacular plays shall immediately after a new york run be allowed one day's lay-off without pay before the opening in either boston or chicago. this does not apply to premiers, i.e., original openings in those cities. . should the chorus deem that he has any claim against the manager under his contract, he shall present the same to the chorus equity association or to the manager or both within two months after the time when such claim has arisen, unless he shall give to the board of arbitration good and sufficient reason for any delay after such period of two months. . should either party give the other any notice under his contract which terminates the same at any future date and should the chorus have or secure a new engagement he shall be permitted to attend the rehearsals under the new engagement as may be necessary and as do not conflict with his performance under his then existing contract. . the actual salary of the chorus agreed upon shall be stated in the contract and a lesser or fictitious salary shall not be stated in the contract. . unless special consent otherwise is given by the manager, understudies shall be present at each performance. . "tryouts" during may, june and july are permissible where the manager agrees to pay and pays one week's salary for two weeks' rehearsals and an additional half week's salary for each additional week of rehearsal, one week's salary to be guaranteed. payment for part of a week's rehearsal shall be pro-rata. . sunday performances, referred to in the "regulations," under subdivision of paragraph "h" are regular dramatic and musical productions and do not include vaudeville, recitals, concerts and the like. . chorus equity will raise no objection to the trying out of vaudeville acts in revues or similar type of productions for one performance, provided the act understands and is agreeable to this arrangement and provided, further, that this entails on the company no rehearsal. * * * * * form b to be issued only to c.e.a. members in good standing chorus equity minimum contract standard form issued by the _chorus equity association_ (affiliated with the american federation of labor) west st street, new york city los angeles office hollywood blvd. san francisco office theodore hale, pine st. chicago office capitol bldg. kansas city office gayety theatre bldg. _to be used by "independent" new york managers and others playing the same class of attractions_ agreement made this ---- day of ----, -, between ---- (hereinafter called "manager") and ---- (hereinafter called "chorus"). _regulations and rules over leaf_ regulations covering rehearsals, notice of termination before and during rehearsals, lost rehearsals, individual termination, closing of play and season, clothes, number of performances, lost performances, transportation, lay-off, method of giving notice and other matters are set forth in the "regulations" on the reverse side of this page and in "rules governing independent chorus equity minimum contract standard form," on the pages following, and except as hereinafter provided are a part hereof. _agreement of employment_ . the manager engages the chorus to render services in ----, (here insert present title of play.) and the chorus hereby accepts such engagement upon the terms herein set forth. _opening date_ . the date of the first public performance shall be the ---- day of ----, --, or not later than fourteen days thereafter. employment hereunder shall begin on the date of the beginning of rehearsals and shall continue until terminated by notice given as herein provided and not otherwise. _compensation_ . the manager agrees to pay the chorus the sum of ---- dollars ($----) each week, in new york city, and ---- dollars ($----) each week outside of new york city, on saturday thereof, from and after the date named in paragraph " " and until this agreement is duly terminated. the minimum salary of this contract shall be the sum of thirty ($ ) dollars weekly in new york city; outside of new york city the minimum salary shall be the sum of thirty-five ($ ) dollars, unless the production shall be designated by the chorus equity association of america, as a number attraction, in which case the road salary shall be thirty ($ ) dollars. _duties of the chorus_ . the chorus agrees to be prompt at rehearsals, to pay strict regard to makeup and dress, to perform his services in a competent and painstaking manner, to abide by all reasonable rules and regulations of the manager, and, except as otherwise herein provided, to render services exclusively to the manager from the date of beginning of rehearsals, and shall not render services to any other person, firm or corporation without the consent of the manager. . the manager agrees that he has notice that the chorus herein is a member of the chorus equity association and as such member is bound to conform to its lawful rules and regulations, and that it is a lawful rule and regulation of said association that, as far as the manager herein is concerned, the chorus is to work only in companies operated by the manager herein when all members of said chorus of said company or companies are members of the chorus equity association in good standing and continue to be such during the entire term of employment hereunder. and the manager agrees that the chorus shall not be required to work hereunder in violation of said rule or other lawful rule of said association, and further agrees to the full extent to which said agreement is lawful that all chorus members in the company in which the chorus herein is employed, shall be and shall continue throughout the term hereof to be members in good standing of the chorus equity association. should the manager employ any non-member of the chorus equity association, or any member not fully paid up or not in good standing, or one who fails to continue himself in good standing, or should the manager breach any covenant herein made, the chorus member may (the chorus equity association consenting) not only terminate this agreement forthwith, but the manager also agrees to pay the chorus all sums due to the date of termination, plus his return fare and plus, as liquidated damages, no present basis for calculation existing, a sum equal to two weeks' salary. _arbitration_ . in event that any dispute shall arise between the parties as to any matter or thing covered by this agreement, or as to the meaning of any part thereof, then said dispute or claim shall be arbitrated. the manager shall choose one arbitrator, and the chorus equity association the second. ---- shall be the third. these three shall constitute the board and the decision of a majority of the arbitrators shall be the decision of all and shall be binding upon both parties and shall be final. the board shall hear the parties and within seven ( ) days shall decide the dispute or claim. the board shall determine by whom and in what proportion the cost of arbitration shall be paid, and the parties hereby constitute said board their agents and agree that its decision shall constitute an agreement between them, having the same binding force as if agreed to by the parties themselves. further, that they and each of them will, if required, sign such individual arbitration agreement as to make said arbitration comply with a legal arbitration under the laws of the state of new york and the rules of the supreme court thereof, and that judgment upon the award may be entered in the supreme court of the state of new york. the oath of the members of the board of arbitration shall not be necessary unless specifically requested by one of the parties. in witness whereof we have signed this agreement on the day and year first above written. ---- manager. ---- chorus. regulations (to be printed on independent chorus equity minimum contract, standard form) _rehearsals_ a. ( ) the chorus, if required, shall give four weeks' rehearsal without pay; if further rehearsals are required then for each additional week or part thereof the manager shall pay the chorus half salary for the next two weeks and full salary thereafter. all payments for rehearsals beyond the four weeks shall be made on or before the saturday of each week. ( ) it is agreed that rehearsals shall be continuous from the date of the first rehearsal to the date of the first public performance of the play, as stated in paragraph on the face hereof. _notice of termination before rehearsal_ b. this contract may, before the beginning of rehearsals, be terminated as follows: ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into prior to two months before the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof, by the manager's giving to the chorus written notice and paying him two weeks' salary. if, however, previously to giving such written notice, the manager shall have given to the chorus written notice that the play will not be produced or that the chorus will not be called for rehearsals, and the chorus thereafter secures a new engagement under which payments to him are to begin not later than the date specified in paragraph on the face hereof, then and in that event, instead of two weeks' salary, the only sum, if any, which the manager need pay the chorus, shall be the amount, if any, by which said two weeks' salary exceeds two weeks' salary to the chorus under said new engagement. _notice of termination during rehearsal_ c. this contract may, during rehearsals, be terminated as follows: ( ) at any time during the first ten days rehearsal of the chorus, by either party, by giving written notice, if this contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof, except in case the chorus be re-engaged by the manager for a chorus in which he has previously worked, in which event he shall be paid two weeks' compensation; or ( ) any time after the first ten days rehearsals of the chorus by the manager paying the chorus immediately a sum equal to two weeks' compensation; or ( ) if this contract be signed and entered into prior to two months of the date mentioned in paragraph , by the manager giving written notice to the chorus and paying two weeks' compensation. ( ) if the contract be signed and entered into within two months of the specific date mentioned in paragraph on the face hereof and the play is not placed in rehearsal or is abandoned, the manager shall pay the chorus a sum equal to one week's salary. _individual termination after opening_ d. either party may terminate this contract at any time on or after the date of the first public performance of the play by giving the other party two weeks' written notice. _termination by closing of play and season_ e. ( ) if the play runs four weeks or less, the manager may close the play and company without notice, and terminate the right of the chorus to further compensation, provided he has paid the chorus for all services rendered to date, and in no event less than two weeks' compensation. ( ) if the play shall run more than four weeks, the manager shall give one week's notice of the closing of the season of the play and company, or pay one week's compensation in lieu thereof. _clothes_ f. all hats, costumes, wigs, shoes, tights and stockings shall be furnished the chorus by the manager. _notices_ g. all communications which refer to the company in general shall be posted upon the call-board. notice to the manager must be given to him personally or to his company or stage manager. _number of performances_ h. ( ) eight performances shall constitute a week's work. ( ) a week's compensation shall be paid even if a less number than eight performances are given, except as herein otherwise provided in paragraph j. ( ) a sum equal to one-eighth of the weekly compensation shall be paid for each performance over eight in each week. (this also applies to understudies.) ( ) it is assumed that sunday rehearsals and performances will take place only where it is lawful, and the chorus shall not be required to perform in the play and part above named on sunday in any theatre except those where sunday performances were customarily given on may st, . _lost performances_ i. the chorus shall travel with the company by such routes as the manager may direct, and the chorus shall not demand compensation for any performance lost through unavoidable delay in travel which prevents the giving of performances by the company. j. ( ) it is further agreed if the company cannot perform because of fire, accident, strikes, riot, act of god, the public enemy, or for any other cause of the same general class which could not be reasonably anticipated or prevented, or if the chorus cannot perform on account of illness or any other valid reason, then the chorus shall not be entitled to any salary (except as otherwise herein specified) for the time during which said services shall not for such reason or reasons be rendered. should any of the foregoing conditions continue for a period of ten days or more the manager may terminate the contract by paying in cash for all services and transportation of the chorus back to new york city, including sleeper. ( ) strikes, within the meaning of this paragraph, is construed to mean any strike of any name or nature which shall prevent the manager from giving performances in the usual course of his business in any of his theatres. _lost rehearsals_ k. if the manager is prevented from giving rehearsals because of fire, accident, riot, strikes, illness of star or prominent member of the cast, act of god, public enemy or any other cause of the same general class which could not reasonably be anticipated or prevented, then the time so lost shall not be counted as part of the four weeks' rehearsal period herein provided. after the fourth week of rehearsal, including any lay-off period on the above account, the manager will pay half salaries for two weeks, at the end of which time the chorus shall be free, unless the manager wishes to continue the services of the chorus and pays him full salary therefor. _transportation_ l. the manager agrees to pay for transportation of the chorus when required to travel, including transportation from new york city to the opening point and back to new york city from the closing point, including sleepers. the manager has the right to put two in a lower berth and only one in an upper berth. the manager also agrees to pay the cost of transportation of the chorus's personal baggage up to pounds weight. sleepers must be supplied for the chorus for all travel begun before five o'clock in the morning. m. ( ) if individual notice of termination is given by the manager, he agrees to pay the chorus in cash the amount of the cost of transportation and sleeper of the chorus and his baggage back to new york city, whether the chorus returns immediately or not. ( ) if this contract is cancelled by the chorus, he agrees to pay his own railroad fare back to new york city. ( ) if the company is organized outside of new york city, the name of such place is herein agreed to be substituted for new york city in paragraphs l, m- and m- and elsewhere. n. the manager shall not be responsible for any loss occurring to the personal baggage of the chorus, whose duty it is, if he desires to protect himself against loss, to insure the same. o. strikes, within the meaning of paragraph j hereof, is construed to mean any strike of any name or nature which shall prevent the manager from giving performances in the usual course of his business in any of his theatre or theatres. rules governing chorus equity minimum contracts standard form (to be printed on independent chorus equity minimum contracts, standard form) . a list or lists of all members of the chorus of the play, stating the full names and salaries of each member, shall be filed by the manager with the chorus equity association not later than the termination of the first week of performance. if the manager prefers, triplicate copies of all chorus contracts may be so filed instead. . rehearsals begin on the day for which the individual chorus is called--whether he works or not--next following the second day of tryout. if after the second day of tryout the chorus is required or permitted to work, he shall be deemed to have been called for a rehearsal. tryouts may, if necessary, be on two separate days, one day for voice, and one day for dancing and for general qualifications. if said two days of tryout are not consecutive, the chorus shall not be required to report for any purpose on the intervening days between such tryouts. if the chorus is called for any day, or works on any day, after the second tryout day, the probation period of ten days starts on that day. . in case of company rehearsals being held before opening at a place different from that of organization, the manager shall pay the chorus his reasonable living expenses during said rehearsals, except that the manager shall be allowed two days of free rehearsals in cities within one thousand miles of new york city and one additional day free for each additional one thousand miles or fraction thereof. . if the chorus shall absent himself from rehearsals for seven days or more by reason of illness, the manager may cancel this contract without payment for service to date. the association may, in its discretion, upon appeal by the manager, reduce this period. . contracts between manager and chorus shall be deemed to be entered into between the said parties no later than the date of the first rehearsal, and written contracts must be given and signed before the end of the ten-day probationary period for rehearsals. if such written agreement is not offered to the chorus, fully made out and ready for signatures, on or before the tenth day of rehearsal, the chorus, at his option, may terminate the employment, in which event the manager shall pay to the chorus a sum equal to one week's minimum compensation. if such contract has not been so offered within said ten day period (and if the chorus has not then terminated the employment) and such contract is not offered at the end of the twentieth day of rehearsal, the chorus, at his option, may terminate the employment, in which event the manager shall pay him a sum equal to two weeks' minimum compensation. . if after joining a company, which has opened and is on tour, a chorus is dismissed at rehearsals within the ten day probationary period (provided the ten day probationary period has not already been deleted from his contract) the manager shall pay to the chorus his transportation and sleeper both ways and for each day of rehearsal a sum equal to one-seventh of the weekly salary agreed upon, said rehearsals to be deemed continuous and to begin not later than the day after the chorus's arrival. in case the chorus is dismissed after the ten day probationary period the manager shall pay the chorus two weeks' salary and his transportation and sleeper both ways. . if the full rehearsal period to which the manager is entitled be not used by him before the date of opening, he may employ the balance thereof immediately before the new york opening, provided the said new york opening takes place within six weeks of the original opening of the play. . all performances for which admission is charged (except bona fide benefits) are to be counted and considered as performances under the chorus equity minimum contract. . if the employment under any contract relates to the second or subsequent season of any play, then the period of free rehearsals is three weeks instead of four, but this provision shall not obtain if per cent or more of the cast were not members of the production the preceding year. . if the play for which the chorus is engaged is rehearsed seven days or less and then rehearsals are discontinued or postponed, or if the production is abandoned during rehearsals on or before the ten day probationary period would have expired, the manager shall pay the chorus as follows: if the contract has been signed or entered into within two months of the date mentioned in paragraph of the standard minimum contract, a sum equal to one week's salary, otherwise a sum equal to two weeks' salary. . in case the play is abandoned before rehearsals or the chorus is entitled to compensation under the preceding paragraph, payment shall be made by the manager to the chorus not later than three weeks prior to date of opening specified in paragraph of the main contract. . ten days' rehearsals means ten consecutive calendar days, counting sunday (when sunday is used for rehearsals) and said ten days terminate with the dismissal of rehearsal on the tenth day, as herein reckoned. . if the chorus is not allowed or required to work out any notice of dismissal properly given under his contract the amount to which he is entitled shall be paid forthwith upon the giving of the notice. . the right of the manager to close a play and company without a week's notice within four weeks after the opening date does not apply to the second or subsequent season thereof. . notices of termination or closing given at or before the end of the performance on monday night, effective at the end of the saturday night following, shall be deemed one week's notice and such notice effective at the end of saturday week following shall be deemed two weeks' notice. . the essence of this contract is continuous employment and a play once closed shall not be opened during the same season within eight weeks of the date of previous closing, without the consent of the chorus equity association. such consent, if given, shall be upon such terms and conditions as may be considered just and equitable by such association. . except in a case of notice given on monday as otherwise provided in these rules, a week's notice shall be seven calendar days and two weeks' notice fourteen calendar days. . the chorus shall be responsible for transporting his own baggage to and from the station or theatre in new york city. the manager will pay the cost of or reimburse the chorus for such transportation anywhere on manhattan island. . should the citizens' jury provided for in new york decide adversely to the continuance of a production because salacious or against public morals, the chorus shall forthwith terminate his employment without notice, payment or penalty. . should the production in which the chorus is engaged be complained of as being in violation of any statute, ordinance or law of the united states, any state or any municipality in any state and should a claim or charge be made against the chorus on account of his being engaged in such production, either civil or criminal, the manager shall defend the chorus at his own expense, or shall pay any and all reasonable charges laid out or incurred by the chorus in his defense, and the manager agrees to indemnify the chorus against any loss or damage which he may suffer on account of being engaged in any such production. this rule shall not apply to any case or any set of conditions where its enforcement would be illegal or against public policy. . the manager shall have the right to lay off his company the week before christmas and holy week without pay. should such lay-off take place the manager shall not during said lay-off period be entitled to the services of the company except for a run-through rehearsal on the day of re-opening, and except further that additional rehearsals may be allowed by the chorus equity association in case of illness of the star or prominent member of the company or change of cast. . if in any production the star or featured member of the cast shall be ill and a lay-off shall take place on that account, chorus receiving less than $ weekly (but no others) shall be paid by the manager an amount equal to their board and lodging for the first week. if said lay-off continues beyond one week half salaries shall be paid to the entire company for each day the chorus are retained up to and including two further weeks. from and after the beginning of the fourth week the manager shall either pay full salaries to all members of the company or may abandon the production. [illustration: ned wayburn studios of stage dancing] . in case after the opening of the play and after at least two weeks' employment the manager shall desire a lay-off for the purpose of re-writing or making changes in the cast or any other reason deemed sufficient by him, he may apply to the chorus equity association for the right to do so, which right shall be granted if the actors' equity association grants the same right, and shall be granted upon the terms and conditions that are acceptable to the actors' equity association. but in any event if a change or changes in the cast is made the chorus dismissed and not employed upon the renewed run of the play shall be paid at least one week's additional salary. . musical comedies, revues or spectacular plays shall immediately after a new york run be allowed one day's lay-off without pay before the opening in either boston or chicago. this does not apply to premieres, i.e., original openings in those cities. . should the chorus deem that he has any claim against the manager under his contract, he shall present the same to the chorus equity association or to the manager or both within two months after the time when such claim has arisen, unless he shall give to the board of arbitration good and sufficient reason for any delay after such period of two months. . should either party give the other any notice under his contract which terminates the same at any future date and should the chorus have or secure a new engagement he shall be permitted to attend the rehearsals under the new engagement as may be necessary and as do not conflict with his performance under his then existing contract. . the actual salary of the chorus agreed upon shall be stated in the contract and a lesser or fictitious salary shall not be stated in the contract. . unless special consent otherwise is given by the manager, understudies shall be present at each performance. . "tryouts" during may, june and july are permissible where the manager agrees to pay and pays one week's salary for two weeks' rehearsals and an additional half week's salary for each additional week of rehearsal, one week's salary to be guaranteed. payment for part of a week's rehearsal shall be pro-rata. . sunday performances, referred to in the "regulations," under subdivision of paragraph "h" are regular dramatic and musical productions and do not include vaudeville, recitals, concerts and the like. . chorus equity will raise no objection to the trying out of vaudeville acts in revues or similar type of productions for one performance, provided the act understands and is agreeable to this arrangement and provided, further, that this entails on the company no rehearsal. * * * * * agent's contract (usual form of contract required by artist's representative, business manager or "agent" as he is called, who negotiates with managers for the artist's services.) this agreement made this ---- day of ----, --, between ----, hereinafter called the manager, and ----, hereinafter called the artist. witnesseth: in consideration of the covenants and conditions hereinafter contained, the parties hereto have agreed and do hereby agree as follows: st--the artist engages the manager as ---- exclusive business manager and agrees to remain under his personal charge and supervision for a term of ---- years from the date hereof, and in all matters and things connected with the theatrical engagements and motion pictures, or in any wise affecting the rendition of the artist's services therein, to be governed and controlled exclusively by the manager's judgment and discretion. nd--the manager accepts the engagement as ---- manager of the artist as above mentioned and agrees to manage, take sole charge of, supervise and control the development and exploitation of the artist as an ---- in theatrical productions and motion pictures, and to use his best efforts to promote the artist's interests and enhance the value of ---- services. the manager further agrees to give due publicity to the fact that the artist is under his personal direction and to render such other services as are customarily performed by the business manager of actors or actresses engaged in theatrical productions or in the production of motion pictures. rd--the manager is authorized, on behalf of the artist and in the artist's name, to negotiate for and enter into a contract or contracts with theatrical managers and motion picture producers for the services of the artist at a minimum salary of ---- dollars per week, or for such other compensation as may be mutually agreed upon between the parties. the artist agreeing to conduct all negotiations through the manager and to advise him of all calls and offers of employment during the terms of this agreement. th--the manager will receive ten per cent ( %) of all salaries, compensation, earnings or share of profits or receipts accruing to the artist during the term hereof, or through any contract for the artist's services made during the term of this agreement, said sum to be payable to the manager periodically as the compensation of the artist shall become due and payable, and the artist does hereby assign, transfer and set over unto the manager ten per cent ( %) of all compensation for services received during the period of this agreement, and the artist hereby authorizes and empowers any person, firm or corporation for whom the artist shall render services as aforesaid, to withhold and pay over to the manager ten per cent ( %) of all compensation payable to the artist from time to time as such compensation shall become due. th--all advertisements, announcements or publicity relating to the artist paid for or payable by the artist shall contain a statement or notice to the effect that the artist is under exclusive management or direction of said manager. in witness whereof, the parties hereto have hereunto set their hands and seals the day and year first above mentioned. ---- (l.s.) ---- (l.s.) in presence of: ---- [illustration: nw] * * * * * agent's agreement agreement made this the ---- day of ----, --, between ---- new york city, hereinafter called the manager, and ----, hereinafter called the "act." whereas the manager is engaged in the business of managing, producing and exploiting theatrical, motion picture and vaudeville enterprises and specialties, and whereas, the said manager is acquainted with the producers of theatrical and motion picture enterprises and with persons desirous of obtaining the employment of theatrical and vaudeville specialties, similar to the one owned by the act, and whereas, the said manager has a wide experience and knowledge of the method of staging and producing specialties and theatrical and motion picture enterprises, and also of the duties of a manager, and whereas the said act is engaged in rendering and producing a certain specialty in various cities and is constantly traveling and requires the services of a person to attend to the making of contracts and the proper advertising, correspondence, transportation, music, billing, program and press matters of the said act; now therefore, in consideration of the premises and the sum of one dollar by each of the parties to the other in hand paid and in consideration of the mutual covenants herein expressed, it is agreed as follows: first: the act hereby employs and engages the manager to render his services as personal representative and business manager for the act for a period of ---- or, ---- from the date hereof, and the manager hereby accepts said employment, upon the following terms and conditions. second: the manager agrees to attend to all correspondence of the act and to maintain an office at his own expense, which the act may use, and to arrange and to attend to the details in connection with the transportation, advertising, billing, program and press matters and to attend to the delivery of the same at such theatres as the act may be engaged to play, and to make and execute in the name of the act as its personal representative and manager any and all contracts in connection with the said act. also to advertise and exploit and to procure and advertise reports of the said act and to otherwise popularize the same in such manner and such times as the manager deems best. third: the act agrees to pay the said manager for his services as such a weekly salary of $---- during each week that the act may perform at a salary of $---- per week, and less or more than such compensation in proportion to the salary earned by the act, and to pay the manager such sums as he may disburse for other things necessary in managing said act. fourth: the act in order to secure the manager the aforesaid salary hereby assigns the amount of such weekly compensation to the said manager and hereby authorizes said manager to draw and execute such assignment in the name of the act and hereby authorizes the managers of the theatres to deduct said compensation and pay the same to the manager from the money due the act. fifth: the act further agrees that the manager shall be the sole and exclusive manager and representative of the act during the said period and that he shall not be required to devote all his time to or with said act. sixth: the manager further agrees at his own expense and when necessary to employ employment agent or agencies in order to procure the best employment for the act and it is agreed that the manager is not to receive any compensation for procuring employment through said agents or agencies or otherwise. seventh: it is further agreed that no oral agreement not included herein is binding on the parties hereto: in witness whereof the parties hereunto have set their hands and seals this ---- day of ----, --. it is understood that if the artist shall play vaudeville the (signed) ---- (l.s.) commission to us shall only be five ( %) per cent. (signed) ---- (l.s.) in the presence of ---- * * * * * managerial contract this agreement made this ---- day of ----, -, between ned wayburn office, inc., hereinafter called the manager, and ----, hereinafter called the artist. witnesseth: in consideration of the covenants and conditions hereinafter contained, the parties hereto have agreed and do hereby agree as follows: st--the artist engages the manager as ---- exclusive business manager and agrees to remain under his personal charge and supervision for a term of ---- years from the date hereof, and in all matters and things connected with the theatrical engagements and motion pictures, or in any wise affecting the rendition of the artist's services therein, to be governed and controlled exclusively by the manager's judgment and discretion. nd--the manager accepts the engagement as manager of the artist as above mentioned and agrees to manage, take sole charge of, supervise and control the development and exploitation of the artist as a ---- in theatrical productions and in motion pictures, and to use his best efforts to promote the artist's interests and enhance the value of ---- services. the manager further agrees to give due publicity to the fact that the artist is under his personal direction and to render such other services as are customarily performed by the business manager of actors or actresses engaged in theatrical productions or in the production of motion pictures. rd--the manager is exclusively authorized, on behalf of the artist and in the artist's name to negotiate for and enter into a contract or contracts with theatrical managers and motion picture producers for the services of the artist for such period or periods of time as in his judgment the manager shall deem wise, at a minimum salary of ---- dollars per week, or for such other compensation as may be mutually agreed upon between the parties hereto, the artist agreeing to conduct all negotiations exclusively through the manager and to advise him of all calls and offers of employment during the term of this agreement. th--the manager will receive ten percent ( %) of all salaries, compensation, earnings or share of profits or receipts accruing to the artist during the term hereof, or through any contract for the artist's services made during the term of this agreement, or for any renewal of any contract which the manager negotiates during the period of this agreement, said sum to be payable to the manager periodically as the compensation of the artist shall become due and payable, and the artist does hereby assign, transfer and set over unto the manager ten percent ( %) of all compensation for services received during the period of this agreement, and the artist hereby authorizes and empowers any person, firm or corporation for whom the artist shall render services as aforesaid, to withhold and pay over to the manager ( %) ten percent of all compensation payable to the artist from time to time as such compensation shall become due. th--all advertisements, announcements or publicity relating to the artist paid for or payable by the artist shall contain a statement or notice to the effect that the artist is under exclusive management or direction of ned wayburn office, inc. in witness whereof, the parties hereto have hereunto set their hands and seals the day and year first above mentioned. in presence of ned wayburn office, inc., by ---- [l.s.] president. ---- [l.s.] [illustration: curtain] j. thomas co., printers, chicago daily schedule for adult girls (from monday to friday, inclusive) at ned wayburn studios of stage dancing, new york broadway (at columbus circle) entrance on th street new classes start monday of the first week of every month a.m. morning : to : advanced class in acrobatic dancing. : to : advanced class in musical comedy dancing. : to : beginners' class in limbering and stretching. : to : beginners' class in musical comedy dancing. : to : advanced class in "tap" and "step" dancing. : to : professional ballet class. p.m. afternoon : to : beginners' class in "tap" and "step" dancing. : to : intermediate ballet class. : to : semi-professional class in musical comedy dancing. : to : beginners' ballet class. : to : professional class in musical comedy dancing. : to : special conditioning class--(reducing, increasing weight). : to : professional class in "tap" and "step" dancing. : to : "special dance" ballet class. evening : to : professional class in "tap" and "step" dancing. : to : advanced class in "tap" and "step" dancing. : to : advanced class in acrobatic dancing. : to : beginners' class in "tap" and "step" dancing. : to : beginners' class in limbering and stretching. : to : beginners' ballet class. : to : beginners' class in musical comedy dancing. special classes in "how to make up"--"the ned wayburn way"--at : p.m. on specified saturdays. private lessons in all types of dancing or facial makeup at any time the studios are open, only by appointment made in advance. saturday classes for children at ned wayburn studios of stage dancing, inc. broadway (at columbus circle) entrance on th street mornings junior class-- (ages , , and years)-- hour only to a.m.--body building and dancing games. intermediate beginners' class-- (ages , , and years)-- hours instruction. to a.m. {technique, limbering and stretching {ballet work, deportment, etc. to a.m. {ballet dances (toe, classical, etc.) {musical comedy dances senior beginners' class-- (ages , , and year)-- hours instruction to noon {technique, limbering and stretching {ballet work, deportment, etc. to p.m. {ballet dances (toe, classical, etc.) {musical comedy dances afternoons intermediate advanced class-- (ages , , and years)-- hours instruction to p.m. {ballet technique {acrobatic technique to p.m. {ballet dances (toe, classical, etc.) {tap and step dances senior advanced class-- (ages , , and years)-- hours instruction to p.m. {acrobatic technique {ballet technique to p.m. {tap and step dances {ballet dances (toe, classical, etc.) what shall we do now? [illustration: a pueblo settlement (_frontispiece_)] what shall we do now? _five hundred games and pastimes_ a book of suggestions for children's games and employments by dorothy canfield and others new york frederick a. stokes company publishers copyright, , by frederick a. stokes company _october_, _all rights reserved_ preface this book has been made in the hope that the question which forms its title, "what shall we do now?" may come to be put less frequently. it is so easy for children to ask it, so hard for grown-up persons with many other matters to think about to reply to it satisfactorily. in the following pages, which have something to say concerning most of the situations in which children find themselves, at home or in the country, out of doors or in, alone or in company, a variety of answers will be found. no subject can be said to be exhausted; but the book is perhaps large enough. everything which it contains has been indexed so clearly that a reader ought to be able to find what he wants in a moment. moreover, by way both of supplying any deficiencies and of giving each copy of the book a personal character, an appendix of blank and numbered leaves (with a few spaces in the index) has been added, in which the owner may record such omitted games and employments as he has found good. there are, of course, many fortunate girls and boys who do not require any help whatever, who always know what to do now, and do it. for them some sections of this book may have little value. it is for that greater number of less resourceful children who whenever time is before them really are in need of counsel and hints, that it has been prepared. illustrations full page illustrations a pueblo settlement _frontispiece_ facing page outdoor games for girls outdoor games for boys playing alone in the country the library and furniture from "the house that glue built" a dutch house an esquimau sled indian costumes pets reading illustrations in text page a trussed fowl five dots outlines drawing tricks picture-writing - the last man surveying the ruins of the crystal palace patience card the dancing dwarf bean-bag board rope ring the overhand knot half-hitch figure of eight common bend sailor's knot running noose crossed running noose bowline knot dogshank shuffle-board balancing tricks the glass maker electric dancers daisy chain ivy chain hop-scotch prisoner's base tit-tat-toe - hanging - chinese gambling spanish cup cardboard box beds bead chair a doll's apartments cork arm-chair chestnut chair fancy table match-box bedstead match-box washstand towel rack clothes basket cardboard dolls' house appearance of house when complete dog kennel kitchen table kitchen range kitchen chair screen various pots and pans dining-room table and cloth sideboard sofa arm-chair wooden bedstead wardrobe dressing table washstand rocking-chair towel rack chair child's high chair child's cot walking paper dolls paper mother and child, with clothes for each a paper girl with six changes shadows on the wall a cocked hat paper boats paper darts paper mats paper boxes a dancing man hand dragons a kite flying a kite toy boats - a skipjack a water-cutter games for a party blind man's buff "blind man's buff" is one of the best, oldest, and simplest of games. one player is blindfolded, is turned round two or three times to confuse his ideas as to his position in the room, and is then told to catch whom he can. if he catches some one, yet cannot tell who it is, he must go on again as blind man; but if he can tell who it is, that person is blindfolded instead. where there is a fireplace, or where the furniture has sharp corners, it is rather a good thing for some one not playing to be on the lookout to protect the blind man. sometimes there are two blind men, who add to the fun by occasionally catching each other. but this is rather dangerous. there is also a game called "jinglers" where every one is blind except one player with a bell, whom it is their object to catch. but this is more dangerous still. a good variety of "blind man's buff" is the silent one. directly the man is blindfolded, and before he begins to seek, all the players take up positions in corners, on chairs, or wherever they think most prudent, and there they must stop without making a sound. the task for the blind man is thus not catching the others, but, on finding them, deciding upon who they are. as chuckling or giggling is more likely to tell him than his sense of touch, it is tremendously important to make no noise if you can help it. sometimes this game is played (without any standing on chairs) by a blind man armed with two spoons, with which he feels the features of those whom he runs against. in this case it is practically impossible to avoid laughing. the sensation produced by the bowls of two spoons being passed over the face in the attempt to recognize its owner is overwhelming. french blind man's buff in french "blind man's buff" the hands of the blind man are tied behind his back and his eyes are left uncovered. he has therefore to back on to the players before he can catch them, which increases his difficulties. blind man's wand here the blind man has a stick, one end of which is grasped by the other players in turn. the blind man puts three questions to each player, and his aim is to recognize by the voice who it is that replies. the aim of the players, therefore, is to disguise their voices as much as possible. sometimes, instead of merely asking questions, the blind man instructs the holder of the wand to imitate some animal--a cock or a donkey, for example. steps the player who is blindfolded is first placed in the middle. the others walk from him to various positions all around, carefully measuring the number of steps (long or short) which take them there. the blind man is then told how many steps will bring him to a certain player, and he has to guess the direction toward him, and the length of step. this player, if found, becomes blind man. still pond! no more moving the player who is blindfolded is placed in the middle and all the other players touch him. he counts out loud as rapidly as possible up to ten, during which time the players rush as far away from him as possible. directly he reaches ten he cries out "still pond! no more moving!" and the players must stand perfectly still. he then says "you may have three steps," or any number beyond three which he wishes to give. the players save these steps until he comes dangerously near them and then try and use them to the best possible advantage, to escape. it is not a step if one foot remains in the same place. after a player is caught and identified by the one who is "it" he in turn is blindfolded. shadow buff a sheet is stretched across the room. one player stands on one side, and the rest, who remain on the other, pass one by one between the sheet and the candle which throws their shadows upon it. the aim of the single player is to put right names to the shadows on the sheet, and the aim of the others is, by performing antics, to keep him from recognizing them. if it is not convenient to use both sides of a sheet, the single player may sit on a hassock close to it with his back to the others, while they pass between his hassock and the candle. the donkey's tail a good-sized donkey without a tail is cut out of brown paper and fixed on a screen or on a sheet hung across the room. the tail is cut out separately and a hat-pin is put through that end of it which comes nearest the body. each player in turn then holds the tail by the pin, shuts his eyes honestly, and, advancing to the donkey, pins the tail in what he believes to be the right place. the fun lies in his mistake. the blind feeding the blind this is boisterous and rather messy, but it has many supporters. two players are blindfolded and seated on the floor opposite one another. they are each given a dessert-spoonful of sugar or flour and are told to feed each other. it is well to put a sheet on the floor and to tie a towel or apron round the necks of the players. the fun belongs chiefly to the spectators. deer stalking this is a game in which only two players take part, but it is exciting to watch. both "deer" and "stalker" are blindfolded. they are then placed at opposite ends of a large table, and at a given moment begin to move round it. the stalker's business is, of course, to catch the deer, and the deer's to avoid it; but neither must run out into the room. absolute silence should be kept both by the audience and players, and if felt slippers can be worn by the deer and its stalker, so much the better. blowing out the candle a very funny blind game. a candle is lighted and placed in position about the height of a person's head. a player is then placed a few feet from it, facing it, and, after being blindfolded and turned round three times, is told to take so many paces (however many it may be) and blow the candle out. apple-snapping another amusing blind game to watch is apple-snapping. an apple is hung from a string in the middle of the room about the height of the blind man's head. the blind man's hands are then tied, or he holds them strictly behind him, and he has to bite the apple. the same game can be played without blindfolding, but in that case it requires two players with their hands fixed behind them, each trying to bite the apple. bag and stick a good blind game for a christmas party is "bag and stick." a fair-sized paper bag is filled with candy and hung from a string in the middle of the room. a player is then blindfolded, turned round three times, given a stick, and told he may have one, two, or three shots at the bag, whichever it may be. if he misses it, another one tries, and so on; but if he hits it the bag breaks, the candy covers the floor, and the party scramble for it. puss in the corner each player save one takes a corner. the other, who is the puss, stands in the middle. the game begins by one corner player beckoning to another to change places. their object is to get safely into each other's corner before the cat can. puss's aim is to find a corner unprotected. if she does so, the player who has just left it, or the player who was hoping to be in it, becomes puss, according to whether or not they have crossed on their journey. hunt the slipper the players sit in a circle on the floor, with their knees a little gathered up. one stands in the middle with a slipper, and the game is begun by this one handing the slipper to a player in the circle, with the remark-- cobbler, cobbler, mend my shoe, get it done by half-past two, and then retiring from the circle for a few moments. the player to whom it was handed at once passes it on, so that when the owner of the slipper returns and demands her property again it cannot be found. with the hunt that then sets in the fun begins; the object of every player in the circle being to keep the player in the middle from seeing the slipper, from getting hold of it, or from knowing where it is, as it rapidly travels under the knees of the players here and there in the circle. now and then, if the seeker is badly mystified, the slipper may be tossed across the circle. the player in whose possession it is when at last secured changes place with the one in the middle. other handy things will do quite as well as a slipper, but something fairly large should be chosen, or discovery may take too long; and it ought to be soft in texture, or there may be bruises. the whistle this is partly a trick. a player who does not know the game is put in the middle of the ring, round which a whistle is moving in the way that the slipper moves in "hunt the slipper." the object of the player in the middle is to discover the person who blew the whistle last. meanwhile some one skilfully fixes another whistle on a string to the player's back, and that is the whistle which is really blown. as it must always be behind him when it is blown, nothing but the twitching of the string is likely to help him to discover the blower (and the trick); and in a small circle where every one is moving and laughing it takes some time to notice the twitching at all. he can do little who can't do this this is partly a trick. the leader takes a cane in his left hand, thumps on the floor several times, and passes it to a player saying, "he can do little who can't do this." the player tries to imitate him exactly, but if he takes the cane in his right hand he is wrong, the leader says, "you can do little, you can't do this," and hands the cane to the next player. the game goes on until every one has guessed that it is not the thumps which are to be imitated, but the holding the cane in the left hand. thimble this is a very good game. all the company leave the room save one. he stays behind with a thimble, which he has to place in some position, where, _though it is in sight_, it will be difficult to discover. it may be high or low, on the floor or on the mantelpiece, but it must be visible. the company then return and begin to look for it. as the players find it they sit down, but it is more fun to do this very craftily and not at once, lest a hint be given as to the article's whereabouts. when every one has found it, or when a long enough time has been passed in looking for it, the thimble is hidden again, this time by the player who found it first. the game sounds easy, but it can be very difficult and very exciting, every one at the beginning of each search wishing to be first, and at the end wishing not to be last. players often stand right over the thimble, staring directly at it, and still do not see it. magic music one player goes out. the others then hide something for him to find, or decide upon some simple action for him to perform, such as standing on a chair. when he is called in, one of the company seats herself at the piano and directs his movements by the tone of the music. if he is far from the object hidden the music is very low; as he gets nearer and nearer it becomes louder and louder. hot and cold the same game is played under the name of "hot and cold." in this case the player is directed by words; as he gets nearer and nearer the object he becomes "warm," "hot," "very hot," "burning"; when quite off the scent he is "cold." the jolly miller the one who shall be "it" is decided upon by counting out (see page ), and he takes his place in the middle of the room. the others, arm in arm, walk around him in couples, singing, there was a jolly miller who lived by himself. as the wheel went around he made his wealth; one hand on the hopper and the other on the bag: as the wheel went around he made his grab. at "grab," every one must change partners, and the one in the middle tries to be quick enough to get one himself. if he does, the one left alone must take his place in the middle and be the "jolly miller." going to jerusalem some one sits at the piano, and a long row of chairs is made down the middle of the room, either back to back, or back and front alternately. there must be one chair fewer than the number of players. when all is ready the music begins and the players march round the chairs in a long line. suddenly the music stops, and directly it does so every one tries to sit down. as there is one player too many some one must necessarily be left without a chair. that player has therefore to leave the game, another chair is taken away, and the music begins again. so on to the end, a chair and a player going after each round. the winner of the game is the one who, when only one chair is left, gets it. it is against the rules to move the chairs. a piano, it ought to be pointed out, is not absolutely necessary. any form of music will do; or if there is no instrument some one may sing, or read aloud. but a piano is best, and the pianist ought now and then to pretend to stop, because this makes it more exciting for the players. stir the mash this is another variety of "going to jerusalem." the chairs are placed against the wall in a row, one fewer than the players. one of the players sits down in the middle of the room with a stick and pretends to be stirring a bowl of mash with it, while the others march round crying, "stir the mash, stir the mash." suddenly the player with the stick knocks three times on the floor, which is the signal for running for the chairs, and, leaping up, runs for them too. the one who does not get a chair has to stir the mash next. caterpillar a circle of chairs is made, and all the players but one sit on them. this player stands in the middle and his chair is left empty. the game consists in his efforts to sit down in the empty chair and the others' attempts to stop him by continually moving one way or the other, so that the empty chair may this moment be on one side of the ring and the next on the other. honey-pots this is a game for several little players and two stronger ones. the little ones are the honey-pots, and the others the honey-seller and honey-buyer. the honey-pots sit in a row with their knees gathered up and their hands locked together under them. the honey-buyer comes to look at them, asking the honey-seller how much they are and how much they weigh; and these two take hold of the pots by the arms, one on each side, and weigh them by swinging them up and down (that is why the hands have to be tightly locked under the knees). then the buyer says he will have them, and the seller and he carry them to the other end of the room together. once there the seller returns, but quickly comes running back in alarm because he has missed his own little girl (or boy), and he fancies she must be in one of the honey-pots. the buyer assures him that he is mistaken, and tells him to taste them and see for himself that they are only honey. so the seller goes from one to the other, placing his hand on their heads and pretending to taste honey, until at last, coming to the one he has marked down, he exclaims, "dear me, this tastes just like my little girl." at these words the little girl in question jumps up and runs away, and all the other honey-pots run away too. nuts in may the players stand in two rows, facing each other and holding hands. a line is drawn on the carpet (or ground) between them. one row then step toward the other, singing-- here we come gathering nuts in may, nuts in may, nuts in may, here we come gathering nuts in may, on a cold and frosty morning. they then fall back and the other row advance to them singing in reply-- pray, who will you gather for nuts in may, nuts in may, nuts in may? pray, who will you gather for nuts in may, on a cold and frosty morning? the first row, after settling on the particular player on the opposite side that they want, reply thus-- we'll gather phyllis for nuts in may, nuts in may, nuts in may, we'll gather phyllis for nuts in may, on a cold and frosty morning. the other row then ask-- pray, who will you send to fetch her away, fetch her away, fetch her away? pray, who will you send to fetch her away, on a cold and frosty morning? the answer perhaps is-- we're sending arthur to fetch her away, fetch her away, fetch her away, we're sending arthur to fetch her away, on a cold and frosty morning. arthur then steps up to the line on one side and phyllis on the other, and each tries to pull the other over it. the one that loses has to join the other row, and the singing begins again. old soldier all the players, except one, stand in a line. the other, who is the old soldier, then totters up to the end player, saying-- here comes an old soldier from botany bay; pray, what have you got to give him to-day? the player must then say what she will give him, but in doing so must not use the words "yes," "no," "black," "white" or "scarlet." the old soldier's object is to try and coax one of these words out of her, and he may ask any question he likes in order to do so. a mistake usually means a forfeit. my lady's clothes a color-barred game for girls is "my lady's clothes" or "dressing the lady." the players first decide on what colors shall be forbidden, perhaps blue, black, and pink. the first one then asks the next, "how shall my lady be dressed for the ball?" and the answer must contain no mention of these colors. this question goes round the ring, no article being allowed to be mentioned twice. here i bake one player stands in the middle. the others join hands and surround her, their aim being to prevent her from getting out of the ring. she then passes round the ring touching the hands, at the first hands saying "here i bake," at the second "here i brew," at the third "here i make my wedding-cake," and at the next "and here i mean to break through." with these last words she makes a dash to carry out the threat. if she succeeds, the player whose hand gave way first takes her place in the middle. otherwise she must persevere until the ring is broken. the cobbler the cobbler sits in the middle on a stool or hassock, and the others join hands and dance round him. "now then, customers," says the cobbler, "let me try on your shoes," and at the same time--but without leaving his seat--makes a dash for some one's feet. the aim of the others is to avoid being caught. whoever is caught becomes cobbler. cushion the name of this game dates from the period when stiff cylinder-shaped horsehair sofa-cushions were commoner than they are now. one of these is placed in the middle of the room and the players join hands and dance round it, the object of each one being to make one of his neighbors knock the cushion over and to avoid knocking it over himself. whoever does knock it down leaves the ring, until at last there are only two striving with each other. a hearth-brush, if it can be persuaded to stand up, makes a good substitute for a cushion. it also makes the game more difficult, being so very sensitive to touch. the day's shopping the players sit in a ring, and the game is begun by one saying to the next, "i've just come back from shopping." "yes," is the reply, "and what have you bought?" the first speaker has then to name some article which, without leaving her seat, she can touch, such as a pair of boots, a necktie, a watch-chain, a bracelet. having done so, the next player takes up the character of the shopper, and so on round the ring. no article must, however, be named twice, which means that when the game has gone on for a round or two the answers become very difficult to find. clap in, clap out half the players go out, and the others stay in and arrange the chairs in a line so that there is an empty one next to every person. each then chooses which of the others he will have to occupy the adjoining chair, and when this is settled some one tells the outside party that they can begin. one of them then comes in and takes the chair for which he thinks it most likely that he has been chosen. if he is right, everybody claps and he stays there. but if wrong, everybody hisses and he has to go out again. another player then comes in, and so on until all the chairs are filled. neighbors an extension of this game is "neighbors." in "neighbors" half the company are blindfolded, and are seated with an empty chair on the right hand of each. at a given signal all the other players occupy these empty chairs, as mysteriously as they can, and straightway begin to sing, either all to a tune played on the piano or independently. the object of the blind players is to find out, entirely by the use of the ear, who it is that is seated on their right. those that guess correctly are unbandaged, and their places are taken by the players whose names they guessed. the others continue blindfolded until they guess rightly. one guess only is allowed each time. oranges and lemons, or london bridge is falling down this pleasant old game begins by two of the older or taller players--one being oranges and the other lemons--taking places opposite each other and joining their hands high, thus making an arch for the rest to pass under in a long line. the procession then starts, each one holding the one in front by the coat or dress. as the procession moves along, the two players forming the arch repeat or chant these lines:-- "oranges and lemons," say the bells of st. clement's. "you owe me five farthings," say the bells of st. martin's. "when will you pay me?" say the bells of old bailey. "when i grow rich," say the bells of shoreditch. "when will that be?" say the bells of stepney. "i do not know," says the great bell of bow. here comes a candle to light you to bed, and here comes a chopper to chop off the last man's head. with these final words the arch-players lower their arms and catch the head of the last of the procession. in order that the arrival of the end of the procession and the end of the verses shall come together, the last line can be lengthened like this-- and here comes a chopper to chop off the last--last--last--last man's head. another shorter verse which is often sung is, london bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down, london bridge is falling down. my fair lady. in this case the two players who make the arch with their arms can choose any eatables they like--"ice cream" and "oysters." the players who are caught are asked which they prefer and their places are back of the one representing their choice. the captured player is then asked in a whisper which he will be, oranges or lemons? and if he says oranges, is placed accordingly behind that one of his capturers who is to have the oranges on his side. the procession and the rhyme begin again, and so on until all are caught and are ranged on their respective sides. then a handkerchief is placed on the floor between the captains of the oranges and the lemons, and both sides pull, as in the "tug of war" (page ), until one side is pulled over the handkerchief. general post the players sit round the room in a large circle, and, after appointing a postmaster to write down their names and call out the changes, choose each a town. one player is then blindfolded and placed in the middle. the game begins when the postmaster calls out the first journey, thus, "the post is going from putney to hongkong." the player who has chosen putney and the player who has chosen hongkong must then change places without being caught by the blind man, or without letting him get into either of their chairs first. otherwise the player who is caught, or who ought to be in that chair, becomes the blind man. every now and then "general post" is called, when all the players have to change seats at the same time; and this gives the blind man an excellent chance. spin the platter a tin plate, to serve as platter, is placed in the middle of the room. the players sit round it in a large circle, each choosing either a number by which to be known, or the name of a town. the game is begun by one player taking up the plate, spinning it, calling out a number or town belonging to another, and hurrying back to his place. the one called has to spring up and reach the plate before it falls, and, giving it a fresh spin, call some one else. so it goes on. on paper there seems to be little in it, but in actual play the game is good on account of the difficulty of quite realizing that it is one's own borrowed name that has been called. kitchen utensils this is a variety of "spin the platter." the players sit in a ring and choose each the name of some kitchen utensil or something used in cooking, such as meat-chopper or raisins. one player then goes in the middle with a bunched-up handkerchief, and this he throws at some one, at the same time trying to say the name of that some one's kitchen utensil three times before that some one can say it once. if, as very often happens, the player at whom the handkerchief is thrown is so completely bewildered as to have lost the power of speech or memory until it is too late, he must change places with the one in the middle. up jenkins the players sit on opposite sides of a table, or in two opposite rows of chairs with a cloth spread over their laps. a quarter or dime or other small object is then passed about among the hands of one of the sides under the table or cloth. at the word "up jenkins!" called by the other side all these hands tightly clenched must be at once placed in view on the table or the cloth. the first player on the other side then carefully scans the faces of his opponents to see if any one bears an expression which seems to betray his possession of the quarter, and, having made up his mind, reaches over and touches the hand in which he hopes the quarter is, saying, "tip it." the hand is then opened. if the guess is right the guessing side take the quarter and hide it. if wrong, the same side hide it again, and the second player on the guessing side tries his luck at discovering its whereabouts. a score is decided on before the game begins, and the winning side is that which make the fewest number of wrong guesses. another way to play "up jenkins" is to have the players, equally divided, sit opposite each other at a table. a quarter is then passed along under the table by one side or team. at the command "up jenkins," given by the captain of the other side, chosen beforehand, all the players on the side having the coin must lift their hands above the table; and at the command "down jenkins," also given by the captain, all the hands must be brought down flat on the table. the greater the bang with which this is done, the less chance of detecting the sound of the metal striking the table. the captain then orders the players to raise their hands one by one, his object being to leave the coin in the last hand. if he succeeds, his side takes the coin; if he fails, the other side score the number of hands still left on the table, and again hide the coin. another person then becomes captain. if the coin can be "spotted" in a certain hand, either by sight or sound, before a hand has been removed, it has to be forfeited, and the side that wins it adds double the number of hands of the other side to their score. if it is "spotted" and is not in that hand, the side still retains the coin, and also score double the number of hands. if anybody obeys any one else but the captain, in raising, lowering or removing his hands, his side loses the coin, no matter who holds it, but neither side scores. hunt the ring all the players but one form a circle, with their hands on a piece of string on which a ring has been threaded. the other player stands in the middle of the circle. the ring is then hurried up and down the string from end to end, the object being to keep its whereabouts hidden from the other player. lady queen anne in this game, which is usually played by girls, one player hides her eyes, while the others, who are sitting in a row, pass a ball from one to another until it is settled who shall keep it. this done, they all hide their hands in their laps, as if each one had it; and the other player is called, her aim being to discover in whose hands the ball is hidden. she examines the faces of the others very closely until she makes up her mind which one probably has the ball, and then addresses that one thus-- lady queen anne, she sits in the sun, as fair as a lily, as brown as a bun, she sends you three letters and prays you'll read one. to this the player replies-- i cannot read one unless i read all; and the seeker answers-- then pray, miss [whatever the name is], deliver the ball. if the ball really is with this player, the seeker and she change places, but otherwise the seeker hides her eyes again and the ball changes hands (or not). and so on until it is found. another way is for sides to be taken, one consisting of queen anne and her maids and the other of gipsies. the gipsies have the ball first, and, having hidden it, they advance in a line toward queen anne, each holding up her skirts as if the ball were there, singing-- lady queen anne, she sits in the sun, as fair as a lily, as brown as a bun. king john has sent you letters three, and begs you'll read one unto me. lady queen anne and her maids reply-- we cannot read one unless we read all, so pray, miss [whatever the name of the player chosen may be], deliver the ball. if they have hit upon the right player she goes over to queen anne's side. but if not, the gipsies sing-- the ball is mine, it is not thine, so you, proud queen, sit still on your throne, while we poor gipsies go and come. they then turn round and hide the ball again. the feather a very exhausting game. the players sit round a table and form sides, one half against the other, and a little fluffy feather is placed in the middle. the aim of each side is to blow the feather so that it settles in the other camp, and to keep it from settling in their own. the same game can be played with a marble on a table from which the table-cloth has been removed. in this case you all sink your faces to the level of the table. russian scandal, or "gossip" the players sit in a long line or ring. the first, turning to the second, whispers very rapidly some remark or a brief story. the second, who may hear it distinctly, but probably does not, then whispers it as exactly as he can to the third player; and so on until the line is finished. the last player then whispers it to the first player; and the first player repeats his original remark to the company, and follows it with the form in which it has just reached him. advertisements all the players sit in a ring, except one, who stands in the middle holding a soft cushion. this he throws at any one of the players and begins to count ten. the person at whom the cushion was thrown must call out the words of a well-known advertisement before ten is reached. if he fails he must pay a forfeit. judge and jury the players, or jury, form up in two rows facing each other. the judge sits at one end, or passes between the two lines, and asks his questions. these may be of any description. perhaps he will say, "miss a, do you think it will rain to-morrow?" now although the judge addresses miss a and looks at her, it is not she who must answer but the player opposite to her. and he in his answer is not allowed to say either "yes," "no," "black," "white," or "gray." if the player who was addressed answers she becomes judge and the judge takes her seat; or if the opposite player does not answer before the judge has counted ten he becomes judge and the judge takes his seat. cross questions the players sit in a circle, and the game begins by one player turning to the next and asking a question. perhaps it will be, "did you get very wet this evening?" the answer may be, "fortunately i had a mackintosh." the second player then asks the third, and so on round the circle until it comes to the first player's turn to be asked a question by the last one. perhaps this question will be, "i hope your cousin is better?" all these questions and answers have to be very carefully remembered, because on the circle being complete each player in turn has to repeat the question which was put to her and the answer which she received to the question which she herself put. thus in the present instance the first player would announce that the question was, "i hope your cousin is better?" and the answer, "fortunately i had a mackintosh." another variety of cross question is played as follows. the company is divided into two parts, and stand facing each other. a leader is chosen for each side, one to give the questions and one to give the answers. one goes down his side giving to each player in a whisper some serious question which he must ask of his opposite in the other line. the other leader whispers to each of his players an absurd answer. then the play begins. the first in line asks his opponent his question and receives the absurd answer three times. if either of them smile he is put out of the game. the person who can keep a straight face to the last, wins the prize. after the whole line has asked and answered the first set of questions, the first couple become the leaders, and propound two other sets of questions and answers. and so on until only two are left. ruth and jacob one player has his eyes blinded and stands in a circle made by the other players. they dance silently around him until he points at one, who must then enter the circle and try to avoid being caught by the blind man. the pursuer calls out from time to time "ruth!" to which the pursued must always answer at once "jacob!" at the same time trying to dodge quickly enough to escape the other's immediate rush to the spot. after the "ruth" is caught, the "jacob" must guess who it is and if he guesses right, the "ruth" is blindfolded and becomes the "jacob," and the game begins anew. fly away! the player who is chosen as leader sits down and places the first finger of her right hand on her knee. the others crowd round her and also place the first finger of their right hands on her knee, close to hers. the game is for the leader to raise her finger suddenly, saying, "fly away [something]." if that something is not capable of flight the other fingers must not move, but if it can fly they must rise also. thus, "fly away, thrush!" "fly away, pigeon!" "fly away, butterfly!" should cause all the fingers to spring up. but of "fly away, omnibus!" "fly away, cat!" "fly away, pig!" no notice should be taken. the game is, of course, to catch players napping. hold fast! let go! this is a very confusing game of contraries for five players. four of them hold each the corner of a handkerchief. the other, who stands by to give orders, then shouts either "let go!" or "hold fast!" when "let go!" is called, the handkerchief must be held as firmly as ever; but when "hold fast!" it must be dropped. the commands should be given quickly and now and then repeated to add to the anxiety of the other players. the sergeant in this game one player represents a sergeant and the others are soldiers whom he is drilling. when he makes an action and says "do this" the others have to imitate him; but if he says "do that" they must take no notice. simon says thumbs up the players sit about on the floor or on chairs, each holding out on his knee his clenched fist with the thumb sticking straight up. one player calls out "simon says thumbs down." all the thumbs must be instantly reversed. then he tries to confuse them by alternating between up and down for some time until they all get into the way of expecting the change, and then he gives the same order twice in succession. those who make a mistake pay a forfeit. if he calls out simply "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" no attention must be paid to this order as a forfeit is taken. the orders are sometimes varied by the command "simon says wig-wag!" when all the thumbs must be waggled to and fro. the grand mufti a somewhat similar game of contraries is "the grand mufti." the player personating the grand mufti stands in the middle or on a chair, and performs whatever action he likes with his hands, arms, head, and legs. with each movement he says, "thus does the grand mufti," or, "so does the grand mufti." when it is "thus does the grand mufti" the other players must imitate his movement; but when it is "so does the grand mufti" they must take no notice. any mistakes may lead to forfeits. the mandarins there is no contrariness about "the mandarins." the players sit in a circle, and the game is begun by one of them remarking to the next, "my ship has come home from china." the answer is "yes, and what has it brought?" the first player replies, "a fan," and begins to fan herself with her right hand. all the players must copy her. the second player then turns to the third (all still fanning) and remarks, "my ship has come home from china." "yes, and what has it brought?" "two fans." all the players then fan themselves with both hands. the third player, to the fourth (all still fanning), "my ship has come home from china." "yes, and what has it brought?" "three fans." all the players then add a nodding head to their other movements. and so on, until when "nine fans" is reached, heads, eyes, mouth, hands, feet and body are all moving. the answers and movements of this game may be varied. thus the second answer to the question "and what has it brought" might be "a bicycle," when the feet of all the players would have to move as if working pedals; the third answer could be a "snuff-box," which should set all the players sneezing; and so on. a typewriter, a piano, a barrel-organ, a football, would vary the game. buff this test of self-control is rather a favorite; but it is not so much a game as a means of distributing forfeits. the players sit in a circle. one then stands up and, holding out a stick, repeats these lines-- buff says buff to all his men, and i say buff to you again. buff never laughs, buff never smiles, in spite of all your cunning wiles, but carries his face with a very good grace, and passes his stick to the very next place. this must be said without laughing or smiling. each player in turn holds the stick and repeats the verses, those that laugh or smile having, when it is over, to pay a forfeit. the ditto game this is another game in which laughter is forbidden. the players sit close together in a silent circle. whatever the leader does the others have to do, but without smile or sound. perhaps the leader will begin by pulling the next player's hair, and pass on to pat her cheek, or prod her sides, or pinch her nose. statues another trial of composure. the players choose what positions they will and become as still and as silent as statues. one player is judge. it is his business to try and make the statues laugh. all who laugh pay forfeits; but the one who keeps his face grave longest becomes "judge." laughter "laughter" is just the opposite. the company sit in a circle and the game is begun by one throwing a handkerchief into the air. immediately this is done every one must begin to laugh and continue to laugh until the handkerchief touches the ground. they must then stop or leave the circle. gradually all will leave but one, who must then perform by himself, if he is willing. the concerted sneeze one third of the company agree to say "hish" all together at a given signal, another third agree to say "hash," and the rest agree to say "hosh." the word of command is then given, and the result is the sound as of a tremendous sneeze. bingo in "bingo" the players begin by joining hands and marching round, singing-- there was a farmer had a dog his name was bobby bingo o. b, i, n, g, o, b, i, n, g, o, b, i, n, g, o, and bingo was his name o! the players then loose hands, the girls go inside the ring and stand there, and the boys run round them singing the rhyme again. then the boys go inside and the girls run round them and sing it. and then hands are taken once more and all go round in the original circle singing it a fourth time. if no boys are playing, the girls should arrange, before the game begins, which shall personate them. robin's alive a good game for the fireside is "robin's alive." there are so few children nowadays who have fireplaces that this can be modified so that it is a good evening game for any quiet group of children. some one lights a piece of twisted paper or a stick of wood, twirls it rapidly in the air to keep it burning and says, as fast as he can, robin's alive, and alive he shall be if he dies in my hand you may back-saddle me, and at once passes the paper on to the next player who in turn recites the verse. the one in whose hand it finally goes out is "back-saddled" in this way. he lies down on the floor and the others pile cushions and chairs and books on him while he repeats, rocks and stones and the old horse's bones all this and more you may pile upon me. the mulberry bush the players join hands and go round and round in a ring, singing-- here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, here we go round the mulberry bush on a fine and frosty morning. they then let go hands and sing-- this is the way we wash our clothes, wash our clothes, wash our clothes, this is the way we wash our clothes on a fine and frosty morning, and as they sing they pretend to be washing. after the verse is done they join hands again and dance round to the singing of the mulberry bush chorus again, and so on after each verse. the other verses are-- ( ) this is the way we iron our clothes. ( ) this is the way we wash our face. ( ) this is the way we comb our hair. ( ) this is the way we go to school (_very sadly_). ( ) this is the way we learn our book. ( ) this is the way we sew our seams. and lastly and very gaily-- ( ) this is the way we come from school, and then the chorus comes again, and the game is done. looby, looby this is another of the old country games in which the players all have to do the same things. they first join hands and dance round, singing-- here we dance looby, looby, here we dance looby light, here we dance looby, looby, all on a saturday night. then, letting go of hands and standing still, they sing-- put your right hands in, put your right hands out, shake them and shake them a little, and turn yourselves about, and at the same time they do what the song directs. then the dance and chorus again, and then the next verse, and so on. this is the order-- ( ) put your left hands in. ( ) put your right feet in. ( ) put your left feet in. ( ) put your noddles in. and finally-- put your bodies in, put your bodies out, shake them and shake them a little, and turn yourselves about. orchestra an ear-splitting game that is always great fun. the players stand in rows before the leader or "conductor," who sings a verse from any well-known nonsense or other song. then he says, pointing to one of the players, "and the first violin played this simple melody," whereupon the two sing the verse over again, the player imitating with his arms the movements of a violin player, and with his voice the sound of a squeaking fiddle. then the conductor says, pointing to another player, "and the big trombone played this simple melody." then the three sing together, the second player imitating the sound of a trombone and the appearance of a trombone player. this is continued until every one is playing on an imaginary instrument, the conductor, of course, being the only one who sings the words of the song. a good fat hen a nonsensical game, useful in leading to forfeits. the company sit in a row, and one of the end players begins by saying, "a good fat hen." each of the others in turn must then say, "a good fat hen." the first player then says, "two ducks and a good fat hen," and the words pass down the line. then "three squawking wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen." and so on until the end is reached, in the following order-- fourth round.--prefix: four plump partridges. fifth round.-- " five pouting pigeons. sixth round.-- " six long-legged cranes. seventh round.-- " seven green parrots. eighth round.-- " eight screeching owls. ninth round.-- " nine ugly turkey-buzzards. tenth round.-- " ten bald eagles. the sentence has now reached a very difficult length:--"ten bald eagles, nine ugly turkey-buzzards, eight screeching owls, seven green parrots, six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three squawking wild geese, two ducks and a good fat hen." any one making a mistake may be made to pay a forfeit. john ball the same game may be played also with "the house that jack built," and there are other stories of a similar kind. among these the most amusing for a large party would perhaps be the old rhyme of "john ball." first round.-- john ball shot them all. second round.-- john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. third round.-- john brammer made the rammer, john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. fourth round.-- john wyming made the priming, john brammer made the rammer, john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. fifth round.-- john scott made the shot.... sixth round.-- john crowder made the powder.... seventh round.-- john puzzle made the muzzle.... eighth round.-- john farrell made the barrel.... ninth round.-- john clint made the flint.... tenth round.-- john patch made the match.... in the tenth round, then, each player has to say-- john patch made the match, john clint made the flint, john farrell made the barrel, john puzzle made the muzzle, john crowder made the powder, john scott made the shot, john wyming made the priming, john brammer made the rammer, john block made the stock, but john ball shot them all. chitterbob there is also the old rhyme of "chitterbob," but it is usual in repeating this to say it all at once, in one round, and not prolong the task. this is the rhyme:-- there was a man and his name was cob he had a wife and her name was mob, he had a dog and his name was bob, she had a cat and her name was chitterbob. "bob," says cob; "chitterbob," says mob. bob was cob's dog, mob's cat was chitterbob, cob, mob, bob, and chitterbob. in the old way of playing "chitterbob" a paper horn used to be twisted into the player's hair for each mistake made in the recitation, and at the end these horns could be got rid of only by paying forfeits. the muffin man "the muffin man" is another variety. the players sit in a circle, and the game is begun by one of them turning to the next and asking, either in speech or in song-- oh, do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? oh, do you know the muffin man who lives in drury lane? the reply is-- oh, yes i know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man, oh, yes i know the muffin man who lives in drury lane. both players then repeat together-- then two of us know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man, then two of us know the muffin man who lives in drury lane. this done, the second player turns to the third and the same question and answer are given; but when it comes to the comment-- then three of us know the muffin man,... the first player also joins in. at the end therefore, if there are eight people playing, the whole company is singing-- then eight of us know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man, then eight of us know the muffin man who lives in drury lane. family coach in "family coach" each player takes the name of a part of a coach, as the axle, the door, the box, the reins, the whip, the wheels, the horn; or of some one connected with it, as the driver, the guard, the ostlers, the landlord, the bad-tempered passenger, the cheerful passenger, the passenger who made puns, the old lady with the bundle, and the horses--wheelers and leaders. one player then tells a story about the coach, bringing in as many of these people and things as he can, and as often. whenever a person or thing represented by a player is mentioned, that player must stand up and turn round. but whenever the coach is mentioned the whole company must stand up and turn round. otherwise, forfeits. a specimen story is here given as a hint as to the kind of thing needed:-- "there's the railway, of course," said _mr. burly_, "and there's the motor wagonette, and you've all got bicycles; but let's go to london in the old-fashioned way for once; let's go in the _family coach_." these words delighted everybody. "oh, yes," they all cried, "let's go in the _family coach_." it was therefore arranged, and _john the coachman_ had orders to get everything ready. this was no light matter, for the _family coach_ had not been used for many years, and it would need to be taken to the coachbuilder's at once and be overhauled. so the next morning it lumbered off, and it did not come back for a week; but when it did there was a change indeed. the _wheels_ had been painted red, the _axles_ had been tested, the _springs_ renewed, the inside re-lined, the _roof_ freshly upholstered, and the whole made bright and gay. at last the morning came, a clear, sunny day, and punctually at nine _john_ rattled up to the door. the _horses_ stood there pawing the ground, as if ready to gallop all the way. _john_ had a new coat and hat, and tim and peter, the _grooms_, were also in new livery. every one was ready. first came _mr. burly_ in a wonderful great overcoat, and then _mrs. burly_ in furs. then _uncle joshua_, then _aunt penelope_, and then the three girls and two boys. how they all found room i don't know, but they did. "are we all ready?" said _mr. burly_. "all ready," said _uncle joshua_. so _tim_ and _peter_ sprang away from the _horses'_ heads, crack went the _whip_, round went the _wheels_, _uncle joshua_ blew the _horn_, and the old _family coach_ was fairly on its journey. it was a splendid ride. _john_ kept his _horses_ going at a grand pace and hardly used the _whip_ at all, the _wheels_ ran smoothly over the road, and whenever we passed through a village _uncle joshua_ blew the _horn_. we stopped at thornminster for lunch. _john_ brought us up to the inn door in style, and the _landlord_ came out rubbing his hands and helped _mrs. burly_ and _aunt penelope_ down with a flourish. "proud to see you, sir," he said to _mr. burly_. "it is seldom enough that folks travel nowadays in an old _family coach_. i wish there were more of them." after lunch we went along in the same splendid way until suddenly round a corner came a donkey-cart with the donkey braying at the top of his voice. _john_ pulled the _horses_ well over to the side, but the braying was too much for them, and they rolled into the ditch. in a moment the old _family coach_ was overturned. _mr. burly_ was shot into the field across the hedge, _uncle joshua_, grasping the _horn_, landed in a pond, _john_ and _aunt penelope_, _mrs. burly_ and the _grooms_ all stuck in the hedge. no one was hurt, but two of the _wheels_ were broken to pieces and one _axle_ was bent, and that was therefore the last of the old _family coach_. so we never got to london in the old way after all. if this story is not long enough, it can be lengthened. the words in italics are those to be distributed among the company, each player taking more than one if necessary. when the accident comes they might all fall down as they are mentioned. in the case of the wheels and the horses, these may either be taken all four by one player, or eight players may share them. thus, when the wheels are mentioned, all four players who have taken the wheels would stand up and turn round, and four others when the horses were alluded to. the traveler, and the bicyclist "the traveler" is a favorite variety of the "family coach." in this game a player with a ready tongue is chosen as traveler, and the others are given such names as landlord, bell-boy, clerk, waiter, chambermaid, electric light, elevator, bed, supper, paper, sitting-room, bedroom, steam-radiator, slippers, and so on. the traveler is then supposed to arrive and give his orders. "can i have a room to-night? good. and how soon will _supper_ be ready? ask the _bell-boy_ to take my _satchels_ up to my _room_. show me to my _room_ and send up the _papers_." and so on, each person named having to stand up or be booked for a forfeit. this game lends itself to various new forms. one might be called "the bicyclist" and run thus:--a player having been chosen as the bicyclist, the others take as many bicycling names (or two names each might add to the fun) as there are players. thus--lamp, wick, oil, handle-bars, spokes, tires, chain, pump, nuts, bell, hedges, fields, sheep, roads, hill, dog. this settled, the bicyclist will begin his story, something in this style:-- it looked so fine this morning that i determined to go for a long ride. so i got out the _pump_ and blew up the _tires_, put the _monkey-wrench_ to a few _nuts_, filled the _lamp_, trimmed the _wick_, polished up the _bell_ and the _handle-bars_, and started off. the _roads_ were perfect. the _fields_ were shining with dew, the _hedges_ were sweet with honey-suckle, and i skimmed along like the wind until suddenly, at the turn at the foot of claymore _hill_, i rode bang into a flock of _sheep_ and came down with a smash. you never saw such a ruin. the _lamp_ and _bell_ were lost completely, the _handle-bars_ were twisted into corkscrews, the _tires_ were cut to ribbons, the _spokes_ looked like part of a spider's web, my hands and my knees were cut, and the worst of it was that the shepherd's _dog_ mistook me for an enemy and i had to beat him off with the _monkey-wrench_, until the farmer heard the noise and came to the rescue. during this story all the players named would, in the ordinary way, stand up for a moment when their adopted names were mentioned, except at the point when the accident occurs, and then every player bearing the name of a part of the bicycle--the handle-bars, spokes, tires, chain, air-pump, lamp, wick, bell, monkey-wrench, pump, nuts--should fall to the ground. drawing-room acrobatics there are various feats which can be performed in a small room without injury to furniture. to lie flat on the floor on one's back and be lifted into an upright position by a pair of hands under the back of the head, keeping stiff all the time, is a favorite accomplishment. another is to bend over and touch the floor with the tips of the fingers without bending the knees. another is, keeping your feet behind a line, to see who, by stretching along the ground supported on the left hand only, can place a penny with the right hand the farthest distance and get back again to an upright position behind the line without moving the feet or using the right hand for a support. this done, the penny must be recovered in the same way. another feat is, keeping your feet together and one arm behind you, to see how far back from the wall it is possible to place your feet (remembering that you have to get into an upright position again) while you lean forward supported by the other hand laid flat against the wall. another is to keep the toes to a line, and kneel down and get up again without using the hands. another is to make a bridge of your body from chair to chair, resting the back of your neck on one and your heels on the other. this is done by beginning with three chairs, one under the back, and then when you are rigid enough having the third one removed. acrobatic impossibilities if you hold your hands across your chest in a straight line with the tips of the forefingers pressed together, it will be impossible for any one else, however strong, to hold by your arms and pull those finger-tips apart. it is quite safe to stand a person against the wall with his heels touching it, and, laying a shilling on the floor a foot or so is front of him, to say it will be his if he can pick it up without moving his heels from the wall. another impossible thing is to stand sideways against the wall with your left cheek, left heel, and left leg touching it, and then raise the right leg. the trussed fowls in this contest two boys are first trussed. trussing consists of firmly tying wrists and ankles, bringing the elbows down below the knees and slipping a stick along over one elbow, under both knees and over the other elbow, as in the picture. the game is, for the two fowls to be placed opposite each other with their feet just touching, and for each then to strive to roll the other over with his toes. [illustration: a trussed fowl] the candle-lighters another balancing game. two boys face each other, each with a candle, one of which is lighted and the other not. kneeling on the right knee only and keeping the left leg entirely off the ground, they have to make one candle light the other. hat and cards a tall hat is placed in the middle of the room and a pack of cards is dealt out to the players seated round it. the game is to throw the cards one by one into the hat. tug of war this is properly an outdoor game, but in a big room indoors it is all right. the two sides should be even in numbers, at any rate in the first pull. in the middle of the rope a handkerchief is tied, and three chalk lines a yard apart are made on the floor. the sides then grasp the rope, the captain of each side, whose duty it is to encourage his men by cheering cries, having his hands about a yard and a half from the handkerchief. the rope is then trimmed by the umpire until the handkerchief comes exactly over the middle one of the three lines. on the word being given, each side has to try and pull the rope so that the handkerchief passes over the chalk line nearest it. the best of three decides the victory. for the sake of sport it is better, if one side is much weaker than the other, to add to it until the balance of strength is pretty even. high skip the players stand in as wide a circle as the size of the room allows, with one player in the middle. he has a rope or heavy cord in his hand with some object, rather heavy but not hard, tied to it, such as a small cushion or a large bunch of rags. stooping down, he begins swinging this around the circle. as it comes to them the players must jump over the cord. as the cushion is swung faster and faster it goes higher and is more difficult to jump over. the first one to miss takes the place of the person swinging the rope, who is not allowed to raise his hand higher than his knee. parlor football in this game goals are set up at each end of the room, the players are provided with fans, and the football is a blown hen's egg, which is wafted backward and forward along the floor. balloon a string is stretched across the room at a height of about three or four feet. the players divide into sides and line up on each side of the string. the balloon is then thrown up, the game being to keep it in the air backward and forward over the string, so that if it falls it will fall in the other side's camp. it ought to be tapped with the back of the fingers and not hit hard. tissue-paper race in this game tissue-paper is cut into pieces three or four inches square. as many squares as there are players are placed in a line at one end of the room, and at the other are placed two books, or other objects, a foot or so apart. at the word of command each competitor, who is armed with a japanese fire-screen or fan, starts to fan his square through the goal-posts. for the sake of distinguishing them it is better to mark the papers or have them of different colors. a competitor may not fan any other square except by accident. walking spanish this game should not be played unless there are some older, stronger players to prevent possible accidents, but it is very amusing. each player in turn goes to the end of the room, takes a cane or umbrella, puts his head down on the handle, closes his eyes and, stooping over thus, whirls rapidly about six times, not moving the point of the cane from its original position. then instantly he straightens up and tries to walk steadily the length of the room along a string laid down or line marked. the one who steps nearest to the line all the time is the winner. potato race this is a good game for a hall or landing. two baskets are needed, which are placed at one end of the hall about two yards apart, and then in a line from each basket are placed potatoes, at intervals of a yard or so all down the floor, an equal number to each line. any even number of competitors can play, the race being run in heats. each competitor is armed with a long spoon, and his task is to pick up all the potatoes on his line and return them to the basket before his opponent can. each potato must be carried to the basket in turn, and if dropped on the way must be picked up again before another can be touched, and the spoon only must be used. any help from the other hand or from the foot disqualifies. fire-buckets at a fire in the country, where there is no hose, a line of men extends from the burning house to the nearest pond, and buckets are continually being passed along this line. hence the name by which this excellent game is called here. it is played thus. a large number of miscellaneous and unbreakable articles--balls, boots, potatoes, books, and so on--are divided into two exactly equal groups, and each group is placed in a clothes basket. the company then forms into two equal lines, and each chooses a captain. each captain stands by the basket at one end of his line, at the other end being a chair and another player standing by that. at the word "start," the articles are handed one by one by the captain to the first player in the line, and passed as quickly as possible without dropping to the player by the chair. as they come to him he piles them on the chair (without dropping any) until all are there, and then returns them with equal speed until the basket is filled again. the side which finishes first is the winner. if an article is dropped it must be picked up before any other of the articles can pass the player who dropped it. forfeits in many of the games already described mention has been made of "forfeits." they do not now play quite so important a part in an evening's entertainment as once they did, but they can still add to the interest of games. "paying a forfeit" means giving up to the player who is collecting forfeits some personal article or other--a knife, a pencil, a handkerchief--which, at the end of the game, or later in the evening, has to be recovered by performing whatever penance is ordered. when the times comes for "crying the forfeits," as it is called, the player who has them sits in a chair, while another player, either blindfolded or hiding her eyes, kneels before her, the remaining players standing all around. the first player then holds up a forfeit, remarking, "i have a thing, and a very pretty thing. pray what shall be done to the owner of this pretty thing?" to which the blindfolded one replies by asking, "is it fine or superfine?" meaning, does it belong to a boy (fine) or a girl (superfine)? the answer is either "it is fine," or "it is superfine," and the blindfolded one then announces what its owner must do to get possession of it again. of stock penances there are a great number, most of which are tricks which, once known, are necessarily very tame afterward. in the case of those that follow, therefore, something definite and practical is required. frown for a minute. dance for a minute. see how many you can count in a minute. say the alphabet backward. do the exact opposite of three things ordered by the company. crow like a cock. say "gig whip" ten times very rapidly. say "mixed biscuits" ten times very rapidly. say rapidly: "she stood on the steps of burgess's fish sauce shop selling shell fish." say rapidly: "peter piper picked a peck of pickled pepper. a peck of pickled pepper peter piper picked. if peter piper picked a peck of pickled pepper, where is the peck of pickled pepper peter piper picked?" count fifty backward. repeat a nursery rhyme. hold your hands behind you, and, keeping them there, lie down and get up again. hold your hands together and put them under your feet and over your head. walk round the room balancing three books on your head without using your hands. smile to the prettiest, bow to the wittiest, and kiss the one you love the best. yawn until you make some one else yawn. push your friend's head through a ring. (put your finger through a ring and push your friend's head with the tip.) place a straw on the floor so that you can't jump over it. (very close to the wall.) put a chair on a table, take off your shoes and jump over them. (over your shoes.) leave the room with two legs and come in with six. (bring in a chair.) repeat five times without mistake, "a rat ran over the roof of the house with a lump of raw liver in his mouth." repeat ten times rapidly, "troy boat." ask a question to which "no" cannot be answered. (what does y-e-s spell?) shake a dime off your forehead. (the coin is wet and some one presses it firmly to the forehead of the one to pay the forfeit, who must keep his eyes closed. the dime is taken away, but the forfeit player still feels it there and tries to shake it off.) repeat a verse of poetry, counting the words aloud. mary (one) had (two) a (three) little (four) lamb (five). dance in one corner, cry in another, sing in another, and fall dead in the fourth. two forfeits may be redeemed at once by blindfolding two players, handing them each a glass of water, and bidding them give the other a drink. this, however, can be a very damp business. the old way of getting rid of a large number of forfeits was to tell their owners to hold a cats' concert, in which each sings a different song at the same time. perhaps it would be less noisy and more interesting if they were told to personate a farm-yard. auctioning prizes a novel way of awarding prizes is to auction them. each guest on arrival is given a small bag instead of a tally card. these bags are used to hold beans, five of which are given to all the players that progress at the end of each game. after the playing stops the prizes are auctioned. of course the person who has the greatest number of beans can buy the best prizes; so that besides making a great deal of fun, the distribution is entirely fair. drawing games many persons, when a drawing game is suggested, ask to be excused on the ground of an inability to draw. but in none of the games that are described in this chapter is any real drawing power necessary. the object of each game being not to produce good drawings but to produce good fun, a bad drawing is much more likely to lead to laughter than a good one. five dots all children who like drawing like this game; but it is particularly good to play with a real artist, if you have one among your friends. you take a piece of paper and make five dots on it, wherever you like--scattered about far apart, close together (but not too close), or even in a straight line. the other player's task is to fit in a drawing of a person with one of these dots at his head, two at his hands, and two at his feet, as in the examples on page . outlines or wiggles another form of "five dots" is "outlines." instead of dots a line, straight, zigzag, or curved, is made at random on the paper. papers are then exchanged and this line must be fitted naturally into a picture, as in the examples on page . a good way to play wiggles when there are a number of people to play, is to mark the same line for all the players, either by pressing down very hard with a hard pencil so that the line can be traced from one piece of paper to another, or with carbon copy paper between the sheets. thus each person has the same line, and the one who uses his in the most fantastic and unexpected way is the winner. the only rule about making the line is that a circle shall not be made. the two ends must be left ready to add the rest of the design. it is well sometimes to limit the pictures to human faces, as this makes the grotesque unlikeness of the drawings all the more absurd. [illustration: five dots] [illustration: outlines] eyes-shut drawings the usual thing to draw with shut eyes is a pig, but any animal will do as well (or almost as well, for perhaps the pig's curly tail just puts him in the first place). why it should be so funny a game it is difficult quite to explain, but people laugh more loudly over it than over anything else. there is one lady at least who keeps a visitor's book in which every one that stays at her house has to draw an eyes-shut pig. the drawings are signed, and the date is added. such a guest book is now manufactured, bound in pig skin, or in cloth. "ghosts of my friends" while on the subject of novel albums the "ghost of my friends" might be mentioned. the "ghost" is the effect produced by writing one's signature with plenty of ink, and while the ink is still very wet, folding the paper down the middle of the name, lengthwise, and pressing the two sides firmly together. the result is a curious symmetrically-shaped figure. some people prefer "ghosts" to ordinary signatures in a visitors' book. the "book of butterflies" is on the same order. with the book come four tubes of paint. the paint is squeezed on the page, which is doubled and flattened. the effects are very beautiful, and surprisingly lifelike. another guest book is the "hand-o-graph," in which the outline of the hand of each guest is kept. the "thumb-o-graph" is on the same principle, except that in this case the imprint of the guest's thumb is preserved, made from an ink pad supplied with the book. a remarkable collection can be made of ink-blot pictures. a drop of ink, either round as it naturally falls, or slightly lengthened with a pen, is dropped on paper which is then folded smartly together and rubbed flat. the most surprising designs are the result, some of which, aided a little by the pen, look like landscapes, figures and complicated geometric designs. drawing tricks six drawing tricks are illustrated on this page. one ( ) is the picture of a soldier and a dog leaving a room, drawn with three strokes of the pencil. another ( ) is a sailor, drawn with two squares, two circles, and two triangles. another ( ), henry viii, drawn with a square and nine straight lines. another ( ), invented for this book, an esquimaux waiting to harpoon a seal, drawn with eleven circles and a straight line. the remaining figures are a cheerful pig and a despondent pig ( ), and a cat ( ), drawn with the utmost possible simplicity. [illustration: drawing tricks] composite animals in this game the first player writes the name of an animal at the top of the paper and folds it over. the next writes another, and so on until you have four, or even five. you then unfold the papers and draw animals containing some feature of each of those named. [illustration] [illustration] invented animals a variation of this game is for the players to draw and describe a new creature. on one occasion when this game was played every one went for names to the commoner advertisements. the best animal produced was the hairy coco, the description of which stated, among other things, that it was fourteen feet long and had fourteen long feet. a good guessing contest is to supply every person with a slip of paper on which is written the name of an animal. he draws a picture of it and these pictures are all exhibited signed with the artist's name. the person who guesses correctly the subjects of the greatest number of them wins. heads, bodies, and tails for this game sheets of paper are handed round and each player draws at the top of his sheet a head. it does not matter in the least whether it is a human being's or a fish's head, a quadruped's, a bird's, or an insect's. the paper is then turned down, two little marks are made to show where the neck and body should join, and the paper is passed on for the body to be supplied. here again it does not matter what kind of body is chosen. the paper is then folded again, marks are made to show where the legs (or tail) ought to begin, and the paper is passed on again. after the legs are drawn the picture is finished. pictures to order each player sits, pencil in hand, before a blank sheet of paper, his object being to make a picture containing things chosen by the company in turn. the first player then names the thing that he wants in the picture. perhaps it is a tree. he therefore says, "draw a tree," when all the players, himself included, draw a tree. perhaps the next says, "draw a boy climbing the tree"; the next, "draw a balloon caught in the top branches"; the next, "draw two little girls looking up at the balloon"; and so on, until the picture is full enough. the chief interest of this game resides in the difficulty of finding a place for everything that has to be put in the picture. a comparison of the drawings afterward is usually amusing. hieroglyphics, or picture-writing as a change from ordinary letter-writing, "hieroglyphics" are amusing and interesting to make. the best explanation is an example, such as is given on pages and , the subject being two verses from a favorite nursery song. pictures and titles each player draws on the upper half of the paper an historical scene, whether from history proper or from family history, and appends the title, writing it along the bottom of the paper and folding it over. the drawings are then passed on and each player writes above the artist's fold (or on another sheet of paper) what he thinks they are meant to represent, and folds the paper over what he has written. in the accompanying example the title at the bottom of the paper is what the draughtsman himself wrote; the others are the other players' guesses. [illustration: various descriptions by the players the abbot of christchurch, near bournemouth, surveys the scaffolding of the abbey. the end of the paris exhibition. an old man coming back to the home of his childhood, looks across the river, where a duck is swimming, to the dilapidated cathedral and town which represent the stately piles he remembered. the building of the ark. the artist's description the last man surveying the ruins of the crystal palace.] writing games many of the games under this heading look harder than they really are. but the mere suggestion of a writing game is often enough to frighten away timid players who mistrust their powers of composition--although the result can be as funny when these powers are small as when they are considerable. the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. simple acrostics there are "simple acrostics" and "double acrostics." the simple ones are very simple. when the players are all ready a word is chosen by one of them, either from thought or by looking at a book and taking the first promising one that occurs. perhaps it is "govern." each player then puts the letters forming "govern" in a line down the paper, and the object of the game is to find, in a given time, words beginning with each of those letters. thus, at the end of time, one player might have-- g ravy o range v iolet e sther r obin n umbskull the players then describe their words in turn, one letter going the round before the next is reached, and from these descriptions the words have to be guessed, either by any player who likes or by the players in turn. the player whose paper we have quoted might describe his words like this: g---- "something that makes hot beef nice"; o---- "a fruit"; v---- "a flower"; e---- "a girl's name"; r---- "a bird"; and n---- "a name for a silly person." if any one else has the same word neither of you can score it, and it is therefore important to seek for the most unlikely words. another way of playing "simple acrostics" is to insist on each word being the same length. thus "govern" might be filled in by one player thus:-- g rave o ddly v erse e arth r ebel n inth double acrostics in "double acrostics" the game is played in precisely the same way, except that the letters of the word, after having been arranged in a line down the paper, are then arranged again in a line up the paper, so that the first letter is opposite the last, and the last opposite the first. thus:-- g n o r v e e v r o n g the players have then to fill in words beginning and ending with the letters as thus arranged. one paper might come out thus:-- g rai n o rde r v ersatil e e ... v r apall o n othin g this word is rather a hard one on account of the e and v. as a rule, words of only three letters are not allowed in "acrostics," nor are plurals. that is to say, if the word has to end in "s," one must not simply add "s" to an ordinary word, such as "grooms" for g----s, but find a word ending naturally in "s," such as "genesis." it is not necessary to invert the same word in order to get letters for the ends of the words. two words of equal length can be chosen and arranged side by side. thus (but this is almost too difficult an example):-- d k i i c p k l e i n n s g "acrostics" may be made more difficult and interesting by giving them a distinct character. thus, it may be decided that all the words that are filled in must be geographical, or literary, or relating to flowers. fives "fives" is a game which is a test also of one's store of information. a letter is chosen, say t, and for a given time, ten minutes perhaps, the players write down as many names of animals beginning with t as they can think of. the first player then reads his list, marking those words that no one else has and crossing off all that are also on other players' papers. then the names of vegetables (including flowers, trees, and fruit) are taken; then minerals; then persons; and then places. the player who has most marks wins the game. a variety of this game is to take a long word, say "extraordinary," and within a given time to see how many smaller words can be made from it, such as tax, tin, tea, tear, tare, tray, din, dray, dairy, road, rat, raid, and so on. lists "lists" is a variety of "fives." paper is provided, and each player in turn calls out something which the whole company write down. thus, suppose there are five players and you decide to go round three times: the first may say a river; the second, a doctor; the third, a complaint; the fourth, a play; the fifth, a state in the union; the first again, a musical instrument; the second again, a poet; and so on, until the fifteen things are all written down. each paper will then have the same list of fifteen things upon it. one of the company then opens a book at random, and chooses, say, the first letter of the third word in the first line. perhaps it is t. for a given time each player has to supply his list with answers beginning with t. at the call of time one of the papers may present this appearance:-- a river tees a doctor. mr. treves a complaint tic doloreux a play timon of athens a state in the union tennessee a musical instrument trombone a poet tennyson a flower trefoil a mineral tin a lake tanganyika a tree tulip a country turkey an author trollope an artist tadema a preacher talmage each player in turn reads his list aloud, strikes off those words that others also have, and puts a mark against the rest. the specimen list here given is too simple to be called a good one. players should reject the first thing that comes into their thoughts, in favor of something less natural. buried names the first thing for the players to do is to decide what kind of name they will bury. the best way is to call out something in turn. thus, if there are four players they may decide to bury the name of an author, a girl, a town, and a river. each player writes these down and a fixed time is given for burial, which consists in writing a sentence that shall contain the name somewhere spelled rightly but spread over two words, or three if possible. at the end of the time the sentences are read aloud in turn, while the others guess. of course, the whole game may be given up to burying only one kind of name, but variety is perhaps better. examples are given:-- an author: i like to keep the y_ew in g_ood order. a girl: the boy was cru_el, laz_y and obstinate. a town: clothes that are _new have n_o need of brushing. a river: to see spoil_t ham es_pecially annoys me. it is permissible to bury the name in the middle of one longer word, but it is better to spread it over two or three. perhaps the best example of a buried english town is this: "the queen of she_ba sings to ke_ep her spirits up." this is good, because the sentence is natural, because of the unusual number of words that are made use of in the burial, and because in reading it aloud the sound of the buried town is not suggested. letters and telegrams in this game you begin with the letter. the first thing to write is the address and "my dear ----," choosing whomever you like, but usually, as in "consequences," either a public person or some one known, if possible, to every one present. the paper is then folded over and passed on. the next thing to write is the letter itself, which should be limited to two minutes or some short period, and should be the kind of letter that requires a reply. the paper is folded and passed on again, and the subscription, "believe me yours sincerely," or whatever adverb you choose, and the signature are then added. (these may be divided into two separate writings if you like.) the signature should be that of another public person, or friend, relation or acquaintance of the family. the paper is then passed on once more, and a reply to the letter, in the form of a telegram, is written. that is to say, you must say as much as you can in ten words. example:-- the letter _the first player writes_:--my dear buffalo bill. _the second player writes_:--can you give me any information about suitable songs for our village choir? _the third player writes_:--believe me yours slavishly. _the fourth player writes_:--kitchener of khartoum. the reply telegram _the fifth player writes_:--be with you to-morrow. have sheets aired. am bringing everything. telegrams there is also the game of "telegrams." in this the first thing to write is the name of the person sending the telegram. the paper is then passed on, and the name of the person to whom it is sent is written. the papers are then passed on again and opened, and the players in turn each say a letter of the alphabet, chosen at random, until there are ten. as these are spoken, each player writes them on the paper before him, leaving a space after it; so that when the ten are all written down his paper may look like this:-- from the duke of york to barnum and bailey. h ... a ... p ... n ... w ... e ... k ... s ... f ... t ... a period of five minutes or more is then allowed in which to complete the telegram, the message having to be ten words long, and each word to begin, in the same order, with these letters. the players should, as far as possible, make the telegrams reasonable, if not possible. thus, the form given above might, when finished, read like this:-- from the duke of york to barnum and bailey. have awning prepared next wednesday evening kindly send five tickets in calling out the ten letters which are to be used in the telegram, it is well to avoid the unusual consonants and to have a vowel here and there. an amusing variety is for all the players to compose telegrams on the same subject; the subject being given beforehand. thus it might be decided that all the telegrams should be sent from president roosevelt to alice in wonderland asking for her views on the tariff. then having completed these messages, the answers may also be prepared, using the same letters. but, of course, as in all games, family matters work out more amusingly than public ones. initials paper is handed round, and each player thinks of some public person, or friend or acquaintance of the company, and writes in full his or her christian name (or names) and surname. then, for, say, five minutes, a character sketch of the person chosen has to be composed, each word of which begins with the initial letter of each of the person's names, repeated in their right order until the supply of thought gives out or time is up. thus, suppose the person chosen is frank richard stockton, the story writer. the character sketch might run:-- f ancifully r ecounts s trange f reakish r omantic s tories. f inds r isibility s urely. f requently r aises s miles. an occasional "and" and "of" may be dropped in if necessary. where one of the names begins with a vowel (such as william _e_wart gladstone) the character sketch can be made to run more easily. it is sometimes more amusing to give every one the same names to work on; and in some houses the players are not allowed to choose names for themselves, but must pass the paper on. the characters of towns and nations may be written in the same way, using all the letters of the word as the initials. riddles a more difficult game is "riddles." at the top of the paper is written anything that you can think of: "a soldier," "a new dress," "a fit of the blues," "a railway accident"--anything that suggests itself. the paper is passed on and anything else is written, no matter what. it is passed on again and opened. suppose that the two things written on it are, first, "a school-teacher," and second, "a pair of skates." the duty of the player is to treat them as a riddle, and, asking the question either as "why is a school-teacher like a pair of skates?" or "what is the difference between a school-teacher and a pair of skates?" (whichever way one prefers), to supply a reasonable answer. this game, it will be seen, is suited particularly to clever people. rhymed replies this is a game that needs a certain amount of readiness and some skill with words. each of the party writes at the top of a piece of paper a question of any kind whatever, such as "how old was cæsar when he died?" or "what is your favorite color?" the paper is folded over and passed on, and the next player writes a word--any word--such as "electricity," "potato," "courageously," "milk." the papers are then passed on once more and opened, and the task of each player is to write a rhyme in which the question on his paper is answered and the word on his paper is introduced. missing information every one is supplied with a piece of paper and pencils and tries to write down correct answers to questions about everyday things which we none of us know. a suggestive list is given but any one can add to it indefinitely. . how big do you think a postage-stamp is, in inches--a five dollar bill? . draw a picture of a clock's face with the hands pointing to five minutes of twelve. . how tall do you think a man's silk hat is, a derby? . draw the design in panels of the door to the room you are in. (of course without looking at it.) . how many holes are there in a high laced shoe--your own? . how many toes has a cat, a dog? . how many legs has a fly? . how does a cow lie down? a horse? . about how many petals has a common daisy? a wild rose? a sun flower? . how high from the ground is a street-car?--a railway car? the person who can answer most correctly the greatest number of questions is the winner. consequences "consequences" is always a favorite game when a party has reached its frivolous mood. the method of playing is this: sheets of paper and pencils are handed round, and every one writes at the head ( ) an adjective suitable to be applied to a man, such as "handsome." this word is then folded over so that it cannot be read, and each paper is passed on to the next person. the name of a man ( ) is then written, either some one you know, or a public person, such as the president or mr. carnegie. this in turn is folded over and the papers are passed on. the word "met" is understood to be inserted at this point. that is to say, the completed story will tell how handsome mr. carnegie met some one. the next thing ( ) is to put down an adjective suitable to apply to the woman whom he met, such as "buxom," and then ( ) the woman's name, again either some one you know, or a public person,--the papers being folded and passed on after every writing. the remaining items are these:--( ) the place where they met--say, on the pier. ( ) what he said to her--say, "i hope your neuralgia is better." ( ) what she said to him--say, "there's nothing like rain for the crops." ( ) what the consequence was--say, "they were married." ( ) what the world said--"all's well that ends well." it must be remembered that unless there are very few players, when it is less fun, you do not get the chance of writing more than once, or at most twice, on the same sheet of paper, so that it is of no use to have a reasonable series of remarks in your mind. the specimen given above is an average one. in print nothing could be much less funny, but when the company has the spirit of "consequences," even so tame a story as this might keep the room merry. the game is always full of the unexpected, and the people who meet each other are almost sure to be laughing-stocks. the results are often better if all the papers are handed to one player to read. consequences extended the form of "consequences" above given is the ordinary one and the simplest. but in certain families the game has been altered and improved by other clauses. we give the fullest form of "consequences" with which we are acquainted. as it stands it is rather too long; but players may like to add to the fun of the ordinary game by adopting a few of these additions:-- adjective for a man. the man. what he was wearing. what he was doing. (met) adjective for a woman. the woman. what she was wearing. what she was doing. the person he would much rather have met. where they met. what he thought. what he said. what she thought. what she said. what he gave her. what she did with it. where they went. what they did. what the consequence was. what the world said. example:-- the honorable theodore roosevelt, who was dressed in a moiré antique bath-towel and was eating walnuts, met coy aunt priscilla in a khaki tea-gown playing with her noah's ark, when he would much rather have met madame tussaud. they met at south hampton. what he thought was, "here's this woman again," but he merely said, "that's a very chic costume of yours." what she thought was, "i wonder if he's seen peter pan," but she only said, "that's wet paint you're leaning against." he gave her a piercing glance, and she swallowed it. so they went to prison together and learned to ride the bicycle, and the consequence was they caught influenza, and the world said, "it's an ill wind that blows nobody good." composite stories another folding-over and passing-on game is "composite stories." paper is passed round, and for five minutes each player writes the opening of a story with a title prefixed. the papers are passed on, and each player reads through as much of the story as has been written and for five minutes adds to it. and so on, until each player has written once on each paper. the papers are then passed on once more, with the result that each paper will be found to be lying before the player who began it. the next and last five minutes are then spent by each person in reading through the story and bringing it to an end, sometimes a difficult enough task. if six persons are playing and allowances of five minutes have been given, there will be at the end of thirty-five minutes six complete stories to read aloud. another story game a variety of the story game is for each player to write the name of a well-known person or friend of the family on the top of the paper, fold it over, and pass it on. this happens, say, five times, which means that when the papers are opened the names of five persons will be found on each. a story has then to be written introducing these people. improbable stories another story game is one in which each player attempts to tell the most improbable or impossible story. in this case the papers are not passed on, but a certain amount of time is given for the stories to be written in. the newspaper this is a rather elaborate but really very easy game to play. one player, who acts as editor, takes as many sheets of paper as there are players and writes at the head of each the title of a section of a newspaper. thus on one he will write, paris correspondence; on another, english correspondence; on another, berlin correspondence; on a fourth, political news; on a fifth, our fashion page; on a sixth, reviews; on a seventh, weather report; and so on. each player then, for a given time, writes on the subject allotted to him, more or less in the manner of the daily press, and at the end the result is read aloud by the editor. the plan is easily adapted to family or village life. the heading may refer to domestic matters, such as nursery correspondence, kitchen gossip, fashions for gentlemen (an account of father's new suit), garden news, village chatter, and so on. or, instead of a newspaper, a popular magazine may be contributed, with illustrations. predicaments this is a good game for a company of ingenious people, and it will be found that almost every one is ingenious when confronted with a difficult situation and given time to think out a solution. every one is given paper and pencil (or this is not necessary since the solutions may be oral). then one player starts the game by suggesting some predicament and asking the company "what would you do in such a case?" five minutes are given for reflection, and fifteen if the answers are to be written. then each in turn must say how he would have extricated himself from the scrape. a few suitable subjects are given here. if you found yourself in a strange city, where you didn't know a soul, with no money and nothing you could pawn, what would you do? if you should wake up in the night and see a burglar just entering the room, what would you do? if you should look out of your school-room door and see smoke and fire in the hall, what would you do? if you should be in a foreign country, not able to speak the language and wanted to order a room and breakfast, what would you do? table and card games card games and others card games proper, such as bezique and cribbage and whist, do not come into the scope of this book. nor do games such as chess, draughts, halma and backgammon. it is not that they are not good games, but that, having to be bought, their rules do not need enumerating again. the description of a few very old and favorite games with cards, and one or two new ones, is, however, given, because they can be made at home. letter games on page will be found the simplest letter game. letters can be used for a round game by one player making a word, shuffling it, and throwing it face upward into the middle of the table. the winner is the player who first sees what it spells. distribute a box of letters among the players, dealing them face downward. in turn each player takes up a letter at random and puts it face upward in the middle of the table. the object of the game is to make words out of these letters. directly a player sees a word he calls it out, and taking the letters places them in front of him, where they remain until the end of the game, when each player counts his words and the owner of the greatest number is the winner. if, however, a word has been chosen which, by the addition of another letter or so from the middle of the table, can be transformed into a longer word, the player who thinks of this longer word takes the shorter word from the other player and places it before himself. thus, a might see the word "seat" among the letters, and calling it out, place it before him; and then b, noticing another "t," might call out "state," and adding it to a's word, take that to himself. if, however, a then detected an "e" in the middle and called out "estate" the word would be his again. these losses and reconquests form the chief fun of the game. an "s" at the end of a word, forming a plural, is not allowed. patience, or thirteens many games of "patience" can be played as well with numbered cards as with ordinary playing cards. it does not matter much what size they are, but for convenience, in playing on a small table, they may as well be about an inch wide and two inches long, with the number at the top. thus:-- +------------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +------------+ a "patience" set consists of four packs of cards each containing four sets of thirteen cards numbered from to . these can be made at home perfectly well, and a little bag to hold each pack should also be made. the simplest game is to arrange the four sets in their right order. one player empties her four bags into a basket, shakes them up, and calls them out as she picks them out (at random). the others, who have the cards spread before them, then arrange them in four rows as well as may be, until a is called and there is a chance to begin packing the others upon it. with inexperienced players five rows are sometimes allowed. we do not give other games of "patience," for two reasons. one is that it is not exactly a children's game, and the other, that it is one of the games which can be properly taught only by personal instruction. varieties of "patience" are very numerous, and good books can be had on the subject. snap there can be no real need to describe "snap," but perhaps it may be useful to have the rules in print here in case of any dispute. a pack of "snap" cards is dealt round, any number being able to play; and the game begins by the players taking their cards one by one from their hands and in turn laying them face upward on the table before them. if a card is turned up similar to a card already on view on the table, the player who turns it up or the player who owns the similar card cries "snap," and the cards go to the player who says "snap" first. as it is sometimes difficult for the players to distinguish which says "snap" first, it is well to have an umpire. in the case of an undoubted dead-heat the game should go on as if nothing had happened. the player who won the cards gathers up also into his hand all the cards which were before him and continues the game. when a player has transferred all his cards from his hand to the table he waits until his turn comes and then takes them into his hand again. this is a very exciting moment, because, if his top card were snapped, then he would lose everything. in good "snap" packs there are several sets of cards which are intentionally made nearly but not absolutely alike, and it is very common to say "snap" by mistake when one of these turns up. in that case the cards of the player who cried "snap" are placed in the middle of the table, where they stay until some one turns up a card exactly like the top one and "snap centre" is called, when both the centre pack and the pack in front of the turner-up belong to the player who cried "snap centre." it may of course be the turner-up himself, but is very likely somebody else, because whereas under ordinary conditions only the owners of similar cards may cry "snap," when there are cards is the middle too any one may cry "snap centre." (in some houses any one may cry "snap" all through the game, but that is not the best way.) when a player has lost all his cards he is out of the game until there are cards in the middle again, when an opportunity comes of snap-centring them and getting into play again. the game goes on until one player has all the cards. grab in "grab," a very rowdy variety of "snap," a cork is placed in the middle of the table. the rules are the same as in "snap," except that, instead of saying "snap," you snatch for the cork; in the case of "snap centre," snatching and saying "centre" too. snap cards "snap" cards may just as well be home-made as bought. they either can be painted, in which case you must be careful that the sets of four articles are just alike, or you can cut out shapes of different colored paper and stick them on. a bundle of wall-paper patterns is splendid material for a pack. the only advantage that bought "snap" cards have over home-made ones is that they slip better. old maid this game can be played by any number, either with a home-made pack or with ordinary playing cards from which three of the queens have been taken away; the remaining queen being the old maid. the cards are then dealt and each player first weeds out all pairs, such as two knaves, two aces, two fives, and so on. all having done this, the player who begins offers her hand, with the cards face downward, to her neighbor, and her neighbor takes one. she then looks through her cards to see if it pairs with any that she already has, and, if it does, throws the pair on the table. having finished her examination she offers her cards in the same way to the next player, and so it goes on. as the possessor of the old maid card is, at the end, the loser of the game, each one who gets it does all in her power to induce the next player to take it. as the cards get fewer and fewer the excitement grows and grows. "old bachelor" is played in the same way, except that three of the kings are then thrown out. pig "pig" is a very noisy game. it is played with ordinary cards, unless you like to make a "pig" set, which would be very easy. having discovered how many persons want to play, you treat the pack accordingly. for instance, if five want to play you throw out all cards except five sets of four; if six, or three, you throw out all cards except six sets of four or three sets of four. thus, if five were playing, the cards might consist of four aces, four twos, four threes, four fours, and four fives; or, if you began at the other end, four kings, four queens, four knaves, four tens and four nines. the cards are shuffled and dealt round, four each, and the game is for each player to complete a set of four. you do not, as in "old maid," select one from the cards that are offered, face downward, but each player hands whatever card he likes to the next player, who is bound to accept it. directly a player has a set of four complete he lays the cards on the table, either very stealthily or with a bang, whichever he likes. immediately a set is laid on the table (or directly the other players notice it) all other cards have to be laid there, too. the player who is last in laying them down is pig. the game is played for as many rounds as you like, the player who was last the fewest times being the winner. the word pig alters with each round. the last player to lay down his cards in the second round is not merely pig, but little pig; in the third, big pig; in the fourth, mother (or father) pig; in the fifth, grandmother (or grandfather) pig; in the sixth, ancestral pig; in the seventh, venerable pig; in the eighth, primeval pig; in the ninth, crackling. prophecies and characteristics this is a memory game and a very amusing one. it is played with two packs of cards of any sort. one pack is laid in a heap, face down, in the middle of the table. the other pack is distributed to the players, who lay them face upward in rows; each person should not have more than twelve cards since it is practically impossible to remember more than that number. any one can begin by giving either a prophecy or a characteristic--thus: "who will inherit a fortune inside a year?" or "who will be the first in the room to wear false teeth?" at the same time turning up a card from the centre pile. whoever has the card matching this, takes it, lays it face down on his card repeating the prophecy, "i will be the first to wear false teeth." the next in turn gives a characteristic, "who has the worst temper?" or "who has the most unselfish disposition?" this process continues around, until all the centre cards are matched. then the memory test comes in. every player in turn tries to remember and repeat all the prophecies and characteristics which have fallen to his share, giving them aloud in rapid succession. he is allowed for deliberation on any one only the time while ten is being counted. the one who remembers the greatest number is the winner. the old maid's birthday this game is utterly foolish, but it can lead to shouts of laughter. it has been founded on an old-fashioned card game called "mr. punch." the first thing required is a pack of plain cards on which should be written the names of articles of food and clothing, household utensils, and other domestic and much advertised things: such, for example, as a frock-coat, a round of beef, a foot-warmer, a box of pills. a story, somewhat on the lines of that which follows, must then be prepared and copied into a note-book. the company take their places and the cards are handed round. these should be held face downward. when all is ready one of the players reads the story, pausing at each blank for the player whose turn comes next to fill it in by calling out whatever is on his uppermost card. no matter how often the game is played (provided the cards are re-shuffled) the unexpected always happens, and it is usually so absurd as to be quite too much for a room all ready for laughter. the number of blanks in the story should be equal to the number of cards, and in order that the story may run on smoothly it is well for the next player always to glance at his top card just before his turn, so as to bring it out readily and naturally. the following story, which makes provision for nearly fifty cards, should be found serviceable until a better and more personal one is written. it will add to the amusement if the player who reads it substitutes the names of real shops and, if he likes, real people: attention. it was miss flitters's birthday, and she woke with a start and hurried down to see what the postman had brought. there were five parcels and a letter. the letter was from miss bitters. "dear miss flitters," it ran, "i am so sorry to hear of your cold, and in the hope that it will do you good, i am sending you a ----. i always find it excellent, although mother prefers ----. we both wish you many happy returns of the day." the other presents were, from miss ditters a handsome ----, from miss glitters a delicate ----, and from miss hitters a particularly refined ----. "dear me!" said miss flitters, "what a useful gift! just exactly what i wanted." she then sat down to breakfast, which, this being a special day, consisted of ----. "i did my best to do it to a turn," said the cook, as she laid it on the table with her own hands. "mary said as how you'd prefer a ----, but, bless your 'eart, miss flitters, i know your tastes best." "you do, indeed," said miss flitters. "the thing is perfectly cooked. it's delicious. it reminds me of ----. to-day," she added, "i am giving a party, and i want you to let us have a very charming meal. i will get the things directly after breakfast. what do you think we shall need?" "well, ma'am," said the cook, "you may please yourself about everything else, but we've done without a ---- for so long, that i must have one." "quite right," said her mistress. she then prepared for going out; and seeing that it looked like rain, took a ---- from the cupboard and on her head tied a ----. "bless your 'eart, mum," cried the cook, "you've forgot your smelling salts. suppose you was to feel faint--what then? never mind," she added, "this'll do just as well"--handing her a ----. miss flitters hurried off at such a pace that she ran right into the minister. "i beg your pardon," she exclaimed, "i mistook you for a ----." "may i come with you?" asked the minister. "most certainly," said miss flitters. they went first to buszard's for a ----, and selected two particularly juicy ones. then to marshall and snelgrove's for a ----. "is this for the complexion?" asked the minister, picking up a ---- from the counter. "la, sir," said miss flitters, "how little you know of domestic life!" then they went to fuller's for a ----, and to jay's for a ----. "it's too dear," said miss flitters. "give me a ----instead." at the stores they inspected ----. "haven't you anything fresher?" asked miss flitters: "i'd as soon buy a ----." none the less she bought two and slipped them into her reticule, adding as a little gift for the cook a ----. the party began at six o'clock. the first to come was miss kitters. "you don't mind my bringing my work, i know, dear," she exclaimed; "i'm embroidering a ---- for the natives of madagascar, and it must be done soon." miss litters came next, and being rather short-sighted, sat down on a ----. "never mind," said miss flitters. "oh, i don't," she replied, "but it would have been more comfortable if it had been a ----." miss mitters came just as the clock struck. she was wearing a charming ---- trimmed with ----. "what perfect taste she has!" the others murmured. miss nitters followed. miss nitters was the exact opposite of miss mitters in all matters relating to dress. she had no taste at all, and was wearing merely a ---- with pompons attached, and in place of earrings a couple of ----. "so fast!" whispered miss litters. miss pitters, miss ritters, and miss titters each brought a present. miss pitters's present was a silver-plated ----. "so useful for the toilet table," she said. miss ritters's was a japanese ----, a piece of exquisite workmanship; while miss titters produced from her pocket a brown paper parcel which turned out to contain a very choice ----, an heirloom in the titters family for centuries. "i didn't know whether to bring this or a ----," she said; "but father decided me. father always knows best." when all were assembled, the guests sat down to supper. but here an awkward thing happened. "if you please, mum," the cook was heard to whisper in a loud voice, "the ---- hasn't come. shall i get a ---- instead?" "yes," said miss flitters, "that will do very well. don't you think so, miss pitters?" "i think," was the reply, "i should prefer ----." it was none the less an excellent and generous repast. opposite miss flitters was a noble ----, flanked by a ---- and a ----. at the foot of the table was a dish of ----. "i never tasted anything so delicious in my life," said miss mitters, taking a large helping of ----. "oh!" said miss glitters, "you should try the ----. it's yumps." the first course was followed by sweets, the most imposing of which was a wonderful frosted ---- with miss flitters's name in pink sugar. "you must all have a piece," said the hostess, "but i'm afraid it's rather rich." after supper came games, "blind man's buff" and "hunt the slipper," but as no one cared to lend a slipper, they used instead a ----, and it did very well. at midnight the party broke up, the guests saying that they never had spent a pleasanter evening. as a protection against the cold miss flitters gave them each a hot ----. she then hurried to bed and dreamed all night of ----. thinking, guessing, and acting games the ship alphabet the players sit in a long row, as if in a class at school. the one that acts as schoolmaster asks sharply, beginning at one end, "the name of the letter?" "a," says the player. the schoolmaster turns to the next player, "the name of the ship?" and straightway begins to count ten very quickly and sternly. "andromeda," is perhaps rapped out before he reaches that number. "the name of the captain?" "alfred." "the name of the cargo?" "armor." "the port she comes from?" "amsterdam." "the place she is bound for?" "antananarivo." "the next letter?" "b," and so on. if the schoolmaster is very strict and abrupt with his questions and counting, he can drive every idea from the mind of the person he points at. if he counts ten before an answer comes, he passes on to the next, and the next, and the next, until the answer is given. the one who gives it moves up above those that failed. the game should be played rapidly. a variation on this is "when my ship comes in." this is played with a handkerchief knotted into a ball. any letter of the alphabet is chosen; say b. one player throws the handkerchief to another, crying out, "when my ship comes in it will be laden with ----." the player who catches the handkerchief must supply a cargo, beginning with b before ten is counted, bees, butterflies, belts, etc. if he fails to do this he gives a forfeit. when one letter is exhausted another is chosen and the game starts over. i love my love this is not played now as once it was. in the old way the players sat in a line and went steadily through the alphabet, each one taking a letter in order. this was the form:--"i love my love with an a, because he is [a favorable adjective beginning with a]. i hate him with an a because he is [an unfavorable adjective beginning with a]. he took me to the sign of the [an inn sign beginning with a], and treated me to [two eatables or an eatable and drinkable beginning with a]. his name is [a man's name beginning with a], and he comes from [a town or country beginning with a]." then b, and so on. a and b might run thus:-- i love my love with an a because he is adorable. i hate him with an a because he is apish. he took me to the sign of the alderman and treated me to arrowroot and ale. his name is arnold, and he comes from ayrshire. i love my love with a b because he is brisk. i hate him with a b because he is bookish. he took me to the sign of the beetle and treated me to biscuits and bovril. his name is brian, and he comes from boston. there is no reason why men should always be chosen. for the sake of variety the love may as well have a woman's name and a woman's qualities. in that case the inn might perhaps go and some such sentence as this take its place:-- i love my love with an a because she is amiable. i hate her with an a because she is awesome. we went to uncle alexander's, and had apricots and apollinaris. her name is audrey, and she comes from annapolis. as finding seven words beginning with one letter is rather a heavy task for each player, the words might be taken in turn, as in the case of the "ship" game mentioned above. for a shorter way of playing "i love my love" the following form is used:--"i love my love with an a because he--or she--is [favorable adjective]. i will send him--or her--to [some place] and feed him--or her--on [something to eat]. i will give him--or her--an [some article, the use for which must be mentioned after it], and a bunch of [some flower] for a nosegay." thus:-- i love my love with an a because he is artistic. i will send him to australia, and feed him on asparagus. i will give him an alpenstock to climb with, and a bunch of asters for a nosegay. my thought the players sit in a row or circle, and one, having thought of something--of any description whatever--asks them in turn, "what is my thought like?" not having the faintest idea what the thought is they reply at random. one may say, "like a dog"; another, "like a saucepan"; a third, "like a wet day"; a fourth, "like a comic opera." after collecting all the answers the player announces what the thought was, and then goes along the row again calling upon the players to explain why it is like the thing named by them. the merit of the game lies in these explanations. thus, perhaps the thing thought of was a concertina. the first player, asked to show why a concertina is like a dog, may reply, "because when it is squeezed it howls." the next may say, "it is like a heavy saucepan because it is held in both hands." the third, "it is like a wet day because one soon has enough of it"; and the fourth, "it is like a comic opera because it is full of tunes." p's and q's another old game of this kind is "p's and q's." the players sit in a circle and one stands up and asks them each a question in turn. the question takes this form, "the king of england [or france, or germany, or africa, or russia, or india, whatever country it may be] has gone forth with all his men. tell me where he has gone, but mind your p's and q's." the player who is addressed must then reply, naming, in whatever country is mentioned, some town that does not begin with p or q or with any letter before p in the alphabet. thus, if the question refers to england, he may say "salisbury" but not "bristol," "redruth" but not "oxford"; or to france, "toulon" but not "lyons," "versailles" but not "dieppe." the game is capable of improvement or, at least, of variety. for instance, instead of p's and q's, the questioner may say, "mind your k's and l's," or instead of ruling out all letters before p, all letters after q may be stopped. and one need not confine the game to geography, but may adapt it to include animals, or eatables, or books. the elements the players sit in a circle, and the game is begun by one of them throwing a rolled-up handkerchief to another and at the same time calling out the name of one of the four elements--air, water, earth, or fire. if "air" is called, the player to whom the handkerchief is thrown must at once mention some creature that flies. having done so she throws the handkerchief to some one else, calling perhaps "earth," whereupon that player must mention an animal that inhabits the earth. and so on. the same animal must not be mentioned twice, and when "fire" is called, the player to whom the handkerchief is thrown must keep silence until she throws it on again. sometimes each player, after throwing the handkerchief and calling the element, counts ten as the limit of time in which the answer must be given. if it is longer in coming, or if something is mentioned which has been mentioned before, then a forfeit follows. suggestions this is a game which people either dislike or like very much. the players sit round the fire or table, and one of them begins by naming an article of any kind whatever, such as watering-pot. the word "watering-pot" will immediately suggest something to the next player--say "gardener." he therefore says "gardener." the next is perhaps reminded by the word "gardener" of a bunch of violets she saw the gardener carrying that morning, and she therefore says "violets"; the next at once recollects finding violets when she was in the country last spring, and she therefore says "vermont." thus the game goes on for, say, ten rounds, by which time, as we have seen already, the minds of the players have been carried miles away from the original watering-pot which set them at work. it is now necessary to trace the series of suggestions back to watering-pot again. this is done by the last player mentioning, not the last thing that he thought of, but the thing which suggested that to him. (thus, the player next him may have said, in the last round, "an apple-core," which may have suggested to him "tom sawyer." he would not, however, when the task of retracing begins, say "tom sawyer," because to repeat your own words is too easy, but "an apple-core" and the next player, going backward, in his turn would repeat the word which suggested "an apple-core" to him.) the second part of the game, retracing the suggestions, is naturally more difficult than the first. in this game two things are very important. one is, that silence should be maintained; the other, that the word you give should be suggested to you only by the previous player's remark. also it is more fun to be quite honest about it, and really say what was first suggested, instead of making a choice. quotation games this is a game which requires some poetical knowledge. the players sit in a circle and one begins by repeating a line of poetry. the next caps it by repeating whatever line comes next to it in the poem from which it is taken. the poem may either be continued or the game may deal only in couplets or four-lined stanzas. in another quotation game the first player repeats a line of poetry and the next follows it with another line of poetry which begins with the last letter of the previous quotation. thus, if the first player says-- it was the schooner _hesperus_ that sailed the wintry sea, the next might cap it with-- a man's a man for a' that, and the next with-- the quality of mercy is not strained. two rhyming games rhyming games require more taxing of brains than most players care for. the ordinary rhyming game, without using paper, is for one player to make a remark in an easy metre, and for the next to add a line completing the couplet. thus in one game that was played one player said-- it is a sin to steal a pin, much more to steal an apple. and the next finished it by adding-- and people who are tempted to, with satan ought to grapple. but this was showing more skill than there is real need for. an easier rhyming game is that in which the rhyme has to come at the beginning of the line. the players are seated in a circle and one begins by asking the next a question of any nature whatever, or by making any casual remark, the first word of the answer to which must rhyme with the last word of the question. the game is then started, each player in turn adding a remark to that made by the one before him, always observing the rhyming rule. thus, the original question may be, "do you like mince _pies_?" the next player may reply, "_wise_ people always _do_." the next, "_you_, i suppose, agree with _that_?" the next, "_flat_ you may knock me if i _don't_." the next, "_won't_ you change the subject, _please_?" and the next: "_eas_-ily; let's talk of books." telling stories this is another of those fireside games that need more readiness of mind than many persons think a game should ask for. the first player begins an original story, stopping immediately (even in the middle of a sentence) when the player who is appointed time-keeper says "next." the next player takes it up; and so forth until the end comes, either at the end of the first round or whatever round seems best. another way is for each player to contribute only a single word; but this is rarely successful, because every one is not at the same pitch of attention. except on the part of the person who is narrating there ought to be absolute silence. clumps the company, according to the number of persons, divides up into two or three or even four groups, or clumps, in different parts of the room, seated closely in circles. as many players as there are clumps then go out and decide on some extremely out-of-the-way thing which the clumps have to guess. in one game, for example, the mine was thought of from which the iron was taken to lay the first railroad rails in america. that is the kind of far-fetched and ingenious thing. when it is decided upon, the players return to the room and take their places, one in the midst of each clump. questions are then put to them the answers to which must be either "yes" or "no," and the clump that discovers the thing first is the winner. other yes and no games the same game can be played without such keen rivalry, one player sitting in the midst of a great circle and answering questions in turn. there is also a game called "man and object," in which two players go out and decide upon a man (or woman) and something inanimate or not human with which he is associated or which he is known to have used, such as "washington and his hatchet," "whittington and his cat," "a druid and his mistletoe-knife." they then return and each player asks them each a question in turn until the problem is solved. the same game is sometimes turned inside out, the players that remain in the room deciding upon some one whom the player that has gone out has to personate and discover. in this case it is he who puts the questions. as he is supposed for the time being actually to be the thing thought of, he ought to frame his questions accordingly: "am i living?" "have i been dead long?" "am i a man?" and so forth. my right-hand neighbor this is a catch game and useless except when one of the company knows nothing about it. that player is sent out of the room, and after a due interval is called in again and told to guess what the other players have thought of. he may ask any questions he pleases that can be answered by "yes" or "no." the thing thought of is each player's right-hand neighbor, who is of course so different in every case as to lead in time to the total bewilderment of the guesser. how, when, and where one player leaves the room, while the others decide on some word, the name of a thing for choice (such as tale, tail), which has one pronunciation but two or three different meanings and perhaps spellings. they then sit in a circle or line and the other player is called in, his object being, by means of questions put in turn to each player, to discover what the word is. his questions must take the form, "how do you like it?" "when do you like it?" and "where do you like it?" let us suppose that "tale" is the word thought of. "how do you like it?" he will ask the first of the circle. the answer may be, "i like it amusing" (tale). "how do you like it?" he may ask the next. "i like it active" (tail). to the next, "when do you like it?" "i like it at night" (tale). to the next, "where do you like it?" "at the end" (tail). to the next, "where do you like it?" "in an armchair" (tale). and so on until he guesses the word. coffee-pot a similar game is called "coffee-pot" or "tea-pot." in this case also the company think of a word with more than one meaning, but instead of answering questions about it they make a pretense of introducing it into their answers by putting the word "coffee-pot" in its place. as the player who is guessing is at liberty to put any kind of question he likes it is well to choose a word that will go easily into ordinary conversation. let us suppose, for instance, that the word is rain, reign, rein. the questions and answers may run something like this:--"are you feeling pretty well to-day?" "i always feel well when there is no coffee-pot" (rain). "have you been reading anything interesting lately?" "yes, a very interesting book on the present coffee-pot" (reign). "i hope your toothache is better." "thank you, i hope its coffee-pot will soon be over" (reign). "did you walk here this evening?" "no; we came with the assistance of the coffee-pot" (rein). the guesser is allowed to make three guesses aloud, but after that he must meditate on the word in silence or put questions to test his theories. if the word is a verb and a past tense or present tense has to be used in an answer, the player says "coffee-potted" or "coffee-potting." throwing light this is much like "how, when, and where," except that instead of asking questions the player, or players, that went out sit still and listen to the others talking to each other concerning the selected word's various meanings. thus, if it is "spring," the first may remark, "it makes our drives so much more comfortable"; the next, "i am always happier then than at any other time"; the next, "to drink there is to know what drinking really is"; and so on. animal, vegetable, and mineral. this is also a similar game to "how, when, and where," except that the player who goes out of the room has, on his return, to guess something belonging to one of these three groups. his first question therefore is, "is it animal?" perhaps it is not. "is it vegetable?" "no." he knows then that it is mineral, and after that to find out what it is is only a matter of time. proverbs one or two players go out. the others sit in line and choose a proverb having as many words as there are players. thus, if there were eight players, "they love too much who die for love" would do; or if more than eight, two short proverbs might be chosen. each player having made certain what his word is, the others are called in. it is their duty to find out what proverb has been fixed upon, and the means of doing so is to ask each player in turn a question on any subject whatever, the answer to which must contain that player's word in the proverb. if the first round of questions does not reveal the proverb, they go round again and again. shouting proverbs in this game, instead of answering questions one by one, when the guesser or guessers come in the players at a given signal shout the words which belong to them at the top of their voice and all together. the guessers have to separate the proverb from the din. acting proverbs this is a very simple acting game. the players should divide themselves into actors and audience. the actors decide upon a proverb, and in silence represent it to the audience as dramatically as possible. such proverbs as "too many cooks spoil the broth," and "a bad workman quarrels with his tools," would be very easy--almost too easy if any stress is laid upon guessing. but, of course, although the guessing is understood to be part of the fun, the acting is the thing. acting initials two players go out. the others choose the name of a well-known person, public or private, the letters of whose name are the same in number as the players left in the room. thus, supposing there are seven persons in the room, the name might be dickens. the letters are then distributed; each player, as soon as he knows which letter is his, selecting some well-known living or historical character beginning with the same letter, whom he has to describe or personate. to personate is more fun than to describe. the players seat themselves in the right order to spell the name, and the other two are called in. when they are ready the first player, d, is called on to describe or impersonate his letter; and so on in the right order. acting verbs, or dumb crambo in this game the company divides into two. one half goes out, and the one that remains decides upon a verb which the others shall act in dumb show. a messenger is then despatched to tell the actors what the chosen word rhymes to. thus, if "weigh" were the verb fixed upon, the messenger might announce that it rhymes to "day." it is then well for the actors to go through the alphabet for verbs--bay, bray, lay, neigh, pay, prey, pray, play, stay, say; and act them in order. when the word is wrong the spectators hiss, but when right they clap. if the word chosen has two syllables, as "obey," notice ought to be given. guessing employments a very simple game. one player goes out. the others decide on some workman to represent, each pretending to do some different task belonging to his employment. thus, if they choose a carpenter, one will plane, one will saw, one will hammer, one will chisel, and so on. their occupation has then to be guessed. it is perhaps more interesting if each player chooses a separate trade. stool of repentance one player goes out. the others then say in turn something personal about him--such as, "he has a pleasant voice"; "his eye is piercing"; "he would look better if he wore a lower collar." those remarks are written down by one of the party, and the player is called in and placed on a chair in the middle. the recorder then reads the remarks that he has collected, and the player in the middle has to name the persons who made them. eyes a sheet, or a screen made of newspapers, is hung up, and two holes, a little larger than eyes and the same distance apart, are made in it. half the players retire to one side of it, and half stay on the other. they then look through the holes in turn, while those on the opposite side try to name the owner of the eyes. the game sounds tame, but the difficulty of recognition and the false guesses made soon lead to laughter. making obeisance this is a trick. those in the company who have never played the game go out of the room. one of the inside players, who is to represent the potentate, then mounts a chair and is covered with a sheet which reaches to the ground. at the point where it touches a shoe is placed, the toe of which is just visible. in the potentate's hand is a sponge full of water. one of the players outside is then invited in; he is told to kneel down and kiss the toe; the potentate on the chair leans forward a little to bring his sponge immediately over the subject's head; and a shower-bath follows. then another subject is admitted, but after a while there is enough water on the floor to make them suspicious. mesmerism another trick. the players who are to be mesmerized--among them being the one or two who do not know the game--stand in a row, each holding a dinner-plate in the left hand. the mesmerizer, who also has a dinner-plate, faces them, and impresses on them very seriously the importance, if they really want to be mesmerized, of doing exactly what he does and not moving their eyes from him in any direction. he then holds the plate flat, rubs the first finger of his right hand on the bottom of it, and makes an invisible cross on his forehead, on each cheek, and on the tip of his nose. that is all. the trick lies in the fact that the plates of the players who do not know the game have been held in the flame of a candle until they are well blacked. this means that when the mesmerism is over they each have black marks on their faces, and know nothing about it until they are led to a looking-glass. thought-reading tricks in all thought-reading games it is best that only the two performers should know the secret. of these two, one goes out of the room and the other stays in, after having first arranged on the particular trick which will be used. perhaps the company will then be asked to settle on a trade. let us say that they decide on a chemist. the other player is then called in, and his companion puts questions to him in this way:--"you have to name the trade which we have thought of. is it a grocer?" "no." "is it a draper?" "no." "is it a goldsmith?" "no." "is it a fruiterer?" "no." "is it a lawyer?" "no." "is it a chemist?" "yes." this will look rather mysterious to some of the company; but the thing is really simple enough. the questioner merely arranged with his companion that the trade thought of should follow a profession. perhaps on the next occasion the company will be asked to think of an article in the room. let us say that they fix on the clock. the questions will then run something like this:--"you have to name the article in this room which has been thought of. is it the piano?" "no." "is it the curtain-rod?" "no." "is it the carpet?" "no." "is it the fireplace?" "no." "is it the sideboard?" "no." "is it the armchair?" "no." "is it the clock?" "yes." this again is bewildering; but again the trick is very simple, the questioner having arranged that the article shall follow something that has four legs. a third way is for an article to be touched and for the thought-reader to be asked to name it. "is it this?" "is it this?" "is it this?" is asked of one thing after another, the answer always being "no." "is it that?" "yes." the secret is that the article touched is always signified by "is it that?" but in this case, and in that of the others already described, the effect of mystification can be increased by arranging beforehand that the article in question shall not follow the key phrase immediately, but, say, two questions later. a fourth way is for the questioner to begin each question in due order with a letter of the french word for the article touched. thus, if it were the bell, he might say, "_c_ome now, was it the table?" "_l_ook, was it the armchair?" "_o_r the piano?" "_c_ome now, was it this book?" "_h_ow about this hearth-rug?" "_e_ndeavor to be quick, please. was it the clock?" by this time "cloche" has been spelled, so that the next question is, "was it the bell?" "yes." in another form of "thought-reading" the two players who know the secret remain in the room long enough for the trick to be made sure. one stands in a corner and the other calls loudly, "ebenezer, do you hear?" (ebenezer is the usual name, but a more attractive one would do.) ebenezer says nothing, but listens attentively to hear who among the company speaks first. the other player repeats the question and still there is no answer. soon after that some one will perhaps make a remark, and then ebenezer, having got what he was waiting for, says, "yes, i hear." "then leave the room," says the other player, and ebenezer goes out. the other player then makes a great show of choosing some one to touch, but ends by touching the person who spoke first after the game began. this done, ebenezer is called in to say who was touched, and every one is puzzled by his knowledge. to guess any number thought of with these thought-reading tricks may be put one or two arithmetical puzzles. here is a way to find out the number that a person has thought of. tell him to think of any number, odd or even. (let us suppose that he thinks of .) then tell him to double it ( ), add to it ( ), halve it ( ), and multiply it by ( ). then ask him how many that makes. he will say . you divide this in your mind by ( ), subtract ( ), divide by again ( ), and astonish him by saying that the number of which he thought was . to guess any even number thought of in this case you insist on the number chosen being an even number. let us suppose it is . tell him to multiply by ( ), halve it ( ), multiply by again ( ), and then to tell you how many times will go into the result. he will say . double this in your mind and tell him that he thought of . to guess the result of a sum another trick. tell the person to think of a number, to double it, add to it, halve it and take away the number first thought of. when this has been done you tell him that remains. if these directions are followed must always remain. let us take and as examples. thus doubled is ; add and it is ; halved, it is ; and if the number first thought of-- --is subtracted, remains. again, doubled is ; added makes ; halved is , and from leaves . a more bewildering puzzle is this. tell as many persons as like to, to think of some number less than , , in which the last figure is smaller than the first. thus might be thought of, but not , and not . the amount being chosen and written down, you tell each person to reverse the digits; so that the units come under the hundreds, the tens under the tens, and the hundreds under the units. then tell them to subtract, to reverse again, and add; remarking to each one that you know what the answer will be. it will always be . let us suppose that three players choose numbers, one being , one , and one . each sets them on paper, reverses the figures, and subtracts. thus:-- --- --- --- the figures are then reversed and added. thus:-- ---- ---- ---- guessing competitions guessing competitions, which are of american invention, can be an interesting change from ordinary games. in some the company are all asked to contribute, as in "book teas," where a punning symbolic title of a book is worn by each guest, and a prize is given to the person who guesses most, and to the person whose title is considered the best. thus, a person wearing a card having the letter r represented _middlemarch_, and a person with catkins in his buttonhole, _hazell's annual_. but simpler devices are just as interesting. in other guessing competitions the preparations are the affair of the household which gives the party. it is with these that we are concerned here. giving prizes certainly adds to the interest of them. guessing quantities several articles of number are placed on a table, say a box of matches, a bag of beans, a reel of cotton or ball of string, a large stone, a stick, a photograph, and various coins with the date side turned down. each of the company is provided with a card on which these articles are written, and the object is to guess as nearly as possible something about each; for instance, how many matches there are in the box, how many beans in the bag, the length of the string, the weight of the stone, the length of the stick, the age of the person in the photograph, and the date of each coin. the right answers are, of course, ascertained beforehand and written on a card in the hostess's possession. observation the real name of this game may be something else, but "observation" explains it. a small table is covered with a variety of articles, to the extent of some twenty or thirty. it is then covered with a cloth and placed in the middle of the room. the players stand round it and the cloth is removed for a minute (or longer). during that time the aim of each player is to note and remember as many of the things as possible. the cloth is then put on again and the players have five minutes in which to write the fullest list they can of the objects seen. scents a more puzzling competition is to place a row of large bottles on the table, all numbered, at the bottom of each of which is a small amount of liquid bearing a noticeable scent. some may be toilet scents, and others medicines or essences used in cooking. a card numbered according to the bottles is given to each player, and the game is to guess as many of the scents as possible. the topsy-turvy concert the performers in this concert, who should be of nearly the same size, take their places behind a sheet stretched across the room at the height of their chins. they then put stockings on their arms and boots on their hands (or this may be done before they come into the room), and stand looking over the sheet at the company, with their hands and arms carefully hidden. the concert begins by the singing of the first verse of a song. immediately the verse is finished, the singers, stooping down so that their heads disappear from view, thrust up their arms and wave them about, the effect being that of a row of people standing on their heads. the chorus is thus sung. then they pull down their arms and put up their heads again and sing the next verse. the dancing dwarf this is a very amusing illusion and easy to arrange. all the players but two are sent out of the room and these stand behind a table. one stands close to the table, his arms in front of him so that the fingers rest on the table. boots, or stockings and shoes, are put on their arms and a long dark cloak is thrown over the shoulders of the first player covering the one behind him. the one behind furnishes the arms by thrusting his out in front. the little feet resting on the table show from the folds of the cloak and give the appearance of a dwarf. the players are then called back and the dwarf, whose face should be disguised, performs any feat that they ask for--he sings a song, or makes a speech or prophesies the future of any one who desires it, always ending with a wild dance performed by the arms and hands of the other person. the light should be turned down somewhat and the audience should be straight in front of the table to keep the illusion at its best. [illustration: the dancing dwarf] charades "charades" can be written in advance and carefully rehearsed, but in this book we are concerned more nearly with those that are arranged a few minutes (the fewer the better) before they are performed. as a rule a word of two or three syllables is chosen, the syllables are first acted, then the whole word, and then the audience guess what it was. sometimes the word is brought in, both in its complete form and in its syllables; and sometimes--and this is perhaps the better way--it is acted. thus, if the word were "treason," one way would be to make the acts themselves anything that occurred to you, merely saying "tree" with some distinctness in the first; "son" or "sun" in the second; and "treason" in the third. the other and more interesting way would be to make the first act relate to tree-felling or tree planting, or, say, a performance by mr. tree; the second to a son or the sun; and the third to some treasonable situation, such as, for example, the gunpowder plot. on account of the time which is occupied in preparing and acting it is better to choose two-syllabled words--which, with the whole word, make three scenes--than three- or four-syllabled ones; although there are certain four-syllabled words which split naturally into two halves of two syllables each. "parsimony," for example, could be performed: parsee, money, parsimony. as a general rule the charades that are arranged during the evening are better performed in dumb show, with plenty of action, than with any talking at all. under the circumstances gestures are so much easier than words and not any less amusing. dumb performances very good fun can be had also from impromptu pantomimes, where the performers enact some story which every one knows, such as "aladdin" or "red riding hood" or "cinderella"; or a scene from history proper, or from village or family history. the contrast between the splendor of cinderella's carriage in the story and the old perambulator which has to serve in the charade only adds to the fun. every one, being dumb, acts to the utmost. it is sometimes more amusing if all the parts are turned upside down and a boy plays the heroine and a girl the hero. where the scene is too tremendous for any representation to be given, it is best to meet the case frankly and use, as they did in shakespeare's day, written labels, such as "this is aladdin's palace." dressing up it is, of course, much more fun to dress up; but dressing up is not so important that a charade is spoiled without it. if, on the day of your party, you know that charades will play a part in it, it is wise to put in a convenient room a number of things suitable to dress up in. then at the last minute there need be no furious running up-stairs to pull things out of closets and boxes, and the unpleasantness will be avoided which sometimes follows when you have taken somebody's best clothes for a rather violent performance. almost the best garment there is for dressing-up purposes is a fur coat. while priceless for red riding hood's wolf it will make also most of the other animals in the zoo. a soldier's uniform is a great possession, and a real policeman's helmet has made the success of many charades. most kinds of hat can, however, easily be made on the morning of a party out of brown paper. epaulettes and cockades are also easily made of the same material. powder or flour for white hair, some corks for moustaches and beards (you hold them in the candle for a minute and wait till they are cool enough to use), and a packet of safety-pins should be in handy places. cherry tooth-paste makes serviceable rouge. tableaux vivants "tableaux vivants" are a change from acting, but they need, if done at all well, a great deal of preparation and rehearsal, and are therefore perhaps better left to older people. but quickly-arranged groups representing (not too seriously) scenes in american history might be good fun. remarks on acting the drawback to all charades and dressing up at a party is that they make away with so much valuable time of the players who are out of the room, and unsettle those who are left in. it should be the first duty of every one taking part in acting at parties to decide quickly on the subject or word, and to perform it quickly. many and many a party has been spoiled by the slowness of the actors outside. historical or family scenes with no dressing up and some action are perhaps better than much dressing up and absolute stillness. in "canute and the waves," for example, it is better that the incoming tide should be represented by a boy rolling slowly over the carpet than that there should be nothing but fixed eyes and stern faces. rainy-day games this is a chapter written to meet the needs of several children shut up together in bad weather. the chapter on "indoor occupation and things to make" gives suggestions for a single child, but here are a few suggestions for several occupations for a group of children, which do not mean the destruction of the furniture. any one of the games given in the chapter "in the train" is suitable for rainy days. there are of course many games treated elsewhere in this book which can be played on rainy days indoors. many of the parlor and outdoor games are equally suitable for indoors. all the card games and back-gammon, checkers, etc., are invaluable resorts in case of a long dreary day, but there are a few other recreations which, in some families are saved for such occasions. bean-bags one of these is the old fashioned game of bean-bag. one rainy morning can be spent in making the outfit. the girls can be occupied in making the cloth bags, from six to ten inches square, partly filled with beans: and the boys in making the board which is shown in the illustration. it should be about three feet square of any sort of boards and propped up at one side so that it forms an inclined plane. five holes are cut in it, about seven inches square, all but the centre one which is only five inches square. the players stand off from six to twelve feet according as their skill increases with practice and try to throw the bags through the holes. there are various rules for playing the game which you can arrange to suit yourself, or to make a change. one way is have the bags in sets of six, each six being of one color, different from the others. the players stand in a line and all throw at once, trying to get their six bags in the holes as soon as possible. when they have thrown their bags they rush up to the board, gather up those which have gone wild and run back to the firing line. the one who gets his six bags in first wins the game. a bag thrown through the small centre hole counts as two. [illustration: bean-bag board] another way to play it is to throw in turn, each throwing all his six bags one after another. the one who gets most in is the winner. ring-toss ring-toss is another game in which skill can be acquired only through practice and it is very good for rainy-days. it is really indoor quoits, and is a favorite game for shipboard. any one with a little patience and care can make the rings which are of rope fastened together with slanting seam, wound with string so that there is no bulging, overlapping hump at one side. [illustration: rope ring] a stake is nailed upright to a board (the stake can be a section of an old broom handle, or a smooth, small, straight peeled branch of a tree) and the outfit for the game is complete. it is played with the same rules as quoits (see "outdoor games for boys"), and a very considerable degree of skill can be obtained by practice. as in pitching quoits, the rings should be thrown with a little level twist to make them whirl about. ring-the-nail a variation of this can be played with common large nails and brass curtain rings. eight nails are driven into a board in a circle, leaving about an inch sticking up. in the centre, one is driven, standing about three inches tall. small rings, curtain rings, for instance, are thrown toward this. each time they encircle one of the lower nails is counted five, and the centre nail ten. soap-bubbles a soap-bubble race is easy to arrange and very good fun. an old shawl or blanket is laid on a table or the floor, goals are made at each end of it with piles of books, leaving an opening between, and each person is provided with a pipe for blowing bubbles. one bowl of soap-bubbles is enough for the company (see page on the best way to make lasting soap-bubbles). the game is to see who can most quickly blow a bubble, deposit it on the woolen cloth at one end and blow it through the goal at the other. of course you try to direct your puffs so that you will not only blow your own bubble along but will force your opponent's back. another way is to stretch a cord across the room and divide into two sides, standing three feet from the cord. at a given signal dip your pipes in the bowl of soap-suds, blow a bubble, and try to blow it over the cord. the side which succeeds in landing most bubbles in the enemy's territory wins. jack-stones a game which is good, quiet fun for a rainy day is jack-stones. although not played much nowadays it is very interesting and is to indoors what "mumble-the-peg" is to outdoors. it is played usually with small pieces of iron with six little feet: but it can also be played with small pebbles all of a size. all kinds of exercises can be used, many of which you can invent yourself but a few of the commonest are given below. . the five stones are thrown up and caught on the back of the hand. . four of the stones are held in the hand while one is thrown up. they must then be laid on the table, or floor, in time to catch the stone before it comes down. it is then thrown up again, and the four stones are picked up either one at a time or all together, and the stone caught again. nearly all the exercises are variations of this. one stone is thrown up and different things must be done quickly with the others before it falls again. tying knots another occupation for rainy days that will interest several children (as well as one) is puzzling out the construction of some of the simplest sailor's knots. this is a useful and a very desirable accomplishment. often several together can solve a difficult knot better than one, and after some proficiency is acquired it is interesting to have a competition to see who can tie them most quickly and perfectly. every one is supplied with a piece of clothes-line (the best rope for this purpose) and some one calls out "running noose," or "figure of eight." every one must then make this as quickly as possible. it is impossible to give directions in words about tying knots. the best way is to get clear illustrations and then work over them until you have mastered the intricacies. a few simple knots are shown here, but there are many books which give an almost endless variety. [illustration: fig. . overhand knot] [illustration: fig. . half-hitch] [illustration: fig. . figure of eight] [illustration: fig. . common bend] [illustration: fig. . sailor's knot] [illustration: fig. . running noose] [illustration: fig. . crossed running noose] [illustration: fig. . bowline knot] [illustration: fig. . dogshank] illustrating a competitive game which is easy to manage is hit-or-miss illustrating. any old magazine (the more the better) will furnish the material. figures, furniture, landscape, machines--anything and everything--is cut out from the advertisement or illustrations, and put in a box or basket in the middle of the table. every one is given a piece of paper and a proverb is selected for illustrating. twenty minutes is allowed to choose suitable pictures, to paste them on to sheets of paper and to add, with pencil, accessories that are necessary: and then results are compared. the variety and excellence of these patchwork pictures are surprising. this can be played during convalescence. it is not necessary to select a proverb for illustrating. any suggestive title will do. a few that have been found fruitful of varied and spirited pictures are given here. a trying moment. companions in misery. this is my busy day. "i didn't know it was loaded." his proudest moment. the unhappy experimenter. the best of friends. a great scare. fine weather for ducks. "won't you have some?" "don't we make a pretty picture?" too busy to stop. no harm done. "i didn't mean to do it." stage-struck. a great success. "see you later." a temporary quarrel. a narrow escape. a happy family. the peace-maker. a happy mother. shuffle-board a game which is often played on shipboard can be modified for an indoor, rainy day game very easily. this is shuffle-board, all the outfit for which you can easily make yourself. if you can have a long table that scratching will not injure your board is all ready, but you can easily procure a common, smooth-finished piece of plank, two feet wide, if possible, and four feet long. on one end mark a diagram like the preceding, about ten inches by eight inches. mark a line at the other end of the board about four inches from the edge, put your counters on the line and you are ready to play. the counters may be checkers (or any round pieces of wood) or twenty-five cent pieces, or large flat buttons, although discs of lead are the best because the heaviest. your pusher should be a little tool made especially, like the illustration, about a foot long, and anybody with a jack-knife can whittle a satisfactory "shovel" as it is called. [illustration] but if an impromptu game is desired, your counters may be pushed off with a common ruler, with a long lead-pencil, or even snapped with the finger nail, though this is apt to hurt. each player has six counters which he plays by three's, thus one person begins by shoving off three of his counters toward the board on the end, trying to make them fall on the places that count the highest. the next player then shoots three of his counters, trying not only to place his own men well but to dislodge his adversary's men if they are in good places. after all have played in turn, the first player shoots his other three counters and so on till all have played again. at the close of each round the board is inspected and each person is credited with the sum of the numbers on which his men rest. the game is continued thus, until some one has reached the limit set, which may be a hundred, or fifty, or any other number according to the skill of the players. the counters of each player may be distinguished from the others by any distinctive sign marked on them. they must not be pushed along but struck a sharp blow with your shovel. the head of your shovel must not pass the line marked for the counters. counters which rest on, or touch a line do not count. a very considerable degree of skill can be attained in this game and it is a never failing resource on dull days. a rainy day is a good time to practice various tricks and puzzles so as to perfect yourself in performing them. balancing tricks there are a number of balancing tricks which are easy and ingenious. the secret of most such tricks is in keeping the centre of gravity low, and when this idea is once mastered you can invent tricks to suit yourself. for instance a tea-cup can be balanced on the point of a pencil thus: put a cork through the handle of the cup (it should be just large enough to be pushed in firmly) and stick a fork into it, with two prongs on each side of the handle, and with the handle under the bottom of the cup. (fig. .) the centre of gravity is thus made low, and if you experiment a little and have a little skill, and a steady hand you can balance the whole on a pencil's point. [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. ] or you can balance a coin edgeway on a needle's point. the needle is stuck firmly into the cork of a bottle, and the coin is fixed in a slit cut in a cork, in which two forks are stuck. (fig. .) the simplest of these tricks is to balance a pencil on the tip of your finger by sticking two pen-knives in it, one on each side. (fig. .) a cork with two forks stuck in it can be made to balance almost anywhere--on the neck of a bottle from which the contents are being poured for instance. (see fig. .) amusing toys can be constructed on this principle. tumbling dolls are made of light wood or cork, glued to the flat side of a half bullet. no matter how often they are knocked flat, they rise again at once. the dancing egg another good trick that needs a little practice is to make an egg dance. boil an egg hard, keeping it in an upright position (between cups set in the water or in some other way). then turn a plate bottom side up and put the egg on it. turn the plate around, more and more quickly, always holding it flat and level, and the egg will rise on its end and stand quite straight while it spins about. the dancing pea a pea can be made to dance on a column of air as you sometimes see a rubber ball rising and falling in a fountain of water. take a piece of a clay pipe about three inches long, and make one end into a little rounded cup, by cutting the clay carefully with a knife or file. then run two small pins cross-wise through a big, round pea, put the end of one pin in the pipe and hold the pipe in an upright position over your mouth. blow gently through the pipe and the pea will dance up and down. the glass-maker another trick to play with pins is the glass-making pin. cut an ordinary rubber band in two, and stick a bent pin through the middle of this. now hold an end of the elastic in each hand and whirl it rapidly around, stretching it a little. the revolving pin will at once assume the appearance of a tiny glass vase, or tumbler, and the shape can be varied at will. it is best to have a strong ray of light on the pin and the rest of the room darkened. [illustration: the glass-maker] electricity various tricks can be played by means of the electricity in paper. ordinary sealing wax, rubbed briskly on a coat-sleeve until it is warm will attract bits of tissue paper, or any other soft paper. a variation on jack-straws can be played by means of this trick. tiny scraps of tissue paper, each numbered, are piled in the centre of the table and each player by means of a piece of sealing wax tries to draw out the greatest number in the shortest time. this is a fascinating game and arranged impromptu in a very short time. the pieces of paper need not be of tissue paper, as any very thin paper will do. they should be about a quarter of an inch wide by an inch long and numbered up to twenty. they must be removed from the centre pile and put in piles before the players without touching with the fingers. it will be found that shaking them off the sealing wax is often harder than making them stick to it. of course an effort should be made to secure those pieces of paper which have the largest numbers on them, as a few of these count more than many of the others. electric dancers are easy to make. cut little figures out of tissue paper and lay them on the table. put on each side of them two books and lay a sheet of glass over them about an inch and a half above them. rub the glass briskly with a flannel cloth and they will jump up and down. [illustration: electric dancers] a rubber comb rubbed with a silk handkerchief will attract small bits of paper, feathers or wool. various games and tricks can be devised by this means, such as "bringing the dead to life," _i. e._, raising paper figures to an upright position from a grave made of books, or a box. outdoor games for girls outdoor games for girls and outdoor games for boys are very often the same, although they are separated here for the sake of convenience. battledore and shuttlecock "battledore and shuttlecock" is equally good for one player or for two. the only game to be played is to see how long the shuttlecock can be kept in the air. if you are alone the best way is to set yourself a number, say a hundred, and persevere until you reach it. this can be varied by striving to reach, say, thirty, by first hitting the ball each time as hard as possible, and then hitting it very gently so that it hardly rises at all. jumping rope ordinary skipping is good enough fun for most of us, but for those who are not satisfied with it there is skipping extraordinary, one feat of which is now and then to send the rope round twice before you touch the ground again. to do this, as it cannot be done with a mere rope, you must make a new rope of whipcord, in the middle of which you place a small chain about a foot long. this chain gives the weight necessary for whirling the rope very swiftly through the air. tom tiddler's ground the player who is first going to be tom tiddler stands or sits inside the part of the garden (or room) marked off for him, pretending to be asleep. the others venture on his ground, crying, "here we are on tom tiddler's ground, picking up gold and silver." as tom still sleeps they grow bolder and bolder until he suddenly awakens and dashes for them. the one that is caught becomes tom tiddler. tom may not cross the boundary-line. old stone another "tom tiddler's ground." one player crouches down pretending to be a stone. the others run round about her, gradually, as she shows no sign of life, getting nearer and more bold. the stone suddenly leaps up and begins to chase them, and the one caught is the old stone. hen and chickens even more exciting than "tom tiddler's ground" is "hen and chickens." in this game one player represents a fox and sits on the ground looking sly and hungry. the others, who are the hen and chickens, form a procession, holding each other's skirts or coats by both hands, and march past the fox, saying in turn-- chickany, chickany, crany crow, i went to the well to wash my toe, and when i came back a chicken was dead. then they leave go of each other and stand round the fox, and the leader, the hen, says, "what are you doing, old fox?" the fox replies, "making a fire"; and the conversation goes on like this:-- the hen: what for? the fox: to boil some water. the hen: what is the water for? the fox: to scald a chicken. the hen: where will you get it? the fox: out of your flock. with these words the fox springs up and the hen and chickens run in all directions. the chicken that is caught becomes the new fox, and the old fox is the new hen, the leader of the procession. the same game is played by essex children with an old woman in place of the fox, and with different words. in this case the hen and chickens make a procession in front of a player who personates an old weeping woman. as they march by, the hen sings-- chickens, come clock, come clock, come clock, chickens, come clock, come clock, come clock, the hawks are away and the crows are asleep, it's time that my chickens had something to eat. then they leave go of each other and stand round the old weeping woman, and between her and the hen the following conversation is held: the hen: what are you crying for, my poor old woman? the old woman: because i've lost my needle. the hen: what do you want a needle for? the old woman: to sew a bag with. the hen: what do you want a bag for? the old woman: to put salt in. the hen: what do you want salt for? the old woman: to scour a saucepan. the hen: what do you want a saucepan for? the old woman: to boil one of your chickens in. the old woman then leaps up and tries to catch a chicken, and the hen tries to stop her. other garden games many of the games described in other parts of this book are good also for the garden; such as "still pond! no more moving!" (p. ), "puss in the corner" (p. ), "honey-pots" (p. ), "nuts in may" (p. ), "here i bake" (p. ), "lady queen anne" (p. ), "the mulberry bush" (p. ), and "looby, looby" (p. ). witches "witches" is a home-made game played thus, according to the description of e. h.--"one player is made witch. a good spot is chosen for home, and here the others wait until the witch has had time to hide. the idea is that the country round is preyed upon by the witch, home being the only place where she has no power. the rest of the children have to explore the witch's country without being caught by her. it must be a point of honor to leave no suspicious place unexamined. the child chosen for witch need not be a particularly fast runner, but she must be clever and a good dodger. any one that the witch succeeds in touching is at once turned to stone and may not stir except as she is moved about by the witch, who chooses a spot to stand her victim in as far removed from home as possible. the stone can be released only by some other child finding her and dragging her safely home, where the spell ceases to act. but until actually home the victim remains stone, so that if the rescuer is surprised by the witch and lets go her hold, the stone has to stand where she is left and is so recovered by the witch. the witch must not, of course, guard her prisoners too closely. she ought to try and intercept the rescuers on their way home, rather than spring upon them in the act of finding the stone. but each time the stone is recovered the witch may place her in a more inaccessible spot, so that it becomes more and more dangerous to release her. sometimes at the end of the game all the children are turned to stone in different parts of the garden, but sometimes, of course, a swift runner will outstrip the witch and drag the victim safely home. a clever witch acts the part too--appearing and disappearing suddenly, prowling about in a crouching attitude, making gestures of hate and rage, and so on." the ballad game another home-made game is described by e. h. thus:--"the game is taken from the player's favorite ballads. in our play the eldest of the four players, who was also the best organizer, represented the cruel father. the youngest little girl was the fair damsel. the other two represented the wicked lover and the faithful knight, the part of the faithful knight being taken by the fleetest of the party to balance the combination of the father and the wicked lover. the game begins by the fair damsel being imprisoned in the coach-house because she refuses to marry the wicked lover. (of course any shed would do.) here she waits until her knight comes to rescue her, and they escape together, pursued by the other two. if the lovers succeed in getting away the story has a happy ending; but the more dramatic ending is the tragic one, when the faithful knight is overtaken, and after killing the cruel father and the wicked lover, himself dies of his wounds, the fair damsel slaying herself with his sword over his dead body. "the interest of this game is greatly increased by having retainers. these are armies of sticks which are planted at particular corners. there must be some mark by which your own retainers can be distinguished from the enemy's. for instance, the faithful knight may have peeled sticks and the others unpeeled. if, when charging round the house, you come across a troop of the enemy's retainers, you cannot go on until you have thrown them all down, as they are set to guard the pass. so, if the lovers are escaping and they find their way blocked by the father's retainers (the father and the wicked lover may have separate sets of retainers, in which case the war is always bitterest between the two rivals, as the father's retainers are sometimes spared for the damsel's sake), they have to lose time by first overcoming the retainers and that gives time to their pursuers to come up. but if they are so far in advance that they can stop to set up their own retainers in the place of the enemy, it serves to give them further time to make good their escape, as the others have to wait to overthrow the knight's sticks in their turn. in no case are you allowed to take away your enemy's sticks. if the lovers are overtaken, the rivals have to fight, and meanwhile the father once more carries off and imprisons the damsel." counting-out rhymes to decide who is to begin a game there are various counting-out rhymes. all the players stand in a circle, surrounding the one who counts. at each pause in the rhyme (which occurs wherever a stroke has been placed in the versions which follow) this one touches the players in turn until the end is reached. the player to whom the last number comes is to begin. this is one rhyme:-- eena-a, | deen-a, | dine-a, | dust, | cat'll-a, | ween-a, | wine-a, | wust, | spin, | spon, | must | be | done, | twiddlum, | twaddlum, | twenty-one. | o- | u- | t | spells | out. | others:-- intery, | mintery, | cutery | corn, | apple | seed | and | apple | thorn; | wine, | brier, | limber | lock, | five | geese |in | a | flock; | sit and sing | by a spring | o- | u- | t | and | in | again. | one-ery, | two-ery, | ziccary | zan; | hollowbone, | crack-a-bone, | ninery, | ten; | spittery | spot, | must | be | done, | twiddledum, | twaddledum, twenty-one. ring | around | a ring-pot, | one spot | two spot | three spot | san | bob-tailed | winnie-wack | tittero | tan | ham | scram | fortune | man | singum | sangum | buck! | daisy chains the old way of making a daisy chain is to split one stalk and thread the next through it up to the head, as in this drawing. that is for out-of-doors. if you are using the chain for decorations indoors, it is perhaps better to cut off the stalks and thread the heads on cotton; but there seems to be no great need to use daisies in this way at all. [illustration: daisy chain] an ivy chain is made by passing the stalk of one leaf through the point of another and then bending it round and putting it through the point of its own leaf, the hole thus made being used for the stalk of the next, and so on, as in this drawing. [illustration: ivy chain] flower show a flower-show competition is an excellent garden game. a handkerchief on sticks forms the tent. underneath this is a bed of sand in which the flowers, singly or in groups, can be fixed. some one can easily be persuaded to come out of the house to act as judge. garden shop shop in the garden or out-of-doors is played with various things that resemble articles of food. thus you can get excellent coffee from sorrel, and capital little bundles of rhubarb can be made by taking a rhubarb leaf and cutting the ribs into stalks. small stones make very good imitation potatoes, and the heads of marguerite daisies on a plate will easily pass for poached eggs. flower symbols in this place a word might be said about some of the curious things to be found in flowers and plants. if you cut the stalk of a brake fern low down, in september, you find a spreading oak tree. the pansy contains a picture of a man in a pulpit. a poppy is easily transformed into an old woman in a red gown. the snap-dragon, when its sides are pinched, can be made to yawn. the mallow contains a minute cheese. by blowing the fluff on a dandelion that has run to seed you can tell (more or less correctly) the time of day. an ear of barley will run up your sleeve if the pointed end is laid just within it; and an apple's seeds make exquisite little mice. summer houses if the garden has no summer-house or tent a very good one can be made with a clothes-horse and a rug. outdoor games for boys this book is written for children who need help in amusing themselves. it is natural that there should be some difficulty about thinking of games for indoors, or when there is a problem of a large company to amuse; but it is hard to imagine any healthy boy, turned loose out of doors, who cannot take care of his own entertainment. the number of things to do is without limit and the boy so uninventive as to be at a loss with all outdoors before him must be in a sad way. hence there has been no effort made in this chapter to make an exhaustive list of outdoor games, only those being given which are suggestive, that is, which can be infinitely varied according to your ingenuity; which are, so to speak, the first of a series. also, the rules of regular games are not given here (such as baseball, football, hockey, etc.). there are plenty of small manuals, given away with the outfits for these games, which print in much more detail than would be possible here, their principles. more than that, most boys absorb a general knowledge of these games through their pores, and need a book only to settle some small, knotty, disputed point of ruling. one of the best things to have when out of doors is a ball. there is no end to the uses one can make of it. ball games the simplest thing to do with a ball is to catch it; and the quicker one is in learning to catch well the better baseball player one will become. ordinary catching in a ring is good, but the practice is better if you try to throw the ball each time so that the player to whom you throw it shall not need to move his feet in order to catch it. this teaches straight throwing too. long and high throwing and catching, and hard throwing and catching (standing as close together as you dare), are important. there is also dodge-catching, where you pretend to throw to one player and really throw to another and thus take him unawares. all these games can be varied and made more difficult by using only one hand, right or left, for catching. ball games alone a boy with a ball need never be very lonely. when tired of catching it in the ordinary way he can practice throwing the ball straight into the air until, without his moving from his place, it falls absolutely on him each time. he can throw it up and catch it behind him, and if he has two others (or stones will do) he can strive for the juggler's accomplishment of keeping three things in the air at once. every boy should practice throwing with his left hand (or, if he is already left-handed, with his right): a very useful accomplishment. if it is a solid india-rubber ball and there is a blank wall, he can make it rebound at different angles, one good way being, in throwing it, to let it first hit the ground close to the wall's foot. he may also pledge himself to catch it first with the right hand and then with the left for a hundred times; or to bat it up a hundred times with a tennis racket or a flat bit of board. an interesting game for one is to mark out a golf course round the garden, making a little hole at intervals of half a dozen yards or so, and see how many strokes are needed in going round and getting into each hole on the way. races all kinds of races are easy to arrange and these can be repeated from day to day as your proficiency increases. here are a few. the spanish race, sometimes called the wheelbarrow race, is played by forming the boys into two lines, one standing back of the other, and the front row on their hands and knees. at a signal to begin, each boy on the back row takes hold of the ankles of the boy is front of him and lifts his knees off the ground. the boy in front walking on his hands, and the boy behind trundling him along, make the greatest haste possible. the pair who first reach the goal are the winners. races may be run, hopping on the right foot, or on the left, or with both together, or with first a hop and then a jump. it is well to appoint one of the boys umpire during these odd races, to see that they are run fairly and none of the rules agreed upon are broken. a sack race is fun. each boy is tied into a gunny sack and shuffles his way to the goal. a substitute for this is the three-legged race, run by two boys. they stand side by side, and the right leg of one is tied to the left leg of the other and so with three legs between them they must somehow get to the goal. hands and knees races, backward races (run with your back to the goal), races with burdens on your back, or balancing a pole across your hand or on the tip of your finger--there is no limit to the ones you can invent. but the best ones, after all, are the plain old trials of speed. there is no more fun than a good running race, and a walking race is next to it. bicycle races are apt to be dangerous and a course that is very wide should always be selected. quoits quoits is a game not played as much as it should be by american boys. it is easy to arrange, for although there is an outfit sold in the toy shops, a home-made one is just as good. it consists of a collection of horseshoes and a stake driven in the ground--certainly not a difficult apparatus to assemble. the stake should not project more than an inch above the ground and the players, according to the grown-up rules, should stand about fifteen yards away from the stake (which is usually called "the hub"). but for boys the distance from the hub can be determined by your skill. you may increase it as you improve with practice. every player has a certain number of quoits (horseshoes) and standing at a fixed distance from the hub he tries to pitch them so that they will go as near as possible to the hub. some very good players can cast a quoit so that it falls about the hub. this is called a "ringer" and counts ten, but it is a rare shot. every one pitches his quoits and then all go to the hub and reckon up the score. the one whose quoits lie nearest to the hub counts one point for each quoit, but each quoit entitled to count must be nearer the hub than any of the opponents' quoits. this continues until the score is complete. people usually play for eleven. this game can be played with flat stones instead of horseshoes and with any rules that you choose to make. duck on a rock duck on a rock is a variation of quoits which is excellent fun. one of the players, chosen by counting out, puts a stone (called in this game the "duck") about as big as his fist, on the top of a smooth rock and stands near it. all the other players have similar "ducks" and try to dislodge the one on the rock by throwing their stones, or ducks at it. as soon as each has thrown his duck he tries to watch his chance to run up to it and carry it back before the player standing by the rock can touch him. when some one knocks off the duck from the rock the "it" (the player by the rock) must put it back before he can tag any of the players. this is therefore, of course, the great time for a rush of all the players to recover their ducks and get back to their own territory before the "it" can tag them. if any player is touched by the "it" while attempting to rescue his duck he must become "it" and put his duck on the rock. bowling bowling is the best of sports but this usually needs too much apparatus for the average boy to have. nine pins, however, can be arranged in a rough sort of a way, by setting up sticks and bowling at them with round apples. your own ingenuity will devise ways to use the materials you find about you. hop-scotch hop-scotch is a great favorite which scarcely needs a description, although there are various ways of marking the boards. the game is played by any number of persons, each of whom kicks a small stone from one part to another of the diagram by hopping about on one foot. the diagram is drawn on a smooth piece of ground with a pointed stick or on a pavement with a bit of chalk. the most usual figure is given here. to begin, a player puts a pebble or bit of wood into the place marked , and then, hopping into it with his right foot, he kicks the counter outside the diagram. then hopping out himself, he kicks it (with the foot on which he is hopping) into the part marked . he hops through to , kicks the counter out again, and follows it out. this continues until he has kicked the counter in and out of every space in the diagram, without stepping on a line, or so casting the counter that it rests on a line. if this occurs he is put back a space, and it is the turn of the next player. each one plays until he has made a fault, and when it is his turn again, he takes up the game where he left off. the one who first gets through the required figures is the winner. [illustration] there is literally no end to the variations of this game, either in the diagram used or in the rules. sometimes when people become very skilful they play it backward, and sometimes at the end the player is required to place the pebble on his toe and kick it in the air, catching it in his hand. strength tests various trials of strength are good for boys out of doors, provided rules are fixed and adhered to. cane-spreeing is good sport, but should only be tried by boys pretty well matched in size and strength. a cane (or broom-stick) about three feet long is held by two boys facing each other, each with a hand on each end of the cane, the respective right hands being outside the lefts, that is, nearest to the end. then one tries to get the cane away from the other. it sounds simple, but there are a great variety of strategic tricks to be learned by practice. no struggle should last more than two minutes by the watch, when the boys should stop and get breath. the feet are not used, but it is quite allowable to use your body, if you get down on the ground in a sort of wrestling. hare and hounds hare and hounds can be played either in the country or the city and is fine fun, although it should be begun with a short run. in the excitement of the chase boys are apt to forget, and over-strain themselves. the "hares" are two players who have a bag of small paper pieces which they scatter after them from time to time as they run. they are given a start of five or ten minutes and then all the others, who are the "hounds," start after them, tracing their course by the bits of paper. in the city the hares take a piece of chalk and mark an arrow on the wall thus ----> showing in which direction they have gone. good stout shoes should be worn to run in, or you will blister your feet. dog-stick a game for city pavements or for smooth country roads has so many names that it is difficult to say which is its right one, but a common one is "dog-stick." it is played something like hockey, the aim being to get a ball or counter over your opponent's goal line. the ball in this case is not a ball but a piece of wood which you can make yourself, of an odd shape. it is like a flattened ball with a tail to it. with a club or stick you strike the tail so that the ball springs up in the air and then before it falls you strike it with your club toward your enemy's goal line. the players are divided into sides who try to defend their goal lines and to send back the ball to the other side. make your own rules as experience teaches you is fair. other games the endless variations of leap-frog should not be forgotten in devising outdoor games: and tournaments of long or broad jumping and high jumping are good. stilts and the games to be arranged with them are also another great resource. and the seasons bring, as regularly as flowers and snow, the round of tops, and kites and marbles. of these last a very summary account is given here as most boys and regions have their own rules. marbles the first thing to learn in "marbles" is the way that the marble should be held. of course one can have very good games by bowling the marble, as if it were a ball, or holding it between the thumb-nail and the second joint of the first finger and shooting it with the thumb from there; but these ways are wrong. the correct way is to hold it between the tip of the forefinger and the first joint of the thumb. marbles are divided into "taws," or well-made strong marbles with which you shoot, and "clays," or the ordinary cheap colored marbles at which you aim and with which you pay your losses. ring taw two or three boys with marbles could never have difficulty in hitting on a game to play with them, but the best regular game for several players is "ring taw." a chalk ring is made on as level a piece of ground as there is, and each player puts a clay on it at regular distances from each other. a line from which to shoot during the first round is then drawn two yards or so from the ring, and the game begins by the player who has won the right of leading off (a real advantage) knuckling down on the line and shooting at one of the marbles in the ring. if a player knocks a marble out of the ring, that marble is his and he has the right to shoot again from the place where his taw comes to a stand; but if in knocking a marble out of the ring his taw remains in it (or if his taw remains in it under any condition whatever), he has to put all the marbles he has won into the ring, in addition to one for a fine, and take up his taw and play no more till the next game. there is one exception to this rule: if only one marble is left in the ring, and if, in knocking it out, a player's taw remains in the ring, he does not suffer, because the game is then over. the other two rules are these: if a player succeeds in hitting the taw of another the owner of that taw not only must leave the game but hand over any marbles he has won. (in no case are taws parted with.) also, if it happens that only two players are left, and one of these has his taw hit, that ends the game, for the player who hit it not only has the marble of the taw's owner but all the marbles left in the ring too. "ring taw" can be played by as few as two players; but in this case they must each put several marbles in the ring. to decide which player is to begin, it is customary for them all to aim at the ring from the knuckling-down line, and whichever one places his taw nearest to the middle of the ring has the right to lead. other games other garden games for boys will be found in the picnic section. we might mention also "steps" (p. ), "tug of war" (p. ), and "potato races" (p. ). picnic games a picnic may be either a complicated affair which has occupied you all the day before, or the most impromptu expedition which you arrange on the spur of the minute; and the last kind are often more fun. any place out of doors will answer for a picnic, but if possible it should be near water. anything will answer for a picnic lunch, but it is pleasant, if older people are with you, if you are allowed to have fires to do some outdoor cooking. this is always easier than it sounds and adds infinitely to the fun of the lunch. bacon is one of the easiest things to cook outdoors, all that is needed being a forked stick which you can cut for yourselves. the strip of bacon is impaled on the forks and toasted over the fire, each person cooking his own slice and eating it on bread. or with two larger forked sticks a steak can be deliciously broiled for the whole company, or chops can be cooked. it is the easiest and most delightful task to arrange a sort of cooking-hole of stones over which the coffee pot may be set and potatoes may be boiled over another similar hole. you will find that it is far better to have a number of very tiny little fires entirely separated from each other, than one big bonfire which is almost sure to grow unmanageable. it will be seen that it is far easier to take a big piece of bacon (to be sliced after reaching the picnic grounds) a loaf or two of bread and raw potatoes than to spend hours in making sandwiches and packing cake. beside the things cooked out of doors always taste so much better. great care should be taken to put out every spark of fire before going home, and to leave no scraps of paper, or egg-shells lying about. these should be burned or buried. it, touch last, or tag for a short time "it" is a good warming game. it is the simplest of all games. the "it" runs after the others until he touches one. the one touched then becomes "it." touchwood the name explains the game, which is played as "it" is played, except that you can be caught only when you are not touching wood. it is a good game where there are trees. it is, of course, not fair to carry a piece of wood. cross tag this is the ordinary "tag," save that if, while the "it" is chasing one player, another runs across the trail between him and the pursued, the "it" has to abandon the player he was at first after and give chase to the one who has crossed. a good variety of tag is "french tag." the first one caught must join hands with the "it," the next one with him, etc., and so on in a long line all running together. any one can catch an opponent, but the original "it" must touch him before he can take his place in the line. the little dog the players form a ring, leaving one outside, who passes round it singing, "i have a little dog and he won't bite you," and as he does so, touching each player in turn with a knotted pocket-handkerchief. "and he won't bite you," "and he won't bite you," he calls to one after the other, and then suddenly changes this to "but he will bite _you_." the player touched when this is said has to run after the toucher with all his might. when caught they change places. hunt the squirrel all the players except one join a ring. this one, with a knotted handkerchief in his hand, walks round the outside of the ring for a while, and then, dropping the handkerchief behind one of the players, runs off crying-- hunt the squirrel through the wood. now i've lost him--now i've found him! hunt the squirrel through the wood. the player behind whom the handkerchief was dropped must catch the squirrel before he can take up the empty place in the ring left by the pursuer. it is more fun if, in dropping the handkerchief, it can be done without the player discovering it for a little while. the way in which old-fashioned country children play this game (called usually "drop the handkerchief"), is a little different. as the one with the handkerchief walks around and around the outside of the ring all join in singing, "a tisket! a tasket! a green and yellow basket! i sent a letter to my love and now i find i've lost it. i've lost it! i've lost it! and where do you think i found it? up in the sky, ever so high with angels gathered 'round it." as the words "i've lost it!" are repeated, the player outside must drop the handkerchief, but no one must look behind him until the verse is ended. then the one who finds the handkerchief behind him must try to catch the first one, who in turn tries to slip into the empty place. gaps the players form a ring: all except one, who is "it." this one runs round the ring and touches one of the players in the circle. they both set off running immediately in opposite directions, the object of each being to get first to the gap made in the circle by the player who was touched. the one who gets to the gap first remains in the circle, while the other becomes "it." twos and threes, or terza a very good picnic game. all the players except two form a large ring, standing in twos, one behind another. of the two who are over, one is the pursuer and the other the pursued; and the game is begun by the pursued taking up his position (if he can do so before the pursuer catches him) in front of one of the couples in the ring, thus making three. directly he does this he is safe, and the last player in the little group at the back of him has to run. whoever is caught becomes the pursuer, while the one that caught him becomes the pursued until, by standing in front of one of the couples, he transfers that office to another. hide and seek "hide and seek," which is perhaps the best out-of-door game without implements, needs no explanation. it is usual to give the player who hides a start of as much time as it takes the others to count a hundred in. some boys, instead of counting from one to a hundred, divide the sum into ten tens, which are counted thus: , , , , , , , , , ; , , , , , , , , , ; and so on. these can be rattled through so quickly that your is done and you have started out before, in the ordinary way, seventy would have been reached. a customary arrangement to avoid taking the hiders too much by surprise is for the boy who stays at the base and counts a hundred to call out when he finishes "bushel of wheat! bushel of rye! all that aren't ready call out 'i'!" or simply "one! two! three! look out for me!" i spy "i spy" combines "hide and seek" and "tag." one player stays in the base, covers his eyes and counts a hundred, while the others run off and hide. on finishing the hundred the player shouts "coming!" and runs out to look for the others. directly he catches sight of one of them (and they are not hidden so carefully as in "hide and seek"), he calls out his name and the place where he has seen him; as, for instance, "harry! behind the summer-house!" if there is no mistake and the name is right (it is very often wrong, in which case the player does not move), harry has to run out and try and catch the other before he reaches the base. another way is for as many players to seek as to hide. in this case it is agreed beforehand as to how many of the seekers must be caught by the hiders for the game to be won. if the number is given at four and four are caught, the same side have the privilege of hiding again; but if only three or a smaller number, then the seekers have won and it is they who hide next time. chevy, or prisoner's base there is no better running game than this. you first pick sides and then mark off the two camps and take up your station there. the field is arranged thus:-- place for | | place for a's | | b's prisoners. | | prisoners. ------------+ +------------ ---------------------------+-------------------------- | a's camp. | b's camp. | | the game is opened by several of the a side running out to some point immediately in front of the two camps. when ready they call "chevy." as many of the b side then start out to pursue them, each calling his particular quarry by name. the object of each a man is either to get back before the b man who is after him can catch him, or to tempt the b man into ground so near the a camp that he may be caught. in this aim he is helped by the fact that directly his b pursuer called his name and started out another a man probably called out the name of the b man and started to cut him off. no one is allowed to be pursued by two players at once. if caught, the a man has to go to the place reserved for b's prisoners. directly he gets there he calls "rescue"; an a man will then call "prisoner," and rush out to relieve him; while a b runner is all ready to intercept this a rescuer if he can. the game is good both for runners who can keep it up a long time and for those who can make short, sharp dashes. the first named decoy the enemy out in pursuit, and the others hold themselves ready to dash across in front of the enemy's camp and cut off any one who is across the line. the rule as to shouting the name of the man you have marked down should be kept. if there is more than one prisoner they stand just touching hands, in a line which reaches as far as possible toward their own camp, so that the distance between the first prisoner and the rescuer may be shortened. each new prisoner takes up his place at the back of this line, farthest from the camp. a prisoner is rescued by being touched. if one side is much weaker than the other a time comes when it is nearly all taken prisoner, with none to rescue except by leaving the camp undefended. directly a camp is left undefended one of the enemy steps in and "crowns" it and claims the game. more often than not, however, a game of "chevy" is left undecided. it does not matter in the least, for in this game the fun is more in playing than in winning. french and english for this game the ground must be divided by a path or line into two territories--french and english. at the further side of each territory a number of flags--handkerchiefs will do--must be placed at intervals. the players are then divided into the two nations, and the game consists in each side trying to get the flags from the other side, to guard its own, and to catch the enemy when he is off his own ground. once a player sets foot upon the enemy's territory he must go on, but he cannot be caught if he has a flag in his hands. if he is caught he becomes a prisoner (as in chevy), and is only released by being touched by one of his own party. a player cannot redeem a prisoner and take a flag at the same time. the game ends when all the flags of one side have been taken. black man this is rather rough. a line is drawn at each end of the playing place and one player is told off to stand between these lines. the object of the others is to run across, from base to base, without being caught by him: being caught meaning not merely being touched, as in "it," but being really held and stopped. each one that is caught has to stay in the middle to help catch the others, until no one is left to run across at all. the player in the middle calls out to the crowd of players, "what'll you do when the black man comes?" and they answer, "run right through and never mind you." this is the signal to begin each rush across from one line to the other. stagarino "stagarino" is similar to "black man," except that all the players who are caught, and whose business it is to catch the others, join hands. those that run across have therefore to avoid them or to try and break through the wall of arms. red rover "red rover" is also similar to "black man," except that instead of all running at the same time, the "rover" calls out:-- "red rover! red rover! let (mentioning name) come over!" at which the one named has to run from one base to the other. if he is caught, he must assist the "rover" in catching the others. hop, step, and jump this is a change from ordinary racing. the competitors, instead of running against each other, see which can cover the most distance in a hop, a step, and a jump, or, say, three hops, three steps, and three jumps. it needs an umpire to watch very carefully that the step begins exactly where the hop left off and the jump where the step finished. follow-my-leader this needs no explaining. it is nearly always good fun for a while, and particularly so if the leader has original ideas. out for a walk on country walks, where there is much to see, one should not be in need of ways to make the time seem shorter. and new walks in the town, or walks where there are interesting shop-windows, are not dull. but the same walks again and again can be very tiring; and it is to help these that the methods which follow have been collected. a good walking pastime for two is for one to drive the other. hoops are a great help (see p. ) and so are dolls' perambulators. but on many walks nothing of this kind is allowed, and one has to fall back on conversation. telling stories in turns, or making up stories about passers-by, is useful, but it is not every one that is able to do this. roadside whist in the channel islands visitors riding about in large wagonettes pass the time by playing a game called "roadside whist." the people on the left seat of the carriage take the right side of the road, and those on the right seat take the left. the conductor teaches them the rules at the beginning of the drive. in our case it is better perhaps to make them for ourselves, to suit our own particular country. let us suppose that-- if you see a baby in arms you score a baby in a perambulator " a white horse " a ladder against a house " a woman in a white apron " a butcher's cart " a street gate " a postman " then there should be a few things for which marks have to be taken off. let us suppose that-- if you see a pug dog you lose a piebald horse " an open gate " a flock of sheep " a soldier " no matter what the score is, whichever side sees a cat on a window-ledge wins the game. counting dogs in a town there are other varieties of roadside whist for two players or sides. counting dogs is one. in this game one takes all the streets leading from the left, the other all from the right. guessing horses' tails a good game (writes e. r.) while out for a walk is "when you see a horse coming, guess what color his tail is before he can reach you, and then, whoever guesses right, the horse belongs to him." shop-windows except in very dull streets shop-windows can be always entertaining. it is interesting to suppose you have so much money--say five dollars--to spend, or, if you like, an unlimited sum, and choose what you would buy as you pass each shop, e. h. writes:--"one little girl used to suppose that she was the eldest of a large family whom she had to provide for, and was always on the lookout for things in the shops that would do for her younger brothers and sisters. for instance, if she decided that the family must have new winter clothes, she would first make up her mind how much she could afford and then price the things in the shop-windows. sometimes she would set her heart on a particular cloak for the baby, but could not pretend to buy it till she had seen whether it would leave her enough money for the other children. if she could get all the children dressed fairly nicely for the sum at her disposal she had all the satisfaction of a successful day's shopping. sometimes the clothes she wanted were too dear, and then she had to decide what was most necessary, what she could make at home, and so on." making sentences it is rather exciting for each player to take a side of the road where there are shops and see which can first complete a given sentence or word from the initial letters of the shopkeepers' names, christian or surname. in fixing upon a sentence it is well to be careful not to have unusual letters, such as q, or u, or j in it. if this is too difficult all the letters in the shopkeepers' names may be taken, or those in every other name. collecting jones's in mrs. meynell's book, _the children_, one little girl on her walks collected jones's--that is, shops with the name of jones over them. if any one else cared for this amusement there would be no need to stick to jones. the love alphabet in this game you go through the alphabet, applying adjectives to your love. "i love my love with an a because he [or she] is so admirable"; "i love my love with a b because she is so beautiful," and so on, keeping to each letter as long as possible. on pages and will be found more difficult varieties, less suitable, perhaps, to be played when walking. the cat alphabet another alphabet game requires adjectives to be put before the word cat. you begin with a. "an artful cat," one player may say; and the next, "an avaricious cat." perhaps "an awful cat," "an adhesive cat," "an arrogant cat," and "an attractive cat," will follow. a is kept up until no one can think of any more; or--if you play in that way--until no one can think of any more while ten is being counted. then b: "a bushy cat," "a bruised cat," "a bellicose cat," "a bumptious cat," and so on. spelling in this game the players each contribute a letter toward the spelling of a word, their object being never to be the one to complete it, but to force the next player to do so. thus (with four players) the first player may say "p," and the next, thinking of "prim," may say "r," and the next, also thinking of "prim," may say "i." but the fourth player, running his thoughts quickly over possible words beginning with "pri," may light upon "prism" and say "s." this saves her, but puts the first player in danger, which is only averted by her thinking of "prison" and saying "o," in which case the next one is bound to be the loser. the grand mogul a favorite old game which can be played as well on a walk as indoors is "the grand mogul." "the grand mogul does not like e's," says one player; "what will you give him for dinner?" each player answers in turn, but none of the dishes named must contain the letter e, or the player either stands out, or (indoors) pays a forfeit. thus, the answers to the question may be "apricots," "mutton," or "soup," but not "apples," "beef," or "porridge." on a walk the letter e might be persevered with until every one failed, and then the other vowels might be tried. buz this is a counting game in which, whenever the number comes, or a multiple of , such as , , , , or a number with in it, such as , , , the player whose turn it is must say "buz." otherwise, out-of-doors, he loses a round or two, or, indoors, he must pay a forfeit. when comes you say "buz" in the ordinary way, but for , , , , , , , and you say "buz ," "buz ," and so on. for you say "buz buz." rhyming lights in this game one player thinks of a word and gives the others a rhyme to it. thus, she may think of "coal," and she would then say, "i've thought of a word that rhymes to pole." the others have to guess what the word is, yet not bluntly, as, "is it mole?" but like this: "is it a little animal that burrows?" "no," says the first player (who thus has a little guessing to do herself), "no, it is not mole." "is it a small loaf of bread?" "no, it is not roll." "is it something you eat bread and milk from?" "no, it is not bowl." "is it something you burn?" "yes, it is coal." the player who thought of "coal" then finds a word for the others to guess. the apprentice the "apprentice" is an old game for two or any number. one says, "i apprenticed my son to a [mentioning a tradesman or craftsman], and the first thing be sold [or made] was a [mentioning, by its initial only, something peculiar to the trade or craft]." the player who first guesses what the initial stands for then makes a similar remark. thus, one player may say, "i apprenticed my son to a blacksmith, and the first thing he made was a d. k." (door knocker). another, "i apprenticed my son to a grocer, and the first thing he sold was s. s." (soft soap). another, "i apprenticed my son to a gardener, and the first thing he grew was a c. b." (canterbury bell). another, "i apprenticed my son to a firework manufacturer, and the first thing he made was a g. r." (golden rain). towns and products this is a somewhat similar game bearing on geography. suppose there are three players. one chooses a well-known place, say boston, and begins, "i know a place where they sell boots," or whatever it may be beginning with b. the next player then knows what letter the place begins with and at once starts thinking of what place it is likely to be. perhaps she settles on birmingham, in which case she would say, to indicate that the second letter of the word was "i," "i know a place where they sell isinglass" (or icicles, or inglenooks). "no," says the first player, and the third therefore has to try. perhaps she decides that the place is brighton, in which case she will say, "i know a place where they sell rockets" (or rump-steak or raisins). "no," says the first player again, and then it being her turn she gives them another light on the right word by saying, "i know a place where they sell oranges" (or oil, or ocarinas), and so on, until the place is spelled through. other games other games suitable to be played when walking are "p's and q's" (p. ), "suggestions" (p. ), "clumps" (p. ), "how, when, and where" (p. ), "coffee-pot" (p. ), "throwing light" (p. ), and "animal, vegetable, and mineral" (p. ). hoops iron hoops are the best, but it is a matter of taste whether a stick or a hook is used for them. if the stick is a stout one you get rid of the skidding noise made by the hook, and there is more satisfaction in beating a thing along than in, as it were, pushing it. it should be every one's aim to make the hoop do as much as possible with as little treatment as possible. after a very fast run it is equally interesting to see how slowly a hoop can be made to travel. to make it keep as straight a course as may be is very absorbing. bought hoops can be strong, but to get exactly what one wants it is necessary to go to a blacksmith. a hoop standing as high as its owner, through which he can run to and fro as it rolls, is a possession which only a blacksmith or working-ironmonger can supply. two in hoop games hoop games are few in number, and, with the exception of "posting," not very exciting. with a large hoop and a small hoop two players can learn to time the pace of a hoop very exactly and then bowl the little one through the big one as it rolls. there is also a game called "turnpikes," in which several players and one hoop take part. the turnpikes, of which there are as many as the players, less the one who begins with the hoop, are two stones an inch or so apart, through which the hoop has to be bowled without touching, the faster the better. if it touches, or misses, the player who has been bowling it gives the hoop to the turnpike holder, who then tries his fortune with it, keeping it until he fails at any of the stones. hoop posting a very good hoop game for several players is "posting." the idea is that a distance is to be covered (as in the old posting days) as quickly as possible by relays of riders, and the first thing to do is to station four posts at various points along the route. then, when they are ready, each with hoop-stick or hook, the player with the hoop starts and bowls it as fast as he can to the first post. immediately it reaches him that post takes it on, without stopping the hoop for an instant, to the next, while the first one takes the place left by him; and so on, as often round the ring as you like. when there is a time-keeper and you post against time it is even better fun. the advantage of standing in a large circle is that the hoop need never be checked; but if the circle is impossible, you can go up and down a long line, with checks only at each end. in the train or during a wait at a railway station a long journey in a train--say from new york to chicago--can, even if you have a window seat, be very tiring; but without a window it is sometimes almost unendurable. the hints which follow are mostly adapted for two players, but one or two will be found useful if you are alone with no one to play with. the value of a map a map of the country which the train passes through is an interesting thing to have on a long journey. it tells you the names of the hills and villages you see from the windows and you can very likely fix the exact moment that you cross from one county or state into another. railway competitions two persons can have good competitions. they can agree beforehand that the game is to go to whichever of them sees the more horses, or cows, or sheep, or men driving, or bicyclists, or rabbits, between two given points, say one station and the next. it is not necessary to be at different windows; in fact a new kind of excitement comes in if both are at the same window or at windows on the same side, because then in addition to seeing the things there is the fun of not letting the other think you have seen them. railway whist this is a kind of "roadside whist," the rules for which will be found on page . as has been said there, most players will prefer to draw up their own scoring table; but the following things and figures may be found useful as a foundation:-- if you see-- a church it counts a field with sheep " a field with cows " a field with horses " a field with rabbits " a man " a woman " a stile " an open gate " a shut gate " an ordinary dog " a sheep dog " a horse and cart " a hay-wagon " a pond " if you see-- a waving handkerchief you lose a hay-stack " a red barn " a grocer's wagon " children on a gate " whichever side first sees a black sheep wins, no matter what the score is. otherwise the scorer of the greatest number of marks is the winner. in "railway whist" it is necessary for the players to be on different sides of the train. station observation a variety of "observation" (see page ) can be played on journeys. while the train is stopping at a station every one looks out of the window and notices as many things as possible. when the train starts again each writes as many of these things as he can remember, and the one with the best list wins. games with a watch if you have a watch it is rather interesting to guess the exact time at which the train will reach the next station. the one who guesses nearest becomes the holder of the watch until the next guess is decided. other things can be done with a watch, particularly if it has a second hand. guessing the length of a minute is rather interesting, or timing the speed of the train by noting how long it takes to go between the telegraph-poles at the side of the line. hot-hand this is a primitive game, capital for cold weather, for it is well named. it is played by two people, one of whom spreads out his hands flat, palms up. the other puts his, palms down, within about three inches of the other's, and tries to strike them a smart blow. if the first player can withdraw his hands quickly enough so that they are not touched it is his turn to try and strike. as long as the player whose hands are palms down can strike the other's hands he can go on. this is an excellent game for cultivating quickness. the player whose hands are to be struck will find that he can succeed better in escaping the other's blows, if he watches his eyes rather than his hands. this can be arranged among many players as a sort of tournament, trying out the players by couples until finally the two best contestants are left to struggle for the championship. this is a good game to play while getting your breath after skating--or at any time out of doors when you are obliged to be quiet, and there is danger of getting chilled. pencils and paper it is well to take a pencil and paper when you go on a long journey. if the train rocks a good deal it is interesting to see which can write a sentence most clearly. there is a way of balancing oneself on the edge of the seat and holding the paper on one's knees which makes for steadiness. it is never too shaky for "noughts and crosses." noughts and crosses or tit-tat-toe "noughts and crosses" is playable anywhere; all that is needed is a piece of paper--a newspaper will do--and a pencil. the framework is first made. thus:-- | | | | | | -----+-----+----- | | | | | | -----+-----+----- | | | | | | one player chooses crosses and the other noughts, and the one who is to begin puts his mark--say, a cross--in one of the nine squares. the other puts a nought in another of the squares, and so it goes on until either three noughts or three crosses are in a straight line in any direction. thus, this is the end of a game in which noughts played first and crosses won: | | x | | | | -----+-----+----- | | x | o | o | | -----+-----+----- | | x | | o | | but it often happens that the game is drawn, as in this example, in which noughts played first:-- | | x | o | | | -----+-----+----- | | o | o | x | | -----+-----+----- | | x | x | o | | a blank book for "noughts and crosses," with the framework all ready, can now be obtained. it has places for the names of the players, and the date. paper french and english "french and english," another game for two, belongs to the family of "noughts and crosses," and can be played anywhere and on any scrap of paper. you first decide which will be english and which french. each player then takes one-half of the paper and covers it with, say, sixty dots. it does not matter how many, but there must be the same number on each side. then in a corner each draws a cannon, or draws something that can be called a cannon for the purposes of the game. you then decide how many turns you will have. the game is played by placing the pencil on the cannon, shutting your eyes, and dashing the pencil across your enemy's side of the paper, straight or crooked, in any direction you like. then you open your eyes, count how many dots the pencil line has passed through, and score them down. the player who, at the end of the number of turns settled upon, has gone through the greatest number of dots is the winner. "letters" and words a box of letters is an unfailing help to pass the time. a word will sometimes keep a player puzzling for hours, which is, of course, too long. "pomegranate," "orchestra," and "scythe" are good examples of difficult words. you can also take words and sentences seen on the journey, such as "wait till the train stops," and "pears' soap," and see how many words they will make. a more difficult task is to make anagrams of advertisements. "lipton's teas," for instance, makes "taste on, lips." "letters" with a pencil the word-making game has been adapted into a writing competition. each of the company is handed a card which has been prepared for the purpose beforehand by having names of a dozen animals, or towns, or flowers, or birds, or whatever it may be, written on it in what might be called twisted spelling. for instance, "butterfly" might be spelled thus, "trelbyfut," and "manchester" thus, "tramschene." a certain amount of time is given, and the winner is the player who has found out most words therein. a version of this game is to dot out all the letters of the word except the first and the last. you would put "elephant" on the paper thus, e......t, and tell your companion it was the name of an animal. or you might write "peppermint" thus, p........t, and tell him it was the name of a sweet. hanging this is a more difficult game, very suitable for a tiring journey. the two players sit side by side, and one of them dots out on a piece of paper the words of a proverb or well-known line of poetry. thus, "i met a little cottage girl" would be set down in this way:-- . ... . ...... ....... .... underneath this line a small gallows is erected. thus:-- +---------+ | / | |/ | | | | | | | | | the game is for the other player to discover the line. in order to do this he is permitted to ask his opponent for letters. perhaps he will begin by asking, "may i have an 'a,'" because there are few sentences that do not contain an "a." his opponent will then put the first "a" in. thus:-- . ... a ...... ....... .... then perhaps another "a" will be asked for, and the line will come out thus:-- . ... a ...... ....a.. .... then perhaps an "e":-- . .e. a ...... ....a.. .... so far all has gone favorably with the guesser, and the gallows is still untouched. but perhaps he will now venture to ask for a consonant (which is much more risky than a vowel), and will say, "may i have an 's'?" as there is no "s" in the line the reply will be against it, and the opponent will at once append to the rope of the gallows a small head. thus:-- +---------+ | / | |/ | | | | o | | | | | this means that the guesser has lost one out of a possible six points, the others being his body, his two arms and two legs. for each letter he asks for in vain he loses one of these, and when all have gone he has lost the game too. sometimes, however, the quotation can be detected very quickly. other games many games usually kept for the house can be played in the train. "old maid" (see p. ) is a good train game; so is "buz" (see p. ). a "fox and geese" board, or a draughtboard, will help to pass the time. food food is a great help toward shortening a long journey. a little picnic every hour, if it is permitted, is something not too distant to look forward to, and it may take up ten minutes each time. a larger meal all at once may, of course, be more convenient, but, if not, the hourly picnic is worth trying. chinese gambling this is the simplest game possible but will while away endless hours. it is played with nothing but your hands, which are made to assume three positions: one with clenched fist; one spread out flat; and one with first and second finger spread apart like the blades of scissors. the first is called "the stone," the second "the paper" and the third "the scissors." very rapidly both players strike their right hand (clenched) into the left palm three times, and then both at the same instant bring up the right hand in one of the three positions. the winner is determined by this formula: "scissors cut paper. stone breaks scissors. paper wraps stone." that is if you have made your hand "the stone" and your companion "the paper," he wins. but if you had chosen "the scissors" you would have won. the winner must call out the formula that fits the case, "scissors cut paper" for instance, and count is kept of the number of losses and gains. the one who comes out ahead after a half-hour's contest is the winner of that bout. [illustration: chinese gambling] playing alone, and games in bed bricks among the best toys with which to play alone are bricks, soldiers, balls, battledore and shuttlecock, and dolls. no one needs any hints as how to play with them; but it might be remarked that ordinary bought bricks being rarely what they should be, it is better, if possible, to get a carpenter to make some of a more useful size, say four inches long, one and a half inches wide, and an inch thick. with a hundred of these you can do almost anything in the way of building, and if made of tough wood they ought to last forever. soldiers a good game of soldiers is to see how many shots are required from a cannon to kill the whole regiment. the cannon can either be a spring cannon or a pop-gun, or a pea-shooter. just at first it is almost impossible not to clear off two or three men with each shot, but later it becomes more difficult and exciting. ninepins with a box of ninepins very much the same game can be played. in wet weather, in the hall, a box of large ninepins is invaluable. spanish cup and ball a good quiet game to play alone is "spanish cup and ball." a long stick has fastened to it a loop of wire standing out at right angles, thus. to this is attached by a long string a worsted, or a very light rubber ball. the game is to see how many times you can throw the ball up to the ceiling and catch it in the loop of wire as it falls. [illustration: spanish cup] balancing all kinds of balancing games are excellent when you are alone and tired of toys. there is no way to acquire proficiency in these but by practice, but practice is fascinating work. try balancing at first a long pole (an old broom-stick handle will do) on the palm of your hand, then on your finger, then on your chin and forehead. the longer the pole, the easier to balance it. remember one golden rule. _keep your eyes on the top of the pole._ then try balancing a whole broom, or a chair. the practice of balancing is excellent for training yourself in quickness of eye and muscle. of course bricks and soldiers and ninepins, as well as balls (see p. ), are more interesting when more than one person plays; but one can pass the time very well with them. bruce's heart where toys become tedious, games have to be made up; and in making up games no outside help is needed. at the same time, some games which e. h. describes may perhaps supply a hint or two. "one little girl," she writes, "used to find endless joy in pretending to be douglas bearing the heart of bruce to the holy land. a long stick in the right hand represented his spear; a stone in the left hand was the casket containing bruce's heart. if the grown-ups stopped to talk with some one they met, or if there was any other excuse for running on ahead, the little girl would rush forward waving her stick and encouraging her men (represented by a big dog), and, after hurling her stone as far forward as possible, and exclaiming, 'lead on, brave heart,' she would cast her spear in the same direction in a last effort against the moors, and then pretend to fall dead to the ground." this little girl had found the story of bruce in _tales of a grandfather_, by sir walter scott. almost every book will yield people and events to play at. the hotel camps another little girl whom e. h. knew "once spent a short time in a hotel, and while there divided the other people into camps according to the floor on which they had rooms. the designs in the windows on the various floors represented the badges or heraldic signs of each camp. for instance, one window (they were of colored glass) had a border with eagles, another had gryphons, another lions, and so on. if she met some one of another floor coming in or going out of the hotel, it represented the meeting of two rival bands. if she actually found herself in the elevator with them, it was a dangerous encounter, in which, if they got out first, she had driven them off the field, but if she got out first it was she who was in retreat. if two people of different floors were seen talking together, a truce had been declared, and so on." block city the little book called _a child's garden of verses_, by r. l. stevenson, has several poems which describe how a lonely little boy used to play. thus (in "block city"):-- let the sofa be mountains, the carpet a sea, there i'll establish a city for me, a kirk and a mill, and a palace beside, and a harbor as well where my vessels may ride. story-books and (in "the land of story-books"):-- now, with my little gun, i crawl all in the dark along the wall, and follow round the forest track away behind the sofa back. there, in the night, where none can spy, all in my hunter's camp i lie, and play at books that i have read till it is time to go to bed. the bed boat that is ordinary play. there is also a poem describing play in bed:-- my bed is like a little boat; nurse helps me in when i embark; she girds me in my sailor's coat and starts me in the dark. thinking games for bed when more than one sleep in the same room, the time before sleep can be very interesting. many games which have already been described are suitable for bed, such as "telling stories" (p. ), "i love my love" (p. ), "spelling" (p. ), "the grand mogul" (p. ), "rhyming lights" (p. ), "the apprentice" (p. ), "towns and products" (p. ), "suggestions" (p. ), and "clumps," adapted (p. ). games by rote on this subject b. r. l. writes:--"we made a list, which was stuck on the wall with a different game for each night. one was 'i love my love with an a' (see p. ), which we steadily made up all through the alphabet. another was 'initials,' in which you take turns in saying the initials of people you know, while the other guesses the names. another was 'twenty questions,' in which one thinks of something that has to be guessed as quickly as possible, only 'yes' and 'no' being given as answers. one very girlish game was like this: suppose you had a little girl with golden hair and blue eyes, and she was going on a visit to london, what sort of frocks would you buy her?" the imaginary family e. h. recommends for girls the "imaginary family" game. this is her description of it:--"first you have to settle the names, ages, and characters of your family, and then you can carry on their adventures every night. one little girl who was devoted to books of travel, and who loved to pore over maps and charts, used to travel with her family every night in whatever country she happened to be interested in at the time. thus she and a favorite son, pharaoh, traveled for a long time in california, crossing every mountain-range by the proper passes, exploring every valley, tracing each river to its source, and so on. in the same way she traveled with her family is central and south america, the malay peninsula, and the south sea islands. another little girl who was very fond of adventure stories carried her family through all sorts of perils by land and sea. at one time they were shipwrecked and lived like the swiss family robinson. at another time they were exploring central africa, and traveled about with three years' supplies in a gigantic caravan with fifty elephants. yet another little girl had for her family any characters out of books that particularly fascinated her. thus, when she was reading _the heroes_, her family was reduced to one daughter, medea, a rather terrible daughter, who needed a great deal of propitiating, and for whose sake all other children had to be given up. later on, when the same child was reading _tales of a grandfather_, her family consisted of three sons, wallace, bruce, and douglas. (it is rather a good thing, by the way, to have a very heroic family, especially if you are at all inclined to be afraid in the dark, as they help to keep one's courage up.) two little girls, who lived in a clergyman's household, had an imaginary poor family they were interested in, and they planned about them every night,--how much the father earned, what their rent was, whether the mother oughtn't to take in washing, whether the eldest girl could be spared to go into service, and so on. when they weren't allowed to talk at night they carried the family history on independently and compared notes in the morning." making plans making plans is always interesting, but particularly so just before christmas, when presents have to be arranged for. for getting to sleep the favorite way is to imagine that you see a flock of sheep scrambling through a gap in the hedge, and to count them. a variety of this is a desert with a long train of camels very far off, coming slowly near, and then passing and gradually disappearing in the far distance. counting a million is also a good way. games for convalescents a good thing to do in bed when getting better from an illness is to cut out pictures for scrapbooks. any kind of cutting out can be done, as the scissors and paper are very light and do not, therefore, tire the arms. "patience" (see page ) is also a good bed game, because it needs very little thought. bed soldiers in _a child's garden of verses_ there is a poem called "the land of counterpane," which tells what a little boy did when he was ill, lying among the pillows with his toys: and sometimes for an hour or so i watched my leaden soldiers go, with different uniforms and drills, among the bed-clothes, through the hills; and sometimes sent my ships in fleets all up and down among the sheets, or brought my trees and houses out and planted cities all about. china animals dolls are, of course, perfectly at home in bed when you are ill, but there is even more interest in a menagerie. on this subject it would be difficult to do better than quote from a letter from e. m. r., who has china animals, mostly in families and all named. she began this magnificent collection with a family of monkeys. the mother was called sally, her eldest son mungo, the next pin-ceri, another, eating a nut, jock, and the youngest, a sweet little girl monkey, ness. i was soon given a family of three foxes, reynard, brushtail, and whitepad, and from that time to the present my collection has been growing. i soon had enough to fill a shelf in a cabinet, and i turned my doll's-house into a boarding-school for the little animals with a big pig as headmaster. but when my collection rose to animals, i had too many children to be all boarders at the school, so some had to be day-scholars, and the headmaster was changed to a green frog who swam beautifully, and who was assisted by two swans, a duck, a fish, two crocodiles, and a seal, who all swam. another frog taught the children swimming by tying a piece of string round their bodies, and dangling them in the water from the edge of a basin. the animals' abode was now changed, and they were put into a large cabinet containing six small shelves and one big one. i called the big shelf a town, and the rest villages. the town was called weybridge: the village where the birds lived, airsbury; and that where the dogs were, canistown. the rest had various other names. at this time an important addition was made to the collection, for a big lion was given me, which i immediately created king; then came a queen and four princesses, and shortly after a crown prince, another prince, and three more little princesses. the royal family was allowed a village all to itself, which was called kingston, and was given five servants, two nurses, a footman, a housemaid, and a cook. as i had now two families of several of the kinds of animals, i determined that they should be married, so, nominating sally's husband rector, i had several weddings. i built a church with some bricks i had, and formed a procession up the aisle, to the wedding march, played on an american organ. first came the bride and bridegroom, then the best man and the bridesmaids, and last the children of the animals who were to be married, two and two. when the ceremony was over, i marched them all back to their places on the shelf. i now made eight laws, and copied them out in an exercise-book, together with the names of all the animals, the number of men, women, boys, and girls, and the number of married and single families. i had had several little separate china animals given me, belonging to none of my families, so i made a law that if any family of their kind came to the collection they must adopt these little orphans. i also made two acting companies, one of big animals, and one for the children, with a boar-hound called sir philip of ravenswood for the manager of the first, and a little black and white kid, named tim, for manager of the second, and at the christmas of the same year that i formed the two companies i had two plays, the children acting "hansel and gretel," and the big animals "the yeomen of the guard." being now unable to get any fresh families of small animals, i started a collection of big china animals, and soon had thirty-five, among whom were a jersey bull and cow, another brown bull and a brown and white cow, two beautiful horses, several dogs, two donkeys, and two goats. these i kept apart from the small animals, in another cupboard; but i still kept the lion king over them as well, and gave them two big animals, a bloodhound and a st. bernard, as governors over them. among the small animals i had a very learned-looking pig called orsino, whom i made doctor, while an old bulldog, dimboona, to whom i had been obliged to give two wooden legs, was prime minister. i also had a treasurer, a rent collector, a steward, and an under-steward. i also made a young boar-hound, called panther, the son of sir philip, keeper of the stables, which consisted of ninety-two horses which i had made. and this brings the narrative of the growth of my china animal collection up to the present time, when i have small animals and big ones, in all. at the seaside low tide the first thing to do on reaching the seaside is to find out when it is low tide. in each twelve hours low tide comes twenty minutes later, and knowing this you can arrange your days accordingly. nothing is so saddening as to run down the beach in the belief that the tide is going out and to find that it is coming in. paddling to boys who wear knickerbockers the preparations for paddling are very simple; but girls are not so fortunate. lewis carroll (who wrote _alice in wonderland_) took their difficulties so seriously that whenever he went to the seaside to stay he used to have with him a packet of safety-pins for the use of any children that seemed to be in need of them. this piece of thoughtfulness on his part might determine you to carry them for yourselves. a cork ship sailing a good boat in the sea is not the best fun, but there is a kind of boat which is very easily made as you sit on the beach, and which is useful to play with when wading, and afterward to throw stones at. you take a piece of cork for the hull. cut a line down the middle underneath and wedge a strip of slate in for a keel to keep her steady. fix a piece of driftwood for a mast, and thread a piece of paper on that for a sail. wet clothes when wading it is just as well not to get your clothes wet if you can help it. clothes that are made wet with seawater, which probably has a little sand in it, are as uncomfortable as crumbs in bed. there is no reason why you should get them wet if you wade wisely. sitting among the rocks, running through the water, and jumping the little crisping waves are the best ways to get soaked. rocks seaside places where there are rocks and a great stretch of sand are the best. rocks make paddling twice as exciting, because of the interesting things in the little pools--the anemones, and seaweeds, and shells, and crabs, and shrimps, and perhaps little fish. sometimes these pools are quite hot. to enjoy the rocks properly you want a net. sand castles, and other sand games to make full use of the sands a spade is necessary and a pail important. the favorite thing to make is a castle and a moat, and although the water rarely is willing to stay in the moat it is well to pour some in. the castle may also have a wall round it and all kinds of other buildings within the wall. abbeys are also made, and great houses with carefully arranged gardens, and villages, and churches. railways with towns and stations here and there along the line are easily made, and there is the fun of being the train when the line is finished. the train is a good thing to be, because the same person is usually engineer and conductor as well. collisions are interesting now and then. the disadvantage of a railway on crowded sands is that passers-by injure the line and sometimes destroy, by a movement of the foot, a whole terminus; it is therefore better at small watering-places that few people have yet discovered. if an active game is wanted as well as mere digging and building, a sand fort is the best thing to make, because then it has to be held and besieged, and perhaps captured. in all sand operations stones are useful to mark boundaries. burying one another in the sand is good at the time, but gritty afterward. seaweed seaweed and shells make good collections, but there is no use in carrying live fish home in pails. the fun is in catching the fish, not is keeping it; and some landladies dislike having the bath-room used as an aquarium. on wet days seaweed can be stuck on cards or in a book. the best way to get it to spread out and not crease on a card, is to float the little pieces in a basin and slip the card underneath them in the water. when the seaweed has settled on it, take the card out and leave it to dry. the seaweed will then be found to be stuck, except perhaps in places here and there, which can be made sure by inserting a little touch of gum. it is the smaller, colored kinds of seaweed that one treats in this way; and it is well to leave them for a day in the sun before washing and preparing, as this brings out their color. the ordinary large kind of seaweed is useful as a barometer. a piece hung by the door will tell when rain is coming by growing moist and soft. shell work a good use for little shells is to cover small boxes with them. the shells are arranged in a simple pattern and fastened on with glue. if the shells are not empty and clean, boil them, and scrub them with an old tooth-brush. good seaside friends so many interesting things are to be seen at the seaside that there is no need to be always at play. fishermen will come in with their boats, which need pulling up; or a net that has been dropped near the shore will be drawn in from the beach, and you can perhaps help. if the town is not merely a watering-place but also a seaport, it is, of course, better, because then there will be the life of the harbor to watch. to be friends with a lighthouse man is almost as good a thing as can happen; and if there is both a lighthouse and a shipbuilder's you could hardly be more fortunate. in the country this chapter has been written more for readers who live in a town and visit the country only during the holidays than for those whose home is always there. regular country dwellers do not need to be told many of the things that follow; but none the less there may be a few to find them useful. the principal special attractions of the country are-- in the spring birds' nests. " june bee-swarming and hay-making. " july sheep-washing and shearing. " august early windfalls and harvest. " september blackberries, nuts, hops, mushrooms, and squirrels. making friends the most important thing to do when staying at a farmhouse is to make friends with the principal people. the principal people are those in charge of the chickens and ducks, the cows and the horses. the way to make friends is to be as little trouble as possible. exploration on reaching the farm, it is well to make a journey of discovery, in order to learn where everything is. the more one knows about the things in store--the size of the barn, the height of the haystacks, the number of horses, the name of the watch-dog, the position and character of the pond, and so forth--the simpler will it be, on going to bed, to make plans for the visit. finding hens' eggs the farmer's wife usually has charge of the chickens and ducks, but very often it is her daughter or a servant. no matter who it is, as soon as she is convinced that you will be careful and thorough she will let you hunt for eggs. this is very exciting, because hens have a way of laying in nests in the wood and all kinds of odd places, hoping that no one will find them and they will thus be able to sit and hatch out their chickens. the hay in the stable is a favorite spot, and under the wood-pile, and among the long grass. sometimes one overlooks a nest for nearly a week and then finds three or four eggs in it, one of them quite warm. this is a great discovery. just at first it is easy to be taken in by the china nest-eggs, and to run indoors in triumph with one in your hand. but the farmer's wife will laugh and send you back with it, and the mistake is not likely to be made again. after a while one gets to know the hens personally, and to know the noise which means that they have just laid. sometimes, if a hen is going to lay just as you come to her nest, she will run off clucking and screaming and lay the egg on the ground. ducks' eggs ducks' eggs, which are rather larger than hens' eggs, and pale green in color, are often more difficult to find. they have to be hunted for in the grass by the pond. feeding the chickens the farmer's wife also lets her visitors feed the chickens if they are gentle with them and thoughtful. it needs quite a little thought, because if you throw down the grain without thinking, many of the weaker and less greedy ones will get nothing, and many of the stronger and greedier ones will get too much. after a few handfuls you can see which are the weaklings, and after that you can favor them accordingly. a greedy hen is so very greedy that she will always, whatever you do, get more than her share; but it is possible to snub her a little. the very little chickens and ducklings do not have grain, but soft food, which is put in a saucer and placed inside the coop. it is after they have finished eating that they can most easily be picked up, but one must be very careful not to squeeze them. the dairy if the farmer's wife makes her own butter there will be an opportunity to help her. perhaps she will let you use the skimmer. turning the churn is not much fun except just when the butter forms. bee-swarming bees swarm on hot days in the early summer, usually in a tree, but sometimes in a room, if the window is open, and often in a bush, quite close to the ground. when they swarm in a tree you would think a black snow-storm was raging all around it. every moment the cluster of bees grows larger and larger, until, after half an hour or so, it is quiet. then the swarm has to be taken. this is the most interesting part, but you must be careful not to be too near in case an accident occurs and the bees become enraged and sting you. if the farmer has the new wooden hives with a glass covering he will very likely let you peep in and see the bees at work. before doing this you certainly ought to read something about their exceedingly wonderful ways. one of the best books is sir john lubbock's (lord avebury's) _ants, bees, and wasps_, but most encyclopædias contain very interesting articles on the subject. the cows the man who looks after the cows is a very valuable friend. he may even let you try to milk, which only specially gifted children ever succeed in doing at all well; and he will teach you the cows' names (in some farms these are painted up over each stall--primrose, lightfoot, sweetlips, clover, and so on); and perhaps he will give you the task of fetching them from the meadow at milking time. sheep in a general way sheep are not very interesting, especially in low-lying farms. but though sheep, as a rule, are dull, there are two occasions when they are not--at sheep-washing and sheep-shearing. the washers stand up to their knees, or even their waists, in the brook, in oilskin clothes, and seizing the struggling sheep one by one by the wool, plunge them into the water. shearing is a finer art; but the sheep is hardly less uncomfortable. he has to be thrown into various positions (on his back for one, and with his head between the shearer's knees for another), while the shears clip-clop all over him. the wool is not taken off in scraps, as our hair is at the barber's, but the whole fleece is removed in one huge piece. the blacksmith it may be that while you are at the farm the day will come for having the horses shod, and you may go with them to the blacksmith. the blacksmith is of course a very important person to be friends with; and people are very fortunate if their lodgings in the country are close to a smithy. some blacksmiths permit their friends to stand right inside the smithy, instead of just at the door, where strangers have to stay. perhaps the blacksmith will ask you to blow his bellows while he is making a horseshoe, and it may happen that if he has not much work on hand he will make you a hoop that will be far cheaper and stronger than a bought one (see p. ). in hot weather the flies are so troublesome to horses which are being shod, and make them so restless, that some one has to stand beside them and brush the flies away with a green branch. this job might fall to you. birds'-nesting one of the advantages of being in the country in spring is that that is the time when birds build. in may the weather is not yet sufficiently warm to make sitting about out-of-doors very comfortable, but birds'-nesting can make up for that. it is of no use to say in this book, "don't take the eggs," because it is possible only for one person here and there to be satisfied with merely finding a nest and then passing on to find another. but it is a pity for any one who is not a serious collector to take more than one egg. for your purposes one is enough, and the loss of a single egg rarely causes a bird to desert her nest. of course if you know for certain that the nest is deserted, it is right to take all. you can find out by visiting it two or three times, and if the eggs remain cold or wet and there is no sign of the bird you may safely feel that she has abandoned them. birds have so many natural enemies to fear that it is hard that we should harm them too. blowing eggs for blowing eggs a brass or glass blow-pipe is the proper thing, using only one hole, which is made at the side with a little drill. but for your purpose a hole at each end made with a pin is simpler and equally good. in blowing you must be careful not to hold the egg so tightly in the fingers that its sides crush in. before making the holes it is well to put the egg in a basin of water. if it sinks it is fresh and can be blown easily; but if it floats it is set--that is to say, the young bird has begun to form--and blowing will be difficult. in such cases it is wise, if you are using a blow-pipe, to make a largish hole and put a little water in and leave the egg to lie for a day or so; then blowing it will be not much trouble. but if you have no blow-pipe the best thing to do is to make one good-sized hole in the less interesting side of the egg, and empty it with a bent pin. then, when it is empty, you can put it in the egg box with the broken side underneath. country boys often thread birds' eggs on a string which hangs from the ceiling, but the ordinary way is to put them in cotton-wool in a box with cardboard compartments. making this box is a good country occupation for wet weather. butterflies butterfly-hunting begins when birds'-nesting is done and the weather is hot. here again it is not the purpose of this book to go into particulars: the subject is too large. it is enough to say that the needful things are a large net of soft green gauze, a killing-bottle with a glass stopper, a cork-lined box with a supply of pins in which to carry the butterflies after they are dead, and setting boards for use at home. the good collector is very careful in transferring the butterfly from the net to the bottle, lest its wings are rubbed or broken; and before taking it out of the bottle and putting it in the box you should be quite certain that it is dead. the way to get the butterfly into the bottle is to drive it into a corner of the net and hold it there, and then slip the bottle inside, remove the stopper, and shake the butterfly into it. the stopper should be off as short a time as possible. for handbooks for a butterfly collector see the "reading" section. collecting flowers a quieter pastime, but a very interesting one, and also one that, unlike egg-collecting and butterfly-collecting, goes on all the year round, is collecting flowers. for this purpose tin cases are made, with straps to hold them from the shoulders, in which to keep the plants cool and fresh; but there is no need to wait for the possession of one of these. an ordinary box or basket will, if you have not very far to walk, serve equally well. you will also need a press, which can be simply a couple of boards about a foot long and six inches wide, with a good supply of blotting-paper between. the flowers are pressed by spreading them very carefully, to show their beauty to best advantage, between the blotting-paper, and then piling a few books on the boards. the weight need not be very heavy and the blotting-paper should frequently be renewed. you will soon learn how long the pressing need continue, but it is of the highest importance that the flowers are thoroughly dried before you mount them in your album or on separate sheets of paper. the simplest form of mounting is to glue little strips of paper here and there across the stems. a botanical collection is more valuable if the roots of the plants are also included; and this will make it necessary for you to have a long trowel. for the collector of flowers a handbook is compulsory. such a book as alice lounsberry's _the wild flower book for young people_ gives many details of the growth and nature of plants, told with a story that makes the book unusually interesting, and will arouse your enthusiasm to gather wild flowers and see how large a collection of them you can make. it is interesting, if you have any skill in painting, to make water-color copies of all the flowers that you find; another good occupation for wet days in the country. nuts and blackberries in nutting you want a hooked stick with which to pull down the branches. for blackberries a hooked stick is not so important, but it is well to have leather gloves. the blackberries ought to be dry when they are picked. rain takes their flavor away; so you should wait until the sun comes again and restores it. one thing that you quickly notice is that all blackberries are not after the same pattern. there are different kinds, just as there are different kinds of strawberry and raspberry. some are hard and very closely built; some are loosely built, with large cells which squash between the fingers; some come between these two varieties; and there are still others. for eating on the spot the softer ones are the best, but for cooking and for jam the harder ones are equally good. in picking blackberries you soon find that it is better to have the sun at your back, because if it shines through the bush into your eyes you cannot distinguish clearly between the shades of blackness. an open basket full of blackberries is a radiant sight. each of the little cells has a point of light, and thousands of these together are as gay as jewels. no one need starve on the open road in september, for there is food on every hedge--two good courses. nuts are there as the standby, the backbone of the meal, and after come blackberries, as pudding or dessert. to pick the two for an hour, and then, resting beneath a tree, to eat until all are gone--that is no bad way to have lunch. if you take advice in this matter, you will not crack the nuts with your teeth but between stones. ponds and sailing boats near the farm is certain to be either a pond or a stream. if it is a clean and high pond, not in a hollow surrounded by trees, it will be good to sail boats on. sailing boats on inland water is much better than on the sea, because, with a pond, directly the boat is fairly started on its voyage you can run round the other side and meet it. even with a very poor pond it is still possible to have a very good time. in buying or making a boat, be sure that the lead along the keel is heavy enough. so little do toy-shop people think of these things that they very often put no lead at all on their boats, and more often than not put too little. once a boat is properly weighted in this way you are certain to have fun in sailing her, but otherwise it will be useless to try. in boat-sailing it is well to have a long stick with a hook at the end with which to draw the ship to land. for suggestions as to making a useful and simple sailing-boat see p. . little boats on a stream sailing boats in a stream is little good, because there is no steadiness of wind, but ordinary boats will float along in the current splendidly. it is interesting to launch one and follow its adventures from the bank. sometimes it will be caught in a weed; sometimes an eddy will sweep it into a back water; sometimes, in shooting the rapids, it will be overturned. but a long stick can always put things right. or one of you will go down the stream to a given point and the other will send down messengers--pieces of wood, walnut boats (see p. ), paper boats (see p. ), or whatever it may be. a stream's fascination but there is no absolute need for you to have boats in order to enjoy a stream. there are so many other things to do, not the least interesting being to make a dam and stop or divert the course of the water. and when tired of playing it is very good to sit quite still on the bank and watch things happening: perhaps a water-rat will swim along suspecting nothing, and then, seeing you make a movement, will dive and disappear, and suddenly come into view ever so far away on the other bank. perhaps a kingfisher will flash by or settle on a branch overhanging the water. kingfishers grow more rare every year, owing to the merciless and unthinking zeal with which they are shot; and maybe before long there will be no more to be seen anywhere. solitary watchfulness indeed, to keep absolutely quiet and watch things happening is for many people one of the most delightful occupations which the country holds. when there is no one else to play with it is as good a way of spending the time as can be found. mice and moles in a wood or in any place where there are old leaves, as in a dry ditch, you will usually get through the ear the first tidings of any moving thing. for instance, you will hear a field-mouse rustling long before you can see its queer pointed nose pushing its way through the dead leaves. or it may be a mole blundering blindly along. if by any chance a mole is caught in a trap while you are in the country, be sure to examine its little hands and feel the softness of its fur. perhaps the farm boy will skin it for you. snakes sometimes the rustling is a snake on his way to a sunny spot where he can bask and sleep. very slender brown speckled snakes, or blind-worms, are quite harmless, and so are the large grass-snakes, which are something like a mackerel in lines and markings. the adder, however, which is yellowish brown in color with brown markings and a "v" on his head, is dangerous and should be avoided. ants on p. is given the title of a book about bees. hardly less wonderful are ants, concerning whom there is much curious information in the same work, the reading of which makes it ten times more interesting to watch an ant-hill than it was before. one sometimes has to remember that it is as serious for ants to have their camp stirred up by a walking-stick as it would be for new york if vesuvius were tossed on top of it. swallows and hawks in the flight of birds there is nothing to compare for beauty and speed with the swift, or for power and cleverness with the hawk. on moist evenings, when the swifts fly low and level, backward and forward, with a quaint little musical squeak, like a mouse's, they remind one of fish that dart through the water of clear streams under bridges. the hawk, even in a high wind, can remain, by tilting his body at the needed angle, perfectly still in the air, while his steady wide eyes search the ground far below him for mice or little birds. then, when he sees something, his body suddenly seems to be made of lead and he drops like a stone on his prey. a hawk can climb the sky by leaning with outspread wings against the breeze and cork-screwing up in a beautiful spiral. squirrels the time to see squirrels is september and october, when the beech nuts and hazel nuts are ripe. in the pictures he sits up, with his tail resting on his back, holding nuts in his little forepaws; but one does not often see him like this in real life. he is either scampering over the ground with his tail spread out behind him or chattering among the branches and scrambling from one to another. the squirrel is not seen at his best when he goes nutting. his beautiful swift movements are checked by the thickness of the hazels. in a beech grove he has more liberty to run and leap. sometimes you will see twenty at once all nibbling the beech nuts on the ground. on hearing you they make for a tree trunk, and, rushing up it for a yard or two, stop suddenly, absolutely still, with fearful eyes, and ears intently and intensely cocked. if you stand equally still the squirrel will stay there, motionless, like a piece of the tree, for a minute or so, and then, in a very bad temper, disappear from view on the other side of the trunk, and probably, though you run round the tree quickly several times and search every branch with your eyes, never come into sight again. it is a good thing to sit under a tree some distance from the beech trees, making as little movement as possible; and by and by you will cease to be considered as anything but a regular part of the landscape and the squirrels may come quite close to you. a country diary if you are fond of writing you might find a good deal of interest in keeping a country diary: that is to say, a small note-book in which you set down evening by evening all things seen during the day that seemed to be sufficiently out of the way to be worth recording. a camera in the country nothing is said in this book about amateur photography, because to own a camera is still the exception rather than the rule, and if once we began to say anything practical about photography we should have to say very much more than the scheme of the volume permits. but we might urge any reader who has a camera to use it in the country in taking pictures of animal life and old buildings. old-fashioned farmhouses and cottages are disappearing so rapidly that we ought to keep as many records of them as possible, and well-chosen photographs of animals are not only beautiful pictures, but are also very useful. mr. kearton's work in this way, which may be studied in _with nature and a camera_, is extremely valuable. country books in the "reading" chapter will be found the titles of several books which describe life in the country, and tell you all about the habits of animals, birds, and insects. dolls' houses the most magnificent ready-made dolls' house in the world, with gables and windows, stairs, front garden, and the best furniture, cannot quite make up to its owner for all the delight she has missed by not making it herself. of course some things, such as cups and saucers, glasses and bottles, saucepans and kitchen utensils, must be bought; but almost all the really necessary things for house-keeping can be made at home. dolls' gardens one advantage of making the dolls' house yourself is that you can arrange for it to have a garden, a provision rarely made by toy-shops. grass plots can be made of green baize or other cloth of the right color; garden paths of sand sprinkled over glue, or of strips of sand-paper; flower-beds of brown paper, and the flowers of tissue-paper and wire. a summer-house, and a dog-kennel to hold a china dog, might also be added (see p. ), and, if you have room, stables. garden chairs and tables garden seats and tables can be made of cardboard and cork. for a seat, take a card two or three inches long and not quite as broad. mark it right across, lengthwise, in the middle with a sharp knife, and then half fold it. this will make the back and seat. glue the seat to four slender corks for legs and paint the whole green. to make a table, glue four cork legs to a strong piece of cardboard. the house a dolls' house can be made of almost any kind of box. for the simplest and smallest kind cigar boxes can be used and the furniture made of cork, for which directions are given later; or a couple of low shelves in a bookcase or cupboard will do. much better, however, is a large well-made packing-case divided by wooden and strong cardboard partitions into two, four, or six rooms, according to its size. a specially made box is, of course, best of all; this should be divided into four or six rooms, and should have a sloping roof to give attic room for boxes and odd furniture. the house can be stained outside or papered a plain dark color. one or two windows should be cut out of the walls of each room by the carpenter who made the box, and there must be doors between the rooms. a piece of thin glass cut to the right size can be fixed on the windows at home. but before this is done the house must be papered. the best kind of paper is that used by bookbinders for the insides of the covers, because the patterns used are so dainty and small; but this is not always easy to get. any small-patterned paper will do, or what is called lining paper, which can be got in every color. the paper must be very smoothly put on with paste. always start at the top when pressing it to the wall, and smooth it downward gently. dadoes or friezes can be divided off with the tiny beading which frame-makers use, or with a painted line, which must be straight and evenly done. fireplaces fireplaces, which can be bought or made at home, should be put in next. to make one yourself, take a strong cardboard-box lid about four inches long and two wide (though the size must depend on the size of the room). very neatly cut off a quarter of it. this smaller part, covered with gold or silver paper, will make the fender. then cut off both sides of the remaining piece, leaving the strip at the top to form the mantelpiece. glue the back of the cover to the wall, hang little curtains from the shelf, put some ornaments on it, arrange the fender in front, and the fireplace is complete. a grate can be imitated in cardboard painted black and red. a furnishing game a splendid game of shop can be played while the furnishing is going on: in fact, from the moment you have the bare house a board or sign with "_to let or for sale_" will quickly attract house-hunting dolls, and when a couple have taken it they will have their days full of shopping before it is ready for them. you will, of course, yourself be the manufacturers and shopkeepers. it is well to make out careful bills for everything sold, and the more things you can display in your show-rooms the better. all house-hunting dolls require plenty of money. curtains windows have been mentioned, but they are not by any means a necessity. yet even if you cannot have windows, you should put up curtains, for they make the rooms prettier. shades can be made of linen, edged at the bottom with a piece of lace, and nailed on the wall just above the window. during the day these are rolled up and tied. white curtains should be bordered with lace and run on a piece of tape, which can be nailed or pinned on both sides of the window. they will then draw. the heavy inside curtains can be hung on a pencil (which may be gilded or left its own color) supported by two picture screws. fasten these curtains back with narrow ribbons. some dolls' houses, of course, are fitted with real doors. but if you do not have these, it is perhaps well to hang the doorway with curtains, also on pencils. floors the floors can be stained or painted either all over or round the edges. carpets are better not made of ordinary carpet, for it is much too thick, but of colored canvas, or chintz, or thin felt, or serge. a rug made of a plain colored material with a cross-stitch or embroidered pattern around it is very pretty. fine matting can also be used, and oil-cloth is excellent for the kitchen. general remarks on furnishing in another place in this book (pp. - ) will be found instructions for making furniture for very small and simple dolls' houses; but for a good dolls' house with several good-sized rooms you would probably prefer, for the most part, to use bought things. square tables are of course easy to make (a cardboard-box lid on four legs is practically the whole thing), and there are other articles which, if you see your way to devise, are better made at home, instructions for which will be found as you read on; but chairs and round tables and so forth are perhaps most satisfactory when they come from the toy-shop. both in buying furniture and in making it, it is necessary always to remember the size of the rooms and of the dolls, and the size of whatever furniture you may already have, so as to keep everything in proportion. beds beds can be made of cardboard-boxes of different sizes. the box turned upside down makes the bed itself, and the cover should be fixed upright behind it for curtains to hang from. these curtains and the frill round the bed should be made of any thin material, such as muslin. the mattress, bolster, and pillows are best made of cotton-wool covered with muslin or calico. sheets may be made also out of muslin; pillow-cases should be edged with lace; for blankets you use flannel, button-hole-stitched round with colored silk or wool, and the quilt will look best if made of a dainty piece of silk, or muslin over a colored sateen to match the curtains. a tiny nightdress case should not be forgotten. beds for doll children can be made in the same way out of match-boxes; and for cozy little cots for babies there are walnut shells. [illustration: cardboard box beds] bead furniture [illustration: bead chair] chairs can be made with wire, beads, a little silk or cotton material, some cardboard and cotton-wool. to make a chair in this way, cut a piece of cardboard the size that you want the seat to be. lay a good wad of cotton-wool over it, and then cover it neatly. on a piece of strong wire thread enough beads to go round the seat of the chair. sew this firmly to the seat. then thread beads on four pieces of wire the right length for the legs, and leave a little piece of wire with which to fasten them to the wire round the seat. then make the back from a longer piece of wire, bent into shape and attached to the seat in the same way, and put a short row of beads across the middle. you will need a pair of tweezers to cut the wire and to finish the fastening securely. pictures pictures for the walls can be made very easily. the picture itself will be a scrap or tiny photograph. this is pasted on a piece of cardboard larger than itself, and round the edge of that you place a strip of whatever colored paper you want for the frame. the picture cord, a piece of cotton, can be glued on the back. more elaborate frames are cut out of cardboard and bound round with colored silk and covered with gold paint. the picture is then stuck into it. bookshelves and books the simplest bookshelves are those that hang from a nail on the wall. they are made by cutting two or three strips of cardboard of the size of the shelves and boring holes at the corners of each. these are then threaded one by one on four lengths of silk or fine string, knots being tied to keep the shelves the right distance apart. care has to be taken to get the knots exactly even, or the shelf will be crooked. books can be made by sewing together a number of tiny sheets of paper, with a colored cover and a real or invented title. sometimes these books contain real stories. other articles a dolls' house ought to be as complete as possible, and though this will take a long time it is absorbingly interesting work from start to finish. it should be the ambition of the mistress of a dolls' house to have it as well furnished as the house of a grown-up person, and if she looks round the rooms in her own home carefully she will see how many things can be copied. there will be cushions to make, fancy table-cloths for different tables, toilet-covers and towels for the bedroom, splashers to go behind wash-stands, mats in front of them, and roll-towels and kitchen cloths for the kitchen. everything should be made of the thinnest and finest material, cut with the greatest care and sewn with the tiniest stitches. light and dainty colors are best for a dolls' house. if you have several rooms, it is a good plan to have a pink room, a blue room, a yellow room, and in each room to have everything of different shades of that color and white. perhaps no material is so useful to the owner of a dolls' house as art muslin. it is soft, cheap, and very pretty. coming to other furniture which can be made at home, we find screens (made of cardboard and scraps), music for the piano, walking-sticks, flowers (made of colored tissue-paper and wire), flower-pots (made of corks covered with red paper), cupboards to keep linen and glass in (made out of small cardboard boxes, fitted with shelves), and many other little things which, if you look round your own home carefully, will be suggested to you. even bicycles can be imitated in cardboard and placed in the hall. the inhabitants as to dolls, the more the merrier. they are so cheap and can be dressed so easily that it seems a great pity not to have a large family and a larger circle of friends who will occasionally visit them. there must be a father and a mother, a baby and some children, servants (in stiff print dresses with caps and aprons), and certainly a bride, who, if her dress can not be changed for an ordinary one, ought to be kept carefully hidden, except when there is a wedding. dressing dolls it is rather difficult to dress these tiny dolls so that their clothes will take off and on, but it is much better to do so if possible. in any case they can have capes and hats which take off. the thinnest materials make the best underclothes, but stiff material for dresses makes it possible to stand the dolls up. glove buttons, and the narrowest ribbons, tapes, and laces, are useful things to have when you are dressing dolls'-house dolls. dolls' dinner parties dolls occasionally require parties. the food may be real or imitation. if real,--such as currants and raisins, sugar and candied peel,--it is more amusing at the moment; but if imitation, you have a longer time of interest in making it. get a little flour, and mix it with salt and water into a stiff paste, like clay. then mould it to resemble a round of beef, a chicken, a leg of mutton, potatoes, pies, or whatever you want, and stand it in front of the fire to dry. when dry, paint (in water-color) to resemble these things still more. if there is clay in the garden, you can make all these things from that, and many others too. dolls' flats just as people live not only in houses but in flats, so may there be dolls' flats as well as dolls' houses. a dolls' flat consists of a board on which the outline of the rooms is made with single bricks. for example, a four-roomed flat might be arranged like this-- [illustration: a doll's apartments] to lay the bricks on a board is not necessary. they can be laid on the floor equally well, except that when you have done playing you will have then to put them away again, whereas if placed on a board they can be left till next time. nor is there any reason why the walls should not be higher than a single brick; that is merely a matter of taste. once the walls are ready the furniture and dolls can be put in in the ordinary way. smaller dolls' houses so far we have been considering larger dolls' houses. but there are also smaller ones, which naturally require much smaller furniture. these dolls' houses can be made of cardboard (as described on p. and on), or they can be merely small boxes--even cigar boxes; and the dolls and furniture in them can be, if you like, all paper, or made of materials in ways that are now suggested. cork and match-box furniture this furniture, if very neatly made, can be very successful, and it costs almost nothing. plain pins will do quite well, although the fancy ones are much prettier. velvet or thin cloth is best for the dining-room furniture; silk for the drawing room; and some light-colored cotton material for the bedrooms. materials you will need-- several good-sized corks, or pickle corks, for the larger things. some pieces of fancy silk or velvet. a number of strong pins of different sizes. (the fancy pins with large white, black, and colored heads are best.) some wool, silk, or tinsel which will go well with the silk or velvet. a strong needle and a spool of cotton. chairs [illustration: cork arm-chair] cut a round or square piece of cork about quarter of an inch thick and one inch across. cover it with a piece of silk or velvet, making all the stitches on that side of the cork which will be the under side of the seat. for the legs put a pin firmly into each corner. wind a little wool or silk firmly round each leg, finishing it off as neatly as possible. the back of the seat is made by sticking four pins rather closely together and winding the wool or silk in and out of them. fasten the wool with a tiny knot both when you begin winding and when you finish. armchairs are made in the same way, except that they are rather larger, and arms--made of small pins--are added. chestnut chairs [illustration: chestnut chair] an be made of chestnuts. the flatter side of the nut is the seat, and in this are stuck pins for the back (and arms if necessary), which may be bound together with gold or silver tinsel. other pins are stuck in underneath for legs. sofas for a sofa a piece of cork about two inches long and half an inch thick is needed. this must be covered, and then quite short pins stuck in for legs. put a row of short pins along one side and the two ends, and wind the wool neatly in and out of them. tables [illustration: fancy table] round tables can be made best of different-sized pieces of cork, with very strong pins for legs; and square ones of the outside of a wooden match-box, with four little medicine-bottle corks glued under it for legs. in either case it is most important to have the legs well fixed on and of exactly the same length. it is not necessary to cover a table, but a table-cloth of silk, either fringed, or hemmed with tiny stitches, and a white table-cloth for meals, should be made. fancy tables can be made by taking a flat round cork and sticking pins into it at regular intervals all round. weave silk or tinsel in and out of the pins until they are covered. (see above.) foot-stools several small pieces of cork may be covered to make foot-stools. standard lamp a serviceable standard lamp can be made by taking a small empty cotton spool, gilding or painting it, and fixing the wooden part of a thin penholder firmly into it. on the top of it glue a round piece of cork, on which a lamp-shade, made of one of the little red paper caps that chemists put on bottles, can be placed. bedroom furniture--materials you will need-- two large wooden match-boxes. several corks of different sizes. some pieces of chintz, of cotton material, flannel, linen, oil-cloth, and a little cotton-wool. an empty walnut shell. several wooden matches with the heads taken off. pins of different sizes. wool, silk or tinsel, for the backs of the chairs. a tube of glue. beds [illustration: match-box bedstead] to make a bed, take the inside of a match-box and cut away the bottom of it. then take two matches and glue them to the two corners at the head of the bed so that a portion sticks out below the bed for legs and above the bed for a railing. cut two more matches to the same length as these others, less the part of them that serves for legs, and fasten these at equal distances from each other and from the two others already glued in position. along the top of these place another match for a rail, and the head of the bed is done. for the foot of the bed repeat these operations exactly, except that all the upright matches must be a little shorter. then cut off one end of the bottom of the box and fit it in to form the part of the bed that takes the mattress. the bedstead, when made, should be like the one in the accompanying picture. a little mattress must now be made to fit the bed exactly; it can be stuffed with cotton-wool or bran. a pillow, blankets, sheets, and a fancy coverlet may also be made, and a very thin and tiny frill should be put right round the bed to hide the box. a very pretty baby's cradle can be made out of half a walnut shell. it should be lined, and curtains should be hung from a match fastened upright at one end of the shell. dressing-tables the outside of the same match-box that was used for the bed will make a dressing-table. stand it up on either side of its striking sides, and glue or sew a piece of light-colored thin material all round it, and then over this put a muslin frill. make a little white cloth to lay on the top of the table. the looking-glass is made by fixing a square of silver paper in a cardboard frame. washstands take the inside of another match-box and stand it up on one of its sides. then take five or six matches and cut them to that length which, when they are glued in an upright row at equal distances apart to the back of the match-box, will cause them to stand up above the top of it about a third of an inch. on the tops of them then lay another match to make a little railing. cover the box as you did the dressing-table. put a little mat of oil-cloth on the top of the box, and make another large one to lay in front of it. proper jugs and basins will, of course, have to be bought, but an acorn cup or small shell makes a very good toy basin. [illustration: match-box washstand] wardrobes the wardrobe is made by standing the inside of a match-box on end, fixing inside several little pegs made of small pieces of match stuck in with glue, and hanging two little curtains in front of it. if, when done, it seems too low, it may be raised on four little corks. towel-rack a towel-horse can easily be made with six long pins and two small pieces of cork. [illustration: towel rack] clothes-basket [illustration: clothes basket] to make a clothes-basket, take a round piece of cork about a quarter of an inch thick and stick pins closely together all round it, as in the above picture. then weave wool in and out of them. dolls' houses and dolls of cardboard and paper a cardboard house, furnished with paper furniture and occupied by paper dolls, is a very good substitute for an ordinary dolls' house, and the making of it is hardly less interesting. the simplest way to make a cardboard house is to cut it all (with the exception of the partition and the roof) in one piece. the plan given here is for a two-roomed cottage, the measurements for which can be multiplied to whatever size you like (or whatever is the utmost that your sheet of cardboard will permit). the actual model from which this plan was made (the house was built from a royal sheet of bristol board) had a total floor measurement of inches by . the end walls were inches high, the side walls inches, sloping up to in the middle, and the partition was inches. the roof was slightly wider than the floor, in order to make wide eaves, and as much longer as was needful not only for the eaves but also to allow for the angle. the first thing to do is to rule the outline of the cottage. all the measurements must be most accurately made, as the slightest incorrectness will keep the house from fitting together properly. then cut it out. when this is done, draw the windows and doors. then lay your cardboard on a board, and run your knife along each side of the windows and the three free sides of the doors until the card is cut through. a ruler held close to the penciled line will make your knife cut straight. the bars across the windows can be made of strips of paper glued on afterward. if the doors have a tiny piece shaved off each of the cut sides, they will open and shut easily. to make the front door open well, outward, the hinge line of the door (kk) should be half cut through on the inside. the hinge can be strengthened by gluing a narrow strip of paper or linen along it. at the three points marked h make small slits through which to put the tags, marked g, of the partition wall. all drawing and painting must be done on both sides while the house is still flat. the doors inside will need handles and keyholes. small pieces of mica can be glued over the windows instead of glass. little curtains of crinkly tissue-paper can also be made, and, if you like, the walls can easily be papered with colored paper pasted on. this will cause some delay, however, for it must be well pressed. instead, wall-paper patterns could be painted on. outside--that is, on the underside of the cardboard--there is a great deal to do. both walls and roof can be painted, and tiles, bricks, and creepers imitated. the front door should have a knocker and a letterbox, and around both the door and the windows should be imitation framework. as the upright joints of the four walls will be made of linen painted to imitate brick-work or stone-work, you need not carry the painting of the walls quite to the edges, because these will be covered by the joints. it is best to paint the joints before you stick them on. before turning the card over again, run your knife along the four sides of the floor to assist the bending up of the walls. do not on any account cut through; merely make a half cut. [illustraton: cardboard doll's house] when you have drawn and painted all you can think of to make the house complete and pretty, take your strips of linen, for the fastening of the walls, crease them in half, lengthwise, and glue one half to the outside of the edge of the walls marked cb and de in the plan. when this is quite dry, bend the back wall and the two side walls up, and glue the free sides of the strips to the wall marked ab and ef, holding the walls firmly together until well stuck. strengthen the fold lm, which has to serve as a hinge for the front of the house, with a strip of linen glued underneath. the sides of the front wall must remain unattached, as that forms the opening. it can be kept closed by a strong pin slipped through the roof. [illustration: appearance of house when complete] the partition now for the partition. put the three tags g g g through the slits h h h and glue them firmly down on the outside. (these will have to be touched up with paint.) the roof must then be put on. cut out a slit n an inch long to fit the tag on the partition, also marked n. run your knife along the dotted line underneath, and fold it to the necessary angle to fit the sloping walls. where the roof touches the end walls it must be fastened on with strips of linen or paper, which have been folded in the same way as before and one half fastened securely to the walls. it is important to let it get quite dry before gluing the other half to the roof. [illustration: dog kennel (fig. ) and roof (fig. )] the chimney the chimney, of which the illustration is the actual size, is the last thing to be made. first paint, and then fold the two side pieces downward, cut out the three little holes and put into them three chimneys, made by folding small pieces of paper, painted red, round a penholder, and gluing their edges together. the chimney is fixed to the sloping roof with very small pieces of glued paper. remember that all the pieces of paper used as fastening ought to be touched up with paint. the chimney in the drawing of the complete house on page is put at the side of the roof, but it may even better go in the middle. the garden the cottage can then be fixed to a piece of wood or paste-board, to form its garden and add to convenience in moving it about. a cardboard fence and gate can be cut out and painted green. a path to the front door is made by covering a narrow space of the cardboard with very thin glue over which, while it is wet, sand is sprinkled to imitate gravel. moss will do for evergreens, and grass plots can be made of green cloth. a summer-house, garden chairs and tables are easily cut out of cardboard. so also are a rabbit-hutch, pump, dove-cot, and dog-kennel. a plan of a dog-kennel, actual size, is given. another way it is, of course, possible to make a house of several pieces instead of one. the walls and floors can be made separately and joined with linen strips; but this adds to the difficulty of the work and causes the houses to be less steady. cardboard houses can also be made with two floors. "the house that glue built" a novel kind of paper house has been gotten out in book form. it is called _the house that glue built_, and consists of pictures of rooms, without furniture, which is shown on separate sheets. the object is to cut out the furniture, arrange it and paste it in its proper place. the illustration shows the library, and the furniture for it. there is also a sheet of dolls to be cut out, who represent the owners of the house. two other books on the same order are _the fun that glue made_ and _stories that glue told_. they are all easily put together, and are lots of fun. paper furniture everything required for the furnishing and peopling of a cardboard dolls' house can be made of paper; and if colored at all cleverly the furniture will appear to be as solid as that of wood. after cutting out and joining together one or two of the models given in the pages that follow, and thus learning the principle on which paper furniture is made, you will be able to add all kinds of things to those mentioned here or to devise new patterns for old articles, such as chairs and desks. glue and adhesive tape two recent inventions of the greatest possible use to the maker of paper furniture are fish-glue which gets dry very quickly and is more than ordinarily strong, and adhesive tape. glue can be bought for very little, and adhesive tape, which is sold principally for mending music and the torn pages of books, is put up in inexpensive spools. home-made compasses a pair of compasses is a good thing to have; but you can make a perfectly serviceable tool by cutting out a narrow strip of cardboard about four inches long and boring holes at intervals, of a quarter of an inch, through which the point of a pencil can be placed. if one end of the strip is fastened to the paper with a pin you can draw a circle of what size you want, up to eight inches across. materials these are the materials needed when making paper furniture:-- a few sheets of stiff note-paper or drawing-paper. scissors. a penknife. a ruler (a flat one). a mapping-pen. a box of paints. a board to cut out on. adhesive tape or stamp-paper. glue. tracing if the drawings are to be traced, tracing-paper, or transparent note-paper, and a sheet of carbon-paper, will also be needed. to trace a drawing, cover it with paper and draw it exactly. then cover the paper or cardboard from which you wish to cut out the furniture with a piece of carbon-paper, black side down, and over that place your tracing. draw over this again with a very sharply pointed pencil or pointed stick, and the lines will be repeated by the carbon-paper on the under sheet of paper. the furniture, for which designs are given in this chapter, can be made of stiff note-paper, whatman's drawing-paper, or thin bristol board. the drawings can be copied or traced. in either case the greatest care must be taken that the measurements are minutely correct and the lines perfectly straight. a slip of paper is a very good thing to measure with. enough designs have been given to show how most different kinds of furniture can be made. these can, of course, be varied and increased by copying from good furniture lists; while many little things such as saucepans, dishes, clocks, and so forth, can be copied from stores lists and added to the few that are given on p. . [illustration: the library and furniture from "the house that glue built" (_facing page _)] these small articles are cut out flat, but an extra piece of paper is left under each, which, when bent back, makes a stand. general instructions the front legs of chairs, the legs of tables, and the backs of furniture must be neatly joined together by narrow strips of stamp-paper or adhesive tape. to do this, cut a strip of the right size, crease it down the middle, and stick one side. allow this to dry, before you fix the other. wherever in the pictures there is a dotted line, it means that the paper is to be folded there. it will be easily seen whether it is to be folded up or down. before the furniture is folded it should be painted. wood, iron, brass, and silk can all be imitated in color. in cutting out small spaces of cardboard--as between the bars of a chair--lay the card on a board, and keeping your knife, which should be sharp at the point, against a flat ruler, run it again and again along the lines you want to cut, until you have cut through. if your furniture is made of paper, the spaces can be cut out with finely pointed scissors, taking care to start in the middle of the space, for the first incision is seldom a clean one. [illustration: kitchen table (cut out the oblong parts marked aa.)] [illustration: kitchen range and kitchen chair (a is turned up to form a shelf for saucepans; b is glued down over the back.)] [illustration: screen (to be made of one piece of paper folded into three equal parts and cut out in accordance with the illustration.)] [illustration: various pots and pans (under part to be folded back for a stand.)] [illustration: dining-room table and cloth] [illustration: sideboard] [illustration: sofa and arm-chair (the corners must be fastened to the sheet by very narrow strips of paper.)] [ilustration: wooden bedstead] [illustration: wardrobe (join the sides ab and ab, and then bend the top down, glueing the flap c to the back of the wardrobe.)] [illustration: dressing table] [illustration: washstand] [illustration: rocking-chair, towel rack, and chair] [illustration: child's high chair and cot (in the chair the lines ab and ba must be cut. in the cot the four pieces marked a are cut out on their sides and bent down to form legs.)] paper dolls paper dolls are not as good to play with as proper dolls. one can do much less with them because they cannot be washed, have no hair to be brushed, and should not sit down. but they can be exceedingly pretty, and the keeping of their wardrobes in touch with the fashion is an absorbing occupation. paper dolls are more interesting to those who like painting than to others. the pleasure of coloring them and their dresses is to many of us quite as interesting as cutting out and sewing the clothes of ordinary dolls. making paper dolls the first thing to do is to draw the doll in pencil on the cardboard or paper which it is to be cut from. if you are not good at drawing, the best way is to trace a figure in a book or newspaper, and then, slipping a piece of carbon-paper (which can be bought for a penny or less at any stationer's) between your tracing-paper and the cardboard, to go over the outline again with a pencil or a pointed stick. on uncovering the cardboard you will find the doll there all ready to cut out. it should then be colored on both sides, partly flesh color and partly underclothes. the dresses the dresses are made of sheets of note-paper, the fold of which forms the shoulder pieces. the doll is laid on the paper, with head and neck lapping over the fold, and the line of the dress is then drawn a little larger than the doll. a small round nick to form the collar is cut between the shoulders of the dress, and a slit is made down the back through which the doll's head can be passed. after the head is through it is turned round. (of course, if the dress is for evening the place which you cut for the neck must be larger, and in this case no slit will be needed.) all the details of the dresses, which can be of original design, or copied from advertisements and fashion plates, must be drawn in in pencil and afterward painted. hats, trimmed with tissue-paper feathers or ribbons, are made of round pieces of note-paper with a slit in them just big enough for the tip of the doll's head to go through. the illustrations on pp. and should make everything clear. other paper dolls simpler and absolutely symmetrical paper dolls are made by cutting them out of folded paper, so that the fold runs right down the middle of the doll. by folding many pieces of paper together, one can cut out many dolls at once. walking dolls walking ladies are made in that way; but they must have long skirts and no feet, and when finished a cut is made in the skirt--as in the picture--and the framework thus produced is bent back. when the doll is placed on the table and gently blown it will move gracefully along. [illustration: walking paper dolls] [illustration: paper mother and child, with clothes for each] [illustration: a paper girl with six changes] tissue-paper dresses dresses can also be made of crinkly tissue-paper glued to a foundation of plain note-paper. frills, flounces, and sashes are easily imitated in this material, and if the colors are well chosen the result is very pretty. rows of paper dolls to make a row of paper dolls, take a piece of paper the height that the dolls are to be, and fold it alternately backward and forward (first one side and then the other) leaving about an inch between each fold. press the folds together tightly and cut out the half of a doll, being careful that the arms are continued to the edge of the fold and are not cut off. open out and you will have a string of paper dolls. other articles to be made from paper and cardboard will be found on pp. - . playhouses of other peoples it is not in the least necessary to confine yourself to making playhouses that are like the houses you live in or see about you, for with a little ingenuity you can construct bits of all sorts of strange countries right in your play-room. in one of the schools in new york city the children study geography and history of certain kinds by making with their own hands scenes from the places about which they study. one of the most valuable materials for making these playhouses is ordinary modeling clay. you can buy fifty pounds for from fifty cents to a dollar, and with this you are equipped to make almost anything you can see in pictures. put the clay (if bought dry) into a jar, pour over it clear water, and stir it up with a stick until perfectly smooth and about the consistency of hard butter. the first thing to do is to make a supply of bricks for building. this should be shaped like real bricks and about two inches long. smaller ones are also possible if you wish to have your settlement on a very small scale. these should be made as regularly as possible and as nearly of the same size. after a little practice one becomes very expert in this simple art. they should then be dried in the sun and are ready to use, though they must be handled carefully. if you can obtain terra-cotta clay, and have it baked hard you will have real bricks that will outlast your play-time. a pueblo settlement suppose now that you have been reading about the life of the pueblo indians in our southwest, and you have a picture of one of their singular settlements. the accompanying picture shows what was done in the way of constructing such a settlement by a class of school children, none of whom were over eight years old. you can model little clay indian inhabitants and paint them as you please, to represent their brown skins and bright-colored clothes. if you can have a box with a little earth in it to set before your pueblo village you can sow wheat seed, or mustard, and model indians working in the fields with their crude plows. anything of which you can find a picture can be reproduced. indian villages and camps are easy to make and interesting. and once you are started on indian life it may be fun to make yourselves indian costumes. the costumes in the picture shown were made by the boys who wear them. by looking closely at them you can copy them. an esquimau village another class in the same school painted their bricks white to represent blocks of snow and made an esquimau village. this is fascinating and easy to do. or, the rounded huts can be modeled all in one piece directly from the clay. any book describing the life of dwellers in the arctic region will tell you how they make their houses and you can make tiny imitations of them that will be infinite fun to construct and the admiration of all your friends when finished. cotton-wool can be used for snow (powdered isinglass also is pretty), and bits of broken mirror for ice-ponds. little sleds can be made on which to put your esquimau hunter, who may be one of the white-fur-clad dolls so cheaply bought in toy-stores. or you can model a little doll just the right size to be entering the door of your tiny rounded white hut. [illustration: an esquimau sled] [illustration: indian costumes (_facing page _)] a filipino village or if you get tired of living near the arctic circle you can sweep your table clean of esquimau dwellings and construct a filipino village. for these you do not need bricks (which can be given a rest and put away in a box) but little splints of wood the same size and length which you can make yourself with a knife. make a little thin floor of damp clay (but drier than you use it to model with) and stick your upright pieces in this in the shape of the house you wish to make. when the clay has hardened they are held quite firm and you can make a wattled hut by weaving long straws or grasses in and out to form your walls. a thatched roof can also be made of long grasses, tied in little bunches and laid close together all sloping down from the ridge-pole. almost every magazine of a few years back has in it pictures of filipino villages which will furnish you with models to copy. according to the size of the table or board on which you make your settlements you can have more or less extensive tropical country, surrounding your village. mountains can be made of the clay, covered with moss or grasses to represent the jungle and a river with overhanging trees arranged with bits of broken looking-glass, and twigs with tiny scraps of green tissue paper glued to them for leaves. the exercise of your own ingenuity in using all sorts of unlikely materials which you will find all about you is the best part of this game. after you have decided to change the climate and character of your village, the clay used may be broken up and put back in your jar, wet again, stirred smooth and is all ready to begin again. great care should be taken that it is kept clean, that bits of wood or glass be not left in it, or you may cut or prick your fingers in handling it. a dutch street you cannot only wander from one climate and from one nationality to another, but from one century to another. if you are studying early american history nothing is more fun than to make a street in an old dutch settlement. your bricks are painted red for this. almost any history-book will have pictures of one or two old dutch houses which will show you the general look of them. they are harder to construct than the ruder huts of savages and may need to be held together with a little use of damp clay. it is interesting to try and reconstruct old dutch manhattan, from the maps and pictures, showing the bay and the walk on the battery. or if you are interested in colonial new england, make a settlement of log-houses with the upper story overhanging the first. on any walk you can pick up enough small sticks to use as logs after trimming and measuring. other possibilities in this line are suggested below. you will have more fun in working them out yourself than if you are told just how to proceed. a roman arena with gladiators fighting and a curtain which may be drawn to keep off the sun. a little fishing-village beside the sea (a large pan of water) with tiny nets spread out to dry and little walnut shell boats drawn up on the sandy beach. a farmhouse, barn, pig-pen, dog-kennel, carriage-house and the like. a very pretty settlement can be made of this with fields of growing grain, brooks, water-wheels, etc. all the animals of a farm can be modeled and painted. when they are skilfully made they are very pretty and add much to the picture and when they are done unskilfully it is fun to have people guess what they were meant for. however, with a little practice very presentable animals can be modeled. it is easier to make them in clay than to draw them. a gypsy camp, with tents and open fires (bits of yellow and red tissue-paper), under a black kettle (made of clay and painted) swung on a forked stick, can easily be made. of course with tin or lead soldiers the number of games one can invent with these tiny settlements is innumerable. one favorite with some children is the attack and capture of the filipino village by american troops. sometimes it is burned, and this is always a stirring spectacle. indeed with tin soldiers (which are just now unjustly out of favor) one's range of subjects is unlimited, and one always has plenty of inhabitants for any settlement. an army post can be made, with a fort and barracks and a wide green parade ground with the regiment drawn up in line for dress-parade. a tiny american flag flutters from the flag-pole and after the sunset gun booms (a fire-cracker exploded or only some one striking a blow on a tin pan) it can be lowered to the ground while the best whistler of the company executes "the star-spangled banner." indoor occupations and things to make painting painting is an occupation which is within almost everybody's power, and of which one tires very slowly or perhaps not at all. by painting we mean coloring old pictures rather than making new ones, since making new ones--from nature or imagination--require separate gifts. on a wet afternoon--or, if it is permitted, on sunday afternoon--coloring the pictures in a scrapbook is a very pleasant and useful employment. after dark, painting is not a very wise occupation, because, in an artificial light, colors cannot be properly distinguished. all shops that sell artists' materials keep painting-books. but old illustrated papers do very well. flags an even more interesting thing to do with a paint-box is to make a collection of the flags of all nations. and when those are all done, you will find colored pages of them in any large dictionary, and elsewhere too,--you might get possession of an old shipping guide, and copy lloyd's signal code from it. maps coloring maps is interesting, but is more difficult than you might perhaps think, owing to the skill required in laying an even surface of paint on an irregular space. the middle of the country does not cause much trouble, but when it comes to the jagged frontier line the brush has to be very carefully handled. to wet the whole map with a wet brush at the outset is a help. perhaps before starting in earnest on a map it would be best to practice a little with irregular-shaped spaces on another piece of paper. magic-lantern slides if you have a magic lantern in the house you can paint some home-made slides. the colors should be as gay as possible. the best home-made slides are those which illustrate a home-made story; and the fact that you cannot draw or paint really well should not discourage you at all. a simpler way of making slides is to hold the glass over a candle until one side is covered with lamp black and then with a sharp stick to draw outline pictures on it. another way is to cut out silhouettes in black paper, or colored tracing-paper, and stick them to the glass. in copying a picture on a slide put the glass over the picture and draw the outline with a fine brush dipped in indian ink. then paint. all painting on slides should be covered with fixing varnish, or it will rub off. illuminating as a change from painting there is illuminating, for which smaller brushes and gold and silver paint are needed. illuminating texts is a favorite sunday afternoon employment. pen and ink work there is also pen and ink drawing, mistakenly called "etching," for which you require a tiny pen, known as a mapping pen, and a cake of indian ink. if the library contains a volume of old wood-cuts, particularly _bewick's birds_ or _bewick's quadrupeds_, you will have no lack of pictures to copy. chalks in place of paints a box of chalks will serve very well. tracing smaller children, who have not yet learned to paint properly, often like to trace pictures either on tracing paper held over the picture, or on ordinary thin paper held over the picture against the window pane. pricking pictures pictures can also be pricked with a pin, but in this case some one must draw it first. you follow the outline with little pin pricks close together, holding the paper on a cushion while you prick it. then the picture is held up to the window for the light to shine through the holes. easter eggs home-made easter eggs are made by painting pictures or messages on eggs that have been hard-boiled, or by merely boiling them in water containing cochineal or some other coloring material. in germany it is the custom for easter eggs to be hidden about in the house and garden, and for the family to hunt for them before breakfast--a plan that might very well be taken up by us. spatter-work paper and cardboard articles can be prettily decorated by spatter-work. ferns are the favorite shapes to use. you first pin them on whatever it is that is to be ornamented in this way, arranging them as prettily as possible. then rub some indian ink in water on a saucer until it is quite thick. dip an old tooth-brush lightly into the ink, and, holding it over the cardboard, rub the bristles gently across a fine tooth comb. this will send a spray of ink over the cardboard. do this again and again until the tone is deep enough, and try also to graduate it. it must be remembered that the ink when dry is much darker than when wet. then remove the ferns, when under each there will be a white space exactly reproducing their beautiful shape. if you like you can paint in their veins and shade them; but this is not really necessary. colored paints can be used instead of indian ink. scrapbooks making scrapbooks is always a pleasant and useful employment, whether for yourself or for children in hospitals or districts, and there was never so good an opportunity as now of getting interesting pictures. these you select from odd numbers of magazines, christmas numbers, illustrated papers, and advertisements. scraps are very useful to fill up odd corners. in choosing pictures for your own scrapbook it is better to select only those that you really believe in and can find a reason for using, than to take everything that seems likely to fit. by choosing the pictures with this care you make the work more interesting and the book peculiarly your own. but in making a scrapbook as a present for some one that you know, you will, of course, in choosing pictures, try to put yourself in his place and choose as you think that he would. empty scrapbooks can be bought; or you can make one by taking (for a large one) an old business ledger, which some one whom you know is certain to be able to give you, or (for a small one) an ordinary old exercise-book, and then cutting out every other page about half an inch from the stitching. this is to allow room for the extra thickness which the pictures will give to the book. or you can sew sheets of brown paper together. for sticking on the pictures, use paste rather than gum; and when it is done, press the book under quite a light weight, with sheets of paper between the pages. scrapbooks for hospitals children that are ill are often too weak to hold up a large book and turn over the leaves. there are two ways of saving them this exertion and yet giving them pleasure from pictures. one is to get several large sheets of cardboard and cover them with pictures and scraps on both sides, and bind them round with ribbon. these can be enclosed in a box and sent to the matron. she will distribute the cards among the children, and when they have looked at each thoroughly they can exchange it for another. another way is to use folding books which are more easy to hold than ordinary turning-over ones, and you can make them at home very simply by covering half a dozen or more cards of the same size (post-cards make capital _little_ books) with red linen, and then sewing them edge to edge so as to get them all in a row. in covering the cards with the linen--red is not compulsory, but it is a good color to choose--it is better to paste it on as well as to sew it round the three edges (a fold will come on one side), because then when you stick on the pictures they will not cockle up. pictures for hospital scrapbooks should be bright and gay. colored ones are best, but if you cannot get them already colored you can paint them. painting a scrapbook is one of the best of employments. composite scrapbooks sometimes it happens that you get very tired of one of the pictures in your scrapbook. a good way to make it fresh and interesting again is to introduce new people or things. you will easily find among your store of loose pictures a horse and cart, or a dog, or a man, or a giraffe, which, when cut out, will fit in amusingly somewhere in the old picture. if you like, a whole book can be altered reasonably in this way, or made ridiculous throughout. scrap-covered screens a screen is an even more interesting thing to make than a scrapbook. the first thing to get is the framework of the screen, which will either be an old one the covering of which needs renewing, or a new one made by the carpenter. the next thing is to cover it with canvas, which you must stretch on tightly and fasten with small tacks; and over this should be pasted another covering of stout paper, of whatever color you want for a background to the pictures. paste mixed with size should be used in sticking it. after the pictures are all arranged they should be stuck with the same material, and a coat of paper varnish given to the whole, so that it can be cleaned occasionally. collecting stamps stamp-collecting is more interesting if money is kept out of it and you get your stamps by gift or exchange. the best way to begin is to know some one who has plenty of foreign correspondence and to ask for all his old envelopes. nothing but time and patience can make a good collection. to buy it, is to have little of the collector's joy. postage-stamp snakes old american stamps can be used for making snakes. there is no need to soak the stamps off the envelope paper: they must merely be cut out cleanly and threaded together. a big snake takes about , stamps. the head is made of black velvet stuffed with cotton wool, and beads serve for eyes. a tongue of red flannel can be added. puzzles if you have a fret saw, and can use it cleverly, you can make at home as good a puzzle as any that can be bought. the first thing to do is to select a good colored picture, and then to procure from a carpenter a thin mahogany board of the same size. mahogany is not absolutely necessary, but it must be some wood that is both soft and tough. deal, for instance, is useless because it is not tough, and oak is useless because it is not soft. on this wood you stick the picture very firmly, using weak glue in preference to paste or gum. when it is quite dry you cut it up into the most difficult fragments that you can. it is best to cut out the border so that each piece locks into the next. this will then be put together first by the player and will serve to hold the picture together. after the puzzle is cut up it is well to varnish each piece with paper varnish, which keeps it clean and preserves it. a simple puzzle can be made by pasting the picture on cardboard and cutting it up with scissors or a sharp knife. soap bubbles for blowing bubbles the long clay pipes are best. before using them, the end of the mouthpiece ought to be covered with sealing-wax for about an inch, or it may tear your lips. common yellow soap is better than scented soap, and rainwater than ordinary water. a little glycerine added to the soap-suds helps to make the bubbles more lasting. on a still summer day, bubble-blowing out-of-doors is a fascinating and very pretty occupation. shadows on the wall shadowgraphy nowadays has progressed a long way from the rabbit on the wall; but in the house, ambition in this accomplishment does not often extend further than that and one or two other animals, and this is why only the rabbit, dog, and swan are given here. the swan can be made more interesting by moving the arm which forms his neck as if he were prinking and pluming, an effect which is much heightened by ruffling up and smoothing down the hair with the fingers forming his beak. to get a clear shadow it is necessary to have only one light, and that fairly close to the hands. [illustration: shadows on the wall] skeleton leaves leaves which are to be skeletonized should be picked from the trees at the end of june. they should be perfect ones of full growth. it is best to have several of each kind, as some are sure to be failures. put the leaves in a big earthenware dish or pan, fill it with rain-water, and stand it in a warm and sunny place--the purpose of this being to soak off the green pulpy part. there is a great difference in the time which this takes: some fine leaves will be ready in a week, while others may need several months. look at the leaves every day, and when one seems to be ready slip a piece of cardboard under it and shake it about gently in fresh cold water. if any green stuff remains, dab it with a soft brush and then put it into another basin of clean water. a fine needle can be used to take away any small and obstinate pieces of green. it is now a skeleton and must be bleached according to the following directions:--pour into a large earthenware jar a pint of water on half a pound of chloride of lime. mix thoroughly, breaking up any lumps with the hand. add two and a half quarts of water, cover over, and leave for twenty-four hours. then pour off the solution, leaving the sediment behind. dissolve two pounds of soda in one quart of boiling water, and pour it, while on the boil, over the chloride solution. cover it, and leave for forty-eight hours; then decant into bottles, being careful to leave all sediment behind. fill an earthenware dish with this solution, lay the leaves in it, and cover tightly. the leaves will be bleached in six to twelve hours. they should be taken out directly they are white, as the lime makes them very brittle. after bleaching, rinse the leaves in cold water, float them on to cards, and dry between blotting-paper, under a heavy weight. ferns it should be noted that if you intend to skeletonize ferns, they should not be picked before august, and they must be pressed and dried before they are put into the bleaching solution, in which they ought to stay for three or four days. the solution should be changed on the second day, and again on the fourth. after bleaching they can be treated just as the leaves are. wool balls cut out two rings of cardboard, of whatever size you like, from one inch in diameter up to about four inches. a four-inch ring would make as large a ball as one usually needs, and a one-inch ring as small a one as could be conveniently made. the rim of the largest rings should not be wider than half an inch. take a ball of wool and, placing the cardboard rings together, tie the end of it firmly round them. then wind the wool over the rings, moving them round and round to keep it even. at first you will be able to push the ball through the rings easily, but as the wool is wound the hole will grow smaller and smaller, until you have to thread the wool through with a needle. to do this it is necessary to cut the wool into lengths, which you must be careful to join securely. go on until the hole is completely filled and you cannot squeeze another needle through. then slip a pair of scissors between the two rings and cut the wool all round them; and follow this up quickly by slipping a piece of string also between them and tying it tightly round the wool that is in their midst. this is to keep the loose ends, which were made directly you cut the wool with the scissors, from coming out. all that is now necessary is to pull out the cardboard rings and shape the ball a little in your hands. the tighter the wool was bound round the cards, the smaller and harder the ball will be and the more difficult will it be to cut the wool neatly and tie it. therefore, and especially as the whole purpose of a wool ball is softness and harmlessness, it is better to wind the wool loosely and to use thick wool rather than thin. wool demons to make a "wool demon," take a piece of cardboard as wide as you want the demon to be tall, say three inches, and wind very evenly over it wool of the color you want the demon to be. scarlet wool is perhaps best. wind it about eighty times, and then remove carefully and tie a piece round about half an inch from the top to make the neck. this also secures the wool, the lower looped ends of which can now be cut. when cut, gather up about twenty pieces each side for the arms, and, holding them firmly, bind them round with other wool, and cut off neatly at the proper length. then tie more wool round to form the body. the legs and tail are made in the same way as the arms, except that wool is wound round the legs, beginning from the feet and working upward, only to the knees, leaving a suggestion of knickerbockers. eyes and other features can be sewn on in silk. bead-work among other occupations which are not in need of careful description, but which ought to be mentioned, bead-work is important. it was once more popular than it now is; but beads in many beautiful colors are still made, and it is a pity that their advantages should be neglected. bead-work lasts longer and is cleaner and brighter than any other form of embroidery. perhaps the favorite use to which beads are now put is in the making of napkin-rings. bead-flowers are made by threading beads on wire and bending them to the required shapes. boxes of materials are sold in toy-shops. post-office "post-office" is a device for providing the family with a sure supply of letters. the first thing to do is to appoint a postmaster and fix upon the positions for the letter-boxes. you then write letters to each other and to any one in the house, and post them where you like; and at regular times the postmaster collects them and delivers them. the home newspaper in "the home newspaper," the first thing to do is to decide on which of you will edit it. as the editor usually has to copy all the contributions into the exercise-book, it is well that a good writer should be chosen. then you want a good title. it is better if the contributors are given each a department, because that will make the work more simple. each number should have a story and some poetry. home newspapers, as a rule, come out once a month. once a week is too often to keep up. there is a good description of one in a book by e. nesbit, called _the treasure-seekers_. paper and cardboard toys--a cocked hat [illustration: fig. ] to make a cocked hat, take a sheet of stiff paper and double it. then fold over each of the doubled corners until they meet in the middle. the paper will then resemble fig. . then fold ab ab over the doubled corners; fold the corresponding strip of paper at the back to balance it, and the cocked hat is ready to be worn. if it is to be used in charades, it is well to pin it here and there to make it secure. paper boats [illustration: fig. ] if the cocked hat is held in the middle of each side and pulled out into a square, and the two sides are then bent back to make another cocked hat (but of course much smaller); and then, if this cocked hat is also pulled out into a square, it will look like fig. . if the sides a and a are held between the finger and thumb and pulled out, a paper boat will be the result, as in fig. . [illustration: fig .] paper darts [illustration: paper darts] take a sheet of stiffish paper about the size of this page and fold it longways, exactly double. then fold the corners of one end back to the main fold, one each side. the paper sideways will then look as in fig. . then double these folded points, one each side, back to the main fold. the paper will then look as in fig. . repeat this process once more. the paper will then look as in fig. . compress the folds very tightly, and open out the top ones, so that in looking down on the dart it will have the appearance of fig. . the dart is then ready for use. paper mats [illustration: paper mats] take a square piece of thin paper (fig. ), white or colored. fold it in half (fig. ), and then again in half (fig. ), and then again from the centre to the outside corner, when it will be shaped as in fig. . if you want a round mat, cut it as marked by the dotted line in fig. ; if square, leave it as it is. remember that when you cut folded paper the cuts are repeated in the whole piece as many times as there are folds in the paper. the purpose of folding is to make the cuts symmetrical. bearing this in mind cut fig. as much as you like, as suggested by fig. . perhaps it would be well to practice first of all on a rough piece. the more delicate the cuts the prettier will be the completed mat. paper boxes [illustration: paper boxes] take an exactly square piece of paper (cream-laid note-paper is best in texture), and fold it across to each corner and press down the folds. unfold it and then fold each corner exactly into the middle, and press down and unfold again. the lines of fold on the paper will now be seen to run from corner to corner, crossing in the middle, and also forming a square pattern. the next thing is to fold over each corner exactly to the line of this square on the opposite half of the paper. when this is done, and the paper is again straightened out, the lines of fold will be as in fig. . cut out the triangles marked x in fig. , and the paper will be as in fig. . then cut along all the dotted lines in fig. , and stand the opposite corners up to form the sides and lid of the box: first a and b, which are fastened by folding back the little flaps at the tip of a, slipping through the slit at the tip of b, and then unfolding them again; and then c and d, which are secured in the same way. cardboard boxes cardboard boxes, of a more useful nature than paper boxes, are made on the same principle as the house described on p. , and the furniture to go in it, as described later in the same chapter. the whole box can be cut in the flat, out of one piece of cardboard, and the sides afterward bent up and the lid down. measurements must of course be exact. the prettiest way to join the sides is to use thin silk instead of paper, and the lid may be made to fasten by a little bow of the same material. scraps and transfers paper boxes, when finished, can be made more attractive by painting on them, gluing scraps to them, putting transfers here and there, or covering them with spatter-work (see p. ). scraps can be bought at most stationers' in a very great variety. transfers, which are taken off by moistening in water, pressing on the paper with the slithery clouded surface downward, and being gently slipped along, used to be more common than they now are. directions how to make many other paper things will be found on pp. - . ink sea-serpents dissolve a teaspoonful of salt in a glass of water, dip a pen in ink and touch the point to the water. the ink descends in strange serpent-like coils. a dancing man [illustration: a dancing man] the accompanying picture will show how a dancing man is made to dance. you hold him between the finger and thumb, one on each side of his waist, and pull the string. the hinges for the arms and legs, which are made of cardboard, can be made of bent pins or little pieces of string knotted on each side. velvet animals the fashioning of people and animals from scraps of velvet glued on cardboard was a pleasant occupation which interested our great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers when they were children many years ago. a favorite picture was of a boy and a st. bernard, in which the boy's head, hands, collar, and pantaloons, and the dog, were made of white velvet painted. the boy's tunic was black velvet, and its belt a strip of red paper. the dog's eye was a black pin-head. the whole was mounted on a wooden stand with wooden supports at the back, one running up to the boy's head and the other to the tip of the dog's tail. with some scraps of white and black velvet, and a little patience and ingenuity, one could make all the animals on a farm and many in the zoo. hand dragons all the apparatus needed for a "hand dragon" consists of a little cardboard thimble or finger-stall, on which the features of a dragon have been drawn in pen and ink or color. this is then slipped over the top of the middle finger, so that the hand becomes its body and the other fingers and thumb its legs. with the exercise of very little ingenuity in the movement of the fingers, the dragon can be made to seem very much alive. the accompanying picture should explain everything. [illustration: hand dragons] various games can be played with the fingers. tiny caps and hats can be made, features drawn with ink on the fingers and little tissue paper dresses made. a whole play can be acted or sung by these tiny finger marionettes. other uses for cardboard once you have begun to make things out of cardboard, you will find no end to its possibilities and should be in no more need of any hints. after building, furnishing, and peopling a dolls' house, a farm or a menagerie would be an interesting enterprise to start upon. e. m. r. has a stud of ninety-two horses, each named, and each provided with a horse-cloth, a groom, and harness. she has also several regiments of soldiers and a staff of nurses, all cut from cardboard and painted. she chooses her horses from _country life_, or some such paper, and copies them. another enthusiast has a cardboard theatre in which plays and pantomimes are performed. it might be added that cardboard figures can be made to stand up either by leaving a strip of cardboard at the bottom, in which teeth can be cut and bent alternately one way or the other, or by slipping the feet into grooves cut in little blocks of wood. cardboard cut-outs there are a great many cut-outs issued nowadays, which may be bought for a small sum at any toy shop. perhaps the best among these are "the mirthful menagerie," "the agile acrobats" and "the magic changelings." "the mirthful menagerie" when properly cut out and pasted together, make a lot of animals that have _thickness_ as well as length and height; "the agile acrobats" can be made to assume almost any position, and in "the magic changelings," little red riding hood, for instance, can be changed into the wolf, and then back again! books of cut-outs are also made, in which the books are intact after the cut-outs have been removed. "the new mother goose" gives illustrations of many of the mother goose rhymes to be cut out and pasted together, and has a story and other pictures besides. "the electric fire fighters" is on the same order, only in this case the pictures to be put together are of the electric fire-engine, the electric water-tower, etc. they are all easily made, and are fascinating games for stormy weather, or for indoor games at any time. particulars of "snap" cards and other home-made cards will be found on pp. and . kites in china, and to some extent in holland, kite-flying is not the pastime only of boys, but of grave men. and certainly grave men might do many more foolish things. to feel a kite pulling at your hands, to let out string and see it climb higher and higher and higher into the sky--this is a real joy. for good kite-flying you want plenty of room and a steady wind; hence a big field is the best place, unless you are at the seaside when there is a wind off the land, in which case you can fly your kite from the beach. to make an ordinary, serviceable kite, take two laths (which can be bought for a penny from any builder), one three feet long (aa in the picture) and the other two feet (bb). screw bb with two screws exactly in the middle, at right angles to aa, at c, a foot from the top. then take some stout twine of good quality and make the outline of the kite by tying it securely to the ends of each of the laths. next take the thinnest unbleached calico you can find, stretch it fairly tightly, and sew it over the strings. (or strong but light paper will do, pasted over the string.) make a hole (d) through the upright lath and calico, midway between the cross-piece and the top, and another hole (e) about fifteen inches below the cross-piece, and tie a strong string, two and a half feet long, to these holes, with a loop (f) in it a foot from the top hole. to this loop you will tie the string of the kite. the tail (g) is made of pieces of paper about six inches long, rolled tightly and tied at distances of a foot. its exact length will depend on the strength of the wind and can be determined only by experience, but, roughly speaking, it should be five times the height of the kite, or, with the kite which we are making, fifteen feet long. it is best to have the tail in two or three pieces, and then it can be lengthened or shortened at will. for instance, if the kite plunges in the air and will not keep steady, the tail is not long enough; but if it will go up only a little way, the tail is probably too long. be sure to have plenty of string, carefully wound, so that there will be no hitches in paying it out. when starting a kite you need the help of some one who will stand about thirty yards away, holding the kite against the wind, and throw it straight up when you have the line tight and give the signal. if it does not rise it may be well for you to run a few yards against the wind. at first you must not pay out line very rapidly, but when the kite is flying steadily you may give it, also steadily, all the string it wants. [illustration: a kite] [illustration: "to feel a kite pulling at your hands--this is real joy"] kite messengers a messenger is a piece of cardboard or paper with a good-sized hole in it, which you slip over the string when the kite is steady, and which is carried right up to the kite by the wind. a simple toy boat the following directions, with exact measurements, apply to one of the simplest home-made sailing-boats. take a piece of soft straight-grained pine, which any carpenter or builder will let you have, one foot long, four inches wide, and two inches deep. on the top of the four-inch side draw an outline as in fig. , in which you will be helped by first dividing the wood by the pencil line ab, exactly in the middle. then turn the block over and divide the under four-inch side with a similar line, and placing the saw an eighth of an inch each side of this line, cut two incisions right along the wood about a quarter of an inch deep. the portion between these two incisions forms the keel. then carry the line up the middle of the end a, and repeat the incisions as along the bottom, these making the boat's stem-post. next turn to the top again, and make a line, similar to the dotted line cc in fig. , about three-eighths of an inch inside the outline of the boat, and then carefully hollow out with a gouge everything inside this dotted line. it must be very carefully done; it is better, indeed, to err on the side of not hollowing her out enough, and then a little more can be removed afterward. next shape the outside, first with a saw and then with a chisel, again using the utmost care. try to give her a fine bow, or "entry," and a good clean stern, or "run." if the boat were cut in two crossways in the middle, the section ought to resemble that in fig. . this flat "floor" will be graduated away to nothing at bow and stern. next fix on the lead keel (see k in fig. ), which should be a quarter of an inch thick, a quarter of an inch deep at the bow, and three-quarters at the stern, fastened on with four long thin screws. next make the deck, which should not be more than an eighth of an inch thick and should fit very closely at the edges. [illustration: a toy boat] the mast (c), which should be about three-eighths of an inch in diameter at the foot, and should taper slightly, must stand one foot above the deck, and pass through the deck four and a half inches from the bow. first pass it through the hole in the deck and place it in position, leaning a little back from the bows; then slip up the deck and mark the place in the bottom of the boat where the mast rests, and there fix, with four small brass screws, a block of wood with a hole in it, into which the mast can be firmly "stepped." then on the upper side of the deck, just in front of the mast-hole, screw a small eyelet. this is to hold the line called the foresail sheet (l), but as the deck is only an eighth of an inch thick you must place a little block of wood under the deck, into which the eyelet can be screwed. directly this is done, the deck is ready to be screwed firmly to the boat with brass screws. if you are in any doubt as to its being water-tight, you had better bore a hole in it and put a cork in, so that you can tip it up and empty it after each voyage. [illustration: a toy boat] the bowsprit (j), a quarter of an inch in diameter, should be three and a half inches long, two inches of which project beyond the bow. screw it firmly to the boat. you have now to shape the boom (f) and gaff (d), which must have a fork at the end, as in fig. , to embrace the mast, the ends of this fork being joined by string. the boom should be eight and a half inches long and three-eighths of an inch in diameter, and the gaff five inches long and a quarter of an inch in diameter. the gaff is kept in position, about three inches from the mast-head, by the throat halyards and peak halyards, to which we now come. the peak halyards (h), throat halyards (g), and foresail halyards (f) should be of very fine fishing-line. after being tied respectively to the gaff and foresail, they pass through small holes in the mast, down to eyelets screwed into the bulwarks on each side of the mast. the foresail sheet (l) and main sheet (m), which are some four inches long, are hitched to eyelets screwed into the deck amidships, one just in front of the mast, as already explained, and the other about two inches from the stern. the sails must be of thin calico, neatly hemmed round. both sails should come to about three inches of the head of the mast. the foresail is fastened only to the tip of the bowsprit, the foresail halyards, and foresail sheet; the mainsail to the gaff, all along, and to each end of the boom. nothing has been said about a rudder, because a boat built and rigged in the manner described would balance herself, and so keep on any course on which she was laid. with a very little wind she ought to cross and recross a pond without any hitch, all that will be necessary being to let the sails have plenty of play, by loosening the foresail sheet and main sheet, and to give her a steady push. walnut shell boats to make a boat from a walnut shell, you scoop out the half shell and cut a piece of cardboard of a size to cover the top. through the middle of this piece of cardboard you thrust a match, and then, dropping a little sealing-wax into the bottom of the shell, and putting some round the edge, you fix the match and the cardboard to it. a sail is made by cutting out a square of paper and fastening it to the match by means of two holes; but the boat will swim much better without it. walnut fights here it might be remarked that capital contests can be had with the empty halves of walnut shells. a plate is turned upside down, and the two fighters place their walnuts point to point is the middle. at the given word they begin to push, one against the other, by steady pressure of finger and thumb on the stern of the shell. the battle is over when the prow of one shell crashes through the prow of the other. this always happens sooner or later, but sometimes the battles are long and severe. at the end of each contest the number of shells defeated by the victor should be marked on it, and it should be carefully kept for the next conflict. at school we used to have tremendous excitement when two champions met, a walnut with a record of , for instance, and another with . the winner in such a battle as this would, of course, be numbered , , because you always add not only your defeated adversary to your score, but all his victims too. suckers a sucker is a round piece of strong leather. thread a piece of string through the middle, and knot the string at the end to prevent it being pulled through. soak the sucker in water until it is soft, and then press it carefully over a big smooth stone, or anything else that is smooth, so that no air can get in. if you and the string are strong enough, the sucker will lift great weights. skipjacks the wish-bone of a goose makes a good skipjack. it should be cleaned and left for a day or two before using. then take a piece of strong thin string, double it, and tie it firmly to the two ends of the wish-bone, about an inch from the end on each side. take a strip of wood a little shorter than the bone, and cut a notch round it about half an inch from one end. then slip it half way between the double string, and twist the string round and round until the resistance becomes really strong. then pull the stick through to the notch, into which the string will settle, and tie it at each side, so that it is not likely to slip either way. a little piece of cobblers' wax must be put on the bone on the other side to that where the stick naturally touches. pull the stick right over to stick on the wax, and lay the skipjack, stick downward, on the ground. in a little while the wax will give way, and the wish-bone will spring high into the air. [illustration: a skipjack] a water-cutter [illustration: a water-cutter] the cut-water is best made of tin or lead, but stout cardboard or wood will serve the purpose. first cut the material into a round, and then make teeth in it like a saw. thus:--then bore two holes in it, as in the drawing, and thread strings through them, tying the strings at each end. hold the strings firmly, and twist them a little. then, by pulling at them to untwist them, the cut-water will be put in motion, first one way, while they are being untwisted, and then the other, while they twist up again. if held just over a basin of water, the notches will send spray a great distance, but you must be careful to dip them only when the cut-water is revolving away from you, or you will be soaked. whistles with a sharp knife a very good whistle can be made of hazel or willow, cut in the spring or early summer. a piece of wood about three inches long should be used. remember what an ordinary tin whistle is like, and cut the mouthpiece at a similar angle, and also cut a little nick out of the bark, in the place of the hole immediately beyond the mouthpiece in the metal instrument. then cut all round the bark about an inch from the other end of the stick, hold the bark firmly with one hand clasped round it, and hold the inch at the opposite end firmly with the fingers of the other, and pull. the greater portion of bark should slide off quite easily. you will then have a tube of bark about two inches long, and a white stick about three inches long, with an inch of bark remaining on it. cut from the mouthpiece end of this stick as much as exactly fits between the end and the little nick in the bark which you have already made. shave the top until it is flat (just as in an ordinary whistle), and place it inside the bark again. then cut off from the white part of the stick all but a quarter of an inch: fit this into the other end of the bark tube, and you ought to get a good shrill whistle. it will be better if you keep a pea inside. christmas--evergreen decorations getting ready for christmas is almost as good as christmas itself. the decorations can be either natural or artificial or a mixture of both. in using evergreens for ropes, it is best to have a foundation of real cord of the required length, and tie the pieces of shrub and ivy to it, either with string or floral wire. this prevents any chance of its breaking. for a garland or any device of a definite shape, the foundation could be a stiffer wire, or laths of wood. ivy chains are described on page . paper decorations the simplest form of paper chain is made of colored tissue paper and glue. you merely cut strips the size of the links and join them one by one. for paper flowers, paper and tools are especially made. but for the purposes of home decoration ordinary tissue paper, wire, glue, and scissors will serve well enough. mottoes mottoes and good wishes can be lettered in cotton wool on a background of scarlet or other colored linen or lining paper. scarlet is perhaps the most cheery. or you can make more delicate letters by sewing holly berries on to a white background; and small green letters can be made by sewing box leaves on a white background. for larger green letters and also for bordering, holly leaves and laurel leaves are good. cotton-wool makes the best snow. christmas trees. in hanging things on the christmas tree you have to be careful that nothing is placed immediately over a candle, nor should a branch of the tree itself be near enough to a candle to catch fire. after all the things are taken off the tree there is no harm in its burning a little, because the smell of a burning christmas tree is one of the best smells there is. to put presents of any value on the tree is perhaps a mistake, partly because they run a chance of being injured by fire or grease, and partly because they are heavy. the best things of all are candles, as many as possible, and silver balls which reflect. on the top there should, of course, be either a father christmas, or a christ child, as the germans, who understand christmas trees even better than we do, always have. for lighting the candles a long taper is useful, and for putting them out, an extinguisher tied to a stick. bran-tubs or jack horner pies bran-tubs or jack horner pies are not so common as they used to be, but there is no better way of giving your guests presents at random. as many presents as there are children are wrapped up in paper and hidden in a tub filled with bran. this is placed on a dust-sheet, and the visitors dip their bands in and pull out each a parcel. the objection to the bran-tub is that boys sometimes draw out things more suitable for girls. this difficulty could be got over by having two tubs, one for girls and one for boys. sometimes the ribbon of each parcel is long and falls over the edge of the dish. the boys take one color ribbon, and the girls the other, and all pull at the same time. philopenas two games with nuts and cherries may as well go at the end of this section as anywhere else. almonds sometimes contain double kernels. these are called philopenas, and you must never waste them by eating both yourself, but find some one to share them with. there are several ways of playing. one is "yes or no," in which the one who first says either "yes" or "no" must pay a forfeit to the other. another is "give and take," in which the one that first takes something that the other hands him is the loser. or whichever of you first says to the other "good morning, philopena," on the following day, or the next time you meet, wins a present. or this is sometimes played that whoever first answers a question put to him by the other must pay a forfeit. of course this makes great fun in trying to invent and evade plausible questions. cherry contests cherry-eating races can be very exciting. the players stand in a row with their hands behind them, and a number of long-stalked cherries are chosen from the basket and placed by the tip of the stalk between their teeth. at the word of command the players begin their efforts to draw the cherry up by the stalk into their mouths. all heads must be held down. candy-making utensils for making candy you will need an enamel or earthenware saucepan; a long wooden spoon; one or two old soup-plates or dishes; a bowl, if there is any mixing to be done; a cup of cold water for testing; a silver knife; and, if you are not cooking in the kitchen, a piece of oil-cloth or several thicknesses of brown paper to lay on the table. general directions butter the dish into which the candy is to be poured before you begin to cook. to do this put a little piece of butter on a piece of clean soft paper and rub it all over the dish. always stir round the edge as well as the middle of the saucepan. stir slowly but continually, for candy burns very quickly if left alone. the flavoring should be added just before taking the saucepan off the fire. to find out if your taffy or candy has boiled long enough, drop a little in the cup of cold water. if it at once becomes crisp and hard, it is done. before your candy is quite cold, mark it with a silver knife into squares. this will make it break up more easily and neatly when cold. barley sugar lb. powdered sugar. the white of an egg. / a pint of water. / a lemon. dissolve the sugar in the water, and add the well-beaten white of an egg (this must be done before the mixture is heated). then put on the fire in a strong saucepan. remove all scum as it rises, and when the syrup begins to look clear, take off the fire and strain through muslin. put the syrup back into the saucepan and let it boil quickly until you find by testing it that it is done. then add the juice of the lemon and pour on to a buttered dish. before the mixture sets cut it into strips and twist. chocolate caramels tea-cup golden syrup. tea-cup brown sugar. tea-cup milk. oz. butter. oz. powdered chocolate. a pinch of salt. drops vanilla. boil all together for half an hour, stirring continually. cocoanut caramels are made in the same way, except that oz. of grated or desiccated cocoanut is used instead of the chocolate. cocoanut cream - / lb. granulated sugar. oz. grated cocoanut. melt the sugar with as little water as possible. continue to let it boil gently until the syrup begins to return to sugar again. directly this happens put in the cocoanut and mix thoroughly. pour the mixture into a flat dish or tin. cocoanut cream (_another way_) cocoanut, grated. lb. granulated sugar. / a cup of cocoanut-milk. oz. butter. put the sugar, cocoanut-milk, and butter into a saucepan. when they boil, add the cocoanut gradually. boil for ten minutes, stirring all the time. pour the mixture into a basin and beat till nearly cold, then turn out into a dish. cocoanut drops / lb. cocoanut, grated. / lb. white sugar. the whites of eggs, well beaten. mix well together and bake in drops on buttered paper for fifteen minutes. cream caramels tin nestlé's milk. lb. soft white sugar. oz. butter. vanilla. melt the sugar with a very little water, and when boiling add the butter and nestlé's milk. stir continually, as the mixture burns very easily, for fifteen minutes. try in water to see if it will set. add the vanilla, pour into a dish, and beat until nearly cold. one ounce of cocoanut or of grated chocolate can be used instead of vanilla to flavor the above. fruit cream cocoanut, grated. - / lb. granulated sugar, moistened with a little cocoanut-milk. put the sugar in a saucepan and let it heat slowly. then boil rapidly five minutes; add grated cocoanut, and boil ten minutes. stir constantly. put a little on a cold plate, and if it makes a firm paste, take from fire. pour part of it into a large tin lined with greased paper; and add to what remains in the saucepan, chopped blanched almonds, candied cherries, nuts, etc. pour this over the other cream, and cut in bars. pop-corn the corn has to be "popped" over a clear fire in a little iron basket with a long handle. the corn is put in the basket and shaken continually, and in time each grain pops suddenly and becomes a little irregular white ball. these can be eaten with salt, or rolled in a sweet syrup (colored and flavored as you like it best) made of / lb. of white sugar boiled for ten minutes with a very little water. the plainest toffee oz. butter. lb. brown sugar. stir until done. another toffee lb. raw sugar. / lb. butter. small tablespoonfuls of syrup. the juice of half a lemon. half a teaspoonful of powdered ginger. melt the butter in a saucepan, and then add the sugar, syrup, and ginger. stir continually, adding a little lemon juice every now and then. boil for ten minutes, and then test in cold water. two ounces of blanched and split almonds can be added to the above. the almonds should either be mixed with the toffee just before taking it off the fire, or else a well-buttered dish should be lined with them and the toffee poured over. to blanch almonds, put them in a bowl and cover them with boiling water. put a saucer over the bowl to keep the steam in, and leave for about three minutes. then take out the almonds one by one and rub off their brown skins between your fingers. everton toffee lb. brown sugar. small cup of water. / lb. of butter. boil the water and sugar together very gently until the sugar is melted. then add the butter and boil all together for half an hour. molasses candy / lb. molasses. / lb. brown sugar. oz. butter. boil all together for half an hour. nut candy pint of chopped nuts. / lb. brown sugar. oz. butter. juice of one lemon. tablespoonful of water. boil everything, except the nuts, for twenty minutes, stirring all the time. test, and if done, add the nuts. stir them in thoroughly and pour off into a dish. nut candy (_another way_) lb. brown sugar. oz. butter. oz. chopped nuts. melt the butter in a saucepan, then add the sugar. boil from ten to fifteen minutes and then add the nuts. walnuts, brazil nuts, almonds, or peanuts (which have been baked) may be used. peppermint candy lb. syrup. oz. butter. small teaspoonful of essence of peppermint. boil the butter and syrup very gently until the mixture hardens when tested in water. add the peppermint and pour into well-buttered dishes. stuffed dates, etc. very dainty and good sweets can be made without cooking at all. all that is necessary is to have a certain amount of cream with which to stuff or surround stoned dates, cherries, and french plums, or walnuts and almonds. the cream is made in this way. put the white of an egg and one tablespoonful of water into a bowl, and into this stir gradually lb. of confectioner's sugar (confectioner's sugar or "icing" is the only kind that will do), working it very smooth with a spoon. this will make a stiff paste, which can be moulded into whatever shape you please. the cream can then be divided into different portions, and each portion flavored as you like best. a few drops of vanilla or lemon juice, a little grated cocoanut or chocolate, or some pounded almonds, make excellent flavorings. part of it can be colored pink with cochineal, or green with spinach-coloring. when this is done, stone some dates, french plums, or raisins, or blanch some almonds and slit them in two, or have ready a number of the dried walnuts which can be bought at any grocer's. only the perfect halves must be used. form some of the cream into little balls and put it between two walnut halves or two almond halves, or stuff the other fruit with it. trim all the sweets very neatly with a knife and roll them in granulated sugar. this is prettier when it has been colored pink or green, but there is no necessity to do so. to color the sugar, mix about oz. with a few drops of green or pink coloring; dry it thoroughly, and, if the grains are not quite free, put the sugar between some paper and roll it, or crush with an iron. another richer mixture for filling dates, etc., can be made as follows:--mix / lb. of ground almonds with oz. of ground pistachios. beat the whites of eggs to a stiff froth and add the almonds and / lb. of confectioner's sugar. color with green. almonds can be bought already ground. gardening introductory although young america is growing more and more fond of out of doors, the lovely old occupation of gardening is less a favorite than formerly: and this is a great pity, for if one loves flowers, nothing so repays labor as gardening. nor is it necessary to have a large tract of ground to cultivate. indeed a tiny piece, well tended, is both more interesting and more successful. a corner of a city back-yard--even a window-box can be a source of never-failing entertainment; although of course a little plot of rich earth in one part of a lawn or country garden, lends itself to greater and more extensive plans. the important thing about growing plants is to like to do it. if you are impatient of routine and neglectful you should not be intrusted with plants any more than with animal pets, for they are both entirely dependent on your care. it is your business, as a gardener, to know everything you can about your flowers. a gardener should be able to recognize seeds as well as seedlings; to know what treatment each flower likes best; and to exercise a special care for tender plants which need protection until there is no longer any danger of frost. the beauty of a flower depends very much upon its content. many flowers need particular soils; some need dry soil, some moisture, some shade, and some sun; and the gardener, who is a kind of mother to the flowers, will have to remember all those things. in return, the flowers, which have a real sense of gratitude to those who care for them tenderly, will do their best to grow beautiful. it is best to begin with a few flowers and to learn all that one can about these. annuals will scarcely ever fail if carefully sown in good soil. in making your choice, choose so that you will have flowers from spring to autumn. perennial plants are the most satisfactory of all to grow; for once planted they need only a very little attention and increase in size each year. bulbs produce some of the most beautiful flowers and are very easy to grow. but great care must be taken not to dig into them after their blossoms have died down. besides those flowers for the growing of which directions are hereafter given there are many tender ones which must be raised in frames. this is a part of gardening which can well be left until later and upon which instructions can be found in any more advanced book on horticulture. color in the garden in arranging a garden, select flowers which will keep it full of blossom from may to october, and remember when planting and sowing that some colors are more beautiful together than others. the color arrangement of a garden is always difficult, but one must learn by experience. scarlet and crimson, crimson and blue, should not be put together, and magenta-colored flowers are never satisfactory. whites and yellows, and whites and blues, are always suitable together, and for the rest you must please yourself. the use of catalogues a good catalogue gives illustrations of most flowers, and in many cases its cultural directions are very helpful. as an extension of the notes that follow nothing could be more useful than two or three catalogues issued by good growers. gardening diaries it is a good thing for a gardener to keep a diary. at the beginning of the book he would make a plan of the garden, to scale: that is to say, allowing one inch, or more, in the plan for every foot of bed. in this plan would be marked the position of the bulbs and perennial plants. the diary would take note of everything that happened in the garden. the sowing of seeds would be recorded; also when the seedlings first appear; when they are thinned out, and when they blossom: in fact, everything to do with the life of the plants. a little collection of drawings of seedlings would be of great use in helping to distinguish them another year. at the end of the book might be written the names of any plants that the owner would like to have, or any special information about the culture of a plant, or the description of some arrangement which had been admired in another garden. flower-shows where several children have gardens in the same big garden, or the same neighborhood, a flower-show is very interesting to hold now and then. to do this it is needful first to find some one willing to act as judge, and--if agreeable--to give several small prizes in addition to certificates of merit. the different things for which prizes are offered will depend, of course, upon what the competitors can grow. there might be prizes for different flowers, for collections of flowers, and for lettuces or radishes, if there are enough competitors who grow such things. but the most important prize would go perhaps to the owner of the best-kept garden. another for the best arrangement of bunches of flowers, garden and wild, might lead to some very pretty bouquets. tools for simple gardening the following tools are needed:--spade, trowel, hoe, rake, watering-can with a fine rose, syringe. they should all be strong and good. besides these tools you will need either wooden labels or other home-made means of marking seeds, some strong sticks to use as supports for tall-growing plants, and tape to tie them up with. a pair of gloves--any old ones will do--is very necessary. watering plants should never be watered when the sun is shining on them. early morning in spring, and late afternoon or early evening in summer, is the best time. it is best to water with water which has had the chill taken from it by standing in the sun or in the house. in watering seedlings and tiny plants, keep the rose on your watering-can; but with big plants it is better to take off the rose and pour the water gently, waiting every now and then for it to sink in round their roots. if the ground is very dry and baked, break up the surface of it round the plants with a rake, or push a fork carefully into the earth. this will help the water to sink in. water very regularly during hot and dry weather. it is very hard on your plants to give them a splendid drink one day and to forget all about them for a week. ferns should have a gentle spray bath every afternoon if you want to keep them fresh and green, and all leaves look the brighter for a shower from your watering-can. perennial plants, annuals, and rose-trees will greatly benefit if watered with slop-water while they are flowering. wall pockets if your garden is very small, but is against a sunny wall, the growing room can be increased by fixing a number of pockets, made of wood or of flower-pots, against the wall. these should be filled with good soil, and in them wallflowers, pinks, bulbs of different kinds, wandering jew, and some varieties of wild-flowers, etc., can be planted. borders the first thing to do when a plot has been given to you, is to mark it off clearly with a border. there are several ways of doing this. gardens are sometimes bordered with escallop shells, which are neat enough but seem rather out of place among flowers. tiles make another tidy artificial border; but the best is made of natural rough stones from six to twelve inches long. these stones, which should be sunk into a groove, are soon covered with patches of green moss, and if between their irregular ends you drop a few seeds of low growing annuals, such as candytuft; or plant little pieces of thyme, blue forget-me-not, or any kind of rockfoil or stonecrop, the border will become one of the prettiest things in the garden. if you prefer a growing boundary, a very nice stiff little hedge can be made by sowing endive in a line all round the garden, and, after allowing it to run to seed, cutting and trimming it. but of course there is no natural border to compare with box; but to get a good box hedge is a tedious matter. annuals the seeds of all annuals can be sown from march until june according to the locality. any one in the neighborhood who has gardened for some years can tell you when to plant better than any catalogue. the seeds of favorite flowers should be sown several times at intervals of a fortnight, so that you may have a succession of them through summer and autumn. preparations for sowing before sowing any seeds, see that the soil is nicely broken up, and remove any stones. when you have decided where to sow the different seeds, take away a little earth from each place and sow the seeds very thinly--remembering that each plant must be from four inches to twelve inches apart; cover lightly with the earth you took out and press it down firmly with your trowel. then mark the place with little pieces of white wood, on which the names of the seeds have been written with an indelible pencil. it is much easier to sow the tiny seeds thinly if you first mix them with a little sand. these must be only just covered by a very fine sprinkling of earth; but sweet-pea and nasturtium must be sown deeper. thinning out and transplanting begin to thin out the seedlings very soon after they appear, and be very careful not to pull up too many. it is easiest to thin out when the soil is wet. when the seedlings are two inches high only those which you wish to keep should be left in. it is not very easy to say exactly how much room to leave the different plants, but plants which will be six inches high should be about three inches apart; those which will be one foot high about six inches, and so on. godetia, nasturtium, love-in-a-mist, sweet-pea, cornflower, and larkspur seedlings can be transplanted when about two inches high, if you find you want them where they have not been sown. to do this water the ground well first, and then pull the seedlings out so gently that none of their tiny fibrous roots are snapped; and, if possible, bring away a little earth with each. re-plant them as quickly as you can, making for each a little hole big enough for the roots to spread out in. hold the seedling in position, and fill in with very moist earth; or else, after you have made the hole, fill it up with water, then put back some of the earth and stir it up into a sort of paste, and put the seedling in this, filling up the hole with the rest of the earth. seedlings that have been transplanted must be kept moist until they have taken a good start, and if possible they should be shaded with a branch of evergreen, for they droop very quickly in the heat. all seedlings must be watered gently and often. if you notice how quickly the sun dries the surface of the ground, you will see how necessary it is to keep the ground moist until the roots get bigger and go down deep into the earth. weeds and seedlings it is most important to know what the baby-plants will look like when they come up, because one has to weed hard in the warm showery weather, and if one is not careful, mignonette, sweet-peas, and poppies may go on the rubbish heap, and chickweed and purseley be left on the flower-bed; which, although it is what the birds like, will, later, be very disheartening to you. of course, if your seeds are well marked, there will be less difficulty, but even then weeds will come up amongst them. the only safe way is to get to know the appearance of all the seedlings, and to help you to remember it is a good thing to make little drawings of them in your garden note-book. autumn sowing some seeds, such as cornflowers, godetias, and poppies, can be sown in the autumn. they will stand the winter as a rule and will make finer plants and blossom earlier than if sown in spring. they should be sown thinly in open ground. any good catalogue will give you a list of annuals suitable for your purposes and with a little advice from an older gardener you will have no difficulty in selecting wisely. biennials these are best sown in may. if the garden is full they may be sown in an ordinary wooden box filled with several inches of good earth. transplant them to their permanent places later on. remember that all plants will flower for a much longer time if the flowers are kept cut and any faded ones taken off. saving seed the best seed is saved from plants set apart for that purpose; for good seed comes from the first and finest flowers and not from those left over at the end of the flowering season. these plants should be sown in a little patch by themselves, should be allowed to run to seed, and carefully tended until the seed-pods are ripe enough to be gathered. if, therefore, you have not a large garden, it is best to buy most of your seed each year, using a little of your own, from which, however, you must not always expect the finest flowers. if you have no wish to keep any of your flowers merely for seeding purposes but still want, while getting flowers from them, also to save a few seeds, the thing to do is to mark one or two of the finest blossoms with a tiny piece of wool or silk (it is better when it is the color of the flower) and let it go to seed. take special care of the plant, and cut off all other flowers as you wish to gather them. watch the seed-pods when they are formed, and when they are ripe--that is, brown and dry--cut them off, break them open, and spread the seeds out. look them over very carefully to see that there are no maggots amongst them, and if they are at all damp leave them in a warm place until they are dry. then make them up in little packets, clearly labeled with their names, colors, and the date, and put them away in a dry place until next spring. in saving sunflower seeds choose your best sunflower, and when the petals have fallen tie it up in muslin, or else the birds will steal a march on you. in gathering sweet-pea pods one has to be rather clever, because when they are quite ripe they burst open and the seeds fly out suddenly, sometimes just as one is going to cut them. in one poppy pod there are hundreds of seeds, enough to stock a garden, and the same is the case with the pretty pods of love-in-a-mist. nasturtium seeds should be picked up when they fall on the ground, and spread out until quite brown and dry. cornflowers, which have little seeds like shaving-brushes, generally sow themselves, and marigolds do too, but they are both easy to save. in choosing a place in which to keep seeds through the winter remember that damp is not the only danger. mice enjoy them thoroughly. perennials perennials are plants which, although they die down in winter, come up again and blossom every following spring or summer. they can be grown from seed, but, with a few exceptions, this is a long and troublesome part of gardening, and it is best to get them from friends or from a nurseryman. planting perennials the best months for planting perennials are november, february, and march. dig a hole large enough to take the roots when well spread out, hold your plant in position, with the junction of stem and root just below the level of the earth, and fill in gently with fine soil, pressing it down firmly all round the plant, and if there is danger of frost protect the plants with straw, bracken, or a mulching of manure. never water if there is any likelihood of frost. here follow some general remarks concerning the treatment of perennials through the spring, summer, and autumn:-- slugs in the spring, slugs, which eat the tender new leaves of many plants, can be kept away by sprinkling coal-ash around them. watering in hot weather, water perennials regularly and well, breaking up earth around them so that the water sinks in easily. supports all tall-growing perennials will need stakes to support them. care must be taken not to injure the roots when putting these in. the stalks can be tied with twine. dividing perennials can be divided if they grow too large. with summer-flowering plants this should be done in october or november, and with spring-flowering plants in june. in dividing you simply dig up the plant and break off as much of it as you want, being careful not to injure the roots. as, however, there are many plants which, to be divided, must be cut, and as this is an operation which requires some skill and knowledge, it would perhaps be better to take advice. perennials from seed snapdragon, wallflower, pansies, and hollyhocks are very easily grown from seed. they can be sown in june (wallflowers are best sown in april) in boxes, and thinned out and transplanted to permanent places as soon as they are large enough. they will blossom the following year. seedlings seedlings of most perennials can be bought for a few cents a dozen. they should be planted as quickly as possible and watered well, and they will flower the following year. consult a good nurseryman's catalogue for a list of hardy perennials, as for the annuals. bulbs--general remarks a garden that is planted only with bulbs, or with bulbs and a few ferns, can be kept beautiful all the year round. many of our loveliest flowers come from bulbs, and they are easy to grow and interesting to watch from the moment that the first leaf-tips push through the earth until they die down. the position of all bulbs should be very carefully marked on the beds and in your garden-plan, so that you will not cut or injure them when digging your garden over. the first bulbs to come--through the snow sometimes--are the snowdrops, single and double, crocuses--yellow, purple, lilac, and striped--and then the tiny bright blue squills; and a little later the yellow daffodil and white narcissus, hyacinths, and tulips of every kind. then white, red, and purple anemones, ranunculi, and wax-like stars of bethlehem. in june there are wonderful irises and tall spikes of summer-flowering gladiolus--red and white--and later still the tall garden lilies. there are many of these lilies, and all of them are exceedingly beautiful. two kinds should be in all gardens--the white madonna lily, and the orange tiger lily. all the bulbs that have been mentioned cost very little and can be grown very simply. and all bulbs that have been mentioned can remain untouched for many years unless they exhaust the soil around them (when, instead of increasing as they should each year, the plants become poorer and smaller). never move a bulb when it is in active growth: after the leaves have died down is the right time. leaf-mould mixed with your garden soil will help to give you fine flowers. if the leaves of the bulbs are attacked by slugs, as they often are, sprinkle a little wood-ash all around them. planting bulbs for planting bulbs choose a day when the earth is dry, and make your holes with a trowel. if you want to make a clump of bulb-plants, take away the earth to the right depth from the whole area you wish to fill, place your bulbs in position, points upward, and cover over, pressing the earth firmly down. in planting a bulb in a hole made for it by a trowel, be very careful to see that it is resting on earth, and is not "hung," that is to say, kept from touching the earth underneath because of the narrowness of the hole. all bulbs may be protected during the winter by laying hay or straw over them. this must be neatly pegged down, and removed in march. cutting leaves never cut all the leaves of plants growing from bulbs, but allow those that are unpicked to die down naturally. if they look very untidy, as the leaves of the star of bethlehem always do, tie them up tightly. seeds of annuals can always be sown among bulbs, and they will hide dying leaves and fill up the places that are left vacant. shades "shades" are subterranean gardens: holes in the ground, some eighteen inches deep and about a foot square (or larger), the sides of which are covered with moss and little ferns. at the bottom you can sink a pot or a tin, which must always be kept filled with water. it is more interesting if a toad or a frog lives there. over the hole stands a shade made of glass and wood, which, together with the water, keeps it cool and moist. kitchen gardens if you want to grow other things besides flowers, lettuces, radishes, and mustard and cress are interesting to raise. strawberries, too, are easy to cultivate, but they need some patience, as the first year's growth brings very few berries. in sowing the seeds of lettuce, radish, and mustard and cress, follow directions given for sowing flower seeds on page . if you want to grow even the few things mentioned, which need only very simple culture, the soil of the garden must be good. lettuce sow a few seeds of lettuce very thinly in a line once every three weeks. when the seedlings, which should be protected from birds by netting, are three inches high, thin them out, leaving one foot between each plant. the seedlings that are pulled up can be transplanted or eaten. transplanted lettuces should be shaded during hot weather and given plenty of water. during dry and hot weather you may water lettuces every day. radishes sow a few radish seeds thinly once every three weeks, and cover very lightly with earth. these seedlings also must be protected by netting from birds, and must have plenty of water, or the radishes will become stringy and poor. in summer sow in a shady place. mustard and cress mustard and cress seed can be sown at any time and is almost sure to be successful. in very hot weather sow in the shade, or protect from the sun in the middle of the day. the cress should always be sown three days before the mustard. it is a favorite device to sow one's name in mustard and cress. for other ways of treating it, see page . strawberries plant strawberries carefully in august or september. dig a hole for each plant and spread the roots well out. hold the plant while filling in the earth, so that that part of it where root and stem join comes just below the soil. each plant should be eighteen inches from its neighbor. cut off all runners--that is, the long weedy stems which the plants throw out in spring, and water well if the weather is dry. protect the strawberries from birds, and watch very carefully for slugs, which are greedy strawberry-eaters. when the fruit begins to form, lay some straw on the earth under and between the plants. this will keep the berries clean. town gardens so far, we have been speaking of gardens in the country, or, at any rate, not among houses. there are many more difficulties to contend with in town gardening; there is more uncertainty, and often less reward for the greatest care, than in country gardening; but the flowers that do grow seem so sweet between dull walls and under smoky chimneys, that one can forget how much more luxuriant they could be in other circumstances. flowers for towns the following list of annuals, perennials, and bulbs which grow well in the heart of towns, though it is not complete, contains enough plants to fill a garden:-- annuals. perennials. bulbs. alyssum. jap. anemones crocuses. candytuft. campanulas. daffodils. collinsia. delphiniums. hyacinths. coreopsis. flags. madonna lillies. mignonette. gaillardias. squills. nasturtiums. pinks. spanish irises. poppies. sunflowers. tulips. sunflowers. wallflowers. winter aconite. in addition to the plants mentioned above, hardy ferns grow well, and so do lilies of the valley, and stonecrops and saxifrages. wandering jew will also thrive, and the canary creeper grows as well in town as in the country. in summer, geraniums, fuchsias, heliotrope--which must be well watered--pansies, lemon verbena, and scented geraniums, can be planted out. roses do not do very well in towns; but hardy ones will grow quite enough flowers to make the possession of them a great delight. indoor gardening and window boxes--precautions a window full of flowers and green plants makes all the difference to a room. there are always certain difficulties about growing plants in a room; but these may, however, be partly overcome. one is the great change of temperature between day and night in winter; another is the very evil effect of gas on plants; and a third is the presence of dust. the difference of temperature is met to a great extent by taking the flowers away from the window at night and putting them in the middle of the room. this is specially necessary when there is any danger of frost. if gas is burned in the room where plants are all day, it is wise at evening to take the trouble to move them into another room, for nothing injures them more. as to dust, ferns and plants which have smooth leaves should be gently sponged with warm water once a week, or else the pores will be so choked that the plants will not be able to breathe. those plants which cannot be sponged, such as fine-leafed ferns, geraniums, etc., should be gently sprayed occasionally, or, in warm weather, placed out-of-doors during a soft shower. when a room is being cleaned, the plants should either be taken away or covered with soft paper. the window chosen for your plants should be a sunny one and as draughtless as may be. it should not be opened unless the day is very mild. one thing to remember is that wherever the plants are they should have as much sun, as equal a temperature, and as little draught as possible. watering no exact rule can be given for watering; but it should be noted that water ought never to be allowed to stand in the saucers. in winter, one good watering a week with lukewarm water, applied in the morning, will be sufficient. in spring, when the plant is more active, more water will be needed, and in summer constant attention must be given to watering. remember, that not only the surface but the whole soil needs moistening. flower-pots in spring time, if the plants seem to have outgrown their pots, or if they are not thriving well, re-pot them in larger pots with the best earth you can get. water well after re-potting. turn the plants round every day, as the sun always draws them toward it. indoor plants a list follows of suitable plants to be grown indoors. green plants are mentioned first. _aspidistra._--of all green plants the aspidistra is the best to grow indoors. (this plant indeed is so hardy that it will stand not only draught but even a certain amount of gas.) its smooth, beautiful leaves should be carefully sponged every week. _india-rubber plant._--the india-rubber plant is a very handsome, smooth, bright-leaved plant. it should not be given too much water. _ferns._--several hardy ferns grow well in a window. the maidenhair is very beautiful while it lasts, but it is a poor thing the second year unless it can be put into a greenhouse and cared for. _ivy._--small-leaved variegated ivy will grow under almost any conditions. its leaves should be kept clean. if grown up a small trellis it is very pretty. _japanese fern balls._--in february and march one can buy japanese fern balls. the balls have to be soaked for two or three hours in water (rainwater if possible) and then drained and hung up in a window where there is not too much sun. they should be watered three times a week. gradually the delicate ferns will grow and unfold until the whole ball is a mass of green. in november they should be put away in a cool dark place until the following february, when they can be started again. _miniature trees._--fine little trees can be grown from chestnuts, beechnuts, acorns, and hazel-nuts. collect the nuts as they fall and leave them in a dark place, until about two weeks before christmas, when you lay them in bowls full of wet moss or in pots filled with earth, and put them in a warm dark place near hot pipes, or in a warm cupboard. this warmth will start the root growth. when the root is two inches long, fill a bowl with moss or pebbles, lay the nuts on the top so that they are only half covered, with the roots downward, and keep in a room where they will have plenty of light. water frequently but do not let much water stand in the bowl. _wheat or canary seed._--wheat or canary seed can be sown in any kind of dish, the bottom of which is covered with wet moss. sow the seed thickly and then keep the dish in a dark cupboard until the seedlings are about two inches high. then place it in a sunny window. the seed, which will take about three weeks to grow, makes a beautiful patch of clear light green in a room. keep the moss wet. _mustard and cress_ can be sown in pots or on pieces of wet flannel. _campanulas._--blue and white campanulas are grown in almost every cottage window, and they are very beautiful and graceful. they can be grown in pots, but are prettiest in baskets from which to hang down. _fuchsias and geraniums._--both fuchsias and geraniums are gay and delightful plants for a room. good kinds should be bought in early summer and well watered. in winter the plants should be kept in a cool dark place, until with the coming of spring they begin to grow again. both can very easily be increased by cuttings. to do this take off a shoot of about four inches long, cutting it off just below a joint. then pull off the leaves just above the joint and put it into some earth in a sunny corner and water it well. in about a month roots will have formed and it can then be potted. _bulbs._--bulbs, such as tulips, iris, daffodils, crocuses, scillas, and snowdrops, can be grown in pots or deep earthenware saucers that have been filled with cocoanut fibre. this can be bought at any florist's. a little shell, shingle, or sand, can be mixed with the fibre, and a piece of charcoal should be put at the bottom of the pot to keep it sweet. the bulbs need only to be covered with a thin layer of damp fibre. water regularly, as they must never get dry. if your pot has no drainage hole it is a good thing a little while after watering to turn it gently on one side so that any water which has not been soaked up by the fibre can run off. bulbs can also be grown indoors in earth. plant them in october just below the soil, and keep them in a cool dark place until they have made a little growth. then bring to a sunny window. horsfieldii narcissus, polyanthus-flowered narcissus, and yellow jonquils, grow well, and so do tulips, hyacinths, and crocuses. in a sunny window the scarborough lily (_vallota purpurea_) can be grown. it is a very gorgeous and imposing red flower which blossoms in august and september. it should be planted in autumn and plenty of room allowed for its roots. the good-luck lily, which is a strong and beautiful polyanthus narcissus, can be grown in bowls filled with pebbles and water. fill the bowl almost to the top with clean pebbles (which can be brought from the seashore), and among them plant the bulbs and fill up with water which must be added to as it evaporates. among the pebbles put two or three pieces of charcoal. bulbs in glasses hyacinths and daffodils can also be grown in glasses filled with water, either glasses sold for the purpose, or any kind into the necks of which the bulbs will fit. the bulb should be placed in the glass in october, and should not quite touch the water. use good fresh water and put a little piece of charcoal in the glass. change the water once a week. in warm sunny weather the hyacinths can be put out of doors for a little while every day. window boxes one cannot grow very many things in a window box, but it is most interesting to grow a few. in a town it is often all the garden that many people possess. the length of a window-box will depend on the size of the window. its depth should be ten inches at least. at the bottom of the box some cinders or other rough material should be put, and then it should be filled up with the best earth you can get. and because of the difference it makes to the growth of your flowers it is worth while to take a great deal of trouble in getting good, rich mould. the earth may be kept level, or heaped up at one or both ends, and a few stones added to make a tiny rockery, in which you can grow small saxifrages and other rock plants. flowers for window-boxes nasturtiums and canary creeper can climb up a little trellis made of sticks at each end of the box, or they can cling to strings fixed to the box and nailed high up at the side of the window. wandering jew or ivy-leaved geranium will fall over the front of the box and make it look very gay. bulbs, such as winter aconite, squills, snowdrops, a few daffodils, tulips and irises, will grow well in boxes. these should be planted rather deep. then primroses and forget-me-nots can be planted, and in may a border of lobelia, one or two geraniums, pansies, fuchsias, a plant of lemon verbena, and some musk. mignonette, virginia stock, collinsia, should be sown in spring in little patches or lines. keep the leaves of all the plants as clean as possible by gentle watering with a rose. never let the earth get dry from neglect, or sodden from too much watering; yet water well, for driblets only affect the surface, and it is the roots far down in the box that need moisture. cutting flowers and packing them--flowers for post it is best, if possible, to pick flowers the day before you want to send them off. pick them in the afternoon, sort them and bunch them up, and then stand them in water right up to their heads, and keep them there over night. a basin is the best thing to put the flowers in, unless the stalks are very long, and a jam-pot or two in the water will help to keep them from tumbling over and drifting about. be very careful that the blooms do not touch the water. keep the flowers in water until you are ready to pack them. tin boxes are best to send flowers away in; but generally one has to use cardboard ones. choose the strongest you can find and line it with two sheets of paper, one across and one long ways, and each long enough to fold over when it is full. then line again with some big cool leaves or moss. dry the flowers and pack them as tightly as possible, taking great care not to crush the petals. cover them with a few more leaves and fold the paper over. then wrap up the box, remembering to write the address on a label tied at one end of the box, so that the postmark will not be stamped on the box itself and perhaps break it. picking flowers when you are picking flowers to send away, never pick old ones. buds are best generally, especially in the case of poppies; but they should be buds just on the point of opening. always use scissors to cut flowers with. a very slight tug at a little plant in dry weather pulls its roots out of the ground. cut the flowers with long stems and with some of their green leaves, and at the top of the box that you are sending away it is pleasant always to put something which smells very sweetly--lemon verbena, or mignonette--for that first sweet scent is one of the very best things about receiving a present of this kind. the reception of flowers when flowers are sent to you, each stem should be cut with a slanting cut before you put it in water. flowers with very thick or milky stems should be slit up about half an inch, and woody stems are best peeled for an inch or two. put the flowers deep into water that has had the chill taken off it. always put flowers in water as quickly as possible after they are picked. change the water every day, and recut the stems if they look at all brown or dry. pets in no case do the following hints as to the care and character of pets go so far as they might. but they lay down broadly the most useful rules. in cases where a dog or bird is really ill, and ordinary remedies and treatment do not help, the advice of some one who knows should be asked. it is because all children are in touch with some one who knows, that this chapter is not longer. the aim of the writer of most of the notes which follow has been to describe those creatures which are most commonly kept as pets, with a few suggestions as to their care in ordinary health. dogs: their care and food all dogs need plenty of exercise; indeed it is scarcely possible to give them too much when once they are over six months of age. after twelve months they can follow a horse, but a bicycle as a rule is too fast for a dog, and the excessive exertion is likely to make them ill. plenty of fresh air and freedom are necessary, and your dog should never be chained except at night, when he should have a snug bed away from any draught. the house is the best place for a dog to sleep, but should he live in a kennel it must be a roomy one, filled two or three times a week with clean straw and raised from the ground about six inches so that it will keep dry. kennels with runs in front are the best, as then the dog need never be chained. in these there should be a wooden bench for him to lie on, sheltered by a sloping roof. an earthenware trough of clean water he must always have, and most dogs will do best if they are fed twice a day: a light breakfast of biscuit or brown bread and a good dinner of scraps or dog-biscuit soaked in gravy with vegetables and plenty of rice. a rounded leather collar is best for dogs with long hair, as it does not show so much or spoil the coat, but for smooth-coated dogs a flat plain collar is best. washing dogs dogs should not be washed very often, nor will this be necessary if they are well brushed every day. a stable dandy-brush is best for short-coated dogs, and a hard hair-brush, or one of those with metal bristles, which can be bought in most saddlers' shops, for long-coated ones. common yellow soap and soft thick towels should be used when your dog really needs a bath. have a pailful of warm water, a pitcher to dip it up with, a piece of mild yellow soap, and a pail of cold water. pour a little warm water over the dog, beginning with his back, shoulders, and sides, and finish with his head, rubbing the soap into a lather all over him at the same time. be careful not to let any water into his ears, or soap into his eyes. next rinse the soap well out of his coat with the warm water, beginning with the head. then pour the cold water all over him and let him shake himself well. rub him dry with towels and give him a run on grass. big dogs must be washed in a yard, but you can put a little one in the tub indoors. all dogs are better for something to eat after a bath. to swimmers a plunge in a pond or river is good exercise and a tonic; but dogs should not be thrown in. feeding puppies puppies at first need feeding five times a day. at four months old four meals will do. at twelve months they settle down into grown-up dogs, and the two meals are sufficient. do not feed them later than six o'clock, and always give them a walk after their last meal. a few dry dog-biscuits when they go to bed will do no harm, and a large mutton or beef bone now and then will do them good, but small bones are very dangerous, as they splinter and may kill or seriously injure the dog. distemper young dogs are almost sure to have distemper, and if a puppy about six or eight months old is depressed and quiet, and his eyes look inflamed, you should put him away by himself at once, sew him up in thick warm flannel, bathe his eyes with cold tea, and attend very carefully to his diet. it will be difficult to make him eat, but you must coax him and even pour strong beef-tea or milk down his throat, for if he does not eat he will have no strength to fight the disease. tripe is the best food for him if he will take it, but try everything to tempt him, and give him as much as he will take. when you take your patient for a walk (and he will need exercise) do not take him where he may meet other dogs, for distemper is very infectious. put an extra coat over him, wrapping it well round his throat and chest. distemper is a fever, and the risk of chill is very great; it means inflammation of some sort from which the dog being weak is not likely to recover. it is always best to call in a veterinary surgeon when a dog shows symptoms of distemper. tricks for dogs if your dog is a terrier there is no end to the tricks you can teach him. always begin by teaching him to "trust," for it is the foundation of his training, and he will learn it before he is two months old. do not keep him "on trust" for more than a second or two at first, but gradually make the time longer, until he will let you leave the room and not touch the biscuit until you return. then you can teach him to die, and waltz, sing, ask, box, and beg. treat him always with patience and firmness; be quick to reward but never give in to him. you will, of course, bear in mind the character of the dog in teaching him tricks. dogs of dignified nature, such as st. bernards, mastiffs, great danes, and deer-hounds, for example, you would not labor to transform into performers. the best dogs of all for teaching elaborately are poodles. what is due to dogs do not overdo your mastership. remember that a dog needs much liberty and independence to develop his individuality, and an enterprising puppy learns more by observation and experience in a week than a pampered lap-dog does in his whole life; he learns self-reliance, but he will always run to his master or mistress in any real difficulty, and you who are his master or mistress must be wary not to misunderstand or disregard him, for he needs sympathy and love, and if he does not get them he either becomes cowed and stupid or a ne'er-do-weel. buying dogs if you wish to buy a dog, the best way is to get the catalogue of some big dog show, and find the address of a well-known breeder of the kind of dog you wish to have. if you write to him and tell him exactly what you want he will probably send you a suitable puppy at a fair price. if you think of buying through an advertisement, have the dog on approval first. another objection to buying a dog at all casually is that you will not know either his temper, which is generally inherited, or his age. in all cases it is best to buy puppies and train them yourself. this means a good deal of trouble at first, and takes time and patience, but the younger the puppy the easier he is to train. the best age is about five weeks old. with constant attention day and night for a few weeks you will have a perfectly trained dog who will be a perfect companion to you for years. brief descriptions of some of the best known dogs are here given, beginning with terriers:-- the bull-terrier the bull-terrier is very discriminating in his attachments and does not easily lose his temper, or, as a rule, fight, unless he is unduly excited. he is such a nervous dog that if he is roughly treated he is apt to become a coward, but there is no truer, more faithful friend than a properly trained terrier of this breed. the fox-terrier the fox-terrier is often a restless fidgety dog in a house; indeed, to keep him much in the house seems to affect his intelligence. he fights readily, but a strong master can alter that. in sharpness and brightness and hardiness he is not to be beaten, and no dog is more inquisitive and full of spirits. perhaps of little dogs he is the best. the irish terrier the greatest fault of the irish terrier is his fondness for barking unnecessarily; but he is particularly intelligent, active, and vigorous, and will learn any trick your ingenuity can devise for him. other terriers there are many other terriers--the skye, with coat nearly sweeping the ground; the black and tan, the welsh terrier, and others less well known; but for pluck, brains, and fidelity, it is impossible to beat bull-terriers. spaniels of all spaniels the clumber is the most intelligent and beautiful; he is also, although not a very demonstrative dog, very sincere in his devotion to his master. the cocker is a small spaniel: an active, merry little fellow who can be taught to retrieve. the black spaniel and the liver-colored sussex are, like the clumber, of the oldest and best breeds, and the sussex variety makes an excellent house dog. he is quiet and dignified and has very good manners. the common norfolk spaniel is intelligent, a good water dog, and a faithful companion. a satisfactory puppy should not cost more than five dollars. he and the cocker are the best of the spaniels as pets, although these two breeds are also capable of good work in the field if carefully trained. the retriever retrievers occasionally make good companions, but for the most part they are dogs of one idea--retrieving--and have little interest in using their intelligence in any other direction. setters the setter is a wise and affectionate animal. he is full of spirit and needs careful training, but train him well as a puppy and you will be able to take him everywhere with you, for he is a very gallant and courteous gentleman. in color the english setter varies with the different breeds. the gordon setter is black and tan, and the irish is red. the collie the reputation for uncertain temper which collies have is not well grounded. they are excitable, it is true, and apt to snap if you romp too long and wildly with them, and they do not take correction kindly; but people who have owned many specimens of this beautiful breed testify to having found them always loving and sagacious. a collie should always belong to one person; many masters make him too universal in his affections, and under these circumstances he does not develop intelligently. the collie at work is the wisest of dogs, he knows each individual sheep in his care, and in snow or mist will bring every one to the fold before he rests. collies may be taught to play hide-and-seek--a game they are very fond of. first hide a ball in the room and help the dog to find it, and by degrees he will find anything by himself and will seek all over the house and garden. among bad habits many collies have the serious one of running round and barking at horses. this should be checked by keeping the dog strictly to heel where he is likely to meet any traffic. the sheep dog the old english bob-tailed sheep dog is a bouncing, rough-and-ready fellow. he is not suitable for a house dog, but he is honest and true and a good worker, and one can get extremely fond of him. the newfoundland the newfoundland is one of the grandest of beasts. the true newfoundland is black all over, except for a white star on the chest, and he stands at least twenty-seven inches at the shoulder. the black-and-white specimens are called landseer newfoundlands, on account of the famous painter's fondness for them. in character these dogs are dignified and magnanimous, and they are particularly good with children. many stories are told of their gallant efforts in saving life from drowning. the newfoundland is used for draught in the island from which he takes his name. the mastiff the mastiff is the best of all guards; it is more pure instinct with him to guard his master's property than it is with any other breed. he is honest through and through, and as a rule he is gentle and a good companion. the bull-dog the bull-dog is stupid and not particularly affectionate. although excitable he is not quarrelsome or savage, and if reasonably treated no doubt would make a quiet, faithful pet. a not too highly bred bull-dog is likely to be more intelligent than his very blue-blooded relations. the st. bernard the most majestic of dogs is the st. bernard. he is high-couraged and sagacious and very discriminating in his devotion. once your friend, he is always your friend. although with you he never makes a mistake, he is apt to growl at strangers, and is not to be relied on to be polite to visitors. if you have one of the rough-coated variety you must groom him regularly and take great care of him, as he is a delicate dog and subject to weakness in the back and hind legs if he is allowed to get wet or lie on damp ground. the great dane the great dane, or boarhound, is a powerful and active dog. his appearance is suggestive almost of a wild beast, and he is particularly well fitted to act as guard. he is gentle and manageable with those he knows, and his great courage, intelligence, and strength make him a most desirable companion. hounds of hounds that hunt by sight we have the english greyhound, swiftest of dogs, but neither very intelligent nor affectionate; the scotch deerhound, dignified and very devoted to his master, and a wonderful jumper over gates and walking-sticks; and the irish wolf-hound, bigger and less graceful than either of the others, but with a great big heart and noble courage. gelert was of this breed. there is also the borzoi, whose appearance is a combination of greyhound and setter, a very beautiful but rather stupid animal. finally, there is the bloodhound, remarkable for great intelligence, good temper, and fidelity. he is one of the finest of dogs, wise and self-reliant and capable of the truest devotion to his master. he seldom or never fights, but is full of courage in spite of his naturally nervous disposition. toy dogs toy dogs are fairly intelligent, but noisy and wayward. they cannot be recommended as interesting pets, since they have little originality; but they can be taught tricks, and if treated sensibly and not pampered, no doubt they would develop more intelligence. the best of the toy dogs are pugs, toy pomeranians, the king charles' spaniel (black and tan in color), and the blenheim spaniel (white and chestnut). the pomeranian the pomeranian is a sharp and rather snappy dog, not remarkable for either great intelligence or amiability; but, as with all breeds, there are individual exceptions to this rule. poodles poodles are intelligent and the best of all dogs for learning tricks. they are also very expensive. mongrels mongrels can be the best of friends. they are often more original and enterprising than their too highly-bred cousins, and they are very self-reliant; but as a rule they are not so courageous nor so steadfast as a well-bred dog. the chief advantage of possessing a mongrel is that dog-stealers are less likely to be tempted by him, and you can give him more freedom, which will make him more interesting and intelligent than a dog you need to shut up and look after carefully. cats there is very little to say about cats, except that they need much petting and plenty of milk and tit-bits. they should always have a warm bed in a basket or chair. they should never be allowed to stay out-of-doors at night. wild rabbits of all rabbits the brightest and most intelligent, as a pet, is the wild rabbit. if you can get two or three baby wild rabbits and feed them on milk, they will grow up very tame. we heard recently of two small wild rabbits that were taken out of the nest and brought up by hand. they and their mistress and a collie pup would play together, and they ran about the room, racing over the floor and furniture. in the summer one escaped from the coop on the lawn in which they were shut up, so the other was turned loose too. they would both come out of the bushes when called, run about over one's dress, and hunt pockets for oats or bits of apple, and would still play with their old friend the collie. it is sad to tell of their death, which they met at the jaws of a strange dog who came marauding. they did not recognize in him an enemy, and easily fell his victims. tame rabbits the long-haired angora variety of rabbit is intelligent and very handsome. these need regular grooming and great care, or their long coat gets matted and frowsy. belgian hares are big, powerful animals, rather apt to be uncertain in temper, but they have beautiful glossy coats and are enterprising and amusing. the lop-eared rabbit is a stately beast and less brisk than his prick-eared relations. the himalayan rabbit has no connection with the mountain chain from which it has its name, is white, with all its extremities--nose, ears, tail, and feet--black or very dark in color. the dutch rabbits are small. the body is colored, but the neck, forelegs, and jaws are white. but to the ordinary owner of a rabbit in a hutch, particular variety does not matter very much. rabbits' hutches a good hutch can be made of a grocer's box, by covering the open front partly with bars or wire netting and making a door. the hutch should stand on legs, or at any rate should be raised from the ground, and holes should be bored in the bottom for drainage. then put in clean straw, and it is ready for the rabbit. in cold or wet weather and at night, it is well to throw a cloth over the hutch for warmth. the hutch must be well ventilated, and it should be made in two compartments, one to admit plenty of light, and the other dark. it should be made so that the animal may be confined in either compartment while the other is cleaned out. food and exercise bran, grain, and vegetables--such as peas, parsley, carrots, turnip-tops, but not much cabbage--serve for rabbits' food. it is advisable to vary it occasionally. the leaves should not be wet, but a dish of clean water may always stand in the hutch. the animal should be allowed at least half an hour's run every day, precautions being taken against its burrowing habits, and against its finding anything poisonous to eat. more than one family should not be allowed out at the same time, as they are very pugnacious. most diseases are the result of neglect in cleaning out the hutch regularly and thoroughly. rabbits which most nearly approach the wild in color are hardiest. teaching rabbits if you find you have an intelligent rabbit who quickly learns to come to you when you call him by name, you will find, with patience, you can teach him that when you say "on trust," he must not touch the dainty you offer him, and that "paid for" means he may have it. he will also learn to "die," and shake hands when you tell him to do so. guinea-pigs guinea-pigs need treatment and housing similar to rabbits. squirrels in buying a squirrel make sure it is a young one, because whereas a young one is difficult enough to tame, an old one is not to be tamed at all. unless you can give him a really large cage, with room for a branch on which he may leap about, it is cruel to keep a squirrel at all, so beautifully free is his nature. a little side compartment containing a revolving wheel should be added. your only chance of taming him is to be extremely quiet and gentle in all your visits to the cage and in giving him his food--nuts, acorns, grain, cold boiled potatoes, dry bread, and now and then a small piece of cooked meat. a very charming account of what it is possible to do with tame squirrels will be found in a little book called _billy and hans_, by mr. w. j. stillman. mice mice should have a cage with two compartments, one of which should have a door in the woodwork but no wires. in this room should be a bed of hay. the natural food of mice is grain, but in captivity they are generally fed on bread and milk and slices of apple. they can be tamed to a small extent, but for the most part they do no more than run round a wheel, although if other gymnastic contrivances are offered them they will probably do something with them. dormice (to whose food you may add nuts) sleep through the winter months, and are therefore not very interesting for more than half the year. turtles a turtle is rather an interesting animal to keep, although he will not do much in return. even in summer they have a curious way of disappearing for weeks together, and in winter, of course, you see nothing of them. an ordinary mud turtle is often seen moving slowly along the roads after a rain. he can be carried home by turning him over on his back--but be careful to keep your fingers away from his snapping mouth. as a rule they can feed themselves, and they also have the happy knack of doing without food altogether for long periods, so that you need not be anxious. fish bowls of goldfish are not uncommon, but few people seem to care for fish of other kinds. and yet a little aquarium can be stocked for a small sum and is a most interesting possession. one small tank of young bream, for example, can be a perpetual and continually fresh delight. let the tank have cloisters of rockwork and jungles of weed, so that hiding may be possible, and then watch the smaller fish at their frolics. young trout are hardly less beautiful, and very easy to keep healthy, in spite of general opinion to the contrary. the important thing is to maintain a current of water through the tank. the old way was to carry the overflow down a pipe in the centre through its surface opening, but an improvement on this system is for the leakage to be at the bottom of the tank and the inflow at the top. young perch are beautiful too,--and tench, and dace, and roach,--and all are hardy. feeding them is very simple. the shop from which you buy the fish will keep you supplied with the proper food. the american catfish, with its curious antennæ or whiskers, and its gleaming eyes, set as by a jeweler, is more wonderful, and not a whit more difficult to keep. but to be amused by such unfamiliar neighbors as a tankful of fish there is no real need either to stray abroad or to spend any money. the ordinary minnow, which you can catch in any stream and pop into a jar, will serve to introduce you to a new world--a world of silent progressions, of incredible celerities, of amazing respirations. silkworms silkworms, if kept at all, ought to be taken seriously and used for their true purpose. that is to say, you really ought to wind their silk carefully. few owners of silkworms in this country seem to trouble to do this. silkworms' eggs can be bought of any naturalist, or some one who keeps silkworms will willingly give you some. the time is about the end of april. they are usually laid on scraps of paper, and these you put in shallow paper and cardboard trays covered with gauze, and place them in the room where the sun can reach them. as the worms hatch out you must move them--it is done best with a small paint brush--to another tray or trays and keep them supplied with fresh mulberry leaves or lettuce. the worms continue to grow for about a month, and then, when full-sized, they prepare to spin. you may know that this time is reached by their refusal to eat, and you must then make a little paper toilet, about two inches deep, for each worm, and drop it in. you have now nothing to do (except to watch the worms regularly) for some weeks, in which time the cocoon has been finished and the worm has become a chrysalis. when the chrysalis inside the cocoon rattles the time has come to wind the silk, or the moth will shortly emerge and eat it. the outside of the cocoon is useless and can be removed by placing the cocoon in warm water. once that is out of the way, the silk can be wound on a card. the moth soon afterward appears and, after growing to its full size, lays its eggs--some two hundred--and dies. it must be remembered that with silkworms a little practical demonstration from any one who has kept them is worth much more than many pages of hints. one thing is of the highest importance, and that is constant attention. silkworms must never be neglected. other caterpillars silkworms are more useful but not more interesting than many other caterpillars which can be hatched from eggs. the privet hawk moth, for example, is very easily bred, and a very beautiful creature it is when in full plumage. but for information on this subject you must go to more scientific books. pigeons pigeons are not exactly pets, for they rarely do more than come to you for their food, just as chickens do, but they are beautiful creatures and no country roof is quite complete without them, and a dove-cot is a very pretty and homely old-fashioned object. usually, however, the birds are given a portion of a loft. whatever the nature of their home, it must have separate compartments for each pair of pigeons and must be warm. if a loft is used there should be sand or gravel on the floor, with a little lime to assist the formation of the shells of the pigeons' eggs. the place should be kept clean, and you must guard against rats and cats. pigeons eat peas and pigeons'-beans and most kinds of grain. if they fly loose they will find out other food, such as green meat, for themselves. but if you keep them at home you ought to give them some. they should have a dish of water in a regular place. new pigeons should be shut up by wiring in their house for a fortnight before you give them their liberty, or they will fly away. they do not care for hay or straw in their boxes, but will make a nest in their own way when they need one. pigeons are of many kinds, the commonest of which is perhaps the runt, and the prettiest a white fantail. any one who takes up pigeons except merely for the pleasure of owning one or two should read up the subject carefully. doves doves, which are happier when kept in pairs, require the same food as pigeons. as a rule they are kept in wicker cages. they are not very interesting. parrots parrots are most companionable pets, and, next to a dog, quite the most interesting and intelligent. they are always cheerful: whistling, singing, and talking. the gray parrot is the best talker, and speaks much more distinctly than any other kind, but the blue-fronted amazon is more amusing and far better-tempered as a rule. these birds are very beautiful, with bright green plumage and touches of yellow and red, and a blue patch on the forehead. the best food for parrots is parrot seed, on which they may be fed entirely, and they should never be allowed dainties except nuts, fruit, and a little piece of sugar. in the summer time sprinkle your parrot with water through a fine hose every morning, but in the winter do so only when he asks for a bath by trying to get into the water basin. as to talking, parrots will pick up far more readily any words they hear by accident than any that you set yourself to teach them. they will also get by heart in this way a few bars of a whistled tune. when parrots are apparently spiteful it often proceeds much more from nervousness than from vice. if frightened they will peck anything near them. it is important to have a thick baize cover for your parrot's cage, and to put this over it directly the lamps are lit. smaller cage birds before coming to the different kinds of birds which you can keep, a few general words about their care ought to be said. remember that with them, as with all pets, the most important of all rules is perfect cleanliness. the best cages are wooden ones with unpainted wires, and the perches should be of different thicknesses, as, if they are all one size, the bird is likely to get cramp in his feet. once in a week at least the perches and tray should be scrubbed with very hot water with soda in it, but they must be dried thoroughly before they are put back into the cage; therefore if possible it is best to have two sets of perches and to use them alternately. a thick layer of red sand or shell gravel should be sprinkled on the tray, and occasionally a pinch of maw-seed thrown on it. baths all birds should have a bath given them. they like best a shallow glass dish, which should be put in the cage when the tray is out. it is a good plan to put a biscuit-tin lid on the floor of the cage to prevent the bird from making the woodwork wet. other rules in the care of all birds are--never let them be in a draught, but do not keep them in a very warm place. cover them with a white cloth at night, and in cold weather put a shawl over that. food seed-eating birds do best if they are fed on canary seed and a little summer rape, with now and then a few hemp-seeds, some hartz mountain bread, and a bit of groundsel or water-cress that has been well washed. if they look dull and sit in a puffed-up little heap, a drop of brandy in their water often does good; and, should they show signs of asthma, try chopped, hard-boiled egg, with a few grains of cayenne pepper, and a bit of saffron or a rusty nail in the water. these are also good when the bird is moulting. for insect-eating birds you must buy meal-worms and ants' eggs, and thrushes and blackbirds need earth-worms as well. tricks some birds are easily taught tricks. we remember a red-poll who would draw his water up from a well in the cage in a little bucket; but if you teach your bird to do this you must be careful to watch him, in case the string gets twisted and the bucket does not reach the water, when your pet will suffer terribly from thirst. he will also learn to pull his seed-box up an inclined board if you put it day by day a little farther from him, so that he must draw the string to get his food. it is better to take a long time in training birds, and tempt them with any dainty they care most for, such as water-cress, groundsel, chickweed, or hemp-seed, as otherwise you must starve the bird first, or he will not trouble to get the seed. this means a certain amount of cruelty and cannot be right. canaries the favorite cage-bird is the canary, which, though a foreign bird, is kept in this country in greater numbers than any other bird, and is also bred here. one has to be very well posted up in the nature of the bird to be protected against deception when buying it; and you ought therefore, in getting a canary, to find some one competent to buy what you want. canaries must be kept carefully. they cannot stand much air. be particular that the cage does not hang in a draught, and let it be large enough for comfort. when evening comes it is kinder to take the cage out of a room in which there will be much light and noise, and put it somewhere dark and quiet, as the air of a room where gas is burned is not good for it. but if moving the cage is not convenient, lower it to a position below the level of the burners and cover it up with a thick cloth. by day the cage should be hung in the sunshine if possible, but if the sun is very hot a green gauze cover ought to protect the bird a little. if the bird's singing is too lusty--as sometimes happens--a handkerchief thrown over the cage will check it; but this seems rather hard treatment. in feeding canaries follow the rules on p. , but you may put a lump of sugar between the bars now and then, or a sprig of groundsel or water-cress. do not give them cake; it is no real kindness. when they are moulting, canaries (and other birds too) need rather more attention. give them a little richer food, such as chopped-up eggs, and put some saffron in the water. there is a kind of insect called the red mite which often attacks canaries. it is not the rule by any means that canaries should be thus troubled--many escape--but it may happen. if you cannot account for the bird's despondency in any other way, catch it and look at its skin under the feathers of the breast and the under part of the wings. if there are little red spots, it means that the red mites have found out the cage, and you must wash the bird every day with a weak solution of white precipitate powder--about twelve grains to a small glass of warm water--and either wash the cage too with a stronger solution, or, if it is a wooden one, destroy it. now and then you ought to clip their claws, if they seem too long. the love-birds the love-birds feed almost entirely on millet or canary seed, and they like a sod of grass in their cage. they are bright little birds, but are naturally very wild and need much petting if you wish to tame them. once tamed, however, they are very confiding and amusing. the cardinal one of the most beautiful of cage-birds is the red-crested cardinal. he is quite hardy and eats seeds and insects impartially, thriving on canary, millet, and a little hemp-seed, with meal-worms now and then. he should always have a very large cage, or he will spoil his plumage. his song is sweet and strong. wax-bills wax-bills eat millet-seed, canary seed, and a little soaked bread and sponge-cake. other foreign birds java sparrows are pretty creatures, although they do very little for you. perhaps the most attractive of small foreign birds is the avadavat, a tiny, perky little soldier. these live quite comfortably together; and indeed, if it is permitted, you should certainly, for the non-singing birds, have a large cage and keep many such birds in it rather than put them in small cages. they will be far happier. the chaffinch the chaffinch has to re-learn his song every spring, and for a fortnight or more you will hear him trying his voice very sweetly and softly, but as soon as he has acquired his song in perfection, it will be so strong and piercing that on fine days he often has to be banished from the sitting-room. he should not, however, be exposed too much to sun and wind; a cloth thrown over half the cage will make a shelter. the chaffinch is another bird that should never be put in a bell-shaped cage. he should occasionally have flies and other insects given him. he is lively and hardy and a very gay companion. the goldfinch we remember a goldfinch that became very tame, perching on his owner's hands and taking seed from her lips. goldfinches should never be kept in bell-shaped cages--which make them giddy--but should have one with a square flat top. along this they will run head downward. they are such active birds that they need plenty of space. they chatter all day long and are very cheery, and they are very beautiful in their brown, gold, and scarlet coats. in a wild state the goldfinch feeds chiefly on the seeds of weeds and thistles, groundsel, and dandelion, and he is therefore a friend to the farmer, but in captivity be will thrive on canary and german rape with several hemp-seeds daily, and now and then lettuce, thistle-seed, and fruit. the bullfinch the bullfinch is squarely built, with a black head and pink breast. no bird can be more affectionate and intelligent. he will learn to pipe tunes if you put him in the dark and whistle a few bars of some easy melody to him over and over again; and he soon gets a number of fascinating tricks. after a while you will be able to let him out of the cage at meal-times, when he will hop about from plate to plate and steal little tit-bits. no bird is so fond of sitting on its owner's shoulder as the bullfinch can be. also, unhappily, few birds are so liable to fatal illness. a bullfinch can be apparently quite well one minute and the next you find him lying at the bottom of the cage. over-eating is often the cause of his death, so that one must be careful. hemp-seed and apple-pips, for instance, which he loves, should be given in moderation. rape and millet, lettuce and ripe fruit suit him best. gardeners are great enemies of this sturdy little bird on account of the damage he does amongst fruit-trees, but he probably does a great deal more good than he does harm by eating insects which are fatal to plants. the yellow bunting the yellow bunting (or yellow hammer) can be a pet; and he has the sweetest little whispering song. if you have a caged bunting, his seed should be soaked in cold water for some hours before it is given to him, and he must have the yoke of a hard-boiled egg, meal-worms, ants' eggs, and any insects you can catch for him. he must also have plenty of opportunities for bathing, and as much fresh air without draughts as possible. the blackbird the blackbird is delicate when caged and must have plenty of nutritious food, bread and milk, boiled vegetables, ripe fruit, insects, and snails. he is a thirsty bird and needs plenty of water. birds of all kinds especially like cocoanut (though they will come to the window-sill simply for bread crumbs). the cocoanut should be sawn in two, and a hole bored through each half, about an inch from the edge. a strong string is then threaded in and they are hung from the bough of a tree. they should be hung rather high up, on a bough reaching as far out from the trunk as possible, so as to avoid all risk from the cat. the birds frequent elm-trees more than any others, because the rough bark contains many insects, but you may choose any kind of tree, as close to your windows as you like. the birds will keep pecking at the cocoanut all day long and will soon want a new one. if you have no tree near the house you might fasten a cord across the outer frame of your window and tie the pieces of nut to that. the birds would soon find out the cocoa-nut and come to it, and bread crumbs could also be put on the window-sill to attract them. or, if you have a veranda, they could be hung up there, if you could make them safe from the cat. mrs. earle, in her book _more pot-pourri from a surrey garden_, gives elaborate directions for an arrangement in a veranda or balcony of cocoanuts, etc., for the birds. lumps of fat will do as well as cocoanut. some birds also greatly love a bone to pick at--an uncooked one with plenty of fat on it, which the butcher will probably be glad to give you if you ask him and explain its purpose. it can be hung up in a tree or merely laid on the window-sill. the robin in the ordinary way one would not keep robins at all. they are so tame and fond of the company of human beings that they will come regularly to the door for crumbs every morning and never be far off at any time. but if a wounded robin is found or a nest is abandoned (probably owing to the death of the mother at the cat's hands) just before the young birds are ready to fly, you might pop them in a cage. they do not often thrive long in captivity, even if the confinement does not seem irksome, but to keep one until it was strong enough to be let loose would be a kindness. still there have been many cases of happy tame robins. the best food for them is bread crumbs, grated carrot, yoke of egg and sponge-cake mixed together, the carrot making the mixture moist enough. a few insects daily are advisable. robins are such quarrelsome birds that it is impossible to keep two of them in an aviary, or even to keep one robin with birds weaker than himself. perhaps the best way to treat a pet robin is to let him fly all over the house in the winter. he may one day fly away altogether in the spring, but if he is alive he is almost certain to come back again when the cold weather begins. garden robins robins in the garden are so pretty, so cheeky, so sweetly musical, and are so friendly to man (in spite of their arrogance and selfishness among birds) that they ought to be encouraged. as the only way of encouraging wild birds is to feed them, we have to try and give them what they like best. robins are quite content with bread crumbs only. they will eat sop if they can get nothing else; but they prefer crumbs, and not too dry. for an especial treat they like fat bacon beyond everything: cooked bacon, that has been boiled, not fried. it should be mixed up very small, and the bread also crumbled into tiny morsels, for robins like to eat very nicely and daintily. robins are pleased to have crumbs given them all the seasons through, though in the autumn they can very well take care of themselves. each robin has his own special domain, which any other robin invades at his peril. the robins that come to the window for food are those that belong to that particular side of the house and no other. this means that there are other robins is different parts of the garden which will have to be fed in their own special localities. you will soon find out where these are, even if you have not already been guided to them by their songs. robins like their food scattered always in the same place, or under the same tree, and, as nearly as you can, at the same time. then you will find them on the lookout for you, and if you take always the same basket (a rather shallow flat one which stands firmly) and, putting it on the ground, go a few steps away, you will see them hop into it. after a few days they will probably get tame enough to come into the basket while it is in your hand; only you must have a little patience at first, and hold it very still, and of course you must not have previously scattered any food on the ground. birds in the garden this brings us to the other garden birds which we have no wish to put in cages, but which it is well to be as kind to as possible. in winter, when there is a frost, to feed them is absolutely necessary; but at all times it is well that they should know that you are not enemies (of which they have so many), but their friends. the following notes, together with the foregoing passage on feeding robins, on birds in the garden have been prepared far this book:-- "birds are grateful all the year through for a shallow pan of water, which they can drink from and use also as a bath. and the bees, too, will be glad to come and get a sip of water, for they also are thirsty things. a small round yellow earthenware pan is excellent for the thrushes and blackbirds, but it is as well to provide a smaller one, say an ordinary shallow pie-dish, for the robins and little birds. these should be refilled twice a day, at least, in summer time. you can place the pans on the grass or path, where you can see them comfortably from the house, but not nearer than you can help, because the blackbirds are rather shy, and it would be a pity to make drinking too great an adventure for them. "birds are thankful for a little feeding right through the spring, both when the mother bird is sitting on the nest and the father has to forage for two, and when the young ones are hatched and there are at once many more mouths to fill. in the summer too, if it should be unduly wet and cold, or unduly hot and dry, and grubs and insects scarce, the young birds are pleased to find a meal ready for them. but in the winter it is a positive duty to feed the birds; for remember that when the ground is covered with snow, or frozen hard, they can get no insects, and thus, after all the berries have gone, they will starve unless they are helped with other food. "almost every household has enough waste scraps, if they are collected carefully, to give the birds a good meal once a day. bread, of course, will form the chief part, but nothing comes amiss to them, however tiny. morsels of suet, dripping, shreds of fat, meat, and fish, and cheese rind also, all mixed up together, are an especial treat. the mince should be well mixed with the bread crumbs, or all may not get a fair share. crusts, or any hard, dry bits of bread, can be scalded into sop (though, unlike chickens, wild birds do not seem to like it hot), and a little piece of dripping or fat, soaked with the sop, makes it more tasty for them. if the supply of bread be short, the birds will be very pleased with chickens' rice. it should be the 'second quality' kind, in the brown husk, which can be procured from most corn-dealers. but this is hardly necessary excepting in a long hard frost. starlings are especially fond of bones, and they will esteem it a favor if any which have been used in making soup, and are not required for the dog, are thrown out to them on the ground. their joyous chattering over them is quite cheering, even on the dreariest winter's day. they are also grateful for the rind of a ham or piece of bacon, after it has been boiled. this should be thrown out to them whole, not cut up in little pieces. they are equally fond of the bones and skin remains of a 'dried' haddock. "for the bolder birds, such as robins, you will like to put some food on the window-sills, and also on the path or grass close to the house. but remember the more timid ones, and scatter it in other parts of the garden as well. "sparrows, of course, deserve their food as well as any of the others; but it is rather hard to see them taking every morning much more than their share, while the less courageous or impudent birds (who also sing to you) get none. it seems impossible to prevent this, though mr. phil. robinson, in his book _garden, orchard, and spinney_ (in the chapter entitled 'the famine is my garden'), recommends scattering some oatmeal mixed with a few bread crumbs on one side of the house, to keep the sparrows occupied, whilst you feed the other birds elsewhere. sparrows, however, have a way of being on every side of the house at once. still, if you feed your birds daily, and as nearly at the same time as possible (they like it as soon as may be after your own breakfast), you will find them on the lookout for you, and they will manage to get a good share, if they all start fair, in spite of the sparrows. in a hard frost they are thankful for a second meal, but it should not be later than two o'clock, because birds go to bed very early in cold weather, and the food would be frozen too hard for them to be able to eat it next morning. "one word more. there is great danger of birds being caught by a cat while they are busy with their food, especially if near the bushes. the only possible protection against this which you can take is to see that your own cat is indoors and is therefore not the offender." reading all persons who care very much for reading will find their way naturally to the books most likely to please them; left alone in a library they are never disappointed. for them no advice is necessary. nor is advice important to those who have opportunities to compare notes on reading with friends who have similar tastes. for instance, two boys may fall to talking of books. "have you read _david balfour_?" one will say. "no; who's it by?" "stevenson." "what else did he write?" "well, he wrote _treasure island_." "i've read that. if _david balfour_ is anything like that, i must get it." he gets it; and thus, either by asking others whose taste he can trust, or by going steadily on through each author who satisfies him, he will always have as much good reading as he needs. but there are still other readers--who have no real instinct for books, or no memory for authors' names, or few opportunities of comparing notes--for whom a list of books that are worth trying, books which have been tested and found all right by thousands of readers, ought to be very useful. in the following pages a list of this kind has been drawn up. it is very far indeed from anything like completeness--many good authors are not mentioned at all, and others have written many more books than are here placed under their names--but those chosen are in most cases their best, and it will be very easy for readers who want more to find out other titles. the books named are for the most part not new. but before children read new books they read old; the new ones come later. what is suggested here is a ground-work. moreover, there are so many ways for new books to suggest themselves that to attempt the impossible task of keeping pace with them here was unnecessary. girls are such steady readers of what are called boys' books, and boys are occasionally so much interested in what are called girls' books, that the two groups have not been separated. all that has been done is to describe the nature of each division of stories. fairy tales nearly all the best old fairy tales are to be found in mr. andrew lang's collections, of which six are mentioned:-- the blue fairy book. the red fairy book. the pink fairy book. the green fairy book. the yellow fairy book. the orange fairy book. many families do very well with merely grimm's fairy tales. the arabian nights. andersen's fairy tales. Ã�sop's fables. these are traditional. first favorites among english whimsical tales are, of course, alice's adventures in wonderland by lewis carroll. through the looking-glass " " " of which there is no need to speak, nor of the water-babies by charles kingsley. the king of the golden river " john ruskin. the rose and the ring " w. m. thackeray. and among other good stories are-- fairy tales by alexandre dumas. mopsa the fairy " jean ingelow. prince prigio " andrew lang. the gold of fairnilee " " " twenty best fairy tales " lucy perkins. the bee-man of orn " frank r. stockton. the clocks of rondaine " " " old-fashioned fairy tales " mrs. ewing. lewis carroll's "bruno's revenge," the story which was the beginning of _sylvie and bruno_, is perfect in its way. legendary tales classical the heroes by charles kingsley. a wonder book " nathaniel hawthorne. tanglewood tales " " " the story of the odyssey " rev. a. j. church. the story of the iliad " " " stories from homer " " " romantic the morte d'arthur by sir t. malory. tales from shakespeare " charles and mary lamb. puck of pook's hill " rudyard kipling. stories from the faerie queen " mary macleod. heroes of chivalry and romance " rev. a. j. church. stories of the magicians " " " olaf the glorious " robert leighton. robin hood " howard pyle. men of iron " " " canterbury tales " chaucer. robin hood: his deeds and adventures " lucy perkins. ballads in prose " mary macleod. forgotten tales of long ago " e. v. lucas. old fashioned tales " " " tales from maria edgeworth. introduction " austin dobson. tales from the canterbury pilgrims. retold " j. h. darton. the book of king arthur " mary macleod. midsummer night's dream for young people " lucy perkins. the wonder book of old romance. here also we might place _gulliver's travels_. verse and poetry our first acquaintance with poetry is made through nursery rhymes. many collections of nursery rhymes may be had. and there are also a number of very charming picture books of simple verse, suitable for small readers, such as miss kate greenaway's mother goose. marigold garden. under the window. a. apple pie. mr. walter crane's baby's opera, baby's bouquet, and various toy books. four favorite books of comic verse are edward lear's book of nonsense. more nonsense. nonsense, songs and stories. four books, more recent, which come nearer to poetry than anything already mentioned, are-- verses for children by mrs. ewing. sing song " christina g. rossetti. lilliput lyrics " w. b. rands. a child's garden of verses " r. l. stevenson. a large collection of verse of the kind already described, with the addition of ballads, open-air rhymes, animal verses and other matter--intended to pave the way to real poetry--exists in a book of verses for children, another book of verses for children, compiled by e. v. lucas. after these, we come to collections containing real poetry, two excellent ones being the blue poetry book by andrew lang. a first [second and third] poetry book " m. a. woods. there is also lyra heroica by w. e. henley, a collection for boys. selections from tennyson, browning, and other poets, intended for children, have been made, but most young explorers of poetry like to have the complete works and hunt for themselves. other popular books of poetry are-- the golden treasury of songs and lyrics. poems every child should know. mr. c. r. d. patmore's children's garland from the best poets. miss agnes repplier's book of famous verse. h. e. scudder's american poems. the "original poems," and others by jane and ann taylor. national rhymes for the nursery " george saintsbury. the ballad book " w. allingham. lays of ancient rome " lord macaulay. lays of the scottish cavaliers " w. e. aytoun. the percy reliques. a thousand and one gems of poetry. scott. longfellow. hood. many boys also like the humorous stories in _barham's ingoldsby legends_. books about children to this section, which is suited more particularly for girls, belong a large number of stories of a very popular kind: stories describing the ordinary life of children of to-day, with such adventures as any of us can have near home. years ago the favorites were-- the fairchild family by mrs. sherwood. sandford and merton " thomas day. but these are not read as they used to be, partly because taste has changed, and partly because so many other books can now be procured. but fifty and more years ago they were in every nursery library. the swiss family robinson, the most famous family book of all, will be found in the adventure section, to which perhaps really belong feats on the fiord, the settlers at home, by harriet martineau, although these two, and the crofton boys may be included here. here also belong maria edgeworth's moral tales for young people. the parent's assistant, which, although their flavor is old-fashioned, are yet as interesting as ever they were. another writer whose popularity is no longer what it was is jacob abbott, the author of a number of fascinating stories of home life (on farms and in the country) in america in the middle of last century. the franconia stories are these:-- beechnut. wallace. madeline. caroline. mary erskine. mary bell. stuyvesant. agnes. and this is the rollo series, intended by mr. abbott for rather younger readers:-- the little scholar learning to talk. rollo learning to read. rollo at play. rollo at work. rollo at school. rollo's vacation. a list of other books, which come more or less rightly under the head of "stories about children" follows, the earlier ones being better suited to younger readers, and the later ones to older, the age aimed at in this chapter (and indeed in the whole book), ranging from five to fifteen. by kate douglas wiggin:-- polly oliver's problem. timothy's quest. by louisa m. alcott:-- little women. good wives. eight cousins. rose in bloom. spinning-wheel stories. little men. jo's boys. an old-fashioned girl. aunt jo's scrap bag. comic tragedies. the little pepper series, and the elsie books. by mrs. frances hodgson burnett:-- little lord fauntleroy. editha's burglar. the captain's youngest. sara crew. by mrs. whitney:-- we girls. faith gartney's girlhood. the gayworthys. leslie goldthwaite. by gelett burgess:-- goops, and how to be them. more goops, and how not to be them. goop tales. the lively city o'ligg. the burgess nonsense book. this section is necessarily more incomplete than any of the others, since it is impossible to keep pace with the great number of stories of this kind which are published every christmas. but a few more may be added:-- stories told to a child by jean ingelow. the lost child " henry kingsley. helen's babies " john habberton. the treasure-seekers " e. nesbit. holiday house " catherine sinclair. deeds of daring done by girls " n. hudson moore. children of other days " " " paleface and redskin " f. anstey. the silver skates " m. m. dodge. molly and olly " mrs. humphry ward. sweetheart travelers " s. r. crockett. sir toady crusoe " " " sir toady lion " " " no relations " hector malot. jogging 'round the world " edith dunham. a little daughter of the revolution " agnes sage. a little colonial dame " " " the house of the red fox " miriam byrne. the would-be witch " " " little barefoot from the german of auerbach. indian boys and girls by alice haines. japanese child life " " " little japs at home " " " jap boys and girls " " " according to grandma " " " when grandma was little " " " what grandma says " " " here also belong many of the stories of miss yonge, and we might perhaps place _uncle tom's cabin_ here too. boy and schoolboy stories in this section are placed stories of modern boys, either at home or at school, and their ordinary home or school adventures. among the best are-- tom sawyer by mark twain. and bevis by richard jefferies. others are-- the story of a bad boy by t. b. aldrich. my boyhood " h. c. barkley. the swan and her crew " g. c. davies. captain chap " frank r. stockton. the tinkham brothers' tidemill " j. t. trowbridge. the best school story will probable always be tom brown's school days by t. hughes. among the books of this kind meant rather for grownup readers, but read also by boys, are-- huckleberry finn by mark twain. frank fairlegh " f. e. smedley. the interpreter " whyte melville. the human boy " eden phillpots. vice versâ " f. anstey. adventure stories this is the largest group of books usually described as "for boys," although girls often read them too with hardly less interest. the first place in this class will probably always be held by defoe's robinson crusoe, and it is likely that most votes for second place would go to the swiss family robinson. after these we come to modern authors whose books have been written especially for boys, first among whom is the late mr. r. m. ballantyne, the author of, among numerous other books, the coral island. the gorilla hunters. the dog crusoe. the pirate city. ungava. the wild man of the west. the iron horse. fighting the flames. erling the bold. martin rattler. the fur traders. the red man's revenge. many of ballantyne's readers make a point of going through the whole series of his books. the other titles can be collected from the advertisement pages at the end of these volumes. with r. m. ballantyne is usually associated the name of the late w. h. g. kingston ("kingston and ballantyne the brave," stevenson called them in the verses at the beginning of _treasure island_, another book which comes high in this section). kingston's stories were also very numerous, but it will serve our purpose here to mention only the following six:-- peter the whaler. the three midshipmen. the three lieutenants. the three commanders. the three admirals. from powder-monkey to admiral. several authors have carried on ballantyne and kingston's work. chief among these are mr. g. a. henty and mr. g. manville fenn. here are six of mr. g. a. henty's stories:-- out on the pampas. the young colonists. the young franc-tireurs. in the heart of the rockies. maori and settler. redskin and cowboy. and here are eight of mr. g. manville fenn's:-- brownsmith's boy. bunyip land. bevon boys. dick o' the fens. the golden magnet. fix bay'nets. jungle and stream. menhardoc. mr. max pemberton, author of the iron pirate. the impregnable city. "q." (mr. quiller couch), author of dead man's rock. the silver spur. and mr. david kerr, author of the boy slave in bokhara. lost among the white africans. the wild horseman of the pampas. cossack and czar. old tartar deserts. prisoner among pirates. jules verne is a french writer, but his stories have always quickly been translated into english, many of them by mr. henry frith. their titles are a good guide to their subject, for jules verne goes to science for some wonderful invention, such as a submarine boat or a flying machine, and then surrounds it with extraordinary adventures. among his best books are-- twenty thousand leagues under the sea. round the world in eighty days. five weeks in a balloon. the english at the north pole. the clipper of the clouds. from the earth to the moon. the mysterious island. a journey to the centre of the earth. first of english inventors of fantastic stories of adventure is mr. rider haggard. his three most popular books are-- king solomon's mines. she. allan quatermain. the books already named, with the exception of _robinson crusoe_, were written especially for boys. other books which were not so intended, but have come to be read more by boys than any one else, include fenimore cooper's indian stories, of which these are four:-- the last of the mohicans. the pathfinder. the deerslayer. the bee hunters. other indian stories are those of gustave aimard, translated from the french, among which are these:-- the last of the incas. the trail hunter. the indian scout. the gold-seekers. the red river half-speed. the border rifles. the trappers of arkansas. these are, of course, north american tales. other north american tales are those of captain mayne reid, which include-- the boy hunters. the boy slaves. bruin, or the grand bear hunter. the bush boys. the castaways. the white chief. the desert home. the forest exiles. the giraffe hunters. the headless horseman. the rifle rangers. the scalp hunters. in this section belong the books of mr. george bird grinnell, author of jack in the rockies. jack, the young ranchman. jack among the indians. jack, the young canoeman. jack, the young trapper. also harold bindloss' the young traders. and to this section belong also stories of the sea, several of which have already been mentioned. high among these are captain marryat's poor jack, masterman ready, together with many of his tales intended originally for older readers, such as jacob faithful. mr. midshipman easy. peter simple. snarleyyow. mr. clark russell's stories:-- the wreck of the "grosvenor." the golden hope. an ocean free-lance. the frozen pirate. here also belong mr. kipling's captains courageous, and an old sea favorite-- two years before the mast by r. h. dana. other good sea books, not fiction:-- my first voyage by w. stones. the voyage of the "sunbeam" " lady brassey. the cruise of the "cachalot" " f. t. bullen. the cruise of the "falcon" " e. f. knight. historical stories for boys new historical stories are published in great numbers every year. the most popular author of this kind of book for boys is mr. g. a. henty, among whose very numerous historical tales, all good, are-- at aboukir and acre. at agincourt. bonnie prince charlie. by right of conquest. the dash for khartoum. in the reign of terror. with moore at corunna. the lion of st. mark. maori and settler. st. bartholomew's eve. under drake's flag. with clive in india. with frederick the great. with lee in virginia. by rev. a. j. church-- the chantry priest of barnet. the count of the saxon shore. stories from english history. with the king at oxford. other historical tales:-- stories from froissart by henry newbolt. the scottish chiefs " jane porter. the children of the new forest " captain marryat. a monk of fife " andrew lang. grettir the outlaw " baring gould. the story of burnt njal " sir george dasent. lorna doone " r. d. blackmore. in old egypt " h. p. mendes. an island story " h. e. marshall. scotland's story " " " by r. l. stevenson-- the black arrow. kidnapped. david balfour. by charles kingsley-- hereward the wake. westward ho! by conan doyle-- micah clarke the white company. the refugees. by stanley j. weyman-- the house of the wolf. under the red robe. the man in black. a gentleman of france. by mr. andrew balfour-- by stroke of sword. to arms! by mark twain the prince and the pauper. personal recollections of joan of arc. there are also historical stories more particularly intended by their authors for grown-up readers, but which boys and girls can, however, find quite interesting enough, even if much has to be skipped. first among these are sir walter scott's novels:-- ivanhoe. kenilworth. woodstock. quentin durward. rob roy. the abbott. the monastery. the talisman. other writers and books follow. by alexandre dumas-- the three musketeers. twenty years after. the vicomte de brageleonne. marguerite de valois. chicot the jester. the forty-five guardsmen. by charles dickens-- barnaby rudge. a tale of two cities. by lord lytton-- rienzi. harold. the last of the barons. the last days of pompeii. animal books first among the animal books are mr. kipling's two _jungle books_. two other beast stories by mr. kipling are "moti guj, mutineer," the tale of a truant elephant, which is in _life's handicap_ and "the maltese cat," a splendid tale of a polo pony, which is in _the day's work_. next to these comes mr. e. thompson-seton's _wild animals i have known._ the lives of animals by themselves, or by some one who knows everything about them, are always favorite books with small readers. among the best are these:-- black beauty (the story of a horse) by mrs. sewell. conrad the squirrel " the author of _wandering willie_. the story of the red deer " j. w. fortescue. every inch a king (the story of a dog) " anon. the lives of the hunted " e. thompson-seton. the trail of the sandhill stag " " " the adventures of a siberian cub " leon golschmann. the autobiography of a grizzly. " e. thompson-seton. the best tale of a bear is perhaps bret harte's "baby sylvester," which will be found in one of his volumes of short stories. good animal stories are scattered about other collections of short stories. in mr. anstey's _paleface and redskin_ are stories of dogs. mr. lang's red book of animal stories has both dogs and cats in it, and many other creatures too. here also should be placed mr. warde fowler's tales of the birds. other very popular animal books are mr. joel chandler harris's nights with uncle remus, uncle remus and brer rabbit (largely illustrations), mr. rabbit at home, and the same author has written also the story of aaron, aaron in the wild woods, which are stories not only of animals, but of people too; and here, perhaps, may be placed _Ã�sop's fables_. wood magic by richard jefferies is an attempt to do for english wild life somewhat the same service that mr. kipling performed for india. other open air and animal books are:-- by the rev. j. g. wood-- by back-yard zoo. pet land revisited. pet land a tour round my garden. also curiosities of natural history by frank buckland. white's selborne edited by frank buckland. wanderings in south america by charles waterton. wild traits in domestic animals " louis robinson. the voyage of the "beagle" " charles darwin. ants, bees, and wasps " sir john lubbock. (lord avebury). on the senses, instincts, and intelligence of animals " " " bob, son of battle " " " a series of very interesting scientific books, under the general title "the romance of science," is published by the society for promoting christian knowledge. among these volumes are-- the making of flowers by professor henslow. the birth and growth of worlds " professor green. spinning tops " professor perry. time and tide " sir robert ball. the same publishers also issue a series of "natural history rambles," including-- in search of minerals by d. t. ansted. lane and field " the rev j. g. wood. ponds and ditches " m. c. cooke. underground " j. e. taylor. the woodlands " m. c. cooke. the sea-shore " professor duncan. there is also a new series, called "the wonder books of science," of which the wonder book of volcanoes and earthquakes, and the wonder book of the atmosphere are the first. other good scientific yet very entertaining books:-- the fairyland of science by a. b. buckley. through magic glasses " " " life and her children " " " the romance of the insect world " miss l. badenoch. the ocean " " " glaucus " charles kingsley. madam how and lady why " " " the old red sandstone " hugh miller. the testimony of the rocks " " " homes without hands " rev. j. g. wood. sun, moon, and stars " a. giberne. the story of the heavens " sir robert ball. other worlds than ours " r. a. proctor. the orbs around us " " " the boys book of inventions " r. s. baker. extinct animals " e. ray lankester. electricity for young people " tudor jenks. history a good deal of more or less truthful history will be found in the section given to historical tales (see page ). here follows a small list of more serious historical books which also are good reading:-- tales of a grandfather by sir walter scott. stories from english history " rev. a. j. church. lives of the queens of england " agnes strickland. cameos from english history (several series)" c. m. younge. stories from roman history " mrs. beesley. deeds that won the empire " w. h. fitchett. fights for the flag " " " books of travel it is not important that travel books should be written especially for young readers. almost all records of travel contain some pages of interest, whatever the remainder may be like. the fact that a book describes wanderings in a far country is enough. but the books by commander robert e. peary and his wife deserve mention. snowland folk. the snow baby. children of the arctic. the treatment of library books on this page is given a copy of the book mark which a clergyman, mr. henry maxson, prepared for the use of the readers in the children's section of a library in wisconsin. book mark once upon a time a library book was overheard talking to a little boy who had just borrowed it. the words seemed worth recording, and here they are:-- "please don't handle me with dirty hands. i should feel ashamed to be seen when the next little boy borrowed me. "or leave me out in the rain. books can catch cold as well as children. "or make marks on me with your pen or pencil. it would spoil my looks. "or lean on me with your elbows when you are reading me. it hurts. "or open me and lay me face down on the table. you wouldn't like to be treated so. "or put in between my leaves a pencil or anything thicker than a single sheet of thin paper. it would strain my back. "whenever you have finished reading me, if you are afraid of losing your place, don't turn down the corner of one of my leaves, but have a neat little book mark to put in where you stopped, and then close me and lay me down on my side, so that i can have a good, comfortable rest. "remember that i want to visit a great many other little boys after you have done with me. besides, i may meet you again some day, and you would be sorry to see me looking old and torn and soiled. help me to keep fresh and clean, and i will help you to be happy." appendix _in making a book of this kind, it is impossible to think of all the things that ought to be mentioned. every reader is certain to know of some game or pastime that has been left out. in order that you may yourself bring this collection nearer completeness, the following appendix of blank pages has been added. some reference to everything that is written in the appendix ought to be made, if only in pencil, in both the body of the book and in the index._ index a acrobatic impossibilities, acrobatics, drawing-room, - acrostics, acting initials, games, - proverbs, verbs (dumb crambo), adders, adhesive tape, adventure, stories of, advertisements, almonds, how to blanch, alphabet, the cat, alphabet, the love, , alphabet, the ship, anemone, angora rabbits, animal, vegetable and mineral, animals, books about, china, composite (drawing game), invented (drawing game), velvet, annuals, treatment of, - ants, apple-snapping, apprentice, the, arm-chair (model), aspidistra, auctioning prizes, autumn sowing of seedlings, avadavats, b bag and stick, balancing, balancing tricks, ball games, wool, ballad game, the, balloon, barley sugar, baths for birds, battledoor and shuttlecock, bead furniture for dolls' houses, bead-work, bean bags, bed boat, the, games, - soldiers, thinking games for, beds for dolls' houses, matchbox, bedstead (model), bees, belgian hares, bicyclist, the, biennials, treatment of, bingo, birds, large and cage, - in the garden, - birds'-nesting, birthday, the old maid's, blackberrying, blackbird, the, black man, blacksmith, the, blenheim spaniels, blind feeding the blind, the, blind games, - blind man's buff, played with spoons, blind man's wand, blind worms, block city, bloodhound, the, blowing eggs, blowing out the candle, boat, a simple toy, boats, paper, on a stream, sailing, walnut shell, book mark, books-- and bookshelves for a doll's house, about animals, about boys, of adventure, about children, of fairy tales, historical, - , of poetry, about the sea, of travel, of legendary tales, borders for a garden, borzoi, the, bowling, boxes, cardboard, for collections of eggs, for dolls' houses, paper, boy and schoolboy stories, boys' toys, - bran-tubs, bream, bricks, bruce's heart, bubbles, soap, , buff, buff, blind man's, buff, shadow, bulbs, treatment of, - in cocoanut fibre, in glasses, in pots, bull dog, the, bullfinch, the, bull terrier, the, bunting, the yellow, buried names, butterfly hunting, butter-making, buying dogs, buz, c cage birds, - cages for birds, campanulas, canaries, seed, candle-blowing, candle lighters, the, candy-making, - candy, molasses, nut, peppermint, caramels, cream, cardboard and paper furniture:-- drawings of, - arm-chair, bedstead, chair, cot, cut-outs, dining-room table, dressing-table, high chair, kitchen chair, range, table, pots and pans, rocking-chair screen, sideboard, sofa, towel-rack, wardrobe, washstand, cardboard and paper toys, - cardboard boxes, dolls' houses, - uses for, card games, - cardinal, the, cards for patience, for snap, cards, hat and, catalogues, gardening, cat alphabet, the, catching balls, caterpillar game, caterpillars, cat-fish, the american, cats, chaffinch, the, chair (model), chairs, chestnut, cork, chalks, characteristics, prophecies and, charades, cherry contests, chevy, chickens, feeding the, _child's garden of verses, a_, children, books about, china animals, nest-eggs, chinese gambling, chitterbob, christmas, - trees, clap in, clap out, clothes-basket, a doll's house, clothes-horse, summer house, clumber spaniel, the, clumps, coach, family, cobbler, the, cocked hat, paper, cocker spaniel, the, cocoanut cream, drops, fibre for bulbs, coffee-pot, collars for dogs, collecting jones's, collections of china animals, of flags, of flowers, of stamps, collie, the, color in a garden, coloring maps, pictures, compasses, home-made, competitions, guessing, railway, composite animals (drawing game), scrap books, stories, concerted sneeze, the, concerts, the topsy-turvy, consequences, an extended form of, contests, cherry, convalescents, games for, copying woodcuts, cork and matchbox furniture, - ships, cot (model), counting dogs, a million, counting imaginary flocks of sheep, counting-out rhymes, country books, country, employment in the, - cows, cradle, a walnut, cream caramels, cocoanut, stuffing for dates, cress, mustard and, , crocuses, crosses, noughts and, cross questions, cross-tag, cumulative games, - curtains for cardboard dolls' houses, dolls' house, cushion, cutting flowers, - cutting out pictures, cutting leaves, d daffodils, , dairy, the, daisy chains, dancing dwarf, the, dancing egg, the, dancing man, a, dancing pea, the, darts, paper, dates, stuffed, day's shopping, the, decorations, evergreen, paper, deerhound, the scotch, deer stalking, demons, wool, diaries, country, gardening, dining-room table (model), dinner parties, dolls', distemper, treatment of, ditto game, the, dividing perennials, dog-stick, dogs, counting, exercising, food for, how to buy, how to teach tricks, the various kinds of, - treatment of, - washing, dogs' collars, kennel (cardboard), dolls for dolls' houses, dressing, paper, - rows of paper, walking, dolls' dinner parties, flats, garden seats and tables, houses, cardboard, - chimney, partition, small, house beds, bookshelves, cupboards, curtains, fireplaces, floors, gardens, , pictures, screens, wall papers, donkey's tail, the, dots, five, , double acrostics, doves, dragons, hand, drawing games, - drawing-room acrobatics, - drawings, eyes-shut, drawing tricks, dresses for paper dolls, dressing dolls, dressing the lady, dressing-table (model), table, matchbox, up for charades, duck on a rock, ducks' eggs, dumb crambo, performances, dutch rabbits, dutch street, a, dwarf, the dancing, e easter eggs, eggs, blowing, ducks', easter, hens', electricity, elements, the, employments, guessing, esquimau village, a, evergreen decorations, everton toffee, exercising dogs, exploration, eyes, eyes-shut drawings, f fairy-tale books, family coach, specimen story, family, the imaginary, fantail pigeons, farmyards, feather, the, feeding chickens, fern halls, ferns, skeleton, fights, walnut shell, filipino village, a, fire-buckets, fireplaces for dolls' houses, fish, five dots, - fives, flags, collection of, floors in dolls' houses, flower pots, flower shows, , flower symbols, flowers, collecting, cutting, for a doll's house, packing, painting, for town gardens, for window boxes, fly away, follow my leader, food for birds, for chickens and ducks, for dogs, for puppies, for rabbits, for wild birds, , , on a railway journey, football, parlor, foot-stools, cork, forfeits, fowls, trussed, fox-terrier, the, french and english, (paper), french tag, french blind man's buff, fruit cream, fuchsias, furnishing dolls' houses, furnishing game, a, g games with a ball, by rote, drawing, - in bed, - with cards, - for convalescents, for a journey, - for a party, - for a picnic, - quotation, rainy-day, - table, - thinking, guessing, and acting, - for a walk, - with a watch, writing, - yes and no, - gambling, chinese, gaps, garden, dolls' house, , kitchen, shop, town, gardening catalogues, diaries, tools, general post, geraniums, ghosts of my friends, glasses, bulbs in, glass-maker, the, going to jerusalem, goldfinch, the, gold fish, good fat hen, a, good luck lily, gordon setter, gossip, grab, grand mogul, the, grand mufti, the, grass snakes, great dane, the, greyhound, the, guessing competitions, employments, games, - numbers, quantities, results, scents, the color of horses' tails, guinea pigs, gypsy camp, h hand dragons, hanging, hare and hounds, hat and cards, hats, cocked, hawks, heads, bodies and tails, he can do little who can't do this, hen and chickens, hen, a good fat, hens' eggs, where to look for, here i bake, hide and seek, hieroglyphics, or picture-writing, , , high chair (model), high skip, himalayan rabbits, hish! hash! hosh! historical stories, - history books, hives, bee, hold fast! let go! home newspaper, the, honey-pots, hoop games for two, posting, hoops, hop-scotch, hop, step, and jump, hospitals, scrap books for, hot and cold, hot hand, hotel game, an, hounds, houses, cardboard, - dolls', house that glue built, the, how, when, and where, hunting for eggs, hunt the ring, hunt the slipper, hunt the squirrel, hunt the thimble, hutches, rabbit, hyacinths, , i illuminating, illustrated papers, painting, illustrating, i love my love, , imaginary family, the, improbable stories, india-rubber plant, indoor gardening, - occupations and things to make, painting, plants, initials, , acting, ink sea-serpents, invented animals (drawing game), irises, irish setter, terrier, i spy, it, ivy, chains, j jack horner pies, jack-stones, japanese fern balls, java sparrows, john ball, jinglers, jolly miller, the, jones's, collecting, journeys, games to play on, - judge and jury, jumping rope, k killing butterflies, king charles spaniel, kingfishers, kitchen gardens, table (model), chair " range " pots and pans, kitchen utensils, kite messengers, kites, knots, - l lady queen anne, lamp for small dolls' house, land of counterpane, the, _land of story-books, the_, laughter, leaves, skeleton, legendary tales, letter games, letters and telegrams, and words, with a pencil, lettuce, lights, rhyming, lists, little dog, the, looby, looby, log houses, london bridge is falling down, love alphabet, the, , love-birds, low-tide, lubbock, sir john, on bees, m madonna lilies, magic-lantern slides, magic music, making friends, making plans, making obeisance, making sentences, man, a dancing, mandarins, the, maps, coloring, on a journey, marbles, mastiff, the, mats, paper menageries, mesmerism, messengers, kite, mice, pet, milking cows, million, counting a, miniature trees, minnows, missing information, mogul, the grand, molasses candy, moles, mongrels, mottoes for christmas, moulting, mounting pressed flowers, muffin man, the, mufti, the grand, mulberry bush, the, music, dolls', music, magic, mustard and cress, , my lady's clothes, my right-hand neighbor, my thought, n narcissus, , natural history books, neighbor, my right-hand, neighbors, newfoundland dogs, newspaper, the, newspaper, the home, ninepins, norfolk spaniel, noughts and crosses, numbers, guessing, nut candy, , nuts in may, nutting, o observation, for railway journeys, occupations, indoor, - old bachelor, old maid, old maid's birthday, the, old soldier, old stone, oranges and lemons, orchestra, outdoor games for boys, - outdoor games for girls, - outlines, , p p's and q's, packing flowers, paddling, painting, cardboard dolls' houses, cardboard furniture, dolls' house food, eggs for easter, flags, flowers, magic-lantern slides, maps, paper boats, boxes, and cardboard toys, - darts, decorations, dolls, - french and english, furniture, - mats, papers for dolls' houses, parlor football, parrots, party, games for a, - patience or thirteens, pen and ink work, peppermint candy, perch, perennials, treatment of, pets, - philopenas, photography, picking flowers, picnic games, - pictures and titles, pictures, coloring, for dolls' houses, pricking, tracing, pictures to order, picture-writing, or hieroglyphics, , , pig, pigeons, ping-pong, plain toffee, plans, making, planting bulbs, perennials, seedlings, plants, window, indoor, playhouses of other peoples, - poetry books, pomeranian, the, ponds, poodles, pop-corn, pop-guns, postage-stamp collections, snakes, post office, the, potato races, pots and pans (models), predicaments, pressing flowers, pricking pictures, prisoner's base, prize, auctioning, products, towns and, prophecies and characteristics, proverbs, acting, shouting, pueblo settlement, a, pugs, puppies, how to feed, puss in the corner, puzzles, q quantities, guessing, queen anne, lady, quoits, quotation games, r rabbits, wild, tame, races, races, potato, soap-bubble, spanish, or wheelbarrow, tissue-paper, radishes, railway competitions, railway whist, rainy-day games, - reading, - red rover, remarks on acting, retriever, the, rhymed replies, rhymes, counting out, rhyming games, rhyming lights, riddles, ring, hunt the, ring taw, ring-the-nail, ring-toss, roadside whist, robin's alive, robin, the, rocking-chair (model), rocks, rows of paper dolls, runt pigeons, russian scandal, ruth and jacob, s sailing boats, , saint bernard, the, sand castles, games, saving seed, scandal, russian, scarborough lily, scents, guessing, schoolboy stories, science, books about, scrap-books, , covered screens, scraps and transfers, screen (model), screens covered with scraps, for dolls' houses, sea-serpents, ink, seaside friends, good, seaside employments, - seaweed, seedlings, perennials, general remarks on, seed, sowing, sentences, making, sergeant, the, setters, setting-boards for butterflies, shades, shadow buff, shadows on the wall, shearing sheep, sheep, counting imaginary flocks of, dog, the, shearing, washing, shell work, ship alphabet, the, ships, cork, shop, game of, in the garden, shopping, the day's, shop windows, shouting proverbs, shuffle board, sideboard (model), silkworms, simon says thumbs up, simple acrostics, skeleton ferns, leaves, skipjacks, skye terrier, the, sleep, ways of getting to, slugs, small dolls' houses, snakes, postage stamp, snap, snap cards, sneeze, the concerted, snowdrops, soap-bubbles, , sofa (model), sofas, cork, soldiers, , solitary watchfulness, sowing seeds, spaniels, spanish cup and ball, sparrows, spatter-work, spelling game, spin the platter, spoons, blind man's buff played with, squills, squirrels, wild, tame, stagarino, stamps, collecting, star of bethlehem, starlings, station observation, statues, steps, stevenson, r. l., still pond! no more moving, stir the mash, stool of repentance, stories, composite, improbable, about schoolboys, telling, , story books, story for family coach, for old maid's birthday, story game, strawberries, streams, strength tests, stuffed dates, suckers, sugar, barley, how to make, sugar, how to color, suggestions, summer-houses, sussex spaniel, the, swallows, swarming of bees, sweet-making, - t tableaux vivants, table games, - tables, cork, tag, teapot, telegrams, telling stories, during walks, terriers, terza, thimble, thinking games, - for bed, thirteens, or patience, thought, my, thought-reading tricks, throwing light, tides, tiger-lilies, tissue-paper dresses for dolls, races, titles, pictures and, tit-tat-toe, toffee, almond, everton, plain, tom tiddler's ground, tools for gardening, topsy-turvy concert, the, touch last, touchwood, towel-rack, cork, (model), town gardens, towns and products, toy boats, dogs, toys for boys, - tracing, tracing pictures, train, games to play in the, - transfers, transplanting flowers, travel, books of, traveller, the, trees, miniature, christmas, tricks, how to teach birds, balancing, how to teach dogs, drawing, thought-reading, trout, trussed fowls, tug of war, tulips, turtles, twenty questions, twos and threes, or terza, tying knots, u unison games, up jenkins, utensils, kitchen, kitchen (models), for sweet-making, v velvet animals, verse and poetry books, w walking dolls, games to play when out, - walking spanish, wall-pockets, walnut fights, shell boats, wand, blind man's, wardrobe, matchbox, (model), washing dogs, sheep, washstand, (model), watch, games to be played with a, water-cutters, watering flowers, perennials, seedlings, window boxes, window plants, wax-bills, weeds, welsh terrier, the, wet clothes, wheat, when my ship comes in, whist, railway, whist, roadside, whistle, the, whistles, wiggles, wild birds, feeding the, rabbits, window boxes, , plants, windows, shop, witches, wool balls, demons, word-making, writing games, - y yellow bunting, yes and no games, - a list of standard books for children published by frederick a. stokes company _books for older children_ bindloss, harold the young traders. illustrated, mo, cloth $ . a capital story of two boys in west africa. crockett, s. r. the surprising adventures of sir toady lion. illustrated, mo, cloth. . sir toady crusoe. illustrated. large mo, cloth . the adventures of two boys and a girl on the scottish coast. sweetheart travellers. illustrated, mo, cloth . fine art juveniles children's classics in artistic form. beautifully illustrated. each vo, cloth . . old fashioned tales. e. v. lucas. . the "original poems" and others. ann and jane taylor. . tales from maria edgeworth. . tales of the canterbury pilgrims. f. j. h. darton. . fairy tales from grimm. . fairy tales from hans andersen. . stories from the faerie queen. mary macleod. . the book of king arthur, mary macleod. . the fairchild family. mrs. sherwood. . national rhymes of the nursery. . forgotten stories of long ago. e. y. lucas. . ballads in prose. mary macleod. . another book of verses for children. e. v. lucas. . the wonder book of old romance. f. j. h. darton. grinell, george bird the "jack" books. illustrated. each mo, cloth . good books for boys, full of hunting, adventure and natural history. jack the young ranchman. jack among the indians. jack in the rockies. jack the young canoeman. jack the young trapper. grinnell morton neighbors of field, wood, and stream. illustrated, mo, cloth . an account of wild creatures not far from civilization. houston, edwin j. the wonder books of science. illustrated. each mo, cloth . the wonders of nature described and simply explained by a scientist. the wonder book of volcanoes and earthquakes. the wonder book of the atmosphere. jenks, tudor electricity for young people. illustrated, mo, cloth _net_, . the story of the progress of electricity from the earliest times. lounsberry, alice the wild flower book for young people. illustrated, mo, cloth _net_, . a story of the lives of wild flowers. marshall, h. e. an island story. illustrated in color. large vo, cloth _net_, . a child's history of england. scotland's story. illustrated in color. large vo, cloth _net_, . stirring events in scottish history. moore, n. hudson deeds of daring done by girls. illustrated in color, mo, cloth . examples of heroism of girls under twenty. nesbit, e. the treasure seekers. illustrated, mo, cloth . by the author of the wouldbegoods. the new treasure seekers. illustrated, mo, cloth . further adventures of the fascinating bastable children. perkins, lucy f. the dandelion classics for children. illustrated in color. each to, cloth . a uniform edition of children's classics, splendidly illustrated. robin hood. midsummer night's dream for young-people. the twenty best fairy tales. sage, agnes c. a little colonial dame. illustrated, to, cloth . same, boards . the story of a girl in old new york. a little daughter of the revolution. illustrated, to, cloth . same, boards . child-life during the exciting period of the war for independence. steedman, c. m. a child's life of jesus. illustrated in color, vo, cloth, . thumb-o-graph series thumb-o-graphs. mo, cloth, _net_, . ; leather, boxed, _net_, . ; gilt, leather, boxed _net_, . ghosts of my friends. mo, cloth, _net_, . ; leather, boxed _net_, . the book of butterflies. mo, cloth, boxed _net_, . noughts and crosses. mo, cloth _net_, . hand-o-graphs. to, cloth _net_, . _books for children from ten to fifteen years of age_ ault, lena and norman the podgy book of tales. illustrated in color, mo, cloth . full of jolly stories about happenings in the nursery and garden. bedford, francis d. a night of wonders. illustrated in color. oblong, mo, cloth . the story of a hunt for father christmas. carroll, lewis alice in wonderland. illustrated in color, vo, cloth, . contains the original tenniel drawings, beside twelve new ones in color by maria l. kirk. through the looking glass. illustrated in color, vo, cloth . also has illustrations by miss kirk as well as the tenniel drawings. children's library, the illustrated. each mo, cloth . stories of all kinds interesting to children. the would-be witch. miriam byrne. two are company. e. m. field. the old oak chest. mary jane papers. a. g. plympton. courage. ruth ogden. little homespun. ruth ogden. tommy's tiny tales. lady leigh. the house of the red fox. miriam byrne. cooke, grace macgowan son riley rabbit and little girl. illustrated, to, cloth . the adventures of a little girl and a rabbit, with excellent photographs. dumas, alexandre fairy tales. illustrated, to, cloth . dunham, edith jogging round the world. to, cloth . with photographs of curious methods of transportation. glen, m. a. twelve magic changelings. cut-outs in color, to, boards, . ; paper . magic changelings. cut-outs in color, to, boards . mirthful menagerie. cut-outs in color, to, boards . agile acrobats. cut-outs in color. to, boards . harris, joel chandler uncle remus and bre'r rabbit. illustrations in color. oblong, to, boards . some of bre'r rabbit's most amusing adventures told in stories, verses and pictures. jewett, j. h. bunny stories. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . more bunny stories. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . mendes, h. p. in old egypt. illustrated, to, cloth . moore, n. hudson children of other days. illustrated, to, cloth . an art book for children, giving reproductions of famous paintings of children. ogden, ruth a little queen of hearts. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . the account of the visit of a little american girl to england. a loyal little red coat. illustrated, to, boards . same, cloth . a story of a child in new york one hundred years ago. loyal hearts and true. illustrated, mo, cloth . how "the dry dock club" showed its patriotic spirit during the war with spain. outcault, r. f. buster brown's autobiography. illustrated in color, to, cloth . with many new adventures. buster's and mary jane's painting book. oblong, to, boards . pictures to be colored, some with colored models. tige: his story. illustrated, to, cloth . tige's adventures, with some of buster's. buster brown abroad. illustrated, to, cloth . what buster did in foreign lands. peary, josephine d. the snow baby. illustrated, to, cloth _net_, . the birth and infancy of marie ahnighito peary, illustrated by photographs taken by her parents in the far north. peary, marie ahnighito and josephine d. children of the arctic. illustrated, to, cloth _net_, . the snow baby's second trip to the arctic. peary, robert e. snowland folk. illustrated, to, cloth _net_, . true stories about the fascinating land of eternal snow. randolph, h. s. f. the new mother goose. with cut-out illustrations in color, to, boards . an illustrated story remains after removal of the cut-outs. the fire fighters. with cut-out illustrations in color, to, boards . story with models of fire engine, hook and ladder, etc., in drawings and cut-outs. selous, edmund tommy smith's animals. illustrated, mo, cloth . tommy smith's other animals. illustrated, mo, cloth . conversations of a little boy with the common country animals. williams, clara andrew the house that glue built. cut-out pictures in color. oblong, to, boards . pictures of the rooms of a house with separate sheets giving the furniture, to be pasted into place. the fun that glue made. cut-out pictures in color. oblong, to, boards . scenes in bright colors of children at play, to be pasted together. the stories that glue told. cut-out pictures in color. oblong, to, boards . pictures of well-known stories to be cut out and pasted together. _books for very young children_ betts, ethel franklin favorite nursery rhymes. illustrated in color, to, cloth . the most popular nursery rhymes beautifully illustrated. burgess, gelett goops and how to be them. illustrated, to, cloth . the primary rules of good manners in clever rhymes. more goops and how not to be them. illustrated, to, cloth . with many more of mr. burgess's whimsical pictures. goop tales, alphabetically told. illustrated, to, cloth . two alphabets--one of boys and one of girls. the lively city o' ligg. illustrated in color, to, boards . modern fables--a hans andersen up to date. the burgess nonsense book. illustrated. small to, cloth . a collection of mr. burgess's nonsense verses and stories. deming, e. w. red folk and wild folk. illustrated in color, to, cloth _net_, . little indian people in the forest, with their animal playfellows. children of the wild. illustrated in color, to, cloth _net_, . little brothers of the west. illustrated in color, to, cloth _net_, . each of these books contains just half the pictures and text of "red folk and wild folk." indian child life. illustrated in color. oblong, to, boards . stories about indian children. little red people. illustrated in color. oblong, to, boards . little indian folk. illustrated in color. oblong, to, boards . each containing just half the illustrations and text in the preceding volume. dumpy books for children illustrated in color. each mo, boards . simple stories for very young children. the story of the teasing monkey. helen bannerman. billy mouse. arthur layard. pat and the spider. helen bannerman. the story of little kettle head. helen bannerman. the story of little black quibba. helen bannerman. the story of little black sambo. helen bannerman. the bad mrs. ginger. honor c. appleton. the alphabet book. henry mayer. a cat book. e. v. lucas and h. c. smith. haines, alice calhoun little folk of brittany. illustrated in color, to, cloth . delightful stories and verses about this remarkable land. indian boys and girls. illustrated in color, to, cloth . indian children in characteristic occupations. when grandma was little. illustrated in color, to, cloth . what grandma says. illustrated in color, to, cloth . stories and verses in which things happen as grandma says they used to. boys. illustrated in color. large to, boards . girls. illustrated in color. large to, boards . distinctive and beautiful stories and verses of child life. little japs at play. illustrated in color. large to, boards . transcriber's notes . passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_. . images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest paragraph break. . some of the full-page illustrations listed in the illustrations are missing. . the use of periods is not consistent in the original text. obvious errors have been silently corrected. . the following misprints have been corrected: comma added at end of verse line "the powder" (page ) period removed in sentence "three's, thus. one" (page ) "hocky" corrected to "hockey" (page ) "payments" corrected to "pavements" (page ) "hankerchief" corrected to "handkerchief" (img ) "train" corrected to "twain" (img ) "eoy" corrected to "roy" (img ) "thomson-seton" corrected to "thompson-seton" (img ) "fin" corrected to "finn" (img ) missing page no. added for "feeding chickens" entry (page ) . other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) transcriber's note: in mathematical expressions the carat character (^) indicates that the following term is an exponent. the canterbury puzzles * * * * * press opinions on "the canterbury puzzles." "it is a book of remarkable ingenuity and interest."--_educational times._ "the most ingenious brain in england ... a fascinating new book."--_evening news._ "a capital book of posers."--_daily news._ "the puzzles ... reach the limit of ingenuity and intricacy; and it is well for the sanity of his readers that the author gives a list of solutions at the end of the book."--_observer._ "a book that will provide much entertainment for christmas gatherings ... ingenious puzzles and problems invented by 'sphinx,' the puzzle king."--_the captain._ "mr. dudeney, whose reputation is world-wide as the puzzle and problem maker of the age ... sure to find a wide circulation ... as attractive in appearance as its contents are fascinating."--_english mechanic and world of science._ "an exceedingly ingenious constructor and solver of fascinating puzzles, mathematical and otherwise."--_school guardian._ "a book which ought to be highly popular ... it is all mighty ingenious, and very intelligently put before the reader."--_sheffield telegraph._ "it is matter for delight that mr. henry e. dudeney has collected into a volume those mysterious puzzles of his which have appeared in many journals ... contains quite a number of ingenious new mental problems ... a valuable introduction."--_the lady._ "for the long winter evenings mr. dudeney's book of puzzledom is to be recommended. mr. dudeney has made a study of every kind of puzzle there is ... he supplies you with every kind of brain-twister."--_the daily chronicle._ "took up more of the reviewer's time than he could well afford to give it; he wanted to solve some of the curious problems that it contains, and for ingenious persons who want employment on a wet day, he promises from it abundant scope."--_yorkshire post._ "a well-known master puzzler ... provides an abundance of seasonable occupation for the ingenious, with an introduction on the general question of puzzles, which is one of the most interesting parts of the book. he is a skilful inventor."--_nottingham guardian._ "will enjoy the entertainment provided ... ingenious and witty."--_the guardian._ "extremely ingenious book, which abounds in problems that will keep the reader busy for hours--until in despair he turns to the answers at the end."--_manchester guardian._ "the setting of these perplexities is novel ... a dramatic background being thus provided which prevents too great aridity.... the book should be much in request."--_the morning leader._ the canterbury puzzles _by the same author_ "amusements in mathematics" s. d. * * * * * first edition, the canterbury puzzles and other curious problems by henry ernest dudeney author of "amusements in mathematics," etc. second edition (with some fuller solutions and additional notes) thomas nelson and sons, ltd. london, edinburgh, and new york contents preface introduction the canterbury puzzles puzzling times at solvamhall castle the merry monks of riddlewell the strange escape of the king's jester the squire's christmas puzzle party adventures of the puzzle club the professor's puzzles miscellaneous puzzles solutions index preface when preparing this new edition for the press, my first inclination was to withdraw a few puzzles that appeared to be of inferior interest, and to substitute others for them. but, on second thoughts, i decided to let the book stand in its original form and add extended solutions and some short notes to certain problems that have in the past involved me in correspondence with interested readers who desired additional information. i have also provided--what was clearly needed for reference--an index. the very nature and form of the book prevented any separation of the puzzles into classes, but a certain amount of classification will be found in the index. thus, for example, if the reader has a predilection for problems with moving counters, or for magic squares, or for combination and group puzzles, he will find that in the index these are brought together for his convenience. though the problems are quite different, with the exception of just one or two little variations or extensions, from those in my book _amusements in mathematics_, each work being complete in itself, i have thought it would help the reader who happens to have both books before him if i made occasional references that would direct him to solutions and analyses in the later book calculated to elucidate matter in these pages. this course has also obviated the necessity of my repeating myself. for the sake of brevity, _amusements in mathematics_ is throughout referred to as _a. in m._ henry e. dudeney. the authors' club, _july , ._ introduction readers of _the mill on the floss_ will remember that whenever mr. tulliver found himself confronted by any little difficulty he was accustomed to make the trite remark, "it's a puzzling world." there can be no denying the fact that we are surrounded on every hand by posers, some of which the intellect of man has mastered, and many of which may be said to be impossible of solution. solomon himself, who may be supposed to have been as sharp as most men at solving a puzzle, had to admit "there be three things which are too wonderful for me; yea, four which i know not: the way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid." probing into the secrets of nature is a passion with all men; only we select different lines of research. men have spent long lives in such attempts as to turn the baser metals into gold, to discover perpetual motion, to find a cure for certain malignant diseases, and to navigate the air. from morning to night we are being perpetually brought face to face with puzzles. but there are puzzles and puzzles. those that are usually devised for recreation and pastime may be roughly divided into two classes: puzzles that are built up on some interesting or informing little principle; and puzzles that conceal no principle whatever--such as a picture cut at random into little bits to be put together again, or the juvenile imbecility known as the "rebus," or "picture puzzle." the former species may be said to be adapted to the amusement of the sane man or woman; the latter can be confidently recommended to the feeble-minded. the curious propensity for propounding puzzles is not peculiar to any race or to any period of history. it is simply innate in every intelligent man, woman, and child that has ever lived, though it is always showing itself in different forms; whether the individual be a sphinx of egypt, a samson of hebrew lore, an indian fakir, a chinese philosopher, a mahatma of tibet, or a european mathematician makes little difference. theologian, scientist, and artisan are perpetually engaged in attempting to solve puzzles, while every game, sport, and pastime is built up of problems of greater or less difficulty. the spontaneous question asked by the child of his parent, by one cyclist of another while taking a brief rest on a stile, by a cricketer during the luncheon hour, or by a yachtsman lazily scanning the horizon, is frequently a problem of considerable difficulty. in short, we are all propounding puzzles to one another every day of our lives--without always knowing it. a good puzzle should demand the exercise of our best wit and ingenuity, and although a knowledge of mathematics and a certain familiarity with the methods of logic are often of great service in the solution of these things, yet it sometimes happens that a kind of natural cunning and sagacity is of considerable value. for many of the best problems cannot be solved by any familiar scholastic methods, but must be attacked on entirely original lines. this is why, after a long and wide experience, one finds that particular puzzles will sometimes be solved more readily by persons possessing only naturally alert faculties than by the better educated. the best players of such puzzle games as chess and draughts are not mathematicians, though it is just possible that often they may have undeveloped mathematical minds. it is extraordinary what fascination a good puzzle has for a great many people. we know the thing to be of trivial importance, yet we are impelled to master it; and when we have succeeded there is a pleasure and a sense of satisfaction that are a quite sufficient reward for our trouble, even when there is no prize to be won. what is this mysterious charm that many find irresistible? why do we like to be puzzled? the curious thing is that directly the enigma is solved the interest generally vanishes. we have done it, and that is enough. but why did we ever attempt to do it? the answer is simply that it gave us pleasure to seek the solution--that the pleasure was all in the seeking and finding for their own sakes. a good puzzle, like virtue, is its own reward. man loves to be confronted by a mystery, and he is not entirely happy until he has solved it. we never like to feel our mental inferiority to those around us. the spirit of rivalry is innate in man; it stimulates the smallest child, in play or education, to keep level with his fellows, and in later life it turns men into great discoverers, inventors, orators, heroes, artists, and (if they have more material aims) perhaps millionaires. in starting on a tour through the wide realm of puzzledom we do well to remember that we shall meet with points of interest of a very varied character. i shall take advantage of this variety. people often make the mistake of confining themselves to one little corner of the realm, and thereby miss opportunities of new pleasures that lie within their reach around them. one person will keep to acrostics and other word puzzles, another to mathematical brain-rackers, another to chess problems (which are merely puzzles on the chess-board, and have little practical relation to the game of chess), and so on. this is a mistake, because it restricts one's pleasures, and neglects that variety which is so good for the brain. and there is really a practical utility in puzzle-solving. regular exercise is supposed to be as necessary for the brain as for the body, and in both cases it is not so much what we do as the doing of it from which we derive benefit. the daily walk recommended by the doctor for the good of the body, or the daily exercise for the brain, may in itself appear to be so much waste of time; but it is the truest economy in the end. albert smith, in one of his amusing novels, describes a woman who was convinced that she suffered from "cobwigs on the brain." this may be a very rare complaint, but in a more metaphorical sense many of us are very apt to suffer from mental cobwebs, and there is nothing equal to the solving of puzzles and problems for sweeping them away. they keep the brain alert, stimulate the imagination, and develop the reasoning faculties. and not only are they useful in this indirect way, but they often directly help us by teaching us some little tricks and "wrinkles" that can be applied in the affairs of life at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected ways. there is an interesting passage in praise of puzzles in the quaint letters of fitzosborne. here is an extract: "the ingenious study of making and solving puzzles is a science undoubtedly of most necessary acquirement, and deserves to make a part in the meditation of both sexes. it is an art, indeed, that i would recommend to the encouragement of both the universities, as it affords the easiest and shortest method of conveying some of the most useful principles of logic. it was the maxim of a very wise prince that 'he who knows not how to dissemble knows not how to reign'; and i desire you to receive it as mine, that 'he who knows not how to riddle knows not how to live.'" how are good puzzles invented? i am not referring to acrostics, anagrams, charades, and that sort of thing, but to puzzles that contain an original idea. well, you cannot invent a good puzzle to order, any more than you can invent anything else in that manner. notions for puzzles come at strange times and in strange ways. they are suggested by something we see or hear, and are led up to by other puzzles that come under our notice. it is useless to say, "i will sit down and invent an original puzzle," because there is no way of creating an idea; you can only make use of it when it comes. you may think this is wrong, because an expert in these things will make scores of puzzles while another person, equally clever, cannot invent one "to save his life," as we say. the explanation is very simple. the expert knows an idea when he sees one, and is able by long experience to judge of its value. fertility, like facility, comes by practice. sometimes a new and most interesting idea is suggested by the blunder of somebody over another puzzle. a boy was given a puzzle to solve by a friend, but he misunderstood what he had to do, and set about attempting what most likely everybody would have told him was impossible. but he was a boy with a will, and he stuck at it for six months, off and on, until he actually succeeded. when his friend saw the solution, he said, "this is not the puzzle i intended--you misunderstood me--but you have found out something much greater!" and the puzzle which that boy accidentally discovered is now in all the old puzzle books. puzzles can be made out of almost anything, in the hands of the ingenious person with an idea. coins, matches, cards, counters, bits of wire or string, all come in useful. an immense number of puzzles have been made out of the letters of the alphabet, and from those nine little digits and cipher, , , , , , , , , , and . it should always be remembered that a very simple person may propound a problem that can only be solved by clever heads--if at all. a child asked, "can god do everything?" on receiving an affirmative reply, she at once said: "then can he make a stone so heavy that he can't lift it?" many wide-awake grown-up people do not at once see a satisfactory answer. yet the difficulty lies merely in the absurd, though cunning, form of the question, which really amounts to asking, "can the almighty destroy his own omnipotence?" it is somewhat similar to the other question, "what would happen if an irresistible moving body came in contact with an immovable body?" here we have simply a contradiction in terms, for if there existed such a thing as an immovable body, there could not at the same time exist a moving body that nothing could resist. professor tyndall used to invite children to ask him puzzling questions, and some of them were very hard nuts to crack. one child asked him why that part of a towel that was dipped in water was of a darker colour than the dry part. how many readers could give the correct reply? many people are satisfied with the most ridiculous answers to puzzling questions. if you ask, "why can we see through glass?" nine people out of ten will reply, "because it is transparent;" which is, of course, simply another way of saying, "because we can see through it." puzzles have such an infinite variety that it is sometimes very difficult to divide them into distinct classes. they often so merge in character that the best we can do is to sort them into a few broad types. let us take three or four examples in illustration of what i mean. first there is the ancient riddle, that draws upon the imagination and play of fancy. readers will remember the riddle of the sphinx, the monster of boeotia who propounded enigmas to the inhabitants and devoured them if they failed to solve them. it was said that the sphinx would destroy herself if one of her riddles was ever correctly answered. it was this: "what animal walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?" it was explained by oedipus, who pointed out that man walked on his hands and feet in the morning of life, at the noon of life he walked erect, and in the evening of his days he supported his infirmities with a stick. when the sphinx heard this explanation, she dashed her head against a rock and immediately expired. this shows that puzzle solvers may be really useful on occasion. then there is the riddle propounded by samson. it is perhaps the first prize competition in this line on record, the prize being thirty sheets and thirty changes of garments for a correct solution. the riddle was this: "out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness." the answer was, "a honey-comb in the body of a dead lion." to-day this sort of riddle survives in such a form as, "why does a chicken cross the road?" to which most people give the answer, "to get to the other side;" though the correct reply is, "to worry the chauffeur." it has degenerated into the conundrum, which is usually based on a mere pun. for example, we have been asked from our infancy, "when is a door not a door?" and here again the answer usually furnished ("when it is a-jar") is not the correct one. it should be, "when it is a negress (an egress)." there is the large class of letter puzzles, which are based on the little peculiarities of the language in which they are written--such as anagrams, acrostics, word-squares, and charades. in this class we also find palindromes, or words and sentences that read backwards and forwards alike. these must be very ancient indeed, if it be true that adam introduced himself to eve (in the english language, be it noted) with the palindromic words, "madam, i'm adam," to which his consort replied with the modest palindrome "eve." then we have arithmetical puzzles, an immense class, full of diversity. these range from the puzzle that the algebraist finds to be nothing but a "simple equation," quite easy of direct solution, up to the profoundest problems in the elegant domain of the theory of numbers. next we have the geometrical puzzle, a favourite and very ancient branch of which is the puzzle in dissection, requiring some plane figure to be cut into a certain number of pieces that will fit together and form another figure. most of the wire puzzles sold in the streets and toy-shops are concerned with the geometry of position. but these classes do not nearly embrace all kinds of puzzles even when we allow for those that belong at once to several of the classes. there are many ingenious mechanical puzzles that you cannot classify, as they stand quite alone: there are puzzles in logic, in chess, in draughts, in cards, and in dominoes, while every conjuring trick is nothing but a puzzle, the solution to which the performer tries to keep to himself. there are puzzles that look easy and are easy, puzzles that look easy and are difficult, puzzles that look difficult and are difficult, and puzzles that look difficult and are easy, and in each class we may of course have degrees of easiness and difficulty. but it does not follow that a puzzle that has conditions that are easily understood by the merest child is in itself easy. such a puzzle might, however, look simple to the uninformed, and only prove to be a very hard nut to him after he had actually tackled it. for example, if we write down nineteen ones to form the number , , , , , , , and then ask for a number (other than or itself) that will divide it without remainder, the conditions are perfectly simple, but the task is terribly difficult. nobody in the world knows yet whether that number has a divisor or not. if you can find one, you will have succeeded in doing something that nobody else has ever done.[a] the number composed of seventeen ones, , , , , , , has only these two divisors, , , and , , , , and their discovery is an exceedingly heavy task. the only number composed only of ones that we know with certainty to have no divisor is . such a number is, of course, called a prime number. the maxim that there are always a right way and a wrong way of doing anything applies in a very marked degree to the solving of puzzles. here the wrong way consists in making aimless trials without method, hoping to hit on the answer by accident--a process that generally results in our getting hopelessly entangled in the trap that has been artfully laid for us. occasionally, however, a problem is of such a character that, though it may be solved immediately by trial, it is very difficult to do by a process of pure reason. but in most cases the latter method is the only one that gives any real pleasure. when we sit down to solve a puzzle, the first thing to do is to make sure, as far as we can, that we understand the conditions. for if we do not understand what it is we have to do, we are not very likely to succeed in doing it. we all know the story of the man who was asked the question, "if a herring and a half cost three-halfpence, how much will a dozen herrings cost?" after several unsuccessful attempts he gave it up, when the propounder explained to him that a dozen herrings would cost a shilling. "herrings!" exclaimed the other apologetically; "i was working it out in haddocks!" [a] see footnote on page . it sometimes requires more care than the reader might suppose so to word the conditions of a new puzzle that they are at once clear and exact and not so prolix as to destroy all interest in the thing. i remember once propounding a problem that required something to be done in the "fewest possible straight lines," and a person who was either very clever or very foolish (i have never quite determined which) claimed to have solved it in only one straight line, because, as she said, "i have taken care to make all the others crooked!" who could have anticipated such a quibble? then if you give a "crossing the river" puzzle, in which people have to be got over in a boat that will only hold a certain number or combination of persons, directly the would-be solver fails to master the difficulty he boldly introduces a rope to pull the boat across. you say that a rope is forbidden; and he then falls back on the use of a current in the stream. i once thought i had carefully excluded all such tricks in a particular puzzle of this class. but a sapient reader made all the people swim across without using the boat at all! of course, some few puzzles are intended to be solved by some trick of this kind; and if there happens to be no solution without the trick it is perfectly legitimate. we have to use our best judgment as to whether a puzzle contains a catch or not; but we should never hastily assume it. to quibble over the conditions is the last resort of the defeated would-be solver. sometimes people will attempt to bewilder you by curious little twists in the meaning of words. a man recently propounded to me the old familiar problem, "a boy walks round a pole on which is a monkey, but as the boy walks the monkey turns on the pole so as to be always facing him on the opposite side. does the boy go around the monkey?" i replied that if he would first give me his definition of "to go around" i would supply him with the answer. of course, he demurred, so that he might catch me either way. i therefore said that, taking the words in their ordinary and correct meaning, most certainly the boy went around the monkey. as was expected, he retorted that it was not so, because he understood by "going around" a thing that you went in such a way as to see all sides of it. to this i made the obvious reply that consequently a blind man could not go around anything. he then amended his definition by saying that the actual seeing all sides was not essential, but you went in such a way that, given sight, you could see all sides. upon which it was suggested that consequently you could not walk around a man who had been shut up in a box! and so on. the whole thing is amusingly stupid, and if at the start you, very properly, decline to admit any but a simple and correct definition of "to go around," there is no puzzle left, and you prevent an idle, and often heated, argument. when you have grasped your conditions, always see if you cannot simplify them, for a lot of confusion is got rid of in this way. many people are puzzled over the old question of the man who, while pointing at a portrait, says, "brothers and sisters have i none, but that man's father is my father's son." what relation did the man in the picture bear to the speaker? here you simplify by saying that "my father's son" must be either "myself" or "my brother." but, since the speaker has no brother, it is clearly "myself." the statement simplified is thus nothing more than, "that man's father is myself," and it was obviously his son's portrait. yet people fight over this question by the hour! there are mysteries that have never been solved in many branches of puzzledom. let us consider a few in the world of numbers--little things the conditions of which a child can understand, though the greatest minds cannot master. everybody has heard the remark, "it is as hard as squaring a circle," though many people have a very hazy notion of what it means. if you have a circle of given diameter and wish to find the side of a square that shall contain exactly the same area, you are confronted with the problem of squaring the circle. well, it cannot be done with exactitude (though we can get an answer near enough for all practical purposes), because it is not possible to say in exact numbers what is the ratio of the diameter to the circumference. but it is only in recent times that it has been proved to be impossible, for it is one thing not to be able to perform a certain feat, but quite another to prove that it cannot be done. only uninstructed cranks now waste their time in trying to square the circle. again, we can never measure exactly in numbers the diagonal of a square. if you have a window pane exactly a foot on every side, there is the distance from corner to corner staring you in the face, yet you can never say in exact numbers what is the length of that diagonal. the simple person will at once suggest that we might take our diagonal first, say an exact foot, and then construct our square. yes, you can do this, but then you can never say exactly what is the length of the side. you can have it which way you like, but you cannot have it both ways. all my readers know what a magic square is. the numbers to can be arranged in a square of nine cells, so that all the columns and rows and each of the diagonals will add up . it is quite easy; and there is only one way of doing it, for we do not count as different the arrangements obtained by merely turning round the square and reflecting it in a mirror. now if we wish to make a magic square of the numbers, to , there are just different ways of doing it, again not counting reversals and reflections. this has been finally proved of recent years. but how many magic squares may be formed with the numbers, to , nobody knows, and we shall have to extend our knowledge in certain directions before we can hope to solve the puzzle. but it is surprising to find that exactly , such squares may be formed of one particular restricted kind only--the bordered square, in which the inner square of nine cells is itself magic. and i have shown how this number may be at once doubled by merely converting every bordered square--by a simple rule--into a non-bordered one. then vain attempts have been made to construct a magic square by what is called a "knight's tour" over the chess-board, numbering each square that the knight visits in succession, , , , , etc.; and it has been done, with the exception of the two diagonals, which so far have baffled all efforts. but it is not certain that it cannot be done. though the contents of the present volume are in the main entirely original, some very few old friends will be found; but these will not, i trust, prove unwelcome in the new dress that they have received. the puzzles are of every degree of difficulty, and so varied in character that perhaps it is not too much to hope that every true puzzle lover will find ample material to interest--and possibly instruct. in some cases i have dealt with the methods of solution at considerable length, but at other times i have reluctantly felt obliged to restrict myself to giving the bare answers. had the full solutions and proofs been given in the case of every puzzle, either half the problems would have had to be omitted, or the size of the book greatly increased. and the plan that i have adopted has its advantages, for it leaves scope for the mathematical enthusiast to work out his own analysis. even in those cases where i have given a general formula for the solution of a puzzle, he will find great interest in verifying it for himself. the canterbury puzzles [illustration] a chance-gathered company of pilgrims, on their way to the shrine of saint thomas à becket at canterbury, met at the old tabard inn, later called the talbot, in southwark, and the host proposed that they should beguile the ride by each telling a tale to his fellow-pilgrims. this we all know was the origin of the immortal _canterbury tales_ of our great fourteenth-century poet, geoffrey chaucer. unfortunately, the tales were never completed, and perhaps that is why the quaint and curious "canterbury puzzles," devised and propounded by the same body of pilgrims, were not also recorded by the poet's pen. this is greatly to be regretted, since chaucer, who, as leland tells us, was an "ingenious mathematician" and the author of a learned treatise on the astrolabe, was peculiarly fitted for the propounding of problems. in presenting for the first time some of these old-world posers, i will not stop to explain the singular manner in which they came into my possession, but proceed at once, without unnecessary preamble, to give my readers an opportunity of solving them and testing their quality. there are certainly far more difficult puzzles extant, but difficulty and interest are two qualities of puzzledom that do not necessarily go together. .--_the reve's puzzle._ [illustration] the reve was a wily man and something of a scholar. as chaucer tells us, "there was no auditor could of him win," and "there could no man bring him in arrear." the poet also noticed that "ever he rode the hindermost of the route." this he did that he might the better, without interruption, work out the fanciful problems and ideas that passed through his active brain. when the pilgrims were stopping at a wayside tavern, a number of cheeses of varying sizes caught his alert eye; and calling for four stools, he told the company that he would show them a puzzle of his own that would keep them amused during their rest. he then placed eight cheeses of graduating sizes on one of the end stools, the smallest cheese being at the top, as clearly shown in the illustration. "this is a riddle," quoth he, "that i did once set before my fellow townsmen at baldeswell, that is in norfolk, and, by saint joce, there was no man among them that could rede it aright. and yet it is withal full easy, for all that i do desire is that, by the moving of one cheese at a time from one stool unto another, ye shall remove all the cheeses to the stool at the other end without ever putting any cheese on one that is smaller than itself. to him that will perform this feat in the least number of moves that be possible will i give a draught of the best that our good host can provide." to solve this puzzle in the fewest possible moves, first with , then with , and afterwards with cheeses, is an interesting recreation. .--_the pardoner's puzzle._ [illustration] the gentle pardoner, "that straight was come from the court of rome," begged to be excused; but the company would not spare him. "friends and fellow-pilgrims," said he, "of a truth the riddle that i have made is but a poor thing, but it is the best that i have been able to devise. blame my lack of knowledge of such matters if it be not to your liking." but his invention was very well received. he produced the accompanying plan, and said that it represented sixty-four towns through which he had to pass during some of his pilgrimages, and the lines connecting them were roads. he explained that the puzzle was to start from the large black town and visit all the other towns once, and once only, in fifteen straight pilgrimages. try to trace the route in fifteen straight lines with your pencil. you may end where you like, but note that the omission of a little road at the bottom is intentional, as it seems that it was impossible to go that way. .--_the miller's puzzle._ [illustration] the miller next took the company aside and showed them nine sacks of flour that were standing as depicted in the sketch. "now, hearken, all and some," said he, "while that i do set ye the riddle of the nine sacks of flour. and mark ye, my lords and masters, that there be single sacks on the outside, pairs next unto them, and three together in the middle thereof. by saint benedict, it doth so happen that if we do but multiply the pair, , by the single one, , the answer is , which is of a truth the number shown by the sacks in the middle. yet it be not true that the other pair, , when so multiplied by its neighbour, , will also make . wherefore i do beg you, gentle sirs, so to place anew the nine sacks with as little trouble as possible that each pair when thus multiplied by its single neighbour shall make the number in the middle." as the miller has stipulated in effect that as few bags as possible shall be moved, there is only one answer to this puzzle, which everybody should be able to solve. .--_the knight's puzzle._ this worthy man was, as chaucer tells us, "a very perfect, gentle knight," and "in many a noble army had he been: at mortal battles had he been fifteen." his shield, as he is seen showing it to the company at the "tabard" in the illustration, was, in the peculiar language of the heralds, "argent, semée of roses, gules," which means that on a white ground red roses were scattered or strewn, as seed is sown by the hand. when this knight was called on to propound a puzzle, he said to the company, "this riddle a wight did ask of me when that i fought with the lord of palatine against the heathen in turkey. in thy hand take a piece of chalk and learn how many perfect squares thou canst make with one of the eighty-seven roses at each corner thereof." the reader may find it an interesting problem to count the number of squares that may be formed on the shield by uniting four roses. [illustration] --_the wife of bath's riddles._ the frolicsome wife of bath, when called upon to favour the company, protested that she had no aptitude for such things, but that her fourth husband had had a liking for them, and she remembered one of his riddles that might be new to her fellow pilgrims: "why is a bung that hath been made fast in a barrel like unto another bung that is just falling out of a barrel?" as the company promptly answered this easy conundrum, the lady went on to say that when she was one day seated sewing in her private chamber her son entered. "upon receiving," saith she, "the parental command, 'depart, my son, and do not disturb me!' he did reply, 'i am, of a truth, thy son; but thou art not my mother, and until thou hast shown me how this may be i shall not go forth.'" this perplexed the company a good deal, but it is not likely to give the reader much difficulty. [illustration] .--_the host's puzzle._ perhaps no puzzle of the whole collection caused more jollity or was found more entertaining than that produced by the host of the "tabard," who accompanied the party all the way. he called the pilgrims together and spoke as follows: "my merry masters all, now that it be my turn to give your brains a twist, i will show ye a little piece of craft that will try your wits to their full bent. and yet methinks it is but a simple matter when the doing of it is made clear. here be a cask of fine london ale, and in my hands do i hold two measures--one of five pints, and the other of three pints. pray show how it is possible for me to put a true pint into each of the measures." of course, no other vessel or article is to be used, and no marking of the measures is allowed. it is a knotty little problem and a fascinating one. a good many persons to-day will find it by no means an easy task. yet it can be done. .--_the clerk of oxenford's puzzle._ [illustration] the silent and thoughtful clerk of oxenford, of whom it is recorded that "every farthing that his friends e'er lent, in books and learning was it always spent," was prevailed upon to give his companions a puzzle. he said, "ofttimes of late have i given much thought to the study of those strange talismans to ward off the plague and such evils that are yclept magic squares, and the secret of such things is very deep and the number of such squares truly great. but the small riddle that i did make yester eve for the purpose of this company is not so hard that any may not find it out with a little patience." he then produced the square shown in the illustration and said that it was desired so to cut it into four pieces (by cuts along the lines) that they would fit together again and form a perfect magic square, in which the four columns, the four rows, and the two long diagonals should add up . it will be found that this is a just sufficiently easy puzzle for most people's tastes. .--_the tapiser's puzzle._ [illustration] then came forward the tapiser, who was, of course, a maker of tapestry, and must not be confounded with a tapster, who draws and sells ale. he produced a beautiful piece of tapestry, worked in a simple chequered pattern, as shown in the diagram. "this piece of tapestry, sirs," quoth he, "hath one hundred and sixty-nine small squares, and i do desire you to tell me the manner of cutting the tapestry into three pieces that shall fit together and make one whole piece in shape of a perfect square. "moreover, since there be divers ways of so doing, i do wish to know that way wherein two of the pieces shall together contain as much as possible of the rich fabric." it is clear that the tapiser intended the cuts to be made along the lines dividing the squares only, and, as the material was not both sides alike, no piece may be reversed, but care must be observed that the chequered pattern matches properly. .--_the carpenter's puzzle._ the carpenter produced the carved wooden pillar that he is seen holding in the illustration, wherein the knight is propounding his knotty problem to the goodly company (no. ), and spoke as follows: "there dwelleth in the city of london a certain scholar that is learned in astrology and other strange arts. some few days gone he did bring unto me a piece of wood that had three feet in length, one foot in breadth and one foot in depth, and did desire that it be carved and made into the pillar that you do now behold. also did he promise certain payment for every cubic inch of wood cut away by the carving thereof. "now i did at first weigh the block, and found it truly to contain thirty pounds, whereas the pillar doth now weigh but twenty pounds. of a truth i have therefore cut away one cubic foot (which is to say one-third) of the three cubic feet of the block; but this scholar withal doth hold that payment may not thus be fairly made by weight, since the heart of the block may be heavier, or perchance may be more light, than the outside. how then may i with ease satisfy the scholar as to the quantity of wood that hath been cut away?" this at first sight looks a difficult question, but it is so absurdly simple that the method employed by the carpenter should be known to everybody to-day, for it is a very useful little "wrinkle." .--_the puzzle of the squire's yeoman._ chaucer says of the squire's yeoman, who formed one of his party of pilgrims, "a forester was he truly as i guess," and tells us that "his arrows drooped not with feathers low, and in his hand he bare a mighty bow." when a halt was made one day at a wayside inn, bearing the old sign of the "chequers," this yeoman consented to give the company an exhibition of his skill. selecting nine good arrows, he said, "mark ye, good sirs, how that i shall shoot these nine arrows in such manner that each of them shall lodge in the middle of one of the squares that be upon the sign of the 'chequers,' and yet of a truth shall no arrow be in line with any other arrow." the diagram will show exactly how he did this, and no two arrows will be found in line, horizontally, vertically, or diagonally. then the yeoman said: "here then is a riddle for ye. remove three of the arrows each to one of its neighbouring squares, so that the nine shall yet be so placed that none thereof may be in line with another." by a "neighbouring square" is meant one that adjoins, either laterally or diagonally. [illustration] .--_the nun's puzzle._ "i trow there be not one among ye," quoth the nun, on a later occasion, "that doth not know that many monks do oft pass the time in play at certain games, albeit they be not lawful for them. these games, such as cards and the game of chess, do they cunningly hide from the abbot's eye by putting them away in holes that they have cut out of the very hearts of great books that be upon their shelves. shall the nun therefore be greatly blamed if she do likewise? i will show a little riddle game that we do sometimes play among ourselves when the good abbess doth hap to be away." [illustration canterbury pilgrims] the nun then produced the eighteen cards that are shown in the illustration. she explained that the puzzle was so to arrange the cards in a pack, that by placing the uppermost one on the table, placing the next one at the bottom of the pack, the next one on the table, the next at the bottom of the pack, and so on, until all are on the table, the eighteen cards shall then read "canterbury pilgrims." of course each card must be placed on the table to the immediate right of the one that preceded it. it is easy enough if you work backwards, but the reader should try to arrive at the required order without doing this, or using any actual cards. .--_the merchant's puzzle._ of the merchant the poet writes, "forsooth he was a worthy man withal." he was thoughtful, full of schemes, and a good manipulator of figures. "his reasons spake he eke full solemnly. sounding away the increase of his winning." one morning, when they were on the road, the knight and the squire, who were riding beside him, reminded the merchant that he had not yet propounded the puzzle that he owed the company. he thereupon said, "be it so? here then is a riddle in numbers that i will set before this merry company when next we do make a halt. there be thirty of us in all riding over the common this morn. truly we may ride one and one, in what they do call the single file, or two and two, or three and three, or five and five, or six and six, or ten and ten, or fifteen and fifteen, or all thirty in a row. in no other way may we ride so that there be no lack of equal numbers in the rows. now, a party of pilgrims were able thus to ride in as many as sixty-four different ways. prithee tell me how many there must perforce have been in the company." the merchant clearly required the smallest number of persons that could so ride in the sixty-four ways. [illustration] .--_the man of law's puzzle._ the sergeant of the law was "full rich of excellence. discreet he was, and of great reverence." he was a very busy man, but, like many of us to-day, "he seemed busier than he was." he was talking one evening of prisons and prisoners, and at length made the following remarks: "and that which i have been saying doth forsooth call to my mind that this morn i bethought me of a riddle that i will now put forth." he then produced a slip of vellum, on which was drawn the curious plan that is now given. "here," saith he, "be nine dungeons, with a prisoner in every dungeon save one, which is empty. these prisoners be numbered in order, , , , , , , , , and i desire to know how they can, in as few moves as possible, put themselves in the order , , , , , , , . one prisoner may move at a time along the passage to the dungeon that doth happen to be empty, but never, on pain of death, may two men be in any dungeon at the same time. how may it be done?" if the reader makes a rough plan on a sheet of paper and uses numbered counters, he will find it an interesting pastime to arrange the prisoners in the fewest possible moves. as there is never more than one vacant dungeon at a time to be moved into, the moves may be recorded in this simple way: -- -- -- , and so on. [illustration] .--_the weaver's puzzle._ when the weaver brought out a square piece of beautiful cloth, daintily embroidered with lions and castles, as depicted in the illustration, the pilgrims disputed among themselves as to the meaning of these ornaments. the knight, however, who was skilled in heraldry, explained that they were probably derived from the lions and castles borne in the arms of ferdinand iii., the king of castile and leon, whose daughter was the first wife of our edward i. in this he was undoubtedly correct. the puzzle that the weaver proposed was this. "let us, for the nonce, see," saith he, "if there be any of the company that can show how this piece of cloth may be cut into four several pieces, each of the same size and shape, and each piece bearing a lion and a castle." it is not recorded that anybody mastered this puzzle, though it is quite possible of solution in a satisfactory manner. no cut may pass through any part of a lion or a castle. [illustration] .--_the cook's puzzle._ we find that there was a cook among the company; and his services were no doubt at times in great request, "for he could roast and seethe, and broil and fry, and make a mortress and well bake a pie." one night when the pilgrims were seated at a country hostelry, about to begin their repast, the cook presented himself at the head of the table that was presided over by the franklin, and said, "listen awhile, my masters, while that i do ask ye a riddle, and by saint moden it is one that i cannot answer myself withal. there be eleven pilgrims seated at this board on which is set a warden pie and a venison pasty, each of which may truly be divided into four parts and no more. now, mark ye, five out of the eleven pilgrims can eat the pie, but will not touch the pasty, while four will eat the pasty but turn away from the pie. moreover, the two that do remain be able and willing to eat of either. by my halidame, is there any that can tell me in how many different ways the good franklin may choose whom he will serve?" i will just caution the reader that if he is not careful he will find, when he sees the answer, that he has made a mistake of forty, as all the company did, with the exception of the clerk of oxenford, who got it right by accident, through putting down a wrong figure. [illustration] strange to say, while the company perplexed their wits about this riddle the cook played upon them a merry jest. in the midst of their deep thinking and hot dispute what should the cunning knave do but stealthily take away both the pie and the pasty. then, when hunger made them desire to go on with the repast, finding there was nought upon the table, they called clamorously for the cook. "my masters," he explained, "seeing you were so deep set in the riddle, i did take them to the next room, where others did eat them with relish ere they had grown cold. there be excellent bread and cheese in the pantry." .--_the sompnour's puzzle._ the sompnour, or summoner, who, according to chaucer, joined the party of pilgrims, was an officer whose duty was to summon delinquents to appear in ecclesiastical courts. in later times he became known as the apparitor. our particular individual was a somewhat quaint though worthy man. "he was a gentle hireling and a kind; a better fellow should a man not find." in order that the reader may understand his appearance in the picture, it must be explained that his peculiar headgear is duly recorded by the poet. "a garland had he set upon his head, as great as if it were for an ale-stake." [illustration] one evening ten of the company stopped at a village inn and requested to be put up for the night, but mine host could only accommodate five of them. the sompnour suggested that they should draw lots, and as he had had experience in such matters in the summoning of juries and in other ways, he arranged the company in a circle and proposed a "count out." being of a chivalrous nature, his little plot was so to arrange that the men should all fall out and leave the ladies in possession. he therefore gave the wife of bath a number and directed her to count round and round the circle, in a clockwise direction, and the person on whom that number fell was immediately to step out of the ring. the count then began afresh at the next person. but the lady misunderstood her instructions, and selected in mistake the number eleven and started the count at herself. as will be found, this resulted in all the women falling out in turn instead of the men, for every eleventh person withdrawn from the circle is a lady. "of a truth it was no fault of mine," said the sompnour next day to the company, "and herein is methinks a riddle. can any tell me what number the good wife should have used withal, and at which pilgrim she should have begun her count so that no other than the five men should have been counted out?" of course, the point is to find the smallest number that will have the desired effect. .--_the monk's puzzle._ the monk that went with the party was a great lover of sport. "greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight: of riding and of hunting for the hare was all his love, for no cost would he spare." one day he addressed the pilgrims as follows:-- "there is a little matter that hath at times perplexed me greatly, though certes it is of no great weight; yet may it serve to try the wits of some that be cunning in such things. nine kennels have i for the use of my dogs, and they be put in the form of a square; though the one in the middle i do never use, it not being of a useful nature. now the riddle is to find in how many different ways i may place my dogs in all or any of the outside kennels so that the number of dogs on every side of the square may be just ten." the small diagrams show four ways of doing it, and though the fourth way is merely a reversal of the third, it counts as different. any kennels may be left empty. this puzzle was evidently a variation of the ancient one of the abbess and her nuns. [illustration] .--_the shipman's puzzle._ of this person we are told, "he knew well all the havens, as they were, from gothland to the cape of finisterre, and every creek in brittany and spain: his barque yclepéd was the _magdalen_." the strange puzzle in navigation that he propounded was as follows. "here be a chart," quoth the shipman, "of five islands, with the inhabitants of which i do trade. in each year my good ship doth sail over every one of the ten courses depicted thereon, but never may she pass along the same course twice in any year. is there any among the company who can tell me in how many different ways i may direct the _magdalen's_ ten yearly voyages, always setting out from the same island?" [illustration: chart of ye magdalen] .--_the puzzle of the prioress._ the prioress, who went by the name of eglantine, is best remembered on account of chaucer's remark, "and french she spake full fair and properly, after the school of stratford-atté-bow, for french of paris was to her unknow." but our puzzle has to do less with her character and education than with her dress. "and thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen, on which was written first a crownéd a." it is with the brooch that we are concerned, for when asked to give a puzzle she showed this jewel to the company and said: "a learned man from normandy did once give me this brooch as a charm, saying strange and mystic things anent it, how that it hath an affinity for the square, and such other wise words that were too subtle for me. but the good abbot of chertsey did once tell me that the cross may be so cunningly cut into four pieces that they will join and make a perfect square; though on my faith i know not the manner of doing it." it is recorded that "the pilgrims did find no answer to the riddle, and the clerk of oxenford thought that the prioress had been deceived in the matter thereof; whereupon the lady was sore vexed, though the gentle knight did flout and gibe at the poor clerk because of his lack of understanding over other of the riddles, which did fill him with shame and make merry the company." [illustration] .--_the puzzle of the doctor of physic._ this doctor, learned though he was, for "in all this world to him there was none like to speak of physic and of surgery," and "he knew the cause of every malady," yet was he not indifferent to the more material side of life. "gold in physic is a cordial; therefore he lovéd gold in special." the problem that the doctor propounded to the assembled pilgrims was this. he produced two spherical phials, as shown in our illustration, and pointed out that one phial was exactly a foot in circumference, and the other two feet in circumference. "i do wish," said the doctor, addressing the company, "to have the exact measures of two other phials, of a like shape but different in size, that may together contain just as much liquid as is contained by these two." to find exact dimensions in the smallest possible numbers is one of the toughest nuts i have attempted. of course the thickness of the glass, and the neck and base, are to be ignored. [illustration] .--_the ploughman's puzzle._ [illustration] the ploughman--of whom chaucer remarked, "a worker true and very good was he, living in perfect peace and charity"--protested that riddles were not for simple minds like his, but he would show the good pilgrims, if they willed it, one that he had frequently heard certain clever folk in his own neighbourhood discuss. "the lord of the manor in the part of sussex whence i come hath a plantation of sixteen fair oak trees, and they be so set out that they make twelve rows with four trees in every row. once on a time a man of deep learning, who happened to be travelling in those parts, did say that the sixteen trees might have been so planted that they would make so many as fifteen straight rows, with four trees in every row thereof. can ye show me how this might be? many have doubted that 'twere possible to be done." the illustration shows one of many ways of forming the twelve rows. how can we make fifteen? .--_the franklin's puzzle._ [illustration] "a franklin was in this company; white was his beard as is the daisy." we are told by chaucer that he was a great householder and an epicure. "without baked meat never was his house. of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous, it snowed in his house of meat and drink, of every dainty that men could bethink." he was a hospitable and generous man. "his table dormant in his hall alway stood ready covered all throughout the day." at the repasts of the pilgrims he usually presided at one of the tables, as we found him doing on the occasion when the cook propounded his problem of the two pies. one day, at an inn just outside canterbury, the company called on him to produce the puzzle required of him; whereupon he placed on the table sixteen bottles numbered , , , up to , with the last one marked . "now, my masters," quoth he, "it will be fresh in your memories how that the good clerk of oxenford did show us a riddle touching what hath been called the magic square. of a truth will i set before ye another that may seem to be somewhat of a like kind, albeit there be little in common betwixt them. here be set out sixteen bottles in form of a square, and i pray you so place them afresh that they shall form a magic square, adding up to thirty in all the ten straight ways. but mark well that ye may not remove more than ten of the bottles from their present places, for therein layeth the subtlety of the riddle." this is a little puzzle that may be conveniently tried with sixteen numbered counters. .--_the squire's puzzle._ the young squire, twenty years of age, was the son of the knight that accompanied him on the historic pilgrimage. he was undoubtedly what in later times we should call a dandy, for, "embroideréd was he as is a mead, all full of fresh flowers, white and red. singing he was or fluting all the day, he was as fresh as is the month of may." as will be seen in the illustration to no. , while the haberdasher was propounding his problem of the triangle, this young squire was standing in the background making a drawing of some kind; for "he could songs make and well indite, joust and eke dance, and well portray and write." the knight turned to him after a while and said, "my son, what is it over which thou dost take so great pains withal?" and the squire answered, "i have bethought me how i might portray in one only stroke a picture of our late sovereign lord king edward the third, who hath been dead these ten years. 'tis a riddle to find where the stroke doth begin and where it doth also end. to him who first shall show it unto me will i give the portraiture." [illustration] i am able to present a facsimile of the original drawing, which was won by the man of law. it may be here remarked that the pilgrimage set out from southwark on th april , and edward the third died in . .--_the friar's puzzle._ the friar was a merry fellow, with a sweet tongue and twinkling eyes. "courteous he was and lowly of service. there was a man nowhere so virtuous." yet he was "the best beggar in all his house," and gave reasons why "therefore, instead of weeping and much prayer, men must give silver to the needy friar." he went by the name of hubert. one day he produced four money bags and spoke as follows: "if the needy friar doth receive in alms five hundred silver pennies, prithee tell in how many different ways they may be placed in the four bags." the good man explained that order made no difference (so that the distribution , , , would be the same as , , , , or , , , ), and one, two, or three bags may at any time be empty. [illustration] .--_the parson's puzzle._ the parson was a really devout and good man. "a better priest i trow there nowhere is." his virtues and charity made him beloved by all his flock, to whom he presented his teaching with patience and simplicity; "but first he followed it himself." now, chaucer is careful to tell us that "wide was his parish, and houses far asunder, but he neglected nought for rain or thunder;" and it is with his parochial visitations that the parson's puzzle actually dealt. he produced a plan of part of his parish, through which a small river ran that joined the sea some hundreds of miles to the south. i give a facsimile of the plan. [illustration] "here, my worthy pilgrims, is a strange riddle," quoth the parson. "behold how at the branching of the river is an island. upon this island doth stand my own poor parsonage, and ye may all see the whereabouts of the village church. mark ye, also, that there be eight bridges and no more over the river in my parish. on my way to church it is my wont to visit sundry of my flock, and in the doing thereof i do pass over every one of the eight bridges once and no more. can any of ye find the path, after this manner, from the house to the church, without going out of the parish? nay, nay, my friends, i do never cross the river in any boat, neither by swimming nor wading, nor do i go underground like unto the mole, nor fly in the air as doth the eagle; but only pass over by the bridges." there is a way in which the parson might have made this curious journey. can the reader discover it? at first it seems impossible, but the conditions offer a loophole. .--_the haberdasher's puzzle._ [illustration] many attempts were made to induce the haberdasher, who was of the party, to propound a puzzle of some kind, but for a long time without success. at last, at one of the pilgrims' stopping-places, he said that he would show them something that would "put their brains into a twist like unto a bell-rope." as a matter of fact, he was really playing off a practical joke on the company, for he was quite ignorant of any answer to the puzzle that he set them. he produced a piece of cloth in the shape of a perfect equilateral triangle, as shown in the illustration, and said, "be there any among ye full wise in the true cutting of cloth? i trow not. every man to his trade, and the scholar may learn from the varlet and the wise man from the fool. show me, then, if ye can, in what manner this piece of cloth may be cut into four several pieces that may be put together to make a perfect square." now some of the more learned of the company found a way of doing it in five pieces, but not in four. but when they pressed the haberdasher for the correct answer he was forced to admit, after much beating about the bush, that he knew no way of doing it in any number of pieces. "by saint francis," saith he, "any knave can make a riddle methinks, but it is for them that may to rede it aright." for this he narrowly escaped a sound beating. but the curious point of the puzzle is that i have found that the feat may really be performed in so few as four pieces, and without turning over any piece when placing them together. the method of doing this is subtle, but i think the reader will find the problem a most interesting one. .--_the dyer's puzzle._ one of the pilgrims was a dyer, but chaucer tells us nothing about him, the tales being incomplete. time after time the company had pressed this individual to produce a puzzle of some kind, but without effect. the poor fellow tried his best to follow the examples of his friends the tapiser, the weaver, and the haberdasher; but the necessary idea would not come, rack his brains as he would. all things, however, come to those who wait--and persevere--and one morning he announced, in a state of considerable excitement, that he had a poser to set before them. he brought out a square piece of silk on which were embroidered a number of fleurs-de-lys in rows, as shown in our illustration. "lordings," said the dyer, "hearken anon unto my riddle. since i was awakened at dawn by the crowing of cocks--for which din may our host never thrive--i have sought an answer thereto, but by st. bernard i have found it not. there be sixty-and-four flowers-de-luce, and the riddle is to show how i may remove six of these so that there may yet be an even number of the flowers in every row and every column." [illustration] the dyer was abashed when every one of the company showed without any difficulty whatever, and each in a different way, how this might be done. but the good clerk of oxenford was seen to whisper something to the dyer, who added, "hold, my masters! what i have said is not all. ye must find in how many different ways it may be done!" all agreed that this was quite another matter. and only a few of the company got the right answer. .--_the great dispute between the friar and the sompnour._ chaucer records the painful fact that the harmony of the pilgrimage was broken on occasions by the quarrels between the friar and the sompnour. at one stage the latter threatened that ere they reached sittingbourne he would make the friar's "heart for to mourn;" but the worthy host intervened and patched up a temporary peace. unfortunately trouble broke out again over a very curious dispute in this way. [illustration] at one point of the journey the road lay along two sides of a square field, and some of the pilgrims persisted, in spite of trespass, in cutting across from corner to corner, as they are seen to be doing in the illustration. now, the friar startled the company by stating that there was no need for the trespass, since one way was exactly the same distance as the other! "on my faith, then," exclaimed the sompnour, "thou art a very fool!" "nay," replied the friar, "if the company will but listen with patience, i shall presently show how that thou art the fool, for thou hast not wit enough in thy poor brain to prove that the diagonal of any square is less than two of the sides." if the reader will refer to the diagrams that we have given, he will be able to follow the friar's argument. if we suppose the side of the field to be yards, then the distance along the two sides, a to b, and b to c, is yards. he undertook to prove that the diagonal distance direct from a to c is also yards. now, if we take the diagonal path shown in fig. , it is evident that we go the same distance, for every one of the eight straight portions of this path measures exactly yards. similarly in fig. , the zigzag contains ten straight portions, each yards long: that path is also the same length-- yards. no matter how many steps we make in our zigzag path, the result is most certainly always the same. thus, in fig. the steps are very small, yet the distance must be yards; as is also the case in fig. , and would yet be if we needed a microscope to detect the steps. in this way, the friar argued, we may go on straightening out that zigzag path until we ultimately reach a perfectly straight line, and it therefore follows that the diagonal of a square is of exactly the same length as two of the sides. [illustration] now, in the face of it, this must be wrong; and it is in fact absurdly so, as we can at once prove by actual measurement if we have any doubt. yet the sompnour could not for the life of him point out the fallacy, and so upset the friar's reasoning. it was this that so exasperated him, and consequently, like many of us to-day when we get entangled in an argument, he utterly lost his temper and resorted to abuse. in fact, if some of the other pilgrims had not interposed the two would have undoubtedly come to blows. the reader will perhaps at once see the flaw in the friar's argument. .--_chaucer's puzzle._ [illustration] chaucer himself accompanied the pilgrims. being a mathematician and a man of a thoughtful habit, the host made fun of him, he tells us, saying, "thou lookest as thou wouldst find a hare, for ever on the ground i see thee stare." the poet replied to the request for a tale by launching into a long-spun-out and ridiculous poem, intended to ridicule the popular romances of the day, after twenty-two stanzas of which the company refused to hear any more, and induced him to start another tale in prose. it is an interesting fact that in the "parson's prologue" chaucer actually introduces a little astronomical problem. in modern english this reads somewhat as follows:-- "the sun from the south line was descended so low that it was not to my sight more than twenty-nine degrees. i calculate that it was four o'clock, for, assuming my height to be six feet, my shadow was eleven feet, a little more or less. at the same moment the moon's altitude (she being in mid-libra) was steadily increasing as we entered at the west end of the village." a correspondent has taken the trouble to work this out, and finds that the local time was . p.m., correct to a minute, and that the day of the year was the nd or rd of april, modern style. this speaks well for chaucer's accuracy, for the first line of the tales tells us that the pilgrimage was in april--they are supposed to have set out on th april , as stated in no. . though chaucer made this little puzzle and recorded it for the interest of his readers, he did not venture to propound it to his fellow-pilgrims. the puzzle that he gave them was of a simpler kind altogether: it may be called a geographical one. "when, in the year , i did go into italy as the envoy of our sovereign lord king edward the third, and while there did visit francesco petrarch, that learned poet did take me to the top of a certain mountain in his country. of a truth, as he did show me, a mug will hold less liquor at the top of this mountain than in the valley beneath. prythee tell me what mountain this may be that has so strange a property withal." a very elementary knowledge of geography will suffice for arriving at the correct answer. .--_the puzzle of the canon's yeoman._ this person joined the party on the road. "'god save,' quoth he, 'this jolly company! fast have i ridden,' saith he, 'for your sake, because i would i might you overtake, to ride among this merry company.'" of course, he was asked to entertain the pilgrims with a puzzle, and the one he propounded was the following. he showed them the diamond-shaped arrangement of letters presented in the accompanying illustration, and said, "i do call it the rat-catcher's riddle. in how many different ways canst thou read the words, 'was it a rat i saw?'" you may go in any direction backwards and forwards, upwards or downwards, only the successive letters in any reading must always adjoin one another. [illustration: w w a w w a s a w w a s i s a w w a s i t i s a w w a s i t a t i s a w w a s i t a r a t i s a w w a s i t a t i s a w w a s i t i s a w w a s i s a w w a s a w w a w w ] .--_the manciple's puzzle._ the manciple was an officer who had the care of buying victuals for an inn of court--like the temple. the particular individual who accompanied the party was a wily man who had more than thirty masters, and made fools of them all. yet he was a man "whom purchasers might take as an example how to be wise in buying of their victual." it happened that at a certain stage of the journey the miller and the weaver sat down to a light repast. the miller produced five loaves and the weaver three. the manciple coming upon the scene asked permission to eat with them, to which they agreed. when the manciple had fed he laid down eight pieces of money and said with a sly smile, "settle betwixt yourselves how the money shall be fairly divided. 'tis a riddle for thy wits." a discussion followed, and many of the pilgrims joined in it. the reve and the sompnour held that the miller should receive five pieces and the weaver three, the simple ploughman was ridiculed for suggesting that the miller should receive seven and the weaver only one, while the carpenter, the monk, and the cook insisted that the money should be divided equally between the two men. various other opinions were urged with considerable vigour, until it was finally decided that the manciple, as an expert in such matters, should himself settle the point. his decision was quite correct. what was it? of course, all three are supposed to have eaten equal shares of the bread. [illustration] puzzling times at solvamhall castle [illustration] everybody that has heard of solvamhall castle, and of the quaint customs and ceremonies that obtained there in the olden times, is familiar with the fact that sir hugh de fortibus was a lover of all kinds of puzzles and enigmas. sir robert de riddlesdale himself declared on one occasion, "by the bones of saint jingo, this sir hugh hath a sharp wit. certes, i wot not the riddle that he may not rede withal." it is, therefore, a source of particular satisfaction that the recent discovery of some ancient rolls and documents relating mainly to the family of de fortibus enables me to place before my readers a few of the posers that racked people's brains in the good old days. the selection has been made to suit all tastes, and while the majority will be found sufficiently easy to interest those who like a puzzle that _is_ a puzzle, but well within the scope of all, two that i have included may perhaps be found worthy of engaging the attention of the more advanced student of these things. .--_the game of bandy-ball._ bandy-ball, cambuc, or goff (the game so well known to-day by the name of golf), is of great antiquity, and was a special favourite at solvamhall castle. sir hugh de fortibus was himself a master of the game, and he once proposed this question. they had nine holes, , , , , , , , , and yards apart. if a man could always strike the ball in a perfectly straight line and send it exactly one of two distances, so that it would either go towards the hole, pass over it, or drop into it, what would the two distances be that would carry him in the least number of strokes round the whole course? "beshrew me," sir hugh would say, "if i know any who could do it in this perfect way; albeit, the point is a pretty one." two very good distances are and , which carry you round in strokes, but this is not the correct answer. can the reader get round in fewer strokes with two other distances? .--_tilting at the ring._ another favourite sport at the castle was tilting at the ring. a horizontal bar was fixed in a post, and at the end of a hanging supporter was placed a circular ring, as shown in the above illustrated title. by raising or lowering the bar the ring could be adjusted to the proper height--generally about the level of the left eyebrow of the horseman. the object was to ride swiftly some eighty paces and run the lance through the ring, which was easily detached, and remained on the lance as the property of the skilful winner. it was a very difficult feat, and men were not unnaturally proud of the rings they had succeeded in capturing. at one tournament at the castle henry de gournay beat stephen malet by six rings. each had his rings made into a chain--de gournay's chain being exactly sixteen inches in length, and malet's six inches. now, as the rings were all of the same size and made of metal half an inch thick, the little puzzle proposed by sir hugh was to discover just how many rings each man had won. .--_the noble demoiselle._ seated one night in the hall of the castle, sir hugh desired the company to fill their cups and listen while he told the tale of his adventure as a youth in rescuing from captivity a noble demoiselle who was languishing in the dungeon of the castle belonging to his father's greatest enemy. the story was a thrilling one, and when he related the final escape from all the dangers and horrors of the great death's-head dungeon with the fair but unconscious maiden in his arms, all exclaimed, "'twas marvellous valiant!" but sir hugh said, "i would never have turned from my purpose, not even to save my body from the bernicles." [illustration] sir hugh then produced a plan of the thirty-five cells in the dungeon and asked his companions to discover the particular cell that the demoiselle occupied. he said that if you started at one of the outside cells and passed through every doorway once, and once only, you were bound to end at the cell that was sought. can you find the cell? unless you start at the correct outside cell it is impossible to pass through all the doorways once and once only. try tracing out the route with your pencil. .--_the archery butt._ the butt or target used in archery at solvamhall was not marked out in concentric rings as at the present day, but was prepared in fanciful designs. in the illustration is shown a numbered target prepared by sir hugh himself. it is something of a curiosity, because it will be found that he has so cleverly arranged the numbers that every one of the twelve lines of three adds up to exactly twenty-two. one day, when the archers were a little tired of their sport, sir hugh de fortibus said, "what ho, merry archers! of a truth it is said that a fool's bolt is soon shot, but, by my faith, i know not any man among you who shall do that which i will now put forth. let these numbers that are upon the butt be set down afresh, so that the twelve lines thereof shall make twenty and three instead of twenty and two." [illustration] to rearrange the numbers one to nineteen so that all the twelve lines shall add up to twenty-three will be found a fascinating puzzle. half the lines are, of course, on the sides, and the others radiate from the centre. .--_the donjon keep window._ on one occasion sir hugh greatly perplexed his chief builder. he took this worthy man to the walls of the donjon keep and pointed to a window there. "methinks," said he, "yon window is square, and measures, on the inside, one foot every way, and is divided by the narrow bars into four lights, measuring half a foot on every side." "of a truth that is so, sir hugh." [illustration] "then i desire that another window be made higher up whose four sides shall also be each one foot, but it shall be divided by bars into eight lights, whose sides shall be all equal." "truly, sir hugh," said the bewildered chief builder, "i know not how it may be done." "by my halidame!" exclaimed de fortibus in pretended rage, "let it be done forthwith. i trow thou art but a sorry craftsman if thou canst not, forsooth, set such a window in a keep wall." it will be noticed that sir hugh ignores the thickness of the bars. .--_the crescent and the cross._ when sir hugh's kinsman, sir john de collingham, came back from the holy land, he brought with him a flag bearing the sign of a crescent, as shown in the illustration. it was noticed that de fortibus spent much time in examining this crescent and comparing it with the cross borne by the crusaders on their own banners. one day, in the presence of a goodly company, he made the following striking announcement:-- "i have thought much of late, friends and masters, of the conversion of the crescent to the cross, and this has led me to the finding of matters at which i marvel greatly, for that which i shall now make known is mystical and deep. truly it was shown to me in a dream that this crescent of the enemy may be exactly converted into the cross of our own banner. herein is a sign that bodes good for our wars in the holy land." [illustration] sir hugh de fortibus then explained that the crescent in one banner might be cut into pieces that would exactly form the perfect cross in the other. it is certainly rather curious; and i show how the conversion from crescent to cross may be made in ten pieces, using every part of the crescent. the flag was alike on both sides, so pieces may be turned over where required. .--_the amulet._ a strange man was one day found loitering in the courtyard of the castle, and the retainers, noticing that his speech had a foreign accent, suspected him of being a spy. so the fellow was brought before sir hugh, who could make nothing of him. he ordered the varlet to be removed and examined, in order to discover whether any secret letters were concealed about him. all they found was a piece of parchment securely suspended from the neck, bearing this mysterious inscription:-- [illustration: a b b r r r a a a a c c c c c a a a a a a d d d d d d d a a a a a a a a b b b b b b b b b r r r r r r r r r r a a a a a a a a a a a ] to-day we know that abracadabra was the supreme deity of the assyrians, and this curious arrangement of the letters of the word was commonly worn in europe as an amulet or charm against diseases. but sir hugh had never heard of it, and, regarding the document rather seriously, he sent for a learned priest. "i pray you, sir clerk," said he, "show me the true intent of this strange writing." "sir hugh," replied the holy man, after he had spoken in a foreign tongue with the stranger, "it is but an amulet that this poor wight doth wear upon his breast to ward off the ague, the toothache, and such other afflictions of the body." "then give the varlet food and raiment and set him on his way," said sir hugh. "meanwhile, sir clerk, canst thou tell me in how many ways this word 'abracadabra' may be read on the amulet, always starting from the a at the top thereof?" place your pencil on the a at the top and count in how many different ways you can trace out the word downwards, always passing from a letter to an adjoining one. .--_the snail on the flagstaff._ it would often be interesting if we could trace back to their origin many of the best known puzzles. some of them would be found to have been first propounded in very ancient times, and there can be very little doubt that while a certain number may have improved with age, others will have deteriorated and even lost their original point and bearing. it is curious to find in the solvamhall records our familiar friend the climbing snail puzzle, and it will be seen that in its modern form it has lost its original subtlety. [illustration] on the occasion of some great rejoicings at the castle, sir hugh was superintending the flying of flags and banners, when somebody pointed out that a wandering snail was climbing up the flagstaff. one wise old fellow said:-- "they do say, sir knight, albeit i hold such stories as mere fables, that the snail doth climb upwards three feet in the daytime, but slippeth back two feet by night." [illustration] "then," replied sir hugh, "tell us how many days it will take this snail to get from the bottom to the top of the pole." "by bread and water, i much marvel if the same can be done unless we take down and measure the staff." "credit me," replied the knight, "there is no need to measure the staff." can the reader give the answer to this version of a puzzle that we all know so well? .--_lady isabel's casket._ sir hugh's young kinswoman and ward, lady isabel de fitzarnulph, was known far and wide as "isabel the fair." amongst her treasures was a casket, the top of which was perfectly square in shape. it was inlaid with pieces of wood, and a strip of gold ten inches long by a quarter of an inch wide. when young men sued for the hand of lady isabel, sir hugh promised his consent to the one who would tell him the dimensions of the top of the box from these facts alone: that there was a rectangular strip of gold, ten inches by / -inch; and the rest of the surface was exactly inlaid with pieces of wood, each piece being a perfect square, and no two pieces of the same size. many young men failed, but one at length succeeded. the puzzle is not an easy one, but the dimensions of that strip of gold, combined with those other conditions, absolutely determine the size of the top of the casket. the merry monks of riddlewell their quaint puzzles and enigmas. [illustration] "friar andrew," quoth the lord abbot, as he lay a-dying, "methinks i could now rede thee the riddle of riddles--an i had--the time--and--" the good friar put his ear close to the holy abbot's lips, but alas! they were silenced for ever. thus passed away the life of the jovial and greatly beloved abbot of the old monastery of riddlewell. the monks of riddlewell abbey were noted in their day for the quaint enigmas and puzzles that they were in the habit of propounding. the abbey was built in the fourteenth century, near a sacred spring known as the red-hill well. this became in the vernacular reddlewell and riddlewell, and under the lord abbot david the monks evidently tried to justify the latter form by the riddles they propounded so well. the solving of puzzles became the favourite recreation, no matter whether they happened to be of a metaphysical, philosophical, mathematical, or mechanical kind. it grew into an absorbing passion with them, and as i have shown above, in the case of the abbot this passion was strong even in death. it would seem that the words "puzzle," "problem," "enigma," etc., did not occur in their vocabulary. they were accustomed to call every poser a "riddle," no matter whether it took the form of "where was moses when the light went out?" or the squaring of the circle. on one of the walls in the refectory were inscribed the words of samson, "i will now put forth a riddle to you," to remind the brethren of what was expected of them, and the rule was that each monk in turn should propose some riddle weekly to the community, the others being always free to cap it with another if disposed to do so. abbot david was, undoubtedly, the puzzle genius of the monastery, and everybody naturally bowed to his decision. only a few of the abbey riddles have been preserved, and i propose to select those that seem most interesting. i shall try to make the conditions of the puzzles perfectly clear, so that the modern reader may fully understand them, and be amused in trying to find some of the solutions. .--_the riddle of the fish-pond._ [illustration] at the bottom of the abbey meads was a small fish-pond where the monks used to spend many a contemplative hour with rod and line. one day, when they had had very bad luck and only caught twelve fishes amongst them, brother jonathan suddenly declared that as there was no sport that day he would put forth a riddle for their entertainment. he thereupon took twelve fish baskets and placed them at equal distances round the pond, as shown in our illustration, with one fish in each basket. "now, gentle anglers," said he, "rede me this riddle of the twelve fishes. start at any basket you like, and, always going in one direction round the pond, take up one fish, pass it over two other fishes, and place it in the next basket. go on again; take up another single fish, and, having passed that also over two fishes, place it in a basket; and so continue your journey. six fishes only are to be removed, and when these have been placed, there should be two fishes in each of six baskets, and six baskets empty. which of you merry wights will do this in such a manner that you shall go round the pond as few times as possible?" i will explain to the reader that it does not matter whether the two fishes that are passed over are in one or two baskets, nor how many empty baskets you pass. and, as brother jonathan said, you must always go in one direction round the pond (without any doubling back) and end at the spot from which you set out. .--_the riddle of the pilgrims._ one day, when the monks were seated at their repast, the abbot announced that a messenger had that morning brought news that a number of pilgrims were on the road and would require their hospitality. "you will put them," he said, "in the square dormitory that has two floors with eight rooms on each floor. there must be eleven persons sleeping on each side of the building, and twice as many on the upper floor as on the lower floor. of course every room must be occupied, and you know my rule that not more than three persons may occupy the same room." i give a plan of the two floors, from which it will be seen that the sixteen rooms are approached by a well staircase in the centre. after the monks had solved this little problem and arranged for the accommodation, the pilgrims arrived, when it was found that they were three more in number than was at first stated. this necessitated a reconsideration of the question, but the wily monks succeeded in getting over the new difficulty without breaking the abbot's rules. the curious point of this puzzle is to discover the total number of pilgrims. plan of dormitory. [illustration: eight rooms on upper floor.] [illustration: eight rooms on lower floor.] .--_the riddle of the tiled hearth._ it seems that it was friar andrew who first managed to "rede the riddle of the tiled hearth." yet it was a simple enough little puzzle. the square hearth, where they burnt their yule logs and round which they had such merry carousings, was floored with sixteen large ornamental tiles. when these became cracked and burnt with the heat of the great fire, it was decided to put down new tiles, which had to be selected from four different patterns (the cross, the fleur-de-lys, the lion, and the star); but plain tiles were also available. the abbot proposed that they should be laid as shown in our sketch, without any plain tiles at all; but brother richard broke in,-- "i trow, my lord abbot, that a riddle is required of me this day. listen, then, to that which i shall put forth. let these sixteen tiles be so placed that no tile shall be in line with another of the same design"--(he meant, of course, not in line horizontally, vertically, or diagonally)--"and in such manner that as few plain tiles as possible be required." when the monks handed in their plans it was found that only friar andrew had hit upon the correct answer, even friar richard himself being wrong. all had used too many plain tiles. [illustration] .--_the riddle of the sack wine._ one evening, when seated at table, brother benjamin was called upon by the abbot to give the riddle that was that day demanded of him. "forsooth," said he, "i am no good at the making of riddles, as thou knowest full well; but i have been teasing my poor brain over a matter that i trust some among you will expound to me, for i cannot rede it myself. it is this. mark me take a glass of sack from this bottle that contains a pint of wine and pour it into that jug which contains a pint of water. now, i fill the glass with the mixture from the jug and pour it back into the bottle holding the sack. pray tell me, have i taken more wine from the bottle than water from the jug? or have i taken more water from the jug than wine from the bottle?" i gather that the monks got nearer to a great quarrel over this little poser than had ever happened before. one brother so far forgot himself as to tell his neighbour that "more wine had got into his pate than wit came out of it," while another noisily insisted that it all depended on the shape of the glass and the age of the wine. but the lord abbot intervened, showed them what a simple question it really was, and restored good feeling all round. .--_the riddle of the cellarer._ then abbot david looked grave, and said that this incident brought to his mind the painful fact that john the cellarer had been caught robbing the cask of best malvoisie that was reserved for special occasions. he ordered him to be brought in. [illustration] "now, varlet," said the abbot, as the ruddy-faced cellarer came before him, "thou knowest that thou wast taken this morning in the act of stealing good wine that was forbidden thee. what hast thou to say for thyself?" "prithee, my lord abbot, forgive me!" he cried, falling on his knees. "of a truth, the evil one did come and tempt me, and the cask was so handy, and the wine was so good withal, and--and i had drunk of it ofttimes without being found out, and--" "rascal! that but maketh thy fault the worse! how much wine hast thou taken?" "alack-a-day! there were a hundred pints in the cask at the start, and i have taken me a pint every day this month of june--it being to-day the thirtieth thereof--and if my lord abbot can tell me to a nicety how much good wine i have taken in all, let him punish me as he will." "why, knave, that is thirty pints." "nay, nay; for each time i drew a pint out of the cask, i put in a pint of water in its stead!" it is a curious fact that this is the only riddle in the old record that is not accompanied by its solution. is it possible that it proved too hard a nut for the monks? there is merely the note, "john suffered no punishment for his sad fault." .--_the riddle of the crusaders._ on another occasion a certain knight, sir ralph de bohun, was a guest of the monks at riddlewell abbey. towards the close of a sumptuous repast he spoke as follows:-- "my lord abbot, knowing full well that riddles are greatly to thy liking, i will, by your leave, put forth one that was told unto me in foreign lands. a body of crusaders went forth to fight the good cause, and such was their number that they were able to form themselves into a square. but on the way a stranger took up arms and joined them, and they were then able to form exactly thirteen smaller squares. pray tell me, merry monks, how many men went forth to battle?" abbot david pushed aside his plate of warden pie, and made a few hasty calculations. [illustration] "sir knight," said he at length, "the riddle is easy to rede. in the first place there were men, who would make a square by , and afterwards men would make squares of crusaders each. but which of you can tell me how many men there would have been if, instead of , they had been able to form squares under exactly the like conditions?" the monks gave up this riddle, but the abbot showed them the answer next morning. .--_the riddle of st. edmondsbury._ "it used to be told at st. edmondsbury," said father peter on one occasion, "that many years ago they were so overrun with mice that the good abbot gave orders that all the cats from the country round should be obtained to exterminate the vermin. a record was kept, and at the end of the year it was found that every cat had killed an equal number of mice, and the total was exactly , , mice. how many cats do you suppose there were?" "methinks one cat killed the lot," said brother benjamin. "out upon thee, brother! i said 'cats.'" "well, then," persisted benjamin, "perchance , , cats each killed one mouse." "no," replied father peter, after the monks' jovial laughter had ended, "i said 'mice;' and all i need add is this--that each cat killed more mice than there were cats. they told me it was merely a question of the division of numbers, but i know not the answer to the riddle." the correct answer is recorded, but it is not shown how they arrived at it. [illustration] .--_the riddle of the frogs' ring._ one christmas the abbot offered a prize of a large black jack mounted in silver, to be engraved with the name of the monk who should put forth the best new riddle. this tournament of wit was won by brother benedict, who, curiously enough, never before or after gave out anything that did not excite the ridicule of his brethren. it was called the "frogs' ring." a ring was made with chalk on the floor of the hall, and divided into thirteen compartments, in which twelve discs of wood (called "frogs") were placed in the order shown in our illustration, one place being left vacant. the numbers to were painted white and the numbers to black. the puzzle was to get all the white numbers where the black ones were, and _vice versa_. the white frogs move round in one direction, and the black ones the opposite way. they may move in any order one step at a time, or jumping over one of the opposite colour to the place beyond, just as we play draughts to-day. the only other condition is that when all the frogs have changed sides, the must be where the now is and the in the place now occupied by . the puzzle was to perform the feat in as few moves as possible. how many moves are necessary? i will conclude in the words of the old writer: "these be some of the riddles which the monks of riddlewell did set forth and expound each to the others in the merry days of the good abbot david." the strange escape of the king's jester. _a puzzling adventure._ at one time i was greatly in favour with the king, and his majesty never seemed to weary of the companionship of the court fool. i had a gift for making riddles and quaint puzzles which ofttimes caused great sport; for albeit the king never found the right answer of one of these things in all his life, yet would he make merry at the bewilderment of those about him. but let every cobbler stick unto his last; for when i did set out to learn the art of performing strange tricks in the magic, wherein the hand doth ever deceive the eye, the king was affrighted, and did accuse me of being a wizard, even commanding that i should be put to death. luckily my wit did save my life. i begged that i might be slain by the royal hand and not by that of the executioner. "by the saints," said his majesty, "what difference can it make unto thee? but since it is thy wish, thou shalt have thy choice whether i kill thee or the executioner." "your majesty," i answered, "i accept the choice that thou hast so graciously offered to me: i prefer that your majesty should kill the executioner." yet is the life of a royal jester beset with great dangers, and the king having once gotten it into his royal head that i was a wizard, it was not long before i again fell into trouble, from which my wit did not a second time in a like way save me. i was cast into the dungeon to await my death. how, by the help of my gift in answering riddles and puzzles, i did escape from captivity i will now set forth; and in case it doth perplex any to know how some of the strange feats were performed, i will hereafter make the manner thereof plain to all. .--_the mysterious rope._ [illustration] my dungeon did not lie beneath the moat, but was in one of the most high parts of the castle. so stout was the door, and so well locked and secured withal, that escape that way was not to be found. by hard work i did, after many days, remove one of the bars from the narrow window, and was able to crush my body through the opening; but the distance to the courtyard below was so exceeding great that it was certain death to drop thereto. yet by great good fortune did i find in the corner of the cell a rope that had been there left and lay hid in the great darkness. but this rope had not length enough, and to drop in safety from the end was nowise possible. then did i remember how the wise man from ireland did lengthen the blanket that was too short for him by cutting a yard off the bottom of the same and joining it on to the top. so i made haste to divide the rope in half and to tie the two parts thereof together again. it was then full long, and did reach the ground, and i went down in safety. how could this have been? .--_the underground maze._ the only way out of the yard that i now was in was to descend a few stairs that led up into the centre (a) of an underground maze, through the winding of which i must pass before i could take my leave by the door (b). but i knew full well that in the great darkness of this dreadful place i might well wander for hours and yet return to the place from which i set out. how was i then to reach the door with certainty? with a plan of the maze it is but a simple matter to trace out the route, but how was the way to be found in the place itself in utter darkness? [illustration] .--_the secret lock._ when i did at last reach the door it was fast closed, and on sliding a panel set before a grating the light that came in thereby showed unto me that my passage was barred by the king's secret lock. before the handle of the door might be turned, it was needful to place the hands of three several dials in their proper places. if you but knew the proper letter for each dial, the secret was of a truth to your hand; but as ten letters were upon the face of every dial, you might try nine hundred and ninety-nine times and only succeed on the thousandth attempt withal. if i was indeed to escape i must waste not a moment. now, once had i heard the learned monk who did invent the lock say that he feared that the king's servants, having such bad memories, would mayhap forget the right letters; so perchance, thought i, he had on this account devised some way to aid their memories. and what more natural than to make the letters form some word? i soon found a word that was english, made of three letters--one letter being on each of the three dials. after that i had pointed the hands properly to the letters the door opened and i passed out. what was the secret word? [illustration] .--_crossing the moat._ i was now face to face with the castle moat, which was, indeed, very wide and very deep. alas! i could not swim, and my chance of escape seemed of a truth hopeless, as, doubtless, it would have been had i not espied a boat tied to the wall by a rope. but after i had got into it i did find that the oars had been taken away, and that there was nothing that i could use to row me across. when i had untied the rope and pushed off upon the water the boat lay quite still, there being no stream or current to help me. how, then, did i yet take the boat across the moat? [illustration] .--_the royal gardens._ it was now daylight, and still had i to pass through the royal gardens outside of the castle walls. these gardens had once been laid out by an old king's gardener, who had become bereft of his senses, but was allowed to amuse himself therein. they were square, and divided into parts by high walls, as shown in the plan thereof, so that there were openings from one garden to another, but only two different ways of entrance. now, it was needful that i enter at the gate a and leave by the other gate b; but as there were gardeners going and coming about their work, i had to slip with agility from one garden to another, so that i might not be seen, but escape unobserved. i did succeed in so doing, but afterwards remembered that i had of a truth entered every one of the gardens once, and never more than once. this was, indeed, a curious thing. how might it have been done? [illustration] .--_bridging the ditch._ i now did truly think that at last was i a free man, but i had quite forgot that i must yet cross a deep ditch before i might get right away. this ditch was feet wide, and i durst not attempt to jump it, as i had sprained an ankle in leaving the garden. looking around for something to help me over my difficulty, i soon found eight narrow planks of wood lying together in a heap. with these alone, and the planks were each no more than feet long, i did at last manage to make a bridge across the ditch. how was this done? [illustration] being now free i did hasten to the house of a friend who provided me with a horse and a disguise, with which i soon succeeded in placing myself out of all fear of capture. through the goodly offices of divers persons at the king's court i did at length obtain the royal pardon, though, indeed, i was never restored to that full favour that was once my joy and pride. ofttimes have i been asked by many that do know me to set forth to them the strange manner of my escape, which more than one hath deemed to be of a truth wonderful, albeit the feat was nothing astonishing withal if we do but remember that from my youth upwards i had trained my wit to the making and answering of cunning enigmas. and i do hold that the study of such crafty matters is good, not alone for the pleasure that is created thereby, but because a man may never be sure that in some sudden and untoward difficulty that may beset him in passing through this life of ours such strange learning may not serve his ends greatly, and, mayhap, help him out of many difficulties. i am now an aged man, and have not quite lost all my taste for quaint puzzles and conceits; but, of a truth, never have i found greater pleasure in making out the answers to any of these things than i had in mastering them that did enable me, as the king's jester in disgrace, to gain my freedom from the castle dungeon and so save my life. the squire's christmas puzzle party a fine specimen of the old english country gentleman was squire davidge, of stoke courcy hall, in somerset. when the last century was yet in its youth, there were few men in the west country more widely known and more generally respected and beloved than he. a born sportsman, his fame extended to exmoor itself, where his daring and splendid riding in pursuit of the red deer had excited the admiration and envy of innumerable younger huntsmen. but it was in his own parish, and particularly in his own home, that his genial hospitality, generosity, and rare jovial humour made him the idol of his friends--and even of his relations, which sometimes means a good deal. at christmas it was always an open house at stoke courcy hall, for if there was one thing more than another upon which squire davidge had very pronounced views, it was on the question of keeping up in a royal fashion the great festival of yule-tide. "hark ye, my lads," he would say to his sons: "our country will begin to fall on evil days if ever we grow indifferent to the claims of those christmas festivities that have helped to win us the proud name of merrie england." therefore, when i say that christmas at stoke courcy was kept up in the good old happy, rollicking, festive style that our grandfathers and great-grandfathers so dearly loved, it will be unnecessary for me to attempt a description. we have a faithful picture of these merry scenes in the _bracebridge hall_ of washington irving. i must confine myself in this sketch to one special feature in the squire's round of jollification during the season of peace and good will. he took a curious and intelligent interest in puzzles of every kind, and there was always one night devoted to what was known as "squire davidge's puzzle party." every guest was expected to come armed with some riddle or puzzle for the bewilderment and possible delectation of the company. the old gentleman always presented a new watch to the guest who was most successful in his answers. it is a pity that all the puzzles were not preserved; but i propose to present to my readers a few selected from a number that have passed down to a surviving member of the family, who has kindly allowed me to use them on this occasion. there are some very easy ones, a few that are moderately difficult, and one hard brain-racker, so all should be able to find something to their taste. the little record is written in the neat angular hand of a young lady of that day, and the puzzles, the conditions of which i think it best to give mainly in my own words for the sake of greater clearness, appear to have been all propounded on one occasion. .--_the three teacups._ [illustration] one young lady--of whom our fair historian records with delightful inconsequence: "this miss charity lockyer has since been married to a curate from taunton vale"--placed three empty teacups on a table, and challenged anybody to put ten lumps of sugar in them so that there would be an odd number of lumps in every cup. "one young man, who has been to oxford university, and is studying the law, declared with some heat that, beyond a doubt, there was no possible way of doing it, and he offered to give proof of the fact to the company." it must have been interesting to see his face when he was shown miss charity's correct answer. .--_the eleven pennies._ [illustration] a guest asked some one to favour him with eleven pennies, and he passed the coins to the company, as depicted in our illustration. the writer says: "he then requested us to remove five coins from the eleven, add four coins and leave nine. we could not but think there must needs be ten pennies left. we were a good deal amused at the answer hereof." .--_the christmas geese._ squire hembrow, from weston zoyland--wherever that may be--proposed the following little arithmetical puzzle, from which it is probable that several somewhat similar modern ones have been derived: farmer rouse sent his man to market with a flock of geese, telling him that he might sell all or any of them, as he considered best, for he was sure the man knew how to make a good bargain. this is the report that jabez made, though i have taken it out of the old somerset dialect, which might puzzle some readers in a way not desired. "well, first of all i sold mr. jasper tyler half of the flock and half a goose over; then i sold farmer avent a third of what remained and a third of a goose over; then i sold widow foster a quarter of what remained and three-quarters of a goose over; and as i was coming home, whom should i meet but ned collier: so we had a mug of cider together at the barley mow, where i sold him exactly a fifth of what i had left, and gave him a fifth of a goose over for the missus. these nineteen that i have brought back i couldn't get rid of at any price." now, how many geese did farmer rouse send to market? my humane readers may be relieved to know that no goose was divided or put to any inconvenience whatever by the sales. [illustration] .--_the chalked numbers._ "we laughed greatly at a pretty jest on the part of major trenchard, a merry friend of the squire's. with a piece of chalk he marked a different number on the backs of eight lads who were at the party." then, it seems, he divided them in two groups, as shown in the illustration, , , , being on one side, and , , , on the other. it will be seen that the numbers of the left-hand group add up to , while the numbers in the other group add up to . the major's puzzle was to rearrange the eight boys in two new groups, so that the four numbers in each group should add up alike. the squire's niece asked if the should not be a ; but the major explained that the numbers were quite correct if properly regarded. [illustration] .--_tasting the plum puddings._ "everybody, as i suppose, knows well that the number of different christmas plum puddings that you taste will bring you the same number of lucky days in the new year. one of the guests (and his name has escaped my memory) brought with him a sheet of paper on which were drawn sixty-four puddings, and he said the puzzle was an allegory of a sort, and he intended to show how we might manage our pudding-tasting with as much dispatch as possible." i fail to fully understand this fanciful and rather overstrained view of the puzzle. but it would appear that the puddings were arranged regularly, as i have shown them in the illustration, and that to strike out a pudding was to indicate that it had been duly tasted. you have simply to put the point of your pencil on the pudding in the top corner, bearing a sprig of holly, and strike out all the sixty-four puddings through their centres in twenty-one straight strokes. you can go up or down or horizontally, but not diagonally or obliquely; and you must never strike out a pudding twice, as that would imply a second and unnecessary tasting of those indigestible dainties. but the peculiar part of the thing is that you are required to taste the pudding that is seen steaming hot at the end of your tenth stroke, and to taste the one decked with holly in the bottom row the very last of all. .--_under the mistletoe bough._ "at the party was a widower who has but lately come into these parts," says the record; "and, to be sure, he was an exceedingly melancholy man, for he did sit away from the company during the most part of the evening. we afterwards heard that he had been keeping a secret account of all the kisses that were given and received under the mistletoe bough. truly, i would not have suffered any one to kiss me in that manner had i known that so unfair a watch was being kept. other maids beside were in a like way shocked, as betty marchant has since told me." but it seems that the melancholy widower was merely collecting material for the following little osculatory problem. the company consisted of the squire and his wife and six other married couples, one widower and three widows, twelve bachelors and boys, and ten maidens and little girls. now, everybody was found to have kissed everybody else, with the following exceptions and additions: no male, of course, kissed a male. no married man kissed a married woman, except his own wife. all the bachelors and boys kissed all the maidens and girls twice. the widower did not kiss anybody, and the widows did not kiss each other. the puzzle was to ascertain just how many kisses had been thus given under the mistletoe bough, assuming, as it is charitable to do, that every kiss was returned--the double act being counted as one kiss. [illustration] .--_the silver cubes._ the last extract that i will give is one that will, i think, interest those readers who may find some of the above puzzles too easy. it is a hard nut, and should only be attempted by those who flatter themselves that they possess strong intellectual teeth. "master herbert spearing, the son of a widow lady in our parish, proposed a puzzle in arithmetic that looks simple, but nobody present was able to solve it. of a truth i did not venture to attempt it myself, after the young lawyer from oxford, who they say is very learned in the mathematics and a great scholar, failed to show us the answer. he did assure us that he believed it could not be done, but i have since been told that it is possible, though, of a certainty, i may not vouch for it. master herbert brought with him two cubes of solid silver that belonged to his mother. he showed that, as they measured two inches every way, each contained eight cubic inches of silver, and therefore the two contained together sixteen cubic inches. that which he wanted to know was--'could anybody give him exact dimensions for two cubes that should together contain just seventeen cubic inches of silver?'" of course the cubes may be of different sizes. [illustration] the idea of a christmas puzzle party, as devised by the old squire, seems to have been excellent, and it might well be revived at the present day by people who are fond of puzzles and who have grown tired of book teas and similar recent introductions for the amusement of evening parties. prizes could be awarded to the best solvers of the puzzles propounded by the guests. adventures of the puzzle club [illustration] when it recently became known that the bewildering mystery of the prince and the lost balloon was really solved by the members of the puzzle club, the general public was quite unaware that any such club existed. the fact is that the members always deprecated publicity; but since they have been dragged into the light in connection with this celebrated case, so many absurd and untrue stories have become current respecting their doings that i have been permitted to publish a correct account of some of their more interesting achievements. it was, however, decided that the real names of the members should not be given. the club was started a few years ago to bring together those interested in the solution of puzzles of all kinds, and it contains some of the profoundest mathematicians and some of the most subtle thinkers resident in london. these have done some excellent work of a high and dry kind. but the main body soon took to investigating the problems of real life that are perpetually cropping up. it is only right to say that they take no interest in crimes as such, but only investigate a case when it possesses features of a distinctly puzzling character. they seek perplexity for its own sake--something to unravel. as often as not the circumstances are of no importance to anybody, but they just form a little puzzle in real life, and that is sufficient. .--_the ambiguous photograph._ a good example of the lighter kind of problem that occasionally comes before them is that which is known amongst them by the name of "the ambiguous photograph." though it is perplexing to the inexperienced, it is regarded in the club as quite a trivial thing. yet it serves to show the close observation of these sharp-witted fellows. the original photograph hangs on the club wall, and has baffled every guest who has examined it. yet any child should be able to solve the mystery. i will give the reader an opportunity of trying his wits at it. some of the members were one evening seated together in their clubhouse in the adelphi. those present were: henry melville, a barrister not overburdened with briefs, who was discussing a problem with ernest russell, a bearded man of middle age, who held some easy post in somerset house, and was a senior wrangler and one of the most subtle thinkers of the club; fred wilson, a journalist of very buoyant spirits, who had more real capacity than one would at first suspect; john macdonald, a scotsman, whose record was that he had never solved a puzzle himself since the club was formed, though frequently he had put others on the track of a deep solution; tim churton, a bank clerk, full of cranky, unorthodox ideas as to perpetual motion; also harold tomkins, a prosperous accountant, remarkably familiar with the elegant branch of mathematics--the theory of numbers. suddenly herbert baynes entered the room, and everybody saw at once from his face that he had something interesting to communicate. baynes was a man of private means, with no occupation. "here's a quaint little poser for you all," said baynes. "i have received it to-day from dovey." dovey was proprietor of one of the many private detective agencies that found it to their advantage to keep in touch with the club. "is it another of those easy cryptograms?" asked wilson. "if so, i would suggest sending it upstairs to the billiard-marker." "don't be sarcastic, wilson," said melville. "remember, we are indebted to dovey for the great railway signal problem that gave us all a week's amusement in the solving." "if you fellows want to hear," resumed baynes, "just try to keep quiet while i relate the amusing affair to you. you all know of the jealous little yankee who married lord marksford two years ago? lady marksford and her husband have been in paris for two or three months. well, the poor creature soon got under the influence of the green-eyed monster, and formed the opinion that lord marksford was flirting with other ladies of his acquaintance. "now, she has actually put one of dovey's spies on to that excellent husband of hers; and the myrmidon has been shadowing him about for a fortnight with a pocket camera. a few days ago he came to lady marksford in great glee. he had snapshotted his lordship while actually walking in the public streets with a lady who was not his wife." "'what is the use of this at all?' asked the jealous woman. "'well, it is evidence, your ladyship, that your husband was walking with the lady. i know where she is staying, and in a few days shall have found out all about her.' "'but, you stupid man,' cried her ladyship, in tones of great contempt, 'how can any one swear that this is his lordship, when the greater part of him, including his head and shoulders, is hidden from sight? and--and'--she scrutinized the photo carefully--'why, i guess it is impossible from this photograph to say whether the gentleman is walking with the lady or going in the opposite direction!' "thereupon she dismissed the detective in high dudgeon. dovey has himself just returned from paris, and got this account of the incident from her ladyship. he wants to justify his man, if possible, by showing that the photo does disclose which way the man is going. here it is. see what you fellows can make of it." our illustration is a faithful drawing made from the original photograph. it will be seen that a slight but sudden summer shower is the real cause of the difficulty. all agreed that lady marksford was right--that it is impossible to determine whether the man is walking with the lady or not. "her ladyship is wrong," said baynes, after everybody had made a close scrutiny. "i find there is important evidence in the picture. look at it carefully." [illustration] "of course," said melville, "we can tell nothing from the frock-coat. it may be the front or the tails. blessed if i can say! then he has his overcoat over his arm, but which way his arm goes it is impossible to see." "how about the bend of the legs?" asked churton. "bend! why, there isn't any bend," put in wilson, as he glanced over the other's shoulder. "from the picture you might suspect that his lordship has no knees. the fellow took his snapshot just when the legs happened to be perfectly straight." [illustration] "i'm thinking that perhaps----" began macdonald, adjusting his eye-glasses. "don't think, mac," advised wilson. "it might hurt you. besides, it is no use you thinking that if the dog would kindly pass on things would be easy. he won't." "the man's general pose seems to me to imply movement to the left," tomkins thought. "on the contrary," melville declared, "it appears to me clearly to suggest movement to the right." "now, look here, you men," said russell, whose opinions always carried respect in the club. "it strikes me that what we have to do is to consider the attitude of the lady rather than that of the man. does her attention seem to be directed to somebody by her side?" everybody agreed that it was impossible to say. "i've got it!" shouted wilson. "extraordinary that none of you have seen it. it is as clear as possible. it all came to me in a flash!" "well, what is it?" asked baynes. "why, it is perfectly obvious. you see which way the dog is going--to the left. very well. now, baynes, to whom does the dog belong?" "to the detective!" the laughter against wilson that followed this announcement was simply boisterous, and so prolonged that russell, who had at the time possession of the photo, seized the opportunity for making a most minute examination of it. in a few moments he held up his hands to invoke silence. "baynes is right," he said. "there is important evidence there which settles the matter with certainty. assuming that the gentleman is really lord marksford--and the figure, so far as it is visible, is his--i have no hesitation myself in saying that--" "stop!" all the members shouted at once. "don't break the rules of the club, russell, though wilson did," said melville. "recollect that 'no member shall openly disclose his solution to a puzzle unless all present consent.'" "you need not have been alarmed," explained russell. "i was simply going to say that i have no hesitation in declaring that lord marksford is walking in one particular direction. in which direction i will tell you when you have all 'given it up.'" .--_the cornish cliff mystery._ though the incident known in the club as "the cornish cliff mystery" has never been published, every one remembers the case with which it was connected--an embezzlement at todd's bank in cornhill a few years ago. lamson and marsh, two of the firm's clerks, suddenly disappeared; and it was found that they had absconded with a very large sum of money. there was an exciting hunt for them by the police, who were so prompt in their action that it was impossible for the thieves to get out of the country. they were traced as far as truro, and were known to be in hiding in cornwall. just at this time it happened that henry melville and fred wilson were away together on a walking tour round the cornish coast. like most people, they were interested in the case; and one morning, while at breakfast at a little inn, they learnt that the absconding men had been tracked to that very neighbourhood, and that a strong cordon of police had been drawn round the district, making an escape very improbable. in fact, an inspector and a constable came into the inn to make some inquiries, and exchanged civilities with the two members of the puzzle club. a few references to some of the leading london detectives, and the production of a confidential letter melville happened to have in his pocket from one of them, soon established complete confidence, and the inspector opened out. he said that he had just been to examine a very important clue a quarter of a mile from there, and expressed the opinion that messrs. lamson and marsh would never again be found alive. at the suggestion of melville the four men walked along the road together. "there is our stile in the distance," said the inspector. "this constable found beside it the pocket-book that i have shown you, containing the name of marsh and some memoranda in his handwriting. it had evidently been dropped by accident. on looking over the stone stile he noticed the footprints of two men--which i have already proved from particulars previously supplied to the police to be those of the men we want--and i am sure you will agree that they point to only one possible conclusion." arrived at the spot, they left the hard road and got over the stile. the footprints of the two men were here very clearly impressed in the thin but soft soil, and they all took care not to trample on the tracks. they followed the prints closely, and found that they led straight to the edge of a cliff forming a sheer precipice, almost perpendicular, at the foot of which the sea, some two hundred feet below, was breaking among the boulders. [illustration] "here, gentlemen, you see," said the inspector, "that the footprints lead straight to the edge of the cliff, where there is a good deal of trampling about, and there end. the soil has nowhere been disturbed for yards around, except by the footprints that you see. the conclusion is obvious." "that, knowing they were unable to escape capture, they decided not to be taken alive, and threw themselves over the cliff?" asked wilson. "exactly. look to the right and the left, and you will find no footprints or other marks anywhere. go round there to the left, and you will be satisfied that the most experienced mountaineer that ever lived could not make a descent, or even anywhere get over the edge of the cliff. there is no ledge or foothold within fifty feet." "utterly impossible," said melville, after an inspection. "what do you propose to do?" "i am going straight back to communicate the discovery to headquarters. we shall withdraw the cordon and search the coast for the dead bodies." "then you will make a fatal mistake," said melville. "the men are alive and in hiding in the district. just examine the prints again. whose is the large foot?" "that is lamson's, and the small print is marsh's. lamson was a tall man, just over six feet, and marsh was a little fellow." "i thought as much," said melville. "and yet you will find that lamson takes a shorter stride than marsh. notice, also, the peculiarity that marsh walks heavily on his heels, while lamson treads more on his toes. nothing remarkable in that? perhaps not; but has it occurred to you that lamson walked behind marsh? because you will find that he sometimes treads over marsh's footsteps, though you will never find marsh treading in the steps of the other." "do you suppose that the men walked backwards in their own footprints?" asked the inspector. "no; that is impossible. no two men could walk backwards some two hundred yards in that way with such exactitude. you will not find a single place where they have missed the print by even an eighth of an inch. quite impossible. nor do i suppose that two men, hunted as they were, could have provided themselves with flying-machines, balloons, or even parachutes. they did not drop over the cliff." melville then explained how the men had got away. his account proved to be quite correct, for it will be remembered that they were caught, hiding under some straw in a barn, within two miles of the spot. how did they get away from the edge of the cliff? .--_the runaway motor-car._ the little affair of the "runaway motor-car" is a good illustration of how a knowledge of some branch of puzzledom may be put to unexpected use. a member of the club, whose name i have at the moment of writing forgotten, came in one night and said that a friend of his was bicycling in surrey on the previous day, when a motor-car came from behind, round a corner, at a terrific speed, caught one of his wheels, and sent him flying in the road. he was badly knocked about, and fractured his left arm, while his machine was wrecked. the motor-car was not stopped, and he had been unable to trace it. there were two witnesses to the accident, which was beyond question the fault of the driver of the car. an old woman, a mrs. wadey, saw the whole thing, and tried to take the number of the car. she was positive as to the letters, which need not be given, and was certain also that the first figure was a . the other figures she failed to read on account of the speed and dust. the other witness was the village simpleton, who just escapes being an arithmetical genius, but is excessively stupid in everything else. he is always working out sums in his head; and all he could say was that there were five figures in the number, and that he found that when he multiplied the first two figures by the last three they made the same figures, only in different order--just as multiplied by makes , (the same five figures), in which case the number of the car would have been , ; and he knew there was no in the number. "it will be easy enough to find that car," said russell. "the known facts are possibly sufficient to enable one to discover the exact number. you see, there must be a limit to the five-figure numbers having the peculiarity observed by the simpleton. and these are further limited by the fact that, as mrs. wadey states, the number began with the figure . we have therefore to find these numbers. it may conceivably happen that there is only one such number, in which case the thing is solved. but even if there are several cases, the owner of the actual car may easily be found. "how will you manage that?" somebody asked. "surely," replied russell, "the method is quite obvious. by the process of elimination. every owner except the one in fault will be able to prove an alibi. yet, merely guessing offhand, i think it quite probable that there is only one number that fits the case. we shall see." [illustration] russell was right, for that very night he sent the number by post, with the result that the runaway car was at once traced, and its owner, who was himself driving, had to pay the cost of the damages resulting from his carelessness. what was the number of the car? .--_the mystery of ravensdene park._ the mystery of ravensdene park, which i will now present, was a tragic affair, as it involved the assassination of mr. cyril hastings at his country house a short distance from london. on february th, at p.m., there was a heavy fall of snow, and though it lasted only half an hour, the ground was covered to a depth of several inches. mr. hastings had been spending the evening at the house of a neighbour, and left at midnight to walk home, taking the short route that lay through ravensdene park--that is, from d to a in the sketch-plan. but in the early morning he was found dead, at the point indicated by the star in our diagram, stabbed to the heart. all the seven gates were promptly closed, and the footprints in the snow examined. these were fortunately very distinct, and the police obtained the following facts:-- [illustration] the footprints of mr. hastings were very clear, straight from d to the spot where he was found. there were the footprints of the ravensdene butler--who retired to bed five minutes before midnight--from e to ee. there were the footprints of the gamekeeper from a to his lodge at aa. other footprints showed that one individual had come in at gate b and left at gate bb, while another had entered by gate c and left at gate cc. only these five persons had entered the park since the fall of snow. now, it was a very foggy night, and some of these pedestrians had consequently taken circuitous routes, but it was particularly noticed that no track ever crossed another track. of this the police were absolutely certain, but they stupidly omitted to make a sketch of the various routes before the snow had melted and utterly effaced them. [illustration] the mystery was brought before the members of the puzzle club, who at once set themselves the task of solving it. was it possible to discover who committed the crime? was it the butler? or the gamekeeper? or the man who came in at b and went out at bb? or the man who went in at c and left at cc? they provided themselves with diagrams--sketch-plans, like the one we have reproduced, which simplified the real form of ravensdene park without destroying the necessary conditions of the problem. our friends then proceeded to trace out the route of each person, in accordance with the positive statements of the police that we have given. it was soon evident that, as no path ever crossed another, some of the pedestrians must have lost their way considerably in the fog. but when the tracks were recorded in all possible ways, they had no difficulty in deciding on the assassin's route; and as the police luckily knew whose footprints this route represented, an arrest was made that led to the man's conviction. can our readers discover whether a, b, c, or e committed the deed? just trace out the route of each of the four persons, and the key to the mystery will reveal itself. .--_the buried treasure._ the problem of the buried treasure was of quite a different character. a young fellow named dawkins, just home from australia, was introduced to the club by one of the members, in order that he might relate an extraordinary stroke of luck that he had experienced "down under," as the circumstances involved the solution of a poser that could not fail to interest all lovers of puzzle problems. after the club dinner, dawkins was asked to tell his story, which he did, to the following effect:-- "i have told you, gentlemen, that i was very much down on my luck. i had gone out to australia to try to retrieve my fortunes, but had met with no success, and the future was looking very dark. i was, in fact, beginning to feel desperate. one hot summer day i happened to be seated in a melbourne wineshop, when two fellows entered, and engaged in conversation. they thought i was asleep, but i assure you i was very wide awake. "'if only i could find the right field,' said one man, 'the treasure would be mine; and as the original owner left no heir, i have as much right to it as anybody else.' "'how would you proceed?' asked the other. "'well, it is like this: the document that fell into my hands states clearly that the field is square, and that the treasure is buried in it at a point exactly two furlongs from one corner, three furlongs from the next corner, and four furlongs from the next corner to that. you see, the worst of it is that nearly all the fields in the district are square; and i doubt whether there are two of exactly the same size. if only i knew the size of the field i could soon discover it, and, by taking these simple measurements, quickly secure the treasure.' "'but you would not know which corner to start from, nor which direction to go to the next corner.' "'my dear chap, that only means eight spots at the most to dig over; and as the paper says that the treasure is three feet deep, you bet that wouldn't take me long.' [illustration] "now, gentlemen," continued dawkins, "i happen to be a bit of a mathematician; and hearing the conversation, i saw at once that for a spot to be exactly two, three, and four furlongs from successive corners of a square, the square must be of a particular area. you can't get such measurements to meet at one point in any square you choose. they can only happen in a field of one size, and that is just what these men never suspected. i will leave you the puzzle of working out just what that area is. "well, when i found the size of the field, i was not long in discovering the field itself, for the man had let out the district in the conversation. and i did not need to make the eight digs, for, as luck would have it, the third spot i tried was the right one. the treasure was a substantial sum, for it has brought me home and enabled me to start in a business that already shows signs of being a particularly lucrative one. i often smile when i think of that poor fellow going about for the rest of his life saying: 'if only i knew the size of the field!' while he has placed the treasure safe in my own possession. i tried to find the man, to make him some compensation anonymously, but without success. perhaps he stood in little need of the money, while it has saved me from ruin." could the reader have discovered the required area of the field from those details overheard in the wineshop? it is an elegant little puzzle, and furnishes another example of the practical utility, on unexpected occasions, of a knowledge of the art of problem-solving. the professor's puzzles "why, here is the professor!" exclaimed grigsby. "we'll make him show us some new puzzles." it was christmas eve, and the club was nearly deserted. only grigsby, hawkhurst, and myself, of all the members, seemed to be detained in town over the season of mirth and mince-pies. the man, however, who had just entered was a welcome addition to our number. "the professor of puzzles," as we had nicknamed him, was very popular at the club, and when, as on the present occasion, things got a little slow, his arrival was a positive blessing. he was a man of middle age, cheery and kind-hearted, but inclined to be cynical. he had all his life dabbled in puzzles, problems, and enigmas of every kind, and what the professor didn't know about these matters was admittedly not worth knowing. his puzzles always had a charm of their own, and this was mainly because he was so happy in dishing them up in palatable form. "you are the man of all others that we were hoping would drop in," said hawkhurst. "have you got anything new?" "i have always something new," was the reply, uttered with feigned conceit--for the professor was really a modest man--"i'm simply glutted with ideas." "where do you get all your notions?" i asked. "everywhere, anywhere, during all my waking moments. indeed, two or three of my best puzzles have come to me in my dreams." "then all the good ideas are not used up?" "certainly not. and all the old puzzles are capable of improvement, embellishment, and extension. take, for example, magic squares. these were constructed in india before the christian era, and introduced into europe about the fourteenth century, when they were supposed to possess certain magical properties that i am afraid they have since lost. any child can arrange the numbers one to nine in a square that will add up fifteen in eight ways; but you will see it can be developed into quite a new problem if you use coins instead of numbers." [illustration] .--_the coinage puzzle._ he made a rough diagram, and placed a crown and a florin in two of the divisions, as indicated in the illustration. "now," he continued, "place the fewest possible current english coins in the seven empty divisions, so that each of the three columns, three rows, and two diagonals shall add up fifteen shillings. of course, no division may be without at least one coin, and no two divisions may contain the same value." "but how can the coins affect the question?" asked grigsby. "that you will find out when you approach the solution." "i shall do it with numbers first," said hawkhurst, "and then substitute coins." five minutes later, however, he exclaimed, "hang it all! i can't help getting the in a corner. may the florin be moved from its present position?" "certainly not." "then i give it up." but grigsby and i decided that we would work at it another time, so the professor showed hawkhurst the solution privately, and then went on with his chat. .--_the postage stamps puzzles._ "now, instead of coins we'll substitute postage-stamps. take ten current english stamps, nine of them being all of different values, and the tenth a duplicate. stick two of them in one division and one in each of the others, so that the square shall this time add up ninepence in the eight directions as before." "here you are!" cried grigsby, after he had been scribbling for a few minutes on the back of an envelope. the professor smiled indulgently. "are you sure that there is a current english postage-stamp of the value of threepence-halfpenny?" "for the life of me, i don't know. isn't there?" "that's just like the professor," put in hawkhurst. "there never was such a 'tricky' man. you never know when you have got to the bottom of his puzzles. just when you make sure you have found a solution, he trips you up over some little point you never thought of." "when you have done that," said the professor, "here is a much better one for you. stick english postage stamps so that every three divisions in a line shall add up alike, using as many stamps as you choose, so long as they are all of different values. it is a hard nut." [illustration] .--_the frogs and tumblers._ "what do you think of these?" the professor brought from his capacious pockets a number of frogs, snails, lizards, and other creatures of japanese manufacture--very grotesque in form and brilliant in colour. while we were looking at them he asked the waiter to place sixty-four tumblers on the club table. when these had been brought and arranged in the form of a square, as shown in the illustration, he placed eight of the little green frogs on the glasses as shown. "now," he said, "you see these tumblers form eight horizontal and eight vertical lines, and if you look at them diagonally (both ways) there are twenty-six other lines. if you run your eye along all these forty-two lines, you will find no two frogs are anywhere in a line. "the puzzle is this. three of the frogs are supposed to jump from their present position to three vacant glasses, so that in their new relative positions still no two frogs shall be in a line. what are the jumps made?" "i suppose----" began hawkhurst. "i know what you are going to ask," anticipated the professor. "no; the frogs do not exchange positions, but each of the three jumps to a glass that was not previously occupied." "but surely there must be scores of solutions?" i said. "i shall be very glad if you can find them," replied the professor with a dry smile. "i only know of one--or rather two, counting a reversal, which occurs in consequence of the position being symmetrical." .--_romeo and juliet._ for some time we tried to make these little reptiles perform the feat allotted to them, and failed. the professor, however, would not give away his solution, but said he would instead introduce to us a little thing that is childishly simple when you have once seen it, but cannot be mastered by everybody at the very first attempt. "waiter!" he called again. "just take away these glasses, please, and bring the chessboards." "i hope to goodness," exclaimed grigsby, "you are not going to show us some of those awful chess problems of yours. 'white to mate black in moves without moving his pieces.' 'the bishop rooks the king, and pawns his giuoco piano in half a jiff.'" "no, it is not chess. you see these two snails. they are romeo and juliet. juliet is on her balcony, waiting the arrival of her love; but romeo has been dining, and forgets, for the life of him, the number of her house. the squares represent sixty-four houses, and the amorous swain visits every house once and only once before reaching his beloved. now, make him do this with the fewest possible turnings. the snail can move up, down, and across the board and through the diagonals. mark his track with this piece of chalk." [illustration] "seems easy enough," said grigsby, running the chalk along the squares. "look! that does it." "yes," said the professor: "romeo has got there, it is true, and visited every square once, and only once; but you have made him turn nineteen times, and that is not doing the trick in the fewest turns possible." hawkhurst, curiously enough, hit on the solution at once, and the professor remarked that this was just one of those puzzles that a person might solve at a glance or not master in six months. .--_romeo's second journey._ "it was a sheer stroke of luck on your part, hawkhurst," he added. "here is a much easier puzzle, because it is capable of more systematic analysis; yet it may just happen that you will not do it in an hour. put romeo on a white square and make him crawl into every other white square once with the fewest possible turnings. this time a white square may be visited twice, but the snail must never pass a second time through the same corner of a square nor ever enter the black squares." "may he leave the board for refreshments?" asked grigsby. "no; he is not allowed out until he has performed his feat." .--_the frogs who would a-wooing go._ while we were vainly attempting to solve this puzzle, the professor arranged on the table ten of the frogs in two rows, as they will be found in the illustration. [illustration: * * * * * * * * * * ] "that seems entertaining," i said. "what is it?" "it is a little puzzle i made a year ago, and a favourite with the few people who have seen it. it is called 'the frogs who would a-wooing go.' four of them are supposed to go a-wooing, and after the four have each made a jump upon the table, they are in such a position that they form five straight rows with four frogs in every row." "what's that?" asked hawkhurst. "i think i can do that." a few minutes later he exclaimed, "how's this?" "they form only four rows instead of five, and you have moved six of them," explained the professor. "hawkhurst," said grigsby severely, "you are a duffer. i see the solution at a glance. here you are! these two jump on their comrades' backs." "no, no," admonished the professor; "that is not allowed. i distinctly said that the jumps were to be made upon the table. sometimes it passes the wit of man so to word the conditions of a problem that the quibbler will not persuade himself that he has found a flaw through which the solution may be mastered by a child of five." after we had been vainly puzzling with these batrachian lovers for some time, the professor revealed his secret. the professor gathered up his japanese reptiles and wished us good-night with the usual seasonable compliments. we three who remained had one more pipe together, and then also left for our respective homes. each believes that the other two racked their brains over christmas in the determined attempt to master the professor's puzzles; but when we next met at the club we were all unanimous in declaring that those puzzles which we had failed to solve "we really had not had time to look at," while those we had mastered after an enormous amount of labour "we had seen at the first glance directly we got home." miscellaneous puzzles .--_the game of kayles._ nearly all of our most popular games are of very ancient origin, though in many cases they have been considerably developed and improved. kayles--derived from the french word _quilles_--was a great favourite in the fourteenth century, and was undoubtedly the parent of our modern game of ninepins. kayle-pins were not confined in those days to any particular number, and they were generally made of a conical shape and set up in a straight row. at first they were knocked down by a club that was thrown at them from a distance, which at once suggests the origin of the pastime of "shying for cocoanuts" that is to-day so popular on bank holidays on hampstead heath and elsewhere. then the players introduced balls, as an improvement on the club. in the illustration we get a picture of some of our fourteenth-century ancestors playing at kayle-pins in this manner. now, i will introduce to my readers a new game of parlour kayle-pins, that can be played across the table without any preparation whatever. you simply place in a straight row thirteen dominoes, chess-pawns, draughtsmen, counters, coins, or beans--anything will do--all close together, and then remove the second one as shown in the picture. it is assumed that the ancient players had become so expert that they could always knock down any single kayle-pin, or any two kayle-pins that stood close together. they therefore altered the game, and it was agreed that the player who knocked down the last pin was the winner. therefore, in playing our table-game, all you have to do is to knock down with your fingers, or take away, any single kayle-pin or two adjoining kayle-pins, playing alternately until one of the two players makes the last capture, and so wins. i think it will be found a fascinating little game, and i will show the secret of winning. [illustration] remember that the second kayle-pin must be removed before you begin to play, and that if you knock down two at once those two must be close together, because in the real game the ball could not do more than this. .--_the broken chessboard._ there is a story of prince henry, son of william the conqueror, afterwards henry i., that is so frequently recorded in the old chronicles that it is doubtless authentic. the following version of the incident is taken from hayward's _life of william the conqueror_, published in :-- "towards the end of his reigne he appointed his two sonnes robert and henry, with joynt authoritie, governours of normandie; the one to suppresse either the insolence or levitie of the other. these went together to visit the french king lying at constance: where, entertaining the time with varietie of disports, henry played with louis, then daulphine of france, at chesse, and did win of him very much. [illustration] "hereat louis beganne to growe warme in words, and was therein little respected by henry. the great impatience of the one and the small forbearance of the other did strike in the end such a heat between them that louis threw the chessmen at henry's face. "henry again stroke louis with the chessboard, drew blood with the blowe, and had presently slain him upon the place had he not been stayed by his brother robert. "hereupon they presently went to horse, and their spurres claimed so good haste as they recovered pontoise, albeit they were sharply pursued by the french." now, tradition--on this point not trustworthy--says that the chessboard broke into the thirteen fragments shown in our illustration. it will be seen that there are twelve pieces, all different in shape, each containing five squares, and one little piece of four squares only. we thus have all the sixty-four squares of the chess-board, and the puzzle is simply to cut them out and fit them together, so as to make a perfect board properly chequered. the pieces may be easily cut out of a sheet of "squared" paper, and, if mounted on cardboard, they will form a source of perpetual amusement in the home. if you succeed in constructing the chessboard, but do not record the arrangement, you will find it just as puzzling the next time you feel disposed to attack it. prince henry himself, with all his skill and learning, would have found it an amusing pastime. .--_the spider and the fly._ [illustration] inside a rectangular room, measuring feet in length and feet in width and height, a spider is at a point on the middle of one of the end walls, foot from the ceiling, as at a; and a fly is on the opposite wall, foot from the floor in the centre, as shown at b. what is the shortest distance that the spider must crawl in order to reach the fly, which remains stationary? of course the spider never drops or uses its web, but crawls fairly. .--_the perplexed cellarman._ here is a little puzzle culled from the traditions of an old monastery in the west of england. abbot francis, it seems, was a very worthy man; and his methods of equity extended to those little acts of charity for which he was noted for miles round. [illustration] the abbot, moreover, had a fine taste in wines. on one occasion he sent for the cellarman, and complained that a particular bottling was not to his palate. "pray tell me, brother john, how much of this wine thou didst bottle withal." "a fair dozen in large bottles, my lord abbot, and the like in the small," replied the cellarman, "whereof five of each have been drunk in the refectory." "so be it. there be three varlets waiting at the gate. let the two dozen bottles be given unto them, both full and empty; and see that the dole be fairly made, so that no man receive more wine than another, nor any difference in bottles." poor john returned to his cellar, taking the three men with him, and then his task began to perplex him. of full bottles he had seven large and seven small, and of empty bottles five large and five small, as shown in the illustration. how was he to make the required equitable division? he divided the bottles into three groups in several ways that at first sight seemed to be quite fair, since two small bottles held just the same quantity of wine as one large one. but the large bottles themselves, when empty, were not worth two small ones. hence the abbot's order that each man must take away the same number of bottles of each size. finally, the cellarman had to consult one of the monks who was good at puzzles of this kind, and who showed him how the thing was done. can you find out just how the distribution was made? .--_making a flag._ [illustration] a good dissection puzzle in so few as two pieces is rather a rarity, so perhaps the reader will be interested in the following. the diagram represents a piece of bunting, and it is required to cut it into two pieces (without any waste) that will fit together and form a perfectly square flag, with the four roses symmetrically placed. this would be easy enough if it were not for the four roses, as we should merely have to cut from a to b, and insert the piece at the bottom of the flag. but we are not allowed to cut through any of the roses, and therein lies the difficulty of the puzzle. of course we make no allowance for "turnings." .--_catching the hogs._ in the illustration hendrick and katrün are seen engaged in the exhilarating sport of attempting the capture of a couple of hogs. why did they fail? [illustration] strange as it may seem, a complete answer is afforded in the little puzzle game that i will now explain. copy the simple diagram on a conveniently large sheet of cardboard or paper, and use four marked counters to represent the dutchman, his wife, and the two hogs. at the beginning of the game these must be placed on the squares on which they are shown. one player represents hendrick and katrün, and the other the hogs. the first player moves the dutchman and his wife one square each in any direction (but not diagonally), and then the second player moves both pigs one square each (not diagonally); and so on, in turns, until hendrick catches one hog and katrün the other. this you will find would be absurdly easy if the hogs moved first, but this is just what dutch pigs will not do. .--_the thirty-one game._ this is a game that used to be (and may be to this day, for aught i know) a favourite means of swindling employed by card-sharpers at racecourses and in railway carriages. as, on its own merits, however, the game is particularly interesting, i will make no apology for presenting it to my readers. the cardsharper lays down the twenty-four cards shown in the illustration, and invites the innocent wayfarer to try his luck or skill by seeing which of them can first score thirty-one, or drive his opponent beyond, in the following manner:-- one player turns down a card, say a , and counts "two"; the second player turns down a card, say a , and, adding this to the score, counts "seven"; the first player turns down another card, say a , and counts "eight"; and so the play proceeds alternately until one of them scores the "thirty-one," and so wins. now, the question is, in order to win, should you turn down the first card, or courteously request your opponent to do so? and how should you conduct your play? the reader will perhaps say: "oh, that is easy enough. you must play first, and turn down a ; then, whatever your opponent does, he cannot stop your making ten, or stop your making seventeen, twenty-four, and the winning thirty-one. you have only to secure these numbers to win." but this is just that little knowledge which is such a dangerous thing, and it places you in the hands of the sharper. you play , and the sharper plays and counts "seven"; you play and count "ten"; the sharper turns down and scores "thirteen"; you play and count "seventeen"; the sharper plays a and counts "twenty-one"; you play and make your "twenty-four." [illustration: [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] ] now the sharper plays the last and scores "twenty-eight." you look in vain for another with which to win, for they are all turned down! so you are compelled either to let him make the "thirty-one" or to go yourself beyond, and so lose the game. you thus see that your method of certainly winning breaks down utterly, by what may be called the "method of exhaustion." i will give the key to the game, showing how you may always win; but i will not here say whether you must play first or second: you may like to find it out for yourself. .--_the chinese railways._ [illustration] our illustration shows the plan of a chinese city protected by pentagonal fortifications. five european powers were scheming and clamouring for a concession to run a railway to the place; and at last one of the emperor's more brilliant advisers said, "let every one of them have a concession!" so the celestial government officials were kept busy arranging the details. the letters in the diagram show the different nationalities, and indicate not only just where each line must enter the city, but also where the station belonging to that line must be located. as it was agreed that the line of one company must never cross the line of another, the representatives of the various countries concerned were engaged so many weeks in trying to find a solution to the problem, that in the meantime a change in the chinese government was brought about, and the whole scheme fell through. take your pencil and trace out the route for the line a to a, b to b, c to c, and so on, without ever allowing one line to cross another or pass through another company's station. .--_the eight clowns._ [illustration] this illustration represents a troupe of clowns i once saw on the continent. each clown bore one of the numbers to on his body. after going through the usual tumbling, juggling, and other antics, they generally concluded with a few curious little numerical tricks, one of which was the rapid formation of a number of magic squares. it occurred to me that if clown no. failed to appear (as happens in the illustration), this last item of their performance might not be so easy. the reader is asked to discover how these eight clowns may arrange themselves in the form of a square (one place being vacant), so that every one of the three columns, three rows, and each of the two diagonals shall add up the same. the vacant place may be at any part of the square, but it is no. that must be absent. .--_the wizard's arithmetic._ once upon a time a knight went to consult a certain famous wizard. the interview had to do with an affair of the heart; but after the man of magic had foretold the most favourable issues, and concocted a love-potion that was certain to help his visitor's cause, the conversation drifted on to occult subjects generally. [illustration] "and art thou learned also in the magic of numbers?" asked the knight. "show me but one sample of thy wit in these matters." the old wizard took five blocks bearing numbers, and placed them on a shelf, apparently at random, so that they stood in the order , as shown in our illustration. he then took in his hands an and a , and held them together to form the number . "sir knight, tell me," said the wizard, "canst thou multiply one number into the other in thy mind?" "nay, of a truth," the good knight replied. "i should need to set out upon the task with pen and scrip." "yet mark ye how right easy a thing it is to a man learned in the lore of far araby, who knoweth all the magic that is hid in the philosophy of numbers!" the wizard simply placed the next to the on the shelf, and the at the other end. it will be found that this gives the answer quite correctly-- . very curious, is it not? how many other two-figure multipliers can you find that will produce the same effect? you may place just as many blocks as you like on the shelf, bearing any figures you choose. .--_the ribbon problem._ [illustration] if we take the ribbon by the ends and pull it out straight, we have the number . this number has the peculiarity that, if we multiply it by any one of the numbers, , , , , , , , or , we get exactly the same number in the circle, starting from a different place. for example, multiply by , and the product is , which starts from the dart in the circle. so, if we multiply by , we get the same result starting from the star. now, the puzzle is to place a different arrangement of figures on the ribbon that will produce similar results when so multiplied; only the and the appearing at the ends of the ribbon must not be removed. .--_the japanese ladies and the carpet._ [illustration] three japanese ladies possessed a square ancestral carpet of considerable intrinsic value, but treasured also as an interesting heirloom in the family. they decided to cut it up and make three square rugs of it, so that each should possess a share in her own house. one lady suggested that the simplest way would be for her to take a smaller share than the other two, because then the carpet need not be cut into more than four pieces. there are three easy ways of doing this, which i will leave the reader for the present the amusement of finding for himself, merely saying that if you suppose the carpet to be nine square feet, then one lady may take a piece two feet square whole, another a two feet square in two pieces, and the third a square foot whole. but this generous offer would not for a moment be entertained by the other two sisters, who insisted that the square carpet should be so cut that each should get a square mat of exactly the same size. now, according to the best western authorities, they would have found it necessary to cut the carpet into seven pieces; but a correspondent in tokio assures me that the legend is that they did it in as few as six pieces, and he wants to know whether such a thing is possible. yes; it can be done. can you cut out the six pieces that will form three square mats of equal size? .--_captain longbow and the bears._ that eminent and more or less veracious traveller captain longbow has a great grievance with the public. he claims that during a recent expedition in arctic regions he actually reached the north pole, but cannot induce anybody to believe him. of course, the difficulty in such cases is to produce proof, but he avers that future travellers, when they succeed in accomplishing the same feat, will find evidence on the spot. he says that when he got there he saw a bear going round and round the top of the pole (which he declares _is_ a pole), evidently perplexed by the peculiar fact that no matter in what direction he looked it was always due south. captain longbow put an end to the bear's meditations by shooting him, and afterwards impaling him, in the manner shown in the illustration, as the evidence for future travellers to which i have alluded. [illustration] when the captain got one hundred miles south on his return journey he had a little experience that is somewhat puzzling. he was surprised one morning, on looking down from an elevation, to see no fewer than eleven bears in his immediate vicinity. but what astonished him more than anything else was the curious fact that they had so placed themselves that there were seven rows of bears, with four bears in every row. whether or not this was the result of pure accident he cannot say, but such a thing might have happened. if the reader tries to make eleven dots on a sheet of paper so that there shall be seven rows of dots with four dots in every row, he will find some difficulty; but the captain's alleged grouping of the bears is quite possible. can you discover how they were arranged? .--_the english tour._ [illustration] this puzzle has to do with railway routes, and in these days of much travelling should prove useful. the map of england shows twenty-four towns, connected by a system of railways. a resident at the town marked a at the top of the map proposes to visit every one of the towns once and only once, and to finish up his tour at z. this would be easy enough if he were able to cut across country by road, as well as by rail, but he is not. how does he perform the feat? take your pencil and, starting from a, pass from town to town, making a dot in the towns you have visited, and see if you can end at z. .--_the chifu-chemulpo puzzle._ here is a puzzle that was once on sale in the london shops. it represents a military train--an engine and eight cars. the puzzle is to reverse the cars, so that they shall be in the order , , , , , , , , instead of , , , , , , , , with the engine left, as at first, on the side track. do this in the fewest possible moves. every time the engine or a car is moved from the main to the side track, or _vice versa_, it counts a move for each car or engine passed over one of the points. moves along the main track are not counted. with at the extremity, as shown, there is just room to pass on to the side track, run up to , and bring down again; or you can put as many as five cars, or four and the engine, on the siding at the same time. the cars move without the aid of the engine. the purchaser is invited to "try to do it in moves." how many do you require? [illustration] .--_the eccentric market-woman._ mrs. covey, who keeps a little poultry farm in surrey, is one of the most eccentric women i ever met. her manner of doing business is always original, and sometimes quite weird and wonderful. she was once found explaining to a few of her choice friends how she had disposed of her day's eggs. she had evidently got the idea from an old puzzle with which we are all familiar; but as it is an improvement on it, i have no hesitation in presenting it to my readers. she related that she had that day taken a certain number of eggs to market. she sold half of them to one customer, and gave him half an egg over. she next sold a third of what she had left, and gave a third of an egg over. she then sold a fourth of the remainder, and gave a fourth of an egg over. finally, she disposed of a fifth of the remainder, and gave a fifth of an egg over. then what she had left she divided equally among thirteen of her friends. and, strange to say, she had not throughout all these transactions broken a single egg. now, the puzzle is to find the smallest possible number of eggs that mrs. covey could have taken to market. can you say how many? .--_the primrose puzzle._ [illustration] select the name of any flower that you think suitable, and that contains eight letters. touch one of the primroses with your pencil and jump over one of the adjoining flowers to another, on which you mark the first letter of your word. then touch another vacant flower, and again jump over one in another direction, and write down the second letter. continue this (taking the letters in their proper order) until all the letters have been written down, and the original word can be correctly read round the garland. you must always touch an unoccupied flower, but the flower jumped over may be occupied or not. the name of a tree may also be selected. only english words may be used. .--_the round table._ seven friends, named adams, brooks, cater, dobson, edwards, fry, and green, were spending fifteen days together at the seaside, and they had a round breakfast table at the hotel all to themselves. it was agreed that no man should ever sit down twice with the same two neighbours. as they can be seated, under these conditions, in just fifteen ways, the plan was quite practicable. but could the reader have prepared an arrangement for every sitting? the hotel proprietor was asked to draw up a scheme, but he miserably failed. .--_the five tea tins._ sometimes people will speak of mere counting as one of the simplest operations in the world; but on occasions, as i shall show, it is far from easy. sometimes the labour can be diminished by the use of little artifices; sometimes it is practically impossible to make the required enumeration without having a very clear head indeed. an ordinary child, buying twelve postage stamps, will almost instinctively say, when he sees there are four along one side and three along the other, "four times three are twelve;" while his tiny brother will count them all in rows, " , , , ," etc. if the child's mother has occasion to add up the numbers , , , up to , she will most probably make a long addition sum of the fifty numbers; while her husband, more used to arithmetical operations, will see at a glance that by joining the numbers at the extremes there are pairs of ; therefore, Ã� = , . but his smart son of twenty may go one better and say, "why multiply by ? just add two 's to the and divide by , and there you are!" a tea merchant has five tin tea boxes of cubical shape, which he keeps on his counter in a row, as shown in our illustration. every box has a picture on each of its six sides, so there are thirty pictures in all; but one picture on no. is repeated on no. , and two other pictures on no. are repeated on no. . there are, therefore, only twenty-seven different pictures. the owner always keeps no. at one end of the row, and never allows nos. and to be put side by side. [illustration] the tradesman's customer, having obtained this information, thinks it a good puzzle to work out in how many ways the boxes may be arranged on the counter so that the order of the five pictures in front shall never be twice alike. he found the making of the count a tough little nut. can you work out the answer without getting your brain into a tangle? of course, two similar pictures may be in a row, as it is all a question of their order. .--_the four porkers._ the four pigs are so placed, each in a separate sty, that although every one of the thirty-six sties is in a straight line (either horizontally, vertically, or diagonally), with at least one of the pigs, yet no pig is in line with another. in how many different ways may the four pigs be placed to fulfil these conditions? if you turn this page round you get three more arrangements, and if you turn it round in front of a mirror you get four more. these are not to be counted as different arrangements. [illustration] .--_the number blocks._ the children in the illustration have found that a large number of very interesting and instructive puzzles may be made out of number blocks; that is, blocks bearing the ten digits or arabic figures-- , , , , , , , , , and . the particular puzzle that they have been amusing themselves with is to divide the blocks into two groups of five, and then so arrange them in the form of two multiplication sums that one product shall be the same as the other. the number of possible solutions is very considerable, but they have hit on that arrangement that gives the smallest possible product. thus, , multiplied by is , , and , multiplied by is the same. you will find it quite impossible to get any smaller result. [illustration] now, my puzzle is to find the largest possible result. divide the blocks into any two groups of five that you like, and arrange them to form two multiplication sums that shall produce the same product and the largest amount possible. that is all, and yet it is a nut that requires some cracking. of course, fractions are not allowed, nor any tricks whatever. the puzzle is quite interesting enough in the simple form in which i have given it. perhaps it should be added that the multipliers may contain two figures. .--_foxes and geese._ here is a little puzzle of the moving counters class that my readers will probably find entertaining. make a diagram of any convenient size similar to that shown in our illustration, and provide six counters--three marked to represent foxes and three to represent geese. place the geese on the discs , , and , and the foxes on the discs numbered , , and . now the puzzle is this. by moving one at a time, fox and goose alternately, along a straight line from one disc to the next one, try to get the foxes on , , and , and the geese on , , and --that is, make them exchange places--in the fewest possible moves. [illustration] but you must be careful never to let a fox and goose get within reach of each other, or there will be trouble. this rule, you will find, prevents you moving the fox from on the first move, as on either or he would be within reach of a goose. it also prevents your moving a fox from to , or from to . if you play to , then your next move may be to with a goose, which you could not have played if the fox had not previously gone from . it is perhaps unnecessary to say that only one fox or one goose can be on a disc at the same time. now, what is the smallest number of moves necessary to make the foxes and geese change places? .--_robinson crusoe's table._ here is a curious extract from robinson crusoe's diary. it is not to be found in the modern editions of the adventures, and is omitted in the old. this has always seemed to me to be a pity. "the third day in the morning, the wind having abated during the night, i went down to the shore hoping to find a typewriter and other useful things washed up from the wreck of the ship; but all that fell in my way was a piece of timber with many holes in it. my man friday had many times said that we stood sadly in need of a square table for our afternoon tea, and i bethought me how this piece of wood might be used for that purpose. and since during the long time that friday had now been with me i was not wanting to lay a foundation of useful knowledge in his mind, i told him that it was my wish to make the table from the timber i had found, without there being any holes in the top thereof. [illustration] "friday was sadly put to it to say how this might be, more especially as i said it should consist of no more than two pieces joined together; but i taught him how it could be done in such a way that the table might be as large as was possible, though, to be sure, i was amused when he said, 'my nation do much better: they stop up holes, so pieces sugars not fall through.'" now, the illustration gives the exact proportion of the piece of wood with the positions of the fifteen holes. how did robinson crusoe make the largest possible square table-top in two pieces, so that it should not have any holes in it? .--_the fifteen orchards._ [illustration] in the county of devon, where the cider comes from, fifteen of the inhabitants of a village are imbued with an excellent spirit of friendly rivalry, and a few years ago they decided to settle by actual experiment a little difference of opinion as to the cultivation of apple trees. some said they want plenty of light and air, while others stoutly maintained that they ought to be planted pretty closely, in order that they might get shade and protection from cold winds. so they agreed to plant a lot of young trees, a different number in each orchard, in order to compare results. one man had a single tree in his field, another had two trees, another had three trees, another had four trees, another five, and so on, the last man having as many as fifteen trees in his little orchard. last year a very curious result was found to have come about. each of the fifteen individuals discovered that every tree in his own orchard bore exactly the same number of apples. but, what was stranger still, on comparing notes they found that the total gathered in every allotment was almost the same. in fact, if the man with eleven trees had given one apple to the man who had seven trees, and the man with fourteen trees had given three each to the men with nine and thirteen trees, they would all have had exactly the same. now, the puzzle is to discover how many apples each would have had (the same in every case) if that little distribution had been carried out. it is quite easy if you set to work in the right way. .--_the perplexed plumber._ when i paid a visit to peckham recently i found everybody asking, "what has happened to sam solders, the plumber?" he seemed to be in a bad way, and his wife was seriously anxious about the state of his mind. as he had fitted up a hot-water apparatus for me some years ago which did not lead to an explosion for at least three months (and then only damaged the complexion of one of the cook's followers), i had considerable regard for him. "there he is," said mrs. solders, when i called to inquire. "that's how he's been for three weeks. he hardly eats anything, and takes no rest, whilst his business is so neglected that i don't know what is going to happen to me and the five children. all day long--and night too--there he is, figuring and figuring, and tearing his hair like a mad thing. it's worrying me into an early grave." i persuaded mrs. solders to explain matters to me. it seems that he had received an order from a customer to make two rectangular zinc cisterns, one with a top and the other without a top. each was to hold exactly , cubic feet of water when filled to the brim. the price was to be a certain amount per cistern, including cost of labour. now mr. solders is a thrifty man, so he naturally desired to make the two cisterns of such dimensions that the smallest possible quantity of metal should be required. this was the little question that was so worrying him. [illustration] can my ingenious readers find the dimensions of the most economical cistern with a top, and also the exact proportions of such a cistern without a top, each to hold , cubic feet of water? by "economical" is meant the method that requires the smallest possible quantity of metal. no margin need be allowed for what ladies would call "turnings." i shall show how i helped mr. solders out of his dilemma. he says: "that little wrinkle you gave me would be useful to others in my trade." .--_the nelson column._ during a nelson celebration i was standing in trafalgar square with a friend of puzzling proclivities. he had for some time been gazing at the column in an abstracted way, and seemed quite unconscious of the casual remarks that i addressed to him. "what are you dreaming about?" i said at last. [illustration] "two feet----" he murmured. "somebody's trilbys?" i inquired. "five times round----" "two feet, five times round! what on earth are you saying?" "wait a minute," he said, beginning to figure something out on the back of an envelope. i now detected that he was in the throes of producing a new problem of some sort, for i well knew his methods of working at these things. "here you are!" he suddenly exclaimed. "that's it! a very interesting little puzzle. the height of the shaft of the nelson column being feet and its circumference feet inches, it is wreathed in a spiral garland which passes round it exactly five times. what is the length of the garland? it looks rather difficult, but is really remarkably easy." he was right. the puzzle is quite easy if properly attacked. of course the height and circumference are not correct, but chosen for the purposes of the puzzle. the artist has also intentionally drawn the cylindrical shaft of the column of equal circumference throughout. if it were tapering, the puzzle would be less easy. .--_the two errand boys._ a country baker sent off his boy with a message to the butcher in the next village, and at the same time the butcher sent his boy to the baker. one ran faster than the other, and they were seen to pass at a spot yards from the baker's shop. each stopped ten minutes at his destination and then started on the return journey, when it was found that they passed each other at a spot yards from the butcher's. how far apart are the two tradesmen's shops? of course each boy went at a uniform pace throughout. .--_on the ramsgate sands._ thirteen youngsters were seen dancing in a ring on the ramsgate sands. apparently they were playing "round the mulberry bush." the puzzle is this. how many rings may they form without any child ever taking twice the hand of any other child--right hand or left? that is, no child may ever have a second time the same neighbour. .--_the three motor-cars._ [illustration] pope has told us that all chance is but "direction which thou canst not see," and certainly we all occasionally come across remarkable coincidences--little things against the probability of the occurrence of which the odds are immense--that fill us with bewilderment. one of the three motor men in the illustration has just happened on one of these queer coincidences. he is pointing out to his two friends that the three numbers on their cars contain all the figures to and , and, what is more remarkable, that if the numbers on the first and second cars are multiplied together they will make the number on the third car. that is, , , and , contain all the ten figures, and multiplied by makes , . now, the reader will be able to find many similar sets of numbers of two, three, and five figures respectively that have the same peculiarity. but there is one set, and one only, in which the numbers have this additional peculiarity--that the second number is a multiple of the first. in other words, if could be divided by without a remainder, the numbers on the cars would themselves fulfil this extra condition. what are the three numbers that we want? remember that they must have two, three, and five figures respectively. .--_a reversible magic square._ can you construct a square of sixteen different numbers so that it shall be magic (that is, adding up alike in the four rows, four columns, and two diagonals), whether you turn the diagram upside down or not? you must not use a , , or , as these figures will not reverse; but a may become a when reversed, a a , a a , and a a . the , , and will read the same both ways. remember that the constant must not be changed by the reversal. .--_the tube railway._ [illustration] the above diagram is the plan of an underground railway. the fare is uniform for any distance, so long as you do not go twice along any portion of the line during the same journey. now a certain passenger, with plenty of time on his hands, goes daily from a to f. how many different routes are there from which he may select? for example, he can take the short direct route, a, b, c, d, e, f, in a straight line; or he can go one of the long routes, such as a, b, d, c, b, c, e, d, e, f. it will be noted that he has optional lines between certain stations, and his selections of these lead to variations of the complete route. many readers will find it a very perplexing little problem, though its conditions are so simple. .--_the skipper and the sea-serpent._ mr. simon softleigh had spent most of his life between tooting bec and fenchurch street. his knowledge of the sea was therefore very limited. so, as he was taking a holiday on the south coast, he thought this was a splendid opportunity for picking up a little useful information. he therefore proceeded to "draw" the natives. [illustration] "i suppose," said mr. softleigh one morning to a jovial, weather-beaten skipper, "you have seen many wonderful sights on the rolling seas?" "bless you, sir, yes," said the skipper. "p'raps you've never seen a vanilla iceberg, or a mermaid a-hanging out her things to dry on the equatorial line, or the blue-winged shark what flies through the air in pursuit of his prey, or the sea-sarpint----" "have you really seen a sea-serpent? i thought it was uncertain whether they existed." "uncertin! you wouldn't say there was anything uncertin about a sea-sarpint if once you'd seen one. the first as i seed was when i was skipper of the _saucy sally_. we was a-coming round cape horn with a cargo of shrimps from the pacific islands when i looks over the port side and sees a tremenjus monster like a snake, with its 'ead out of the water and its eyes flashing fire, a-bearing down on our ship. so i shouts to the bo'sun to let down the boat, while i runs below and fetches my sword--the same what i used when i killed king chokee, the cannibal chief as eat our cabin-boy--and we pulls straight into the track of that there sea-sarpint. well, to make a long story short, when we come alongside o' the beast i just let drive at him with that sword o' mine, and before you could say 'tom bowling' i cut him into three pieces, all of exactually the same length, and afterwards we hauled 'em aboard the _saucy sally_. what did i do with 'em? well, i sold 'em to a feller in rio janeiro. and what do you suppose he done with 'em? he used 'em to make tyres for his motor-car--takes a lot to puncture a sea-sarpint's skin." "what was the length of the creature?" asked simon. "well, each piece was equal in length to three-quarters the length of a piece added to three-quarters of a cable. there's a little puzzle for you to work out, young gentleman. how many cables long must that there sea-sarpint 'ave been?" now, it is not at all to the discredit of mr. simon softleigh that he never succeeded in working out the correct answer to that little puzzle, for it may confidently be said that out of a thousand readers who attempt the solution not one will get it exactly right. .--_the dorcas society._ at the close of four and a half months' hard work, the ladies of a certain dorcas society were so delighted with the completion of a beautiful silk patchwork quilt for the dear curate that everybody kissed everybody else, except, of course, the bashful young man himself, who only kissed his sisters, whom he had called for, to escort home. there were just a gross of osculations altogether. how much longer would the ladies have taken over their needlework task if the sisters of the curate referred to had played lawn tennis instead of attending the meetings? of course we must assume that the ladies attended regularly, and i am sure that they all worked equally well. a mutual kiss here counts as two osculations. .--_the adventurous snail._ [illustration] a simple version of the puzzle of the climbing snail is familiar to everybody. we were all taught it in the nursery, and it was apparently intended to inculcate the simple moral that we should never slip if we can help it. this is the popular story. a snail crawls up a pole feet high, ascending feet every day and slipping back feet every night. how long does it take to get to the top? of course, we are expected to say the answer is twelve days, because the creature makes an actual advance of foot in every twenty-four hours. but the modern infant in arms is not taken in in this way. he says, correctly enough, that at the end of the ninth day the snail is feet from the top, and therefore reaches the summit of its ambition on the tenth day, for it would cease to slip when it had got to the top. let us, however, consider the original story. once upon a time two philosophers were walking in their garden, when one of them espied a highly respectable member of the helix aspersa family, a pioneer in mountaineering, in the act of making the perilous ascent of a wall feet high. judging by the trail, the gentleman calculated that the snail ascended feet each day, sleeping and slipping back feet every night. "pray tell me," said the philosopher to his friend, who was in the same line of business, "how long will it take sir snail to climb to the top of the wall and descend the other side? the top of the wall, as you know, has a sharp edge, so that when he gets there he will instantly begin to descend, putting precisely the same exertion into his daily climbing down as he did in his climbing up, and sleeping and slipping at night as before." this is the true version of the puzzle, and my readers will perhaps be interested in working out the exact number of days. of course, in a puzzle of this kind the day is always supposed to be equally divided into twelve hours' daytime and twelve hours' night. .--_the four princes._ the dominions of a certain eastern monarch formed a perfectly square tract of country. it happened that the king one day discovered that his four sons were not only plotting against each other, but were in secret rebellion against himself. after consulting with his advisers he decided not to exile the princes, but to confine them to the four corners of the country, where each should be given a triangular territory of equal area, beyond the boundaries of which they would pass at the cost of their lives. now, the royal surveyor found himself confronted by great natural difficulties, owing to the wild character of the country. the result was that while each was given exactly the same area, the four triangular districts were all of different shapes, somewhat in the manner shown in the illustration. the puzzle is to give the three measurements for each of the four districts in the smallest possible numbers--all whole furlongs. in other words, it is required to find (in the smallest possible numbers) four rational right-angled triangles of equal area. [illustration] .--_plato and the nines._ both in ancient and in modern times the number nine has been considered to possess peculiarly mystic qualities. we know, for instance, that there were nine muses, nine rivers of hades, and that vulcan was nine days falling down from heaven. then it has been confidently held that nine tailors make a man; while we know that there are nine planets, nine days' wonders, and that a cat has nine lives--and sometimes nine tails. most people are acquainted with some of the curious properties of the number nine in ordinary arithmetic. for example, write down a number containing as many figures as you like, add these figures together, and deduct the sum from the first number. now, the sum of the figures in this new number will always be a multiple of nine. there was once a worthy man at athens who was not only a cranky arithmetician, but also a mystic. he was deeply convinced of the magic properties of the number nine, and was perpetually strolling out to the groves of academia to bother poor old plato with his nonsensical ideas about what he called his "lucky number." but plato devised a way of getting rid of him. when the seer one day proposed to inflict on him a lengthy disquisition on his favourite topic, the philosopher cut him short with the remark, "look here, old chappie" (that is the nearest translation of the original greek term of familiarity): "when you can bring me the solution of this little mystery of the three nines i shall be happy to listen to your treatise, and, in fact, record it on my phonograph for the benefit of posterity." [illustration] plato then showed, in the manner depicted in our illustration, that three nines may be arranged so as to represent the number eleven, by putting them into the form of a fraction. the puzzle he then propounded was so to arrange the three nines that they will represent the number twenty. it is recorded of the old crank that, after working hard at the problem for nine years, he one day, at nine o'clock on the morning of the ninth day of the ninth month, fell down nine steps, knocked out nine teeth, and expired in nine minutes. it will be remembered that nine was his lucky number. it was evidently also plato's. in solving the above little puzzle, only the most elementary arithmetical signs are necessary. though the answer is absurdly simple when you see it, many readers will have no little difficulty in discovering it. take your pencil and see if you can arrange the three nines to represent twenty. .--_noughts and crosses._ every child knows how to play this game. you make a square of nine cells, and each of the two players, playing alternately, puts his mark (a nought or a cross, as the case may be) in a cell with the object of getting three in a line. whichever player first gets three in a line wins with the exulting cry:-- "tit, tat, toe, my last go; three jolly butcher boys all in a row." it is a very ancient game. but if the two players have a perfect knowledge of it, one of three things must always happen. ( ) the first player should win; ( ) the first player should lose; or ( ) the game should always be drawn. which is correct? .--_ovid's game._ having examined "noughts and crosses," we will now consider an extension of the game that is distinctly mentioned in the works of ovid. it is, in fact, the parent of "nine men's morris," referred to by shakespeare in _a midsummer night's dream_ (act ii., scene ). each player has three counters, which they play alternately on to the nine points shown in the diagram, with the object of getting three in a line and so winning. but after the six counters are played they then proceed to move (always to an adjacent unoccupied point) with the same object. in the example below white played first, and black has just played on point . it is now white's move, and he will undoubtedly play from to , and then, whatever black may do, he will continue with to , and so win. that is the simple game. now, if both players are equally perfect at the game what should happen? should the first player always win? or should the second player win? or should every game be a draw? one only of these things should always occur. which is it? [illustration] .--_the farmer's oxen._ a child may propose a problem that a sage cannot answer. a farmer propounded the following question: "that ten-acre meadow of mine will feed twelve bullocks for sixteen weeks or eighteen bullocks for eight weeks. how many bullocks could i feed on a forty-acre field for six weeks, the grass growing regularly all the time?" it will be seen that the sting lies in the tail. that steady growth of the grass is such a reasonable point to be considered, and yet to some readers it will cause considerable perplexity. the grass is, of course, assumed to be of equal length and uniform thickness in every case when the cattle begin to eat. the difficulty is not so great as it appears, if you properly attack the question. .--_the great grangemoor mystery._ mr. stanton mowbray was a very wealthy man, a reputed millionaire, residing in that beautiful old mansion that has figured so much in english history, grangemoor park. he was a bachelor, spent most of the year at home, and lived quietly enough. according to the evidence given, on the day preceding the night of the crime he received by the second post a single letter, the contents of which evidently gave him a shock. at ten o'clock at night he dismissed the servants, saying that he had some important business matters to look into, and would be sitting up late. he would require no attendance. it was supposed that after all had gone to bed he had admitted some person to the house, for one of the servants was positive that she had heard loud conversation at a very late hour. next morning, at a quarter to seven o'clock, one of the man-servants, on entering the room, found mr. mowbray lying on the floor, shot through the head, and quite dead. now we come to the curious circumstance of the case. it was clear that after the bullet had passed out of the dead man's head it had struck the tall clock in the room, right in the very centre of the face, and actually welded together the three hands; for the clock had a seconds hand that revolved round the same dial as the hour and minute hands. but although the three hands had become welded together exactly as they stood in relation to each other at the moment of impact, yet they were free to revolve round the swivel in one piece, and had been stupidly spun round several times by the servants before mr. wiley slyman was called upon the spot. but they would not move separately. [illustration] now, inquiries by the police in the neighbourhood led to the arrest in london of a stranger who was identified by several persons as having been seen in the district the day before the murder, but it was ascertained beyond doubt at what time on the fateful morning he went away by train. if the crime took place after his departure, his innocence was established. for this and other reasons it was of the first importance to fix the exact time of the pistol shot, the sound of which nobody in the house had heard. the clock face in the illustration shows exactly how the hands were found. mr. slyman was asked to give the police the benefit of his sagacity and experience, and directly he was shown the clock he smiled and said: "the matter is supremely simple. you will notice that the three hands appear to be at equal distances from one another. the hour hand, for example, is exactly twenty minutes removed from the minute hand--that is, the third of the circumference of the dial. you attach a lot of importance to the fact that the servants have been revolving the welded hands, but their act is of no consequence whatever; for although they were welded instantaneously, as they are free on the swivel, they would swing round of themselves into equilibrium. give me a few moments, and i can tell you beyond any doubt the exact time that the pistol was fired." mr. wiley slyman took from his pocket a notebook, and began to figure it out. in a few minutes he handed the police inspector a slip of paper, on which he had written the precise moment of the crime. the stranger was proved to be an old enemy of mr. mowbray's, was convicted on other evidence that was discovered; but before he paid the penalty for his wicked act, he admitted that mr. slyman's statement of the time was perfectly correct. can you also give the exact time? .--_cutting a wood block._ an economical carpenter had a block of wood measuring eight inches long by four inches wide by three and three-quarter inches deep. how many pieces, each measuring two and a half inches by one inch and a half by one inch and a quarter, could he cut out of it? it is all a question of how you cut them out. most people would have more waste material left over than is necessary. how many pieces could you get out of the block? .--_the tramps and the biscuits._ four merry tramps bought, borrowed, found, or in some other manner obtained possession of a box of biscuits, which they agreed to divide equally amongst themselves at breakfast next morning. in the night, while the others were fast asleep under the greenwood tree, one man approached the box, devoured exactly a quarter of the number of biscuits, except the odd one left over, which he threw as a bribe to their dog. later in the night a second man awoke and hit on the same idea, taking a quarter of what remained and giving the odd biscuit to the dog. the third and fourth men did precisely the same in turn, taking a quarter of what they found and giving the odd biscuit to the dog. in the morning they divided what remained equally amongst them, and again gave the odd biscuit to the animal. every man noticed the reduction in the contents of the box, but, believing himself to be alone responsible, made no comments. what is the smallest possible number of biscuits that there could have been in the box when they first acquired it? [illustration] solutions the canterbury puzzles .--_the reve's puzzle._ the cheeses can be removed in moves, cheeses in moves, and cheeses in moves. i will give my general method of solution in the cases of , , and stools. write out the following table to any required length:-- stools. number of cheeses. natural numbers. triangular numbers. triangular pyramids. number of moves. the first row contains the natural numbers. the second row is found by adding the natural numbers together from the beginning. the numbers in the third row are obtained by adding together the numbers in the second row from the beginning. the fourth row contains the successive powers of , less . the next series is found by doubling in turn each number of that series and adding the number that stands above the place where you write the result. the last row is obtained in the same way. this table will at once give solutions for any number of cheeses with three stools, for triangular numbers with four stools, and for pyramidal numbers with five stools. in these cases there is always only one method of solution--that is, of piling the cheeses. in the case of three stools, the first and fourth rows tell us that cheeses may be removed in moves, in , in . the second and fifth rows show that, with four stools, may be removed in , and in moves. also, with five stools, we find from the third and sixth rows that cheeses require moves, and cheeses moves. but we also learn from the table the necessary method of piling. thus, with four stools and cheeses, the previous column shows that we must make piles of and , which will take and moves respectively--that is, we first pile the six smallest cheeses in moves on one stool; then we pile the next cheeses on another stool in moves; then remove the largest cheese in move; then replace the in moves; and finally replace the in : making in all the necessary moves. similarly we are told that with five stools cheeses must form piles of , , and , which will respectively take , , and moves. if the number of cheeses in the case of four stools is not triangular, and in the case of five stools pyramidal, then there will be more than one way of making the piles, and subsidiary tables will be required. this is the case with the reve's cheeses. but i will leave the reader to work out for himself the extension of the problem. .--_the pardoner's puzzle._ the diagram on page will show how the pardoner started from the large black town and visited all the other towns once, and once only, in fifteen straight pilgrimages. see no. , "the rook's tour," in _a. in m._ .--_the miller's puzzle._ the way to arrange the sacks of flour is as follows:-- , , , , . here each pair when multiplied by its single neighbour makes the number in the middle, and only five of the sacks need be moved. there are just three other ways in which they might have been arranged ( , , , , ; or , , , , ; or , , , , ), but they all require the moving of seven sacks. [illustration] [illustration] .--_the knight's puzzle._ the knight declared that as many as squares could be marked off on his shield, with a rose at every corner. how this result is achieved may be realized by reference to the accompanying diagram:--join a, b, c, and d, and there are squares of this size to be formed; the size a, e, f, g gives ; a, h, i, j, ; b, k, l, m, ; b, n, o, p, ; b, q, r, s, ; e, t, f, c, ; i, u, v, p, ; h, w, x, j, ; k, y, z, m, ; e, a, b, d, ; h, d, m, d, ; h, e, f, g, ; k, g, f, c, ; n, h, z, f, ; k, h, m, b, ; k, o, s, d, ; k, n, p, g, ; k, q, r, j, ; q, t, p, c, ; q, u, r, i, . the total number is thus . these groups have been treated as if each of them represented a different sized square. this is correct, with the one exception that the squares of the form b, n, o, p are exactly the same size as those of the form k, h, m, b. .--_the wife of bath's riddles._ the good lady explained that a bung that is made fast in a barrel is like another bung that is falling out of a barrel because one of them is _in secure_ and the other is also _insecure_. the little relationship poser is readily understood when we are told that the parental command came from the father (who was also in the room) and not from the mother. .--_the host's puzzle._ the puzzle propounded by the jovial host of the "tabard" inn of southwark had proved more popular than any other of the whole collection. "i see, my merry masters," he cried, "that i have sorely twisted thy brains by my little piece of craft. yet it is but a simple matter for me to put a true pint of fine old ale in each of these two measures, albeit one is of five pints and the other of three pints, without using any other measure whatever." the host of the "tabard" inn thereupon proceeded to explain to the pilgrims how this apparently impossible task could be done. he first filled the -pint and -pint measures, and then, turning the tap, allowed the barrel to run to waste--a proceeding against which the company protested; but the wily man showed that he was aware that the cask did not contain much more than eight pints of ale. the contents, however, do not affect the solution of the puzzle. he then closed the tap and emptied the -pint into the barrel; filled the -pint from the -pint; emptied the -pint into the barrel; transferred the two pints from the -pint to the -pint; filled the -pint from the barrel, leaving one pint now in the barrel; filled -pint from -pint; allowed the company to drink the contents of the -pint; filled the -pint from the -pint, leaving one pint now in the -pint; drank the contents of the -pint; and finally drew off one pint from the barrel into the -pint. he had thus obtained the required one pint of ale in each measure, to the great astonishment of the admiring crowd of pilgrims. .--_clerk of oxenford's puzzle._ the illustration shows how the square is to be cut into four pieces, and how these pieces are to be put together again to make a magic square. it will be found that the four columns, four rows, and two long diagonals now add up to in every case. [illustration] .--_the tapiser's puzzle._ the piece of tapestry had to be cut along the lines into three pieces so as to fit together and form a perfect square, with the pattern properly matched. it was also stipulated in effect that one of the three pieces must be as small as possible. the illustration shows how to make the cuts and how to put the pieces together, while one of the pieces contains only twelve of the little squares. [illustration] .--_the carpenter's puzzle._ the carpenter said that he made a box whose internal dimensions were exactly the same as the original block of wood--that is, feet by foot by foot. he then placed the carved pillar in this box and filled up all the vacant space with a fine, dry sand, which he carefully shook down until he could get no more into the box. then he removed the pillar, taking great care not to lose any of the sand, which, on being shaken down alone in the box, filled a space equal to one cubic foot. this was, therefore, the quantity of wood that had been cut away. .--_the puzzle of the squire's yeoman._ the illustration will show how three of the arrows were removed each to a neighbouring square on the signboard of the "chequers" inn, so that still no arrow was in line with another. the black dots indicate the squares on which the three arrows originally stood. [illustration] .--_the nun's puzzle._ [illustration] as there are eighteen cards bearing the letters "canterbury pilgrims," write the numbers to in a circle, as shown in the diagram. then write the first letter c against , and each successive letter against the second number that happens to be vacant. this has been done as far as the second r. if the reader completes the process by placing y against , p against , i against , and so on, he will get the letters all placed in the following order:--cyasnptreirmbluirg, which is the required arrangement for the cards, c being at the top of the pack and g at the bottom. .--_the merchant's puzzle._ this puzzle amounts to finding the smallest possible number that has exactly sixty-four divisors, counting and the number itself as divisors. the least number is , . the pilgrims might, therefore, have ridden in single file, two and two, three and three, four and four, and so on, in exactly sixty-four different ways, the last manner being in a single row of , . the merchant was careful to say that they were going over a common, and not to mention its size, for it certainly would not be possible along an ordinary road! to find how many different numbers will divide a given number, n, let n = _a_^p _b_^q _c_^r ..., where _a_, _b_, _c_ ... are prime numbers. then the number of divisors will be (_p_ + ) (_q_ + ) (_r_ + ) ..., which includes as divisors and n itself. thus in the case of my puzzle-- , = ^ Ã� ^ Ã� Ã� powers = therefore Ã� Ã� Ã� = divisors. to find the smallest number that has a given number of divisors we must proceed by trial. but it is important sometimes to note whether or not the condition is that there shall be a given number of divisors _and no more_. for example, the smallest number that has seven divisors and no more is , while has eight divisors, and might equally fulfil the conditions. the stipulation as to "no more" was not necessary in the case of my puzzle, for no smaller number has more than sixty-four divisors. .--_the man of law's puzzle._ the fewest possible moves for getting the prisoners into their dungeons in the required numerical order are twenty-six. the men move in the following order:-- , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . as there are never more than one vacant dungeon to be moved into, there can be no ambiguity in the notation. [illustration] the diagram may be simplified by my "buttons and string" method, fully explained in _a. in m._, p. . it then takes one of the simple forms of a or b, and the solution is much easier. in a we use counters; in b we can employ rooks on a corner of a chessboard. in both cases we have to get the order [illustration: { } { } { } ] in the fewest possible moves. see also solution to no. . .--_the weaver's puzzle._ the illustration shows clearly how the weaver cut his square of beautiful cloth into four pieces of exactly the same size and shape, so that each piece contained an embroidered lion and castle unmutilated in any way. [illustration] .--_the cook's puzzle._ there were four portions of warden pie and four portions of venison pasty to be distributed among eight out of eleven guests. but five out of the eleven will only eat the pie, four will only eat the pasty, and two are willing to eat of either. any possible combination must fall into one of the following groups. (i.) where the warden pie is distributed entirely among the five first mentioned; (ii.) where only one of the accommodating pair is given pie; (iii.) where the other of the pair is given pie; (iv.) where both of the pair are given pie. the numbers of combinations are: (i.) = , (ii.) = , (iii.) = , (iv.) = --making in all ways of selecting the eight participants. a great many people will give the answer as , by overlooking the fact that in forty cases in class (iii.) precisely the same eight guests would be sharing the meal as in class (ii.), though the accommodating pair would be eating differently of the two dishes. this is the point that upset the calculations of the company. .--_the sompnour's puzzle._ the number that the sompnour confided to the wife of bath was twenty-nine, and she was told to begin her count at the doctor of physic, who will be seen in the illustration standing the second on her right. the first count of twenty-nine falls on the shipman, who steps out of the ring. the second count falls on the doctor, who next steps out. the remaining three counts fall respectively on the cook, the sompnour, and the miller. the ladies would, therefore, have been left in possession had it not been for the unfortunate error of the good wife. any multiple of , added to would also have served the same purpose, beginning the count at the doctor. .--_the monk's puzzle._ the monk might have placed dogs in the kennels in two thousand nine hundred and twenty-six different ways, so that there should be ten dogs on every side. the number of dogs might vary from twenty to forty, and as long as the monk kept his animals within these limits the thing was always possible. the general solution to this puzzle is difficult. i find that for _n_ dogs on every side of the square, the number of different ways is (_n_^ + _n_^ + _n_^ + _n_ + ) / , where _n_ is odd, and ((_n_^ + _n_^ + _n_^ + _n_) / ) + , where _n_ is even, if we count only those arrangements that are fundamentally different. but if we count all reversals and reflections as different, as the monk himself did, then _n_ dogs (odd or even) may be placed in ((_n_^ + _n_^ + _n_^ + _n_) / ) + ways. in order that there may be _n_ dogs on every side, the number must not be less than _n_ nor greater than _n_, but it may be any number within these limits. an extension of the principle involved in this puzzle is given in no. , "the riddle of the pilgrims." see also "the eight villas" and "a dormitory puzzle" in _a. in m._ .--_the shipman's puzzle._ there are just two hundred and sixty-four different ways in which the ship _magdalen_ might have made her ten annual voyages without ever going over the same course twice in a year. every year she must necessarily end her tenth voyage at the island from which she first set out. [illustration] .--_the puzzle of the prioress._ the abbot of chertsey was quite correct. the curiously-shaped cross may be cut into four pieces that will fit together and form a perfect square. how this is done is shown in the illustration. see also p. in _a. in m._ .--_the puzzle of the doctor of physic._ here we have indeed a knotty problem. our text-books tell us that all spheres are similar, and that similar solids are as the cubes of corresponding lengths. therefore, as the circumferences of the two phials were one foot and two feet respectively and the cubes of one and two added together make nine, what we have to find is two other numbers whose cubes added together make nine. these numbers clearly must be fractional. now, this little question has really engaged the attention of learned men for two hundred and fifty years; but although peter de fermat showed in the seventeenth century how an answer may be found in two fractions with a denominator of no fewer than twenty-one figures, not only are all the published answers, by his method, that i have seen inaccurate, but nobody has ever published the much smaller result that i now print. the cubes of ( / ) and ( / ) added together make exactly nine, and therefore these fractions of a foot are the measurements of the circumferences of the two phials that the doctor required to contain the same quantity of liquid as those produced. an eminent actuary and another correspondent have taken the trouble to cube out these numbers, and they both find my result quite correct. if the phials were one foot and three feet in circumference respectively, then an answer would be that the cubes of ( / ) and ( / ) added together make exactly . see also no. , "the silver cubes." given a known case for the expression of a number as the sum or difference of two cubes, we can, by formula, derive from it an infinite number of other cases alternately positive and negative. thus fermat, starting from the known case ^{ } + ^{ } = (which we will call a fundamental case), first obtained a negative solution in bigger figures, and from this his positive solution in bigger figures still. but there is an infinite number of fundamentals, and i found by trial a negative fundamental solution in smaller figures than his derived negative solution, from which i obtained the result shown above. that is the simple explanation. we can say of any number up to whether it is possible or not to express it as the sum of two cubes, except . students should read the introduction to lucas's _théorie des nombres_, p. xxx. some years ago i published a solution for the case of = ( / )^ + ( / )^ , of which legendre gave at some length a "proof" of impossibility; but i have since found that lucas anticipated me in a communication to sylvester. [illustration] .--_the ploughman's puzzle._ the illustration shows how the sixteen trees might have been planted so as to form as many as fifteen straight rows with four trees in every row. this is in excess of what was for a long time believed to be the maximum number of rows possible; and though with our present knowledge i cannot rigorously demonstrate that fifteen rows cannot be beaten, i have a strong "pious opinion" that it is the highest number of rows obtainable. .--_the franklin's puzzle._ the answer to this puzzle is shown in the illustration, where the numbers on the sixteen bottles all add up to in the ten straight directions. the trick consists in the fact that, although the six bottles ( , , , , , and ) in which the flowers have been placed are not removed, yet the sixteen need not occupy exactly the same position on the table as before. the square is, in fact, formed one step further to the left. [illustration] .--_the squire's puzzle._ the portrait may be drawn in a single line because it contains only two points at which an odd number of lines meet, but it is absolutely necessary to begin at one of these points and end at the other. one point is near the outer extremity of the king's left eye; the other is below it on the left cheek. .--_the friar's puzzle._ the five hundred silver pennies might have been placed in the four bags, in accordance with the stated conditions, in exactly , different ways. if there had been a thousand coins there would be , , ways. it is a difficult problem in the partition of numbers. i have a single formula for the solution of any number of coins in the case of four bags, but it was extremely hard to construct, and the best method is to find the twelve separate formulas for the different congruences to the modulus . .--_the parson's puzzle._ [illustration] a very little examination of the original drawing will have shown the reader that, as he will have at first read the conditions, the puzzle is quite impossible of solution. we have therefore to look for some loophole in the actual conditions as they were worded. if the parson could get round the source of the river, he could then cross every bridge once and once only on his way to church, as shown in the annexed illustration. that this was not prohibited we shall soon find. though the plan showed all the bridges in his parish, it only showed "part of" the parish itself. it is not stated that the river did not take its rise in the parish, and since it leads to the only possible solution, we must assume that it did. the answer would be, therefore, as shown. it should be noted that we are clearly prevented from considering the possibility of getting round the mouth of the river, because we are told it "joined the sea some hundred miles to the south," while no parish ever extended a hundred miles! .--_the haberdasher's puzzle._ [illustration] the illustration will show how the triangular piece of cloth may be cut into four pieces that will fit together and form a perfect square. bisect ab in d and bc in e; produce the line ae to f making ef equal to eb; bisect af in g and describe the arc ahf; produce eb to h, and eh is the length of the side of the required square; from e with distance eh, describe the arc hj, and make jk equal to be; now, from the points d and k drop perpendiculars on ej at l and m. if you have done this accurately, you will now have the required directions for the cuts. [illustration] i exhibited this problem before the royal society, at burlington house, on th may , and also at the royal institution in the following month, in the more general form:--"a new problem on superposition: a demonstration that an equilateral triangle can be cut into four pieces that may be reassembled to form a square, with some examples of a general method for transforming all rectilinear triangles into squares by dissection." it was also issued as a challenge to the readers of the _daily mail_ (see issues of st and th february ), but though many hundreds of attempts were sent in there was not a single solver. credit, however, is due to mr. c. w. m'elroy, who alone sent me the correct solution when i first published the problem in the _weekly dispatch_ in . i add an illustration showing the puzzle in a rather curious practical form, as it was made in polished mahogany with brass hinges for use by certain audiences. it will be seen that the four pieces form a sort of chain, and that when they are closed up in one direction they form the triangle, and when closed in the other direction they form the square. .--_the dyer's puzzle._ the correct answer is , different ways. the general formula for six fleurs-de-lys for all squares greater than ^{ } is simply this: six times the square of the number of combinations of _n_ things, taken three at a time, where _n_ represents the number of fleurs-de-lys in the side of the square. of course where _n_ is even the remainders in rows and columns will be even, and where _n_ is odd the remainders will be odd. for further solution, see no. in _a. in m._ .--_the great dispute between the friar and the sompnour._ in this little problem we attempted to show how, by sophistical reasoning, it may apparently be proved that the diagonal of a square is of precisely the same length as two of the sides. the puzzle was to discover the fallacy, because it is a very obvious fallacy if we admit that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. but where does the error come in? well, it is perfectly true that so long as our zigzag path is formed of "steps" parallel to the sides of the square that path must be of the same length as the two sides. it does not matter if you have to use the most powerful microscope obtainable; the rule is always true if the path is made up of steps in that way. but the error lies in the assumption that such a zigzag path can ever become a straight line. you may go on increasing the number of steps infinitely--that is, there is no limit whatever theoretically to the number of steps that can be made--but you can never reach a straight line by such a method. in fact it is just as much a "jump" to a straight line if you have a billion steps as it is at the very outset to pass from the two sides to the diagonal. it would be just as absurd to say we might go on dropping marbles into a basket until they become sovereigns as to say we can increase the number of our steps until they become a straight line. there is the whole thing in a nutshell. .--_chaucer's puzzle._ the surface of water or other liquid is always spherical, and the greater any sphere is the less is its convexity. hence the top diameter of any vessel at the summit of a mountain will form the base of the segment of a greater sphere than it would at the bottom. this sphere, being greater, must (from what has been already said) be less convex; or, in other words, the spherical surface of the water must be less above the brim of the vessel, and consequently it will hold less at the top of a mountain than at the bottom. the reader is therefore free to select any mountain he likes in italy--or elsewhere! .--_the puzzle of the canon's yeoman._ the number of different ways is , . the general formula for such arrangements, when the number of letters in the sentence is _n_ + , and it is a palindrome without diagonal readings, is [ ( ^_n_ - )]^ . i think it will be well to give here a formula for the general solution of each of the four most common forms of the diamond-letter puzzle. by the word "line" i mean the complete diagonal. thus in a, b, c, and d, the lines respectively contain , , , and letters. a has a non-palindrome line (the word being boy), and the general solution for such cases, where the line contains _n_ + letters, is ( ^_n_ - ). where the line is a single palindrome, with its middle letter in the centre, as in b, the general formula is [ ( ^_n_ - )]^{ }. this is the form of the rat-catcher's puzzle, and therefore the expression that i have given above. in cases c and d we have double palindromes, but these two represent very different types. in c, where the line contains ^n- letters, the general expression is ^( ^{ _n_}- ). but d is by far the most difficult case of all. i had better here state that in the diamonds under consideration (i.) no diagonal readings are allowed--these have to be dealt with specially in cases where they are possible and admitted; (ii.) readings may start anywhere; (iii.) readings may go backwards and forwards, using letters more than once in a single reading, but not the same letter twice in immediate succession. this last condition will be understood if the reader glances at c, where it is impossible to go forwards and backwards in a reading without repeating the first o touched--a proceeding which i have said is not allowed. in the case d it is very different, and this is what accounts for its greater difficulty. the formula for d is this: [illustration: (_n_+ )Ã� ^{ _n_+ } + ( ^{_n_+ }Ã�( Ã� Ã� Ã� . . . . . ( n- )) / _n_) - ^{_n_+ } - ] where the number of letters in the line is _n_+ . in the example given there are therefore readings for _n_ = . see also nos. , , and in _a. in m._ [illustration a y yoy yoboy yoy y b l lel level lel l c n non nooon noonoon nooon non n d l lel level levevel levelevel levevel level lel l ] .--_the manciple's puzzle._ the simple ploughman, who was so ridiculed for his opinion, was perfectly correct: the miller should receive seven pieces of money, and the weaver only one. as all three ate equal shares of the bread, it should be evident that each ate / of a loaf. therefore, as the miller provided / and ate / , he contributed / to the manciple's meal; whereas the weaver provided / , ate / , and contributed only / . therefore, since they contributed to the manciple in the proportion of to , they must divide the eight pieces of money in the same proportion. puzzling times at solvamhall castle _sir hugh explains his problems_ the friends of sir hugh de fortibus were so perplexed over many of his strange puzzles that at a gathering of his kinsmen and retainers he undertook to explain his posers. [illustration] "of a truth," said he, "some of the riddles that i have put forth would greatly tax the wit of the unlettered knave to rede; yet will i try to show the manner thereof in such way that all may have understanding. for many there be who cannot of themselves do all these things, but will yet study them to their gain when they be given the answers, and will take pleasure therein." .--_the game of bandy-ball._ sir hugh explained, in answer to this puzzle, that as the nine holes were , , , , , , , , and yards apart, if a man could always strike the ball in a perfectly straight line and send it at will a distance of either yards or yards, he might go round the whole course in strokes. this is clearly correct, for if we call the stroke the "drive" and the stroke the "approach," he could play as follows:--the first hole could be reached in approaches, the second in drives, the third in approaches, the fourth in approaches and drive, the fifth in drives and backward approach, the sixth in drives and approach, the seventh in drive and approach, the eighth in drives, and the ninth hole in approaches. there are thus strokes in all, and the feat cannot be performed in fewer. .--_tilting at the ring._ [illustration] "by my halidame!" exclaimed sir hugh, "if some of yon varlets had been put in chains, which for their sins they do truly deserve, then would they well know, mayhap, that the length of any chain having like rings is equal to the inner width of a ring multiplied by the number of rings and added to twice the thickness of the iron whereof it is made. it may be shown that the inner width of the rings used in the tilting was one inch and two-thirds thereof, and the number of rings stephen malet did win was three, and those that fell to henry de gournay would be nine." the knight was quite correct, for - / in. Ã� + in. = in., and - / in. x + in. = in. thus de gournay beat malet by six rings. the drawing showing the rings may assist the reader in verifying the answer and help him to see why the inner width of a link multiplied by the number of links and added to twice the thickness of the iron gives the exact length. it will be noticed that every link put on the chain loses a length equal to twice the thickness of the iron. .--_the noble demoiselle._ [illustration] "some here have asked me," continued sir hugh, "how they may find the cell in the dungeon of the death's-head wherein the noble maiden was cast. beshrew me! but 'tis easy withal when you do but know how to do it. in attempting to pass through every door once, and never more, you must take heed that every cell hath two doors or four, which be even numbers, except two cells, which have but three. now, certes, you cannot go in and out of any place, passing through all the doors once and no more, if the number of doors be an odd number. but as there be but two such odd cells, yet may we, by beginning at the one and ending at the other, so make our journey in many ways with success. i pray you, albeit, to mark that only one of these odd cells lieth on the outside of the dungeon, so we must perforce start therefrom. marry, then, my masters, the noble demoiselle must needs have been wasting in the other." the drawing will make this quite clear to the reader. the two "odd cells" are indicated by the stars, and one of the many routes that will solve the puzzle is shown by the dotted line. it is perfectly certain that you must start at the lower star and end at the upper one; therefore the cell with the star situated over the left eye must be the one sought. .--_the archery butt._ [illustration] "it hath been said that the proof of a pudding is ever in the eating thereof, and by the teeth of saint george i know no better way of showing how this placing of the figures may be done than by the doing of it. therefore have i in suchwise written the numbers that they do add up to twenty and three in all the twelve lines of three that are upon the butt." i think it well here to supplement the solution of de fortibus with a few remarks of my own. the nineteen numbers may be so arranged that the lines will add up to any number we may choose to select from to inclusive, excepting . in some cases there are several different solutions, but in the case of there are only two. i give one of these. to obtain the second solution exchange respectively , , , , , in the illustration, with , , , , . also exchange with , and the other numbers may remain unmoved. in every instance there must be an even number in the central place, and any such number from to may occur. every solution has its complementary. thus, if for every number in the accompanying drawing we substitute the difference between it and , we get the solution in the case of . similarly, from the arrangement in the original drawing, we may at once obtain a solution for the case of . [illustration] .--_the donjon keep window._ in this case sir hugh had greatly perplexed his chief builder by demanding that he should make a window measuring one foot on every side and divided by bars into eight lights, having all their sides equal. the illustration will show how this was to be done. it will be seen that if each side of the window measures one foot, then each of the eight triangular lights is six inches on every side. "of a truth, master builder," said de fortibus slyly to the architect, "i did not tell thee that the window must be square, as it is most certain it never could be." .--_the crescent and the cross._ "by the toes of st. moden," exclaimed sir hugh de fortibus when this puzzle was brought up, "my poor wit hath never shaped a more cunning artifice or any more bewitching to look upon. it came to me as in a vision, and ofttimes have i marvelled at the thing, seeing its exceeding difficulty. my masters and kinsmen, it is done in this wise." [illustration] the worthy knight then pointed out that the crescent was of a particular and somewhat irregular form--the two distances _a_ to _b_ and _c_ to _d_ being straight lines, and the arcs _ac_ and _bd_ being precisely similar. he showed that if the cuts be made as in figure , the four pieces will fit together and form a perfect square, as shown in figure , if we there only regard the three curved lines. by now making the straight cuts also shown in figure , we get the ten pieces that fit together, as in figure , and form a perfectly symmetrical greek cross. the proportions of the crescent and the cross in the original illustration were correct, and the solution can be demonstrated to be absolutely exact and not merely approximate. i have a solution in considerably fewer pieces, but it is far more difficult to understand than the above method, in which the problem is simplified by introducing the intermediate square. .--_the amulet._ the puzzle was to place your pencil on the a at the top of the amulet and count in how many different ways you could trace out the word "abracadabra" downwards, always passing from a letter to an adjoining one. a b b r r r a a a a c c c c c a a a a a a d d d d d d d a a a a a a a a b b b b b b b b b r r r r r r r r r r a a a a a a a a a a a "now, mark ye, fine fellows," said sir hugh to some who had besought him to explain, "that at the very first start there be two ways open: whichever b ye select, there will be two several ways of proceeding (twice times two are four); whichever r ye select, there be two ways of going on (twice times four are eight); and so on until the end. each letter in order from a downwards may so be reached in , , , , , etc., ways. therefore, as there be ten lines or steps in all from a to the bottom, all ye need do is to multiply ten 's together, and truly the result, , is the answer thou dost seek." .--_the snail on the flagstaff._ though there was no need to take down and measure the staff, it is undoubtedly necessary to find its height before the answer can be given. it was well known among the friends and retainers of sir hugh de fortibus that he was exactly six feet in height. it will be seen in the original picture that sir hugh's height is just twice the length of his shadow. therefore we all know that the flagstaff will, at the same place and time of day, be also just twice as long as its shadow. the shadow of the staff is the same length as sir hugh's height; therefore this shadow is six feet long, and the flagstaff must be twelve feet high. now, the snail, by climbing up three feet in the daytime and slipping back two feet by night, really advances one foot in a day of twenty-four hours. at the end of nine days it is three feet from the top, so that it reaches its journey's end on the tenth day. the reader will doubtless here exclaim, "this is all very well; but how were we to know the height of sir hugh? it was never stated how tall he was!" no, it was not stated in so many words, but it was none the less clearly indicated to the reader who is sharp in these matters. in the original illustration to the donjon keep window sir hugh is shown standing against a wall, the window in which is stated to be one foot square on the inside. therefore, as his height will be found by measurement to be just six times the inside height of the window, he evidently stands just six feet in his boots! .--_lady isabel's casket._ the last puzzle was undoubtedly a hard nut, but perhaps difficulty does not make a good puzzle any the less interesting when we are shown the solution. the accompanying diagram indicates exactly how the top of lady isabel de fitzarnulph's casket was inlaid with square pieces of rare wood (no two squares alike) and the strip of gold inches by a quarter of an inch. this is the only possible solution, and it is a singular fact (though i cannot here show the subtle method of working) that the number, sizes, and order of those squares are determined by the given dimensions of the strip of gold, and the casket can have no other dimensions than inches square. the number in a square indicates the length in inches of the side of that square, so the accuracy of the answer can be checked almost at a glance. sir hugh de fortibus made some general concluding remarks on the occasion that are not altogether uninteresting to-day. [illustration] "friends and retainers," he said, "if the strange offspring of my poor wit about which we have held pleasant counsel to-night hath mayhap had some small interest for ye, let these matters serve to call to mind the lesson that our fleeting life is rounded and beset with enigmas. whence we came and whither we go be riddles, and albeit such as these we may never bring within our understanding, yet there be many others with which we and they that do come after us will ever strive for the answer. whether success do attend or do not attend our labour, it is well that we make the attempt; for 'tis truly good and honourable to train the mind, and the wit, and the fancy of man, for out of such doth issue all manner of good in ways unforeseen for them that do come after us." the merry monks of riddlewell .--_the riddle of the fish-pond._ number the fish baskets in the illustration from to in the direction that brother jonathan is seen to be going. starting from , proceed as follows, where " to " means, take the fish from basket no. and transfer it to basket no. :-- to , to , to , to , to , to , and complete the last revolution to , making three revolutions in all. or you can proceed this way:-- to , to , to , to , to , to . it is easy to solve in four revolutions, but the solutions in three are more difficult to discover. .--_the riddle of the pilgrims._ if it were not for the abbot's conditions that the number of guests in any room may not exceed three, and that every room must be occupied, it would have been possible to accommodate either , , , , , , or pilgrims. but to accommodate pilgrims so that there shall be twice as many sleeping on the upper floor as on the lower floor, and eleven persons on each side of the building, it will be found necessary to leave some of the rooms empty. if, on the other hand, we try to put up , , or pilgrims, we shall find that in every case we are obliged to place more than three persons in some of the rooms. thus we know that the number of pilgrims originally announced (whom, it will be remembered, it was possible to accommodate under the conditions of the abbot) must have been , and that, since three more than this number were actually provided with beds, the total number of pilgrims was . the accompanying diagram shows how they might be arranged, and if in each instance we regard the upper floor as placed above the lower one, it will be seen that there are eleven persons on each side of the building, and twice as many above as below. [illustration] .--_the riddle of the tiled hearth._ the correct answer is shown in the illustration on page . no tile is in line (either horizontally, vertically, or diagonally) with another tile of the same design, and only three plain tiles are used. if after placing the four lions you fall into the error of placing four other tiles of another pattern, instead of only three, you will be left with four places that must be occupied by plain tiles. the secret consists in placing four of one kind and only three of each of the others. [illustration] .--_the riddle of the sack of wine._ the question was: did brother benjamin take more wine from the bottle than water from the jug? or did he take more water from the jug than wine from the bottle? he did neither. the same quantity of wine was transferred from the bottle as water was taken from the jug. let us assume that the glass would hold a quarter of a pint. there was a pint of wine in the bottle and a pint of water in the jug. after the first manipulation the bottle contains three-quarters of a pint of wine, and the jug one pint of water mixed with a quarter of a pint of wine. now, the second transaction consists in taking away a fifth of the contents of the jug--that is, one-fifth of a pint of water mixed with one-fifth of a quarter of a pint of wine. we thus leave behind in the jug four-fifths of a quarter of a pint of wine--that is, one-fifth of a pint--while we transfer from the jug to the bottle an equal quantity (one-fifth of a pint) of water. .--_the riddle of the cellarer._ there were pints of wine in the cask, and on thirty occasions john the cellarer had stolen a pint and replaced it with a pint of water. after the first theft the wine left in the cask would be pints; after the second theft the wine in the cask would be / pints (the square of divided by ); after the third theft there would remain / (the cube of divided by the square of ); after the fourth theft there would remain the fourth power of divided by the cube of ; and after the thirtieth theft there would remain in the cask the thirtieth power of divided by the twenty-ninth power of . this by the ordinary method of calculation gives us a number composed of figures to be divided by a number composed of figures! but by the use of logarithms it may be quickly ascertained that the required quantity is very nearly - / pints of wine left in the cask. consequently the cellarer stole nearly . pints. the monks doubtless omitted the answer for the reason that they had no tables of logarithms, and did not care to face the task of making that long and tedious calculation in order to get the quantity "to a nicety," as the wily cellarer had stipulated. by a simplified process of calculation, i have ascertained that the exact quantity of wine stolen would be . pints. a man who would involve the monastery in a fraction of fifty-eight decimals deserved severe punishment. .--_the riddle of the crusaders._ the correct answer is that there would have been , crusaders, who could form themselves into a square by ; and after the stranger joined their ranks, they could form squares of , men--that is, by . or Ã� ^ - = ^ . this is a particular case of the so-called "pellian equation," respecting which see _a. in m._, p. . .--_the riddle of st. edmondsbury._ the reader is aware that there are prime numbers and composite whole numbers. now, , , cannot be a prime number, because if it were the only possible answers would be those proposed by brother benjamin and rejected by father peter. also it cannot have more than two factors, or the answer would be indeterminate. as a matter of fact, , , equals x (both primes), and since each cat killed more mice than there were cats, the answer must be cats. see also the introduction, p. . treated generally, this problem consists in finding the factors, if any, of numbers of the form ( ^_n_ - )/ . lucas, in his _l'arithmétique amusante_, gives a number of curious tables which he obtained from an arithmetical treatise, called the _talkhys_, by ibn albanna, an arabian mathematician and astronomer of the first half of the thirteenth century. in the paris national library are several manuscripts dealing with the _talkhys_, and a commentary by alkalaçadi, who died in . among the tables given by lucas is one giving all the factors of numbers of the above form up to _n_ = . it seems almost inconceivable that arabians of that date could find the factors where _n_ = , as given in my introduction. but i read lucas as stating that they are given in _talkhys_, though an eminent mathematician reads him differently, and suggests to me that they were discovered by lucas himself. this can, of course, be settled by an examination of _talkhys_, but this has not been possible during the war. the difficulty lies wholly with those cases where _n_ is a prime number. if _n_ = , we get the prime . the factors when _n_ = , , , and are respectively ( . ), ( . ), ( , . , ), and ( . . ). i have given in these pages the factors where _n_ = and . the factors when _n_= , , and are unknown, if there are any.[b] when _n_ = , the factors are ( , . , . , . , . , , , ); when _n_ = , one factor is , ; and when _n_ = , two factors are ( . , ). [b] mr. oscar hoppe, of new york, informs me that, after reading my statement in the introduction, he was led to investigate the case of _n_ = , and after long and tedious work he succeeded in proving the number to be a prime. he submitted his proof to the london mathematical society, and a specially appointed committee of that body accepted the proof as final and conclusive. he refers me to the _proceedings_ of the society for th february . as for the even values of _n_, the following curious series of factors will doubtless interest the reader. the numbers in brackets are primes. _n_ = = ( ) _n_ = = ( ) Ã� Ã� _n_ = = ( ) Ã� , Ã� ( , ) _n_ = = ( ) Ã� , , Ã� ( , ) _n_ = = ( ) Ã� , , Ã� , , or we may put the factors this way:-- _n_ = = ( ) _n_ = = Ã� , _n_ = = , Ã� , _n_ = = , , Ã� , , _n_ = = , , Ã� , , , in the above two tables _n_ is of the form _m_ + . when _n_ is of the form _m_ the factors may be written down as follows:-- _n_= = ( ) Ã� ( ) _n_ = = ( ) Ã� ( ) Ã� , _n_ = = ( ) Ã� ( ) Ã� , , _n_ = = ( ) Ã� ( ) Ã� , , , , . when _n_ = , we have the prime number ; when _n_ = , the factors are . ; when _n_ = , they are . . . . ; when _n_ = , they are ^ . . , . therefore we know that factors of _n_ = are . ^ . . . . , , while the remaining factor is composite and can be split into . . this will show how the working may be simplified when _n_ is not prime. .--_the riddle of the frogs' ring._ the fewest possible moves in which this puzzle can be solved are . i will give the complete solution. the black figures on white discs move in the directions of the hands of a clock, and the white figures on black discs the other way. the following are the numbers in the order in which they move. whether you have to make a simple move or a leaping move will be clear from the position, as you never can have an alternative. the moves enclosed in brackets are to be played five times over: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ( , , , , , ), , , , , , , ( , , , , , ), , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . we thus have made moves within the conditions, the black frogs have changed places with the white ones, and and are side by side in the positions stipulated. the general solution in the case of this puzzle is _n_^{ } + _n_ - moves, where the number of frogs of each colour is _n_. the law governing the sequence of moves is easily discovered by an examination of the simpler cases, where _n_ = , , and . if, instead of and changing places, the and must interchange, the expression is _n_^{ } + _n_ + moves. if we give _n_ the value , as in the example of the frogs' ring, the number of moves would be . for a general solution of the case where frogs of one colour reverse their order, leaving the blank space in the same position, and each frog is allowed to be moved in either direction (leaping, of course, over his own colour), see "the grasshopper puzzle" in _a. in m._, p. . the strange escape of the king's jester although the king's jester promised that he would "thereafter make the manner thereof plain to all," there is no record of his having ever done so. i will therefore submit to the reader my own views as to the probable solutions to the mysteries involved. .--_the mysterious rope._ when the jester "divided his rope in half," it does not follow that he cut it into two parts, each half the original length of the rope. no doubt he simply untwisted the strands, and so divided it into two ropes, each of the original length, but one-half the thickness. he would thus be able to tie the two together and make a rope nearly twice the original length, with which it is quite conceivable that he made good his escape from the dungeon. .--_the underground maze._ how did the jester find his way out of the maze in the dark? he had simply to grope his way to a wall and then keep on walking without once removing his left hand (or right hand) from the wall. starting from a, the dotted line will make the route clear when he goes to the left. if the reader tries the route to the right in the same way he will be equally successful; in fact, the two routes unite and cover every part of the walls of the maze except those two detached parts on the left-hand side--one piece like a u, and the other like a distorted e. this rule will apply to the majority of mazes and puzzle gardens; but if the centre were enclosed by an isolated wall in the form of a split ring, the jester would simply have gone round and round this ring. see the article, "mazes, and how to thread them," _in a. in m._ .--_the secret lock._ this puzzle entailed the finding of an english word of three letters, each letter being found on a different dial. now, there is no english word composed of consonants alone, and the only vowel appearing anywhere on the dials is y. no english word begins with y and has the two other letters consonants, and all the words of three letters ending in y (with two consonants) either begin with an s or have h, l, or r as their second letter. but these four consonants do not appear. therefore y must occur in the middle, and the only word that i can find is "pyx," and there can be little doubt that this was the word. at any rate, it solves our puzzle. .--_crossing the moat._ no doubt some of my readers will smile at the statement that a man in a boat on smooth water can pull himself across with the tiller rope! but it is a fact. if the jester had fastened the end of his rope to the stern of the boat and then, while standing in the bows, had given a series of violent jerks, the boat would have been propelled forward. this has often been put to a practical test, and it is said that a speed of two or three miles an hour may be attained. see w. w. rouse ball's _mathematical recreations_. .--_the royal gardens._ [illustration] this puzzle must have struck many readers as being absolutely impossible. the jester said: "i had, of a truth, entered every one of the sixteen gardens once, and never more than once." if we follow the route shown in the accompanying diagram, we find that there is no difficulty in once entering all the gardens but one before reaching the last garden containing the exit b. the difficulty is to get into the garden with a star, because if we leave the b garden we are compelled to enter it a second time before escaping, and no garden may be entered twice. the trick consists in the fact that you may enter that starred garden without necessarily leaving the other. if, when the jester got to the gateway where the dotted line makes a sharp bend, his intention had been to hide in the starred garden, but after he had put one foot through the doorway, upon the star, he discovered it was a false alarm and withdrew, he could truly say: "i entered the starred garden, because i put my foot and part of my body in it; and i did not enter the other garden twice, because, after once going in i never left it until i made my exit at b." this is the only answer possible, and it was doubtless that which the jester intended. see "the languishing maiden," in _a. in m._ .--_bridging the ditch._ [illustration] the solution to this puzzle is best explained by the illustration. if he had placed his eight planks, in the manner shown, across the angle of the ditch, he would have been able to cross without much trouble. the king's jester might thus have well overcome all his difficulties and got safely away, as he has told us that he succeeded in doing. the squire's christmas puzzle party _how the various tricks were done_ the record of one of squire davidge's annual "puzzle parties," made by the old gentleman's young lady relative, who had often spent a merry christmas at stoke courcy hall, does not contain the solutions of the mysteries. so i will give my own answers to the puzzles and try to make them as clear as possible to those who may be more or less novices in such matters. .--_the three teacups._ [illustration] miss charity lockyer clearly must have had a trick up her sleeve, and i think it highly probable that it was conceived on the following lines. she proposed that ten lumps of sugar should be placed in three teacups, so that there should be an odd number of lumps in every cup. the illustration perhaps shows miss charity's answer, and the figures on the cups indicate the number of lumps that have been separately placed in them. by placing the cup that holds one lump inside the one that holds two lumps, it can be correctly stated that every cup contains an odd number of lumps. one cup holds seven lumps, another holds one lump, while the third cup holds three lumps. it is evident that if a cup contains another cup it also contains the contents of that second cup. there are in all fifteen different solutions to this puzzle. here they are:-- the first two numbers in a triplet represent respectively the number of lumps to be placed in the inner and outer of the two cups that are placed one inside the other. it will be noted that the outer cup of the pair may itself be empty. .--_the eleven pennies._ it is rather evident that the trick in this puzzle was as follows:--from the eleven coins take five; then add four (to those already taken away) and you leave nine--in the second heap of those removed! .--_the christmas geese._ farmer rouse sent exactly geese to market. jabez first sold mr. jasper tyler half of the flock and half a goose over (that is, - / + / , or geese, leaving ); he then sold farmer avent a third of what remained and a third of a goose over (that is, - / + / , or geese, leaving ); he then sold widow foster a quarter of what remained and three-quarters of a goose over (that is, - / + / or geese, leaving ); he next sold ned collier a fifth of what he had left and gave him a fifth of a goose "for the missus" (that is, - / + / or geese, leaving ). he then took these back to his master. .--_the chalked numbers._ this little jest on the part of major trenchard is another trick puzzle, and the face of the roguish boy on the extreme right, with the figure on his back, showed clearly that he was in the secret, whatever that secret might be. i have no doubt (bearing in mind the major's hint as to the numbers being "properly regarded") that his answer was that depicted in the illustration, where boy no. stands on his head and so converts his number into . this makes the total --an even number--and by making boys and change places with and , we get and , the figures of which, in each case, add up to . there are just three other ways in which the boys may be grouped: -- , -- , and -- . .--_tasting the plum puddings._ the diagram will show how this puzzle is to be solved. it is the only way within the conditions laid down. starting at the pudding with holly at the top left-hand corner, we strike out all the puddings in twenty-one straight strokes, taste the steaming hot pudding at the end of the tenth stroke, and end at the second sprig of holly. here we have an example of a chess rook's path that is not re-entrant, but between two squares that are at the greatest possible distance from one another. for if it were desired to move, under the condition of visiting every square once and once only, from one corner square to the other corner square on the same diagonal, the feat is impossible. there are a good many different routes for passing from one sprig of holly to the other in the smallest possible number of moves--twenty-one--but i have not counted them. i have recorded fourteen of these, and possibly there are more. any one of these would serve our purpose, except for the condition that the tenth stroke shall end at the steaming hot pudding. this was introduced to stop a plurality of solutions--called by the maker of chess problems "cooks." i am not aware of more than one solution to this puzzle; but as i may not have recorded all the tours, i cannot make a positive statement on the point at the time of writing. [illustration] .--_under the mistletoe bough._ everybody was found to have kissed everybody else once under the mistletoe, with the following additions and exceptions: no male kissed a male; no man kissed a married woman except his own wife; all the bachelors and boys kissed all the maidens and girls twice; the widower did not kiss anybody, and the widows did not kiss each other. every kiss was returned, and the double performance was to count as one kiss. in making a list of the company, we can leave out the widower altogether, because he took no part in the osculatory exercise. married couples widows bachelors and boys maidens and girls total persons now, if every one of these persons kissed everybody else once, the number of kisses would be ; and if the bachelors and boys each kissed the maidens and girls once again, we must add , making a total of kisses. but as no married man kissed a married woman other than his own wife, we must deduct kisses; as no male kissed another male, we must deduct kisses; and as no widow kissed another widow, we must deduct kisses. we have, therefore, to deduct + + = kisses from the above total of , and the result, , represents exactly the number of kisses that were actually given under the mistletoe bough. .--_the silver cubes._ there is no limit to the number of different dimensions that will give two cubes whose sum shall be exactly seventeen cubic inches. here is the answer in the smallest possible numbers. one of the silver cubes must measure - / inches along each edge, and the other must measure / inch. if the reader likes to undertake the task of cubing each number (that is, multiply each number twice by itself), he will find that when added together the contents exactly equal seventeen cubic inches. see also no. , "the puzzle of the doctor of physic." the adventures of the puzzle club .--_the ambiguous photograph._ one by one the members of the club succeeded in discovering the key to the mystery of the ambiguous photograph, except churton, who was at length persuaded to "give it up." herbert baynes then pointed out to him that the coat that lord marksford was carrying over his arm was a lady's coat, because the buttons are on the left side, whereas a man's coat always has the buttons on the right-hand side. lord marksford would not be likely to walk about the streets of paris with a lady's coat over his arm unless he was accompanying the owner. he was therefore walking with the lady. as they were talking a waiter brought a telegram to baynes. "here you are," he said, after reading the message. "a wire from dovey: 'don't bother about photo. find lady was the gentleman's sister, passing through paris.' that settles it. you might notice that the lady was lightly clad, and therefore the coat might well be hers. but it is clear that the rain was only a sudden shower, and no doubt they were close to their destination, and she did not think it worth while to put the coat on." .--_the cornish cliff mystery._ melville's explanation of the cornish cliff mystery was very simple when he gave it. yet it was an ingenious trick that the two criminals adopted, and it would have completely succeeded had not our friends from the puzzle club accidentally appeared on the scene. this is what happened: when lamson and marsh reached the stile, marsh alone walked to the top of the cliff, with lamson's larger boots in his hands. arrived at the edge of the cliff, he changed the boots and walked backwards to the stile, carrying his own boots. this little manoeuvre accounts for the smaller footprints showing a deeper impression at the heel, and the larger prints a deeper impression at the toe; for a man will walk more heavily on his heels when going forward, but will make a deeper impression with the toes in walking backwards. it will also account for the fact that the large footprints were sometimes impressed over the smaller ones, but never the reverse; also for the circumstance that the larger footprints showed a shorter stride, for a man will necessarily take a smaller stride when walking backwards. the pocket-book was intentionally dropped, to lead the police to discover the footprints, and so be put on the wrong scent. .--_the runaway motor-car._ russell found that there are just twelve five-figure numbers that have the peculiarity that the first two figures multiplied by the last three--all the figures being different, and there being no --will produce a number with exactly the same five figures, in a different order. but only one of these twelve begins with a --namely, . now, if we multiply by , the result is , which contains the same five figures. the number of the motor-car was therefore . here are the other eleven numbers:-- , , , , , , , , , , and . compare with the problems in "digital puzzles," section of _a. in m._, and with nos. and in these pages. .--_the mystery of ravensdene park._ the diagrams show that there are two different ways in which the routes of the various persons involved in the ravensdene mystery may be traced, without any path ever crossing another. it depends whether the butler, e, went to the north or the south of the gamekeeper's cottage, and the gamekeeper, a, went to the south or the north of the hall. but it will be found that the only persons who could have approached mr. cyril hastings without crossing a path were the butler, e, and the man, c. it was, however, a fact that the butler retired to bed five minutes before midnight, whereas mr. hastings did not leave his friend's house until midnight. therefore the criminal must have been the man who entered the park at c. [illustration] .--_the buried treasure._ the field must have contained between and acres--to be more exact, . acres. had the measurements been , , and furlongs respectively from successive corners, then the field would have been . acres in area. one method of solving this problem is as follows. find the area of triangle apb in terms of _x_, the side of the square. double the result=_xy_. divide by _x_ and then square, and we have the value of _y_^{ } in terms of _x_. similarly find value of _z_^{ } in terms of _x_; then solve the equation _y_^{ }+_z_^{ }= ^{ }, which will come out in the form _x_^{ }- _x_^{ }=- . therefore _x_^{ }= +(sqrt{ })= . square furlongs, very nearly, and as there are ten acres in one square furlong, this equals . acres. if we take the negative root of the equation, we get the area of the field as . acres, in which case the treasure would have been buried outside the field, as in diagram . but this solution is excluded by the condition that the treasure was buried in the field. the words were, "the document ... states clearly that the field is square, and that the treasure is buried in it." [illustration] the professor's puzzles .--_the coinage puzzle._ the point of this puzzle turns on the fact that if the magic square were to be composed of whole numbers adding up in all ways, the two must be placed in one of the corners. otherwise fractions must be used, and these are supplied in the puzzle by the employment of sixpences and half-crowns. i give the arrangement requiring the fewest possible current english coins--fifteen. it will be seen that the amount in each corner is a fractional one, the sum required in the total being a whole number of shillings. [illustration] .--_the postage stamps puzzles._ the first of these puzzles is based on a similar principle, though it is really much easier, because the condition that nine of the stamps must be of different values makes their selection a simple matter, though how they are to be placed requires a little thought or trial until one knows the rule respecting putting the fractions in the corners. i give the solution. [illustration: [ / d] [ - / d] [ d] [ d] [ d] [ d] [ d] [ - / d] [ d] [ - / d] ] [illustration: [ d] [ / d] [ d] [ - / d] [ d] [ d] [ d] [ d] [ d] [ s.] [ d] ] i also show the solution to the second stamp puzzle. all the columns, rows, and diagonals add up _s._ _d._ there is no stamp on one square, and the conditions did not forbid this omission. the stamps at present in circulation are these:-- / _d._, _d._, - / _d._, _d._, - / _d._, _d._, _d._, _d._, _d._, _d._, _d._, _s._, _s._ _d._, _s._, _s._, £ , and £ . in the first solution the numbers are in arithmetical progression-- , - / , , - / , , - / , , - / , . but any nine numbers will form a magic square if we can write them thus:-- where the horizontal differences are all alike and the vertical differences all alike, but not necessarily the same as the horizontal. this happens in the case of the second solution, the numbers of which may be written:-- also in the case of the solution to no. , the coinage puzzle, the numbers are, in shillings:-- - / - / - / - / if there are to be nine _different_ numbers, may occur once (as in the solution to no. ). yet one might construct squares with negative numbers, as follows:-- - - .--_the frogs and tumblers._ it is perfectly true, as the professor said, that there is only one solution (not counting a reversal) to this puzzle. the frogs that jump are george in the third horizontal row; chang, the artful-looking batrachian at the end of the fourth row; and wilhelmina, the fair creature in the seventh row. george jumps downwards to the second tumbler in the seventh row; chang, who can only leap short distances in consequence of chronic rheumatism, removes somewhat unwillingly to the glass just above him--the eighth in the third row; while wilhelmina, with all the sprightliness of her youth and sex, performs the very creditable saltatory feat of leaping to the fourth tumbler in the fourth row. in their new positions, as shown in the accompanying diagram, it will be found that of the eight frogs no two are in line vertically, horizontally, or diagonally. [illustration] .--_romeo and juliet._ this is rather a difficult puzzle, though, as the professor remarked when hawkhurst hit on the solution, it is "just one of those puzzles that a person might solve at a glance" by pure luck. yet when the solution, with its pretty, symmetrical arrangement, is seen, it looks ridiculously simple. it will be found that romeo reaches juliet's balcony after visiting every house once and only once, and making fourteen turnings, not counting the turn he makes at starting. these are the fewest turnings possible, and the problem can only be solved by the route shown or its reversal. [illustration] .--_romeo's second journey._ [illustration] in order to take his trip through all the white squares only with the fewest possible turnings, romeo would do well to adopt the route i have shown, by means of which only sixteen turnings are required to perform the feat. the professor informs me that the helix aspersa, or common or garden snail, has a peculiar aversion to making turnings--so much so that one specimen with which he made experiments went off in a straight line one night and has never come back since. .--_the frogs who would a-wooing go._ this is one of those puzzles in which a plurality of solutions is practically unavoidable. there are two or three positions into which four frogs may jump so as to form five rows with four in each row, but the case i have given is the most satisfactory arrangement. [illustration] the frogs that have jumped have left their astral bodies behind, in order to show the reader the positions which they originally occupied. chang, the frog in the middle of the upper row, suffering from rheumatism, as explained above in the frogs and tumblers solution, makes the shortest jump of all--a little distance between the two rows; george and wilhelmina leap from the ends of the lower row to some distance n. by n.w. and n. by n.e. respectively; while the frog in the middle of the lower row, whose name the professor forgot to state, goes direct s. .--_the game of kayles._ to win at this game you must, sooner or later, leave your opponent an even number of similar groups. then whatever he does in one group you repeat in a similar group. suppose, for example, that you leave him these groups: o.o.ooo.ooo. now, if he knocks down a single, you knock down a single; if he knocks down two in one triplet, you knock down two in the other triplet; if he knocks down the central kayle in a triplet, you knock down the central one in the other triplet. in this way you must eventually win. as the game is started with the arrangement o.ooooooooooo, the first player can always win, but only by knocking down the sixth or tenth kayle (counting the one already fallen as the second), and this leaves in either case o.ooo.ooooooo, as the order of the groups is of no importance. whatever the second player now does, this can always be resolved into an even number of equal groups. let us suppose that he knocks down the single one; then we play to leave him oo.ooooooo. now, whatever he does we can afterwards leave him either ooo.ooo or o.oo.ooo. we know why the former wins, and the latter wins also; because, however he may play, we can always leave him either o.o, or o.o.o.o, or oo.oo, as the case may be. the complete analysis i can now leave for the amusement of the reader. .--_the broken chessboard._ the illustration will show how the thirteen pieces can be put together so as to construct the perfect board, and the reverse problem of cutting these particular pieces out will be found equally entertaining. [illustration] compare with nos. and in _a. in m._ .--_the spider and the fly._ though this problem was much discussed in the _daily mail_ from th january to th february , when it appeared to create great public interest, it was actually first propounded by me in the _weekly dispatch_ of th june . imagine the room to be a cardboard box. then the box may be cut in various different ways, so that the cardboard may be laid flat on the table. i show four of these ways, and indicate in every case the relative positions of the spider and the fly, and the straightened course which the spider must take without going off the cardboard. these are the four most favourable cases, and it will be found that the shortest route is in no. , for it is only feet in length (add the square of to the square of and extract the square root). it will be seen that the spider actually passes along five of the six sides of the room! having marked the route, fold the box up (removing the side the spider does not use), and the appearance of the shortest course is rather surprising. if the spider had taken what most persons will consider obviously the shortest route (that shown in no. ), he would have gone feet! route no. is . feet in length, and route no. is . feet. [illustration] i will leave the reader to discover which are the shortest routes when the spider and the fly are , , , , and feet from the ceiling and the floor respectively. .--_the perplexed cellarman._ brother john gave the first man three large bottles and one small bottleful of wine, and one large and three small empty bottles. to each of the other two men he gave two large and three small bottles of wine, and two large and one small empty bottle. each of the three then receives the same quantity of wine, and the same number of each size of bottle. .--_making a flag._ the diagram shows how the piece of bunting is to be cut into two pieces. lower the piece on the right one "tooth," and they will form a perfect square, with the roses symmetrically placed. [illustration] it will be found interesting to compare this with no. in _a. in m._ .--_catching the hogs._ a very short examination of this puzzle game should convince the reader that hendrick can never catch the black hog, and that the white hog can never be caught by katrün. each hog merely runs in and out of one of the nearest corners and can never be captured. the fact is, curious as it must at first sight appear, a dutchman cannot catch a black hog, and a dutchwoman can never capture a white one! but each can, without difficulty, catch one of the other colour. so if the first player just determines that he will send hendrick after the white porker and katrün after the black one, he will have no difficulty whatever in securing both in a very few moves. it is, in fact, so easy that there is no necessity whatever to give the line of play. we thus, by means of the game, solve the puzzle in real life, why the dutchman and his wife could not catch their pigs: in their simplicity and ignorance of the peculiarities of dutch hogs, each went after the wrong animal. the little principle involved in this puzzle is that known to chess-players as "getting the opposition." the rule, in the case of my puzzle (where the moves resemble rook moves in chess, with the added condition that the rook may only move to an adjoining square), is simply this. where the number of squares on the same row, between the man or woman and the hog, is odd, the hog can never be captured; where the number of squares is even, a capture is possible. the number of squares between hendrick and the black hog, and between katrün and the white hog, is (an odd number), therefore these individuals cannot catch the animals they are facing. but the number between hendrick and the white hog, and between katrün and the black one, is (an even number), therefore they may easily capture those behind them. .--_the thirty-one game._ by leading with a the first player can always win. if your opponent plays another , you play a and score . then as often as he plays a you play a , and if at any stage he drops out of the series, , , , , , you step in and win. if after your lead of he plays anything but another , you make or and win. the first player may also win by leading a or a , but the play is complicated. it is, however, well worth the reader's study. .--_the chinese railways._ this puzzle was artfully devised by the yellow man. it is not a matter for wonder that the representatives of the five countries interested were bewildered. it would have puzzled the engineers a good deal to construct those circuitous routes so that the various trains might run with safety. diagram shows directions for the five systems of lines, so that no line shall ever cross another, and this appears to be the method that would require the shortest possible mileage. [illustration] the reader may wish to know how many different solutions there are to the puzzle. to this i should answer that the number is indeterminate, and i will explain why. if we simply consider the case of line a alone, then one route would be diagram , another , another , and another . if is different from , as it undoubtedly is, then we must regard as different from . but a glance at the four diagrams, , , , , in succession will show that we may continue this "winding up" process for ever; and as there will always be an unobstructed way (however long and circuitous) from stations b and e to their respective main lines, it is evident that the number of routes for line a alone is infinite. therefore the number of complete solutions must also be infinite, if railway lines, like other lines, have no breadth; and indeterminate, unless we are told the greatest number of parallel lines that it is possible to construct in certain places. if some clear condition, restricting these "windings up," were given, there would be no great difficulty in giving the number of solutions. with any reasonable limitation of the kind, the number would, i calculate, be little short of two thousand, surprising though it may appear. .--_the eight clowns._ this is a little novelty in magic squares. these squares may be formed with numbers that are in arithmetical progression, or that are not in such progression. if a square be formed of the former class, one place may be left vacant, but only under particular conditions. in the case of our puzzle there would be no difficulty in making the magic square with missing; but with missing (that is, using , , , , , , , and ) it is not possible. but a glance at the original illustration will show that the numbers we have to deal with are not actually those just mentioned. the clown that has a on his body is portrayed just at the moment when two balls which he is juggling are in mid-air. the positions of these balls clearly convert his figure into the recurring decimal .[. ]. now, since the recurring decimal .[. ] is equal to / , and therefore to , it is evident that, although the clown who bears the figure is absent, the man who bears the figure by this simple artifice has for the occasion given his _figure_ the value of the _number_ . the troupe can consequently be grouped in the following manner:-- .[. ] every column, every row, and each of the two diagonals now add up to . this is the correct solution to the puzzle. .--_the wizard's arithmetic._ this puzzle is both easy and difficult, for it is a very simple matter to find one of the multipliers, which is . if we multiply by , all we need do is to place the in front and the behind in order to get the correct answer, . but the second number is not to be found by mere trial. it is , and the number to be multiplied is no less than . if you want to multiply this by , all you have to do is to place another at the beginning and another at the end--a considerable saving of labour! these two, and the example shown by the wizard, are the only two-figure multipliers, but the number to be multiplied may always be increased. thus, if you prefix to the number , repeated any number of times, the result may always be multiplied by in the wizard's peculiar manner. if we add the figures of any number together and then, if necessary, again add, we at last get a single-figure number. this i call the "digital root." thus, the digital root of is , and of it is . this digital analysis is extensively dealt with in _a. in m._ now, it is evident that the digital roots of the two numbers required by the puzzle must produce the same root in sum and product. this can only happen when the roots of the two numbers are and , or and , or and , or and . therefore the two-figure multiplier must have a digital root of , , , , , or . there are ten such numbers in each case. i write out all the sixty, then i strike out all those numbers where the second figure is higher than the first, and where the two figures are alike (thirty-six numbers in all); also all remaining numbers where the first figure is odd and the second figure even (seven numbers); also all multiples of (three more numbers). the numbers and i reject on inspection, for reasons that i will not enter into. i then have left, out of the original sixty, only the following twelve numbers: , , , , , , , , , , , and . these are the only possible multipliers that i have really to examine. my process is now as curious as it is simple in working. first trying , i deduct and call it . adding 's to the second figure, i say if , etc., ever has a remainder when divided by , the dividend will be the required multiplier for . i get the in this way. the only multiplier of that produces an in the digits place is . i therefore multiply by and get , or after rejecting the . now, , divided by leaves the remainder , and the dividend is , . to this add the mentioned above and get , x , the example given on page . in trying the even numbers there are two cases to be considered. thus, taking , we may say that if , etc., when divided by leaves either or (because Ã� and Ã� both produce ), we get a solution. but i reject the former on inspection, and see that divided by is , leaving a remainder . therefore x = , the other example. it will be found in the case of that , etc., divided by gives a remainder , ( Ã� = ) after producing the long dividend at the beginning of this article, with the added. the other multipliers fail to produce a solution, so , , and are the only three possible multipliers. those who are familiar with the principle of recurring decimals (as somewhat explained in my next note on no. , "the ribbon problem") will understand the conditions under which the remainders repeat themselves after certain periods, and will only find it necessary in two or three cases to make any lengthy divisions. it clearly follows that there is an unlimited number of multiplicands for each multiplier. .--_the ribbon problem._ the solution is as follows: place this rather lengthy number on the ribbon, . it may be multiplied by any number up to inclusive to give the same order of figures in the ring. the number previously given can be multiplied by any number up to . i made the limit in order to put readers off the scent. the fact is these two numbers are simply the recurring decimals that equal / and / respectively. multiply the one by seventeen and the other by forty-seven, and you will get all nines in each case. in transforming a vulgar fraction, say / , to a decimal fraction, we proceed as below, adding as many noughts to the dividend as we like until there is no remainder, or until we get a recurring series of figures, or until we have carried it as far as we require, since every additional figure in a never-ending decimal carries us nearer and nearer to exactitude. ) (. ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- now, since all powers of can only contain factors of the powers of and , it clearly follows that your decimal never will come to an end if any other factor than these occurs in the denominator of your vulgar fraction. thus, / , / , and / give us the exact decimals, . , . , and . ; / and / give us . and . ; / and / give us . and . : because the denominators are all composed of and factors. but if you wish to convert / , / , or / , your division sum will never end, but you will get these decimals, . , etc., . , etc., and . , etc., where, in the first case, the keeps on repeating for ever and ever; in the second case the is the repeater, and in the last case we get the recurring period of . in the case of / (in "the ribbon problem") we find the circulating period to be . . now, in the division sum above, the successive remainders are , , , , , , , etc., and these numbers i have inserted around the inner ring of the diagram. it will be seen that every number from to occurs once, and that if we multiply our ribbon number by any one of the numbers in the inner ring its position indicates exactly the point at which the product will begin. thus, if we multiply by , the product will be , etc.; if we multiply by , , etc. we can therefore multiply by any number from to and get the desired result. [illustration] the kernel of the puzzle is this: any prime number, with the exception of and , which are the factors of , will exactly divide without remainder a number consisting of as many nines as the number itself, less one. thus (six 's) is divisible by , sixteen 's are divisible by , eighteen 's by , and so on. this is always the case, though frequently fewer 's will suffice; for one is divisible by , two by , six by , when our ribbon rule for consecutive multipliers breaks down and another law comes in. therefore, since the and at the ends of the ribbon may not be removed, we must seek a fraction with a prime denominator ending in that gives a full period circulator. we try , and find that it gives a short period decimal, . , because exactly divides ; it, therefore, will not do. we next examine , and find that it gives us the full period circulator, in figures, at the beginning of this article. if you cut any of these full period circulators in half and place one half under the other, you will find that they will add up all 's; so you need only work out one half and then write down the complements. thus, in the ribbon above, if you add to the result is , and so with our long solution number. note also in the diagram above that not only are the opposite numbers on the outer ring complementary, always making when added, but that opposite numbers in the inner ring, our remainders, are also complementary, adding to in every case. i ought perhaps to point out that in limiting our multipliers to the first nine numbers it seems just possible that a short period circulator might give a solution in fewer figures, but there are reasons for thinking it improbable. .--_the japanese ladies and the carpet._ if the squares had not to be all the same size, the carpet could be cut in four pieces in any one of the three manners shown. in each case the two pieces marked a will fit together and form one of the three squares, the other two squares being entire. but in order to have the squares exactly equal in size, we shall require six pieces, as shown in the larger diagram. no. is a complete square, pieces and will form a second square, and pieces , , and will form the third--all of exactly the same size. [illustration] [illustration] if with the three equal squares we form the rectangle idba, then the mean proportional of the two sides of the rectangle will be the side of a square of equal area. produce ab to c, making bc equal to bd. then place the point of the compasses at e (midway between a and c) and describe the arc ac. i am showing the quite general method for converting rectangles to squares, but in this particular case we may, of course, at once place our compasses at e, which requires no finding. produce the line bd, cutting the arc in f, and bf will be the required side of the square. now mark off ag and dh, each equal to bf, and make the cut ig, and also the cut hk from h, perpendicular to id. the six pieces produced are numbered as in the diagram on last page. it will be seen that i have here given the reverse method first: to cut the three small squares into six pieces to form a large square. in the case of our puzzle we can proceed as follows:-- make lm equal to half the diagonal on. draw the line nm and drop from l a perpendicular on nm. then lp will be the side of all the three squares of combined area equal to the large square qnlo. the reader can now cut out without difficulty the six pieces, as shown in the numbered square on the last page. [illustration] .--_captain longbow and the bears._ [illustration] it might have struck the reader that the story of the bear impaled on the north pole had no connection with the problem that followed. as a matter of fact it is essential to a solution. eleven bears cannot possibly be arranged to form of themselves seven rows of bears with four bears in every row. but it is a different matter when captain longbow informs us that "they had so placed themselves that _there were_" seven rows of four bears. for if they were grouped as shown in the diagram, so that three of the bears, as indicated, were in line with the north pole, that impaled animal would complete the seventh row of four, which cannot be obtained in any other way. it obviously does not affect the problem whether this seventh row is a hundred miles long or a hundred feet, so long as they were really in a straight line--a point that might perhaps be settled by the captain's pocket compass. .--_the english tour._ it was required to show how a resident at the town marked a might visit every one of the towns once, and only once, and finish up his tour at z. this puzzle conceals a little trick. after the solver has demonstrated to his satisfaction that it cannot be done in accordance with the conditions as he at first understood them, he should carefully examine the wording in order to find some flaw. it was said, "this would be easy enough if he were able to cut across country by road, as well as by rail, but he is not." [illustration] now, although he is prohibited from cutting across country by road, nothing is said about his going by sea! if, therefore, we carefully look again at the map, we shall find that two towns, and two only, lie on the sea coast. when he reaches one of these towns he takes his departure on board a coasting vessel and sails to the other port. the annexed illustration shows, by a dark line, the complete route. this problem should be compared with no. , "the grand tour," in _a. in m._ it can be simplified in practically an identical manner, but as there is here no choice on the first stage from a, the solutions are necessarily quite different. see also solution to no. . .--_the chifu-chemulpo puzzle._ the solution is as follows. you may accept the invitation to "try to do it in twenty moves," but you will never succeed in performing the feat. the fewest possible moves are twenty-six. play the cars so as to reach the following positions:-- e -------- = moves. e -------- = moves. -------- = moves. e e -------- = moves. twenty-six moves in all. .--_the eccentric market-woman._ the smallest possible number of eggs that mrs. covey could have taken to market is . after selling half the number and giving half an egg over she would have left; after the second transaction she would have left; after the third deal, ; and after the fourth, . this last number she could divide equally among her thirteen friends, giving each , and she would not have broken an egg. .--_the primrose puzzle._ the two words that solve this puzzle are bluebell and peartree. place the letters as follows: b - , l - , u - , e - , b - , e - , l - , l - . this means that you take b, jump from to , and write it down on ; and so on. the second word can be inserted in the same order. the solution depends on finding those words in which the second and eighth letters are the same, and also the fourth and sixth the same, because these letters interchange without destroying the words. maritima (or sea-pink) would also solve the puzzle if it were an english word. compare with no. in _a. in m._ .--_the round table._ here is the way of arranging the seven men:-- a b c d e f g a c d b g e f a d b c f g e a g b f e c d a f c e g d b a e d g f b c a c e b g f d a d g c f e b a b f d e g c a e f d c g b a g e b d f c a f g c b e d a e b f c d g a g c e d b f a f d g b c e of course, at a circular table, a will be next to the man at the end of the line. i first gave this problem for six persons on ten days, in the _daily mail_ for the th and th october , and it has since been discussed in various periodicals by mathematicians. of course, it is easily seen that the maximum number of sittings for _n_ persons is (_n_ - )(_n_ - )/ ways. the comparatively easy method for solving all cases where _n_ is a prime+ was first discovered by ernest bergholt. i then pointed out the form and construction of a solution that i had obtained for persons, from which e. d. bewley found a general method for all even numbers. the odd numbers, however, are extremely difficult, and for a long time no progress could be made with their solution, the only numbers that could be worked being (given above) and , , , and , these last four being all powers of + . at last, however (though not without much difficulty), i discovered a subtle method for solving all cases, and have written out schedules for every number up to inclusive. the case of has been solved also by w. nash. perhaps the reader will like to try his hand at . he will find it an extraordinarily hard nut. the solutions for all cases up to inclusive are given in _a. in m._, pp. , . .--_the five tea tins._ there are twelve ways of arranging the boxes without considering the pictures. if the thirty pictures were all different the answer would be , . but the necessary deductions for cases where changes of boxes may be made without affecting the order of pictures amount to , , and the boxes may therefore be arranged, in accordance with the conditions, in , different ways. i will leave my readers to discover for themselves how the figures are to be arrived at. .--_the four porkers._ the number of ways in which the four pigs may be placed in the thirty-six sties in accordance with the conditions is seventeen, including the example that i gave, not counting the reversals and reflections of these arrangements as different. jaenisch, in his _analyse mathématique au jeu des Ã�checs_ ( ), quotes the statement that there are just twenty-one solutions to the little problem on which this puzzle is based. as i had myself only recorded seventeen, i examined the matter again, and found that he was in error, and, doubtless, had mistaken reversals for different arrangements. here are the seventeen answers. the figures indicate the rows, and their positions show the columns. thus, means that we place a pig in the first row of the _first_ column, in no row of the _second_ column, in the fourth row of the _third_ column, in the sixth row of the _fourth_ column, in no row of the _fifth_ column, and in the third row of the _sixth_ column. the arrangement e is that which i gave in diagram form:-- a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h. i. j. k. l. m. n. o. p. q. it will be found that forms n and q are semi-symmetrical with regard to the centre, and therefore give only two arrangements each by reversal and reflection; that form h is quarter-symmetrical, and gives only four arrangements; while all the fourteen others yield by reversal and reflection eight arrangements each. therefore the pigs may be placed in ( Ã� ) + ( Ã� ) + ( Ã� ) = different ways by reversing and reflecting all the seventeen forms. three pigs alone may be placed so that every sty is in line with a pig, provided that the pigs are not forbidden to be in line with one another; but there is only one way of doing it (if we do not count reversals as different), as follows: . .--_the number blocks._ arrange the blocks so as to form the two multiplication sums Ã� and Ã� , and the product in both cases will be the same: , . .--_foxes and geese._ the smallest possible number of moves is twenty-two--that is, eleven for the foxes and eleven for the geese. here is one way of solving the puzzle: -- -- -- -- -- -- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- -- -- -- -- -- of course, the reader will play the first move in the top line, then the first move in the second line, then the second move in the top line, and so on alternately. [illustration] in _a. in m._, p. , i have explained fully my "buttons and string" method of solving puzzles on chequered boards. in diagram a is shown the puzzle in the form in which it may be presented on a portion of the chessboard with six knights. a comparison with the illustration on page will show that i have there dispensed with the necessity of explaining the knight's move to the uninstructed reader by lines that indicate those moves. the two puzzles are the same thing in different dress. now compare page with diagram b, and it will be seen that by disentangling the strings i have obtained a simplified diagram without altering the essential relations between the buttons or discs. the reader will now satisfy himself without any difficulty that the puzzle requires eleven moves for the foxes and eleven for the geese. he will see that a goose on or must go to , to avoid being one move from a fox and to enable the fox on to come on to the ring. if we play -- , then it is clearly best to play -- and not -- for the foxes. when they are all on the circle, then they simply promenade round it in a clockwise direction, taking care to reserve -- and -- for the final moves. it is thus rendered ridiculously easy by this method. see also notes on solutions to nos. and . .--_robinson crusoe's table._ the diagram shows how the piece of wood should be cut in two pieces to form the square table-top. a, b, c, d are the corners of the table. the way in which the piece e fits into the piece f will be obvious to the eye of the reader. the shaded part is the wood that is discarded. .--_the fifteen orchards._ the number must be the least common multiple of , , , etc., up to , that, when divided by , leaves the remainder , by leaves , by leaves , by leaves , and by leaves . such a number is . the next number is , , but as we have no record of a tree--especially a very young one--bearing anything like such a large number of apples, we may take to be the only answer that is acceptable. .--_the perplexed plumber._ the rectangular closed cistern that shall hold a given quantity of water and yet have the smallest possible surface of metal must be a perfect cube--that is, a cistern every side of which is a square. for , cubic feet of water the internal dimensions will be ft. Ã� ft. Ã� ft., and the zinc required will be square feet. in the case of a cistern without a top the proportions will be exactly half a cube. these are the "exact proportions" asked for in the second case. the exact dimensions cannot be given, but . ft. Ã� . ft. Ã� . ft. is a close approximation. the cistern will hold a little too much water, at which the buyer will not complain, and it will involve the plumber in a trifling loss not worth considering. .--_the nelson column._ if you take a sheet of paper and mark it with a diagonal line, as in figure a, you will find that when you roll it into cylindrical form, with the line outside, it will appear as in figure b. [illustration] it will be seen that the spiral (in one complete turn) is merely the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle, of which the length and width of the paper are the other two sides. in the puzzle given, the lengths of the two sides of the triangle are ft. (one-fifth of ft.) and ft. in. therefore the hypotenuse is ft. in. the length of the garland is therefore five times as long-- ft. in. a curious feature of the puzzle is the fact that with the dimensions given the result is exactly the sum of the height and the circumference. .--_the two errand boys._ all that is necessary is to add the two distances at which they meet to twice their difference. thus + + = yards, or one mile, which is the distance required. or, put another way, three times the first distance less the second distance will always give the answer, only the first distance should be more than two-thirds of the second. .--_on the ramsgate sands._ just six different rings may be formed without breaking the conditions. here is one way of effecting the arrangements. a b c d e f g h i j k l m a c e g i k m b d f h j l a d g j m c f i l b e h k a e i m d h l c g k b f j a f k c h m e j b g l d i a g m f l e k d j c i b h join the ends and you have the six rings. lucas devised a simple mechanical method for obtaining the _n_ rings that may be formed under the conditions by _n_+ children. .--_the three motor-cars._ the only set of three numbers, of two, three, and five figures respectively, that will fulfil the required conditions is Ã� = , . these three numbers contain all the nine digits and , without repetition; the first two numbers multiplied together make the third, and the second is exactly twenty-two times the first. if the numbers might contain one, four, and five figures respectively, there would be many correct answers, such as Ã� , = , ; but it is a curious fact that there is only one answer to the problem as propounded, though it is no easy matter to prove that this is the case. .--_a reversible magic square._ [illustration: ] it will be seen that in the arrangement given every number is different, and all the columns, all the rows, and each of the two diagonals, add up , whether you turn the page upside down or not. the reader will notice that i have not used the figures , , , , or . .--_the tube railway._ there are different routes. a general formula for puzzles of this kind is not practicable. we have obviously only to consider the variations of route between b and e. here there are nine sections or "lines," but it is impossible for a train, under the conditions, to traverse more than seven of these lines in any route. in the following table by "directions" is meant the order of stations irrespective of "routes." thus, the "direction" bcde gives nine "routes," because there are three ways of getting from b to c, and three ways of getting from d to e. but the "direction" bdce admits of no variation; therefore yields only one route. two-line directions of routes -- three-line " " " -- " " " " -- four-line " " " -- " " " " -- five-line " " " -- " " " " -- six-line " " " -- seven-line " " " -- ---- total we thus see that there are just different routes in all, which is the correct answer to the puzzle. .--_the skipper and the sea-serpent._ each of the three pieces was clearly three cables long. but simon persisted in assuming that the cuts were made transversely, or across, and that therefore the complete length was nine cables. the skipper, however, explained (and the point is quite as veracious as the rest of his yarn) that his cuts were made longitudinally--straight from the tip of the nose to the tip of the tail! the complete length was therefore only three cables, the same as each piece. simon was not asked the exact length of the serpent, but how long it _must_ have been. it must have been at least three cables long, though it might have been (the skipper's statement apart) anything from that up to nine cables, according to the direction of the cuts. .--_the dorcas society._ if there were twelve ladies in all, there would be kisses among the ladies alone, leaving twelve more to be exchanged with the curate--six to be given by him and six to be received. therefore, of the twelve ladies, six would be his sisters. consequently, if twelve could do the work in four and a half months, six ladies would do it in twice the time--four and a half months longer--which is the correct answer. at first sight there might appear to be some ambiguity about the words, "everybody kissed everybody else, except, of course, the bashful young man himself." might this not be held to imply that all the ladies immodestly kissed the curate, although they were not (except the sisters) kissed by him in return? no; because, in that case, it would be found that there must have been twelve girls, not one of whom was a sister, which is contrary to the conditions. if, again, it should be held that the sisters might not, according to the wording, have kissed their brother, although he kissed them, i reply that in that case there must have been twelve girls, all of whom must have been his sisters. and the reference to the ladies who might have worked exclusively of the sisters shuts out the possibility of this. .--_the adventurous snail._ at the end of seventeen days the snail will have climbed ft., and at the end of its eighteenth day-time task it will be at the top. it instantly begins slipping while sleeping, and will be ft. down the other side at the end of the eighteenth day of twenty-four hours. how long will it take over the remaining ft.? if it slips ft. at night it clearly overcomes the tendency to slip ft. during the daytime, in climbing up. in rowing up a river we have the stream against us, but in coming down it is with us and helps us. if the snail can climb ft. and overcome the tendency to slip ft. in twelve hours' ascent, it could with the same exertion crawl ft. a day on the level. therefore, in going down, the same exertion carries it ft. in twelve hours--that is, ft. by personal exertion and ft. by slip. this, with the night slip, gives it a descending progress of ft. in the twenty-four hours. it can, therefore, do the remaining ft. in exactly two days, and the whole journey, up and down, will take it exactly twenty days. .--_the four princes._ when montucla, in his edition of ozanam's _recreations in mathematics_, declared that "no more than three right-angled triangles, equal to each other, can be found in whole numbers, but we may find as many as we choose in fractions," he curiously overlooked the obvious fact that if you give all your sides a common denominator and then cancel that denominator you have the required answer in integers! every reader should know that if we take any two numbers, _m_ and _n_, then _m_^ + _n_^ , _m_^ - _n_^ , and _ mn_ will be the three sides of a rational right-angled triangle. here _m_ and _n_ are called generating numbers. to form three such triangles of equal area, we use the following simple formula, where _m_ is the greater number:-- _mn_ + _m_^ + _n_^ = _a_ _m_^ - _n_^ = _b_ _mn_ + _n_^ = _c_ now, if we form three triangles from the following pairs of generators, _a_ and _b_, _a_ and _c_, _a_ and _b_ + _c_, they will all be of equal area. this is the little problem respecting which lewis carroll says in his diary (see his _life and letters_ by collingwood, p. ), "sat up last night till a.m., over a tempting problem, sent me from new york, 'to find three equal rational-sided right-angled triangles.' i found two ... but could not find three!" the following is a subtle formula by means of which we may always find a r.a.t. equal in area to any given r.a.t. let _z_ = hypotenuse, _b_ = base, _h_ = height, _a_ = area of the given triangle; then all we have to do is to form a r.a.t. from the generators _z_^ and _a_, and give each side the denominator _z_ (_b_^ - _h_^ ), and we get the required answer in fractions. if we multiply all three sides of the original triangle by the denominator, we shall get at once a solution in whole numbers. the answer to our puzzle in smallest possible numbers is as follows:-- first prince ... second prince ... third prince ... fourth prince ... the area in every case is , square furlongs. i must here refrain from showing fully how i get these figures. i will explain, however, that the first three triangles are obtained, in the manner shown, from the numbers and , which give the generators , ; , ; , . these three pairs of numbers solve the indeterminate equation, _a_^ _b_ -_b_^ _a_ = , . if we can find another pair of values, the thing is done. these values are , , which generators give the last triangle. the next best answer that i have found is derived from and , which give the generators , ; , ; , . the fourth pair of values is , . the reader will understand from what i have written above that there is no limit to the number of rational-sided r.a.t.'s of equal area that may be found in whole numbers. .--_plato and the nines._ the following is the simple solution of the three nines puzzle:-- + ---- . to divide by . (or nine-tenths) we, of course, multiply by and divide by . the result is , as required. .--_noughts and crosses._ the solution is as follows: between two players who thoroughly understand the play every game should be drawn. neither player could ever win except through the blundering of his opponent. if nought (the first player) takes the centre, cross must take a corner, or nought may beat him with certainty. if nought takes a corner on his first play, cross must take the centre at once, or again be beaten with certainty. if nought leads with a side, both players must be very careful to prevent a loss, as there are numerous pitfalls. but nought may safely lead anything and secure a draw, and he can only win through cross's blunders. .--_ovid's game._ the solution here is: the first player can always win, provided he plays to the centre on his first move. but a good variation of the game is to bar the centre for the first move of the first player. in that case the second player should take the centre at once. this should always end in a draw, but to ensure it the first player must play to two adjoining corners (such as and ) on his first and second moves. the game then requires great care on both sides. .--_the farmer's oxen._ sir isaac newton has shown us, in his _universal arithmetic_, that we may divide the bullocks in each case in two parts--one part to eat the increase, and the other the accumulated grass. the first will vary directly as the size of the field, and will not depend on the time; the second part will also vary directly as the size of the field, and in addition inversely with the time. we find from the farmer's statements that bullocks keep down the growth in a -acre field, and bullocks eat the grass on acres in weeks. therefore, if bullocks keep down the growth on acres, will keep down the growth on acres. again, we find that if bullocks eat the accumulated grass on acres in weeks, then eat the grass on acres in weeks, " " " " " " " " " " " " add the two results together ( + ), and we find that oxen may be fed on a -acre meadow for weeks, the grass growing regularly all the time. .--_the great grangemoor mystery._ we were told that the bullet that killed mr. stanton mowbray struck the very centre of the clock face and instantly welded together the hour, minute, and second hands, so that all revolved in one piece. the puzzle was to tell from the fixed relative positions of the three hands the exact time when the pistol was fired. we were also told, and the illustration of the clock face bore out the statement, that the hour and minute hands were exactly twenty divisions apart, "the third of the circumference of the dial." now, there are eleven times in twelve hours when the hour hand is exactly twenty divisions ahead of the minute hand, and eleven times when the minute hand is exactly twenty divisions ahead of the hour hand. the illustration showed that we had only to consider the former case. if we start at four o'clock, and keep on adding h. m. - / sec., we shall get all these eleven times, the last being h. min. - / sec. another addition brings us back to four o'clock. if we now examine the clock face, we shall find that the seconds hand is nearly twenty-two divisions behind the minute hand, and if we look at all our eleven times we shall find that only in the last case given above is the seconds hand at this distance. therefore the shot must have been fired at h. min. - / sec. exactly, or, put the other way, at min. - / sec. to three o'clock. this is the correct and only possible answer to the puzzle. .--_cutting a wood block._ though the cubic contents are sufficient for twenty-five pieces, only twenty-four can actually be cut from the block. first reduce the length of the block by half an inch. the smaller piece cut off constitutes the portion that cannot be used. cut the larger piece into three slabs, each one and a quarter inch thick, and it will be found that eight blocks may easily be cut out of each slab without any further waste. .--_the tramps and the biscuits._ the smallest number of biscuits must have been , from which it is evident that they were of that miniature description that finds favour in the nursery. the general solution is that for _n_ men the number must be _m_ (_n_^{_n_+ }) - (_n_ - ), where _m_ is any integer. each man will receive _m_ (_n_ - )^_n_ - biscuits at the final division, though in the case of two men, when _m_ = , the final distribution only benefits the dog. of course, in every case each man steals an _n_th of the number of biscuits, after giving the odd one to the dog. index "abracadabra," . age and kinship puzzles, , . albanna, ibn, . ale, measuring the, . algebraical puzzles. see arithmetical puzzles. alkalaçadi, . amulet, the, , . archery butt, the, , . arithmetical puzzles, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . arrows, the nine, . astronomical problem, . bags, four money, . ball, w. w. rouse, . bandy-ball, the game of, , . bears, capt. longbow and the, , . bergholt, ernest, . bewley, e. d., . biscuits, the tramps and the, , . block, cutting a wood, , . blocks, the number, , . bottles, sharing the, . bottles, the sixteen, . bridges, the eight, . bridging the ditch, , . brooch, cutting the, . buried treasure, , . buttons and string method, , . canon's yeoman, puzzle of the, , . canterbury pilgrim's puzzle, . canterbury puzzles, , . card puzzle, . carpenter's puzzle, the, , . carpet, japanese ladies and, , . carroll, lewis, . casket, lady isabel's, , . cats and mice, . cellarer, the riddle of the, , . cellarman, the perplexed, , . chalked numbers, the, , . chaucer's puzzle, , . cheeses on stools, . chessboard problems, , , , , , , , , , , , , , . chessboard, the broken, , . chifu-chemulpo puzzle, , . chinese railways, the, , . christmas puzzle party, the squire's, , . cisterns, making, . clerk of oxenford's puzzle, the, , . cliff mystery, the cornish, , . clock puzzle, . cloth, cutting the, . clowns, the eight, , . club, adventures of the puzzle, , . coinage puzzle, the, , . coin magic square, . column, the nelson, , . combination and group problems, , , , , , , . cook's puzzle, the, , . cornish cliff mystery, the, , . counter problems, moving, , , , , , , , . counting out puzzle, . crescent and the cross, the, , . crossing river problems, , . crusaders, the riddle of the, , . crusoe's table, robinson, , . cubes, sums of two, , . cubes, the silver, , . _daily mail_, , , . decimals, recurring, , . demoiselle, the noble, , . diamond letter puzzles, . digital analysis, . digital puzzles, , , , , , , , . dispute between friar and sompnour, , . dissection puzzles, , , , , , , , , . ditch, bridging the, , . divisors of numbers, to find, . doctor of physic, the puzzle of the, , . donjon keep window, the, , . dorcas society, the, , . dormitory puzzle, the, . dungeon, the death's-head, . dungeons, the nine, . dyer's puzzle, the, , . edward, portrait of king, . eggs, selling the, . eleven pennies, the, , . errand boys, the two, , . escape of king's jester, the strange, , . executioner, the, . fallacy of square's diagonal, . farmer's oxen, the, , . fermat, p. de, . fish-pond, the riddle of the, , . flag, making a, , . fleurs-de-lys, sixty-four, . flour, the nine sacks of, . fly, the spider and the, , . footprints puzzles, , . four princes, the, , . foxes and geese, , . franklin's puzzle, the, , . friar and sompnour's dispute, , . friar's puzzle, the, , . frogs and tumblers, the, , . frogs who would a-wooing go, , . frogs' ring, the riddle of the, , . games, puzzle, , , , . gardens, the royal, , . geese, the christmas, , . geometrical problems, , , , , , , . grangemoor mystery, the, , . group problems, combination and. see combination and group problems. haberdasher's puzzle, the, , . hogs, catching the, , . hoppe, oscar, . host's puzzle, the, , . isabel's casket, lady, , . jaenisch, . japanese ladies and the carpet, , . jester, strange escape of the king's, , . kayles, the game of, , . kennels, the nine, . king's jester, strange escape of the, , . knight's puzzle, the, , . lady isabel's casket, , . _l'arithmétique amusante_, . legendre, . letter puzzles, . lock, the secret, , . locomotive and speed puzzle, . longbow and the bears, capt., , . lucas, edouard, , , . m'elroy, c. w., . _magdalen_, chart of the, . magic square, a reversible, , . magic square problems, , , , , , , . manciple's puzzle, the, , . man of law's puzzle, the, , . market woman, the eccentric, , . marksford and the lady, lord, . maze, the underground, , . measuring, weighing, and packing puzzles, , , , , , . merchant's puzzle, the, , . merry monks of riddlewell, , . miller's puzzle, the, , . miscellaneous puzzles, , . mistletoe bough, under the, , . moat, crossing the, , . money, dividing the, . monks of riddlewell, the merry, , . monk's puzzle, the, , . montucla, . motor-car, the runaway, , . motor-cars, the three, , . moving counter problems. see counter problems, moving. nash, w., . nelson column, the, , . newton, sir isaac, . nines, plato and the, , . noble demoiselle, the, , . noughts and crosses, , . number blocks, the, , . numbers on motor-cars, , . numbers partition of, . numbers the chalked, , . nun's puzzle, the, , . ones, numbers composed only of, , , . opposition in chess, . orchards, the fifteen, , . ovid's game, , . oxen, the farmer's, , . ozanam's _recreations_, . packing puzzles, measuring, weighing, and. see measuring. palindromes, . pardoner's puzzle, the, , . parental command, a, . park, mystery of ravensdene, , . parson's puzzle, the, , . party, the squire's christmas puzzle, , . pellian equation, . pennies, the eleven, , . phials, the two, . photograph, the ambiguous, , . pie and the pasty, the, . pilgrimages, the fifteen, . pilgrims' manner of riding, . pilgrims the riddle of the, , . pillar, the carved wooden, . plato and the nines, , . ploughman's puzzle, the, , . plumber, the perplexed, , . plum puddings, tasting the, , . points and lines problems, , , . porkers, the four, , . postage stamps puzzle, the, , . primrose puzzle, the, , . princes, the four, , . prioress, the puzzle of the, , . professor's puzzles, the, , . puzzle club, adventures of the, , . puzzles, how to solve, . puzzles, how they are made, . puzzles, sophistical, . puzzles, the exact conditions of, . puzzles, the mysterious charm of, . puzzles, the nature of, . puzzles, the utility of, . puzzles, the variety of, , . puzzles, unsolved, . puzzling times at solvamhall castle, , . pyramids, triangular, . railway puzzle, . railway the tube, , . railways, the chinese, , . ramsgate sands, on the, , . rat-catcher's riddle, the, . ravensdene park, mystery of, , . reve's puzzle, the, , . ribbon problem, the, , . riddles, old, . riddlewell, the merry monks of, , . river crossing problems, , . robinson crusoe's table, , . romeo and juliet, , . romeo's second journey, , . rook's path, the, . rope, the mysterious, , . round table, the, , . route problems, unicursal and. see unicursal. sack wine, the riddle of the, , . st. edmondsbury, the riddle of, , . sands, on the ramsgate, , . sea-serpent, the skipper and the, , . shield, squares on a, . shipman's puzzle, the, , . skipper and the sea-serpent, the, , . snail on the flagstaff, the, , . snail the adventurous, , . snails, the two, , . solvamhall castle, puzzling times at, , . sompnour's and friar's dispute, , . sompnour's puzzle, the, , . spherical surface of water, . spider and the fly, the, , . square and triangle, the, . square field, the, . squares, problem of, . square, three squares from one, , . squire's christmas puzzle party, the, , . squire's puzzle, the, , . squire's yeoman, the puzzle of the, , . stamps, counting postage, . stamps, magic squares of, . stamps, puzzle, the postage, , . superposition, problem on, . sylvester, . table, robinson crusoe's, , . table, the round, , . _talkhys_, . tapestry, cutting the, . tapiser's puzzle, the, , . teacups, the three, , . tea tins, the five, , . thirty-one game, the, , . tiled hearth, the riddle of the, , . tilting at the ring, , . tour, the english, , . towns, visiting the, . tramps and the biscuits, the, , . treasure, the buried, , . trees, the sixteen oak, . triangle and square, . triangles of equal area, , . triangular numbers, . tube railway, the, , . unicursal and route problems, , , , , , , , , , , . weaver's puzzle, the, , . _weekly dispatch_, , . weighing, and packing puzzles, measuring. see measuring. wife of bath's riddles, the, , . window, the donjon keep, , . wine, stealing the, . wizard's arithmetic, the, , . wood block, cutting a, , . wreath on column, , . printed in great britain at the press of the publishers. book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from google books.) recognised athletic warehouse alexander duncan, wholesale jeweller gold and silver badges. holds the largest stock of prize specialities and presentation goods in the city. new designs in badges. unique and artistic. [illustration] all government stamped. at wholesale prices. football and other clubs supplied at prices considerably less than any other house in the trade. patronised by all the leading clubs throughout the country. specimens and prices post free on application. in ordering say whether football or golf badges are wanted. special designs to order. over cups always in stock, s. to £ . over gold and silver badges in stock at wholesale prices. compare with others. (one stair up.) buchanan street, glasgow. (one stair up.) * * * * * comfort for the feet. corns and bunions may be removed, and enlarged toe joints reduced, by using thompson's french corn plaster. "it is as thin as silk, and comfortable to the foot. since using thin plaster i can walk almost any distance." lady maude ----. packets s. ½d. each; post free, stamps. ask for thompson's plaster. --> and see you get it. [illustration] * * * * * "good news." thousands of sufferers will welcome the "good news" that nervetonine is a positive, permanent, and safe cure for all nervous affections, nervous exhaustion, nervous debility, mental depression, loss of memory, sleeplessness, and weakness of all kinds. nervetonine will also cure indigestion, constipation, and piles. nerve pains, neuralgia, sciatica, lumbago, rheumatism, etc., instantly relieved and permanently cured with nervetonine bottles / , / and / , post free, from _sole proprietor_, m. f. thompson, chemist, gordon street, glasgow. princes street, edinburgh. caution. each genuine bottle of nervetonine has m. f. thompson's name on label. sponges, bath gloves, friction gloves, flesh brushes, tooth, nail, and hair brushes, and every toilet requisite at the above address. the trainer of the rangers football team writes: "sir,--i use herbuline extensively, and find it of great value. i have never been disappointed in my results from using it. it is superior to any preparation i have hitherto tried, and i strongly advise those in want of a safe, reliable liniment to give it a trial.--i am, yours respectfully, "ibrox, _february th, _. john taylor." neuralgia and tic cured by herbuline in minutes. lumbago " " " hours. toothache " " " momentary. cold feet " " " minutes. rheumatism " " " hours. herbuline is superior to mustard for poulticing. salient points--clean, easily applied, a more endurable heat. no liability to chill after using. it is a wonder to those who use it, and never disappoints in its results. _of chemists and patent medicine vendors_-- price s. ½d. net. if posted, d. extra. the herbuline manufacturing coy., renfield street. * * * * * waterproofs. gentlemen's coats in all the newest styles and patterns. inverness capes, sleeveless coats, etc. waterproofs for tourists, cyclists, etc. [illustration] travelling requisites. fishing requisites. shooting requisites. lawn tennis, cricket, footballs, shin-guards, etc. _lists on application._ _prices strictly moderate._ north british rubber co., ltd., buchanan street, glasgow. works: castle mills, edinburgh. * * * * * [illustration] ask for henry thomson & co.'s old irish whisky. as supplied to h.r.h. the prince of wales, h.r.h. the duke of connaught, and the houses of parliament. sole agent for scotland-- robert brown, hope st., glasgow. * * * * * thomas cook & son, general railway and steamship passenger ticket office, foreign money changers, &c., (tickets for personally-conducted parties and independent travel issued to all parts of the world). argyle street, glasgow. * * * * * allan & stewart, & argyle street. our specialties in gentlemen's outfitting department are-- hawick made hosiery, in all weights and sizes, gent.'s knickerbocker hose, gent.'s white and fancy shirts, and our famous serge clothing. corner of st. enoch square, glasgow. * * * * * the emporium for portmanteaus, bags, trunks, and all kinds of travelling requisites. lawn tennis, cricket, football. [illustration] gladstone bags, warranted cowhide, ", / ; ", /; ", / ; ", / ; ", /. saddlery, harness, horse clothing. foreign saddlery a speciality, highland dress sporrans, dirks, skene dhus, brooches, etc. price lists on application. leckie, graham & co., union st., glasgow. * * * * * important to club officials and players. george bell, photographer, argyle street, glasgow. every description of portrait and group work executed in the best style, and on the shortest notice. copies of the rd lanark and renton (record) teams can be had on application. price, s. plain; s. d. enamelled. note the address-- argyle street. * * * * * h. & p. m'neil cricket and lawn-tennis. shirts, white, / , / , / , / , and / each. shirts, white, laced fronts, / , / , and / . shirts, silk stripes, / and / each. trousers, white serge, / , / and / . caps, velvet and flannel, d., d., /, / , and /. belts, all colours, d., d., /, and / . racing knickers, /, / , / , / , and / . racing shirts, /, / , /, / , and / . racing shoes, / and / . flesh gloves, lawrence's, / per pair. boxing gloves, / , / , and / per set. swimming pants and costumes. send for price lists. * * * * * football. celebrated footballs, buttons and buttonless, guaranteed best cow-hide, / each. free. m'neil's celebrated footballs, / each. m'neil's match footballs, / each. m'neil's practice footballs, / each. boys' , / ; , / ; , / ; , / . knickers, white, / , /, / , / , and / . knickers, blue, / , / , and / . shin guards, /, / , /, / , and / . football boots, / , / , and / . football bags, / , / , / , and / . jerseys, all colours, /, / , / , / , and / . send for samples. union street, glasgow (opposite "mail" office). * * * * * football spectators should wear nothing in stylish hats but the pure fur felts, which never crack or break, no matter how many times they are taken off to assist the cheering when a goal is scored. sold at s. d., s. d., and s. d. they are admitted to be the best value ever offered to the public. thomas stewart, the popular city hatter. argyle street (near dunlop street). sign of the clock hat. branches-- trongate (tron steeple), and at temporary premises, norfolk street. * * * * * scottish football reminiscences and sketches. by d. d. bone _glasgow._ glasgow: john menzies & co., drury street. hay nisbet & co., jamaica street. edinburgh: john menzies & co., hanover street. . * * * * * [illustration] union billiard rooms, argyle street, glasgow. * * * * * largest billiard room in the kingdom. full-sized billiard tables. s. per hour. pool every evening * * * * * handicaps. during the season, handicaps, open only to frequenters of the rooms, will be held, and handsome prizes in cash will be given. no entry-money. * * * * * football rendezvous. results of all important matches received by telegram. secretaries of clubs are invited to forward these. * * * * * preface. in bringing my first edition of football reminiscences and sketches before the public, i do so with a sense of profound regard for the game and its players, and heartfelt gratitude to numerous friends--some of whom, alas! are no more--for advice and assistance. if my readers consider it worthy of one who has devoted a quarter of a century in attaining that experience necessary to criticise the players of the dead past and those of the living present with fidelity, i will have gained something to be remembered, and be amply repaid for what i have done to assist the spread of the association game in scotland. many of my sketches, under different names, have already appeared in various journals, including the _daily_ and _weekly mail_, _bell's life in london_, and the "scottish football annual," but i have remodelled some of them very considerably, and indulge in the hope that they may while away an hour or so at the fireside of the player and spectator after a big cup tie or other interesting match. the author. * * * * * waterproofs. caoutchouc. [illustration: thoroughly waterproof] _we are noted for_ superior quality, moderate prices, unrivalled selection. every garment guaranteed. currie, thomson & co., (late thornton, currie. & co.). } jamaica street, { } { } glasgow. { no. . | buchanan street branch | no . ladies' saloon. (opposite _herald_ office,) * * * * * telegraphic address--"moses," glasgow. the old-established booking office for tourists, travellers, & emigrants. through tickets issued to all parts of the world, by best lines and at lowest rates. agency for "guion," "national," "cunard," "white star," "american," "inman," "dominion," "anchor," "allan" liners, etc., for the united states and canada at special low rates; also, "currie," "orient," and other lines, for south africa, australia, new zealand, india, and south america. through railway tickets issued at reduced fares to the principal cities and towns in canada and the united states. free land warrants of £ value granted to queensland passengers. list of sailings, dates, fares, and all particulars on application to moses buchanan, buchanan st., glasgow. * * * * * contents. page i.--football: ancient and modern, ii.--the football wave, iii.--a "sweep for the cup;" or, how pate brown kept his engagement, iv.--famous association players--past and present, v.--the pioneers of association football in scotland; or, "the conqueror's football boots," vi.--how clubs were started long ago, vii.--the great international; or, ned duncan's dream, viii.--the patrons, spectators, and popular players, ix.--a dream of the past, x.--the duel near the football field, xi.--the final tie for the association challenge cup-- - , * * * * * aerated waters (corry & co.'s). medal--paris, . gold medals--london, ; paris, . medals and diplomas-- philadelphia and brussels, . [illustration] since offering to the public in these delicious and unrivalled aerated beverages, the sole and lasting aim to which messrs. corry & co. have directed all their efforts has been, not to force sales by venturesome and questionable efforts, but by the real fact of the superiority of the beverages they offer to merit universal patronage. judging from the world-wide favour, which they find yearly increasing, and the unprecedented success which has attended their efforts at all the universal exhibitions, or wherever they have competed, this aim (so far attained, and which their experience has proved to be a fundamental principle of success) will be steadily pursued. since many mere imitators have come and gone, and many still remain; but the public are requested to insist on having corry's waters, not imitations. to be had at all the first-class hotels, restaurants, and from family grocers, wine merchants, chemists, also on board all first-class river and ocean-going steamers, etc., etc. john mercer & co., ann street, glasgow, agents for scotland. * * * * * wallace, the only large maker of sausages in glasgow who has always used first quality only of beef and pork. certified, but not by dr. clark, city analyst. note addresses-- argyle street, bridge street, wellington arcade, crown street, and paisley road (west). established . john wallace, (late thomas barr), provision merchant, argyle street. established . * * * * * telegraphic address--"football," glasgow. connected by telephone. george gillespie, wine and spirit merchant, dumbarton road, berkeley st., and stobcross st., glasgow. * * * * * brown bros., new central hat warehouse, argyle street (a few doors east of jamaica street), one stair up. felt hats, the very latest shapes and shades to suit gents., youths, and boys. prices, / , / , / , / , and / silk hats, newest london and paris shapes, / , / , / , / , and / also at main street, anderston cross, glasgow. * * * * * football reminiscences. _i.--football: ancient and modern._ "then strip, lads and to it, though cold be the weather, and if, by mischance you should happen to fall, there are worse things in life than a tumble on heather, for life is itself but a game at football." --_sir walter scott._ in scotland, so closely associated with traditional lore, and the acknowledged birth-place of romance and patriotic song, it would be almost dangerous to incur displeasure by attempting to refer to the early history of anything associated with the amusements or recreations of the people, without actually touching on tradition--a point held by some in far greater regard and reverence than actual fact. under these circumstances, then, i do not want to run the risk of complete annihilation by ignoring the traditional, and even territorial, aspect of football. that the game was played as early as the tenth century there is any amount of authentic evidence to show, and that it continued to be one of the chief recreations of the people there can be no doubt. coming much further down, however, the game of football is referred to, both by historical and romance writers. in sir walter scott's "lay of the last minstrel," we find that the english and scotch soldiers, in a few hours' actual cessation from skirmishing on the eve of a battle, engaged in "the merry football play." our forefathers, however, must have played the game in rather a rude and undignified fashion, if we can believe certain authorities--actual brute force and superiority in point of weight being the indispensable concomitants of a successful side. the matches, too, must have been played utterly regardless of science. just fancy a couple of crack teams meeting on a heather-covered field, with the "hailing spots" about a mile and a-half apart, and playing a match lasting four or five hours! could any of our young men nowadays stand such rough-and-tumble work? happily it is not required. it has been found that a match lasting an hour and a-half, with the ball ever and anon passing in front of one on a level field, is quite enough, even for the strongest back, half-back, or forward. experience has sufficiently proved that, even in this age of scientific play. so much for the past, and i will proceed to touch briefly on the spread and popularity of football. to those who only know football as promoted by the queen's park, and subsequently by the vale of leven, clydesdale, granville (now defunct), rd l.r.v, and lastly, though not leastly, by the scottish football association, we are almost compelled to offer some information. a quarter of a century ago a union was formed in edinburgh to draw up a code of rules to encourage the game of football, and matches were played between schools and other clubs. these rules were a combination of the present association and rugby, dribbling being largely indulged in, but the goal-posts were similar to those now in use under the latter code of rules, and a goal could not be scored unless the ball went over the posts. this game made considerable progress in edinburgh, being vigorously promoted by scholastic clubs and students attending college. some years later, when the number of young gentlemen sent over from england to be educated in scotland, particularly edinburgh, began to increase, these old rules were subjected to considerable alteration, and eventually assimilated to those of the english rugby union, and all the known clubs in scotland at that time adhered tenaciously to these rules, and under them many exciting games were played between eastern and western clubs, the glasgow academicals and edinburgh academicals being the leading ones. eventually, however, the new clubs springing into existence in the western district of the country did not care to play these rules, and, following the example of similar clubs in england, adhered to what they considered an improvement on the old system of football, and joined the english football association, formed in . the first to do this was the queen's park, the mother of association football in scotland, in , and the example was soon followed by the clydesdale, rd l.r.v., vale of leven, granville, and others, a few years afterwards. well can i remember witnessing several exciting tussles on the queen's park recreation ground (then the only meeting-place of the premier association club), between the vale of leven, hamilton, east kilbride, clydesdale, granville, and rd l.r.v. since then the spread and popularity of the association style of play has been so often written about that it is, so to speak, bound up in the actual history of the western district of scotland. in edinburgh, however, the new rules have not made so much headway, the rugby code being there as extensively played as of yore. some advances, however, have taken place, and the edinburgh university has an association team, and that city several promising clubs, including the hibernian, heart of midlothian, and st. bernard, and, in leith, the athletic, that made such a plucky fight with the queen's park in a recent cup tie. no one, except a close observer, can believe the earnestness and enthusiasm imparted into the game by the formation of young clubs, but there is one danger which should be avoided. there is such a thing as overdoing; and, depend upon it, if this is continued, the game will suffer. to those who love and appreciate everything in season, the advice i am about to impart will be doubly significant. football is a winter game, and while it may be all right to practice in spring and autumn, the line is bound to be drawn somewhere, and why attempt to force it down the throats of cricketers, athletes, yachtsmen, and even lawn-tennis players, in the heart of summer? it must not be forgotten that some of our best and most influential football clubs have also cricket clubs and kindred summer recreations attached, and, in the interests of football, these should be encouraged; and to this end i am confident my remarks will be treated with some respect. i am also sure that no one who has taken a deep interest in the game from its comparative infancy, but can look back with extreme pleasure on its development, and even go the length of registering a vow that he will do his utmost to make and uphold it as an honest and manly game, despite isolated assumptions by a few traducers who question such earnestness, and i will endeavour to point them out, and draw comparisons. "what came ye out to see?" might often be asked by an uninterested spectator who had ventured forth to look at some of the matches. a crowd of young men pursuing a round object, called a ball, with great earnestness of purpose. to the young cad, who can think of nothing but the colour of his latest pair of kid gloves, or the check of his newest acquisition in the shape of fashionable trousers, all out-door amusement is considered an interminable bore, the game of football has, of course, no charm. there is too much hard work for him, and the training required to put one in condition, fraught with all that is called self-denial, he could never endure. the musty old duffer, too, looks upon the game in the light of a deadly sin, which can never be associated in his mind with anything short of idiocy and the most virulent fanaticism. to some of his young men he remarks--"and you call that a grand game, running about a field trying to put a ball near a pair of upright posts, and knocking the first lad down who attempts to retard your progress! do you call that manly, eh? would anyone but a pure lunatic run the chance of getting his shins cut, or collar-bone dislocated, indulging in such work, and donning coloured stockings and fantastic shirt the while to make the matter all the more absurd!" he seems to forget that "all work and no play makes jack a dull boy," and the real meaning of a dull boy and a dull man is irregularity and vexation in the counting-house and office. there are amusements and amusements, and recreations and recreations, but i know of none adapted for the winter months which can be so cheaply indulged in, with so much profit to health, as football. accidents do happen occasionally, i admit, but they are exceedingly few when the number of young men engaged in the game is taken into account, combined with the fact that, last year, some of the leading association matches were played much more roughly than in previous years, it is an astonishing fact that no fatal accident occurred in scotland. there are, of course, many, if the whole truth must be written, whom the exciting and manly game has failed to touch by its magic and fascinating influence, but they should not be courted, and fortunately their patronage is neither sought nor needed, for they are the men most to be avoided on a wintry saturday afternoon while one is on his way to see an exciting "cup tie." depend upon it, they will allure you to some haunt where the language is not even so choice as where the "final" is being played between two leading clubs. i am fully convinced that when the game was first improved and adapted to stand side by side with others requiring both pluck and skill, the thought never entered the heads of its promoters that some of the laws might be abused, not used. unfortunately, such is too true, and the sooner these things are discouraged the better. the old precept about warriors feeling a stern joy when they knew they were opposed to foemen worthy of their steel, should never be forgotten by the biggest back, half-back, or the smallest forward. to put it in another way, gentlemanly conduct towards an opponent in the field is pleasing to see, and, indeed, civility is worth much, and costs nothing--only a small effort of self-denial. in this enlightened age, the nation who crows too much over a vanquished foe is naturally detested, and why should not this spirit regulate the game of football? if this were carefully remembered during the season, there would undoubtedly be such a close bond of fellowship and good feeling amongst football players that nothing could disturb. and again, i cannot allow the present opportunity to pass without protesting against a practice, now, unfortunately, too largely followed by a section of the spectators who turn out to all the big events--viz., betting. about as long as i can remember, and it may be before football, perhaps, was played, many an honest wager was made by the leaders in all out-door sports that they would be the victors, but the practice, i have been assured, never went further. now it is quite a common thing to see cash dancing about a ring of spectators at a big match, and often the loss of cash to certain individuals means a proportionate loss of temper, and the practice is all the more to be deplored. it is for this end, it is for this avowed purpose, that one and all connected with its development and culture, will strive to their utmost to ennoble and raise football to a higher and purer level, and consequently discourage, by every legitimate means, betting in all its phases, and the slightest tendencies amongst the players who take part in the various matches towards rough play, and a disposition to indulge in unnecessary charging. _ii.--the football wave._ like dogberry's idea of certain kinds of novel writing, both association and rugby football seem to come to the scotchmen by nature. my readers can, perhaps, easily remember the clever _jeu d'esprit_ on the antiquity of the gaelic tongue which appeared several years ago advocating the claims of that race as lisping the first "speech" heard in eden in a manner that must have stirred the blood of professor blackie. as the history of association football, with which i have only to deal under the present circumstances, is so well-known and a thing of yesterday, its origin, like that of the gaelic language, is not shrouded in mystery, but actually known (or should be known) to all who take an interest in the game. in my previous article, i tried to trace the origin of football in its rudest form as played by our forefathers, when goal-posts and bars, to say nothing of corner-flags, were unknown. football now, however, has been reduced to something like a scientific game, and to the credit of england be it said, the association rules there first saw the light. scotch players in the western district soon emulated their southern brethren, and from the parent club, which had a humble and unassuming origin on the recreation ground at queen's park, sprang hundreds of clubs, spreading over the length and breadth of the land with remarkable rapidity. the wave soon rolled all over glasgow and suburbs, submerged the whole country, and eventually invaded the heart of midlothian itself, where the rugby code had hitherto reigned supreme. the schoolboys who played cricket and rounders in the summertime came out on a wintry afternoon to see their seniors engaged in association football, and soon felt the desire creep over them to be members of a club containing lads like themselves. the young men engaged in the city all day thought on the health-imparting exercise it afforded, and had the necessary funds raised to form a club. the artisans, too, from the dusky foundry, the engineer shop, and the factory, soon began to dribble about. the young ones, and even the seniors themselves, had many a collision with mother earth ere they could rely on keeping their pins with any degree of accuracy, and it was rare fun to see a bearded man turning a somersault as he missed the ball in trying to make a big kick. football is easily acquired in so far as the rudimentary part is concerned, but a great deal of probation is required to convert one into a crack player. among those who now practice football, and their name is legion, the superior players can be numbered in (to give it a wide scope) hundreds. in fact, to be able to master all the details requisite to win a first-class match, one has to be capable of dribbling, middling, heading, and passing in a way that would do credit to solving a complicated problem in euclid. it is all very well to talk about brute force and lasting power, but unless these are accompanied by scientific application, they are worth little, and cost much. "the race is not always to the swift," says the old proverb. in at least eight cases out of ten, the match is to the scientific and careful, but of this more anon. there is one thing that can be said about football which in the nature of things must recommend it to all lovers of out-door exercise. of late years bicycling has obtained a great deal of popularity all over the three kingdoms, both for its usefulness as a speedy means of conveyance, and exercise to the limbs, but that it has its drawbacks has just been made apparent by undisputed medical authority. "the bicycle back," the effect of hard work on the "iron horse," is beginning to appear on the handsome young man who thinks nothing of doing his miles a day, and while walking occasionally with the young lady with the "grecian bend," the contrast in his case is amusing. to say that there are no dangers of any kind attached to football would be making an assertion which i cannot substantiate, but these are comparatively few. all sports, of whatever kind, have the elements of danger attached to their pursuit, but, with great care, these can be reduced to a minimum. although i have certainly never observed the round-shoulders of the bicyclist in the football player, i have not unfrequently seen the "football leg." that is a series of cuts about the shin bone, administered by a vicious opponent while (as it generally happens) playing a "cup tie," and last season they were more plentiful than ever. in fact, i heard from the lips of a member of one of the crack clubs that in not a few of the ties they retired from the field "greatly impressed with the unmistakable signs of muscular ability shown by their opponents." this means most undoubtedly hacking and tripping, under the guise of tackling, and if association football is to go on and prosper such disgraceful acts of tyranny on the football field must forever cease. these "accidents" can, of course, be avoided, and as there are distinct rules forbidding them, clubs would do well to see that these are rigidly enforced. _iii.--a "sweep for the cup;"_ or, _how pate brown kept his engagement._ "what do you say, old fellow, about a 'sweep for the cup.' why, a 'sov.' is nothing to the like of you, and there will be such fun at the lifting." this was said to me one morning about nine, just as i was preparing to get my shaving utensils into working order before turning out to the warehouse. pate brown used to make fun of me about my scanty hirsute appendages, and many a time caused me to blush before sundry members of the druids when he emphatically declared that i was one of those effeminate individuals who shaved, not because they had whiskers, but because they hadn't. this was in september, and a more open year for the respective chances of the clubs in the cup had, perhaps, never come round. i was unattached then. i was, in fact, neither a member of the druids nor the nomads, but simply a friend of both, and an enthusiastic admirer of the game. my big brother angus, it is true, was one of the best men in the conquerors, and he and i sometimes had animated discussions about the respective merits of the clubs. "why, jack, this is only september, it will be more sensible for us to postpone the affair till after the preliminary ties. a lot of chaps to whom i have spoken consider it next to nonsense to draw the 'sweep' so soon." after a great deal of talking and another meeting, it was agreed to go right ahead with the "sweep," and accordingly the necessary arrangements were duly made, and subscribers' names taken, as well as their cash. the warehouse of ball & field was the largest in the whole city. their trade connection extended to every known country on the face of the globe. there was a decided charm about the way in which the firm did business, and the kindly, not to say considerate manner, in which they treated employés, who really deserved it. the two leading members of the firm, in fact, were not insignificant prototypes of dickens' cheeryble brothers (with the exception that they were both married). i verily believe that in an hour's notice a couple of excellent teams could have been picked from the house to make a decent match of it anywhere. the senior himself was an enthusiastic admirer of the game, and one way or another did much to encourage it by his presence on the field at all the big matches, and if any of the lads, such as myself, brown, rose, wilson, or m'nab wanted away to play in a big affair, a hint reaching the governor's ears to that effect was amply sufficient. the manager, however, was of a different sort, he hated football like poison. he even relegated the grand game to a pastime suitable for pure and unadulterated lunatics, those, as he put it, "who were too daft to get into gartnavel." fancy that! woe betide the unfortunate half-back or forward, who in a weak moment relied on the magnanimity of "sour plums," as he was called, to let him off to a match, without first consulting the governor himself. sometimes m'nab forgot to do so, and as his club were frequently in great straits to get him to play, he had to steep his brains to think on a strategic movement to get free, and succeeded; but sometimes with the aid of a "crammer." brown, for reasons best known to himself, but which will duly come out as my story advances, was very anxious to be at the "draw," and accordingly duly appeared at the marie stuart hall, crosshill. there were a lot of pale faces in the room when pate drew the queen's park, dick wallace the "vale," bill weldon, dumbarton, and sandy m'bean the rangers. a rosy-cheeked, country-looking lad belonging to the q.p. drew cowlairs, and a general titter ran through the august assembly when that same lad remarked, "he was quite satisfied with his draw, the other crack clubs notwithstanding." tom vincent got kilmarnock athletic, alf. grant the clyde, blower fleming drew the heart of midlothian, and bill fairfield the hibernian. i was unlucky enough to secure one of the many insignificant clubs who never survived the first round, and so my "sov." was a dead letter. the entire "sweep" came to a fine round sum, as the subscribers included a good many of the rank and file of football enthusiasts, and even two "football-daft" members of the upper strata of the glasgow police force, and three of the fire brigade, went the length of taking a couple of tickets. there was also luke wood, the representative of the "kick-off," who knew a thing or two about the game. he was in for a pair of tickets, too, and drew the invincible and morning star. he was thoroughly disgusted at the prospect (more particularly as he had been one of the leading hands in getting up the "sweep"); but, as the yankees say, he gradually "cooled himself down," and got thoroughly reconciled to his loss. the cowlairs had to play the queen's park in one of the ties, and a determined tussle it turned out to be. the "boys" bore a wild look that afternoon as they emerged from the pavilion at hampden park. you could read the anxious and determined character of their mission on every face. they had fully made up their minds to fight hard for the cup, and really they did. several of the team were big powerful fellows whom not a few cautious half-backs would think twice before "going for," and two of the forwards were very smart on their pins, but wanted that true mastery of the art of passing and dribbling at the proper time which make up the refined and superior association player. as for endurance, they did not toil among iron wheels, steel axles, and brass fittings for locomotives, to say nothing of generating steam on the shortest notice, without being "hardy." no, no. they were in the best of condition for the game. the queen's took them too cheaply, and nearly paid a lasting penalty for their carelessness. the game, in fact, was so closely fought that the teams were unable to overcome one another, and two goals each was the result. meeting a second time, however, the q.p. made short work of them, and won by nine goals to none. the evening before the memorable tussle which put the half of dumbartonshire into a state of excitement, bordering on the football fever, "mary, the maid of the football inn," came to the door of the little hotel repeatedly, and after casting sundry glances at the roadway and scanning the passers-by, muttered something about being jilted, and how shamefully she had been used by bob. her own bob, who was always so punctual, and occasionally treated her to a nice walk along the leven, past ewing's big work, and even went the length of composing verses in her honour. "what had become of him? had nancy pringle waylaid him, as she positively swore she would do, on the first opportunity, and start the probationary stages of a drama in real life?" the fact was bob never came, and no wonder. he was collared by the dumbarton captain, and carried off to the field to practice for the great fight of the next day, under pains and penalties. he pleaded for mary, but it was of no avail. "he had," he went on to remonstrate, "promised on his word of honour to meet her that evening and take her to luckie m'latchie's booking." luckie and tam m'murtrie (an old footballer) were to be spliced a fortnight afterwards, and the "cries" were in. with a serious air the captain lectured bob till he was blue in the face, and told him if he did not put himself in condition for the great battle of the morrow he would be stoned by the town enthusiasts. he remembered when a boy at school scribbling as best he could on his copybook, "discretion is the better part of valour," and the sentence flashed across his heated brain with all the force of actual conviction. "what was he to do?" "was it to be football first, and mary afterwards?" something whispered "yes; mary could afford to wait, but the 'cup' was a transitory article, and the splendid chance his club had of winning it might pass away like a dream." "why, there was joe laidlay, he was in something like the same dilemma so far as his 'lass' was concerned, and if joe, he thought, could afford to put off his sweetheart, maggie jackson, in the same way, he (bob) considered that he should be able to conclude the arrangement, and make the best excuse to mary." quietly speaking, bob had an ambition in his football, and it consisted in being a member of the eleven who would at one time or another "lick" the queen's park, and went into the practice game with his whole heart, and played all through in good form. just a year or so before this the "vale" would have given the same dumbarton lot short shift and no favour on any of the grounds, but matters were altered. they wanted a lot of their old blood, which had in years gone bye carried them through many a doubtful battle. they had lost their grand goalkeeper, and the crack half-back had vacated his favourite position to keep the ball from going between the uprights in "time o' need." some of the daring forwards had also bade farewell to the game, and were scattered over the length and breadth of the land. the match, however, had to be played--it would brook no delay--and the spirited captain resolved to make the best of it, although a score of misgivings passed through his mind as to the issue. there was one thing in favour of the "vale," they had their own ground to play upon, and that was reckoned as worth a goal any day. before the start johnny freer told his old chums to keep their "weather eyes" open for sudden rushes by the dumbarton forward division, and before the game was very old, they discovered that the advice did not come a moment too soon. keeping close on the touch lines till well down among the half-backs, maclure and his light companion, "the bird," assuredly did not allow the grass to grow under their leather bars. the ground was a little sloppy from the recent rain, but, strange to say, the dumbarton men seemed to keep their feet in a remarkable manner. m'luckie and big walton tried their very best to intercept the dribblers, but at times they were completely mastered, and dick wallace had to come away from his place at back and assist. the most of the dumbarton lads were much faster on the ball than the "vale," and this, added to a slice of luck, aided them in scoring twice, and they consequently won a hard battle by two goals to none, and earned the proud distinction of being the champions. after the great crowd had dispersed, and lots of silver had changed hands, a solemn silence reigned in that part of the pavilion utilised by the "vale." "there is no use denying the fact, chaps," said the captain of the defeated team, "these fellows have beaten us on our form this season, and we'll have to make the best of a bad bargain." not so, however, in the other end of the house. the victors were "blowing" a good deal of the bad luck they had had, and how they ought to have scored a dozen goals if "sandy had not repeatedly allowed the ball to graze the goal-posts, instead of attempting to kick it out. they had, however, beaten the 'vale,' and that was all they cared for, in the said tie. the rangers they declared they did not fear, and from all they could hear, they were now quite able to meet the queen's park face to face." with the rangers, however, they had just sufficient to do on their own ground in the first match, but in the second came off victorious by five goals to one. one saturday evening we took forcible possession of jack cook's lodgings, which were situated near the marie stuart hall, crosshill. jack was very fond of billiards, and sometimes pocketed several "pools" of an evening, when a few choice spirits congregated in "the rooms." jack's landlady had frequently threatened him with pains and penalties for treating anything approaching "elders' hours" with contempt, and once intensified it to instant dismissal, bag and baggage, for encouraging a lot of his chums in leading the chorus of dickens' bacchanalian song: "we won't go home till morning, till morning, till morning, we won't go home till morning, till daylight doth appear," at four o'clock a.m., under her kitchen window after a big cup tie, which the conquerors had won. jack, as a matter of precaution warned us that we were to comport ourselves with decency, and not rouse the aforesaid lady. our friend had something in the bottle. we were comfortably seated, and the room filled with tobacco smoke, when a dim shadow was noticed at the door, and turned out to be willie fairfield, of the flying blues, who had just called to let us know he had received a telegram from edinburgh announcing the defeat of the hibernian in the protested match with dumbarton, by six goals to two. willie, it may be mentioned, had drawn the hibernian in our "sweep," and was, i may inform all concerned, well pleased with his luck when the ticket came out the bag; but now much crestfallen. bill weldon, however, who had secured dumbarton in the same drawing, jumped off his chair at the success of the club he had secured, and remarked--"look here, boys, dumbarton are just about good enough to win the association cup, and i'll take evens on't." "done," said a chorus of voices, and mrs. blank's parlour was for a few minutes transformed into a betting house on a small scale. we had a long chat as to the respective merits of the rangers and dumbarton, who were to play their tie over again, in consequence of some informality, and after draining jack's bottle, were accompanied to the door with solemn injunctions not to kick up a row on the stairs. weeks passed after this little incident, and the clubs left in our "sweep" were getting small by degrees and beautifully less. the rangers, partick, south-western, northern, rd l.r.v., arthurlie, kilmarnock portland, alexandra athletic, thornliebank, heart of midlothian, and even the plucky little clyde were cleared off the list, and the queen's park had their own ado with kilmarnock athletic, and only beat that sturdy ayrshire club by three goals to two. all that now remained in the tie, in fact, were q.p. and dumbarton. it was weldon and pate brown for it now, and both began to dream of a good pocketful of "sovs." pate, who was engaged to charming little lizzie green, had been living very carefully for a time in prospect of shortly calling lizzie his own, was only now a casual visitor to cook's lodgings. one evening, on his way home from ball & field's, pate began to reckon up his chances of winning the "sweep." "one hundred and five subscribers at a 'sov.' a-piece," said he, "why that makes £ . the odd 'fiver' will pay all the expenses, and if the q.p. win the cup, why all that will be mine. oh! glorious q.p., invincible q.p., you must and shall win the cup," raved excited pate. "lizzie, my own dear lassie, i have not told you about my speculation, nor will i till the tie is over, and we'll get married this summer yet." i do not intend to weary my readers with a detailed account of the final cup ties, for everybody knows there were two played. in the first, when the clubs tied, and dumbarton had the best of the game, little pate brown nearly lost his senses with excitement, and had frequently to lean heavily on the shoulder of lizzie green to prevent him from falling under the grand stand. "what is it, dear, that makes you so terribly pale at a match?" she said to him in a gentle whisper. "you must be ill, for i have never observed you so excited before." little did the young lady imagine what was at issue, and the cause of pate's nervousness; but she knew afterwards, and had a jolly laugh over it in her own tidy little house at govanhill. who does not remember the real final tie on cathkin park? such a match will, perhaps, never be seen in scotland again. how both queen's park and dumbarton played with all the force and dash they could command, and how at length the queen's park were the conquerors, and pate brown won the double prize. a few nights afterwards pate received one hundred sovs. (there were no second and third prizes) in the "marie stuart," and when he told the young fellows assembled that he was about to get wed to lizzie green, every soul of them (not even excepting bill weldon himself, who had drawn dumbarton in the speculation, and lost a few "sovs." on them too), congratulated him on his choice, and called pate a "lucky dog." they all knew and admired the neat little girl who, among other blithe and gentle faces, turned out to see the leading football matches, to cheer the players when they won, and chaff them when they lost. they were married--pate brown and lizzie green--and in presence of his old club companions, whom he had invited to spend an evening at his new house, pate told the simple story of how he had got married to his little darling a year sooner than he expected, all through drawing the queen's park in a "sweep for the cup." _iv.--famous association players--past and present._ little did the comparatively small but orderly group of enthusiastic spectators who met around the ropes at hamilton crescent ground, partick, eighteen years ago, to witness the first international association match, imagine the ultimate development of the association style of play in scotland, and in after years the triumphs which awaited her sons in contests with england. i was present, and shall never forget the manner in which the teams--both scotch and english--acquitted themselves, and made a drawn game of it. ~the five dead internationalists.~ the ranks of the past crack players are beginning to get thinned by the common enemy of mankind. when i think of the busy feet, blithe and happy faces, and merry voices that joined in the game twenty years ago, a sense of sadness comes over me which it is difficult to dispel. "the first international, sir;" yes. five of the gallant eleven who fought scotland's battle are dead. poor gardner, smith, weir, leckie, and taylor, football players, have cause to remember thee! it was a hard struggle to keep up football in those days, and as there were no club funds all the items of expenditure had to be brought forth from the capacious pockets of the members. they loved the game, however, those primitive players, and engaged in it for its own sake, without ever thinking of reward. in the words of a great poetess, "we shall sing their praise ere long;" and while it may be thousands of dribblers of the present never heard their names, it is but right that the young ones should not forget what they owe to the association football pioneers. yes, the boys of the old brigade are falling out of the ranks in which they served so well, never to muster again on this side the grave; while others, still toiling on, are "scattered far and wide, by mountain, stream, and sea." ~joseph taylor.~ the admitted chief of the five who have gone to their rest was joseph taylor. of a quiet and unassuming disposition, blended with remarkable firmness, no man who captained the queen's park was so much respected both on the field and in private life. none hated unfair or rough play more. he could not endure it in a club companion, and this was particularly so if his team were playing a comparatively junior combination. taught in the early school of association football, when the rules were much more exacting than they are now, he had, along with his colleagues in the queen's park, to fight their preliminary battles, and overcome the prejudices consequent on introducing the "reformation," so to speak, in football. taylor developed into a first-class back when comparatively young, and was chosen to play for his club against england in , when the queen's park met that country single-handed, and played a drawn contest. considering his light weight, he was a fine tackler, returned very smartly to his forwards, and, possessing remarkable speed, completely astonished an opponent by clearing the ball away before the forwards of the opposing club were able to obtain any advantage. he had always a kind and encouraging word to young players, and in and was chosen captain of the scotchmen, and played, in all, five times against england. he died in govanhill about three years ago. ~robert gardner.~ as the first captain of the queen's park in the international of , and also chosen to that post next season in london, gardner, who has also joined the great majority, was the most extraordinary player of his day. he was so versatile that i have seen him at work in all the different positions of the field--goalkeeper, back, half-back, and even forward--but it was as a goalkeeper that he excelled. a very indifferent kicker out in front, when the ball came up, he sometimes made mistakes with the feet; but when i remember the brilliant men who have since stood between the posts in internationals and final cup ties, each in their line famous, i must confess that none ever used their hands and weight to greater advantage than gardner. possessing a peculiarity of temper which had much of the scotchmen's sturdy independence, he had a difference with some of his friends, and left the queen's park to join the clydesdale, and did much to assist that club to attain at the time the second position in scottish association football. members of both clubs will not easily forget the manner in which gardner kept goal for his new combination against the queen's park in a cup tie, when three matches had to be completed before the senior club won. he retired from the game some time before his death, which took place at south queensferry a year and a half ago. ~james e. weir.~ who could dribble and keep possession of the ball like weir? in a football sense he was in everybody's mouth sixteen years ago, when crack forwards were few, and neat dribblers fewer. in all the contests the queen's park engaged in for ten years, none was more popular among the spectators, and emulated by the then young generation of players, than weir. he always worked on the right side, and with william m'kinnon, angus mackinnon, h. m'neil, t. lawrie, and t. c. highet for companions, the exhibition of dribbling and passing, with the six forwards, was finer than is the case now with the five. the ball had then to touch the ground after being thrown in straight from the line before being played. under those circumstances, heading by the forwards was never seen in the field, unless after a corner-flag kick. well can i remember the match at hampden park against the london wanderers, whom the queen's park defeated by six goals to none, when weir, being tackled by the hon. a. f. kinnaird and c. w. alcock, put his foot on the ball, shook off the two powerful englishmen, and made a goal. the sad news only arrived lately from australia, whither weir had gone some years ago, of his demise. deceased played in two internationals, including that of , and no finer dribbler ever toed a ball. he was, in fact, at the time designated the "prince of dribblers." ~joseph leckie.~ in every condition of life, no matter the sphere in which one is placed, he has his own peculiarities, and, in a football sense, leckie, above all the gallant throng who have disappeared for ever from the field, had his. comparatively short of stature and powerfully knit together, with splendidly moulded limbs, leckie was one of the most tenacious forwards. while dribbling past an opponent with the ball at his toe, his peculiarity asserted itself in such a way that, once seen, could never be forgotten. weir, smith, w. m'kinnon, h. m'neil, and, later on, fraser, highet, and richmond, among the army of forwards brought out by the queen's park; to say nothing of m'lintock, m'intyre, and baird (vale of leven), j. r. wilson and anderson (clydesdale), t. vallance and p. campbell (rangers), and a. kennedy and j. hunter ( rd l.r.v.), of whom i will say something later on, had all their imitators in the younger clubs, but leckie had none. he was, in fine, a player by himself. when he obtained possession of ball, he guarded his body with extended arms drooping from his side, with the back of his hands in front of the thighs, and thus formed a barrier to an opponent who attempted to tackle or take the ball from him. he took part in the first international. he died about three years ago in south africa. ~james smith.~ the least known, perhaps, of the original international men, but one whose name will ever be honoured by many of the older school of players, and locally queen's park members, is mr. james smith, who died some years ago in london. mr. smith was, in conjunction with his brother robert, early associated with the game in scotland, and was an original member of the queen's park. mr. archibald rae, the first secretary of the scottish football association, and at one time an active member of the queen's park (and a beautiful dribbler in his day), tells an amusing anecdote of smith, while playing against the hamilton club, leaping on the top of a hedge to win a touch-down, which in those days counted a point in the game. this entirely coincided with poor smith's play, as he was sometimes very impetuous. he played in the international of as a forward. ~william m'kinnon.~ dealing now with the past players who are with us in the body, for a long series of years, and, indeed, till within a short period of retiring from the field, no centre forward of his day, and very few since, have equalled m'kinnon in that trying position. when the rd lanark rifle volunteers started the dribbling game on the old drill ground at govanhill, or rather when that small burgh was "no man's land," m'kinnon was one of its most active players. it is in connection with his membership of the queen's park that i wish to recall incidents in his career. in i made my way over to the south-side park to witness a match between the queen's and the vale of leven. association football was then a very insignificant affair--the rugby code, with such fine clubs as the glasgow academicals and west of scotland as exponents--engaging all the public attention. the game was free to all. "ladies and gentlemen, no charge for admission. come and see our game. kick-off, . ." well, m'kinnon, along with the rest of the team, emerged from the old toll-house, close by, to meet their gallant opponents, and mr. parlane, of the vale of leven (who kept goal so well for that club in many of her best matches), "chaffed" the q.p. man in amusing manner about his boots (see "the conqueror's football boots"), which were new, and differed considerably from the style then worn by players. all through the contest, which, by the way, was drawn, with no goals on either side, m'kinnon was a little stiff, and scarcely played so well as was his wont. he never discarded his old companions, however, and those very boots in after years kicked many a goal both in internationals and final cup ties. as an indication, in fact, of his genuine ability, he was chosen to play against england oftener than any man in scotland, with the single exception of mr. charles campbell, who was selected no fewer than ten times as a half-back. mr. m'kinnon was engaged in eight, including the first, and in these his country was victorious four times, and two were drawn matches. as a centre forward has to bear the brunt of an attack from the opposing side first, m'kinnon was the very man to lead on the advance guard. his pluck was immense; and while he rather delighted to dodge an opponent and leave the charging to his backer up, he was a close and beautiful dribbler; could play a hard match without any outward signs of fatigue, and no man before or since could take a corner-flag kick like him. he used to practice this kick, and could place the ball within a few inches of the spot aimed at. mr. m'kinnon is still in our midst hale and hearty, and when a good thing in football is announced he generally turns out to see his favourite game, and is not afraid to criticise the form shown by his successors. ~david wotherspoon.~ mr. wotherspoon was early associated with the queen's park; indeed, one of the original members, and did much in his day for football. when the senior club found it a matter of difficulty to get up an eleven to play in the country, some times at east kilbride (for you must know that important agricultural centre had a club nearly twenty years ago), alexandria, and hamilton, wotherspoon and gardner were generally the first volunteers. there were no fares paid in those primitive days out of club funds, and each individual had to square up his own account, like the scottish cricketer of the present. although retired now for a number of years, and out of the run of the game, wotherspoon, who is in business in the city, is always delighted to hear of its development, and proud of what he did in his youth for it. if ever a man had neatness of style, combined with gentlemanly conduct to an opponent on the field, it was wotherspoon. considering the fact that he was a light-weight, under st., he many a time astonished both opponents and spectators by his magnificent returns at half-back, and i may mention, in passing, that in a match at hampden park i actually saw him kick a ball from the centre of the field right through the goal--a feat that very few of our younger half-backs could accomplish now. as i saw him in two internationals ( - ), however, it was not as a half-back, but as an accomplished forward, dribbling with great judgment, and passing in a most unselfish way. mr. wotherspoon left the queen's park to join the clydesdale a short time after his old companion gardner, and the two were associated with that club when it numbered among its members such fine players as messrs. f. anderson, g. m. wilson, j. r. wilson, w. wilson, j. p. tennent, j. m'pherson, w. gibb, j. t. richmond, and david's brother, j. wotherspoon. in the first of the long string of matches which have been played between sheffield and glasgow, dating back to , mr. wotherspoon was one of the players; and it may be mentioned that, in the same contest, the glasgow representatives were made up entirely of queen's park and clydesdale men, and that each city scored a couple of goals. ~james j. thomson.~ no player among the half-backs of the old school was so much thought of in association football as thomson. once seen and met by an opponent, he could never be forgotten. tall and stern in appearance, he carried every pound of his heavy weight with the greatest ease, and, what was of more consequence to his club in a hard battle, used it well. he tackled with consummate skill, and had remarkable confidence in himself. for the first three years of his membership no player ever turned out more regularly to practice, and, for a stout man, none could show an opponent a cleaner pair of heels. all the time he was available in the queen's park, an international without thomson as one of the half-backs was out of the question, and for three seasons ( - - ), he was selected for that post against england. in the last event, when scotland won at partick by two goals to one, the brilliant manner in which thomson played will not easily be forgotten by those who witnessed the contest. while f. anderson (clydesdale), and a. mackinnon (queen's park), scored the goals for scotland, thomson never worked harder in his life, and when the english forwards got near his side, he rarely, if ever, failed to take the ball away from them. just before leaving for manchester, mr. thomson was chosen captain of the glasgow eleven against sheffield. some years ago he went to liverpool, and is now secretary of the extensive butcher business of eastmans company (limited). in addition to his ability as a football player, mr. thomson was a splendid sprinter, and carried off a large number of prizes both in glasgow and edinburgh. ~william ker.~ mr. william ker was captain of the queen's park when they leased their first private ground, and did much by his tact and ability to bring on our senior club to seek new conquests in england. mr. ker--of whose brother george i shall have occasion to refer by and by--was a most gentlemanly young fellow, and made himself respected by club companions and opponents alike. in the early history of the game a half-back, and even back, did not consider it _infra dig._ to dribble a bit and bring up the ball to goal, provided the match was against a much weaker club, and while ker was a grand back and beautiful kicker with his left foot, he was also an accomplished dribbler. in a match he never lost sight of the ball for a moment, and when any of his team made a mistake in following up, ker frequently stepped into the breach himself, and did his best to get the player out of a difficulty. he was too gentlemanly to upbraid a member of the team on the ground, like some captains now-a-days, but awaited an opportunity, and the advice imparted generally did the careless player a world of good. in the famous match at partick in , ker showed some very fine play, both in clever tackling and returning the ball; and, if i mistake not, he was opposed on the opposite side by the english captain (mr. c. j. ottaway, since dead), and the manoeuvring between the pair was something to be remembered. mr. ker did not play very long after this game, as he left glasgow for canada. ~robert smith.~ unlike his brother in the manner of his style, mr. robert smith was not by any means an impulsive player, but took in the situation quietly; and while no man ever worked harder in the field, or did more for a club, he was not what could be called a brilliant forward. the brothers, however, did well in the international i have referred to, and considerably helped the eleven to make a drawn battle of it. it may be mentioned that both were then also members of the south norwood club (one of the best in england at that time), as they had previously left scotland for london. mr. robert smith, so far as i am aware, is now in the united states. ~alexander rhind.~ a rare but light dribbler was mr rhind. one of the old members of the queen's park, and associated with men whose names i have already mentioned in its early struggles, he knew, if i may be allowed to use a simile which is likely to force a smile, what football poverty was, for is it not a fact that he was a member of the q.p. finance committee when the annual subscription was _sixpence_, the yearly income £ s. d., and as the expenditure amounted up to £ s. d., the deficit of s. d. had to be made up by a levy? i never remember mr. rhind playing in a match after the international. he is now in aberdeen. ~the first final cup tie.~ the first final association cup tie, on hampden park, i remember well. the clubs fated to meet each other were the queen's park and clydesdale, and the match, considering the fact that the players were comparatively young in the practice of the dribbling game, proved a very fine one indeed. it was on a saturday afternoon in the middle of march, , and a crowd of fully spectators attended. the hampden park of to-day, with its splendid pavilion and accessories, and beautifully laid-off turf, was not then conceived in the minds of the match committee. it was the hampden park of yore, now cut up to form a railway embankment. mr. hon. secy. rae and his companions in office never for a moment imagined that in sixteen years afterwards the new ground, which is crowded nearly every saturday afternoon with excited spectators, would be made to satisfy the cravings of a football public, and the exigencies of athletic life. there was no such thing as a pavilion then, only a kind of "wee house" at the gate end of the field, for all the world like an overgrown sentry-box, did duty instead. the grass on the field was not even cut in some places, and at the top corner-flag was long and turfy. the spectators, however, of whom a large number were ladies, enjoyed it very much, and the enthusiasm imparted among the youths who were present had a wonderful effect on the spread of the game. it was thought that a draw was inevitable, so well did both sides play till within twenty minutes of the finish, when mr. wm. m'kinnon scored a goal for the senior club, and this was followed by a second from the foot of mr. leckie, not long before no-side was announced, leaving the q.p. the winners by two goals to none. i must, however, go back a little way and say something about the ~association challenge cup,~ which has caused a new order of things to arise in scottish football. well, during the previous year, and, in fact, not long after the first international at partick, new clubs were formed in many quarters, but more particularly glasgow and dumbartonshire, and it was on march , , that the queen's park convened a meeting of representatives of clubs, and what is now known as the scottish football association was formed. eight clubs responded, and created the great association. the eight, who deserve much honour at the hands of players, were:--queen's park, clydesdale, vale of leven, dumbreck, eastern, rovers, rd l.r.v., and granville, and those clubs were represented on the committee by mr. arch. campbell (clydesdale), president; mr. w. ker (queen's park), hon. treasurer; mr. archibald rae (queen's park), hon. secretary; with the following committee:--messrs. ebenezer hendry and wm. gibb (clydesdale), j. turnbull (dumbreck), d. macfarlane (vale of leven), w. e. dick ( rd l.r.v.), t. mackay (granville), j. m'intyre (eastern), and r. gardner (queen's park). next in order came the challenge cup, and the competition for that trophy was in full swing. the necessary funds were soon forthcoming, and a very neat, but plain, specimen of the silversmith's art was brought forth. the subject for ornamentation was taken from a cut in the _graphic_, representing a player in the act of dribbling at the first international, and made by messrs. george edward & sons. there you have it now, gentlemen, rather dry reading and technical, though, but nevertheless the infant life of a great competition. by a strange coincidence in the respective matches, and one which the players of a former era will look upon with a sense of sadness, consists in the fact that of the twenty-two who took part in that game seven are dead. of these the senior club has the misfortune to claim five--messrs. j. j. taylor, j. b. weir, j. leckie, j. dickson, and a. mackinnon; while the clydesdale, so far as i am aware, has only two, mr. j. r. wilson and mr. robert gardner. as i have already given short sketches of messrs. taylor, weir, leckie, and gardner, under the head of "dead internationalists," and j. j. thomson and w. m'kinnon under another, i have only to deal with r. w. neil, j. dickson, t. lawrie, c. campbell, angus mackinnon, and h. m'neil (queen's park), and the whole of the clydesdale, with the sole exception of r. gardner. ~charles campbell.~ mr. campbell seems to have had no real starting point in his football career. the love of the game and its early associations came to him as if by nature. i am told that when he was quite a boy he used to appear on the ground at queen's park to see his brother edward playing with old club companions. he soon began to dribble about, and afterwards show splendid ability in long-kicking and tackling, and in - played for the queen's park in her best matches. the final cup tie, however, was his first big event, and no doubt the lessons and confidence he obtained in that match served him well in after years, when he was destined to be the greatest favourite both among players and spectators that ever took part in any cup tie or international. mr. campbell has now retired from active duty on the field, but his love for the game, and the welfare of the players engaged in it, induced him to accept the presidentship of the association for - , and one and all are alive to the fact that he discharges his duties with the greatest fidelity. as a brilliant tackler and neat kicker at half-back, it might honestly be said of him that he had no equal. men who played against him on great occasions (for mr. campbell always rose to his best form in these) have good cause to remember how he could "head" the ball away from goal at a critical moment, and get it through quite a forest of legs. as he was not one of the cracks in the final cup tie of , i must honestly confess i can't remember how he played, but as his club scored a victory, and he was one of the half-backs, he must have done well. mr. campbell rarely, if ever, spends a saturday afternoon away from hampden park in the winter time; takes a lively interest in his mother club, and, what is of more account, can still play in his favourite position with great dash and precision. he has the unique distinction of playing in ten internationals with england, and been an office-bearer of his club since . ~thomas lawrie.~ mr. lawrie has done much for football in connection with his club and the association, both by example and precept. in the early days of the queen's park he was one of their most brilliant forwards, and in several of the cup ties, notably that between the queen's park and renton, proved the best man on the field. he never shirked his work, or left hard tackling to the half-backs, but sprang on the ball and opponent at once, and generally had the best of it. of all the fine forwards who received their football education under mr. j. j. thomson's, and later on mr. c. campbell's and mr. joseph taylor's captaincy, none could keep his feet better on the field; and it was quite a rare thing to see lawrie grassed by an opponent. although not much above the middle height, he was a perfect football hercules, and not long before retiring from the field opponents in some of the matches would frequently make earnest inquiries about whether he were to be included in the q.p. team on that day. but for an accident to the knee which made him retire, after being chosen to play in the international against england in , mr. lawrie would have then represented his club. after giving up active duty in the field, he has rendered noble service by being president of the scottish football association, and loves the game as dearly as ever. ~harry m'neil.~ the first final cup tie brought into prominence one of the neatest little dribblers and passers that ever played on the left wing of any club. methinks i see him now, with his quick action, short step, and unselfish play, gliding down the side of the field, dodging an opponent close on the touch-line, and causing the spectators to laugh immoderately. spectators are prone to make favourites, and while mr. campbell was assuredly one at half-back, mr. m'neil was none the less loved among the forwards. while playing in the leading games he was always ready with his joke, and i'll back him to be the best man in the world to explain away a defeat and magnify a victory for the club he loved so well. mr. m'neil was chosen seven times to play against england and wales, and i remember his efforts and their results with pleasure. the only time he was sorely beset was in the international of , when mr. jarrett (cambridge university, i think), one of the english half-backs--a powerful young fellow--tackled him severely. the gallant little queen's park man, however, withstood the charges well, and came up from mother earth smiling. that match, however, ended in favour of scotland by three goals to none. mr. m'neil was a member of the rd l.r.v. at the start of his career, and also of the rangers, but joined the queen's park in . ~robert w. neill.~ mr. neill kept the late mr. j. j. taylor company at back in many of the most trying and critical q.p. matches of , ' , ' , and ' , and in all those years was a familiar figure in the internationals against england and wales. as we have previously said about the deceased mr. leckie, players have their peculiarities, and neill had his. he was a really brilliant back and pretty sure tackler, but relied too much on his feet while defending goal, instead of using the breast and head. his individuality consisted in meeting the charge of an opponent with bended knees, and he had the knack of taking the ball away and making a brilliant return in a style that roused the cheers of the spectators. he was a very hard worker to the last, and only retired from football to go abroad some years ago. he has, however, returned to glasgow, and may frequently be seen at some of the best matches of the season. his play during and was exceptionally good, and in those years was in the best form of any back in scotland. ~john dickson.~ poor fellow! mr. dickson had but a short career, not only in football, but in everyday life. he caught a severe cold one bleak evening coming from hampden park after a practice match, and succumbed to the malady of inflammation of the lungs at the age of . he started his football life as a back; but when the queen's park lost mr. gardner he was tried as goalkeeper, and did very well. tall and gentlemanly in appearance, with neatly trimmed sandy whiskers and moustache, dickson kicked out in front of his goal very neatly, and was not afraid to meet the charge of an opposing forward. an incident in his career caused a great deal of amusement at the time, however, and is worth recording, just to show the immense faith he had in the infallibility of his old club. it was in a cup tie with the vale of leven, when that club beat the queen's park by two goals to one. dickson appeared at goal with an umbrella, as the rain was falling fast, but when the vale scored their first goal he was obliged to throw away his companion, and work harder than ever he had done before. ~angus mackinnon.~ a powerfully-made young fellow, above the medium height, mr. mackinnon was a very fair forward, and always played in the centre with mr. william m'kinnon, his namesake, and the pair were a "caution" to meet in a hot tussle. the six forwards took part in the play then, with two on each wing and a couple in the centre, and it was a treat to see how well the mackinnons worked in their places. mr. angus, however, was rather short in the temper, and often had a "few words" with both companions and opponents during a game. he played a very indifferent game in the final tie and some of the matches previously, but was really in excellent form at that same year's international against england, and scored one of the goals. mr. mackinnon died about four years ago in canada. ~frederick anderson.~ if there is one player more than another that deserves to be remembered by his old club, the clydesdale, for the manner in which he brought it before the public by scoring one of the goals in the third international at partick in , it is anderson. he was a very fine dribbler, and about the most difficult man in the clydesdale forwards to get the ball away from after he had obtained possession. although not one of the original members, he was early associated with the clydesdale, and played in the best games of seasons , ' , and ' . he was a bit of a sprinter, and very fast on the ball, with very fine staying power. many of the backs who played against him during his best days were afraid of anderson when he got near the sticks. he is now in manchester. ~john m'pherson.~ mr. john m'pherson, of the clydesdale, is a much older player than his namesake of the vale of leven. when the clydesdale went into the game with a dash that astonished even the q.p., he was one of their finest forwards, and, possessing great speed, was not easily tackled by the best backs of the day. he always played on the right wing, and was a dangerous man at goal. mr. m'pherson did much both for football and cricket in inveraray, and even now takes an interest in his favourite pastime in rothesay, where he assists his father in the management of the queen's hotel. it may be mentioned that, in addition to his other qualifications, for "he was so versatile," m'pherson has acted on more than one occasion as outrider to her majesty when she visited the highlands. in he played against england. ~william gibb.~ i am sorry to say mr. gibb is dead, and that the sad event severs the link that bound the whole of the clydesdale eleven together, with the exception of the blank left by the loss of their accomplished goalkeeper. mr. gibb was a tall and powerful young fellow, and i have frequently seen a few of his opponents feeling rather shy before attempting to oppose his progress towards goal. during the winters of , , and , the clydesdale forward play was good. so brilliant was his form in that he was taken to landon to play against england, and scored one of the goals got by scotland, who were defeated by four goals to two. mr. gibb's only fault on the field was a disposition to over-run the ball. he died about two years ago in india. ~a. h. raeburn.~ in the first final cup tie mr. raeburn was one of the half-backs, and played up with great dash and pluck. if my memory serves me right, he was one of the original members of the granville cricket and football club when the ground was at myrtle park, about a couple of stone-throws from hampden park. he was very fond of the game, and no man in the clydesdale had more enthusiasm. mr. raeburn was a fine tackler, and not easily flurried when meeting an opponent, and with such men as the mackinnons to face in the centre and weir on the right that day of the final, he had his own ado. he did not play very much after this game. ~ebenezer hendry.~ mr. hendry was more of a cricketer than a football player, and made many fine scores for his side during the early years of his career. with the exception of mr. gardner and mr. anderson, all the members of the clydesdale could play cricket, and it was more for the purpose of keeping members together during the winter months that the dribbling game was started on kinning park (the old home of the senior cricket club of glasgow). mr. hendry was a slow tackler, and took too long to get on the ball, but when he got a fair chance, was a very neat kicker, and showed good judgment. ~j. r. wilson.~ during the past season, mr. wilson, who had been abroad for a number of years, made a visit to his native city, and was welcomed back by his old friends of the field with remarkable pleasure. no man in the club was more highly beloved and respected, and, in after years, when his brother walter joined the club and played in several of the leading matches, the pair rarely if ever missed a practice evening. mr. wilson was very fast on the ball, and went right ahead when he got possession. in he was chosen to play for glasgow against sheffield. in the cup tie which is now under notice he made some very fine runs, and did much to make a name for the old clydesdale. it is with much regret i have to announce that mr. wilson died in glasgow only a month ago. ~james m'arly.~ a hard worker and plucky tackler was mr. m'arly. for a long series of years he was one of the finest batsmen in cricket that glasgow produced. contemporary with mr. thos. chalmers (caledonian), the pair often met on the field for their respective clubs; but so far as football is concerned chalmers played the rugby game for the glasgow academicals, while his contemporary was half-back in the association clydesdale. about a dozen years ago he went to manchester, where he is engaged as partner in a large calico printing business; and the other day i had a chat with him about old times, and he enjoyed it immensely. ~john kennedy.~ pressed into the service of his club on very short notice, mr. kennedy played in the tie as a substitute. he had only been a few weeks at the game when the match took place, but the young and rising generation of players must remember the substitutes were few in those days, and it is not the first time i have seen a match played with one of the clubs a man short. kennedy played as a forward, but afterwards developed into a very fair back, and showed capital judgment in that position. ~j. j. lang.~ originally a member of the rd l.r.v., lang left that club and joined the clydesdale in . he played in the final, i think, as centre forward, and backed up mr. j. r. wilson. possessing splendid dribbling powers, he was a very "showy" player, but his short steps did not make anything like the progress with the ball one imagined at the time. he was a somewhat heavy charger when he got the chance, and frequently preferred to take his man before the ball. ~a final charity cup tie eleven years ago.~ bringing my reminiscences down to , the year above all others when association football was, so to speak, in a kind of transition stage, the clubs that earned the greatest fame, and justly so, were the queen's park, rangers, and vale of leven. who, among all the gallant throng that played in those clubs--and, for that part of it, the spectators--can forget the exciting tussles engaged in by the trio? in this year the rangers met the vale of leven in the final tie for the association challenge cup, and also in the final for the charity. party, or shall i say club, feeling ran as high, if not higher, than now, the excitement was great, and intensified by the fact that the leven men had been eventually awarded the association cup without playing off the drawn match, in consequence of the rangers not turning up. later on, too, the crack dumbartonshire eleven overthrew the queen's park in the semi-final of the charities, on glasgow green, by four goals to none. well, it was on tuesday evening, th may, that the battle came off on old hampden park, and both the rangers and vale of leven mustered in strong force. lovely weather helped to swell the crowd, and some , people were inside the ground. the vale of leven scored almost at once by mr. m'dougall, and this looked like the prelude to victory. the rangers, however, set their teeth, and before the contest closed vanquished their powerful opponents by scoring a couple of goals--one by mr. struthers, and another out of a scrimmage. since then eleven years have come and gone, and with them a new generation of football players. seeing that the rangers were the victors, i shall proceed to give sketches of their eleven who played on the occasion, and deal with the vale of leven afterwards. ~george gillespie.~ in connection with the dribbling game in glasgow, it should be generally known that mr. gillespie supplies the link which binds the players of the dead past to those of the living present. he is still to the fore, and does duty as well as ever. early in his football career mr. gillespie was not a goalkeeper, for i am certain i saw him play at back in some of the early matches of the "light blues." nature, metaphorically speaking, never intended him to be anything in the game but a goalkeeper, and a brilliant one, too. how he kept goal in this great match, and dozens of others, is still fresh in the memory both of old players and spectators. he is the only man on the active list who played ten years ago, and had the distinction of appearing against england twice and wales three times. from the rangers he joined the q.p. about six years ago. ~thomas vallance.~ the early history of the rangers--their triumphs, misfortunes, joys, and sorrows--have all been shared in by mr. thomas vallance, and he still sticks to them like the veritable leech. who could captain a young team like he? when vallance led the rangers to victory in this final charity tie, i am sure he was barely out of his teens, and i don't think would even yet hesitate to don the blue jersey of the club were it hard up for a back. vallance was a back, indeed, and for several seasons, but more particularly that of - , none in scotland showed better form. his returns near goal were neat and clean, and without being in any way rough with an opponent. vallance's length of limb and good judgment often saved his club from losing goals. the whole of the rangers "lo'ed him like a vera brither," and at practice his word was law. he played four times against england. ~alexander vallance.~ with quite as much pluck, but awanting in finish and style, the younger of the brothers, mr. alexander, was nevertheless a fine back. lighter made and more easily tackled than thomas, he had a way of his own in running out the ball before making the final shy, and when this was done well, as it frequently happened in a first-class match, young vallance received a perfect ovation from the crowd. alexander was in fine form in this tie, and some of his returns were splendidly made. instead of going at an opponent with the air of an infuriated bull, as some backs are prone to do now-a-days, he kept close to his man, and waited for an opportunity, which was at once taken advantage of. like his brother, he is still in the city, and takes a kindly interest in his mother club. ~hugh m'intyre.~ mr. hugh m'intyre and mr. j. drinnan were the half-backs in this contest. no such new-fangled device as three half-backs was ever thought of in scotland at that time, and you may be sure the pair had hard work. of all the players sent out by the rangers, m'intyre was in many respects the most powerful. he was, however, to be outspoken, the coarsest. woe betide the light and gentle forward who tried to pass mr. hugh! he pounced on his man at once, and with raised back--for he was somewhat round-shouldered--gave the excited spectator the idea that he meant to have the ball at any cost. his weight gave him an immense advantage in tackling, and i think old players will be at one with me when i say that he was the best at that kind of work in scotland. he was about the first to leave glasgow and accept an engagement in england. he played against wales in . ~james drinnan.~ in the list of the rangers' eleven who took part in the match under review, the name of mr. drinnan does not occur, and i am obliged to proffer an explanation. in the report of the contest one "r. jackson" is credited with keeping h. m'intyre company on the occasion. as the incident is past, and mr. drinnan no longer amenable to the laws of engineer apprenticeship, he did in this match what a great many men have done before him--viz., played under an assumed name. he was a very fair back, but not sufficiently brilliant to obtain notoriety, and never had the distinction of playing in an international. he was, nevertheless, a very useful all-round player, and could take his place as a centre forward at a moment's notice. ~peter campbell.~ the rangers a dozen years ago without mr. peter campbell would have been like the queen's park now with mr. william sellar left out. he was the life and soul of the forward division, and it is not too much to say of him that a finer dribbler and harder worker never kicked leather. poor campbell, like so many more of the old lot, is gone to his account! in a terrible storm in the bay of biscay, which left many a home desolate, seven years ago, the steamer in which he was chief engineer foundered, and not a soul was left to tell the tale. quiet and unassuming in manner, mr. campbell was beloved by all, and his untimely death is still mourned by the rangers, for whom he did so much. in - he was in such good form that he was chosen to play against wales, and in and did duty for glasgow against sheffield. ~moses m'neil.~ the m'neils are quite a football family, and, what is of more account, have gained distinction in the game. is it not a fact that mr. peter was one of the founders of the famous club nineteen years ago, and that messrs. harry, william, and moses kept the ball rolling on kinning park with credit for many a day? moses is the youngest of the lot, and consequently what may be termed the most modern. he was quite a boy when this cup tie came off, and played with a dash and finish on the left wing that completely astonished all who were present on old hampden park that may evening. mr. moses, too, was more than a mere local player, and through sheer force of ability was chosen to play against england in , and acted in the same capacity for scotland against wales in . he is still young and active, and resides in the city. ~william struthers.~ an original member of the partick, when that club could boast of having as good a team as now, struthers was associated with the old pioneers in messrs. boag, james s. campbell, love, sutar, bell, and smith, and joined the rangers the previous year before the tie. he was a beautiful dribbler, after the style of mr. t. c. highet; went right ahead with the ball close at his toe, and was the most difficult man to tackle in the rangers. he left scotland some years ago for england, where he played for the bolton wanderers. in brilliant form in the match, he made some fine runs in company with mr. campbell and mr. hill, and was successful in scoring the first goal got for the rangers. mr. struthers is now in england, where he has settled down. ~david hill.~ a most unselfish player was mr. hill. he was slow, but sure, and if ever a man showed an example in the field by at once passing on the ball when necessary, and never opening his mouth from kick-of to time call, it was he. one of the prominent figures all through quite a decade of seasons for his old club, mr. hill rendered the rangers valuable service, and never failed to turn up when he was wanted. in the final association challenge cup match with the vale of leven, played shortly before the one i am touching upon, and which ended in a tie, some splendid passing was witnessed between him and mr. wm. dunlop, who, by the way, could not play in the charity event in consequence of an injury sustained a week before. ~alex. steel.~ like the other members of the rangers, mr. steel was very young when he joined that club. his enthusiasm for the game, however, was unbounded, and i have been told by an old rangers' man that he was one of the original "moonlighters" of the club. this phrase gentlemen, requires some explanation. it does not refer to ireland and its agrarian grievances. no, no. it was only a few choice spirits of the rangers who, determined to win all matches, used to practice at full moon, and frequently frightened some of the belated lieges in the vicinity of kinning park, who swore the place was haunted. ~charles m'quarrie.~ although retired from active duty on the field, mr. m'quarrie is even now in football harness as the treasurer of the partick thistle. he did not play in many of the first eleven matches of the club, but being a promising lad was always available as first reserve forward. he was rather a neat dribbler and good backer-up, but a little slow in tackling. he was always a steady player, and did very well in this game. he did not play very much after this tie, but gave up football altogether, till his old love for the game returned some years ago, when he joined the thistle, and is one of their most earnest committee workers. ~robert parlane.~ i now proceed to the vale of leven men who played in this tie, and goalkeepers, beware! and, let me tell you, don't think too much of yourselves nowadays! we had a great man who stood between the posts a dozen years ago, quite equal at all points to you, and his name was parlane. who did not know mr. robert parlane a decade ago? in the early history of association football some of the best players ever scotland produced were also good cricketers, and parlane was one of these, and a grand wicketkeeper. without saying too much of the men who have over and over again distinguished themselves, i cannot help saying that a better goalkeeper never chucked out a ball. mr. parlane did very well in this match, his only fault being a disposition to go away too far from his charge. he kept goal for scotland against england in , and is now in belfast. ~h. m'lintock.~ for six years no man ever did better work for his club than mr. m'lintock. in fact, the vale of leven would as soon have scratched altogether in a cup tie as entered into a doubtful contest without him and their other great back, mr. andrew m'intyre. m'lintock did more than any of the old school now living to popularise a style of back play which ten years ago was emulated to a large extent all over the country. he had a most graceful way of turning the ball when it came dangerously near the goal, and running it out by dodging an opponent. he used both feet with equal freedom, and was decidedly the cleanest kicker that ever played in the vale of leven. it is a curious fact, and one worth noting, that mr. forbes adopted much the same style. m'lintock played against england in and . ~andrew m'intyre.~ mr. andrew m'intyre was a terrible fellow to meet in a hot scrimmage, and no matter the forwards who opposed--and i have seen three at him in a close tussle in front--m'intyre generally had the best of it and got the ball clear. his powerfully-knit frame served him in good stead in all the great matches in which he took a prominent part. in the one under review m'intyre was sorely beset by the pick of the rangers' forwards, but was always in the right place. no player of his day could work as well in so little space, and get the leather away safely. his only fault was to be a little demonstrative in the field with opponents, and tell them a bit of his mind during the game. in he was chosen to play against england. ~j. macintyre.~ the play of the two namesakes was as different as the poles asunder. of a fair height and good appearance, mr. j. macintyre was one of the most excitable men that ever stood in front of a goal. he generally warmed up at bit, however, and even showed more daring when his old club were playing an uphill game, and i know for certain that in the great drawn matches for the association challenge cup, between the vale of leven and rangers, no man ever did harder work. he was slow to get on the ball, and at times very erratic, but rarely if ever lost an opportunity. very rough in tackling, he, above all others in the club, was severe on the opposing forwards. ~j. m'pherson.~ among the vale of leven back division, which was so powerful long ago, none was more devoted to the game than mr. m'pherson, who held his place for several years as one of the backs of whom caledonia felt proud. without the least show or fussiness, m'pherson did his work quietly, and had the credit (and a good one, too) of being next to mr. john ferguson, the best-natured footballer in dumbartonshire. he could play a magnificent game when he liked, and one season particularly--that of --when he was one of the scottish eleven against england at sheffield, ably assisted his team to win a hard match by three goals to two. ~j. macfarlane.~ the vale of leven at the time this tie was played had a rare forward combination, and in some of their best matches the dribbling and passing among them were something to be remembered. macfarlane, however, was certainly not the best of the lot, but a very safe man, and could play equally well on the left wing or the centre, and, if i mistake not, work excellently as a backer-up to j. m'gregor. now, when i think of it, he was severely tackled in this match by h. m'intyre, and was not in such good form as some of the other forwards. ~r. paton.~ there are few, if any, old players in dumbartonshire, and, i should say, spectators as well, who cannot remember the familiar figure of mr. robert paton. a nicely-featured little fellow, with a joke for every acquaintance, he was full of vivacity, and an intense love for his old club, the vale. yes, "the vale." nobody ever called it anything else. paton, above all the other forwards who did so much to make the leven men beloved at home and feared "abroad," even to the next parishes and the big city of glasgow, was a fine player, and never kept the ball longer than was necessary if he saw a chance. he played against england in . ~j. baird.~ mr. james baird was a fair average player, without anything very remarkable about him. the combination, as i have already said, was so good among the vale of leven at the time when this great contest took place that an inferior or selfish player would soon have found his level. the forwards, in fact, were all pretty much alike, but with clearly defined degrees of brilliancy, and mr. james baird was one of the lesser lights. he was a good runner and smart at following up, but his dribbling was sometimes too wide for the others when following up on the enemy's lines. when hard pressed he often lost the ball, but in a scrimmage in front of the posts he was a rare shot at goal, and scored a good many for his club. ~j. c. baird.~ of all the forwards who learned the game at alexandria, on the old ground belonging to the vale, perhaps, in many respects, mr. j. c. baird was the most distinguished, and, at the same time, the most gentlemanly. when the vale of leven beat the queen's park for the first time in one of the ties for the association challenge cup, on hampden park, mr. j. c. baird played a perfect "demon." on the slippery ground he kept his feet against all comers, dribbled and passed on splendidly, and fairly took the breath away from john dickson when scoring the goal which gave his club the victory. mr. baird was chosen to face england in , and again in . ~j. m'gregor.~ if one had met mr. m'gregor off the football stage, so to speak, they would never for a moment have taken him for a brilliant and accomplished player at all points. he was all nerve and sinew, and always in grand form. his disadvantages in appearance and weight, however, were kind of blessings in disguise to his club, for the opposing backs sometimes treated him with indifference, and even contempt. this was m'gregor's opportunity, and never man used it better. if ever he made his way past the backs, and was alone with the goalkeeper, ten to one but his team was a goal to the good in a few minutes. he played against england in , , and . ~j. m'dougall.~ two years previous to this final tie, mr. m'dougall was the most brilliant forward in scotland, and he and mr. j. t. richmond (queen's park) were the first two forwards selected to play against england. a fine figure on the field, and a capital dribbler, without being showy, m'dougall was always near the ball when wanted, and it sometimes took a couple of opponents to get the leather away from him. for three years in succession he was selected to appear against england. in the tie with the rangers, mr. m'dougall was captain of the team, and scored the only goal made for the defeated club. ~the great international of .~ the eleven who were chosen to do battle for scotland in this contest, close upon nine years ago, were considered in many respects the best that had ever donned international caps in any tussle before or since, and a better illustration of the wisdom of the association committee in their selection could not have been given than the result itself--viz., scotland, five goals; england, one. hampden park was the meeting-place, and as one of the football giants of the day (e. fraser) is, like some of my dear old friends, now lying in the grave, and others who took part in the memorable event divided by thousands of miles from those with whom they fought and won for scotland, i should like to pay a tribute of respect to their football ability, and let the young and rising generation of players know that such men appeared in the arena, and played the game as well as it is done now. the match took place on the th march, , and as england mustered a very powerful eleven, the issue was doubtful. about a quarter of an hour, however, after the start, mr. ker and mr. harrower had a fine run, and harrower made the first point for scotland but at half-time the score stood--scotland, two goals; england, one--ker having added the second, and vaughton the one for england. in the last round, the scotchmen, although playing against a good breeze, had it all to themselves, and scored other three points by messrs. m'pherson, ker, and kaye. in giving short sketches of the international eleven, i have only to deal with eight of the players, as messrs. charles campbell, a. m'intyre, and g. gillespie have already been noticed in previous articles while engaged in other matches. i shall accordingly begin with ~andrew watson (queen's park).~ mr. watson did a great deal for football in the glasgow district a dozen years ago, both with his ready purse and personal ability in the game. it was in a great measure owing to his interest and energy that the young parkgrove club obtained proper ground, and was fairly put on its way rejoicing. the parkgrove had a lot of very fine young fellows in its ranks, and for several years made a capital record in numerous matches under the captaincy of mr. watson. in this international he played as right-side back in company with mr. andrew m'intyre, and, as an indication of how he and his companion behaved, it is necessary to say that only one goal was got against them. mr. watson was a rare "header-out," and was famed for his fine tackling and neat kicking. he had one fault, however, and this consisted in kicking over his own lines occasionally when hard pressed by a dashing forward. in the previous year he was the scottish captain against england, in london, and led his team to victory by goals to . ~peter miller (dumbarton).~ when mr. miller played in this match, the dumbarton club was a power in the land, and not easily beaten. he was left half-back, and had as his companion mr. charles campbell, who captained the victorious eleven. mr. miller was remarkable for his magnificent tackling at close quarters, and possessed weight, which told against england in the contest. again and again i saw him shake off both mr. cursham and mr. parry, two of the southrons' ablest forwards, and once mr. mosforth and he had an amusing bit of play near the scotch goal, in which the sheffielder came off best. mr. miller was, altogether, a very fine back, and when he retired a few years ago the dumbarton club had considerable difficulty in getting a good man properly trained to supply his place. next season ( ) he was also chosen to play against england and wales. ~e. fraser (queen's park).~ lost to his club and the thousands of delighted spectators who witnessed his brilliant ability as a right-wing forward, but not forgotten by the members of the old q.p., fraser, "though dead, yet speaketh." i question very much if any forward of that time among the mediæval class of players, so to speak, exercised such a potent influence over the spectators, and no style of play was more followed by the younger dribblers than that of fraser. a son of the manse, he was a highly cultured young fellow, and loved football so devotedly that no amount of hard training was ever shirked by him when under probation for the first eleven. dribbling beautifully up the side of the field, he had the knack of "middling" the ball at the proper time, and for six years no man ever assisted at the scoring of more goals. he was also included in the following season's eleven against england, and in did duty for scotland in the welsh match. poor fraser died in australia, a few years ago, shortly after arriving there. ~william anderson (queen's park).~ in the international of mr. anderson and mr. fraser played on the same side, and made a very good pair. the former, although not above the medium height, was powerfully built, and few, if any, of his formidable opponents were able to bring him down to mother earth. when he did fall, however, he was never in a hurry to rise, and took matters easy. if one could imagine such a thing as an easy-going football player, it was anderson, but his failing sometimes came in handy, for he would occasionally make a gallant spurt, and pilot his way through the opposing backs in a way that completely astonished his team and their friends. he showed very well in this match, and the manner in which he and his companion dodged the englishmen, not even excepting mr. bailey, the crack clapham rover half-back, will be easily remembered by those who were present. mr. anderson is now abroad, and it is something to his credit to say that he played four times against england. ~j. l. kaye (queen's park).~ like a good many fine players of the glorious past, mr. kaye received the best of his football training in the ranks of the rd l.r.v., and a couple of years, i think, before this big event, joined the forward division of the black and white stripes. of a good-natured disposition, and a genial fellow to meet both on the field and at the social board, mr. kaye was a great favourite all round, and much sought after outside the pale of his own club. he was a very fine forward; a good dribbler, but was much more easily tackled than anderson, and occasionally felt shy at meeting an opponent who had frightened him in a previous match. he must have done well in this contest, as he is highly spoken about in the newspaper reports, and scored the fifth and last goal got for scotland. he was also an old and tried hand at internationals, as he faced the english division three times, and wales also in the same number of matches. ~r. m'pherson (arthurlie).~ what might be honestly termed the illustration of a fair field and no favour, mr. m'pherson's name was added to the international players of that season through sheer force of ability. i saw him play in several matches that year, and his style and smart passing up from the left wing was justly admired. he was mr. kaye's companion in this contest, and ably assisted that player to bring up the ball in several splendid runs. since m'pherson's retiral from active duty, and also the fact of mr. turner, their famous goalkeeper, giving up the game, the arthurlie have gone back a bit in football ability, but during two seasons they were able to have two nominations for international honours, as mr. turner kept goal against wales in . possessing great speed and judgment, m'pherson was a very neat and steady player, and for two seasons at anyrate, a star among all the renfrewshire forwards. ~george ker (queen's park).~ a sketch of an international, cup tie, or, in fact, a first-class contest of any kind ten years ago, would be altogether incomplete without some reference to mr. george ker, now abroad. from to he was scotland's best centre forward, and the originator of what is now known in football parlance as the "cannon shot" at goal. many players have since tried it, and made fairly good attempts, but ker alone could do it to perfection. in this international he gave the englishmen a taste of his ability in this line. he passed mr. greenwood, the english extreme back, and when fairly in front watched how the goalkeeper (mr. swepstone) would take in the situation. ker spun the ball hard from his toe at the proper moment, and sent in a "flyer," which took effect. i am all but certain that if a vote were taken among players and spectators about the place to be assigned to centre forwards, ker would come out the admitted chief. international honours were his thrice against england. ~w. harrower (queen's park).~ the queen's park had no fewer than five forwards in this season's international, and mr. harrower was one. he played in the company of mr. ker, and the central division of the scottish team was unusually strong. in fact, i distinctly remember some remarks made at the meeting of the association, at which i was present, about the combination at that point being the most powerful ever sent out by scotland. mr. harrower was really a beautiful dribbler, not easily knocked off his pins, and the most unselfish player i ever saw. he has the credit of earning the first goal got for scotland in the match under notice, and was in the best of form the whole of that season. he took a leading part in the hard work of the queen's park for five years. ~a narrow shave in the international.~ there are yet other two internationals, which introduce new faces into the field of play, and the first is that of at kennington oval, london, and ended in a tie, each side scoring one goal. kennington oval--in the winter time, at anyrate--is to football in london what hampden park is to scotland in general and glasgow in particular. the weather was delightful on that afternoon (saturday, st march), and the spectators mustered in considerable force. not, of course, so largely as we can show in glasgow, for it takes an enormous amount of attraction to gather a big crowd in london. there was little or no wind to interfere with the play, and as both teams were in the pink of condition, it was an illustration of greek meeting greek in the open. the scotchmen, however, were the first to make matters exciting by scoring a smart goal from the foot of mr. lindsay, and this was all the effective work done in the first round. the second forty-five minutes of the play was also of a very give-and-take order, and once mr. allan hit the english goal bar with a hard shot, but the ball rebounded into play, and was eventually sent behind. towards the close, however, the englishmen, led by messrs. bambridge, cobbald, and brown made a fine run, and the former put the game square for england. the contest, therefore, as i have already indicated, ended in a tie. as in all the other events that i have already touched upon, many of the players are now scattered far and wide. some have given the game up altogether, while others are still playing on, and doing football duty as well, if not better, than ever they did before. taking the eleven in the order of positions, i shall begin with ~j. macaulay (dumbarton).~ among the brilliant array of goalkeepers who have sprung up to distinguish themselves during the past ten years, none deserves a more kindly notice in any football reminiscences than mr. macaulay. the present match was the third he stood sentinel before scotland's stronghold, and he also played in ' and ' . his first was at sheffield in , when i saw him save several splendid shies from the feet of the english forwards, and it is something to add of him that he was included in the scotch teams who never lost a match with england. in the contest he kept goal in his best form, and was frequently cheered for the manner in which he got out the ball and dodged the english forwards. mr. macaulay was very quiet and unostentatious in his manner, and did his work brilliantly. he returned to scotland the other day from abroad, and may yet play for some of our leading clubs. ~walter arnott (queen's park).~ second in the order of teams, but premier in all that pertains to back play, comes the name of mr. arnott. out of all the fine players who acted as extreme backs, none has done better work for his club and, let me say, international matches. it is all very well to say that there were giants in those days, but you all know what befell goliath, and i cannot help saying that if you were to ask me candidly (taking the question in an all-round way) who was the best back you ever saw, i should have no hesitation in answering that it was walter arnott. in the words of the old english ballad, "he feared no foe," and never in the history of football of the present time has such a brilliant man arisen. he has so many remarkable points that i cannot tell them in a brief notice, but as he is still playing well, spectators are at one in admitting his grand ability. ~m. paton (dumbarton).~ the match under review was mr. paton's second appearance against england, and he acquitted himself very well. somehow or other the committee of selection in international matches, while they honestly do their duty, sometimes move in a mysterious way, and the selection of mr. paton to stand alongside mr. arnott in this contest was, at the time, considered somewhat risky. not by any means because mr. paton was not a good back, but in consequence of the diversity of play shown by the pair. mr. paton was nothing if he was not allowed a little latitude, and in some of the matches he came off with flying colours. arnott and he, however, acted well together. to give mr. paton his due, he was a most gentlemanly young fellow, and did his very best for the game. ~j. j. gow (queen's park).~ it has just occurred to me, and i can't see how the illustration might not with equal force be applied to football as in the honest range of every-day life, that if a "round-robin" were sent about the clubs that tackled the q.p. in their best matches in the past decade, i am certain that the verdict about the man who was most feared in all the elevens, the name of mr. j. j. gow would come out first. he was, in fine, a half-back that the q.p. had reason to feel proud. half-backs might come and go--as they undoubtedly did--but gow seemed in his football career to go on for ever. the most mysterious thing about him was that he was always in the same form, and never had any practice. football at half-back seemed to come to him by nature, and cost him no effort. he could return splendidly, but at close tackling, and in clearing the ball away, he was sometimes a little slack, and had to make it up by sheer force of hard work. ~alexander hamilton (queen's park).~ not long ago, while "doing" a match at hampden park (i think it was q.p. v. battlefield, in the glasgow cup), i met my old friend in the pavilion looking on and enjoying the sport. like the m'neils, the hamiltons are a football family, and while mr. james, who is now an active member of the present q.p., will come under my pen later on, i have only at present to deal with mr. alexander. well, he was something in his day, and by no means to be despised as a forward. he was not a fast dribbler, but when hard work was required, and wasn't it just in the great match against the professional preston north end, when the q.p. were able to hold their own, mr. hamilton never played better in his life. ~william sellar (queen's park).~ i have for the most part been dealing with the past, and it is no force of imagination to come straight to the living present, and add that a better left-wing player never appeared in any club or combination of players than mr. william sellar. he has a style of his own which is, to give the battlefield its due, peculiar to that club's ability in the dribbling game. mr. sellar did not learn all his football in the queen's park, but really perfected his style on hampden park, and he is undoubtedly, at the present time, the most brilliant forward in scotland. gentlemanly in every sense of the word, sellar is the fairest player that ever faced an opponent, and no man is more respected on the field. in addition to this contest, he played against england in , , and . it may be mentioned that in , in playing against the rd l.r.v., he played from the left in a style never excelled by any forward. ~joseph lindsay (dumbarton).~ before this date, mr. joseph lindsay was what might be called an old hand at internationals, as he had appeared before england in and , and wales in , , , and . it is not too much to say of him that he was the most dangerous forward (to an opponent, i mean) of his day, and if the backs were in any way slack, lindsay "spread dismay around," as he was a dead shot at goal, and rarely, if ever, missed a chance if he got within a dozen yards of the sticks. lindsay was the best forward in many respects that ever toed a ball for dumbarton. he was, however, sorely tried in the finishing year of his football life, and in many of the leading matches so closely watched by the opposing backs that he was sometimes fairly done for, and could not get the ball away. ~david s. allan (queen's park).~ like sir roger de coverley's definition of a great ethical question to one of his numerous friends, "that much might be said of one point," the illustration holds good when applied to mr. david allan. popularity has its duties as well as its privileges, and there is not a single forward in broad scotland who is so popular and so much beloved by club companions and opponents alike as mr. allan. he is, in fine, the most useful man in the queen's park, and while all of us seem to grow older as each season comes round, allan has always that juvenile look which undoubtedly betokens an easy and contented mind. he is not what might be called a brilliant and showy forward, but i'll back him to do the best hour and a half of heavy work in the world without any outward sign of fatigue. i verily believe if allan were forced to do it, he could play in any part of the field with a few minutes' notice. ~r. calderwood (cartvale).~ in consequence of mr. r. m. christie, who had played in the international, of the previous year, meeting with an accident in one of the trial matches, mr. calderwood did duty as left-wing forward in this match, and played very creditably. he was by far the best man in the young cartvale, and a finer country player never came under the eye of an international referee. he was a veritable dodger among the opposing backs, and in this contest gave the englishmen, but more particularly the walters and amos, a lot of trouble. he played a fine game in combination with the rest of the scottish forwards. in the same season mr. calderwood played against wales in the principality. ~the final association cup tie of .~ the clubs left in the final tie for possession of the blue ribbon of association football glory in this season were the queen's park and renton. queen's park led off by scoring from the foot of mr. lambie, and this was all the effective work till ends were changed, when the renton team made a brilliant charge on the queen's park goal, and forced the ball through in a scrimmage. the play immediately after this was so even that a draw looked certain, but the queen's park eventually assumed command, and scored other two goals (one by mr. hamilton and another by mr. allan), and won a hard contest by three goals to one. as most of the renton players who took part in the match were considered famous in their day, and have not been already introduced to you, i shall give short sketches of their style of play. so far as the queen's park team are concerned, however, i have only to deal with new faces in messrs. r. m. christie, g. somerville, and j. a. lambie, as all the other eight (messrs. campbell, watson, gow, harrower, hamilton, arnott, allan, and gillespie) have already been disposed of in the present volume. ~j. a. lindsay.~ somehow or other the renton club were never very strong in goalkeeping when the perfect form of their forward division was taken into account, but mr. j. a. lindsay was decidedly their best. he had what might be called his good and bad days, however, and while he was always clever with his feet, he sometimes misjudged the ball and allowed a "soft thing" to take effect. in the present contest he had hot work in keeping the q.p. forwards clear. mr. lindsay showed such brilliant form in the trial matches of that he was chosen to represent scotland on hampden park. he was somewhat unfortunate there, however, as england revenged bannockburn to the extent of five goals to none. ~a. hannah.~ who does not remember mr. hannah's fine fly-kick and powerful tackling? in meeting and judging the ball in the air he rivalled the great q.p. back himself, but wanted the ability to follow up an advantage. in nearly all the matches in which he took part that season, hannah worked hard and earnest. he had a peculiar way of turning round to an opponent and taking the ball away from him with the side of the foot, and no man in the renton team was more feared by an opponent than hannah. he never played against england, but in was picked out to represent scotland against wales. ~a. m'call.~ in this tie mr. hannah had as his companion at extreme back mr. a. m'call. in some of the earlier matches in which the latter appeared he was a wild tackler and erratic in charging--rather going for the man, and never minding the ball--but by and by he mellowed down, and returned the leather beautifully from a besieged goal. i remember seeing him in several of the leading games that same year, and he showed a neatness of style which won for him golden opinions. he played against ireland in . ~r. kelso.~ mr. kelso was a tower of strength to the renton team at half-back, and did his duty in this contest. rather a shade rough on an opponent at times, mr. kelso could also be generous to the foe when he liked, and sometimes made a brilliant hit at half-back by clearing away the ball from the feet of an opponent, just when the latter was poising for a shot at goal. like mr. leitch keir, of dumbarton, he was, and is, a magnificent half-back, and had international honours against england in and . ~d. m'kechnie.~ in connection with mr. m'kechnie's name in juxtaposition with renton's crack half-back, i must honestly confess i am like cuddie headrigg--"between the deil and the deep sea." i can only remember seeing him twice. i come to the conclusion, then, that he must have been a substitute, and if i am wrong in my supposition i shall be glad to stand corrected. he was at any rate not sufficiently brilliant to get his name handed down to posterity, although it must be said of him that he was a fair average player, and did very well in this game. ~j. thomson.~ although he had a disposition to "poach" a little now and again, as some forwards are apt to do, for you all know it is human to err, thomson was a grand player, and made the most of his speed. he never kept the ball longer than was necessary, and if he thought his club would benefit by it, shied quickly in from the touch-line no matter where his companions or opponents alike were stationed on the field. he was really a fine shier, and his dribbling powers beyond dispute. ~j. m'call.~ the renton team had now risen to the acme of their fame, and no player helped them more to attain that position than mr. j. m'call. some clubs carry their position through sheer force of medium ability all round; some have rare luck with their goalkeeping and backs; but, there is no doubt about it, renton was strong in front, and i question if any man during that season played a better game than the younger m'call. he represented scotland in the contests with england in and as left-wing forward, and played a fine game. ~a. grant.~ when the renton men carried off the glasgow charity cup that same season, the forwards showed great ability. mr. grant was a very neat player. if my memory serves me right, he backed up mr. barbour in this game, and did it very well. he was, however, rather slow on the ball, and was often sent to the right-about by messrs. gow and watson. like mr. m'kechnie, he does not seem to have played in many of the renton's first-class matches, and his name is not found among internationalists. ~a. m'intyre.~ mr. m'intyre was one of the best forwards in the county which has produced so many fine association football exponents, and acted as centre forward. like mr. d. gow, of the rangers, when he got fairly on the ball there was no getting it from him and he excelled in hard tackling. possessing considerable speed, m'intyre used it to the best advantage, and he had such a liking for dodging round the backs that he sometimes fairly carried away the spectators, and was loudly cheered for his manoeuvring. ~a. barbour.~ in this event mr. barbour was the best man on the renton side, and kept his feet on the slippery ground in a manner that completely astonished all who saw the contest. he was sometimes fairly puzzled by the clever heading of mr. campbell and the terrible tackling of mr. arnott, but fought gamely to the last. in close dribbling he was the nearest approach to mr. william m'kinnon (q.p.) i have ever seen, and while he was quite as tricky, wanted the tact to lead an opponent astray. he played against ireland in . ~j. kelly.~ what mr. marshall is to the rd l.r.v., mr. berry to the queen's park, and mr. groves to the celtic, mr. kelly was to his old club, the renton--viz., a grand man. kelly, i think, first came out as a forward, and played as such for his county against renfrewshire in , and also in this tussle on cathkin park, but he eventually developed into a very fine half-back, and played against england as such twice--in for his mother club, and last season for his new love, the celtic. his proper place, however, is undoubtedly at half-back. ~r. m. christie.~ slowly but surely mr. christie passed all the probationary stages in the queen's park on the way to develop a brilliant player, and in appeared in the international with england. he was in the best of form, and caused the strangers a deal of trouble. he was very strong on his legs, and about the most powerful opponent of his day to meet in a close match. the passing between christie and harrower that day was splendid, and fairly astonished the renton backs and goalkeeper. ~g. somerville.~ mr. somerville was a very fine all round forward, with a good deal of ability in backing up and middling the ball in front of goal. mr. hamilton and he used to make the spectators laugh at the way in which they annoyed the opposing backs by passing the leather to one another in a tantalising way, right in front of the uprights. he was a sturdy player, something of the same make as mr. david davidson, of rd l.r.v. and latterly queen's park fame, with a nerve of iron and, shall i say, a frame of steel. he played against england in . ~j. a. lambie.~ a comparatively short career had mr. lambie on hampden park, but it was fraught with much distinction. he was a grand forward among a fine division, and scored a lot of goals for the queen's park. he was, indeed, at it again in this match, and, as i have already said in the introduction, took one more for the black and white stripes. when nearing the keeper, if he were fortunate enough to pass the backs, he generally looked about for one of his companions to follow up, and was quite an adept at the "screw-kick." lambie appeared against england in , and is now an active member of the corinthians. ~the association international of .~ as the international of is, so to speak, a thing of yesterday, i have only introduced it here for two reasons. the first of these is to give me an opportunity of bringing new faces into my reminiscences, and shortly criticising their styles of play, and the second to show you how the admittedly best eleven sent out by england in all her matches with scotland were vanquished on their own soil by three goals to two. the event came off at blackburn in presence of some , spectators--a much larger crowd than ever appeared in london to see the international. the weather was dry overhead during the early stages of the tussle, but a heavy shower of hail fell later on, and this, added to a mud-covered ground, made matters anything but pleasant. the scotchmen were the first to score, which they did through mr. m'call against the wind, half-an-hour from the start; but the englishmen soon bore down on the scottish lines, and mr. lindley equalised, so that at half-time both nationalities were on terms of equality. not long after ends were changed, the scotchmen made one of those determined charges for which they have been famed in many of the international games, and shoved both goalkeeper and ball through between the posts. no sooner, however, had the leather again been started than mr. dewhurst, the crack english forward, sent in a shooter, and once more squared the game. it was now "night or blucher" for scotland, and after a grand run between messrs. marshall and allan, which was loudly cheered, even though an enemy did it, the young queen's park forward made scotland one goal up. till the close the englishmen had several brilliant sallies on the strangers' goal, but the backs--messrs. arnott and forbes--held their own, and scotland won by three goals to two. mr. macaulay kept goal in fine style, and was the captain of the victorious team. the englishmen chosen to meet the scotchmen on the occasion were--messrs. roberts, a. m. walters, p. m. walters, n. c. bailey, g. howarth, j. forrest, e. c. bambridge, w. n. cobbald, j. lofthouse, f. dewhurst, and t. lindley. besides the six who are mentioned below, messrs. arnott, macaulay, kelso, j. m'call, and w. sellar (who have already been noticed) also appeared against england in the same contest. ~j. forbes (vale of leven).~ like certain cricketers who can only cut, and are weak on the leg-side, there are several backs playing for fair medium clubs just now who can only return the ball properly if they have plenty of room to work, but mr. forbes, who played in this match along with mr. arnott, was none of these. you were, in fact, not five minutes in his company as a spectator at a match before you were captivated with the style and finish of his play. in the excitement of the game you imagined it was "all up with the vale," when a crowd of opposing forwards were observed getting the ball nearer goal. all the time, however, forbes was maturing his mode of attack, and like the unsuspecting animal that darts upon its prey, the crack vale of leven back dashed in, and you were sure to see the ball flying away down the field, with a magnificent return. while kicking he always got his toes well under the ball, and it was quite a rare thing to see forbes kicking high into the air. a great favourite with his club and opponents as well, mr. forbes first appeared against england in , when scotland won by one to none, so that in both internationals in which he took part his team were on the winning side. he is now in business in england. ~l. keir (dumbarton).~ when in the spring of mr. leitch keir was chosen as companion to mr. kelso (renton), and mr. auld ( rd l.r.v.), in this great event at blackburn, almost everybody had confidence in them as half-backs, and i am happy to say that this confidence was not misplaced, for no better trio ever did duty in an international at that important position in the field. for good, even-down tackling, and hard work, both in heading and clean kicking, keir was one of the very best men who ever played football. so proficient was he at a "free kick," that when a "hand" was given against the opposing team, in most of the dumbarton matches, keir was invariably intrusted with the ball; and when the infringement took place near the goal, the opposing team always dreaded his shot. he was also a very fine dribbler for a half-back, and could run out the ball in fine style from a hotly-pressed goal, and send it spinning down the field. in the succeeding year he was chosen to appear against england on hampden park, but, like the rest of the scottish representatives in that fatal contest, he did not show to the best advantage. ~j. auld ( rd l.r.v.).~ during the past four or five years, mr. auld has been one of the best half-backs in scotland, and was a decided success in this contest. no club in britain has produced a string of better backs and half-backs than the rd lanark rifle volunteer athletic and football club. long ago, many of their most brilliant victories were won by back play alone, and this means preventing their opponents from scoring, and keeping what they had got in the earlier stages of a contest. among these old and tried hands i must remember poor john hunter (who is dead), mr. alexander kennedy, who still goes out to see his old club, and delights to give the young ones an advice; mr. william somers, the gigantic high-kicker, now in america, and many more, whose names shall long be remembered in football history: but to mr. auld. he is yet a brilliant half-back, and while by no means a heavy kicker, one of the most judicious men in front of a hard-pressed goal i have ever seen. he is a terrible tackler, and sometimes hugs an opponent so tenaciously that he forces the ball away and saves his side. the match was the only one in which he played for scotland against england, but he appeared that same season against wales. ~j. marshall ( rd l.r.v.).~ for two seasons, at any rate, and, i think, i might almost say three, mr. marshall has maintained the honoured position of being about the best right wing forward on any field. gifted with an amount of speed, which he uses to the best advantage, combined with rare dribbling powers, he is the pride of the rd l.r.v. forward division, and no man is more missed from a match. in connection with the last observation, the volunteers had to play the rangers in the third round of the glasgow cup without mr. marshall, and at the committee meeting before the contest, when this became known, it was like a funeral lodge of freemasons--nobody cared to speak except the r.w.m. and m.c. mr. marshall and mr. robertson (dumbarton) were the right wing forwards on the occasion, and several brilliant runs were made from their side. at the present time he is about the best at middling the ball in front of goal of any player going, and is one of those forwards who never seem to get into a fagged state near the close of a match. ~w. robertson (dumbarton).~ some players are fortunate in easily securing their positions among crack teams, while others have to struggle on before their genuine ability is properly recognised. long ago, ability in selecting a team went for very little, and positions, like kissing, by favour. mr. robertson, however, received no favour from any combination, and was selected on his merits. in that same season, i am almost positive, i saw him play in brilliant form in the final cup tie, when the hibernian overcame the dumbarton on hampden park by two goals to one, and several of the other matches about the same time. he was a very fine backer up, possessing first-rate dribbling powers, and although a little shy in meeting his opponent when he saw a charge inevitable, rather preferring to use stratagem, was by no means afraid to go into the heart of a scrimmage and face up to much heavier men than himself. this was mr. robertson's first game against england, and he has no reason to be ashamed of the way in which he helped scotland to obtain victory. on the monday following this match he played against wales at wrexham. ~j. allan (queen's park).~ when mr. allan made his appearance in the first match of any consequence for the queen's park, he did so well that both club companions, opponents, and spectators were completely astonished at his beautiful dribbling and speed. in ayrshire, when he played for the monkcastle club, he was looked upon as a very fair young forward, but a few practice games on hampden park seems to have had a remarkable effect on him, and in one short season he was such a good man that international honours were given him at once. in this tussle, which was one of the most trying of the meetings between scotland and england, allan played a grand game, and scored the third and winning goal for his country. the run that resulted in the score was started by mr. marshall, and was one of the finest ever seen in any contest. in a football sense, however, to use a simile, mr. allan was like octavian's prosperous star, but with this difference, he vanished from the scene as quickly as he came, so far as first-class matches were concerned, and only re-appeared on ibrox park recently against the rd l.r.v. and his old club, queen's park. ~glasgow charity cup final tie of .~ the renton eleven are to-day in the proud position of winning the glasgow charity cup four times in succession--from down to season - , and even now the holders of that handsome trophy. in these finals they polished off the vale of leven in by three to one; next season the same club by one to none; in (the year which i have singled out for review) vanquished the cambuslang by four to none: and last spring overcame the queen's park by three goals to one. in the renton men held both cups, and what was of more account, won them by long odds against precisely the same opponents, viz., cambuslang. in the final for the association challenge cup the victory was one of six goals to one, and in the glasgow charity cup four to none. this was, indeed, the largest score made in the former, and was equal in the latter to that made in (the first year of the competition) by the queen's park, when they defeated the rangers. cambuslang, however, were at this time a power in the land, and had previously carried off the glasgow challenge trophy in its first season. in addition to this, they are also credited with the record of fast scoring--having taken four goals from the queen's park in the last ten minutes of the fifth round of the scottish challenge cup in , but as the queen's park had five points on previously, they saved the game by one goal. the event of which i have presently to deal came off on hampden park on the th may, , and ended in favour of the renton, as has already been indicated, by four to none. the cambuslang men played well at the start, and a close match was expected. through some cause or other, however, they fell away considerably as the game advanced, and j. campbell scored the first goal for renton, and this was soon followed by a second from the foot of j. m'call, the record at half-time being two goals to none in favour of the crack dumbartonshire club. the second round, strange to say, was also well contested at the outset, but the grand forward combination of the renton told the tale of defeat to the cambuslang men, and other two goals were added. as none of the cambuslang team have previously come under my pen, i give them first, and will include three of renton who have not been noticed. ~mr. dunn.~ more genuine progress has been made in goalkeeping among the scottish association clubs during the last decade than the average spectator cares to admit, but it is nevertheless a fact. mr. dunn played in most of the best matches of that year, and while he did very creditably in some of the ties, had the misfortune to lose four goals in this contest. the renton forwards, however, were too smart for the bulk of the cambuslang backs, and woe betide a goalkeeper when he is not properly supported there! mr. dunn had a lively time of it in the contest, and saved some splendid shies from taking effect. ~j. smith.~ the cambuslang team were never famed for the brilliancy of their back play. it was what the forward division had done for that club in some of the most severe and uncertain of their matches that forced them to be looked upon in scotland as one of the crack elevens. mr. smith was rather of the quiet and unassuming order of players, who thought much but said little, and did his work well. he was a fine kicker with either foot, and his tackling was severe, but honest and clean. with a good wind in his favour, few backs could equal him in a long kick, but he sometimes made mistakes near goal when he was hard pressed. ~mr. m'farlane.~ the best back in the cambuslang eleven that season was undoubtedly mr. m'farlane. he reminded me very much of the style of mr. a. h. holm (queen's park), who captained the scottish team against england at sheffield in . he had rare ability in close tackling; used to get the ball away by clever heading, and was the most plucky young fellow to go to the assistance of a half-back one could see anywhere. his only defect--and it was a very bad one--consisted in getting up to an opponent and trying to take the ball away from him in the rear. sometimes it came off well, but at others his club had to pay the penalty with a free kick. ~mr. russell.~ in the present contest mr. russell was one of the three half-backs, and in no match during that season had a trio such terrible opponents to encounter as the two campbells, m'call, and m'callum, who were perfect demons among the renton forwards. russell held out bravely for a time, but was eventually cornered, and, in the second half particularly, "lost his head," and allowed the renton men to get up to dunn too often. in some of the smaller matches of the club he played brilliantly, but did not really rise to the occasion in this memorable cup tie, and in most of the tackling came off second best. ~john gourlay.~ it has often been said about cambuslang that it was a club of three names! those names, however, both individually and collectively, were fearless opponents to meet in any tussle, let alone a cup tie, and to the credit of cambuslang be it said, no combination of players ever served a club so well, and had such pleasure in their hard work, as the buchanans, gourlays, and smiths. they were more feared than admired by the members of the clubs twenty miles around, than the elliots, and armstrongs, or, shall i say, the græmes, of the "debatable land" long ago. both mr. james and mr. john buchanan were famous players in their way, but the back was decidedly the best man, and was selected to play against wales the same season. ~a. jackson.~ cambuslang's style of play, with their fast following up and jerky kicking, suited, or, i might say, favoured the old style of six forwards and only two half-backs, but they insisted on being in the fashion. the three half-backs, however, were only names to conjure with, but nothing in real practice, for mr. jackson was always made the kind of "flying man" of the team, and was nothing more or less than a forward. he always joined the latter division when they were attacking an opponent's goal, and retired well up among the backs when his club were pressed at the lines. in mr. jackson played against wales, and was also included in the team against ireland in . ~john buchanan.~ although mr. john buchanan developed into a very fair half-back, and was selected to appear against ireland last spring, he was included in the present match under notice as a forward, and i think he then played on the right. he was the fastest dribbler in the team, and a capital tackler. the combination among the cambuslang forward division, however, on the occasion was completely spoiled by the superior tactics of the renton eleven, and that fine passing for which the village team were so justly famed was awanting that afternoon on hampden park. ~james buchanan.~ although similar in name, the play of the other buchanan was quite different from that of mr. john. he was always cool and collected, and had a fine style of dribbling and passing which sometimes rose to perfection itself, but in his runs he was fond of showing off, and was easily tackled in consequence. but for this fault he would have been chosen to play in one of the internationals the previous year. no player, however, loved the game and his old club so much, and practised more self-denial to attend the field on the eve of a big match, and do his best for victory. ~j. plenderleith.~ every club undoubtedly has its own ideal type of player, and i am almost sure that plenderleith was the favourite among the cambuslang forwards. he had speed--and rare speed, too--and with a kind of long kick that he followed up in a style of his own, made great progress down the field. he kept too close on the touch-line, however, and his great fault was kicking out--a dangerous thing when too near goal in this age of smart throwing in--for i notice a great improvement in this art during the past few years. we are, however, still behind the englishmen in this respect, as most of them play cricket in the summer, and are consequently good shiers. ~g. smith.~ mr. george smith was what i might honestly term a fair forward, not brilliant, but steady, and a good backer up. he was, however, always getting too near the line, and often had to submit to the indignity of being pressed into touch, and thereby losing the leather. the fact was he took too much room to work in, and was slow in following up an advantage. to give him his due, however, he was a very earnest worker, could stand a deal of tear and wear during a season, and was always available when wanted in a hurry by his club. ~james gourlay.~ there is not a more steady player going at the present day than mr. gourlay. he showed remarkable ability in passing and middling, and his fast shies at goal were really splendid. in this event he was at his very best. once or twice he started well with the ball at his toe, and made tracks for the renton goal, but was badly supported in the following up, and often got collared by the opposing half-backs. he possessed great speed, like most of the other cambuslang forwards, and scored a lot of the goals for his club that season in their best matches. ~h. campbell (renton).~ the two campbells were young players in the renton team three years ago, and in this match were considered sufficiently good to be included in the forward division that did so well against cambuslang. mr h. campbell was a very fine dribbler and passer, and good at close tackling. the passing in this tie between mr. j. m'call and he was splendid, and went a long way in winning the match. he was also a veritable dodger when he got up to the opposing half-backs, and the partisans of the clubs who played renton in used to hold their breath when they saw campbell in front. ~j. harvey (renton).~ unknown to fame as a regular player in the renton eleven until the season when this event took place, or it may be the preceding one, mr. harvey was one of the victorious forwards. he showed fair judgment, and middled the ball very neatly to the campbells and m'call. his dribbling, however, was a shade too wide, and as he had excellent speed, sometimes he over-ran the ball at a time when the other forwards were following close up, and lost chances to score. ~j. campbell (renton).~ of all the young forwards who graduated in the dribbling game at the village of renton, there never was a better shot at goal than mr. j. campbell. smart on his legs, with a good appearance, he dribbled splendidly, and half-backs caught a perfect tartar when they came close up and attempted to take the leather away from him. his style near goal reminded me very much of dr. john smith, who scored so many goals in the half-a-dozen internationals in which he took part against england. campbell never waited a second before making his parting shot, and sometimes the goalkeeper failed to get the ball before it went spinning through. ~the final association cup tie of .~ this tie was decided at hampden park on the th february, , between the rd l.r.v. and celtic, and ended in favour of the rd l.r.v. by two goals to one. the same clubs, however, had previously met to decide the contest, but both played under protest in consequence of the weather. this naturally caused that additional excitement, which culminated at the final meeting on hampden park that saturday afternoon. the rd l.r.v. had long worked for possession of the coveted prize, and twice it was within their grasp, for they played and were defeated in the final ties on two previous occasions--viz., in by the queen's park, who scored two goals to none, and again in by the vale of leven, who overcame the warriors by one to none. if ever a team deserved victory in this event it was the rd lanark rifle volunteers. the celtic were more than foemen worthy of their steel, and considering the fact that the rd l.r.v. had come through the ties so creditably, and had that season vanquished the crack english professional combination, the victory was a most popular one all round. as for the celtic, they are a young and powerful club, and can afford to wait a season or so for victory, for you know "everything comes to those who wait." the crowd was large, the weather fair, and the enthusiasm great. the volunteers played with the wind, and made their first point out of a scrimmage about twenty minutes from the start, and this was all the scoring in the first round. the play after this was very even, and the celts were showing off some grand combined efforts, but were unfortunate at goal. at length, however, the irishmen made a brilliant sally on the volunteers' stronghold, and mr. m'callum put the ball between the posts. after this the play was so even that a draw seemed inevitable, and it was only by the determined play of the cathkin park team that at length the celtic goal was taken for the second time by mr. oswald, junior, who was ably assisted in the successful run by messrs. marshall and hannah. the cup--that trophy which had cost some kind hearts (now silent for ever), an unsatisfied longing, and a constant anguish of patience--was safe to the old club at last! i accordingly give the players who took part in the tie, and start with the rd l.r.v. ~downie ( rd l.r.v.).~ mr. downie deserves credit for the manner in which he has kept goal for the "warriors" during the past two seasons, when his club played and defeated some of the best in scotland and england. in this event he had terrible work to perform, and got through it with much credit. so far as i can remember--and it is, indeed, no stretch of imagination--the goal got by mr. m'callum could not have been saved by any keeper, as it came out of a scrimmage from the celtic man's foot like a rocket. mr. downie is a very neat kicker-out in front, and shows fine judgment with his hands in clearing the ball away from a crowd of opposing forwards. ~a. thompson.~ mr. thompson is one of the best backs that last season produced, and had it not been that the two queen's park men--messrs. arnott and smellie--had played together so well, and pleased the committee of selection in most of the best matches, mr. thompson would have been in the great international. as it was, he got the next best position, being chosen to play against wales. he is a rare tackler, sometimes a little rough, but the finest kicker in front of a besieged goal i have ever seen. sometimes in the heat of a scrimmage he loses the ball, but has the knack of recovering himself in an instant. ~j. rae.~ the volunteers were remarkably well served with their backs in this tie, and mr. rae made a capital companion to mr. thompson. he is scarcely such an accomplished tackler, but for neat kicking and feeding the forwards when they are playing an open game, i know none better. he is a splendid man for judging distances, and if he is certain the ball is nearer one of his companions than himself, gets close behind and backs up at once. to see mr. rae placing the leather in front of his forwards in a good match is a treat of no ordinary kind, and it may be mentioned that he played against wales last season. ~a. lochhead.~ the three half-backs in the present tie with which i have to deal were messrs, auld, lochhead, and m'farlane. mr. lochhead has been long one of the "shining lights" of the rd l.r.v., and while in some respects inferior to mr. auld, has one grand virtue to recommend in a football player--viz., patience. his perception is keen and decisive, and if he imagines a daring forward on the other side can be successfully met without close tackling, he never fails to out-manoeuvre him, and let the spectators see some rare half-back play. mr. lochhead took part in the welsh international in the spring. ~mr. m'farlane.~ the rd l.r.v. were in perfect training condition in the tie, and well can i remember both auld and m'farlane coming in for a large share of hugging by excited partisans as they made their way up the steps towards the pavilion of the queen's park club that memorable saturday afternoon. mr. m'farlane is really a fine all-round player, and this season is keeping up his form in a way that both astonishes and delights his old friends. his "heading" in front of goal is very fine, and has saved many a shot from taking effect. ~j. oswald, junior.~ no better pair of dribblers ever served a club than the two oswalds--senior and junior--last season, and had more genuine success in the games in which they played. the forward combination, with these two men at their best, was decidedly the most powerful in scotland, and undoubtedly won the match for the volunteers against the celtic. mr. oswald, junior, however, was the better of the two, and the manner in which he scored the second goal, which gave the third the victory, was quite a treat to all who saw the tie that day on hampden park. ~j. oswald, senior.~ the senior oswald, as he was called, to distinguish him from his companion of the same name, played against england in the spring, and was as good a dribbler, but not so fine a judge of a goalkeeper's ability to get at the ball when the forwards were crowding round, and sending in shots thick and fast. the passing among the forwards of the rd l.r.v. that day was so good as to defy criticism, if that were possible, and oswald, senior, was no exception to the others. the pair, however, loved the loaves and fishes of england better than the rd l.r.v., and are now "o'er the border and awa'." ~j. hannah.~ in some of the best games of the rd l.r.v. last season the passing and following up between mr. hannah and mr. johnstone were not to be beaten anywhere for splendid judgment and properly matured forward play. there are what is known to the player as certain degrees of pluck and endurance, and while i have in my mind's eye some forwards in other clubs, including mr. william berry, the queen's park light-weight, who must of necessity come under the first, i am inclined to rank mr. hannah among the second. he is, however, a first-rate man. ~w. johnstone.~ last in order of forwards, but by no means lacking in genuine ability, with rare dribbling powers, comes the name of mr. w. johnstone. he played a very steady game all through this tie, and was as fresh as paint after the whistle sounded the finish. although not such a determined tackler as some of the other forwards not only in his own team, but in the celtic as well, he is the most earnest worker in the whole club, and in his probationary days would practice unceasingly to attain perfection in certain points of the game in which he was deficient. he played against wales in , and in against ireland. ~j. kelly (celtic).~ although mr. kelly is, so to speak, unknown to the game as a goalkeeper, he promises to become a good man below the bar. the ability of the celtic goalkeeper, however, is certainly not equal to the back and half-back play; and, while kelly did very well in this match, his duties were rendered less difficult by the splendid defence shown at back by mr. m'keown, and the grand half-back efforts of mr. m'laren. he has several good points, including the clever fisting-out of the ball, but is not a strong kicker, and sometimes goes too far away from his charge. ~p. gallacher.~ when the celtic were hard pressed on several occasions, mr. gallacher always fell back on his goal, like the prudent general who covers his retreat, and no man did more heading and breasting in running the ball out that day. he wants the judgment of his companion in the same position, but makes up for it by fearless and unceasing work. he was hard pressed several times by marshall and oswald, sen., and had the worst of the tackling, but he generally came up smiling, and renewed hostilities with spartan bravery. ~m. m'keown.~ mr. m'keown was decidedly the best back on the losing side that day, and his defence near goal splendid. he is not, however, particularly careful in his returns, and sometimes kicks over his own lines when hard pressed, but there can be only one opinion as to his genuine ability in close tackling--he can do it to perfection. during the game, even marshall, who is not afraid of anybody, sometimes steered clear of m'keown by passing up the ball to johnstone instead of keeping possession to the last. he played against ireland the same year. ~w. maley.~ the celtic had as their three half-backs in the contest under review messrs. w. maley, j. m'laren, and j. kelly (the latter of whom has already been mentioned in a previous article). mr. w. maley, if i am not mistaken, is a young member of a very young club that has made a name for itself in a couple of seasons. he has, however, a deal to learn before he can be classed alongside kelly and m'laren. he is kind of slipshod in his mode of tackling, wanting finish, but nevertheless a dangerous man to meet in a charge. ~j. m'laren.~ the finest half-back of the irish combination is undoubtedly mr. j. m'laren, and in this tie his play was really magnificent. when the volunteers' forwards again and again got near the celtic goal, he was the first to checkmate them, and, not contented to work his own place successfully, frequently went to the assistance of some of the forwards when he thought they had more than enough to do. he played for his old club, the hibernian, against wales in , and in against england for the celtic. ~m. dunbar.~ mr. dunbar was one of the most active men in the celtic forward division in this match, and showed very good dribbling, but was easily tackled when getting near goal, and more than once "removed" off the ball by auld and lochhead. he is, however, a steady worker, and most reliable when backing up. mr. dunbar, if i am not mistaken, was at one time a member of the cartvale, and played for scotland against ireland for that club in . ~r. m'callum.~ in his general style of play mr. m'callum was not unlike mr. william m'kinnon (dumbarton), who flourished from to , and was one of the best forwards in that county. he was not such a tricky and cunning tackler, however, but faced up to his man with a confidence that betokened superiority. he was, like the rest of the celtic forwards, a good dribbler, and possessed considerable speed. for a young player he was also very judicious in passing the ball, and during this contest he helped to start some of the best runs of the day. he played against ireland, at belfast, in , and is now located in blackburn, where he partners harry campbell on the right wing of the rovers. ~w. groves.~ it was in the final tie for the scottish challenge cup between the hibernian and dumbarton in , which the crack edinburgh team won by two goals to one, that brought mr. groves into special notice, and it may be, for aught i know, caused him to be carried off by the celtic later on. like a good many other players, he varies a bit in his style. some days he is easily tackled; while at others not a single back or half-back on the field has a chance with him, and it must be said of him that he is one of the neatest dribblers of the day. he played against wales in . ~j. coleman.~ among the forward division of the celtic, mr. coleman was a decided acquisition, and during that same season scored a lot of goals for the new irish combination, which came to the front with something like the rapidity of "jonah's gourd." a beautiful dribbler and runner, he made several grand spurts towards the rd l.r.v. goal, but had a weakness for keeping the ball too long, and was often tackled by the sure feet of rae and thomson. in speed and general play he reminded me very much of mr. william miller ( rd l.r.v.), an international against england as far back as . ~t. maley.~ when the whole of the celts were at their best, and this happened pretty often last season in their challenge cup ties, mr. t. maley generally rose to the occasion, and led his team brilliantly. his steady-going style is much liked, not only by his colleagues, but spectators, and it is quite a rare thing to see him grassed by an opponent. when approaching the goal with the ball, he is like the priest who had a "wonderful way wid him"--slipping through the backs in a manner that is sure to make the goalkeeper gnash his teeth, and wish maley was far enough away. _v.--the pioneers of association football in scotland;_ or, _"the conqueror's football boots."_ my football boots are getting what might be called shabby genteel now, and no wonder. if they could speak they would tell you many a strange episode in the life of an association football player, and how he kept his place in a leading club for nearly a dozen years. they have been old and dear friends, those well-worn boots, and although now somewhat curled up at the toes, have kicked many a good goal out of a hot and exciting scrummage in front of an opponent's upright posts, and even in an international tussle; but now that they, like myself, have retired from active duty, and may reasonably be supposed not to be encumbered with existing prejudices, which in the nature of things might more or less interfere with expressing an honest opinion about the association football player of the past or his colleagues and successors, i will introduce them to you, and in figurative language allow them to tell their own unvarnished tale. my last advice, however, to you, my old friends, before leaving you to the tender mercies of a scribbler, is not to answer all the questions he thinks proper to put. please don't tell him what you heard or saw after leaving the football field clinging to my sole and instep, of my love intrigues, my stolen interviews with blue-eyed annie, and when she jilted me and got married to charlie quilter, who played "left wing" in the flying blues. charlie must have regretted what he did more than once. the blues used to play us a couple of games in the year, and not long before charlie got married he was, as a matter of course, one of their eleven. on that occasion i felt nettled to think that a big, broosy-faced, lisping fellow like charlie should have "put my eye out," and could not resist the temptation of frequently crossing to his side during the game, and "going" for him. oh! how my old companions, my boots, behaved on the occasion--the very laces almost burst with indignation; but quilter, poor soul, never gave a winch, and bore it with becoming fortitude. he has now, like myself, got settled in life (i am a confirmed bachelor), and we are still the best of friends, for that "blue-eyed annie loved him, too," was one of those things i could never forget. it is too bad, however, in me to block the way with this dissertation, and not allow mr. boots to begin. i shall leave the rest to him with confidence. well, once upon a time (began mr. boots), i was a combination of circumstances. that is to say, i went through many processes even before i became mature leather, and one afternoon i was brought to a small shoemaker's shop in crosshill tied up in a bundle. there were lots of cuttings in that bundle--butt, ben, wrapper, cordivan, kid, calf-skin, and even sheep-skin--but i was then a shapeless piece of wrapper, kipp, and calf-skin. when i was trysted there were few, if any, football boots made, and the old man who was entrusted with my construction was a strange old "cove." he could make a pair of ordinary boots with any one, but was not so sure about me. i was ordered by a genteel, nice-looking lad, with red cheeks and clear black eyes. he addressed the representative of st. crispin in a musical voice, but i then formed an opinion of my future master, that he would be a little conceited and arrogant at times, and this has proved correct. the instructions about covering my soles with bars was specially impressed on the old man's memory, and every detail was carried out to the letter. when we were completed, my brother and i, you would have admired us. if it were possible to have anything handsome in the boot line, except, perhaps, a tiny, fur-lined lady's slipper, it was us. we were sewed with substantial rosen-end, the division between the inseam and soles was filled up with real leather skivings, and not the trashy "jump" which makes up the bulk of the soles of football boots nowadays. the more, in fact, i think of it, the more i am convinced that the present make of football boots is a new-fangled device in the shoemaking trade, for are they not now got up of american leather, brass nails, and other abominations, free of import duty! my master, i remember, came for me (please consider that i am also representing my brother, for, like the siamese twins, the one can do nothing without the other) on a saturday. he told the old man that he was going to play a match with the leven crowers that very afternoon, and must have me. i was barely finished, but tate's son got the bars put on all right, and i was handed over to the tender mercies of my new master. he was quite delighted with my appearance, and looked with pride, and even satisfaction, on my well-polished uppers and wrapper soles. there was even a half-'un going at the paying. the leven crowers were a young and powerful club, possessing more speed in running than any real football ability at the time. the club to which my master belonged was the first to introduce the new ideas in the game, as they were then called, in scottish soil, and as there were only three clubs in existence at the time of which i am referring, the contests, as a matter of course, were few and far between, and, consequently, looked forward to with more than ordinary pleasure. the other two clubs were the greenvale and the kilback, but they were not of much account (so my master had often said, and he was supposed to be a good judge). i heard him say the conquerors had "licked" these clubs over and over again, and that they weren't in the same street. when i was being laced up, however, for the fray that afternoon in the old toll-house on the road to battlefield (the conquerors had no such modern requisite as a pavilion then), i heard bob gardens express quite a different opinion about the greenvale, and even go the length of saying that they had a draw with them on the previous evening after a hard fight. this demonstrated a fact that was useful to me in my subsequent career, viz., never to credit what other folks (especially football players) said about the ability of opponents in the heat of a tussle. talking about the leven crowers, they were not to be despised. although the haughty conquerors had given them their first lesson in association football, they were fast coming up on them in some of the points of the game. i heard my owner say that the first lesson was given at alexandria, and on that occasion the crowers, who were then crack shinty players, arranged themselves in the field as if for a match at that ancient scottish game. that they had not forgotten their first game with the conquerors was amply illustrated in the present, which, i might again repeat, was my first outset in public life. i was stiff at first, and pressed my master's instep rather hard shortly after the kick-off. the contest was played on the recreation ground, and was witnessed by very few spectators. true, there were certainly many choice spirits residing near the spot, who came out to see us and enjoy a quiet outing, and have a friendly crack. little did these club companions imagine that that small but enthusiastic gathering of spectators was the harbinger of crowds composed of thousands of excited spectators who now assemble to witness big association matches every saturday, not only to see the conquerors, but other clubs, very slightly removed from them in ability, playing "cup ties." the crowers' forwards showed great pace, and one of them, will cumming, repeatedly got past me, despite the smart manoeuvring of my master. will, however, was somewhat wild in his dribbling, and could not keep the ball close enough to his toes. jim wild was my master's backer up on the occasion, and as jim was decidedly the finest dribbler that ever toed a ball, and kept his place for ten years against all comers, afterwards the pair managed to intercept cumming before he got close enough on goal to make a shot. the crowers' goalkeeper was a good one, and could clear his place of defence with great ability, but the backs were not of much account. pate m'wherry and luke m'tavish did the work at half-back, but their kicking was somewhat feeble when compared with those of the conquerors, tom james and willie keith. the conquerors were far too anxious to score, and for some time kept up a close cannonade at their opponents' goal without effect. bob prentice used his hands cleverly, and, though the goal was again and again endangered, not one of the forwards on my master's side could get the ball under the tape. a fine run was made by wild, lucky, grind, short, and my master, and the ball brought up to within a few feet of the crowers' goal, but at the last second, johnny forrester, one of their centre forwards, kicked it behind. this gave the conquerors the corner flag-kick. my master, who was quite an adept at corner flag-kicks, was sent to the spot, and placed the ball in a good position, but bob prentice got it up in his hands at a critical moment, and threw it clear. good runs were eventually made on both sides, and once the crowers nearly lowered our colours, but nothing was got by either, and the game was drawn. in those days the rules observed were somewhat different from those in vogue now. the game was far prettier. there was none of that heading which forms such important factors in the style of modern playing. when the ball was thrown in from the touch-line the rule insisted that it had first to land on the ground before being touched, and consequently head play was unnecessary, and dribbling was, as a matter of course, considered the most important point, combined with taking smart possession of the ball as soon as it touched the ground after being thrown in. my master was smart at getting on the leather, and, next to jim wild, he was the most accomplished dribbler in the conquerors. if there is anyone capable of telling what he could do, 'tis i. how he used to keep my toes in a circle as he left the grass behind his heels, piloting the ball past the opposing backs, i know to my loss, and a very great depreciation in tear and wear. he was a veritable "dodger," this owner of mine. never afraid of a charge, he would, in order either to secure the ball or keep it, attack the biggest man in an opposing team, aye, and knock him over, too. sometimes he lost his temper when things went against him, and, while his remarks to an adversary were somewhat cutting and at times verging on impertinence, they were always within the scope of "parliamentary." in after life, however, my master found several foemen worthy of his steel amongst backs and half-backs in the flying blues, the crowers, the cedargrove, red cross, and north western, and he sometimes came off second best. it is all very well to say that there were "great men in those days." so there were, but the same remark can be made equally applicable now, for they are even more common, and you find them scattered over the length and breadth of the land. it would decidedly weary you, my friend and reader, were i to detail all the games in which i have taken an active part, and you will at once admit that i may succeed in pleasing you better if i give a short sketch of the leading clubs and players who have wrought so hard and done so much to make the association game so popular. jim wild has been mentioned in connection with his club (the conquerors), but it is necessary to give him a line or two more. there was no other association club in scotland when the conquerors were put into ship-shape order, and consequently no opponents to play. they could not challenge themselves to mortal combat, and there were none but rugby clubs, whose members treated the new order of things in football as childish amusement, and unworthy of free-born britons. "give us," they said, "the exciting runs, the glorious tackling, the manly maul, and the beautiful dropped goal, and we will meet you a bit of the way, but not otherwise. we don't believe in loafing about the field at times, when only one or two of the side are engaged; we want to be active." "well," said the conquerors (one of whom had been offered a place in the twenty in the rugby match between glasgow and edinburgh), "you don't know association rules, or you would never make such absurd assertions about the new game. if there is really any inactivity in football while being played, that inaction is clearly shown in a rugby maul, where the one half of the side are merely spectators. besides, your game is only half football; in fact, a combination of football and handball knocked into one. your run with the ball under the arm is only a display of speed; it has nothing whatever to do with football. we want the grand dribbling run with the ball at the toe, the smart passing and middling of the association, and we will enjoy it." such good-natured banter went on at first between two opposing interests, but by and by the difference culminated into something more. as a sort of _quid pro quo_ for the courtesy extended to an association player by the rugby contingent in the inter-city match, tom chaloner, the very _beau ideal_ of a rugby player, was asked, and promised to play in the first international association match at partick in . tom even came out to the recreation ground at crosshill, and practised with the conquerors as goalkeeper, and promised well in that position, but through some cause or other he did not play when the eventful day came. if ever a man could handle a ball and kick a goal as a quarter-back in a rugby game, it was chaloner. he was the pride of all the rugby clubs in the country side, and was as well, indeed, if not better known in his brilliant career as a cricketer. who in scotland could bat like tom? he was not a hitter to a particular side of the wickets; all was alike to him. he could cut, drive, hit to long and square-leg, and oh! how far! he would have made a grand association football player, but he preferred to stick to the rugby style, and was equally successful, at least to his club's satisfaction. the first match between england and scotland at partick, nineteen years ago (which, by the way, is worthy of note, was played by members of the queen's park exclusively), did a great deal to spread association rules in glasgow and district, and, in fact, eventually all over scotland. hitherto there used to be a couple of months of interval between the end of the rugby football season and the starting of athletics and cricket, lasting from march till may, and as the football players of the old dispensation were still in trim, but with exhausted fixtures, not a few of them, belonging to two of the leading clubs, did not consider it _infra dig._ to have a "go" at the new rules, "just to see how they could stand it." the outcome of this hastily-formed notion was that a sort of nomadic team, calling themselves the western pilgrims, was formed, and three or four matches, and good ones, too, were played between them and the conquerors and also the cedargrove. the pilgrims showed themselves no mean opponents in the new game, and, after holding their own with the cedargrove in a drawn game, had a good tussle with the conquerors on the recreation ground at the park, and were only beaten by a goal to none, the goal, i remember, being made in the last five minutes by bob gardens (who could dribble and play forward as well as keep goal). a few of the pilgrims took kindly to the association rules, and while that season lasted two of the leading forwards joined the cedargrove, and turned out capital players. another joined the druids, and became a famous goalkeeper, even going as far as playing for his country in the international match, and the fourth turned out a leading man in the holyrood crescent. talking about the above goalkeeper, aleck m'gregor was one of the finest fellows that ever stood with his back to a goal. there was the cheerful disposition, the gentlemanly demeanour to opponents or associates whenever he appeared on the field. his knowledge of the rugby game made him a most useful man at goal, where the keeper of that charge is the only man under association rules who is allowed to touch the ball with his hands. with the ordinary goalkeeper the punt-out kick, when dexterously executed, was considered the most effective mode of saving the ball from going under the tape, when the use of the hands to knock it out was not deemed necessary, but aleck preferred the drop-kick, which is one of the redeeming features in the rugby style of play, and this he could do almost to perfection. i have seen him (for i have, by-the-bye, taken part against him in several matches) lift a ball after it had come pretty smartly from my right toe, and dropping it on the ground before him, kick it as it rose, bounding away over the heads of the conquerors' forwards as they besieged the goal like a hive of bees on a june morning. he had decidedly the advantage over the modern "punter," inasmuch that the leather was always sure to go higher out of reach when the place of defence was besieged, and farther out of the way of lurking backs and half-backs, who, as a matter of course, crowd down behind the forwards when an attack is made on an opponent's stronghold. there were other instances which came to my knowledge (that is, if my reader can imagine anything so queer as a pair of boots possessing such an immensely human gift) of converts from rugby to association style of play, or rather perverts, as they were designated, but enough has been said to show how association football gained a hold on the young and rising generation, and how it spread all over the western and north-western portion of the country, and, like the proverbial eastern magician's wand, caused goal-posts and corner-flags to spring up in every village and hamlet with remarkable rapidity. close to the shores of several highland lochs, where a big kick by a stalwart half-back endangers the ball being swept away by the tide, one can see the game played of an evening by the village youth with great earnestness of purpose. by and by the new rules made remarkable progress, and as the public liked the game, and deserted the rugby matches to see what they considered the most easily understood rules, the breach between the rival contingents widened, and eventually the jews had no dealings with the gentiles, and so they both continue playing the games they consider the best. what changes have taken place in clubs and players during the last few years! faces, blithe, happy faces, now gone forever, can be remembered by the old spectators, although the present scarcely ever heard their names; but i will not go very far back. poor dixy (for he is dead now)--well can i remember his first introduction to the conquerors. my master had been indulging, in company with bob gardens, jim wild, willie keith, and others, in a punt about on the evening preceding a match with the red cross, and, after shaking hands and passing the usual compliments, the practice game was started, and in it the newcomer showed well, and kicked cleverly with both feet. he was, however, just a shade too slow, and i frequently tackled him, and secured the leather, giving it a deal of "toe" after passing close in on goal. the club were badly off for a goal-keeper after willie keith left for america, and, as john was not backward in making a display of his ability, he offered to act as goal-keeper. it would take too long to recount the games in which he and i were engaged in the subsequent career of the conquerors, but an incident or two will not be considered out of place. if dixy had one weakness more than another it consisted in a lively sense of his own importance as a crack goalkeeper, and the supposed invincible qualities of his club, which he often declared could not be beaten. he improved wonderfully in his new position, and, while playing some of the junior clubs, which were by this time beginning to spring up, it was positively amusing to see how john would advance quietly from his goal when it was besieged, and punt the ball contemptuously away with quite a crowd of young ones close up, awe-stricken at the agility shown by such a bulky form. a few of the red cross and cedargrove forwards sometimes gave him a fright, and in one match with the leven crowers he was fairly outwitted by boyd and ned m'donald in a cup tie. i fought hard in that memorable battle myself, and never got such a saturation with water and mud in my career; but we were beaten. i will not easily forget dixy as he came to the field on that occasion, carrying his umbrella to the goal-posts, and laying it against the left one. he, poor fellow, expected his club would have an easy victory, and this belief was shared in by not a few of the eleven besides, including my master, who had, by the way, emerged into a centre forward since the last match with the kilmarackers, and as a consequence he gave me a deal of extra work as a backer-up to mat. angus. in fact, not long after i was carefully laced and ready for the fray that wet afternoon, the conqueror's eleven had a confab about the tactics they should pursue, and joe sayler, our captain (who is now no more, and lost to his club for ever), remarked it would take them all their time to beat the crowers. he had, i could see by his anxious looks, grave doubts on the issue. at the outset of the game the rain poured down in torrents, and as most of the play was on the crowers' portion of the field, the umbrella was put up, amid the laughter of the partisans of john's contingent and the pent-up indignation of the followers of the crowers, who mustered strong on the occasion, and demonstrated a strength of lungs truly astonishing. john, by and by, when the battle became hot, had to discard his old friend and comforter, and work in front of his fortress in a way that he had never done before, and when the terrible tussle ended, the conquerors were beaten by two goals to one. when chaffed on the "umbrella incident" ever afterwards dixy was silent, and declared that in using it he did not hold his opponents too cheaply, but simply with a desire to save himself from a ducking. john was also a capital oarsman, and when he was suddenly cut away in the pride of his manhood, he was barely years of age. he was greatly lamented, and his handsome figure is missed from the football field. john's death reminds me of a young and promising forward named smith, who used to play on the left wing of the cedargrove in company with a smart companion named seward. young smith was a very enthusiastic football player, and missed few, if any, practice games. poor lad, i met him twice in one season in matches with the cedargrove, and it took all my master knew to prevent him from getting clean past the conquerors' backs and scoring. he was a nice dribbler, and like fred adamson (an old member of the same club), went straight ahead with a splendid hold of the leather. talking about fred, i remember that player, in company with johnny m'phedran and james wilton, going for big thomas, who was then the conquerors' captain, and played at half-back. thomas was an awful fellow to meet in a charge, and a hundred to one was sure to send his opponent to grass. johnny, however, who was a little bandy-legged, held tenaciously to the ball, and while thomas was eagerly watching his opportunity, fred sent him flat on his back, and the ball was close on goal in an instant. there was a hard scrummage, and in the nick of time, joe sayler (who was then the crack sprinter of the conquerors), dashed up and got the ball clear before it reached the keeper. poor smith, he caught a severe cold one evening, and eventually succumbed to a painful malady. the cedargrove were at one time hard to beat. in fact, in the early history of the scottish football association challenge cup, they pressed my master's club hard for the trophy, and were only vanquished--after three games--by one goal to none. the red cross were also dangerous opponents, and possessed not a few capital players. there were john huxter, sandy kenneth, jack williams, joe drummond, and bill millins. they were not easily beaten. sandy kenneth, though rather a quiet-looking customer to meet in the street, developed into one of the finest half-backs that scotland ever produced. he was always cool and collected, and, although by no means a very hard kicker, could judge the ball to a hair-breadth. sandy was especially clever in tackling, which he could manage without deliberate charging. if the ball got up close on the goal which he defended, he would follow the dribblers, and with a clever manoeuvre on the left foot, obtain possession, and after nursing the ball for a few minutes, would, amid the applause of the spectators, send it spinning down the field. then there was bill summons. he was rather a volatile customer, and a perfect football coquette. there was scarcely a club of any pretensions in glasgow but what bill had wooed. he, however, stuck well to the red cross, and did some splendid service in their best matches, but eventually left them and joined the conquerors, who, by the way, were just a shade too ready to take over the best men of other clubs by holding out tempting baits in the shape of big matches. bill, with all his faults, was a grand back, and i question if anybody in glasgow could make a finer kick when he set his mind to it. he had his failing, to be sure, and who hasn't? he was sometimes most erratic while playing important matches, and, especially on a windy day, would make grave mistakes with too heavy kicking. jack huxter, too, of the red cross, was a very fine player, and a "caution" to get past at back (poor fellow, he, too, like dixy, has gone to his account). he was a dangerous man to meet in the heat of a tussle near the goal-line, and woe betide the daring forward who would attempt to take the ball from jack there. his only weakness was a frequent desire to "go" for the man instead of the ball, and charging rather heavily. although a back, he was by no means an inferior dribbler, and possessing good speed, sometimes astonished the members of his own club by the smart runs he would now and again make in company with the forwards when the leather was in an opponents' territory. he stuck like a veritable leech to the red cross, and turned out most faithfully to all their important matches. i must not forget willie millins, who was one of the neatest dribblers of his day. he has given up football now. getting a clear start, many an exciting and clever run he made for the red cross. i heard my master say that in a match for the association cup between his club and the cedargrove, he once made a goal after dribbling the ball almost the entire length of the field. then there was a lot of smaller fry, including good players belonging to the dumbrook, north-eastern, gallowgate rovers, the locomotive slashers, thornians, northern jumpers, edinburgh irishmen, partick unfortunates, and last, though by no means least, the flying blues. there was no club in scotland, except, perhaps, the vale crowers, that had made so much progress in the game as those flying blues, and few, if any, were gifted with the same amount of self-confidence. the blues, nevertheless, had good reason to feel proud of some of their members, for they were young and active, and the very ideal of smart football players. it was a lucky thing for them when they migrated from the north and established themselves in the old ground vacated by the cedargrove. had it not been for that lucky arrangement, they might have wasted their football lives in obscurity, and gone down to association posterity "unhonoured and unsung." their success was as remarkable as it was swift and decisive. possessing any amount of pluck, they tackled all and sundry in the district, and the second year, after gaining something like a first-class reputation, won nearly every game they played. their captain, tom vincent, was a grand back, and, indeed, one of the crack men in that position, of whom scotland has now so many to select from; and then there was bentback, bill donoup, jack drummer, and mat neil, all fine players at their respective positions. never shall i forget the match between the blues and the conquerors for the association cup a dozen years ago, about the last big match in which i took an active part. my master's team had had bad luck though, for after pressing the flying blues till within a few minutes of the game, the blues beat the conquerors by one goal to none, bill donoup sending the ball under goal at the last minute, although the story goes that he had a bet of a "sov." that the conquerors would win, and it was even admitted that he was heard to say, when kicking the goal, "here goes my blooming sovereign!" although now stowed away in the corner of a large chest, side by side with jerseys, caps, knickerbockers, and other football requisites, as a remnant of the glorious game, my master sometimes visits me to think over the past, and i often hear him say that, although he does not play now, he still goes to see some of the leading contests, and at them picks up many queer stories of the modern players. last year's crack men, as he sees them crowding in his "mind's eye," are not, he says, unworthy representatives of those of the past. _vi.--how clubs were started long ago._ when the summer game of cricket was far more extensively played in glasgow and district than it is now, those who understood the feelings and aspirations of young men engaged in it repeatedly considered the question in all its aspects, and a combination of circumstances have occurred within the last decade which had seriously affected that game. the city of glasgow could not, of course, afford to remain in a stationary condition to suit the convenience of a few thousands of cricketers. new streets had to be formed, new houses built all round, and with this advance upon civilisation came the deadly blow to cricket--at least juvenile cricket--and those clubs soon disappeared from the field. ground after ground was swallowed up, and on the scene of many a hot and exciting match blocks of houses, railway stations, churches, and public works may now be seen. the scotch youth, and for that part of it (just to give the sentence greater weight), the british youth, loves some kind of manly sport. cricket he could no longer play for want of good and level ground, but then there was another game which, at least, could be played or learned under easy circumstances, even on a quiet street or big "free coup," and that was association football. they soon took to it kindly, and many of them struggled hard and procured a ground. not one, of course, like that on which they used to have their cricket matches long ago, but one on which farmer lyon grazed his cows and sheep, and they had it for a trifle. what did they care about ridges and furrows, or that it was a difficult matter to see the lower goal-posts when you were at the east end? not a straw. the only matter which annoyed them (and this only happened occasionally) was lyon's bull. their club colours were red jerseys, with a small white stripe, and "jock" (that was the animal's name), used to scatter the lads about on the friday evenings when they were engaged in a big side. the players generally managed to clear out in time, but the infuriated animal once goared the best ball the club had, and next morning, as they had to play the "invincible" of glasgow green, a subscription had to be raised for a new one. football can thus be played under much more favourable conditions than cricket, or almost any other out-door game, at less expense, and this, in a great measure at least, is the secret of its popularity amongst the masses. it can also be played under nearly every condition of the atmosphere. nothing seems to frighten the scotch association football player. rain, hail, snow, and even frost, is treated with cool indifference. in england the ball is quietly laid aside with the advent of april and forgotten till the autumn leaves are yellow and sear, but in scotland association football seems to have no recognised season at all, so far as the younger clubs and even a few of the seniors are concerned. with the sun making one's hair stick to his head with perspiration, and the thermometer at degrees in the shade, they play away in the summer-time, and at christmas attempt to dribble in half-a-foot of snow. meantime the question about football being blotted out can, i think, be easily answered in the negative, and upon these will depend the future prospect of association football in scotland. there are, in fact, "breakers ahead," and a strong and determined hand will have to take the wheel. the greatest of these is the "professional" football player, and the next the "greed of gate-money." "o! we never heard of a professional football player in scotland," exclaims a chorus of voices; "there is no such thing. it's only in england." my remark, of course, is only beginning to be realised. the definition of professional in athletics "is one who runs (plays) for gain." everybody knows what that means. if you receive any money whatever, directly or indirectly, from your club (except out of the private purses of the members), you are a professional. are there not clubs, with great reputations, who have such members? if these are allowed to continue on the club books simply because they are good players, the committee are doing a great injustice to the other members, it may be under a mistaken notion. now, as football has always been looked upon as a purely amateur game, and played by young men for their own amusement, it is to be hoped that the day is far distant when the professional football player, or even worse, the professional football "loafer," who does not work, but preys upon his fellow-members, will appear in a general form. in all conscience, if the public wish to see professional football (and i know from experience they don't), what would they think of the all-scotland eleven against the champion eleven of england? that might sound all right, but with the recollection of how professional athletics of all kinds (with the remarkable exception of cricket) are now conducted, and their low associations, woe betide football when the professional element is introduced. it will assuredly be the signal for its decline and fall. as for the greed of gate-money, of which some clubs are so fond, much might be said. when i refer to the clubs who try to gather as much cash as they can during the season in order to pay their legitimate obligations and meet the heavy item of ground rent, i show up an honourable example, and one worthy of imitation; but when i hear of clubs who have gathered ten, yea twenty times more than is required for such purposes, and even get handsome donations besides from their patrons, deep in debt at the end of the season, i begin to wonder where all the money has gone. i ask a young gentleman who has only lately become a member, and he tells me he knows nothing about the finance committee, but throws out grave hints about sordid motives and bare-faced applications for pecuniary assistance. in this respect clubs must be above suspicion, if they want the delightful game to hold its own and prosper. as a _quid pro quo_ for this vicious practice, however, there is no game whose players are so charitable as those connected with association football. there is not a club in the association that is not ready to play a "charity match," and far more has been given to the funds of charitable institutions by the actions of association football clubs than all the other games in scotland put together. _vii.--the great international;_ or, _ned duncan's dream._ ~scotland v. america, .~ while on holidays, enjoying myself at a quiet and beautiful sea-side village on the shores of the firth of clyde, i received a note from a friend reminding me that an old football chum was still on the sick list, and making little or no progress towards recovery. in fact, his life, which had recently been enfeebled by an incurable malady, was slowly but surely drawing to a close. last time i saw him he referred to the fact that he had some ms. which he wished mr. john m'dowall, his successor in the secretaryship of the s.f.a., and myself, to read over, and when this came into my mind i resolved to repair to glasgow at once, ere it might be too late. it was just as well that i did, for poor ned duncan was fast sinking when i got permission from his widowed mother to visit the bedside. ned, i may mention, was one of the most enthusiastic players of his day that ever kicked a ball, but was obliged to give up practice in consequence of the unfortunate circumstances i have just mentioned, and of late had only been a spectator at the leading games. he received me that evening with a kind smile of recognition, and his pale face beckoned me to come near. i was certainly much touched with my old friend's appearance, and tried as much as possible to cheer him, but it was of no use. he said he knew he was going to the silent land. the doctor, in fact, had told him he had only a few days to live, and he was glad i had come to bid him farewell, and take over some straggling notes he had compiled last summer about the football of the future. "going home one evening," he continued, "after an international match, i fell into a deep sleep, and had a remarkable dream. i thought i saw a great match between scotland and america. real genuine players glided past, scrimmaging with each other for the ball; thousands of spectators, new and beautiful youthful faces, graced the area allotted to spectators; the hum of thousands of excited voices greeted my ears, and"----here poor ned's voice failed. after a few minutes repose, the old player gasped, "but what need i tell you more. here is the ms., and make what use of it you like." my dear old friend is now under the turf he loved so well to play on when in the zenith of his fame. having eventually opened the packet, the first sentence which met my eyes was "ned duncan's dream; or, the great international of ." i will, therefore, leave poor ned to tell his own tale, and what he saw in his vision, which at any rate has the merit of originality about it. as more extraordinary dreams have come to pass, there is no saying what the beginning of the twentieth century may bring forth, for international football matches with australia, america, and canada have been talked of, and some of them even played, during the past year or two, and may become accomplished facts. i must, however, return to the ms., which reads after the following style:-- "it was in april, , on a saturday afternoon, that the yankees came to scotland to play a match with our crack eleven. the universal postal service, which scattered letters all over the world at the rate of one half-penny per ounce, conveyed a formal challenge from the americans to scotland that the yankees would be delighted to meet an eleven of that country in an even game of football. the new world men of course meant business, and our secretary, who was a capital fellow, much liked by the scottish football association for his kind and obliging disposition, was instructed to accept the challenge and welcome the strangers to glasgow. "previous to the time i speak of, the americans had beaten the australians and canadians, and were considered by their own friends invincible even to the extent of a couple of goals. the canadians, by the aid of the electric express line's fast steamers, had been able to leave montreal in the morning and return in the evening from new york, defeated but not disgraced. the australians were a little longer on the way, as the improved appliances for driving ships had not yet attained that perfection there which had been shown in most of the ports and rivers of the british isles. they were experimenting, however, and some good in that direction was looked for daily, and a new express company floated. the americans had also beaten the englishmen the previous year at new york, and, as their own newspapers had it, 'came over to crow in the land o' cakes.' the great shipping trade of the clyde ere this was, so to speak, causing a new order of things to arise all over the world. large and beautifully-built steel and bronze vessels left the clyde every day for all parts of the earth. "they had annihilated space and bridged the atlantic in earnest, and the 'electrics' (once called steamers) could go from glasgow to new york in little over twenty-four hours. yes. 'daily to new york, montreal, california, and new mexico. splendid accommodation for first-class passengers: knots per hour, and no vibration.' so read the advertisement in the leading glasgow newspapers. why! what did it all mean? one hundred knots per hour-- in twenty-four hours! to new york in a day! i had certainly heard of the swallow taking an early breakfast at the uttermost part of england and picking up a late dinner on the shores of africa, all in one day; but knots an hour with an 'electric,'--it was just enough for flesh and blood to comprehend at once. "'well,' said a friend of mine with some experience in the marine engineering line, 'i have long thought on electricity as the great motive power of the future, provided it could be properly stored, and now you see what it has come to.' "in fact, our coal supply--one of the sources of britain's greatness--was getting exhausted, and electrical appliances had become an absolute necessity. the strain could no longer be borne of one huge vessel consuming tons of coal in twenty-four hours, and those blessed electrics were not introduced a moment too soon. "the learned men of france, who had long been working earnestly to solve the problem of electric economy, were beaten in the race, and a perfect system of stored electricity introduced and successfully applied to the propulsion of ships, patented by professor scotland thomson, nephew of the late sir william thomson, of blessed memory. "lots of other remarkable events had been occurring in our history, but none so marked as the introduction of the 'electrics.' the people of scotland had very nearly lost their individuality. old caledonia was to be simply a name. englishmen invaded glasgow, edinburgh, dundee, and even _ultima thule_, and overran the country with their ideas of social life. they made slow progress at first, but came in hordes, and the invasion was irresistible. they, of course, introduced all their newfangled ideas about games and pastimes, and compelled us to submit. "parliament had got so mixed up and thoroughly disgusted with the question of irish home rule, which cropped up every session, that in an evil mood it had threatened puir all scotland with assimilation of the law of jurisprudence, but failed. king albert the first, however, had, out of respect to the great city of glasgow--the second city in the empire--created his third son duke of glasgow, for you must know the house of peers was still extant, but greatly reformed and limited in power. it could only veto a law passed by the commons once, and there was no more about the matter. "the match, you may be sure, was the general topic of conversation all over scotland several weeks before it came off, and on the friday evening, when the americans arrived and put up at the express hotel, glasgow, the excitement was great. the preparations and arrangements for the struggle were on a grand scale, and good weather alone was wanting to make it a success. that evening several of the scotch team strolled into the billiard-room of the express hotel to welcome the young americans, and had a chat with them about football in general, and the spread of the rules all over the world. "the eventful day at last dawned, and a finer april morning could not have been desired. play was announced to begin at . p.m., and long before that time bruce park, cathcart road, was half-filled with spectators, and presented a fine sight. "the crowd around the field was certainly the most remarkable that had ever gathered together in glasgow. as the game was no ordinary one, they flocked from all quarters. most of the towns in scotland supplied their quota to swell the multitude, and as railway travelling was cheap and convenient now compared to the original football days of the queen's park, clydesdale, vale of leven, rangers, dumbarton, granville, rd lanark volunteers, partick, clyde, alexandra athletic (of which poor duncan was hon. secy.), and a host of other clubs, a two-hundred-mile journey, which was easily accomplished in an hour, was considered next to nothing. they were there--young men and maidens from london, manchester, liverpool, edinburgh, blackburn, darwen, bolton, and sheffield--all bent on making a day of it. the road to bruce park, indeed, was a sight to see, despite the fact that the cathcart railway carried its thousands that afternoon to the south-side. there were not a few buxom country girls in the crowd, enticed thither by no great love of the game--which, of course, they did not understand--but by their sweethearts, just to let the young persons of the place see that they had lads as well as their neighbours. there was one winsome lassie among them, however, who would have done credit to burns' incomparable 'queen o' the glen.' "emma was the only sister of a young farmer in the district. it is a mistaken notion to suppose that farmers in scotland are by far too plodding a class to indulge themselves in anything savouring of english games and pastimes, particularly football, but this is a mistake. i know several farmers in the country who love the dribbling game dearly, and do their best to promote its interests in the way of supplying ground to not a few young clubs dotted over the country. in fact, emma was the beauty of the whole parish, and all the young men for miles around were well aware of it. no one could deny it, and even the most unreasonable of fellows, charley m'gowan, the schoolmaster, and alfred walker, the lawyer's clerk, were forced to acknowledge it. "'talk about sydney's heavenly geraldine,' said young m'gowan to me one afternoon on the road to practice, 'she beats her hollow.' m'gowan, however, was a bit of a cynic, and emma soon cast him off for walker. he was a fine singer, and in after years, when he became a confirmed bachelor, delighted to sing songs about the inconstancy of the fair sex. he used to hum out goethe's 'vanatos,' and more particularly that verse with reference to the fickle fair ones, which ran "'i set my heart upon woman next-- hurrah! for her sweet sake was oft perplexed; but ah! the false one looked for a daintier lot-- the constant one wearied me out and out-- the best was not easily got.' the yankees, however, had a high opinion of our feminine beauty, and the impressions made on the gallant youths that saturday afternoon were of the most favourable order. the romans, in fact, were not more captivated with the beauty of the sabean maidens than were the young americans with the lovely scottish girls who gave them such a hearty reception at bruce park in april, . "walt vanderbilt, their captain, was a fine-looking young fellow, about years of age. ere this the young americans had completely discarded whiskers, and walt formed no exception to the rule, with his closely-shaven cheeks and well-formed moustache. good work in the field in the way of practice had made walt's form show complete development, and i am inclined to think that a finer specimen of a football player never toed a ball. the goalkeeper of the team, too, young lincoln, was rather a nice-looking fellow, nearly six feet high, and well-proportioned, with eyes sparkling with humour, but he lacked the fine open countenance of his captain. "the other members of the team were much of the ordinary type of humanity, just like our average football club men, with any amount of nerve and energy. if they felt excited at the magnitude of the work they had in hand they concealed it well, and looked as if they were merely entering the field to do a little practice. they wore the sign of the american eagle, dotted over with the emblematical stars and stripes. our fellows had also an imposing appearance, with the lion-rampant on their jerseys, and, although looking rather douce and uncertain about the game, determination was depicted on every face. "the names of the gentlemen who entered the field were as under:-- "_scotland._--f. wallace (south-side swifts), goalkeeper; t. glen (queen's park), d. smollet (vale of leven), backs; w. m'millan (dumbarton), f. m'neil (rangers), half-backs; k. m'geake (pollokshields athletic), p. livingstone (kilmarnock), k. watt (edinburgh rovers), t. stewart (volunteer a.c.), t. d. coats (paisley combination), and g. f. turnbull (clyde), forwards. "_america._--w. r. c. lincoln (new york caledonian), goalkeeper; v. h. grant (texas rovers), w. c. vanderbilt (hamilton state swifts), backs; j. h. armstrong (chicago association), d. steel (nebraska electric), half-backs; d. c. bramey (victoria boys), r. s. chandler (utah gentiles), p. whitehouse (newhaven), j. s. bryan (alaska pilgrims), w. d. bangle (san francisco racers), and t. lawrence (washington house), forwards. "_umpires._--j. w. marindin (south australia), and d. y. jones (canadian association). _referee._--w. h. littleton (english association). "before the game began, the yankees offered to bet level money, and some of their red-hot plungers even went the length of two to one on their chances; but they were promptly told that the days of betting and wagering at football matches, cricket, horse-racing, and all genuine sport, were now numbered with the past in the united kingdom. "gentlemen, in fact, who loved and enjoyed sport for its own sake, and for that part of it, ladies too, had voted betting 'low and unmanly,' and even degrading, and as parliament had been repeatedly petitioned on the subject, a bill was almost unanimously passed in the dying year of the nineteenth century abolishing betting. "the loyal irish party (late home rulers), and the rado-toro democratic party (led by lord randy chapel-mountain), whose hair was beginning to get silvery-grey, and his long moustache to match, did not even oppose the bill, and it passed. never did a legislative enactment work such improvement among the masses as this bill. it completely banished all needy souls and black-legs from the arena of honest sport, and left the field to those who came out of an afternoon and evening to enjoy themselves in an honest way. "the coarse language, too, of which our forefathers justly complained twenty years ago, had almost disappeared, whether through the effects of the school board, i would not like to say, but one could now take sweetheart or wife to enjoy themselves, provided always, of course, the weather was at all suitable. "as for professional football players, no such thing had been heard of for years. they certainly died hard, but eventually no club would have anything to do with them. "'what is that?' 'oh, it's the bell to begin.' "well, the game did begin in earnest, immediately after a fair lady had thrown out the leather ball from the grand stand at the right-hand side of the field. there was no tossing for choice of ends, for a new rule had been just added to the revised code enacting in a most chivalrous way that strangers or visitors be allowed to select the side of the ground they preferred to play on for the first half-hour--for you must know, my readers, the term now allowed for the game was one hour, and that when the ball was kicked into touch, there was no throwing back into play with the hands, but it was kicked from the touch-line straight out before play was again resumed. "for some time the forwards kept the leather close to themselves, and the yankees on the left wing, by a fine piece of manoeuvring, were successful in getting it away, amid tremendous cheering. chandler, who was one of the fastest sprinters in the world, and had beaten the record in san francisco in the fall of last year, got through his men in brilliant form, and came down on the goalkeeper like 'winkum.' just as he was poising himself, however, for a final shot, m'neil deliberately crossed the field from the opposite side, and after dodging about the young american, rushed in and took the leather away, and keeping it between his feet for a couple of seconds, kicked it clear of the scotch goal. a good deal of heading afterwards occurred near the home goal--the ball getting close on the lines several times, and even passing them. many considered before the game began that the americans would never have a 'look in' at all, and great was their dismay when they actually beheld their champions hotly pressed on their own ground, and look like losing the day. with a brilliant charge the yankee forwards crowded round the scotch sticks like a hive of bees on a june morning, and a straight shot from the foot of d. steel, who rushed in from his place at half-back, caused the ball to glide past the scotch goalkeeper like a rocket. "this was the signal for tremendous excitement. crowds of partisans and friends who had come over with the strangers, and many enthusiastic lovers of the game and fair play, raised a loud cheer, again and again renewed, at this piece of grand play on the part of the yankees. the intensely interested scotchmen, however, while they certainly admired the pluck and fine play of the visitors, and cheered in a mild kind of a way, even though an enemy wrung it from them, kept very quiet, and not a few white faces might have been seen about the wire fence which kept spectators and players apart on bruce park on that memorable day. they, however, kept their own counsel, and quaintly said to the yankees who chaffed them on the point, that howling was a very good thing in a way, but it should not be indulged in till people were out of the wood. "the teams then faced each other in midfield, and the ball had no sooner left the scotch captain's foot than it was taken away, and dribbled down the centre by bryan, whitehouse, and lawrence, and when half-time was called the latter was just finishing a good shy, which sent the ball over the bar. according to the new rules a quarter of an hour was allowed as an interval, and during that time speculation ran high as to what was destined to be the final issue. "to indulge for a moment at the idea of the americans beating the scotch on their own ground in the great international was a sore point for the bulk of the spectators with scotch faces, but they said very little. they had a secret hope that their champions would eventually pull off the game, even though they had a goal to make up, and only half-an-hour to do it. they had, it was remembered with pride and satisfaction, pulled through many a doubtful match before, and scotchmen, it was well known, were not easily beaten. "the young lady again threw up the ball, and tam glen, getting a good hold of it at his left foot, made one of the finest fly-kicks ever seen in a match, and the forwards on the scotch side following well up, completely puzzled the yankee backs and half-backs by their brilliant passing. before you could say jack robinson, m'geake shied for the american goal, and the ball knocked off the cap of the goalkeeper, and, hitting the bar, bounded back into the field of play. a hard and exciting scrimmage followed, and amid breathless excitement the yankees cleared their goal. five minutes of very even play followed, and then the scotchmen set their teeth and made a desperate effort for victory. "only ten minutes of the game now remained to the good, and there was, you may be sure, no time to lose. one goal behind, and at the great international, too! it would never do to allow america to whip creation, even at football! one final effort; no, two final efforts, and it was done. "the scotch captain was seen to whisper something to his team, and in a few minutes the grandest run which was probably ever witnessed since football became a scientific sport in the world, was started, and, before the american backs, half-backs, and goalkeeper could realise their position, the scotchmen bore down on the visitors' goal, and literally dribbled the ball clean through. this was, you may be sure, the signal for an outburst of cheering, which must have been heard over the half of the big city of glasgow, which now contained over a million of inhabitants. "the game, however, was not yet won--it was only a tie--and when the representatives of brother jonathan again started the ball only four minutes remained, but it proved a bad four minutes for the representatives of the stars and stripes. another run, backed up by a shooter from the left foot of turnbull, settled the great international for that year at anyrate. those who had hitherto viewed the game in moody silence began to come out of their shells (talking piscatorially) and join in the universal huzzah. "the yanks were now fairly cowed, and when another grand piece of play by stewart, backed up at the proper moment by watt, put a third goal to the credit of the scotchmen, the visitors, in the most gentlemanly way, heartily joined in the cheering for the victors. when the referee's whistle was sounded, the scotchmen were declared the winners of a hard-fought field by goals to . the crowd completely besieged the pavilion at bruce park at the close, and cheered lustily as the scotch champions made their way up the steps. nor were the vanquished americans forgotten. they came in for a round of hearty cheers for their pluck. "there was a dinner given to the distinguished strangers in the evening, and the usual complimentary toasts proposed and duly acknowledged; but, as i was not present, i am unable to say who spoke best and gave the most enjoyable song. "at anyrate, a happy evening was passed, and, after spending a day in glasgow, the yankees sailed on the following monday morning for new york, where they duly arrived without any mishap, after the fastest passage on record, having covered the distance from greenock to sandy hook in twenty-three hours fifty-nine and three-quarter minutes." such is "ned duncan's dream; or, the great international." _viii.--the patrons, spectators, and popular players._ they are to be found in all ranks and conditions of life, from the lord of the manor down to the apprentice-artizan and newly-fledged young man from shop and warehouse. like love, football, for the time, at least, levels all distinction; and albeit i know, for that of it, many a well-matched pair, who have met for the first time on the grand stand at hampden park, looking back with feelings of intense pleasure to the time when their "infant love began." were it not, in fact, that caledonia is at times so "stern and wild," and that football and frost can never flourish together, the game would be far more extensively patronised by the fair sex. at a cup tie or an international match, it is quite a common thing to see the convener of an adjacent county,[a] the city magnate, the suburban magistrate, the free kirk minister, and the handsome matronly lady, standing side by side with the horny-handed mechanic, the office-boy, the overgrown schoolboy, and the buchanan street "swell." they all watch the game and surroundings in their own particular way. i once heard a quaint, but nevertheless true, idea of how some of the more familiar visitors give way to a certain failing, which in itself can scarcely be called such, but is not unfrequently looked upon with amazement by the stranger. the scotchman, it is said somewhere, is not so much respected for the manner in which he goes about a thing as the way in which he does it, and the remark, when applied to this particular case, will be all the more potent. here it is:--"where are you going to howl to-morrow (the query is put on friday), jack?" "oh! the queen's and vale, of course; they will have a close thing of it, and there will be rare fun," says jack. "old anderson was very indignant last saturday, and declares that he will never stand near me again at any such matches. he was quite ashamed of my howling, and positively charges me with digging my thumbs into his ribs, and nearly strangling his youngest son at every scrimmage near each goal." "it serves you right, tom. i was always afraid something of that kind would happen; you shouldn't be so demonstrative." tom was silent. he was as jealous of his own propriety and good behaviour as anybody could be, but being of a most excitable nature, he did things in the heat of a tussle for which he was afterwards very sorry, and many ignored the fact that he was an old rangers man, who scored the first goal for that then young club in a close and exciting game with the once powerful clydesdale. as the association rules are very easily learned in theory, the great bulk of the spectators show an acquaintance with them which is pleasing to see, and when an assumed infringement takes place, it is generally heralded from some part of the field by a partisan of the contending elevens. the only apparently unintelligible point to them is the "off-side" rule, and i have seen a goal kicked in this way hailed with deafening cheers and waving of hats and handkerchiefs. these manifestations, however, were turned into low growling when the leather was sent away by a free kick. the ladies, too, talk about "free kicks," "corner-kicks," "heading," "hands," "beautiful passing and dribbling," as if to the manner born. i cannot, however, dismiss the subject of spectators without referring to the use and abuse of a free and unrestrained vent to pent-up feelings. there is the low, vulgar fellow, whose collarless neck and general coarseness of exterior and language indicates that he possesses all the vices but none of the virtues of the "honest working man." work he will not, except he is compelled, and although to "beg he is ashamed," he would be the first to do a mean action if he had the opportunity. it is he who, by his foul tongue and very breath, contaminates the atmosphere he breathes, and brings some of the matches into disrepute. unfortunately he has paid his money at the gate (sometimes he gets over the fence), and you can't turn him out; but he makes hundreds miserable. he is, in fact, one of the "unimproving and irresponsible," and moral suasion has no power over his hard and stony heart. sometimes in an evil moment his vulgar remark is challenged by one of the players on the contending sides, and this gives him an air of importance. there is nothing, however, which shows a want of gentlemanly bearing in a team more clearly than paying the least attention to exclamations from excited spectators. they should treat them with silent indifference, and if needs be, contempt, and play away as if there were nobody present at all. it is sometimes, nevertheless, very hard for country clubs to come to glasgow and play for the city charities, and get howled at by this class of spectators at certain stages of the game. the great bulk of those around, however, are indignant at such conduct, and regret it all the more on account of being utterly unable to prevent it. there is another spectator, too, who not unfrequently forgets himself, and he is to be found on what might be termed the "touch-line" of society. he is the fast young man, who considers you a perfect nonentity if you don't bet. i don't mean betting on football pure and simple, for he only lays a few "bobs" on it, but on the latest quotations for the derby, the st. leger, the waterloo cup, or the university boat race. his "screw" is not very big at the best, but he can always lay "half a sov." on the event, whether his landlady's bill is paid or not, and touching that little account of mr. strides, the tailor, why, he'll pay it when he "makes a pile." he thinks too much of himself ever to get married, and the young ladies of his acquaintance may indulge in a sigh of relief at escaping from the toils of such a consummate fool. when he has something "on" a match, and sees that it is lost, he not unfrequently opens out, and is not over choice in his language. the game, however, goes on, and is greatly enjoyed by the general spectator, despite such drawbacks, and if you happen to go to the same locality on a similar occasion, you are all but sure to see old and familiar faces crowding round the stand and area. [a] the late lamented mr. a. b. stewart, convener of the county of bute, was an enthusiastic admirer of the game, and many will miss his handsome firm and kindly remark when future matches are played on the leading grounds in scotland. the modern association football player is a man of some ability. as a rule he is temperate in his habits, with a good appetite, and sound in limb. long before he knew what football was, he was blessed with a large share of health. when a boy at school he used to be remarkable for punctuality, but occasionally got into trouble from neglected lessons, in consequence of a weakness for indulging in out-door sports. he loved the rude style of football, then played, dearly (he knew of nothing better), although goal-posts, touch-lines, corner-flags, and other modern appliances were totally unknown. as for "hacking," it was endured by all and sundry with the air of martyrs. why, if you had not nerve enough to "give and take" in that line, your chance of getting near the "goal score" was remote indeed, and you were looked upon as a coward and the verriest noodle. he, of course, grows older, and by and by joins an average club, and gets on very well. the crack football players, however, have many maturities. they generally come slowly, but surely, and leave behind them powerful impressions. they are like the occasional planets, not the stars which are seen every evening if you care to look towards the "milky way." they are mostly fine-looking fellows, with pleasant countenances and grandly-moulded limbs. they have just passed a severe course of probation in the football field, without even an outward trace of anxiety. the vagaries of the game admit of no distinction of class. the crack player is, in fine, found among all classes--in the gentleman's son, in the clerk at the desk, and the lad in the workshop. there may be different ways of working out the latent ability, but sooner or later it begins to show itself. some thought it was scarcely fair in the duke of wellington to say that "waterloo was won at eton." there is not the least possibility of doubt such a remark might be misunderstood, and many feel inclined to charge the "iron duke" with ignoring the services rendered by the non-commissioned officers and men of the british army, for everybody knows that none but the sons of the opulent class can ever gain admittance to eton. it looked, in fact, very like the credit being given to the officers for winning that great battle. wellington, however, had his eye on the football and cricket grounds when he spoke these words, and no doubt intended to convey the idea that these games went a long way in bracing up the nerve which served so well on the battle-field. close adhesion to the practice of any game really and sincerely creates fresh possibilities of that perfection and discipline. and why should this not be so in football, particularly as it is a game regulated by sharply-defined maxims? everyone can't be the captain of an eleven; and as for wellington's remarks, the most humble member of the team may show the greatest ability. you may belong to the most "swellish" of clubs, and have a fair reputation, but you are not chosen to play in the international. your father may be the "great mogul" himself, but that has no effect. the coveted place can only be attained by merit, and this is one of the most successful and meritorious traits in scotch association football. you don't, as a rule, even get a place now by reputation, and so much the better. when clubs were few and good players fewer, you were not unfrequently favoured with one, whether you deserved it or not, but now the matter is different, and justly so, since we cannot go into a single town or village in scotland without seeing the practice ground and goal-posts of the now omnipresent football club. _ix.--a dream of the past._ i am getting old and stiff now, at least in a football sense, but have seen and played in, perhaps, more big matches in my time than many will be inclined to give me credit for now. somehow or other the modern player does not seem to go into the game for the pleasure it affords nearly so heartily as his representative of yore, but it may be that the compulsory clause in the education act has made him more refined, or, if you like it, a good deal more cunning in hiding his animal spirits and exuberance of innocent fun. be that as it may, the association football of to-day does not really possess the same charm to me as it did ten years ago. i was once a very fair player, but never considered sufficiently brilliant to get my name handed down to posterity as the crack half-back of the "invincible club" of bygone days, or proclaimed aloud in the secret recesses of the great "houf" where football players now retire to spend a social hour after finding themselves the victors of a hard-fought field. i must admit, however, that i did some clever things which the newspapers of that era ought to have at least given me a "puff" for, but they didn't; in fact, i never, like byron (lord byron, i mean), awoke one morning to find myself famous, because my football was that of days long ago, in an obscure (to football, at least) country town; and, besides, the game then was conducted in rather a rude and undignified fashion. talk about rules, we had those which might, for all i know, have been framed by the "chief souter of selkirk" himself to suit the peculiar mode of playing on the streets at shrovetide (a practice still in vogue near that border land). our captain knew nothing of such new-fangled devices as the rugby code, and far less of the football association. ours, in brief, was a sort of combination of both styles of play. to win a "hail," as it was termed, the opposing side, with shoving, hacking, and other descriptions of horse-play, had only to pass the ball over the line, and it was won. touch-lines, corner-flags, twenty-five flags, and even upright posts, and the usual concomitants of the scientific game of to-day, were unknown. this leads me, then, to the point of tracing the rise and progress of the game in scotland during the past dozen years, leaving its antiquity and origin, about which there are mere surmises, an "open question." that it was played, however, in edinburgh and glasgow at least twenty years ago, under rules somewhat similar to those now adhered to by the followers of the rugby union i can well remember, and this was the only kind of football known by the young athletes of that time. over a dozen years ago many were the exciting contests engaged in by not a few of the clubs still in existence. the oval ball, with its historical associations, has a charm for them. they then talked about the association style of play with something akin to contempt. "what," they might have been heard to say, "is the fun of looking at people 'bobbing' a ball about with their heads, and the half of a team doing nothing, while a couple or so of the players are engaged at a time? give us the closely-packed maul, the exciting individual run, with the ball under the arm, the gallant struggle to ground it over the opposing line, and, above all, the beautifully dropped goal." "but nobody goes to see your matches now," remarks a newly-fledged convert to the association style of play, who has come to see the "inter-city," "they got disgusted with your never-ending mauls and shoving matches, preferring to witness scientific manipulation of the ball in dribbling, and passing with the feet." "pshaw! do you imagine we care a straw for gate-money? we play the game for the love of it, and the genuine exercise it affords," retorts the old rugby adherent, "and respect it all the more on that account." "oh! it is all very well to tell one that, but don't your leading clubs still charge for admission to their matches?" "yes; but this is more in the way of keeping out the roughs from the field than for gain." such conversation i have overheard myself, and none of the sides made much by it. well can i remember the birth of association football in scotland, and look back to the time when there was not as many clubs as i could count on the fingers of one hand. in , a semi-international contest, under association rules, was played in london between scotch men living in england and an english eleven, and continued till , when, on november th, the first real international match between england and scotland took place in glasgow. in that same year, early in the season, the celebrated queen's park club (to whom scotland owes the introduction of the game), entered the lists for the english challenge cup, and were drawn against the london wanderers. it was at that point that the matches which had hitherto been played in london between london scotchmen and englishmen were given up in favour of an annual match between scotland and england, to be played alternately in london and glasgow, and, if possible, so to arrange the contest that the association match might be played in england the same season that the rugby match would be played in scotland, and _vice versa_. it might be as well here to say that the celebrated scotch club and the wanderers, then in the zenith of their fame, played a drawn game with no goals on either side, but finding it too difficult a job to meet the englishmen again, they scratched. since then, however, the rugby and association internationals take place regularly as each season comes round, in scotland and england alternately. it is a curious fact, and one worthy of record, that the scottish rugby football union and the scottish football association were both constituted in the same year--viz., . the union was formed after the international rugby match at glasgow, dr. j. chiene, of edinburgh, being in the chair on the occasion. the scottish football association was formed under the presidency of mr. robert gardner, the once famous goalkeeper. the annual competition for the association cup, when the clubs who entered for it the first year only numbered , were proceeded with in a much more gentlemanly way than is the case now, but the reason is obvious. hitherto young and inexperienced clubs never dreamt of entering against opponents with whom they knew they had no chance, and, consequently, the competitions were left to be fought out among the cream of exponents of the dribbling game. as each year came round, however, and young clubs began to multiply exceedingly, many of them considered they should have a shy at the "cup," and as the entry-money for membership to the association was only a nominal sum, they competed, and were never heard of after the first tie. no one who has watched the progress of association football in scotland can for a moment deny the fact that the challenge cup has been the chief factor in assuring its popularity and rapid development all over the western district of scotland, and when its original promoters inaugurated the competition, it was done with the honest conviction of spreading a knowledge of the association rules, together with generating a spirit of friendly rivalry amongst clubs. that it has been eminently successful in the former respect is admitted, but i can't say the same thing so far as "friendly rivalry" is concerned, and one has only to remember the manner in which some of the ties are conducted to point out that the term "questionable conduct" would be more appropriate. when i hear of men and lads deliberately kicking one another, and charging wildly when the ball is about ten yards away in front, i begin to consider that the time has positively arrived when the scottish football association, if it wishes to retain its hold, should interfere, and make a selection of clubs to compete for the "blue ribbon" of association glory. quadruple the subscriptions to the association if necessary, and, above all, revise the bye-laws in such a way that what is known as a "rough game" would be impossible. it is but fair, however, to the scottish football association to state that they have long been alive to the fact, and have since taken the matter up while deciding protests. the association rules, however, are immensely popular with the people, and in some of the big matches it is quite a common thing to see , or , spectators. i have heard of such people as those who actually hate cricket and football, and make it a constant aim to prevent those over whom they have some influence from engaging in the manly sport. they occasionally flit across one's path like an evil spirit, and disappear as rapidly, but leave behind a chilling effect on the imagination, far more intense than the terrible nightmare after a disastrous defeat. they cannot see the fun of spending valuable time in such a way. if you follow one of those gentle "cads," however, at the close of an evening, he may be seen, cue in hand, earnestly engaged at the billiard table. he is not in a happy mood, for he is one of the losing side, and there is a wild look about his eyes. he sometimes gets home rather early in the morning, and is not particularly careful of his choice of companions at times. they are childish amusements, these games at cricket and football, "and none but silly people," he continues, "would ever think of engaging in, or even encouraging, them any way." and another thing. there is a sort of prejudice to football, and, in fact, to a lot of healthful out-door exercises, in scotland, among the older people, who can scarcely endure the thought of spending time under any circumstances; and parents are often the cause of degenerating a kind of deception more common than one would believe--viz., playing under assumed names. surely it is much better for the young men to spend a spare afternoon on the football field, enjoying the fresh air, than being, perhaps, engaged in questionable "time-smashing," in the way of playing cards, draughts, or drinking. on asking a well-known dribbler the other day how it came about that he played under a _nomme de guerre_, "was he afraid to let his real name be known?" the answer was conclusive. the governor was sometimes inexorable, and treated him to a lecture on filial obedience and the inevitable consequences of neglecting business. he positively debarred him from playing again, but tom was not to be done. taking advantage of the old fellow's absence from home, he yielded to the solicitations of his captain, and played under an assumed name, dribbling and passing in such beautiful form that thousands of spectators applauded his efforts, and his side won in a canter. as the non-indulgent parent did not observe tom's name in the papers, his little deception was never found out, and he continued doing duty for his club in this way for a couple of seasons. and of the yet fine player who thinks he will retire as each season comes round, something must also be said. his eye has not yet lost the gleam of honest rivalry, and he snorts like the war-horse as each season comes round to be in the thick of the fight. he retired, it may be, last season, for good, as he thought, but the fascinations of the goal-posts and flying corner-flags was too much for him as a spectator at the first big game, and he yielded for another year, but it will be his last, for maud, his beloved and beautiful maud, will claim him as her own before june. "we have been long engaged," he is heard to say to an old club companion, "but this blessed football, of which i am very fond, has been the cause of putting off the marriage." i once knew a fine young fellow, a crack half-back, who was so anxious to play in an "international," that he positively swore he would never get married till he was one of the chosen team. he kept his word. he played twice for his country, got married, and, as the "unexpected does not always happen," is now the father of what may some day prove a race of stalwart football players. his handsome, though now slightly-bent form, is still often seen when a great event is being decided, accompanied by his wife and children, and woe betide the captain of his former club if he allows it to be beaten. "well played; keep him off the ball, can't you!" he is heard to exclaim, till he is red in the face, and he goes home to dinner with something like an appetite. none but those who have positively come through all the grades of football probation really know what amount of labour, to say nothing of self-denial, is needed to make a crack back, half-back, or skilful forward. sometimes one has to be contented with a place in the second eleven for years, before some incident, it may be, brings him to the front, and reveals true merit. in football, of course, as in other things, i have found that the best men were not always in their best places, and when this was the case, what is known as favouritism came in bold relief, but in the end the club in which such stupidity was rampant suffered very severely. it did all very well when the club were engaged in ordinary contests with weaker opponents, but it came out in some of the big events, in which the guilty club predominated in the selection of men to represent a city, a university, and even a country. fortunately, however, i can honestly say that during the last few years there has been little of this practised, and scotch football under both rules is all the better in consequence. while every enlightened mind is willing to go a long way in advocating equality, the line must be drawn somewhere, and i am inclined to think at that stage where gentlemanly feeling and courtesy are absent. a very obscure individual may, by his conduct on the field, show that he at least can be a gentleman. in all such manly sports social distinction ought to be sunk, and that great and noble equality--that equality and love of honest worth which is so dear to the scotch (and let me also say english heart) be ever remembered, when team meets team on the football field. we are shown noble examples of how in days gone by, peer mingled with peasant on the cricket field, strove with each other on the curling pond, and why should not such things exist in football? let me hope that as each succeeding season comes round the noble winter game will in proportion show greater improvement, both in club and individual integrity, as well as higher scale of moral worth. _x.--the duel near the football field, and the cause of it._ "and you tell me, frank, that the old ground is at last cut up to form a railway embankment?" said bob smith to frank green (whose sister, by the way, had got married to pate brown last season), as they met one evening at crosshill. "they will be long in finding a ground like hampden park, i'm thinking," replied green, with the recollections of pleasant games and glorious victories for the black-and-whites, to say nothing of numerous gains to scotland in matches with england and wales. since this meeting of bob and frank, however, the said black-and-whites have got pretty far forward with a new ground quite close to hampden park, and it is now being levelled up and put into condition. the railway embankment referred to is part of the cathcart railway, which will assist very considerably in opening up rapid communication between glasgow and the whole of the suburban burghs lying south. while referring to the southern suburbs, which, it may be mentioned, are closely associated with the rise and progress of association football, i cannot refrain from alluding to several genial souls who have helped to make them what they are. none, however, is entitled to claim more consideration and credit than provost goodfellow, of suburbopolis, whose official life, so to speak, has been spent in the cause of suburban organisation, accompanied, of course, with a due regard for association football. you must know, my brave scotch readers, and those hailing from south of the tweed, that the provost of a scotch burgh or town occupies the exact position of the english mayor. he is the head of the municipality, and is, in fact, a kind of ruler of all he surveys, but about his "right to dispute," particularly when the november election comes on, why that is purely a matter of opinion. well, the ruler of suburbopolis was not a despotic man. he was certainly a little pedantic, and who, i should like to know, would not be inclined to lean that way if they had taken part in a great annexation fight with the chiefs of the big bouncing city of glasgow, and beaten them too? some years ago, it may be briefly explained, the glasgow authorities devised a scheme, whereby all the suburban burghs were to be taken under the wing of glasgow and lose their entire independence, and suburbopolis, being close on the touch-line, was to be attacked first. glasgow, in fact, was to act as the veritable annaconda, and swallow it up, but she didn't. scotch radicals, talking politically, had not hitherto much faith in what they considered an effete hereditary legislature, such as the house of lords, but if there was one thing more than another calculated to bring about a conservative reaction among the glasgow suburban authorities, it was the attention paid to their vested interests by the peers. the commons had spurned their entreaties to maintain independence with scorn, and even relegated them to bumbledom, but their lordships, to whom the case was appealed, literally strangled the said annaconda before she began to devour, and suburbopolis, along with other five thriving burghs, were saved from municipal death, and still retain their provosts. provost goodfellow was a most genial soul, and particularly fond of association football. he could talk about dribbling, passing, and backing-up, as if to the manner born. the only thing, in fact, which he did not fully understand was the "off-side rule," and many of greater pretentions were as far at sea regarding that said rule as the worthy provost. he was the life and soul of charity cup ties, and never failed to turn out to patronise them. even the charming young ladies of the family (for you must know his honour had three handsome daughters) knew a good deal about the rules, and had several excited discussions with their brother archie (who was a member of the camphill), and bob lambert (of the black-and-whites), as to the respective merits of sundry clubs. these young ladies, too, had a long string of admirers, and no family acquaintance was more eagerly sought after than that of the goodfellows. suburbopolis, however, was by no means devoid of a galaxy of feminine beauty and well-developed male forms, who might have been seen of an evening leaving the handsome villas and terraces around the park (for which the inhabitants were not taxed). there were, of course, the families of colonel black (an old warrior, who had been through the crimea and indian mutiny), the redpath girls, whose mother was a widow, the snodgrass young ladies (three in number), the misses bland, residing at jessimine lodge, and, of course, many more lesser luminaries. the colonel's daughters, or "golden slippers," as one of them was called by several members of the camphill, who had caught her in the act of watching a practice game on the eve of a big cup tie, wearing a pair of fur-lined slippers, and had her heart set on the camphill beating the black-and-whites, was, indeed, the most handsome girl in the burgh. i would not dare to attempt a pen-and-ink sketch. it would fail in its effect. it's all very good for you fellows who have no soul for feminine loveliness to talk about girls, like babies, being all pretty much alike, but you are wrong--entirely wrong. jenny was, in fine, a "bonnie, bonnie lass," and scores of young fellows, i know, would have gone considerably out of their way to have received "ae blink o' her bonnie black e'e." emma, although scarcely so tall, was very like her sister, only shorter in the temper. after sundry matches at the field, jack black used to take a few of his companions up to the hillhouse, and the young ladies received them graciously--congratulating them when they won their matches, and "chaffing" them unmercifully when they lost. there were at least three suitors for the hand of jenny, but one of them resided in london, and the other at skyview villa, a couple of hundred yards from hillhouse. it can be easily imagined that the local man had the advantage in the courtship, being, as the special correspondent always prides himself in adding to his communications, "on the spot." bob lambert was, to be sure, a welcome visitor at jenny's residence, and a fast companion of her brother jack, and what was more, bob was quite a favourite with the old colonel, who admired his fine appearance in the football field, and the brilliant manner in which he could "back-up" when that was needed to win a game. bob, i must confess, was really a nice-looking fellow, with black curly hair, and a good broad chest. his features were well formed, and he possessed penetrating dark grey eyes. there was one thing, however, which told against bob in many ways, and that was his hasty temper. he could brook no rival in his position as the best forward in the black-and-whites, and a word or two from the captain at a practice game was sure to upset him. he sometimes, in fact, took the pet altogether. once, when playing a cup tie with the athletic park, he met his match in charlie walker (another of jenny's sweethearts), who played at half-back, and the work done all through that eventful match was seen between the pair. talk about coming in contact with "mother earth," why that was positively child's play when the two met. walker was also a powerful fellow, and it was a case of greek meeting greek. "bumping at oxford," to use an aquatic term, why it was nothing! at one time bob was seen tossed up in the air as if from the horns of an infuriated bull, and at another charlie was observed lying on the field at bob's feet. what did they care about the ball being fifty yards off? not a straw, so long as they tackled and kept each other away from it. "that's not football," says one, "it is horse play." "never mind about football in a cup tie," says another, "let the heaviest team win; go into the fellow." "oh! gentlemen, gentlemen, fie, fie, association football is an amateur game, and as long as i play it," said the captain, "there shall be no cruelty done on either side." little did the spectators know the real cause of the inordinate tackling done by bob and charlie, but the secret soon came out. the pair had previously been rivals for the hand of jenny black, and bob was looked upon as the winner. at least charlie had not been seen at the black's villa for two or three months, and before this he always made it his house of call. but what about harry carts, jenny's english sweetheart? why, i had almost forgotten him. a team of cantabs had played the black-and-whites just a year previously, and harry was one of them. he had been invited to spend an evening at the colonel's house, and had fallen desperately in love with the bonnie scotch lassie. bob was also specially invited and was present that evening, and although trying to be as affable as possible to the friendly stranger and opponent, could barely hide his jealousy when the gallant english forward kissed the lovely girl's ruby lips in a game at forfeits. bob said nothing about it to jenny, but emma, the youngest sister, whispered to her brother jack that bob's eyes had a wild look that evening. the matter, however, was soon forgotten, as harry carts left glasgow the next evening for london, after his gallant team had played a drawn game with the scotch black-and-whites--the first one ending in that way, be it observed, that had ever been played between them and an english team on scottish ground in the memory of the proverbial "oldest inhabitant." harry carts, to give him his due, was one of the best association football players ever england produced. when mr. c. w. alcock and a few choice spirits in london, it is true, first opened the eyes of many football players to the value of the association rules, and inaugurated the football association in , harry was a mere child. appearing at college, however, he soon showed a liking for the dribbling game, and never lost a moment in doing his best to acquire everything he was likely to know about it. just the season before our story opens, he had been chosen from an imposing array of names sent in by his club, and also the branch associations, for an honourable place in the "great international." his superiority, in fact, put his place beyond doubt, and he stood to represent his country first, and club afterwards, in a tussle which proved disastrous to england; but it was admitted by all who witnessed the match that harry was one of the best men on the field, and, in company with his half-back, showed the best form and pluck--the victorious scotchmen notwithstanding. how the pair above mentioned tackled and passed up, to say nothing of backing and nursing the ball, i know full well, for i saw the game. harry and his companion, in fact, were again and again cheered for their magnificent dribbling, and when the eventful game was over harry was carried shoulder-high, in real scotch form, to the black-and-white's pavilion. the incident did not escape jenny and her sister, who were standing on the gravelled walk in front of the pavilion. jenny was sympathetic when she saw the handsome young englishman cheered by the excited crowd, and when the excitement culminated into carrying him shoulder-high to the pavilion, a brilliant flash from her eye told the tale of regard. the young lady, despite assertions to the contrary, must have at least admired the young englishman; and among the blithe and gentle faces who swept their cambric handkerchiefs over their heads, none were more demonstrative than the black girls. they saw, with something akin to pride, harry let gently down at the pavilion door, followed by their brother jack, jim wallace, and bill m'clelland, all of whom had done great work in the big match. harry did not lose sight of the handsome face which had haunted him all the previous summer, notwithstanding his flirtation with the italian girls in venice. venice, beautiful venice! it was in thy classic city, close to the scene of the great italian poet's labours and triumphs, that poor jack vincent (who used to play left wing in the swifts) was found drowned, after attending a ball. poor jack, i think even now i can see his handsome, but withal, comical face, when he used to dodge sundry half-backs while playing for his club. poor fellow! grave hints were held out at the time that he had met with foul play, but nothing more was ever heard about the matter, and jack's friends never got any satisfaction. i am, however, going off the line with my brief story. carts, in fact, felt jenny's face haunting him wherever he went, and on the earliest opportunity came back to scotland, asked the dear little girl to be his wife, got the crusty old colonel's consent, and the pair were all but apparently engaged to be married at an early date. harry was splendid company either on the field, at the black-and-white's room in battlefield hotel, or at the villa. he could sing a good song, tell a good story, and crack a wild joke. harry used to sing a new song about football, the chorus of which jingled out: "in measured blow, the dancing feet, now moving slow, now galloping fleet; with a leap and a curl, with a sweep and a twirl." he declared that the song was original, but archie, who was a bit of a book-worm, and never neglected taking in the "monthlies," expressed grave misgivings about having seen something like it applied to a skater in "scribner's magazine." bob lambert and charlie walker, the other two young fellows who were looked upon as jenny's admirers, were terribly shaken in heart and spirit when they heard of her flirtation with the handsome young englishman; but such a thing as an engagement between them was never for a moment entertained. bob was too much a man of the world to suppose that jenny would ever give him up for another; and poor, soft-headed charlie, why, he was sure the colonel's favourite daughter loved him still. matters went on in this way for some time. the football season was now about closed, as the month of may was at hand, and all the big matches had been lost and won, including the challenge cup tie, which dumbarton had carried off. for several evenings bob and charlie had not come across one another (although charlie was also a member of the black-and-whites, as well as the athletic park). bob had blamed charlie for telling some stories about a fine young girl whom the former had promised to make his wife a year previously. the poor girl, it was hinted, had been jilted to such an extent by bob, that she had broken her heart, and pined away and died. one evening the pair met at the entrance to the pavilion on hampden park, where a lot of the players were lounging about smoking, after having done with their sides. most of the club fellows knew that lambert and walker had not spoken to each other for a long time, even to the extent of exchanging the usual salutations about the weather. they were, therefore, much astonished to see them in earnest conversation. menacing looks were exchanged, and something like curses--not deep, perhaps, but loud--were heard from the rivals' lips. the fact was, the men had arranged to settle their "little difference" with swords. what do you think of that, my nineteenth century intelligent reader, with all your boasted approach to civilisation and sacred respect for life? why, a cold-blooded duel with swords, and in the french fashion, too! both hot-headed youths knew comparatively little about the handling of the chosen weapons, nothing more, indeed, than what they received while training in the volunteers; but it was a "point of honour," and they would do their best. several of the black-and-whites, who had heard about the proposed "meeting," had a secret consultation with ned m'gill and davie merricks, who, it was whispered, had taken the friendly job of "seconds," and the whole affair was "adjusted." with swords this was impossible, and they resolved to resort to the respectable and honourable weapon, the revolver. the two men who were to face each other in terrible earnest, you may be sure, slept little or none during the preceding night. "four o'clock sharp, mind, at the grass field, near hagg's castle," said the brave seconds, "and it will be all over in a few minutes." charlie shuddered when he heard the last words (which, by the way, were deliberately intended for him). "_a few minutes, and all will be over_," charlie muttered; "what if i should be killed?" his very teeth (which he used to whiten with cigar ashes, and was so proud about), were chattering. thousands of ideas floated across his heated imagination. he saw his past life before him, and the only consolation, if it could be called one, lay in the thought that, should it come to the worst, jenny black's eyes would be dimmed with tears at his misfortune. he felt sure the dear lassie loved him, and he would brave death a thousand times rather than endure the anguish of seeing her married to a useless fellow like bob lambert. bob, on the other hand, was really a cool and determined fellow; and while charlie was in the throes speculating about probable dissolution before the morrow's sun should rise, bob was actually priding himself on superior ability in handling a revolver. he was, in fact, far too arrogant a man to imagine that _he_ could be shot by a silly boy like walker. he had made up his mind to shoot straight when the signal fell, and indulged in the devilish pleasure it would afford him to read a "true and particular account" of the duel in the glasgow evening papers, if good luck would favour him in escaping to the continent. "these fellows are not going to come up to the scratch," said ned m'gill to the other honourable gent--as they passed the clydesdale cricket ground a few minutes to four o'clock on that memorable morning. ned, however, was wrong. through the grey dawn a muffled figure was observed crossing the pollokshields athletic club's park, and making direct for the old castle. almost simultaneously came a second individual from the vicinity of crossmyloof, smoking a cigar. there was no doubt about it, for on closer inspection the figure was that of lambert, who generally indulged in a good cigar, as he had a friend in the anchor line who was always supplying him with "weeds." a very short time sufficed to measure the distance, but the would-be _murderers_, no doubt, considered it an age. when the seconds advanced along with their men to the fatal spot, and placed them twenty paces apart, charlie put one in mind of the poor misguided boy in "the rivals." his hand shook, and his knees almost touched one another. _the signal was given_, and bang went the revolvers from both sides. none of the young men, however, seemed to have been hit; and while charlie was almost sinking on the ground from excitement, bob might have been seen examining his weapon with suspicion, at the same time casting a glance at his rival and wondering why he did not fall. a second or two more, and the latter fired another shot, and this time poor charlie dropped his pistol and fell back on the grass. bob was satisfied he had done the business now, and taking the advice of davie merricks, he fled for his life; getting the early train for greenock and thence per steamer "golden eagle," to the isle of man. the "seconds" (and a few strange figures that were seen lurking about) of course, lifted the supposed dying man from the grass, and as his "life's blood ebbed away," they whispered about being willing to fill a last request. poor charlie's brow was covered with blood, and as he himself expressed the terrible sensation of "feeling a pistol ball bobbing about in his brain," arrangements were hastily made for having him consigned to relatives. accordingly his lodgings were sought after and easily found by the excited hansom driver who had taken them near the fatal spot. all the time the affair was going on the driver threw out grave hints about reporting the whole matter to the police. when they reached greenfield avenue, however, there was still some life in charlie, but he said he "knew he was dying," and forgave everybody who had taken part in the rascally business. higgins, the hansom driver, was as good as his word, and after leaving the place, went direct to the suburbopolis police office, and got the whole matter reported. not very long after the police surrounded the house in greenfield avenue, and provost goodfellow (who, it may be remarked, was the only magistrate at home when the affair took place, and had to be aroused for the purpose), came in all haste to take the "dying deposition." meanwhile dr. barrister, one of the best of the local surgeons, was in attendance. the doctor, however, suspecting something soon after feeling the supposed wounded man's pulse, and judge of the surprise, to say nothing of indignation, when the doctor, and then the provost, began to indulge in a hearty fit of unrestrained laughter. the "seconds" knew their business well, for they had _loaded the weapons with blank cartridges and a few drops of bullock's blood_, and some of the contents of bob's pistol had hit charlie on the brow. poor charlie, he was so terribly shaken and nervous after being hit that he was long in getting the better of the fright. like the french prisoner whom the cruel authorities of the "inquisition" determined should be experimented upon as a victim of imagination in the way of supposed bleeding to death, charlie, although he had not received a scratch, thought he was dying fast, till the doctor informed him of the imaginary wound. a few days afterwards the affair was "hushed up," and nobody was better pleased when he heard the true state of matters than bob lambert himself. his friend jim campbell had sent a letter to douglas post office, to be called for, under a fictitious name, and bob soon returned to glasgow. when little jenny black was told the same morning of the duel, that charlie walker had been shot by bob lambert, she fainted clean away, and afterwards refused to be comforted. "to think that she, a poor weak girl, should have been the cause of such a terrible tragedy," she was heard to say to her sister, "i'm afraid i'll never get over it." when the true state of matters, however, was revealed, and the whole affair brought up in its real light, it afforded immense merriment all over suburbopolis, and when football players met to spend a social hour, the duel between bob lambert and charlie walker is, of course, alluded to as a standard joke. a few months afterwards there was a nice wedding at colonel black's villa, and strange as it may seem, both lambert and walker were there, together with quite a crowd of football players and their sweethearts. the reader will, of course, easily make out who wore the bridal dress, and looked lovely in it, too. surprise, however, not, it is to be hoped, altogether unmixed with satisfaction, will be expressed, when the bride-groom appears in the person of charlie walker, jenny's own love. harry carts, the handsome englishman, she certainly admired, but did not actually love sufficiently to make a husband of. he, in fact, seemed to have been too fond of company, and in correspondence a coldness had sprung up between them, and ended in two parting letters. jenny loved charlie walker best, and accordingly gave him her heart and hand. "what he had suffered for her sake," the young lady was heard to express to a confidant, "no one but himself knew." they are, however, now a happy pair, and when cup ties and big matches are being played near suburbopolis, you will be sure to see charlie and his handsome wife on the field. as for bob lambert, who was forgiven, he became more of a man in subduing his temper and general disposition, and one evening told his old rival that he would never forget till his dying day--"the duel near the football field." _xi.--the final tie for the association challenge cup-- - ._ _two memorable matches._ a couple of matches had to played before the final tie for the association challenge cup was decided, and at the earnest request of numerous friends i have reproduced my articles on both games, which appeared in the daily mail, and trust they will be considered worthy a place in the volume. the following is the ~first match.~ this important contest, which had to be postponed the previous saturday in consequence of the dense fog which enveloped the city and suburbs in semi-darkness, came off at ibrox park, and resulted in a draw--each side scoring a goal. early in the forenoon the weather in every particular looked like a counterpart of the previous saturday, and it was not till well on in the day that the association committee finally decided to go on with the match. even with this short notice, combined with the fact that heavy rain came on and continued till well on in the second half, the attendance of spectators was large, about , , and this is borne out by the cash lifted at the gate, some £ . of this the association gets a third, and the other two-thirds are equally divided between the contending teams. the proceeds of the stand, however, went to the rangers' funds, as that club gave their ground free of charge to the association to play off the tie. paisley road and govan road presented a scene to be remembered from two o'clock till well on for . p.m., being thronged with vehicles of every kind, from the carriage and pair, the hansom and cab, down to the modest van. pedestrians, too, were numerous, and on the govan road the vale of clyde tramway company, with extra cars, reaped a good harvest. on the way down, and in the field itself, the usual good-natured banter was largely indulged in, and as football enthusiasts, like the rest of impatient spectators, are only human, they were in better temper at the start of the contest than was the case at the finish. the meeting of the queen's park and vale of leven, in fact, revived old times among the once brilliant players of both clubs, many of whom were present on saturday to "fight their battles o'er again." "dae ye ken," said an old man as the game proceeded, "i wis present at old hampden park on the wet hogmanay afternoon long ago, when the vale licked the queen's by two to one in a cup tie, and i wish'd ye'd a' seen the queen's park committee men and their supporters that day when the bare fac' wis kent. i'm thinkin' they didna craw sae crouse, and maybe they'll get a fricht the noo." when the vale scored their goal a wag, primed with a fair-sized pocket pistol, no doubt containing the best--well, every public-house salesman will tell you at anyrate, it is the "best," and charge for it, too, as "special"--began to lilt a verse of the popular pantomime song, "their funeral's to-morrow," hinting heavily about the decline and fall of the queen's park. many saw the point, and laughed; while others gave the jolly fellow a look that betokened contempt and dismay. "wait till the second half," said a quiet supporter of the senior club, "and ye'll see what they can dae; they're only making some fun." in pressing forward, leaning against the pailings, were not a few critical rivet boys and iron-workers, whose running comments were amusing in the extreme. of some young fellows who came down from the city dressed up in style, one of the "black squad" was heard to say, "don't they look blooming 'swells,' with their gloves and g.o.m. collars, and you wid think that the whole landed property about is theirs, even to ibrox park itself. crush up, bob. we've paid our money as well as the lot, and must get share of the view. crush up." "man, jock, they've got a new ile for training and rubbin' up the fitballers noo. it's whit they ca' herbuline, and it keeps out the cauld and warms ye unca' much; but the smell's sae strong that it nearly blin's ye." no doubt some kind of specific was required on such a trying day as saturday, for it was indeed a clear case of illustrating the old adage, when exclusively applied to man, about the survival of the fittest. there is this about ibrox park, however, which certainly recommends it to the impartial spectator--fine even turf, without a flaw, and no advantage even to the home club itself when playing matches. it is well sheltered, and the arrangements for the big crowd were ample, and well carried out by the rangers' committee and the scottish football association, for whom mr john m'dowall, the secretary, acted with much credit. the govan policemen (at least most of them) love a good game at football as dearly as the old highland landlady lo'ed a lord, and what is more, their respected chief shows them a good example, as he is generally to be found at ibrox park, in company with other burgh officials, when there is a good thing on. the early editions of the evening papers were largely in request, not by any means for the purpose of reading, as all attention was directed to the game, and in the anxiety to see the players before the contest began, but for the sole purpose of being "sat on." the supply was soon exhausted, and one speculative newsboy, taking in the situation at a glance, disappeared for a short time, but came up smiling towards the grand stand ten minutes afterwards with a bundle of brown paper wrappers, which he disposed of like penny pies at twopence per sheet. the judges of the game had very difficult duties to perform, and to their credit be it said they did the work without fear or favour, and we are quite certain gave general satisfaction to the players. the spectators, however, treated the unfavourable conditions of the atmosphere with indifference, and even contempt, and long before the time announced for the kick-off they crowded around the pailing and surroundings to get a good view of the game. in consequence of the wet weather very few ladies were present compared with what has turned out at previous finals. the vale of leven emerged from the pavilion first, and were well received. a few minutes afterwards came the queen's park, who were also loudly cheered with cries of "good old q.p." the toss between the two captains was watched with much earnestness, and when the leven team ranged themselves in front of the ball from the gate end, it became apparent that they had won. the queen's park, by hamilton, kicked off against the wind, and a short run by berry was successful in sending the ball so near the vale of leven goal that one of the strangers put it behind, and gave the queen's park a corner-flag kick. this was followed by a close scrimmage, in which the ball came near whitelaw, who sent it down the field. a "foul," however, by paton gave the queen's park a lift, and in a second scrimmage the ball was again put behind the lines. another corner-flag kick was the consequence, and it took the queen's park well in on goal, where the tackling was very severe. the ball again bobbed about the posts, but the vale men showed splendid back play on the slippery ground, and sent it clear. after this bruce and m'millan had a good run on the left for the vale of leven, and the former had a shy that went past the left post. the kick out by gillespie was followed up by a steady run on the part of allan, berry, and gulliland, and the former shied wide past the right post. after the kick out, the queen's park kept up the pressure, and it was some time before the ball emerged from vale of leven territory, which it did from the foot of rankin. some even play ensued, and then the vale had a run by the right forwards, and, in kicking clear, arnott slipped a bit, and the ball, getting the upper of his boot, rolled over the lines and gave the vale of leven a corner-flag kick. it was taken by m'lachlan, but he cut the distance too fine, and the ball rolled harmlessly over the bar. in turn, gillespie's kick-out was followed by a run on the part of sellar and hamilton, and a "hand" by one of the vale of leven backs gave smellie a chance of doing something with a free kick. it was very hard work, however, for both, and the opinion began to gain ground that the team who could keep up their stamina longest would be the winners. the ground, in fact, was a bit treacherous, and in some cases when the ball landed, after a long kick, it bounded clean over the heads of the backs, and some mis-kicks now and again occurred. seven minutes from half-time, the vale men made a smart spurt, and, after some clever passing, the ball was taken possession of by m'lachlan, who jumped in and headed it between the posts--just a few inches from the right side--amid cheers and counter cheers. the teams then faced up in the centre, and, from a good start, the queen's park got up to their opponents' lines, and berry just missed the goal by a foot. after this the vale of leven had a good run down on the queen's park lines, and a fast shy by osborne was caught up and punted out by gillespie, and another immediately afterwards, from the foot of bruce, was cleared by smellie. the half-time signal, however, was given, leaving the vale of leven one goal ahead. the strangers had now the kick-off, and made considerable use of it, for the forwards backed up well, and a slip by one of the half-backs of the queen's park gave the vale of leven a corner-flag kick. the ball was fairly managed, but bruce, who had it at his toe, was tackled by smellie, and sent down the field. the queen's park had now a brilliant turn at the leven goal, and several hard shies at the posts were cleverly returned by the backs. the queen's men, however, kept pressing on, and had a corner-flag kick, which was taken by sellar, and splendidly sent out by wilson. the play after this was straggling a bit, and falls were frequent in vale of leven territory, but the queen's men were very unlucky at goal, and could not get the ball through--gulliland, with a hard shy, only missing by a shave. the ball eventually passed the leven lines in a scrimmage not long afterwards, and as it was put over by one of the defenders, another corner-flag kick was the consequence. time was now wearing on, and do all they could, with hemming in their opponents and making innumerable shies at goal, the queen's park could not score, and a corner-flag kick did not mend matters. after this the vale team improved very much in their forward play, and m'lachlan and bruce again had a fine run up the field, and as arnott, in tackling, let the ball go over the lines, the leven team had a corner-flag kick. the shot from the pavilion end was very well taken by one of the half-backs (m'nicol), and the queen's park goal had a narrow shave, as the ball was caught by robertson in the nick of time and cleared. the queen's park were soon at it again, however, and not only drove their powerful opponents off, but completely invaded their stronghold. crowding round allan, berry, gulliland, sellar, hamilton, and even the queen's half-backs had shies at the leven goal, but wilson saved brilliantly. when time was drawing to a close the excitement became very intense, and while the friends of the vale of leven were jubilant and hopeful about the issue, the partisans of the senior club, who came to see their favourites conquer, were proportionately sad and crest-fallen. "they cannot do it now," said a chorus of voices well up on the stand, "but see this, boys," remarked an old football follower, as arnott rolled up the sleeves of his jersey with a determination which gave new life to the game; and as it has been said frequently before that the queen's park can rise to a great occasion, assuredly they did on ibrox park on saturday. one minute or so more and all would be over. pressing their opponents very hard with shots at goal, corner-flag kicks, scrimmages almost under the goalkeeper's feet, they were again and again repulsed by grand work on the part of wilson, and as the ball emerged out of the pack after a free kick it was sent a bit down the field towards the queen's park half-backs. here bruce, the most prominent forward of the country club, got possession, and was about to beat stewart, when arnott and smellie came to the rescue, and the ball was immediately sent back to the vale goal, where, after a terrible scrimmage, from a "free kick," it was put between the posts by smellie. the vision of a glorious victory for the q.p. had by that time faded away like a dream, and a crowd of the senior club's followers had actually left ibrox park in disgust, when a tremendous cheer burst forth from the ground signalling a point for the queen's park, who had "turned" the doubtful day again. the scene which followed was truly exciting. the q.p. followers gave vent to their strained feelings with an outburst of cheering which must have been heard in some of the neighbouring police burghs, including partick on the other side of the river, while those of the vale kept quiet in disappointment. the teams then began the struggle anew, and from the kick off the vale of leven men made a grand run up on the queen's park goal, and had a couple of corner-flag kicks in succession, but the queen's park backs sent the ball clear, and a few seconds afterwards the whistle sounded, leaving one of the most remarkable games ever played in the final tie for the association challenge cup drawn, with one goal all. the following are the teams that played in both games:--queen's park--goal, gillespie; backs, arnott and smellie; half-backs, m'ara, stewart, and robertson; forwards, gulliland, berry, j. hamilton, allan, and sellar. vale of leven--goal, wilson; backs, whitelaw and murray; half-backs, osborne, m'nicol, and sharp; forwards, m'lachlan, rankin, james patton, bruce, and m'millan. ~second match.~ the destiny of the challenge cup has at length been decided for the season, and the queen's park are the conquerors after one of the finest games ever seen on ibrox park--the victory being the narrow one of two goals to one. the game, it may be remembered, was drawn on the previous saturday, when each side had scored a goal, and, strange as it may seem, the queen's park only saved themselves then, as they have done now, towards the close of the contest, and converted what looked like a defeat into a victory. between , and , spectators were present, and as the weather was fine the match was a most enjoyable one. the cash drawn at the gate amounted to fully £ , and, as on the previous meeting, will be equally apportioned among the two clubs and the association. the city cabbies made a day of it, and pocketed a good round sum. they handled the ribbons with a dexterity which in some cases was really alarming, and threatened the lieges with accident. "drive us to ibrox park, mind, in ten minutes, or we'll be late for the kick-off," and the promise of an extra sixpence did the business, although jehu's old friend and brother must be passed on the road. in some cases this was overdone, and a horseless machine with only one wheel might have been seen near bellahouston academy, awaiting "alterations and repairs," and on the same road some "spills" also occurred. the remarks round the pavilion, stand, and approaches were, as usual, both instructive and amusing, and let the impartial spectator know how the land lay, and the kind of company he was for the moment keeping. all sorts and conditions of men and boys were there to see the match. a hasty glance, in fact, revealed the astonishing fact that nearly all classes in the country were represented--city magnates, iron-masters, shipbuilders, ministers of religion, doctors, schoolmasters, clerks, mechanics of all kinds, and a much larger contingent of ladies than we have seen on any previous occasion. from the cheers and counter cheers which greeted the goal-scoring by the senior club it was apparent that their followers were in the majority, but when the young vale of leven got the first point, the cheers which followed showed that they had also a large number of partisans, who honestly believed in the club's ability to win the cup. in the first round, indeed, the vale players showed much better combination all over than the q.p., and reminded many of the vale of yore. the second half, however, revealed the senior club at their best, and from the manner in which they acted together and kept up their staying powers, they really deserved to win. as we have already said, the gossip among the spectators was both bright and original. a demonstrative supporter of the senior club was rather personal with his remarks, and was asked by a lover of the game, but not a partisan of either club, to keep quiet "and not let everybody know he was a born fool." "oh! yes; it's all very fine, but the band at alexandria 'ill no play at the station yet: the vale canna' win noo," said he, as the queen's team put the ball through a second time. a well dressed young fellow on the stand near the press table was very funny, and if ever a man enjoyed the game it was he. in the exuberance of his joy at the q.p. scoring, he danced on the little spot allotted to him on the stand, and in doing so nearly overbalanced himself. "ye'll be the better o' a half yin after that narrow escape," said one of his friends, handing him a bottle. after he had swallowed a fair amount of the liquor he stole a hasty glance at the bottle, and found to his disgust he had been drinking "the vale of leven blend." "it's a' richt," said his country friend, "ye'll maybe need it a' yet; the vale are not beaten the noo; the queen's man tak' anither goal before that occurs," and so they did. "oh! a' say," remarked a born east-ender, for whom we are perfectly certain the clyde and thistle, according to his self-importance at any rate, had played their best on barrowfield and beechwood, "look at that; it's no' fair to gie the vale a free kick for that; it's the auld way; gie't ta the yin that mak's the maist noise." "yes," said another, who looked every inch a dyer from the celebrated football county of dumbarton, and maybe the vale of leven district itself, "did ever ye see the likes o' that, and frae sic a swell club, tae?" as robertson bowled over bruce on the grass, and cleared the ball away. wilson, the vale of leven goalkeeper, came in for a fair share of praise; and so did arnott, smellie, sellar, gulliland, and gillespie for their brilliant play, but many were in ecstacy about young wilson. "his mither 'ill be a proud woman the day when she kens how well he kept goal for the vale; there's nae doubt about it, wilson's the coming man between the sticks for the international on hampden park on th april next," said a red-faced man, wearing a glengarry. old and respected members of both clubs were again present to cheer on their successors to victory, and we observed several original members of the once-famous clydesdale, including two who took part in the first final tie for the cup on old hampden park. several old rangers were present, too, who remembered well the series of exciting matches played by them against the vale of leven, when no fewer than three hard battles had to be fought before the destiny of the cup was settled for the year. the sad news, too, was announced in the papers of the sudden death of another famous forward (mr. j. r. wilson), who took part in the first final tie between the queen's park and clydesdale on behalf of the latter club. many of the "old brigade" viewed the contest with mixed feelings. "you seem excited, bob," said a friend to an old q.p., and no wonder; time is fleeting fast; the game will be done in a quarter of an hour, and, dear me, the queen's have not even scored. "not at all, not at all," said the q.p. old player, tearing at his moustache in a manner that threatened that hirsute appendage with instant annihilation, "i think they will, at anyrate, make it a draw, for see how they press the vale now. oh! they've done it; see that," as hamilton sent the ball between the posts. "the extra half-hour is sure to be played now," said another, as the vale of leven men brought down the ball to mid-field, and kicked off. there was, indeed, great excitement, and as the queen's park again and again pressed their opponents, and finally scored a second goal, it was a dozen times intensified, and the subsequent play made the q.p. men more bold and determined. the vale of leven, as on the previous occasion, appeared in the field of play first, and had a punt about with the ball for a few minutes, when their opponents emerged from the pavilion and had some practice round the upper goal, while the umpires and the referee were arranging the preliminaries. the visitors won the toss, and played with what little wind there was in their favour. hamilton kicked off, and berry followed his forward companion, but murray turned the ball, and m'millan and bruce had a nice run, and caused the ball to get near the queen's park goal, but smellie caught it on the rise and sent it down the field. it was taken up on the left side, and sellar ended a brilliant run by passing the leather fairly across the goal to gulliland, and that player made a rare shot at goal, but wilson was on the alert, and caught the ball very smartly, and sent it out. here a close scrimmage was followed by another shot on the part of allan, but the ball went over the lines. after the kick-out, the vale of leven men made a fine run up on the queen's park goal, and m'lachlan had a long shy that caused gillespie to throw away the ball in a hurry. the strangers played well together, and had by far the best of it, and made the q.p. backs work about as they had never done before. paton had another shy, and then the left outside forward had one that came so close on the bar that gillespie had again to chuck out in double quick time. after this, gulliland had a fast run down the field, and ended the run with a parting shot that went past on the right post. some even play then occurred, but the leven forwards manoeuvred together better than those of the queen's park, and a fine piece of passing by sharp, osborne, and bruce ended by the latter making a shy that touched the tips of gillespie's fingers and went through the goal, close to the post. the point was so smartly made that it fairly took away the breath from the queen's park friends, and caused the faces of the supporters of the country club to beam with delight, while the cheering for the then successful team was long and loud. the players then faced up in mid-field and renewed the battle, and not very long thereafter the queen's park gained their first corner-flag kick, but it was a poor one for sellar, and the ball was soon cleared away by the vale of leven backs. the queen's team, however, kept well in front of their opponents' goal, and another corner-flag kick was succeeded by an exciting scrimmage, and then a shy by gulliland was cleverly cleared away by wilson. when half-time came, however, the leven men were swarming round the q.p. posts. the contest was then renewed in terrible earnest, and the queen's park, with one goal against them, had the wind in their favour now. the vale of leven, however, had the kick-off, but the ball was at once returned by m'ara, and the queen's park found themselves right in front of the leven goal, where one of the backs fouled the ball close on the right post. the shy was taken by allan, and the ball hit the bar, but after an exciting scrimmage it was cleared by the vale backs. the queen's park, however, were soon on it again, and the next five minutes' play was nearly disastrous to the leven team, as no fewer than five corner-flag kicks were given to the queen's park, in consequence of kicking behind on the part of leven men. the defence, however, was excellent, and by slow degrees the ball was worked clear, and m'lachlan had a run down on the glasgow club's goal, where the whistle of the referee told the spectators that the dashing forward was off-side. he did not seem to hear the whistle a bit, but coolly went up to the queen's park posts and kicked the ball through without the least opposition. the kick-out in front was followed by a fine run on the part of gulliland and berry, but whitelaw managed to tackle the q.p. young forward, and the ball was soon sent back. it did not go far, however, for the q.p. forwards kept it among them for a time. the leven men had now a good run on the left by sharp, and stewart sent the ball behind his own goal. rankin took the corner-flag kick, but arnott got on the leather in an instant, and sent it spinning up the field by one of his famous returns. from this point till the call of time the queen's park were fairly in it, and played, perhaps, as they had never done before. defeat stared them in the face, and the game was fast drawing to a close. barely a quarter of an hour and the destiny of the cup would be settled. as on the previous saturday, however, the queen's men played worthy of a great occasion, and won the trophy. pressing their opponents up on the goal, they kept them there for a time, and although the ball was seen to go out and in among the shoal of busy feet a few yards from the posts, wilson and the backs cleared brilliantly. at length, however, allan had a corner-flag kick, which was managed so neatly that hamilton got the ball in a good position and headed it through. this gave new life to the senior club and their supporters, and the cheering was again renewed when a few minutes after the next kick-off the queen's park drove the vale team before them, and again had hot work near wilson. the queen's half-backs, who had hitherto not acted so well together in the earlier stages of the game, metaphorically speaking, "came out of their shells," and, along with the forwards, took an active part in the siege. shots were aimed thick and fast at the goalkeeper, and at length stewart, with a shooter, sent the ball spinning through, making the second goal for the queen's park. the teams then faced up in the centre, and the tremendous cheering which greeted the scoring of the second goal had scarcely died away when the vale team made one last but brilliant effort to equalise, but they were driven on by smellie and arnott, and at length the whistle sounded, leaving the queen's park the winners of a match in every way worthy of the final tie for the challenge cup by two goals to one. although the strain now and again was pretty heavy on the players when at close quarters, the contest all through was conducted in the most friendly way, and showed a marked contrast to some final ties played a few years ago. it may also be mentioned that the premier club have not held the trophy since - , when they defeated renton by three goals to one; but of the seventeen matches played in the final the queen's park have carried off no fewer than nine, while the vale come next with three. * * * * * _h. nisbet & co., printers, jamaica street, glasgow._ * * * * * [illustration: forsyth's "acmé" shirt. glasgow "the acmé"] thomas naismith (formerly of thomas naismith & co.) respectfully intimates that he has opened those central premises, no. dunlop st. with a fresh stock of glass, china, earthenware, and ornamental goods. direct from the factories. * * * * * established years. john kinnaird. dyer, canning st., garscube road, main st., anderston, paisley road, west, and govan road, govan. works: springfield road. * * * * * gentlemen's suits cleaned from s. d. athletic suits cleaned on shortest notice. ladies' plaids, shawls, ulsters, dresses, cleaned or dyed. no unpicking. carpets, table covers, curtains in damask, and lace of all kinds, carefully cleaned or dyed--any colour. * * * * * see scott's free insurance see scott's free insurance see scott's free insurance * * * * * the conqueror's football boots. spectators who value their health while attending football matches in all kinds of weather should get gray's damp-resisting boots. they always keep one warm and comfortable at all the matches. a. gray's wholesale shoe warehouse, trongate, and branches, cowcaddens. main street, anderston. gallowgate. main st., bridgeton cross. govan road, govan. duke street. cumberland street, s.s. glasgow. * * * * * kelso & co., manufacturing opticians, electricians, and model makers. telescopes: field, marine, & opera glasses. spectacles and eye glasses, in gold, silver, and steel. commerce street, s.s., glasgow. works-- clyde place. * * * * * commercial and general printing. best, cheapest, and neatest. largest athletic printers in scotland. hay nisbet & co., jamaica street, glasgow. london office-- , fleet street, e.c. * * * * * the pioneer athletic papers of scotland. _scottish sport_ published every tuesday and friday--one penny. the authority in all matters athletic--football (association and rugby), cricket, running, swimming, etc., etc. the only purely athletic paper in britain published twice a-week. _the scottish cyclist._ published every wednesday--one penny. the wheel paper of north britain, and sole organ of its trade, sport, and pastime. the brightest, the spiciest, the neatest, the cleverest and most original of modern cycling publications. scotland's only wheel paper. offices-- glasgow: jamaica st. london: , fleet st., e.c. * * * * * bonnie scotland old highland whisky! the pride of highland whiskies and malt liquors. in splendid condition. to be had from john campbell grocer and wine merchant, dumbarton road, partick. * * * * * the leading house for gold and silver badges. david dow, wholesale watchmaker and jeweller, (late , , and trongate) argyle street (between miller street and queen street). mr. dow, having removed to more central premises, has much pleasure in again thanking his numerous patrons in all parts of scotland for the large measure of support accorded him during past seasons, and would again call the attention of committees and others to his large and choice selection of gold and silver badges, medals, and athletic prizes. committees are cordially invited to inspect his stock and compare with any others before placing their orders. the style, finish, and general excellency of his designs are unsurpassed, and taking quality, etc., into consideration, the prices will be found the cheapest in the trade. new designs always being added. special designs to order, and estimates given. samples forwarded on request. inscriptions at specially low rates. estimates and designs furnished for silver and electro-plated challenge cups. * * * * * football and travelling bags at lowest prices. splendid selection of electro-plate goods, marble clocks, &c., suitable for athletic prizes and presentations. _patronized by over associations and clubs._ * * * * * the acknowledged cycling outfitters suits to order from / to / in a shade of surges, vicunas, tweeds, and worsteds. c.t.c. cloth, all pure wool and thoroughly shrunk, / the suit to order, with cap. all inside trimmings pure wool. suiting and fitting by practical cyclists. club secretaries or unattached riders respectfully requested to write for samples, and compare prices. forms of self-measurement sent, or clubs waited on by one of our representatives if an order for three or more suits, fifty miles from glasgow. note.--gentlemen should be very careful in ordering a cycling or any other suit to know that they are not made under the sweating system (we have reason to believe many of them are), the dangers of which are well-known. all garments made by us are made by our own tailors, in our own work-rooms, adjoining our warehouses. private fit-on rooms, and all accessories to a large tailoring business. waterproof cape, leggings, and cap, s. d. the lot. can go in the smallest space. hygienic underwear, cycling hose to match uniform, etc., etc. * * * * * penmans', , , , , & canning st., bridgeton, and main street, anderston, glasgow. broad-sword and single-stick r. g. allanson-winn, and c. phillipps-wolley. the all-england 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[double volume, _s._] london: g. bell & sons. ltd. broad-sword and single-stick. with chapters on quarter-staff, bayonet, cudgel shillalah, walking-stick, umbrella, and other weapons of self-defence. by r. g. allanson-winn, author of "boxing," and c. phillipps-wolley, inns of court school of arms. london: g. bell & sons, ltd., and new york. . printed by william clowes and sons, limited, london and beccles. preface. the favour with which my little _brochure_ on boxing has been received induces me to put together a few ideas on the subject of attack and defence with weapons other than those with which nature has endowed us. a glance at the table of contents will suffice to show that the scope of the work has been somewhat extended, and that, though there is of course a vast deal more to be said on the wide subject of self-defence, an attempt has been made to give practical hints as to what may be effected by a proper and prompt use of those common accessories which we may find in our hands at almost any hour in the day. not having leisure to take in hand the whole of the work myself, i asked my friend mr. c. phillipps-wolley to make himself responsible for that portion of the treatise which deals with single-stick play. this he kindly consented to do, and those of my readers who wish to make a special study of stick-play, i refer to p. to p. inclusive. the illustrations in this portion of the work are from photographs by the london stereoscopic company; all the other illustrations are from my own sketches. the author. contents. chapter page i. introductory ii. the quarter-staff iii. the broad-sword iv. single-stick v. the bayonet vi. the cudgel, shillalah, walking-stick, umbrella, and various accessories broad-sword and single-stick. chapter i. introductory. our neighbours on the other side of the english channel have been accused of calling us a "nation of shopkeepers." no doubt the definition is not bad; and, so long as the goods supplied bear the hall-mark of british integrity, there is nothing to be ashamed of in the appellation; still, with all due deference, i think we might more appropriately be called a nation of sportsmen. there is not an english boy breathing at this moment who does not long to be at some sport or game, and who has not his pet idea of the channel into which he will guide his sporting proclivities when he is a man. there are not many grown englishmen who don't think they know something about a horse, would not like to attend a good assault-at-arms, or who are not pleased when they hear of their sons' prowess with the oar, the bat, or the gloves. i may be quite mistaken, but it always seems to me that the well-brought-up little foreign boy is too unwholesomely good and gentle to fight the battle of life. still, such little boys _do_ grow up brave and clever men, and they _do_, taken collectively, make splendid soldiers. then, as to sports, foreigners seem to put too much pomp and circumstance into their efforts in pursuit of game; the impedimenta and general accoutrements are overdone; but here again i may be wrong. of one thing we may be quite sure, and that is that the majority of englishmen are devoted to sport of _some kind_. one of the prettiest little compliments you can pay a man is to call him "a good old sportsman." when, in addition to the advantages of a national sport or collection of national sports, such as boxing, sword exercises, wrestling, etc., you recognize the possibility that the games you have been indulging in with your friends in playful contests may at almost any moment be utilized for defeating your enemies and possibly saving your life, you are forced to the conclusion that there are some sports at least which can be turned to practical account. unfortunately there are individuals, possibly in the small minority, who regard anything like fighting as brutal or ungentlemanly. in a sense--a very limited sense--they may be right, for, though our environment is such that we can never rest in perfect security, it does seem hard that we should have to be constantly on the alert to protect that which we think is ours by right, and ours alone. however this may be, let us be men _first_, and aristocrats, gentlemen, or anything else you please, _afterwards_. if we are not men, in the larger and better sense of the word, let there be no talk of gentle blood or lengthy pedigree. the nation is what it is through the pluck and energy of individuals who have put their shoulders to the wheel in bygone days--men who have laid the foundation of a glorious empire by sturdy personal efforts--efforts, unaided by the state, emanating from those higher qualities of the character, relying on itself, and on itself alone, for success or failure. from the earliest times, and in the most primitive forms of animal life, physical efforts to obtain the mastery have been incessant. whether it is in the brute creation or the human race, this struggle for existence has always required the exercise of offensive and defensive powers. the individual has striven to gain his living, and to protect that living when gained; nations have paid armies to increase their territories, and retain those territories when acquired. the exact form of weapon which first came into use will always be doubtful, but one would think that stones, being hard and handy, as well as plentiful, might have presented irresistible attractions to, say, some antediluvian monster, who wished to intimate to a mammoth or icthyosaurus, a few hundred yards distant, his readiness to engage in mortal combat. are there not stories, too, of clever little apes in tropical forests who have pelted unwary travellers with nuts, stones, and any missiles which came handy? then, coming nearer home, there is the lady at an irish fair who hangs on the outskirts of a faction-fight, ready to do execution with a stone in her stocking--a terrible gog-magog sort of brain-scatterer. when man was developed, no doubt one of his first ideas was to get hold of a really good serviceable stick--not a little modern masher's crutch--a strong weapon, capable of assisting him in jumping, protecting him from wild beasts, and knocking down his fellow-man. to obtain such a stick the primitive man probably had to do a good deal of hacking at the bough of a hard oak or tough ash, with no better knife than a bit of sharp flint. having secured his stick, the next thing was to keep it, and he doubtless had to defend himself against the assaults of envious fellow-creatures possessed of inferior sticks. thus we can imagine that the birth of quarter-staff play--not much _play_ about it in those days--was a very simple affair; and we recognize in it the origin and foundation of all the sword exercises, and all the games in which single-stick, lance, and bayonet play a prominent part. as the question of who picked up the first stone and threw it at his fellow-man, or when the first branch of a tree was brought down on the unsuspecting head of another fellow-man, are questions for learned men to decide, and are of no real importance, i shall not allow myself to go on with any vague speculations, but shall turn at once to an old english sport which, though sometimes practised at assaults-at-arms in the present day, takes us back to friar tuck, robin hood, and "maid marian, fair as ivory bone, scarlet and much and little john." chapter ii. the quarter-staff. according to chambers's "encyclopædia," the quarter-staff was "formerly a favourite weapon with the english for hand-to-hand encounters." it was "a stout pole of heavy wood, about six and a half feet long, shod with iron at both ends. it was grasped in the middle by one hand, and the attack was made by giving it a rapid circular motion, which brought the loaded ends on the adversary at unexpected points." "circular motion" and "shod with iron" give a nasty ring to this description, and one pictures to one's self half a barge-pole, twirled--"more hibernico"--with giant fingers, bearing down on one. whether the fingers of our ancestors were ever strong enough to effect this single-handed twirling or not must remain a matter of doubt, but we may rest assured that in the quarter-staff we have, probably, the earliest form of offensive weapon next to the handy stone. if darwin is correct, we can easily imagine one of our gorilla ancestors picking up a big branch of a tree with which to hit some near member of his family. this, to my mind, would be playing elementary quarter-staff, and the game would have advanced a step if the assaulted one--possibly the lady gorilla--had seized another branch and retaliated therewith. the modern quarter-staff is supposed to be rather longer than the six and a half feet prescribed by the above-quoted authority, and i imagine it originally derived its name from being grasped with one hand at a quarter of its length from the middle, and with the other hand at the middle. thus, in the diagram (fig. ), if a e represents a quarter-staff eight feet long, divided into four equal two-foot lengths at the points b, c, and d, the idea would be to grasp it with the right hand at d and with the left hand at c; or, if the player happened to be left-handed, to grasp it with the left hand at b and with the right hand at c. [illustration: fig. .] this method of holding the quarter-staff may be well enough in certain cases, but it seems to me that, for rapid attack and defence, the hands should be about three feet apart: at d and m, half way between b and c; or at b and n, half way between c and d. of course a great deal depends upon the height and strength of the player, but, with the hands at a distance of three feet or so apart, it stands to reason you have a greater command over the ends of the staff than you have if they are only two feet apart, and that you can consequently come quicker into "hanging guard" positions, and more easily defend yourself from short upper strokes and from "points" than you can when you have less command over your weapon. [illustration: fig. .--on guard.] before proceeding to the more technical portions of quarter-staff play, let me say that it is better to bar "points" in a friendly bout, for the weight of a stick, if only a bamboo cane, of eight feet long, is so great, that it is an easy matter to break a collar-bone or rib with a rapid thrust. in any case, remember to be well padded and to have a good iron-wire broad-sword mask on before engaging in a bout. in dealing with the cuts and thrusts which may be made with the quarter-staff, we cannot do better than consider the ordinary broad-sword target. in the accompanying diagram are marked the ordinary broad-sword cuts to , to , to , to , to , to , and to , the centre of the target. [illustration: fig. .] now, we observe that the guards for these cuts must be such as to ward off the blows in the easiest manner and with as rapid return as possible to the attacking position. with the quarter-staff in the hands of a right-handed man, the first cut would be from to , and the guard for this would be with the staff held in the direction of _c_ to _d_. similarly, for cut two, from to , the guard would be from _a_ to _b_. it must be borne in mind that this second cut, from to , is generally delivered with what i shall call the _butt_ of the staff, _i.e._ with that end which is nearest the right hand, in the case of a right-handed man; and that cut one, from to , would be delivered with the butt in the case of a left-handed man. the two guards above illustrated will _almost_ cover any attack, but _not quite_. [illustration: fig. .--first hit.] on examining fig. it will be seen that the guard for the first cut, viz. that from to on the target, is indicated by the position of the staff _cd_ or _c´d´_. the guard _cd_ meets the three cuts to , to , and to , but is not sufficient to protect you against cut to . similarly the guard _c´d´_ answers the purpose as far as cuts to , to , and to are concerned, but fails to ward off cut to ; and the same remarks apply to the other side of the target, where _ab_ and _a´b´_ represent the staff. of course the two guards in fig. _may_ be so used as to meet all requirements, but it is, to my thinking, far preferable to thoroughly master the four as represented in fig. . so doing will give increased command over the staff, and will not in any way detract from speed or general efficiency. [illustration: fig. ] it will be observed that in the sketches of guard and guard , figs. and , the staff is, in each case, too perpendicular for cut to ; they represent the positions of the combatants when using guards _a´b´_ and _c´d´_ in fig. . i would therefore advise attention to the following diagram, which includes the guards, four in number, which are really sufficient for all hits which can be made with the quarter-staff. the lines intersecting the circumference of the circle show the inclinations of the staff for guarding all the cuts which can be made. we now turn to the question of position. in quarter-staff play it is usual for a right-handed man to stand with his left foot in advance of the right, as in boxing or bayonet exercise, and with his toe pointing straight in the direction of his adversary, as in fig. . it is, however, often very advisable to advance the right foot suddenly to the front when bringing the butt of the staff to play on the left side of the enemy's head or body. as regards "points" it is well to lunge out, as one does when making a left-handed lead-off in boxing, so as to gain somewhat in the reach. [illustration: fig. .--first guard.] [illustration: fig. .--second guard.] [illustration: fig. .] points, which, as before hinted, should be used with care in friendly bouts, are generally made with the point of the staff, but may also be effected with the butt; and this is the case when the combatants have come to rather close quarters. at quarter-staff play the men should be started by the master of ceremonies at a distance of ten or twelve feet apart, and when they get to close quarters, or at rough play, they should be immediately separated, as this is a game at which feeling is apt to run somewhat high--occasionally. always remember, when guarding points, to do so with that portion of the staff which lies between your hands. this portion really corresponds with the "forte" of a sword or stick. if you have learned fencing with the foils it will be of the greatest possible advantage to you, for you will then understand how slight an effort brought to bear on the foible of your opponent's staff--in this case it will be somewhere within two feet of the end--will suffice to turn aside the most vigorous thrust. [illustration: fig. .--second hit.] it may not be out of place to add that any man who has gone through any sort of apprenticeship in fencing--either with foils or single-sticks--will not fail, when a quarter-staff is put into his hands, to know what to do with his weapon. he may, at first, feel awkward, and the length of the staff may hamper him and its weight fatigue him, but he will, with his knowledge of general principles, very soon get into the work and enjoy it. [illustration: fig. .--point.] though the staves used are often made of light bamboo cane, one may get very severe hits and prods, so it is as well, before engaging in an encounter, to have (_a_) a good mask, such as broad-swordsmen wear; (_b_) a thick jacket of stout leather, with a high collar; (_c_) boxing-gloves on both hands; (_d_) a good pad for the middle of the body, from waist to knee; and (_e_) cricket pads for both legs, which are apt to come in for nasty jars on or about the knee. never _on any account try to dispense with the pads_--they may save you from permanent injury; and do they not add to your good health by promoting a beneficial opening of the sweat-glands? in quarter-staff, as in stick-play, broad-sword exercise, fencing, etc., it is better to sink down with the knees bent, for in this position you present a smaller area for your opponent to strike at than you do when quite erect. in leading off it is better to slide the hand which is at m or n (see fig. ) down to the hand which is at d or b; you then gain several feet of reach added to your lunge out; only be careful to recover quickly, and get the hand you have thus moved back to its former position. advancing and retreating are effected much in the same way as in bayonet exercise; viz. for the advance, move the left foot swiftly forward in the direction of your opponent for a distance of, say, eighteen inches or two feet, following this up with the right foot _for the same distance_, so that the same relative positions are maintained; for the retreat, move the right foot back the required distance and follow up with the left foot. in speaking of the retreat, it must be mentioned that, from the great length of the staff, you cannot, very often, get out of the way by the ordinary retreat, as above described, but may have to make an undignified jump back for five or six feet, to avoid a quick return or, possibly, an unexpected lead-off. in a stiff bout this jumping, with all the heavy impedimenta indispensable to the game, takes it out of one considerably, and, on this account, it is a first-rate exercise for any man who may wish to get into good training. [illustration: fig. .--first hit, with slide.] the most common mistake learners of the quarter-staff make is that they try very long sweeping hits, which are easily guarded, instead of shorter and sharper taps, which run up points and are much more scientific. your sweeping hit may be likened to the "hook-hit" at boxing, for it lays open your weak points and leaves you for an instant in a position from which there is a difficulty in recovery. in all these games be well "pulled together." watch a good fencer, either with the foils or with the sticks; see how seldom his point wanders far from the lines of attack, and how quick he is with the returns! you cannot guard and return with any sort of effect if you go in for ugly sweeping hits or hard heavy guards. the heavy hit may come off occasionally, the clumsy guard may turn the point, but why misdirect energy? it is surely unnecessary to put forth great muscular effort when you know that the strength of a small child, _if properly applied_, is ample to put aside the most powerful thrust or the heaviest cut. if quite unacquainted with fencing, broad-sword, stick-play, or bayonet-exercise, never be tempted into a bout with the quarter-staff. no one should ever go in for this game without previous knowledge. my own idea is that learning fencing with the foils should precede all the above-named exercises, for in this way a delicacy of touch and nicety in the matter of guarding are acquired, which may lay a really good foundation. nearly all first-rate stick-players have served their apprenticeship with the foils, and, where this education has been omitted, one may generally detect the ugly carving-knife-and-fork style, so unpleasant to watch. whereas with a good fencer--"foiler" perhaps i should say--everything is done with neatness, whether he has in his hand a single-stick, a cutlass, or the leg of an old chair. so that it comes to this: we seek the aid of the newest and most delicate weapon of attack and defence--the small-sword--to teach us how to properly make use of the most ancient and clumsy of all weapons--the time-honoured quarter-staff! chapter iii. the broad-sword. "but swords i smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, brandish'd by man that's of a woman born." _macbeth_, act v., scene vii. general. in the early stages of the world's history our very remote ancestors were unacquainted with the art of forging instruments and weapons from metals; they were not even aware of the existence of those metals, and had to content themselves with sharpened flints and other hard stones for cutting purposes. many of these weapons were fashioned with considerable skill, and give evidence that even in the dark days of the stone age men had a good idea of _form_ and the adaptation of the roughest materials to suit the particular purpose they had in view. to take an example from the most common forms--the spear and javelin-heads which are found along with the bones and other remains of the cave bear. these are admirably designed for entering the body of any animal; for, though varying greatly in size, weight, and shape, the double edge and sharp point render them capable of inflicting severe wounds, and of entering into the flesh almost as easily as the point of a modern sword. as good specimens of these early spear-heads fetched high prices, _finding_ them was at one time quite a profession, like finding bullets, etc., on the field of waterloo. forgeries became common, and in many cases the imitations were so perfect that the most experienced antiquary was often puzzled to pick out the genuine article when placed next to the spurious. for the benefit of those who take an interest in this branch of research, it may be mentioned that the museum at salisbury is full of excellent specimens both of true spear-heads and the copies "made to meet the demand," and i may fairly say that the ordinary observer would be utterly incapable of distinguishing the slightest difference between the two. the genus "cutting instrument," then, has for its archetype the sharp flint, which was fashioned by dint of hard labour in the very early days of man's existence on the face of the earth. when metals were discovered and their malleability had been tested by the application of fire, not only spear and javelin-heads were formed from the new material, but short swords, consisting entirely of metal, were first constructed; and this departure marked a new era in the civilization of the world, termed by geologists and antiquarians the bronze age. in a very short treatise on a cut-and-thrust weapon like the broad-sword, it would be out of place to enter into any speculations as to the probable dates at which the stone, the bronze, and the iron ages commenced their respective epochs. it seems sufficient to give the _order_ and to mention a few of the early weapons with which we are acquainted, either through actually finding them, or by seeing representations of them on early works of art, such as alto-relievos or frescoes. one of the earliest forms of sword was the leaf-shaped blade of the early greeks. it properly belongs to the bronze age, as it is found amongst the human remains of that period. it was a short, heavy-bladed weapon, with sharp point and double edge, used, it appears from ancient monuments, for cutting purposes. [illustration: fig. .--early greek sword.] no doubt the weight of the blade, increased by the heavy deep ridge running almost from point to hilt, made it very serviceable for cutting, but it seems more than probable that the point was also used, and that the idea of the edge was handed down to us because the ancient sculptor or delineator, in his battle-piece representations, placed the swordsman in the most spirited positions he could think of. a figure in the act of delivering a slashing cut, say cut or cut , looks much more aggressive and eager for the fray than a similar figure about to give the point. i only advance this as a suggestion, for it seems hard to believe that people who must have been well acquainted with the use of the point at the end of a pole or staff--as in the case of the spear, which was the very earliest form of thrusting weapon--should abandon it when they came to the sword. be this as it may, there is no doubt that the short roman sword, which was practically a large heavy dagger, sharp-pointed, double-edged, and straight-bladed, was extensively used for thrusting. for cutting purposes, however, it could not, from the absence of curve in the edge of the blade, have been equal to the early greek weapon. [illustration: fig. .--short roman sword.] when iron began to play a prominent part in the construction of articles requiring hardness, strength, and durability, a great stride was made in the production of war-like weapons, and it was then very soon discovered that ordinary forged iron was too soft and easily bent, and it was not until the art of tempering began to be roughly understood that iron, or more correctly speaking steel, swords were brought to a degree of perfection sufficient to entitle them to a higher place than their bronze predecessors. it is believed that the egyptians had some method of tempering their bronze chisels, which is now numbered amongst the lost arts; otherwise, how could they have carved the head of the sphinx and innumerable other works out of the intensely hard stone of which so many of their monuments are cut? the modern sword blade is constructed of steel, tempered so as to suit the particular kind of work for which it is intended. "mechanical invention has not," says the "encyclopædia britannica," "been able to supersede or equal handwork in the production of good sword blades. the swordsmiths' craft is still, no less than it was in the middle ages, essentially a handicraft, and it requires a high order of skill. his rough material is a bar of cast and hammered steel, tapering from the centre to the ends; when this is cut in two each half is made into a sword. the 'tang,' which fits into the handle, is not part of the blade, but a piece of wrought iron welded on to its base. from this first stage to the finishing of the point it is all hammer and anvil work. special tools are used to form grooves in the blade, according to the regulation or other pattern desired, but the shape and weight of the blade are fixed wholly by the skilled hand and eye of the smith. measuring tools are at hand, but are little used. great care is necessary to avoid over-heating the metal, which would produce a brittle crystalline grain, and to keep the surface free from oxide, which would be injurious if hammered in. in tempering the blade the workman judges of the proper heat by the colour. water is preferred to oil by the best makers, notwithstanding that tempering in oil is much easier. with oil there is not the same risk of the blade coming out distorted and having to be forged straight again (a risk, however, which the expert swordsmith can generally avoid); but the steel is only surface-hardened, and the blade therefore remains liable to bend. machinery comes into play only for grinding and polishing, and to some extent in the manufacture of hilts and appurtenances. the finished blade is proved by being caused to strike a violent blow on a solid block, with the two sides flat, with the edge, and lastly with the back; after this the blade is bent flatwise in both directions by hand, and finally the point is driven through a steel plate about an eighth of an inch thick. in spite of all the care that can be used, both in choice of materials and in workmanship, about forty per cent. of the blades thus tried fail to stand the proof and are rejected. the process we have briefly described is that of making a really good sword; of course plenty of cheaper and commoner weapons are in the market, but they are hardly fit to trust a man's life to. it is an interesting fact that the peculiar skill of the swordsmith is in england so far hereditary that it can be traced back in the same families for several generations. "the best eastern blades are justly celebrated, but they are not better than the best european ones; in fact, european swords are often met with in asiatic hands, remounted in eastern fashion. the 'damascening' or 'watering' of choice persian and indian is not a secret of workmanship, but is due to the peculiar manner of making the indian steel itself, in which a crystallizing process is set up; when metal of this texture is forged out, the result is a more or less regular wavy pattern running through it. no difference is made by this in the practical qualities of the blade." the above-quoted description, though short and superficial, is sufficient to indicate some of the chief difficulties of the swordsmith's art, and it sets one thinking, too, as to the various uses to which cutting instruments are put, and gradations of hardness, from the high temper of razors and certain chisels to the low temper of hunters' and sailors' knives, which should always be of rather soft steel, for they are sharpened more easily, and the saw-like edge is better suited for cutting flesh, ropes, etc., than a very fine edge would be. a comparatively soft steel does well enough for the heavy cutlass used for cutting lead or dividing a sheep, and the edge, though sharp and keen, need not, and, indeed, cannot, approach the razor-edge necessary for cutting a silk pocket-handkerchief or a feather. _every_ edge, when closely examined by a microscope, presents a more or less saw-like and jagged appearance. it is merely a question of _degree_, and, in a sword to be used for ordinary cutting and thrusting, you want to secure hardness sufficient to produce a good edge and an instant return to its former shape after any reasonable bending, and you want to avoid anything like brittleness or liability to snap. if the disposition of the molecules is such as to give too great hardness, the blade, though capable of taking a fine edge, will probably snap, or the edge will crack and shiver on meeting any hard obstacle. for example, if you put razor steel into a cutlass, and then try to cut lead, the blade will either snap off or the edge will break away in large pieces. if, on the other hand, you make the blade of too soft steel, the edge will be readily dented or turned on one side. though there are wonderful reports of the excellence of eastern blades manufactured at damascus, it is probable that european work was quite as good, and that the tempering of steel was quite as well understood at toledo, in spain, where, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, splendid rapiers were produced. it seems highly probable that the rapier was an extension or refinement of the earlier heavy cut-and-thrust sword, because, though the superior value of the point was beginning then to assert itself, there was an evident attempt to preserve in the rapier the strength and cutting properties of the long straight sword of a previous time. the italian and spanish rapiers were sometimes of great length, three feet or three feet six inches and more in the blade, and they were often beautifully finished, the work of the hilts being frequently both elaborate and costly. the blade itself, which was double-edged and inclined to be flat, tapered gradually from hilt to point, and was strengthened by a ridge running almost its entire length. the french duelling-sword of modern days is sometimes spoken of as a "rapier;" but this is incorrect, as the popular gallic dispute-settler is three-sided, and is, as it has no edge, exclusively used for pointing. for _details_ of historical research, and other particulars, the reader is referred to mr. egerton castle's work on the sword. the modern cut-and-thrust sword. the word "broad-sword" may be taken to include all kinds of cut-and-thrust swords. it is the generic term for ship's cutlass, infantry sword, and heavy cavalry sabre, which are all cutting weapons, and, though varying in length and curvature of blade, can be used for pointing. [illustration: fig. .--grip for the light cutlass.] the method of holding the broad-sword depends entirely upon the weight and length of the blade. if you have a light cutlass weighing, say, about one and a half pound, and measuring about thirty-four inches in the blade, you may hold it in the same way as in single-stick play, viz. with the thumb on the back of the hilt, as in the sketch, and you will probably find that in this way the guards are made with greater facility. at the same time, when guarding, say, with the hanging guard (_see_ fig. ), the thumb is liable to a severe sprain; and this is more particularly the case when the opposing blade meets the foible, or half nearest the point of your blade, at right angles, or nearly so. to be more explicit. if a b c, in fig. , represent your blade lying flat on the paper, _d o_ the intersection of a plane at right angles to the plane of the paper and also at right angles to the tangent to the curve at the point _o_, where we will suppose the edges of the blades to meet, it will be seen at a glance that the leverage from _o_ to c is considerable, and that a great strain is thrown upon the thumb which is endeavouring to keep the guard in position. [illustration: fig. --low hanging guard.] in this case the cut has been received on the "foible," or half of the blade nearest the point. all guards should, if possible, be made with the "forte," or half nearest the hilt. it is important to bear in mind that the cut should be received with the guard as much as possible on the slant; _i.e._ you should endeavour to make the opponent's blade glance off yours at an angle such as _d´ o_. the difficulty of bringing about this "glance off" is certainly increased by having the thumb on the hilt, because your hanging guard--which is perhaps the most important and constantly recurring of all the guards--is apt to be higher, _so far as the point is concerned_, and there is the chance of letting in cuts or at the left side, which is exposed by an elevated point. if, in the hanging guard, the arm is well extended, with the hand slightly above the level of the shoulder, the point dropped well to the left, and the edge turned outwards to the left, as in the illustration (fig. ), a very good general guard will be formed. remember, too, that in all cuts, points, or guards, the second knuckles of the fingers should be in a line with the edge. the only exception to this rule is, perhaps, to be found in the third point, where a shifting of the hand, so as to enable the edge to be more completely directed upwards, is sometimes recommended. [illustration: fig. --the broad-sword.] the hanging guard, or modifications thereof, is capable of warding off all cuts made at the left side of the head and body, and is also effective against cut . then, by bringing the hand slightly to the right, with the elbow held well in to the right side, it is extremely easy to come into the position for guarding cut . we may, i think, assume that, on the whole, the thumb held at the back of the hilt gives, in the case of a very light sword, an advantage in speed, especially with short quick cuts and points. turning to the heavy sabre used by the cavalry of this and other countries, we observe that to keep the thumb on the back of the hilt would lead to constant sprains. no man is strong enough to wield with effect a blade weighing about two and a half pounds and measuring little short of three feet--thirty-five inches is the regulation length of the british cavalry sabre--unless he holds it as indicated in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--grip for the heavy sabre.] most cuts made with the heavy sword are more sweeping in their nature, more "swinging," so to speak, than the short quick cuts which can be effected with the lighter and more handy weapon; indeed, it is only to be expected that the weight of the blade and length of the sweep should give great force to the sabre; but it must not be forgotten that what is thus gained in power is lost in speed, and that in nine cases out of ten a well-directed "point" would be immeasurably superior both in speed and effect than the most sweeping cut. such very different weapons are required to be thoroughly effective in different circumstances. a light, thin-bladed sword, though admirable for a man on foot, would not be of nearly so much use to a cavalry man, whose slashing cut through shield or helmet renders _weight_ an absolute necessity. the light blade might be brought to bear with all the speed and force of the strongest man, but would be of no avail in those cases where hard, dense, and heavy substances have to be cut through. a fly may dash against a pane of plate-glass with the utmost speed and yet fail to break the glass; but a cricket-ball thrown with a tenth part of the velocity will smash the window to pieces. this is only an analagous case, which indicates very fully the existence of the two factors in the _vis-viva_ necessary to produce a certain result. if you get your blade too light it will not be serviceable for heavy-cutting work, whatever the speed of the cut; and if you get the blade too heavy, it will be impossible to use it effectively on account of its weight. everything depends upon what a sword is expected to do; and in selecting a blade this cannot be too carefully borne in mind. the easterns have not, and indeed never had, any idea of using the point; but they are far and away our superiors at edge work, and their curved scimitars are admirably adapted for effective cutting, because the edge, meeting the object aimed at on the slant, has great cutting or slicing power. this brings us to the most important matter in connection with cutting weapons--the "draw." if you take a razor in one hand and _hit_ the palm of the other hand a smart _blow_ with the edge, no harm will be done; but if you vary this hit, by making it lighter and putting the slightest possible _draw_ into it, a cut will be the result, and blood will flow freely. that is to say, anything like _drawing_ the edge along the skin will produce a cut. turn to the case of the scimitar. it will be seen that the curved form of the blade _from hilt to point_ renders it impossible for a sweeping cut, given with the arm extended its full length and with the shoulder as centre of the circle, which the hand traces out in making the cut, to be other than a "draw," because the edge _must_ meet the object to be severed on the slant. [illustration: fig. .--the scimitar.] excellent examples of this kind of cutting are to be found in the circular saw and the chaff-cutting machine. but this is not the case with a nearly straight-bladed broad-sword, which requires what may be termed an artificial draw, either backward or forward, in order that the cut may have its full effect. of course the draw back is by far the most common form of the "draw;" and on reference to the accompanying sketch (fig. ) it will be seen that the edge, if the hand retains its position _throughout the entire sweep_, on the circumference of the circle b d, will meet the object to be cut simply as a _hit_, and not as a _cut_. this is just what we want to avoid. [illustration: fig. .] suppose the cut is being made parallel to the plane of the paper, and that the hilt of the sword is, in the first part of the sweep, moving on the circumference of the circle from b to d. suppose, too, that the edge first meets the obstacle to be cut at the point _n_. then slightly before _n_ is reached the "draw" should commence, the hand coming into position at f, and the point _n_ being necessarily drawn down to _n´_ by the time the object has been severed. that is to say, the portion of the blade between _m_ and _n_ will have been made effective in the drawing cut, the point _n_ having travelled in the direction of the dotted lines till it arrives at _n´_. the point _n_ is taken at random: it might be nearer the hilt or nearer the point, according to the distance of the object aimed at. it may also be observed that the "draw" _might_ continue during the entire sweep from b to f, but a very slight consideration will show clearly the advantage of keeping the arm fully extended until the edge is quite close to the object, as, by this means, the reach is increased and the _power of the cut gains considerably_. the dynamical proof of this latter advantage would take up too much space, and i regret that it is rather outside the scope of this little work. no matter how extended the arm may be when commencing the cut--and the more extended the better in the case of a long heavy sword--the "draw" should always come in towards the end of the sweep, the first part of which is merely intended to give the required impetus to the effective portion of the cut. how is it that an apple or potato can be divided by a straight cut when placed in the folds of a silk pocket-handkerchief, which remains uninjured? simply because there is a complete absence of "draw," and the apple or potato is broken or split in two, much as the flesh is indented by the edge of the razor whilst the skin escapes without the slightest mark. in cavalry charges, etc., our soldiers too often forget that they have in their hands _pointing_ and _cutting_ weapons, and make slashing _hits_, which lead to a large percentage of broken blades. i should myself always place the point before the edge, as it is quicker and far more deadly; but as there are numerous instances where cutting is necessary, it is as well to remember that a mere _hit_ with the true edge of a straight-bladed sword is little better than a blow from a heavy stick having an oval section. this brings us to another very important part of the subject, viz. the consideration of the best form of weapon for ordinary practice. to many it may seem that in these few pages on swordsmanship the cart has been placed before the horse, and that a discussion on cuts and guards should have preceded the somewhat intricate questions we have been considering. i have, however, thought it advisable to leave what may be termed the "drudgery" to the end of the chapter, in the hope of thereby creating a more lively interest in the subject. it must, nevertheless, be remembered that, to attain to any sort of proficiency with the sword, a long apprenticeship must be served. though stick-play is invaluable as an aid to work with the sword, it may be remarked that there are two reasons, and those important ones, why the single-stick should not be first placed in the hands of the beginner, and why it should never altogether usurp the place of the more lethal weapon. the reasons are-- (_a._) the stick is very light, and short smart hits can be made, which are impossible with a sword. (_b._) the hit with the stick is really a hit, and there need be no draw, which, as already explained, is so important in sword-play. to these may be added a third reason. with the stick there is always the temptation not to cut with the true edge, and it is very hard to detect faults in this direction--faults which are hard to cure, and which may quite spoil good swordsmanship. remembering, then, that every cut and guard must be made with the true edge, and with the second or middle knuckles of the fingers in the direction of the edge, a navy cutlass may be placed in the beginner's hand, and he may be gradually taught all the cuts and guards by means of the target, a sketch of which is here given. [illustration: fig. .--the target.] in the manual on sword-exercises at present in use in the army, it is stated that there are "four cuts and four guards, so arranged for the sake of clearness, though practically there are only two cuts--from right to left and from left to right, high and low--and two guards, one a variation of the 'hanging' or 'engaging guard,' formed high or low, right or left, according to the part attacked, and the other the 'second guard,' where the point of the sword is necessarily directed upwards, to guard the right cheek and shoulder." this is very brief, and, to my mind, the effort to be concise has tended to somewhat confuse. it may, however, be well enough for the army, where there are plenty of instructors ready to explain the meanings of terms, etc. for ordinary beginners it is certainly better to take the old target and thoroughly master the seven cuts and three points, with the corresponding guards and parries, as by so doing the learner will more readily acquire a thorough appreciation of true edge-cutting. the general statement that there are two cuts--viz. variations from right to left, and variations from left to right--is correct enough, and a swordsman understands it; but it is bad for beginners to start with loose notions on the subject. better far learn all the cuts, and learn them _well_, in the first instance. by this means a man and his sword become one, as it were, and the point and edge of the weapon are in time brought so completely under control that they can be directed as easily as the pencil and brush are directed by the hand of a skilful draughtsman. as the reader will have surmised, the lines drawn through the centre of the circle indicate the directions of the cuts; but a little further explanation is necessary, for it must not be supposed that a mere following of these lines with the point of the sword is all that is required. the flat of the blade (or, more accurately, a plane passing through the edge and a line drawn down the centre of the back of the blade from hilt to point) should, throughout the entire cut, coincide with the plane intersecting the plane of the target at right angles in the particular line in which the cut is being made. careful attention to this will ensure cutting with the true edge, and, in the first instance, all the cuts should be made slowly and deliberately, so that errors may be instantly corrected. this may be somewhat tedious to the impetuous learner, but it really saves time in the end. the target should be hung up on a wall with the centre about the height of a man's shoulder from the ground. directly below the centre a straight line should be drawn on the ground from the wall, and at right angles to it. the beginner should be stationed on this line in the position of "attention," at about nine or ten feet from the wall, so that when he comes into the first position of the exercise his right foot may be on the line, and may point directly towards the wall. instructions as to drawing swords, etc., will be given later on with the extension motions and rules for loose play (_vide_ p. ). at this stage it may possibly be less confusing to merely give the following positions, leaving to the concluding portions of the chapter a few amplifications which may materially assist the swordsman when he has begun to take a genuine interest in the subject. _attention._--having taken the cutlass in the right hand, stand facing the target, body and head erect, and the heels close together and meeting at an angle of sixty degrees on the line drawn from the wall. with the sword hand in front of, and on a level with, the elbow, which should be close to the body, and with the blade pointing perpendicularly upwards with the edge to the front, you will be in the position of "carry swords." now relax the grasp of the last three fingers, and, without altering the position of the hand, let the back of the blade fall on the shoulder half-way between the neck and the point of the shoulder. this forms the position of "slope swords," with which the exercise begins. _first position._--bring the right heel before the left; feet at right angles, right foot pointing towards target; shoulders square to left, and weight of body chiefly resting on left leg. _second position._--bend both knees, keeping them well apart, without raising the heels or altering the erect position of the body. step out with the right foot along the line for about eighteen or twenty inches straight in direction of the target, still retaining most of the weight of the body on the left leg. _third position._--step out still further along the line--about a yard or so (according to the height of the individual)--keeping the shin-bone as nearly as possible perpendicular to the instep. the left leg should be straight and the left heel should not leave the ground. the heels should be both on the line, and the shoulders should be square to the left; _i.e._ the right shoulder should be well extended and the left held back. the weight is now, of course, principally on the right leg. at the word "attention," then, the pupil should come into the position of "slope swords," already described. _prepare for sword exercise._--turning on the heels, come into the "first position," with the left forearm well behind the back and the hand closed. _right, prove distance._--bring the upper part of the hilt of the sword on a level with the mouth, blade pointing perpendicularly upwards, edge to the left, and the elbow close to the side. this forms the position "recover swords." now extend the arm to the right, and lower the blade in a horizontal position straight out from the right shoulder, edge to the rear, shoulders square to the front, and the head and eyes turned to the right in the direction in which the sword is pointing. return to the position "slope swords." _front, prove distance._--"recover swords" as before, and, extending the arm with the point of the sword directed towards the centre of the target, step out into the third position, taking care that the edge is towards the right. return to the position "slope swords." in proving distance right and front, the forefinger and thumb may be stretched along the handle of the hilt, the thumb being on the back and the pommel of the hilt in the palm of the hand. _assault._--come into first position; raise the right arm to the front with the wrist opposite no. and the elbow rather bent, and inclining towards the centre of the target, the back of the blade, near the point, resting on the shoulder, with the edge inclined to the right. _cut one._--with an extension of the arm direct the cut diagonally from no. to no. (_remembering in this, and all the following cuts, to use the true edge_), and as the point clears the circle, turn the knuckles upwards, continuing the sweep of the sword until the point comes to the rear of the left shoulder, with edge to the left and the wrist opposite no. . _cut two._--now cut diagonally from left to right from no. to no. . continue the motion till the arm is extended to the right, on a level with the shoulder, edge to the rear. _cut three._--now turn the wrist so that the knuckles and edge face to the front, and cut diagonally upwards from no. to no. , and continue the sweep until the wrist rests in the hollow of the left shoulder, with the point of the sword pointing upwards and the edge to the rear; turn the wrist so that the edge faces to the front, and drop the point until the blade is in the position for the next cut. _cut four._--cut diagonally upwards from no. to no. until the blade is nearly perpendicular, edge and knuckles to the rear. bring the arm, still fully extended, to the position of "right, prove distance," and turn the wrist so that the knuckles and edge face to the front, the blade being horizontal and on a level with the shoulders. _cut five._--cut horizontally from no. to no. . the edge will now be to the left and the point to the rear, over the left shoulder. _cut six._--turn the wrist so that knuckles and edge face to the front, and cut horizontally from no. to no. . continuing the sweep until the hand is nearly over the head and in the direction of no. , the sword being on the same line over the head, point lowered to the rear, and the edge directed vertically upwards. _cut seven._--cut vertically downwards from no. to the centre of the target, and remain with the arm extended. _first point._--turn the wrist, with the edge of the sword upwards, to the right. bring the hand upwards on a level with the eyes, elbow bent and raised, the point of the sword directed towards the centre of the target, and the left shoulder advanced. now, by an extension of the arm, deliver the point smartly to the front, with the edge of the sword still inclined upwards to the right and the point accurately directed to the centre. the right shoulder should now be well advanced and the left drawn back--this motion of the shoulders being applicable to all the points. _second point._--turn the edge upwards to the left, draw the elbow close to the body and let the wrist be as high as, and in front of, the left breast. now deliver the point, as before directed, accurately towards the centre of the target, the wrist inclining towards no. . _third point._--draw in the arm till the inside of the wrist touches the right hip, the edge being raised upwards to the right, the left shoulder slightly advanced and the hips well thrown back. now deliver the point accurately towards the lowest point on the target, the edge being carefully directed upwards to the right throughout the motion. _guards._--having gone through the cuts and points, the pupil should now give his attention to the guards and parries. a reference to fig. , in which the directions of the blade are indicated by means of the hilt and dotted lines, will make it easy for the beginner to place his sword in the seven guarding positions which follow. _guard one._--grasp the hilt as shown in fig. , turn the edge to the left with the elbow held close to the body, the wrist well to the front. let the blade be as nearly as possible parallel to the direction of cut , and let it slope in the direction of the target at an angle of about forty-five degrees with the ground: _i.e._ let the point in this, and indeed all the guards, be well advanced to the front. _guard two._--turn the knuckles up, draw the elbow nearer the right side and let the edge face to the right, and let the blade be parallel to cut . in this guard the forearm will be more directly pointing towards the target. _guard three._--turn wrist and edge to the left, the hand being rather below the left shoulder, and the blade following the dotted lines marked "third guard." _guard four._--bring the wrist and hand across the body to the right, edge to right and blade following dotted line marked "fourth guard." _guard five._--wrist and edge to the left, with blade pointing vertically downwards. _guard six._--wrist and edge to the right, with blade pointing vertically downwards. [it will be observed that these two guards, five and six, are but extensions of guards three and four, the difference being merely in the height of the hand and inclination of the blade.] _guard seven._--raise the hand well above the level of the eyes, so that the target can be seen under the wrist; let the arm be extended, the point of the sword dropped forward to the left and parallel to dotted lines marked "seventh guard," and let the edge face vertically upwards. it may be here again mentioned that with all guards and parries in actual practice, the "forte," or half nearest the hilt, should be the portion of the blade which meets the opponent's sword when the attack is made. _left parry._--let the wrist be drawn back to within eight or ten inches of the right shoulder, the blade pointing in the direction of the perpendicular line on the target, and let the edge be turned to the right. now, by a second motion, turn the wrist so that the point drops to the left and forms a circle from left to right and then returns to the former position. _right parry._--drop the point to the rear and form the circle from right to left of your body, the sword returning to its position as before. both these circular parries should be learnt and practised for the sake of adding to the strength and suppleness of the wrist; but for actual use it is better to turn the point aside by one of the simple guards, remembering not to let the hand wander far from the line of attack. in other words, you should let your "forte" catch the "foible" of the adversary's blade just sufficiently to turn aside the point, and then instantly give your point or come back to whatever guard you may have assumed in the first instance. some diversity of opinion exists as to the best "engaging guard" to take up. in the two figs., and , i am inclined to favour the former for use when opposed either to the small sword or the bayonet, and give preference to the latter when facing another broad-swordsman. in fig. , it will be observed, the point is well forward, and it is easy with a light pressure to turn aside the opposing point and instantly lunge out in the return. the engagement is here in tierce, but it might just as well be in quarte, in which case the edge would be turned to the left instead of to the right. [illustration: fig. .--engaging guard, a.] at the same time, the more common engaging guard, the very low hanging guard in fig. , has many merits not possessed by the other. it will be better to constantly practise _both_ these guarding positions and then come to a decision as to which you can do best in. two things are certain, viz., you can, if proficient at both, puzzle an opponent who is at home only in one, and the change of position is a great rest in a long succession of bouts. [illustration: fig. .--engaging guard, b.] it will now be well to combine the cuts and guards, and, for this, take up the second position in front of the target, and in making each cut lunge well out into the third position, not allowing the blade to cut further than the centre of the target. then spring back to the position from which you lunged and form the guard for the cut you have just made. for instance, having made cut as far as the centre of the target, return to the second position and form guard . similarly for cut and all the other cuts. in the same way make the points in the lunge, in position three, and the corresponding parries in the second position. in many works on the subject, the foregoing exercises are given with the return in each case to the first position instead of, as above, to the second. it is, however, advisable to accustom yourself as much as possible to rapid returns from the lunge to the engaging position in which you habitually face an opponent. the change from position one to position three involves a long stretch out, and the return is, of course, harder than the return to position two, and, for this very reason, it is well to practise the exercises from both initial positions--one and two. [illustration: fig. .--point, with lunge.] at the risk of being considered old-fashioned, i have given the sword exercise with seven cuts and three points, with corresponding guards and parries, and it is my conviction that the beginner will do well to follow the advice given on p. . the following instructions are taken from the manual on the infantry sword, now used in the army. instructions for drawing the sword (long). _draw swords._--take hold of the scabbard of the sword, with the left hand below the hilt, which should be raised as high as the hip, then bring the right hand smartly across the body, grasping the hilt and turning it at the same time to the rear, raise the hand the height of the elbow, the arm being close to the body. _two._--draw the sword from the scabbard, the edge being to the rear, and lower the hand until the upper part of the hilt is opposite the mouth, the blade perpendicular, edge to the left, elbow close to the body, which forms the position "recover swords." _three._--bring the sword smartly down until the hand is in front of the elbow and little finger in line with it, the elbow close to the body, blade perpendicular, edge to the front; which forms the position of "carry swords;" the left hand resumes the position of "attention" directly the sword is drawn. _slope swords._--relax the grasp of the last three fingers, and, without disturbing the position of the hand, allow the back of the sword to fall lightly on the shoulder, midway between the neck and the point of the shoulder. _return swords._--carry the hilt to the hollow of the left shoulder (the left hand, as before, raising the scabbard), with the blade perpendicular and the back of the hand to the front, then by a quick turn of the wrist drop the point into the scabbard, turning the edge to the rear until the hand and elbow are in line with each other square across the body. _two._--replace the sword in the scabbard, keeping the hand upon the hilt. _three._--the hands are brought back to the position of "attention." _draw swords._--as before. _slope swords._--as before. _stand at ease._--keeping the sword at the "slope," draw back the right foot six inches, and bend the left knee. the four cuts (from second position). _assault._--raise the hand and sword to the rear, arm bent, wrist rounded, the back of the sword resting upon the shoulder, with the edge inclined to the right. _one._--extend the arm, and direct the cut diagonally downwards from right to left, and, continuing the sweep of the sword, prepare for cut "two," the back of the sword upon the left shoulder, edge inclined to the left. _two._--cut diagonally downwards from left to right, and turning the wrist let the sword continue its motion until it rests upon the right shoulder, edge to the right. _three._--cut horizontally from right to left, and prepare for cut "four," the flat of the sword resting upon the left shoulder. _four._--cut horizontally from left to right, and come to the "engaging guard" (_vide_ fig. ). the four guards. _first._--raise the hand smartly above the head, and a little in advance of it, the point of the sword lowered to the left front, edge upwards. _second._--draw back the elbow to the right, and bring the sword to a diagonal position, covering the right cheek and shoulder, point upwards, inclining to the left, edge to the right. _third._--bring the hand across the body towards the left shoulder, edge of the sword to the left, point down and inclining to the front. _fourth._--square the upper arm with the shoulder, the forearm to be in front line with the elbow, and wrist slightly below it, point of the sword inclined to the front, edge to the right. _engage._--as before. points and parries. _first._--with a quick motion, direct the point to the front by extending the arm, the arm moving in a straight line to the front of the "first guard" position, and without altering the direction of the edge. _parry._--brace up the arm quickly and parry upwards by forming "first guard." _second._--deliver the point quickly by extending the arm and sword to the front. _parry._--draw back the arm and parry to the right, by forming "second guard." _third._--lowering the point, extend the arm. _parry._--draw back the arm, and parry to the left by forming "third guard." _fourth._--raise the point and deliver the thrust. _parry._--parry downwards to the right by forming "fourth guard." it will be worth the reader's while to compare carefully the preceding four cuts and points and their guards and parries, with the earlier exercises, the description of which commences on p. . it will be seen that the third and fifth guards (old style) are merged in one, that the fourth and sixth are also merged in one, and the first guard--the old guard in quarte--is dispensed with altogether, and its place taken by a low hanging guard, which is a variation of the old seventh guard, formed with the hand held rather more to the left. it will also be observed that the parries for the points are also very different. my advice is, "learn in the old style and then glean all you can from the new." extension motions. it is a good plan to practise the following movements every morning before beginning the sword exercises. to avoid confusion they are here given as in the little manual on the infantry sword; they are effected without any accessories, and you commence by being in the position of "attention," _i.e._ stand with the heels close together at an angle of about sixty degrees, arms hanging down by the sides, chest expanded, back straight, shoulders back, and head well up. first extension motions. _one._--bring the hands, arms, and shoulders to the front, the fingers lightly touching at the points, nails downwards; then raise them in a circular direction well above the head, the ends of the fingers still touching, the thumbs pointing to the rear, the elbows pressed back and shoulders kept down. _two._--separate and extend the arms and fingers upwards, forcing them obliquely back until they are extended on a line with the shoulders, and as they fall gradually from thence to the original position of "attention," endeavour as much as possible to elevate the neck and chest. _three._--turn the palms of the hands to the front, press back the thumbs with the arms extended, and raise them to the rear until they meet above the head, the fingers pointing upwards and the thumbs locked, with the left thumb in front. _four._--keep the knees and arms straight, and bend over until the hands touch the feet, the head being brought down in the same direction, and resume the "third motion" slowly by raising the arms to the front. _five._--resume the position of "attention," as directed in "second motion." the whole of these motions should be done very slowly, so as to feel the exertion of the muscles throughout. first position in three motions. _one._--move the hands smartly to the rear, the left grasping the right just above the elbow, and the right supporting the left arm under the elbow. _two._--half turn to the left, turning on the heels, so that the back of the left touches the inside of the right heel, the head retaining its position to the front. _three._--bring the right heel before the left, the feet at right angles, the right foot pointing to the front. second position in two motions. _one._--bend the knees gradually, keeping them as much apart as possible without raising the heels, or changing the erect position of the body. _two._--step out smartly with the right foot about eighteen inches in line with the left heel, bringing the foreleg to the perpendicular, and retaining the left as in preceding motion, the weight of the body resting equally upon both legs. third position in one motion. _one._--step forward to about thirty-six inches, the right knee remaining perpendicular to the instep, the left knee straight and firm, and foot flat upon the ground, the body upright, and the shoulders square to the left. loose practice. in practising with broadswords the blades should be as light as possible, and i believe an eminent firm has brought out a special sword for the purpose. the following rules and suggestions may be of use in independent practice. . helmets, jackets, gauntlets, body pads, and leg pads should invariably be worn. . no hits or points to be attempted until the swords have been crossed. the parties should engage out of distance, _i.e._ after crossing the blades, step back about eight inches and come to the "engage" _just_ out of distance. . all cuts and thrusts must be delivered lightly and with the true edge or point. heavy sweeping cuts should not, under any pretence whatever, or however thickly the parties may be padded, be allowed. . only one cut or thrust should be made on the same lunge. . in case the opponents both attack at once, the hit counts to the one in the third position, or on the lunge. if both parties lunge simultaneously, and both bring the hit home at the same instant, no hit is to be scored to either. . if one party is disarmed, a hit is scored to his opponent. . care should be taken to protect the inside of the right knee with an extra pad, as this is a particularly tender spot, and a hard hit there may cause serious injury. when the beginner has established some command over the cutlass he should learn the cavalry sword-exercise, for a description of which the reader is referred to colonel bowdler bell's manual. chapter iv. single-stick. _contributed by c. phillipps-wolley._ single-stick is to the sabre what the foil is to the rapier, and while foil-play is the science of using the point only, sabre-play is the science of using a weapon, which has both point and edge, to the best advantage. in almost every treatise upon fencing my subject has been treated with scant ceremony. "fencing" is assumed to mean the use of the point only, or, perhaps it would not be too much to say, the use of the foils; whereas fencing means simply (in english) the art of of-fending another and de-fending yourself with _any weapons_, but perhaps especially with all manner of swords. in france or spain, from which countries the use of the thrusting-sword was introduced into england, it would be natural enough to consider fencing as the science of using the point of the sword only, but here the thrusting-sword is a comparatively modern importation, and is still only a naturalized foreigner, whereas broad-sword and sabre and single-stick play are older than, and were once as popular as, boxing. on the other hand, the rapier was in old days a foreigner of peculiarly shady reputation on these shores, its introducer being always alluded to in the current literature of that day, with anathemas, as "that desperate traitour, rowland yorke." "l'escrime" is, no doubt, the national sword-play of france, and, for frenchmen, fencing may mean the use of the foil, but broad-sword and sabre-play are indigenous here, and if fencing is to mean only one kind of sword-play or sword-exercise, it should mean single-stick. like the swordsmen of india, our gallant forefathers (according to fuller, in his "worthies of england") accounted it unmanly to strike below the knee or with the point. but necessity has no laws, still less has it any sense of honour, so that before long english swordsmen realized that the point was much more deadly than the edge, and that, unless they were prepared to be "spitted like cats or rabbits," it was necessary for them either to give up fighting or condescend to learn the new fashion of fence. as in boxing, it was found that the straight hit from the shoulder came in quicker than the round-arm blow, so in fencing it was found that the thrust got home sooner than the cut, and hence it came that the more deadly style of fighting with the rapier supplanted the old broad-sword play. single-stick really combines both styles of fencing. in it the player is taught to use the point whenever he can do so most effectively; but he is also reminded that his sword has an edge, which may on occasion do him good service. it seems, then, to me, that single-stick is the most thoroughly practical form of sword-play for use in those "tight places" where men care nothing for rules, but only want to make the most out of that weapon which the chance of the moment has put into their hands. it may further be said that as the sabre is still supplied to our soldiers, though rarely used for anything more dangerous than a military salute, whereas no one except a french journalist has probably ever seen, what i may be allowed to call, a foil for active service, the science of single-stick has some claim to practical utility even in the nineteenth century, the only sound objection to single-stick being that the sticks used are so light as not to properly represent the sabre. this is a grave objection to the game, when the game is regarded as representing real business; but for all that, the lessons learnt with the stick are invaluable to the swordsman. the true way to meet the difficulty would be to supplement stick-play by a course with broad-swords, such as are in use in different london gymnasiums, with blunt edges and rounded points. but gunpowder has taken the place of "cold steel," and arms of precision at a thousand yards have ousted the "white arm" of the chivalrous ages, so that it is really only of single-stick as a sport that men think, if they think of it at all, to-day. as a sport it is second to none of those which can be indulged in in the gymnasium, unless it be boxing; and even boxing has its disadvantages. what the ordinary englishman wants is a game with which he may fill up the hours during which he cannot play cricket and need not work; a game in which he may exercise those muscles with which good mother nature meant him to earn his living, but which custom has condemned to rust, while the brain wears out; a game in which he may hurt some one else, is extremely likely to be hurt himself, and is certain to earn an appetite for dinner. if any one tells me that my views of amusement are barbaric or brutal, that no reasonable man ever wants to hurt any one else or to risk his own precious carcase, i accept the charge of brutality, merely remarking that it was the national love of hard knocks which made this little island famous, and i for one do not want to be thought any better than the old folk of england's fighting days. there is just enough pain about the use of the sticks to make self-control during the use of them a necessity; just enough danger to a sensitive hide to make the game thoroughly english, for no game which puts a strain upon the player's strength and agility only, and none on his nerve, endurance, and temper, should take rank with the best of our national pastimes. gallant lindsey gordon knew the people he was writing for when he wrote-- "no game was ever yet worth a rap, for a rational man to play, into which no accident, no mishap, could possibly find its way." still, there comes a time, alas! in the lives of all of us, when, though the hand is still ready to smite, the over-worked brain resents the infliction of too many "merry cross-counters," and we cannot afford to go about with black eyes, except as an occasional indulgence. then it is that single-stick comes in. boxing is the game of youth, and fencing with foils, we have been assured, improves as men fall into the sere and yellow leaf. single-stick, then, may be looked upon as a gentle exercise, suitable for early middle age. there is just enough sting in the ash-plant's kiss, when it catches you on the softer parts of your thigh, your funny bone, or your wrist, to keep you wide awake, and remind you of the good old rule of "grin and bear it;" but the ash-plant leaves no marks which are likely to offend the eyes of squeamish clients or female relations. another advantage which single-stick possesses is that you may learn to play fairly well even if you take it up as late in life as at five and twenty; whereas i understand that, though many of my fencing friends were introduced to the foil almost as soon as to the corrective birch, and though their heads are now growing grey, they still consider themselves mere tyros in their art. that single-stick is a national game of very considerable antiquity, and at one time in great repute on our country greens, no one is likely to deny, nor have i time to argue with them even if i would in this little _brochure_. those who are interested in spadroon, back-sword, and broad-sword will find the subjects very exhaustively treated in such admirable works as mr. egerton castle's "schools and masters of fence." these pages are merely intended for the tyro--they are, at best, a compilation of those notes written during the last ten years in black and white upon my epidermis by the ash-plants of serjeants waite and ottaway, and corporal-major blackburn. two of them, unfortunately, will never handle a stick again, but the last-named is still left, and to him especially i am indebted for anything which may be worth remembering in these pages. a book may teach you the rudiments of any game, but it is only face to face with a _better_ player than yourself that you will ever make any real advance in any of the sciences of self-defence. and here, then, is my first hint, taught by years of experience: if you want to learn to play quickly, if you want to get the most out of your lessons, whether in boxing or stick-play, never encourage your teacher to spare you too much. if you get a stinging cross-counter early in your career as a boxer, which lays you out senseless for thirty seconds, you will find that future antagonists have the greatest possible difficulty in getting home on that spot again. it is the same in single-stick. if you are not spared too much, and are not too securely padded, you will, after the ash-plant has curled once or twice round your thighs, acquire a guard so instinctively accurate, so marvellously quick, that you will yourself be delighted at your cheaply purchased dexterity. the old english players used no pads and no masks, but, instead, took off their coats, and put up their elbows to shield one side of their heads. there are to-day in england several distinct schools of single-stick, the english navy having, i believe, a school of its own; but all these different schools are separated from one another merely by sets of rules, directing, for the most part, where you may and where you may not hit your adversary. the best school appears to be that in which all hits are allowed, which might be given by a rough in a street row, or a soudanese running a-muck. the old trial for teachers of fencing was not a bad test of real excellence in the mastery of their weapon--a fight with three skilled masters of fence (one at a time, of course), then three bouts with valiant unskilled men, and then three bouts against three half-drunken men. a man who could pass this test was a man whose sword could be relied upon to keep his head, and this is what is wanted. all rules, then, which provide artificial protection, as it were--protection other than that afforded by the swordsman's guard--to any part of the body are wrong, and to be avoided. let me illustrate my position. i remember well, at waite's rooms, in brewer street, seeing a big belgian engaged with a gentleman who at that time occupied the honourable position of chopping-block to the rooms. the belgian had come over to take part in some competition, and was an incomparably better player than the englishman, but then the belgian wished to play according to the rules of his own school. it was arranged at last that each should do his worst in his own way, and it was hoped that providence would take care of the better man. unfortunately the worse man of the two had been very much in the habit of taking care of himself when subjected to the attacks of such punishing players as ottaway and mr. jack angle. the belgian's legs had been protected by a rule of fence, which made it illegal to hit below the waist, or some such point, and now naturally they fell an easy prey to the englishman's ash-plant. the result was, of course, that in a very short time that belgian's thigh was so wealed that at every feint in that direction he was ready to be drawn, and to uncover head or arm or any well-padded spot, not already sore, to the other man's attack. let me touch lightly on one or two little points before plunging _in medias res_. in spite of what i have said about hard hitting, please remember that i have recommended my pupil only to suffer it gladly for his own sake. it will improve his temper and his play. on the other hand, hard, indiscriminate hitting is to be discountenanced for many reasons, and principally because, as a rule, a hard hit means a slow one. always remember that all the time taken to draw your hand back for a blow is time given to the enemy to get his point in, and that a blow delivered from wrist and arm (bent only as much as it should be when you "engage") would suffice to disable your adversary if the sticks were what they pretend to be, "sharp swords." again, in ordinary loose play, remember you are playing, or are supposed to be playing, with the weapons of gentlemen, and should show the fine old-fashioned courtesy to one another which is due to a foeman worthy of your steel. if there is a question as to a hit, acknowledge it as against yourself, as in the cut below, by springing up to attention and bringing the hilt up to the level of the mouth, blade upright, and knuckles turned to your front. [illustration: fig. .--acknowledging.] again, if you should get an awkward cut, do all you can not to return savagely. if you make any difference at all, play more lightly for the next five minutes, otherwise you may drift into a clumsy slogging match, ending in bad blood. finally, if you do get hold of a vicious opponent, do not, whatever you do, show that you mind his blows. if he sees that a cut at a particular place makes you flinch, he will keep on feinting at it until he hits you wherever he pleases; but if, on the contrary, you take no notice of punishment, you are apt to dishearten the adversary, who feels that your blows hurt him, and is uncertain whether his tell upon you in like manner. i may as well say here that throughout this paper, i have, as far as possible, used english words to explain my meaning, abstaining from the french terms of the fencing school, as being likely to confuse a beginner, who may not want to learn french as an introduction to fencing. outfit. the accessories necessary for single-stick are much more numerous now than in the old days on the village green. then two stout ash-plants, and the old north-country prayer (beautifully terse), "god, spare our eyes!" were considered all that was necessary. now a complete equipment costs rather more than a five-pound note. first, then, there is the helmet, constructed more solidly than that used for foil play, although the wire mesh of which it is made is generally a good deal wider than the mesh of the fencing mask. the best helmet is made of stout wire, with a top of buffalo hide, completely covering the head, and with padded ear-pieces to take off the effect of a slashing cut. these are better than those made of cane, which are apt to give way before a stout thrust and let in the enemy's point to the detriment of eyes and complexion. be careful, in choosing your helmet, to see that it fits you exactly, as a nodding helm may, in a close thing, so interfere with your sight as to give your adversary a very considerable advantage. the jacket generally used for this play is made like a pea-jacket, with two sleeves, and should be of stout leather. if this is loose fitting, it will afford ample protection, and is not so hot as the padded coat sometimes seen. besides being too hot, the handsome white kid padded jackets soon get holes made in them by the ash-plant, whereas the brown leather is seldom torn. in addition to the jacket, an apron of leather, extending from the waist almost to the knee, should be worn, covering both thighs, and saving the wearer from dangerously low hits. some men wear a cricket pad on the right leg. this, i think, makes a man slow on his feet, and is besides unnecessary. the calf of any one in condition should be able to despise ash-plants; and, as i said before, a bare leg makes you wonderfully quick with your low guards. stick play is a fine test of a man's condition. at first every hit leaves an ugly mark, but as soon as the player gets really "fit," it takes a very heavy blow indeed to bruise him. the sticks themselves should be ash-plants, about forty inches in length and as thick as a man's thumb, without knots and unpeeled. if you want them to last any time it is as well to keep a trough of water in the gymnasium, and leave your ash-plants to soak in it until they are wanted. if you omit to do this, two eager players, in half an hour's loose play, will destroy half a dozen sticks, which adds considerably to the cost of the amusement. the old english sword hilt was a mere cross-piece; but in play it has always been customary to protect the fingers with a basket. this may be either of wicker or of buffalo hide. the latter is infinitely the best, as wearing much longer, affording a better protection to the fingers, and not scraping the skin off the knuckles as the wicker-baskets too often do. the basket has a hole on either side; one close to the rim, and the other about a couple of inches from the edge. in putting your basket on, put your stick through the former first, as otherwise you will not be able to get a grip of your stick or any room for the play of your wrist. there is only one other thing necessary, and then you may consider yourself safe as a schoolboy with the seat of his trousers full of the dormitory towels: and that is either a stout elastic ring round your wrist--a ring as thick as your thumb--or a good long gauntlet. i rather recommend the ring as interfering less with the freedom of your hand, and as protecting more effectually that weak spot in your wrist where the big veins are. if a blow catches you squarely across this spot, when it is unprotected, you may expect your right hand to lose its cunning for a good many minutes. by the way, it is as well to see that the collar of your jacket is sufficiently high and well supplied with buttons, otherwise there is apt to be a dangerous gap between the shoulder and the bottom of the helmet. one last word: if you see that the point of your stick is broken, don't go on playing; stop at once. a split ash-plant is as dangerous as a buttonless foil, and just as likely as not to go through the meshes of a mask, and blind where you only meant to score. as the chief fault of single-stick as a training for the use of the sabre is that the stick does not properly represent the weight of the weapon which it simulates, it is not a bad thing to accustom yourself to using the heaviest sticks in the gymnasium. this will strengthen your wrist, and when in a competition you get hold of a light ash-plant, you will be all the quicker for your practice with a heavier stick. a cut on p. by mr. graham simpson represents the way to acknowledge a hit, and a cut by the same artist on p. illustrates, as far as we know it, the less careful method of our forefathers. the use of the elbow to shield the head, though common in the contests on the village greens, was in its way no doubt more foolish than our pads; for though a sturdy yokel might take a severe blow from a cudgel on his bare arm, without wincing, the toughest arm in england would have had no chance against a sabre. [illustration: fig. .--old style.] position. having now secured the necessary implements, let us begin to learn how to use them. first, as to the stick, which, you will remember, represents for the present a sabre, and consequently a weapon of which one edge only is sharpened. in order that every blow dealt with the stick should be dealt with what represents the sharp or "true" edge of the sword, it is only necessary to see that you get a proper grip of your weapon in the first instance. to do this shut your fingers round the hilt, and straighten your thumb along the back of the hilt, thus bringing your middle knuckles (or second joints of your fingers) and the true edge into the same line. if you keep this grip you may rest assured that every blow you deal will be with the edge. and now as to position--the first position from which every attack, feint, or guard, begins. ned donelly, the great boxer, used to tell his pupils that if a man knew how to use his feet, his hands would take care of themselves. and what is undoubtedly true in boxing is equally true in fencing. "look that your foundations are sure" should be every fighting man's motto. take trouble, then, about the position of the feet from the first. to come on to the engaging guard, as shown in fig. , stand upright, your heels together, your feet at right angles to one another, your right foot pointing to your front, your left foot to your left, your stick in your right hand, loosely grasped and sloped over your right shoulder, your right elbow against your side, and your right hand about on a level with it, your left hand behind your back, out of harm's way. [illustration: fig. .--engaging guard.] it is not a bad plan to put the fingers of the left hand through the belt at the back of the waist. if this is done, it counteracts, to a certain extent, that tendency to bring the left hand in front, which a good many beginners display, and for which they get punished by many an unpleasant rap on the knuckles. now take a short pace to the front with the right foot, and, in the words of the instructor, "sit down," _i.e._ bend both legs at the knee, so that the calves are almost at right angles to the thighs. this position will be found a severe strain upon the muscles at first, but they will soon get used to it. the object of the position is twofold. first, the muscles are thus coiled, as it were, ready for a spring at the shortest notice; and in the second place, the surface which your stick has to guard is thus considerably reduced. be careful to keep the right heel in a line with the left heel, a space equal to about twice the length of your own foot intervening between them, and see that your right toe points squarely to the front and your left toe to your left. if your right toe is turned in, you will never advance straight to your front; and if your left toe is turned in, you contract the base upon which your body rests, and very soon will begin to roll and lose your balance altogether. as far as the legs and feet are concerned you are now in your proper position, which you will only leave when you lunge, or when you straighten yourself to acknowledge a hit, and to which you will invariably return as soon as you engage. if you wish to advance, advance the right foot a short pace, bringing the left after it at once, so that the two resume their relative positions to one another, half a pace nearer your enemy. if you wish to retire, reverse this movement, retiring with the left foot and following it with the right. in both cases keep your eyes to the front, your feet at right angles, and your knees bent. now as to the stick. there are two forms of guard in common use amongst players, the hanging and the upright guard, of both of which illustrations will be found in these pages. in rowland yorke's time men sought for what i think they called "the universal parry" almost as anxiously as they did for the alchemist's stone which should turn all things to gold. of course such a thing has never been found, but either of these guards, if truly taken and _kept_, will stop the attacks of most men as long as you keep them at their proper distance. in passing, let me say that if a man _will_ try to overwhelm you with rushes, the best thing you can do is to straighten your stick, thrust, and _don't let the stick run through the basket_. this has a wonderfully soothing effect upon an excitable player. in fig. the upright guard (or high tierce) is shown, in which the right elbow should be close in to the side, the forearm at right angles to the body, wrist bent, so as to turn the knuckles outwards, and the stick pointed upwards, at an angle of about °. in fig. , the hanging guard, the point of the stick should be inclined slightly downwards, the knuckles turned upwards, the forearm should be kept slightly bent, the hilt a little outside the right knee, the point of the stick a little low and in the direction of the left front. if the point of the stick be kept up, the adversary finds a way in by cutting upwards under the point; if the hilt is not outside the right knee, the back of the sword arm will be unprotected; and if the sword arm itself is not kept slightly bent, no effective blow can be delivered by it without first drawing back the hand. [illustration: fig. .--upright guard, or high tierce.] this, of course, is a fatal fault. the moment your adversary sees your hand go back, he will come out. as you retire for the spring, he will spring. _time_ is the very essence of single-stick, and the chief object of the player should be to make his attack in the fewest possible motions. for this reason a slightly bent arm is necessary when on guard. of course if the arm is unduly bent the elbow will be exposed, but a little practice will soon enable any moderately supple man to so hold his arm as to be ready to cut direct from his guard and yet keep his elbow out of peril. and this brings me to a question often discussed amongst players, viz. which is the better guard, the upright or the hanging guard, for general purposes. although i have been taught to use the hanging guard myself ever since i began to play, i unhesitatingly say that the upright guard is the better one, as enabling a player to save time in the attack. in the hanging guard the knuckles (_i.e._ the edge) are up and away from the enemy; the wrist must be turned before the edge can be brought into contact with his body, and this takes time, however little. in the upright guard the knuckles (_i.e._ the edge) are towards your opponent, the arm is ready flexed, everything is in readiness for the blow. if, then, as i believe, the advantages of the two guards, as guards, are equal, the advantage of the upright guard as a position to attack from seems to me undeniable. in all guards remember that it is not sufficient to oppose some part of your weapon to your adversary's. you must meet him, if possible, with what the old masters called the "forte" of your blade, that is, the part from the hilt to the middle of the sword, with which you have naturally more power of resistance than with the lower half of the blade. of course all guards must be made with the edge of the sword outwards, and make sure that you really _feel_ your enemy's blade (_i.e._ make a good clean guard) before attempting to return his attack. there is another matter to which many teachers pay too little attention, but which is as important as any point in the fencer's art. it is obvious that the player should try, if possible, to hit without being hit. to do this effectively it is necessary in attacking to maintain what fencers call a good "opposition," that is to say, to so carry your stick in cutting or thrusting at him as to protect yourself in the line in which you are attacking. this is easier to explain in practice than on paper, but it may perhaps be sufficiently explained by examples. if, for instance, you are cutting at the left side of your opponent's head, you must, to stop a possible counter from him, keep your hilt almost as high as the top of your own head and carry your hand well across to your own left. if you do this correctly, you will, in case he should cut at your left cheek as you cut at his, stop his cut with the upper part of your stick. again, in thrusting at him, if you keep your hand as high as your shoulder, and in a line with your right shoulder, you will protect the upper half of your own body from a counter, so that, even if your thrust fails and does not get home, the upper part of your blade will stop his cut. it is necessary to study so to attack your opponent that, in the very act of delivering a cut or thrust, you may stop him in as many lines or directions of attack as possible. if you find your man will counter in spite of all that you can do, take advantage of this habit of his by feinting a cut to draw his counter, stop this, and return. this will have the effect of making him do the leading, which will be all in your favour. hits, guards, feints, etc. for the purposes of instruction and description, the principal hits in single-stick have been numbered and described according to the parts of the body at which they are aimed. there are four principal hits: ( ) a cut at your opponent's left cheek; ( ) a cut at his right cheek; ( ) a cut at his left ribs; ( ) a cut at his right ribs. and are mere repetitions of and on a lower level, guarded in the same way, and aimed at the inside and outside of the right leg instead of at the ribs. in the accompanying cuts numbered , , , , the four principal attacks and the stops for them have been illustrated, and with their help and a long looking-glass in front of him the young player ought to be able to put himself into fairly good position. [illustration: fig. .--cut and guard.] [illustration: fig. .--cut and guard.] in addition to the cuts there is the point, which, as our forefathers discovered, is far more deadly than the edge. of this more later on. almost every cut is executed upon the lunge. as you and your adversary engage, you are practically out of each other's range unless you lunge. standing in the first position the heels are two feet apart. on the lunge, i have seen corporal-major blackburn, a man, it is true, over six feet in height, measure, from his left heel to a point on the floor, level with his sword point, nearly ten feet. this gives some idea of what is to be expected from a man who can lunge properly. to do this, throw out the right foot as far as it will go to the front, keeping the heels still in line and the right foot straight. keep the outside edge of the left foot firmly down upon the floor, and keep it still at right angles to the right foot. if your left foot begins to leave the ground you have over-reached yourself; you will find it impossible to get back, and you will be at your opponent's mercy. see that your right knee is exactly over your right ankle, your left leg straight, your chest square to the front, and your head well up. if you can get yourself into this position, you will have no difficulty in recovering yourself if your lunge fails, and you will gain nothing by bending your body forward from the waist. on the contrary, you will spoil your balance. this lunge will do for every cut and every point. to recover after a lunge, throw your weight well back upon your left leg, and use the muscles of the right thigh and calf to shoot yourself back into position. if the knee of the right leg has been kept exactly over the ankle, the impetus necessary to regain your original position will be easily obtained. if, however, the right foot has been protruded too far, and the caution as to the knee and ankle disregarded, you will find yourself unable to return quickly from the lunging position, and will consequently be at your opponent's mercy. it is in the operation of returning from the lunge that the player realizes to the full the advantage of keeping the shoulders well back and head erect. [illustration: fig. .--cut and guard.] the illustrations should speak for themselves, but perhaps i had better explain them. in cut (fig. ), lunge out and cut at the left cheek of your opponent, straightening the arm and turning the knuckles down. to stop this cut, raise the engaging guard (hanging guard, fig. ) slightly, and bring the hand somewhat nearer the head, as shown in the illustration, or stop it with the upright guard, with the elbow kept well in and the right hand about on a level with the left shoulder. in cut (fig. ), lunge out and cut at your opponent's right cheek, with your arm straight and knuckles up. the natural guard for this is the high upright guard, with the elbow well in to the right side, the arm bent and turned slightly outwards, and wrist and knuckles turned well to the right. in cut (fig. ), make free use of the wrist, bringing your blade round in the smallest space possible, and come in on your man's ribs with your arm straight and knuckles turned downwards. to stop this cut you may either use a low hanging guard, brought across to the left side, the right hand about on a level with the left shoulder, or a low upright guard, with the hilt just outside the left thigh. the hanging guard is the safer one of the two, as it is difficult in practice to get low enough with the hilt in the upright guard to stop a low cut of this kind. in cut (fig. ), cut at your adversary's right ribs, and keep your knuckles up, and when he attacks you on this line, stop him with the hanging guard held low on your right side, or with the upright guard, with arm, wrist, and knuckles turned outwards. [illustration: fig. .--cut and guard.] cuts and are made like cuts and respectively, and must be met in all cases by a low hanging guard. it is well to practise these low hanging guards continually, as a man's legs are perhaps the most exposed part of his body. the point when used is given by a simple straightening of the arm on the lunge, the knuckles being kept upwards, and, in ordinary play, the grip on the stick loosened, in order that it may run freely through the hilt, and thus save your opponent from an ugly bruise, a torn jacket, or possibly a broken rib. when the knuckles are kept up in giving point, the sword hand should be opposite the right shoulder. but the point may also be delivered with the knuckles down, in which case the hand should be opposite to the left shoulder. [illustration: fig. .--the point.] the point may be parried with any of the guards previously described. it is well to remember that one of the most effective returns which can be made from any guard is a point, and that a point can be made certainly from every hanging guard by merely straightening the arm from the guard, lunging, and coming in under your opponent's weapon. but perhaps this is a thing to be learnt rather from practical play than from a book. now, it is obvious that if any of the foregoing guards are as good as they have been described, it is necessary to induce your adversary to abandon them if you are ever to score a point. this may be done in a variety of ways, when you have assured yourself that he is invulnerable to a direct attack, not to be flurried by a fierce onslaught, or slow enough to let you score a "remise"--that is, a second hit--the first having been parried, but not returned. the first ruse to adopt, of course, is the feint--a feint being a false attack, or rather a move as if to attack in a line which you threaten, but in which you do not intend to attack. all feints should be _strongly pronounced_ or clearly shown. a half-hearted feint is worse than useless; it is dangerous. if you have a foeman worthy of your steel facing you, he will detect the fraud at once, and use the time wasted by you over a feeble feint to put in a time thrust. the ordinary feint is made by an extension of the arm as if to cut without moving the foot to lunge, the lunge being made the moment you have drawn off your enemy's guard and laid bare the real object of your attack. sometimes, however, if you cannot succeed otherwise, a half or short lunge for your feint, to be turned into a full lunge as you see your opening, may be found a very useful variation of the ordinary feint. if you find feints useless, you may try to compass your adversary's downfall by "a draw." all the time that you are playing you should try to be using your head, to be thinking out your plans and trying to discover his. in nine cases out of ten he has some favourite form of attack. if you discover what it is, and know how to stop it, indulge him, and invite him even to make it, having previously formed some little scheme of attack of your own upon this opening. let me illustrate my meaning by examples. if you notice a hungry eye fixed yearningly on your tender calf, let your calf stray ever so little from under the protection of the hanging guard. if this bait takes your friend in, and he comes with a reckless lunge at it, throwing all his heart into the cut, spring up to your full height, heels together, and leg well out of danger, and gently let your avenging rod fall along his spine. this, by the way, is the only occasion, except when you are acknowledging a hit, on which you may be allowed to desert the first position for legs and feet. but this is a very old ruse, and most players know it: a much better one may be founded upon it. if, for instance, you think you detect any coquettish symptoms in the right leg of your adversary, you may know at once what he is meditating. oblige him at once. lunge freely out at his leg, which will of course be at once withdrawn. this, however, you were expecting, and as his leg goes back your hand goes up to the high hanging guard, covering your head from his cut. this cut stopped, he is at your mercy, and you may cut him in halves or crimp his thigh at your leisure. this position is illustrated in fig. . [illustration: fig. .--a ruse.] once again: some men set their whole hearts on your sleeve, and you may, if yours is the hanging guard, lure them to their destruction through this lust of theirs. gradually, as the play goes on, your arm tires, your hand sinks, your arm at last is bare, and the enemy comes in with a cut which would almost lay open the gauntlet, were it not that at that moment you come to the low upright guard and return at his left cheek. these are what are known as draws, and their number is unlimited. another thing sometimes heard of in single-stick play is "a gain." this is a ruse for deceiving your opponent as to distance, and is achieved by bringing the left heel up to the right, in the course of the play, without abandoning the normal crouching position. this, of course, makes your lunge two feet longer than your victim has any reason for believing it to be. a false beat is another very common form of attack, consisting of a cut aimed at the hilt or at the forte of your stick, the object being to make you raise your point, if possible, so that the attacker may come in under with cut three. this is very well met by a thrust, the arm being merely straightened from the guard, and the lunge delivered directly the "beat" is made. a pretty feint having the same effect as the "beat," as opening up cut three, is a long feint with the point at the chest, cut three being given as the sword rises to parry the point. but probably i have already transgressed the limits of my paper. what remains to be taught, and i know full well that it is everything except the merest rudiments, must be learned stick in hand. i can only wish the beginner luck, and envy him every hour which he is able to devote to acquiring a knowledge of sword-play. the salute. although the salute is a mere piece of sword drill, of no use for practical purposes, it is still worth learning, as being the preliminary flourish common at all assaults-at-arms, and valuable in itself as reminding the players that they are engaged in a knightly game, and one which insists on the display of the greatest courtesy by one opponent to the other. even if you are playing with bare steel, it is expected of you that you should kill your enemy like a knight, and not like a butcher; much more then, when you are only playing a friendly bout with him, should you show him all possible politeness. on entering the ring you should have all your harness on except your mask; this you should carry in your left hand until you are face to face with your antagonist. when in the ring, lay your helmet down on your left hand and come to the slope swords--your blade upon your right shoulder, your elbow against your side and your hilt in a line with your elbow, your knuckles outwards. your body should be erect, your head up, your heels together, your right foot pointing straight to your front, your left foot at right angles to it pointing to the left. both men acting together now come to the engaging guard, and beat twice, stick against stick; they then come back to the "recover" by bringing the right foot back to the left, and bringing the stick into an upright position in front of the face, basket outwards, and thumb on a level with the mouth. after a slight pause, salute to the left in quarte, _i.e._ extend the stick to your left front across the body, keeping the elbow fairly close to the side and the finger-nails upwards; then pause again for a second, and salute to the right in tierce (the back of the hand up); pause again, and salute to the front, by extending the arm in that direction, the point of the stick towards your left front. now step forward about two feet with the right foot and come to the engaging guard, beat twice, draw the left foot up to the right, draw yourself up to your full height, and come again to the recover, drop your stick to the second guard (_i.e._ low hanging guard for the outside of the leg), making a slight inclination of the body at the same time (probably this is meant for a bow ceremonious), and then you may consider yourself at liberty to put on your mask and begin. don't forget, when you cross sticks, to step out of distance again at once. this salute, of course, is only usual at assaults-at-arms, which are modern tournaments arranged for the display of the men's skill and the entertainment of their friends. at the assault-at-arms, as we understand it generally, there is no element of competition, there are no prizes to be played for, and therefore, so long as a good display is made, every one is satisfied, and nobody cares who gets the most points in any particular bout. in competitions this is not so, and time is an object; so that as soon as the men can be got into the ring they are told to put their masks on and begin. in assaults and in general play you cannot be too careful to acknowledge your adversary's hits. in a competition do nothing of the kind. the judges will see that every point made is scored, and you may safely relieve your mind from any anxiety on that ground. but in general play it is different, and you cannot be too careful in scoring your adversary's points, or be too liberal in allowing them, even if some of them are a little bit questionable. acknowledging. the ordinary form of acknowledgment (and a very graceful one it is) is accomplished as follows:--on being hit, spring to attention, with your heels together and body erect, at the same time bringing your sword to the recover, _i.e._ sword upright in front of your face, thumb in a line with your mouth, and knuckles outwards. the acknowledgment should be only a matter of seconds, and when made the player should come back to the engaging guard and continue the bout. foul hits. of course there are occasions on which the best player cannot help dealing a foul hit. when this happens there is nothing to be done except to apologize; but most of these hits may be avoided by a little care and command of temper. by a foul hit is meant a blow dealt to your opponent on receiving a blow from him--a hit given, not as an attempt to "time," but instead of a guard and, as a matter of fact, given very often on the "blow for blow" principle. this, of course, is great nonsense, if you assume, as you should do, that the weapons are sharp, when such exchanges would be a little more severe than even the veriest glutton for punishment would care for. if you only want to see who can stand most hammering with an ash-plant, then your pads are a mistake and a waste of time. ten minutes without them will do more to settle that question than an hour with them on. there ought to be some way of penalizing the player who, after receiving a palpable hit himself, fails to acknowledge it, and seizes the opportunity instead to strike the hardest blow he is able to at the unprotected shoulder or arm of his adversary. one more word and we have done with the courtesies of sword-play. don't make any remarks either in a competition (this, of course, is worst of all) or in an ordinary bout. don't argue, except with the sticks. remember that the beau-ideal swordsman is one who fights hard, with "silent lips and striking hand." competitions. once a man has mastered the rudiments of any game and acquired some considerable amount of dexterity in "loose play," he begins to long to be pitted against some one else in order to measure his strength. before long the limits of his own gymnasium grow too small for his ambition, and then it is that we may expect to find him looking round for a chance of earning substantial laurels in public competitions. unfortunately the stick-player will not find many opportunities of displaying his skill in public. as far as the present writer knows, there are only two prizes offered annually in london for single-stick, and neither of these attract much attention. one of them is given at the military tournament at islington, in june, and one at the german gymnasium, in december. the former of these prizes is open only to soldiers, militia-men, or volunteers, the latter to any member of a respectable athletic club, who is prepared to pay _s._ _d._ for his entrance fee. the attendance of spectators at both shows is very poor, which is to be regretted, as the interest of the public in any game generally goes a long way towards insuring improvement in the play. it is just as well, before entering for either of these competitions, to know something about the conditions under which they take place, and the rules which govern them. the bouts are generally played in a fourteen foot ring, at least that is the statement in the notice to players, and it is as well to be prepared to confine your movements to such a limited area. as a matter of fact, no objection ever seems to be raised to a competitor who transgresses this rule, and we remember to have seen a nimble player skipping about like an electrified eel outside the magic circle, until stopped by a barrier of chairs at the edge of the big arena. at the military tournament the play is for the best out of three hits, _i.e._ the man who scores the first two points wins. at the german gymnasium the competitor who first scores five wins the bout. this is better than at the tournament, although it will seem to some that even this is hardly a sufficient test of the merits of each player. the bouts seem too short, but probably this is unavoidable; that which is to be regretted and might be remedied, being that no points are given for "form:" the result is that, in many cases, the anxiety to score the necessary points as soon as possible results in very ugly and unscientific rushes, in which no guards are attempted and from which the most reckless and rapid hitter comes out the winner. this, of course, is the same for every one, and therefore perfectly fair, but it does not tend to elevate the style of play. but the great difficulty at these competitions appears to be the difficulty of judging. and here let me say at once that it is as far from my intention to find fault with any individual judge as it possibly can be. being english, i believe them to be above suspicion; being sometimes a competitor myself, it would not be for me to impugn their honesty if they were not. whatever he does, i would always advise the athlete to preserve his faith in judges and a stoical silence when he does not quite agree with them. all i would suggest for the benefit of judges and judged alike in these trials of skill which test the eyesight and quickness of the umpires almost as much as the eyesight and quickness of the competitors, is that some definite code of scoring should be established and recognized amongst the different schools-of-arms in england. in order to facilitate the scoring they have a very good plan at the military tournament of chalking the competitors' sticks. this precaution ensures a mark upon the jacket every time the ash-plant hits it; but even this is not always sufficient, for it is quite possible for a true guard to be opposed to a hard cut with a pliant stick, with the result that the attacker's stick whips over and leaves a mark which ought not to be scored, for had the weapons been of steel this could not have happened. this, however, is a point which would generally be detected by one of the three judges in the ring. what gives rise to question in players' minds is not any small point like this, so much as the question of timing and countering. to take the last first: if a and b lunge together, both making direct attacks, and both get home simultaneously, it is generally admitted that the result is a counter, and nothing is to be scored to any one. but if a makes a direct attack, and b, ignoring it, stands fast and counters, this is a wilful omission to protect himself on his part; and even if his cut should get home as soon as a's it should not count, nor, i think, should it be allowed to cancel a's point, for a led, as the movement of his foot in lunging showed, and b's plain duty was to stop a's attack before returning it. this he would have done naturally enough if he had had the fear of a sharp edge before his eyes. i even doubt whether a time-thrust or cut should ever be allowed to score, unless the result of it be such as would have rendered the direct attack ineffectual in real fighting. should not the rule be, either that the point scores to the person making the direct attack, as shown by the action of his foot in lunging (unless, indeed, the attacked person has guarded and returned, when, of course, the point is his), or else make the rule a harder one, but equally fair for every one, and say no hits shall count except those made clean without a counter, _i.e._ to score a point the player must hit his adversary without being hit himself? of course bouts would take longer to finish if this were the rule, but such a rule would greatly simplify matters. the really expert swordsman is surely he who inflicts injuries without receiving any, not he who is content to get rather the best of an exchange of cuts, the least of which would with sharp steel put any man _hors de combat_. in connection with public competitions, i may as well warn the tyro against what is called "a surprise." on entering the ring the men face each other, come on the engaging guard, and begin at the judge's word of command. the sticks must have been fairly crossed before hits may be counted. but it is as well the moment your stick has crossed your opponent's to step out of distance again, by taking a short pace to the rear with the left foot and bringing the right foot, after it. you can always come in again at short notice; but if you do not keep a sharp look out, a very alert opponent may cross swords with you and tap you on the arm almost in the same movement. if he does you may think it rather sharp practice, but you will find that it scores one to him nevertheless. as no word of practical advice founded on experience should be valueless, let me add one here to would-be competitors. do not rely upon other people for masks, aprons, or other necessaries of the game. you cannot expect a gymnasium to which you do not belong to furnish such things for you, and even if they were provided they probably would not fit you. bring all you want for yourself; and if you value your own comfort or personal appearance when you leave the scene of the competition, let your bag, on arriving, contain towels, brushes, and such other simple toilet necessaries as you are likely to require. chapter v. the bayonet. history tells us that firearms of sorts were in existence as far back as the fourteenth century, and that they were probably of flemish origin. certain it is that, prior to , there were large bodies of troops armed with what may be called portable _culverins_, and in the english yeomen of the guard were armed with these clumsy weapons. later on, in the middle of the sixteenth century, we hear of the long-barrelled _harquebus_ being used in spain, and before the close of the century the _muschite_ was in use in the english army. this was a heavier weapon than the harquebus, and the soldiers were provided with a long spiked stake with a fork at the upper end in which to rest the ponderous barrel whilst they took aim. the method of discharging these weapons was primitive in the extreme, as it was necessary to hold a lighted match to the priming, in a pan at the right side of the barrel, and one can imagine what a lot of fizzing, spluttering, and swearing there must have been in damp weather! improvements in the _harquebus_ and _musket_, as it got to be called later on, continued to be developed from time to time. in the early days, matchlocks were sneered at as being inferior to crossbows, much in the same way that the first railway engine was contemptuously spoken of and written about by the coaching men at the beginning of this century; but when in the flintlock musket made its appearance popular prejudice was shaken, and it was completely removed in when percussion guns came into pretty general use. this may appear to be a digression and somewhat outside the scope of this little work. i give it, however, to show the origin of the rifle, to which, after all, the bayonet is but an adjunct. about the middle of the seventeenth century it occurred to the sapient mind of one puséygur, a native of bayonne, in france, that it would be a grand thing to have a sharp point on which to receive an advancing adversary after one had missed him, or the fizzling matchlock had failed to go off. the weapon devised was a sharp-bladed knife, about eighteen inches long, with a rounded handle six or eight inches long, to fit like a plug into the muzzle of the musket, and the bayonet in this form was used in england and france about the year . it was, of course, impossible to fire the piece with the bayonet fixed; it was a case of fire first and then fix bayonets with all possible dispatch. one can imagine what receiving a cavalry charge must have meant in those days. towards the close of the seventeenth century an important step was made in the right direction. bayonets were then for the first time attached to the barrel by two rings, by which means the gun could be fired whilst the bayonet was in its place and ready for instant use. very early in the eighteenth century a further improvement was invented, in the shape of a socketed bayonet, which was firmer and more satisfactory than anything previously devised. the british bayonet in the hands of our soldiers has over and over again carried victory into the serried ranks of our adversaries, but, now that arms of precision have reached such a pitch of perfection, and are still on the advance in the matter of rapid firing, it is to be doubted whether hand-to-hand conflicts will play a very prominent part in the battles of the future. a distinction must be drawn between the ordinary weapon with which the guards and army generally were till recently provided (i refer to the triangular-fluted bayonet, used exclusively for thrusting purposes), and the sword-bayonet, which serves both for cutting and thrusting. the advantage of the former was evidently its lightness and handiness; but it must be remembered that, save for thrusting, spiking a gun, or boring a hole in a leather strap, it was practically useless, whereas the sharp edge of the sword-bayonet makes it an excellent companion to tommy atkins on all sorts of occasions, too numerous to mention. in the early months of the present year the new rifle and bayonet placed in the hands of the guards caused a good deal of comment. as my readers are aware, the new arm is a magazine small-bore rifle, carrying a long conical ball. it is not a pretty-looking weapon, and its serviceable qualities have yet to be tested in actual warfare. but it is with the bayonet we are now chiefly concerned. at first sight it reminds one of an extra strong sardine-box opener, but on closer inspection it is evident that, though quite capable of dealing with tinned-meat cans, etc., it has very many merits which are wanting in all the other bayonets which have gone before it. it is a strong double-edged, sharp-pointed knife, twelve inches long, rather more than an inch wide, and about a fifth of an inch deep through the strong ridge which runs down the centre of the blade from point to hilt. the handle is of wood, and it is fastened to the muzzle of the rifle by means of a ring and strong spring catch or clip. altogether it is almost a model of the early roman sword. from this short description it will be seen that, though the soldier loses a good many inches in reach, he is provided with an excellent hunting-knife, which can be turned to any of the uses of a knife--from slaughtering a foe to cutting up tobacco. then, again, it is possible that the loss in actual reach may be more than compensated for at very close quarters by the greater ease with which a man can "shorten arms" effectively as well as by the double edge. every ounce saved in the weight of a soldier's accoutrements is a great gain, and these new bayonets are light and, as i have hinted, are likely to be extremely useful for the every-day work of a long march. it is not my intention to deal with the bayonet-exercise as practised by squads of infantry, but, before proceeding to deal with some of the more important situations in attack and defence, i would advise those who wish to become proficient to learn the drill. the best way to do this is to join the volunteers, and get all the squad work possible as a means of gaining a _command_ over the weapon--the continued use of which for any length of time is extremely fatiguing. when the rudiments are mastered, and you know fairly well how to respond to the reiterated words of command: "high guard"--"pint;" "low guard"--"pint," etc., and can form the "pints" and guards in a respectable manner, it will be well to join some school of arms with a proficient and painstaking military instructor who is also an expert swordsman. i say _swordsman_ advisedly, because i am convinced that it is only one who is a fencer who can be really qualified to impart knowledge on the subject of weapons chiefly used for pointing. no man can be said to use the bayonet efficiently who is not able to tackle another man similarly armed--a swordsman on foot or a mounted man armed with the cavalry sabre. for ordinary practice the first thing to be secured is a good spring-bayonet musket, somewhere about the weight of the ordinary rifle, provided with a bayonet which, by means of a strong spiral spring inside the barrel, can be pressed back eighteen inches or so when it comes in contact with the object thrust against. it is hardly necessary to observe that the point of the bayonet must be covered with a good button, similar to those used on fencing foils, only much larger. the button should be tightly encased with layer upon layer of soft leather, and then bound over with stout parchment or stiff leather, and tied very strongly with whipcord or silk just behind the button. this precaution is very necessary to guard against broken ribs, collar-bones, etc. the illustrations which embellish or disfigure this chapter do not profess to do more than indicate a few of the more important positions, points, and guards which occur in bayonet-exercise: for fuller details the reader is referred to the various manuals issued from time to time by the horse guards and war office authorities. in these little books will be found all the words of command and, i believe, illustrations of every point and parry. at an assault, and opposed to a man armed also with a bayonet, the first position is indicated by the accompanying sketch. the head should be held well up, the chest expanded, and the weight of the body nearly evenly balanced on both feet, which should be about eighteen or twenty inches apart, so as to give a good firm base without detracting from the rapidity of advance and retreat. in the case of a tall man, the feet will be rather further apart than with a short man; but this is a matter which can be easily adjusted to suit the requirements of each particular case. [illustration: fig. .--on guard.] [illustration: fig. .--point, from guard.] the great thing is to get accustomed to the position--to feel "at home" in it--and to be able to shift it at a moment's notice, and, when necessary, to make a firm stand. the drill work is very good for all this, and though it is tedious and irritating to many, it is worth what it costs. in fig. we have the point from guard, and in delivering this point the feet retain their positions, flat upon the ground, the right leg is straightened, the left knee bent, and the body advanced over the left knee as far as possible consistent with stability. the left shoulder is necessarily somewhat in advance of the right, and the arms are stretched out horizontally, and quite on a level with the shoulders. the barrel of the rifle, too, is to be held horizontally, with the bayonet pointing to the adversary's throat and chest. in fig. we have the point from guard with the lunge, which ought to give an extra reach of a foot or more. here, as in the point without the lunge, the sole of the right foot should remain flat upon the ground, whilst the left is advanced about a foot or fifteen inches smartly on the straight line between the right heel and the adversary. it is most important to remember that in all lunges the step-out should be bold and decided, but that to over-stretch the distance is worse than stepping short, because it leaves one in a position from which it is hard to recover. having made your attack, you want to be in a position of easy retreat to the base of operations, which is "on guard." we next come to what is called the "throw-point," by which a little extra reach is obtained over the ordinary point with lunge. this is a point which may be very effective, but unless a man is strong in the arm he should not use it much on account of the difficulty in rapidly regaining hold of the rifle with both hands. the throw-point comes in when in making the ordinary lunge you feel that you are going to be just ever so little short; you then release your hold of the barrel with the left hand, and, bringing the right shoulder well forward, you continue the lunge, holding the rifle by the thin part of the stock alone. the _very instant_ your right arm is _fully_ extended, and the point of the bayonet has reached its furthest limit, you should draw back the rifle, regain possession of the barrel with the left hand, and come into the "on guard" position. [illustration: fig. .--point, with lunge.] [illustration: fig. .--throw point.] [illustration: fig. .--guard--opposed to swordsman.] as previously hinted, a knowledge of fencing is of the first importance in studying the use of weapons where the point is the main factor, and the longer the weapon the more this fact is forced upon us. it is of course true for all weapons, but the leverage being so great in the case of the rifle and bayonet, it becomes more apparent. for example, the slightest touch from the thin blade of a foil is sufficient, when applied near the point of the bayonet, to bring about the necessary deflection of the weapon. indeed i cannot help thinking that if two men fought, one armed with the small-sword or light rapier and the other with the rifle and bayonet, the swordsman would win--always supposing that they were equally expert in the use of their respective weapons. it would seem that the lightness and consequent "handiness" of the rapier must more than make up for the length and strength of the more ponderous arm. [illustration: fig. .--shorten arms.] [illustration: fig. .--low guard.] [illustration: fig. .--point from low guard.] conflicts between the sword and bayonet are common enough, but it is the broad-sword, as a rule; and one does not often see the bayonet, opposed to the small-sword, used exclusively for thrusting. in fig. is given the best general position for coming on guard when opposed by a swordsman. the great object is to keep the opponent at a distance; directly he gets _your_ side of your point you are in difficulties. therefore never let the point of your bayonet wander far from the lines leading straight to his body. there is, of course, the "shorten-arms," shown in fig. ; but in actual conflict you might be a dead man twice over before you could get the bayonet back to the position indicated. when the swordsman gets to close quarters, and has possibly missed you, a good plan is to knock him down with the butt of the rifle--using the weapon like the quarter-staff (_vide_ fig. ). the next two sketches show the positions in "low guard" and "point from low guard"--the latter being particularly effective on broken ground when an enemy is rushing up a hill at you, or when you want to spike a fellow hiding in long grass. [illustration: fig. .--high guard--opposed to mounted man.] [illustration: fig. .--head parry.] the "high guard" and "head parry" are chiefly used when dealing with cavalry. it seems to me hardly necessary to give the points of these guards, as they simply amount to extending the arms straight in the direction of the foe. a man on foot possesses one or two great advantages over a mounted man, for his movements are quicker, and if he can only avoid being ridden down and can keep on the horseman's bridle-hand side, he ought to have a good chance of delivering his point in the left side. it is most important that the man on foot should be ready to spring back so as to avoid a sudden sweep to the left, which will bring him, if the horse is spurred forward at the same time, right under the rider's sword arm. it is almost superfluous to add that in practice the general habiliments should be much the same as those used when playing quarter-staff. in the illustrations the hands are left bare in order to show the grip of the rifle, but boxing-gloves should invariably be worn, or a broken finger may be the result. chapter vi. the cudgel. one remembers reading somewhere, i think in bunyan's "pilgrim's progress," of a certain "grievous crab-tree cudgel," and the impression left by this description is that the weapon, gnarled and knotty, was capable of inflicting grievous bodily harm. any thick stick under two feet long, such as a watchman's staff or a policeman's truncheon, may be fairly called a cudgel, and it is not so long ago that cudgel-play formed one of the chief attractions at country fairs in many parts of england. a stage was erected, and the young fellows of the neighbourhood were wont to try conclusions with their friends or those celebrities from more distant parts of the country who were anxious to lower their colours. the game was at times pretty rough, and the object of each combatant was to break the skin on the scalp or forehead of his antagonist, _so as to cause blood to flow_. as soon as the little red stream was seen to trickle down the face of one or other the battle was at an end, and the man who was successful in drawing first blood was declared the victor. similarly, german students, squabbling over love affairs or other trivial matters, fight with a long sort of foil, which has a very short lancet blade at the extreme point. their object, like our old cudgel-players, is to draw first blood, only our teutonic cousins, in drawing the blood, often lop off their friends' noses or slit open their cheeks from ear to mouth. there is a great similarity in these two games, because in each the head, and the head alone, is the object aimed at. in the one case the defeated party went away with a pretty severe bump on his head, and in the other he hies him to a surgeon to have his nose fixed on, or his cheek stitched up with silver wire. i have never been fortunate enough to witness a bout with the cudgels, but those who have been more lucky say that the combatants stood very close to each other, making all the hits nearly straight on to the top of their adversaries' heads, and guarding the returns and attacks with their cudgels and with their left arms. considering the cudgel as a modern weapon, i am inclined to advocate its use for prodding an enemy in the pit of the stomach, for, with the extra eighteen inches or so of reach which your cudgel gives you, it is likely that you may get your thrust well home, at any rate before the opponent can hit you with his fist. many of us know what a blow on the "mark" with the naked fist will do. well, the area of the knuckles is very much greater than the area of the end of even a very stout stick, so that, if you can put anything like the same force into the thrust that you can into the blow, you will bring a smaller area to bear on a vital point, and consequently work on that point with greater effect. a grievous crab-tree (or blackthorn) cudgel, with two or three ounces of lead let into one end, is a good thing to have under your pillow at night. armed with this instrument, you can steal up behind your burglar whilst he is opening your wife's jewel case or bagging your favourite gold snuff-box; but don't get excited about it, and remember to hit his head rather on the _sides_ than on the back or front. some authorities advocate "life-preservers," but later on i hope to give my reasons for not caring much about this combination of lead and cane. the shillalah. in ireland they were formerly very partial to the use of the shillalah, and even to this day there is a little bit of fun in this line to be seen at most of the fairs. the shillalah proper is about four feet long and is usually made of blackthorn, oak, ash, or hazel; and it is a great point to get it uniform in thickness and in weight throughout its entire length. it is held somewhere about eight inches or so from the centre, and my countrymen, who are always pretty active on their pins when fighting, use their left forearms to protect the left side of their heads. it is extraordinary what a lot of knocking about a sturdy irishman can put up with, and what whacks he can receive on the head without any apparent damage. one cannot help thinking that the celtic skull must be thicker than the saxon. the brains in the former are certainly more capable than those in the latter of producing brilliant and amusing, if incorrect, ideas and expressions. the history of the emerald isle swarms with boyle-rocheisms as the country itself has long been said to swarm with absentee landlords. after a certain fair, where the whisky and the whacks had contended pretty severely for the first place as regards strength, a certain paddy was found lying, as mrs. malaprop would say, "in a state of como," in a ditch hard by the scene of conflict. a friend solicitous, and fearing the worst, said, "och, paddy, what ails ye? are ye dead?" a feeble voice replied, "ochone, no, jack. i'm not dead, but i'm spacheless." the length of the shillalah gives it a great advantage over a shorter stick, for, when held about a third of its length from the end, the shorter portion serves to guard the right side of the head and the right forearm. indeed, the definition of the quarter-staff, given at the commencement of chapter ii., seems to me to apply far better to the shillalah, which may in a sense be regarded as the link between the ordinary walking-stick and the mighty weapon which robin hood wielded so deftly in his combat with little john. the use of the point is almost unknown in irish conflicts. my countrymen twirl their shillalahs above their heads with a whirring noise, and endeavour to knock off their opponents' hats so as to get at their heads. then begins the fun of the fair--all is slashing and whacking, and the hardest skull generally comes off the best. sometimes a great deal of skill is displayed, and i often wonder whether a really expert swordsman would be much more than a match for some quick, strong, kerry boys i could pick out. be it remembered, a swordsman invariably keeps his left hand behind his back, whilst an irishman nearly always makes his left forearm the guard for the left side of his head, and so has more scope for hitting than he would otherwise have. one is here reminded of the conflict between fitz-james and the highland chieftain, roderick dhu:-- "ill fared it then with roderick dhu, that on the field his targe he threw, whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide had death so often dashed aside; for, trained abroad his arms to wield, fitz-james's blade was sword and shield." the left arm, supplying the place of the targe, alluded to in scott's lines, is doubtless an advantage; but, in the case of the two combatants whose merits we are considering, the ordinary swordsman possesses superior reach, can lunge out further, and knows full well the value of the point. a melée at an irish fair is worth seeing, but it is better not to join in it, if possible. a number of the "boys," from cork or an adjacent county, were once had up before judge keogh for beating a certain man within an inch of his life. a witness under examination--after graphically describing how one of the prisoners had beaten the poor man "wid a stone, and he lying senseless in the road;" how another had hit the "crater wid a thick wattle;" and how a third had kicked him in the back--was asked what one michael o'flannagan, another of the prisoners, had done. "begorra, your honour," said the witness, "devil a hap'orth was micky doing at all, at all; he was just walking round searching for a vacancy." a similar story is told of about a dozen tinkers who had set upon one man and were unmercifully beating him. presently there was a lull in the proceedings, and a little deformed man, brandishing a very big stick, elbowed his way through the crowd, shouting, "och, now, boys, for the love of mercy let a poor little cripple have just one stroke at him." [illustration: the fun of the fair--"whirroo."] the walking-stick. the choice of this useful adjunct is by no means as easy as many people suppose, for it involves not only a knowledge of the prerequisities--in the matter of various kinds of woods, etc.--but also an acquaintance with the situations a man may find himself in, and the uses to which he may have to put his walking-stick. first, then, as to the matter of the best wood. there are, roughly speaking, two headings under which we may class our types of raw material--strong and stiff wood, such as the oak and the hazel; and strong and pliable, such as the ash-plant and various kinds of canes. what one really wants to secure is a sufficient amount of stiffness and strength to enable one to make an effective hit or longe, without any chance of snapping, and a degree of pliability and spring combined with that lightness which makes a stick handy and lively in actual encounter. the oak has plenty of power and about the right density, but, unless you get a rather big stick--too big for all-round usefulness,--it is apt to snap. the hazel is perhaps rather too stiff, and it is certainly too light, though for this very reason it is _handy_. then, again, there is no bending a hazel without a great chance of breaking it. a good strong ground-ash is not to be despised if cut at the right time, but it is always apt to split or break. turning to the rattan-cane, we find a capital solid cane--almost unbreakable--but with rather _too_ much bend in it for thrusting, or warding off the rush of a savage dog. the rattan, too, is very apt to split if by any chance the ferrule comes off; and when once it has _really_ split you might just as well have a birch-rod in your hands. where, then, shall we look for a stick which combines all the good qualities and is free from the drawbacks just enumerated? without the slightest hesitation i refer you to the irish blackthorn, which can be chosen of such convenient size and weight as not to be cumbersome, and which, if carefully selected, possesses all the strength of the oak, plus enormous toughness, and a pliability which makes it a truly charming weapon to work with. it is a matter of some difficulty to obtain a _real_ blackthorn in london or any big town. you go into a shop, and they show you a smart-looking stick which has been peeled and deprived of most of its knobs, dyed black, and varnished. that is _not_ the genuine article, and, if you buy it, you will become the possessor of a stick as inferior to a blackthorn as a pewter skewer is inferior to a damascus blade. the best way is to send over to kerry, cork, or some other county in the emerald isle, and ask a friend to secure the proper thing as _prepared by the inhabitants_. the sticks are cut out of the hedges at that time of year when the sap is not rising; they are then carefully prepared and dried in the peat smoke for some considerable time, the bark of course being left on and the knobs not cut off too close; and, when ready, they are hard, tough, and thoroughly reliable weapons. as regards appearance, too, i think, when the hard surface of the rich-coloured bark has been rubbed up with a little oil and a nice silver mount fixed on the handle, no man need feel ashamed of being seen with one of them in piccadilly or bond street. the section of these sticks is seldom a true circle, but bear in mind, when giving your order, to ask for those which are _rather flat than otherwise_. i mean that the section should be elliptical, and not circular. the shape of the stick then more nearly approaches that of the blade of a sabre, and if you understand sword exercise and make all cuts and guards with the true edge, you are far more likely to do effective work. again, the blow comes in with greater severity on account of the curvature at either end of the major axis of the ellipse being sharper than it is at the end of any diameter of the circle, the sectional areas, of course, being taken as equal. the length of the blackthorn depends on the length of the man for whom it is intended, but always go in for a good long stick. useful lengths range between ft. in. and ft., and even ft. in. for a very tall man. the blackthorn, being stiff and covered with sharp knots, is a first-rate weapon for defence at very close quarters. when, therefore, your efforts at distance-work have failed, and you begin to be "hemmed in," seize the stick very firmly with both hands, and dash the point and hilt alternately into the faces and sides of your opponents. always have a good ferrule at the end of your stick. an inch and a half from an old gun barrel is the best; and do not fix it on by means of a rivet running through the stick. let it be fixed in its place either by a deep dent in the side, or by cutting out two little notches and pressing the saw-like tooth into the wood. it is also a good plan to carry these saw-like teeth all round the ferrule and then press the points well into the wood; there is then no chance of the fastening-on causing a split or crack in the wood. the weight of the stick is an important matter to consider. some blackthorns are so enormously heavy that it is next to impossible to do any quick effective work with them, and one is reminded, on seeing a man "over sticked,"--if i may be allowed such an expression--of lord dundreary's riddle, "why does a dog wag his tail? because the dog is stronger than the tail," or of david in saul's armour. some time ago it was rather the fashion for very young men to affect gigantic walking-sticks--possibly with the view of intimidating would-be plunderers and robbers, and investing themselves generally with a magic sort of _noli me tangere_ air. without wishing to detract from the undoubted merits, _in certain special cases_, of these very big sticks, i am bound to say that, only being useful to a limited extent, they should not be encouraged. let the stick you habitually carry be one well within your compass. if it comes up to guard readily and without any apparent effort or straining of your wrist, and if you find you can make all the broadsword cuts, grasping it as shown in fig. , without the least spraining your thumb, then you may be pretty sure that you are not "over-sticked," and that your cuts and thrusts will be smart to an extent not to be acquired if you carried a stick ever so little too heavy for you. though it is a good plan to be accustomed to the feel of the weapon which is most likely to serve you in time of need, it is nevertheless a grand mistake to get into a way of imagining that you can only use one kind of stick or one kind of sword effectively. this is one reason why it is so advisable to range wide in fencing matters. i would always say, commence with the foils and work hard, under some good master, for a year or so without touching any other branch. then go on to broad-sword, and keep to alternate days with foils. later on take up the single-stick, and then go on to bayonet-exercise, quarter-staff, and anything else you please. this extended range of work will give you a wonderful general capability for adapting yourself at a moment's notice to any weapon chance may place in your hands: the leg of an old chair, the joint of a fishing rod, or the common or garden spade; any of these may be used with great effect by an accomplished all-round swordsman. there is one point on which a few words may not be out of place in this connection. good men, with their fists, and those who are proficient with the sword or stick, often complain that, in actual conflict with the rough and ready, though ignorant, assailant, they are worsted because the adversary does something diametrically opposed to what a scientific exponent of either art would do in similar circumstances. it is certainly trying, when you square up to a rough and expect him to hit out with his fists, to receive a violent doubling-up kick in the stomach; and similarly annoying is it, when attacked by a man with a stick, to experience treatment quite different to anything you ever came across in your own particular school-of-arms. but after all this is only what you ought to expect. it is absolutely necessary to suit yourself to your environment for the time being, and be ready for _anything_. depend upon it science must tell, and there is always this very consoling reflection to fall back upon: if your opponent misses you, or you are quick enough to avoid his clumsy attack--either of which is extremely likely to happen--it is highly probable that you will be able to make good your own attack, for, as a rule, the unscientific man hits out of distance or wide of the mark, and this is rarely the case with a scientific man. it once fell to my lot to be set upon by a couple of very disagreeable roughs in dublin, one of whom did manage to get the first blow, but it was "all round" and did not do much harm. before he could deliver a second hit i managed to lay him out with a very severe cut from my blackthorn, which came in contact with his head just between the rim of his hat and the collar of his coat. now, had my knowledge of stick-play been insufficient to enable me to accurately direct this cut (cut ) to its destination, i might not now be scribbling these pages. as it turned out, this poor injured rough was placed _hors de combat_, and was afterwards conveyed to the hospital, and i only had to tackle his friend, a stubborn varlet, who, after knocking me about a good deal and also receiving some rough treatment at my hands, ran away. he was "wanted" by the police for some time, but was never caught. this little episode is only given to show that the proper delivery of one blow or hit is often enough to turn the tables, and how advisable it is to practise _often_, so as to keep the eye and hand both steady and quick. when walking along a country road it is a good plan to make cuts with your stick at weeds, etc., in the hedges, always using the true edge, _i.e._ if aiming at a certain part of a bramble or nettle, to cut at it, just as though you were using a sabre. by this sort of practice, which, by the way, is to be deprecated in a young plantation or in a friend's garden, you may greatly increase the accuracy of your eye. it is merely an application of the principle which enables a fly-fisher to place his fly directly under such and such over-hanging boughs, or gives the experienced driver such control over his whip that he can flick a midge off the ear of one of his galloping leaders. much does not, in all probability, depend upon the success or failure of the piscator's cast, and very likely the midge might safely be allowed to remain on the leader's ear; but if you are walking in a lonely suburb or country lane, your _life_ may depend upon the accuracy with which you can deliver one single cut or thrust with your faithful blackthorn. i can almost hear people say, "oh, this is all rubbish; i'm not going to be attacked; life would not be worth living if one had to be always 'on guard' in this way." well, considering that this world, from the time we are born to the time we die, is made up of uncertainties, and that we are never really secure from attack at any moment of our lives, it does seem worth while to devote a little attention to the pursuit of a science, which is not only healthful and most fascinating, but which may, in a second of time, enable you to turn a defeat into a victory, and save yourself from being mauled and possibly killed in a fight which was none of your own making. added to all this, science gives a consciousness of power and ability to assist the weak and defenceless, which ought to be most welcome to the mind of any man. though always anxious to avoid anything like "a row," there are times when it may be necessary to interfere for the sake of humanity, and how much more easy is it to make that interference dignified and effective if you take your stand with a certainty that you can, if pushed to extreme measures, make matters very warm indeed for the aggressor? the consciousness of power gives you your real authority, and with it you are far more likely to be calm and to gain your point than you would be without the knowledge. backed up by science, you can both talk and act in a way which is likely to lead to a peaceful solution of a difficulty, whereas, if the science is absent, you _dare_ not, from very uncertainty, use those very words which you know ought to be used on the occasion. there are necessarily a good many difficulties to be faced in becoming at all proficient in the art of self-defence, but the advantages to be gained are doubtless very great. an expert swordsman, and by this i mean one who is really _au fait_ with any weapon you may put into his hand, who is also a good boxer and wrestler, is a very nasty customer for any one or even two footpads to make up to. the worst of it is that it takes so long to become really good in any branch of athletics. when you know all, or nearly all, that is to be learned, you get a bit stiff and past work! but this, after all, need not trouble one much, since it applies to all relations of life. as a wise man once said, with a touch of sorrow and regret in his tone, "by the time you have learned how to live, you die." the umbrella. as a weapon of modern warfare this implement has not been given a fair place. it has, indeed, too often been spoken of with contempt and disdain, but there is no doubt that, even in the hands of a strong and angry old woman, a gamp of solid proportions may be the cause of much damage to an adversary. has not an umbrella, opened suddenly and with a good flourish, stopped the deadly onslaught of the infuriated bull, and caused the monarch of the fields to turn tail? has it not, when similarly brought into action, been the means of stopping a runaway horse, whose mad career might otherwise have caused many broken legs and arms? if, then, there are these uses beyond those which the dampness of our insular climate forces upon us, it may be well to inquire how they can be brought to bear when a man, who is an expert swordsman, or one who has given attention to his fencing lessons, is attacked without anything in his hands save the homely umbrella. it is, of course, an extremely risky operation prodding a fellow-creature in the eye with the point of an umbrella; and i once knew a man who, being attacked by many roughs, and in danger of losing his life through their brutality, in a despairing effort made a desperate thrust at the face of one of his assailants. the point entered the eye _and the brain_, and the man fell stone dead at his feet. i would therefore only advocate the thrusting when extreme danger threatens--as a _dernier resort_, in fact, and when it is a case of who shall be killed, you or your assailant. there are two methods of using the umbrella, viz. holding it like a fencing foil--and for this reason umbrellas should always be chosen with strong straight handles--for long thrusts when at a distance, or grasping it firmly with both hands, as one grasps the military rifle when at bayonet-exercise. in the latter case one has a splendid weapon for use against several assailants at close quarters. both the arms should be bent and held close to the body, which should be made to work freely from the hips, so as to put plenty of weight into the short sharp prods with which you can alternately visit your opponents' faces and ribs. if you have the handle in your right hand, and the left hand grasps the silk (or alpaca), not more than a foot from the point, it will be found most effective to use the forward and upward strokes with the point for the faces, and the back-thrusts with the handle for the bodies. whatever you do, let your strokes be made very quickly and forcibly, for when it comes to such close work as this your danger lies in being altogether overpowered, thrown down, and possibly kicked to death; and, as i have before hinted, when there is a choice of evils, choose the lesser, and don't be the least squeamish about hurting those who will not hesitate to make a football of your devoted head should it unfortunately be laid low. then, again, there is no better weapon for guarding a heavy blow aimed at you with a thick bludgeon than an umbrella, which, with its wire ribs and soft covering, is almost unbreakable, when all its ribs are held tightly with _both_ hands; it is also, for the same reason, when thus grasped with both hands, an excellent defence against the attack of a large powerful dog, which may spring at your throat; but, in this case, remember to get one of your legs well behind the other so as to bring most of the weight of your body on the foremost leg, and, if you are lucky, you may have the satisfaction of throwing the animal on his back. thrusting, prodding, and guarding, then, may be called the strong points of the gamp; it is no use for hitting purposes, and invariably tumbles to pieces, comes undone, and gets into a demoralized condition when one tries to make it fulfil all the conditions of the unclothed walking-stick. besides which, the handles are _never_ made strong enough for hitting, and the hittee is protected by the folds of silk. hitting, then, is the weak point of the gamp. try to remember this when you feel inclined to administer a castigation to man or beast, and bear in mind that a comic scene may ensue, when, hot and angry, you stand with your best umbrella broken and half open, with the silk torn and the ribs sticking out in all directions. sometimes umbrellas have been made even more effective weapons by what is called a spring dagger, which consists of a short, strong knife or dirk let into the handle, and is readily brought into play by a sudden jerk, or by touching a spring. this may be all very well for travellers in the out-of-the-way regions of spain, sicily, or italy, but i don't like these dangerous accessories for english use, as they _may_ be unfortunately liable to abuse by excitable persons. in addition to the weapons already alluded to, there are others which, though not so generally known, or so generally useful, may be turned to good account on certain occasions. the "life-preserver" consists of a stout piece of cane about a foot long, with a ball of five or six ounces of lead attached firmly to one end by catgut netting, whilst the other end is furnished with a strong leather or catgut loop to go round the wrist and prevent the weapon flying from or being snatched from the hand. of course this instrument _may_ be very effective, very deadly, but what you have to consider is this: the serviceable portion is so small--no bigger than a hen's egg--that unless you are almost an expert, or circumstances greatly favour you, there is more than a chance of altogether missing your mark. with the life-preserver you have, say, at most a couple of inches only of effective weapon to rely on, whereas with the cudgel at least a foot of hard and heavy wood may be depended upon for bowling over the adversary. a leaded rattan cane is a dangerous instrument in expert hands, but my objections to it are very similar to those advanced with regard to the shorter weapon. leaded walking-sticks are not "handy," for the presence of so much weight in the hitting portion makes them extremely bad for quick returns, recovery, and for guarding purposes. to my mind the leaded rattan is to the well-chosen blackthorn what the life-preserver is to the cudgel--an inferior weapon. one does not want to _kill_ but to _disable_, even those who have taken the mean advantage of trying to catch one unprepared in the highways and byways. to take an ordinary common-sense view of the matter: it is surely better far to have a three to one chance in favour of disabling than an even chance of killing a fellow-creature? the disablement is all you want, and, having secured that, the best thing is to get out of the way as soon as possible, so as to avoid further complications. the sword-stick is an instrument i thoroughly detest and abominate, and could not possibly advocate the use of in any circumstances whatever. these wretched apologies for swords are to outward appearance ordinary straight canes--usually of malacca cane. on pulling the handle of one of these weapons, however, a nasty piece of steel is revealed, and then you draw forth a blade something between a fencing-foil and a skewer. they are poor things as regards length and strength, and "not in it" with a good solid stick. in the hands of a hasty, hot-tempered individual they may lead to the shedding of blood over some trivial, senseless squabble. the hollowing out of the cane, to make the scabbard, renders them almost useless for hitting purposes. in the environs of our big cities there is always a chance of attack by some fellow who asks the time, wants a match to light his cigar, or asks the way to some place. when accosted never stop, never draw out watch or box of lights, and never know the way anywhere. always make a good guess at the time, and swear you have no matches about you. it is wonderful to notice kind-hearted ladies stopping to give to stalwart beggars who are only waiting for an opportunity to snatch purses, and it would be interesting to know how many annually lose their purses and watches through this mistaken method of distributing largess. let me conclude by saying that, if you want to be as safe as possible in a doubtful neighbourhood, your best friends are a quick ear, a quick eye, a quick step, and a predilection for the middle of the road. the two former help you to detect, as the two latter may enable you to avoid a sudden onslaught. =the all-england series.= _illustrated._ _price s._ gymnastic competition & display exercises set at various open competitions and displays during the last twelve years, and voluntary exercises shown by winners of open and championship gymnastic competitions. edited by f. graf, orion gymnastic club. the book also contains an illustrated glossary of the principal gymnastic terms; the exercises for the second and third class badge of the a.g. and f.a. (illustrated); exercises for developing muscles; and an article on training for competitions, by a. barnard, captain of the orion gymnasium club. on sheets " × ". price d.; or mounted on cardboard, s. exercises on the instruments for the a.g. and f.a. third-class test. by a. f. jenkin. _with illustrations by b. m. jenkin._ issued by the amateur gymnastic association, and published by g. bell & sons, ltd. york house, portugal street, london, w.c. =the all-england series.= _numerous illustrations._ boxing. _price s._ by r. g. allanson-winn, inns of court school of arms, winner of the middle weights, cambridge, - ; heavy weights, - . "mr. winn's book is worthy of great praise, for it is at once one of the cheapest and best on the subject."--_field._ "his (mr. allanson-winn's) book gives ample testimony of his ability to write on boxing. if only for the illustrations that enable the novice to see what he should do with the gloves and what he should not do with them, the brochure is well worth the modest price charged for it."--pendragon in the _referee._ "the art of self-defence is here treated from a thoroughly practical point of view. clear as the text is, its value is no little enhanced by the numerous and admirably executed illustrations."--_st. james's gazette._ new edition, revised. _illustrated._ wrestling. _price s._ by walter armstrong ("cross-buttocker"), late hon. sec. cumberland and westmoreland wrestling society in london, author of "wrestliana," etc., etc. "'wrestling' needs no praise at our hands. it is sufficient to say that the handbook is the work of mr. walter armstrong."--_field._ "no one is better qualified to deal with such a subject than the 'cross-buttocker,' who for the last thirty years has been known as a clever light-weight wrestler, and whose remarks are, therefore, not mere theories, but founded on the results of long experience."--_sporting life._ "the handy little volume will be largely acceptable in these northern parts, where wrestling is a distinctive pastime."--_west cumberland times_. london: g. bell and sons, ltd. transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_. underlined passages indicated by =underline=. the following misprints have been corrected: "cutlas" corrected to "cutlass" (page ) "two" corrected to "too" (page ) "once" corrected to "one" (page ) "spilt" corrected to "split" (page ) other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation usage have been retained. transcriber's note: minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. auction of to-day by milton c. work author of "whist of to-day" boston and new york houghton mifflin company the riverside press cambridge copyright, , by milton c. work all rights reserved published january this book is respectfully dedicated to the auction players of the racquet club of philadelphia, who, while others doubted and waited, were sufficiently broadminded and discerning to adopt the "new count" and who, therefore, played auction of to-day months before it was in vogue elsewhere contents introduction xi i. the declaration ii. original declarations by the dealer the bid of one no-trump. table of hands in which the no-trump declaration is doubtful. when to bid two no-trumps. exception to the no-trump rule. table of doubtful hands illustrating exception. suit declarations. various ideas of the two spade bid. the two spade bid. the three spade bid. when to bid two in either royals or hearts. when to bid three in either royals or hearts. the two bid in diamonds or clubs. how to declare two-suit hands. table of hands in which a trump declaration is doubtful. iii. second hand declarations bidding over one spade. when to bid no-trump. when to make a trump declaration. the double of one spade. the bid of two spades. table of spade bids. the bid of three spades. how second hand should bid after an offensive declaration. the shift. when to bid two no-trumps over one no-trump. how to bid against two or three spades. when to bid no-trump over a suit. iv. third hand declarations when the dealer has called one spade, and the second hand passed. when the dealer has shown strength, and the second hand passed. when "two spades" has been declared. when "three spades" has been declared. when "one club" or "one diamond" has been declared. when "two diamonds" or "two clubs" has been declared. when "one heart" or "one royal" has been declared. when "two hearts" or "two royals" has been declared. when to overbid a partner's no-trump. when to overbid with strong clubs. a new plan for overbidding. when to overbid one no-trump with two no-trumps. what third hand should bid when second hand has declared. v. fourth hand declarations when the dealer's defensive declaration has been the only bid. when the only offensive declaration has been made by the dealer. when the only offensive declaration has been made by the second hand. when the only offensive declaration has been made by the third hand. when the dealer has made a defensive, and both the second and third hands offensive, declarations. when the dealer and second hand have made offensive declarations, and the third hand passed. when the dealer and third hand have made offensive declarations, and the second hand passed. when all three players have made offensive declarations. vi. continuation of the bidding when to advance the bid. when to overbid the partner. flag-flying. vii. doubling the choice between a game and a double. when to redouble. what to do when the partner is doubled. viii. leading how to lead against a no-trump. number-showing leads. the lead against a suit declaration. how to lead to a double. table of opening leads against a trump declaration. ix. the play difference between play in auction and bridge. playing for game. play for an even break. general play of the declarer. declarer's play of no-trump. declarer's play of a suit declaration. play by declarer's adversaries. the signal. the discard. blocking the dummy. avoid opening new suits. how to return partner's bid. the finesse. table showing when third hand should finesse. x. scoring and score-sheets samples of score-sheets. xi. the laws code of the whist club of new york. decisions by the card committee of the whist club of new york. summarized penalties appendix: queries and answers introduction with so many excellent textbooks now in circulation, it seems almost audacious to add another treatise to current card literature. it happens, however, that the game of auction, or auction bridge, as it is generally called ("auction whist" is perhaps a more appropriate title), has been so completely and so suddenly revolutionized that books written upon the subject a few months ago do not treat of auction of to-day, but of a game abandoned in the march of progress. only a small portion of the change has been due to the development of the game, the alteration that has taken place in the count having been the main factor in the transformation. just as a nation, in the course of a century, changes its habits, customs, and ideas, so auction in a few months has developed surprising innovations, and evolved theories that only yesterday would have seemed to belong to the heretic or the fanatic. the expert bidder of last christmas would find himself a veritable rip van winkle, should he awake in the midst of a game of to-day. the present tourist along the newly macadamized auction highway has no modern signpost to guide him, no milestone to mark his progress. the old ones, while most excellent when erected, now lead to abandoned and impassable roads, and contain information that of necessity confuses and misleads. beyond doubt, the present game, like other modern improvements, has come to stay, and with that belief the following pages are offered as an aid to the thorough understanding of the new order of things. until the latter part of , practically all players used the same count in auction that had for years obtained in bridge; namely, no-trump, ; hearts, ; diamonds, ; clubs, ; and spades, . the change was first suggested by the author, and it, therefore, seems only appropriate that he, having had the good fortune to conceive a system which has been endorsed by general adoption, should have the privilege of giving to the auction-loving public his views upon the most advantageous methods of playing the game under the new conditions, and thus possibly help to allay the confusion created by the introduction of an innovation so drastic. in this connection, it may be interesting to recall how this new count, which is now so universally used that it should be called, not the "new" count, but "the" count, came to be suggested, and why it met with popular favor. when auction first took the place of bridge as the paramount game in the club and social life of the scientific card-player of the united states (just as bridge had previously superseded whist), it was but natural that the bridge count should be continued in auction. admitting that these values were the best possible for bridge (and of that there is considerable doubt in the mind of the player of to-day), it, nevertheless, did not mean that for the new and very different game of auction they would of necessity be the most suitable. it was soon found that the no-trump was so much more powerful than any other bid that competition was almost eliminated. with even unusually strong suits, only occasionally could a declaration valued at be successfully combated by one valued at or less, and the vast majority of hands were, consequently, played without a trump. the inherent theory of the game of auction provides for a bidding in which each one of the four suits competes with each other, and also with the no-trump. using the bridge count, this does not take place. the two black suits, by reason of their inconsequential valuation, are practically eliminated from the sea of competitive bidding. the diamond creates only a slight ripple, and even the heart has to be unusually strong to resist the strenuous wave of the no-trump. players in different parts of the country realized that as long as the bridge count was used, five bids could not compete in the race, as, due to unequal handicapping, the two blacks could barely pass the starter, while the two reds could not last long in a keen contest. the desire to make the spade a potent declaration had appeared in bridge; royal spades, valued at , having been played by some unfortunates who believed that, whenever they had the deal, the fickle goddess favored them with an undue proportion of "black beauties." as competitive bidding is not a part of the game of bridge, that could not be offered as a reason for increasing the value of the spade, and to be logical, royal clubs should also have been created. naturally, royal spades never received any very large or intelligent bridge following, but as making the spade of value was in line with the obvious need of auction, as soon as that game became the popular pastime, royal spades (or lilies, as they were perhaps foolishly called in some places, the pseudonym being suggested by the color of the spade), valued at and at , were accorded a more thorough trial. they met objection on the ground that three royals, equally with three no-trumps, carried a side to game from a love score, and, therefore, while some continued to experiment with royals, it cannot be said that they were anywhere accepted as a conventional part of auction. finally, some clever bostonians suggested that their value be made nine, and this proved both more logical and more popular. with affairs in this state, the author determined that it would materially improve the game to arrange the count so that the various bids be as nearly as possible equalized, every suit given a real rating, and the maximum competition created. after some little experimentation, the very simple expedient now in vogue was suggested. it makes the game _in reality_ what it previously was _only in name_. in september, , the racquet club of philadelphia, the first club to act upon the subject, incorporated in its club code the count of for no-trump, for royal spades, for hearts, for diamonds, for clubs, and for spades. other clubs in this country and abroad slowly but surely followed, and the card-playing public in its social game adopted the new plan as soon as it received a fair trial. early in , the whist club of new york, a most conservative body, yielded to the pressure, and accepted the new count. since then, it has been universally used. it has been given various names, such as the "new count," which is, of course, a title that cannot long be retained; the "philadelphia count," which is now inappropriate, as it is played in all parts of the country; the "game of royals," which is grossly incorrect, as it is not a game of royals any more than of any other suit, and certainly is not one-tenth as much a game of royals as the old count was a game of no-trumps. one writer, who ably advocates the new count, calls the present game "royal auction bridge," yet frankly admits that no-trump is still played more frequently than royals, and hearts almost as often. there can be no question that the number of diamond and club declarations has materially increased, so the only apparent reason for calling the game royals is the desire for some name to distinguish the count now used from its predecessor. that, however, is totally unnecessary. the old, or bridge count, is a thing of the past--dead and almost forgotten. the "new" count is "auction"--"auction of to-day" if you will, but unquestionably the best auction yet devised, the only auction now played, and destined to be auction for all future time, unless some system be suggested which will create keener competition in bidding. it is generally conceded that this is practically impossible. in this book the author does not attempt to drill the uninitiated player in the intricacies of the game. the rudiments can be learned far more satisfactorily by watching a rubber, or by receiving the kindly instruction of a friend or teacher. in perusing these pages, the beginner will seek in vain to receive such information as that the is a higher card than the ; or that the third hand plays after the second. the reader is supposed to thoroughly understand the respective values of the cards, as well as the underlying principles and the rules of the game. neither is this book intended for the player who recognizes himself as an expert and continuously prates of his own ability. even should he condescend to read, he would find either "nothing new," or "nothing new worth knowing." why, indeed, should he waste his valuable time considering the ideas of others, when by his brilliant exposition of his own inimitable theories, he can inculcate in the minds of his inferiors a new conception of auction possibilities? such a player may at any time confuse a conscientious partner by making an original bid without an ace or king, or by committing some equally atrocious auction _faux pas_, but as even a constant recurrence of such "trifles" will not disturb his equanimity, why suggest ideas for his guidance? the real purpose of this little book is to point out to the moderate player the system of bidding and methods of play now adopted by the best exponents of the game, and to advise generally how to produce a satisfactory result at the end of the rubber, sitting, or season. much of the success of an auction player is due to his ability to concentrate his entire attention upon the game. if it were possible to make only a single suggestion to a beginner, the most important point that could be called to his attention would be the necessity for concentration. from the moment the first bid is made until the last card is played, the attention of every player should be confined to the declaration and the play, and during that time no other idea should enter his mind. this may seem rudimentary, but as a matter of fact, the loss of tricks is frequently blamed upon various causes, such as "pulling the wrong card," forgetting that a certain declaration had been made, or that a certain card has been played, miscounting the trumps or the suit in question, etc., when the lack of complete concentration is the real trouble. success in auction is indeed difficult, and the player who would grasp every situation, and capture every possible trick, must have the power to concentrate all his faculties upon the task before him. no matter how great his capacity, he cannot do thorough justice to any hand, if, during the declaration or play, his mind wander. too often do we see a player, while the play is in progress, thinking of some such subject as how many more tricks his partner might have made in the last hand; whether his partner has declared in the manner which he believes to be sound and conventional; what is going on at some other table; whether this rubber will be over in time for him to play another, etc. when this is the mental condition of a player, the best results cannot be obtained. if a trick has been lost, it is gone. thinking over it cannot bring it back, but may very quickly give it one or more comrades. as soon as each deal is completed, it should be erased from the mind just as figures from a slate. in that way only can be obtained the complete and absolute concentration which is essential to perfect play, and goes a long way toward securing it. auction is beyond doubt the most scientific card game that has ever become popular in this country. the expert has the full measure of advantage to which his skill entitles him, and yet the game possesses wonderful fascination for the beginner and player of average ability. it is doubtless destined to a long term of increasing popularity, and it is, therefore, most advisable for all who participate that they thoroughly familiarize themselves with the conventional methods of bidding and playing, so that they may become intelligent partners, and a real addition to any table. auction of to-day i the declaration[ ] it is well to realize from the start that the declaration is the most important department of the game, and yet the most simple to master. a foolish bid may cost hundreds of points. the failure to make a sound one may lose a rubber, whereas mistakes in the play, while often expensive and irritating, are rarely attended with such disastrous results. [ ] also known as "the bid" and "the call." any good player who has to choose between a partner who bids well and plays poorly, and one who is a wild or unreliable bidder, but handles his cards with perfection, without hesitation selects the former. to be an expert player requires natural skill, long experience, keen intuition, deep concentration, and is an art that cannot be accurately taught either by the instructor or by a textbook. bidding has been reduced to a more or less definite system, which may be learned in a comparatively brief space of time. consequently, any one possessed of ordinary intelligence, regardless of sex, age, temperament, or experience, may become an expert declarer, but of all who attempt to play, not more than forty per cent. possess that almost indefinable characteristic known as a "card head," without which it is impossible to become a player of the highest class. the average club or social game, however, produces numerous expert players, while the sound bidder is indeed a _rara avis_. the explanation of this peculiar condition is not hard to find. most auction devotees began their card experience with whist, a game in which, beyond doubt, "the play's the thing"; then they transferred their allegiance to bridge, where the play was the predominant factor; and now they fail to realize that in their new pastime _the most important part of the game is concluded before the first card leaves the leader's hand_. it must encourage the student to know that he may surely and quickly become a sound bidder, and that he will then be a more valued partner than a whist or bridge celebrity who does not accord to the declaration the care it deserves and rewards. many methods of bidding have been suggested; some have been so absurd that they have not warranted or received serious consideration; others have been accorded a thorough trial, and found wanting. the system which is herein advocated is believed to be the most sound and informatory yet devised. before taking up the declaration by each hand, it is important for the player to realize that with the introduction of the count of to-day, much of the bidding previously in vogue has, of necessity, passed into disuse. for example, under the old count, a player, knowing that the club suit would never be played and that there was no danger of that declaration being continued by his partner, very properly called a club to show the ace and king, even when these two cards were the only clubs in his hand. in auction of to-day, it being possible to score game with any declaration, a suit cannot be safely called unless it be of such length and strength that the partner may continue it as far as his hand warrants. in discussing the subject of bidding, under the subheads of dealer, second hand, etc., this will be considered more thoroughly, and it is referred to at this time only for the purpose of pointing out that informatory bids from short suits containing high cards are no longer included in the vocabulary of the declarer. another difference between the old and the present game is worthy of notice. in the old game a marked distinction was drawn between the color of the suits in the make-up of a no-trumper, it being more important that the black suits should be guarded than the red. using the bridge count, the adversaries, if strong in the red suits, were apt to bid, but the black suits, by reason of their low valuation, frequently could not be called. black was, consequently, the natural lead against a no-trump, and therefore, required more protection. now, as every suit can be named with practically equal effectiveness, the color distinction has ceased to exist. the original leader, when no-trump has been declared, no longer attempts to guess his partner's strength by starting with a black suit, in preference to a red; and in bidding one no-trump, strength in one color is just as valuable as in the other. when auction was first played in england, it was believed that the deal was a disadvantage, that the declarer should disguise his hand as long as possible and use every expedient to force his adversary to be the first to show real strength. this doctrine has been found to be ridiculous. the premium of for winning the rubber is a bonus well worth having, and the player who, when his cards justify a bid, unduly postpones his declaration, belongs to an antiquated and almost extinct school. it is now conceded that the best results are obtained by that character of bidding which gives the partner the most immediate and accurate information regarding the strength of the declarer. there are still the "old fogies" who preach that, as there are two opponents and only one partner, all information is doubly advantageous to the adversary. this "moss-covered" idea was advanced concerning the play in whist and bridge, but experience proved it fallacious. in auction, its folly is apparent, not only in the matter of the play, but even more surely when applied to the bidding. a moment's consideration causes the realization that the declaration would become an easy task if the exact composition of the partner's hand were known; it should, therefore, be the aim of the bidder to simplify the next call of his partner by describing his own cards as accurately as possible. true it is that the deceptive bidder at times succeeds in duping some confiding or inexperienced adversary and thereby achieves a temporary triumph of which he loves to boast. for every such _coup_, however, he loses many conventional opportunities, frequently gets into trouble, and keeps his partner in a continual state of nervous unrest, entirely inimical to the exercise of sound judgment. nevertheless, the erratic one rarely realizes this. he gives his deceptive play the credit for his winning whenever he holds cards with which it is impossible for him to lose, but characterizes as "hard luck" the hundreds that his adversaries tally in their honor columns by reason of his antics, and is oblivious of the opportunities to win games which he allows to slip from his grasp. the difference between informative and deceptive bidding is shown in the harmony of a partnership. when the former is practised, the pair pull together; the latter results in misunderstandings and disputes. it must not be understood, however, that the ability to give accurate information comprises the entire skill of the bidder. it is most important that he possess the judgment which enables him to force the adversary into dangerous waters without getting beyond his own depth. it is no excuse for a player who has led his partner on to their mutual destruction to murmur, "i could have made my bid." an early bid being allowed to become the final declaration is exceptional. whether or not it could be made is, therefore, immaterial, but the result it may produce is vital. in club circles the story is told of the player of experience, who, after he had been deceived by his partner's declaration, said: "partner, if you were reading the paper to a stranger, you would not vary a word of even an unimportant item. why, then, should you, in describing your thirteen cards, deliberately misinform a trusting partner?" another exploded idea is that an advantage can be obtained by so-called "misleading" or "trap" bidding. there are some players who imagine that, by calling one spade with an excellent hand, they can induce the adversaries to believe that the bidder possesses a trickless combination, and as a result, some ridiculous declaration will follow, which will give an opportunity for a profitable double. experience has shown that in practice this idea does not produce satisfactory results. adversaries will not bid to a point where they are apt to be doubled, except in the face of competition. when the dealer has called one spade, his partner, unless he hold very strong cards, will not materially elevate the declaration. if both partners have strength, it is not probable that the adversaries can do much bidding, so that it is only in the unusual case, and against the inexperienced and unskilled, that such a scheme is apt to prove successful. on the other hand, it transfers the advantage of being the first to show strength and abuses the confidence of the partner. it is a tool which should be employed only by the declarer of ripe experience, and he will limit its use to the unusual hand. the bidder should remember that part of the finesse of the game, when partners vary considerably in their respective skill, is to so arrange the declaration that the stronger player is at the helm most of the time. a weak player with a strong partner should not jump with undue haste into a no-trump, royal, or heart declaration; but rather, wait for the partner, and then back up his call. the weak player should also hesitate before taking away his partner's bid, although of course, there are many situations which thoroughly justify it, regardless of the greatest difference in the skill of the players. the objection to the game of auction which makes it the subject of the most severe criticism is the possibility that improper information may be conveyed to the partner by the manner of making the bid. after starting to bid, by using the word "one" or "two" there should never be any hesitation, as that tells the partner that there is more than one call under consideration. the same comment applies to hesitation when it is evident to the partner that it must be caused by a doubt whether or not to double, and the opportunity so to do still remains with him. an extended delay in passing or bidding one spade also conveys an obvious suggestion. it goes without saying that no honorable partner would avail himself of such information. being the unwilling recipient of it, however, places him in an awkward position, as he must cross-examine himself as to whether any questionable bid or double he contemplates is in any way encouraged by it. if he have even a scintilla of doubt, he must pass. a few principles of bidding applicable to all conditions may be stated at the beginning of the consideration of the subject. adopt informatory and conservative methods. a good player may bid higher than a poor one. when your partner fails to assist your bid, do not count on him for more strength than a dealer who has bid one spade. any overbid of an adversary shows strength; an overbid of a partner who has declared no-trump may show weakness. overbidding a partner who has declared royals or hearts shows weakness in his suit. being without a suit, or holding a singleton, is an element of strength for a trump declaration; of weakness for a no-trumper. when, if you do not bid, the adversary will be left in with a declaration with which he cannot make game, do not take him out unless you expect to score game with your declaration. do not, by reckless bidding, make the loss of one rubber equal the usual value of two. with a love score, it requires three tricks in no-trumps, four in royals or hearts, and five in diamonds or clubs, to make game. it is an exceptional hand in which the declarer does not lose more than two tricks. diamonds and clubs are, therefore, rarely played in preference to one of the three declarations of higher value, which are spoken of as "game-going" declarations. there is very little declaring to the score in auction, as the majority of deals in which the contract is fulfilled score game, so that most of the time the score is love. in a certain percentage of cases, however, there is a score, and it affects the bidding to the following extent:-- if it be or more, diamonds should be treated as royals or hearts would be at love; if it be or more, clubs should be similarly treated. if it be or more, royals, with a holding of five or more, should be bid in preference to no-trump, even with all the suits stopped, and if it be or more, hearts should be similarly treated. when the score reaches a higher figure, such as , for example, holding five diamonds, hearts, or spades, suit bids should be given the preference over no-trumpers. the reason is plain. the winning of the game is the object of the bidder; when that is in sight with a suit declaration, no-trump should not be risked unless in the higher declaration the fulfilment of the contract be equally sure. the establishment of an adverse suit is the rock which sinks many a no-trumper. there is little chance of this with a suit declaration. therefore, especially when it does not require any more tricks to go game, the suit should be selected, if the no-trump present any element of danger. the state of the score never justifies an original bid which would not be conventional at love. in other words, while being the possessor of a score may make it wise for a bidder to select a suit instead of a no-trump, it never justifies his calling a suit in which he has not both the length and strength requisite for a declaration with a love score. bidding by the different hands is so varied in its character that each must be considered as practically a separate subject, and they will, therefore, be taken up _seriatim_. in all cases where the score is not especially mentioned, it should be understood that neither side is supposed to have scored. ii original declarations by the dealer the dealer, in making the initial declaration, obtains a valuable strategic position whenever his hand justifies an offensive bid (_i.e._, anything but one spade); but when he is compelled to assume the defensive, this advantage passes to his opponents. by any declaration which shows strength, he materially aids his partner and places difficulties in the path of his adversaries. a no-trump is naturally his most advantageous opening. there are many hands in which the strength is so evenly divided that the advantage of playing the dummy enables the player who "gets to the no-trump first" to make good his declaration, and frequently, in such equally balanced hands, one no-trump is the only bid that can be made. one no-trump eliminates all adverse calls of one, and sometimes when the strength of the opponents is considerable, but divided, results in shutting out a productive declaration. the dealer, therefore, whenever his hand warrants it, should grasp his good fortune and declare his strength. he should not, however, rashly assume the offensive. there is no way in which he can more thoroughly deceive his partner, create greater havoc with the bidding of the hand and cast deeper distrust upon his future declarations than by using the keynote bid to announce strength which his hand does not contain. he must thoroughly understand the conventional declarations, and when in doubt should bid one spade, as the damage which is apt to result from an overestimation by his partner of his winning cards is much greater than any benefit gained by starting the attack. the bid of one no-trump the dealer is justified in basing his declaration upon the assumption that his partner has one-third of the high cards not in his own hand. he may, therefore, _bid one no-trump with any holding better than the average_ whenever he has (_a_) four suits stopped. (_b_) three suits stopped and his hand contains an ace. (_c_) three king suits, all of which contain in addition either queen or knave. (_d_) a solid five-card club or diamond suit and another ace. the first question to determine is what, from the standpoint of the declarer, constitutes a guarded or stopped suit. that an ace comes under that head is self-evident. so also must a king, if accompanied by one small, because the lead comes up to the declarer, and the king must either be able to win the trick or be made good. a queen and one other manifestly will not stop a suit, and a queen and two others is not apt to do so unless the leader hold both ace and king. queen and three others is, however, comparatively safe, and queen, knave, and one other is a most satisfactory guard. knave, ten, and two others surely stops a suit, but knave and three small is about as unreliable as queen and two small. it, therefore, becomes evident that the dealer, to count a suit as stopped, must have in it one of the following holdings:-- ace. king and one other. queen and three others. queen, knave, and one other. knave and four others. knave, ten, and two others. some experts, with three suits stopped, bid no-trump with exactly an average hand, but experience has shown that this is advisable only when supported by exceptional skill, and cannot be recommended to most players. the average holding of high cards is one ace, one king, one queen, and one knave. from the average standpoint it is immaterial whether they are all in one suit or divided. any hand containing a face card or ace above this average is a no-trumper, whenever it complies with the other above-mentioned requirements. when the average is exceeded by holding two aces, instead of an ace and king, a no-trump should be called, but two kings, instead of a king and queen, or even a king and knave, is a very slight margin, and the declaration is doubtful for any but the most expert. a hand with two queens instead of one queen and one knave, while technically above the average, cannot be so considered when viewed from a trick-taking standpoint, and does not warrant a no-trump call. in bidding no-trump with three guarded suits, it does not matter which is unprotected. for example, the minimum strength of a no-trumper composed of one face card more than the average is an ace in one suit; king, knave, in another; and queen, knave, in a third. this hand would be a no-trumper, regardless of whether the suit void of strength happened to be hearts, diamonds, clubs, or spades. the above-described method of determining when the hand sizes up to the no-trump standard is generally known as the "average system," and has been found more simple and much safer than any of the other tests suggested. it avoids the necessity of taking the ten into consideration, and does not involve the problems in mental arithmetic which become necessary when each honor is valued at a certain figure and a total fixed as requisite for a no-trump bid. the theory upon which a player with possibly only three tricks declares to take seven, is that a hand containing three sure tricks, benefited by the advantage derived from having twenty-six cards played in unison, is apt to produce one more; and until the dummy refuse to help, he may be figured on for average assistance. the dealer is expecting to take four tricks with his own hand, and if the dummy take three (one-third of the remaining nine), he will fulfil his contract. even if the dummy fail to render the amount of aid the doctrine of chances makes probable, the declaration is not likely to prove disastrous, as one no-trump is rarely doubled. it is also conventional to declare one no-trump with a five-card or longer club or diamond suit,[ ] headed by ace, king, queen, and one other ace. this is the only hand containing strength in but two suits with which a no-trump should be called. [ ] with a similar suit in either spades or hearts, royals or hearts should be the bid. as a rule a combination of high cards massed into two suits does not produce a no-trumper, although the same cards, divided into three suits, may do so. for example, a hand containing ace, queen, knave, in one suit; king, queen, knave, in another, and the two remaining suits unguarded, should not be bid no-trump, although the high cards are stronger than the example given above with strength in three suits. admitting all the advantage of the original no-trump, even the boldest bidders do not consider it a sound declaration with two defenseless suits, unless one of the strong suits be established and the other headed by an ace. the reason for this is easily understood. when the adversaries have a long suit of which they have all the high cards, the chances are that it will be opened; but if not, it will soon be found unless the declarer can at once run a suit of considerable length. when a suit is established by the adversaries, the declarer is put in an embarrassing position, and would probably have been better off playing a trump declaration. it is a reasonable risk to trust the partner to stop one suit, but it is being much too sanguine to expect him to protect two. should he fail to have either stopped, the declarer's loss is so heavy that only with a long and apparently established suit and an additional ace is the risk justified. it is realized that the case cited, namely, ace, king, queen, and two others, may not prove to be an established (or solid, as it is often called) suit. if however, the division be at all even, as it is in the vast majority of cases, the suit can be run, and it is cited as the minimum holding which may be treated as established. with the present value of clubs and diamonds, either suit presents an effective original declaration. there is, therefore, much less excuse than formerly for a reckless no-trump bid, based upon five or six club or diamond tricks and one other suit stopped. when, however, an ace of another suit accompanies the unusual club or diamond strength, the advantage of being the first to bid no-trump makes the chance worth taking. the hands above cited as containing the minimum strength to warrant the call are all what are known as "weak no-trumpers." this kind of bidding may not be conservative, but experience has shown it to be effective as long as it is kept within the specified limits. a no-trump must, however, justify the partner in acting upon the assumption that the bidder has at least the stipulated strength, and it merely courts disaster to venture such a declaration with less than the conventional holding. a few examples may possibly make the above somewhat more clear, as by that means the various "minimum-strength" or "border-line" no-trumpers, and also hands which fall just below the mark, can be accurately shown. it will be understood that an effort is made to give the _weakest_ hands which justify the no-trump declaration, and also the hands which fall short by the smallest possible margin. in other words, the hands which puzzle the declarer. with greater strength or greater weakness the correct bid is plainly indicated. the suits are numbered, not designated by their respective names, in order to emphasize that it does not matter where the weakness is located. hands in which the no-trump declaration is doubtful suit king, knave, x does not contain an ace, but is " king, x, x above the average and has four " queen, knave, x suits stopped. it is a no-trump " knave, ten, x, x bid. suit ace, knave, x has an ace, three suits stopped, " x, x, x and a knave over the average. it " king, x, x, x is a no-trump bid. " queen, knave, x suit ace, queen, x has an ace and two face cards " king, queen, knave more than the average, but, not " x, x, x, x having three suits stopped, is " knave, x, x _not_ a no-trump bid. suit king, queen, x has three suits stopped, but is " king, knave, x, x without an ace, and is one king " queen, knave, x short of three king suits all with " x, x, x another face card. it is _not_ a no-trump bid. suit king, knave, x has three king-queen, or " king, queen, x king-knave suits. it is a no-trump " king, knave, x bid. " x, x, x, x suit ace, x, x has three suits stopped and is " ace, x, x, x above the average. it is a no-trump " queen, knave, x bid. " x, x, x suit ace, x, x this is the border-line hand " king, x, x mentioned above. it may be a " x, x, x, x no-trump bid for an expert, but " king, knave, x the moderate player is hardly justified in risking it. the presence of one or two tens would add materially to the strength of this hand and make it a no-trump. suit ace, x, x, x only above the average to the " king, queen, x extent of a queen in place of " queen, x, x, x a knave. no-trump is not advised " x, x unless declarer is confident he can outplay his adversaries. suit ace, knave, x an average hand. with this holding " king, x, x only an expert is justified in " queen, x, x, x bidding no-trump. " x, x, x suit ace, x, x below the average, and, therefore, " king, x, x only "one spade" should be bid. " queen, x, x, x " x, x, x clubs } has the weakest "solid" suit or } ace, king, queen, x, x that with one other ace warrants diamonds } a no-trump bid. suit ace, x, x " x, x, x " x, x clubs } ace, king, knave, x, x absence of queen in one case, and or } or of king in the other, keeps the diamonds } ace, queen, knave, x, x suit from being established. even } the presence of the additional suit ace, queen, x queen in suit does not make this " x, x, x a no-trumper. " x, x clubs } absence of additional ace makes or } ace, king, queen, x, x a no-trump inadvisable. diamonds } suit king, queen, x " x, x, x " x, x it is realized that in the last three cases cited the margin is unusually close; the last one, should the partner happen to have either suit or stopped, and the ace and some length of suit , would be very much stronger than the example justifying the bid. it is also true that a fortunate drop of the king or queen of the long suit, with a little help from the partner, would make the next to the last the strongest of the three. it is idle, however, to speculate on what the partner may have. in such close cases it is most important to invariably follow some fixed rule. the player who guesses each time may always be wrong, while the player who sticks to the sound bid is sure to be right most of the time. experience has shown that, when only two suits are stopped, it is not wise to bid no-trump without both an ace and a solid suit, and experience is the best teacher. when to bid two no-trumps an original bid of more than one no-trump is rarely advisable, as it is important that the partner be given the option of bidding two of a suit. with great strength such a call should never be made, as in that case there is no good reason for attempting to shut out the adversary. the only character of hand which justifies starting with two no-trumps is the rare combination in which a long, solid suit of six or seven clubs or diamonds is held, accompanied by an ace or guarded king in at least two of the remaining suits, the idea being to shut out adverse royals or hearts. some players believe in bidding two no-trumps with "every ace and not a face," but that sort of an effort to "steal" the is not justified as the partner's hand may make a game, which could not be won at no-trumps, obtainable in a suit declaration. a game with the incidental score is worth much more than "one hundred aces" and only two odd tricks, or perchance an unfilled contract. it is also important that the bid be limited to the one case mentioned, as in that way it gives the most accurate information. exception to the no-trump rule there is one important exception to most of the no-trump bids above described, and that is when the hand, which otherwise would be a no-trumper, contains as its strong suit five or more spades or hearts. it takes only one more royal or heart than it does no-trump to win the game, and with a suit unguarded, it is far safer and wiser, with such a holding, to bid the heart or royal than the no-trump. for example, with ace, king, knave, and two small clubs; king, queen, knave, and one diamond; queen, knave, and one heart; and one spade, the bid would unquestionably be no-trump. if, however, the club and spade holding be transposed, a royal should be declared. when there is a score which places the club or diamond within four tricks of game, these suits become as valuable as the heart or royal, with the score at love, and should be treated accordingly. the declarer should bear in mind that as the game is the desideratum, the surest, not the most glorious or enjoyable, route of reaching it should be chosen. when no-trump is declared with a hand containing a defenceless suit, there is a grave chance that the adversaries may save game by making five tricks in that suit before the declarer can obtain the lead. with five or more strong cards of a suit and two other suits stopped, four tricks are more probable with the suit declaration than three with no-trump, but three with the no-trump are more likely than five with the suit. it, therefore, depends upon which suit be held whether it or no-trump should be bid. the inclination which many players have for a no-trump bid should be firmly curbed, when the holding is of the character mentioned and the strength is in spades or hearts. a very different case arises, however, when all the suits are stopped; the dealer is then, the game being probable with either declaration, justified in bidding either the no-trump or the suit, as he may prefer, and the value of the honors he holds should be an important factor in guiding his decision. when he has more than five spades or hearts, the suit declaration is generally to be preferred, even with all suits stopped, unless the hand contain four aces. a few examples follow:-- spades ace, king, queen, x, x while this hand contains three hearts ace, queen, x aces, it is more apt to score diamonds ace, knave, x, x game with royals than without a clubs x trump. with the spade and club or spade and diamond suits transposed, it is a no-trumper. spades ace, king, queen, x not having five spades, this hand hearts ace, queen, x, x is a no-trump bid. the fact that diamonds ace, knave, x, x it contains a singleton is an clubs x argument in favor of a suit declaration, but with only four spades it is safer to risk the clubs than long adverse spades with one more trick required for game. spades knave, ten, x, x a no-trumper, as it has three hearts ace, queen, knave suits stopped and contains an diamonds x ace. a transposition of the clubs clubs king, queen, knave, x, x to spades or hearts would make it a trump declaration. spades king, queen, knave, x, x can be declared either royals hearts ace, queen or no-trump, as four suits are diamonds ace, x, x stopped and it has five strong clubs ace, knave, x spades. the aces as compared with honors in royals and the absence of a singleton make the no-trump more attractive. if, however, the ten of spades be substituted for a small spade, the honors would make it a royal. spades king, knave, x while the four suits are stopped, hearts king, queen, ten, x, x, x the length in hearts makes the diamonds ace, x suit call the more advisable. clubs ace, x spades king, queen, ten the diamond is tempting, as a hearts king, knave, ten score of honors is compared diamonds ace, king, queen, knave with possibly adverse aces. clubs king, queen, knave if, however, the three missing aces be held by the adversaries, game cannot be scored in diamonds, and a game is always worth more than . it is therefore a no-trump. suit declarations for some reason the dealer is more apt to make faulty suit bids than unwarranted no-trumpers. it seems as difficult for the old whist and bridge player as it is for the novice to realize that even excessive length does not justify an original suit call, unless the suit contain either the ace or the king. it, also, is just as important to remember that if the suit does not contain _both_ the ace and the king, the hand must in addition have at least one other honor in the suit named,[ ] and one other sure trick. by "sure trick" in this connection is not meant merely a suit stopped, but a trick that can be won not later than the second round; in other words, either an ace or a king and queen, or king and knave, of the same suit. [ ] while, as a general rule, to justify an original suit declaration, "one other honor" should accompany either ace or king, it is not necessary to blindly follow such a requirement to an absurd extreme. if the suit be headed by the ace, either unusual length (six or more) or considerable strength in another suit (ace and king, or ace, queen, knave) would justify a call without "one other honor." if, however, the suit be headed by the king, the presence of another honor is essential unless the length or additional strength be extraordinary. stating in another way the combination of high cards requisite for an original suit bid, it may be said that a suit should never be originally declared unless the hand contain two sure high-card tricks, one of which must be in the suit named. these sure high-card tricks must be either two aces or their equivalent in value for trick-taking purposes. the reason is obvious. the declaration of a suit by an informatory bidder tells the partner, not only that the bidder is satisfied to have that hand played with the suit named as the trump, but also that his holding will be helpful to the extent of at least two tricks, one of which is in his suit, should the declaration be shifted to no-trump. this is one of the simplest and most vital rules of bidding, yet it is probably the most frequently disregarded. innumerable points have appeared in the adverse honor column because a partner has properly assumed that an original suit call showed the high-card strength just mentioned, only to find out too late that the bidder, with perhaps a couple of kings, had yielded to the lure of length. even at the risk of seeming repetition, it is necessary to be a little more explicit upon this subject. when the dealer bids a suit, he says: "partner, i have great strength in this suit; it is probable that i have both the ace and king, but if not, i have either the ace or king, supported by at least one other honor,[ ] and the ace or the king and queen, or king and knave, of some other suit; you can bid no-trump or double any adverse declaration, positively assured that i will support you to the extent named." [ ] see footnote, page . the holding in the suit which is declared, is vital. take, for example, such a hand as queen, knave, and five small hearts; and the ace and king of clubs. of course, the dealer wants to play this hand with hearts as trump, but he should not bid a heart at the start, as he has not the ace or king. the fact that he has both the ace and king of clubs does not justify a heart call without either the ace or king of hearts. with the hand cited there will be plenty of time to bid hearts later. the rule which governs this case is the foundation of modern bidding; it is without exception, is not affected by the score, and is the most important of all auction conventions. every player should resolve that, whatever his other shortcomings may be, he will treat it as a veritable law of the medes and persians, and that never, as dealer, will he call a suit unless he hold the ace or king of it, and the other requisite strength. the combination of high cards above mentioned, however, is not in itself sufficient to justify a suit declaration. there must, in addition, be length in the suit. this is just as essential in clubs or diamonds as in hearts or royals. the partner may have great strength, and yet be unable to stop the adverse suit. a no-trump being thus eliminated, he, acting on the assurance given by the original call, may carry the suit to high figures. this is sure to prove disastrous, unless the original bidder has length as well as strength. as a general rule, five is the minimum length with which a suit should be called, but with great strength, such as ace, king, knave; ace, queen, knave; or king, queen, knave, in the suit, coupled with another ace; or a king and queen, a bid with a four-card combination may be ventured. a four-card suit, headed by ace, king, queen, may be called without other strength. a short suit, that is, one of three cards or less, should never be bid originally, regardless of its strength. even the holding of ace, king, queen, does not justify the naming of such a suit. while the doctrine above enunciated as to the minimum strength required for a trump bid is unquestionably logical and is now regarded as conventional by a very large proportion of the expert players of auction, it is only natural that there should be some dissent. there is a certain character of mind that always desires to carry any sound theory to dangerous extremes, and, consequently, some players and writers have seen fit, while adopting the theory which has altered the old system of always starting with one spade into the modern informatory game, to advocate extensions which would practically eliminate the defensive declaration. these extremists desire to permit a dealer to bid whenever he has a long suit, regardless of whether it be headed by high cards, and also whether it would aid a no-trump. one system suggested is that a trump be called whenever the dealer holds any suit which counts , on the basis of an ace or face counting , and any lower card, . the believers in this doctrine would, therefore, bid a club from such a hand as queen, knave, x, x, x, without any possibility of another trick; or even from knave, x, x, x, x, x. the absurdity of this becomes obvious when it is remembered that the only real object in bidding a club or diamond is to show strength which will justify the partner in declaring one of the three game-going declarations. any such holding as that mentioned not only does not help any other declaration, but as a matter of fact is a hand so far under the trick-taking average that, if any method could be devised by which weakness could be emphasized more strongly than by making the defensive declaration, such a hand would fully justify employing it. it is difficult to conceive what benefit can result to a partnership from any such weakness being, for the purpose of the declaration, changed into alleged strength. if a player declare with any such combination, his power to give information when he really possesses strength of course immediately ceases to exist, and the entire structure of informative bidding thereby drops to pieces. the system of suit declarations above outlined, and upon which all that is hereinafter suggested in relation to bidding is based, must be followed by players who wish to give their partners accurate data, and while it may be tempting at times to depart from the conventional, the more frequently such exception is made by the dealer in his bid, the more often does misunderstanding between the partners ensue. various ideas of the two spade bid every game of the whist family has some point upon which experts disagree, and which, consequently, produces apparently interminable discussion. in auction, it is the two spade bid, and no less than four recognized factions have widely divergent views concerning it. these views may be briefly stated as follows:-- (_a_) with the border-line no-trumpers now in vogue, a hand not strong enough to bid no-trump is too weak to warrant any call but one spade. the two spade bid is, therefore, useless and should never be made. (_b_) the two spade bid should be used as a no-trump invitation with any hand not quite strong enough to justify a no-trump call. having this meaning it does not matter whether the hand contain any spade strength. (_c_) the two spade bid should be used as a no-trump invitation, but must also give the additional information that the hand contains at least one trick in spades. (_d_) the two spade bid should be used to tell the partner that the hand has the high-card strength to bid one royal, but not sufficient length. it thus becomes either a no-trump or royal invitation. all these systems have their advocates, most of whom refuse to see merit in any plan but their own. it is only fair, however, before reaching a definite conclusion to accord to all a fair and dispassionate consideration. (_a_) the argument that, as long as light no-trumpers are conventional, any hand not sufficiently strong to call no-trump is too weak to justify declaring more than one spade, has considerable force. beyond question, many followers of plans "_b_" and "_c_" call two spades when their holdings do not warrant such action, but the fact that a declaration is at times abused is far from being a sufficient reason for wiping it off the auction map, and saying to those who desire to use it rationally, "no, because some players see fit to make this bid with two knaves and a queen, it is not safe to allow you the privilege of using it sanely, wisely, and at the appropriate time." the supporters of "_a_," however, go further, and say that the hands in which a no-trump cannot be called, but with which the invitation should be extended to the partner to bid it, are so rare that the retention of the two spade call merely encumbers the catalogue of the declarer with a bid that is practically obsolete. this, if it be true, would be most convincing, but it is so surprising a statement that it should be examined before being accepted. every hand that class "_d_" would bid two spades would be similarly called by "_b_" and "_c_," and at least ninety-nine per cent. of expert auction players concede that such a bid is sound. for example:-- spades ace, king, knave hearts x, x, x, x diamonds x, x, x clubs ace, queen, x has strength which deserves, if possible, to be shown. this is merely a sample of a hand which would be a royal, if length in spades accompanied the strength. such hands come within the "_d_" classification, and are not rare. this must be admitted when it is considered that three- or four-card suits are much more frequently held than suits of greater length. therefore, two spades should be bid more often than one royal. with the single exception of no-trump, royals is the call most frequently played; consequently, as a preliminary call, two spades must be used more constantly than any declaration, except no-trump. experience bears out this argument, and it, therefore, seems that the "_a_" allegations are not supported by examination. it is obvious that the more original calls with which it is possible to equip a dealer, the more accurately can he distinguish for the benefit of his partner between the different classes of holdings. it therefore seems absurd to contend that the bid of two spades should be eliminated. (_b_) the argument presented by the "_b_" school is also at first quite convincing. take such a hand as spades x, x, x hearts ace, x, x diamonds king, knave, x clubs knave, x, x, x it is just too weak for a no-trump, but at first glance seems too strong for a spade. why, however, should it be too strong for a spade? it is under the average, which means the holding of the partner must be quite a bit better than the average to get one odd. if he have such a hand he will declare it in any event, and the dealer can then help. furthermore, this system does not point out any one suit as stopped, and, therefore, gives the minimum degree of information. it is practically saying, "i bid half a no-trump." it is quite doubtful whether the holding essential for such a bid can be properly limited and whether it will not tempt bidding with too great weakness. furthermore, it must be taken out. the third hand cannot allow his partner to play two spades, and if he be weak, all he can do under this system is to call three spades, which only makes matters worse, as it is sure to be doubled, and the dealer must in turn take that out. to do this with the hand above cited, he must either call two clubs with four to a knave, or one diamond with three to the king, knave. the trouble is evident--the result apt to be unfortunate. if the partner with average strength accept such a no-trump invitation, the contract cannot be fulfilled; while if he be strong, he will bid in any event, so where is the advantage of the call? for one purpose, however, this system of bid seems sound. if the dealer be a poor player and the third hand an expert, it is for the benefit of the partnership that the third hand be the declarer. when the dealer holds a real no-trumper, but wishes his partner to become the declarer, the two spade,--not invitation, but command,--has real merit, but as few players either concede their own inferiority or are willing to allow their partners to play a majority of the hands, this apparent argument in favor of the plan will not appeal to many, and will, therefore, seldom prove of service. (_c_) this comes nearer being logical, as it shows one spade trick, and, therefore, indicates help for a partner's royal, but with that exception, it is subject to the same objections as "_b_." it is troublesome to take out, and when compared with "_d_" gives extremely limited information. it may, however, be of distinct advantage for a player who does not approve of light no-trumpers. followers of the theory that the call of one no-trump means four or five sure tricks will certainly find "_c_" or even "_b_" an advantageous system, but the advantage of "getting to the no-trump first" is so manifest that the light declarations have become generally popular, and but few of the "i-will-not-declare-unless-i-have-the-'goods'" bidders are now to be found. if a player believe in calling no-trump with the minimum strength now considered sufficient, he has little use for either "_b_" or "_c_." it is self-evident that "_c_" cannot be used as often as "_b_," so the declarer who likes always to say something will prefer "_b_," but the bidder who wishes, when he calls, to have distinct value attached to his announcement, will elect in favor of "_c_" rather than "_b_," and for the same reason will find "_d_" the best system of all. (_d_) it is toward this system that the evolution of modern bidding is turning. true, two spades cannot be declared as frequently when "_d_" is used as when "_b_" or "_c_" is employed, but the "_d_" bid conveys information so comprehensive and important that one call is of greater value than several "_b_" or "_c_" bids, which, at best, furnish the partner with indefinite data. it makes the weakness take-out of the partner, namely, one royal, easy and logical, and in every way seems the soundest, safest, simplest, and most conducive to game-winning of all the plans suggested. it invites equally the two most important declarations, makes easy the position of the partner when he holds long, weak spades, and is doubtless destined, in a short time, to be the only two-spade system in use, unless it be found advisable to include in the repertory of the original declarer both "_b_" and "_d_." this can be readily accomplished by calling two spades for "_b_"; three spades for "_d_"; and four spades for the combination hereinafter given, for which the declaration of three spades is suggested. no serious objection can be advanced to this plan, except that it is somewhat complicated, and for a light no-trump bidder, possibly unnecessary. it is a totally new idea, but believed to be of sufficient value to entitle it to a trial. as it is impossible to declare or play intelligently when any doubt exists between partners regarding the convention employed, and as it is wise not to follow unsound theories, no further reference will be made to "_a_," "_b_," or "_c_" plans. the "_d_" system will be fully described, and all suggestions that hereinafter appear will be based upon the supposition that it is being used. the two spade bid[ ] the bid of two spades is a showing of spade strength, with a hand which does not contain spade length sufficient to justify the bid of one royal. [ ] see page , as to how the partner should treat this declaration; also table on pages and . the latter is the more advantageous declaration, and should be made whenever five spades with the requisite high-card strength are held. when, however, the hand contains the strength, but not the length, for a royal call, the bid of two spades is a most useful substitute. it may be made with three or four spades in any case in which, with five, one royal could be declared, except the solitary instance of holding ace and king of spades without another trick of any kind. a royal may be called with five, headed by ace, king, as, should the bid stand, the three small trumps would surely take one trick. every original offensive declaration is based upon a minimum of three tricks. this principle applies to the bid of two spades, and, therefore, a hand containing less than five spades, headed by ace, king, and no other winning card, is a one spade call, as it is one and one-quarter tricks below the average. when a player bids two spades, he sends his partner a message which gives information about as follows: "i have three or four spades with two or three high honors, and in addition, unless i have ace, king, and queen of spades, i have one other suit well stopped. my hand does not warrant a no-trump, because i have only two suits stopped. as i have not more than four spades, i do not wish to bid a royal; i am too strong to be satisfied with one spade, so i bid two for the purpose of encouraging you to call no-trump or royals." such a declaration certainly gives very accurate information, and should be used whenever such a hand occurs, but not under any other circumstances. the three spade bid[ ] the declaration of three spades by the dealer is a very recent idea and is also most informatory. it says: "partner, i am anxious to have royals the trump, but i cannot make that declaration now, as i have not the requisite high cards. i probably have not the ace of spades, and the chances are that i am without the king also. either because the balance of my hand is so strong that i fear i will be left in with one spade, or for some other reason, i do not wish to open with the defensive declaration and wait for a later round to show strength. you can count on me for five or more (probably more) spades and other strength." [ ] see page , as to how the partner should treat this declaration. when to bid two in either royals or hearts another case to consider in bidding by the dealer is when more than one of any game-scoring suit should be declared. the original theory of declaration was to withhold from the table as long as possible all information regarding the strength of the hand; therefore, to start with one in the real suit was regarded as most unwise, and to bid two would have been deemed the act of a lunatic. now, however, the original suit declaration of more than one is generally acknowledged to be an important part of the finesse of the skilled bidder, and such bidding, when justified by the hand, is recognized as eminently wise and proper. when the "two" and "three" original trump bids first came into vogue, they were used indiscriminately with great length, regardless of whether or not high cards headed the suit. the meaning of the bid was "do not take me out," and it was made under widely divergent conditions. no distinction was drawn between a hand which might be trickless as an aid to, or defense against, a no-trump declaration, and one which would produce seven or eight tricks under such circumstances. this kind of bidding was found to be much too confusing for the partner, and prevented him from rendering intelligent support. it is now realized that it is far wiser with length, no matter how great, but without commanding cards, to start with a spade and then bid the long suit on the succeeding round, thus practically photographing the hand for the partner and energetically waving the red flag for any declaration but the one suit. take, for example, such a hand as seven hearts, headed by queen, knave; ace, knave, and two clubs; two small diamonds, and no spades. an original two heart or one club call would grossly mislead the partner without being of any real advantage, but one spade followed by two hearts, or even three, if necessary, shows the exact situation. as long as the hand containing a long suit is not so strong that there is grave danger of its being left in with one spade, it should be started with the defensive declaration. when such great strength exists, a sound opening bid invariably presents itself. it, therefore, becomes apparent that an original suit bid of two or three, just as necessarily as a bid of one, should demonstrate the underlying principle of original suit declarations--namely, strength, as well as length. the incidental object in bidding more than one originally is to warn the partner that the dealer prefers to play the suit named rather than a doubtful no-trump; the main reason, however, is, if possible, to shut out adverse bidding. when there is great length in either spades or hearts and distinct weakness in the other, a two or three bid is most advisable. in that case, the strength in the other suit may be entirely with the adversaries and may be divided between them. they could readily find this out, if allowed to start with a cheap bid, but it frequently happens that neither is sufficiently strong to make a high declaration without assistance from his partner. when the dealer has sufficient strength in either royals or hearts to bid more than one, and, in addition, has considerable strength in the other suits, it is as a rule advisable to bid but one, as in that case he does not wish to frighten off adverse bidding, but prefers to encourage it with the hope that it may reach a point which will give him a safe and profitable double. six sure tricks with the possibility of more is the minimum strength for an original call of two hearts or two royals. when to bid three in either royals or hearts an original bid of three royals or hearts is justified by a hand in which sufficient strength exists to make it probable that the declaration will be successful, and which nevertheless cannot effectively defend against a high bid by the adversaries in the other suit. as a rule this is a two-suit hand, and in a genuine two-suiter it often happens that one side may be able to win eleven tricks in royals or hearts, while their adversaries can capture a similar number in the other. the three bid is, of course, a "shut-out" measure, and should be employed for that purpose only. seven sure tricks, with the possibility of more, is the minimum strength for an original call of three hearts or three royals. the two bid in diamonds or clubs the original bid of two in either diamonds or clubs with the score at love is a totally different character of declaration from two hearts or two royals. the dealer does not with this declaration say, "let me stay in and make game," but he does say, "i have a long suit (at least five cards) headed by ace, king, queen, with no considerable support on the side. (if i had another ace, i would bid no-trump.) now you know my exact hand." when there is a score which places diamonds or clubs within four tricks of game, the original bid of two or more in either suit is of exactly the same significance as a similar call of royals or hearts, with the score at love. how to declare two-suit hands the only remaining case of original declaration by the dealer is the hand with two suits, both of which are of sufficient strength to bid. as a general rule, it is wiser first to call the lower in value, and then to declare the higher on the next round. this gives the maximum amount of information, but should only be attempted when the hand clearly indicates that there will be another opportunity to bid, as otherwise the dealer may be left in with a non-game-producing declaration. the dealer must determine from the composition of his hand whether a second opportunity to bid is assured. when he is not very strong, the chances are that some one else will declare. when he is without a suit or has a singleton, it is a reasonably safe assumption that some one will be strong enough in that suit to call it. a few examples follow of hands which have the minimum strength to justify the various trump calls and also of hands which, by a small margin, fall short:-- hands in which a trump declaration is doubtful spades ace, king, x, x, x has five spades headed by ace hearts x, x, x and king. with royals trump has diamonds x, x, x two high-card tricks, and can clubs x, x take at least one with small cards. it is, therefore, a one royal bid. spades king, x, x, x has not high-card strength hearts king, knave, x, x, x sufficient for either a heart or diamonds x, x two-spade bid. one spade is the clubs x, x correct call. spades x, x complies with all the requirements hearts king, queen, x, x, x of a heart bid. diamonds ace, knave, x clubs x, x, x spades x, x, x has only four hearts; is, hearts king, queen, x, x therefore, a one spade call. diamonds ace, knave, x clubs x, x, x spades x, x, x has only four hearts, but has hearts ace, queen, knave, x sufficient high-card strength diamonds ace, queen, x to justify a heart bid. clubs x, x, x spades ace, queen, x, x a two spade bid; with one more hearts x, x, x spade, it would be one royal. diamonds ace, x, x clubs x, x, x spades ace, knave, x a two spade bid. with two more hearts x, x, x, spades, it would be one royal. diamonds king, queen, x clubs x, x, x, x spades ace, knave, x, x either two spades or one club hearts x, x could be bid, but the club is diamonds x, x distinctly preferable. clubs ace, queen, knave, x, x spades king, x, x, x a one spade bid, as it has not hearts ace, x, x two honors in spades. diamonds knave, x, x clubs knave, x, x spades queen, knave, ten, x, x, a three spade bid; cannot be x, x started as a royal without ace hearts ace, queen or king, and so strong, one spade diamonds king, knave, x might not be overbid. clubs king spades none a two or three heart bid. hearts ace, king, knave, ten, x, x diamonds queen, knave, ten clubs ace, x, x, x spades ace, king a one heart bid. so strong that hearts ace, king, knave, ten, a higher call is unnecessary, as x, x adverse bidding is desired. diamonds queen, knave, ten clubs king, queen spades ace, king, knave, ten, a three royals bid. important to x, x, x shut out adverse bidding. hearts none diamonds x, x clubs ace, king, x, x spades x, x a two diamonds bid. hearts king, x, x diamonds ace, king, queen, x, x, x clubs x, x spades ace, king, knave, x, x should either be bid one club hearts x and subsequently royals, or diamonds x, x started at two royals to shut out clubs ace, king, x, x, x other bidding. spades king, x while this hand has more than hearts ace, king, queen sufficient high-card strength to diamonds x, x, x, x justify an offensive bid, it is only clubs x, x, x, x a spade. two spades would mislead the partner as to length and strength of spades and might induce him to bid high royals; one heart would mislead him as to length of hearts; having, however, called one spade, the hand can advance any declaration of the partner and if the partner bid either clubs or diamonds, can call no-trump. spades king, knave, x, x, x, should not be bid one royal, as x, x that deceives partner as to hearts x, x high-card strength; two spades diamonds x, x invites a no-trump, which is not clubs x, x wanted. either three spades or one spade should be called. the hand, outside of spades, is so weak that the latter is the wiser bid. spades queen, ten, x, x spade honors are too weak for two hearts ace, x, x spades. one spade is the only diamonds x, x, x sound bid. clubs x, x, x spades x one club should be bid, followed, hearts queen, knave, ten, x, regardless of the partner's x, x, x declaration, with hearts. diamonds none clubs ace, king, x, x, x spades queen, knave, ten, x, three spades, and on the next x, x round, hearts, unless the partner hearts king, knave, ten, x, has bid _two_ royals. x, x diamonds none clubs x spades knave, ten, nine, x, x, x this very interesting hand affords hearts none a number of correct original bids. diamonds ace, knave, x one club, three spades, and one clubs ace, queen, knave, x spade are all sound; the latter is not apt to be left in, as a heart call is most probable, the long hand in that suit containing at least five. three suits being stopped, with more than an average hand, one no-trump is also technically correct. the chances are, however, that the hand will produce better results if the trump be royals, and as the call of one no-trump may stand, it is not wise to open the bidding that way. three spades seems the most advisable declaration, as it gives the information most important for the partner to receive. the risk in calling one spade, while slight, is totally unnecessary, and one club does not warn the partner not to bid hearts, if he have anything in spades. should three spades be called and the partner declare one heart, the dealer on the next round could try no-trump, but one club, followed by one heart from partner, would necessitate a royal from the dealer, as the absence of spades in the partner's hand is not then announced. in the event of the small club being transposed to a diamond, so that the hand contain four diamonds and three clubs, three spades would unquestionably be the most advantageous original call. iii second hand declarations the second hand bids under two totally dissimilar conditions. the dealer of necessity has declared and, either by a call of one spade, shown comparative weakness, or, by an offensive declaration, given evidence of strength. it is obvious that whether the dealer be strong or weak materially affects the question of how the second hand should bid, as it makes quite a variation in the number of tricks he has the right to expect to find in his partner's hand. this, however, is not the only, and, possibly, not the most important difference. when the dealer has called one spade, it is practically certain, should the second hand pass, that he will have another opportunity to enter the bidding. when, however, the dealer has declared a suit or no-trump, it is possible, if the second hand fail to declare, that no other bid will be made, and the declaration of the dealer will stand. it is, therefore, readily seen that, in the first case, the second hand is making an initial declaration; in the other, a forced bid. bidding over one spade when auction was in its infancy, the authorities advised the second hand, regardless of the character of his cards, to pass a declaration of one spade. the reason given was that the third hand would have to take his partner out, which might prove embarrassing, and that a bid by the second hand would release his left-hand adversary from this, possibly, trying position. modern auction developments have proven the futility of this idea. the third hand of to-day is not troubled by any obligation to take the dealer out of "one spade," and will not do so without considerable strength. should the second hand pass, with winning cards, the fourth hand may be the player who finds himself in the awkward position, and if, adopting the conservative course, he allow the spade declaration to stand, a good chance to score game may be lost by the failure of the second hand to avail himself of his opportunity. second hand silence is not now regarded as golden, but there is still some question as to the amount of strength required to make a declaration advisable. some authorities believe the second hand should pass, unless his cards justify him in expecting to make game. this theory was for a time very generally accepted, and even yet has a considerable following. experience, however, has convinced most of its advocates that it is unsound, and it is being rapidly abandoned. it is now conceded that the deal is quite an advantage, because of the opportunity it gives the dealer to strike the first blow. it follows that when the dealer has been obliged to relinquish his favorable position, it is the height of folly for the second hand, when he has the requisite strength, not to grasp it. furthermore, the dealer having shown weakness, the adverse strength is probably in the third hand. should the third hand call no-trump, the fourth hand will be the leader, and it will then be important for him to know which suit his partner desires opened. on the first round of the declaration, this can be indicated by a bid of one, but after the no-trump, it takes two, which, with the strength over the bidder, may be dangerous. the bid of the second hand, furthermore, makes the task of his left-hand adversary more difficult and may prevent a no-trump. it certainly aids the fourth hand--indeed, it may be just the information he needs for a game declaration. it seems clear, therefore, that the second hand should show his strength when he has the chance. he should not, however, carry too far the principles above outlined. it is just as fatal for the second hand as for the dealer, to deceive his partner. when to bid no-trump the rules governing an original offensive bid by the dealer apply to the second hand, after the dealer has called one spade, in practically every instance. the only possible exception is the holding necessary for a border-line no-trump. when the dealer, with the minimum strength, declares "one no-trump," he figures on the probability that his partner holds one-third of the high cards not in his own hand. when the second hand declares after "one spade," it is reasonable for him to count upon his partner for a slightly greater percentage of strength; therefore, he may bid no-trump a little more freely. to justify a no-trump by the dealer, he should have slightly better than average cards. the second hand, with exactly an average holding, may make the bid. the no-trump requirements,--namely, four suits stopped, three suits stopped and an ace, three king-queen or king-knave suits, or at least five solid diamonds or clubs and an ace,--which limit the declaration of the dealer, apply, however, with equal force to the second hand, and should never be disregarded. when to make a trump declaration the dealer, having declared one spade, a trump declaration of one, two, or three by the second hand is subject to exactly the same rules as in the case of the original call by the dealer. precisely the same reasoning holds good and the same danger is apt to arise, should the second hand digress from the recognized principles of safety, and bid a long suit which does not contain the requisite high cards. the second hand will have an opportunity to declare his weak suit of great length on the next round, and there is no necessity for deceiving the partner as to its composition by jumping into it with undue celerity. the double of one spade the question of when the second hand should double is covered in the chapter on "doubling," but as the double of one spade is really a declaration, rather than a double, it seems proper to consider it here, especially as it is of vital importance that it be accurately distinguished from the second hand bid of two spades, with which it is very frequently confused. many good players treat the two declarations as synonymous, although by so doing they fail to avail themselves of a simple and safe opportunity to convey valuable information. the reason for this apparent carelessness on the part of many bidders is that no scheme of declaring that accurately fits the situation has hitherto been generally understood. the idea that follows has been found to work well, and while as yet not sufficiently used to be termed conventional, seems to be growing in favor with such rapidity that its general adoption in the near future is clearly indicated. the second hand doubles one spade, with practically the same holding with which the dealer bids two spades, not with the expectation or wish that the double will stand, but as the most informatory action possible, and as an invitation to his partner to bid no-trumps or royals. in a general way his bid of two spades has the same significance, except that it more emphatically suggests a call of royals. by accurately distinguishing the two, the partner may declare with much greater effect. the double shows short spades (two or three), with at least two high honors in spades, and one other trick, or the ace of spades and two other tricks. the bid of two spades[ ] the bid of two spades shows exactly four spades and the same high-card holding which justifies doubling one spade. [ ] see bid of two spades by dealer, page . the second hand, when he doubles one, or bids two spades, says: "i have not three suits stopped, so i cannot bid no-trumps. while i have sufficient high-card strength to call one royal, i have less than five spades, and, therefore, am without sufficient length. i can, however, by this declaration, tell you the exact number of my spades, and i expect you to make the best possible use of the exceptionally accurate information with which you are furnished." as much care should be taken in selecting the correct declaration, when in doubt whether to bid two spades or double one, as when determining whether to call a royal or a heart. many a player doubles one spade with five or six, headed by knave, ten, apparently never realizing that with such a hand he wishes the trump to be royals, and yet, by his bid, is inviting his partner to call no-trump; or he bids two spades with the queen of spades and a couple of kings, and after his partner has declared a royal, or doubled an adverse no-trump, counting on the announced spade strength, says: "i realize i deceived you in the spades, but i had two kings about which you did not know." that sort of a declarer makes it impossible for his partner to take full advantage of any sound bid he may make. every second hand bidder should remember that when he doubles one spade or bids two, he tells his partner he has short or exactly four spades, as the case may be; that he has not three suits stopped, and that his minimum high-card holding is one of the following combinations:-- spades minimum strength in other suit ace, king, queen no strength required ace, king queen, knave, and one other ace, queen king, knave ace, knave ace, or king and queen, or king, knave, ten ace ace and king; ace, queen, knave; or king, queen, knave king, queen ace, or king and queen, or king, knave, ten king, knave, ten ace, or king and queen, or king, knave, ten king, knave ace and king; ace, queen, knave; or king, queen, knave queen, knave, ten ace and king; ace, queen, knave; or king, queen, knave in order that the distinction between the various second hand spade declarations may be clearly marked, take such a holding as spades ace, king hearts three small diamonds four small clubs ace only ten cards are mentioned, and the remaining three are either spades or clubs. _when making the the second the missing number of hand cards are spades in the hand should_ all clubs two double two clubs and one spade three double one club and two spades four bid two spades all spades five bid one royal the method suggested above is not the only plan for distinguishing between the double of one and the bid of two spades. some players think the double should mean a no-trump invitation, without any significance as to strength in the spade suit, and two spades should show two honors in spades. the same comment applies to this as to a similar declaration by the dealer; namely, that with the light no-trumpers now conventional, the invitation without spade strength is unnecessary and possibly dangerous. those, however, who wish to have the privilege of issuing such an invitation, are not obliged to deprive themselves of the undoubted and material advantage of being able, when strong in spades, to distinguish between a holding of short spades (two or three) and of exactly four. they can convey to their partners that very important information by using the following system:-- the bid the meaning double of one spade a no-trump invitation. no information as to spade strength two spades short spades with two high honors and one other trick three spades four spades with two high honors and one other trick four spades same as bid of three spades described immediately below this system is entirely new, is somewhat complicated, and is suggested for what it is worth for those who wish, without spade strength, to invite a no-trump. as the bid of four spades can be taken out by the partner with one royal, the system is not subject to objection, on the ground that four spades forces the partner to an unduly high declaration. the scheme is, as yet, merely an experiment, and of doubtful value except for the purpose of enabling a poor player to place with an expert partner the responsibility of the play. it is not hereinafter referred to, but the suggestions made regarding third and fourth hand bidding can be readily adapted to comply with its self-evident requirements. the bid of three spades[ ] the bid of three spades when made by the second hand shows a holding of at least five (probably six) spades, almost certainly without the ace and probably without the king, but with some side strength. it says, "i want this hand played with royals as the trump, but i cannot bid that suit now, as i have not the requisite high-card holding. either because the rest of my hand is so strong that i fear neither the third hand nor my partner can bid, or for some other good reason, i prefer now, rather than later, to give my partner all possible information." [ ] see page as to how the partner should treat this declaration. this system of bidding differentiates most accurately between the various lengths of spade holdings and enables the partner to elect between no-trump and royals, with an exact knowledge of the situation not otherwise obtainable. how second hand should bid after an offensive declaration when the dealer has made an offensive declaration, the second hand must bear in mind that it is possible this may be his last opportunity to declare. a declaration under such circumstances being what is very properly termed "forced," is of a totally different character from the "free" declaration heretofore considered, and is not limited by any hard-and-fast rules as to the presence of certain cards. for example, should the dealer bid one royal, and the second hand hold seven hearts, headed by queen, knave, he obviously must declare two hearts; otherwise, even if the fourth hand hold the ace and king of hearts, and other strength, the declaration of one royal might stand. the principle is that an offensive bid having been made, the declaration of the player following does not of necessity show high cards, but does suggest the ability of the declarer to successfully carry out the proposed contract. when the dealer has called a no-trump, the second hand is obliged either to pass, or declare two of some suit, or of no-trump. he must remember that against the dealer's no-trump he is the leader, and as the information regarding his strong suit will be given to his partner by the first card played, it is not important that he convey it by a bid. the no-trump may be only of minimum strength, but it may, on the other hand, be of much more than average calibre. the third hand has yet to be heard from, and if, as is possible, he have considerable strength in the suit that the second hand thinks of declaring, such a bid will offer an ideal opportunity for a profitable double. the second hand, therefore, should be somewhat diffident about bidding two in a suit. he should make the declaration only when his hand is so strong that in spite of the no-trump, there seems to be a good chance of scoring game, or he has reason to think he can force and defeat an adverse two no-trumps, or the no-trump bidder is a player who considers it the part of weakness to allow his declaration to be easily taken away, and can, therefore, be forced to dangerous heights. this is an opportunity for the second hand to use all his judgment. the dealer may be taking desperate chances with a weak no-trumper, and the balance of strength may be with his partner and himself, in which case it is important for him now to show his colors; yet he must always keep in mind that conservatism, in the long run, is the main factor of auction success. it is the ability (possibly "instinct" is the proper term) to act wisely in such cases that makes a bidder seem inspired. with a strong club or diamond holding and a reëntry, such a hand as, for example,-- spades two small hearts two small diamonds king, queen, knave, and two small clubs ace, knave, ten, nine it is generally unwise to bid second hand over one no-trump. there is little danger of the adversaries going game in no-trumps, but they may easily do so in hearts or royals. a second hand declaration in this position may point out to the opponents their safest route to game, and is not apt to prove of material benefit, as with such hand, eleven tricks against a no-trump is extremely improbable. a similar principle presents itself when the holding is five of any suit, headed by the four top honors, or even by the three top honors, and no other strength. with such cards, the no-trump can almost certainly be kept from going game, and if the partner be able to assist, the declaration may be defeated. if, however, two of that suit be called, the adversaries, not having it stopped, will not advance the no-trump, but if sufficiently strong, will declare some other suit in which they may score game. the shift holding six or more of a suit, headed by ace, king, queen, some writers have very properly called it an auction "crime" to double. the question arises, however, "what should the second hand do under such circumstances?" a bid of two in his solid suit will eliminate any chance of the no-trump being continued, and an adverse call of two no-trumps is just what the holder of the solid suit most desires, as he can double with comparative safety, being assured both of the success of the double and of the improbability that the declarer will be able to take himself out. there has been suggested to meet this emergency a declaration called the "shift." it consists in bidding two of a suit in which the declarer has little or no strength. for this purpose a suit of lower value than the solid suit, should, if possible, be selected. the theory of the bid is that either the original no-trump declarer or his partner, having the suit securely stopped, will bid two no-trumps and that the double can then be effectively produced. the advocates of the shift urge that should the worst happen, and the declaration be doubled, the player making it can then shift (this situation giving the declaration its name) to his real suit, and that no harm will ensue. the trouble is that a double under such circumstances is not the worst that can happen. when the shift was first suggested, players were not familiar with nor on the lookout for it. success, or at least the absence of failure, therefore, often attended its use. now, however, it is generally understood, and players will not either overbid or double a declarer they suspect of it. they merely allow him to meet his doom attempting, with weak trumps, to win eight tricks against an adverse no-trumper. while, therefore, at long intervals and under advantageous circumstances, the shift may be successfully utilized, against experienced players it is a dangerous expedient, especially for any one known to be fond of that character of declaration. the conservative and safe course to follow with a holding of the character described is to pass the one no-trump. when to bid two no-trumps over one no-trump the bid of two no-trumps over one no-trump is a more or less spectacular performance, that appeals to those fond of the theatrical. there are some hands that justify it, but it is safe to say that in actual play it is tried far more frequently than second hand holdings warrant. such a bid may be made with a strong suit--not of great length--and the three other suits safely stopped, with the four suits stopped twice, with a long solid club or diamond suit and two other suits stopped, or with some similar, and, under the circumstances, equally unusual combination. how to bid against two or three spades with two spades bid by the dealer, if the second hand have a suit he desires led against a no-trump, it is of the utmost importance that he indicate it to his partner. under such conditions, the second hand should declare a suit headed by king, queen, knave, or some similar combination, but should avoid bidding a long, weak suit, as the no-trump declarer may hold ace, queen of it, and the partner may, by the call, be invited to lead his king into the jaws of death. of course, if the hand contain reëntries, it may be advisable to make such a bid, although even then it may advantageously be delayed until the second round, since against a two spade declaration the second hand is sure of having another opportunity to speak. with three spades declared by the dealer, the second hand expects a royal from the third hand. he knows that he will have another chance to bid, but, as he will then probably have to go much higher, it is just as well not to wait if the hand contain any advantageous declaration. when to bid no-trump over a suit the question of what amount of strength warrants the second hand in bidding one no-trump, after a suit has been declared by the dealer, is somewhat difficult to accurately answer. it goes without saying that to justify a no-trump under such circumstances, the second hand must have much better than merely an average holding. the suit that the dealer has bid should be safely stopped, and when the declarer has only one trick in that suit, at least four other tricks should be in sight. occasionally cases arise in which the second hand may bid one no-trump over a suit declaration without the suit that has been declared being stopped, but these are rare and such a call should only be made with unusual strength, as it gives the partner the right to assume that the adverse suit is stopped and he may consequently advance the no-trump to dangerous figures. it is probably a good rule that a no-trump should not be called over a declared suit, that suit not being stopped, with a holding of less than six sure tricks. even with one stopper in the suit bid, it is generally better to declare either royals or hearts in preference to no-trump, provided the hand contain sufficient length and strength to warrant such declaration. iv third hand declarations third hand declarations can best be considered by dividing them into three classes:-- . when the dealer has called one spade, and the second hand passed. . when the dealer has made an offensive declaration, and the second hand passed. . when the second hand has declared. the distinction between these three situations is so clearly drawn that each is really a separate and distinct subject. they will be taken up _seriatim_. when the dealer has called one spade, and the second hand passed in the old days, when the dealer's "one spade" was without significance, the third hand was always obliged to declare, in order to give the dealer the opportunity to get back into the game, as it was possible that he had great strength. now the third hand recognizes that there is not the least obligation upon him to bid, and that it is inadvisable for him to do so unless his hand be so strong that, even with a weak partner, game is in sight, or unless it be important for him to indicate to the dealer what to lead if the fourth hand make the final declaration. should the third hand pass, and the fourth hand also pass, allowing the one spade declaration to stand, the liability of the declarer cannot exceed points, but if the third hand bid, the liability becomes unlimited. while the dealer and second hand both have the right to assume that their partners have an average percentage of the remaining cards, the third hand is not justified in any such presumption, after the dealer, by bidding one spade, has virtually waved the red flag. true it is, a similar warning has appeared on the right, but if both danger signals are to be believed, the only inference is that the strength is massed on the left. the bidding by the third hand must, therefore, be of a very different character from that of the dealer or second hand. he should not venture a no-trump unless he have four sure tricks with the probability of more and at least three suits stopped. when in doubt whether to declare no-trump or a suit, it is generally wise for him to select the latter. third hand suit declarations should be made under either of two conditions:-- (_a_) when the hand is so strong that there appears to be at least a fair chance for game with the suit he names as trump. (_b_) when he expects a no-trump from the fourth hand and wishes to indicate to his partner the lead he desires. in the former case, it is often good policy for the third hand to start with a bid of two. this serves a double purpose, as it shows the dealer the character of the hand and helps to shut out an adverse declaration. if the main idea of the bid be to indicate a lead, it is advisable to make it on the first round, when one can be called, rather than wait until it becomes necessary to bid two, which, against a no-trump, may prove dangerous. if the third hand have any such combination as king, queen, knave, with one or more others of that suit, and a reëntry, a declaration at this stage is most important, as unless the partner open that suit, it will probably never be established against a no-trump. even if the long suit be headed by queen, knave, it may be important to show it, as the partner may hold an honor, in which case the suit may be quickly established. when the long suit is headed by a knave, it should not be shown unless the hand contain more than one reëntry. it may be so necessary for the third hand, in the position under consideration, to indicate a lead that no absolute strength requirement, such as a fixed number of tricks, is essential for a bid. it frequently keeps the adverse no-trumper from going game to have the right suit called originally--otherwise, the dealer has to lead his own suit, and when the third hand is without strength in it, such a lead greatly facilitates the declarer. when the dealer has shown strength and the second hand passed one of the cardinal principles of harmonious team play is that when the partner has made a suit declaration which is apt to result in game, it is inadvisable to "take him out" merely with the hope of obtaining a slightly higher score. suppose the partner has declared a heart and the third hand holds three hearts, headed by the ace, four clubs headed by the king, no diamonds, and five spades with three honors. of course, the partner may have an honor and some other spades, and, therefore, a bid of royals may produce a higher count than hearts, but that is only "may." the declarer certainly has heart strength, and the third hand, valuable assistance. it takes the same number of tricks to score game in each suit. why, therefore, risk the game for a paltry addition to the trick and honor score? one of the most remarkable features of auction is the extraordinary desire, exhibited by a large percentage of players, to play the combined hands. this comment is not applicable to a strong player, who, for the good of the partnership, is anxious to get the declaration himself, in order that during the play two or three tricks may not be presented to the adversaries, but is intended for the general run of cases where the partners are of equal, or nearly equal, ability. a player, before determining to overbid his partner's call, should remember that one of the greatest pleasures of the game is facing the dummy, especially when the declaration is apt to be successful, and he should assure himself beyond peradventure that, in bidding his own suit in preference to advancing his partner's, he is not in any way influenced by his own selfish desires. he should be sure that, with the positions reversed, he would thoroughly approve of just such action by his partner; and, if his partner be the better player, he should also convince himself that his suit is at least two tricks stronger, as his partner's superior play probably makes a difference of at least one in favor of his declaration. it should be put down as axiomatic that, when a partner takes out a heart or royal with a bid of another suit, he denies strength in the suit originally declared and announces great length with probably four honors in the suit he names; also, that when a heart or royal is taken out by a no-trump declaration (except with a four-ace holding), not only is weakness in the declared suit announced, but also the fact that every other suit is safely stopped. this must not be understood as a suggestion that a partner should seldom be overbid. quite the reverse. the informatory school of modern bidding, which attempts, as nearly as possible, to declare the two hands as one, has as an essential feature the overbidding of the partner in an infinite number of cases. it is against the foolish and selfish instances which occur with great frequency that this protest is directed. when "two spades" has been declared when the dealer bids two spades, he gives explicit information regarding the contents of his hand.[ ] the third hand is, therefore, practically in the position of having twenty-six cards spread before him, and the question of what he should declare is not apt to be at all confusing. [ ] see page . if his hand be trickless, or practically so, he must bid one royal, as that reduces the commitment from two tricks to one, and increases the possible gain per trick from points to . it is a noncommittal bid, as it may be made with great weakness or moderate strength. with considerable spade strength, however, two royals should be declared. when the third hand has other than spade strength, he will, of course, bid in accordance with his holding, but it goes without saying that he should make the best possible use of the accurate information he has received. with four strong spades, even with sufficient additional strength to justify a weak no-trump, a royal is generally preferable, and with more than four spades, two royals is unquestionably the bid, regardless of the strength of the remainder of the hand, unless, of course, it contain the much looked for, but seldom found, four aces. when "three spades" has been declared when the dealer has called three spades, the third hand has quite accurate data with which to work.[ ] in this case, even if his hand be trickless, he must bid one royal, as his partner's three spades might otherwise be left in by the fourth hand. with some strength in other suits, one royal is his bid, unless his cards justify him in telling the dealer that, in spite of the announced long, weak spades, the combined hands are apt to sail more smoothly and on more peaceful seas to the port called "game" by the no-trump than by the suggested royal route. [ ] see page . should the third hand overbid three spades with either hearts, diamonds, or clubs, he shows great strength in the suit named and absolute weakness in spades; the bid of two royals shows assistance in spades, and probably other strength. when "one club" or "one diamond" has been declared when the dealer has called one club or one diamond, the third hand (the score being love) must realize that going game with the declaration made is most unlikely. he should, therefore, overbid it whenever he has sufficient strength to justify such action. with strong hearts or spades, he should bid hearts or royals; without such heart or spade strength, but with three tricks and two suits stopped, he should bid no-trump. in the rare case in which game seems probable with the club or diamond declaration, he should advance his partner's call to two or three. when "two diamonds" or "two clubs" has been declared when the dealer has called two clubs or two diamonds with the score at love, the third hand should allow the declaration to stand, unless his heart or spade holding be such that he believes, with the assistance of his partner's club or diamond suit, he may win the game; or unless able to bid two no-trumps. with the information that his partner has an established suit, it does not require much strength to justify the two no-trumps call. with all the other suits stopped, no matter how weakly, the bid is imperative. with two securely stopped, it is advisable, but with only one stopped, it is entirely out of the question. with a score in the trick column, the third hand will treat either a one or two club or diamond declaration just as, with the score at love, he treats a similar call in hearts or royals. when "one heart" or "one royal" has been declared when the dealer bids one heart or one royal, the third hand should not overbid unless without strength in the declaration. by this is meant not only the absence of high cards, but also the absence of length. with four small hearts or spades, and that suit bid by the dealer, it is almost invariably the part of wisdom to allow it to remain. the third hand should bid one royal over one heart, or two hearts over one royal with strength sufficient to justify an original call in that suit, and distinct weakness in the partner's declaration. the theory is that the third hand knows he cannot help his partner's declaration, while it is possible his partner may help him. when the third hand has such strength in hearts or royals that he would advance his partner's declaration of either, in the event of an adverse bid, it is wise for him to bid two on the first round, in order, if possible, to shut out such adverse declaration and the information thereby given to the leader. the third hand should call two diamonds or clubs over one heart or royal when he holds a long and practically solid suit. the original bidder can then use his judgment whether to let this declaration stand, continue his own, or try two no-trumps. with a score, two clubs or diamonds may be bid more freely over the partner's heart or royal. the third hand should not bid a no-trump over the dealer's heart or royal, unless he have the three remaining suits safely stopped, or his hand contain solid diamonds or clubs, and one other suit stopped. when "two hearts" or "two royals" has been declared the declaration of two hearts or two royals is practically a command to the partner not to alter the call. it indicates at least six sure tricks, probably more, and a valuable honor count, in the declarer's hand, provided the suit named be the trump. the third hand should only change such a declaration when convinced beyond reasonable doubt that his holding is so unusual that he is warranted in assuming the responsibility of countermanding the order that has issued. weakness in the trump and strength in some other suit is far from being a sufficient justification, as the chances are that the dealer is weak in the suit of the third hand, and called "two" mainly for the purpose of keeping it from being named. to overbid two royals or hearts with three diamonds or clubs is obviously absurd, unless holding _five honors_ and such other strength that game is assured. to overbid two hearts with two royals, or two royals with three hearts, is almost tantamount to saying, "partner, i know you are trying to shut out this declaration, but i am strong enough to insist upon it." such action is only justified by or honors, and a sure game. to overbid two hearts or two royals with two no-trumps, as a rule, means aces. high-card strength assures the game in the partner's call with probably a big honor score; only the premium of makes the change advisable. with strength, in the case under consideration, the third hand should advance his partner's call with much greater confidence than if it were an ordinary bid of one. he should not worry even if absolutely void of trumps; in that suit his partner has announced great length as well as commanding cards; aces and kings of the other suits are what the declarer wishes to find in his hand, and with them he should bid fearlessly. the same line of comment applies with even greater force to the action of the third hand when the dealer has bid three royals or three hearts. when to overbid a partner's no-trump when the dealer bids one no-trump and the third hand holds five or more of any suit, one of the most disputed questions of auction presents itself. the conservative player believes that with five hearts or spades, inasmuch as but one more trick is required to secure game, it is safer to bid two hearts or royals, except, of course, when the third hand, in addition to a five-card suit, has the three remaining suits stopped. the theory is that if the combined hands are very strong, the winning of the game is absolutely assured with the suit in question the trump, but may possibly be lost in the no-trump by the adversaries running a long suit. the chance of a hostile suit being established is unquestionably worthy of the consideration of the third hand whenever, with great strength in hearts or spades, he allows his partner's no-trump to stand. five adverse tricks prevent a game. in the majority of cases, the leader opens a five-card suit. when it is not stopped, the game is saved by the adversaries before the powerful no-trump hand can get in; if it be stopped but once, the game is still in grave danger unless the declarer take nine tricks before losing the lead. with a heart or royal declaration the adversaries are not apt to take more than two tricks in their long suit, which, at no-trumps, may produce four or five (in rare cases six), and yet the trump bid requires only one more trick for game. it is unquestionably true that, with great strength, the game will be won nine times out of ten with the no-trump declaration, but in every such case it is absolutely "cinched" by the heart or royal call. it is further argued that, when the combined hands are not quite so strong, a game is more frequently won with the trump declaration, as the small trumps are sure to take tricks, but the long suit may not be established in the no-trumper. the believers in taking a chance, however, view the situation from the opposite standpoint. their argument is that the game requires one more trick, when a trump is declared, but does not count as much, that the original declarer may be weak in the suit named, yet strong in all the others, and therefore, with a good hand, it is wiser to leave the no-trump alone. it is possible that the question is one rather of the temperament of the player than of card judgment. it is susceptible of almost mathematical deduction that five or more cards of a long suit are of greater trick-taking value when that suit is the trump than when no-trump is being played, and it does not require any argument to substantiate the proposition that the slight difference in the score, between the total in the trick and honor columns netted from a game made without a trump and a game made with royals or hearts, is so infinitesimal as not to be worthy of consideration. nevertheless, players possessed of a certain temperament will, for example, refuse to overbid a partner's no-trump with ace, king, ten, and two small spades, king of hearts, and ace of diamonds, on the ground that the hand is too strong, although the no-trump bid may have been thoroughly justified by such a holding as ace, queen, knave, of hearts; king, queen, knave, of diamonds; and queen, knave, of spades. in that event it is practically sure the adversaries will open the club suit and save the game before the declarer has a chance to win a trick. this and similar situations occur with sufficient frequency to make them well worthy of consideration, and when such a hand fails to make game, it certainly seems to be a perfect example of what might be termed "useless sacrifice." in spite of all this, however, probably as long as the game lasts, in the large proportion of hands in which the taking-out does not make any difference, the declarer will say, "with such strength you should have let my no-trump alone"; or the dummy will learnedly explain, "i was too strong to take you out." it would be in the interest of scientific play, if, except when all suits are stopped, the theory, "too strong to take the partner out of the no-trump," had never been conceived, and would never again be advanced. the same comment applies with equal force to the remark so often heard, "partner, i was too weak to take you out." this generally emanates from a third hand who has a five- or six-card suit in a trickless hand. he does not stop to realize that his hand will not aid his partner's no-trump to the extent of a single trick, but that in a trump declaration, it will almost certainly take two tricks. the trump bid only increases the commitment by one, so it is obviously a saving and advantageous play. furthermore, it prevents the adversaries from running a long suit. it, also, in clubs and diamonds, is a real danger signal, and, in the probable event of a bid by the fourth hand, warns the partner away from two no-trumps. the advocates of the weakness take-out realize that in exceptional instances the play may result most unfortunately. when the dealer has called a border-line no-trump, without any strength in the suit named by the third hand, and one of the adversaries has great length and strength in that suit, a heavy loss is bound to ensue, which may be increased by the advance of the bid from one to two. this case is, indeed, rare, and when it does turn up the chances are that the declarer will escape a double, as the holder of the big trumps will fear the dealer may be able to come to the rescue if he point out the danger by doubling the suit call. the fact, however, that a play at times works badly is not a sufficient argument against its use, if in the majority of cases it prove advantageous, and that is unquestionably true of the weakness take-out. the strength take-out, above advocated, applies only to spades and hearts. with diamonds and clubs, at a love score, the distance to go for game is in most cases too great to make it advisable, but the weakness take-out should be used equally with any one of the four suits, as it is a defensive, not an offensive, declaration. with a score, clubs and diamonds possess the same value that hearts and spades have at love, and should be treated similarly. when to overbid with strong clubs the question of whether the third hand, with strong clubs, should overbid his partner's no-trump has aroused considerable discussion. the argument in favor of such a declaration in clubs, which does not apply to any other suit, is that the difference between a strength and a weakness overbid can be made apparent by calling three and two respectively, and yet the show of strength will not force the dealer higher than two no-trumps, when his hand is such that the announcement that the third hand holds strong clubs, but nothing else, makes the return to no-trump advisable. on this basis of reasoning some believe in calling three clubs whenever an otherwise trickless third hand contains five or more clubs headed by ace, king, queen. this, it is conceded, only results advantageously when the no-trump has been called with one suit unguarded, and clubs is one of the protected suits. when the no-trump has been declared with such a hand as spades ace, king, x hearts x diamonds ace, king, knave, x, x clubs knave, ten, x, x the employment of such a system of declaration is exceptionally advantageous; as the game is assured in clubs, while if the no-trump be left in, the adversaries will probably save it by making all their hearts before the declarer secures the lead. it is admitted that this case is somewhat unusual, but the advocates of the system, conceding this, argue it is advantageous to have this bid in the repertory, and, in the exceptional instance, to obtain the benefit, which is bound to ensue from its use. the contention is that it can do no harm, with such a club holding, to force the partner to two no-trumps, if he have all the other suits stopped, and the fact that three clubs is called with strength more clearly accentuates the principle that the two club takeout means nothing but weakness. admitting the force of this argument, and conceding that the system advocated should be universally adopted were there not a wiser use for the three club take-out, first brings forth the question of whether the case does not more frequently arise in which the long club holding of the third hand is headed by king and queen, and is it not much more probable, when the third hand has _long_ clubs, that the no-trump maker has the suit stopped with the ace than with _four_ headed by knave, ten? it must be remembered that the three club take-out with ace, king, queen, at the head of five or more, is only advantageous when the no-trump has been called with a hand in which only three suits are stopped, of which the club is one. if the club be the suit unstopped, the call merely forces an advance in the no-trump. if, however, the convention be to use three clubs to overbid the partner's no-trump only when holding an otherwise trickless hand which contains either at least five clubs headed by king, queen, knave, or at least six headed by king, queen, would not the number of instances in which the call proves of benefit appreciably increase, and would not every reason applicable in the former case be even more forceful in the latter? it cannot be questioned that the partner having called no-trump, the third hand is more likely to hold either five clubs headed by king, queen, knave, or six headed by king, queen, than five or more headed by ace, king, queen. the greater probability that the dealer will have the ace than four headed by knave, ten, is just as obvious. take such a no-trump declaration as spades ace, king, knave hearts x, x diamonds ace, king, knave, x, x clubs ace, x, x and the advantage of the proposed system becomes apparent. the game, which is almost sure to be lost by the heart lead in no-trump, becomes almost a certainty with clubs trump. when this plan is used and the dealer has the other suits stopped but has not the ace of clubs, he can easily decide whether to go to two no-trumps, as he can estimate from the length of his club holding whether he can establish the long clubs or the adverse ace will block the suit. when the latter is the case, he should not bid two no-trumps unless his own hand justify it, as the third hand has announced the absence of a reëntry. take such a no-trump declaration as spades ace hearts ace, king, x diamonds ace, king, x, x, x, x clubs x, x, x and suppose the third hand hold one or two small diamonds; six clubs, headed by king, queen, knave, and no other face card. in such a case clubs is the call most likely to produce game. another and possibly the wisest theory of the three club take-out, is that it should be reserved, not for any one particular holding which may not occur once in a year, but for any hand in which the declarer wishes to say, "partner, my cards are such that i believe we can go game in clubs; with this information, use your judgment as to whether or not to return to your more valuable declaration." a new plan for overbidding in this connection, a new scheme of take-out is respectfully called to the attention of the thoughtful and studious auction players of the country. it is not in general use, is not recognized as conventional, has never been given a satisfactory trial, and is, therefore, suggested merely as an experiment worthy of consideration. the idea is that when a partner has called one no-trump, second hand having passed, the third hand with five or more spades or hearts, unless he have four suits stopped, should bid his long suit in the following manner: if the hand be weak, the bid should be two; if strong, three. this warns the dealer, when two is called, to let the declaration alone, as it is defensive. on the other hand, when three is bid, the dealer knows that his partner is strong, and he may then use his judgment as to the advisability of allowing the bid to stand or going back to the no-trump, which he can do without increasing the number of tricks of the commitment. it must be remembered that, with great strength, it is as easy to make three no-trumps as one, three are needed for game, and, therefore, nothing is lost by the expedient. playing under this system, should the third hand hold four or five honors in his suit, and earnestly desire to play it for the honor score, it would be a perfectly legitimate strategy to deceive the partner temporarily by bidding two, instead of three. when to overbid one no-trump with two no-trumps when the dealer has bid one no-trump and the second hand passed, the third hand, much more frequently than most players imagine, should call two no-trumps. it must be remembered that should the third hand pass, the fourth hand can, by bidding two of a suit, indicate to his partner the lead he desires. this places the adversaries in a much more advantageous position than if the leader open his own suit without information from his partner. the bid of two no-trumps by the third hand generally prevents the fourth hand from declaring, as it necessitates a call of three, which, sitting between two no-trump bidders, is, in most cases, too formidable a contract to undertake. it is, therefore, advisable for the third hand, on the first round, to advance, from one to two, his partner's no-trump declaration, in every instance in which, in the event of an adverse bid, he is strong enough to call two no-trumps. this convention, while as yet comparatively new, and, therefore, but little used, works most advantageously, as it frequently shuts out the only lead which can keep the no-trump from going game. it is important for every player to understand the scheme, and never to overlook an opportunity to make the declaration. what third hand should bid when second hand has declared this situation involves so many possibilities that it is hard to cover it with fixed rules. the third hand in this position should reason in very much the same manner as the second hand, after the dealer has made a declaration showing strength.[ ] there is this distinct difference, however: in the case of the second hand, he only knows that the dealer has sufficient strength to declare, and is without any means, other than the doctrine of chances, of estimating the strength of his partner's hand. the third hand, however, in the situation under consideration, is not only advised that one adversary has sufficient strength to declare, but also knows whether his partner's cards justify an initial bid. when the dealer has shown strength, he can be counted upon for at least the minimum that his bid has evidenced; when he has called "one spade," it would not be wise to expect him to win more than one trick. [ ] see page . the third hand should consider these features of the situation, and satisfy himself, when his partner has not shown strength, that he is taking a wise risk in bidding over an adverse declaration. to justify a call of no-trump over a trump, he should either have the declared suit stopped twice or, if it be stopped but once, he should also have solid clubs or diamonds. when the dealer has declared hearts or royals, and the second hand made a higher suit call, it is, as a rule, wiser for the third hand to advance his partner's declaration than to venture a no-trump unless he have the adverse suit stopped twice. when the dealer has bid no-trump and the second hand two of any suit, the third hand should not bid two no-trump unless he have the declared suit stopped and at least one other trick. without the declared suit stopped, he should not bid two no-trump unless his hand be so strong that he can figure with almost positive certainty that the no-trump bid of his partner could not have been made without the adverse suit being stopped. when in doubt, under such conditions, as to the advisability of either bidding two no-trumps or some suit, the latter policy is generally the safer. when the dealer has called no-trump and the second hand two of a suit, the third hand must realize that his partner has already been taken out, and therefore, under no circumstances, should he bid in this situation, except for the purpose of showing strength; or with the conviction that, aided by his partner's no-trump, he can fulfil the contract he is proposing. for example, dealer bids one no-trump; second hand, two royals; third hand holds six hearts, headed by the knave, without another trick. under these conditions, a heart bid would be most misleading, and probably most damaging. the dealer may not be able to help the heart declaration, and he may very properly be encouraged by it to believe that the third hand has considerable strength, especially in hearts, but is very weak in spades. if, in consequence of this supposed information, he return to his no-trump declaration, or double an adverse three royals, the result is apt to be extremely disastrous. the third hand must distinguish this case carefully from the situation in which the dealer has bid one no-trump and the second hand passed. with the combination mentioned, he should then, of course, most unhesitatingly take out his partner by bidding two hearts; that bid, under such circumstances, not showing strength. another situation that arises more frequently than would be supposed, and the advantage of which it is most important for the third hand to grasp, is when the dealer has bid no-trump; the second hand, two of a suit; and the third hand, without the adverse suit stopped, holds great strength in clubs, with such a hand that he desires his partner to go to two no-trumps; provided he have the adversaries' suit stopped. the bid of three clubs does not increase the no-trump commitment which the partner is obliged to make, and is much safer than for the third hand to bid two no-trumps without the adverse suit stopped. it is a suggestion to the partner to bid two no-trumps, provided he can take care of the suit which the second hand has declared. v fourth hand declarations some of the principles that have been considered in connection with certain second and third hand bids are also applicable to similar fourth hand declarations. these are easily pointed out, but the bidding by the fourth hand presents other problems much more difficult. each player who has an opportunity to declare materially complicates the situation, and makes it harder to accurately describe. as three players declare or pass before the fourth hand has his turn, it is almost impossible to anticipate every contingency that may arise. the best that can be done is to subdivide fourth hand declarations as follows:-- . when the dealer's defensive declaration has been the only bid. . when the only offensive declaration has been made by the dealer. . when the only offensive declaration has been made by the second hand. . when the only offensive declaration has been made by the third hand. . when the dealer has made a defensive, and both the second and third hand, offensive declarations. . when the dealer and second hand have made offensive declarations and the third hand passed. . when the dealer and third hand have made offensive declarations, and the second hand passed. . when all three players have made offensive declarations. . when the dealer's defensive declaration has been the only bid as a general rule, when this situation arises, the fourth hand holds a combination of cards which makes his bid unmistakable. the other three players having shown weakness, or, at least, the absence of offensive strength, the fourth hand almost invariably has a no-trumper of such strength that his pathway is plain. of course, his hand may, by reason of spade or heart length, call for a royal or heart declaration in preference to a no-trumper, but nevertheless, under these circumstances, it is generally easy for the fourth hand to declare. when, however, the exceptional case occurs, in which the fourth hand finds himself, no previous offensive declaration having been made, without a plainly indicated bid, it is difficult to lay down a rule for his guidance. three players have shown weakness, and yet his cards assure him that one or more of them is either unduly cautious, has passed by mistake, or is trying to deceive. if the strength be with his partner, it may be that, by passing, he will lose an opportunity to secure the game. on the other hand, if the adversaries have the winning cards, he may, by declaring, allow them to make a game declaration, whereas they are now limited to an infinitesimal score. he must also consider that, should he pass, the maximum he and his partner can secure is points in the honor column. this is a position to which conventional rules cannot apply. the individual characteristics of the players must be considered. the fourth hand must guess which of the three players is the most apt to have been cautious, careless, or "foxy," and he should either pass or declare, as he decides whether it is more likely that his partner or one of the two adversaries is responsible for his predicament. it sometimes, although rarely, happens that the strength not in the fourth hand is so evenly divided that no one of the three has been justified in making an offensive declaration, and yet the fourth hand is not very strong. when this occurs, a clever player can as a rule readily and accurately diagnose it from the character of his hand, and he should then pass, as he cannot hope to make game on an evenly divided hand, while as it stands he has the adversaries limited to a score of points for each odd trick, yet booked for a loss of if they fail to make seven tricks; , if they do not make six. in other words, they are betting to on an even proposition. such a position is much too advantageous to voluntarily surrender. it is hardly conceivable that any one would advocate that a fourth hand player with a sure game in his grasp, instead of scoring it, should allow the adverse "one spade" to stay in for the purpose of securing the bonus. inasmuch, however, as this proposition has been advanced by a prominent writer, it is only fair that its soundness should be analyzed. the argument is that the score which is accumulated in going game is generally considerably less than , averaging not over , and that, therefore, the bonus of is more advantageous. the example is given of a pair who adopted these tactics, and on one occasion gathered eight successive hundreds in this manner, eventually obtaining a rubber of approximately points instead of one of about . the answer to any such proposition is so self-evident that it is difficult to understand how it can be overlooked. it is true that a game-going hand does not average over points, which is less than , but a game is half of a rubber. winning a rubber is worth , without considering the scored by the adversaries, if they win. a game, at its lowest valuation, is, therefore, worth plus , or more than the . examining the case cited, it will be seen that even had the pair, who are so highly praised for their self-control in scoring eight hundred before going game, known that for ten successive hands they would hold all the cards, and, therefore, that they had nothing to fear from adverse rubber scores of , they, nevertheless, made but poor use of their wonderful opportunities. if, instead of accumulating that , they had elected to win five rubbers, they would have tallied at the most moderate estimate five times , or , in place of the of which they boast. if, however, during that run of luck the adversaries had held two game hands--say, the th and th, the exponents of self-control would have made on the ten hands about points, instead of approximately , which would have been secured by players who realized the value of a game. in the event of an even and alternate division of game hands, the non-game winners at the end of twelve hands would have lost three rubbers and won none, as compared with an even score had they availed themselves of their opportunities. it is, therefore, easily seen that the closer the investigation, the more apparent becomes the absurdity of the doctrine that it is advantageous to sacrifice a game for a score of . . when the only offensive declaration has been made by the dealer in this case the fourth hand, before making a declaration in any manner doubtful, should remember that his partner has, by failing to declare, announced that he has not sufficient strength to overbid the dealer. this does not, however, signify that he has a trickless hand, and the fourth hand may even yet count upon him for some support. there are two features--both of importance--one weighing in favor, the other against, a declaration under these circumstances. one is, that the strength being over the fourth hand, he is placed in the worst possible position in the play, and there is more probability of his being doubled than under any other conditions. if he be doubled, it is not likely that his partner can take him out or prove of material assistance, as the double is apt to come in the case in which the partner has passed with a practically trickless hand. on the other hand, the lead is with the partner, and especially when a no-trump has been declared, it may be of great advantage to indicate the suit which should be led. the fourth hand should, therefore, if possible avoid placing a large bonus in the adversaries' column, yet he should not hesitate to take a chance when his hand indicates that the lead of a certain suit will be likely to save game. in the event of a dealer's declaration which is not apt to produce game coming up to the fourth hand, he should pass, unless his holding convince him that he will be able to go game should he declare. . when the only offensive declaration has been made by the second hand in this situation the fourth hand is in much the same position as the third hand when the dealer has made an offensive declaration, and the second hand passed.[ ] the only difference is that the fourth hand knows that both of the adversaries are apparently weak, whereas in the previous case the third hand had that information as to only one. the fourth hand can, therefore, act much more freely, and should, if in any way possible, increase a declaration which is not apt to result in game to one of the three game-producing bids. at a love score, a club or diamond declaration should be allowed to stand in two cases only:-- (_a_) weakness, which does not make any further declaration reasonable. (_b_) a combination of cards which makes it probable the club or diamond call will result in game. [ ] see page . when the second hand has declared no-trump, royals, or hearts, his bid should be accorded exactly the same treatment that a similar call of the dealer receives from the third hand.[ ] [ ] see page . neither a two nor three spade declaration made by the partner should under any circumstances, be passed. in these cases, the fourth hand can have little doubt what course to pursue. his partner's hand is spread before him almost as clearly as if exposed upon the table.[ ] with weakness, or with a moderate hand, he should bid one royal, this being merely a takeout, and not giving any indication of strength. in this position he is placed in the same situation as the third hand when the dealer has made a similar declaration,[ ] and these two propositions are the only instances in the modern game of auction where a player without strength is required to assume the offensive. no matter how weak the hand may be, the fourth hand must declare one royal, so as to reduce the contract, and also to increase the advantage obtained from its fulfillment. the partner must read "one royal" to be an indication of weakness, or, at least, not a showing of strength. [ ] see pages - inc. [ ] see pages , , . with spade length or strength, the fourth hand, especially in the case of the three spade declaration, should bid two royals. if he declare anything but royals, he says to the partner, "i realize perfectly what you have, but my hand convinces me that the declaration i am making will be more advantageous than the one you have suggested." in the event of one spade doubled coming to the fourth hand, he is also accurately informed as to his partner's holding, and suggestion.[ ] in this case, it is the rare hand which does not warrant an offensive declaration. [ ] see pages , . it is not so great an advantage for the fourth hand to call two no-trumps over one no-trump declared by the second hand as it is for the third hand to similarly overbid the dealer.[ ] the reason for this is, that the main purpose of this overbid by the third hand is to prevent the fourth hand from indicating the suit he desires his partner to lead, but the dealer, having already declared weakness, is not so likely to be able to make a bid which will in any way interfere with the success of a no-trumper. it is, however, not at all impossible that a declaration of the dealer's long weak suit, especially when the second hand has an honor or two of it, may be awkward for the no-trump declarer, and therefore, with the holding which justifies it, the bid of two no-trumps, under these conditions, is distinctly commendable. [ ] see pages , . . when the only offensive declaration has been made by the third hand in this position the fourth hand is informed of his partner's weakness. this weakness is probably quite pronounced, as the second hand has passed the dealer's defensive declaration, and although it is doubtless reasonable for the fourth hand even yet to count upon his partner for one trick, he certainly would not be justified in expecting much greater aid. it is a place for caution; although he is in the advantageous position of sitting over the adverse strength, he should bid only if he see a fair chance for game, or think his hand is such that he may safely attempt to force the adversary. . when the dealer has made a defensive, and both the second and third hands offensive, declarations in this situation, the fourth hand comes more nearly within the category of a second round, or late bidder; that is, he is in the position in which a player often finds himself when, after some bidding in which he has not participated, he is in doubt whether he has sufficient strength to advance his partner's declaration. under such circumstances, a player should always remember that his partner has counted upon him for a certain percentage of high cards. if he have not more than that percentage, it would be the part of extreme folly for him to declare. when the partner has made a suit declaration, and he has weakness in the suit, but some strength elsewhere, he should be especially careful, and, before bidding, convince himself that his side strength is more than his partner expected. advancing a partner's suit bid by reason of strength in other suits, while, when the strength warrants it, unquestionably sound, is apt to deceive the partner, as his first thought necessarily is that the bid indicates help in the suit declared. when the partner has declared no-trump, and the third hand has called two in a suit, the fourth hand is in much the same position regarding the advancement of his partner's no-trumper as the third hand when the dealer bids a no-trump, and the second hand, two of a suit.[ ] the only difference is that in this case there is little probability of high-card strength being developed on the left. [ ] see page . . when the dealer and second hand have made offensive declarations, and the third hand passed it is an exceptional hand which justifies taking the partner out of a suit declaration, called over a no-trump bid by the dealer. the partner has the advantage of sitting over the dealer, while the dealer would have this same advantage should the fourth hand declare some other suit. in this position the partner having bid two clubs or diamonds, the fourth hand, with the other three suits stopped, is justified in assuming that the original no-trump was made with the minimum strength, and the chance of game, as the declaration stands, being remote, should try a bid of two no-trumps. when the dealer has declared a suit, and the second hand, no-trump, the fourth hand should overbid the second with a suit declaration (except, of course, in the almost inconceivable case in which the strength of the fourth hand is in the suit named by the dealer), with the same holding that the third hand is justified in overbidding the dealer's no-trump.[ ] [ ] see pages - inc. . when the dealer and third hand have made offensive declarations and the second hand passed in this case, both adversaries having shown strength, and the partner weakness, it is dangerous for the fourth hand to declare, and he should do so only when his holding convinces him that his declaration is not likely to be successfully doubled. . when all three players have made offensive declarations this case is entirely analogous to the second round or late bidding, and is covered under the head of continuation of the bidding. vi continuation of the bidding after the completion of the first round, the situation of the bidder becomes so complex that it is most difficult to apply general rules. some principles, however, should be borne in mind. bidding one spade, or passing, places a player with two tricks in a position to increase his partner's call; but when a bidder has already shown the full strength, or practically the full strength, of his hand, he should not, under any circumstances, advance either his own or his partner's declaration. the temptation to disregard this rule is at times exceedingly strong. for example, the dealer declares one heart, holding king, queen, at the top of five hearts, and the ace of spades. the partner calls one no-trump, and the fourth hand, two royals. in such case, the original heart bidder frequently advances the no-trump to two, because he has the adverse suit stopped, without considering that his partner, in bidding one no-trump, counted upon him for either that ace of spades, or the equivalent strength, and, therefore, he should leave the question of the continuance of the no-trump to the player who knows its exact strength. another example of this proposition may be worthy of consideration. the dealer holds spades x, x, x hearts ace, x diamonds king, knave, ten, x, x clubs x, x, x he bids one diamond; second hand, pass; third hand, one heart; fourth hand, one royal. in this position a thoughtless player might call two hearts, but such a declaration would greatly exaggerate the value of the hand. the dealer by his first bid has announced his ability to take at least three tricks if diamonds be trump, and at least two tricks if the deal be played without a trump. his hand justifies such a call, but that is all; having declared his full strength, his lips must thereafter be sealed. his partner is already counting upon him for two high-card tricks, which is the maximum his hand can possibly produce; should he call two hearts on the basis of the ace, the original heart bidder would expect assistance to the extent of at least three tricks. he might receive only one. if, however, the dealer's hand be spades x hearts x, x, x, x diamonds king, knave, ten, x, x clubs ace, x, x a very different proposition presents itself. while this combination, had no-trump been called, would not be stronger than the other and should not advance the bid, with hearts trump it is a most valuable assistant, and being worth at least three tricks, is fully warranted in calling at least two hearts. the fact that it contains four hearts is one material element of strength and the singleton spade is another, neither of which has been announced by the original call. one of the most difficult tasks of the bidder is to accurately estimate the number of tricks the combined hands of his partnership can reasonably be expected to win. it sometimes occurs, especially in what are known as "freak" hands, that one pair can take most of the tricks with one suit declaration, while with another, their adversaries can be equally successful. this is most apt to happen in two-suit hands, or when length in trumps is coupled with a cross-ruff. in the ordinary run of evenly divided hands, there is not such great difference in the trick-taking ability of two declarations. the player who, except with an extraordinary hand, commits his side to ten or eleven tricks, after the adversaries have shown that with another declaration they do not expect to lose more than two or three, is extremely venturesome, and apt to prove a dangerous partner. in normal deals, a change in the trump suit does not produce a shift of seven or eight tricks. when to advance the bid it is frequently most difficult for a bidder to determine whether he is justified in advancing his own or his partner's declaration, and when in doubt it is generally better to err on the side of conservatism. the continuation of a no-trump without the adverse suit thoroughly guarded is most dangerous, and should be risked only when the declarer is convinced beyond doubt that his holding justifies it, or when the partner has shown that he can stop the threatening suit. when the partner, either as dealer or second hand, has declared one no-trump, the bid has unquestionably been based upon the expectation of average assistance, and unless able to furnish more, a higher call should not be made. if, however, the partner bid twice, without aid, two tricks unquestionably justifies assisting once. the minimum trick-taking ability with which an original suit declaration is made being appreciably greater than the number of tricks contained in a border-line no-trumper, the former should be assisted with less strength than is required to advance the latter. with two sure tricks the partner's suit call should be helped once by a player who has not declared, but whether a no-trump should be aided with just two tricks and no chance of more is a question depending upon the judgment of the bidder and upon whether one of the tricks is in the adverse suit. with two sure high-card tricks and a five-card suit, but without the adverse suit guarded, the five-card suit is generally the call, especially if two in it will be sufficient. three clubs, however, should not be declared without due consideration, as that declaration is recognized as demanding two no-trumps from the partner if he have the adverse suit stopped. being void or holding only a singleton of a suit, especially if it be the suit declared by the adversary, is to be considered in reckoning the trick-taking value of a hand which contemplates assisting a partner's trump declaration. for example, four small hearts, the ace and three other clubs, and five small diamonds, when the partner has called one heart, are worth three or four tricks, although the hand contains but one ace and no face card. holding such a combination, a partner's bid of one heart should be advanced at least twice. when a declaration by the dealer is followed by two passes and an overbid by the right-hand adversary, the dealer is frequently placed in a doubtful position as to whether he should advance his own bid. some authorities contend that with less than six tricks he should wait for his partner, and while no inflexible rule can be made to cover all such cases, the follower of this proposition has probably adopted the safest guide. when the original call has been one no-trump, it is the part of wisdom with less than six tricks, even if the adverse suit be stopped twice, to give the partner a chance. if he can furnish more than two tricks, he will declare, and the dealer can then, if he so desire, continue the no-trump, but to bid without first hearing from the partner is obviously venturesome. if the dealer have five tricks, that is enough to save game, but is three tricks short of making two no-trumps. when the dealer has declared a strong no-trump with one unprotected suit and his right-hand adversary calls two in that suit, it is manifestly unwise to continue the no-trump. holding six sure tricks in a higher-valued suit or seven in a lower, it is probably wise to bid two or three, as the exigencies of the case may require, in that suit. in close cases, when advancing or declining to advance the partner's bid, the personal equation should be a most important, if not the deciding, factor. some players are noted for their reckless declaring; with such a partner the bidding must be ultra-conservative. other players do not regard conventional rules in their early declarations. the bids of a partner of this kind should not be increased unless the hand contain at least one trick more than the number that normally would justify an advance. when playing against a bidder who has the habit of overbidding, full advantage should be taken of his weakness, and whenever possible he should be forced to a high contract he may be unable to fulfil. when a dealer who has opened with one spade, or any other player who has passed the first round, subsequently enters the bidding, he gives unmistakable evidence of length but not strength. this is a secondary declaration, and the maker plainly announces, "i will take many more tricks with this suit trump than any other; indeed, i may not win a trick with any other trump." overbidding a partner's secondary declaration, or counting upon it for tricks when doubling an adversary who has overcalled it, shows inexcusable lack of understanding of the modern system of declaring. when to overbid the partner overbidding a partner with a declaration which he has once taken out is only authorized by an honor count which is of material value, or a sure game. for example, if a player declare one royal, holding four or five honors, and the partner overbid with a no-trump, the original declarer should bid two royals; but without the big honor count it is wiser to let the no-trump stand, as the partner has announced weakness in spades. the same line of reasoning should be followed when the partner has called two of a suit over a no-trump. as a rule, under these conditions, it is most unwise for the original no-trump declarer to bid two no-trumps, but with four aces, the value of the honors thoroughly warrants such a declaration, unless the partner's call has evidently been a "rescue." the "rescue" or weakness take-out is a warning not to be disregarded. two clubs or diamonds over a no-trump is the most self-evident example, and after such a call by the partner it takes a holding of eight sure tricks to justify two no-trumps. of course, with four aces, seven tricks would warrant the call, on the theory that at the worst the for the aces would set off the possible loss by the double, and more than equal the loss if a double be not made. flag-flying the practice generally called "flag-flying" consists in overbidding an adverse declaration, which will surely result in game and rubber, with a holding which is not of sufficient strength to carry out the contract. while at times flag-flying is of great advantage, in inexperienced hands it is apt to prove a dangerous expedient. the argument in its favor is obvious. the bonus of points for the rubber really makes points the difference between winning and losing, and in addition there must be computed the points and honors which would be scored by the adversaries in the deal with which they go game, and the points and honors which may be scored by the flag-flyers in the succeeding deal which they hope will carry them to their goal. on this basis flag-flyers estimate that it makes a difference of points whether their opponents go out on the current deal or the flag-flyers score game on the next, and they claim that any loss under is a gain. the estimate is correct; the claim, ridiculous. whenever the next deal furnishes the player who offers the gambit sufficient strength to capture the rubber, he gains, when his loss has been under , but at best it is not more than an even chance that he will win, and when the pendulum swings in the adverse direction, the only result of the performance with the flag is to increase the size of the adversaries' rubber by the amount of the sacrifice. this continued indefinitely is bound to produce auction bankruptcy. the player who figures that, on the doctrine of chances, he and his partner will hold the strong cards once in every two deals, should remember that the fickle goddess would never have deserved nor received her well-earned title had she been even approximately reliable. a run of bad luck may continue for an indefinite period. it has pursued good players not only for a day or a week, but continuously for months and years. it does not sound warnings announcing its appearance or disappearance. to attempt to fight it by the flag-flying process as a rule only multiplies the loss many fold. and yet, it must not be understood that the flag-flyer should always be shunned and condemned. when his loss amounts to only or , or when, not detecting his purpose, the adversaries fail to double, and the loss is, therefore, smaller, the odds favor his exhibition of nerve. flag-flying, however, is like dynamite: in the hands of a child or of one unfamiliar with its characteristics, it is a danger, the extent of which none can foretell; but used with skill, it becomes a tool of exceptional value. it is only during the rubber game that even the most enthusiastic and expert flyer of the flag should allow it to wave. with a game out, to make the play successful dame fortune must bestow her favors twice in succession. before taking such a long chance, a player should realize that there are future rubbers which he has an even chance of winning, and that it is better to minimize the present loss than to allow it to become so great that, even if good fortune follow, it will be impossible to recoup. on the first game of the rubber, or with a game in, and the adversaries still without a game, it is plainly too early and the situation is not sufficiently desperate to resort to any real flag-flying. except when playing the rubber game, a voluntary loss of over should never be considered. vii doubling all doubles, except the double of one spade by the second hand, which is really an informatory bid,[ ] are made for the purpose of increasing the score of the doubler. [ ] see pages , . the old idea of informatory doubles has been abandoned. now when a player doubles, he does not invite a no-trump by showing one or more tricks in the adversary's suit, but he practically says, "partner, i am satisfied that we can defeat this declaration, and i desire to receive a bonus of instead of for each trick that our adversaries fall short of their contract. i do not wish you to overbid, unless your hand be of such a peculiar character that you have reason to believe the double will not be very profitable and feel sure that we can go game with your declaration." although doubles are made under widely divergent conditions, they may be subdivided into two classes:-- . the double of a declaration which, if successful, will result in game, regardless of the double, such as four hearts, with a love score. . the double which, if unsuccessful, puts the declarer out, although if undoubled, he would not secure the game by fulfilling his contract, such as two or three hearts, with a love score. in the first instance, the doubler has nothing to lose except the difference in points which the declarer may make as a result of the double. when, for example, a bid of four hearts is doubled and the declarer fulfils his contract, the double costs exactly points. if the declarer fall one trick short, the double gains points. when, however, there is a redouble, the loss is increased points, the gain points. the doubler is, therefore, betting the declarer to that he will not make his contract, and giving the declarer the option of increasing the bet, so that the odds become to . it is evident, therefore, that even when the declarer will go out in any event, it is not a particularly advantageous proposition for the doubler to give odds of to or to , if the chances be even. when the declaration is royals or no-trumps, the odds against the double are increased. if four no-trumps be doubled, the figures are to with the option given to the declarer to increase them to to . the explanatory remark so often heard after an unsuccessful double, "it could not cost anything, as they were out anyhow," is not an absolutely accurate statement. it may be worth while to consider one ordinary illustration of how many points may be lost by a foolish double of this character. a bid of four hearts is doubled and redoubled. the declarer takes eleven tricks, as he is able to ruff one or two high cards which the doubler hoped would prove winners. this is an every-day case, but the figures are rarely brought home. without a double, the declarer would have scored points; with the redouble, he scores points and bonus, or , presented by an adversary, who hoped at most to gain and thought his effort "could not cost anything." a doubtful double should not be made when the partner has another bid, as, for example, when the adversary to the right has called four hearts, over three royals declared by the partner. under these circumstances, the double, on the theory that the doubler expects to secure a large bonus, may properly deter the partner from a successful four royals declaration. even when the double is successful to the extent of , that is not a sufficient compensation for losing the opportunity to win the game. the fact that a good player has declared an unusually large number of tricks, as, for example, five hearts, is not in itself a reason for doubling. a player of experience, when he makes such a declaration, fully realizes the difficulty of the undertaking. he does not take the chance without giving it more consideration than he would a smaller bid, and it is only fair to assume that he has a reasonable expectation of success. doubling, therefore, merely because the bid requires ten or even eleven tricks, is folly, pure and simple. this comment, however, does not apply when the bid is of the flag-flying character.[ ] as to whether or not it comes within that category the doubler will have to determine. the auction expert is always on the lookout for an opportunity to gather a large bonus at the expense of a flag-flyer, and as unduly sanguine players indulge in that practice more than others, their declarations should be subjected to the most rigid scrutiny. [ ] see pages - inc. the doubtful double, which, should it prove unsuccessful, will result in the declarer scoring a game he would not otherwise obtain, is, as a rule, inexcusable. by this is not meant that a bid of two or three hearts or royals, or of three or four clubs or diamonds, should never be doubled. that would be absurd doctrine, but such a double should never be made with the chances even, or nearly even. an experienced bidder will not risk presenting the adversaries with the game and a bonus unless reasonably sure of defeating the declaration. another absurd notion is doubling because of the partner's general strength. the partner has an equal opportunity to double, and is much better posted in relation to his own cards. if the strength be his, he should decide whether or not to take the chance. when, however, one partner has some strength in the suit the adversaries have declared, and the other, high side cards, the double is more apt to confuse the declarer if made by the player without the trump strength. the above refers to doubtful doubles only; when the indications are that the declarer can be decisively defeated, the double is most important. it is worth if the declarer go down two; , if he lose three, etc. these additional points should not be allowed to escape. even the most venturesome doublers realize that, except in the unusual case, it is unwise to double a bid of one, whether it be in a suit or no-trump. some players hesitate about doubling a bid of two, preferring to take the chance of forcing the bidder higher. no general rule covering the situation can be laid down, as it depends greatly upon the character of the doubler's hand whether the adversary is apt to advance his bid. a double of a no-trump is much safer than of a suit declaration. the doubler of the no-trump knows approximately what to expect from his long suit, what suits he has stopped, and if one be unguarded, can estimate how many tricks it may be possible for the declarer to run. the doubler of a suit declaration cannot figure with any such accuracy. he rarely has more than two winning trumps, and therefore, as a rule, must depend upon side aces and kings for the balance of his tricks. it is always possible that the declarer or his partner may be absolutely void of the suit or suits in which the doubler expects to win his tricks, so that sometimes a hand with which the most conservative player would double, goes to pieces before a cross-ruff. when one hand is evenly divided, the chances are that the others are of the same character, but it is not a certainty that they are. when one hand has a very long suit, and is either blank in some other suit, or has but a singleton of it, the other hands are apt to contain very long and very short suits. therefore, if the doubler be without, or have but a singleton of, a suit, he should be more conservative, in doubling a suit declaration upon the expectation of making high side cards, than when he has an evenly divided hand. probably the most advantageous situation for a double is when the partner has declared no-trump, and the adversary to the right, two of a suit, of which the doubler, in addition to other strength, holds four cards, at least two of which are sure to take tricks. this comes nearer being an informatory double than any other in vogue in the game of to-day. the partner, however, should not take it out unless his no-trump consist of some such holding as a solid suit and an ace. a hand of this character may not prove formidable against a suit declaration, and it justifies the original declarer, as he knows that the adverse suit is well stopped, in bidding two no-trumps. it is one of the few cases where it is not advisable to allow the double of a partner to stand. it is generally conceded that the double, although a most powerful factor in the game, and the element which is productive of large rubbers, is used excessively, especially by inexperienced and rash players. if a record could be produced of all the points won and lost by doubling, there is little doubt that the "lost" column would lead by a ratio of at least two to one. the double in the hands of a discreet player of sound judgment is, indeed, a powerful weapon greatly feared by the adversaries; when used by the unskilled, it becomes a boomerang of the most dangerous type. a player cannot afford to have the reputation of never doubling, as that permits his adversaries to take undue liberties in bidding, but it is better to be ultra-conservative than a foolish doubler who continually presents his opponents with games of enormous proportions. a player should not double unless able to count with reasonable exactness in his own hand and announced by his partner a sufficient number of tricks to defeat the declarer. it is not the place to take a chance or to rely upon a partner, who has not shown strength, for an average holding. it must also be remembered as an argument against a doubtful double that the declarer is more apt to make his declaration when doubled, as he is then given more or less accurate information regarding the position of the adverse strength, and can finesse accordingly. a double frequently costs one trick--sometimes even more. the choice between a game and a double a most interesting question arises when a player is placed in the gratifying position of having the opportunity of electing whether to go game or secure a bonus by doubling. which course he should take depends entirely upon the state of the rubber, and the size of the bonus that the double will probably produce. a game is always to be preferred to a double which is not apt to net more than . when is sure and a greater bonus probable, the double should be made during either the first or second game of the rubber. during the rubber game, however, the doubler should be more conservative, and should "take in" his rubber unless satisfied that the double will produce , with a potential possibility of more. the reason, which may not at first be apparent, for this difference in the situation, may be briefly explained as follows: before a game has been won, the securing of a large bonus in the honor column places the fortunate doubler in a most advantageous position, as he starts the rubber insured against loss unless he suffer a similar penalty. when the only game finished has been won by the adversaries, a large bonus should be preferred to game. as the adversaries already have a game, the next hand may give them the rubber, and should it do so, its amount will be most materially affected by the action of the player who has the chance either to score a bonus or win a game. if the first game be of normal size, a large bonus will nullify the result of the rubber, but if instead a game be taken in the adversaries will score an average rubber. when the player considering a double has a game and the adversaries have not, he is in a most excellent position to double with the hope of a big winning. to secure the enlarged rubber, it is only necessary for him to obtain one game before the adversaries get two, and as the odds are greatly in his favor it is a chance worth taking. when, however, each side has a game and the question is whether to obtain a bonus or score rubber, the bonus must be large and sure to justify giving up a rubber practically won for merely an equal chance of capturing a larger one. it has been elsewhere stated that when a player who has an opportunity to win a rubber fails to avail himself of it, and on the next hand the adversaries reach the goal, the loss may be roughly estimated at points. the player who doubles during the third game knows that the next hand may see the adversaries score the rubber. even if he obtain points by doubling, and this happens, the adversaries gain to the extent of approximately points by his action. on the other hand, he has an equal chance for the game, and if he win it, he will be the gainer by the amount secured by the double. when he has a sure in sight, or even a sure , with a reasonable chance of more, the odds favor the double, but it is the height of folly to take an even chance of losing unless be the minimum return. advice as to whether to double or go game is useful only for players who can with accuracy estimate the trick-taking value of their hands. to refuse a double which would net several hundred for the sake of going game and then fall a trick short of both the game and the declaration is most exasperating, while on the other hand to double for a big score, instead of taking in a sure game, only to have the double fail, is equally heart-breaking. the player who takes either horn of this dilemma must be sure of his ground and must figure the chances with the greatest care. when to redouble the question of when to redouble is so intricate that it is hard to consider, except when the specific case arises. some players frequently redouble, as a kind of bluff, when convinced their declaration will fail, the intent being to frighten either the doubler or his partner into another declaration. against a very timid player, this is sometimes successful, but unless it catch its victim, it is expensive bait. nine out of ten redoubles, however, are _bona fide_, and made because the fulfilment of the contract seems assured. even then, however, a player should not redouble unless practically positive that neither of his adversaries can get out of the redouble by making a higher bid. the player who has been doubled and is sure of his contract is in a most enviable position; game and a handsome bonus both are his, and it would be most foolish for him to risk so much merely for the chance of the extra score. if, however, there be no escape for the doubler, the redouble is most valuable, and a real opportunity for it should never be overlooked. what to do when the partner is doubled the player who, whenever his partner's declaration is doubled, becomes frightened, concludes that the worst is sure to happen, and that it is his duty to come to the rescue by jumping headlong into some other declaration, even if it require an increased number of tricks, is a most dangerous _vis-à -vis_. a double does not justify the assumption that the declarer is beaten, especially when the partner has any unannounced help. if the partner be weak, it is folly for him to go from bad to worse; if strong, he may enable the declarer to make a large score. in any event, in nine cases out of ten, "standing pat" is his best policy. viii leading the selection of the correct lead in auction is not attended with so many difficulties as in whist, or even in bridge. in whist, the original leader is obliged to begin the play in the dark, the turn-up constituting his entire knowledge of the strength or weakness of the other players. in bridge, the extent of his information is limited to the inferences that can be drawn from the declaration and the double, but in auction every player has made at least one announcement which is more or less instructive. when there has been considerable bidding it is frequently possible to accurately estimate the length and strength of the suit of each player and the trick-taking value of the balance of his hand. when only one or two declarations have been made, so much information may not be obtainable, but even then the leader, from the failure of certain players to bid, may be able to make deductions of considerable value. the auction leader, therefore, must remember the various declarations, draw both positive and negative inferences therefrom, and whenever it is not advisable to open his partner's suit or his own, should follow the old principle which, since the days of pole, has been applicable to all games of the whist family, and realize "'tis seldom wrong to lead up to the weak and through the strong." the original opening is materially varied by the character of the final declaration, the system of leading against a no-trump being quite different from that employed when a suit is trump. how to lead against a no-trump when the partner has not shown strength, the leader, against a no-trump, should open his own long suit. if he have two long suits, he should pick the stronger except when he has declared it, and has not received support from his partner, in which case it is generally wise to try the other. the possible exception to the lead of a long suit against a no-trump is when that suit has been declared, has not been helped by the partner, and the no-trump has been subsequently bid to the right. in this situation, with a tenace in the long suit, it is sometimes advisable to try, by leading another suit, to get the partner in, so that he may lead through the declarer's strength in the suit called by the leader. this, however, is a dangerous expedient when the partner has not declared. should a suit be guessed which the partner cannot win, one of his high cards is apt to be sacrificed, and not only nothing gained, but the advantage of the lead transferred to the adversary. if two high cards be missing from the tenace suit, as in the case when it is headed by ace, queen, ten, or king, knave, ten, and the declarer hold the missing honors and one small card, it will take two leads to establish the suit. it is not likely that a partner without sufficient strength to declare will be able to get in twice, and trying to put him in once is most apt to establish a suit for the declarer. therefore, as a general proposition, unless the partner have declared, the tenace suit should be led. when, however, the partner has shown a suit, opening it, in preference to a tenace, is elementary and compulsory. when the partner has declared, the leader should open the suit named unless satisfied that his own affords a more potent weapon for the attack. there are only three conditions which justify the leader in assuming this, viz.:-- (_a_) when the leader has called his suit and his partner has advanced the declaration. (_b_) when the leader's suit is headed by ace, king, queen, or king, queen, knave. (_c_) when the leader has only a singleton of his partner's suit and has several reëntries. innumerable tricks, games, and rubbers have been thrown away by a leader who, considering solely his own hand, has started with his suit in preference to that of his partner. there is some peculiar characteristic in the composition of many players which magnifies the value of their own cards, so that they seem of greater importance and more desirable to establish than their partners'. even experienced players have been known to commit such an auction absurdity as opening a suit headed by a knave, in preference to the suit named by the partner, which, of necessity, contains the strength requisite for a trump declaration. it is fair to estimate that ten tricks are lost by denying the partner's declaration to one that escapes the player who leads his partner's suit in preference to his own. when the partner has declared, his suit can be counted upon for both length and strength, and unless it be practically solid, his hand contains at least one reëntry. the leader by his opening can attack only one-quarter of the no-trump fortification, and it is his duty to pick out the spot which promises to be most vulnerable. a no-trump call is very likely to spell game unless a suit can be established against it. in order to accomplish this it is generally necessary to start with the first card led. therefore, making the right original opening is probably the only opportunity to save the game. when the leader selects his own suit in preference to his partner's, he should be able to say, "in spite of the strength you have declared, i am reasonably sure that we have a better chance to establish this suit than yours." as a rule, however, the leader does not have sufficient strength to support such a statement, and, therefore, his lead generally says, "partner, i know you have considerable strength, you may have declared expressly for the purpose of asking me to lead your suit, but i selfishly prefer to play my own hand rather than act for the benefit of the partnership." it is but a puerile excuse for a leader who does not open his partner's suit to explain that the no-trump was called by the right-hand adversary after the partner's declaration, and that the bid, having been made with the anticipation that the suit named would be led, he should surprise the declarer. it is true that the declarer expects that suit, but it may be the only opening he fears. it is more than possible that the suit is stopped but once, and that leading it will save the game, even if it do not defeat the declaration. it is certainly a very short-sighted or unduly sanguine player who selects a suit of his own, which has not nearly the strength of his partner's, merely on the wild chance that his partner, rather than the no-trump bidder, has the missing high cards. when the partner has declared two suits and the leader has length or strength in one of them, he should open it, but when he cannot assist either, he should open the suit named first, as it is probably the stronger. as will be seen from the tables of leads against a no-trump declaration, in some cases whether the leader has a reëntry materially affects the manner in which he should open his long suit. by a reëntry in this connection is meant either an ace or king, unless the suit containing the king have been bid by the adversary to the left of the leader. in that case the king cannot be expected to win unless accompanied by the queen. a queen, or even queen, knave, cannot be considered a reëntry, as the suit may not be led three times. the reason for varying the lead, depending upon the presence of a reëntry, is that the sole thought of the leader against a no-trump is to establish the suit led, and to insure so doing he opens his suit exclusively with that end in view, regardless of whether it would otherwise be the opening most apt to prove trick-winning. he knows that the declarer will, if possible, hold up a winning card until the third hand is unable to return the suit. therefore, if he be without a reëntry, he must do all in his power to force the winning card from the adversary's hand as early in the play as possible. if he have a reëntry, he may play much more fearlessly. an example of this is a long suit, headed by ace, queen, knave. the most advantageous lead from this combination is the ace (as an adversary may hold an unguarded king), and that would be the lead with a reëntry; but the chances are that the partner does not hold more than three cards of the suit, and, if it be opened in the usual way, the king will be held up until the third round. the leader without a reëntry, therefore, is compelled to open with the queen, so as to establish the suit, while the partner, who probably has a reëntry, still retains a card of it. another important convention which applies to the opening of the leader's suit against a no-trump declaration (but, of course, against a no-trump declaration only) is that the original lead of an ace calls for the partner's highest card. an ace, therefore, should be led from such a combination as a suit headed by ace, king, knave, ten, since the drop of the queen will permit the suit to be run without hesitation, and the failure of the partner to play the queen will permit the leader to place its position positively, and to continue the suit or not, as his judgment and the balance of his hand dictate. this doctrine is extended to all cases of the original lead of an ace against a no-trump declaration. the ace should not be led unless the partner's best card, regardless of its size, be desired, and the partner should play it unhesitatingly, be it king, queen, or knave, unless the dummy convince him that meeting the demand of the lead will be trick-sacrificing, in which case the leader's command should be ignored. in leading a partner's suit, the general rule of selecting the fourth best, when opening with a small card, is not followed. the object in leading that suit is to strengthen the partner, and it is more important to do that and also to tell him what is the leader's highest card than to post him regarding exact length. holding either two, three, or four of a partner's suit, the top, therefore, should be led, followed on each succeeding trick by the next in order, the lowest being retained until the last. this is sometimes called the "down and out." the one exception to the lead of the top of the partner's suit is when it consists of three or more headed by ace or king, and the right-hand adversary has called no-trump after the suit has been declared. in that case, it may be that the stopper which the declarer thinks he has in the suit can be captured, and the lead, therefore, should be a low card. number-showing leads the lead in auction is materially simplified by the fact that number-showing is not nearly so important as in whist, and really only becomes of value when opening a small card against a no-trump declaration. in that case the lowest should always be led with four in the suit, because the partner, having the dummy spread before him, being able to count his own hand, and being informed by the lead regarding the leader's length in the suit, can generally tell the exact number held by the declarer, and can, therefore, accurately determine whether it is better to continue that suit or try some other. it happens more frequently than would be supposed that when a four-card suit is opened with a small card, the dummy and third hand have only four cards of it between them. the third hand can then, if the leader have shown exactly four, mark it as the long suit of the declarer, and make an advantageous shift. this is the only method of giving this warning. if the fourth-best lead be not adopted, the suit must, in most cases, necessarily be continued to the great benefit of the declarer. number-showing by the lead of a small card (one of the rudiments of whist) is doubtless thoroughly understood by most auction players; it consists in leading the fourth best, when the suit is not of such a character as to demand a high card or intermediate sequence opening. this informs the partner that the leader has exactly three cards in that suit higher than the card led, and that he may or may not have any smaller card. for example: the leader has queen, , , and ; the dummy, a singleton (the ); and the third hand, who wins the trick with the ace, only two others (the and ). the third hand can place the declarer with five, as the leader, having opened his lowest, can have had only four originally. number-showing leads in high cards, so advantageous in whist, are absolutely unimportant in auction, and only complicate the situation. they are not given in the table of leads appended at the end of this chapter, nor is their use permissible, even by the whist-player of the old school who is thoroughly familiar with their meaning. he must realize that auction is not a number-showing game, and must be content to limit his skill in that respect to the fourth best, which is advisable when it is not higher than the . the limitation of the fourth-best lead to a or lower card is a useful modern innovation. when the or a higher fourth best is led against a no-trump, the declarer, with his twenty-six cards at his command, and with great strength in his own hand, is apt to receive information as to the exact high cards held by the leader which will prove of greater value to him than to the partner. furthermore, the lead of an or as a fourth best is bound at times to conflict with the valuable lead known as the "top of an intermediate sequence." the holdings from which the top of an intermediate sequence should be led are shown in the tables, and while some of the leads in such cases, which are absolutely conventional in auction, may shock the whist-player, they have, nevertheless, been found to be advisable in the present game. trick-winning is far more important than giving numerical information, and the top of an intermediate sequence often succeeds in capturing a valuable card in the dummy, does not give too much information to the declarer, helps to establish the suit, and seldom interferes with the play of the partner. much has been written by those who contend that the fourth-best lead against a no-trump gives the declarer too much information, and, therefore, should never be employed. the writers, however, do not consider that practically the only cases in which the lead is objectionable for the reason cited is when it is an or higher card, while the great advantage of the lead is the warning above mentioned. there are also instances in which the third hand is at some time in the play in doubt whether to return the original lead or try his own suit. the knowledge of whether his partner holds three or more of the suit first led may in such case be of the greatest value. the idea of leading the fourth best only when it is a or smaller card eliminates the objection, yet in practically every case affords the advantage. a player who adopts this system may at times, as, for example, with such a holding as ace, queen, , , , be obliged to open the , but inasmuch as he would lead the same card from ace, queen, , , , the declarer cannot bank upon the of such a leader showing three higher cards of the suit in his hand, and, therefore, no harm is done. if the leader have any such four-card combination as ace, or any one face card, accompanied by , , , or , , , showing that the lead is from four only is more important than opening the top of a two-card intermediate sequence. when, however, the intermediate is headed by a knave or , the opening of the top of it becomes advisable regardless of the length of the suit. of course, the , in the examples just given, is used to represent any small card, and the fourth best should be led if it be a , , or . the lead against a suit declaration against a suit declaration, the original lead of the longest suit is not in the least imperative. strength is far more important than length. as the tables show, many high-card combinations are opened very differently, the theory being to win with honors, not to establish small cards. if the leader be a whist-player, he must remember that auction is a very different game. the trump has not been selected by chance, but has been named because of his adversaries' great length and strength. the establishment of an adverse suit against a trump declaration is, therefore, an almost unknown proceeding. the object of the leader against a suit declaration is to get as many tricks as possible, and he should utilize the two best methods for so doing: namely, winning with his own and his partner's high cards, and ruffing with weak trumps. he should avoid opening a tenace suit, regardless of its length. a singleton, if he be short in trumps, is probably his best lead; his second choice should be high cards in sequence. when his hand does not contain either of these advantageous openings, he should try his partner's suit. it goes without saying that if the leader have both the ace and king of a suit, it is always well to lead the king, not only for the purpose of giving information and taking a practically assured trick, but also in order to obtain a look at the dummy, which will enable him to more advantageously size up the entire situation. when his partner has not shown strength, the leader need never hesitate about starting with a strengthening card of a short suit which has not been declared. he is also thoroughly justified, if weak in trumps, in asking for a force by leading the top of a two-card suit. this, while not nearly so desirable an opening as a singleton, is better than leading from a tenace. when the leader is long in trumps, he should open his own or his partner's strength. the leader should bear in mind as a vital principal that, against a suit declaration, a suit containing an ace should never be opened originally, unless the ace (or king, if that card be also held) be led. the leader should observe this convention, regardless of the length of the suit. the knowledge that a leader can be relied upon not to have the ace unless he lead it will be of material assistance to his partner in the play. it is sometimes very tempting to lead low with an ace, hoping that a king may be found in the second hand, and that the partner's queen may capture the first trick. this play will occasionally prove successful, but in the long run, it is a trick-loser, there being so many instances of singletons, even of single kings, and also of two-card suits, where, unless the ace be led, the declarer will win the first trick and discard the other card. the leader must observe the distinction between opening a long and a short suit which has always been in force in whist, bridge, and auction--that is, when leading a suit headed by a knave or smaller card, if long, open from the bottom; if short, from the top. for example, holding knave, , , , the should be led, but holding knave, , , the knave is the card to open. one other conventional lead should be mentioned, which, as an original opening, is advisable against a trump declaration only. it is the lead of a two-card suit consisting of ace, king. the ace first, and then king, signifies no more of the suit, and a desire to ruff. of course, by analogy, the lead of the king before the ace shows more of the suit. how to lead to a double the question of what lead should be made when the partner has doubled is comparatively simple, although the answer depends materially upon whether the double has been of a no-trump or a suit declaration. when a no-trump has been doubled, the original lead should invariably be the suit the doubler has declared. when the doubler has not made any declaration, the suit the leader has called should be opened. when neither the doubler nor the leader has declared, a case that rarely occurs, the lead should be either the best club or the highest card of the leader's shortest suit, depending upon which of these two conventions the doubler approves. the theory of the advocates of the club convention is that it is important for the doubler of a no-trump to know exactly what suit will be led, and that he is more apt to desire clubs than any other, as the other suits, being of greater value, are more likely to be bid. the argument of the advocates of the high card of the short suit convention is that it enables a double to be made with any long suit. the club convention is much safer, and is used by most conservative players. in the event of there being any doubt what the lead should be, if the leader be fortunate enough to hold an ace, it is good policy for him to lead it for the purpose of taking a look. the contents of the dummy will probably furnish the desired information. when a suit declaration has been doubled, a singleton is always an advantageous opening. the lead of a high card is also advisable for the purpose of taking a look. if the leader be without either a singleton or high-card lead, his partner's suit is unquestionably his wisest opening. the tables the tables which appear at the end of this chapter should be carefully examined by all who are not absolutely letter perfect in the conventional leads. the present tendency of players taking up auction is to regard the leads as unimportant, and this often results disastrously. the quondam whist-player realizes the necessity of having every lead at his fingers' ends, but for the benefit of those who have never participated in the older game, it may be said that the conventional leads have been determined upon only after years of experimentation; as a consequence of which it is known just which card, in the long run, will win the most tricks. a leader who, on the spur of the moment, during the play, tries something else, is taking a course sure to deceive an intelligent partner, and one which will probably reduce the number of his tricks. the one combination that seems to tempt some players to disregard the conventional, is the king, queen, ten, against a no-trump. with this holding the king is manifestly most advantageous, as if the declarer hold ace, knave, it will either force the ace and hold the tenace over the knave or win the trick. without the ten, a small card should be led, but many players fail to recognize the important distinction. every one attempting to play the game should learn the conventional leads, and having once mastered this comparatively easy lesson, should never allow a childish impulse, such as "having a hunch," to induce an experiment with a lead not recognized as sound. the various tables follow. opening leads against a no-trump declaration with a without a holding reëntry reëntry ace, king, queen, knave, with or without others ace ace ace, king, queen, ten, with one or more others ace ace ace, king, queen, ten king king ace, king, queen, with three or more others ace ace ace, king, queen, with one or two others king king ace, king, knave, ten, with two or more others ace ace ace, king, knave, ten, with one other ace knave ace, king, knave, ten king knave ace, king, knave, with three or more others ace ace ace, king, knave, with two others ace th best ace, king, knave, with one other king king ace, king, and five others ace ace ace, king, and four others king th best ace, king, and two or three others th best th best ace, queen, knave, ten, with or without others ace queen ace, queen, knave, with one or more others ace queen ace, queen, ten, nine, and three others ace ten ace, queen, ten, nine, with less than seven ten ten ace, queen, and five others ace th best ace, queen, and two, three, or four others th best th best ace, knave, ten, with one or more others knave knave ace, knave, with two or more others th best th best ace, ten, nine, with one or more others ten ten ace, ten, eight, with one or more others th best th best king, queen, knave, ten, with or without others king king king, queen, knave, with one or more others king king king, queen, ten, with one or more others king king king, queen, with five or more others king king king, queen, with four or more others king th best king, queen, with two or three others th best th best king, knave, ten, with one or more others knave knave king, knave, with two or more others th best th best king, ten, nine, with one or more others ten ten king, ten, with two or more others th best th best queen, knave, ten, with one or more others queen queen queen, knave, nine, with one or more others queen queen queen, knave, with two or more others th best th best queen, ten, nine, with one or more others ten ten knave, ten, nine, with one or more others knave knave knave, ten, eight, with one or more others knave knave knave, ten, with two or more others th best th best ten, nine, eight, with one or more others ten ten ten, nine, seven, with one or more others ten ten in all the above cases in which the fourth best is given as the lead, should the hand contain an intermediate sequence, headed by an , or higher card, the top of such sequence should be led instead of the fourth best. for example, king, knave, , , , lead the ; king, knave, , , , lead the . in any case not mentioned, in which there is not an intermediate sequence, headed by an or higher card, the fourth best should be opened. the lead of the fourth best, when it is an or higher card, should be avoided whenever possible. for example, ace, queen, , , , , lead the ; but never lead the lowest when holding more than four, so from ace, queen, , , , lead the . in all the ace-king combinations in the above table, in which the ace is the conventional lead, it is selected in preference to the king, because the highest card of the partner is desired; when the king is the lead, the suit is not of sufficient strength to make that play advisable. opening leads against a trump declaration holding lead ace, king, queen, knave king, then knave ace, king, queen king, then queen ace, king, knave king ace, king, and one or more others king ace, king, without any others ace, then king ace, queen, knave[ ] ace, then queen ace, queen, and one or more others[ ] ace, then lowest ace, knave, ten[ ] ace ace, and one or more small ace king, queen, knave, with or without others king king, queen, ten, with or without others king king, queen, with or without others king king, knave, ten, with or without others[ ] knave king, knave, and one or more others[ ] lowest or th best king, ten, nine, and one or more others[ ] ten king, and two or more others[ ] lowest or th best queen, knave, ten, with or without others queen queen, knave, nine, with or without others queen queen, knave, and two or more others th best[ ] queen, knave, and one or no others queen queen, ten, nine, with or without others ten knave, ten, with or without others knave ten, nine, with or without others ten [ ] these suits unless declared by partner should not be opened, as they are disadvantageous leads against a trump declaration. [ ] this is the conventional lead from this combination, but many good players prefer the queen, especially when the indications are that the hand is not evenly divided. when long suits have been announced, the chances are that the suit led will be ruffed on the third round, if not earlier. if the king be in the second hand and the ace in the third, a trick can be gained by leading the queen whenever the suit does not last for three rounds. therefore, unless the hand indicate that the suits are evenly divided, the queen seems to be the better lead. ix the play it has been stated elsewhere that it is easier to advise an auction player how to declare than how to play. this is unquestionably true, and as a rule instruction in print relating to intricate situations in the play is of little benefit to the reader. end situations, and even those which arise earlier in the hand, seldom exactly repeat themselves. pages may be filled with the description of brilliant plays by the declarer and his opponents. the reader may study such examples until he becomes thoroughly familiar with every detail, and yet, so great and infinite is the variety of auction hands, may play for years without ever having one of them arise. mathematicians state that the cards may be distributed in , , , , , , , different ways, and that a player may receive , , , different hands. there is no reason to question the accuracy of these figures, but even if they be grossly excessive, it is still self-evident that each deal is apt to produce some totally new situation. all that will be attempted, therefore, in considering the play, is to offer a few general suggestions that it is believed will be found applicable to a considerable percentage of hands, and that it is hoped will prove useful. difference between play in auction and bridge there is little difference between the play in auction and bridge, although in auction, due to the bidding, all the players have much greater information regarding the strength and weakness of the various hands. there is one point of variance, however, worthy of consideration:-- in bridge, the player of the open hand is generally striving for the game as his only object. in auction, the declarer has two purposes in view; first, to fulfil his declaration; and second, when the making of the declaration does not in itself secure game, to obtain that also. naturally, the opponents of the declarer play with exactly the opposite idea, their first object being to prevent him from going game, and their second, to keep him from fulfilling his contract. playing for game the declarer should never take a finesse or make any other play which, if it succeed, gains one or more tricks, but which, if it fail, risks the fulfilment of an otherwise assured contract. having once made sure of his bid, he should apply a similar rule to the winning of the game. an extra trick counts comparatively little, but the failure to carry out a contract or to capture a game may alter the result of the rubber. the game is, of course, far more important than the contract, and the declarer, when he has a reasonable chance of obtaining it, should, if necessary, risk his declaration. on the other hand, his opponents should save the game beyond peradventure, even if by so doing they lose an opportunity to defeat the declarer. a couple of examples will show this more clearly than pages of explanation. suppose, the score being love, the declarer, who has bid three royals, has about exhausted the possibilities of his cards. he has won eight tricks and has the lead in his own hand, with an ace and queen of the same suit in the dummy. one more trick will fulfil his contract, two will give him game. the development of the play has shown that the adversaries will make the rest of the tricks whenever they obtain the lead, and consequently, if he finesse and lose, the eight tricks already taken will be all he will secure, his ace will "die," and he will be "one down." he is without information as to the location of the king; neither adversary has declared, and neither has by discard or otherwise in the play given a reliable hint as to the absence or presence of the all-important card. his duty is plain. by finessing he may lose points and a penalty of , in all, but the finesse gives him an even chance to win the game; and whether it be the rubber, with its premium of , or merely the first game, but still a most important advance toward the goal, he should take his chance, realizing that the value of the object for which he is striving is far greater than the he may lose. under similar conditions, however, if the trump be diamonds, the finesse should be refused. it would then take three more tricks to make game, and but two are possible. one completes the contract, and winning the finesse adds only points, less than one-tenth of the placed in jeopardy. the points in the trick column assured by refusing the finesse are, viewed from a practical standpoint, just as near a game as would be, but makes the bidding for game on the next deal much easier than if the effort to win the extra had resulted in the score remaining at love. in this case, therefore, not only when the chances are equal, but even when unmistakable inferences of declaration and play indicate that the success of the finesse is almost assured, the opportunity should be refused. "penny-wise and pound-foolish" aptly characterizes a player who would risk advantage of position and points for the chance of gaining a paltry . play for an even break the declarer, in the absence of any positive indication to the contrary, should base his play upon the probability of an even division of the cards. that is, with seven of a suit in his own hand and dummy, he should play for each of the adversaries to have three; with nine, he should play on the basis that the four missing cards are equally divided. in the long run, playing for the even break will net many tricks, but in a small percentage of instances it will result unfortunately. the case in which the question most frequently arises is when either in trumps or in the declarer's strong suit in a no-trump, the two hands hold nine cards headed by ace, king, knave. the division between the two hands may be ace, king, knave, x, x and x, x, x, x ace, king, x, x, x and knave, ten, x, x ace, knave, x, x, x and king, x, x, x king, knave, x, x, x and ace, x, x, x or any other. in all these cases the knave finesse is tempting, but it should be refused, and the ace and king played with the expectation of an even break which will drop the queen on the second round. the exceptions to this general rule occur when (_a_) the presence of the queen in either adverse hand has been indicated by some declaration or double. (_b_) when one adversary has shown unusual length in some other suit. in the latter case, it is sometimes wise to play on the assumption that the adversary, very long in another suit, has but one of the suit in question, and consequently to finesse the _second round_ on that basis. general play of the declarer the declarer, as soon as the dummy's cards are spread, should size up the situation, see how many tricks are in sight, what suit or suits it is necessary for him to establish, and what, if any, finesse or finesses he will have to make in order to secure his declaration and his game. in determining which way to finesse, he should be materially assisted by the bids of his adversaries, and during the play, as situations develop either in his favor or against him, he should be continually figuring on the best method to make his declaration. he should remember that failure to fulfil his contract will not only result in a material loss on the score, but, in the end, may cost the rubber. when the scheme of play he has planned at the start shows signs of becoming unsuccessful, he should, if possible, change it for one more promising. the declarer, especially if brought up in the whist school, should bear in mind that he now has no partner anxiously seeking information regarding the contents of his hand, but that he has two adversaries from whom he should withhold, as long as possible, knowledge of his strength, weakness, aims, and schemes. when any method of play suggests itself which seems more deceptive than another, and yet produces the same result, it should be adopted. false cards should be used whenever possible, as they are less informatory than the conventional lowest of a sequence. the declarer should worry his opponents in this way whenever the opportunity offers. in playing small cards, the higher should frequently precede the lower, and every means should be used to make it as difficult as possible for the adversaries to place the cards. declarer's play of no-trump the declarer will find that he is obliged to use different tactics when playing a no-trump from those he employs when a trump has been named. in the former case, his main object should be to establish his long suit or suits, and to shut out those of the adversary. when he has the ace (without any other stopper) of an adverse suit, unless there be some other he fears more, he should refrain from playing the ace until the third round, or until sure that the partner of the long hand has exhausted his holding of that suit. the reason for this is obvious. if the holder of the long suit can be kept from the lead, the suit will not be made. he may be without a reëntry, so it is important that his partner be unable to put him in by leading that suit. in this case, the declarer should take any doubtful finesse, which he has the opportunity of taking either way, so that, if it lose, the holder of the long suit will not be in the lead. the declarer should postpone as long as possible leading a suit of four cards in one hand and three in the other, headed by ace, king, and queen, but not the knave, unless he be afraid of a long, adverse run which will force him to awkward discards. the reason is that, should either of the adversaries be long in that suit, three rounds will establish for him one or more cards which otherwise would not be made good. leading even two rounds will be a warning not to discard from that suit. it should, therefore, be avoided, except for the purpose of placing a lead, until the other strength of the declarer is exhausted, or until it becomes evident that, when next he loses the lead, the adversaries will control the situation. then, and not until then, should he lead such a suit with the realization that, having postponed its establishment as long as possible, he has adopted the most probable method not only of shutting out adverse long cards, but also of making an extra trick for himself. while the probability of establishing an adverse trick is not nearly so great when the declarer has four cards of such a suit in each hand, it is still possible, and the method of handling it above advised, when the total holding is seven, should be followed even with eight. a thoughtless declarer who has nothing to fear from an adverse run will often as soon as he gets in (and before he establishes some suit that demands attention) start with a suit of this character. such tactics sometimes cost a declaration--sometimes a game; yet the thoughtless one rarely appreciates his folly. an example may make this more evident:-- dummy declarer spades x, x ace, queen, x hearts ace, x, x, x king, queen, x diamonds x, x ace, queen, x clubs knave, , x, x, x queen, , x, x the of spades is opened, and the declarer wins the first trick with the queen. he now has assured two spade, three heart, and one diamond tricks, with a chance of one more in both hearts and diamonds; six sure and eight possible, without the clubs. if he establish his clubs, he can make tricks in that suit, which will insure game. if he open his hearts, he may establish one or more for the adversaries and thus give up all chance of the game, as he is at best practically sure to lose two spades and two clubs. it is impossible to gain any advantage by running the four hearts before the clubs, even if they all be good; in other words, it is a play which may cost the game and cannot by any possibility gain anything whatever. when the declarer holds a suit long in both hands, headed by the three top honors, two in one hand and one in the other, it is wise to win the first trick with one of the honors of the hand which holds two; this is apt to be beneficial in the event of an adversary refusing or having a singleton. the declarer, even when he has bid a light no-trump and received little assistance, should play with confidence. his adversaries do not know the flimsy character of his declaration, and will credit him with more powerful cards than he really holds. even experienced players seem to feel that a no-trump declaration is entitled to greater respect than it deserves when made with the minimum strength which conventionally authorizes it. a clever player will frequently capture the odd with such a declaration, merely because the adversaries do not realize his weakness. declarer's play of a suit declaration the declarer generally has a greater opportunity to display skill in the play of a suit declaration than of a no-trumper. with a suit declared, as soon as the dummy is placed before him, he must determine which of two plans of campaign it is advisable for him to adopt: that is, he must either lead trumps until the adversaries have no more, or he must play the ruffing game and make his trumps separately. the latter is especially advantageous if, with his weaker trump hand, he can take a trick or tricks that would, of necessity, be lost if he immediately exhausted all the trumps. the declarer, therefore, should first look for a chance to ruff losing cards with his weak hand; when he does not find that opportunity, he should realize that the adversaries will attempt to do some ruffing themselves, and in nine cases out of ten, should exhaust the trumps. when the declarer has a holding which makes him anxious that the trump lead should come from the other side, and the dummy contains short trumps and a short suit (which short suit the declarer cannot arrange for the dummy to ruff, either because he has the same number as the dummy, or because he has winning cards), he can sometimes induce an adverse trump lead by opening the short suit, thus conveying to his adversaries the impression that he desires to ruff with the short trumps. if the declarer have sufficient trump length in his weak trump hand to exhaust the adverse trump holding, and still remain with sufficient trumps for all possible ruffs, he should lead trumps before taking the ruff, so as to avoid any chance of an over-ruff. an obvious case will exemplify this principle:-- the declarer holds ace, king, queen, and one small trump; the dummy, four small; the declarer, king, queen, and two small clubs, in which suit the dummy has ace and one small. part of the declarer's original scheme of play is to have the dummy ruff his losing club, yet to lead that suit before three rounds of trumps would be the height of folly, as a winning card might be ruffed by an adversary or the dummy over-ruffed. managing the dummy so as to utilize all his small trumps to the greatest advantage is one of the tests of the skill of the player of the combined hands. a simple example follows: with hearts trump, the dummy puts down one small club, and three worthless trumps. the declarer wins the first trick, has ace at the head of his long trumps; also, ace, king, and two losing clubs. his play is plain. he should lead his ace and then a small club; ruff the latter, lead a trump from dummy, and then the remaining losing club, for dummy to ruff with his last trump. play by declarer's adversaries the adversaries of the declarer must realize that they are at some disadvantage in the play. the declarer knows every card in the dummy, but each of his opponents can at best only guess the holding of his partner. they should, therefore, strive by every means in their power to give each other all possible information. they should always play the lowest, and (except with ace, king, and one or more others) lead the highest of a sequence. the only case in which they should withhold information or play a false card is when such action may upset the calculations of the declarer, and either cannot mislead the partner, or, if it do, will not affect his play. for example, with king, queen, over an adverse ace, knave, , a false card is more than justified, as it tempts the declarer to mould his play for another finesse; so also, in other cases in which the partner is without strength in the suit and his play is, therefore, unimportant, he may be treated as if he were a dummy. the advantage of forcing the strong hand is just as great in auction as in whist or bridge, and as a rule it is the best play possible for the adversaries of the declarer. the only exception is when the dummy has an established suit and a reëntry. suppose, for example, with four tricks to play, the declarer has the last trump (hearts), one club, and two diamonds. the dummy has three winning clubs, and the leader a diamond and winning spades. he knows he can force the declarer's last trump with a spade, and generally this would be his wisest play; but the long clubs in the dummy show that the usual tactics cannot now be employed, and his only chance is to lead a diamond hoping that his partner has one or two winners. it goes without saying that leading a suit the weak adverse hand can trump, and upon which the strong hand can discard, is carrying out a custom most commendable at christmas, but which at the card-table does not arouse the enthusiasm of the partner. a player should be most careful not to indicate by some mannerism that his hand is trickless. by pulling a card before it is his turn to play, by apparent lack of interest, or by allowing himself to be wrapped in gloom, he may give the declarer as much information as if he spread his hand on the table. the signal one of the best and most serviceable methods of giving information is by using "the signal," which is made by the play of an unnecessarily high card. for example, the ace and king of a suit are led. the play of the before the constitutes a signal, as the is an unnecessarily high card. the meaning of this signal is that the maker desires the suit, in which it is made, continued. playing in ordinary order, lower before higher, shows that the continuation of that suit is not requested. it is the old trump signal of the game of whist, which, inasmuch as a demand for a trump lead is not needed in auction, has been borrowed and transformed into a request to continue the suit. this signal was first used to mean, "i can ruff the third round," but the absurdity of limiting it to any such meaning soon became apparent, and, as it is now played, it means, "partner, continue this suit. i have some reason for asking you so to do." the failure to give this signal may mean, "shift the suit," but does not of necessity do so. it merely says, "partner, i have no reason for asking you to lead this suit a third time." this signal is a most important part of auction tactics. it can be given on either the partner's or the declarer's lead, should always be used when a continuation of the suit is desired, and should be watched for by the partner with the most painstaking care. the first trick sometimes furnishes this information. for example, the play of the deuce, or of any card which the partner can read as being of necessity the lowest, tells him that either the card is a singleton or that the player is not beginning a signal. when a player is anxious to place his partner in the lead, the signal may be of the greatest possible value. suppose, for example, he has two suits from which to choose. in one of these suits he is without strength, but his partner may have the ace. in the other, he has the ace himself, and his partner may have the king. if he guess the wrong suit, the declarer will get in and take the rest of the tricks. by leading his ace and watching the size of the card his partner plays, he can generally tell what to do. if the lowest card be played, he should shift the suit. in such a situation, if the partner wish the suit continued, and has more than two small cards, he should play the highest so as to emphasize the signal. the discard the discard which in whist has been the subject of so many controversies, and which, even in bridge, has created some discussion, does not assume nearly so great importance in auction. the strength of the various suits having been clearly indicated by the bid, there is not as great opportunity to furnish new information by the discard. it must not, however, be assumed, merely because the auction discard is comparatively unimportant, that it is not worthy of consideration. true it is that there is no need to worry over any such complicated systems as strength or rotary discards. they are apt to confuse and produce misunderstandings far more damaging than any possible benefit which results when they work perfectly. the strength discard may compel the playing of a card which, if its suit be established, will win a trick, and the rotary is not always reliable, as the discarder may be void of the "next suit," or unable to discard from it because it is composed of high cards only or of necessary guards for single honors. the "odd-and-even" discard, that is, , , , , showing strength, , , , , weakness, is very satisfactory when the hands are made to order, but a certain proportion of hands fail to contain an odd card when the discarder desires to announce strength, or an even one when he has extreme weakness. the awkwardness, when using this system, of such a holding as , , , is self-apparent. all these plans or fads had their innings in whist, where important information had to be conveyed by the discard, but in auction, they are about as necessary as pitching a curve to a blind batsman. the plain, simple, old-fashioned discard from weakness is all that is used or required, provided it be understood that a signal in the discard means a reversal of its ordinary inference. a signal by discard (that is, for example, discarding first a , followed by a ) is generally a showing of strength in that suit, and a most pronounced suggestion, if not an imperative command, that it be led at the first opportunity. the only case in which it is not an evidence of strength is when it shows a desire to ruff. the signal in the discard is most serviceable when the declarer is playing a long suit, and the partner is in doubt which of the two remaining suits to keep guarded. in this case it may not be a command to lead, but merely a wireless message saying, "i have this suit stopped; you take care of the other." a signal in a discard to show strength is only necessary when it is not advisable to discard once from each of the other suits, which by inference gives the same information, yet does not shorten the strong suit. strength information can often be transmitted by the weakness discard, just as quickly and more simply than by the now generally abandoned strength discard. for example, the discard of the lowest card shows weakness and negatives all possibility of a strength signal, but if the first discard be as high as a or , and the partner can read, from the general composition of his hand and the dummy, that the discarder must hold a lower card in that suit, he gets the information at once. regardless of showing his partner strength or weakness, the player has ample opportunity to give evidence of skill in discarding. too much information should never be given to the declarer when he is in the lead and controls the situation. there are many hands in which it becomes obvious that all the adversaries of the declarer can hope to accomplish is the saving of a slam, or the taking of one more trick. the question is not what to tell the partner to lead when he gets in, but how to win a single trick. in such a case, a bluff discard, _i.e._, showing strength where it does not exist, is sometimes effective, although a keen declarer is not apt to be easily deceived by any ruse so transparent. one thing to remember under such circumstances, however, is not to help the declarer by showing weakness, so that he will know which way to finesse. in no-trumps or with the trumps exhausted, never discard a singleton, or too many cards of a weak suit. when a suit has been declared, it is unnecessary, by informatory discarding, to repeat the announcement of strength. this principle, just as is the case with other systems of play, is predicated upon the ability of the partner to remember the bids. if, however, he be unable to do so, information by discard will obviously be sowing seed on barren ground, and should be withheld, as the declarer is the only one who will reap any benefit. blocking the dummy when the declarer is playing a no-trump and the dummy holds a long suit without reëntry, an adversary of the declarer may have the opportunity, when he has a card stopping that suit, of blocking it and preventing the long cards from making, by holding the winning card until the declarer has played what is necessarily his last card of the suit. avoid opening new suits the adversaries of the declarer should avoid opening new suits unless the situation shows it to be necessary. they should remember that when the honors of a suit are evenly divided, opening it is practically sure to cost a trick, and that the starting of any suit, which is not headed by ace and king, or a three-card sequence, is almost invariably disadvantageous. the lead by the partner has been made with some object, and should, therefore, be returned, except when the holding of the dummy or some other development renders such action plainly inadvisable. shifting suits is about as advantageous as swapping horses while crossing a stream, and the advice to return the partner's suit rather than risk a new one applies with equal force whether a no-trump or suit declaration is being played, but does not refer to the situation in which the partner evidently desires that the suit he has declared be led through strength up to him. how to return partner's lead when the original third hand returns a suit opened by his partner, he should lead the winning card, if he hold it. if without the best card, when the lead is against a no-trump declaration, it is far more important that a high card should be led through strength, and also that the holder of the length should be accurately advised as to his partner's high cards, than that he should be told the exact number of small ones. therefore, when playing a no-trumper, the highest card should be returned from either three or two remaining. with four remaining (five originally), the holding may be longer than that of the original leader, and, therefore, the lowest should be led. if the partner be a keen counter of small cards, the next to the lowest is doubtless more informatory and just as advantageous as the lowest. when the original third hand returns a suit opened by his partner against a suit declaration, there is some difference of opinion among good players as to whether he should follow the whist rule, which is the most informatory as to number, and lead the lowest of three remaining, the higher of two; or whether it is unwise to complicate matters by distinguishing between this case and the return when a no-trump is being played. the question is not very important as long as partners understand which convention is being used. none of these rules applies in the case, readily distinguishable, in which the adverse strength in the suit is in the dummy, and it is necessary to hold a high card over that hand; the play must then be made to fit the situation, and not according to any hard-and-fast principle. the finesse the cards of the dummy being exposed make it easy for the player sitting back of him to determine when to finesse. as the object of a finesse is to catch a high card on the right, it is folly to finesse against nothing--for example, the leader opens with knave against a no-trump; the third hand has king and others; when the dummy has the queen, it is obvious the king should not be played unless the queen cover the knave, but when the dummy holds only worthless cards, the third hand should play the king, as, should he finesse against nothing, he would allow the queen to win. the leader has opened either from ace, knave, ten, or a suit headed by a knave-ten combination. in the former case the play of the king insures every trick; in the latter, it helps clear the suit. it, therefore, is an example of the rule not to finesse when the dummy has nothing. an apparent exception to this rule occurs when the lead is made in answer to a declaration, or as an evident effort to find the partner's strength. for example, the original third hand, with six hearts headed by king, ten, and two reëntries, has called hearts. the declarer is playing a no-trumper, and the opening is the knave of hearts. the dummy is without strength. in that case, the declarer is marked with both the ace and queen of hearts. the third hand should, therefore, play small. the play of the king cannot be of any benefit, and should the declarer have the nine, will be most expensive. this really is not a finesse against nothing, but, the position of the winning cards being marked, is merely a conservation of strength. the same general principle applies in many similar cases; when, however, a small card is led, the third hand should not finesse, unless the dummy contain some high card. playing no-trump, the following finesses are advisable over the dummy:-- when dummy has finesse king ace, queen ace, knave ace, ten king, knave ace, ten ace, nine king, ten ace, nine queen ace, knave ace, ten king, knave king, ten knave ace, ten king, ten queen, ten do not, however, except with a fourchette, finesse against queen or knave singly guarded, when it is evident that the declarer and dummy hold only four cards of the suit, and the ace or king is marked with the leader. when playing no-trump, as a rule do not finesse if so doing will block the partner's suit. x scoring and score-sheets the score is a very important incident of the game of auction, and to keep it properly requires considerable care and skill. the figures frequently run into high numbers on both sides, and when the rubber continues during three hotly contested games, they become quite voluminous. the score-sheet should be left on the table, and the writing on it should be of such size that it can be seen at a glance. this saves time and trouble, as it relieves the players from the necessity of asking the state of the score. in some clubs two scores are kept, so that, in the only too probable contingency of a mistake being made, it may invariably be detected. this, however, is unnecessary, and at times confusing. the extra sheet is also apt to prove annoying, because of the space it occupies upon the table. one score is quite sufficient, if it be competently kept, and each entry, as well as the additions, verified. there are two totally different types of auction score-sheets. the one which is used in perhaps ninety per cent. of the private games, and, strange as it may seem, in many clubs, has absolutely no excuse for its existence, except that it was the first to be introduced and has the reputation of being universally used in foreign countries. it requires scoring above and below the line, which is a most cumbersome and dilatory proposition. keeping tally by this method involves, at the end of a rubber, long mathematical problems, which, as the scorer is then in a hurry, frequently result in serious, and at times undiscovered, mistakes. the modern system adopted in the up-to-date clubs, in which the game has received its most scientific development, and in the highest class of social games, does away with the antiquated methods and exacting mathematical problems of the above- and below-the-line system, by using a form of score-sheet which allows and encourages the scorer to mentally compute simple sums during the progress of the rubber. by the elimination of complicated figuring, it minimizes the opportunity for mistake, and delay at the end of the rubber. all players are doubtless familiar with the old system of above-and below-the-line scoring, but only three classes now use it: a. those who have never had the modern system and its advantages called to their attention. b. those who believe that, having once become accustomed to any method, it should never be changed for a better. c. those who believe that, because foreign clubs adopt a certain method, we should do the same. it is probably wasting time to attempt to convert any representative of either b or c, and fortunately for the intelligence of american card players there are comparatively few who deserve to be included in either of these classifications. class a, however, comprises the vast majority of auction players, who have either never had the modern system of scoring called to their attention, or, if they have seen it, have not thoroughly grasped its numerous advantages, and have continued the old method merely because they were more familiar with it and did not perfectly understand the new. it is not putting the matter too strongly to assert that every intelligent scorer, who gives the new plan a thorough test, never returns to the trials and vexations incident to keeping the tally above and below the line. sample sheets are appended, showing the up-to-date scoring-blank as it appears at the beginning of the rubber; the same sheet with a rubber scored, the net totals being computed at the end of each game; and also with the same rubber scored, the net totals being computed at the end of each deal. one scorer will prefer to make up his totals at the end of a game, another will elect to compute them at the termination of each deal; but either way the advantages of the score-sheet are apparent. it goes without saying that any system which allows a player to see at a glance, not only the score of the game, but also the exact status of the rubber, is more advantageous than one which, until some time after the rubber is completed, may leave him in the dark as to whether he is ahead or behind. some players allow, whether they or their opponents are in the lead upon the total score of the rubber, to affect their declarations and doubles. this practice cannot be enthusiastically commended, but all must admit that for such players the new scoring system is most essential. it is, however, mainly as a labor- and time-saving device that the new plan is advocated. if any one doubt, let him keep the score of any rubber under the old method while the same rubber is being scored by some one familiar with the advantages of the new. the result is sure to be most convincing. under the new method, the short sums in addition or subtraction are mentally computed, during the deal of the cards, etc. this occupies waste time only, and at the end of the rubber, leaves a very simple, frequently nothing more than a mental, problem. it has been estimated that during an evening's play, at least one more rubber can be completed when the scoring is conducted under the new method. the various score-sheets, all showing the same rubber, follow. sample of the new score-sheet without any entry ----------------------------------------------------- our score || opponents' score ----------------------------------------------------- tricks | honors | totals || totals | tricks | honors =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | ----------------------------------------------------- sample of new form of score-sheet showing a rubber scored with net totals computed at end of each game ----------------------------------------------------- our score || opponents' score ----------------------------------------------------- tricks | honors | totals || totals | tricks | honors =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | ( ) || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | ( ) || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | ( ) || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | ----------------------------------------------------- the score included in the circle is the _net_ total at the end of each game. it is obtained by subtracting the smaller score from the larger; as, for example, in the first game above, from , which leaves a net of . if a scorer find it more satisfactory to subtract when the figures are in line, he can always write the smaller amount under the larger; as, for example, the under the . sample of new form of score-sheet showing same rubber scored with net totals computed at end of each deal ----------------------------------------------------- our score || opponents' score ----------------------------------------------------- tricks | honors | totals || totals | tricks | honors =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | =======+========+========++========+========+======== -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | =======+========+========++========+========+======== -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | =======+========+========++========+========+======== | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | -------+--------+--------++--------+--------+-------- | | || | | ----------------------------------------------------- all figures under the head of totals are net, and show at the end of each deal the exact status of the rubber. it is also possible, when the above method is employed, to further reduce the amount of bookkeeping by making only one entry whenever one pair scores honors and the other a penalty. this method could have been employed above, deal of game , by merely entering under "our score" honors, and also in deal of game , by entering under "opponents' score" honors. sample showing same rubber scored under old system with long additions and subtraction at end of rubber ----------------------- we | they -----------+----------- | | | | | | | | | ===========+============ | | -----------+------------ | | -----------+------------ | | ___ | ____ | | | ____ | | ===========+============ the score of the rubbers is best kept on a sheet of the following character score by rubbers ------------------------------------------------------- | names |+|-|||+|-|||+|-|||+|-|||+|-|||+|-| | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-| | total | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | ------------------------------------------------------- the following shows how this score should be kept score by rubbers --------------------------------------------------------- | names |+|-|||+|-|||+|-|||+|-|||+|-|||+ |- | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | smith | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | jones | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | brown | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | white | | ||| | ||| | ||| | |||x|x|||x |x | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | green | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | king | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | | ------------------+-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++-+-+++--+--| | total | | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | ||| | | --------------------------------------------------------- it is always well to total at the end of each rubber and to note the size of the rubber. these precautions make it easy to correct mistakes, should any occur. xi the laws in , some years before auction had been heard of in the united states, a number of the best-known clubs of new york, philadelphia, boston, and other cities were represented at a meeting held in new york for the purpose of drafting a code of bridge laws to be used by the clubs of this country. the so-called "american laws of bridge" were adopted, and duly published. it was then expected that they would be universally accepted. in a few months, however, some clubs, including several that had been represented at the meeting, found that certain penalties of the "american laws" were not popular with their members. one club after another made alterations or adopted its own code, so that the object in calling the meeting, namely, club uniformity, was soon as far as ever from being attained. gradually, however, the various clubs began to recognize that the whist club of new york deserved to be ranked as the most conservative and representative card-playing organization in the united states. they realized that it devoted its attention entirely to card games, and included in its membership not only the most expert players of the metropolis, but also of many other cities. it was but natural, therefore, that the admirable bridge code of the whist club should be accepted by one club after another, until in the end the desideratum of the drafters of the american laws was virtually obtained. when, in - , auction, with its irresistible attractions, in an incredibly brief space of time made bridge in this country a game of the past, the only auction laws available had been drafted in london by a joint committee of the portland and bath clubs. they were taken from the rules of bridge, which were altered only when necessary to comply with the requirements of the new game. it is probable that the intent of the members of the bath-portland committee was merely to meet an immediate demand, and that they expected to revise their own code as soon as wider experience with the game demonstrated just what was needed. under these circumstances, it was to be expected that the whist club of new york would promulgate a code of auction laws which would be accepted from the atlantic to the pacific. the club, however, did not act hastily, and it was not until may, , that it issued its first edition of "the laws of auction bridge." this was amended in , and in subjected to a most thorough and comprehensive revision. until the adoption of a national code by an american congress of auction players, an event not likely to occur, it is doubtless for the best interest of auction in this country that the laws of the whist club of new york be generally followed. uniformity is most important; otherwise, players from one city, visiting another, are sure to find local conditions which will, temporarily at least, prove something of a handicap. when any improvement is suggested, which, after due trial, meets with local favor, it would seem wise that such suggestion, whether it emanate from a club committee or an individual, be forwarded to the card committee of the whist club of new york. it may be authoritatively stated that all such ideas will be cordially received, thoroughly considered, and, if approved, incorporated in the club code at its next revision. appended hereto will be found "the laws of auction bridge" as published by the whist club of new york, november, . these laws should be carefully read, if not studied, by every devotee of the game. no matter how familiar a player may have been with the old laws, he will find an examination of the new to be advisable, as the changes are both numerous and important. if it has not been his practice to keep in touch with auction legislation, he should realize that a close acquaintance with the code which governs the game he is playing will prove most beneficial. as the laws speak for themselves, it is not necessary to explain them, or even to point out the various alterations. the wording in many cases has been materially changed, in order to clarify and simplify. some penalties that seemed too severe have been reduced, and certain modifications have been made which appear to be in the line of modern thought. special attention is called to the elimination of the law which prevented consultation as to the enforcement of a penalty, and also of the law which provided that when a wrong penalty was claimed, none could be enforced. the laws referring to cards exposed after the completion of the deal, and before the beginning of the play, have been materially changed, and the law covering insufficient and impossible declarations has been altered and redrafted. a point worthy of special attention is law of the revised code. it covers the case, which occurs with some frequency, of a player making an insufficient bid and correcting it before action is taken by any other player. under the old rule, a declaration once made could not be altered, but now when the player corrects himself, as, for example, "two hearts--i mean three hearts"; or "two spades--i should say, two royals," the proper declaration is allowed without penalty. the laws follow. the laws of auction bridge the rubber . the partners first winning two games win the rubber. if the first two games decide the rubber, a third is not played. scoring . a game consists of thirty points obtained by tricks alone, exclusive of any points counted for honors, chicane, slam, little slam, bonus or undertricks. . every deal is played out, and any points in excess of the thirty necessary for the game are counted. . when the declarer wins the number of tricks bid, each one above six counts towards the game: two points when spades are trumps, six when clubs are trumps, seven when diamonds are trumps, eight when hearts are trumps, nine when royal spades are trumps and ten when there are no trumps. . honors are ace, king, queen, knave and ten of the trump suit; or the aces when no trump is declared. . honors are credited in the honor column to the original holders, being valued as follows:-- _when a trump is declared._ honors held between partners equal value of tricks. " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " in hand " " " " " " " " { th in " " " " " " " " {partner's hand " " " _when no trump is declared._ aces held between partners count " " " " " " " in one hand " . slam is made when seven by cards is scored by either side, independently of tricks taken as penalty for the revoke; it adds forty points to the honor count.[ ] [ ] law prohibits the revoking side from scoring slam or little slam. . little slam is made when six by cards is similarly scored; it adds twenty points to the honor count.[ ] [ ] law prohibits the revoking side from scoring slam or little slam. . chicane (one hand void of trumps) is equal in value to simple honors, _i.e._, if the partners, one of whom has chicane, score honors, it adds the value of three honors to their honor score; if the adversaries score honors it deducts that value from theirs. double chicane (both hands void of trumps) is equal in value to four honors, and that value must be deducted from the honor score of the adversaries. . the value of honors, slam, little slam or chicane, is not affected by doubling or redoubling. . at the conclusion of a rubber the trick and honor scores of each side are added, and two hundred and fifty points added to the score of the winners. the difference between the completed scores is the number of points of the rubber. . a proven error in the honor score may be corrected at any time before the score of the rubber has been made up and agreed upon. . a proven error in the trick score may be corrected prior to the conclusion of the game in which it occurred. such game shall not be considered concluded until a declaration has been made in the following game, or if it be the final game of the rubber, until the score has been made up and agreed upon. cutting . in cutting, the ace is the lowest card; as between cards of otherwise equal value, the lowest is the heart, next the diamond, next the club, and highest the spade. . every player must cut from the same pack. . should a player expose more than one card, the highest is his cut. forming tables . the prior right of playing is with those first in the room. if there are more than four candidates of equal standing, the privilege of playing is decided by cutting. the four who cut the lowest cards play first. . after the table is formed the players cut to decide upon partners, the two lower playing against the two higher. the lowest is the dealer who has choice of cards and seats, and who, having made his selection, must abide by it. . six players constitute a complete table. . the right to succeed any player who may retire is acquired by announcing the desire to do so, and such announcement shall constitute a prior right to the first vacancy. cutting out . if, at the end of a rubber, admission is claimed by one or two candidates, the player or players having played the greatest number of consecutive rubbers shall withdraw; but when all have played the same number, they must cut to decide upon the outgoers; the highest are out.[ ] [ ] see law as to value of cards in cutting. right of entry . a candidate desiring to enter a table must declare his intention before any player at the table cuts a card, whether for the purpose of beginning a new rubber or of cutting out. . in the formation of new tables candidates who have not played at any existing table have the prior right of entry. others decide their right to admission by cutting. . when one or more players belonging to an existing table aid in making up a new one he or they shall be the last to cut out. . a player who cuts into one table, while belonging to another, forfeits his prior right of reëntry into the latter, unless he has helped to form a new table. in this event he may signify his intention of returning to his original table when his place at the new one can be filled. . should any player leave a table during the progress of a rubber, he may, with the consent of the three others, appoint a substitute to play during his absence; but such appointment shall become void upon the conclusion of the rubber, and shall not in any way affect the substitute's rights. . if any player break up a table the others have a prior right elsewhere. shuffling . the pack must not be shuffled below the table nor so that the face of any card may be seen. . the dealer's partner must collect the cards from the preceding deal and has the right to shuffle first. each player has the right to shuffle subsequently. the dealer has the right to shuffle last; but, should a card or cards be seen during his shuffling, or while giving the pack to be cut, he must re-shuffle. . after shuffling, the cards properly collected must be placed face downward to the left of the next dealer, where they must remain untouched until the play with the other pack is finished. the deal . each player deals in his turn; the order of dealing is to the left. . the player on the dealer's right cuts the pack, and in dividing it he must leave not fewer than four cards in each packet; if in cutting or in replacing one of the two packets a card is exposed, or if there is any confusion or doubt as to the exact place in which the pack was divided, there must be a fresh cut. . when the player whose duty it is to cut has once separated the pack, he can neither re-shuffle nor re-cut, except as provided in law . . should the dealer shuffle the cards after the cut, the pack must be cut again. . the fifty-two cards shall be dealt face downward. the deal is not completed until the last card has been dealt. . in the event of a misdeal the cards must be dealt again by the same player. a new deal . there _must_ be a new deal-- _a_ if the cards are not dealt into four packets, one at a time and in regular rotation, beginning at the dealer's left. _b_ if, during a deal, or during the play, the pack is proven incorrect or imperfect. _c_ if any card is faced in the pack or is exposed during the deal on, above or below the table. _d_ if any player has dealt to him a greater number of cards than thirteen, whether discovered before or during the play. _e_ if the dealer deal two cards at once and then deal a third before correcting the error. _f_ if the dealer omit to have the pack cut and either adversary calls attention to the fact prior to the completion of the deal and before either adversary has looked at any of his cards. _g_ if the last card does not come in its regular order to the dealer. . should three players have their right number of cards, the fourth, less, and not discover such deficiency until he has played, the deal stands; he, not being dummy, is answerable for any established revoke he may have made as if the missing card or cards had been in his hand. any player may search the other pack for it or them. . if, during the play, a pack be proven incorrect, such proof renders the current deal void but does not affect any prior score. (see law b.) if during or at the conclusion of the play one player be found to hold more than the proper number of cards and another have an equal number less, the deal is void. . a player dealing out of turn or with the adversaries' cards may be corrected before the last card is dealt, otherwise the deal must stand, and the game proceed as if the deal had been correct, the player to his left dealing the next hand. a player who has looked at any of his cards may not correct such deal, nor may his partner. . a player can neither cut, shuffle nor deal for his partner without the permission of his adversaries. declaring trumps . the dealer, having examined his hand, must declare to win at least one odd trick, either with a declared suit, or at "no trumps." . after the dealer has made his declaration, each player in turn, commencing with the player on the dealer's left, has the right to pass, to make a higher declaration, to double the last declaration made, or to redouble a declaration which has been doubled, subject to the provisions of law . . a declaration of a greater number of tricks in a suit of lower value, which equals the last declaration in value of points, shall be considered a higher declaration--_e.g._, a declaration of "three spades" is a higher declaration than "one club." . a player in his turn may overbid the previous adverse declaration any number of times, and may also overbid his partner, but he cannot overbid his own declaration which has been passed by the three others. . the player who makes the final declaration shall play the combined hands of himself and his partner (the latter becoming dummy), unless the winning suit was first bid by the partner, in which case he, no matter what bids have intervened shall play the hand. . when the player of the two hands (hereinafter termed "the declarer") wins at least as many tricks as he declared, he scores the full value of the tricks won (see laws and ). when he fails, neither the declarer nor his adversaries score anything towards the game, but his adversaries score in the honor column fifty points for each under-trick--_i.e._, each trick short of the number declared; or, if the declaration has been doubled, or redoubled, one hundred or two hundred respectively for each such trick. . the loss on the original declaration by the dealer of "one spade" is limited to one hundred points whether doubled or not, unless redoubled. honors are scored as held. . if a player make a declaration (other than passing) out of turn, either adversary may demand a new deal, or may allow the declaration so made to stand, in which case the bidding shall continue as if the declaration had been in order. . if a player make an insufficient or impossible declaration either adversary may demand that it be penalized, provided such demand be made before an adversary has passed, doubled or declared. in case of an insufficient declaration the penalty is that the declarer must make his bid sufficient and his partner is debarred from making any further declaration unless an adversary subsequently bids or doubles. in case of an impossible declaration the penalty is that the declarer is considered to have bid to take all the tricks and his partner cannot further declare unless an adversary subsequently bids or doubles. either adversary, instead of accepting the impossible declaration, may demand a new deal or may treat his own or his partner's last previous declaration as final. . if, after the final declaration has been made, an adversary of the declarer give his partner any information as to any previous declaration, whether made by himself or an adversary, the declarer may call a lead from the adversary whose next turn it is to lead; but a player is entitled to inquire, at any time during the play of the hand, what was the final declaration. . a declaration legitimately made cannot be altered after the next player has passed, declared or doubled. prior to such action by the next player, a declaration inadvertently made may be corrected. doubling and redoubling . the effect of doubling and redoubling is that the value of each trick over six is doubled or quadrupled, as provided in law ; but it does not alter the value of a declaration--_e.g._, a declaration of "three clubs" is higher than "two royal spades" even if the "royal spade" declaration has been doubled. . any declaration can be doubled and redoubled once, but not more; a player cannot double his partner's declaration, nor redouble his partner's double, but he may redouble a declaration of his partner which has been doubled by an adversary. . the act of doubling, or redoubling, reopens the bidding. when a declaration has been doubled or redoubled, any player, including the declarer or his partner, can in his proper turn make a further declaration of higher value. . when a player whose declaration has been doubled wins the declared number of tricks, he scores a bonus of fifty points in the honor column, and a further fifty points for each additional trick. if he or his partner has redoubled, the bonus is doubled. . if a player double out of turn, either adversary may demand a new deal. . when the final declaration has been made the play shall begin, and the player on the left of the declarer shall lead. dummy . as soon as the player to the left of the declarer has led, the declarer's partner shall place his cards face upward on the table, and the duty of playing the cards from that hand shall devolve upon the declarer. . before placing his cards upon the table the declarer's partner has all the rights of a player, but after so doing takes no part whatever in the play, except that he has the right:-- _a_ to ask the declarer whether he has any of a suit in which he has renounced; _b_ to call the declarer's attention to the fact that too many or too few cards have been played to a trick; _c_ to correct the claim of either adversary to a penalty to which the latter is not entitled; _d_ to call attention to the fact that a trick has been erroneously taken by either side; _e_ to participate in the discussion of any disputed question of fact after it has arisen between the declarer and either adversary; _f_ to correct an erroneous score. . should the declarer's partner call attention to any other incident of the play in consequence of which any penalty might have been exacted, the declarer is precluded from exacting such penalty. . if the declarer's partner, by touching a card or otherwise, suggest the play of a card from dummy, either adversary may call upon the declarer to play or not play the card suggested. . dummy is not liable to the penalty for a revoke; if he revoke and the error be not discovered until the trick is turned and quitted, whether by the rightful winners or not, the trick must stand. . a card from the declarer's own hand is not played until actually quitted; but should he name or touch a card in the dummy, such card is considered as played unless he, in touching the card, say, "i arrange," or words to that effect. if he simultaneously touch two or more such cards, he may elect which one to play. cards exposed before play . if, after the cards have been dealt, and before the trump declaration has been finally determined, any player lead or expose a card, the partner of the offending player may not make any further bid or double during that hand, and the card is subject to call. when the partner of the offending player is the original leader, the declarer may prohibit the suit of the exposed card being the initial lead. . if, after the final declaration has been made and before a card is led, the partner of the leader to the first trick expose a card, the declarer may, in addition to calling the card, prohibit the lead of the suit of the exposed card; should the rightful leader expose a card it is subject to call. cards exposed during play . all cards exposed after the original lead by the declarer's adversaries are liable to be called, and such cards must be left face upward on the table. . the following are exposed cards:-- st. two or more cards played at once. d. any card dropped with its face upward on the table, even though snatched up so quickly that it cannot be named. d. any card so held by a player that his partner sees any portion of its face. th. any card mentioned by either adversary as being held by him or his partner. . a card dropped on the floor or elsewhere below the table or so held that an adversary but not the partner sees it, is not an exposed card. . if two or more cards are played at once by either of the declarer's adversaries, the declarer shall have the right to call any one of such cards to the current trick, and the other card or cards are exposed. . if, without waiting for his partner to play, either of the declarer's adversaries play or lead a winning card, as against the declarer and dummy, and continue (without waiting for his partner to play) to lead several such cards, the declarer may demand that the partner of the player in fault win, if he can, the first or any other of these tricks, and the other cards thus improperly played are exposed cards. . if either or both of the declarer's adversaries throw his or their cards on the table face upward, such cards are exposed and are liable to be called; but if either adversary retain his hand he cannot be forced to abandon it. cards exposed by the declarer are not liable to be called. if the declarer say, "i have the rest," or any other words indicating that the remaining tricks or any number thereof are his, he may be required to place his cards face upward on the table. his adversaries are not liable to have any of their cards called should they thereupon expose them. . if a player who has rendered himself liable to have the highest or lowest of a suit called (laws , and ) fail to play as directed, or if, when called on to lead one suit he lead another, having in his hand one or more cards of the suit demanded (laws and ), or if, called upon to win or lose a trick, fail to do so when he can (laws , and ), or if, when called upon not to play a suit, fail to play as directed (laws and ), he is liable to the penalty for revoke, unless such play be corrected before the trick is turned and quitted. . a player cannot be compelled to play a card which would oblige him to revoke. . the call of an exposed card may be repeated until such card has been played. leads out of turn . if either of the declarer's adversaries lead out of turn the declarer may either treat the card so led as an exposed card or may call a suit as soon as it is the turn of either adversary to lead. . if the declarer lead out of turn, either from his own hand or from dummy, he incurs no penalty; but he may not rectify the error after the second hand has played. . if any player lead out of turn and the three others follow, the trick is complete and the error cannot be rectified; but if only the second, or second and third play to the false lead, their cards may be taken back; there is no penalty against any except the original offender, who, if he be one of the declarer's adversaries, may be penalized as provided in law . . if a player called on to lead a suit has none of it, the penalty is paid. cards played in error . should the fourth hand, not being dummy or declarer, play before the second, the latter may be called upon to play his highest or lowest card of the suit played, or to win or lose the trick. . if any one, not being dummy, omit playing to a trick and such error is not corrected until he has played to the next, the adversaries or either of them may claim a new deal; should either decide that the deal is to stand, the surplus card at the end of the hand is considered to have been played to the imperfect trick, but does not constitute a revoke therein. . when any one, except dummy, plays two or more cards to the same trick and the mistake is not corrected, he is answerable for any consequent revokes he may have made. when during the play the error is detected, the tricks may be counted face downward, to see if any contain more than four cards; should this be the case, the trick which contains a surplus card or cards may be examined and the card or cards restored to the original holder, who (not being dummy) shall be liable for any revoke he may meanwhile have made. the revoke[ ] . a revoke occurs when a player, other than dummy, holding one or more cards of the suit led, plays a card of a different suit. it becomes an established revoke if the trick in which it occurs is turned and quitted by the rightful winners (_i.e._, the hand removed from the trick after it has been turned face downward on the table); or if either the revoking player or his partner, whether in turn or otherwise, lead or play to the following trick. [ ] see law . . the penalty for each established revoke is:-- (_a_) when the declarer revokes, his adversaries add points to their score in the honor column, in addition to any penalty which he may have incurred for not making good his declaration. (_b_) if either of the adversaries revoke, the declarer may either add points to his score in the honor column, or may take three tricks from his opponents and add them to his own. such tricks may assist the declarer to make good his declaration, but shall not entitle him to score any bonus in the honor column, in the case of the declaration having been doubled or re-doubled. (_c_) when more than one revoke is made by the same side during the play of the hand the penalty for each revoke after the first, shall be points in the honor column. a revoking side cannot score, except for honors or chicane. . a player may ask his partner if he has a card of the suit which he has renounced; should the question be asked before the trick is turned and quitted, subsequent turning and quitting does not establish a revoke, and the error may be corrected unless the question is answered in the negative, or unless the revoking player or his partner has led or played to the following trick. . if a player correct his mistake in time to save a revoke, any player or players who have followed him may withdraw their cards and substitute others, and the cards so withdrawn are not exposed. if the player in fault is one of the declarer's adversaries, the card played in error is exposed and the declarer may call it whenever he pleases; or he may require the offender to play his highest or lowest card of the suit to the trick, but this penalty cannot be exacted from the declarer. . at the end of a hand the claimants of a revoke may search all the tricks. if the cards have been mixed the claim may be urged and proved if possible; but no proof is necessary and the claim is established if, after it has been made, the accused player or his partner mix the cards before they have been sufficiently examined by the adversaries. . a revoke must be claimed before the cards have been cut for the following deal. . should both sides revoke, the only score permitted shall be for honors in trumps or chicane. if one side revoke more than once, the penalty of points for each extra revoke shall then be scored by the other side. general rules . once a trick is complete, turned and quitted, it must not be looked at (except under law ) until the end of the hand. . any player during the play of a trick or after the four cards are played, and before they are touched for the purpose of gathering them together, may demand that the cards be placed before their respective players. . if either of the declarer's adversaries, prior to his partner playing, call attention to the trick, either by saying it is his, or without being requested so to do, by naming his card or drawing it towards him, the declarer may require such partner to play his highest or lowest card of the suit led, or to win or lose the trick. . either of the declarer's adversaries may call his partner's attention to the fact that he is about to play or lead out of turn; but if, during the play of a hand, he make any unauthorized reference to any incident of the play, or of any bid previously made, the declarer may call a suit from the adversary whose turn it is next to lead. . in all cases where a penalty has been incurred the offender is bound to give reasonable time for the decision of his adversaries. new cards . unless a pack is imperfect, no player shall have the right to call for one new pack. if fresh cards are demanded, two packs must be furnished. if they are produced during a rubber, the adversaries shall have the choice of the new cards. if it is the beginning of a new rubber, the dealer, whether he or one of his adversaries is the party calling for the new cards, shall have the choice. new cards must be called for before the pack is cut for a new deal. . a card or cards torn or marked must be replaced by agreement or new cards furnished. bystanders . while a bystander, by agreement among the players, may decide any question, he should not say anything unless appealed to; and if he make any remark which calls attention to an oversight affecting the score, or to the exaction of a penalty, he is liable to be called upon by the players to pay the stakes (not extras) lost. etiquette of auction bridge in auction bridge slight intimations convey much information. a code is compiled for the purpose of succinctly stating laws and for fixing penalties for an offense. to offend against etiquette is far more serious than to offend against a law; for, while in the latter case the offender is subject to the prescribed penalties, in the former his adversaries have no redress. . declarations should be made in a simple manner, thus: "one heart," "one no-trump," or "i pass," or "i double"; they should be made orally and not by gesture. . aside from his legitimate declaration, a player should not give any indication by word or gesture as to the nature of his hand, or as to his pleasure or displeasure at a play, a bid or a double. . if a player demand that the cards be placed, he should do so for his own information and not to call his partner's attention to any card or play. . no player, other than the declarer, should lead until the preceding trick is turned and quitted; nor, after having led a winning card, should he draw another from his hand before his partner has played to the current trick. . a player should not play a card with such emphasis as to draw attention to it. nor should he detach one card from his hand and subsequently play another. . a player should not purposely incur a penalty because he is willing to pay it, nor should he make a second revoke to conceal a first. . players should avoid discussion and refrain from talking during the play, as it may be annoying to players at the table or to those at other tables in the room. . the dummy should not leave his seat for the purpose of watching his partner's play, neither should he call attention to the score nor to any card or cards that he or the other players hold, nor to any bid previously made. . if a player say "i have the rest," or any words indicating the remaining tricks are his, and one or both of the other players should expose his or their cards, or request him to play out the hand, he should not allow any information so obtained to influence his play nor take any finesse not announced by him at the time of making such claim, unless it had been previously proven to be a winner. . if a player concede in error one or more tricks, the concession should stand. . a player having been cut out of one table should not seek admission into another unless willing to cut for the privilege of entry. . no player should look at any of his cards until the deal is completed. decisions by the card committee of the whist club of new york since the adoption of the foregoing code, the card committee of the whist club of new york has rendered the following decisions, interpreting certain laws that have caused discussion. the cases in question have arisen in various localities,--number , for example, coming from st. louis, number from northern new york, and number from mexico. case a bids out of turn. y and z consult as to whether they shall allow the declaration to stand or demand a new deal. b claims that, by reason of the consultation, the right to enforce a penalty is lost. decision rule does not prohibit consultation. it provides that "either adversary may demand a new deal or allow the declaration to stand." this obviously only means that the decision first made by either shall be final. the old law prohibiting consultation has been stricken from the code, and the action seems wise, as such a question as, "will you enforce the penalty, or shall i?" is really a consultation, and consequently an evasion of the law. there does not seem to be any sound reason for preventing partners entitled to a penalty or choice of penalties from consulting, and as the laws at present stand, there is unquestionably nothing prohibiting it. b's claim, therefore, is not allowed. case a bids two hearts, y bids two diamonds,--b demands that the y declaration be made sufficient. y says, "i correct my declaration to three diamonds." b passes, z bids three no-trumps. a claims that z has no right to bid. decision law provides that "in case of an insufficient declaration ... the partner is debarred from making any further declaration." this exactly covers the case in question. true it is that law provides that, prior to the next player passing, declaring, or doubling, a declaration inadvertently made may be corrected. the obvious intent of this law is that it shall apply when a player says, "two diamonds--i mean, three diamonds"; or, "two spades--i mean two royals"; and that such correction shall be allowed without penalty if the declaration has really been inadvertently made and neither adversary has taken any action whatever. we interpret by reading into it the additional words, "or either adversary calls attention to the insufficient declaration." the construction put upon by y would result in nullifying a most important part of . the claim of a is sustained. case at the conclusion of the play the cards are turned face downward preparatory to the next deal. it is then discovered that the pack contains two queens of clubs and no knave of clubs. the score has been claimed and admitted, but not recorded. is the deal which has just been completed, void? decision rule provides that "if, _during the play_, a pack be proven incorrect, such proof renders the _current_ deal void, but does not affect any prior score." "current" may be defined as "in actual progress," "belonging to the time immediately passing." it seems clear, therefore, that as the discovery of the imperfection did not occur during "the current deal," the result of it becomes "a prior score," which under the terms of the rule is not affected. case a player belonging to one table expresses his desire to enter another, and cuts in. at the end of the rubber he claims that he is not obliged to cut with the others. decision rule provides that "when one or more players belonging to an existing table aid in making up a new one, he or they shall be the last to cut out." this rule applies only when a player leaves an existing table to help make up another, when, without him, there would not be four players for the new table. when a player leaves a table and cuts into another, his presence not being required to complete the table he enters, he has the same standing as the others at that table. case a player belonging to one table expresses his desire to join another, cuts for the privilege of entering in accordance with rule , and fails to cut in. at the end of the rubber, must he cut again? decision by his first cut he lost his rights at his former table and became a member of the new table; at the end of the rubber he has the right to enter without cutting. case the bidding in an auction deal was as follows:-- _ st d d round round round_ north royals redouble double east no no no south hearts no double west double clubs claims new deal the deal was played and resulted in the declarer taking six tricks, a loss of . the question is whether west's claim should be sustained or this score counted, it being a part of the case stated that the declaration which was the subject of complaint was made inadvertently. decision law provides that "a player cannot redouble his partner's double," but does not penalize such action. the prohibition is intended to prevent an increase in the value of the tricks and a penalty is not attached, as the additional double is generally a careless act, not likely to materially benefit the offending player. it goes without saying that any such double is most irregular, and any suggestion of strength thereby conveyed will not be used by an honorable partner. the same comment applies to the remark, sometimes made, "partner, i would have doubled if you had not." a player repeatedly guilty of such conduct, or of intentionally violating any other law, should be reprimanded, and, if the offense be continued, ostracized. in the case under consideration, this question does not arise, as it is conceded that the act was simply an inadvertence. even, however, had its _bona fides_ been questioned, the decision would of necessity be that the score be counted, as the laws do not provide a penalty for the offense. case the bidding in an auction deal was as follows:-- _ st d d th round round round round_ north club heart hearts no east diamond no double no south no no clubs west no diamonds no south claimed that his partner, having abandoned the club declaration, he (south) became the real club bidder, and, having made the final declaration, was entitled to play the combined hands. decision rule provides that when the winning suit was first bid by the partner, _no matter what bids have intervened_, he shall play the hand. this rule decides the case. case at about the seventh or eighth trick, the left-hand adversary of the declarer remarks, "if you have all of the tricks, lay down your hand." the declarer does not answer, but continues the play in the usual manner. one trick later the same adversary says, "lay down your hand," whereupon almost simultaneously the declarer and the adversary who has done the talking place their hands face upward on the table. the declarer then states that he can take all the tricks. the play is not completed, but examination shows one trick may be taken by the adversaries of the declarer if he do not finesse in a certain way. under these irregular circumstances, should the declarer lose the trick? decision law provides, "if either or both of the declarer's adversaries throw his or their cards on the table face upward, such cards are exposed and liable to be called; but if either adversary retain his hand, he cannot be forced to abandon it. cards exposed by the declarer are not liable to be called. if the declarer say, 'i have the rest,' or any other words indicating that the remaining tricks or any number thereof are his, he may be required to place his cards face upward on the table. his adversaries are not liable to have any of their cards called should they thereupon expose them." section of etiquette provides: "if a player say, 'i have the rest,' or any words indicating the remaining tricks are his and one or both of the other players expose his or their cards or request him to play out the hand, he should not allow any information, so obtained, to influence his play, nor take any finesse not announced by him at the time of making such claim, unless it had been previously proven to be a winner." the case under consideration is covered by the first portion of law . the latter portion of that law does not apply, as the opponent did not place his cards on the table after a claim by the declarer. the law seems clear, the cards of the adversary are exposed and subject to call--the cards of the declarer cannot be called. the etiquette of the game, however, must not be disregarded. the plain intent of section and the justice of the case is that, if the declarer place his hand on the table claiming the remaining tricks, he should not receive a doubtful trick unless, when he made his claim, he contemplated any finesse necessary to obtain it. if he did not intend to finesse that way, or did not then realize that a finesse would be necessary, he should, under these circumstances, voluntarily surrender the trick. the reason for this is that, should a declarer claim all the tricks, the opponent who requires the hand to be played out would naturally hold the strength; the locus of the request, therefore, suggests the way to win the finesse. it is most advantageous for the interest of auction that, when no real play remains, time should not be wasted, but neither side should in any way benefit by an effort to avoid useless delay. in the case under consideration, however, the adversary suggests that the hands be placed on the table, and the declarer may naturally expect that the only card which might take a trick will drop. there is no reason to assume that the declarer will not finesse correctly, and it is not just that the act of his opponent should deprive him of the opportunity of so doing. the decision, therefore, is that the declarer is entitled to the disputed trick. case dummy leaves the table to get a glass of water. as he returns to his seat, he sees his partner's hand and notices that he is revoking. has he, under these circumstances, the right to ask him whether he has any more of the suit? decision law gives the dummy the right to ask this question, and does not specify that he must be in his seat to avail himself of the privilege. section of etiquette provides that dummy shall not leave his seat for the purpose of watching his partner's play; but even should he do so, his breach of etiquette would not deprive him of the rights given him by law. an adversary may unquestionably object to the dummy watching the play of the declarer. that, however, is not the case under consideration. the penalty for the revoke is the most severe in auction, many think it unreasonably so, and a player is unquestionably entitled to every protection the law affords him. the decision, therefore, is that, under the conditions named, the question may be asked. case with three tricks to play, the declarer throws his cards face upward on the table, claiming the remaining tricks. his opponents admit his claim, and the score is entered. the dummy then calls the attention of the table to the fact that, had a certain lead been made, the declarer could not have taken all the tricks. query: under the circumstances, is the declarer entitled to all the tricks; first, viewing the question solely from a strict interpretation of the laws; and second, from the standpoint of good sportsmanship? decision section of etiquette provides, "if a player concede in error one or more tricks, the concession should stand." there is no law affecting this situation, and, therefore, the section of etiquette above quoted clearly covers the first portion of the query. as to whether good sportsmanship would require the declarer, under such circumstances, to voluntarily surrender any of the tricks to which he is entitled by law, does not seem to produce a more serious question. it is true that the adversaries, by overlooking a possible play, made a concession that was not required, and that the dummy noticed the error of the adversaries. why, however, should the dummy be obliged to correct this error any more than any other mistake of his opponents? it is perfectly clear that, had a similar error been made by the declarer, the dummy could not have saved himself from suffering by reason of it, and, whether the question be either a strict interpretation of law or of sportsmanship, it is a poor rule that does not work both ways. both parts of the query are, therefore, answered in the affirmative. case the declarer leads three rounds of trumps, on the third an adversary refuses. later in the play the declarer leads a winning card which is trumped by the adversary who has refused trumps. the player who trumped the trick gathered it. the declarer said, "how did you win it?" the player answered, "i trumped it." the dummy then said, "who trumped it?" after this remark by the dummy, the declarer claims a revoke, the claim is disputed upon the ground that the dummy called the revoke to the attention of the declarer. the declarer states that he would have made the claim, regardless of dummy's remark. query: should the revoke be allowed? decision law prescribes explicitly the privileges of the dummy after he has placed his hand on the table. there are exactly six things which he may do and no more. law provides, "should the declarer's partner call attention to any other incident of the play in consequence of which any penalty might have been exacted, the declarer is precluded from exacting such penalty." inasmuch as asking "who won the trick?" is not one of the six privileges allowed the dummy, such action is irregular, and must, of necessity, call attention to the revoke. had the dummy actually claimed the revoke, it would preclude the exaction of a penalty, even had the declarer been about to claim it. it is, therefore, immaterial whether the declarer would have noticed the revoke had the dummy not made the irregular remark. the question is decided in the negative. case the adversaries of the declarer take ten tricks, but revoke. under these conditions, can either side score "except for honors or chicane?" decision law provides that "a revoking side cannot score, except for honors or chicane." it also provides: "if either of the adversaries revoke, the declarer may either add points to his score in the honor column or may take three tricks from his opponents and add them to his own. such tricks may assist the declarer to make good his declaration." it is evident that the declarer is given the option of either scoring points or taking three tricks, should he prefer to make good his declaration rather than receive the bonus. in the case cited, three tricks could not fulfill the contract, but should a thoughtless or generous declarer elect to take a penalty which would not benefit him, in preference to , he would be acting within his rights. the rule clearly decides this case. the adversaries "cannot score except for honors or chicane," and the declarer can "add to his score in the honor column" if he elect so to do. acknowledgment is made of the courtesy of the whist club of new york in permitting the publication of its code of laws and of the decisions of its card committee. summarized penalties for the benefit of those who wish to hastily ascertain the penalty for an offense or to refer to the law upon the subject, the following table of summarized penalties has been prepared. it does not include every possible penalty, but merely those of most frequent occurrence. offense penalty law revoke by declarer points _a_ revoke by adversary points or tricks _b_ revoke by dummy none second revoke in same hand points _c_ lead out of turn by declarer none { exposed card lead out of turn by adversary { or { called lead card exposed during deal new deal _c_ { partner cannot bid nor card exposed after deal and { lead suit of card and card before end of bidding { may be called { may be called and if exposed card exposed after end of { by third hand that suit bidding and before lead { not be led card exposed { declarer none during { play by { adversary may be called { { two or more cards played at all may be called once by adversary not playing to trick new deal playing cards to trick liable for revoke playing with less than cards liable for revoke holding cards new deal _d_ misdeal new deal { { dealing out of turn or with may be corrected before wrong cards last card is dealt declaration out of turn new deal double out of turn new deal pass out of turn none insufficient declaration made sufficient and partner debarred from bidding impossible declaration made tricks and partner debarred from bidding; or new deal; or previous declaration may be made final dummy's calling attention to penalty for offense eliminated any offense dummy's suggesting a play it may be required or prohibited declarer's naming or touching may have to play it card in dummy adversary's calling attention partner may be required to to trick play highest or lowest card or win or lose trick giving information about called lead bidding after final bid fourth hand playing before second hand may be required second to play highest or lowest card or win or lose trick cutting more than one card must take highest appendix queries and answers the introduction of the count now in use has produced so radical a change in the game of auction that of necessity innumerable differences of opinion have arisen among individual players. many questions have been submitted to arbitrators for decision. in some cases the author of auction of to-day has been complimented by being called upon for his opinion, and a few queries that seem to be upon points of general interest, with the answers given, follow. query what is the correct original bid of the dealer in the following cases? . seven diamonds, headed by knave, ten; ace of spades; ace of hearts; ace and three small clubs. . the same hand, except that the clubs are ace, king, and two small. . the same two hands, with the diamonds headed by queen, knave, ten. answer these hands are evidently conceived for the purpose of proving vulnerable the rule that a suit should not be called without the ace or king. they doubtless never did and probably never will occur in actual play, but most aptly illustrate a point of declaration, and are, therefore, worthy of consideration. it must be remembered that in the extraordinary case any convention of declaration may be varied to suit the hand. undoubtedly, the last rule to permit exception is that above mentioned. for the purpose of emphasis it may properly be said to be without exception, and yet, if any such holding actually happen, it may become necessary for the declarer to take a little leeway. it cannot affect the confidence of the partner if a player, only under such extraordinary circumstances, departs from the conventional, and the remarkable character of the hand guarantees that harm will not result in the particular instance. all of the above hands contain three aces, yet a no-trump should not be bid, as it would probably be left in, and with two singleton aces they are dangerous no-trumpers, but strong diamonds. the hands are much too strong to call one spade, as that also might not be overbid. two spades followed by diamonds would be quite satisfactory, would avoid breaking the rule, but would not include the effort to eliminate adverse bidding which, with a hand of this character, might be desirable. two diamonds is not permissible, as that is the conventional call for a solid diamond suit. there is no reason, however, that three or more diamonds or clubs should not indicate a long weak trump suit with such additional strength that one spade is an unsafe call. such a bid would suggest that a game is probable in the suit named. it is not a recognized bid and would rarely be used, but an intelligent partner would at once grasp its meaning. the answer to the above, therefore, is . three diamonds. . three, or even four, diamonds. (the bid of one club might be left in.) . three or diamonds in first; in second. query would it not improve the game of auction and increase the amount of skill required in the declaration if the value of royal spades be altered from to ? answer the basic theory of the present count is to equalize, as nearly as possible, the value of the five declarations, in order to produce the maximum amount of competition in bidding. this has proved most popular with the mass of players, and has been universally adopted not only in this country, but also in england, france, and russia. to decrease the value of the royal spade from to , would be a distinct step backward. in that case it would take , instead of , royal spades to overbid two no-trumps; and , instead of , to overbid three no-trumps. it is not likely that any change, which diminishes the ability of the holder of spades (or of any suit) to compete with a no-trump, will ever appeal to auction devotees. the greater the possibility for competitive bidding, the greater the opportunity for displaying skill in that branch of the game. query should the dealer bid one club, holding ace and king of clubs, four small spades, four small hearts, ace, queen, and one small diamond? answer no. one club deceives the partner. it indicates length in clubs, and may induce him to advance that suit too far. in the event of an adverse no-trump, it will probably result in the lead of the partner's highest club, which is apt to prove extremely disastrous. one no-trump is far safer than one club, and might be defended on the ground that with four cards in each of the two weak suits the danger of a long adverse run is reduced. one spade, however, places the dealer in a splendid position to advance any call his partner may make, and is doubtless the sound bid. query is it not an objection to the count now in use that the spade suit is given two values, and would it not be wise to make spades , and allow the dealer to pass the original declaration? answer the advisability of this plan was thoroughly considered before the present count was suggested. it would make a pass by the dealer equal to the present declaration of one spade, and in the event of the four players all passing, presumably would necessitate a new deal. it would eliminate two, three, and four spade bids by the dealer and second hand, and the double of one spade by the latter. it would relieve the third hand from determining whether to take his partner out of one spade, and take from the fourth hand the decision of whether to play for a penalty of or try for game. it is evident, therefore, that it would take a great deal out of the bidding of every one of the four players, and it is hard to believe that any scheme tending to decrease the variety of, and amount of skill required for, the declaration, is to the advantage of the game. the objection to having two spade values is purely theoretical, as players are not in the least embarrassed thereby, nor is the number of declarations at present a part of the game cumbersome or confusing. the argument, that if there be two spade values there might equally well be two values for each of the other suits, almost answers itself. having more than one royal declaration would of necessity result in complications, and, of course, only one defensive call is needed. with the advantages of the spade bid so numerous and evident, and with no real disadvantage apparent, there does not seem to be any sound reason for abandoning it. query dealer bids one royal. second hand holds ace, king, queen, knave, and ten of clubs; ace, king, and two small diamonds; ace and two small hearts; one small spade. what should he bid? answer three clubs. the holding thoroughly justifies a no-trump, as the hand contains eight sure tricks. if, however, the partner cannot stop the spades, the adversaries will save the game at once, while eleven club tricks is not an impossibility. furthermore, the partner may have the spades stopped if _led up to_ him, but not if led _through_ him. the declaration of _three_ clubs (one more than necessary) tells the partner the situation, and accomplishes two purposes:--if the partner have not the spades stopped, the game is still possible; if the partner have the spades stopped, if led up to him, it instructs him to call two no-trumps, whereas a no-trump bid by the second hand, with the same cards, might fail to produce game, because the position of the opening lead would then be reversed. query dealer bids one no-trump; second hand, two hearts. third hand holds spades knave, ten, and three small hearts one small diamonds two small clubs ace, queen, knave, and two small what should be bid? answer two royals. this hand, especially with an adverse heart call, is much more apt to go game at royals than at no-trump. two royals asks to be let alone; three clubs practically commands the partner to bid two no-trumps if he have the hearts stopped. this is but an expansion of the principle that the original call of one club or one diamond suggests a no-trump, while one heart or one royal indicates a desire to try for game in the suit named. query is it fair for partners to agree that the bid of one spade shall mean weakness; one club, general strength; and two clubs, strength in clubs? answer it is perfectly fair for players to use the above-described, or any other convention, provided their adversaries understand its meaning. conventions are an essential part of auction. the lead of a king to show the ace is a convention--so is every informatory play or declaration. when plays or bids are generally understood, it is unnecessary for players to explain their significance, but the adversaries should have all the information upon the subject possessed by the partner, and nothing approaching a private understanding should exist. query the dealer bids one no-trump, holding spades ace, queen, ten, and three small hearts ace, queen diamonds ace, and one small clubs ace, and two small second and third hands pass; fourth hand, two diamonds. what should the dealer declare on the second round? answer two royals. the hand is far too strong to pass, while to bid two no-trumps is foolish, as, unless the partner hold the king of spades, it is almost certain that the contract cannot be fulfilled. two royals is safe and presents a good chance of game. a game in royals is far more valuable than for aces, which may be reduced, if not wiped out, by penalties for under-tricks. query score, love. dealer bids one spade; second hand, one diamond; third hand, one royal; fourth hand, two clubs. second round, dealer bids two royals; second hand, three clubs; third hand, three royals; fourth hand, four diamonds. dealer holds spades knave, , hearts king, knave, diamonds , , clubs king, , , should he double the four diamond declaration? answer a bid of four diamonds should never be doubled at a love score unless the doubler be reasonably sure of defeating the declaration. in this case he may expect to win one club, and possibly one heart, although that is not sure. either the declarer or the dummy may be without spades. the double does not seem reasonably safe and may keep the partner from a successful bid of four royals. the dealer, therefore, should pass. lady cadogan's illustrated games of solitaire or patience _new revised edition_ including american games "how poor are they that have not patience."--othello. _patientia vincit._ philadelphia david mckay company washington square copyright, , by david mckay company printed in united states of america [transcriber's note: this alphabetical list of the games was produced for the convenience of the reader and is not contained in the original text.] contents anna the fifteen babette the fish-bone cÆsar the flower-garden canfield or klondike the four corners fortress the fourteenth general sedgewick the great thirteen la belle lucie the hemispheres la nivernaise the herring-bone light and shade the kings margarethe the labyrinth mount olympus the "louis" patience napoleon at st. helena the mill napoleon's square the nation nestor the olga red and black the queens sly the salic law spenser's fairie queen the shah the besieged city the square the blockade the sultan the carpet the terrace the clock the wheel the congress the zodiac the constitution two rings the empress of india explanation of the tableaux the blank spaces show where the foundation cards should be played during the deal. explanation of terms _available cards._ those that are not "blocked" by other cards, _i.e._, not forbidden by the particular rules of each game, to be used. _released cards._ those which, by the removal of the cards that blocked them, have now become available. _suitable cards._ those whose value and suit fit them to be played or placed in the tableaux. _foundation cards._ those on which the patience is formed. these are generally aces and kings. _marriage._ the placing a card _of the same suit_ on the next one above or below it in value. any number may be placed on each other in this way. _sequence._ the regular succession of cards ascending from ace to king, or descending from king to ace; a sequence need not be of one suit. _value._ the figures of the court cards, and the number of points of the minor ones. _suit._ either hearts, spades, diamonds, or clubs. _lane._ an empty space in the tableau, which has been formed by the removal of an entire row of cards. _talon._ cards which, being unsuitable at the moment, are laid aside in one or more packets till they can come into use. _to play cards._ the _placing them on the foundations_ in contradistinction to placing them elsewhere. _re-deals._ these are always in addition to the original deal. [illustration: la belle lucie.] la belle lucie one entire pack of cards rules i. the uppermost card of each packet is alone available, until by its removal it releases the one beneath. ii. the foundations must follow suit. play deal out the entire pack in packets of three cards dealt together and placed as in tableau. the last packet, however, will contain but one card. the four aces form the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence to kings. having placed the tableau, take any aces that may appear on the surface of the packets and play them in their allotted spaces, and upon them any other suitable cards, subject to rule i. when all available cards have been played, you proceed to release others, by forming marriages in a descending line on the tableau; but great care is requisite, lest in releasing one card another still more necessary to success should be blocked. the whole tableau should be carefully examined, and the combinations arranged so as to release the greatest number of suitable cards. when this has been done, and there are no more available cards to play, the entire tableau may be taken up, shuffled and re-dealt (if necessary twice), then played again as before. this game can also be played with two packs, the eight aces forming the foundation cards, and double the number of packets being dealt for the tableau. it is then called "the house in the wood." there is also another way of playing it with two packs. the foundation cards to be four aces, and four kings of different suits, and marriages made both in ascending and descending lines. the name of this game is "the house on the hill." [illustration: napoleon at st. helena.] napoleon at st. helena two entire packs of cards rules i. only cards in the lowest row are available, until a card in any other row is released by the removal of those below it, the principle being that _no card can be used that has another below it_. ii. the foundations must follow suit. play deal out from left to right four rows of ten cards. the eight aces, when they can be placed, form the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence to kings. should any aces appear in the lowest row, play them in their allotted spaces, and upon them any suitable cards to continue the foundations (rule i). you must now examine the tableau and endeavor by forming marriages (in descending line, and always subject to rule i) to release other suitable cards. this, however, must be done with care, lest a sequence in a lower row may block a card above it which is much wanted, and might soon have been released. if by these changes you can make a vacancy in the uppermost row (thus forming a perpendicular lane), it is of the greatest use. the vacancy may be refilled with any available card from the tableau or from the talon, but you are not obliged to refill it until a favorable opportunity occurs. _note._--some players only allow the vacancy to be filled from the talon. the card so placed has all the privileges of the original card whose place it fills, and is treated in the same manner. when there are no more available cards to play, proceed to deal out the remainder of the pack, turning the cards one by one, playing all suitable ones on the foundations, or placing them on the sequences of the tableau. the cards that cannot be so employed are laid aside in one packet, forming the talon. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the fifteen.] the fifteen two entire packs of cards rules i. only cards in the seventh or lowest row are available, until by their removal those above them are released. _no card can at any time be used that has any other below it._ _note._--there is one exception to this rule, in case the game cannot be opened. see below. ii. each foundation must follow suit. play deal out the entire pack from left to right in horizontal rows, fifteen cards in each, excepting the last one, which can only contain fourteen. each row should partly cover over the preceding one; four aces and four kings form the foundation cards, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, the kings descending in sequence to aces. _when the deal is complete_, if any foundation cards should appear in the lowest row (rule i), play them at once on the spaces reserved, and also any other suitable cards--then marry, both in ascending and in descending lines, subject to rule i; but if, after these changes, no foundation card is available, so that the patience cannot even begin, you may withdraw from the sixth row one ace and one king, if any are to be found (see note to rule i), immediately filling the spaces so made with the cards below which had previously blocked them. if even this resource is unavailing, the patience has already failed, there being no re-deal, and no further infringement of rules allowed. when one or more foundations are established, examine the tableau carefully, marry all available cards, and endeavor by these changes to release the greatest number of suitable cards for the foundations, and to open out one or more perpendicular lanes. these are of the greatest use; you may select any available card and place it at the top of the lane, and below it any others in sequence of the same suit, each card partly concealing the preceding one, as in the original deal. you may also use the lane for reversing any sequences previously made. thus, supposing there is a sequence beginning with a ten and ending with a three (the ten being required for one of the foundations), place the three at the top of the lane, the other cards following until the ten becomes the lowest or available card. in theory this patience is simple, but it is very difficult to play. the combinations are endless, from the constant reversing of sequences, and require great attention. as the success principally depends on the lanes, it is more prudent, when you have only one, not to refill it until by some fresh combination you can open out another one. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the salic law.] the salic law two entire packs of cards rules i. only the cards on the surface of the king packets are available, until their removal as usual releases those beneath, but all the cards in each packet may be examined. ii. the foundations do not follow suit. play take from the pack and place one king to begin the line of eight kings, that are to be successively placed in a horizontal row as they appear in the deal. on this first king you place all the cards as you deal them until the next king appears. you now place the cards as you deal them upon this second king, and you continue thus to deal out the whole pack, always heaping upon the last king that has appeared all the cards as they are dealt. the eight aces are to form the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence to knaves (rule ii). when in the course of the deal any aces appear, they are to be immediately placed in a line above the king packets, and upon them any suitable cards (rule i), and when the queens appear they are to be placed in a row above the foundations. the queens are merely placed to complete the final tableau, which, if the patience succeeds, consists of the eight queens above, the eight knaves finishing the foundations in the centre, and the eight kings below. you must continually examine the surface of the king packets to play any suitable cards on the foundations, and in so doing endeavor to free some of the kings entirely, for when the deal is ended you are allowed to place one card from any of the other packets (rule i) on each king, and you must, of course, choose those cards that will release the greatest number of suitable cards for the foundations, for which purpose the whole packets may be examined. in this consists the entire play. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the four corners.] the four corners two entire packs of cards rules i. after the deal is completed, the uppermost card of each packet is available and may be placed on _any of the foundations_, the cards underneath being released as usual by the removal of those that covered them. ii. each foundation must follow suit. play deal out twelve cards as in tableau, beginning on the left. place the top corner card, then the four side cards, lastly the lower corner card; repeat this process on the right hand, beginning with the top corner, and leaving space in the centre for the foundation cards. these will consist of four aces and four kings of different suits, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, and the kings descending in sequence to aces. having dealt the first round of twelve cards, proceed to deal out the entire pack in successive rounds covering the first one, but in dealing each several round the following method must be strictly observed: the eight foundation cards, as they appear in the deal (whether they fall on the corner or on the side packets), are to be at once played in the space reserved for them, and on these may be played any suitable cards which in dealing fall _on either of the four corner packets_; but when a card (otherwise suitable) falls on either of the _side packets_, it may not be played unless the foundation to which it belongs happens to be the one _immediately adjoining the side packet on which that card fell in dealing_. _note._--whenever in dealing a card is withdrawn, to place on one of the foundations, the next card in the pack is placed in its stead. _after the entire deal is completed_ these restrictions cease, all suitable cards may now be played, subject to rule i, and marriages, both in ascending and descending lines, may be made with cards on the surface of the twelve packets; great care must, however, be taken in making these marriages, lest in releasing one card you block another that is equally required. the contents of each packet should be carefully examined, and only those marriages made which release the greatest number of suitable cards. _note._--the sequences thus made may be reversed if required, viz., if one of the packets contained a sequence, beginning with deuce and ascending to eight (this being, of course, the top card), and one of the other packets had at the top a nine of the same suit, the eight might be placed on the nine, the rest of the sequence following, till the deuce became the top (or available) card. when all possible combinations have been made, and further progress is impossible, the twelve packets may be taken up in order, beginning on the left, re-dealt, and played exactly as before. if necessary, there may be two re-deals. [illustration: the mill.] the mill two entire packs of cards rules i. all cards in the wings are available. ii. the five foundations do not follow suit. play take from the pack one ace and place it in the centre before you; next deal out eight cards, grouping them round the ace to represent the wings of a windmill. the _first four kings_ that appear in dealing are to be played in the four angles (see tableau). these, with the centre ace, form the five foundation cards. each of the four kings is to descend in sequence to ace, while upon the centre ace four entire families are to be piled in sequences (rule ii). having placed the centre ace and the wings, take from the latter any kings for the foundations, or other suitable cards to play on them, or on the centre ace, filling up the spaces so made from the cards in your hand. then proceed to deal out the remaining cards, turning them one by one, playing all whose value admit of it on the foundations. the cards that cannot be so used are placed aside in one packet, forming the talon. _note._--the four families on the centre ace each begin with ace and end with king. it is better to play cards from the talon rather than from the wings. vacancies in the wings must be _immediately_ refilled from the pack or talon. in forming the foundations, the uppermost card of either of the king packets may be transferred, if suitable, to the ace packet; but this privilege is limited to _one_ card of each at a time, and may only be resorted to when the playing of that card would bring into immediate use any other available card of the wings or of the talon. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the shah.] the shah two entire packs of cards rules i. during the deal cards in each circle of the star are available until another circle blocks them. after the deal is completed only cards in the third (or outer) circle are available until, as usual, their removal releases the inner circles. ii. marriages are limited to cards in the third circle; cards in the inner circles, even when released, can only be played, but not married. iii. the foundations must follow suit. play take from the pack the eight aces and the eight kings. throw aside seven of the kings and place the remaining one in the centre, with the eight aces surrounding it in a circle. the king is called the shah, and remains alone. the aces are the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence to queens. next deal out a circle of eight cards, beginning at the top and continuing from left to right. if any of these are suitable, play them, filling the spaces at once from the cards in your hand. then deal out a second circle, blocking the first one (rule i), and treat it in the same manner, then a third circle, which completes the rays of the star. _note._--in the pattern tableau the third circle is omitted for want of space. you should now examine the star, to see if there are any available cards which it would be advantageous to marry, or to play (rules i and ii), but you are not obliged to do either until a favorable opportunity occurs. marriages can only be made in descending line. _note._--it is often better to wait until, in dealing, a card turns up likely to be soon required, and then, by playing or marrying, you make a vacant space in which to place it. when you have played or married all the cards you wish, the spaces so made must be refilled from the talon or pack, beginning with the inner circles, and proceeding from left to right as before. the remaining cards are dealt out in the usual way, those not required for the foundations, or for marrying, or for refilling spaces forming the talon. when a lane, _i.e._, one entire ray of the star, is opened out, the place of the _inner_ card may be filled by _one card_ from the third circle. this is sometimes of great use, and is a kind of "grace," as this patience seldom succeeds. the other two spaces are refilled from the talon, and this must be done at once, as each ray must always be complete. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the blockade.] the blockade two entire packs of cards rules i. all cards in the first row are available, but as each row is placed it blocks the preceding one. the removal of any card in the lower rows releases the one immediately above it, the principle being that all cards are available that have _no others below them_. ii. the foundations must follow suit. play deal out twelve cards in a horizontal line. aces may be played as they appear, but no other card can be played until the row is complete. the eight aces are the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence to kings. when the first line is placed, play any suitable cards, and then marry in descending line, but be careful to place the cards exactly over each other, to avoid confusion. the vacancies thus caused must be immediately refilled from the pack, then again play and marry. when neither can be done, deal out another row underneath the first, and, when it is complete, play, marry, and refill spaces as before. you continue to deal out successive rows until the pack is exhausted, always pausing between each row to play, marry, and refill spaces. in the course of the game vacancies will often be made in the higher rows. these must always be refilled first. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the clock.] the clock two entire packs of cards rules i. when the circle is formed, the uppermost cards of each packet are available, and their removal releases as usual those beneath. ii. marriages can only be made with cards in the circle, and not with those from the pack or talon. iii. vacancies in the circle must be refilled with cards from the pack, but not from the talon; each packet must be refilled so as to contain _not less_ than three cards. iv. the twelve foundations must follow suit. play withdraw from the pack the twelve cards, as in tableau no. , and place them in their exact order against the hours of the clock represented. these are the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence until each packet attains the hour of the clock against which it is placed. having placed these twelve foundations, proceed to deal out a circle consisting of twelve packets of three cards dealt together--so spread that each card is visible (see dotted line). from this circle you first play all suitable cards (rule i), and then marry in a descending line (rule ii), and then refill spaces (rule iii). this last should be done in order, from left to right, beginning at the numeral i, and all the packets refilled before proceeding again to play or to marry. _note._--although each packet must never contain less than the original number of three cards, they will often, by marriages, contain more. you are not obliged to play cards which would be more useful if left on the circle. when all further progress is at an end, deal out the remaining cards; play all suitable ones, then marry and refill spaces, but be careful not to infringe rule ii. the cards that cannot be so employed are laid aside in one packet, forming the talon, which can only be used to play on the foundations. there is no re-deal. [illustration: fortress.] fortress one entire pack of cards rules i. only the outside cards of each group are available, until by their removal the next ones are released, the principle being that no card can be used _that has another outside it_. _note._--by "outside" is meant the cards on the right side of the right-hand group, and those on the left side of the left-hand group. ii. the foundations must follow suit. play deal out the entire pack horizontally in two groups, as in tableau, beginning at the left hand, and dealing straight across each group, leaving space in the centre for four aces. these, when they can be played, form the foundation cards, and are to descend in sequence to kings. should any aces appear on the _outside_ of either group, play them, as also any other suitable cards for continuing the foundations (rules i and ii). you next proceed to form marriages, both in ascending and in descending lines, with cards on the outside of _both_ groups (rule i). but this must be done with extreme care, so as not only to release the greatest number of suitable cards, but also, if possible, to open out one entire horizontal row of cards to form a lane. the success of the game entirely depends on these lanes. if, therefore, you succeed in opening out one, it is more prudent not to refill it until, by some fresh combination, others can be made. when a lane is to be refilled, select any available card (rule i), and place it at the inner end of the lane, and along it any others in sequence of the same suit, the last card being, of course, the available one. one great use of these lanes is to reverse any sequences that have been made by marriages in the ascending line. _note._--supposing you have placed upon a deuce a sequence ending with eight; place the eight at the inner end of the lane, the other cards following in succession until the deuce becomes the outside card. when there are more cards in the lane than the original number, they can be placed partly over each other. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the fourteenth.] the fourteenth two entire packs of cards play deal out twenty-five cards in five rows, each containing five cards. the object is to compose the number fourteen with any two cards taken either from a perpendicular or from a horizontal row. the knave counts eleven, the queen twelve, and the king thirteen. the cards so paired are withdrawn, and their places filled by the cards in your hand. if in the course of the game the number fourteen cannot be composed, one chance remains--any two cards may be taken from their proper position, and may change places with any other two cards; and it is only in making this exchange, so as to produce one or more fourteens, that the player has any control over the success of the game, the success consisting of the entire pack being paired off. in the tableau three fourteens could be at once composed: the ten of hearts with the four of clubs, the knave of spades with the three of hearts, the eight of diamonds with the six of spades. [illustration: the sultan.] the sultan two entire packs of cards rule the foundations must follow suit. play withdraw from the pack and place the eight kings and one ace of hearts as in tableau. the centre king of hearts is called the sultan, and remains alone. the other seven kings, with the ace of hearts, form the foundation cards. each of these seven kings begins with ace, and ascends in sequence to queen. the ace of hearts ascends in the same manner, so that all the eight packets surrounding the sultan end with queens. you next deal out eight cards, four on either side (see tableau). these constitute the divan. from this divan you can play any suitable cards on the foundations, and, having done so, proceed to deal out the remainder of the pack, turning the cards one by one, those that are not suitable for the foundations being laid aside in one packet, forming the talon. vacancies in the divan must be immediately refilled from the talon, or, when there is no talon, from the pack. the talon may be taken up, shuffled, and re-dealt, if necessary, twice. [illustration: la nivernaise.] la nivernaise two entire packs of cards rules i. the line is to consist of six packets, of which the uppermost card of each is alone available, until by its removal the one beneath is released--_the card which is uppermost at the time being always the available one_. ii. as many cards in each of the packets forming the line may be examined as there are vacancies in the flanks. iii. all foundations must follow suit. iv. in re-dealing, the line packets must be taken up in succession, beginning on the left; then the whole together turned and re-dealt as before. play place two perpendicular rows of four cards each, called flanks, leaving space in the centre for four aces and four kings of different suits. these, when they can be played, form the foundation cards, the kings descending in sequence to aces, the aces ascending in sequence to kings. you next deal from left to right six packets, each composed of four cards dealt together, and placed in a horizontal line underneath. these packets are called the line, and will receive successive additions. if any of the foundation cards appear on the surface of the line, or on the flanks, play them in the spaces reserved; as also any other suitable cards subject to rule i, taking, however, in preference, cards from the flanks, as the vacancies so made are most important. _note._--so necessary to success are these vacancies that if, after dealing the first round of the line, none have been made, it is scarcely worth while to continue the game. they may be filled from the pack or from the line, but it is never prudent to fill up all vacancies; one at least should be left. single cards are not to be replaced on the line; but if an entire packet has been played off, four more cards are to be immediately placed in its stead, and this rule applies to each several round. when the resources thus far are exhausted, deal a second round of four cards together, on each of the line packets as before, and continue thus to deal successive rounds until all the cards are dealt out, but between each round pause and examine the line (rule ii) and the flanks, and play all available cards. the whole of the pack having been dealt, and further progress at an end, take up the line as prescribed in rule iv, re-deal, and play exactly as at first. there is only one re-deal. in forming the foundations, one card at a time may be exchanged from the ascending to the descending sequences, and _vice versâ_. [illustration: the empress of india.] the empress of india four entire packs of cards rules i. all cards in the army and navy are equally available if played in pairs (_i.e._, one black and one red), but no card of either color can be played on a foundation _unless a card of the other color is played at the same time on another foundation_. ii. vacancies in the army and navy must be immediately refilled with cards of their own color from the talon, or, when there is no talon, from the pack. iii. cards from the pack or talon cannot be played at once, but must first pass through the army or navy. iv. the talon consists of two packets, one of red, the other of black, cards. v. the foundations must follow suit. play withdraw from the pack the eight black aces and the eight black queens, the eight red kings, and the eight red knaves. place these cards as in the tableau, throwing aside the four queens of spades and three queens of clubs. the remaining queen of clubs represents the empress; the knaves, the guard of british soldiers, and these nine cards remain alone. the eight black aces and the eight red kings are the foundation cards, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, representing admirals, the kings descending in sequence to aces, representing generals. _note._--the red sequences must omit knaves, the black ones must omit queens. deal out four horizontal rows, each containing twelve cards, of which the two upper rows are to be red (the army), the two lower ones black (the navy). they are to be dealt at the same time, and if after the two rows of one color, say red, are finished, more red cards turn up, they must be laid aside as a talon (rule iv). when the army and navy are complete, if any available pairs of cards have been dealt (rule i), play them (the first pair must, of course, be a black two and a red queen), and refill the spaces; but if there should be none, you may proceed to pair cards. any card in the army may be placed on any card in the navy, and _vice versâ_, but the cards so paired cannot afterwards be separated, but must be played _at the same time_ on their respective foundations. the vacancies thus made must be immediately refilled (rule ii). each card can only be paired once. you may choose your own time for pairing cards. for instance, if you require, say, a ten of clubs for one of the foundations, you may defer making a vacancy in the navy until the ten of clubs is at the top of the talon. when you have played all available cards, deal out the remainder of the pack, those not required to fill vacancies being placed in two packets (rule iv). there is no re-deal. _note._--the army and navy could not be placed in the tableau from want of space. [illustration: the besieged city.] the besieged city two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations are formed with cards from the ramparts and from the pack. cards from the talon must pass through the reserve, and the reserve must pass into the ramparts before they can be played. ii. cards in the ramparts may be placed on each other either in the usual ascending and descending sequences, or in the order in which they will be played, viz., queen on two, knave on three, and so on, or _vice versâ_. they must be of the same suit; and sequences, both in ascending and in descending lines, may be placed in the same packet. cards in the ramparts may be transferred from one packet to another at discretion (the top card of each being alone available), and they must follow suit. iii. cards in the reserve may in the same way be placed on those in the ramparts, _but only on the cards at the ends or sides of the line_ from which they are taken. _note._--in the tableau the four of clubs could only be placed on cards at a, b, c, or d, and in this case only on d. iv. vacancies in the ramparts are filled from the reserve with any card in the row at the end of which the vacancy occurs. _note._--in the tableau a vacancy at b or d could only be filled by the four or ace of clubs, or by the seven or six of spades; and a vacancy at a or c, by the ace of diamonds or by the three or four of clubs. v. vacancies in the reserve are filled from the talon or, when there is no talon, from the pack. vi. the foundations must follow suit. play deal twelve cards in four rows of three cards each. then deal an _outside row_ of fourteen cards placed crossways. these are the "ramparts." the inside twelve cards are the "reserve." the foundation cards are four aces of different suits. on these are placed kings, then deuces, queens, threes, and so on, each foundation consisting of alternate sequences, ascending and descending, and finishing as well as beginning with aces (rule vi). having placed the tableau, take from the ramparts aces or other suitable cards (if any have been dealt), and play them in their allotted places, _immediately filling each vacancy as it occurs_ (rules iv and v); this must be done throughout the game. then transfer cards in the ramparts, and from the reserve, as directed in rules ii and iii. when you have done all that you wished (for it is optional), and again played if you can, deal out the remainder of the pack, the cards not suitable for the foundations being placed in a talon. at the end of the patience, when the talon is exhausted and all the cards have been dealt, should there still be cards in the reserve which cannot be transferred to the ramparts, you may transpose them to effect this if you can. this patience is exceedingly difficult. [illustration: the flower-garden.] the flower-garden one entire pack of cards rules i. any card in the bouquet and the uppermost cards of the garden are available. the removal of the top cards releases those beneath. ii. the foundations must follow suit. iii. cards placed in sequence on the garden _need not_ follow suit. play deal six packets of six cards dealt together, and so spread that all are visible. the four aces are the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence to kings (rule ii). sixteen cards will remain, which are called the bouquet, and must be kept in the hand. take from the bouquet and from the garden any aces or other suitable cards (rule i) and play them. next place cards in descending sequences in the garden, transferring them from one packet to another as often as you please (rules i and iii), and you may place cards from the bouquet in the same way. for example, place the four of diamonds (see tableau) on the five of clubs, then take the ten of hearts from the bouquet and place it on the knave of diamonds. the nine of clubs can now be transferred, and the ace and deuce of diamonds are released. this patience is exceedingly difficult. cards taken from the bouquet cannot be returned to it, and there is only one deal. the greatest care must, therefore, be taken in placing cards in sequence and in playing them. you are not obliged to do either, and it is often better to leave a card than to play it, as it may be useful in releasing others. when an entire packet is cleared off, you may begin a new one with a card from the bouquet or from the garden (rule i), and this is often the only means of removing a king, which, being the highest card, can never be transferred. [illustration: the hemispheres.] the hemispheres two entire packs of cards rules i. only cards that belong to their proper hemisphere are available. ii. cards of the wrong colors may be _exchanged_ into their proper hemispheres whenever the opportunity occurs, and at the end of the game, when all the cards are dealt and the talon is exhausted, they may be _transferred without an exchange_. iii. cards may only marry those belonging to their own race, but cards from the talon may marry those of any race. iv. the barriers cannot be moved till the end of the game, when they are played to complete the foundations. v. all the foundations must follow suit. play take from the pack and place as in tableau the four red aces and the four black kings. then place _crossways_ a king of hearts and a king of diamonds, an ace of clubs and an ace of spades. the four latter cards are called barriers, and divide each race. the four black kings and the four red aces form the foundation cards, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, the kings descending in sequence to aces. the red cards, representing europeans and asiatics, should inhabit the northern hemisphere; the black cards, representing australians and africans, the southern; but it is obvious that, in dealing and refilling vacancies, cards will often be found in the wrong hemispheres, _and while there they cannot be used in any way_. having placed the foundations and the barriers, deal out (from left to right, beginning from the king of hearts) a circle consisting of three cards between each barrier. these represent the four races. from these races you play, marry, and exchange all available cards subject to rules i, ii, iii, and v. _note._--the red suits marry in descending line; the black, in ascending line. this done, you deal out the remainder of the pack, first refilling vacancies in the races (proceeding from left to right, as in the original deal) and then playing all suitable cards. the rest form the talon, from which cards may marry those in the circle, subject to rules i and iii. there is no re-deal. [illustration: napoleon's square.] napoleon's square two entire packs of cards rules i. only the uppermost cards of the packets in the square are available until, by their removal, the cards underneath are released, but the whole of the square may be examined. ii. when a vacancy in the square is caused by the removal of an entire packet, the space may be filled by one card from the talon or pack, but this need not be done until a favorable opportunity occurs. iii. all the foundations must follow suit. play deal out twelve packets, each consisting of four cards dealt together, so as to form three sides of a square, leaving space in the centre for the eight aces. these are the foundation cards, and are to ascend in sequence to kings. if any aces appear on the surface of the square, play them in their allotted places, as also any other suitable cards. you next proceed to form marriages in a descending line with the cards of the square, subject to rule i. as usual, great judgment must be exercised in making these changes, lest cards underneath should be blocked by a sequence of higher cards of the same suit. if this were to occur in two packets, _i.e._, if in both cases sequences, say, of diamonds blocked lower cards of the same suit, success would be impossible. _note._--if after dealing the square two kings of one suit were found to be blocking two smaller cards of that suit, either the whole must be taken up and re-dealt, or one king must be slipped underneath. you now proceed to play out the rest of the cards, those that are not suitable for the foundations or for the sequences of the square being placed in a talon. there is no re-deal. this game may be also played as follows: deal out a square of twelve _single_ cards, then deal the rest of the pack as usual, the cards that are suitable being played on the foundations or married (in descending line) to those on the square, ready to be transferred to the foundations, the rest placed in a talon, and vacancies filled in the usual manner. [illustration: the constitution.] the constitution two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations are formed exclusively from the "privy council." all cards in the other divisions, pack, or talon must ascend through each division till they reach the top before they can be played. ii. cards in the three lower divisions may be placed in sequence on cards in the next division above them, and in this manner they may be transferred from one division to another till they reach the top. iii. when cards are placed in sequence in the "constitution," the top card only of each sequence is available until its removal releases the one beneath. iv. all sequences must be of alternate colors and in descending line--_i.e._, a red nine on a black ten, then a black eight, a red seven, and so on. any number of cards may be so placed. v. each vacancy must be _at once_ filled by a card from the division immediately below it; and as this rule applies equally to all the rows, a vacancy will thus be caused in the lowest row or "people," which must be filled from the talon, or, when there is no talon, from the pack. vi. the foundations must follow suit. play take from the pack the kings, queens, and aces--seven of the queens are to be thrown aside and the other cards placed as in tableau. the queen of diamonds represents the sovereign; the black kings, the bishops; the red kings, the judges. the eight aces form the foundation cards or "government," and ascend in sequence to knaves. deal out four horizontal rows (beginning with the lowest), each containing eight cards. this forms the "constitution." each row represents a separate division. the first (or lowest row) is the "people"; the second, the "house of commons"; the third, the "house of lords"; the last the "privy council." when the tableau is complete, if any suitable cards are to be found in the "privy council" row, play them (rule i), immediately refilling each vacancy as it is made (rule v). you must then examine the constitution to see which cards may be most advantageously placed in sequence (rules ii and iv). _note._--the success of this game depends chiefly on the play. in filling a vacancy choose the card (rule v) which has the most chance of reaching the top, or of being useful to cards in the row below it. it is often better to defer making a vacancy till a card turns up in dealing that is required. when you have played all available cards and placed in sequence all that you wish, deal out the remainder of the pack, the cards not required to fill vacancies in the "people" forming the talon. [illustration: the zodiac.] the zodiac two entire packs of cards rules i. marriages may be made in the zodiac with cards from the equator (but not _vice versâ_) and from the talon or pack, but cards in the zodiac cannot marry each other, neither can those in the equator do so. marriages may be made in ascending and descending lines, and the same packet may contain both. ii. the foundations must follow suit. play deal eight cards in a horizontal row called the "equator." then deal a surrounding circle of twenty-four cards called the "zodiac." the foundations are not formed _till the end of the game_. they are to consist of the four aces and four kings of different suits, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, the kings descending in sequence to aces. having placed the tableau, you proceed to marry (rule i) and to refill the spaces from the talon, or, where there is no talon, from the pack, but you are not obliged to do either until a favorable opportunity occurs. you continue to deal out the cards in the usual way, those not required for marrying or for refilling spaces forming the talon. this is to be re-dealt as often as required--that is, until all the cards are placed either in the zodiac or in the equator. if this cannot be done, the patience has already failed. if you succeed in placing all the cards, you then begin to form the eight foundations from the zodiac and equator (rule ii). it is obvious that the greatest care is required in marrying the cards, or you will so block them as to be unable to form the foundations. [illustration: the kings.] the kings two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations do not follow suit, neither do the cards placed in sequence on the columns. ii. only the _outside cards of each group of columns_ are available until, by their removal, the next ones are released, the principle being that no card is available _that has another outside it_. _note._--by "outside" is meant the cards on the right side of the right-hand group, and those on the left side of the left-hand group. iii. _during the deal_ no card is available for playing on the foundations unless it is on the _same horizontal line as the foundation_ (of either group) _for which it is suitable_. when the entire deal is complete, this restriction ceases. play withdraw from the packs the eight aces, and place them in two columns, taking care that each suit is in juxtaposition as in tableau. the eight aces form the foundations, which ascend in sequence (rule i) to kings. on either side of the foundations, deal out a column of four cards, and if in dealing these a suitable card turns up, available for a foundation, _in accordance with rule iii_, play it at once; replacing it with the next card from the pack. you continue to deal out successive columns of four cards, alternately on the right and left of the first ones, until the pack is exhausted, thus forming two groups of columns, with the eight aces in the centre. to avoid confusion, it is best to deal the columns regularly, first on the left, and then on the right, side. in dealing, never omit to play suitable cards as they turn up, subject to rule iii, for as each column is placed it blocks the preceding one (rule ii), and _during the deal_ you may not play cards from the inner columns, even if released. when the pack is exhausted, you examine the tableau, and may now play any available cards (rule ii), the restriction as to their being on the same horizontal line having ceased. sequences (rule i), both ascending and descending, may now be formed with cards on the outside of both groups (rule ii), and these sequences may be reversed, as they are required to play on the foundations, by transferring them from one packet to another. if an entire horizontal row of cards has been removed, you may place any available card at the inner end of the lane so formed, and sequences may be placed upon it, as on the others. there is no re-deal. _note._--it is not perfectly clear from the original whether the restriction mentioned in rule iii ceases when the deal is complete, but, the game being a very difficult one, it is advisable to interpret it in the affirmative. [illustration: babette.] babette two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. vacancies in the garden _are not to be refilled_. iii. each row of cards in the garden blocks the preceding one, but on the removal of cards in the lower rows those above them are released. play deal out eight cards in a horizontal line. this commences what is called the "garden." when the first row is complete, take from it any foundations and place them in the allotted spaces above, and also other suitable cards, but do not refill vacancies (rule ii). the foundations consist of four aces and four kings of different suits, ascending and descending in the usual sequences (rule i). _note._--the tableau is so arranged that one of the king foundations has already descended to queen, and one of the ace foundations has ascended to three. the vacant spaces in the garden show from whence cards have been removed, and not replaced; but there would probably be many more rows in the garden than are shown on the tableau. you next proceed to deal out successive rows in the garden underneath the first one till the pack is exhausted, strictly observing rule ii. if there is not room to place each row of the garden below the preceding one, it must be placed so as to half cover it, but in that case, especially if there are many vacancies, the rows of cards are apt to get mixed, so it is best to count from the top, to make sure that you are placing the row you are working on in its proper detached line, and are not partly refilling other rows. _you must finish each row before playing from it._ when the garden is laid out, and all available cards have been played (rule iii), take up by itself each perpendicular column, beginning on the left, placing the next column underneath the first, and so on with each column in succession, so that, in turning the pack to re-deal, the last column on the right may be uppermost, thus reversing the order of each row of cards in the next deal. the garden may be taken up twice and re-dealt exactly in the same manner and observing the same rules. [illustration: nestor.] nestor one entire pack of cards play deal out in horizontal lines six rows each containing eight cards. in dealing these, you must be careful that there should never be two cards of equal value in the same _perpendicular_ line. if, for example, two kings or two fives (the same, of course, applies to all the cards) were to be underneath each other, even though several other cards intervened between them, it would be useless to proceed. you must, therefore, consider the duplicate card as unavailable for the moment and place it at the bottom of the pack in hand, and proceed to deal the next card. when the tableau is complete, four cards will remain, which are to be placed aside, as a reserve. you then examine the tableau and endeavor to pair the cards, taking only those of the lowest row, until their removal releases those above. when no more can be paired, you have recourse to those of the reserve, taking them up one by one. if the first cannot be paired, put it aside, taking the next, but the card or cards so put aside can be paired afterwards if the opportunity of doing so arises. if all the cards cannot be paired, the game has failed. [illustration: light and shade.] light and shade two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations ascend in sequence, but are formed in alternate colors: red ace, black deuce, red three, and so on. ii. cards placed on the auxiliaries descend in sequence, but must also alternate in color. iii. vacancies in the auxiliaries are filled by cards from the rivals; vacancies in the rivals, by cards from the pack or talon. play withdraw from the pack the eight aces, and place them in a horizontal line (the suits as in tableau). these are the foundation cards, which ascend in sequence to kings (rule i). next deal out eight cards and place them above the foundations in two rows, four cards in each (see tableau). the upper row is called the auxiliaries; the lower one, the rivals. if any suitable cards are found in the auxiliaries, play them, filling the spaces so made from the rivals (rule iii). cards from the rivals may be placed in descending sequence on those of the auxiliaries (rule ii), and the sequences so formed will be played as opportunity arises on to the foundations. continue to deal out the pack, playing, placing on the auxiliaries, and refilling spaces according to rules--the non-suitable cards forming a talon. it must be remembered that cards can only be played on the foundations _from the auxiliaries_, and not straight from the rivals or from the talon; cards from these must first pass into the auxiliaries. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the labyrinth.] the labyrinth two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. only cards in the highest or lowest rows are available, until a card from any other row is released, by the removal of cards either above or below it, the principle being that no card can be used that is not free _either_ from the top or the bottom. small crosses are placed on the tableau to mark the cards that are available. iii. you can only refill vacancies in the lowest row as the deal goes on (_i.e._, in the row which you are actually dealing). iv. each row must be completed before you can play from it. play withdraw from the pack and place in horizontal line above, four kings and four aces of different suits. these are the foundations, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, the kings descending to aces (rule i). you next deal out ten cards in a horizontal row, and when the row is complete, play any suitable cards on the foundations, refilling the vacancies from the pack or talon. proceed to deal out a second row of ten cards underneath the first, playing suitable ones as before, playing _also from the upper row_, and refilling spaces subject to rule iii. as you may only refill vacancies on the last row which is being dealt, there will be many gaps in the tableau as you proceed. you continue thus to deal out the entire pack in successive rows, each row completely blocking the preceding one unless the removal of a card releases the one above it, or _unless the removal of cards in the upper rows_ (rule ii) releases that card from above. when the pack is exhausted and you have played all available cards, if the game has not succeeded, you have one more chance, _i.e._, the privilege of removing any one card from the tableau, taking care, of course, to remove the card which blocks those most needed. the choice of this "grace" is the only point left to the skill of the player. there is no re-deal. _note ._--some players instead of taking the foundations from the pack, wait till they appear in the deal. _note ._--the dimensions of the tableau preclude the insertion of the spaces for the foundation cards. [illustration: spenser's fairie queen.] spenser's fairie queen two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. if during the deal two or more kings turn up in succession, cards can only be placed on the last one. iii. available cards may be transferred from one column to another in descending sequence and need not follow suit. iv. only the lowest card of each column is available, until its removal releases the one above it. v. any available card may be transferred to a single king, and sequences may be placed upon that card as upon those of the other columns. play take one king from the pack, and place it at the left-hand upper corner. upon this king you place the cards as they are dealt, in perpendicular column, each card half covering the preceding one, until a second king appears, which must be placed next to the first one, and becomes in its turn the head of a second column (rule ii). when a third king appears, it is placed next to the second one, and is treated in like manner, and so on until the pack is exhausted, cards being always placed on the last king turned up. thus some kings will head lines of different lengths (see note , on next page), and some will probably remain alone, and this, as will be seen, is very advantageous. during the deal, aces as they turn up are placed in the spaces reserved. the eight aces form the foundation cards and ascend in sequence to queens (rule i). (see note .) suitable cards may be played as they turn up in the deal, and after playing each, the columns should be examined, as the playing of a card may bring other available ones (rule iv) into use. when the deal is complete, the tableau must be carefully examined. available cards may now be transferred from one column to another (rule iii) or placed on the single kings (rule v) or played on the foundations. and it is sometimes better not to play cards, but to leave them to receive sequences. it is not advisable to transfer queens, as they cannot be moved again until required to complete the foundations, but it is often necessary to do so, when their removal would release cards urgently needed. the success of the game greatly depends on the skill of the player in transferring the sequences backward and forward so as to release as many cards as possible. there is no re-deal. (see note .) _note ._--supposing that you have two single kings and wish to release a knave of hearts which is blocked with a descending sequence, the last card of that sequence being a four, place the four and then the five on the two spare kings. the six is thus released, and if a seven should be at the bottom of any other column, you transfer the six on to it, and also the five and the four, thus again freeing the two kings. now put up the seven and the eight (of the column you are trying to work off) on to those kings. then transfer the seven to the eight, and place the nine on the remaining king. you have now only the ten left to block your knave of hearts; you will probably find, or be able to release, some other available knave, on which you will place the ten. in this somewhat complicated manner you arrive at the desired knave of hearts. the combinations are endless. _note ._--the spaces for the foundations are not marked for want of room. _note ._--it often happens that so many cards have to be dealt on to one king before the next one appears that the column can no longer be continued in a straight line. the player must, therefore, twist the cards to gain room (see tableau), the small crosses show the available cards. [illustration: the terrace.] the terrace two entire packs of cards rules i. only the last card (_i.e._, the right-hand one) of the terrace is available till its removal releases the card next to it. ii. the foundations ascend in sequence and must be formed with alternate red and black cards. iii. cards in the valley may be transferred in alternate _descending_ sequence from one packet to another, and the uppermost card of the talon may also be placed in sequence on the valley, but, like those of the foundations, the sequences in the valley must be formed of alternate colors. iv. only the uppermost cards of the valley packets are available until their removal releases those beneath. play deal out from left to right a row of thirteen cards. this is called the terrace. you next turn up from the pack in hand three cards, and choose one of the three as a foundation. place the foundation card underneath the terrace on the left side, and the seven other cards of similar value will take their places, as they turn up in the deal, in a line with the first foundation (see tableau). you next place your two rejected cards underneath the foundation, and deal out seven other cards alongside, forming a third horizontal row of nine cards. this is called the valley. from the valley you take any foundations, and having placed them, you play also any other suitable cards (rule ii); but you must first examine the terrace, as cards must always in preference be played from the terrace (rule i). having played all suitable cards, and refilled the vacancies in the valley from the pack in hand, proceed to place cards in sequence in the valley (rules iii and iv), of course playing them in preference on the foundations when possible, but remember always to examine the terrace, as the success of the game depends entirely on detaching cards from the terrace. if even a suitable card could be played from the valley, and none were at the moment available on the terrace, it would still be better to refrain from playing it, if an equally suitable card from the terrace were likely shortly to be released. in reference to your choice of the foundation cards, you should always examine the available card of the terrace and choose, if possible, one below it in value. you next proceed to deal out the entire pack, playing on foundations (rule ii), placing and transferring cards in the valley (rules iii and iv), and refilling vacancies. there is no re-deal. [illustration: general sedgewick.] general sedgewick one entire pack of cards rules i. the original five cards forming the cross are available, but when they are covered by the addition of others, only the uppermost card of each packet is available until its removal releases the card beneath. ii. the foundations follow suit. iii. cards on the cross may be transferred in descending sequence from one packet to another, and cards from the pack or talon may also be placed in descending sequence on those of the cross. iv. cards on the cross need not follow suit. play deal five cards and place them in the form of a cross. the next card turned is to be placed in the left-hand upper corner, and this constitutes the foundation card, the three others of similar value, as they appear, being placed in the three other corners (see tableau). the foundation cards ascend in sequence (rule ii). having placed the cross and the first foundation, play any foundation or other suitable cards from the cross, filling the vacancies from pack or talon. you then proceed to transfer cards on the cross (rules i, iii, and iv); and although not necessary, it is very advantageous that these packets should be of the same suit, as they are then ready to be played on to the foundations, and to effect this by transferring the cards backward and forward as much as possible should be the great object of the player. continue to deal out the cards till the pack is exhausted--playing, transferring, and refilling vacancies. the non-suitable cards form the talon. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the queens.] the queens two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. the uppermost card of the key is alone available until its removal releases the card beneath; each card that is played releasing the one that it covered. iii. cards from the key can only be played on the foundations and may not be placed on the shutter. iv. the cards in payment of the queens are taken from the _top_ of the key (fourteen for each queen _including_ herself). v. cards in payment of the queens are taken from the _bottom_ of the talon (three for each queen _exclusive_ of herself). play take from the pack thirty-two cards; place them in a packet on the left side, face upward. this packet is called the key. if the uppermost card should be a queen, take fourteen cards from the top of the key (including the queen) and place them at the bottom of the pack (rule iv). after removing the fourteen cards, should the next card on the key chance also to be a queen, you repeat the process, thus adding twenty-eight cards to the pack, and diminishing those on the key. even if the next card in like manner chanced to be a queen, you would take all the remaining cards of the key (which could, however, only be four) and add them to the pack,--thus getting rid of the key, which would greatly facilitate the success of the game. after dealing out the key (and if you have good luck, diminishing it) you next proceed to deal seven cards, placing them in two rows of four and three cards respectively. (see tableau.) these are called the shutter. if during the dealing of these any kings appear, place them in a row above. the eight kings are the foundations, which ascend through aces to queens (rule i). when the shutter is dealt, play from it any suitable cards, refilling the spaces at once, but always first look to see if a card from the key is available (rules ii and iii), and play that in preference, as it is all important to get rid of the key. cards on the shutter can marry in descending line with each other, or with cards from the pack or talon. when you have married or played all available cards, deal out the remainder of the pack, playing, marrying, and refilling spaces; the unsuitable cards forming a talon. you must carefully count the number of queens that you place in the talon (it is best to have some counters at hand for this purpose), as when the pack is exhausted each of these queens counts for three cards--_i.e._, for each queen you take from the bottom of the talon three cards besides herself (rule v)--and these cards constitute a fresh pack to deal from. thus, if the talon contains six queens, you take from it eighteen cards exclusive of the six queens (rule v) and deal them out again, and again count the queens to repay yourself as before. this is done to give a fresh chance of winning the game, as the talon is not re-dealt in its entirety. if the talon has not sufficient cards left to pay three for each queen, you simply take all that remain, and then there is good hope of success, if the key has also been played out. [illustration: the herring-bone.] the herring-bone two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. the lowest (or twenty-eighth) card of the herring-bone is alone available until its removal releases the next one (_i.e._, the uppermost card of the fan above it), then the second card of the fan becomes the available one, then the third, then the single card above the fan just played, and so on, the removal of each card rendering the next one available. iii. all the cards in the side scenes and the four bars are available. iv. vacancies on the bars are refilled from cards of the herring-bone (rule ii), but vacancies on the side scenes may only be refilled from the pack or talon. play deal out twenty-eight cards, beginning from the top (see tableau), thus: three at the top, placed fan shape, then a single card half covering the fan, then another fan half covering the single card, then another single card, and so on till you have seven fans and seven single cards: this is called the herring-bone, the last card being a single one and available. (rule ii.) you next deal out eight cards, four on each side the herring-bone: these are called side scenes. then place one card horizontally above and below each side scene: these are called bars. when these forty cards are placed, the next card dealt becomes the foundation, and is placed in one of the allotted spaces, the other seven cards of similar value being placed as they appear on the tableau, or during the deal. four of the foundations ascend in sequence and four descend (rule i), and it is best to place the ascending on the right side, the descending on the left. when the tableau is complete, and the first foundation has been played, examine the whole and play from the herring-bone, bars, or side scenes any foundations or other suitable cards. always choose, in preference, cards from the herring-bone or bars, as on the removal of the herring-bone the success of the game mainly depends, and if a bar is removed, the available card on the herring-bone replaces it, thus releasing the next. (rules ii and iii.) having played and refilled all spaces, proceed to deal out the entire pack, playing all suitable cards, and refilling spaces; the unsuitable cards forming the talon. in forming the foundations, one card at a time may be exchanged from the ascending to the descending sequence, and _vice versâ_. the talon may be taken up, shuffled, and re-dealt twice. _note._--it is so exceedingly disadvantageous that there should be duplicate cards in the herring-bone, that in the german variety of this game the herring-bone is set out from a single pack before the two packs are shuffled. [illustration: the olga.] the olga four piquet packs rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. each card in the flower-bed must be turned face upward as soon as the card immediately below it is removed. the card so turned is then available. iii. cards on the flower-bed may be placed in descending sequence upon each other (and cards from the pack or talon may also be placed in sequence on the flower-bed), but must be so placed in alternate colors, _i.e._, a black eight upon a red nine, and so on. play deal out forty-nine cards in seven horizontal rows, each containing seven cards. this is called the flower-bed. in the first row the cards are placed face upward, in the second row face downward, and so on alternately, the seventh or last row being face upward. should there not be space, each row may half cover the preceding one. the foundations consist of sixteen aces, ascending in sequence through sevens to kings (rule i). when the flower-bed has been dealt, if any aces appear in the lowest row, play them in their allotted spaces, as also any deuces or other suitable cards, always turning the card above the one played, face upward. available cards on the flower-bed (rule ii) may be placed in descending sequence on each other, but in alternate colors (rule iii). they may be transferred from one packet to another, and on doing this judiciously the success of the game depends. cards from the pack or talon may also be placed in sequence (rule iii) on those of the flower-bed. [you are not obliged to play cards on the foundations, if to place them on the flower-bed seems more advantageous.] continue to deal out the entire pack, playing on foundations, placing and transferring on the flower-bed, the unsuitable cards forming the talon. if you succeed in removing an entire perpendicular row of cards, the space at the top may be filled by any available card of the flower-bed (rule ii), and upon that card may be placed sequences (rule iii) as on the other rows. [illustration: cÆsar.] cÆsar nine cards from one entire pack play withdraw from one entire pack nine cards, composed of any suits, from ace to nine inclusive. place these nine cards in three rows, each containing three cards. endeavor, by changing their position, so to dispose them, that the number of pips in each row, counting the cards horizontally, perpendicularly, and diagonally, may make the sum of fifteen. the tableau shows only three fifteens, but if the cards are properly placed eight fifteens can be made. [illustration: red and black.] red and black two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. cards may be placed on the volunteers in descending sequence, but they must be of alternate colors. on the black four (see tableau) would be placed a red three, then a black deuce, and so on. play withdraw from the pack the eight aces, placing them in pairs of alternate colors in a horizontal line (see tableau). these are the foundations and ascend in sequence to kings (rule i). next deal out eight cards, placing them underneath the foundations. this row of cards is called the volunteers. examine the volunteers and play any suitable cards on to the foundations, immediately filling each vacancy from the cards in hand. when no more can be played, proceed to form sequences in descending line with cards of the volunteers, subject strictly to rule ii; then again play all that are suitable and proceed to deal out the cards till the pack is exhausted, playing cards on the foundations or placing them in sequence on the volunteers, and always refilling vacancies. the unsuitable cards form the talon. when the pack is exhausted, the talon may be taken up, shuffled, and re-dealt once. [illustration: the square.] the square two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. the four aces (foundation cards) ascend in sequence to kings. when each packet has ascended to king, a second king (same suit) is placed on the top, and another sequence on the same packet descends to ace, with which the four foundations terminate. play deal out sixteen cards, as in tableau. this is the "square" (quadrat). during the deal, the four aces of different suits must be placed in their allotted spaces as they appear. these are the foundations, which ascend in sequence to kings and descend again to aces (rule ii). when the square is complete, play from it any suitable cards, and marry both in ascending and descending line with cards on the square, immediately refilling spaces from the pack or talon. continue to deal out the whole pack, playing first in ascending, then in descending sequence (rule ii), marrying, and refilling spaces; the unsuitable cards forming the talon. the sequences on the square can be reversed from one packet to another, thus if on one packet there were a sequence of which the top card was a nine, and on another a sequence of which the top card was either an eight or a ten (of course of the same suit), either of these could be placed on the nine and the whole sequence reversed, but great care must be taken in reversing sequences, lest cards should hopelessly block each other. much practice is required in order to avoid this danger. if the game succeeds, the double series of sequences which began with four aces, will likewise finish with four aces. there is no re-deal. [illustration: margarethe.] margarethe one entire pack of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. the king foundations descend from ten to eight; the knaves, from seven to five; the queens, from four to two. play withdraw from the pack all the court cards and place them in the form of an m, as in tableau. these twelve cards are the foundations. all the aces as they appear are to be placed in one packet in the m underneath the knaves. you next deal nine cards and place them in the form of an a (see tableau). these are the help cards, and from them you play any that are suitable on to the foundations, the first played on a king being a ten, on a knave a seven, and on a queen a four (rules i and ii), filling the spaces from the pack in hand. you next proceed to deal out the whole pack, playing on the foundations, placing aces in the reserved space in the m, refilling vacancies in the a, and placing unsuitable cards in the talon. if the game succeeds, the final tableau will form an m composed of the eights, the fives and the twos, the four aces being placed crossways in the centre. the talon may be re-dealt once. [illustration: mount olympus.] mount olympus two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations and the battery follow suit. ii. the foundations ascend in alternate sequences; the aces, in odd numbers, , , , etc., till they finish with kings; the twos, in even numbers, , , , etc., till they finish with queens. (knaves count eleven; queens, twelve.) iii. cards may be placed on the battery in alternate descending sequence; thus, on a nine place a seven, on the seven, a five, on a queen place a ten, then an eight, and so on. iv. the uppermost cards of the battery are alone available, until their removal releases those beneath. play withdraw from the pack the eight aces and the eight twos, and place them in the form of a pyramid, as in tableau; these are the foundations which ascend in alternate sequence, till they end respectively with kings and queens. (rules i and ii.) next deal out nine cards as in tableau, this is called the battery. suitable cards of the battery may be played on the foundations, and may also be placed on each other in alternate descending sequence. (rules i, iii, and iv.) the unsuitable cards form the talon. continue to deal out the entire pack, playing on the pyramid, placing cards on the battery, and refilling spaces from pack or talon. if the game succeeds, the pyramid will be formed of alternate kings and queens. the talon may be taken up and re-dealt once. [illustration: the wheel.] the wheel two entire packs of cards rules i. vacancies in the cushion are only refilled after the first deal, but not after any subsequent deal. ii. _no two cards of the same value_ may be used in making each combination of eighteen. iii. even when there are three cards on the cushion which make the required sum, these cards cannot be removed unless the cushion contains a court card to crown them. they must in that case remain in their places until a court card appears on the cushion. iv. court cards are excluded from the combinations, which must be made with the pips of minor cards, the court cards crowning each packet. v. only the uppermost cards of the cushion are available, but their removal releases those underneath. play withdraw the eight aces and place them in the form of a cross (see tableau). next, deal out twelve cards in two horizontal rows beneath, but leaving room for the circle to be placed as in tableau. these twelve cards are called the cushion. the object is to make as many combinations of the sum of eighteen as possible with cards in the cushion. each combination must be composed of three cards (rule iv) and no two cards must be of similar value (rule ii). some of the combinations, for example, might be , , , or , , , or , , , and so on. when any three cards make the required sum, take them up together, and put any court card that may be in the cushion at the top, and place the packet thus crowned, face upward, on one of the spaces reserved in the circle. should there be no court card, the combination cannot be made (rule iii). as you withdraw cards to place on the circle, refill the spaces from the pack in hand. when no more combinations can be made, you proceed to deal out twelve more cards, covering those already forming the cushion, and to make fresh combinations with all available cards (rule v); but when vacancies are now made they cannot be refilled. (rule i.) cards, therefore, in this and the subsequent deals may have to be dealt on to empty spaces from which other cards have been withdrawn. you continue to deal out fresh rows following the same rules, and must never make combinations until each deal is complete. if the game succeeds, the final tableau will show the cross of aces in the centre, surrounded by a circle of twenty-four court cards. there is no re-deal. [illustration: two rings.] two rings two entire packs of cards rule the foundations follow suit. play withdraw from the pack all the sevens and all the sixes, and arrange them as in tableau. these are the foundations. the sevens ascend to kings, the sixes descend to aces (rule). you next deal out eight cards in a horizontal line. this is called the bracelet. take from the bracelet all suitable cards and play them on the foundations, refilling vacancies in the bracelet, and placing unsuitable cards on the talon. if the game succeeds, the "zwei ringe" (two rings) will be formed respectively of kings and aces. the talon may be taken up and re-dealt once. [illustration: the nation.] the nation two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. in dealing the cards of each column and counting them from one to eight, a card played on the foundation does not have its _number_ repeated, the next card dealt counting as the _following_ number. iii. only the lowest card of each column is available until its removal releases the one above it; no card being available that has another below it. play withdraw from the pack four aces and four kings of different suits, placing them above in two horizontal lines. these are the foundations, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, the kings descending to aces (rule i). underneath the foundations deal out eight cards in a _perpendicular_ line, beginning on the left-hand side; and on the right of this column deal eleven other columns, each consisting of eight cards. this would result in twelve columns of equal number of cards, as seen in tableau, _but for the following conditions_: in dealing the first eight cards, count them as you deal, from one to eight, and when any card is suitable for a foundation, or to continue a foundation, play it, counting the next card as the _following number_. for example, if the card counted as no. were suitable, you play it and count the next card no. ; and if no. were likewise suitable, you would play it and count the next (and last) card as no. , although, in fact, the column would only contain six cards (rule ii). but although suitable cards are thus played _as they turn up in the deal_, a card once placed in a column cannot be removed. you should observe the same method in dealing out all the twelve columns. when the tableau is complete, the lower card of each column is available (rule iii), and may be played if suitable; and marriages also may be made, both in ascending and descending sequences, with available cards from each column. when an entire column has been removed, the vacant space may be filled by any one available card (rule iii), and cards can be placed in sequence upon it, as on those of the other columns. when all available cards have been played or married, the tableau is to be taken up, beginning with the left-hand column, the cards of each column being carefully kept in their proper order, the second column being placed underneath the first, the third underneath the second, and so on. thus, when the pack is turned to re-deal, the last column will be the uppermost, and will be the first of the new columns. the tableau may be taken up and re-dealt twice. [illustration: the carpet.] the carpet two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. cards on the carpet (_teppich_) are only available when _one of the narrow ends is free_ (_i.e._, the top or bottom of the card). no card is available when _both_ the narrow ends are blocked by other cards. on the tableau crosses are placed to show the available cards after the carpet has been dealt. iii. when a card from the carpet is played, it does not free the next one, because its removal cannot free either of the narrow ends of that card, yet it helps the game indirectly, and the inner cards become by degrees available. iv. when the talon is formed, any available cards from the carpet can be placed in ascending or descending sequences upon the uppermost card of the talon, following suit. play withdraw from the pack four aces and four kings of different suits. these are the foundations, and ascend and descend in the usual sequences. next deal out sixty-four cards exactly in the order and pattern of those in the tableau. this is called the carpet (_teppich_). play from the carpet all available cards (rules i and ii), and then deal out the remainder, playing suitable ones or placing the unsuitable cards as a talon. when the talon is formed, examine the carpet before you place each card of the talon, as you have the privilege of placing cards from the carpet on to the talon (rules ii and iv), and it is always advisable to do this when possible, for although at the moment the cards removed may not release others, it assists the development of the game by diminishing the number of cards in the carpet. in dealing the cards, suitable ones need not be played on a foundation, if by placing them on the talon a greater number can be freed from the carpet. the success of the game mainly depends on detaching cards from the carpet. great care must be taken to carry out strictly rule ii. no card can possibly be used, either to play on a foundation or to be placed in sequence on the talon, unless one of the narrow ends is free; but as other cards are removed, those even in the centre become available by a clear lane having been opened out, either horizontal or perpendicular, leading up to one of the narrow ends of each card. the talon may be taken up, shuffled, and re-dealt twice, but great care must be taken in the third deal as to the placing of sequences. if one foundation of any suit is finished, sequences from the carpet should not be formed on the talon except in _descending_ sequence; but, of course, if, in dealing the talon, cards should get placed in the wrong (_ascending_) sequence, there is no remedy, but in that case the game could not succeed. there are two re-deals. [illustration: the fish-bone.] the fish-bone two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. kings and queens cannot find their places on the tableau until the knaves to which they belong have been placed (_i.e._, each foundation knave should have a king and queen of the same suit on either side, see tableau). if, therefore, a king or queen should turn up in the deal, it must be consigned to the talon, unless one of the knaves of the same suit is already placed to receive it. play deal out six cards on the left-hand side (see tableau). these are called the gridiron. cards in the gridiron may marry in ascending sequence, but _only with cards from the pack or talon_, and not with each other. the foundation cards are the eight knaves, which descend in sequence to aces (rule i), and are to be played as they appear in the deal, in a perpendicular line (see tableau). you next examine the gridiron, and if a knave is there, play it, as also any other suitable cards to continue the foundations, and as kings and queens appear, place them, in accordance with rule ii. you continue to deal out the entire pack, playing on the foundations, and marrying in ascending sequence on the gridiron, from which you play all suitable cards, refilling vacancies from the pack or talon. never omit to place the kings and queens when it can be done (rule ii). the unsuitable cards form the talon. if the game succeeds, the final tableau will show a line of aces, each having a king and a queen of the same suit on either side. the talon may be taken up and re-dealt once, observing the same rules. [illustration: the congress.] the congress two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. cards from the rivers may marry in descending line with cards on the helps, but not _vice versâ_. iii. cards on the help packets may marry in descending line with cards of each other's packets, and also with cards _from_ the rivers. iv. the uppermost cards of the help packets are alone available until their removal releases those beneath. v. each row of cards on the rivers blocks the preceding one, but on the removal of any card the one immediately above it is released, and becomes available. play withdraw from the pack the eight aces, and place them in two columns on the right: these are the foundations, which ascend in sequence to kings (rule i). next deal four cards, and place them in a horizontal line below, leaving plenty of room for the tableau above: these are called the help cards. next place at the upper end of the table a horizontal row of eight cards: this commences what is called the "rivers," and from the rivers you play any suitable cards on the foundations, or marry in descending line with the help cards (rule ii), immediately refilling the vacancies thus caused from the pack. from the helps you now play on to the foundations, and form marriages in accordance with rule iii. when all possible cards have been played, proceed to deal out successive rows of eight cards on the rivers, each row partly covering the preceding one, and temporarily blocking it (rule v). in dealing, you may not play a card from any row until that row is complete. after dealing each row, pause and examine the tableau, playing and marrying all suitable cards, and refilling vacancies, both in the rivers and helps, with cards from the pack. in filling up vacancies in the rivers, those in the uppermost rows must first be refilled. after the entire pack is exhausted, the skill of the player will be required. the four packets of help cards may now be increased to eight. to effect this, any four available cards may be selected from the rivers to begin the new packets, which have all the privileges of the original ones, and should be placed in the same line. the player may use his own discretion concerning them. he is not obliged to place the four new helps at once, but only as they are required, and it is best to keep one or two of the spaces free, so as to receive any card from the rivers which, in the progress of the game, is found to block a card much needed. if any of the packets of help cards are played off, the vacancy may be filled by another card from the rivers, but the packets must never exceed the number of eight. there is no re-deal. _note._--in the tableau only three rows of the rivers are shown. [illustration: the "louis" patience.] the "louis" patience two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit, as do also cards of the alphabet. ii. during the deal each circle of the alphabet absolutely blocks the preceding one, but, when the entire deal is complete, the removal of cards from the alphabet releases those on the circles beneath, which now become available. play withdraw from the pack four aces and four kings of different suits, and place them as in tableau. the aces ascend in sequence to kings, the kings descend to aces (rule i). you next deal twelve cards, forming a square outside the foundations, each card bearing a letter: this square is called the alphabet. begin the deal at letter _a_, and finish it at letter _m_, and during the deal play any suitable cards as they turn up. you must now examine the alphabet, and play from it any suitable cards, but observe that as each circle of the alphabet is dealt it blocks the previous one, and cards in the lower circles cannot be used, even if released, until the entire pack has been dealt (rule ii). you next proceed to deal out a second circle of twelve cards, on the top of the first one, beginning as before with _a_ and finishing with _m_; and you continue to deal out successive circles until the pack is exhausted, observing the same rules with regard to each circle. when the entire pack has been dealt out, and all available cards have been played (rule ii), you are allowed to form marriages, both in ascending and descending line, with the available cards of the alphabet. when no more cards can be played, or married, take up the alphabet in succession, beginning with the letter _g_, and ending with _f_. in this manner the order of the packets is reversed. then, without shuffling, deal out all the cards as before, beginning at _a_, and finishing at _m_, observing the same rules as in the first deal. if during this second deal a card turns up suitable alike for an ascending or descending foundation, you can place it on either, and you may change it from one to the other. if you prefer it, you may even lay the card aside for the moment, playing it on whichever foundation appears the most suitable as the game progresses. there may be three re-deals. [illustration: sly.] sly two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. cards dealt on to the promenade need not follow suit, and are not necessarily placed in sequence. iii. only the uppermost card of each packet of the promenade is available until its removal releases the card beneath. iv. cards may be played as they turn up in the deal, but a card once placed on the promenade cannot be played until each deal of twenty cards is complete. play deal out two horizontal rows, each consisting of ten cards (or you may, if you prefer it, place four rows of five cards): this is called the promenade. the foundations will consist of four aces and four kings of different suits, the aces ascending in sequence to kings, the kings descending to aces (rule i). during the deal, if any foundations appear, place them at once in their allotted spaces, and also play any other suitable cards as they turn up, refilling vacancies from the pack. when the first deal of twenty cards is complete, examine the promenade and play from it all suitable cards. when no more can be played, deal out a second row of twenty cards, always, however, playing suitable ones as they turn up in the deal. this second row of twenty cards must be placed on the top of (_i.e._, covering) the first row, but in any manner and on any cards of the promenade you please. you have the option of heaping several cards on to one packet, or of merely placing a second row on the top of the first; but you must carefully count the cards as you place them, as each deal of twenty cards must be complete before any can be played--(the cards that have been played _during the deal_ do not count among the twenty). continue to deal out in like manner successive rounds of twenty cards, observing the same rules, until the pack is exhausted. between each deal examine the promenade, and play from it all available cards (rule iii), refilling vacancies from the pack. the success of the game entirely depends on the skill of the player in arranging cards on the promenade. it is advantageous to place cards in sequence, and of the same suit, on the packets of the promenade (although it is not required, see rule ii), as they are then ready to be played on the foundations; but the greatest care is required to avoid placing _two_ ascending or _two_ descending sequences of the same suit on any packet, as one of the two would necessarily be useless, cards not being transferable from one packet to another. there is no re-deal. [illustration: the great thirteen.] the great thirteen two entire packs of cards rules i. the uppermost card of each of the ground packets is alone available until its removal releases the card beneath. ii. if in the development of the game a card is released in the ground packets which is equally suitable for filling a vacancy in the numerals (caused by the ground packets having failed to produce the desired sum), or for the process of addition, the preference must be given to filling the vacancy. iii. in dealing the ground packets in the first instance it is advisable to count them in order from one to eight, in order to verify their exact position; for in re-dealing the ground packets at the end of the game they must be counted from one to eight, and the cards must be dealt on to them in order, whether there are cards in each space or whether there is a vacancy, through the packet having been played off. the packet of cards or the vacancy are to be treated in like manner. play this is a very difficult game and requires much attention. among other peculiarities it has no foundation cards. deal out eight packets in a horizontal line, each containing thirteen cards dealt together: these are called ground packets. deal them from left to right (rule iii). if in this first deal any kings appear on the surface, slip them underneath the packets to which each belongs; but this may only be done in the first deal. when the eight ground packets have been dealt, take the uppermost card of each, and place these eight cards in a line above: this line is called the balcony. between the balcony and the ground packets be careful to leave space for the line of numerals (see tableau). you now count the value of each card in the balcony, and double it, the knave counting eleven, the queen twelve, and the king thirteen, with which card, if the game succeeds, each of the numeral packets will terminate. if any card on the ground packets (rule i) corresponds to the _doubled value_ of any card on the balcony, you place that (ground-packet) card immediately below the balcony card, thus beginning the packets called numerals. _example_ (see tableau).--on the blank cards, the numeral is placed under a three, the under a two; but if in doubling, the value of any balcony card exceeds thirteen, the excess over thirteen constitutes the value of the card to be placed underneath. _example._--an ace (numerals) is placed under a seven, the double of seven being fourteen, _which is one in excess of thirteen_. a knave (_bube_) is placed under a queen; the double of twelve being twenty-four, _which is eleven in excess of thirteen_. a three under an eight; the double of eight being sixteen, _which is three in excess of thirteen_. if the ground packets fail to produce suitable cards for numerals according to the calculations just named, vacant spaces must of necessity remain in the line of numerals, which will be filled as the game develops (rule ii). when all suitable cards have been transferred from the ground packets to the numerals, the next process is that of _addition_. the value of each card on the numeral line must be _added_ to that of the card on the balcony immediately above it, and you must again transfer from the ground packets to the numeral line any cards whose value corresponds with the addition thus made, it being understood that any card taken from the ground packet must always be placed on the numeral which is exactly underneath the balcony card to whose value it is added. thus, in continuing the game by _addition_, on the numeral ace would be placed an eight, on the _bube_ (knave) would be placed a ten; because in the former case one and seven make eight, in the latter, eleven (knave) and twelve (queen) make twenty-three, _which is ten in excess of thirteen_. if in this stage of the game cards are released in the ground packets suitable either for filling vacancies or for continuing the packets of addition in the numeral line, the refilling of the vacancies must be the first object (rule ii). when two or more cards of the ground packets are equally suitable, select which you please (rule i), and you may examine the underneath cards to assist you in your choice. when further progress is impossible, the third and last process is as follows: take up the first of the ground packets counting from the left (rule iii). if no. has been played off, you take no. , and so on. turn the packet face downward, and deal the cards on to the other ground packets face upward, beginning with the packet next on your right (if you are dealing no. , begin to deal on no. ), and in doing this follow _very accurately_ the method prescribed by rule iii. after you have dealt as far as no. , begin again at no. , and continue dealing (rule iii) till the packet you hold is exhausted. you then take up the next packet, and deal it out in the same manner, beginning on your right (if you are dealing no. , deal the first card on no. ), and continue to deal out each packet till all are exhausted, _pausing between each deal to examine the packets and to make further combinations, and placing on the numerals any suitable cards that may have been produced by the fresh deal_, but the re-deal of each ground packet must be complete before placing cards on the numerals. if after re-dealing all the ground packets, the packets of numerals do not all end with kings (thirteen), the game has failed. [illustration: canfield or klondike.] canfield or klondike one entire pack of cards from "the official rules of card games," copyright , , , , , , , , , by the u. s. playing card co., cincinnati, ohio. play the player pays counters for the pack and he is paid counters for every card he gets down in the top foundations. the cards being shuffled and cut, the first is turned face up and laid on the table. to the right of this card, but face down, are placed six more cards in a row. immediately below the left-hand card of this row that is face down another card is placed face up, and five to the right of it face down. another card face up below and four to the right face down, and so on until there are seven cards face up and twenty-eight in the layout. any aces showing are picked out and placed by themselves above the layout for foundations. these aces are built on in sequence and suit up to kings. the moment any card in the layout is uncovered by playing away the bottom of the row, the next card in that vertical row is turned face up. cards in the layout are built upon in descending sequence--k, q, j, down to , , --and must alternate in color; red on black, black on red. if there be more than one card at the bottom of a row, all must be moved together or not at all. spaces are filled with kings only. the stock is run through one card at a time and any card showing can be used, either on the layout or foundations. when the pack has been run through once that ends it. [illustration: anna.] anna two entire packs of cards rules i. the foundations follow suit. ii. the uppermost card of each packet of the helps is alone available until its removal releases the card beneath. iii. when queens appear among the helps, whether placed in the original deal or in refilling vacancies, no other cards can be laid upon them. they remain as single cards. play deal out eight cards in the shape of a capital a: these are called helps. whenever in the course of the deal knaves turn up, they are to be placed so as to form the letter n (see tableau). the eight knaves are the foundation cards, which _descend_ in sequence to kings. when the helps (letter a) have been laid out, play from them any suitable cards to continue the foundations (if any of these have been already placed), refilling the vacancies from the pack or talon. you next proceed to form marriages in _ascending_ line with cards of the helps, except in the case of queens, on which cards must not be placed (rules ii and iii). when no other cards can be played or married, proceed to deal out the entire pack, playing the knaves and other suitable cards forming marriages with cards in the helps, refilling vacancies and placing unsuitable cards as a talon. if the game succeeds, the final tableau shows the letter a composed of queens, and the letter n of kings, with which the foundation cards terminate. the talon may be re-dealt twice. none none none none none none none ------------------------------------------------------------ | transcriber's note | | | | . at the end of this text, an addition has been made | | of the translation of the eighty-five "illustrative | | games" into portable game notation. while every effort | | has been made to reproduce the text of "the blue book | | of chess" exactly as published, the exception has been | | the inclusion of identification "tags" of the form | | "{pgn xx}", where "xx" is a two digit number. this has | | been done to facilitate the reader in locating the pgn | | for each game by performing a search on the | | identifying tag. | | | | | | . due to the limitations of ascii art, the knight has | | been abbreviated as "n" on the chessboard, while it | | appears as "kt." in the text. the ascii convention of | | the black pieces being marked with an asterisk has | | also been followed. | ------------------------------------------------------------ the blue book of chess teaching the rudiments of the game, and giving an analysis of all the recognized openings ----illustrated by---- appropriate games actually played by morphy, harrwitz, anderssen, staunton, evans, montgomery, meek and others ----including---- lasker, steinitz, schlechter, pillsbury, and other recent players revised edition based on the work of staunton and modern authorities the john c. winston company philadelphia, u.s.a. copyright, , by the john c. winston co. copyright, , by porter & coates +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r*| n*| b*| q*| k*| b*| n*| r*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | p | p | p | p | p | p | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | n | b | q | k | b | n | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ chess board showing the men properly set up to commence play. preface to new revised edition. the following work is designed for those who are learning the noble game of chess. many persons have been confused and discouraged at the very outset of the study by the great variety and the delicate distinctions of the openings: and this has constituted a fault in many otherwise excellent manuals for the learner. the chief aim of the editor of these pages has been to avoid this fault, by simplifying the openings, and by giving to the student chiefly such moves as are recognized to be the best, both in attack and defence. by playing over carefully the illustrative games, the learner will also see, at each opening, the variations made by experienced players in accordance with circumstances. as great a variety of actually played games has been given as was possible in a work of such limited scope. to this end the games of the distinguished players of different nations have been introduced, classified according to the different openings; and thus the reader will find the combined genius and skill of the old heroes like philidor, morphy, staunton, anderssen, harrwitz, evans, montgomery and cochrane, together with such recent masters as lasker, steinitz, schlechter, pillsbury, marshall, tarrasch, janowsky, tchigorin, and many other players of world-wide celebrity. the basis of this work is staunton's "chess player's handbook;" but other standard books have been drawn upon to fit it to be a manual for the beginner of to-day. in order to insure perfect accuracy, all the lessons and games have been carefully gone over on the board after being put in type. names of players. anderssen, , , , , | marache, , . , , , . | marshall, . bierwirth, . | mead, . bledow, , . | meek, . boucher, . | montgomery, , , , , buckle, . | , . capdebo, . | morphy, , , , , , , cheney, . | , , , , , clements, . | , , , , . cochrane, , , , . | new york, , , . daniels, . | perigal, . der laza, , , , . | petroff, , . deschapelles, . | philadelphia, , , . desloges, . | philidor, . evans, , , , . | pillsbury, , . ghulam cassim, . | pindar, . harrwitz, , , , , , | popert, , , . , . | potier, . henderson, . | preti, . hillel, . | rousseau, . horwitz, , , , . | schlechter, . jaenisch, . | schulten, . janowsky, . | st. amant, , , . jones, dr., , . | stanley, . kieseritzky, . | staunton, , , , , , kipping, . | , , , . la bourdonnais, , , , | steinitz, , . . | szen, . lasker, , . | tarrasch, . lewis, dr., . | tchigorin, . lewis, mr., . | thompson, . mcadam, . | von bilguer, . mccabe, . | walker, , . mcdonnell, , , , . | zukertort, . contents. chapter i. introduction page the chess-board and men--moves and powers of the pieces and pawns--notation used to describe their movements--technical terms of chess--illustrations of technical terms--relative value of the chess forces--the chess code, or, laws of the game--general rules and observations--maxims and advice for an inexperienced player--preliminary game. ii. king's knight's opening - damiano gambit, ; philidor's defence, ; petroff's defence, ; counter gambit in the knight's opening, ; the giuoco piano, ; captain evans's gambit, ; the two knights' defence, ; the knight's game of ruy lopez, ; the queen's pawn game, or scotch gambit, ; the queen's bishop's pawn game in the king's knight's opening, . iii. the king's bishop's opening - the two kings' bishops' game, ; mcdonnell's double gambit, ; the lopez gambit, ; the king's knight's defence in king's bishop's opening, ; counter gambit in the king's bishop's opening, ; the queen's bishop's pawn's defence in the king's bishop's opening, ; queen's bishop's pawn's opening, . iv. the king's gambit - the king's gambit proper, or king's knight's gambit, ; the cunningham gambit, ; the salvio gambit, ; the cochrane gambit, ; the muzio gambit ; the allgaier gambit, ; the king's rook's pawn gambit, ; the king's bishop's gambit, ; the gambit declined, . v. the queen's gambit - the gambit refused, . vi. irregular openings - the french game, ; the sicilian game, ; the wing gambit, ; the centre counter gambit, ; the fianchetto, , steinitz gambit, . vii. endings of games chess problems the chess handbook. chapter i. introduction. description of the chess-board and men--arrangement of the men--the king--the queen--the rooks or castles--the bishops--the knights--and the pawns--their movements, powers, method of capturing an adverse man, etc. description of the chess-board and men. the game of chess is played by two persons, each having at command a little army of sixteen men, upon a board divided into sixty-four squares. the squares are usually colored white and black, or red and white, alternately; and custom has made it an indispensable regulation, that the board shall be so placed that each player has a white square at his right-hand corner. the following diagram represents the board with all the men arranged in proper order for the commencement of a game:-- no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r*| n*| b*| q*| k*| b*| n*| r*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | p | p | p | p | p | p | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | n | b | q | k | b | n | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. each player, it will be observed, has eight superior pieces or officers, and eight minor ones which are called pawns; and, for the purpose of distinction, the pieces and pawns of one party are of a different color from those of the other. a king [illustration: chess pieces, white and black kings.] a queen [illustration: chess pieces, white and black queens.] two rooks, [illustration: chess pieces, white and black rooks.] or castles (as they are indiscriminately called) two bishops [illustration: chess pieces, white and black bishops.] two knights [illustration: chess pieces, white and black knights.] and each of these pieces has his pawn or foot-soldier [illustration: chess pieces, white and black pawns.] making in all an array of sixteen men on each side. on beginning a game, these pieces and pawns are disposed in the manner shown on the foregoing diagram. the king and queen occupy the centre squares of the first or "royal" line, as it is called, and each has for its supporters a bishop, a knight, and a rook, while before the whole stand the pawns or foot-soldiers in a row. (to prevent a common error among young players, of misplacing the king and queen on commencing a game, it is well to bear in mind that at the outset each queen stands on her own color.) the pieces on the king's side of the board are called the king's, as king's bishop, king's knight, king's rook; and the pawns directly in front of them, the king's pawn, king's bishop's pawn, king's knight's pawn, and king's rook's pawn. the pieces on the queen's side are, in like manner, called the queen's bishop, queen's knight, and queen's rook; and the pawns before them, queen's bishop's pawn, queen's knight's pawn, and queen's rook's pawn. movement of the pieces and pawns, and mode of capturing an adverse man. a knowledge of the moves peculiar to these several men is so difficult to describe in writing, and so comparatively easy to acquire over the chess-board, from any competent person, that the learner is strongly recommended to avail himself of the latter means when practicable: for the use, however, of those who have no chess-playing acquaintance at command, the subjoined description will, it is hoped, suffice. the "pieces," by which title the eight superior officers are technically designated, in contradistinction to the "pawns," all take in the same direction in which they move. this act consists in removing the adverse piece or pawn from the board, and placing the captor on the square the former occupied. to make this clear, we will begin with the king, and show his mode of moving and of capturing an adverse man. the king. the king can move one square only at a time (except in "castling," which will be explained hereafter), but he can make this move in any direction, forwards, backwards, laterally, or diagonally. he can take any one of the adversary's men which stands on an adjoining square to that he occupies, provided such man is left unprotected, and he has the peculiar privilege of being himself exempt from capture. he is not permitted, however, to move into check, that is, on to any square which is guarded by a piece or pawn of the enemy, nor can he, under any circumstance, be played to an adjacent square to that on which the rival king is stationed. like most of the other pieces, his power is greatest in the middle of the board, where, without obstruction, he has the choice of eight different squares. at the sides, he may play to any one of five, but when in the angles of the board, three squares only are at his command. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | p | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | p*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. supposing diagram no. to show the position of the men towards the conclusion of a game, and it being either party's turn to play, he could take the adverse pawn from the board, and place his king on the square it occupied; and, by doing so, the king would not depart from the order of his march, which, as we have before said, permits him to move _one step_ in every direction. in each of these instances we have placed the pawn in _front_ of the king, but he would be equally entitled to take it were it standing on any other part of the eight squares immediately surrounding him, _always provided it was not sustained or guarded by some other piece or pawn_. the queen. the queen is by much the most powerful of the forces. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | q*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. she has the advantage of moving as a rook, in straight lines, forwards, backwards, and sideways, to the extent of the board in all directions, and as a bishop, diagonally, with the same range. to comprehend her scope of action, place her alone in the centre of the board; it will then be seen that she has the command of no less than twenty-seven squares, besides the one she stands on. (diagram no. .) thus placed in the middle of the board, the range of the queen is immense. she has here the option of taking any one of eight men at the extremity of the board, on the squares respectively numbered , , , , , , , and , should her line of march be unobstructed; and if these men were nearer, on any of the intermediate squares, she would be equally enabled to take any one of them at her choice. like all the other pieces and pawns, she effects the capture by removing the man from the board and stationing herself on the vacated square. the rook. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. the rook, or castle, is next in power to the queen. he moves in a straight line, forwards, backwards, or sideways, having a uniform range, on a clear board, of fourteen squares, exclusive of the one he occupies. the rook has the same power in taking as the queen, forwards, backwards, and sideways, but he cannot, like her, take any man diagonally. for example, place the rook in the centre of the board, and an opposing man on each of the squares numbered, and the rook has the power of taking any one of the four; and he has the same power if the pieces are one or two squares closer to him, or immediately surrounding him, in the direction indicated by the four figures. (see diagram no. .) the bishop. the bishop moves diagonally forwards or backwards, to the extent of the board. it follows, therefore, that he travels throughout the game only on squares of the same color as the one on which he stands when the game begins, and that each player has a bishop running on white squares, and one on black squares. when placed on a centre square of a clear board, he will be found to have a range of thirteen squares. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | b*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. the bishop takes, as he moves, diagonally, either forwards or backwards, his range extending, on unobstructed squares, to the extent of the diagonal line on which he travels. (see diagram no. .) the knight. the action of the knight is peculiar, and not easy to describe. he is the only one of the pieces which has the privilege of leaping over another man. the movements of the others are all dependent on their freedom from obstruction by their own and the enemy's men. for example, when the forces are duly ranged in order of battle before the commencement of the game, the knight is the only one of the eight capital pieces which can be played before the pawns are moved--king, queen, bishop, and rook are all hemmed in by the rank of pawns, which they cannot overleap; but the knight, having the liberty of springing over the heads of other men, can be brought into the field at once. his move is one square _in a straight line_, and _one in an oblique direction_; or it may be perhaps better understood by saying that he moves two squares _in a straight line_, and _one in a side direction_. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | n*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. his power and method of taking an opponent's man will be seen from the diagram (no. ) on page . in this situation, in the centre of the board, he would have the power of taking any one of the men stationed on the squares numbered, by removing the man and placing himself on the vacant square. the pawn. the pawn moves only one square at a time, and that _straight forward_, except in the act of capturing, when it takes one step diagonally to the right or left file on to the square occupied by the man taken, and continues on that file until it captures another man. it may, however, for its _first_ move advance _two_ steps, _provided no hostile pawn commands the first square over which he leaps_, for, in that case, the adverse pawn has the option of taking him in his passage, _as if he had moved one step only_. a pawn is the only one of the forces _which goes out of his direction to capture_, and which has not the advantage of moving backwards; but it has one remarkable privilege, by which, on occasions, it becomes invaluable, _whenever it reaches the extreme square of the file on which it travels, it is invested with the title and assumes the power of any superior piece, except the king, which the player chooses_. from this circumstance it frequently happens that one party, by skilful management of his pawns, contrives to have two, and sometimes even three queens on the board at once, a combination of force which of course is irresistible. as we before observed, the pawn is the only man which captures in a direction different from his line of march. suppose, at the opening of the game, white begins by playing king's pawn to king's fourth square (see the article on notation), black may reply in the same manner with king's pawn to king's fourth square, and neither pawn can do more than remain an obstruction to the onward march of the other, but if black answer instead with king's bishop's pawn to bishop's fourth, or as in the diagram, with queen's pawn to queen's fourth, then white, if he choose, may take the adverse pawn from the board and place his own in its stead. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r*| n*| b*| q*| k*| b*| n*| r*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| p*| p*| | p*| p*| p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | p | p | p | | p | p | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | n | b | q | k | b | n | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. the notation adopted to describe the moves of the men. there is no portion of an elementary work on chess of so much importance to the learner, and none which requires more resolute mastering than this. the notation may be called the language of the game and a knowledge of it is absolutely indispensable to every one who is himself ambitious of excelling, or who is desirous of appreciating the excellencies of other players. having marshalled the men in battle order, as shown in the first diagram, you will observe that each party has two _ranks_ of men, on the first of which stand the superior pieces, and on the next the eight pawns. the eight squares which compose the first rank are each distinguished by the name of the piece which occupies it when the men are first arranged. there are, therefore, the king's square, the king's bishop's square, king's knight's square, and king's rook's square, and in like manner, the queen's square, queen's bishop's square, queen's knight's and queen's rook's squares. the _files_, that is, the row of squares running from top to bottom of the board, are also named by the pieces occupying the first square in each _file_. thus each of the superior officers has a file or row of eight squares running from his end of the board to the corresponding piece of the enemy, and every one of these eight squares takes its name from such officer. bear in mind that white names every square on the board, in accordance with its relative position to one of _his_ eight pieces, and that black does the same. hence it follows that black's _first_ squares are white's _eighth_, and _vice versâ_. before proceeding further, it will be desirable for the student to familiarize himself with the respective moves of the pieces, names of the squares, &c. a very little practice will enable him to do so, especially with the aid of any friend acquainted with them. he should, in the first place, accustom himself to the setting up the men in order of battle; after a few repetitions of the process, and comparing their position with diagram no. , he will soon have no difficulty whatever in arranging them correctly without referring to the book. it will then be well to clear the board of all but a single piece, and practise with that until perfect in its movements; another, and then another, may be added, until the action of every one is as familiar as the alphabet. suppose, as a first exercise, you begin by placing your queen on her square (_i.e._, her first square), then play her to q's th square, then (diagonally, observe) to q. rook's th square, then to king's rook's th square, then to q. r's square, and then home again to her square. it is proper to mention that the directions for moving a piece are not usually printed in full, and that, according to the modern abbreviations in the present and other chess-books, these several instructions would be given thus:-- . q. to her sq. . q. to her th. . q. to her r's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to her r's sq. . q. to her sq. as a next exercise, put the queen's bishop on his square, beside the queen, and play him as follows:-- . q. b. to k. r's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. . q. b. to q. r's d. . q. b. to his sq. to these two pieces now add the queen's knight, on his own square, and play as follows:-- . q. kt. to q's d. . q. kt. to k's th. . q. kt. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to k's th. . q. kt. to q. b's th. . q. kt. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to his sq. by taking all the pieces in succession thus, you will speedily obtain sufficient knowledge of their movements to commence the opening of a game; but before attempting this, it is needful for you to be acquainted with the technical terms in use among chess-players, and the code of laws which governs the game. technical terms in use among chess-players. _castling._--although, as a general rule, the move of the king is restricted to one square at a time, he has the privilege, under certain conditions, once in the game, of moving in conjunction with either of the rooks two squares. this peculiar movement is called _castling_, and is performed in the following manner:--if a player wishes to castle on his king's side of the board, he moves the king to k. kt's sq., and then places the k's rook on k. b's square. if he castles on the queen's side, he plays his king to q. b's sq, and q's rook to q's sq. the object of this compound move is to place the royal piece in safety, and at the same time bring the rook from the corner square into better play. the conditions under which a player is permitted to castle are:-- st. the king must not be in check. d. the king must not have moved. d. the rook must not have moved. th. the king must not pass over or on to any square attacked by an enemy's man. and th. there must be no piece, either of his own or the adversary's, between the king and the rook. in exemplification of the importance of castling, to escape from an attack, and to retort one on the adversary, see, presently, the diagram no. (p. ). _check and checkmate._--the king is said to be in _check_ when he is attacked by any piece or pawn, for it being a fundamental law of chess that the king can never be taken, whenever any direct attack upon him is made, he must be warned of his danger by the cry of _check_, and the player is then compelled either to remove his king _out_ of _check_, or parry the check by interposing a man between the king and the attacking piece, or capture the checking man. when he can do none of these three things, he is _checkmated_, and the game won by the other side. (see diagrams nos. and .) when the king is directly attacked by the piece played, it is a _simple_ check; but when the piece moved does not itself give check, but unmasks another which does, it is called a _discovered check_. (see diagram no. .) the third species of check is named the _double check_, where the king is attacked both by the piece moved and the one discovered. the fourth description is called _perpetual check_, a case which arises when a player has two or more squares on which he can give check, and his opponent can only parry one check by affording an opportunity for another. if the first player then persists in the repetition of these particular checks, the game must be abandoned as drawn. (see diagram no. ). _doubled pawn._--when two pawns of the same color are on the same file, the front one is called a _doubled pawn_. _drawn game._--when neither party can give checkmate, the game is drawn. this may arise from several causes, as:-- st. _perpetual check._ d. where there is not sufficient force to effect a mate, as a king and a knight only, or a king and two knights, &c., &c. d. where one party has force sufficient, but is ignorant of the proper mode of applying it, and thus fails to checkmate his helpless adversary within the fifty moves prescribed by the "code". th. where both parties persist in repeating the same move from fear of each other. th. where both parties are left with the same force at the end, as a queen against a queen, a rook against a rook, and the like, when, except in particular cases, the game should be resigned as a drawn battle. and th. when one of the kings is _stalemated_. _en prise._--when a piece or pawn is in a situation to be taken by the enemy, it is said to be _en prise_. to put a piece _en prise_, is to play it so that it may be captured. _the exchange._--when a player gains a rook for a bishop or a knight, it is termed _winning the exchange_. _false move._--any illegal move, such as castling when the king has been moved or is in check, moving a rook diagonally, or a bishop like a knight, is called a false or an "impossible" move. _fool's mate._--this is the simplest of all checkmates, being accomplished in two moves in the following manner:-- white. black. . k. kt. p. to k. kt's th. . k. p. to k's th. . k. b. p. to k. b's th. . q. to k. r's th, checkmate. it cannot possibly be given by the first player. _forced move._--when a player has one only legal move at command, it is said to be a _forced move_. _gambit._--this word is derived from an italian phrase in wrestling, and signifies a movement by which the adversary is tripped up. in chess, this is attempted by the first player putting a pawn _en prise_ of the enemy early in the game, by which he is enabled more rapidly and effectually to develope his superior pieces. there are several gambits, but the most important, and one which includes many others, is the king's gambit, commenced as follows:-- white. black. . k. p. to k's th. . k. p. to k's th. . k. b. p. to b's th. . p. takes k. b. p. the pawn offered by the first player here at his second move is called the gambit pawn, and when taken by the adversary the opening becomes a gambit. the varieties of the gambits are often designated by the names of the players who invented or first brought them into vogue--as the _muzio_ gambit, the _salvio_ gambit, the _allgaier_ gambit, the _lopez_ gambit; while others obtain their names from the opening moves of the first player, as the king's bishop's gambit, which begins thus:-- white. black. . k. p. to k's th. . k. p. to k's th. . k. b. p. to b's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. and is so called because the k's bishop is played out at the d move instead of the k's knight. there is also the queen's gambit, of which the opening moves are-- white. black. . q. p. to q's th. . q. p. to q's th. . q. b. p. to b's th. . p. takes p. the gambits are the most brilliant and animated of all the openings, full of hair-breadth 'scapes and perilous vicissitudes, but affording an infinitude of beautiful and daring combinations. "_giuoco piano_," a solid and instructive modification of the king's knight's game, is safe and for drawing games generally practised by the leading players. the opening moves are: white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. _to interpose._--when the king is checked, or any valuable piece in danger from the attack of an enemy, you are said to _interpose_ a man when you play it between the attacked and attacking piece. _isolated pawn._--a pawn which stands alone, without the support and protection of other pawns, is termed an _isolated_ pawn. _j'adoube._--a french expression, signifying "i arrange," or "i replace," which is used by a player when he touches a man merely to adjust its position on the board, without intending to play it. (see the th law.) _minor pieces._--the bishop and knight, in contradistinction to the queen and rook, are called _minor pieces_. _the opposition._--a player is said to have the opposition when he can place his king directly in front of the adverse king, with only one square between them. this is often an important advantage in ending games. _party._--from the french _partie_. frequently used by modern writers instead of the word "game." _passed pawn._---a pawn is said to be a _passed_ one when the adversary has no pawn to obstruct its march on the same file, or on either of the next files to the right or left. _pion coiffé, or marked pawn._--this is a description of odds but rarely given, and only when there is a vast disparity between the skill of the players. it consists in one party placing a _cap_ or ring on one of his pawns, and undertaking to checkmate his opponent with that particular pawn. he is not allowed to _queen_ the pawn, and if he loses it, or happens to checkmate his opponent with any other man, he forfeits the game. the pawn usually _capped_ is the king's knight's, because it can be more readily and effectually surrounded by protecting pieces. _to queen a pawn, or to advance a pawn to queen._--when a player has contrived to advance a pawn to the eighth or last square of the file, it assumes the rank and power of a queen, or of any other piece he chooses, and he is then said to have _queened_ his pawn. (see the st law.) _scholar's mate._--a checkmate occasionally given at the opening of a game by a practised player to one but little tutored in the science. the following are the moves:-- white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. p. one. . q. takes k. b. p., giving checkmate. _smothered mate._--a checkmate which is sometimes given by the knight when the adverse king is hemmed in, or _smothered_, by his own forces. (see diagram no. .) _stalemate._--when one party has his king so circumstanced that, not being at the moment in check, he cannot play him without going into check, and at the same time has no other piece or pawn to move instead, he is said to be _stalemated_, and the game is considered drawn. (see diagram no. .) _taking a pawn en passant, or in passing._--it has been shown before, in speaking of the action of the pawn, that he is limited in his march to one square forward at a time, when not capturing, and one square forward diagonally, either to the right or left, when he takes an adversary, but that he has the privilege, on being first played in the game, to advance two squares, unless in so doing he pass a square which is attacked by a hostile pawn; in which case the opponent may, at his option, permit him to make the two steps forward, and there remain, or may capture him in his passage in the same way as if he had moved but one step. illustrations of technical terms. _the operation of "castling;" and "discovered check."_ no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r*| k*| | r*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p*| b*| | q*| | p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| | n*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | b*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | b | q | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | p | p | | | | p | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | | b | | k | | | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. in this situation the white king is threatened with what is called "a discovered check," that is, his opponent, by removing the bishop, would _discover_ check from the queen, a proceeding in the present instance, which would speedily involve the loss of the game to white. not being at the moment in check, however, and having moved neither king nor rook, and there being no _intervening_ piece between the king and his own rook, white is enabled to castle, giving check to the adverse king at the same time, and win the game easily, for black has no square to which he can move his king without going into check, and is consequently obliged to interpose his q. at k. b's second, or k. b's third square, in either case being checkmated in two more moves, as you will soon be able to see. _checkmate._ no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | r*| k*| b*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| | q*| n*| | p*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | b | | | q | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | b | | | | p | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | k | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. the above position represents the appearance of the forces on each side towards the end of a game, and will assist to explain the application of two or three of the technical terms described in the present section, as well as to exhibit the king in a situation of checkmate. you already understand that the moves at chess are played by each party alternately; in this case it is white's turn to play, and he will checkmate his antagonist in two moves. place the chess-men on your board exactly in the order they stand in the diagram; having done this, suppose yourself to be playing the white men, and take the black king's pawn with your queen, in the manner before shown, _i.e._, by taking the pawn from the board and stationing your queen on the square it occupied. by this act, you not only take his pawn, but you attack his king, and must apprise him of his danger by calling "_check_." he has now two ways only of parrying this check. it is clear he cannot move his king, because the only two squares to which he could move without going into check are occupied by his own men; he is forced then either to take the queen with his k. b's pawn, or to interpose the bishop at king's second square. if he take the queen with his k. b's pawn, you must reply by playing your king's bishop (which you will know by the color of the diagonal on which he travels) to k. kt's sixth square, crying "check." examine the position attentively, and you will find that black has no square to which he can move his king, the only vacant one being attacked by your queen's bishop, that he has nothing wherewith to take the bishop that has given check, and neither piece nor pawn with which to interpose between it and his king, and that consequently, he is not only checked, but _checkmated_. in like manner, if, at his first move, instead of capturing your queen, he interpose his bishop at king's second square, you immediately take the bishop with your queen, who is protected by her bishop, and say "checkmate."[a] [footnote a: we append a diagram here, showing a position which has frequently been misapprehended by unpractised players. by inspecting the diagram it will be seen that the white king is in check of the black queen. by the simple move of the white rook to k. kt's th square, checking the black king, and at the same time discovering check by the white queen, black is checkmated, although having by far the strongest force of men. we give the position to show that any piece or pawn, although employed in covering a check of its own king, has nevertheless the power to check the adverse king. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | q | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | q*| p*| r | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| n*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r*| p*| | k | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white.] _perpetual check._ the diagram on page will enable you to understand what is meant by _perpetual check_ as well as the most elaborate arrangement of the men could do. place the men on your chess-board according to the diagram, suppose yourself to be playing the white pieces, and that it is your turn to move. your adversary, you will observe, has the advantage in point of force, but this is counterbalanced by the situation, which enables you to draw the game. to do this, you must first play your queen to one of the three squares where she will check the king, _i.e._, to k's th, q's th, or q. b's th; it is indifferent which, say, therefore, q. to k's th (check). black has no option, his king cannot move, he must interpose his queen. if now you were to take the queen you would lose the game, on account of his two pawns; but instead of doing so, you play the queen to king's th sq, giving check. the black queen must again interpose; you repeat the check at k's th, black can only parry it with his queen, and you may persist in giving the same two checks, _ad infinitum_. in such cases, the game is resigned as "drawn by _perpetual check_." no. black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | k*| q*| | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p*| | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | k | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | q | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. _smothered mate._ this is a familiar example of _smothered mate_, which you will find can be effected by no other piece than the knight. white first move is, queen to her th square checking. black is obliged to retreat his king to the r's sq., because, were he to play him to his b's sq., the q would checkmate at once. upon the king retiring, white gives check with his kt. at k. b's th; this brings the king back again to knight's sq., and affords to white an opportunity of giving _double check_, which he does by moving the knight to k. rook's th, checking with both q. and knight; as before, the king must go to rook's sq.; and now follows a beautiful move--white plays his queen down to k. kt's th (next square to the black king), giving check; the king cannot take on account of the knight; he is compelled, therefore, to capture with his rook, and the knight then gives the _smothered mate_ at k. b's th square. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r*| | r*| | | | k*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| | | | | | p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | n | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | q*| | | | | | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | q | | | | k | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. _stalemate._ (see diagram on page .) here you observe that white has the great advantage of a queen against a rook; but with all this, and the move to boot, it is impossible for him to do more than draw the game. it is evident that he cannot move his queen from the front of his king on account of exposing him to check with the rook. if he move his king, black takes the queen, and the game is drawn. and lastly, if he take the rook with his queen, he places the adverse king in the position before described of _stalemate_. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | k*| | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | r*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | q | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. on the relative value of the chess forces. an attempt to establish a scale of powers whereby the relative values of the several men could be estimated with mathematical exactitude, although it has frequently engaged the attention of scientific minds, appears to be an expenditure of ingenuity and research upon an unattainable object. so ever varying, so much dependent on the mutations of _position_ which every move occasions, and on the augmented power which it acquires when combined with other forces, is the proportionate worth of this with that particular man, that it would seem to be beyond the reach of computation to devise a formula by which it can be reckoned with precision. but still an approximation to correctness has been made, and the result arrived at gives the following as the ultimate respective values:-- pawn = . knight = . bishop = . rook = . queen = . the king, from the nature of the game, which does not admit of his being exchanged or captured, is invaluable, and he is not, therefore, included in the calculations. the pawn, it is seen, is the least valuable of all the men, the knight being worth at least three pawns. the bishops and knights are practically considered of equal value, although there is a difference in the estimate here given. a rook is of the value of five pawns and a fraction, and may be exchanged for a minor piece and two pawns. two rooks may be exchanged for three minor pieces. the queen is usually reckoned equal, in average situations, to two rooks and a pawn, but towards the end of a game she is hardly so valuable as two rooks. these comparative values may be of service to the student in general cases of exchanging men, but he will find in practice the relative worth of his soldiers is modified by so many circumstances of time, opportunity, and position, that nothing but experience can ever teach him to determine accurately in every case "which to give up and which to keep." the chess code. or, laws of the game. definitions of terms used. whenever the word "_umpire_" is used herein, it stands for any committee having charge of matches or tournaments, with power to determine questions of chess-law and rules; or for any duly appointed referee, or umpire; for the bystanders, when properly appealed to; or for any person, present or absent, to whom may be referred any disputed questions; or for any other authority whomsoever having power to determine such questions. when the word "_move_" is used it is understood to mean a legal move or a move to be legally made according to these laws. when the word "_man_" or "_men_" is used, it is understood that it embraces both pieces and pawns. the chess-board and men. the chess-board must be placed with a white square at the right-hand corner. if the chess-board be wrongly placed, or if there is a deficiency in number, or a misplacement of the men, at the beginning of the game, the game shall be annulled, provided the error is discovered before the second player makes four moves. first move and color. the right of first move must be determined by lot. the right of first move shall alternate, whether the game be won, lost or drawn. whenever a game shall be annulled, the party having the move in that game shall have it in the next game. an annulled game must be considered, in every respect, the same as if it had never been begun. concessions. the concession of an indulgence by one player does not give him the right of a similar or other indulgence from his opponent. errors. if, during the course of the game, it be discovered that any error or illegality has been committed in the moves of the pieces, the moves must be retraced, and the necessary correction made, without penalty. if the moves cannot be correctly retraced the game must be annulled. if a man be dropped from the board and moves made during its absence, such moves must be retraced and the man restored. if this cannot be done, to the satisfaction of the umpire, the game must be annulled. castling. the king can be castled only:-- when neither the king nor the castling rook has been moved, and where the king is not in check, and where all the squares between the king and rook are unoccupied, and where no hostile man attacks the square on which the king is to be placed, or the square he crosses. in castling, the king must be moved first, or before the rook is quitted. if the rook be quitted before the king is touched, the opposing player may demand that the move of the rook shall stand without the castling being completed. the penalty of moving the king prohibits castling. en passant. taking the pawn "_en passant_," when the only possible move, is compulsory. promoting the pawn. a pawn reaching the eighth square must be at once exchanged for any piece of its own color (except the king) that the player of the pawn may elect. check. no penalty can be enforced for an offence committed against these rules in consequence of a false announcement of "check." when check is given it is not obligatory to announce the check. "j'adoube." "j'adoube," "i adjust," or words to that effect, cannot protect a player from any of the penalties imposed by these laws, unless the man or men touched, obviously _need_ adjustment, and unless such notification be distinctly uttered _before_ the man, or men, be touched, and only the player whose turn it is to move is allowed so to adjust. the hand having once quitted the man, but for an instant, the move must stand. men overturned or displaced accidentally may be replaced by either player, without notice. a wilful displacement, or overturning of any of the men, forfeits the game. penalties. penalties can be enforced only at the time an offence is committed, and before any move is made thereafter. a player touching one of his men, when it is his turn to play, must move it. if it cannot be moved he must move his king. if the king cannot move, the offender must move a man selected by his opponent. for playing two moves in succession the adversary may elect which move shall stand. for touching an adversary's man, when it cannot be captured, the offender must move his king. if the king cannot move, the offender must move a man selected by his opponent. but if the man touched can be legally taken, it must be captured. for playing a man to a square to which it cannot be legally moved, the adversary, at his option, may require him to move the man legally, or to move the king. if the latter penalty be exacted, and the king cannot legally be moved, the offender must move any piece designated by the opposing player. for illegally capturing an adversary's man, the offender must move his king, or legally capture the man, as his opponent may elect. if neither is possible, the offender must move a man selected by his opponent. for attempting to castle illegally, the player doing so, must move either the king or rook, as his adversary may dictate. for touching more than one of the player's own men, he must move either man that his opponent may name. for touching more than one of the adversary's men, the offender must capture the one named by his opponent, or if _either_ cannot be captured, he may be required to move the king or capture the man which can be taken, at the adversary's option; or, if _neither_ can be captured, then the king must be moved. a player moving into check may be required, by the opposing player, either to move the king elsewhere, or to move some other piece designated by the opposing player. for discovering check on his own king, the player must either legally move the man touched, or move the king at his adversary's option. in case neither move can be made he must move a piece designated by his adversary. while in check, for touching or moving a man which does not cover the check, the player may be required to recover with another piece, or move the king, as the opposing player may elect. adjourned game. upon a game being adjourned, the player whose turn it is to move shall seal his move. sealing a move consists in writing it legibly on a piece of paper which shall remain in the keeping of a third party during the adjournment. upon the resumption of an adjourned game the position existing at the time of adjournment shall be set up and the sealed move made on the board. if the position existing at the time of adjournment cannot be ascertained the game shall be annulled. if upon opening a sealed move the record cannot be interpreted as expressing a legal move, the offending player may be required to move his king, or, if the king cannot legally be moved, a piece designated by his opponent. if the record can be interpreted as expressing either of two moves, the offender shall make the one selected by his opponent. drawn games. a game is drawn-- (a) when the players agree to treat it as drawn. (b) upon the proof by either player that fifty moves have been made on each side without a piece being captured. (c) when either player claims a draw upon his turn to play, and proves that the existing position has occurred at least twice before during the game. (d) when either player claims a draw and demonstrates that he can subject the opposing king to an endless series of checks. (e) when a stale-mate occurs. time limit. the penalty for exceeding the time limit is the forfeiture of the game. it shall be the duty of each player, as soon as his move be made, to stop his own register of time and start that of his opponent, whether the time be taken by clocks, sand-glass, or otherwise. no complaint respecting an adversary's time can be considered, unless this rule be strictly complied with. but nothing herein is intended to affect the penalty for exceeding the time limit as registered. abandoning the game. if either player abandon the game by quitting the table in anger, or in an otherwise offensive manner; or by momentarily resigning the game; or refuses to abide by the decision of the umpire, the game must be scored against him. if a player absent himself from the table, or manifestly ceases to consider his game, when it is his turn to move, the time so consumed shall, in every case, be registered against him. disturbance. any player wilfully disturbing his adversary shall be admonished; and if such disturbance be repeated, the game shall be declared lost by the player so offending, provided the player disturbed then appeals to the umpire. the umpire. it is the duty of the umpire to determine all questions submitted to him according to these laws, when they apply, and according to his best judgment when they do not apply. no deviation from these laws can be permitted by an umpire, even by mutual or general consent of the players, after a match or tournament shall have been commenced. the decision of the umpire is final, and binds both and all the players. rules for playing the game at odds. i. in games where one player gives the odds of a piece, or "the exchange," or allows his opponent to count drawn games as won, or agrees to check-mate with a particular man, or on a particular square, he has the right to choose the men, and to move first, unless an arrangement to the contrary is agreed to between the combatants. ii. when the odds of pawn and one move, or pawn and more than one move, are given, the pawn given must be the king's bishop's pawn when not otherwise previously agreed on. iii. when the odds of two or more moves are given, the player receiving the odds shall begin the game with these moves, but may not, in making them, advance any piece beyond his fourth rank. iv. when a player gives the odds of a rook he may move his king as though to castle with the rook given, provided the square of the missing rook has been unoccupied throughout the game, and provided the ordinary conditions as to squares and the king are complied with. v. when the odds of a pawn, knight, bishop, or rook, are given, it is understood that the king's bishop's pawn, or the queen's knight, queen's bishop or queen's rook, is intended unless special agreement to the contrary is made. general rules and observations. _concerning the king._--it is mostly advisable to castle the king pretty early in the game, and to do so on the king's side, because he is less subject to an attack, and better able to repel one on that side than the other. be fearful, when castled on the king's side, of permitting an adverse knight to gain safe possession of your king's bishop's th square, and remember that it is seldom prudent in an inexperienced player to advance the pawns on the side his king has castled. be cautious of playing your queen in front of your king and in subjecting yourself to a _discovered check_. it is better when check is given to your king to interpose a man that attacks the checking piece than with one that does not. beware of giving useless checks to your adversary's king, but when, by checking, you can oblige him to move, and thus deprive him of the right to castle, it is generally good play to do so. it is sometimes useful to give a series of checks, and even sacrifice a piece, to force the king into the middle of the board, where he may be subjected to the attacks of your other men. do not in all cases take an enemy's pawn which stands before your king,--it may serve sometimes as a protection to him; and bear in mind that towards the termination of a game, especially when the superior pieces have been taken off the field, the king should be made to compensate for his previous inactivity, by being busily engaged. the fate of the game is then dependent for the most part on the skill displayed in the management of the king. _concerning the queen._--the queen is so powerful and important a piece at chess that she should rarely be employed to defend or attack any point if you can do it as well with a subordinate. it is not good to play the queen out in the game at the beginning, because she can be attacked by inferior pieces, and is compelled to retire with the loss of many moves. be careful, too, when about to capture a distant pawn or piece, that you do not remove your queen too far from the immediate point of action. a skilful player will often permit you to win a pawn with the queen, that he may prevent her returning in time to rescue your king from his attack. the power of the queen is wonderfully greater when she is aided and protected by other pieces than when she goes forth unsupported; it is generally injudicious, therefore, to make an attack with her unless in combination with some other of your forces. _concerning the rook._--the rook is a most important officer, yet few players even amongst the best avail themselves sufficiently of his power. he has seldom much scope for action in the early part of the engagement, but when the field is thinned no time should be lost in bringing him into action. you should then endeavor to _double_ your rooks, that is, to place them one before the other on the same file: in this situation, mutually sustaining one another, their potency on a clear field is equal to the queen's. it is usually good play to get command of an open file, that is to say, a file which is occupied by no other man, by stationing a rook at one end of it. when you have thus gained possession of the file, should your opponent try to dispossess you of it, by playing one of his rooks on the same file, it is frequently better to defend with your other rook than to take his or remove your own. you will often embarrass your adversary, too, if you can manage to post a rook on his second rank, say at your king's th or queen's th square. in this position he generally makes an attack on the pawns unmoved, and compels the enemy to lose time in defending them, while you can bring more forces into action. one of the strongest reasons for playing out your pieces early in the battle, is, that while at home they are not only themselves inactive, but they utterly retard the movements of your rooks. in an unskilfully developed game it is a common occurrence to see the victory won before the defeated player's rooks have ever moved. _concerning the bishop._--when the game is opened by each party with king's pawn to king's th square, the _king's bishop_ is somewhat superior to the _queen's_, because it can be sooner brought into play, and may be made to bear immediately on the king's weak point, his bishop's pawn. it is desirable therefore generally to exchange your queen's bishop or queen's knight for the adversary's king's bishop. the king's bishop should rarely or never be played to the queen's d square before the queen's pawn is moved. his best position, as we have remarked above, is to queen's bishop's th square, where he attacks the opponent's king's bishop's pawn. if your antagonist then challenges an exchange of bishops by moving his queen's bishop to king's d square, it is not always prudent to accept it, because although you may double the pawns on his king's file, you at the same time afford him an open range for his king's rook when he has castled. the best play in such a case is, therefore, to retreat your king's bishop to _queen's knight's d square_. be careful, as a general rule, in an open game, not to move your queen's pawn _one_ square _before_ you bring out the king's bishop, as by so doing you leave him but the _king's d square_ on which to move, and there his position is defensive rather than attacking. if strong in pawns towards the conclusion of the game, endeavor to get rid of the enemy's bishops, because they can impede the march of your pawns more readily than either the rooks or knights. when the other men are exchanged off, and you remain with a bishop and two or three pawns, it is often proper to keep your pawns on squares of a different color from those on which your bishop travels, as he can then prevent the opposing king from approaching them. if, however, you have the worst of the game, it is mostly better then to keep them on the same color as the bishop, that he may defend them. supposing you have _pawns only_ at the end of a game, and the adversary has a bishop, it is generally advisable to move the pawns as soon as possible to squares of a different color from the diagonals on which he moves. do not indiscriminately exchange your bishops for knights, or _vice versâ_. two bishops at the finish of a game are stronger than two knights, and one knight generally more useful than a single bishop. _concerning the knight._--the knight is at once the most striking and most beautiful of all the pieces. the singularity of its evolutions, by which it is enabled to overleap the other men and wind its way into the penetralia of the adverse ranks, and if attacked leap back again within the boundary of its own, has rendered it the favorite piece of leading players in every country. the assault of the knight is more subtle and dangerous than that of any other piece, because he attacks without putting himself _en prise_, and his attack can never be resisted by the interposition of another man. at the commencement of a game, the best place for the king's knight is at _k. b's d sq._; it there attacks your adversary's k's pawn, if it has been moved two squares, and offers no impediment to the playing out your king's bishop, and prevents the adversary from placing his queen on your king rook's th sq., where she would often be a source of restraint and danger to your king. many persons prefer playing the k. kt. to _k's d_ at the second move, from the mistaken notion that the k. b's p. should be moved before the knight is played to b's d; this is an error, and generally leads to a very bad game. when you have brought out your _q. kt._ to _b's d_, it is frequently advisable, at a proper opportunity, to get him round by k's d sq. to the _k. kt's d_, where he exercises a very important influence, by threatening, whenever the square is left unguarded, to post himself on _k. b's th_. a knight with three or four pawns, at the end of a game, has an advantage over a bishop with an equal number of pawns, because he can leap from white to black, and thus attack the pawns on either colored squares, whereas the bishop can attack them only when they move on squares of the color of his diagonals. in similar circumstances, however, he is not so useful in defending as a bishop or a rook, since if forced to remove he ceases to defend, while the rook or bishop may retreat and still protect. _concerning the pawns._--struck by the scope and power of the higher pieces, young players commonly overlook the homely pawns, or deem them scarcely worthy of regard, and are amazed to learn that the combinations of these simple elements are among the most refined and arduous studies of the science. yet such is the fact, and without a thorough comprehension of their quiet but remarkable predominance in almost every circumstance of the game, it is impossible for any one to attain a high degree of excellence. it is generally advantageous for your pawns to occupy the middle of the board, because when there they greatly retard the movements of the opposing forces. the king's pawn and queen's pawn, at their fourth squares, are well posted, but it is not easy to maintain them in that position, and if you are driven to advance one of them, the power of both is much diminished. it is well, therefore, not to be too eager to establish two pawns abreast in the centre until you are fully able to sustain them there. when you have two pawns abreast, the king and queen's, for instance, at their fourth squares, should the adversary attack one of them with a pawn, it is occasionally better to advance the pawn that is attacked another step, than to take the pawn. the pawns, however, should seldom be far advanced, unless they can be properly sustained by the pieces. pawns at their fourth squares are therefore mostly more powerful than at their sixth. the king's bishop's pawn having no support but that of the king, is usually the point to which the first attack is directed, and more than ordinary care should be taken to preserve it. it is rarely good play to move the king's bishop's pawn to bishop's d early in the game. as a general rule, it is not advisable to move king's knight's pawn or queen's knight's pawn early in the game. the former played to k. kt's d square will often allow your adversary to play his queen's bishop to your king's rook's d square, a dangerous move when you have castled on king's side. after castling, it is generally proper not to move the knight's pawn that is before your king, until you are obliged. in a diagonal line of pawns you should endeavor to preserve the pawn at the head of them. pawns, when united, have great strength; but when separated, their power is sensibly lessened. a passed pawn is mostly serviceable when supported by another pawn. a doubled pawn is not in all cases a disadvantage, especially if it is united with other pawns. the worst kind of doubled pawn is one on a rook's file; while the most advantageous is the king's bishop's pawn doubled on the king's file, because it strengthens your middle pawns and opens a file for your king's rook. the pawn being less important than a piece, it is usually better to defend with it than with a piece. for the same reason it is likewise better to protect a pawn with a pawn than with a piece. no piece can interpose between the attack of a pawn, it can therefore frequently check the king with great advantage. be cautious generally of advancing the pawns far on either side, till you see on which your opponent castles; and remember, when approaching the end of a game, where you have pawns, or even a pawn, against a minor piece, that _you may win_, but that your opponent, except in very rare cases, cannot, and that two pawns in any situation can _protect themselves_ against the adverse king. maxims and advice for an inexperienced player. there is nothing that will improve you so much as playing with good players; never refuse, therefore, when any one offers you odds, to accept them: you cannot expect a proficient to feel much interest in playing with you upon _even_ terms, and as you are sure to derive both amusement and instruction from him, it is but fair that he should name the conditions. it will soon happen that you yourself will be able to give odds to many amateurs whom you meet; when this is the case, avoid, if possible, playing them _even_, or you are likely to acquire an indolent, neglectful habit of play, which it will be very difficult to throw off. never permit your hand to hover over the board, or indeed to approach it, until you have completely made up your mind what piece to move; a contrary habit begets a feeling of indecision that is fatal to success. play invariably according to the laws of the game, neither taking back a move yourself, nor allowing your opponent to recall one. do not exhibit impatience when your adversary is long in making his move. his slowness is a tacit compliment to your skill, and enables you to play with proportionate quickness, because while he is meditating on his next step you can take advantage of the time to consider what shall be your rejoinder; besides, it is absolutely necessary for every one desirous of excelling at chess to play slowly. a fine player examines occasionally from five to twenty or more moves on each side: can this be done in a moment? it is easy enough to play quick against inferior play; but against equal and very good play one cannot play quick without losing. learn to play indifferently either with the white or black men. do not play too many games at a sitting--and never suffer the loss of a game to occasion you much disquietude. think of how many thousand games a philidor must have lost before he attained his highest excellence; besides, the loss of one well-fought game with a fine practitioner will do more towards your improvement than the gain of ten light skirmishes with weaker players than yourself. endeavor to play all your pieces equally well. many young players have a predilection for a particular piece, as the knight or the queen, and lose both time and position in trying to prevent exchanges of their favorite. in opening your game, endeavor to bring your superior officers into action speedily, but avoid all premature attacks. take care not to play a piece to a square where it impedes the action of another, and beware of venturing an unsupported piece in the adversary's game. if subjected to a violent attack, you may often disconcert your opponent by compelling the exchange of two or three pieces. when, however, you are about to exchange officers, you must calculate not only their ordinary value, but their peculiar worth in the situation in question; for example, a rook is generally more valuable than a knight or a bishop; but it will happen, that by exchanging a rook for one of the latter you may greatly improve your game. it is mostly good play to exchange the pieces off when you are superior in power, so that when you have the odds of a piece given to you by a finished player, you should endeavor to exchange as often as you can consistently with safety. when an exchange of two or more pieces appears inevitable, look closely to see whether it is better for you to take first or to compel your opponent to do so. when one of the enemy is _completely_ in your power, do not be too eager to make the capture--there may perhaps be a move of importance which you can make before you take him. beware also of snatching hastily a proffered man, it may be only given as a bait to catch a more important advantage from you. if at the end of a game you remain with pawns against a knight and find it difficult to evade his repeated checks, recollect that by placing your king on the same diagonal as the knight, with but one intervening square between them, you cannot again be checked under three moves. when you have lost a game which has cost you great attention, it is a good practice to play it over afterwards in private, and endeavor to discover where the error occurred through which your opponent gained his first advantage. this custom will improve both your memory and your play. on the several openings or beginnings of games. before proceeding to the consideration of the various methods of commencing the game, it is advisable for you to recur to the preceding sections, which treat of the arrangement of the men--the moves of the men--their relative powers--the technical terms in use among players--and the laws of the game. when you have familiarized yourself with these, it will be time for you to direct your attention to that most important feature in the game of chess--the art of opening the game. there are several modes of beginning the game, but the following are the principal:-- st. each player begins by moving his _king's pawn to king's th square_, and the first player then moves _king's knight to king's bishop's d square_. this is called the _king's knight's opening_. d. each player commences by moving his _king's pawn to king's th square_, and then he who has the first move plays _king's bishop to queen's bishop's th square_. this is known as the _king's bishop's opening_. d. each player opens with _king's pawn to king's th square_, and the first plays _queen's bishop's pawn to bishop's d square_. this is termed the _queen's bishop's pawn's opening_. th. each player begins with _king's pawn to king's th square_, and the first follows with _king's bishop's pawn to bishop's th square_. this is called the _king's gambit_. of these four openings on _the king's side_ there are many modifications, of which each has its appropriate appellation; there are also several openings begun on the queen's side, but the four above-named are those most generally practised, and with them you should be thoroughly conversant before advancing further. preliminary game. preparatory to the investigation of the several openings treated of in the following chapters, it may not be uninstructive to give a short game which shall exhibit the application of some technical phrases in use at chess, and at the same time show a few of the most prominent errors into which an inexperienced player is likely to fall. in this game, as in all the analyses which follow, the reader will be supposed to play the white pieces and to have the first move, although, as it has been before remarked, it is advisable for you to accustom yourself to play with either black or white, for which purpose it is well to practise the attack, first with the white and then with the black pieces. white. black. . k's p. to k's th. . k's p. to k's th. when the men are first arranged in battle order, it is seen that the only pieces which have the power of moving are the knights, and that to liberate the others it is indispensably necessary to move a pawn. now, as the king's pawn, on being moved, gives freedom both to the queen and to the king's bishop, it is more frequently played at the beginning of the game than any other. you will remember, in speaking of the pawns it was shown that on certain conditions they have the privilege of going either one or two steps when they are first moved. . k's b. to q's b's th. . k's b. to q's b's th. thus far the game illustrative of the _king's bishop's_ opening is correctly begun. each party plays his king's bishop thus, because it attacks the most vulnerable point of the adverse position, viz., the _king's bishop's pawn_. . q. b's pawn to b's d. . q's knight to b's d. in playing this pawn your object is afterwards to play queen's pawn to queen's th square, and thus establish your pawns in the centre; but black foresees the intention, and thinks to prevent its execution by bringing another piece to bear upon the square. . q's pawn to q's th. . pawn takes q's pawn. . q's b's pawn takes pawn. . k's b. takes pawn. here you have played without due consideration. black's third move of queen's knight to bishop's d square was a bad one, and afforded you an opportunity of gaining a striking advantage, but omitting this, you have enabled him to gain a valuable pawn for nothing. observe, now, your reply to his third move was good enough, ( . queen's pawn to queen's th square), but when he took your pawn with his, instead of taking again, you ought to have taken his _king's bishop's pawn_ with your bishop, giving check: the game would then most probably have gone on thus:-- . k's b. takes k. b. pawn (ch.) . k. takes bishop. . queen to k. r's th (check). . k. to his b's square. . queen takes k's bishop (check). in this variation, you see black has lost his king's bishop's pawn, and what is worse, _has lost his privilege of castling_, by being forced to move his king; and although for a moment he had gained a bishop for a pawn, it was quite clear that he must lose a bishop in return by the check of the adverse queen at king's rook's th square. it is true that he need not have taken the bishop, but still his king must have moved, and white could then have taken the king's knight with his bishop, having always the better position. but now to proceed with the actual game:-- . k's knight to k's b's d. . queen to k's b's d. bringing out the knight is good play; you not only threaten to win his bishop, but you afford yourself an opportunity of castling whenever it may be needful. black would have played better in retiring the bishop from the attack to queen's knight d square than in supporting it with the queen. . knight takes bishop. . queen takes knight. both parties played well in their last moves. you rightly took off the bishop, because supported by the queen he menaced your queen's kt's pawn, and black properly retook with his queen instead of the knight, because having a pawn ahead, it was his interest to exchange off the queens. . q's knight to q's d. . k's knight to b's d. you played correctly here in not exchanging queens, and also in protecting your bishop and your king's pawn, both of which were attacked by the adverse queen; but all this might have been done without impeding the movements of any of your pieces, by simply playing queen to king's d sq.; as it is, the knight entirely shuts your queen's bishop from the field. black properly brings another piece to the attack of your king's pawn:-- . k. b's pawn to b's d. . q's knight to king's th. in protecting the king's pawn with your k. bishop's pawn, you are guilty of a very common error among young players; as you improve, you will find that it is rarely good play to move the k. bishop's pawn to the third square--in the present instance, for example, you have deprived yourself of the power of castling, at least for some time, since the adverse queen now commands the very square upon which your king, in castling on his own side, has to move. black's last move is much more sensible. he again attacks your bishop, and by the same move brings his q's knight into co-operation with the king's, on the weak point of your position:-- . pawn to q. kt's d. . q. takes queen's rook. this is a serious blunder indeed. in your anxiety to save the threatened bishop, which you feared to withdraw to q. kt's d sq., on account of the adverse knight's giving check at your queen's d square, you have actually left your q's rook _en prise_! black takes it, of course, and having gained such an important advantage, ought to win easily. . castles, (_i.e._, plays . q's kt. takes bishop. k to his kt's sq., and rook to k. b's sq.) . kt. takes kt. . castles. . queen to her d. . q. b's pawn to b's th. your last move is very subtle; finding the mistake that black had committed in not retreating his queen directly after winning the rook, you determine, if possible, to prevent her escape by gaining command of all the squares she can move to. seeing the danger, black throws forward this pawn to enable him, if possible, to bring the queen off, by playing her to her th sq., giving check. . bishop to q. kt's d. . q. takes q. r's pawn. this move of the bishop is well timed; it does not, to be sure, prevent the queen from escaping for a move or two, but it gives you an attack, and very great command of the field. . q. to k. kt's th. . knight to k's sq. very well played on both sides. by playing the queen to k. kt's th, you threatened to win his knight by at once taking it with your bishop, which he could not retake without opening check on his king. instead of so moving, you might have played the knight to q. rook's th sq., in which case, by afterwards moving the rook to q. rook's square, it would have been impossible for his queen to get away. . q. to king's d. . k. r's pawn to r's d. you prudently retreated your queen to guard her knight's pawn, which it was important to save, on account of its protection to the knight. black played the king's r's pawn to prevent your queen returning to the same post of attack. . k. r's p. to r's d. . k. to his r's sq. here are two instances of what is called "lost time" at chess, neither move serving in the slightest degree to advance the game of the player. that you should have overlooked the opportunity of gaining the adverse queen was to be expected. similar advantages present themselves in every game between young players, and are unobserved. . k. b's pawn to b's th. . q. kt's pawn to kt's d. again you have failed to see a most important move; you might have taken the k. rook's pawn with your queen, giving check safely, because black could not take your queen without being in check with your bishop. all this time, too, your opponent omits to see the jeopardy his queen is in, and that as far as practical assistance to his other pieces is concerned, she might as well be off the board. . k. kt's pawn to kt's th. . q. kt's pawn to q. kt's th. your last move is far from good. by thus attacking your knight, black threatens to win a piece, because upon playing away the knight you must leave the bishop unprotected. . pawn to k. kt's th. . pawn takes knight. although your knight was thus attacked, it might have been saved very easily. in the first place, by your taking the adversary's q. b's pawn, threatening to take his k's rook, on his removing which, or interposing the q's pawn, you could have taken the pawn which attacked your knight; or, in the second place, by moving your queen to her d square. in the latter case, if black ventured to take the knight, you would have won his queen by taking the k. kt's pawn with your bishop, giving check, and thus exposing his queen to yours. black would have been obliged to parry the check, either by taking the bishop or removing his king, and you would then have taken his queen. this position is very instructive, and merits attentive examination. . b. to q. b's d. . pawn takes q. kt's pawn. . pawn to k. r's th. . pawn to q. kt's th. in such a position, the advance of your king's flank pawns is a process too dilatory to be very effective. . pawn to k. b's th. . pawn to q. kt's th, becoming a queen. now the fault of your tortoise-like movements with the pawns becomes fatally evident. black has been enabled to make a second queen, and has an overwhelming force at command. . rook takes queen. . queen takes rook (check). you had no better move than to take the newly-elected queen, for two queens must have proved irresistible. . king to his kt's d. . kt. to queen's d. . k. kt's pawn to kt's th. . p. takes pawn. . p. takes pawn. . bishop to q. kt's d. here you have given another remarkable instance of lost opportunity. at your last move you might have redeemed all former disasters by checkmating your opponent in two moves. endeavor to find out how this was to be accomplished. . k. r's pawn to r's th. . knight takes king's pawn. . bishop to king's th. . kt. to k. kt's th (discovering check). up to black's last move you had still the opportunity of winning the game before mentioned. . king to kt's d. . k's rook to b's th. (ch.) . king to r's th. . q. to k. bishop's th. at this point you were utterly at the mercy of your antagonist, but fortunately he wanted the skill to avail himself properly of his vast superiority in force and position, or he might have won the game in half a dozen different ways. . q. takes rook. . q. takes queen. . b. takes k. kt's pawn (ch.) . king takes bishop. this was your last chance, and its success should serve to convince you that in the most apparently hopeless situations of the game there is often a latent resource, if we will only have the patience to search it out. by taking the bishop, black has left your king, _who is not in check_, no move without going into check, and as you have neither piece nor pawn besides to play, you are _stalemated_, and the game is drawn. if thoroughly acquainted with the information contained in the preceding sections, you may now proceed to the consideration of the openings; before you do this, however, it is necessary to apprise you that without a great abridgment of the notation adopted in the foregoing game, it would be impossible to compress within the limits of this work one-third of the variations which are required to be given. the following abbreviations will therefore be used throughout the remainder of our handbook:-- k. for king. q. queen. r. rook. b. bishop. kt. knight. p. pawn. sq. square. adv. adversary's. ch. check or checking. dis. ch. discovering check. the word "square" is only used to distinguish the first row of squares on which the superior pieces stand at the commencement--thus, we say, kt. to k's d, and omit the word square; but if the kt. were played to k's _first_ square or r's _first_ square, the move would be described not as kt. to k's or r's _first_ square, but "kt. to k's or r's square." chapter ii. the king's knight's opening white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k's kt. to b's d. your second move gives the name to this opening, which is one of the most popular and instructive of all the various methods of commencing the game. the kt., it will be observed, at once attacks the adverse pawn, and the defence recommended by the best authors and the leading players of europe, is for black to reply . q's kt. to b's d. he has, however, many other ways of playing, and as the examination of these comparatively simple variations will serve to prepare you for the more complex and elaborate combinations of the best defences, it will be advisable to consider them previously. in the first place, then, black may sustain his pawn by playing-- . p. to k. b's d. . k's b. to q's d. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. or, in the second place, he may leave it unprotected, and play-- . k's kt. to b's d. . k's b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. he has thus eight different modes of play at his command, besides the move of q's kt. to b's d, in answer to your second move of k's kt. to b's d. each of these will form the subject of a separate game. game the first. the damiano gambit. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k's kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. takes k's p. . p. takes kt. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . q. takes k's p. (ch.) . q. to k's d. . q. takes r. . k's kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. (best.) . q. takes p. (ch.) . q's b. to k's d. . q. takes q. b's p. . q. takes kt. . q. takes q. kt's p. . k's b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . q's kt. to q's d. . q. takes r. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. takes k's r. and you give mate in two moves. the foregoing moves are dependent on black's taking the kt., which is very bad play. his proper move, under the circumstances, is . q. to k's d, as in the following example:-- white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k's kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's d. . k's kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. takes k's p. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . q's b. to k. b's th. . kt. to q's th. . q's kt. to b's d. . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. . castles. . b. to q's d. . b. to q's d. you have an excellent position. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k's kt. to b's d. . k's b. to q's d. . b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. takes k. p. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to his th. . castles. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . q. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to k's sq. . b. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. r's d. in reply, you may now play p. to k. r's th, having a capital game. if, instead of . p. to r's d, he play . q. kt. to q's th, you move . q. to her d, then b. to q's d, and finally castle on the q's side. if, however, in lieu of that move, he play . b. to q. r's th, you can move . b. to q's d, and presently castle on the q's side; and lastly, if he play . k. to r's sq., then you take your queen to k. r's th, and he cannot save the game. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. b's d. it is seldom good to bring the q. into play early in the game, unless for some decisive blow, because she is so easily assailable by the opponent's minor pieces, and in attacking her he brings his forces into action. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. kt's d. black now attacks two undefended pawns, but he can take neither without ruinous loss to him; for suppose on your playing p. to q's d, to protect the k. p., he ventures to take the k. kt. p., you immediately take the k. b. p. with your bishop (ch.). if he then take the bishop with his king, you attack his queen with your rook, and on her retiring to r. th, you win her by k. kt. to his th (ch.). on the other hand, you can leave the king's pawn, and castle safely. . castles. . q. takes k. p. . k. b. takes b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. it is quite obvious that he would lose his queen by the check of the knight, if he took the bishop. . kt. takes k's p. . k. kt. to b's d. if he take the kt., you will play r. to k's sq., compelling him either to take it with his q. or be mated. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. to k. b's th. . k. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . kt. to b's th. (ch.), and gains the queen. game the fourth. philidor's defence. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. p. takes p. . k. b. p. takes p. . kt. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . p. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . b. to q. kt's th. . q. to her d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. takes k. p. . k. kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. . q. takes q's p. . q. takes q. . kt. takes q. . castles. . p. takes k. p. you have a pawn more than black, and a better position first variation of this attack, _commencing at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. p. takes p. . k. b. p. takes p. . kt. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. takes k. r. p. . q. b. takes k. p. (best) . kt. takes k. b. . k. takes kt. . q. kt. takes k. p. . kt. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to k. kt's th, with the better game. second variation of this attack. _commencing at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. p. takes p. . k. b. p. takes p. . kt. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. takes k. p. . p. takes kt. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k's th. . k. r. to kt's sq. . b. takes k. kt. . b. takes b. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. to k's d. . kt. takes k. p. . q. b. takes p. . r. to q's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. (the winning move.) . kt. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. (best) . r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . b. to q. b's th. (ch.) . b. to k's d. (best) . kt. takes r., and wins. variation of the defence in this opening, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. takes k. p. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . p. takes p. . q. to her kt's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. to k's d. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . p. to q. b's d. . kt. to q's th, with an excellent game. another variation of the defence, _beginning also from black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. takes p. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to her kt's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . castles. . b. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . q. b. takes p. . b. takes b. (best) . p. to k's th. . b. takes k. r. p. (ch.) and white has the better game. summary of the foregoing variations in philidor's defence. the result of the preceding analysis serves to prove that q. p. one, as the second move of black, is not a tenable defence; since, play as he can afterwards, if the best moves are adopted by the first player, he will always have a very insecure or a very constrained game. games illustrative of philidor's defence. game i.--mr. morphy plays without seeing the chess board or men, against m. boucher, at paris. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (m. b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's d. . b. to k. r's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. b. to k's d. . castles on k's side. . castles. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . k. kt. to q's th. . q. to her d. . q. r. to q's sq. . k. r. to k. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to k. b's th. . k. r. to k. b's sq. . k. kt. to k's th. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . p. to q. r's th. . kt. to kt's th. . q. to k's d. . kt. to k's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . q. to q. b's sq.[a] . b. takes kt. . q. p. takes b. . k. r. to k. b's d.[b] . q. b. to q's d.[c] . k. r. to k. r's d.[d] . p. to k. r's d. . q. to q's d. . k. to r's d.[e] . q. takes q. b. . b. to q's d. . k. r. takes k. r. p. (ch.)[f] . k. takes r. . r. to q's d.[g] . k. to r's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) and wins; the battle having lasted about seven hours. [footnote a: to enable him to capture the bishop, which is about to take the kt., with the q's pawn.] [footnote b: the attack looks already irresistible, but the actual finish is charmingly accomplished.] [footnote c: by this move black may be said to lose a piece. his best course--but that a bad one--was possibly to retreat his bishop to k's square.] [footnote d: threatening mate in two moves.] [footnote e: to avert the promised mate, by r. takes pawn, &c.] [footnote f: the termination is very pretty--quite an elegant little problem.] [footnote g: and black has no possible means of escape; for, if he play q. to k's sq., white simply captures the queen for nothing; if b. to q. b's th (ch.), then follows k. to b's sq., &c.] game ii.--between mr. morphy and mr. harrwitz. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's d. . b. to k. r's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to k's d. . castles on k's side. . q. to q's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . castles on k's side. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . k. r. to k. b's d. . k. kt. to q's th. . kt. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th.[a] . b. to k. kt's d. . k. r. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . k. r. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. r. takes p. . k. to r's sq. . k. r. to k. r's th. . k. b. to his sq. . b. takes kt. . k. b. p. takes b. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to q. kt's th. . q. to k. kt's sq. . q. r. to k. b's d. . p. to q. r's d. . q. kt. takes q. b. p.[b] . q. r. to q. b's sq. . q. kt. to q's th. . b. takes kt. . k. p. takes b. . q. r. to q. b's d.[c] . p. to q. b's th. . b. to k's d. . k. r. to k. r's th. . q. to k's sq. . p. to q. b's th.[d] . q. r. takes p. . k. r. takes p. (ch.) . k. takes r. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt. sq. . kt. takes b. (ch.) . k. to kt's d.[e] . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . kt. takes q. p. and black cannot possibly save the game. [footnote a: very imprudent in such a position and against such an opponent. it must be admitted, however, that black has no good move at this crisis.] [footnote b: perfectly sound, as the sequel shows.] [footnote c: taking the pawn would have been injudicious; for example, . q. takes pawn. . k. r. takes k. r. p. (ch.) . k. takes r. (best). . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . b. to k. r's d. . kt. takes b. . k. r. takes kt. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . anything. . q. takes q. r., &c.] [footnote d: the first step in a combination of admirable daring and ingenuity.] [footnote e: had he taken the knight it would have cost him his queen.] game iii.--between mr. morphy and mr. harrwitz. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . b. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. b. to k's d. . castles on q's side. . castles. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to k. r's d. . b. to k. r's th. . kt. to k's sq. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . p. to k's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's sq. . p. takes p. . k. r. takes p. . q. to k. kt's th. . kt. to q's th. . q. takes k. r. p. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. to q's d. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . k. to k. r's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to k. b's th. . q. to q. kt's d. . q. to k's d. . k. r. to k. b's d. . q. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . kt. to k. r's th.[a] . q. to k's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. to q's d. . p. to q. r's d. . kt. to q's d. . q. to q's th. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . k. r. to k. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . kt. to k's sq. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th.[b] . q. r. to k. r's sq.[c] . p. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. to q's th. . q. to k's sq. . p. takes kt. . k. r. to kt's th.[d] . q. takes p. . q. to k's th. . k. r. to k. b's d. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . q. r. to k. kt's d. . q. takes kt. . p. takes r. . q. to k's sq. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's d. . k. r. to k's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. r. to k's d. and white abandoned the game. [footnote a: this looks promising, but does not turn out well. he had better, perhaps, have played k. r. to k. kt's th.] [footnote b: well played. white must now beware, for his kt. is in sore peril.] [footnote c: this will not save the kt. the best move was k. r. to kt's th.] [footnote d: merely desperate.] game iv.--between mr. morphy and mr. bird of london. {pgn } white. (mr. b.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to q. b's d. . k. b. p. takes p. . q. kt. takes p. . p. to q's th. . kt. to k. kt's d. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . b. to q's d. . kt. to k. r's th. . castles. . q. to q's d. . q. to k's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. takes k. kt. p. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . kt. to k's th. . kt. to q. b's d. . b. to k's d. . q. to k. r's th. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . b. to k's d. . r. to q. kt's sq. . castles (q. r.) . r. takes k. b. p. . b. takes r. . q. to q. r's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. takes q. r. p. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . b. takes q. kt. p. . p. takes b. . r. takes p. (ch.) . q. takes r. . q. takes q. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . p. to k's th. . b. takes p. . b. to k. b's th. (ch.) . r. to q's d. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . q. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. to q's square. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) and white resigns. game v.--(by philidor.) {pgn } white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes k. p. . k. b. p. takes k. p. . kt. to kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th.[a] . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . castles. . q. kt. to q. r's th. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . p. takes p. (in passing). . q. r. p. takes p. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to k's d. . b. to k's d. . kt. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to his sq. . k. kt. to kt's th. . k. r. to his d. . p. to k's th. . q. to her kt's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to k. b's d. . k. r. takes p. . castles on q's side. . k. r. takes kt. . p. takes k. r. . q. r. takes p. . p. to q. r's d. . r. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's sq. . r. to q. b's th. . q. to kt's th. . q. kt. to r's d. . q. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to b's th. . q. takes k. kt. and black mates in two moves. [footnote a: this is not the proper move; he should play . p. to k's th.] game the fifth. petroff's defence. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k's th. (best) . kt. takes p. . p. to q's d. (best) . p. takes p. . k. b. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . castles. . castles. . q. kt. to q's d. the game is equal. variation i. _commencing at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes p. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k's p. . kt. to q's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. . q. b. to k's d. . kt. to k's d. . b. to k's d. . castles. . castles. you have the move, and somewhat the advantage of position. variation ii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k's th. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to q. b's th . kt. takes p. . p. to q's d. . p. takes p. . k. b. takes p. . castles. . castles. it would not be a good move for black, instead of castling, to take your k. r. p. (ch.) and then to take the kt., on account of your check with the b., which would leave his q. exposed to capture. variation iii. _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes k's p. . kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . q. takes kt. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. p. takes kt. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. to her d. . q. p. takes p. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. to her b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. to her b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. winning the q. at his th move, black might prolong the game by playing . q. to k. kt's d, but in that case you would take . q. b. p. with the kt. (ch.), then take q. with q., and afterwards q. r. with kt. variation iv. _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes k. p. . p. to q's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. takes k's p. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q's d. . k. b. to k's d. . castles. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q. r's d. . castles. you are now enabled to play q. to her b's d, and obtain a good attacking situation. another variation, _beginning at the d move of white._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k. p. . k. b. to q. b. (best) . p. to q's d. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. (best) . b. to q. kt's d. . kt. takes k. b. p. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . kt. takes q. . b. takes q. (ch.) . k. takes b. . kt. to k. b's th. . r. to k. b's sq. . p. takes b. . kt. to k's th. . p. takes p. (ch.) . p. takes p. . k. to his d. . kt. takes k. kt. p. . r. to k. kt's sq. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. b. to k's d. . b. takes b. . kt. takes b. . kt. to k. kt's th. the positions are equal, but you have a pawn more. variation (a.) _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k. p. . k. b. to q. b's (best) . p. to q's d. . q. p. takes b. . q. takes kt. . castles. . q. takes doubled p. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. to q's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . r. takes p. winning easily. instead, however, of playing . p. to k. kt's d, you might at that moment move q. kt. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . q. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. (best) and now, play as you can, black must gain a decided advantage by taking the k. kt. with kt., &c. variation, _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k. p. . k. b. to q. b. th. (best) . p. to q's d. . q. p. takes b. . q. takes kt. . castles. . q. takes doubled p. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. r's th. . q. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. (best) . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. r. to b's sq. . q. kt. to q's th. and black must win. games illustrative of petroff's defence. game i.--mr. morphy plays without seeing the chess-board or men, against m. potier, at paris. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (m. p.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. takes k. p. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to k. b's d.[a] . kt. takes k. p. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's d. . castles. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to q. b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . k. to b's sq. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. r's th. . k. kt. to kt's th. (ch.)[b] . k. to kt's sq. . q. b. takes b. . p. takes q. . q. b. takes q. . p. takes kt. . k. b. p. takes p. . p. takes k. r. p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. r. to k's th. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. b. to k's th. . k. to b's sq. . q. r. to k. b's th. (ch.)[c] . k. to kt's sq. . kt. takes q. p. . p. takes kt. . k. b. takes p. . q. kt. to q. kt's d. . k. b. to q. kt's d. and black abandons the game. [footnote a: it is to be regretted that mr. potier did not take the kt. rather than retreat, as many amateurs would have been pleased to see mr. morphy carrying out the attack of this interesting and comparatively novel début.] [footnote b: finely played.] [footnote c: the termination of this _partie_ is remarkably elegant and finished.] game ii.--skilfully conducted _partie_ played in , by m. petroff, against three russian amateurs in council together. {pgn } white. (m. petroff.) black. (amateurs.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k. p. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k. p. . k. b. to q's d. . castles. . castles. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. b. to k's d. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . k. r. to b's d.[a] . b. takes kt. . k. b. p. takes b. . q. kt. to his th. . kt. to k's d. . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. kt's d.[b] . p. to k. b's th.[c] . p. takes p. . b. to k. kt's th. . k. r. to b's sq. . b. to k. r's th. . k. r. to q. b's sq.[d] . q. to her d. . q. to her square. . r. takes r. . r. takes r. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. to k. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . r. takes kt. . q. to k. kt's sq. . r. to b's th. . b. to k. r's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. takes q. . p. takes q. on this move, the amateurs abandoned the game. [footnote a: this unfortunate counter attack is admirably taken advantage of by m. petroff.] [footnote b: they do not appear to have had a better move.] [footnote c: well played.] [footnote d: it would have been better to leave the rook _en prise_, and advance the pawn to king's bishop's th.] game iii.--between m. tchigorin and h. n. pillsbury. {pgn } white. (mr. t.) black. (mr. p.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . kt. to b's d. . kt. to b's d. . b. to kt's th. . b. to kt's th. . castles. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's d. . b. to kt's th.[a] . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . kt. to k's d.[b] . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. to q's d. . kt. to kt's d. . k. to r's sq.[c] . k. to r's sq. . p. to q's th. . r. to k. kt's sq. . b. to q's d. . q. to k's d. . q. r. to kt's sq.[d] . p. to kt's d. . kt. to kt's sq. . b. to k's d.! . p. to q's th.? . b. to q's d. . p. to kt's d. . r. to kt's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. r. to k. kt's sq.[e] . p. to b's d.[f] . p. to k. r's th.! . r. to k's d. . kt. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . kt. to r's d. . kt. to b's d. . b. to kt's th. . kt. to q's th.[g] . p. to r's th.! . r. to k's d. . q. to k's th. . p. takes p.? . b. to b's th. (ch.) . resigns. [footnote a: notes by jas. mason.--in this familiar "double lopez" predicament, . b. takes kt. is highly recommended, if a dull but durable kind of game is desired.] [footnote b: ... something like a leap in the dark. if the doubled pawn can be "dissolved" betimes, or the open file well used in attack, a safe landing may be confidently expected.] [footnote c: more or less necessary, sooner or later. black does not attempt to dissolve, just here; for then q. to r's th, threatening kt. to kt's th, might be uncomfortable.] [footnote d: routine--indirectly including the questionable . p. to q's th? at once kt. to kt's sq., to be speedily followed by p. to kt's d and p. to k. b's th, would have given the matter another and perhaps very different complexion.] [footnote e: ... the difference is in favor of the young american representative, who presses it fully.] [footnote f: manifestly weakening. the russian champion feels himself on the defensive, and at a loss how to continue. thus the text move may be as good as any other.] [footnote g: . kt. to r's th would be much stronger, the importance of halting the advancing rook pawn duly considered. going from bad to worse, the downright blunder two moves later caps the climax--and more need not be said.] game the sixth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. takes k. p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . b takes b. p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . b. to q. kt's d. . kt. takes k's p . castles, and you have an excellent position. game the seventh. counter gambit in the knight's opening. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. this second move of black gives the name of counter gambit to this game. . k. kt. takes p. (best.) . q. to k. b's d. (best.) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . p. takes k's p. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. or first variation. . q. kt. takes k's p. (best.) . q. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . q's kt. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . q. kt. to k. b's th. . q. p. takes k's kt. . q. takes q. (ch.) . k. takes q. . k. b. takes p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . kt. takes r. . q. b. to k's d. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to k. kt's sq. . castles, with a fine game. first variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. kt. takes p. (best) . q. to k. b's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . p. takes k. p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . k. b. to kt's d. . p. to q. b's d. . b. takes k's p. . b. takes b. . q. kt. takes b. . q. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to q's th. (ch.) if now black take the knight with his bishop, you retake with the q. kt. (ch.), then exchange queens, and win the q. kt. p. he may, however, move . k. to his d, whereupon you check with k. kt. at k. b's th, and afterwards liberate your other kt. second variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. kt. takes p. (best) . q. to k. b's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . p. takes k. p. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. to her th. . q. b. to k. b's th . q. kt. to his th, gaining a pawn. third variation, _from black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. kt. takes p. (best) . q. to k. b's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . p. takes k's p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. b's d. (best) . k. kt. to b's d. . p. takes k's p. . kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. takes kt. . kt. takes q. p. . q. to her d, having won a piece. fourth variation of this game, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. takes k. p. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes k. p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . q. to k. r's th. . k. to q's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. takes b. . q. takes r., and you have an easy game. another variation, _beginning at the d move of white._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. takes k's p. . kt. takes p. . q. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. b's th. (best) . q. takes k. kt. p. . r. to k. b's sq. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes r. . p. takes b. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . q. takes k. r. p. . q. b. to k's d. . q. takes k. kt. p. (ch.) . q. takes q. . kt. takes q., and you have "the exchange" and a pawn advantage. variation of this game, _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to his th. . q. b. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . q. to her kt's th. (ch.) . q. kt. to b's d. . q. takes q. kt. p. . q. kt. takes q. p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . q. to her d. . q. to q. kt's th. . q. r. to b's sq. . q. takes q. r. p. . p. to k. r's d. . kt. to k. r's d. . b. takes kt. . k. kt. p. takes b. . q. takes p. and he has the superiority in position. game the eighth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. (best) . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . castles. . b. takes b. . kt. takes b. . k. b. to q's d. . r. to k's sq. . p. to k. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. winning of course. variation. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k's p. . q. to k's d. (best). . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to his th. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . q. takes p. (ch.) . q. takes q. (ch.) . p. takes q. there is no advantage on either side. games illustrative of the preceding variations. game i.--between messrs. cochrane and staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. c.) black. (mr. s.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes k. p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. takes k. kt. . kt. takes q. p. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . castles. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes kt. . b. p. takes p. . q. to her d. . k. p. takes p. . b. takes p. . p. to k's th. . q. to her b's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . q. takes b. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. to k's th. . q. takes b. . q. takes r. . kt. to k. b's th. . q. b. to k. r's th. . q. to her kt's th. . q. takes b. (ch.) . q. takes q. . b. takes q. . k. takes b. . p. to k. kt's th. black surrenders. game ii.--between mm. jaenisch and petroff. {pgn } white. (m. j.) black. (m. p.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to b's d. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . castles. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . q. b. to q's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . castles. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q. r's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to k's th. . k. kt. to q's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's square. . k. r. to kt's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to k. b's d. . p. to k's th. . q. to her kt's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes k. b. p. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. (ch.) . b. takes kt. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. to her b's th. . k. to kt's sq. . q. to k's th. . q. r. to k's sq. . p. to q's th. . q. b. to his d. . q. to her th. . b. takes b. . r. takes b. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to his th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. r. to k's d. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. takes q. kt.[a] . b. takes b. p. (ch.) . kt. to k's th. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . r. takes b. . q. takes r. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . r. takes q. . p. to k's th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . r. takes q. . p. takes r., becomes a queen (ch.), and wins. [footnote a: if black had taken the b. with k. b. p. at this point, the following moves show that he would have equally lost:-- . p. takes b. . q. takes kt. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. takes q. p. . q. to k. kt's d. (ch.), and wins.] game the ninth. the giuoco piano. an attentive examination of the eight separate methods of reply to your second move of k's kt. to b's d in the antecedent games, will have enabled you to understand that four at least of these defences, viz.: p. to k. b's d, b. to q's d, q. to b's d, and b. to q. b's th, are untenable and injurious for the game of the second player, and that the remaining four, if not absolutely bad for him, are unsatisfactory, because against the best attack, they leave the balance of advantage in favor of the party playing first. it is now time to consider the consequences to both parties when black, abandoning the objectionable or uncertain modes of play he has hitherto adopted, shall answer with the move which the best authorities at length concur in recommending as the proper one, _i.e._ . q's kt. to b's d. upon his playing thus, you have the choice of three good moves: in the first place to play . k's b. to q. b's th, as in the present game; secondly, . p. to q's th; and thirdly, p. to q. b's d. the two latter of which will form the subjects of games hereafter. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th it is generally admitted that black's third move is the best he can adopt; and the opening now formed is that which the italians have entitled the "giuoco piano;" an opening, less attacking than many others, but one perfectly safe for both players, and therefore always in request, and which usually generates games of the most solid and instructive kind. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. (best) . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . castles. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to k's d. . castles. the game is equal. variation i. _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . k. b. to q's th. . kt. takes k. b's p. . k. takes kt. . p. takes p. (dis. ch.) . k. to kt's d. . p. takes q. kt's p. . q. b. takes p. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. to her b's d. . p. to q's d. . b. to k's th. . kt. to k. kt's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. r. to q's sq. and the game appears to me in your favor. remember that at your move . you must not, instead of playing q. r. to q's sq., take the kt. with your b., and afterwards play . q. kt. to k's th, because after taking your b. with k. r's p., he might move q. b. to k. b's th, and thus prevent you moving your kt. advantageously. variation ii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. to her kt's d. . q. kt. to k's d. the game is even. variation iii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . castles. . kt. takes k's p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's th. . castles. . b. takes q. kt. . p. takes b. . kt. takes k. p. . q. b. to kt's d. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d. there is no advantage on either side. game the tenth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q's kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to k's th. the game is equal. game the eleventh. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to her kt's d. . castles. . castles. . q. kt. to r's th. . q. to her b's d. . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. . kt. takes k's p. . kt. takes kt. . p. to q's th. . q. to k's d. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. there is little difference in the positions, but your men are better disposed for immediate action, and you have the advantage of a knight against a bishop. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his b's sq. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to her r's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. to her d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . castles. . k. to kt's d. and it appears to me that white has an unquestionable advantage. game the twelfth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. p. takes k. p. . k. kt. takes k. p. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . b. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to his d. . b. takes kt's p. . kt. takes kt. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.), and you must win. game the thirteenth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. takes k. p. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . castles. . p. to q's d. . k. to r's sq. . q's b. to k's d. white has a little the better game. variation. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's d . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. takes q. (ch.) . k. takes q. . b. takes k. b's p., and you have the better game. game the fourteenth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k's kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k's b. to q. b's th. . k's b. to q. b's th. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q's b. to k. kt's th. . q. to her kt's d. . q's b. takes kt. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to k. b's sq. . k. kt. p. takes q. b. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . k. b. to kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. to her sq. you have the better game. game the fifteenth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . castles. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to q's d. . k. kt. to k. r's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. r's th. (best) . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. to q's sq. . k. b. to q's th. the game is in your favor. games illustrative of the giuoco piano. game i.--between mr. d. harrwitz of paris and mr. capdebo, a strong hungarian player. {pgn } white. (mr. c.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . q. b. to q's d. . k. b. takes q. b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . b. to kt's th. . castles. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . castles (with k. r.) . q. r. to kt's sq. . p. to q. kt's d. . kt. to k. b's th. . q. to q. r's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. to q's d. . kt. to k's th. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to q. kt's d. . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . q. r. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's d. . k. kt. to q. b's th. . q. r. to r's d. and black ultimately won. game ii.--played at the philadelphia athenæum, between mr. mccabe and mr. h. p. montgomery. {pgn } white. (mr. mcc.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. takes p. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's th. . q. to her d. . castles. . castles. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to kt's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. b. takes p. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k's th. . p. to q. r's th. . q. b. to r's d. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . q. to q's th. . q. to q's d. . kt. to k. kt's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . kt. takes p. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. r's d. . r. to q's sq. . q. checks. . k. moves. . r. takes p. (ch.), and wins. game iii.--between mr. horwitz and mr. staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. r's d. . castles. . k. b. to k's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to k's th. . kt. takes kt. . q. b. takes k. b. . q. takes b. . r. takes kt. . b. takes k. b. . q. r. p. takes b. . castles on k's side. . kt. takes k. p. . kt. takes kt. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's d. . p. takes kt. . p. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. r. to k's sq. . k. r. to k. b's th. . p. to k. r's d.[a] . q. to k. b's d.[b] . r. takes q. p. . q. r. to k. b's sq.[c] . r. to k's th. . k. r. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d.[d] . k. r. takes q. b. p. . r. takes k. p. . r. takes q. kt. p. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. r's d.[e] . r. to k's th. . r. takes r. . q. takes r. (ch.) . q. to k. b's sq.[f] . q. to k's th. (ch.) . q. to k. b's d. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . r. to k. b's sq. . q. to her th. . r. to k. b's d.[g] . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . q. to k's th. . r. to k. kt's d.[h] . r. to k's th. . q. to her th. . q. to k's th. . q. to her d. (ch.) . r. to k's th. . k. to kt's sq. . q. to her th. (ch.) . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . k. to b's d. . r. to q. kt's th. . k. to his d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. to q's d. . k. to kt's d. . k. to q. b's d. . r. to k's th. . r. to q's d. . r. to k's d. . k. to q. b's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . k. to b's th. . k. to q's th. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . r. to k's th. . r. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to his d. . k. to q. b's th. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . r. to k. b's th. . r. to q. b's d. . r. to q. kt's th. . r. to k's d. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . r. to k. b's d. . r. to q. kt's th. (ch.)[i] . k. to q. b's d. . r. to k's th. . k. to q's d. . r. to q. kt's th. . k. to q. b's d. . r. to q. kt's th. . r. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . r. to k. r's th. . r. to k. b's th. . r. takes k. r. p. . r. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . r. takes k. kt. p. . r. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . r. takes q. kt. p. . r. takes k. r. p. . r. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . r. takes q. r. p. . p. to kt's th. . r. to q. r's th. . r. to k. r's th. . k. to q. b's th. . p. to kt's th. . r. to q. r's d. . k. to his b's th. . p. to kt's th. . r. to k. kt's th. . p. to kt's th.[j] . p. to kt's th. . r. takes p. . r. takes r. . p. to kt's th. . k. to his th. . k. to kt's th. . k. to q's d. and black surrenders. [footnote a: black would have gained no advantage by taking the q. p. at this juncture, or by advancing his p. to k. kt's th, to attack the rook. the move in the text was not made without due deliberation, and we believe it the best on the board.] [footnote b: white designedly gives up the queen's pawn, to get a counter attack with his combined forces.] [footnote c: queen to her knight's d would have been worse than useless.] [footnote d: had he gone to queen's square, to protect his threatened pawn, white would have won the king's knight's pawn. (_e.g._) white. black. . q to q's sq. . r. takes k. kt. p. (ch.) . k. takes r. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . k. r. to k. b's th. . r. to k. r's th. . q. takes k. r. . q. takes r. . q. takes r. (ch.), &c.] [footnote e: a most important move. black dare not now advance his q. p. on account of q. to b's th (ch.), which would enable white to double his rooks on the adversary's k. kt. p., and thus win easily.] [footnote f: k. to r's d would have been very bad play, because black would have checked with his q. at k's th; and if then the queen were interposed, he would have taken the q. and played r. to k's th (ch.), and afterwards r. to q. kt's th.] [footnote g: he could not save all the pawns attacked.] [footnote h: threatening to take the k. kt. p. with his rook, and then check with the queen at her bishop's d.] [footnote i: k. to his d would have been better.] [footnote j: this was ill-judged. he should have played r. to k. kt's d, or q. r's square.] game iv.--between mr. horwitz and mr. staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. h.) black. (mr. s.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to his th. . castles. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . k. kt. takes p. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . q. to k. b's d. . k. r. to q's sq.[a] . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . k. to his d.[b] . q. b. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. kt. to b's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . p. to q's th.[c] . p. takes q. p. . p. to q. b's th. . q. r. to k's sq. (ch.) . k. to b's d.[d] . k. r. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to q's th. (dis. ch.) . k. to his kt's d. . q. b. takes kt. . kt. takes b. . q. r. to k's th. . b. to q's d. . k. r. to q's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . k. r. to k. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to r's d.[e] . k. r. to his d. (ch.) . kt. to k. r's th. . b. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . kt. to q's th. . b. to q. b's d. . kt. to k's d.[f] . k. to his kt's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. r. to k's th. . k. r. to k. b's sq. . k. r. to kt's d. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . q. r. to k's th. . p. to k. r's th. . k. r. to kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . kt. to q. b's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to k. kt's d. (ch.) and then black mates in two moves. [footnote a: from this point we look upon the game as virtually lost for white.] [footnote b: probably his best move. had he played p. to q. kt's th, black might have taken it with his kt., and upon the b. p. retaking, have moved k. b. to q's th, winning the exchange.] [footnote c: as good a move, perhaps, as he had on the board. by playing k. r. to q's sq., he would evidently have lost a piece.] [footnote d: well conceived. tempting black to open the discovered check, which would cost him "the exchange."] [footnote e: interposing the kt. and then pushing the k. b. p. on the rook afterwards, would have been unwise, on account of b. to q's d. (ch.), &c.] [footnote f: threatening, if white took the q. p., to win a piece.] game v.--between m. st. amant and mr. staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (m. st. a.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p.[a] . castles. . q. kt. to k's th. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes q. b. p. (dis. ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to her th. . q. to her kt's d. . kt. to k. r's d. . q. kt. takes p. . castles. . p. to k. r's d.[b] . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k's th.[c] . q. to k. r's th. . q. b. takes kt. . q. takes q. b. . kt. to k's th. . b. to q's th. . kt. to q's th. . q. to k. r's th. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . r. takes b. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. takes k. p.[d] . q. r. to k's sq. . q. takes k. r. p. (ch.) . q. takes q. . b. takes kt. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . b. to his sq. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to q's th. . q. r. to q's th. . r. to q's d. . k. r. to k's th. . r. takes q. r. . r. takes r. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. to k's d. . q. b. to kt's d. . r. takes r. . b. takes r. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to k. b's th. black resigns. [footnote a: the proper move is b. to q. kt's d. taking the pawn gives an immediate advantage to white.] [footnote b: if white play p. to k. b's th at this point, his opponent may move kt. to k. kt's th, threatening to play afterwards q. to k. kt's th (ch.), and then mate with his kt. at b's th.] [footnote c: from this move the attack is very lively and interesting.] [footnote d: there appears to be nothing better, bad as this is.] game vi.--played by correspondence between mr. cheney, of syracuse, n.y., and two amateurs of utica, n.y. {pgn } white. (utica.) black. (syracuse.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . castles. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . b. to k's d. . castles. . p. to k. r's d. . b. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to kt's th. . r. to k's square. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to k. b's d. . q. to k's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . q. to q. r's th. . b. to k's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . q. to q. kt's d. . b. to q's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . k. kt. to k. b's sq. . p. to q. r's th. . k. kt. takes kt. . r. p. takes kt. . b. takes p. . p. takes b. . p. to q. r's d. . q. to k. r's d. . k. to kt's d. . b. takes k. kt. p. . b. p. takes b. . b. takes q. p. . q. r. to q. black announced mate in four moves. game vii.--between mr. popert and another fine player of london. {pgn } white. (mr. p.) black. (mr. ----.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . castles.[a] . k. kt. takes p. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to k's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . castles. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q. r's d. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. r. to q. b's sq.[b] . q. to k's sq. . q. to her b's d.[c] . q. r. to kt's sq. . kt. takes kt. . k. b. p. takes kt. . q. takes q. b. p. . q. r. takes q. kt. p. . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . p. to k. b's th.[d] . b. to his sq. . q. r. takes p. . q. r. to k's th. . b. to q's th. . q. r. to q's th.[e] . b. to q. b's d. . r. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. b. to k's d. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . b. to k's th. . b. to k. kt's sq. . r. to k's th. . b. to k. b's d. white now checkmates in two more moves. [footnote a: castling before moving the q. b. p., and before the adverse k. kt. is in the field, appears safer play.] [footnote b: threatening to exchange the kt., and then take q. b. p. with the rook.] [footnote c: intending again to take the kt., and thus win a pawn.] [footnote d: well played, the advance of this pawn secures to him an irresistible attack.] [footnote e: transcriber's note: this move is notated as the impossible ... q. r. to q's th. in the original text.] game viii.--between mr. buckle and mr. harrwitz. {pgn } white. (mr. b.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. . castles. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k's d. . k. b. to kt's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . q. p. takes k. p. . q. p. takes b. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . q. b. takes k. b. . p. takes b. . k. kt. to q's th. . kt. to k. b's th.[a] . p. to q. kt's d. . p. takes kt. p. . q. takes p. . p. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . b. takes k. kt. . q. kt. takes b. . k. r. to q's sq.[b] . q. to q. b's d. . q. takes q. b. p. . k. r. to q. b's sq. . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . kt. to q's th. . kt. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . kt. to q's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . q. r. to q. kt's sq.[c] . q. r. to r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . k. r. to q. r's sq. . kt. to q. b's th. . r. takes p. . r. takes r. . r. takes r. . kt. takes q. kt. p. . r. to q. kt's th.[d] . r. takes r. . kt. takes r. . k. to b's d. . k. to k's d. . k. to k's d. . k. to q's d. . k. to q's d. . kt. to r's th. . kt to r's d. . kt. to q. kt's d. . k. to q. b's d. . k. to q. b's d. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . k. takes kt. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. p. takes p. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. to q's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. to k's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. to k. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. to b's th. . p. becomes a queen. and wins.[e] [footnote a: this is a very attacking position for the kt., and generally occasions great embarrassment to an adversary.] [footnote b: prudently taking possession of an "open file."] [footnote c: transcriber's note: this move is notated as the impossible ... k. r. to q. kt's sq. in the original text.] [footnote d: white plays with remarkable care and judgment here.] [footnote e: the termination of this game is an improving lesson in pawn play.] captain evans's gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes q. kt. p. (best) . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . castles. . p. to q's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . b. takes k. kt. . p. takes b. . k. kt. to q's th. . b. takes kt. equal game. first variation, _commencing at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. takes kt. p. . p. to q. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. (see second variation.) second variation, _commencing at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes q. kt. p. . p. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p . b. to q. kt's d. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. b. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to b's d. same position as in the game given first. variation iii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. b's th. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to q. r's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . q. to her kt's d. and your game is preferable to black's. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to his th. . castles. . p to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . k. kt. takes p. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. r's d. . q. to her kt's d. . p. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . k. p. takes b. p. . p. to k. kt's d. . kt. to k's d. black has the advantage. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . q. to her kt's d. . castles. . q. b. to q. r's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. p. takes p. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. to k's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . b. to q's th. and you win a piece. game the third _varying from the preceding at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . castles. . p. takes k. p. . kt. takes k. p. . q. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . q. to her th. . kt. to k's d. . q. b. to q. r's d. . k. r. to k's sq. you may then move . k. to r's sq., or . p. to k. kt's d., and have a good game. games illustrative of the evans gambit. game .--between mr. morphy and mr. anderssen. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. a.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . p. to q's th. . k. p. takes q. p. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . p. takes p. . castles. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. to q. r's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. takes q. b. p. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to q. kt's d. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . k. kt. to his th. . q. kt. to q's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. to r's sq. . k. kt. to k. r's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. takes q. p. . kt. takes p. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . kt. to q's th. . q. b. to b's d. . kt. takes k. b. p. . q. to k. b's d. . kt. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . r. to k. kt's sq. . p. to k. r's d. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to q. b's th. . q. to her d. . q. to k. kt's d. . b. takes q. p. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. to her th. . p. to k. r's th. . kt. to k's d. . q. to k. kt's th. . q. to q. b's d. . r. to k. kt's d. . r. to q's th. . q. to k. b's th. . k. r. to q's sq. . q. to k. b's th. . q. to q's th. . q. to k. b's th. . r. to q's th. . r. takes r. . q. takes r. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . r. to q's th. . r. to k. b's d. . r. to k's th. . kt. to q's d. . r. to k's th. . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . kt. to k's th. . r. takes r. (ch.) . kt. takes r. . q. to q's th. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. takes r. p. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to q. r's th. . kt. to k. b's th. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. to kt. sq. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. takes r. p. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . p. to k. r's th. . q. to her th. . p. to k. r's th. . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . kt. to k. kt's th. . p. to r's th. ( d q.) . q. takes q. . q. takes kt. . q. to her th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to q. r's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's d. . q. to q. b's th. . k. to q. kt's th. . k. to his sq. . p. to q. b's th. . q. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. (ch.) . q. to her th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's th. . q. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . q. to q. r's th. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . p. to r's th. . q. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . q. to kt's th. and white resigns. game ii.--between mr. mead, of n.y., and another strong player. {pgn } white. (mr. ----.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . castles. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to kt's th. . q. kt. to k's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's sq. . p. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . kt. takes p. . q. to k. kt's d. . b. to k's th. . k. b. to q. r's th. (ch.) . p. to q. b's d. . q. b. takes p. . q. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. (dis. ch.) . r. to k. b's d. . q. to q. kt's th. . p. takes kt. . q. takes q. r. . p. to k. r's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. takes p. . b. takes r. (ch.) . k. takes b. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . q. b. interposes. . q. takes k. b. . p. takes p. . q. r. to q. kt's sq. . q. takes k. kt. p. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . q. r. takes p. . kt. to q's d. . q. to k. r's d. . q. to k. b's th. . castles. . q. to q. b's th. . q. r. to k's d. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to q's th. . r. to k. kt's sq. . kt. takes r. . q. takes q. . p. takes q. . r. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. queens. . p. queens. (ch.) . q. takes q. . b. takes q. and white resigns. game iii.--between mr. anderssen and mr. hillel. {pgn } white. (mr. a.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . castles. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. takes p. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. to k. b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . castles. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to k's th. . b. to k's d. . b. to q's d. . b. to k. b's th. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . p. takes kt. . p. takes p. . q. to k's sq. . q. to q's d. . b. to k's th. . p. takes b. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. to q. r's d. . k. kt. to b's th. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. to k's th. . kt. to kt's th. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to q's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. takes kt. (ch.) . q. takes kt. . q. r. to q's th. . b. to q. b's d. . r. takes q. r. p. . p. to k's th. . kt. to q's th. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . k. to r's sq. . q. r. to k's th. . q. to q. kt's th. . q. r. to k. r's th. . q. takes k. p. . q. to q's d. . p. to k. r's th. . q. to k. b's th. . q. takes q. . k. r. takes q. . k. to r's d. . r. to k. kt's th. . k. to r's d. . q. r. takes p. mate. game iv.--between mr. morphy and mr. marache {pgn } white. (mr. marache.) black. (mr. morphy.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to r's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. _en passant_. . q. takes p. . castles. . k. kt. to k's d. . kt. to k. kt's th. . castles. . b. to q's d. . b. to k. b's th. . b. takes b. . kt. takes b. . b. to q. r's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . b. takes r. . q. takes kt. . b. to r's d. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's sq. . q. to kt's d. . b. to k. b's th. . r. to q's sq. . q. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. to k's th. . k. kt. to kt's th . q. takes q. . q. kt. mates. the two knights' defence. this, like the evans gambit, and the queen's pawn game or scotch gambit, is a variation merely of the giuoco piano; the second player, instead of moving at his d move, k. b. to q. b's th, bringing out his k. kt. to b's d. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to his th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. . k. kt. takes k. b. p. . k. takes kt. . q. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . q. b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . castles on q's side. . k. r. to b's sq . q. to k's th. . q. to her d. . k. r. to k's sq. . b. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . r. to b's th. . q. to k. r's th. . b. to k. b's d. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . kt. takes p. and you must win easily. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to his th. . k. kt. takes k. p. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . p. to q's d. . kt. to k. b's d . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to her d. . p. to k. r's d. . p. takes k. p. . q. kt. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. takes kt. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . castles. . b. to q's d. . q. takes q. p. (ch.) and you must win. games illustrative of the two knights' game. game i.--between von h. der laza and mr. m. {pgn } white. (v. h. d. l.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to his th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes k. b. p. . k. takes kt. . q. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. takes p. . p. to q. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . q. to her kt's d. . p. takes k. p. . q. b. to kt's d. . kt. to k's th. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . q. b. to q's d. . q. takes k. b. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. takes p. . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . p. to q. b's d. (ch.) . kt. takes b. p. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . k. takes kt. . p. to b's th. (dis. ch.) . k. to q's th. . castles on q's side. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . p. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. takes p. . q. takes q. . kt. to q's th. . k. to q. kt's d, and wins. game ii.--between two members of the berlin chess club. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to his th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. . kt. takes k. b. p. . k. takes kt. . q. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . castles. . k. b. to q. kt's th . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . k. r. to q's sq. . kt. to k's d.[a] . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. r. to b's sq. . b. takes kt. . k. takes b. . q. to her kt's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . r. takes q. p. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to her r's d. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. r. to q's sq. . r. to k. b's th. . r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. r. to q's th. (ch.)[b] . b. takes r. . q. takes b., mate. [footnote a: better to take the bishop with pawn, and give up the queen.] [footnote b: he might have mated the king on the move at k's th.] the knight's game of ruy lopez. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. to b's d. by his d move, white threatens to take the q. kt. with his b., and then to take the k. p. with his k. kt., winning the p. . q. to k's d. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . b. to q's d. . kt. takes q. kt. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. (ch.) . p. takes b. and his bishop is locked, and the position altogether in your favor. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k. b's d. . castles. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . b. takes k. kt. . q. kt. takes b. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. your game is a little better developed. variation i. _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . p. to q's th. . q. to her r's th. . p. takes k. p. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . q. takes p. (ch.) . q. b. to q's d. . q. takes k. p. (ch.) and the game is much in your favor. games illustrative of ruy lopez's knight's game game i.--between mr. anderssen and mr. morphy. {pgn } white. (mr. a.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . p. to q. r's d. . b. to q. r's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . p. to k. r's d. . castles. . castles. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. kt's sq. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q. r's d. . k. kt. to q's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to q. b's th. . q. kt. to k. b's th. . q. b. takes r. . q. takes b. . q. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to k. r's th. . kt. takes kt. . kt. takes kt. . q. to q's d. . q. b. takes k. r. p. . p. takes b. . q. to q. b's sq. . b. takes q. p. . q. takes k. r. p. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . kt. to k's th. . b. takes kt. . r. takes b. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . kt. takes b. . q. to her d. (ch.) . q. takes q. . p. takes q. . r. to q's sq. . k. to k. b's sq. . r. to q's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. r. to k's th. . p. to k. b's d. . k. r. to k's th. . p. to k. r's th. . q. r. to q's th. . k. to kt's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to k. r's th. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to b's d. . r. to k's sq. . k. to kt's d. . k. to r's d. . k. to b's th. . r. to k's d. . k. to kt's d. . p. to k. b's d. . k. to b's th. . r. to k's sq. . k. to kt's d. . r. to k's d. and the game was drawn. game ii.--between dr. e. lasker and wm. steinitz. {pgn } white. (dr. l.) black. (mr. s.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . b. to kt's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to q's d. . kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . b. to k's d.[a] . kt. to kt's d.[b] . q. to q's d. . b. to k's d. . castles q. r. . p. to q. r's d. . b. to k's d. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt.[c] . b. to k. b's d. . q. to q's d. . b. to b's d.[d] . kt. to q's th. . castles. . p. to k. kt's th.[e] . r. to k's sq.[f] . p. to kt's th.? . b. takes kt. . q. takes b.[g] . r. to k's th! . q. to q's d. . b. takes p. . p. to k. b's th. . r. takes p. . p. takes b. . q. to k's d. . q. r. to b's sq.[h] . r. takes b. . b. to b's th. . kt. to r's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to kt's th![i] . p. to q's th. . p. takes r. p. (ch.) . k. takes p. . b. to q's d. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . p. to r's th. . r. to k's sq. . p. to r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . k. to kt's sq. . q. to k's th. . p. to r's d.[j] . p. to q. b's th. . q. to b's d. . p. to b's th.! . q. to r's th. . p. to b's d. . b. to b's th.![k] . k. to b's d. . k. r. to kt's sq. . p. takes b. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . r. to kt's th. . k. to q's d.? . r. takes p. . q. to k's d. . r. takes r. . q. takes r. . r. takes b. p. (ch.) . k. to b's th.[l] . q to r's th.[m] . r. to k's d. . q. to r's d.! . q. to q's d.[n] . q. to kt's sq. (ch.) . p. to q's th. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . q. to q's th. . r. to k. b's th. . q. takes r. . q. takes q. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . resigns. [footnote a: white in this instance had probably made up his mind to adopt the plan frequently employed by gunsberg in the giuoco piano, namely, playing q. to q's d and castling rapidly on the queen's side.--gunsberg.] [footnote b: ... black's difficulty is how to dispose of the kt. now kt's d in this instance, although perhaps preferable, is not a good place either, subject as it must be to an early attack from the k. r. p.--hoffer.] [footnote c: if . b. takes kt., kt. to b's th; and the kt. cannot be captured on account of b. to kt's th winning the queen.--_leeds mercury_.] [footnote d: ... there seems little use in this move. either he can castle now; if not, then it is proof positive that his defence is bad.--gunsberg.] [footnote e: this premature advance is admirably taken advantage of by steinitz.--_leeds mercury_.] [footnote f: ... although this looks like a defensive move, (to make room for the kt.) it is a subtle design which was entirely overlooked by lasker.--hoffer.] [footnote g: but here is a great mistake, which ought to lose the game. . p. takes q. b. would have averted the loss of a pawn, but at the expense of position and attack; he was outplayed by steinitz up to this point.] [footnote h: from this move to the end lasker exhibits most marvellous power of resource. with . q. r. to b's sq. he commenced one of the most ingenious attacks.] [footnote i: one of the moves which will make this game memorable. the object is, if p. takes p. to open up the rook's file by p. to r's th. allowance must of course be made for the fact that, being two pawns behind, white has nothing to lose and everything to gain by desperate tactics.--gunsberg.] [footnote j: exhibiting consummate coolness in a "do or die" predicament.--pollock.] [footnote k: . b. to b's th is evidence with what perfect lucidity lasker detects the weak spots, and how immediately he takes advantage of his opponent's slightest omission or commission.--hoffer.] [footnote l: ... imprudent. the king should make for safety in the corner, _via_ b's d.--mason.] [footnote m: threatening r. to b's th.--gunsberg.] [footnote n: ... . q. to q's d is a final blunder. . r to q's d should have been played, or r. to k's d. the game is now over. it will be readily admitted that it is a well-earned victory which none will grudge the plucky young player.--hoffer. ... we really cannot see a satisfactory move, for if r. to k's d, then follows q. to b's d (ch.), and r. to b's th. or if q. to q's sq. then likewise q. to b's d (ch.) should gain some advantage, as, on king playing to kt's th, white could continue with p. to r's th (ch.) and q. to q. b's th, &c.--gunsberg.] the queen's pawn game, or scotch gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes p. it is from your third move the opening derives its name of "the queen's pawn game." . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . kt. to k's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. to q. b's d. . q. to her th. . q. to k. b's d. (best) . castles. . b. to k's d. you have a better opened game, but the superiority is not important. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes p. . kt. to k's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . castles. . p. to q's d. . kt. to k. kt's th. . b. to k's d. your game is less confined than his, but you have very little advantage. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . castles. . kt. to k's th. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to k. b's d, k's d. . p. to k's th. you have a fine game. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k's b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th . k. kt. to his th. . k. kt. to r's d. (best) . kt. takes k. b's p. . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . k. takes b. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . q. takes b. . p. to q's d. . q. to her kt's th. . p. to q. r's d. . q. to her d. . k. to kt's d. . castles. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k. b's d. . b. to q's d. you appear to me to have the better game. variation ii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . q. kt. takes p. . k. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to his th. . kt. to k's th. and he has at least as good a game as you have. this variation serves to prove that your castling on the th move is less advisable than the move of . p. to q. b's d. variation iii., _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's d. black now relinquishes the defence of the p. he has gained, but he also in some degree neutralizes your attack. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . q. kt. takes p. you have certainly the advantage in position. variation iv., _beginning also at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. takes p. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . b. to k's d. . q. kt. to q. r's d. . p. to q. r's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to r's d. your game is better opened, but there is no very striking disparity in the positions. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . castles. . p. to q. b's th. . q. takes p. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. r's d. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to kt's d. . k. kt. to b's d. the game is about even. game the fourth. mr. cochrane's attack. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. checks. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. r's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. (best) p. to k's th is the move adopted by mr. cochrane. . q. takes p. . q. takes q. . b. takes q. . k. kt. to k's d. . k. b. takes q. kt. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . q. b. to k. b's th. . castles. . castles. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to k. r's d. the game is equal. variation. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. checks. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. r's th. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to k's th. . q's b. to k's d. . b. takes b. . p. takes b. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to b's sq. . p. takes q's p. . p. takes p. . k's kt. to his th. followed by r. to k's sq., and you appear to me to have a better game than black. game the fifth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. checks. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . castles. . p. takes q. kt. p. . q. b. takes p. . k. b. to his sq. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to k's th. . castles. . q. to her d. . p. to q's d. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) you have an excellent attack. variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. checks. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . castles. . p. takes q. kt. p. . q. b. takes p. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k's th. . q. to k's d. . p. to q. r's d. . b. to q. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. to her d. . r. to k's sq. . p. takes k. p. . q. b. takes p. . kt. takes b. . kt. takes kt. . q. to her sq. . kt. takes k. b. p. and you must win. game the sixth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. to k. r's th. . k. kt. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . kt. takes q. b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. (best) . q. to k. b's th. . kt. takes q. b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . q. takes q. . b. takes q. . kt. takes q. r. . kt. takes q. r. i believe the best answering moves have been made by black, and now, upon surveying the aspect of the board, there can be no question, i apprehend, that your game is much superior. the kt. which has captured your rook, he can never extricate, while, to secure yours in the same position, he must lose many moves, and thus afford you ample time for the development of your remaining forces. variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q's kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. to k. r's th. . kt. to q. kt's th. . q. takes k's p. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . k. to q's sq. . castles. . p. to q. r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's sq. . k. kt. to q's th. and again, i believe, with the strangely changed positions of his king and queen, and the facility afforded you for bringing the pieces into immediate action, that the game is very much in your favor. game the seventh. _varying from the preceding at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. takes q. kt. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. takes q. . p. takes q. . q. kt. p. takes kt. . q. b. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to q's d. and the game is in every respect equal. games illustrative of the queen's pawn game or scotch gambit. game i.--played by telegraph, in the match between philadelphia and new york, in . {pgn } white. (phila.) black. (n.y.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d.[a] . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to q's d.[b] . castles. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. to q. b's d.[c] . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . b. to k. kt's th.[d] . kt. to k. kt's th.[e] . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's d.[f] . p. to k. r's d. . b. to k. b's th.[g] . kt. to k. b's d. . b. to k's th.[h] . b. to k. b's th.[i] . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . q. to k's d.[j] . castles. q. side.[k] . p. to q. b's th. . k. r. to k's sq.[l] . p. takes p.[m] . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's th. . b. to k's th. . q. r. to k's sq.[n] . b. to k. kt's d. . q. to q. kt's d.[o] . kt. to k's th.[p] . p. to q's th. . q. to q. b's th. . b. to q's th. . q. to q. r's th.[q] . r. to k's d.[r] . kt. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . r. takes r. . b. takes r. . q. to q. b's d. . k. to r's d. . r. to k's sq.[s] . b. to k. b's th.[t] . q. to q's d.[u] . p. takes kt. . p. takes p. . q. to q's th.[v] . r. to k. r's sq. (ch.)[w] . k. to k. kt's sq. . p. takes b. . q. takes k. b. p. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q's th.[x] . r. to k. b's d. . q. to k. r's th.[y] . q. to k. kt's d.[z] . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . r. to k's sq.[aa] and black resigns. [footnote a: the best move.] [footnote b: preparatory to the move of q. to q. b's d.] [footnote c: threatening to win q. b. p. or take kt. with kt., winning q. p.] [footnote d: if black had played b. to q. r's d, to prevent white castling on king's side, white would have won a piece by p. to q. r's th.] [footnote e: a premature move.] [footnote f: the best move.] [footnote g: better than taking kt., as white would then have opened the rook's file.] [footnote h: better than p. takes p.] [footnote i: the best move.] [footnote j: intending to advance q. b. p. a strong move.] [footnote k: an impudent move, in the face of such an attack.] [footnote l: a strong move.] [footnote m: p. to k. b's th perhaps stronger.] [footnote n: weak. we cannot see its object. why not q. r. to q's sq?] [footnote o: the best move.] [footnote p: preparatory to kt. to kt's th, and then b. to k's th.] [footnote q: preventing black's contemplated move with the q.] [footnote r: with a view of withdrawing the b. and playing the r. to r's d.] [footnote s: the first move of a combination, which gave the victory to philadelphia.] [footnote t: insures the winning of the kt.] [footnote u: a powerful move, as it compels black to take the kt., and thereby opens white's r's file.] [footnote v: if b. takes p., white would have played q. to k. kt's th, threatening to check k. and q. with r., or win the r.] [footnote w: an all important check before taking b., as it prevented an interposition of r. to r's th.] [footnote x: a very attacking move. much better than b. to k's th.] [footnote y: a better move than checking, as it prevented black's k. escaping to b's d, and then to k's d. white also threatened p. to k. kt's th.] [footnote z: black would have lost the r. had they taken the b. by a check at k's th, and afterwards at his th.] [footnote aa: the _coup de grace_.] game ii.--played by correspondence between new york and philadelphia, in . {pgn } white. (phila.) black. (n.y.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . castles. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k's th. . q. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . kt. to k's d. . k. b. to q's d. . q. to k's d. . kt. to k's th. . b. to q's th. . kt. to kt's th. . q. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. r's th. . b. takes k. p. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . kt. takes b. . p. takes kt. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . k. r. to k. b's sq. . b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's th. . b. takes kt. . k. takes b. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k's th. . b. to q's d. . b. to k's d. . b. takes p. . q. to q. r's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . k. r. to q's sq. (ch.) . k. to k's sq. . k. to k. r's sq. . p. to q. b's d. . r. takes q. b. p. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . r. takes r. . r. takes r. . p. to k. r's th. . q. to k. b's th. . b. to q. b's sq. . b. takes q. kt. p. and new york resigns, as they must lose their q., or be mated in a few moves. game iii.--between hon. a. b. meek, of mobile, and mr. marache. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. meek.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. to q's d. . b. to q. r's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . k. kt. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to k's th. . p. checks. . k. kt. takes p. . q. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . q. to k. b's th. . b. takes kt. . k. takes b. . q. to q. r's d. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . q. to q's th. (ch.) black resigns. game iv.--between messrs. cochrane and deschapelles. {pgn } white. (mr. c.) black. (m. d.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to kt's th. . q. kt. to k's th.[a] . k. b. takes b. p. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . kt. takes kt. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. b. takes p. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . k. takes kt. . q. to her th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. b. to r's d. (ch.) . p. to q's d. . p. to k's th. . q. to k. kt's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes q. . p. takes p. (dis. ch.) . k. to b's d. . kt. takes q. . q. b. to q's d. . castles on k's side. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . b. to q's th. . k. to his d. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to his d. . q. r. to q's sq. . b. takes kt. . k. r. to k's sq. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. r. takes b. . k. kt. to r's d. . q. r. to his th. . kt. to k. b's th. . q. r. to q. b's th. . kt. takes b. . k. r. p. takes kt. . k. to b's d. . k. r. to q's sq. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. r. to q's d. . k. r. to k's d. . q. r. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his square.[b] . q. r. to q's th. (ch.) . r. takes r. . r. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. takes r. . p. takes r., becoming a q. (ch.) and white wins. [footnote a: this is not the correct move, he should have played k. kt. to r's d.] [footnote b: k. to his d would have saved the game.] the queen's bishop's pawn game in the king's knight's opening game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes k. p. . kt. takes k. p. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . p. to q. r's d. . b. takes q. kt. . q. kt. p. takes b. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to kt's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to kt's d. . castles. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's d. . b. to k's d. . p. takes k. p. . castles. (best) . q. kt. to q's d. and you have a clear pawn more and a much better game than he has. variation i. _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . p. takes k. p. . kt. takes k. p. . q. to k. kt's th . q. to her r's th. . q. takes kt. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . q. takes k. p. gaining a pawn and a superior position. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt takes k. p. . p. takes k. p. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to q's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . castles. variation i. _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. b. to b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to r's th. . kt. takes k. p. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . b. to. q. r's d. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. takes k. p. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . castles. . castles. . k. b. to q's d. and you have an undoubted advantage of situation. games illustrative of the queen's bishop's pawn game in the king's knight's opening. game i.--between messrs. harrwitz and staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . p. to q. r's d. . b. takes kt. . q. kt. p. takes b. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. r. to q. kt's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to kt's d. . q. to q. r's th. . p. to q's th. . castles.[a] . p. to k. r's d. . q. b. to k. r's th. . q. to her d. . b. to k. kt's d. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . q. kt. to his d. . kt. to q's d. . q. kt. to r's th. . kt. to kt's d. . q. to b's d. . q. b. to q. r's sq. . p. to k. b's d. . p. takes p. . r. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . k. b. to k's d. . k. kt. takes q. b. p. . q. takes r. (ch.) . b. takes q. . b. takes kt. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . kt. takes b. (ch.) and wins. [footnote a: the following moves will show the probable result of taking the p. with kt.:-- . kt. takes q. b. p. . q. to her d. . p. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. r's sq. (his best move; if p. takes p., then white plays q. to her r's th.) . q. to her sq. . p. takes p., or b. takes kt. and white has little if any advantage.] game ii.--between mr. horwitz and captain evans {pgn } white. (capt. e.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. to k's th. . p. takes q. b. p. . q. kt. takes p. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. in passing. . q. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . castles. . q. b. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . castles on q's side. . q. b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . kt. takes b. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . k. r. to q's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. r's d. . r. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. r. to q's sq. . p. to k. b's th. . q. takes p. . p. to q. r's d. . r. takes b. . r. takes r. . r. takes r. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . q. to her sq. . q. takes kt. p. . r. to q's th. (ch.) . r. takes r. . q. takes r. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . kt. to q. b's th. (ch.) and white mates in four moves. game iii.--between captain evans and mr. henderson {pgn } white. (capt. e.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to her r's th. . q. to her d. . kt. takes k. p. . q. takes kt. . b. takes q. kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . p. to k. b's d. . r. to q's sq. . p. to q's th. . q. to r's d. . q. takes q. b. p. (ch.) . r. to q's d. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . b. to q's sq. . q. takes q. (ch.) . b. takes q. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to q's d. . kt. to k. r's d. . kt. to q. kt's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . k. to his d. . b. to q's d. . k. to his b's d. . b. to q. kt's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . b. to q's th. . kt. to q's d. . kt. to k. kt's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . r. to q. b's sq. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. takes b. p. . p. takes p. . r. to k. kt's sq. . r. to k. r's sq. . k. to b's d. . r. to k. r's d. . k. to his d. . r. to q. b's sq. . r. to k. kt's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . b. to k. kt's th. . r. to k. kt's d. . b. to k's th. . p. to q. r's d. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . b. to k. r's th. . r. to k. r's d. . b. to k. b's th. . r. to q. b's sq. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . r. to q's d. . b. to k. r's th. . kt. to q's th. . kt. to k. b's th. . k. r. to q. b's d. . kt. to k's th. . p. to q's th. (ch.) . k. takes p. . r. to q's d. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . p. to k's th. . b. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . r. to k. kt's th. . r. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's th. . r. to q's d. . r. takes r. . k. takes r. . k. takes k. b. p. . b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's th. . k. to his d. . b. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . r. to q. b's sq. . r. to q's sq. (ch.) . k. to q. b's d. . r. to q. b's sq. (ch.) and black wins. chapter iii. the king's bishop's opening. the two kings' bishops' game game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes kt. . p. takes b. . p. takes k. kt. p. . r. to k. kt's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . r. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. b. to k's d. . r. takes b. . q. takes r. . q. takes b. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. to her kt's th. . r. takes k. kt. p. i prefer your game. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . castles . p. takes q. b. p. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . castles. . q. b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. to her sq. your attack is hardly an equivalent for his extra pawn. game the third. the italians' defence. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. (best). . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to his d. . k. kt. to b's d. p. to k. r's d. the game is equal. game the fourth. lewis's counter gambit. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. b's d. . castles. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. takes p. . q. kt. takes p. . q. kt. to q's d. . castles. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. to k's d. the game is even. game the fifth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. (best) . k. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to her d. . castles. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to k's th. . q. b. p. takes p. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k's d. and the game is even. game the sixth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. to her kt's d. . p. to q. b's d. . castles. . castles. you have the move, and your pieces are in better play. game the seventh. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. takes q. p. . q. b. takes p. . q. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. takes k. b. . p. takes kt. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. b's d. black has the better game. game the eighth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to q's th. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. black has the advantage. game the ninth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to his th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. takes k. b. p. (ch.) (best) . q. takes q. . b. takes q. (ch.) . k. to his d. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. r's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. takes k. p. you have no advantage. game the tenth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to his th. . k. kt. to r's d. . q. to k. r's th. . castles. black maintains his pawn. game the eleventh. mcdonnell's double gambit. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. p. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . castles. . castles. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . q. kt. takes p. . k. to r's sq. . q. b. to k. kt's th. your game is inferior to his. game the twelfth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th . p. to k. b's th. . b. takes k. kt. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k's d. . r. takes b. . p. to q's d. . p to k. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. takes k. p. . q. takes k. kt. p. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. takes q. (ch.) . kt. takes q. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. takes p. the game is in black's favor. game the thirteenth. the lopez gambit white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . castles on q's side. . castles on q's side. the positions are equal. game the fourteenth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . q. b. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. the game is quite even. game the fifteenth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d . p to k. b's th. . b. takes k. kt. . r. takes b. . castles. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . k. b. takes q. p. . k. kt. takes b. . p. takes kt. . p. takes k. b. p. . q. b. takes p. . r. to k's sq. . b. to k's d. . kt. to k's th. . p. to k. r's d. . b. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . b. to q's th. and by afterwards moving the kt. to q. b's th, black must win at least a piece. variation, _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . p. to q's th. . q. takes b. . p. takes k. p. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . q. b. to k's d. . q. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d and you have an inferior game. games illustrative of the preceding analyses. game i.--played some years since between messrs. popert and staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. p.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's d.[a] . k. kt. to b's d.[b] . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p takes p. . b. checks. . b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . castles.[c] . b. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to q. r's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . b. takes kt. . kt. takes b. . kt. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. to q's d.[d] . q. to q's d. . k. to r's d. . castles. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. r. to b's d. . kt. to q's sq. . kt. to k. r's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. kt's d. . p. takes b. p. . k. kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . k. to r's sq. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to q. b's d. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . kt. to k's d. . r. takes r. . k. takes r. . r. to k. kt's sq. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. r's th.[e] . b. to k's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k. r's d. . b. to k. r's th. . kt. takes q. p. . r. to k. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . b. to k. kt's th.[f] . q. to k. kt's d. . b. to k. b's th. . r. takes b.[g] . r. takes q. . k. takes r. . k. to kt's d, and wins. [footnote a: not so good a move as k. kt. to b's d, or q. to k. kt's th.] [footnote b: p. to q's th would perhaps have been stronger play.] [footnote c: p. to q's th is a better move at this point.] [footnote d: intending, if the q. kt. p. should be played on his kt., to move q. to k. kt's th.] [footnote e: a lost move.] [footnote f: it would have been more decisive if played to k. b's th at once.] [footnote g: if the q. takes b., mate follows in three moves.] game ii.--between two amateurs. {pgn } white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. . k. kt to k. b's th. . q. to k's sq. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . k. to r's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . q. kt. to q's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. b. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . kt. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . p. takes kt. . p. takes p. (dis. ch.) and white gives checkmate in three moves. game iii.--the lopez gambit.--between messrs. de la bourdonnais and mcdonnell. {pgn } white. (m. de la b.) black. (mr. mcd.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p.[a] . p. to q's th. . k. b. to kt's d. . q. b. takes p. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to q's d. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to k's d. . castles. . p. to k. r's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. to k's d. . castles on q's side. . p. to q. b's th. . k. to kt's sq. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . p. to q. r's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to q's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to his d. . q. r. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. r's th. . p. to k. r's th. . b. takes q. kt. . kt. takes b. . q. r. to his th. . p. to k. r's th. . r. takes b. . r. takes r. . kt. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . kt. takes b. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes q. p. . k. r. to k. kt's sq.[b] . kt. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . b. takes k. p. . r. takes k. kt. p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to k. kt's d. . b. to k. kt's d. . k. r. p. takes b. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . r. takes q.[c] . r. takes r. (ch.) . q. takes r. . kt. takes q. . r. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . p. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes r. . p. one, becoming a queen. . kt. mates. [footnote a: in this opening it is not advisable for the second player to take the gambit p. with his k. p.] [footnote b: this portion of the game is full of interest and instruction, and is remarkably well played.] [footnote c: white loses the game by this move.] game iv.--the lopez gambit. {pgn } white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . p. to q's th. . q. takes b. . p. takes p. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . q. b. to k's d. . q. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. kt. to r's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th.[a] . q. takes k. kt. p. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. . r. takes k. kt. p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to her d. . q. kt. to k's d. . kt. takes kt. . q. p. takes kt. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. to k. b's sq. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. to k's d. . kt. to his th. . kt. to r's d. . kt. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's th. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his b's sq. and black can checkmate in six moves. [footnote a: the game from this point forward is admirably conducted by black.] game v.--between messrs. cochrane and staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. c.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. kt's th.[a] . b. takes q. kt. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. r's th. . castles. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . k. kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q. r's th. . k. b. to q. b's d.[b] . q. to her kt's d. . q. to k's d. . q. b. to q. r's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to k. r's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q's d. . kt. to k. b's th . q. to her kt's th. . k. b. to q's sq. . q. to her kt's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . kt. to k. kt's d. . kt. takes kt. . k. b. p. takes kt. . k. b. takes q. r. p. . k. b. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. to her kt's th. . q. to k. kt's th. . k. b. takes q. b. . q. r. takes b. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. white announced mate in eight moves. [footnote a: we have now the same position brought about which occurs in the evans gambit.] [footnote b: if he had taken the p., black, by taking the k. b. p. with his b., checking, and when the k. took the b., playing q. to k. r's th (ch.), would have gained a more valuable p. in return, and have deprived his opponent of the privilege of castling.] game vi.--between messrs. walker and daniels. {pgn } white. (mr. w.) black. (mr. d.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . b. takes q. p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to her kt's d. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d.[a] . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.)[b] . r. takes b. . kt. takes k. p. . q. to k's d. . q. takes r. (ch.) . q. takes q. . kt. takes q. . k. takes kt. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to r's d. . k. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. to kt's d. . p. to k. r's th. . r. to k's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . q. b. to k. b's d. . p. takes p. . q. b. takes p. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's d. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to q's th. . b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . k. to kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. to k's d. . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. b. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. black resigns. [footnote a: this is not advisable. it would be better to take b. with kt.] [footnote b: the notion of this sacrifice originated with messrs. henderson and williams, of bristol, during an examination of the present opening.] the king's knight's defence in king's bishop's opening game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . kt. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . b. to r's th. (ch.) . q. kt. to b's d. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . q. takes doubled p . kt. to k's d. . kt. takes kt. . k. b. p. takes kt. . castles. . p. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. black has the advantage. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to q. b's th . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . castles. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. r's th. the game is even. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes b. p. . p. to q's th. . b. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to b's d. there is no advantage on either side. game the fourth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes k. p. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q's d. . kt. takes k. p. . kt. takes b. . kt. takes kt. . p. to q's th. . kt. to k's th. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . castles. . castles. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. neither party can boast of advantage. counter gambit in the king's bishop's opening game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. you have now the choice of refusing or accepting the gambit; the former is the more judicious mode of operating, and the consequences arising from it will be shown in this game, while the result of your accepting the gambit shall be considered in the next. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. p. takes p. . q. b. takes p. . p. takes k. p. . q. p. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's d. . q. to k's d. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. you have a better developed opening. variation i. _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. (best) . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. (ch.) . q. to k's d. the game is even. variation ii. _beginning also at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . b. takes k. kt. . r. takes b. . p. takes p. . p. to q's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . p. takes p. . r. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. takes k. r. p. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to k's d. . b. takes b. . p. takes b. . r. takes k. kt. p. the positions are equal. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . p. to q. b's d. . r. to k's sq. . q. to k. kt's d. . k. b. to q's d. his game is better developed. the queen's bishop's pawn's defence in the king's bishop's opening. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . castles. . castles. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to her d. . kt. to q's th. . kt. to his th. . p. to k. kt's d. . kt. to k's th. . b. to k's d. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . kt. to b's th. (ch.) . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. you have a fine game. variation, _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. takes k. p. . q. to q. r's th. (ch.) . p. to q. b's d. . q. takes k. p. . b. to q's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. . p. to k's th. the game is in your favor. games illustrative of the preceding analyses. game i.--between messrs. stanley and rousseau. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. r.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. . castles. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k's d. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . p. to q. b's d.[a] . b. to q. kt's d. . castles. . p. to q's th.[b] . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to q. b's d. . kt. to k. r's th. . p. takes k. p. . p. takes p. . b. takes b. . q. to k. b's d.[c] . q. b. to his th. . b. takes kt. . q. to k's d. . kt. takes k. kt. p . q. b. to k's th. . kt. takes q. . b. takes q. . kt. takes r. black surrenders. [footnote a: white gains a move by this exchange of pieces.] [footnote b: p. to k. r's d would have been better play.] [footnote c: this is very finely played, and is an example to young players of the importance of gaining time at chess. had white paused in his attack to recover the lost bishop, the adversary might have succeeded in dislodging one or other of the pieces by which he is beleaguered, or in bringing his own forces to the rescue, and then have ultimately retrieved the game.] game ii.--between messrs. horwitz and schulten. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. p. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. b's th. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . castles. . q. kt. to k's th. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.)[a] . q. takes b. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . q. b. to q's d. . q. takes k. b. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes k. b. p. . b. takes p. . q. to her kt's d. and black mated by force in three moves.[b] [footnote a: black plays capitally now to the end.] [footnote b: it is rarely in actual play one sees so pretty a mate.] game iii.--between dr. bledow and von bilguer. {pgn } white. (dr. b.) black. (von b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. takes k. p. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. to her th. . kt. to q's d. . kt. takes k. p. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.)[a] . kt. takes q. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . b. takes q. . k. takes kt. . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his b's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. b. checks. . p. to q. b's d. . k. r. to b's sq. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . p. to k. r's d. . k. b. to q. b's d. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . k. b. to q's sq. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . b. to q. b's d. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. b. to k. r's th. . k. b. to k's d. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to q's d. . kt. to q's d. . k. b. to his d. . kt. to k. b's d. . r. to k's sq. (ch.) . k. to his b's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. b. to q's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. (ch.) . r. takes kt.[b] . p. takes r. . b. to q. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . b. to q's th. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . kt. to k's th. . p. to k. kt's th.[c] . p. to k. b's th.[d] . p. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. black resigns. [footnote a: transcriber's note: original text omitted the "(ch.)".] [footnote b: the terminating moves are admirably played by dr. bledow.] [footnote c: it is quite evident that on taking the b., mate would have followed next move.] [footnote d: beautifully played.] game iv.--played between two amateurs. {pgn } white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's d. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. checks. . b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to r's d. . castles. . castles. . b. to q's d. . kt. to k. b's th. . p. to k. r's d. . q. to k. b's d. . k. kt. to his th. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . kt. takes q. p. . b. takes k. r. p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to her d. . q. takes k. p. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's d. . b. to q's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to r's d. . p. to q. r's th. . q. kt. to q. b's th. . q. to her b's d. . q. kt. takes p. . q. to kt's th. . p. to q. b's th. . q. to r's th. . k. kt. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . kt. takes kt. . q. takes p. mate. queen's bishop's pawn's opening. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. (best) . k. kt. to b's d. . p. takes k. p. . kt. takes k. p. . k. b. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. in passing. . b. takes p. the positions are equal. variation, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. (best.) . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes p. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to q's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. b. to k's d. . kt. takes kt. (ch.) . b. takes kt. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. . castles. neither party has the advantage. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. takes k. p. . q. p. takes p. . p. to q's th. (best) . q. b. to k's d. the game is quite even. games illustrative of the queen's bishop's pawn's opening. game i.--between captain evans and an amateur. {pgn } white. (capt. e.) black. (mr. p.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k's d. . kt. to his th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt to b's d. . q. to her d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. . castles. . p. to q. r's d. . b. to q. r's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to kt's d. . q. b. to kt's th. . q. kt. to q. r's th. . b. takes k. kt. . q. kt. takes b. . b. takes k. kt. p. . b. takes b. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. r. p. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. takes p. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. b's th. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . q. kt. takes q. kt. p. . k. r. to k. kt's sq.[a] . q. kt. to b's d. . k. r. to kt's th. . q. to her d. . p. to q's th. . kt. to k's d. . k. r. takes k. kt. p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to her d. . kt. to k. kt's d. . r. takes kt. . q. r. to k's sq. . k. to b's d.[b] . r. to k's d. . r. to k. kt's d. . r. to q's sq. . p. takes r. . q. to k's d.[c] . p. takes p. black surrenders. [footnote a: black played ingeniously in offering to give up the kt. if white had taken it, he must have been subjected to an embarrassing attack for some little time.] [footnote b: had he played on the p. (dis. ch.), he could not take the q. until his king was removed.] [footnote c: taking the q. would have been fatal to him.] game ii.--between messrs. cochrane and staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. c.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . castles. . q. kt. takes k. kt. . p. takes kt. . q. b. to k. b's th. . b. takes kt. . q. b. takes b. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . castles. . p. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q. r's th. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. in passing. . r. takes p. . p. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d.[a] . q. to her d. . q. b. to k. b's d. . k. to r's sq. . k. b. takes b. . q. takes b. . q. to her d. . q. r. to k's sq. . k. r. to k. r's d. . q. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. r. to k's th. . k. r. to his th. . q. to k's d. . p. to q. b's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . q. r. to k's th. . p. to q. r's th. . q. r. to his th. . p. to q's th. . q. r. to his th. . q. b. takes q. r. p.[b] . k. r. to k's th. . r. takes r. . r. takes r. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to her r's th.[c] . q. to her d. . r. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. and wins. [footnote a: but for this move of resource, black would evidently have gained "the exchange," at least.] [footnote b: an important outlet for his king.] [footnote c: black has now a very menacing position.] game iii.--between capt. evans and m. st. amant. {pgn } white. (capt. e.) black. (m. st. a.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. b. p. takes p. . k. kt. to kt's th.[a] . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. . k. kt. takes k. b. p. . k. takes kt. . q. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to his d. . castles. . q. kt. to r's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to her d. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. to her d. . k. b. to q's d. . q. to k. b's d. . b. to k. b's th. (ch.)[b] . k. to q's d. . p. takes q. p. . q. b. takes b. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. takes p. . p. takes b. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. r. to k's sq. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. (ch.) . k. kt. takes b. . q. takes k. kt. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to her d. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to her kt's d. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . r. takes kt. (ch.) and wins. [footnote a: we have here a position almost identical with the leading one of the "two knights' game."] [footnote b: transcriber's note: this move is notated as the impossible . b. to k. b's th. (ch.) in the original text.] game iv.--between m. st. amant and mr. g. walker {pgn } white. (mr. w.) black. (m. st. a.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . kt. to q's th. . b. takes b. . kt. takes b. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. . q. kt. to k's th. . kt. to k. b's th. . q. to her d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. in passing. . k. r. to k's sq. . castles. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q's th. . q. r. to kt's sq. . k. kt. to b's d. . kt. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to kt's th. . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. . b. to k's d. . q. to her d. . b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. r's d. . kt. to k. r's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q's th. . r. to k. b's sq. . kt. to q's th. . p. to q. r's th. . p. takes p. . q. to k. b's d. . k. r. to k's th. . q. takes p. (ch.) . q. to k's d. . q. takes q. (ch.) . r. takes q. . kt. to k. kt's th. . r. to k's th. . b. to k's d. . kt. takes b. . p. takes kt. . r. takes r. (ch.) . k. takes r. . kt. to q. b's th. and black wins. chapter iv. the king's gambit. this opening comprises every variety of the game in which the first player, after . p. to k's th has been played on both sides, commences the attack by moving . p. to k. b's th. should the second player take this pawn with his king's pawn, he is said to accept the gambit. this gambit has many modifications, the names appropriated to which will be found in their proper places in the following pages. the king's gambit proper, or king's knight's gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to k. kt's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. (best) . kt. to his sq. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. b. to k. r's d. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to k. r's th. you can bring no piece into action with advantage, while the field is all before him where to choose. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. b. takes p. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . b. takes b. . kt. takes b. . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. you have no adequate compensation for the piece you are minus. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes k. kt. p. . p. takes p. . r. takes r. . b. takes r. . k. kt. to k's th. . p. takes kt. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k. b's d. . p. takes k. p. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to k's th. . b. takes p. (best) . b. takes b. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. to k. kt's th. . q. takes b. the advantage is all on black's side. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . castles. . p. to q's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . b. takes b. . p. takes b. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to her b's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . p. to k. kt's th. he has a pawn more and a strong position. games illustrative of the foregoing analyses. game i.--between v. h. der laza and dr. bledow. {pgn } white. (v. h. d. l.) black. (dr. b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to kt's d. . p. to q's th. . q. to k's d.[a] . castles. . p. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k's th. . q. to her kt's th. . q. kt. to k's th. . k. b. to his sq. . q. to k's d.[b] . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to q's th. (ch.) . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. (disc. ch.) . k. to q's sq. . kt. to k's th. . r. to r's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. takes r. . kt. takes q. and white gave checkmate in six moves. [footnote a: the proper move is . p. to q's d.] [footnote b: this little game is excellently played by white.] game ii.--between v. h. der laza and mr. h. of berlin. {pgn } white. (v. h. d. l.) black. (mr. h.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . castles. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to her kt's d.[a] . q. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. b. takes p. . p. takes kt. . r. takes p. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. takes q. b. p. . b. takes r. . p. takes kt. p. . q. takes k. p. . p. takes r. (becoming a q.) . q. takes q. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . b. takes kt. . r. takes b. . b. takes q. p. (ch.) . k. to k's sq. white mates in three moves.[b] [footnote a: having now your q. p. protected, and an opening for your queen, you can advantageously advance the k. kt's p., and sacrifice your kt., as in the muzio gambit.] [footnote b: a brilliant and amusing little skirmish.] game iii.--between mr. popert and an eminent polish player. {pgn } white. (mr. z.) black. (mr. p.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . castles. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to k's kt's th. . k. kt. to r's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. b. to b's d. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . q. b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. to her kt's d. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to q's d. . q. to her d. . q. to her b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . kt. to q's d. . p. to k. r's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. . castles on q's side. . p. to q. r's th. . p. takes k. kt. p. . q. b. takes k. kt's p. . k. r. to his th. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. takes k. b. p. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . q. to her kt's d. . b. to k. r's th. . b. takes b. . r. takes b. . p. to q. r's th. . r. takes k. b. p. . k. takes r. black mates in three moves. the cunningham gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to k's d. black's d move commences the variation known as the "cunningham gambit." . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. b. to his d. . p. to k's th. . b. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt to k. r's d. . p. to k. r's th. . q. b. takes p. . k. b. takes k. r. p. . p. to k. kt's d. . b. to k. kt's th. . kt. takes k. kt. p. you must win. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to k's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . p. takes p. . castles. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . k. b. to his d. . k. kt. to k's th. . b. takes kt. (best) . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k's d. (best) . r. takes k. b. p. . q. to her b's th. . r. to k. b's th. (dble. ch.) . k. to his d. . p. to q's th. . q. takes p. (best) . q. b. checks. . k. to q's d. (best) . q. kt. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. b's th. . kt. takes k. p. . q. b. to k's d. . k. kt. to his th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. takes b. . q. to her th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. drawn game. variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to q's th. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . kt. takes k. b. . k. r. to b's sq. . p. to q's th. . k. to kt's sq. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. takes k. p. . b. takes q. . r. takes r. (ch.) . q. takes r. . kt. to his th. (ch.) . k. takes p. . kt. takes q. (ch.) he has the better game. another variation. white. black. . b. to k's d. . b. takes b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . kt. to k's th. (dble. ch.) . k. to his d. (best) . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. takes kt. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . q. to her th. and wins. game illustrative of the cunningham gambit. between two members of the berlin chess club. {pgn } white. (v. h. d. l.) black. (m. j.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to k's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d.[a] . p. takes p. . castles. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . k. b. to b's d. . kt. to k's th. . b. takes kt. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k's d. . r. takes k. b. p. . q. to her b's th. . r. to k. b's th. (dble ch.) . k. to his d. . p. to q's th. . q. takes p.[b] . b. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. kt. to b's d.[c] . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . r. takes r. . q. takes r. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to her kt's th. . p. to q's th. . b. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . kt. mates. [footnote a: the correct reply is . k. to b's sq.] [footnote b: the best move.] [footnote c: k. to q's d is the proper play.] the salvio gambit game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. kt. to b's d. it is this move of black that constitutes the salvio defence. . q. to k's sq. (best) . q. takes q. (ch., best) . k. takes q. . kt. takes k. p. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to his d. (best). . b. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to q's d. . k. b. to r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes kt. . q. p. takes kt. . r. to k. b's sq. . r. to k. b's sq. . q. b. to k. b's th. . kt. takes p. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . b. takes q. p. (ch.) . p. takes b. . r. takes b. . k. r. to kt's d. you have a pawn more and an advantage in position. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. kt. to r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q's d. . k. kt. p. takes p. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . kt. to his th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . b. to r's d. (ch.) and he mates you in two moves. variation, _beginning from white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. kt. to r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. takes p. . p. to q's d. . b. takes k. kt. . b. takes b. . kt. to q's d. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to kt's th. he has a fine attack the cochrane gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's th. in the previous gambit you will remember salvio advances this p. one move later, that is, after his k. kt. is moved to b's d, or r's d sq. . p. to q's th. (best) . p. takes k. kt. p. (ch., best.) . k. takes p. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . k. kt. to r's d. . q. to her d. . q. takes q. . p. takes q. . p. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . kt. takes k. b. p. . b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . r. to b's sq. . r. to b's sq. . b. takes q. p. he ought to win. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's th. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . p. takes p. . p. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . b. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . b. to b's sq. . r. checks. and wins. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. (best) . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's d. . kt. takes k. b. p. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes r. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. kt. to b's d. . kt. to b's th. . k. takes kt. . b. takes q. p. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . p. takes kt. . b. to k. r's d. (ch.) and then p. to k. b's th, winning. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . k. to his d. . b. to k. r's d. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . p. to q's d. . kt. takes k. b. p. . p. to q's th. . b. takes q. p. . kt. takes b. . kt. takes b. . kt. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . q. takes kt. . k. takes kt. . q. kt. to r's d. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to her b's d. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . kt. to his th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . kt. takes q. b. p. (ch.) black must win. variation ii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . b. to k. r's d. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes k. b. p. . q. kt. to his th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to his th. . p. to q's d. (ch.) . k. takes kt. . q. to her th. (ch.) and black wins. game the fourth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's th. . k. kt. p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . kt. takes k. kt. p. . q to r's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . b. to k's d. . r. to b's sq. . b. checks. . k. to q's d. . q. b. takes p. . b. to k's d. . k. b. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . r. to k. b's d. . k. b. takes q. b. . q. takes b. . q. b. takes k. b. . k. takes b. . q. takes k. p. (ch.) . q. to k's d. . q. takes q. (ch.) he has a pawn more and no inferiority of position. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q's d. . p. takes p. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . kt. takes k. p. his attack is irresistible. variation ii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . kt. takes k. kt. p. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . p. to q's th. . b. to k's d. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. r's th. he has an excellent game. variation iii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's d. . kt. takes k. b. p. . p. takes p. . q. to k. b's d. . q. b. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. takes k. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . q. takes b. he must win. variation iv. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k. r's d. . p. takes k. r. p. . q. to k's sq. . q. to k. kt's th. . kt. to his th. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . r. to k. kt's sq. . k. to his sq. . b. to k's d. . kt. to q's th. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . p. to q. b's d. . kt. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . kt. takes q. r. . p. to q's th. . q. to k's sq. . p. takes b. and wins. an attentive consideration of the foregoing examples will lead you to the conclusion, i think, that the salvio defence, or that of cochrane, which varies from it in the transposition of black's th and th moves, is a safe and trustworthy method of opposing the king's gambit, and that the danger to be apprehended by the second player, in advancing his pawn to k. kt's th on the th move, is not that his opponent should play the kt. to k's th, and admit of the salvio or cochrane defence, but that he should leave his kt. to be taken, and adopt the powerful and almost irresistible attack of the muzio gambit. games illustrating the salvio and cochrane gambits game i.--between v. h. der laza and h----d of berlin. {pgn } white. (mr. h.) black. (v. h. d. l.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. kt. to r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . kt. to k. b's th. . k. b. to k. r's d. . k. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . q. b. takes b. . p. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. . q. b. to q's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . r. takes b. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes q. kt. p. . q. b. to r's d. (ch.) . k. to his d. . q. takes k. kt. p. . q. to k. kt's sq. . q. to her b's d. . q. takes p. (ch.) . r. to k. kt's d. . q. takes doubled p., and wins. game ii.--from mr. cochrane's _treatise_. {pgn } white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k's sq. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. takes p. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to his b's d. . k. b. to kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . b. takes b. p. (ch.) . k. to his d. . b. takes k. kt. . r. takes b. . k. kt. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . b. takes q. p. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to kt's th. . k. r. to his d. . q. b. takes k. r. p. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . kt. takes q. . p. takes kt. becoming a q., giving check, double check, and mate. the muzio gambit. in the two defences to the king's gambit by salvio and cochrane just examined, when the second player for his fourth move advances his p. to k. kt's th, attacking the knight, white replies by moving his knight to king's th, subjecting himself, as was shown, to a counter-attack, from which escape without loss is difficult if not impracticable. from this circumstance, apparently, originated the conception of the "muzio gambit," wherein the first player instead of removing the attacked knight boldly abandons him, and by castling is enabled to bring an almost overwhelming array of forces to the immediate assault of the adverse king. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. (best) . q. to k. b's d. (best) . p. to k's th. . q. takes k. p. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to k. r's d. . q. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. kt. to q's th. . r. takes kt. (ch.) . k. takes r. . kt. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k. b's sq. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to b's d. . q. b. takes p. . b. takes b. . r. takes b. . kt. to q. b's d. . r. takes k. b. p. . q. to k's sq. . r. to b's th. (dis. ch.) . kt. to k's d. . q. takes kt. mate. game the second. _varying from the preceding at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. (best) . q. to k. b's d. (best) . p. to k's th. . q. takes k. p. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to k. r's d. . q. b. to q's d, . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. k. to k's sq. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . p. to q's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to her d. . b. takes q. p. . p. takes b. . kt. takes q. p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to his d. . q. to k. kt's d. . r. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. takes r. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . kt. to k's d. (best) . r. to k's sq. . q. b. to k's d. . kt. to q's th. (ch.) . q. b. takes kt. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . q. takes b. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . q. takes q. kt. p. and the game is about even. i think the attack, in a majority of the variations which arise in this game, may be strengthened by your interposing the k. r. at move , instead of retreating the k. variation. _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . k. to q's sq. . q. to her th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's d. . b. to k's th. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to b's d. (best) . q. to her th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to her th. (ch.) . k. to r's th. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . p. to q. kt's th. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to k's th. . p. to q. r's th. and he cannot possibly save the game. game the third. _varying from the former at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. (best) . q. to k. b's d. (best) . p. to k's th. . q. takes k. p. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. takes r. (best) . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . b. takes q. p. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . b. to q's d. . q. takes r. (ch.) . q. takes q. . r. to k. b's sq. . q. takes p. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . p. to q's d. black has the advantage. game the fourth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th, . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . k. b. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes q. p. . q. to k. r's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . q. b. takes p. . b. takes b. . r. takes b. . q. to k's d. . b. takes kt. . q. p. takes b. . q. r. to k. b's sq. you must win. variation i. _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to k. r's d. . q. b. takes p. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . q. to k's d. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . p. to k's th. with a capital opening. variation ii. _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . q. to k's d. . p to q's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. takes p. . kt. takes q. p. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . k. b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . q. kt. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) you ought to win. game the fifth. koch and ghulam kassim's attack. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes kt. white's th move characterizes the game known as "koch and ghulam kassim's attack." . q. takes p. . p. to q's th. . k. b. takes q. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. takes q. p. . q. b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. takes p. . q. kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to q's d. you have the better game. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . q. b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. i prefer black's game. variation ii. _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . p. to q's d. . castles. . q. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to r's d. . q. takes q. p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . k. b. to r's d. . q. b. takes p. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to k's th. . b. takes b. . r. takes b. . b. to k's d. . p. takes q. p. you have a capital attack. game the sixth. mcdonnell's attack. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . p. to q's th. . b. takes q. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to k's d. . b. takes b. . p. takes b. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k's th. . q. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. b. takes p. . k. kt. to k's d. . castles on k's side. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. kt. to r's d. the game is in his favor. our examination of this gambit would be imperfect without some notice of a variation in the opening, where the first player, instead of abandoning the knight at his th move, sacrifices his bishop by taking the k. b. pawn, checking. this attack is not, strictly speaking, a part of the muzio gambit, but it is so intimately associated with it that i think it better to consider them both under the same head. game the seventh. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . kt. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. takes k. b. p. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. to k's d. your attack is exhausted. games illustrative of the muzio gambit. game i.--between mr. lewis and an amateur of great skill. {pgn } white. (mr. l.) black. (mr. ----) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . k. b. to r's d. . p. to q's th. . q. to k's d. . q. b. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. takes k. b. . kt. takes b. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k. b's sq. . k. r. to b's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. takes kt. . q. takes q. . k. r. takes q. . q. kt. takes q. p. . q. kt. to q. r's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. r. to q's th. . kt. to k's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . k. b. takes kt. . k. b. p. takes b. . kt. to q. b's th. . k. r. to k. kt's th. . k. to b's d. . k. to his d. . kt. to k's d. . p. to q. r's th. . k. to his b's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. r. to his d. . k. to b's th. . k. r. to q. b's th, . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . kt. to k's th. . k. r. to q. b's th. . p. to q. r's th. . r. takes q. kt. p. . k. r. takes q. b. p. . r. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . r. to k. b's sq. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . b. to q. r's d. . k. r. to q. b's th. . r. takes r. . r. takes r. . k. to q's d. . r. to q. r's th. . k. takes kt. . r. takes b. . r. to q. kt's sq. . r. to q. r's th. (ch.) . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. to q's d. . r. to q. b's sq. . r. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . r. to q. b's th. . p. to q. r's th. . r. to k. b's th. . p. to q. r's th. . r. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . r. to q. r's th. . r. takes q. kt. p. . r. takes q. r. p. drawn game. game ii.--between mr. szen, of hungary, and v. h. der laza, of the berlin chess club. {pgn } white. (v. h. d. l.) black. (mr. s.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k's th. . q. takes k. p. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to k. r's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. b. to q's d. . castles.[a] . q. r. to k's sq. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . p. to q. b's d. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. b's th. . q. b. to his d. . b. to k. kt's d. . kt. to q's th. . q. to k. kt's th. . r. takes kt.[b] . b. takes q. b.[c] . r. takes k. b. p. . r. takes r. . b. takes r. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . p. takes b. . kt. to q. r's d. . q. takes k. b. p. . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . kt. to q. b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . kt. to q's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . r. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . r. to k's th. . p. to q. kt's d. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . r. takes b. and wins. [footnote a: not considered so strong a move as p. to q. b's d.] [footnote b: well played.] [footnote c: had he taken r. with q., white would have won a piece by at once playing kt. to k. b's th.] game iii.--between two berlin players. {pgn } white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . castles. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k's th. . q. takes p. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to r's d. . q. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . p. to q's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to her d. . k. b. takes q. p. . castles. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . q. b. takes p. . k. b. takes b. . k. r. takes b. . k. kt. to his d. . kt. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . b. takes kt. . q. b. takes b. . kt. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . r. takes b. . p. takes r. . kt. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . r. takes r. . q. takes kt. . r. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. mates. game iv.--between la bourdonnais and mcdonnell. {pgn } white. (mr. mcd.) black. (m. la b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . k. b. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. . q. kt. takes q. p. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to his kt's d. . q. b. takes p. . b. takes b. . k. r. takes b. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . k. to his sq. . k. r. takes kt. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. to her b's th. . k. to r's sq. . kt. to k's d. . k. r. takes kt. . p. takes r. . kt. to b's th. (ch.) and wins the queen. game v.--from ghulam kassim. {pgn } white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes kt. . q. takes p. . p. to q's th. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . castles. . kt. takes b. . p. takes kt. . q. to b's d. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . b. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. to b's d. . r. to kt's sq. . kt. to q's d. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. to b's d. . kt. to q's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. to b's d. . kt. to k's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q's d. . b. takes b. . p. takes b. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. r. to k's sq. . kt. to q's th. . r. takes r. . q. takes r. . k. to q. b's d. . q. to her kt's th. . k. to q's sq. white must win. game vi.--mr. staunton gives his queen's rook. (remove white's q. r. from the board.) {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. ----.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. takes b. . kt. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. takes p. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. to k's d. . castles. . q. b. to q's d. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to q's th. . q. to k's th. . q. b. to k's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to her b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. kt. to his th. . p. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . k. b. to k's d. . k. kt. to q's th. . q. b. to k. kt's sq. . b. takes k. b. . q. takes b. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . q. to her d. . q. to k. r's th. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. to k. b's th. and wins. the allgaier gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. (best) white's th move constitutes the allgaier gambit. . kt. to kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . kt. takes k. b. p . k. takes kt. . q. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. takes k. b. p. . k. b. to q's d. (best) . b. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. (best) . q. to k. b's th. . b. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. r. to b's sq. black has a winning position. variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's d. . q. b. takes p. . p. takes kt. . p. takes p. . kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to q's d. . q. b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . b. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . castles. . q. to her r's th. . b. to q's th. . k. to his sq. . q. to her b's sq. . k. to q's sq. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th. and you win with ease. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . p. to k. r's th. (best) . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to r's d . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . kt. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . b. takes q. p. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. takes q. p. he has decidedly the better game. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . p. to k. r's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . r. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. (best) . p. to k. kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes kt. . q. p. takes kt. . q. b. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . castles on q's side. he has a little better game, but the advantage is not nearly so decisive as in the second game. the king's rook's pawn gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k. r's th. . k. b. to k's d. (best) white's d move gives the title to this gambit. . q. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. (best) . q. takes doubled p. . p. takes p. . q. takes k. p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. b's d. . castles. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. takes q. kt. p. . q. to her d. . q. to her kt's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to her d. . q. kt. to q's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. kt. to k. b's th. black has a winning game. variation, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to her d. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to his th. . castles on q's side. . kt. takes b. (ch.) . p. takes kt. . kt. takes p. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. to her d. . r. to k's sq. (ch.) and he has the better game. games illustrative of the allgaier gambit. game i.--between messrs. anderssen and kipping, at the manchester chess meeting, in . {pgn } white. (mr. a.) black. (mr. k.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . kt. to k. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . p. to k. r's th. . b. to q. b's th. . r. to k. r's d. . b. takes p. (ch.) . r. takes b. . kt. takes r. . k. takes kt. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . b. takes p. . k. b. to k's d. . castles. . k. to kt's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . kt. to k's d. . q. b. to k. b's d. . k. r. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . q. kt. to k. b's d. . p. takes q. b. p. . b. takes k. p. . q. to k's d. . p. takes q. b. p. . b. to k's th. . q. to q's th. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to k. r's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . q. to q. b's d. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . k. takes b. and black resigns. game ii.--between mr. cochrane and capt. evans. {pgn } white. (mr. c.) black. (capt. e.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's th. . p. to k. r's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. r. to his d. . kt. takes k. b. p. . r. takes kt. . b. takes r. (ch.) . k. takes b. . p. to q's th. . b. to k. r's d.[a] . b. takes p. . b. takes b. . castles. . q. takes k. r. p. . r. takes b. (ch.) . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . r. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to her d. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) and black resigns. [footnote a: this is the error which loses black's game. the correct move is . p. to k. b's th.] the king's bishop's gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) white's d move gives the name to this gambit. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to q's th. . k. to q's sq. . p. takes p. b. to q's d. . k. to his kt's sq. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . r. takes r. . b. takes r. . k. kt. takes p. . q. takes k. kt. . q. b. takes p. . q. to k. kt's d. (best) . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes q. b. p. . p. to k's th. . kt. takes q. r. . p. takes b. . b. takes k. kt. . q. takes b. . q. to her th. . q. kt. to r's d. . r. to q's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . q. takes k. b. p. . q. takes q. kt. p. . q. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . q. to k's sq. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's sq. and black is getting into safe quarters. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ white black. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to q's th. . k. to q's sq. . p. takes p. . b. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . q. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. b. to his d. . k. r. to k's sq. . kt. takes kt. . r. takes kt. . q. to her th. the game is about equal. variation ii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. takes p. . k. to kt's d. . q. to k. r's d. . p. takes p. . q. to k. kt's d. he has the advantage. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's th. . k. b. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's th. . q. kt. to k's th. . p. to q's d. . k. p. takes p. . q. b. p. takes p. . q. to k's d. . k. to q's sq. . p. to q. b's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. to kt's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to her d. . p. takes k. kt. p. . k. takes p. . p. to q's th. . k. b. takes p. . kt. takes k. r. p. (ch.) and he has the better game. variation i. _beginning at white's th move._ . k. to kt's sq. . b. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. takes b. . p. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . p. to q's th. (dis. ch.) . kt. to k. b's th. . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . kt. to k. r's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. takes k. p. . k. to r's th. . kt. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . p. to k. b's th. . k. to b's th. . p. to k. b's th. black wins. variation ii. _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . k. r. to his d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to kt's th. . k. kt. to r's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . k. b. takes q. p. (best) . p. to k. kt's th. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . q. takes b. . kt. takes q. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's sq. . p. takes r. . k. to b's d. . k. b. takes q. p. (ch.) and black wins. variation iii. _beginning also at white's th move._ white. black. . b. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k's sq. . k. kt to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's d. . kt. to k. r's th. . kt. to q's th. . kt. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . k. b. checks. . k. to r's d. . kt. takes b. he ought to win. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. r's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . p. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. b. takes p. . q. kt. takes q. b. p. . b. takes q. . b. takes q. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q's th. black maintains his pawn. variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . q. takes q. . kt. takes q. . k. b. to k. r's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. checks. . k. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to his d. . k. kt. to k's sq. followed by . k. kt. to q's d, winning the p., with a good situation. in the previous games we have followed out, at some length, the most prominent variations which occur when both the attack and defence in this opening are conducted upon the principles recommended by the best authorities, and the result would seem to prove that against every system of attack in the king's bishop's gambit at present known, the defence, though difficult and complex in the extreme, is satisfactory. it yet remains for us to consider what are the probable deviations from the several standard methods of defence, and in what manner these should be turned to advantage by the opening player. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . r. takes r. . b. takes r. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to k. r's d. you have the better game. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p . b. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. checks. . k. to q's sq. (best) . p. takes k. p. . q. takes p. (ch.) . b. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. takes k. b. p. . q. takes q. even game. variation, _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . q kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. kt. to b's d, or (a.) . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . q. kt. to q's th. . k. kt. to his th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's sq. . k. kt. takes r. . kt. takes q. b. p. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . q. kt. takes q. r. . k. kt. to his th. . p. takes k. kt. . p. takes p. . p. to q's th. . k. b. to k's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . q. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. takes q. b. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. to her d. . k. b. to q's sq. . k. kt. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. r. to k. b's sq. and you will checkmate in a few moves. (a.) . p. takes k. p. . q. kt. takes p. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's d. . k. to q's sq. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. to k's d. . q. kt. to k. kt's th. . q. takes q. (ch.) . b. takes q. . k. to his sq. . k. kt. to k's th. . k. b. to k's d. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . b. takes q. kt. . kt. takes b. . p. to k. r's d. . b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . kt. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . kt. takes r. . kt. takes b. . kt. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . kt. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. b's d. you have the better game. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . kt. takes b. . p. takes kt. (dis. ch.) . b. to k's d. . q. to k. b's d. . b. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt s d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to b's d. even game. variation, _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . b. takes q. kt. . q. p. takes b. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q. b's th. . q. takes q. (ch.) . k. takes q. . kt. takes k. p. . k. to his sq. the game is about even, since black must eventually lose the gambit pawn. game the fourth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. b. checks. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. takes p. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q. b's d. . castles on q's side. . k. kt. to b's d. the game is equal. game the fifth. having gone through the probable variations which black may adopt instead of checking with the q., at his d move, we have now to consider those at his command, (after giving the check,) when he does not play the usual move of . p. to k. kt's th. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . q. b. takes p. . q. takes k. p. . b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to her d. . p. to q's th. . q. r. to k's sq. you have the better game. game the sixth. white. black. . p to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k's th. . kt. to his sq. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to kt's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . q. takes k. p. . p. to q's th. you have the advantage. game the seventh. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. to her th. . b. to k. kt's th. . p. takes kt. p. . p. takes p. . r. takes r. . q. takes r. . kt. takes k. kt. p. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . q. to k. kt's sq. . q. takes q. (ch.) . k. takes q. you have the superiority. variation, _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . k. r. p. takes p. . k. r. p. takes p. . r. takes r. . q. takes r. . q. kt. to k's th. . p. takes k. p. . p. takes p. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. kt. to his sq. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. kt. takes p. . q. kt. takes k. p. . q. to k's d. you have the better position. game the eighth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to q's d. . q. to k. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to r's d. . q. takes q. . b. takes q. . p. to k. r's th. . p. takes r. p. . q. b. takes p. even game. variation, _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . q. b. to k's d. . q. to her d. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to her kt's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. to k. r's d. . q. takes q. . kt. takes q. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to q's d. the game is even. games illustrative of the king's bishop's gambit. game i.--between la bourdonnais and mcdonnell. {pgn } white. (mr. mcd.) black. (m. la b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th.[a] . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to kt's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . k. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to his th. . castles. . q. kt. takes q. b. p. . q. r. to q. kt's sq. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's d. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to his th. (ch.) . p. takes kt. . q. takes r. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. takes p. . q. takes q. . b. takes q. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . p. takes b. . p. takes kt. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to q's th. . b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . k. b. takes q. p. . q. kt. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th.[b] . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . k. b. takes k. kt. . p. takes b. . q. r. takes kt. p. . kt. takes b. . k. r. takes kt. . p. to q's th. . k. to b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. to k's d. . k. to b's sq. . q. r. to k's th. . k. to his d. . k. r. to k. b's sq. . k. to q's d. . q. r. to k's th. . r. to k's sq. . k. to q's d.[c] . r. takes p. . r. takes r. (ch.) . k. takes r. . p. to k. r's th. . k. to his th. . p. to k. r's th. . b. to q's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to k. b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . r. to k. b's th. mr. mcdonnell resigned. [footnote a: this was a favorite opening of mcdonnell's; he bestowed much time and labor on its analyses, and discovered many skilful methods of diversifying the attack.] [footnote b: q. b. to k's d would have been better play we believe.] [footnote c: this game is very cleverly played by la bourdonnais.] game ii.--between the same players. {pgn } white. (mr. mcd.) black. (m. la b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to kt's d. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . q. kt. to k's th. . p. to k. r's d. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . p. to q's th. . b. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's th. . q. to k's sq. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . kt. to k's th. . k. kt. takes q. p.[a] . p. to q. b's d. . q. kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . kt. to q. b's d. . q. takes q. p. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . b. to q. kt's th.[b] . q. b. to k's d. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to k. b's sq. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . b. to k. b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . q. to k's th. . q. r. to k's sq. . k. b. to k's d.[c] . p. to k. b's th. . k. to b's d.[d] . p. takes b. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . p. to k. r's th. . q. b. to q's d. . q. to her th. . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. takes p. . b. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . r. to q's sq. and white resigned. [footnote a: had black checked with his kt. and taken the rook, he would have been mated in five moves.] [footnote b: this portion of the game is played by mr. mcdonnell with great judgment.] [footnote c: it would have been better to take the q. b. p. with q.] [footnote d: it is obvious he would have lost his q. by taking the p.] game iii.--between mr. perigal and an amateur. {pgn } white. (mr. p.) black. (mr. ----) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . q. checks. . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. takes p. . k. to kt's d. . k. b. takes kt.[a] . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to kt's th. . b. takes b. p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq.[b] . p. to k. r's d. . q. takes k. p. . q. p. takes b. . k. takes b. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. to her b's d. . q. to her th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. takes k. kt. p. . r. to k's sq. . r. takes r. . kt. takes r. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . kt. to k. b's d. . k. takes p. . q. to her d. . kt. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . b. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. white mates in two moves. [footnote a: this is not advisable play.] [footnote b: taking the bishop would evidently involve the loss of the queen.] game iv.--played some years ago between one of the best players of the day and mr. staunton. {pgn } white. (mr. ----) black. (mr. s.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p.[a] . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. . castles. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . q. kt. takes p. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . q. b. takes p. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . p. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. takes p. . q. b. takes k. b. . kt. takes r. (dis. ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. b. to k's d. . k. b. to q's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. b. to k. r's d. . q. b. to q's th. . q. to k. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to q. b's th. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. r's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . q. to k's th. . q. to k. b's th. . b. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. takes b. . kt. to k. r's th. (ch.) and black wins. [footnote a: it is better to take the pawn with the bishop.] game v.--between mm. kieseritzky and desloges. {pgn } white. (m. d.) black. (m. k.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. takes kt. p. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. . k. b. to kt's d. . k. kt. to q. kt's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes k. r. p. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. r's th. . k. b. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. b. to q. r's d. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . r. takes p. . q. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . k. r. to kt's sq. . q. to k. r's sq. . kt. takes q. p. . kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . b. takes q. . b. takes b. (dis. ch.) . k. to r's d. . q. b. to his sq. (ch.) . k. to r's th. . k. b. to his d. (ch.) . k. to r's th. . r. to k. kt's d. . r. to k. kt's d. . kt. to his sq. . p. to k. b's th. . r. to his d. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . r. takes q. . p. to q. b's d. . k. b. to k's th. . k. b. to k's d. . kt. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to his b's d. . kt. takes k. p. . r. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . r. takes q. b. . kt. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. takes kt. . p. to b's d. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's th. . q. r. takes r. . p. to q. r's d. . q. r. to k. kt's sq. . b. to q. b's th. and black mates in three moves. the gambit declined. if black does not choose to accept the gambit, he has several modes of defence, which may be briefly noticed. game the first. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. this appears to be black's best move, if he declines taking p. with p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to k. kt's th. . b. to k's d. (best) . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's th. and the position is, perhaps, a little in your favor. variation, _beginning at white's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . b. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . b. to q. kt's d. . b. to k's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. equal game. game the second. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . kt. to k. b's d. the game is slightly in your favour. variation, _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . b. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to k's d. . b. takes b. . p. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. takes p. you have the advantage. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. takes p. (dis. ch.) . k. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. (best) . p. to q's th. . b. to q's d. . b. to q's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . r. to k's sq. you have a fine game. variation, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes k. b. p. . b to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . q. to k's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . p. to q's th. . castles. . q. takes q. . b. takes q. . b. takes p. . q. kt. to his d. equal game. games illustrative of the king's gambit declined. game i.--played by mr. morphy without seeing the chess-board or men, against m. bornemann. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (m. b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . p. takes p. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . q. p. takes p. . p. to q's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to q. r's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . b. to k's d. . castles on q's side. . q. to q's d. . kt. to k. b's sq. . castles on q's side. . kt. to k's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. b. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to k. b's sq. . kt. to q's th. . k. kt. to k's sq. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to q's d. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . b. to q's sq. . k. r. to k. b's sq. . k. kt. to q. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . q. r. takes p. . kt. to q. kt's th. (ch.)[a] . p. takes kt. . k. b. to k's th. . q. r. to q's th. . k. r. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . k. to q. kt's sq. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. r. to q. b's sq. (ch.) . k. kt. to q. b's d. . k. b. takes q. (ch.) . q. r. takes b. . p. to q's th.[b] . q. kt. to q. b's d. . p. takes kt. . k. r. takes q. . p. takes q. r. (ch.) and black gives up the battle, after fighting for above nine hours. [footnote a: a manoeuvre altogether unforeseen by m. bornemann.] [footnote b: capitally played. black can take it only at the expense of a piece.] game ii.--played at the philadelphia athenæum, between messrs. h. p. montgomery and w. r. mcadam, at odds of knight. remove white queen's knight. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. mca.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. to q. b's d. . castles. . p. to q. kt's th. . b to q. kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to q's th. . b. to k's d. . k. kt. to k's th. . q. b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. . q. to k's d. . q. to q. r's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . kt. to k's d. . kt. to k. kt's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. r's th. . b. to k. b's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . q. to q. r's th. . q. to q. b's th. . q. b. takes p. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes p. . r. to q. b's sq. . b. takes r. . q. takes kt. . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . b. checks. . k. takes b. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . b. to q's th. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . r. takes q. . kt. mates. chapter v. the queen's gambit. game the first. white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. these moves form the queen's gambit. . p. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . k. b. takes p. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . castles. . castles. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k. r's d. the game is equal; but your p. is well placed, and you have still the move. variation, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's d. . p. to q. b's th. . b. takes p. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . q. b. to k's d. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . k. b. to k's d. . q. to her kt's th. (ch.) . q. to her d. . q. takes q. (ch.) . kt. takes q. . kt. to k's d. you have the superiority. game the second. white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . k. b. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . p. takes p. . q. b. takes p. . castles. . castles. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to q's d. the positions are pretty equal, but you have still an advantage in the move. game the third. before proceeding to the consideration of games wherein black refuses the gambit, it may be well to give a brief example of a different mode of carrying on the opening in the regular gambit which is at your command, and often adopted. white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . k. b. takes p. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q's d. the game may be called even. variation, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p to q's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q's d . k. b. takes p. . k. kt. to k's d. equal game. game the fourth. the schwartz defence. white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k's th. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to r's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to r's th. . q. to q. r's th. (ch.) . p. to q. b's d. . b. to q's d. . q. takes q. p. . q. takes kt. . q. takes q. kt. p. . q. b. to his d. . q. to her kt's d. . q. takes q. . p. takes q. . q. kt. takes p. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . r. takes p. . k. b. to q's d. . r. takes r. (ch.) . b. takes r. you have much the better game. the gambit refused. this opening is frequently adopted by the best players. the following games show the conduct of offence and defence by celebrated masters: between h. n. pillsbury and carl schlechter. {pgn } white. (mr. p.) black. (mr. s.) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to kt's th. . b. to k's d. . kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to k's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . r. to b's sq.[a] . b. to kt's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to q's d. . castles. . castles. . p. to b's th. . b. to q. kt's sq.[b] . kt. to k's th.[c] . b. to b's th. . kt. takes kt. . r. takes kt. . p. to b's th. . kt. to k's th. . p. to b's th.[d] . k. to r's sq. . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . b. to q's d. . p. to b's th. . b. to b's sq.[e] . q. to r's th. . p. to q. r's d. . r. to k. b's d. . r. to r's d. . r. to k. r's d. . p. to kt's d. . q. to r's th. . b. takes b. . b. p. takes b. . r. to k. kt's d. . r. to k. b's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. b's sq. . q. to k's d.[f] . q. r. to k. b's sq. . r. (b. sq.) to b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . b. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th.[g] . q. to q's d.[h] . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. to r's th. . r. to kt's d. . b. takes p. . b. takes b. . r. takes b. . r. takes r. . r. takes r. . p. to kt's th. . q. to b's d. . p. to b's th . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . r. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . r. to q. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . q. to b's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k's th.[i] . r. takes p. . r. to q. b's th. . r. to k's th.[j] . r. to b's th. . r. takes q. . r. takes q. (ch.) . r. to b's d. . r. to k's th. . p. to b's th. . r. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . r. to kt's sq. . r. to q. kt's d. white resigns. [footnote a: notes by w. steinitz.--white's game has been modelled chiefly after steinitz's favorite attack. here, however, . p. takes p. is preferable, for if ... p. takes p; . b. to kt's th, b. to kt's d; . kt. to k's th, with a strong attack.] [footnote b: as often shown in my annotations in similar positions, it is absolutely injurious to white's game to allow three well-supportable pawns against two to be established on the queen's side. the prospect of a king's side attack on which white speculates is quite unreliable in comparison to the disadvantage on the queen's side to which he is subjected. at any rate, pawns ought to be exchanged first, and thus black's centre weakened.] [footnote c: it was better to make sure of his superiority on the queen's side by p. to b's th at once.] [footnote d: he had sufficient force on the king's side to ignore any hostile attack in that direction, and systematic operations on the other wing, commencing with p. to q. kt's th, were most in order.] [footnote e: the combination of this with the next five moves, more especially with the two closely following, is full of high ingenuity, which, however, is wasted on an imaginary danger. for all purposes of defence it was only necessary to advance p. to k. kt's d at the right time, and then to play r. to b's d, followed by b. to k. b's sq. eventually. the queen's wing was still the proper point of attack to which he should have directed his attention more promptly.] [footnote f: for aggressive purposes on the queen's side, the queen was better placed at b's d.] [footnote g: this rash attack and black's timid reply were only to be accounted for as results of time pressure on both sides.] [footnote h: there was not the slightest danger in capturing the pawn with a pawn ahead, while this loses one.] [footnote i: a fatal miscalculation. r. to q. b's th led to a most probable draw, for if ... r. to kt's th; . q. to b's th (ch.), &c.] [footnote j: black seizes his opportunity with scientific exactitude.] between frank j. marshall and d. janowsky. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. j.) . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . b. to kt's th. . q. kt. to q's d. . kt. to b's d. . b. to k's d. . p. to k's d. . castles. . k. to b's sq.[a] . r. to k's sq.[b] . b. to q's d. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . p. to q. r's d.[c] . castles.[d] . p. to kt's th. . b. to q's d. . b. to kt's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to b's th. . p. takes p.[e] . kt. takes p. . b. to b's d.[f] . kt. to q's th. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. r. to b's sq. . p. to k's th. . b. to kt's d. . p. to q. kt's th.[g] . kt. to q's d. . k. r. to q's sq. . kt. to b's sq. . p. to q. r's d. . r. to b's th.[h] . b. to q's d. . k. r. to b's sq.[i] . r. takes r. . r. takes r. . q. to kt's d. . r to b's sq.[j] . r. to q. b's sq. . r. to q's sq.[k] . b. to kt's sq. . kt. to q's d.[l] . q. to q's th. . kt. to b's d. . q. to k's th. . kt. to kt's th. . q. to b's th. . kt. to b's d. . p. to r's d. . kt. to k's sq. . kt. to k's th. . kt. to q's d. . kt. to kt's th. . kt. to b's th.[m] . p. to k's th. . k. to r's sq. . kt. to b's th. . p. takes kt.[n] . q. to r's th.[o] . resigns. [footnote a: marshall abandons his favorite variation . q. to b's d.] [footnote b: janowsky also changes p. to b's th, played in the earlier games.] [footnote c: janowsky's favorite manoeuvre, which might have been expected. therefore marshall could have played p. takes p. previous to b. to q's d.] [footnote d: p. to q. r's th would have prevented the bishop being dislodged; but as he manages eventually to prevent black from keeping the majority of pawns on the queen's side, there is nothing to be said against it--except that he only keeps about an even game.] [footnote e: this is compulsory, because of the threat p. to b's th, followed by p. to kt's th.] [footnote f: b. to kt's sq. might be followed by p. to kt's th, when q. to k's sq. would take up the place which the k. r. intends to occupy; but the move would have been better, nevertheless.] [footnote g: it is doubtful whether the advance might not have been dispensed with, because of the threat kt. to q's d, kt's d, and b's th eventually. but marshall plays still for attack, not content with a draw in an even position.] [footnote h: black has now the better game.] [footnote i: better would have been ... q. to b's d . q. to kt's d, k. r. to b's sq.; . r. takes q., q. takes r., with the command of the open file.] [footnote j: notes by l. hoffer.--q. to b's d could be played here.] [footnote k: an alternative would be ... q. to b's d; . p. to k's th, q. to q's sq.; . r. takes r., q. takes r.; . q. to b's d, q. takes q.; . b. takes q., kt. to q's d, winning the k. p.] [footnote l: q. to q's d or q. to b's d could be played. the text move gives white a chance to bring his queen effectively into play.] [footnote m: kt. to k's sq. would have been safer.] [footnote n: marshall did not expect this _complaisance_, and janowsky would not have obliged him had he seen the fatal . q. to r's th. ... kt. takes k. p. should have been played.] [footnote o: marshall risked losing the game in trying to win. his boldness was rewarded, but the verdict should be: don't try it again.] chapter vi. irregular openings. game the first. the french game. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's d. these two moves begin the "french game." . p. to q's th. (best) . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. (best) . p. takes p. . p. to q. b's th. . k. b. checks. . b. to q's d. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . q. to k's d. . q. b. to k's d. . p. takes p. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. kt. takes b. . b. takes p. the game is equal. variation, _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. to her kt's d. . q. to her kt's d. . q. kt. to r's th. . q. takes q. . p. takes q. . k. b. checks. . q. b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . k. kt. takes b. the game is even. game the second. the sicilian game. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. these moves commence the "sicilian game." black's move is considered by staunton the best reply to white's move, . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes q. p. . k. p. takes p. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes q. p. . p. takes q. p. . q. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. takes q. . kt. takes q. . k. b. to q. b's th. . kt. to q. kt's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . castles. . castles. equal game. game the third. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to her sq. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to k's d. the game appears to be equal. game the fourth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to r's d. . k. b. to q. b's d. . q. to her kt's d. black has the advantage. variation, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's d. . b. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. takes q. (ch.) . b. takes q. . k. kt. to b's d . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to q's d. . q. b. to k's d. . castles. the game is even. game the fifth. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to q's d. . b. to k. kt's d . b. to k's d. . k. kt. to k's d. i much prefer his game. game the sixth. the wing gambit. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th . p. to q. kt's th. . p. takes p. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. . p. to q. r's d. . p. takes p. . q. b. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. you have no equivalent for the lost pawn. game the seventh. the centre counter gambit. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. (best) . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to her sq. (best) . p. to q's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. you have a better opened game. variation i. _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's d. . q. b. to his sq. . q. to k's d. . p. to q. r's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . q. p. takes p. . q. kt. takes p. . q. b. p. takes p. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. to k's d. . q. r. p. takes p. . kt. to k's d. . kt. takes kt. . k. takes kt. . q. b. to q. r's d. . k. r. to q's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. (dis. ch.) . p. to q's d. . p. to k's d. . p. to q. r's d. you have a good game, and a pawn superiority. variation ii. _beginning at black's th move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. r's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's d. . b. to his sq. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to q. r's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. r. p. takes p. . q. r. p. takes p. . q. kt. to r's th. . q. b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to q's d. black's position is inferior. game the eighth. the fianchetto. white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . q. b. to q. kt's d. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to k. r's d. the game appears to be equal. variation, _beginning at black's d move._ white. black. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . b. to q's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . castles. . castles on q's side. . p. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to his th. . p. takes k. p. . b. takes p. . b. takes b. . q. kt. takes b. you have the better game. game the ninth. white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k's d. . q. to her b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k. r's th. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's d. . b. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to k's th. equal game. variation i. _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d . q. b. to k. kt's th. . p. to q. b's d. . b. takes kt. . k. p. takes b. . q. kt. takes k. p. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . b. to q's d. . b. to q's d. . castles. i prefer your position. variation ii. _beginning at white's d move._ white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. r's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to q's th. (best) . p. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . k. b. to q's d. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. even game. game the tenth. white. black. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. you have the advantage. game the eleventh. white. black. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's th. . b. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. r's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. black has the better game, owing to your premature attack at the th move. game the twelfth. white. black. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's d. . p. to k's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's th. . b. to q's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q. r's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . k. b. to kt's d. . q. kt. to q's th. . kt. takes kt. . q. b. p. takes kt. . q. kt. to q's th. . kt. takes kt. . q. b. p. takes kt. equal game. variation, _beginning at black's st move._ white. black. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k's th. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . k. kt. to r's d. you have the advantage in position. french defence. game i.--between drs. lasker and tarrasch. {pgn } white. (dr. l.) black. (dr. t.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . kt. to q. b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . b. to kt's th. . b to kt's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . kt. to b's d.[a] . p. to b's th.[b] . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . q. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b.[c] . kt. to q's d. . r. to q's sq. . r. to k. kt's sq.[d] . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. to q's d.[e] . q. to kt's d.[f] . p. to b's d. . p. to q. r's d. . q. to b's d. . p. to b's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . kt. to b's th. . b. to kt's d. . q. to b's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to kt's th. . castles. . b. to kt's d. . p. to b's th. . p. to kt's th. . q. to q's d. . r. to kt's sq. . q. to r's th. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . q. to k's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. takes p.[g] . q. to b's th. . r. to q. b's sq. . q. to q's th. . p. to b's d.[h] . b. to r's th. (ch.) . r. to kt's d. . b. takes r. (ch.) . p. takes b. . r. takes p. (ch.) . resigns. [footnote a: the best line of play against the mccutcheon defence. it was played in a game sjöberg _vs._ giersing, stockholm, .] [footnote b: out of place in this position. q. kt. to q's d or kt. to k's th, would be alternatives--the former move in preference.] [footnote c: this excellent move was probably not taken into consideration by tarrasch when advancing p. to b's th.] [footnote d: if .., p. takes p., then . r. takes p., and black could not challenge the queen with .., q. to q. b's th, because of . r. to q. b's th. nor could .., k. to k's d be played, because of . p. takes p., and .., q. takes b. p. would be answered with . r. takes kt. winning the queen, and as the continuation in the text is hopeless, there remains the only alternative of .., castles, with a good enough game, all things considered.] [footnote e: simply position play. black's forces are paralyzed, and the king fixed on the middle of the centre.] [footnote f: q. to b's d at once seems comparatively better, and if necessary castles, and the case is not altogether hopeless.] [footnote g: not a judicious capture, to say the least.] [footnote h: this move, or resigning. there is nothing else. the latter course would be more to the purpose, unless a miracle is expected.] game ii.--played by mr. morphy without seeing the chess-board or men, against m. bierwirth. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (m. b.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. p. takes p. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . castles. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. b. to k. r's th. . q. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. b. takes kt. . kt. takes b. . p. to k. r's d. . q. to q's d. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . k. b. takes p. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to k's th. . castles on q's side. . k. b. to k's th. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . k. to q. kt's sq. . q. to q. b's d.[a] . q. kt. to q. kt's d. . q. to q. r's d. . q. kt. to q. b's sq. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . q. b. takes p. . q. r. to q's th. . q. to k's d. . q. r. to k's th. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to q. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to k. r's d. . q. r. takes r. . r. takes r. . q. to q. kt's th. . r. to k's d. . k. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to q's d. . q. to q. kt's th. . k. b. takes kt. . r. takes b. . b. takes k. r. p. . r. to k. r's sq. . b. to k. kt's th. . r. to k. r's d. . b. to k. b's th. . r. to k. b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . kt. to k. b's th. . q. takes r. and black surrenders, after a struggle of nearly nine hours. [footnote a: a very ingenious move. if black take the pawn with his queen, he of course loses her by "b. takes q. r. p. (ch.), etc." and if with the kt. it costs him at least a piece.] game iii.--played in , between mr. h. p. montgomery, of philadelphia, and mr. pindar, now one of the leading members of the manchester chess club, england. {pgn } white. (mr. p.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q's d.[a] . p. to q. b's th.[b] . q. b. to q's d. . b. takes kt. . b. takes b. . p. to q. b's th. . k. b. to k's d. . k. kt. to k's th. . castles. . kt. takes b.[c] . p. takes kt. . q. kt. to q's d.[d] . kt. to q's d. . kt. to kt's d. . p. to q. r's th.[e] . p. to q. r's th. . q. r. to q. kt's sq. . q. to q. b's d.[f] . b. to k. b's d. . q. to q. b's d. . kt. to k's th. . kt. takes q. r. p . q. to q's d. . castles. . q. r. to q. kt's th.[g] . p. to k. b's th.[h] . kt. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to q. kt's sq . p. to q's th. . q. to q's d.[i] . r. takes q. r. p. . p. to q. kt's th.[j] . q. to k. b's th.[k] . q. to q. kt's d.[l] . q. p. takes p. . q. to q. kt's d. . p. to k's th. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. r. to k's sq. . b. to k's d.[m] . r. takes kt.[n] . p. takes r. . q. to k's th.[o] . k. r. takes p. . kt. takes p. . k. r. to k. b's d. . kt. to q's th. . k. r. to k. b's d. . kt. to k's th. . k. r. to k. b's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to k. b's sq.[p] . kt. to k. kt's th. . b. to q's th. . b. takes b. (ch.) . r. takes b. . kt. to k's th. . q. takes kt.[q] and black wins. [footnote a: a favorite move with several of the strongest of modern players.] [footnote b: if white take p. with p., the black k. b. is brought into play; and if not, the advance of p. to b's th is threatened.] [footnote c: chiefly to double white's pawns.] [footnote d: black foresaw the intended attack on the b. p., and by providing for it in this way brought another piece into action.] [footnote e: white keeps up the attack on the b. p. with a great deal of vigor. the move of r. p. two was a very good one.] [footnote f: the best move.] [footnote g: the r. is well posted--for attack and defence.] [footnote h: black has now resumed the offensive.] [footnote i: threatening to take q. if p. takes p., and attacking q. r. at the same time. there was still another motive for this move, viz.: to induce white to take r. p., foreseeing the r. would be lost subsequently.] [footnote j: to enslave the rook.] [footnote k: an excellent move. in this and the succeeding moves, white played very well. his efforts were directed to saving his r., but, as the result showed, without success.] [footnote l: apparently hazardous, but justified by the gain of time.] [footnote m: we believe his best move.] [footnote n: white was obliged to lose the exchange, although he fought manfully against it.] [footnote o: another very good move in white.] [footnote p: black's advantage in the exchange begins now to tell on the game.] [footnote q: threatening mate if r. takes q.] game iv.--played by correspondence between new york and philadelphia, in . {pgn } white. (n.y.) black. (phila.) . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's d. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to q's sq. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. to q's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. takes p. . q. kt. to k's th. . b. to q. kt's d. . b. to q. kt's th. . castles. . k. b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . castles. . p. to k. b's th. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. kt's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to kt's th. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's d. . b. to q. b's d. . k. r. to k's sq. . q. r. to k's sq. . b. to q. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . k. r. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . q. r. to k's sq. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . b. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to k. r's d. . b. takes kt. . p. takes b. . kt. takes p. . kt. to kt's th. . kt. takes kt. . q. to q. b's d. . q. takes k. kt. p. (ch.) . r. takes q. . r. takes r. (ch.) . q. takes r. . kt. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . kt. takes q. . r. to q's d. . p. to b's th. . p. takes p. . kt. to k. kt's th. . r. to q's th. . r. takes p. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . b. to k's th. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . r. takes k. r. p. . kt. to k's th. . r. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . b. to k's th. . r. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to k. r's d. . kt. to k. b's th. . k. to r's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . r. to q. b's th. and philadelphia announces mate in six moves. game v.--played by mr. morphy without seeing the chess-board or men, against m. preti. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. p.) . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . p. to k's th. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. b. checks. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. takes k's p. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. takes k. b. p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . k. kt. to q's d. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . k. b. to q. kt's d. . p. to q's d. . q. b. to q. r's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . castles. . k. kt. to k. r's d. . p. to k's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . k. kt. to k. b's th. . q. to k. kt's th. . k. kt. to k's th. (ch.)[a] . q. b. takes kt. . q. takes q. p. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's d. . k. b. takes b. . q. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q's th. . q. kt. takes k. p. . k. b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. kt. to k. b's th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. takes kt. (ch.) . k. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . kt. takes p. . k. b. takes kt. (ch.) and black surrenders. [footnote a: this is more effectual than taking the queen's pawn with queen at once.] game vi.--played at the philadelphia athenæum, between mr. clements and dr. lewis. {pgn } white. (mr. c.) black. (dr. l.) . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's d.[a] . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . k. p. takes p. . k. p. takes p. . k. b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . q. kt. to q. b's d. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. kt. to k's th. . q. to q. kt's d. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . r. to k's sq. . q. b. to k's d. . q. to k's d.[b] . q. b. p. takes p. . kt. takes k. b. p.[c] . k. kt. to k's th. . kt. takes r. . castles. . q. to k. b's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . r. takes kt. . p. takes r. . q. takes p. . r. to k's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. b. to q's d. . q. takes r. (ch.) . b. takes q. . kt. p. takes b. . q. takes p. . q. b. to r's d. . q. takes b. p. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to q's th. . b. to kt's th. . q. to her kt's th. . b. to q. b's d. . q. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . p. to q. b's th. . b. to q's d. . q. to q. b's th. . p. to q. r's th. . b. to q. b's d.[d] . kt. to k. b's th. . q. to q's th. . kt. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's th. . b. to k's th. . b. to q. b's d. . q. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to q's d. . b. to q's th. . b. takes p. . p. to q. b's th. . b. to q. b's d. . q. to q's th. . kt. to r's d. . q. to k. r's th. . kt. to q. kt's th. . q. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . b. to k's sq. . p. to k. r's th. . r. to k's th. . b. to q. b's d. . kt. takes q. r. p. . b. takes q. r. p. . kt. takes q. b. p. . b. to q. kt's th. . b. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's d. . b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's d. . b. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . b. to q's th. (ch.) . q. takes r. . b. takes q. . b. takes kt. . b. to q. kt's th. . k. takes kt. . k. to k. kt's sq. . k. to q. kt's d. . b. to q's d. . k. to q. b's th. . k. to k. b's d. . k. to q's th. . b. to k's sq. . k. to k's th. . k. to k's d. . k. to k. b's th. . b. takes p. . p. to q's th.[e] . k. takes p. . k. to k. b's th. . k. to k's sq. . b. to q's th. . k. to k. b's d. . k. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . b. to q. b's th. . p. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . p. to k. b's th. . b. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to k's th. . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . k. to kt's d. . b. to q's th. . k. to kt's th. . b. to k's d. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. and black draws the game. [footnote a: the proper move.] [footnote b: well played.] [footnote c: this move, properly followed up, should have given white the game.] [footnote d: allowing the escape of the knight.] [footnote e: from this point, we believe black can draw the game against white's best possible play. the latter part of the game is well played by black.] game vii.--played in oct. , between mr. james thompson of new york and mr. h. p. montgomery of philada. {pgn } white. (mr. t.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . kt. to k. b's d. . kt. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . b. to q's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . kt. to q's th. . kt. to b's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. takes r. p. . kt. takes k. b. p. . b. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . b. to q's d. . b. takes b. (ch.) . q. takes b. . kt. to k. kt's th. . kt. to q's th. . p. to q's d. . q. to k. b's th. . b. to k's d. . castles (q's side.) . r. to q. b's sq. . b. to k's d. . b. takes kt. . k. p. takes b. . kt. to k's th. . q. r. to k's sq. . r. to k. kt's sq. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's d. . q. to b's th. . r. to q. b's d. . b. to b's d. . p. to k. r's d. . k. to kt's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. to k. r's th. . q. to k. kt's th. . k. r. to k. b's sq. . k. to q's sq. . r. takes kt. . p. takes r. . p. to q's th . r. to q's d. . q. to k's th. . r. takes q. p. . q. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . q. takes r. p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. takes q. kt. p. . q. to k's d. . p. to kt's th. . r. to q's sq. . p. to kt's th. . q. to q. b's d. . b. to q's th. . r. to k. kt's d. . p. queens, and wins. game viii.--between mr. morphy and mr. anderssen. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. a.) . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. to q. r's th. . p. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. (ch.) . k. b. to k's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . q. takes q. b. p. (ch.) . q. b. to q's d. . q. to q. b's th. . q. r. to q. kt's sq. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . castles. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . castles. . q. b. takes q. b. p. . q. kt. to q's th. . q. takes kt. . q. takes b. . b. to q's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . kt. to k. kt's th. . k. r. to q's sq. . q. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. b's sq. . k. r. to k's sq. . p. to q. r's th. . q. to k's th. . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . kt. to q's th. . b. takes k. r. p. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . r. takes k. b. p. . kt. to q. b's th. . q. r. to k's sq. . kt. takes q. r. p. . k. r. to k. b's th. . q. r. to q. r's d. . b. to q's d. and black resigns. game ix.--between mr. morphy and mr. anderssen. {pgn } white. (mr. m.) black. (mr. a.) . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes p. . p. to q. b's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to k's d. . q. b. to k's d. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . q. to q. kt's d. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . p. takes b. . b. to k's th. . kt. to q's d. . b. to q. b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . q. kt. to q's d. . q. to q. b's d. . p. to k. r's d. . castles. . castles. . q. r. to k's sq. . p. to q. kt's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. to q. b's sq. . k. to r's d. . k. to r's sq. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . r. to k. kt's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's sq. . r. to k. kt's d. . q. r. to q's sq. . kt. to k. b's d. . b. takes kt. . r. takes b. . q. to her d. . k. to kt's d. . kt. to k. r's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . p. takes kt. . p. to kt's th. . p. takes p. . r. takes p. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . p. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's d. . kt. to k's th. . p. takes kt. . q. takes b. (ch.) . q. to k's d. . q. to k's th. . b. to k. b's d. . q. to q. b's d. . r. to q's sq. . r. takes r. (ch.) . q. takes r. . q. takes q. b. p. (ch.) . q. to her d. . q. takes q. r. p. . r. to k. kt's d. . q. to q. b's th. . q. takes q. . r. takes q. . r. to k. kt's th. . r. to q. b's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q. r's th. . k. to his d. . r. takes p. . r. takes p. . r. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . p. to q. r's th. . r. to k. kt's th. . r. to q. b's th. . r. to k. kt's sq. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. r's th. . r. to q. r's sq. . r. to k's th. . r. takes p. . r. takes p. . k. to b's th. . r. to q's d. . k. takes p. . r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . r. to r's th. . r. to q's d. . b. to k. kt's d. . r. to k. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to r's th. and black resigns. game x.--played at the philadelphia athenæum, march , , between dr. jones and mr. h. p. montgomery, at the odds of the pawn and move. (remove black's king's bishop's pawn from the board.) {pgn } white. (dr. j.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to q's d. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to q's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. kt. to kt's d. . p. to k. r's d. . q. kt. to k. r's th. . castles. . q. b. takes k. r. p. . p. takes b. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . kt. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. to q's d. . kt. to his sq. . p. to k. r's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. takes p. . b. takes p. . castles. . b. to k. r's d. . k. b. to k's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to q. kt's th. . p. to q. b's d. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . b. to k's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to k. r's d. . b. takes k. r. p. . k. to q. kt's sq. . b. to k. kt's th. . q. to q. kt's d. . b. to k. b's d. . p. to q's th. . q. to k's d. . k. r. to k. b's sq. . q. to q's d. . k. b. to q. b's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. takes p. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. to q. kt's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . kt. to k. kt's d. . k. r. to k. b's th. . r. takes r. . p. takes r. (dis. ch.) . k. to q. r's sq. . q. to her d. . kt. to k's th. . p. to q. kt's d. . kt. to k's th. . q. to her sq. . kt. takes k. b. . p. takes kt. . r. to k. r's sq. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to k. r's d. . q. to her d. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to k. b's sq. . r. to k. b's sq. . b. to k's th. . kt. takes p. . b. to q's th. . r. to b's d. . q. to k. b's th. . q. to k. r's sq. . k. to kt's d. . r. to k. kt's d. . b. to k's th. . kt. takes p. . b. takes r. . kt. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. and black wins. game xi.--between the same players. (march , .) at the odds of the pawn and move. (remove black's king's bishop's pawn from the board.) {pgn } white. (dr. j.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. to q. r's th. (ch.) . q. b. to q's d. . q. to q. b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. . castles. . k. kt. to b's d. . p. to q. r's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. b's th. . q. b. to k's d. . k. kt. to kt's th. . q. to q's d. . kt. takes b. . q. takes kt. . k. b. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to q's th. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . castles on q's side. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. to q. kt's sq. . p. to q. kt's th. . q. kt. to k's d. . p. to q's d. . q. kt. to k. kt's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . q. r. to q's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . q. kt. to q's d. . k. to r's d. . q. r. to q. kt's sq. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. to k's sq. . q. r. to q's sq. . kt. to q. kt's d. and black wins. game xii.--between messrs. harrwitz and morphy. {pgn } white. (mr. h.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to q's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to k's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. kt's th. . k. b. to k's d. . p. to k's d. . castles. . k. b. to q's d. . p. to q. kt's d. . k. kt. to k's d. . q. b. to q. kt's d. . castles. . k. kt. to k. r's th. . b. takes b. . q. takes b. . k. kt. to kt's d. . kt. takes kt. . k. r. p. takes kt. . p. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to k. kt's th. . kt. to q. kt's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. to k's d. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. r. to k's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . b. to q. kt's sq. . q. r. to k's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to q's th. . q. r. to k. r's d. . q. to k. b's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to q. r's d.[a] . kt. to q. r's d. . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. to q. kt's sq. . kt. to k's d. . kt. to q's d. . kt. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. kt's d. . k. to b's d. . kt. to k. b's d. . k. r. to k. r's sq. . kt. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . q. to k. b's d. . r. takes r. . kt. takes r. . q. to her sq. . kt. to k. kt's th. . q. to her d. . q. to k. r's th. . kt. to k. b's sq. . r. to k's sq. . p. to k. kt's d. . q. to k. r's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . q. to k. kt's d. . q. takes q. (ch.) . k. takes q. . p. to q. r's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. takes p. . q. r. p. takes p. . r. to q. r's sq. . kt. to q's d. . k. to q. r's th. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . kt. takes kt. . b. takes kt. . r. to q. b's th. . b. to k. b's d. . k. to k. b's d. . r. to k's th. . b. to q. b's sq. . b. to k's d. . b. to k. b's th. . r. to q's th. . p. to k. r's th. . k. to b's d. . k. to b's d. . r. to q's d. . b. to q. b's th. . k. to k's sq. . b. to k's th. . k. to b's d. . k. to b's th. . r. to q. r's d. . p. to k. r's th. . p. takes p. . k. takes k. b. p. . r. to q. r's th. . r. to k. r's th. . r. takes q. b. p. . r. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to k's sq. . k. to k's th. and white resigns. [footnote a: surely it would have been wiser to play kt. to k's d.] game xiii.--between mr. morphy and mr. harrwitz. {pgn } white. (mr. h.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to q's th. . p. to k's d. . p. to q. b's th. . p. to q's th. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. b. to k. b's th.[a] . p. to q. r's d. . p. to k's d. . p. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to k. b's d. . q. kt. to q. b's d. . p. to q. r's d. . q. b. p. takes q. p. . k. p. takes p. . q. p. takes p. . k. b. takes p. . p. to q. kt's th. . k. b. to q's d. . q. b. to q. kt's d. . castles. . k. b. to k's d. . q. b. to k's th. . castles. . q. to k's d. . k. kt. to q's th. . q. b. to k. kt's d. . k. to r's sq. . k. r. to k's sq. . k. b. to k. b's d. . q. to k's th. . p. to kt's d. . q. kt. takes kt. . q. takes kt. . q. takes q. . p. takes q. . kt. to k's th. . q. r. to q's sq.[b] . kt. takes kt. . q. b. takes kt. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . q. b. to q's th. . k. r. to k. kt's sq. . q. b. to k's th. . k. to k. kt's d.[c] . p. to k. b's th. . q. b. to q's d. . k. to k. b's d. . p. to k. r's d. . k. to k's d.[d] . q. r. takes r. . r. takes r. . r. to q. b's sq. . r. to q. b's th. . k. b. takes b. . k. b. p. takes b. . b. to k's d. . p. to q. r's th.[e] . p. takes p. . b. takes q. r. p. . r. to q. kt's sq. . r. to q. kt's th. . r. to q's sq.[f] . r. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. r's sq. . k. to q's d. . b. to q. b's sq. . b. takes b. . r. takes b. . r. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. r's sq. . r. takes q. p. . p. to q. r's th. . p. takes p. . r. takes p. . r. to q. b's th. . k. to k's b's sq. . k. to k's d. . k. to k's d. . p. to q's th. . k. to q's d. . r. to q. b's th. . p. to k. r's th. . r. to k. b's th. . k. to k's d. . p. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to k's sq. . p. to k's th. . p. takes p. . r. takes p. (ch.) . k. to k. b's d. . p. to q's th. . r. to q. r's sq. . r. to q's th. . k. to k's d. . r. takes p. . k. takes p. . r. to k. kt's th. . r. to k. r's sq. . k. to k. b's d. . k. to k's d. . k. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's th. . p. to k. r's th. . p. to k. kt's d. . k. to k. b's d. . r. to k. r's th. and black abandoned the game. [footnote a: a favorite move of mr. harrwitz, though decried by the chief authorities.] [footnote b: had he taken the queen's pawn, white would have won at least the exchange by moving kt. to q's th.] [footnote c: fearing to take the bishop lest white should obtain an entrance with the rook.] [footnote d: all this is exceedingly well played by white.] [footnote e: the _coup juste_. from this point it would not be easy to improve on white's moves.] [footnote f: better, perhaps, to have played the rook to q. r's sq. at once.] game xiv.--(_unclassified._) between mr. morphy and mr. anderssen. {pgn } white. (mr. a.) black. (mr. m.) . p. to q. r's d. . p. to k's th. . p. to q. b's th. . k. kt. to b's d. . q. kt. to b's d. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . kt. takes p. . p. to k's d. . b. to k's d. . k. kt. to b's d. . b. to q's d. . b. to k's d. . castles. . p. to q's th. . kt. takes kt. . p. takes kt. . p. to k's th. . kt. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. b's th. . p. to k. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . b. takes b. . kt. takes b. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. to k's sq. . castles. . q. to q. b's d. . q. to q. kt's d. . q. to her th. . r. to q. kt's sq. . p. to q. kt's d. . q. to q. r's d. . p. to q. b's d. . q. to k's d. . kt. to q's d. . kt. to k's d. . q. to k's d. . p. to q. b's th. . kt. to k. b's d. . r. to q. kt's d. . k. to b's d. . b. to q. kt's d. . q. r. to q. b's sq. . k. to r's sq. . r. to k. kt's sq. . p. to q's th. . p. takes p. . p. takes p. . q. to her d. . kt. to q. b's th. . k. to his d. . b. takes kt. (ch.) . k. takes b. . q. to q. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . r. to k. r's d. . r. to k. kt's d. . q. to her th. . k. to kt's sq. . r. to k. r's th. . b. to b's sq. . p. to q's th. . r. to k. b's d. . r. to k. r's d. . q. to q. r's th. . r. to q. b's sq. . r. to q. b's th. . q. r. to k. kt's d. (ch.) . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to k. r's d. . k. to r's sq. . r. takes b. . r. takes r. . r. to q. b's d. . p. to k's th. . r. takes p. . r. takes kt. . q. to k. b's th. . r. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . q. takes p. (ch.) and white loses. game xv.--steinitz gambit. between w. steinitz and j. w. zukertort. {pgn } white. (mr. s.) black. (mr. z.) . p. to k's th. . p. to k's th. . kt. to q. b's d. . kt. to q. b's d. . p. to b's th. . p. takes p. . p. to q's th. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . p. to q's th.[a] . p. takes p. . b. to kt's th. (ch.) . kt. to b's d. . castles. . p. takes kt. . b. to q. b's th. . p. takes p. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . kt. to kt's th.[b] . kt. to b's d. . k. to q's d.[c] . q. to r's th. . k. to b's d. . b. takes p. (ch.)[d] . q. kt. takes b. . q. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to kt's d. (ch.) . b. to kt's th. . b. takes kt. . q. takes b. . r. takes kt. . q. to b's th. . q. to r's th. . p. to b's d. . r. to q's d. . q. to b's th. . p. to kt's th. . k to b's d. . resigns.[e] [footnote a: the ingenious attack instituted hereby was invented by zukertort.] [footnote b: . p. takes b., kt. to b's d!; . q. takes r. (ch.), obtains three pieces for the q., but loses the game. q. to k's sq., here or on the following move, offers the only defence.] [footnote c: zukertort's analysis, which filled pages and pages of the _neue berliner schachzeitung_, considered every conceivable move of white's down to p. to q. r's d, but this one, upon which, in conjunction with the following k. move, steinitz rested his gambit. . p. to b's d has been refuted in an elaborate analysis by mr. walter penn shipley, of philadelphia.] [footnote d: black wins here by, . ... . p. to q. r's d. . k. to kt's d. . p. takes kt. . p. to b's d. . r. takes p.! . p. takes r. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . b. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to q's d. . b. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. . kt. to kt's th.! as played by messrs. honegger and raubitscheck in a consultation game against steinitz at the metropolitan chess club, . if, instead of k. to kt's d, . kt. takes p. black wins by r. takes p.!.] [footnote e: white has brought his k. into safety and will remain a piece ahead. had black, instead of his last move, pinned the b., the game would have proceeded as follows: . ... . r. to kt's d. . p. to q. r's th. . p. to q. r's d. . b. takes p. . r. takes p. . k. to b's d. . p. takes b. . p. takes p. . q. takes p. . b. takes p. (ch.) and wins.] chapter vii. endings of games to play with correctness and skill the ends of games, is an important but a very rare accomplishment, except among the very best players. in order to assist the learner as much as possible in this branch of the game, we present a number of end positions, with the proper play necessary in each case. our selection of positions is necessarily very limited; but those we give will serve to show the careful play that is requisite even when the stronger party feels sure of success, and the danger of defeat if he suffer his vigilance to be relaxed for a moment. king and queen against king. diagram . white. black. . q. to q. r's th. . k. to q's sq. . q. to q. kt's th. mate. king and rook against king. diagram . white. black. . r. to k. r's th. . k. to k. b's sq. . k. to k's d. . k. to k. kt's sq. . r. to q. r's th. . k. to k. b's sq. . k. to k's d. . k. to k's sq. . k. to k's th. . k. to q's sq. . k. to q's th. . k. to q. b's sq. . k. to q's th. . k. to q. kt's sq. . r. to q. b's th. . k. to q. r's sq. . k. to q. b's th. . k. to q. kt's sq. . k. to q. kt's th. . k. to q. r's sq. . r. to q. b's th. mate. diagram . white. black. . r. to q. r's th, or k. kt's th. if . k. to b's sq. . r. to q. kt's th. if . k. to k's sq. . r. to k. b's th. . k. to q's sq. . r. mates at kt's th or k. b's th. king and two bishops against king. diagram . white. black. . k. b. to k. r's d. . k. to q's sq. . q. b. to k. b's th. . k. to k's d. . k. to his d. . k. to k. b's d. . k. to k. b's d. . k. to k's d. . k. b. to k. b's th. . k. to k. b's d. . k. to his kt's th. . k. to his d. . k. to his kt's th. . k. to q's sq. . k. to his b's th. . k. to k's sq. . q. b. to q. b's th. . k. to b's sq. . k. b. to q's th. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to his kt's th. . k. to b's sq. . q. b. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . k. b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . q. b. checkmates. king, bishop, and knight, against king. diagram . white. black. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . b. to k's th. . k. to b's sq. . b. to k. r's th. . k. to his sq. . kt. to k's th. . k. to his b's sq. . kt. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to his sq. . k. to his th. . k. to q's sq. . k. to q's th. . k. to his sq. (best) . b. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q's sq. . kt. to q. b's th. . k. to q. b's sq. . k. b. to his th. . k. to q's sq. . kt. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's sq. . k. to q. b's th. . k. to q. kt's sq. . k. to q. kt's th. . k. to q. b's sq. . b. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's sq. . kt. to q. b's th. . k. to q. r's sq. . b. to q's th. . k. to q. kt's sq. . kt. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. to q. r's sq. . b. to q. b's th. (checkmate.) no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | q | | | k | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | | | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | r | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | b | | k | b | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. king and two knights against king. the two knights, with the assistance of the king, cannot force checkmate, except in some very rare cases. king and pawn,--king, bishop, and pawn,--and king, knight, and pawn,--against king. when one pawn only is left on the board, supported by its king, and the adverse king is either in front of the pawn, or within such distance as to be able to intercept it, it becomes a point of great nicety in some cases, to calculate whether or not you have the power of queening the pawn, and therefore of winning the game. this frequently depends upon your gaining the opposition, which you cannot always do. in the next position (see diagram ) you have the opposition, and if black have to play you will win. thus:-- . k. to his sq. . p. to k's th. . k. to his d. . k. to b's th, and . p. queens. but if you move first, the game is drawn; for if you play p. to k's th (ch.), black moves king to his square, and you must either abandon the pawn or give stalemate. you will find, on trial, that any other mode of play on your part will produce the same result,--from which is deduced this important general rule: that if you can advance the pawn to its th sq., _not giving check_, you will win; but that if the pawn checks at this point, you will only draw. in this position (see diagram ), you will win either with or without the move; for if black have to play, he is forced to allow your king to be moved either to b's th or q's th sq.; and if you move you gain the opposition, by playing k. to b's th or q's th, and then p. to k's th. it is evident that this would equally hold good if your pawn were any number of squares less advanced; so that you invariably win, if you can succeed in placing your king on the sixth square of the file occupied by your pawn, and in front of it; provided, of course, that the single king cannot attack the pawn, so as to compel you to retreat in order to support it. it is perhaps scarcely necessary to observe, that if the pawn be upon either of the rooks' files, these remarks will not apply--this contingency will be considered hereafter. diagram . white. black. . k. to q's d. . k. to his d. . k. to his d. . k. to his d. . k. to his th. . k. to b's d. . k. to q's th. . k. to k's d. . k. to his th. . k. to b's d. . k. to q's th. if he play k. to b's d, you advance p. to k's th, then to k's th, and on his afterwards moving k. to his sq., you gain the opposition, as shown before. . k. to his sq., or to b's sq. . k. to k's th. and then advances pawn, winning. next, suppose black has the move, and he will draw:-- white. black. . k. to k's d. . k. to q's d. . k. to his d. . k. to his d. . k. to his th. . k. to q's d. . k. to q's th. . p. to k's d, or . k. to k's th. to k's th. (ch.) and it is clear that, play as you may, you can only draw the game. the only exception in all the foregoing cases is to be found, as has already been remarked, when the pawn is upon either of the rooks' files. in these instances, black will invariably draw the game when his king can be placed on any part of the file in front of the pawn, it being quite immaterial at what distance the adverse king and pawn may be. even, as in the next example, the player of the single king will draw the game, if he have not the move, against two pawns in a somewhat similar position. for white being to move, he can only play k. to r's th, to which black must reply by k. to b's sq.; and if white then advance b's pawn, it will be taken: or if he play r's pawn, black returns k. to b's d, and his adversary is stalemated. (see diagram .) two _united_ pawns, with their king, always win against king alone. another advantage in having two pawns thus situated is, that they can always maintain themselves until the arrival of the king to their support; for should one be taken, the other will advance to queen. in the next position (see diagram ), white wins by advancing k. to kt's th, then queening rook's pawn, and upon that being taken, playing k. to r's th, or b's th, having the opposition. queen against a knight or bishop. (in all cases, each party is of course understood to have a king in addition to the pieces named.) diagram . white. black. . q. to her th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . k. to his th. . kt. to k. kt's d. . q. to her kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's d. . k. to b's th. . kt. to k's d. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . kt. to q's th. . q. to her th. . kt. to k's d. . q. to k. b's th.[a] (ch.) . k. to his sq. . q. to k's th. . k to q's sq. . k. to b's th. . kt. to q. b's sq. . q. to q. b's th. and you must win the kt. the queen also easily wins against a bishop. [footnote a: transcriber supplied the " th.", as the move was incomplete in the original text.] no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | k*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | b | n | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | k | | k*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | | p | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | k*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | p | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | k | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k*| n*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | q | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | r*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k*| | q | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. queen against rook. diagram . white. black. . k. to kt's th. . k. to k's th. . r. to q. b's th. . k. to q's th. . k. to kt's th. . k. to q's th. . k. to r's th. . k. to q's d. . r. to kt's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . k. to b's d. . r. to k. r's th. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's th. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's th. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) then takes rook, and wins. queen against rook and pawn. with few exceptions, arising from peculiar situations, the queen wins also against a rook and pawn. diagram , illustrating a won game, is from philidor. diagram . white moves and wins. white. black. . q. to r's th. (ch.) . k. to k's d. (best.) . q. to q. b's th. . r. to q. b's th. . q. to q's th.[a] . r. to k's th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . q. to q. b's th. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to k. b's th. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to k. b's th. . r. to k's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . r. to k's th. . q. to q's d. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . q. to q's d. . k. to q. b's d. . q. to q's th. . k. to q's d. . q. to q. b's th. . r. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's d. . k. to his th. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . r. to q. b's th. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . k. to k's th. . r. to q. b's d. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . k. to q's th. . r. to q. b's th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . k. takes p. and wins. [footnote a: this is the position which white must endeavor to gain, in order that he may force the king to his queen's th, in front of the pawn.] queen against two bishops. the queen usually wins against two of the minor pieces, at least if they are on different parts of the board, or at a distance from their king. there are, however, many instances in which, by skilful play, the weaker force may draw the game. the two bishops will be able to draw when they can assume a position similar to that in diagram , or in other words, such a position in front of their king, that the adverse king cannot approach. diagram . white moves first. white. black. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to b. or kt's sq. (best.) . q. to k's th. . k. to kt's d. . k. to k. b's th. . b. to k. r's d. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . k. to kt's th. . b. to kt's d. . q. to k's th. . b. to r's d. . q. checks at q's th. . k. to kt's d. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's d. . k. to r's th. . q. b. to k. b's th. the game is drawn. queen against two knights. two knights can often draw the game against a queen. queen against knight and bishop. a king with bishop and knight can in many cases draw the game against a king and queen. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | q | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | k*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | b*| b*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | q | | | | | | k | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | q*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | k | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | q | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | p*| k*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | k | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | q*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | q | | p*| k*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p | k | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | q*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | q | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p*| k*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | q | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | p*| k*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | q | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | k | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | k*| | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. queen against queen and pawn. in cases of this kind the game is usually drawn without difficulty, and most generally so by means of a perpetual check, though the same object may sometimes be attained by an exchange of queens, when your king is able to stop the pawn. when, however, the pawn is advanced to its th square, and more particularly if defended by its king, the task is one of more difficulty, and many instructive situations occur where the pawn may be queened and the game therefore won. we subjoin an example or two of each kind, by way of illustration. diagram . white. black. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . q. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to q's th. . k. to r's th. . q. to k. r's th. (ch.) . q. to r's th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to kt's th. (ch.) . q. to kt's th. . q. to k's d. white will always be able to make a drawn game. diagram . white. black. . q. to her kt's th. . k. moves. . k. to q's th. . q. to q. r's sq. (ch.) . p. queens. and wins. diagram . white. black. . p. queens (ch.) . k. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to k. b's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his th. . q. to her d. (ch.) then forces an exchange of queens, and wins with his remaining pawn. queen against pawn. in all ordinary situations, the queen of course easily stops a single pawn and wins against it; if, however, the latter has reached its th square, and has the support of its king, there are instances in which the game must be drawn. our first position (see diagram ), will show the method of winning, and we shall afterwards point out the exceptions. diagram . white. black. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's th. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to k's d. . k. to b's th. . q. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to his th. . k. to q's th. . k. to q's th. . q. to her d. (ch.) . k. to his th. . k. to his d. . k. to b's th. . q. takes p. (ch.) and wins. the same mode of procedure can always be adopted, unless the single pawn should be either on the bishop's or rook's file, in which case black may usually make a drawn game, owing to the power which he then has of making a stalemate. his having this alternative, however, altogether depends upon the distance which the adverse king may chance to be from the scene of action. in the next position (diagram ) the game is drawn. white. black. . q. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's th. . q. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to k. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to r's th. and it is evident, that if white take the pawn, his adversary is stalemated. the result is the same when the pawn is on the rook's file, as you will at once see by making the experiment. the next position (see diagram ), is a very ingenious exception to this rule, and will well repay your attention. white. black. . k. to q. b's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. (best) . q. to k. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . q. to k. b's sq. . k. to q. kt's th. . q. to k's d. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's th. . q. to her sq. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's th. . q. to her d. sq. (ch.) . k. to q. kt's th. . k. to q. kt's th. . p. queens. . k. to q. kt's d. and wins. rook against bishop. diagram . white. black. . b. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. kt's d. . b. to q's th. . r. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . r. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . k. to his th. . b. to q's th. . k. to his th. . b. to q. b's th. . r. to k. b's d. . b. to q. kt's th. . r. to k. kt's d. (ch.) . k. to k. r's d. . k. to k. b's th. . k. to k. r's d, &c. and the game is drawn. diagram . white. black. . r. to q. b's d. . b. to q. kt's th. . r. to b's th. (ch.) . b. to k. kt's sq. . k. to q's th. . p. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. b's th. . b. to q's th. (best) . k. takes b. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to his th. . k. moves. . r. mates. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r*| | b | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | b*| k*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k | | | | p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p*| | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p | | | r | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | n*| | k*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | p | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | k | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | b*| | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. rook against knight. in ordinary positions, and where the knight is near to, or cannot be prevented approaching, his king, the weaker party will be able to draw the game. the method of doing so, however, is not very easy, and there are many positions (of which we shall give an example) where the rook can win. in the following position (see diagram ) white will win either with the move or without it. white. black. . kt. to r's d. (ch.) . k. to k. b's th. . kt. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's th. and wins. rook and pawn against bishop. diagram . white. black. . r. to q. kt's th. . b. to q. b's th. . r. to q. b's th. . b. to q. kt's th. . k. to b's th. . b. to k's th. (best) . p. to b's th. . k. to kt's d. (best) . k. to his th. . b. to k. r's th. (best) . r. to kt's th. . b. to k. kt's d. . p. to b's th, . k. takes q. becoming a q. (ch.) . k. to b's th. and wins. rook against three minor pieces. diagram . white. black. . r. to q. r's d. (ch.) . b. to k's th. . r. to q. r's d. . k. to kt's th. . r. to k. r's d. . b. to k. b's th. . r. to q. r's d. . b. to k. r's th. . r. to q. r's d. (ch.) . b. to k's th. . r. to q. r's d. . kt. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . b. to k. kt's th. . r. to k's d. . kt. to k. r's th. (checkmate.) rook and pawn against rook. diagram . white. black. . p. to k's th. . r. to q. kt's d. . r. to q. r's th. . r. to q. b's d. . p. to k's th. . r. to q. b's th. . k. to k. b's th. . r. to k. b's th. (ch.) and will draw. rook against one or more pawns. diagram . white must lose, even with the move. suppose:-- white. black. . r. to k's th. . k. to q's d. . k. to his d. . p. "queens." &c., &c. diagram . here white will win the pawn, and therefore the game. white. black. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. . k. to q's d. . p. to q. b's th. . r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . k. to q. b's th. . k. to q. kt's th. . k. to q's th. . p. to q. b's th. . r. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to q. b's th. . r. to q. b's th. and white wins. diagram . white. black. . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . r. takes p. . r. p. "queens" (ch.) . k. takes q. . k. takes r. . k. to k. kt's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. . k. to k. r's d. . k. to b's th, and wins. or, . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . p. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. takes r. p. . p. takes r., and becomes a kt. (ch.), and wins. rook against two rooks. diagram . white. black. . r. to k. r's th. . r. takes r. . r. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. moves. . r. to q. r's th. (ch.) . k. moves. . r. takes r. and wins. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | n*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | k*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | b*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | b*| | k | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r*| | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | r | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | p*| k*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | p*| k*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | p*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | k | p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | r | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | r | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | r*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | k*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | k | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | b | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | r*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | r | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | n | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. rook and bishop against rook. diagram . white. black. . r. to k's th. (ch.) . r. to k. b's sq. . r. to k's th. . r. to k. b's th. . r. to q's th. . r. to k. b's th. . r. to q. b's th. . r. to k. b's th. . b. to k. b's th. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's th. . r. to k. kt's th. . b. to k's th. . r. to q. r's th. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . r. to q's th. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to b's th. . r. to q. r's d. (ch.) . b. to q's th. . r. to q. r's th. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . r. to k. kt's d. . r. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to k. kt's th. . k. to kt's sq. . b. to q. b's th. . r. to k. b's th. . r. to k. kt's th. . r. to q. r's th. . k. to b's th. (dis. ch.) . k. to r's d. . b. to k's d. . r. to q. b's th. . r. to k. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's sq. . r. to q. kt's th. . k. to kt's sq. . r. to q. kt's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . r. to q. kt's th. . r. to q. b's d. . b. to q's th. . r. to k. b's d. (ch.) this is his only move to draw the game; and now, whether you take the rook or not, he will succeed in preventing your winning. rook against rook and knight. diagram . white, with the move, will win the rook in four moves. white. black. . kt. to k's th. (ch.) . k. to q's th. (if instead he play k. to his th, white will check with r. at kt's th.) . r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to his th. . r. to q's th. (ch.) . k. moves. . k. takes r. king and pawn against king and pawn. diagram . white. black. . r. takes p. (ch.) . r. takes r. . p. to q's th. . r. to q's th. . k. takes r. . p. to q's th. . p. queens. . p. queens. (ch.) and wins. king and two pawns against king and pawn. diagram . first, suppose white moves:-- white. black. . k. to q's th. . k. to q's d. . k. to q's d. . k. to q's d. . k. to k's d. . k. to k's d. . k. to q's th. . k. to q's d. . k. to k's th. . k. to k's d. and the game must be drawn. but suppose black have to play:-- white. black. . k. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. to k's d. . p. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to his d. . k. to q's th. . k. to q's d. . p. to k. b's th. . k. to his d. . k. to his th. . k. takes p. . k. to q's th. . k. to b's sq. . k. to his th. . k. to kt's d. . k. to his th. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to b's th. . k. to r's d. . k. to b's th. . k. to r's sq. . k. takes p. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to b's th. . k. to r's d. . k. to b's th. . k. to r's sq. . k. to kt's th. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to r's th. . k. to r's sq. . p. to kt's th. and wins. king and two pawns against king and two pawns. diagram . white. black. . k. to his d. . k. to his th. . k. to b's d. . k. to b's th. . k. to kt's d. . k. to k's th. . k. to kt's th. . k. to b's d. . k. to kt's d. . k. to k's th. and the game is drawn. if black move, he plays:-- . k. to his th. . k. to his d. . k. to q's th. (were he to move k. to b's th, you would win by . k. to q's th.) . k. to b's d. . k. to his th. . k. to kt's d. . k. to his d. . k. to kt's th. . k. to b's d. and by continuing to play thus, black may always draw the game. king and two pawns against king and three pawns. diagram . with or without the move black wins. first, with the move,-- white. black. . p. to k. kt's th. . p. to r's d, or (a.) . k. to q's th. . k. to b's d. . k. to his th. . k. to his d. . k. to his th. . k. to b's sq. . k. to q's th. . k. to his sq. . k. to k's th. . k. to b's sq. . k. to q's th. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to his th. . k. to r's sq. . p. to b's th. . p. takes p. . k. to b's th. winning. (a.) . p. takes p. . r. p. takes p. . k. to b's sq. . k. to his th. . k. to his sq. . k. to q's th. . k. to b's sq. . k. to q's th. . k. to kt's sq. . k. to his th. . k. to r's sq. . p. to b's th. and wins. next, if white move first he must equally lose. white. black. . k. to b's d. . p. to kt's th. (ch.) . k. to kt's sq. . k. to his th. . k. to r's sq. . p. to b's th. . p. takes b. p. . k. to b's th, &c. winning. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k*| p | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | r*| p | | k | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | r | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | p*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | p | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | p | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p*| p | k*| | | p*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| p*| p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | | p | p | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | k*| | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | p*| p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | | p | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | k | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. no. . black. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | p*| p*| p*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | p | p | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | k | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. king against three passed pawns. diagram . white. black. . p. to b's th. . k. to kt's d. . p. to r's th. . k. to kt's d. . p. to kt's th. . k. to kt's d. . p. to b's th. . k. to b's d. . p. to r's th. . k. to kt's th. and wins; because whatever pawn is moved, the king takes it. king and three passed pawns against king and three passed pawns. diagram . white. black. . k. to q's d. . p. to r's th. . k. to q. b's d. . p. to r's th. . k. to kt's th. . p. to kt's th. . p. to r's th. . p. to b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . p. to b's th. . k. to kt's th. . k. to b's d. . p. to r's th. . k. to kt's d. . p. to kt's th. . k. to r's d. . p. to b's th. . k. to r's d. . p. to b's th. . k. to kt's d. . p. to kt's th. . k. to kt's sq. . p. to b's th. . k. to b's d. . p. to r's th. . k. to kt's d. . is obliged to move his king, and one of the white pawns will queen. chess problems. problem . white to play and mate in two moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | b | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | n | | | | | | | q | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | r | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | r | p*| k*| p*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | | | | | n | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in two moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | b*| | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p*| | | p*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | k*| p*| | | | n*| r | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | p*| p | | b | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p | | | | n*| r*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | q | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | k | n | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in three moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | | k*| | | n*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | n | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p | | | n | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | b | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in three moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | n*| | | b | r | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | b*| | | k | p*| p*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | r*| r | r*| k*| | | n | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | q*| | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | n*| | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | b*| b | n | | | q | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in four moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | r*| | | | | | n*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | b | p*| | n | | n | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| | b*| q | | | n*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | r*| | | k*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| r | q*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | b | | | b*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | k | | | | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in three moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | q | | | | | | n | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k*| | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in three moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | n | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | p | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | q | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k*| | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and checkmate without moving his king. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | q | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | k*| +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in four moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | n | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | k | p*| | p*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p*| k*| r*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | p*| q | | p | p | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | q*| b | | r | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in three moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | b | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | p*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | p | | r | n | k*| | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | p | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. problem . white to play and mate in four moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | b*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | r*| p*| | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p*| | | | r | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | p | | k*| | b*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | k | | p*| | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | n | | r | | n | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | b | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+--- white. problem . white to move his king alone and mate in five moves. +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | | q | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | p*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | p*| | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | p | | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | | | k*| | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | p | | | | b | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ | | | | k | | | | | +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ white. solutions to problems. no. . white. black. . q. to k. r's th. if . k. to k's th. . q. to k. b's th. (checkmate.) if . k. to q. b's th . b. to q. kt's th. (checkmate.) if . k. to k's th. . q. to k. b's d. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . b. to k. kt's th. if . b. takes r. . r. to q. r's th. (checkmate.) if . anything else. . r. to q. r's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . b. to k. b's th. (ch.) . kt. takes b. . kt. to q. b's th. . kt. moves. . kt. to q's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . kt. to k. kt's d. . k. b. takes p. . kt. to k. b's d. (ch.) . k. to k. b's th. . q. to k. r's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . p. takes q. . b. takes p. (ch.) . k. takes r. . kt. (at r's th.) to k. kt's th. (ch.) . q. takes kt. . kt. to k. kt's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . kt. to k. r's th. . k. to q's th. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to k's th. . q. to q's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . kt. to k. kt's th. . k. to q's th. . q. to q. b's d. (ch.) . k. takes p. . q. to q's d. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . q. to q's sq. (ch.) . k. to kt's th. . q. to k's sq. . k. to b's th. . q. to q's d. . k. to k's th. . q. to q. b's d. . k. to b's th. . q. to q's d. . k. to kt's th. . q. to k's d. . k. to r's th. . q. to k. b's d. . k. to kt's th. . q. to k's th. . k. to r's th. . q. to k. b's th. . k. to kt's d. . q. to k's th. . k. to r's d. . q. to k. b's th. . k. to kt's d. . q. to k's th. . k. to r's sq. . q. to q's th. . k. to kt's sq. . q. to k's th. . k. to r's sq. . q. to k. b's th. (ch.) . k. to r's d. . q. to k. b's th. . k. to kt's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . k. to b's d. . q. to kt's th. . k. to k's d. . q. to b's th. . k. to k's d. . q. to b's th. . k. to k's sq. . q. to q's th. (ch.) . k. to b's sq. . q. to k. r's th. . k. to k's sq. . q. to k. kt's th. . k. to q's sq. . q. to q's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . q. to k's th. (ch.) . k. takes q. . p. to q's th. (ch.) . p. takes p. in passing . p. takes p. (dis. ch.) . r. to k's th. . p. to q's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . kt. to k's th. (dis. ch.) . k. to b's th. (best.) . k. kt's p. two. . k. takes r. . b. to kt's th. (checkmate.) no. . white. black. . r. to k. r's th. . b. takes kt. (at bl. q's th.) . kt. to k. kt's th. . p. to k's d. . r. takes p. (ch.) . k. to k's th. . r. takes b. (disc. checkmate.) no. . white black. . k. to k's sq. . k. to k's th. . k. to k's d. . k. to b's th. . k. to b's d. . k. to k's d. . k. to b's th. . k. to q's d. . k. to b's th. (disc. ch.) the end. the blue books of practical information the volumes of "the blue book series" give the latest and best information on every subject covered. each book has been prepared by an authority on the subject and will be found both readable and dependable. every volume in "the blue book series" is printed on high grade book paper, bound in uniform style in rich blue ribbed cloth, with gold back and side stamping. all the books in the series are uniform in size measuring x - / inches. the blue book of biography, by charles morris. contains the lives of over three thousand great men and women from the earliest days to the present time. splendid for students and the home library. pages the blue book series modern dictionary. based upon the solid foundation laid by noah webster, and other lexicographers, thoroughly modernized by charles morris. its convenience of contents and logical arrangement especially adapt it for use in home, school, and office. clear bold face type. pages the blue book of chess. a practical guide for the beginner and reference book for the more advanced player. based on the work of staunton and recent authorities, with new games by the world's greatest experts. pages the blue book of bridge and auction, by lennard leigh. a sound treatise of the game. simpler and more easily understood than other manuals of the kind. the blue book of etiquette for men, by charles harcourt. a guide to conduct and dress on all occasions. conceived and written in a wholesome, manly spirit. pages the blue book of etiquette for women, by mrs. charles harcourt. a guide to conduct and dress on all occasions. written by a sensible woman for sensible readers, and is a reliable and helpful guide. pages the blue book of practical information, by logan marshall. covers the widest range of contents. logically and conveniently arranged for ready reference. pages the blue book of parliamentary law, by luther s. cushing. with additional notes by professor albert s. bolles, of the university of pennsylvania. covers the whole field of parliamentary procedure and debate. pages the blue book for girl, wife and mother, by m. solis-cohen, a.b., m.d. explaining all the important periods of a woman's life, including childbirth and the months immediately preceding and following it. recommended by the leading medical journals as the best book for home use. the blue book of nursing. by j.q. griffith, m.d., ph.d. a practical and sensible book which may be commended for use in families, and by all who have to do with illness, as a guide in times of sickness, for caring for infants and children and for preserving the health. pages price per volume, $ . postage paid the john c. winston company, _publishers_ - arch street philadelphia, pa. ------------------------------------------------------------- | transcriber's note: | | | | here ends the original text of "the blue book of chess". | | included below are the "illustrative games" rendered in | | pgn. each game has been given an identifying tag of the | | form {pgn xx}, where xx is a two digit number. by doing | | a text search on that tag, the reader may easily locate | | the game in the text above. | ------------------------------------------------------------- {pgn } [event "blindfold exhibition"] [site "paris, fra"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "boucher"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . {mr. morphy plays without seeing the chess board or men, against m. boucher, at paris.} e e . nf d . d exd . qxd nc . bb bd . bxc bxc . bg f . bh nh . nc be . o-o o-o . qc + kh . nd qd . rad rf . f a . f rff . ne rg . a ng . qe ne . bg qc {to enable him to capture the bishop, which is about to take the kt., with the q's pawn.} . bxe dxe . rf {the attack looks already irresistible, but the actual finish is charmingly accomplished.} bd {by this move black may be said to lose a piece. his best course--but that a bad one--was possibly to retreat his bishop to k's square.} . rh {threatening mate in two moves.} h . qd kh {to avert the promised mate, by rxh +, etc.} . qxd bd . rxh + {the termination is very pretty--quite an elegant little problem.} kxh . rd {and black has no possible means of escape; for, if he play qe , white simply captures the queen for nothing; if bc +, then follows kf , etc.} kh . qf + {and wins; the battle having lasted about seven hours.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "harrwitz"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf d . d exd . qxd nc . bb bd . bxc bxc . bg f . bh nh . nc be . o-o qd . rad o-o . qc + rf . nd ng . h ne . qe g {very imprudent in such a position and against such an opponent. it must be admitted, however, that black has no good move at this crisis.} . bg rg . nf rg . f gxf . rxf kh . rh bf . bxe fxe . rf qe . nb qg . rf a . nxc {perfectly sound, as the sequel shows.} rc . nd bxd . exd rc ({taking the pawn would have been injudicious; for example,} ... qxd . rxh + kxh {best} . qh + bh . nxh rxh . qf + kg {anything.} . qxc ) . c be . rh qe . c {the first step in a combination of admirable daring and ingenuity.} rxc . rxh + kxh . qh + kg . nxe + kg {had he taken the knight it would have cost him his queen.} . nf + kg . nxd {and black cannot possibly save the game.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "harrwitz"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf d . d exd . qxd nc . bb bd . bxc bxc . bg nf . nc be . o-o-o o-o . rhe h . bh ne . bxe qxe . e bxf . gxf qg + . kb dxe . rxe qg . nd qxh . ree qd . rg kh . qe f . nf qb . qe rf . qc qf . nh {this looks promising, but does not turn out well. he had better, perhaps, have played rg .} qe . rde qd . a nd . qd rg . rg b . reg ne . qc f {well played. white must now beware, for his kt. is in sore peril.} . rh {this will not save the kt. the best move was rg .} g . rhg qd . qe gxh . rg {merely desperate.} qxf . qe rf . qe + rg . qxe hxg . qe qc . f re . qf rge - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "bird"] [black "morphy"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf d . d f . nc fxe . nxe d . ng e . ne nf . bg bd . nh o-o . qd qe . g nxg . nxg qxh . ne nc . be qh . nxc bxc . be rb . o-o-o rxf . bxf qa . c qxa . b qa + . kc qa + . kb bxb . cxb rxb + . qxb qxb + . kc e . bxe bf + . rd qc + . kd qa + . kd qb + - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "?"] [black "?"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game v., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf d . d f . dxe fxe . ng d . f {this is not the proper move; he should play e .} bc . c c . nc ne . h h . nh o-o . na bb + . bd bxd + . qxd d . c b . cxb axb . b be . be nf . ng ng . rh e . qb d . bf rxf . o-o-o rfxa . bxa rxa . a rc + . kb rc . qb na . qf nc . qxg {and black mates in two moves.} -- - {pgn } [event "blindfold exhibition"] [site "paris, fra"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "potier"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . {mr. morphy plays without seeing the chess-board or men, against m. potier, at paris.} e e . nf nf . bc nxe . nc nf {it is to be regretted that mr. potier did not take the kt. rather than retreat, as many amateurs would have been pleased to see mr. morphy carrying out the attack of this interesting and comparatively novel debut.} . nxe d . bb be . d c . o-o nbd . f nb . qf h . f qc . bf bd . rae kf . qg h . ng + {finely played.} kg . bxd hxg . bxc fxg . fxg gxh + . kh bg . re nbd . be kf . rf + {the termination of this partie is remarkably elegant and finished.} kg . nxd cxd . bxd nb . bb - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date " .??.??"] [round "?"] [white "petroff"] [black " russian amateurs"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nf . d nxe . bd d . nxe bd . o-o o-o . c f . f c . be be . cxd cxd . nc nc . rc rf {this unfortunate counter attack is admirably taken advantage of by m. petroff.} . bxe fxe . nb ne . nxd qxd . g g {they do not appear to have had a better move.} . f {well played.} gxf . bg rff . bh rfc {it would have been better to leave the rook en prise, and advance f .} . qd qd . rxc rxc . gxf nxf . qg + kh . rxf qg . rf bh . qg qxg + . hxg - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "tchigorin"] [black "pillsbury, h. n."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . {notes by jas. mason.} e e . nf nf . nc nc . bb bb . o-o o-o . d d . bg {in this familiar 'double lopez' predicament, bxc is highly recommended, if a dull but durable kind of game is desired.} bxc . bxc ne {... something like a leap in the dark. if the doubled pawn can be 'dissolved' betimes, or the open file well used in attack, a safe landing may be confidently expected.} . bxf gxf . qd ng . kh {more or less necessary, sooner or later. black does not attempt to dissolve, just here; for then qh , threatening ng , might be uncomfortable.} kh . d rg . bd qe . rab {routine--indirectly including the questionable . d ?. at once ng , to be speedily followed by g and f , would have given the matter another and perhaps very different complexion.} b . ng be $ . d $ bd . g rg . rbe rag {... the difference is in favor of the young american representative, who presses it fully.} . f {manifestly weakening. the russian champion feels himself on the defensive, and at a loss how to continue. thus the text move may be as good as any other.} h $ . re nf . f exf . qxf nh . nf bg . nd {nh would be much stronger, the importance of halting the advancing rook pawn duly considered. going from bad to worse, the downright blunder two moves later caps the climax--and more need not be said.} h $ . re qe . gxh $ bf + - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "cochrane"] [black "staunton"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf d . nxe qe . d f . nc fxe . nxd qf . bc be . o-o c . f cxd . fxe qd . exd bxd . e qc . qh + g . qxd ne . qe qxc . qxh nf . bh qb . qxf + qxf . bxf kxf . g - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "jaenisch"] [black "petroff"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf d . nxe qe . d f . nf dxe . nfd f . be nc . nb nf . o-o qf . c bd . bf o-o-o . nc h . a g . bd f . d ne . nd bc . be rhg . b be . f e . qb g . c gxf . nxf nxf + . bxf ng . qc kb . qe rde . d bc . qd bxf . rxf bg . nb c . d re . bg cxb {if black had taken fxg at this point, the following moves show that he would have equally lost:--} ( ... fxg . qxg gxh + . kh qxd . qg + {and wins.}) . bxf + ne . bxe + rxe . qxe + ka . rxf e . qe + rxe . dxe =q+ {and wins.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "capdebo"] [black "harrwitz, d."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . c nf . d exd . cxd bb + . bd bxd + . nbxd d . exd nxd . qe + be . bb o-o . bxc bxc . o-o rb . b nf . qa re . rfe qd . ne qxd . ndf qb . qxb rxb . rac f . nc ra {and black ultimately won.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "philadelphia athenaeum, pa, usa"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "mccabe"] [black "montgomery, h. p."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii. p. "] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . c f . d nf . exf d . bb qd . o-o o-o . b bb . h bxf . bxc bxc . d e . ne a . ba axb . bxb c . dxc bxc . bxc qxc . qd qd . ng bxg . hxg nxg . g qh . rd qh + . kf rxf + {and wins.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "staunton, howard"] [black "horwitz"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. "] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . c d . d exd . cxd bb . nc bg . be nf . a o-o . be re . d ne . nxe bxe . qxe rxe . bxb axb . o-o nxe . nxe f . f fxe . fxe qe . rae re . rf h {black would have gained no advantage by rxd at this juncture, or by advancing g to attack the rook. the move in the text was not made without due deliberation, and we believe it the best on the board.} . qf {white designedly gives up the queen's pawn, to get a counter attack with his combined forces.} rxd . rf {qb would have been worse than useless.} re . rf qe ({had he gone qd , to protect his threatened pawn, white would have won the g pawn. e.g.} ... qd . rxg + kxg . qf + kh . rf rh . qxh qxf . qxe +) . rxc rxe . rxb d . h {a most important move. black dare not now advance d on account of qf +, which would enable white to double his rooks on the adversary's g , and thus win easily.} re . rxe qxe + . qf ( . kh {would have been very bad play, because} qe + . qg qxg + . kxg re + . kh rb ) ... qe + . qf qc + . kh rf . qd rf {he could not save all the pawns attacked.} . qxd + kh . qe rg {threatening rxg , and then qc +.} . re qd . qe qd + . re kg . qd + qxd . rxd kf . rb ke . g kd . kg kc . re rd . re kc . h g . kf kd . re + kd . re rf + . ke kc . re + kd . rf rc . rb re + . kd rf . rb + {ke would have been better.} kc . re kd . rb kc . rb rf + . ke rh . rf rxh . rf + kb . rxg rh + . kf rxb . rxh rb + . kf rxa . g ra . rh kc . g ra . kf b . rg b {this was ill-judged. he should have played rg , or ra .} . g rxg . rxg b . ke kb . kd - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "horwitz"] [black "staunton, howard"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . c nf . d d . ng o-o . f d . exd nxd . bxd qxd . qf rd {from this point we look upon the game as virtually lost for white.} . qxd rxd . ke ({probably his best move. had he played} . b nxb . cxb bd {winning the exchange.}) ... bg + . nf rad . d {as good a move, perhaps, as he had on the board. by playing rd , he would evidently have lost a piece.} exd . c re + . kf {well conceived. tempting black to open the discovered check, which would cost him 'the exchange.'} rd . nbd d + . kg bxf . nxf re . bd rd . rad rg + . kh {interposing ng , and then pushing f on the rook afterwards, would have been unwise, on account of bd +, etc.} rh + . nh be . g nd . bc ne {threatening, if white took at d , to win a piece.} . kg bxh . gxh re . rhf rg + . kf re . h rg . h nc . rfe g + {and then black mates in two moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "staunton, howard"] [black "st. amant"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game v. p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . c qe . d exd {the proper move is bb . taking the pawn gives an immediate advantage to white.} . o-o ne . nxe qxe . f dxc + . kh qd . qb nh . nxc o-o . h {if white play f at this point, his opponent may move ng , threatening to play afterwards qg +, and then mate with nf +.} c . f qf . e {from this move the attack is very lively and interesting.} qh . bxh qxh . ne bd . nd qh . bxf + rxf . g bxe {there appears to be nothing better, bad as this is.} . rae qxh + . qxh bxd . re + bf . rfe d . rd rd . ree rxd . rxd b . qe bb . rxa bxa . qe + kh . qf - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white " amateurs of utica, ny"] [black "cheney, of syracuse, ny"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game vi., p. ."] [mode "pm"] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . c nf . d exd . e d . bb ne . bxc + bxc . cxd bb . o-o bg . be o-o . h bh . g bg . nh f . f ng . re f . bf qe . nc h . qa be . b qe . qb bd . ne h . nf a . nfxg hxg . bxg fxg . a qh . kg bxg . fxg bxd . rad -- {black announced mate in four moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "popert"] [black "a fine player of london"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game vii., p. "] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . c nf . o-o {o-o before c , and before the adverse nf , appears safer play} nxe . d d . bb exd . cxd bd . ne bxe . dxe o-o . f f . nc be . be a . bxc bxc . rc {threatening nxe , and then rxc .} qe . qc {intending again nxe , and thus win a pawn.} rb . nxe fxe . qxc rxb . qxe rxe . f {well played, the advance of this pawn secures to him an irresistible attack.} bc . rxc re . bd rd {note: this move was given as the impossible 'rd '.} . bc rd . f gxf . exf be . rg + kh . be bg . re bf . -- {white now checkmates in two more moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "buckle"] [black "harrwitz"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game viii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . o-o nf . nc d . h o-o . d be . bb ne . ne ng . ng c . c d . d dxe . dxc exf . qxf bxb . axb nd . nf {this is a very attacking position for the kt., and generally occasions great embarrassment to an adversary.} b . cxb qxb . c ndf . bxf nxf . rfd {prudently taking possession of an 'open file.'} qc . qxc rfc . qxc rxc . nd ne + . kf nd . b f . c rb . ra g . rda nc . rxa rxa . rxa nxb . rb {white plays with remarkable care and judgment here.} rxb . nxb kf . ke ke . kd kd . na na . nb kc . kc nxc . nxc kxc . h h . f g . h e . fxe fxe . g kd . b ke . b kf . b e . b kf . b =q {and wins. the termination of this game is an improving lesson in pawn play.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "anderssen"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . b bxb . c ba . d exd . o-o nf . e d . bb ne . cxd o-o . bxc bxc . qa bb . qxc bg . bb bxf . gxf ng . nd re . kh nh . f qh . qxd nxf + . kg nd . bc nxf . qf nh + . kh ng . qg rad . rg h . raf qh . qc qd . qg bxd . bxd qxd . nf qd . h ne . qg qc . rg rd . qf red . qf qd . qf rd . rxd qxd + . kh rd . rf re . nd re . qxf + kh . ne rxf + . nxf qd . ng qxa + . kg qb + . kh qc + . kg qc + . kh qc . h a . nf gxf . qxf + kg . qg + kf . qxh + ke . qg + kd . h qd . h qxe + . kg ng . h =q qxh . qxg qd + . kf a . qf + kc . qc kb . ke c . qb + kc . qf + kc . qf + qd . qf + kb . qb + kc . qa qc + . ke a . qa + kb . qb + qb - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "?"] [black "mead of ny, usa"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . b bxb . c ba . o-o nge . d exd . ng ne . bb d . exd h . f bg . qe hxg . fxe nxd . qg be . ba + c . bxg qb . c d + . rf qb . cxd qxa . a bb . dxc bxf + . kxf qd + . be qxa . cxb rb . qxg qh + . kg rxb . nd qh . qf o-o . qc re . ne qg . nf + kh . qd rg . nxg qxd . exd rxe . d d . d =q d =q+ . qxd bxd - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "anderssen"] [black "hillel"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . b bxb . c ba . d exd . o-o bb . cxd d . h qf . bb nh . nbd o-o . e dxe . dxe qe . ne be . bd bf . nf + gxf . exf qe . qd be . fxe bxd . qxd rd . qa nf . rae qe . ng qh . e nfd . nf nxf + . qxf rd . bc rxa . e nd . bxd qxd + . kh kh . re qb . rh qxe . qd h . qf qxf . rxf kh . rg kh . rhxh # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "marache"] [black "morphy"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc bc . b bxb . c ba . d exd . e d . exd qxd . o-o nge . ng o-o . bd bf . bxf nxf . ba qg . bxf qxg . ba dxc . bc qg . bf rd . qc ncd . qe ng . qxg nde # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "der laza, von h."] [black "m"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc nf . ng d . exd nxd . nxf kxf . qf + ke . nc nce . d b . nxb c . nc qb . dxe bb . ne qb + . bd qxc . qg + kxe . f + kd . c + nxc . bxc + kxe . f + kd . o-o-o+ kc . b + kb . a + kxa . qxc nd . kb - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "m, berlin chess club"] [black "h, berlin chess club"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bc nf . ng d . exd nxd . nxf kxf . qf + ke . nc nce . d c . dxe ng . o-o bb . nxd cxd . rd ne {better dxc , and give up the queen.} . bg rf . bxe kxe . qg bc . rxd bxf + . kh qb . qa + ke . qa + ke . rad rf . rd + kf . rd + ke . r d + {he might have mated the king on the move qe #.} bxd . qxd # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "anderssen"] [black "morphy"] [result " / - / "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bb a . ba nf . d bc . c b . bc d . exd nxd . h o-o . o-o h . d exd . cxd bb . nc ndb . bb be . a nd . ne nf . be re . ng bc . nf bxf . qxf ne . n h nxf . nxf qd . bxh gxh . qc bxd . qxh re + . kh ne . bxe rxe . qg + kf . qh + ke . nxd qd + . qxd cxd . rd kf . rd rae . g r e . f re . h rd . kg a . h kg . kf re . kg kh . kf re . kg f . kf re . kg re / - / {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "lasker, e."] [black "steinitz, wm."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . bb d . d bd . nc nge . be {white in this instance had probably made up his mind to adopt the plan frequently employed by gunsberg in the giuoco piano, namely, playing qd and o-o-o rapidly. --gunsberg.} ng {black's difficulty is how to dispose of the kt. now g in this instance, although perhaps preferable, is not a good place either, subject as it must be to an early attack from the h pawn--hoffer.} . qd be . o-o-o a . be exd . nxd nxd . qxd {if bxd , nf ; and the kt. cannot be captured on account of bg winning the queen.--leeds mercury.} bf . qd bc {there seems little use in this move. either he can o-o now; if not, then it is proof positive that his defence is bad.--gunsberg.} . nd o-o . g {this premature advance is admirably taken advantage of by steinitz. --leeds mercury.} re {although this looks like a defensive move, to make room for the kt., it is a subtle design which was entirely overlooked by lasker. --hoffer.} . g $ bxd . qxd {but here is a great mistake, which ought to lose the game. exd would have averted the loss of a pawn, but at the expense of position and attack; he was outplayed by steinitz up to this point.} re $ . qd bxg . f rxe . fxg qe . rdf {from this move to the end lasker exhibits most marvellous power of resource. with rdf he commenced one of the most ingenious attacks.} rxe . bc nh . h c . g $ {one of the moves which will make this game memorable. the object is, if hxg to open up the rook's file by h . allowance must of course be made for the fact that, being two pawns behind, white has nothing to lose and everything to gain by desperate tactics.--gunsberg.} d . gxh + kxh . bd + kg . h re . h g . h + kg . kb qe . a {exhibiting consummate coolness in a 'do or die' predicament.--pollock.} c . qf c $ . qh f . bf $ {bf is evidence with what perfect lucidity lasker detects the weak spots, and how immediately he takes advantage of his opponent's slightest omission or commission.--hoffer.} kf . rhg gxf . qh + ke . rg kd $ . rxf qe . rxe qxe . rxf + kc {imprudent. the king should make for safety in the corner, via c .--mason.} . qh {threatening rf .--gunsberg.} re . qh $ qd {qd is a final blunder. rd should have been played, or re . the game is now over. it will be readily admitted that it is a well-earned victory which none will grudge the plucky young player.--hoffer we really cannot see a satisfactory move, for if re , then follows qf +, and rf . or if qd then likewise qf + should gain some advantage, as, on kb , white could continue with a + and qc , etc.--gunsberg.} . qg + d . qg + qd . rf qxf . qxf + kd . qf + - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date " .??.??"] [round "?"] [white "philadelphia"] [black "new york"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [mode "tc"] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . d exd . bc bc . c nf {the best move.} . e d . bb ne . cxd bb . nbd {preparatory to the move of qc .} o-o . bxc bxc . qc {threatening to win pawn at c or nxe , winning the d pawn.} nxd . bxd bg {if black had played ba , to prevent white o-o, white would have won a piece by a .} . ng {a premature move.} g . qc f {the best move.} . h bf {better than fxg , as white would then have opened the rook's file.} . nf be {better than fxe .} . bf {the best move.} fxe . bxe qe {intending to advance c pawn. a strong move.} . o-o-o {an impudent move, in the face of such an attack.} c . rhe {a strong move.} cxd {c perhaps stronger.} . bxd c . be rae {weak. we cannot see its object. why not rad ?} . bg qb {the best move.} . ne {preparatory to ng , and then be .} d . qc + bd . qa {preventing black's contemplated move with the q.} re {with a view of withdrawing the b. and playing the ra .} . ng h . rxe bxe . qc kh . re {the first move of a combination, which gave the victory to philadelphia.} bf {insures the winning of the kt.} . qd {a powerful move, as it compels black to take the kt., and thereby opens white's r's file.} hxg . hxg qd {if bxg , white would have played qg , threatening to check k. and q. with r., or win the r.} . rh + ({an all important check before gxf , as it prevented} . gxf rxf . rh + rh ) ... kg . gxf qxf . qh g . bd {a very attacking move. much better than be .} rf . qh {a better move than checking, as it prevented black's k. escaping to f , and then to e . white also threatened g .} qg ({black would have lost the rook, if} ... rxd . qe + kg . qe +) . qh + kf . re {the coup de grace.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date " .??.??"] [round "?"] [white "philadelphia"] [black "new york"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [mode "pm"] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . d nxd . nxd exd . bc qf . o-o bc . e qf . c dxc . nxc ne . bd qe . ne bd . ng qb . qh g . qh bxe . re qf . nf d . bg qe . nxe dxe . rac rf . bc qf . bxe kxe . f e . bd be . bxe qa . qh + kd . red + ke . kh c . rxc rd . rcc rxd + . rxd h . qf bc . bxb {and new york resigns, as they must lose their q., or be mated in a few moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "marache"] [black "meek, a. b."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . d exd . bc bc . c d . b bb . a a . b nce . qb d . exd qd . ba qf . nbd nh . ne d + . nfxd qe . d cxd . bxd qf . bxe kxe . qa + kd . qd + - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "cochrane"] [black "deschapelles"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. "] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . d exd . bc bc . ng ne {this is not the correct move, he should have played nh .} . bxf + nxf . nxf bb + . c dxc . bxc bxc + . nxc kxf . qd + kf . ba + d . e qg . exd qxd . dxc + kf . nxd bd . o-o rc . bd ke . bg bc . rad bxd . rfe + kf . rxd nh . ra nf . rc nxg . hxg kf . rd rhe . rd re . rf + ke {ke would have saved the game.} . rd + rxd . rf + kxf . cxd =q+ $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "staunton"] [black "harrwitz"] [result " - "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . c f . d fxe . nxe nf . bb a . bxc bxc . bg rb . b bb . qa d . o-o ({the following moves will show the probable result of nxc :} . nxc qd . b {his best move; if axb , then qa .} ra . qd axb {or bxc . and white has little if any advantage.}) ... h . bh qd . bg rg . nd rc . nb nd . na nb . qc ba . f exf . rxf qe . re be . nexc qxe + . bxe bxc . qg + kd . nxc + - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "evans, captain"] [black "horwitz"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . c f . d exd . e dxc . nxc bb . bg nge . bc d . exd qxd . qe nd . nxd qxd . o-o bd . nd o-o-o . bxe bxe . nxe + kb . rfd qh . bb qh . rd f . rad f . qxf a . rxd rxd . rxd qc + . qd qxb . rd + rxd . qxd + ka . nc + {and white mates in four moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "evans, captain"] [black "henderson"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nf nc . c d . bb bg . qa qd . nxe qxe . bxc + bxc . qxc + ke . f rd . d qe . qxc + rd . qc + ke . qc + rd . qxe + bxe . e f . nd nh . nb nf . f be . h nh . ke bd . kf bb . g bd . nd ng . re h . b rc . bb g . h gxf . gxf rg . rh kf . rh ke . rc rg . c dxc . nxc be + . ke bg . rg be . a rcg . rcg bh . rh bf . rc bg . rd bh . nd nf . rdc ne . d + kxd . rd + ke . nxe fxe . rd + kf . e bf + . ke rg . rc + kg . rd rxd . kxd kxf . be + kg . ke bg + . kd e . rc rd + . kc rc + {and black wins.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "staunton"] [black "popert"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc bc . c d {not so good a move as nf , or qg .} . nf {d would perhaps have been stronger play.} nf . d exd . cxd bb + . bd bxd + . nbxd o-o {d is a better move at this point.} . bd nc . a bg . qc h . rc d . e bxf . nxf nh . g g . b qd {intending, if b , to move qg .} . qd kh . o-o rae . rc nd . nh c . f f . g ng . gxf nxf . nxf gxf . kh rg . rcc qf . qc ref . rg ne . rxg kxg . rg + kh . qf qh {a lost move.} . be qf . qh qh . bh nxd . rg b . bg {it would have been more decisive if bf at once.} qg . bf rxf {if qxf , mate follows in three moves.} . rxg kxg . kg {and wins.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "amateur "] [black "amateur "] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc bc . c qg . qf qg . ne d . d exd . cxd bb . e ne . e f . nbc o-o . nf qe . be nbc . rd kh . h nd . h f . ncd bxe . nxe qxe . ng + hxg . hxg + {and white gives checkmate in three moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "de la bourdonnais"] [black "mcdonnell"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc bc . qe nf . d nc . c ne . f exf {in this opening it is not advisable for the second player to take the gambit p. with his e } . d bb . bxf d . bd ng . be o-o . h re . nd qe . o-o-o c . kb cxd . cxd a . ngf bd . g h . rdg a . g hxg . bxg a . b bc . rg ba . h bxd . nxd ra . h rxg . rxg nf . qf nxd . d nxd . rhg {this portion of the game is full of interest and instruction, and is remarkably well played.} nc + . ka bxe . rxg + kh . qg bg . hxg qe + . rxe {white loses the game by this move.} rxe + . qxe nxe . rh + kg . gxf + kxh . f =q nc # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "?"] [black "?"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc bc . qe nc . bxf + kxf . qc + d . qxc dxe . qc + be . qxe nf . qh nd . na e . c g {the game from this point forward is admirably conducted by black.} . qxg rg . qe nf . qe rxg . nc qd . ne nxe . dxe rag . qf rd . qe ng . nh ne . nf nf + . kf {and black can checkmate in six moves.} -- - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "staunton"] [black "cochrane"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game v., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc bc . nf nc . b {we have now the same position brought about which occurs in the evans gambit.} bxb . c ba . o-o bb . d exd . nxd nxd . cxd d . a c . a bc ({if he had taken:} ... bxa . bxf + kxf . qh + {white would have gained a more valuable p. in return, and have deprived his opponent of the privilege of castling.}) . qb qe . ba qf . nc qg . ne nh . e d . bd nf . qb bd . qb qh . ng nxg . fxg bxa . bf bb . qb qg . bxc rxc . e fxe {and white announced mate in eight moves.} . -- - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "walker"] [black "daniels"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game vi., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc bc . c d . bxd nf . qb o-o . nf c {this is not advisable. it would be better to nxd .} . bxf + {the notion of this sacrifice originated with messrs. henderson and williams, of bristol, during an examination of the present opening.} rxf . nxe qe . qxf + qxf . nxf kxf . d bb . f be . be na . kf nc . nd g . g kg . h re . h bf . hxg bxg . rag ne . nc bc . e nd . bh + kf . kg b . ne nxe . bxe c . f cxd . cxd bd . f - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "stanley"] [black "rousseau"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc nf . nc bc . nf d . h o-o . d be . bb nc . ne qe . ng nd . nxd bxd . c {white gains a move by this exchange of pieces.} bb . o-o d {h would have been better play.} . bg c . nh dxe . dxe bxb . qf {this is very finely played, and is an example to young players of the importance of gaining time at chess. had white paused in his attack to recover the lost bishop, the adversary might have succeeded in dislodging one or other of the pieces by which he is beleaguered, or in bringing his own forces to the rescue, and then have ultimately retrieved the game.} bc . bxf qe . nxg be . nxe bxf . nxf - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "schulten"] [black "horwitz"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc nf . nc b . bxb bc . d c . bc qb . qe d . exd o-o . ne nxe . dxe bxf + {black plays capitally now to the end.} . qxf qb + . bd qxc . qf f . exf bxf . qg $ {and black mated by force in three moves. it is rarely in actual play one sees so pretty a mate.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "bledow, dr."] [black "von bilguer"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc f . d nf . nf fxe . dxe nxe . qd nd . nxe c . qf + nxf . bxf + ke . bg + kd . bxd kxe . f + kf . bg bb + . c bc . bb h . bc + kg . bd + kf . g + kg . bc + kf . bh be . bg d . f nd . nd bf . nf re + . kf nc . rhe bd . b ne + . rxe {the terminating moves are admirably played by dr. bledow.} dxe . bb + kf . bd + be . ne g {it is quite evident that on taking the b., mate would have followed next move.} . f {beautifully played.} e + . kg - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "amateur"] [black "amateur"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . bc c . qe qc . c nf . f d . f d . exd cxd . bb + bd . bxd + nbxd . d e . nh o-o-o . o-o bd . nf h . qf ng . qe h . nxd bxh + . kh qd . qxe rhe . qf g . bg f . bd g . na a . nc qc . nxa qb . c qa . nb + nxb . qxb # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "evans, captain"] [black "p."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . c nf . d exd . e ne . qe ng . cxd bb + . nc nc . qd d . f ne . nf bf . qe o-o . a ba . b bb . bb bg . na bxf . nxb bxg . bxg qh + . ke axb . bxe dxe . qxe qg + . qf qf . rac nxb . rhg {black played ingeniously in offering to give up the kt. if white had taken it, he must have been subjected to an embarrassing attack for some little time.} nc . rg qd . d ne . rxg + kh . qd ng . rxg rae . kf {had he played on the p. (dis. ch.), he could not take the q. until his king was removed.} re . rg rd . dxe qe {taking the q. would have been fatal to him.} . exf - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "staunton"] [black "cochrane"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . c d . nf nf . nxe nxe . d bd . nd o-o . nxe dxe . bf bxe . bxe nc . bc be . bb ne . o-o c . ba ng . bg f . f exf . rxf f . bb {but for this move of resource, black would evidently have gained 'the exchange,' at least.} qd . bf kh . bxe qxe . qd rae . rh qf . qf re . rh qe . c re . b qf . rf re . a ra . d ra . bxa {an important outlet for his king.} ree . rxe rxe + . kf qa {black has now a very menacing position.} . qd rg . qe ne . d $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "evans, captain"] [black "st. amant"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . c c . nf nc . bc nf . d cxd . ng {we have here a position almost identical with the leading one of the "two knights' game."} d . exd nxd . nxf kxf . qf + ke . o-o na . bg qd . g qd . bd qf . bf + kd . cxd bxf . dxe + kxe . gxf nc . re + kd . re + kc . be + nxe . qxe + kb . qd + kb . qb + kc . rxc + $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "walker, g."] [black "st. amant"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . c d . exd qxd . nf bc . b bg . be e . nd bxe . nxe nc . o-o ne . nf qd . d exd . re o-o-o . nd f . a a . b axb . cxb bd . rb nf . nb nfg . nxd qxd . be qd . bc qh . nh rhe . a d . rf nd . a bxa . qf re . qxf + qe . qxe + rxe . ng re . be nxe . fxe rxf + . kxf nc $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "der laza, v. h."] [black "bledow, dr."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc bg . d qe {the proper move is d .} . o-o h . nc c . e qb . ne bf . qe {this little game is excellently played by white.} g . nd + bxd . exd + kd . ne rh . c f . qe nf . qxh nxh $ {and white gave checkmate in six moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "der laza, v. h."] [black "h."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc bg . o-o h . d d . c c . qb {having now your d pawn protected, and an opening for your queen, you can advantageously advance the g pawn, and sacrifice your n, as in the muzio gambit} qe . g g . bxf gxf . rxf be . d bg . dxc bxf . cxb qxe . bxa =q qxa . bxf + kf . bxg rxg . bxd + ke $ {white mates in three moves. a brilliant and amusing little skirmish.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "z."] [black "popert"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc bg . d d . o-o h . g g . nh f . be nc . c bf . nf bxf . exf nge . qb d . bd qd . qc h . nd h . bf o-o-o . a hxg . bxg rh . b nxf . bxf qxf . qb bh . bxh rxh . a rxh . kxh $ {black mates in three moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "der laza, v. h."] [black "j."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf be . bc bh + . g {the correct reply is kf .} fxg . o-o gxh + . kh bf . ne bxe . qh qe . rxf qc . rf + ke . d qxd {the best move.} . bg + nf {kd is the proper play.} . bxf + gxf . qf + kd . nc rxf . qxf + kc . qb d . bb + kb . na # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "h----d"] [black "der laza, v. h."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . ne qh + . kf nh . d f . g qh + . kf qg + . ke f . nd nf . nf bh . kd bxf . bxf c . nc o-o . bd b . bxf + rxf . h b . bxb ba + . ke qxg . qg qc . qxg + rg . qxf $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "?"] [black "?"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . ne qh + . kf f . qe fxg + . kxg qh + . kf bg . d d . bxf + ke . bxg rxg . nc qf + . kg bxd + . be g . h g . rh bxh . nbd qf + . nxf gxf =q# - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "lewis"] [black "?"] [result " / - / "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . o-o gxf . qxf bh . d qe . bxf nc . bxh nxh . qh qf . rf qg . qxh qxh . rxh nxd . na c . rd ne . rad rg . bxe fxe . nc rg . kf ke . ne a . kf b . ng ra . kf rc . c b . cxb axb . ne rc . a rxb . rxc rf + . ke rf . rdc ba . rc rxc . rxc kd . ra kxe . rxa rb . ra + d . exd exd . kd rc . rb rc + . kd rc . a rf . a rf + . kd ra . rxb rxa / - / {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "der laza, v. h."] [black "szen"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . o-o gxf . qxf qf . e qxe . d bh . nc ne . bd o-o {not considered so strong a move as c .} . rae qc + . kh c . ne qf . bc bg . nd qg . rxe {well played.} bxc {had he taken qxe , white would have won a piece by at once playing nf .} . rxf rxf . bxf + kg . bxc na . qxf qxf . rxf nc . bb nd . bxd cxd . rf + kg . re b . re + kg . rxc - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "?"] [black "?"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . o-o gxf . qxf qf . e qxe . d bh . bd ne . nc c . rae qc + . kh d . qh qd . bxd o-o . bb qg . qc nf . bxf bxf . rxf ng . ne ne . bxe bxe . nf + kg . rxe fxe . nh + kh . rxf qxh . rf + kg . qf # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "mcdonnell"] [black "la bourdonnais"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . nc gxf . qxf bh . d nc . o-o nxd . bxf + kxf . qh + kg . bxf bxf . rxf nf . qg + kf . raf ke . rxf qe . nd qc . kh ne . rxe + dxe . nf + $ {and wins the queen.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "?"] [black "?"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game v., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . d gxf . qxf d . bxd nf . o-o nxd . exd qf . qe + kd . bxf qe . qf rg . nd bg . qf nd . rae qf . ne qg . c bd . bxd cxd . c dxc . dxc re . nd rxe . qxe kc . qb kd $ {white must win.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "staunton"] [black "?"] [result " - "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game vi., p. ."] [setup " "] [fen "rnbqkbnr/pppppppp/ / / / /pppppppp/ nbqkbnr w kkq - "] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . bc g . bxf + kxf . ng + ke . qxg nf . qxf d . nf nc . d qe . o-o bd . e dxe . dxe nd . qe be . bg qc + . kh ncb . c nb . b be . nd bg . bxe qxe . nf qd . qh rd . qf $ {and wins.} - {pgn } [event "manchester chess meeting"] [site "manchester, eng"] [date " .??.??"] [round "?"] [white "anderssen"] [black "kipping"] [result " - "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] [eventdate " .??.??"] . e e . f exf . nf g . h g . ne h . bc rh . bxf + rxf . nxf kxf . d d . bxf be . o-o kg . g be . qd nd . nc c . ne bf . rf bg . raf ndf . dxc bxe . qe dxc . be qd . qg + kh . nc qc . bxf bxf . rxf - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "cochrane"] [black "evans, captain"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . nf g . h g . ne h . bc rh . nxf rxf . bxf + kxf . d bh {this is the error which loses black's game. the correct move is f .} . bxf bxf . o-o qxh . rxf + nf . e d . rxf + kg . qd nd . qh + - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "mcdonnell"] [black "la bourdonnais"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . bc {this was a favorite opening of mcdonnell's; he bestowed much time and labor on its analyses, and discovered many skilful methods of diversifying the attack.} qh + . kf g . nc bg . d d . be nc . e nge . nb o-o . nxc rb . nf qh . exd nf . c ng + . hxg qxh + . kf fxg + . kxg qxd . bxd h . b b . be f . d f + . kh fxe . dxc g . nd be + . kg bxd . ncxb bc . b {bd would have been better play we believe.} bb . nd bxd . cxd rxb . nxc rxc . d kf . bb ke . kf re . ke rf . kd re . re kd {this game is very cleverly played by la bourdonnais.} . rxe rxe + . kxe h . ke h . bd h . gxh gxh . bf h . bg rf - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "mcdonnell"] [black "la bourdonnais"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . bc qh + . kf g . nc bg . d nc . e nge . nf qh . ne h . nf + bxf . exf d . bd nf . qe + kd . ne nfxd {had black checked with his kt. and taken the rook, he would have been mated in five moves.} . c nxe . qxe nc . qxd + ke . bb {this portion of the game is played by mr. mcdonnell with great judgment.} be . bxc + kf . qc + kg . bf qg . qd c . qe re . be {it would have been better to take qxc .} f . kf {it is obvious he would have lost his q. by taking the p.} fxe . be b . h bd . qd qxf + . kxe bg + . kd rd - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "perigal"] [black "?"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . bc qh + . kf g . nc bg . g fxg . kg bxc {this is not advisable play.} . nf qg . bxf + kf {taking the bishop would evidently involve the loss of the queen.} . h qxe . dxc kxf . re qc . qd nf . bxg re . rxe nxe . qf + nf . kxg qd . ne + kg . bh + kg $ {white mates in two moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "?"] [black "staunton, howard"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. "] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . bc d . exd {it is better to play bxd .} nf . qf bd . h o-o . c c . dxc nxc . d ne . bxf qh + . g nxg . bxd nxh + . kf be . bd rad . bh bd . qf qh . nd ne . c ng . qg qh . rd qe . qf bg + . kxg nh + $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "desloges"] [black "kieseritzky"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game v., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f exf . bc b . bxb qh + . kf g . nf qh . be g . nd d . h bg . nb f . gxf gxh . f qh . d h . bf nc . d ba + . kg nh . rxh qf . be rg . qh nxd . nxd qxd . bxd bxd + . kh bc + . kh bf + . kh rg . rg ng . f rh + . kg rxh . c be . be nf + . kf nxe . rg + ke . rxc ng + . kg h + . kxg f + . kg rg + . kh rxc . a rcg . bc $ {and black mates in three moves.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "bornemann"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . f bc . nf d . c bg . bc nf . fxe bxf . qxf dxe . d nc . bg a . nd be . o-o-o qd . nf o-o-o . ne h . bh g . bg rdf . nd ne . d exd . cxd nd . bb bd . rhf nb . qe f . exf rxf . nb + {a manoeuvre altogether unforeseen by m. bornemann.} cxb . be rd . rf ne . kb re . rc + nc . bxd + rxd . d {capitally played. black can take it only at the expense of a piece.} nc . dxc rxe . cxd + {and black gives up the battle, after fighting for above nine hours.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "montgomery, h. p."] [black "mcadam, w. r."] [result " - "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [setup " "] [fen "rnbqkbnr/pppppppp/ / / / /pppppppp/r bqkbnr w kqkq - "] [plycount " "] . e e . f bc . nf d . h nc . c nf . qc o-o . b bb . b ne . fxe dxe . nxe ng . nf qe . d nd . be ne . bxe bxe . d f . e f . bc + kh . h bf . qe qa . bb ne . ng bg . h bf . h g . g qa . qc bxg . d nxd . rc bxc . qxd qxc + . kf be + . kxe qe + . kf bd . qg + rxg . nf # - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "pillsbury, h. n."] [black "schlechter, carl"] [result " - "] [eco "d "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, p. ."] [plycount " "] . d d . c e . nc nf . bg be . nf nbd . e b . rc {notes by w. steinitz.--white's game has been modelled chiefly after steinitz's favorite attack.} ({preferable is} . cxd exd . bb bb . ne $ ) ... bb . cxd exd . bd o-o . o-o c . bb {as often shown in my annotations in similar positions, it is absolutely injurious to white's game to allow three well-supportable pawns against two to be established on the queen's side. the prospect of a king's side attack on which white speculates is quite unreliable in comparison to the disadvantage on the queen's side to which he is subjected. at any rate, pawns ought to be exchanged first, and thus black's centre weakened.} ne {it was better to make sure of his superiority on the queen's side by c at once.} . bf nxc . rxc c . ne f {he had sufficient force on the king's side to ignore any hostile attack in that direction, and systematic operations on the other wing, commencing with b , were most in order.} . kh nxe . bxe bd . f bc {the combination of this with the next five moves, more especially with the two closely following, is full of high ingenuity, which, however, is wasted on an imaginary danger. for all purposes of defence it was only necessary to advance g at the right time, and then to play rf , followed by bf eventually. the queen's wing was still the proper point of attack to which he should have directed his attention more promptly.} . qh a . rf ra . rh g . qh bxe . fxe rg . rf b . rc qe {for aggressive purposes on the queen's side, the queen was better placed at c .} . rcf rff . h be . g {this rash attack and black's timid reply were only to be accounted for as results of time pressure on both sides.} qd {there was not the slightest danger in capturing the pawn with a pawn ahead, while this loses one.} . gxf gxf . qh rg . bxf bxf . rxf rxf . rxf b . qf c . bxc bxc . rf + kg . rb qe . qf h . e {a fatal miscalculation.} ( . rc {led to a most probable draw, for if} rg . qf + {etc.}) ... rxe . rc re {black seizes his opportunity with scientific exactitude.} . rc rxf . rxe + rf . re c . rg + kh . rg rb - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "marshall, frank j."] [black "janowsky, d."] [result " - "] [eco "d "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, p. ."] [plycount " "] . d d . c e . nc nf . bg nbd . nf be . e o-o . rc {marshall abandons his favorite variation qc .} re {janowsky also changes c , played in the earlier games.} . bd dxc . bxc a {janowsky's favorite manoeuvre, which might have been expected. therefore marshall could have played cxd previous to bd .} . o-o {a would have prevented the bishop being dislodged; but as he manages eventually to prevent black from keeping the majority of pawns on the queen's side, there is nothing to be said against it--except that he only keeps about an even game.} b . bd bb . qe c . dxc {this is compulsory, because of the threat c , followed by b .} nxc . bc {bb might be followed by b , when qe would take up the place which the r at f intends to occupy; but the move would have been better, nevertheless.} nd . bxe qxe . nxd bxd . b rac . e bb . b {it is doubtful whether the advance might not have been dispensed with, because of the threat nd , nb , and nc eventually. but marshall plays still for attack, not content with a draw in an even position.} nd . rfd nf . a rc {black has now the better game.} . bd rec . rxc rxc . qb rc {notes by l. hoffer.--qc could be played here.} . rc rd ({an alternative would be} ... qf . e qd . rxc qxc . qc qxc . bxc nd {winning the king pawn.}) . bb nd {qd or qc could be played. the text move gives white a chance to bring his queen effectively into play.} . qd nf . qe ng . qf nf . h ne . ne nd . ng nc {ne would have been safer.} . e kh . nf gxf {marshall did not expect this complaisance, and janowsky would not have obliged him had he seen the fatal . qh . ...nxe should have been played.} . qh {marshall risked losing the game in trying to win. his boldness was rewarded, but the verdict should be: don't try it again.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "lasker, dr."] [black "tarrasch, dr."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game i., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . d d . nc nf . bg bb . exd qxd . nf {the best line of play against the mccutcheon defence. it was played in a game sjoberg vs. giersing, stockholm, .} c {out of place in this position. nd or ne , would be alternatives--the former move in preference.} . bxf gxf . qd bxc . qxc {this excellent move was probably not taken into consideration by tarrasch when advancing c .} nd . rd rg ({if} ... cxd . rxd {and black could not challenge the queen with} qc {because of} . bc ) ({nor could} ... ke {be played, because of} . dxc qxc {would be answered with} . rxd + {winning the queen, and as the continuation in the text is hopeless, there remains the only alternative of ... o-o with a good enough game, all things considered.}) . dxc qxc . qd {simply posi tion play. black's forces are paralyzed, and the king fixed on the middle of the centre.} qb {qc at once seems comparatively better, and if necessary castles, and the case is not altogether hopeless.} . c a . qc f . g nc . bg qc . qe b . o-o bb . c b . qd rb . qh bxf . bxf qe . rfe qxb {not a judicious capture, to say the least.} . qf rc . qd f {this move, or resigning. there is nothing else. the latter course would be more to the purpose, unless a miracle is expected.} . bh + rg . bxg + hxg . rxe + - {pgn } [event "blindfold exhibition"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "bierwirth"] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ii., p. ."] [plycount " "] {played by mr. morphy without seeing the chess-board or men, against m. bierwirth.} . e e . d c . bd d . exd exd . nf bg . o-o bd . h bh . be nd . re ne . nbd bxf . nxf h . qd qc . c dxc . bxc f . ne o-o-o . be bxe . dxe kb . qc {a very ingenious move. if black takes qxe , he of course loses her by "bxa +, etc." and if with the kt. it costs him at least a piece.} nb . qa nbc . rac g . f gxf . bxf rd . qe re . qf qb + . kh rxe . rxe qb . re ng . bd qb . bxc rxc . bxh rh . bg rh . bf rf . qh nf . qxf {and black surrenders, after a struggle of nearly nine hours.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date " .??.??"] [round "?"] [white "pindar"] [black "montgomery, h. p."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . d d . exd qxd . nc bb . nf nf . bd {a favorite move with several of the strongest of modern players.} c {if white take dxc , the black {k. b.} is brought into play; and if not, the advance c is threatened.} . bd bxc . bxc c . be ne . o-o nxc {chiefly to double white's pawns.} . bxc nd {black foresaw the intended attack on c , and by providing for it in this way brought another piece into action.} . nd nb . a {white keeps up the attack on c with a great deal of vigor. the move of a was a very good one.} a . rb qc {the best move.} . bf qc . ne nxa . qd o-o . rb {the r. is well posted--for attack and defence.} f {black has now resumed the offensive.} . ng rb . d qd {threatening to take qxq if dxe , and attacking q. r. at the same time. there was still another motive for this move, viz.: to induce white to rxa , foreseeing the r. would be lost subsequently.} . rxa b {to enslave the rook.} . qf {an excellent move. in this and the succeeding moves, white played very well. his efforts were directed to saving his r., but, as the result showed, without success.} qb {apparently hazardous, but justified by the gain of time.} . dxe qb . e re . re be {we believe his best move.} . rxa {white was obliged to lose the exchange, although he fought manfully against it.} bxa . qe {another very good move in white.} rxe . nxf rf . nd rf . ne rf . qg rd {black's advantage in the exchange begins now to tell on the game.} . ng bd . bxd + rdxd . ne qxe {and black wins.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date " .??.??"] [round "?"] [white "philadelphia"] [black "new york"] [result " - "] [eco "b "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game iv., p. "] [mode "pm"] [plycount " "] . e c . d cxd . nf e . qxd nc . qd bc . bd nge . nc d . exd nxd . ne bb . bb o-o . bxc bxc . o-o f . ng qc . c nf . qc c . b bb . ng qc . f bc . re rae . bb g . re e . rae e . fxe bf . nh bxg . hxg nxe . ng nxg . qc qxg + . rxg rxe + . qxe nf + . kf nxe . rd f . gxf ng . rd rxf + . kg be . rg + kf . rxh ne . rh + kf . be rf + . kh nf . kh g . rc {and philadelphia announces mate in six moves.} - {pgn } [event "blindfold exhibition"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "preti"] [result " - "] [eco "b "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game v., p. ."] [plycount " "] {played by mr. morphy without seeing the chess-board or men, against m. preti.} . e c . d cxd . nf e . bc bb + . c dxc . bxc bc . nxe qf . bxf + kf . nd bb . bb d . ba nc . o-o nh . e qg . nf qg . ne + {this is more effectual than qxd at once.} bxe . qxd + kf . qd + kg . bxe qg . bd nxe . be + nf . qe + qf . bxf + kh . g + nxg . bxg + {and black surrenders.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "philadelphia, pa., usa"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "clements"] [black "lewis, dr."] [result " / - / "] [eco "b "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game vi., p. "] [plycount " "] . e c . d e {the proper move.} . nf d . exd exd . bb + nc . o-o nf . ne qb . bxc + bxc . re be . qe {well played.} cxd . nxf {this move, properly followed up, should have given white the game.} ne . nxh o-o-o . qf bc . rxe dxe . qxe re . b bd . qxe + bxe . bxc qxc . ba qxc . h d . bb qb . bc qc + . kh c . bd qc . a bc {allowing the escape of the knight.} . nf qd . nd + kd . nc be . bc qc . ncd bd . bxg c . bc qd . na qh . nb qg . f h . re h . re bc . nxa bxa . nxc bb . rd + kc . be + kb . rd + ka . rd + qxd . bxd bxc . bb kxa . kg kb . bd kc . kf kd . be ke . ke kf . bxh d {from this poin t, we believe black can draw the game against white's best possible play. the latter part of the game is well played by black.} . kxd kf . ke bd . kf kf . g bc . g + kg . f bd . f + kg . g be . f + kg . kg bd . kg be + . kg / - / {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date " . .??"] [round "?"] [white "thompson, james"] [black "montgomery, h. p."] [result " - "] [eco "b "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game vii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e c . c e . nc f . exf nf . nd d . bd nc . g nxd . cxd nd . nf h . gxh nxf . bb + bd . bxd + qxd . ng nd . d qf . be o-o-o . rc be . bxd exd . ne rde . rg bg . qe qf . rc bf . h kb . b qh . qg rhf . kd rxe . dxe d . rd qe . rxd qa + . ke qxa + . kf cxb . qe b . rd b . qc bd . rg b =q {and wins.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "anderssen"] [result " - "] [eco "b "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game viii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e d . exd qxd . nc qa . d e . dxe qxe + . be bb . nf bxc + . bxc qxc + . bd qc . rb nc . o-o nf . bf o-o . bxc nd . qxd qxc . bd bg . ng rfd . qb bc . rfe a . qe qxe . rxe nd . bxh + kh . rxf nc . re nxa . rf ra . bd - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "morphy"] [black "anderssen"] [result " - "] [eco "b "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game ix., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e d . exd nf . d nxd . c nf . nc bf . nf e . be bb . qb bxc + . bxc be . nd bc . bd nbd . qc h . o-o o-o . rae b . h qc . kh kh . rg rg . g g . f qf . rg rd . nf bxf . rxf qd . kg nh . fxg hxg . gxh g . hxg rxg + . kf f . qf ne . dxe qxd + . qe qe . bf qc . rd rxd + . qxd qxc + . qd qxa . rg qc . qxc rxc . rg rc . c a . ke rxc . rxe rc + . kf a . rg rc . rg a . e a . ra re . rxa rxe . kf rd . kxf rd + . kg b . ra + kh . ra rd . bg rg + . kh - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "philadelphia, pa. usa"] [date " . . "] [round "?"] [white "jones, dr."] [black "montgomery, h. p."] [result " - "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game x., p. ."] [setup " "] [fen "rnbqkbnr/ppppp pp/ / / / /pppppppp/rnbqkbnr w kqkq - "] [plycount " "] . e d . d nf . bd nc . be e . d ne . ne ng . h nh . o-o bxh . gxh nf + . kg nh + . kh qd . ng h . f exf . bxf o-o-o . bh be . nc g . bb c . dxc bxc . be h . e nh . bxh kb . bg qb . bf d . qe rhf . qd bc . nce g . bxg ng . qb bb . bg ng . rf rxf . exf + ka . qd ne . b ne . qd nxg . hxg rh + . kg qh . qd qh + . kf rf . be nxf . bd rf . qf qh . kg rg . be nxg . bxg ne + . kf qh + . kf $ {and black wins.} - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "philadelphia, pa. usa"] [date " . . "] [round "?"] [white "jones, dr."] [black "montgomery, h. p."] [result " - "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game xi., p. ."] [setup " "] [fen "rnbqkbnr/ppppp pp/ / / / /pppppppp/rnbqkbnr w kqkq - "] [plycount " "] . e e . d c . d nf . bg qa + . bd qc . nc be . f o-o . nf a . a c . be ng . qd nxe . qxe bc . nd e . fxe qxe . o-o-o b . kb b . nce d . ng bg . rd c . bxc bxc . qxc nd . ka rab . nge qe . rd nb $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "harrwitz"] [black "morphy"] [result " - "] [eco "a "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game xii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . d f . c e . nc nf . bg be . e o-o . bd b . nge bb . o-o nh . bxe qxe . ng nxg . hxg d . f nc . g nb . gxf exf . qe rae . rae qh . bb re . qf qh . d rh . qf qh . a {surely it would have been wiser to play ne .} na . b nb . ne nd . ng g . kf nf . rh ng + . kg qf . rxh nxh . qd ng . qd qh . nf re . g qh . b nf . qg qxg + . kxg a . a axb . axb ra . nd ra . e fxe . nxe nxe . bxe rc . bf kf . re bc . be bf . rd h . kf kf . rd bc . ke be . kf kf . ra h . gxh kxf . ra rh . rxc rh + . ke ke - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "harrwitz"] [black "morphy"] [result " - "] [eco "d "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game xiii., p. ."] [plycount " "] . d e . c d . nc nf . bf {a favorite move of mr. harrwitz, though decried by the chief authorities.} a . e c . nf nc . a cxd . exd dxc . bxc b . bd bb . o-o be . be o-o . qe nd . bg kh . rfe bf . qe g . nxd qxd . qxd exd . ne rad {had he taken nxd , white would have won at least the exchange by moving nd .} . nxc bxc . rac rc . bd rg . be kg {fearing to take the bishop lest white should obtain an entrance with the rook.} . f bd . kf h . ke {all this is exceedingly well played by white.} rxc . rxc rc . rc bxe . fxe be . a {the coup juste. from this point it would not be easy to improve on white's moves.} bxa . bxa rb . rb rd {better, perhaps, to have played the rd at once.} . rb ra . kd bc . bxc rxc . rb ra . rxd a . bxa rxa . rc kf . ke ke . d kd . rc h . rf ke . d + ke . e fxe . rxe + kf . d ra . rd ke . rxg kxd . rg rh . kf ke . kg h + . kg h . g kf . rh - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "anderssen"] [black "morphy"] [result " - "] [eco "a "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game xiv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . a e . c nf . nc d . cxd nxd . e be . nf bd . be o-o . d nxc . bxc e . nd f . f g . bc bxc . nxc gxf . exf qe . o-o qc . qb qd . rb b . qa c . qe nd . ne qe . c nf . rb kf . bb rac . kh rg . d cxd . cxd qd . nc ke . bxf + kxf . qb + kf . rh rg . qd kg . rh bf . d rf . rh qa . rc rc . rg + bg . h kh . rxg rxg . rc e . rxe rxc . qf rc + . kh qxf + $ - {pgn } [event "?"] [site "?"] [date "????.??.??"] [round "?"] [white "zukertort, j. w."] [black "steinitz, w."] [result " - "] [eco "c "] [annotator "the blue book of chess, game xv., p. ."] [plycount " "] . e e . nc nc . f exf . d qh + . ke d {the ingenious attack instituted hereby was invented by zukertort.} . exd bg + . nf o-o-o . dxc bc . cxb + kb . nb ( . dxc nf $ . qxd + {obtains three pieces for the q., but loses the game. qe , here or on the following move, offers the only defence.}) ... nf . kd {zukertort's analysis, which filled pages and pages of the neue berliner schachzeitung, considered every conceivable move of white's down to a , but this one, upon which, in conjunction with the following k. move, steinitz rested his gambit. . c has been refuted in an elaborate analysis by mr. walter penn shipley, of philadelphia.} qh . kc bxd + ( ... a . kb axb . c rxd $ . cxd qd + . kc bf + . kd bb + . ke ng $ {as played by messrs. honegger and raubitscheck in a consultation game against steinitz at the metropolitan chess club, . if, instead of kb , . nxc black wins by rxd !.}) . nbxd qc + . kb qb + . bb bxf . qxf rxd . qc qa . c rd . qc g ({had black, instead of his last move, pinned the b., the game would have proceeded as follows} ... rb . a a . bxf rxb . kc axb . axb qxb . bxc + {and wins.}) . kc {white has brought his k. into safety and will remain a piece ahead.} - end of pgn supplement [illustration: al. g. field, court and scott] watch yourself go by a book by al. g. field columbus, ohio copyrighted by al. g. field, illustrated by ben w. warden introductory watch yourself go by just stand aside and watch yourself go by; think of yourself as "he" instead of "i." note closely, as in other men you note, the bag-kneed trousers and the seedy coat. pick the flaws; find fault; forget the man is you, and strive to make your estimate ring true; confront yourself and look you in the eye-- just stand aside and watch yourself go by. interpret all your motives just as though you looked on one whose aims you did not know. let undisguised contempt surge through you when you see you shirk, o commonest of men! despise your cowardice; condemn whate'er you note of falseness in you anywhere. defend not one defect that shames your eye-- just stand aside and watch yourself go by. and then, with eyes unveiled to what you loathe-- to sins that with sweet charity you'd clothe-- back to your self-walled tenements you'll go with tolerance for all who dwell below. the faults of others then will dwarf and shrink, love's chain grow stronger by one mighty link-- when you, with "he" as substitute for "i," have stood aside and watched yourself go by. s. w. gilliland, in _penberthy engineer_. "to whom will you dedicate your book?" inquired george spahr. well, i hinted to my wife and pearl that i desired to bestow that honor upon them. they did not exactly demur, but both intimated that i had best dedicate it to some friend in the far distance who would probably never read it, or to some dear friend who had passed away and had no relatives living. several others approached did not seem to crave the honor, therefore i herewith dedicate this book to court; not that he is the best and truest friend i ever possessed, but for the reason that should the book not be received with favor he will respect me just the same. he will hunt for me, he will watch for me, he will love me all the more devotedly, serve me all the more faithfully, though the book were discredited. the more i see of dogs, the better i like dogs. it is claimed there is a kind of physiognomy in the title of a book by which a skilful observer will know as well what to expect from its contents as one does reading the lines. i flatter myself this claim will be disproved in this book. i am proud of the book, not that it contains much of literary merit, not that i ever hope it will be a "best seller," but for the reason it has afforded me days of enjoyment. in the writing of it i have communed with those whom i love. if those who peruse this book extract half the pleasure from reading its pages that has come to me while writing them, i will be satisfied. al. g. field. maple villa farm, july , . watch yourself go by an autobiography chapter one trust no prayer or promise, words are grains of sand; to keep your heart unbroken hold your child in hand. "al-f-u-r-d!" "al-f-u-r-d!!" "al-f-u-r-d!!!" the last syllable, drawn out the length of an expiring breath, was the first sound recorded on the memory of the first born. indeed, constant repetition of the word, day to day, so filled his brain cells with "al-f-u-r-d" that it was years after he realized his given patronymic was alfred. [illustration: the old well] "al-f-u-r-d!" "al-f-u-r-d!"--a woman's voice, strong and penetrating, strengthened by years of voice culture in calling cows, sheep, pigs, chickens and other farm-yard companions. the voice came in swelling waves, growing in menace, from around the corner of as quaint an old farm-house as ever sheltered a happy family. in the wake of the voice followed a round, rosy woman of blood and brawn, with muscular arms and sturdy limbs that carried her over grass and gravel at a pace that soon brought her within reach of the prey pursued--a boy of four years, in flapping pantalets and gingham frock. the "boy" was headed for the family well as fast as his toddling legs could carry him. forbidden, punished, guarded, the child lost no opportunity to climb to the top of the square enclosure and wonderingly peer down into the depths of the well. to prevent his falling headlong to his death--a calamity frequently predicted--was the principal concern of all the family. as the women folks were more often in the big kitchen than elsewhere, it became, as a matter of convenience, the daily prison of the first born. the board, across the open doorway, and the eternal vigilance of his guards, did not prevent his starting several times daily on a pilgrimage towards the old well. the turning of a head, the absence of the guards from the kitchen for a moment, were the looked-for opportunities--crawling under or over the wooden bar, and starting in childish glee for the old well. previous to the time of this narrative, the race invariably resulted in the capture of "young hopeful" ere the well was reached. the shrill cry: "al-f-u-r-d!" "al-f-u-r-d!" always closely followed by the young woman who did the scouting for the other guards, brought him to a halt. he was lifted bodily, thrown high into the air, caught in strong, loving arms as he came down, roughly hugged and good-naturedly spanked, and carried triumphantly back to his prison--the kitchen. here, seated upon the floor, he was roundly lectured by three women, who in turn charged one another with his escape. it was never _his_ fault. someone had turned a head to look at the clock, or the browning bread in the oven, turning to look at the cause of the controversy, not infrequently he was found astride the prison bar, or scampering down the path. that old well, or its counterpart, was surely the inspiration of "_the old oaken bucket_." however, their author was never imbued with fascination as alluring as that which influenced the first born in his desire to solve the, to him, mystery of the old well. the more his elders coaxed, bribed and threatened, the more vividly they depicted its dangers, the more determined he became to explore its darkened depths. the old well became a part of the child's life. he talked of it by day and dreamed of it by night. the big windlass, with its coil of seemingly never-ending chain, winding and unwinding, lowering and raising the old, oaken bucket green with age, full and flowing; the cooling water oozing between the age-warped staves, nurturing the green grasses growing about the box-like enclosure. how cooling the grass was to his feet as on tip-toes peeking over the top of the enclosure down into that which seemed to his childish imagination a fathomless abyss, so deep that ray of sun or glint of moon never penetrated to the surface of the water. the clanging of the chain, the grinding of the heavy bucket bumping against the walled circle as it descended, and the splash as it struck the water, were uncanny sounds to the boy's ears. the desire to look down, down into the old well's hidden secrets became to him almost a frenzy. the echoes coming up from its shadowy depths were as those of a haunted glen. he reasoned that all men and women were created to guard the well and that it was his only duty in life to thwart them. balmy spring, with its song birds, buzzing bees and sweet-smelling blossoms, coaxed every living thing out of doors; everything, except the first born and his guards. such was the situation when the bees swarmed. the guards "pricked up their ears," then, with eyes looking heavenward, and snatching up tin pans which they beat with spoons, sleigh-bells and other objects, they rushed from the kitchen to work the usual charm of the country folk in settling the swarming bees. thus unguarded, the little prisoner, carrying a three-legged stool that aided him in surmounting the bar across the kitchen door, trekked for the old well. planting the stool at one side of the square enclosure, he looked down into the cavernous depths; leaning far over, reached for the chain, with the intention of lowering the bucket, as he had often seen his elders do. "al-f-u-r-d!" "al-f-u-r-d!" and the sound of hurrying feet only urged the boy on. he had caught hold of the bucket and was leaning far over the dark opening when he felt a heavy hand upon his shoulders, and himself lifted from his high perch, only to be dropped sprawling on the ground with a shower of tin pans rattling about his devoted head. then the women, half fainting from fright, fell upon him, each in a desperate effort to first embrace him in thankfulness over his rescue from falling into the well. when the women recovered their "shock" the first born was lustily yelling for papa. mamma had him across her knee and was administering the first full-fledged, unalloyed spanking of his childish existence. he scarcely understood at first, then the full meaning of the threats the guards had used to cure him of his one absorbing mania began sifting into his brain through another part of his anatomy. he promised never, never again to peep into the old well. the guards believed him and for days thereafter he lived blissfully on their praises, while everyone, directly or indirectly interested, conceded that mamma's "spanks" had finally broken the charm of the old well for the boy. however, the little prisoner was removed to another cell--the big, front room upstairs--the door securely locked. a large, open window looked out upon the front yard and below the window near the house was the old well. one evening the men, returning from the field, halted to slake their thirst at the well, the up-coming of the old oaken bucket brought from its depths a half-knit woolen sock and a ball of yarn. a strand of yarn reaching to the window above told the story. later, a turkey wing, used as a fan in summer and to furnish wind for an obdurate wood fire in winter, was found limply swimming in the bucket. indeed, for days thereafter, divers articles, missed from the big, front room, accompanied the bucket on its return trips. when one of grandpap's well-worn sunday boots was brought to the surface, it was believed that the last of the missing articles from the big room had been recovered. however, the disappearance of grandma's little mantelpiece clock was never explained. uncle joe and aunt betsy stopped their old mare in front of the house and in chorus shouted "hello!" as was the custom of neighbors passing on their way to or from town. the whole family, including "al-f-u-r-d," betook themselves to the roadside to gossip. "al-f-u-r-d," busy as usual, clambered up over the muddy wheels into the vehicle. he was praised by uncle and aunt for his obedience, and promised candy when they returned from town. clambering down he missed his footing and narrowly escaped being trampled upon by the old mare who was vigorously stamping and swishing her tail to keep off the flies. dragged from under the buggy he was soon out of the minds of the gossiping group, curiosity drew him to the old well. circling it at a respectful distance, he said: "naughty ole well, don't thry to coax me 'caus i won't play with you, nor look down in you never no more. there!" passing to the side farthest from the unsuspecting guards, the handle of the windlass was within his reach. instinctively the desire seized him to lower the bucket, pulling out the ratchet that held it, the old oaken bucket began its unimpeded descent. slowly at first, gaining momentum with each revolution of the windlass, down it fell, bumping against the sides of the well, chain clanging and windlass whirring. it struck the bottom with a splash that re-echoed, followed by a woman's scream so piercing that the old mare started forward. it flashed on the minds of all that at last their predictions were verified. it was all up with "al-f-u-r-d." they pictured him falling, falling--down, down--his bruised, bleeding body sinking to the bottomless depths of the old well. [illustration: uncle joe and aunt betsy] uncle joe's feet caught in the handle of a market basket as he leaped from the buggy and the greater number of his dozens of fresh eggs reached the roadside a scrambled mass. the women guards gave vent to a series of screams that brought the men hurrying from the fields. "al-f-r-u-d" was found, limp and apparently lifeless, his head tucked under his body, clothes over his head, exposing the larger part of his anatomy--a pitiable lump, lying in the sandy path twenty feet from the well. the handle of the windlass had caught him across the shoulders, sending him flying through the air. for days thereafter "al-f-u-r-d" was swathed in bandages and bathed with liniments; for a time, at least, the family was free from the cares of guarding the old well. the old well has given way to a modern pump, the old house has been remodeled, but the impressions herein recorded are as clear to the memory of the man today as they were to the child of that long ago. chapter two trouble comes night and day, in this world unheedin', but there's light to find the way-- that is all we're needin'. "al-f-u-r-d-!" "al-f-u-r-d!" al-f-u-r-d!" town life had not diminished the volume of malinda linn's voice. it was far-reaching as ever. malinda was familiarly called "lin"--in print the name looks unnatural and chinese-like. lin linn was about the whole works in the family. her duties were calling, seeking and changing the apparel of "al-f-u-r-d", duties she discharged with a mixture of scoldings and caresses. when the family moved to town to live, lin became impressed with the propriety of bestowing the full baptismal name upon the first born, and to his open-eyed wonderment, he was addressed as "alfred griffith." but when lin called him from afar--and she usually had to call him, and then go after him--it was always "al-f-u-r-d!" a bunch of misery, pale and limp, was lying in the family garden between two rows of tomato vines, the earth about him disturbed from his intermittent spasms. a big, greenish, yellowish worm was crawling over his head, his tow-like hair whiter by contrast; upon his forehead great drops of perspiration. [illustration: the first cigar] he heard lin's calls but could not answer. he half opened his eyes as she approached him. berating him roundly for hiding from her, bending over him, the pallor of his face frightened her. her screams would have abashed a camanche indian. tenderly taking up the almost unconscious boy, she hastened toward the house, frightened members of the family and several nearby neighbors attracted by her screams. crowded around "al-f-u-r-d" all busied themselves in assisting in placing him in bed. his hands were rubbed, his brow bathed, the air about agitated with a big palm-leaf fan while the doctor was summoned. when the family doctor arrived "al-f-u-r-d's" shirt-waist was opened in front and a big, greenish, yellowish worm fell to the floor. this, and that sickening smell of green tomato vines, assisted the good doctor in his diagnosis. to know the disease is the beginning of the cure. hot water and mustard administered in copious draughts, the little rebellious stomach, made more so by this treatment, began sending up returns. thus was relieved "the worst case of tomato poisoning that had, up to that time, come under the doctor's observation." at that time the tomato had not long been an edible. indeed many persons refused to consider them as such, growing them for merely ornamental purposes, displaying them on mantels and window sills. tomatoes were commonly called "jerusalem" or "love apples." on this occasion the doctor dilated at length on its past bad reputation and the lurking poison contained in vine and fruit. the blinds were lowered and alfred slept. the nurses tiptoed from the room, to return, tip-toeing to the bed to see how he was resting, then returning to the kitchen to advise the anxious ones there that he was resting easy. poor lin was "near distracted" no sooner was it announced that "al-f-u-r-d" was out of danger than she began gathering the "green tomattisus" lying in irregular rows on various window sills to ripen in the sun, giving vent to her pent-up "feelings" thus: "huh! tomattisus! never was made to eat. they ain't no good, no-way. pap's right. they're called jerusalem apples 'caus they wuz first planted by the jews, who knowed their enemies would eat 'em an' git pizened an' die of cancers, an' lord knows what else." she carried the offending fruit to the family swill barrel, where the leavings of the table were deposited. as she raised one big tomato to drop it into the barrel, her hand paused, as she soliloquized: "no, if tomattisus will pizen pee-pul, they'll pizen hogs. they ain't fit for hogs nohow. they ain't fit fer nuthin' but heathens an' sich like, as oughter be pizened." turning to one of several neighbors, whose looks denoted disapproval of wilful waste, she benevolently emptied the tomatoes into the woman's upheld apron, remarking: "lordy. yer welcome to 'em if yer folks like 'em an' ain't carin' much when they die. take 'em. ye kin have 'em an' welcome." while the father was yanking the noxious tomato plants out by the roots and sprinkling the ground with lime, "al-f-u-r-d" began showing symptoms of returning life. after the nurses had tiptoed from the room, supposedly leaving him in deep slumber, he threw back the linen sheets and slid from the bed on the side farthest from the open door leading to the kitchen. cautiously creeping to where lay his trousers--inserting a hand in the deep pocket, which had been put in by lin by special request--he drew out two long, dark, worm-like objects, holding them at arm's length gagging anew at even the sight of them. staggering to the cupboard dropping them into a box half filled with similar worm-like objects, he staggered back to bed as quickly as his weakened condition would permit, suppressing another upheaval of his stomach with greatest effort. notwithstanding the objects mentioned were ed. hurd's best three-for-a-cent stogies, and "al-f-u-r-d" had smoked less than four of the six inches of one of the big, black cigars, the stub of which he had buried near the spot where lin found him, it was several days before he took kindly to food, or, as was generally supposed, had wholly thrown off the baneful effects of the tomato poisoning. while convalescing, afternoon walks were taken near home, circling the episcopal church, back through the old, green graveyard, or a little lower down the hill where the village boys could be seen and heard swimming and splashing in the river. to take part in this sport, to get to the river, to plunge into its cooling depths, "al-f-u-r-d" had a soul-yearning, even more powerful than that of the old well. but he had been sworn, bribed, placed upon his honor and threatened with dire tortures, should he even venture nearer the river than the top of the hill. the yearning would not down. it grew in intensity. he would stand on the front rail of his trundle bed, night and morning, with arms extended above him, palms together, to dive, to split the imaginary water, take a header into the soft, downy tick; then thresh his arms about in swimming fashion as he had seen the big boys cavort in the river. nearer and nearer to the river his newest allurement carried him, until one day he found himself on a strange path leading into a large yard in which stood a neat, white house, with green blinds. purling at his feet, bubbling from an invisible source, was a brook of clear, cold water. very cold it felt to his bare feet as he waded up and down over it's sandy, pebbly bed, the water reaching barely to his ankles. wading nearer to the fountain head, the depth gradually increased. here was young hopeful's long-sought-for opportunity to dive, swim and otherwise disport himself as did the big boys. off came pantalets, waist and undercoverings, through the pure, cold water he waded. with teeth chattering and flesh quivering, holding his hands above his head, under he went. he was having the time of his life, and so busy was he at it that his attention was not attracted by the opening of a door in the nearby white house and the sudden appearance of an elderly, grim-looking woman behind a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles; brandishing a long, swinging buggy whip, with broad, bright bands here and there along its length. rushing toward the boy, she angrily shouted: "you little scamp, i'll skin ye alive!" "al-f-u-r-d," with a cry, bounded from the water, grabbed for his clothes, missed them, and started on a race at a pace that left no doubt as to the winner. a big dog and another elderly woman--the counterpart of her-behind-the-spectacles--joined in the chase, the dog's deep bays greatly accelerating the already beat-all-record-time of the terrified "al-f-u-r-d." as he neared the parental roof, he let out a series of yells with "mother!" "lin!" "help!" "murder!" sandwiched between. the nearer he drew, the louder the yelps, for he knew he would need sympathy, even though the gold-rimmed glasses and the other elderly pursuer had been distanced by many lengths. lin said when she first heard the screams, she "thought it was only the old crazy woman under the hill havin' another spell. but when they come gittin' nearer an' nearer, she knew it was "al-f-u-r-d" an' somethin' turrible had happened." it was then lin, mother and several neighboring females rushed to the front door as "al-f-u-r-d" flew in at the gate, up the path and into his mother's outstretched arms, endeavoring to pull her apron about his nudity. "where's your clothes?" demanded the frightened mother. "where are they?" "who took them off you?" "she did! she did!" howled "al-f-u-r-d," jerking his head toward the gate, just as the elderly woman behind the spectacles entered. trembling with fear she began to explain and apologize to lin and the mother, frequently turning to "al-f-u-r-d" to entreat him to come to her, assuring him that he need not fear her. but the big buggy whip, with the silver bands, dangled above his head and the more she entreated the louder his yells and the further he forced himself into his mother's garments. [illustration: she did! she did!] lin grabbed his clothes from the spectacled lady berating both soundly, giving them but little opportunity to explain. others joined in the wordy attack, much to the elderly woman's confusion and shame. the fact that they were old maids, living alone and associating with but few of their neighbors, lent bitterness to the invectives hurled at them, the climax was reached with a parting shot from lin: "drat ye!" she exclaimed, "if ye had yungins of yer own--which is lucky for 'em that ye haven't--ye'd have some hearts in yer withered old frames." the spectacled maiden, apparently more frightened than the other, began to feel what a monster she was, what an awful crime she had committed, following an embarrassing pause, the effect of lin's final shot, mother again demanded the cause of "al-f-u-r-d's" nudity. "i s'pose i ought to have pulled down the blinds," she began apologetically, "and let him have his swim out. likely it wouldn't have hurt the spring much. still a body doesn't like to drink water out of a spring that a boy's been swimmin' in, no matter if his folks are clean about their house-keeping." she was certainly sorry and so anxious to caress "al-f-u-r-d" that she and the mother made it up, then and there, and many an afternoon thereafter did the two spend together bemoaning the evil spirit that had prompted the boy to make a swimming hole of the family spring. kindly invitations nor the promise of sponge cake ever induced "al-f-u-r-d" to again visit the grounds, or the white house with green blinds, a buggy whip with silver bands on it, a big dog and two old maids who, according to lin, "didn't know nuthin' 'bout children." chapter three in the heydey of youth he was awfully green, as verdant in truth as you have ever seen; but he soon learned to know beans so it seems. "there's shorely sumthin' 'bout water that bewitches that boy," often remarked lin. "i never seen the like of it. i'll bet anything he'll be a baptis' preacher some day, jes' like billy hickman." there never was a boy reared in brownsville whose heart does not beat a little faster, whose breath does not come a little quicker, whose cheeks do not turn a little redder when his mind goes back to the old swimming place near johnson's saw-mill, where the big rafts of lumber were moored seemingly for the pleasure and convenience of every boy in town. the big boys had their spring-boards for diving on the outside where the current was swifter, the water deeper, the little ones their mud slides and boards to paddle about and float on in the shallow, still water between the rafts and the bank. there may have been factions and social distinctions as between the inhabitants of the little town when garbed and groomed, but in the nudity of the old swimming place there was a common level, and all met on an equal footing. james g. blaine, philander c. knox, professor john brashear and many others, who have climbed the ladder of fame, were boys among boys in this old swimming hole. it was here they were given their first lessons in courage and self-reliance. a balmy afternoon in late june the boys of the town were in swimming; "al-f-u-r-d" could plainly hear their shouts of glee as he sat in the front yard at home. how he longed to participate in their sports. what wouldn't he give to be free like other boys? was there ever a boy who did not feel that he was imposed upon, who did not imagine he was abused above all others? such was the feeling of "al-f-u-r-d". he had been subjected to a scrubbing. lin had unmercifully bored into his ears with a towel shaped like a gimlet at one corner, assuring his mother he was "dirtier 'an the dirtiest coal digger in town." he was arrayed in a clean gingham suit, topped with an emaculate white shirt, flowing collar and straw hat. lin spent a long time in curling his hair despite protests. those curls were "al-f-u-r-d's" abomination. the more he abominated them the longer they grew. they reached down to the middle of his back. arranged in a semi-circle, extending from temple to temple, they made his head appear so abnormally large his slender body seemed scarcely able to support it. he seemed top-heavy with his long curls. [illustration] "al-f-u-r-d" was to go alone to grandfather's and escort him home to dinner. there was to be company, and lin was determined that "al-f-u-r-d" and his curls should appear at their best. the road of life starts the same for all of god's children. the innocent babe, fresh fallen from heaven to blossom on earth, sees nothing but the beautiful at the beginning of the journey. the road is strewn with flowers and it is only when the prick of the thorn is felt that one realizes one is on the wrong road. for just one short block "al-f-u-r-d," on the occasion referred to, traversed the right road. there the right road turned abruptly to the left. there was no road "straight ahead," but the river was there. the sound of boys' voices shouting in high glee came floating up from the old swimming place. school had let out and every boy in town was in swimming. "al-f-u-r-d" blazed a new trail to the river. climbing over the paling fence surrounding the burying ground, through back yards, descending the steep hill, he found himself standing on the bank of the river gazing at a spectacle that stirred his young blood--half a hundred nude boys diving, splashing, swimming and shouting were in the river below. [illustration: the new boy in town] his appearance was greeted with yells and laughter. he was a "new boy" in town. "al-f-u-r-d" was abashed by the reception accorded him. of all the howling horde in the water below there was but one familiar face, that of cousin charley. "take off your curls and come on in, sissy," shouted one of the swimmers. a dozen of them assured "al-f-u-r-d" the water was "jest bully." entreaties of "come on in," came from dozens of boys. advice of all kinds came from others. the reference to the curls made "al-f-u-r-d" wince. he had long felt that those curls were the one great impediment in his life--the one something that made him the butt of the jokes and gibes of other boys. he hated those curls. his first swimming experience doubly intensified his hatred for curls. evening was drawing near. the big yellow sun had dropped behind krepp's knob, the shadows of the hills almost reached across the ruffled surface of the river. the river bottoms at the base of the hills, with their waving grasses and tassled corn, extending beyond the bend in the river opposite albany, the old wooden bridge farther up the river, the high hills behind him, presented a scene of beauty all of which was lost upon "al-f-u-r-d." the boys in the river held him entranced. he was absorbed in the scene, and, for the moment, he even forgot his curls. writers frequently refer to the monongahela river as "murky"--but where's the boy who ever basked in its cooling waves who will not qualify the statement that its waters are the clearest, its depths the most delightful, its ripples the softest and its shores the smoothest? jimmy edmiston intimated to the writer that the monongahela was only clear during a "cheat river rise." (cheat is the name of a small stream of virginia emptying into the monongahela above brownsville. its waters are never muddy, no matter how heavy or protracted the rains along its course. when the cheat river pours its transparent flood into the monongahela the latter rises without riling. hence the expression: "cheat river rise.") jimmy has so long lived away from brownsville that his memory is defective. associated with the muddy missouri he labors under the delusion that all rivers are muddy--even the monongahela. [illustration: the old swimming hole] "al-f-u-r-d" was rudely caught from behind by several boys, undressed in less time than it took lin to hang the hat on his curls. nor had he barely been reduced to a state of nudity when some unregenerate in the river below let fly a lump of soft, mushy mud, large as a gourd. the mud landed squarely on the broader part of his slight anatomy. with a yelp he wiggled loose from his captors and bounded up the hill. his slender legs and body, topped with the large crop of atmospherically agitated curls, made him a figure so ludicrous that the boys yelled in ecstacy at the sight. "al-f-u-r-d" was recaptured by two stout-armed boys, one on either side. they carried him to the top of the "mudslide." "slick 'er up," came the cry from all sides. this had reference to the slide upon which fell a veritable cloudburst of water splashed up from the river by the hands of a dozen devilish youngsters. "al-f-u-r-d" was elevated to the height of the heads of his tormentors. in chorus from the mob at the words, "one, two, three," he was dropped to the slide, striking its soft, slick surface in an angular attitude, with feet and legs waving a strenuous protest above his head. the fall gave him a momentum that sent him over the slippery surface at a speed that rushed him into the river with eyes and mouth wide open. with a splash, under he went, forcing great gulps of water down his throat. strangling and choking, he came to the surface, spouting like a whale calf. [illustration: the slippery slide] what a shout of merriment went up from his tormentors. barely had he taken in a full breath than a bad boy--they were all bad, at least "al-f-u-r-d" so informed lin afterwards--again forced his head under water. "duck 'im agin!" someone shouted as his curls floated on the surface of the water above his hidden body. for the third time "al-f-u-r-d" ducked--or rather, was ducked, swallowing another quart or two of monongahela. coming up cork-like, he tried to make his escape. up the bank he ran choking and crying. unfortunately, he took the track of the slide. half way up his feet flew from under him, landing him upon his stomach. back he slid, feet first, his nose plowing up the soft mud, his mouth filling with the same substance. terrified beyond expression, under the water he went, choking, strangling, struggling. he felt that his time had come. popping to the surface, one of the older boys stood him upon his feet, washed the mud from his mouth and nose and, by sundry "shakes," partially emptied him. fearing they had gone too far with their hazing, some of the larger boys led him further into the stream, handling him as tenderly as they had roughly, assuring him of perfect safety. he was caused to lie on his stomach and, with cousin charley holding his broad, calloused palm against his chest, "al-f-u-r-d" was given his first lesson in swimming. one boy declared, even before "al-f-u-r-d" had moved a muscle, that he had already learned to swim. it was the consensus of opinion that the only thing that prevented his swimming was his curls. to overcome this handicap his hair was braided, tied and cross-tied and his top-heaviness reduced to a dozen scattered knobs and knots--knots pulled so tight they glaringly exposed the white scalp between, and the tying of which brought tears to his eyes. even this rearrangement did not prevent his sinking time and again as the lesson progressed and finally, the mischievousness of his instructors appeased, he was led, half-dead, out of the water, up the steep bank to where he had been disrobed. as he stooped to gather up his rumpled garments a most welcome sound came to his ears: "al-f-u-r-d!" "al-f-u-r-d!" contrary to his usual custom, the second syllable was not off the lips of lin until, in his loudest tone, he shouted: "yes,'m!" when he called for lin to "come and get me," all the boys took a header into the river, only their faces and hair-covered heads appearing above the surface; they treaded water, or swayed around on the bottom. as "al-f-u-r-d" looked back on them they seemed like so many decapitated heads floating in space, a sight that dwelt in his memory long afterwards. when "al-f-u-r-d" gathered his garments into his arms, endeavoring to hide his nudity, and started toward the voice, a laugh went up that made the valley echo. lin declared: "if the tarnel critters had been dressed, she'd have thrown every last devil of 'em off the raft into the river." owing to conditions she hid behind mrs. hubbard's house and not until "al-f-u-r-d," in his unrecognizable appearance rounded it, did he come face to face with his rescuer. crying and sobbing he fell into lin's arms. firing a volley of imprecations upon the horde that had wrought the wreck before her, lin kept up a continuous tirade against the boys in the river; and addressing herself to "al-f-u-r-d" between speeches, she said: "fur gracious, goodness sake, ef you don't look like granny gadd with yer hair braided over yer head like this; hyar ye air trapesin' through town agin, mos' naked like ye did las' week. the hull town'll be talkin' about ye. ye'll give us all a bad name. why didn't ye put on yer clothes?" "al-f-u-r-d" sobbingly informed lin of the cruelties heaped upon him in which cousin charley had taken part. lin's anger increased as the boy talked. when he told of them throwing him down in the water times without number, lin's indignation burst all bonds. shaking "al-f-u-r-d" violently she fairly yelled as she demanded to know what he was doing while they were throwing him down. "al-f-u-r-d" between sobs, answered: "i wasn't doin' nuthin'; i was gettin' up all the time." lin's answer was a jerk that lifted the boy off the earth. as she smacked her palms together, she defiantly hissed: "ef ye had my spunk, ye'd hev knocked hell's delight out of some of 'em." the defiance of lin, the thoughts of the cruelties practiced upon him, or some other force, changed the boy's manner instantly from sobbing and supplicating. he became screamingly aggressive. flying to the roadbed, which had a plentiful supply of loose stone on it, he began a fusillade on the enemy below that drove the whole horde from the raft into the river. "al-f-u-r-d" had practiced stone throwing since he wore clothes and, like all boys of that period, his aim was most accurate, as several of those in the old swimming hole on that eventful day will testify. a rain of stones fell on the raft; one boy, more venturesome than the others, started up the hill but "al-f-u-r-d's" fire repulsed him. lin, hidden behind the house, had changed her manner and was now pleading with "al-f-u-r-d" to desist. "ye might crack some of their skulls and then they'd git out a warrant and rease lynch (referring to the town constable), would be after ye." "al-f-u-r-d" left the line of battle only when exhausted. that first swimming lesson and the fusillade of rocks that followed engendered animosities that involved "al-f-u-r-d" in many rough and tumble encounters afterwards. lin, catching up the clothes the boy had dropped upon the ground, soon discovered why he had not put them on. the sleeves of the waist were dripping wet and tied in knots as tight as two big, strong boys could pull them. the pantalets were first unraveled, reversed, pulled over the sand-covered limbs of the boy, the waist wrapped about his shoulders, (the knots in the sleeves could not be untied), his hat pushed down on his head owing to the arrangement of his hair until it rested on his ears. the procession started homeward, up alleys, through back yards to prevent being seen by the neighbors, until lin hoisted the boy over the fence at the lower end of the garden. the whole family had congregated in the back yard, all greatly disturbed over "al-f-u-r-d's" absence. as he dropped into the garden from the top of the fence he began crying, as was his wont, to create sympathy. [illustration: lin and "al-f-u-r-d"] as he wended his way up the garden walk, the mother shouted: "lin, where on earth has he been?" "in the river over his head. it's a wonder he wern't drowned to death." the mother breathed a silent prayer that he had been preserved to them. father deftly slid his hand into his left side trouser's pocket and, pulling forth a keen-bladed knife, cut a slender, but tough, sprout from the black-heart cherry tree. tenderly taking the boy by the arm, he slowly led him to the cellar and introduced another innovation into the fast unfolding life of the first born. the pilgrimages of father and son to the recesses of that dark, damp cellar became frequent. the innovations of town life were so many, "al-f-u-r-d's" unknowing feet fell into so many pitfalls, the father, affectionate, even indulgent, felt he was in duty bound to use the rod. in fact, the old cellar, the rod, the boy and the father, were a cause of comment among those familiar with the family. uncle jake said: "john never asked what 'al-f-u-r-d' had done when he returned home, but simply asked, 'where is he?' escorting him to the cellar and chastizing him on general principles." lin said: "habits will grow on peepul, and even when 'al-f-u-r-d' does nothin', he jes' goes to the cellar and waits to be whipped." chapter four from the sweet-smelling maryland meadows it crawled, through the forest primeval, o'er hills granite-walled; on and up, up and on, till it conquered the crest of the mountains--and wound away into the west. 'twas the highway of hope! and the pilgrims who trod it were lords of the woodland and sons of the sod; and the hope of their hearts was to win an abode at the end--the far end of the national road. brownsville. do you not know where it is located? do not ask any human being who ever lived in brownsville as to its location on the map--that is, if you value his friendship. your ignorance of geography will be exposed and you will be plainly informed: "we do not want anything to do with a person who does not know where brownsville is located." [illustration: market street, brownsville] strange as it may seem, though many excellent histories have been written, there is none extant that has given any full and adequate description of brownsville's early days and people--quaint, curious, serious, humorous, wise and otherwise--good people all. brownsville was the most important town on that "modern appian way," the national road, or pike, extending from baltimore, maryland, to the ohio river, and lengthened beyond, in after years, to cincinnati and richmond, indiana. brownsville was founded soon after this country gained its independence, although it had been an established frontier post long before known as red stone old fort. it was the center of the whiskey insurrection, during which george washington gained his first military experience in the west, experience that would have saved braddock's defeat and death, had he taken washington's advice, and might have changed the entire history of this nation. but that england should control the american colonies is but repeating history. england is the only country in the world that has successfully colonized her foreign possessions. therefore, brownsville was founded, and mostly settled, by the english, and to this day her foremost citizens are englishmen. this statement of facts does not detract from the estimable qualities of the low dutch who have drifted in from bedford and somerset counties. brownsville outputs--"monongahela rye whiskey" and chattland's crackers are world-famous food essentials. brownsville was at the head of navigation on the monongahela river in the palmy days of the old "pike." unlike the appian way, of which there is no connected history but only glimpses of it in the bible, the old "pike" is embalmed in history, in poem and prose. it commemorates an epoch in history as fascinating as any recorded. a highway so important, so largely instrumental in the country's early greatness and development that it strengthened the ties between the states and their peoples. its legends so numerous, its incidents so exciting that their chronicles read like fiction. brownsville grew and prospered while the old "pike" was at the height of its greatness. it was here the travellers from the east or the west either embarked or disembarked from the river steamers or the overland stage coach. in the year the writer spent four days and parts of as many nights in a stage coach journey from wheeling, west virginia, to baltimore, maryland, over the national road. in august, , the same distance was covered in an automobile in a little over a day and a night, with many stops and visits to historical spots marked by recollections of the old days and nights of this king's highway. brownsville, in the halcyon days of the national pike, was of greater commercial importance than pittsburg, her banks ranking higher and her manufactories more numerous. this supremacy was maintained from to . when the baltimore & ohio railroad was opened to the west, the glories of the old "pike" began to fade. the mechanical establishments, especially the boat-building and marine engine shops, among the biggest interests of brownsville, kept in the lead until well into the days of the civil war. now, reader, will you not be a bit abashed to ask: "where is brownsville?" to henry clay belongs the credit of first urging congress to appropriate funds to build the national road, but to albert gallatin, who was from the brownsville section and achieved great distinction while treasurer of the united states, belongs the honor of its conception. he was the first to advocate the great benefits that would accrue to the country if such a road were constructed. washington, when a mere youth, sent to england a report urging the advisability of a military road from the coast to the ohio river. he suggested the indian trail across the allegheny mountains. this trail was afterwards named braddock's road. it should have been called washington's road, as he, at the head of a detachment of virginia troops, traversed it one year before braddock's disastrous invasion of the west. all roads led to brownsville in those days. did you ever hear of workman's hotel in brownsville? it stands today as it did one hundred years ago, at the head of market street. it has housed jackson, harrison, clay, sam houston, davy crockett, james k. polk, shelly, lafayette, winfield scott, pickens, john c. calhoun, and hundreds of others of less note. james workman, the landlord of this old house of entertainment, was noted for his hospitality and punctuality. when "old hickory" jackson, on his way to washington to be inaugurated president--for be it remembered the old "pike" was the only highway between the east and west--was workman's guest, the citizens of brownsville tendered the newly elected president a public reception. the presbyterian church was crowded, the exercises long drawn out. during their progress, jimmy workman stalked down the middle aisle. facing about, after passing the pew in which general jackson sat, he said, in a voice plainly heard all over the church: "general jackson, dinner is ready and if you do not come soon it won't be fit to eat." so great was workman's devotion to his guests that he imagined the dinner was more essential than speeches or prayers, and such was the respect for the famous landlord that the services were curtailed. brownsville and bridgeport were boroughs separated by dunlap's creek, spanned by the first iron bridge built in america. it is standing today as solid as the reputation of the old burgs it joins together. brownsville had the first bridge that spanned the monongahela river. in fact brownsville had a bridge long before pittsburgh. while bill brown and his progenitors were ferrying pittsburgh inhabitants across the river in a skiff, brownsville folks were crossing on a "kivered" bridge. and were it not for further humiliating bill brown, the discoverer of pittsburgh, still greater glories could be recalled for brownsville. james g. blaine was born on the west bank of the monongahela river. the land on which the blaine house stood was the property of an indian, peter by name. he sold the land to blaine's grandfather, neil gellispie, the price agreed upon being forty shillings an acre, payable in installments of money, iron and one negro man, a slave. ye gods! how did the "plumed knight's" detractors in the "rum-romanism-and-rebellion" campaign overlook the fact that the blaines once bought and sold slaves? [illustration: james g. blaine's home] philander c. knox was born on the hill on the east side of the river. professor john brashear was born on the western edge of the town. elisha gray, the original inventor of the telephone, was from brownsville; as were john herbertson, builder of the first iron bridge in the united states; john snowden, builder of two iron gunboats for the civil war, and bishop arnett, of ohio. brownsville first promulgated a word of slang that has greatly beautified the english language. but let it be recorded to the old town's credit, the evil was propagated without malice aforethought. brownsville's borough limits show its shape to be somewhat like that of a hot-air balloon--a big body with a neck; and the narrow strip of land between the river and dunlap's creek stretching toward bridgeport from time out of mind has been designated by the inhabitants of either side of the creek as the "neck." brownsville had a temperance revival. strict observance of the liquor laws was being enforced. jack beckley was haled to court on a dray, too oblivious of everything to answer any charge. the burgess, before committing him to the lock-up, questioned the watchman, jim bench, as to where jack got his liquor. "did he get it on the hill?" the officer truthfully answered: "no, he got it in the neck." the town took up the phrase and thereafter any person who met with any sort of mishap "got it in the neck." [illustration: a national pike freighter] chapter five no wonder cain went to the bad and left no cause to praise him; no neighbors, who had ever had boys of their own, came telling ad and eve how they should raise him. "al-f-u-r-d" learned with his first swimming lesson that kinship does not lend immunity; in fact, lin asserted that cousin charley's kinship was only a cloak of deception. however, the more cousin charley teased the younger boy the greater "al-f-u-r-d's" admiration and yearning for his companionship. lin cautioned "al-f-u-r-d" to shun cousin charley as he would a "wiper." lin could never pronounce her v's. when she went to the grocery and asked for "winegar," the young clerk laughed outright. the next visit lin simply said: "smell the jug and gin me a quart." when the mother admitted she feared cousin charley would ruin "al-f-u-r-d's" disposition, lin followed with the declaration that cousin charley "layed awake nights makin' up lies about "al-f-u-r-d" to git his pap to whup him." lin said: "why, he don't do a thing all the live-long day but git 'al-f-u-r-d' in scrapes and muss his curls." after the swimming hole experience "al-f-u-r-d's" parent forbade cousin charley the house. uncle bill, who was responsible for cousin charley's being, also ordered cousin charley to seek a home elsewhere, enforcing the order by advising cousin charley that he had done all that he intended to do for him. in forceful words cousin charley was told that he must "dig for himself," that "he could not stay anywhere no matter how good the job, that he always got into some kind of a scrape and his father was tired of it." "go out in the world and dig for yourself like i did. then you'll hold a job when you get one." cousin charley took genuine delight in being thus exiled. he endeavored to work on the sympathies of all with whom he conversed, reporting that uncle john and aunt mary had driven him from their house and that his father had driven him from home, advising him to dig for himself. charley dwelt so upon the phrase "dig for yourself" that it became a sort of cant saying. cousin charley called at "al-f-u-r-d's" home to gather his essential personal effects. his woe-begone looks so touched "al-f-u-r-d" that tears more than once filled his eyes as the elder boy continued his preparations to leave. "al-f-u-r-d's" sorrow so touched the mother that she began to relent. but cousin charley, like many other persons who have injured their family when taken to task, felt a sort of pride in doing something he imagined would cause them further pain. cousin charley was obdurate to any overtures towards a reconciliation, or at least pretended to be. go he would. he had poor "al-f-u-r-d" entirely miserable as he listened to the recitation of the many wrongs he declared he had suffered. "i've worked harder than any boy in brownsville. i never knowed anything but work. pap lets jim and george do as they durn please. if i crook my fingers i ketch the devil. i kin go out and dig fer myself and they'll be sorry for the way they have treated me." "al-f-u-r-d" clung to the bigger boy, begging him not to leave. the sight affected both lin and the mother, and the latter ventured the prediction that she might prevail upon pap to allow cousin charley to remain if he would solemnly promise to be a better boy. cousin charley was not to be mollified. he thanked the mother for her kindly interest in him but added that he could not remain under uncle johns' roof after the cruel manner in which he had been treated. (as a matter of fact his treatment had always been of the kindest). cousin charley knew this full well but he knew also that he had the sympathy of the two women excited and he chose to work it to his evil nature's content. continuing, he added insinuatingly: "you'll see. wait 'til 'al-f-u-r-d's' a little older. uncle will keep on whaling him in the cellar and some day you'll find him missing, curls and all." this reference to curls touched lin's sympathy. the reference to "al-f-u-r-d" leaving home also touched the mother as the tantalizer intended it should, and she further argued with the boy to remain at home with his family. "no i can't. i've made up my mind to dig fer myself. i'm goin' west. you've always treated me right and i'll write you often and let you know how i'm gettin' along and maybe if 'al-f-u-r-d' is driven from home like i've been i'll have a place fer him." the mother turned a trifle resentful as she said spiritedly: "charley, you have not been driven from home. your father has become tired of your conduct and it would be better if you apologize for your behavior and promise to become a better boy." cousin charley hinted at some deep and dark wrong that would ever prevent his approaching his father and he prepared to leave. both women entreated him to linger yet another day. but cousin charley began bidding them good-bye, the crocodile tears coursing down his cheeks as he sobbed: "i'll never fergit you two. you've always been good to me." (as a matter of fact, lin threatened to scald him that morning.) "i know i may be half starved to death before i git work but i'll stand it. and durn them all, i'll show them i'm somebody afore they see me agin." at the reference to starving, lin rushed to the big kitchen cupboard. the larger part of a roasted chicken, a dozen doughnuts, pickles, rusks, enough to feed an ordinary man several times, was done up in a neat package and handed to charley by lin as she pityingly remarked: "ef the bakin' was done i'd gin ye more fer i'll warrant it'll be a long time 'fore ye'll eat cooking like ye've hed here. fer vagrants never know what they're eatin'." charley's leave-taking was most affecting. "al-f-u-r-d" begged to be permitted to accompany him a little ways on his journey. five minutes the boys walked hand in hand. into sammy steele's deserted tannery, through a long, dark room with dust and rubbish covering the floor, into a smaller room, more dismal if imaginable than the larger room but much cleaner. [illustration: the exile] three boxes, the larger used as a table, the two smaller ones as seats, made up the furniture in the room. a small blaze of fire in the old-fashioned soft coal grate gave a faint light. cousin charley whistled a time or two, and lint dutton, the son of the leading dry goods merchant of the town; and tod livingston, the son of the dry goods man's head clerk, put in an appearance. it was not long until "al-f-u-r-d's" sympathetic heart was touched with the wrongs of the three exiles. it seemed the trio had all been driven from home and were going out into the world to dig for themselves. charley explained there were many things to adjust ere the exiles departed and the room in the old tannery would be their retreat until they left the town for good. to impress "al-f-u-r-d" with the fact that provisions were the one thing necessary, lin's contribution was spread out on the larger box and all proceeded to devour the viands. even "al-f-u-r-d" enjoyed the repast. "al-f-u-r-d" was sworn to secrecy as to the retreat of the exiles and adjured to bring all the eatables he could secure. the sight of cousin charley consuming a dried apple pie such as were made in those days, plenty of lemon peel and cider to juice the apples; charley holding the pie in his hands, the juice running down his cheeks as he expatiated on the wrongs that had been heaped upon him in general and by "al-f-u-r-d's" and his own father in particular, so worked on "al-f-u-r-d's" sympathy that nothing cooked or uncooked that was eatable, that he could smuggle to the exiles, was too good for them. for the first time since lin came into the family the mother suspected her of dishonest practices. a coldness sprang up between the women. this unpleasantness almost drove the boy to confession, but the fear of the exiles kept him from exposing them. [illustration: the exile's retreat] the father set a watch on "al-f-u-r-d." he was seen to fill his pockets and a small basket, hide the basket in the coal shed until the shadows of dusk. the father followed the smuggler to the exiles' camp. several other boys who had learned of the pies, pickles, preserves, doughnuts, and other good things that "al-f-u-r-d" carried to the old tannery, had gone into exile and were always conveniently near when "al-f-u-r-d" appeared with his food contributions. the father was close onto "al-f-u-r-d" when he entered the larger room of the old tan house. "al-f-u-r-d" set the basket with the coarser food in it on the box that served as a table while he began issuing the more dainty contributions from his pockets. handing cousin charley a doughnut from one pocket he was in the act of pulling a handful of pickles from another when the irate parent rushed into the little room. the exiles' camp was broken up, and the exiles driven out into the cold world. "al-f-u-r-d" was escorted home then to the cellar where the seance was a trifle more animated than usual, at least "al-f-u-r-d's" cries so denoted. lin's denunciations of those who had devastated her pantry of the coarse as well as her daintiest cooking, was of the strongest. lin was very proud of her skill as a cook. when the truth came out and she learned that "al-f-u-r-d" was the culprit, she immediately began making excuses for the boy, and when his screams from the cellar penetrated the kitchen, lin's sympathy was fully aroused. with the rolling pin in one hand, flour to her elbows on her bare, muscular arms, she rushed into the cellar, with flushed face and confronted the parent: [illustration: "lin"] "hold on yer, hold on! ye've whipped that boy enough and you're whippin' him fer nothin'. ef it hadn't bin fer them low, lazy skunks "al-f-u-r-d" a-never teched a thing in this house. they never had nothin' to eat at home. their folks is too lazy to fry a doughnut or put up pickles. "al-f-u-r-d" jes pitied 'em, that's why he took things to 'em to eat." this reasoning mollified the parent, besides lin had a gleam in her eyes that intimidated him. lin had threatened to skedaddle, as she put it, several times of late, and one like her was not often found. therefore lin's reasoning decided the father to wreak vengeance on those who, through "al-f-r-u-d's" generosity, had depleted the pickle barrel. grabbing his heaviest cane he stalked toward the door, vowing he would wear out every last one of the boys who had made him so far forget himself as to punish one whose age and inexperience made him their dupe. [illustration: hold on! hold on!] the mother and lin, thoroughly frightened at the anger displayed by the man, used their strength and arguments to prevent him doing something terrible. the mother pointed out the danger of the law and the disgrace attached to an arrest by the borough constable. lin reminded him that he might do something rash, that all the boys had papas and several men might jump on him if they caught him abusing their off-spring. the father swore he could lick the daddies of all the boys one at a time. meanwhile "al-f-u-r-d" made his escape to the garret to ruminate upon the unreasonableness of parents in general and his father in particular. uncle bill was even more obdurate than when he first declared charley must "dig for himself." cousin charley was looking for work, fearing he would find it, and secretly hoping his father, under pressure of the mother, would soon open the door of home to him. but cousin charley was compelled to look the world in the face in a serious manner for the first time in his life. captain lew abrams, a retired steamboat man, big of frame, kind of heart and fond of a joke, informed the exile that he would give him an opportunity to follow his father's advice literally, namely, to dig for himself. "i have a big potato patch, the crop is a heavy one and it don't seem my boys will ever get the potatoes dug. i will give you a job digging potatoes by the bushel or on shares." the captain did not care to hire by the day. cousin charley figured mentally that digging potatoes on shares, a custom prevalent in those days, would bring quicker returns. charley began to "dig for himself" the very next day. after a long, hard day's work, he presented himself at the back door of "al-f-u-r-d's" home, sunburnt and hands blistered, clothing torn, full of beggars-lice and spanish needles. he explained that the offer of captain abrams was temptingly profitable and that he would remain in the neighborhood for a few weeks longer digging potatoes on the shares. lin at first looked upon him with suspicion. but when she noted his sunburnt face and blistered hands and when charley carefully laid on the table a half dozen big brown-colored potatoes with that peculiar purple around the eyes, a color so highly prized by growers and consumers, lin, glancing sympathetically at charley through the kitchen door as he ate as only a hungry boy can, whispered to the mother: "his pap's too hard on him. he's not so ornery as he's cracked up to be. it's the devilish clique he runs with that's spiled him," and, with this, carried another helping of food to the boy. half in earnest, half in fun, lin said: "durn ye, ye can be good ef ye want to, but it jes' seems like ye don't want to. ef ye ever do another thing to 'al-f-u-r-d' i'll scald all the hair off yer freckled head." cousin charley laughed and chided lin into further good humor, confiding to her the interesting information that he was going to work from daylight to dark. this declaration captured lin. she highly regarded anyone who labored. cousin charley kept up a continual talk. among other statements he said that after he dug captain abram's potatoes, if he could effect as advantageous arrangements with other farmers, he would soon be wealthy. he even insinuated that he had over-reached the captain in his contract for digging potatoes but if the captain showed any tendency to "back out" he would hold him to it. "a bargain's a bargain," said charley and lin nodded approvingly. she never guessed that cousin charley possessed so much sense. charley picked up the largest of the potatoes he had deposited on the table and requested that lin roast it in wood ashes for breakfast. "it'll jes' bust open and is as dry as powder. sech taters you never et, they melt in yer mouth." it was then the mother was called in, lin explaining it was a good chance to buy potatoes cheap. cousin charley explained that his share of the crop he was digging would be so big he would have to sell as he went along even if he didn't get full price for them. he assured the women that the samples were not culled: "jes' took as they come." [illustration: cousin charley] the mother bought several bushels at much less than the retail price at murphy's store. at the low price at which cousin charley sold potatoes he had taken several orders before reaching "al-f-u-r-d's" home. when "al-f-u-r-d's" mother purchased he suddenly concluded he'd better begin delivering right away. when the mother reminded him that it was almost night cousin charley met her with the argument "ef a feller wants to git along in this world he's got to hump night and day. that's the way old jeffries got rich." jeffries was the business competitor of "al-f-u-r-d's" father. cousin charley finally prevailed on the mother to loan him the horse and wagon to deliver his potatoes. the father was out of town for the night, and the mother consented reluctantly. lin wanted the potatoes badly after charley's description. "al-f-u-r-d," as usual, cried to go with cousin charley. cousin charley's seeming industriousness had reinstated him in lin's good graces. after the boys had driven off, following lin's caution to the older boy to "be keerful of 'al-f-u-r-d'," she remarked to the mother, referring to charley: "he'll fool old bill yet. some peepul may want charley to dig fer 'em 'fore the winter's over. i'd thought more of old bill ef he'd lathered charley good an' plenty stid of turnun' him out to dig fer himself. i do hope he'll sell plenty pertaters." meanwhile, cousin charley, his delivery wagon, "al-f-u-r-d" and all, arrived at captain abram's house. the family were visiting a neighbor. cousin charley was evidently an adept at loading potatoes as well as digging. it was surprising the quantity he claimed for his share of the day's digging. "al-f-u-r-d," cousin charley, and a load of potatoes soon arrived at "al-f-u-r-d's" home. several large sacks were quickly carried into the cellar, lin assisting the boy. lin took this excuse to inspect the goods as her confidence in cousin charley was not entirely free from suspicion. as lin watched the boy carrying the heavy potato sacks she half hated herself for doubting him. this feeling prompted lin to accept the potatoes. "they're not zackly as big as the ones he fetched first but they're nice taters, better'n we git at the store an' besides a body feels better helpin' a poor devil that's workin' his head off to do right." jane mccune, tommy ryan and jim bench had bought potatoes while they were cheap. these deliveries were soon made and cousin charley had money to distribute. "al-f-u-r-d" and lin both came in for a nice piece of it. as lin remarked: "cousin charley was not close when he was doin' well." [illustration: the boys had a full load] the women invited charley to remain all night but, showing the old exile spirit, he declined, adding: "i like you and lin, but i'll never stay under uncle john's roof until he apologizes fer what he done to me. i'll dig fer myself. there's money in this potato business fer me, i'll show them who i am." the boy jingled the big coppers and little dimes in his pocket until "al-f-u-r-d's" eyes sparkled with admiration. the next morning captain abrams clanged the big, old fashioned iron knocker on the front door. the father started up stairs to answer the knock, and "al-f-u-r-d" and the other children whooped up the path beside the house to peep at the early caller. the door opened. "howdys" and hand shakes. the captain, puckering up his funny little mouth, not unlike that of a sucker fish, addressing himself to the father, inquired: "john, where's bill's charley?" the "i don't know" answer surprised the captain. looking at "al-f-u-r-d" in a quizzical manner, he said: "i thought he was staying with you all." the father replied spiritedly, and he seemed to be addressing himself to "al-f-u-r-d" as much as to the captain: "no, he ain't here any more. i wouldn't permit him to enter my house; he's so infernal ornery that his father had to drive him out. bill jes' told him to go out and dig fer himself. we've washed our hands of that boy. his end will be the house of refuge." "but john," and the captain looked serious, "who sent alfred and charley out on a foraging expedition last night with your old mare and wagon?" both men looked hard at "al-f-u-r-d." with a consciousness born of innocence, "al-f-u-r-d" pulled himself up to his full height, running his thumbs under his first pair of elastic suspenders, a present from cousin charley, who had remarked as he adjusted them: "none of my relations will run around here with one gallus when i've got money." "yes, sir," chirped "al-f-u-r-d," "we was out to your house but you weren't at home. cousin charley went after his pertaters. he wanted to bring mother hers and jane mccune and tommy ryan." the captain was nodding his head approvingly at "al-f-u-r-d," encouraging him to go on. the father was so confused he could not listen longer, and casting a look at "al-f-u-r-d" that boded him no good, the mother and lin were called into the room, and the captain, in a half apologetic manner explained: "charley came to me with a long story about his father driving him from home and telling him he would have to go out and dig for himself. he used the phrase, 'dig for himself' so often that i, in a half joking way, arranged with charley to dig potatoes on shares. he dug one day. i don't know how many potatoes he dug as me and my folks were visiting the lenhearts. afore we got home last night, charley came out there with your horse and wagon and hauled away all the potatoes he dug during the day and all my boys had dug and sacked the past week. i don't know how many he took but old man bedler at the toll gate said the boys had on a full load." then "al-f-u-r-d" counting on his fingers, said: "yes, mother got seven bushels, tommy ryan got eight bushels and he's to get two more bushels tomorrow night, and jim bench five bushels and will take all cousin charley kin bring him. and jane mccune got five bushels and she didn't have the money. but charley says if she don't pay him he'll steal her dog." the captain was laughing heartily but politely. the father and mother looked as if they had been convicted of larceny. lin jerked out: "well, ef that don't beat the bugs. a-stealin' pertaters. i'd as soon be ketched stealin' sheep. i tell ye now, that charley's headed fer the pinitentiary." this speech seemed to crush the father and mother. they felt somehow as if they were implicated. but captain abrams apologized in every way for annoying them. they all seated themselves, the blinds pulled down and a solemn compact entered into that the matter never be referred to again. the father paid for the potatoes, taking "al-f-u-r-d's" figures. "al-f-u-r-d" was warned if he ever mentioned the affair outside of home that he would be sent to the house of refuge. the family felt that they were everlastingly disgraced. the mother felt it most keenly. the father was half disposed to hold "al-f-u-r-d" partly responsible and a trip to the cellar was strongly threatened. but lin interfered by saying: "why, his mother and me is wus than 'al-f-u-r-d'. any grown body'd knowed charley couldn't dig that many pertaters in a week, let alone a day." time wore on and the potato episode was seemingly forgotten. the family felt that the disgrace had been lived down and all were thankful the matter had not become the talk of the town. uncle bill, charley's father, was a good talker, fond of argument and usually the center of a group, particularly when political or religious subjects were under discussion. a long bench in front of bill isler's tin shop, ranged close up to the building. the town pump stood across the ten feet wide sidewalk opposite. it was a pleasing sight to look upon this gathering of inequality of rank and property and equality of intellect discussing all questions, the affairs of their neighbors in particular. [illustration: uncle bill and the boys] there was a full bench: joe gibbons, barney barnhart, jase baker, billy graham, birney wilkins, and george muckle fee. fee was a peculiar character, with an unusual deformity, since his neck was bent like a huge bow, not unlike a limb with the knee bent, his face looking to the ground. to look to either side he must turn his entire body. the only human being he ever thought kindly of was his wife, susan. he always spoke of her respectfully. some people he hated more intensely than others. uncle bill was an especial mark of his vituperation. when they passed on the street george would turn his body half way around to mutter and curse him--however, not that uncle bill could hear. george's usual position at the gathering in the evening was back against the old pump facing those seated on the bench, with lowered face and upturned eyes, looking from one speaker to another, scowling or smiling as the remarks met with his approval or otherwise. the subject under discussion was "boys." a number of boys of the town, almost grown men, had been apprehended stealing scrap iron. uncle bill, as usual, had the center of the stage. he had about concluded a lengthy discourse as to the management of boys, bad boys in particular, and as usual concluded by relating for the hundredth time, how he managed his boys. "i just called 'em up and says: 'boys, i've raised you up to what you are and i've done for you all a parent could do. you're strong and able to do for yourselves and don't depend on me longer. go out in the world and dig for yourselves.'" fee, squirting a flood of tobacco juice with the words, said: "yes, and ef they'd all dig like charley did, you'd had purtaters to last you a life time." the roars of laughter that went up were convincing proof that there are no secrets sacred in a small town. chapter six. blessings on thee, little man, barefoot boy with cheek of tan; with thy turned-up pantaloons and thy merry, whistled tunes; with the sunshine on thy face through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; outward sunshine, inward joy, blessings on thee, barefoot boy. alfred's parents concluded it would be good for the boy to send him to the country for a time, freeing him from the influence of town boys. therefore they sent him to uncle joe's, a prosperous farmer, a little inclined to take too much hard cider or rye at sheep-washing or hog-killing time, fond of fox chasing and hunting and shooting at a mark. uncle joe went to town at least once a week when aunt betsy accompanied him. he observed the proprieties and respected his good wife's wishes. long had she labored to get him to join the church of which she was an exemplary pillar. thus far she had not succeeded. a neighboring farmer, the leading member of the church, was the barrier. uncle joe and this neighbor, "old bill colvin," as uncle joe designated him, had been at logger-heads for years over line fences and other trifles that farmers find excuses to quarrel over. [illustration: alfred at nine] uncle joe's prejudice was so strong that when questioned as to whether he did not want to go to heaven, he defiantly informed the minister, "not if old bill colvin is there." if a cow strayed, hog died or turkey was lost, it was attributed to old bill colvin. when the bees swarmed and uncle joe with the fiddle scraping out "big john, little john, big john, davy," aunt betsy beating a tin pan with a spoon, poor old granny, bent with age, following slowly jingling a string of sleigh bells, and in feeble, squeaky voice asked uncle joe if the bees were going off, although no swarm had ever left the place, uncle joe, vigorously scraping the fiddle, walking under the cloud of circling bees, not heeding granny's query, would say: "look at 'em, look at 'em, they're leaving; we can't get 'em to settle. there they go. look at 'em, look at 'em. dam 'em, headed for old bill colvin's." uncle joe was noted for his honey, watermelons, peaches, turkeys, maple-sugar and sweet potatoes and loud voice. he was the loudest voiced man in red stone township. every living creature on the farm stood in fear of uncle joe's voice. if the stock jumped the fence into another field, uncle joe's voice awed them into jumping back again. fence rails, hoes, rakes or anything that came handy had so often been wielded by his powerful arms on them that his voice was sufficient almost any time to frighten horse, cow or hog into seeking safety in flight when he shouted. the day for alfred's going to the country arrived. aunt betsy had the neuralgia and uncle joe came alone on horseback. meeting former friends, he tarried long at the tavern. when under the influence of stimulants he became even louder. john rathmell, the town watchman, endeavored to quiet him. finally, he ordered uncle joe to go home or he would arrest him. uncle joe was riding black fan, his fox-hunting mare. she was seventeen hands high, mostly legs, a natural pacer. she could jump over anything under the moon. her hind legs the longer,--they seemed to be the propelling power and appeared to move faster than her front legs. when at top speed she traveled sort of sideways. this seemed a wise provision of nature as it prevented her running over herself, or like a stern-wheel boat, with too much power going by the head. uncle joe obeyed the order of the officer of the law. tardily, leisurely and tantalizingly mounting black fan, taking alfred up behind him, he headed the mare in the opposite direction from home. alfred feared he was going down the hill into the "neck" to get more liquor and he almost decided to get off and go back home. [illustration: "you can all go to h--ll"] at a pace as respectable as ever a funeral cortege traveled, uncle joe rode until opposite the old market house, there turning the mare around heading her homeward. straightening her out in the middle of the road, rising in his stirrups to emphasize his contempt for the law in the person of the watchman, uncle joe gave vent to a yell that brought store-keepers to the doors, pedestrians to turn around and drivers to pull to the side of the street. he gave the mare her head. at the sound of the voice nearer and consequently louder than ever before, she shot forward at a speed never equalled on that street. at every revolution of her hind legs her body under alfred rose and fell like a toy boat on a ruffled bay. uncle joe rose and fell with the movement and at every rise he yelled even louder than before. [illustration: the end of the ride] the minion of the law and several idlers, always seeking an opportunity to meddle, rushed to the middle of the street, but as well might they have attempted to arrest the wind. the shoes of black fan struck the flinty limestones on the pike, the sparks flew, and her trail was a veritable streak of fire. as the mare rounded the turn at workman's hotel, uncle joe, as a parting shot, yelled: "you can all go to h--ll." how alfred maintained his hold he never knew nor did the mare slacken pace greatly until home was reached. alfred is of the opinion to this day that uncle joe forgot he carried a handicap. the corn-cob stopper in a large bottle which uncle joe, (as was the custom of farmers in those days), carried in his right hand overcoat pocket, came out, the contents splashed in alfred's face and saturated his clothing. alfred was almost stupefied with the fumes of the liquor and had the distance been further he surely would have fallen from his seat. as the mare halted, uncle joe vigorously threw his leg over her back to dismount, sweeping alfred from his seat as though he had been a rag-doll. down he fell head first and no doubt sustained bodily injury had not providence, or a kindly cow deposited a cushion as soft as velvet for his reception, and curls. his yells and calls brought the family to the rescue. alfred was not received as courteously as on former visits; however, after a bath in a tub of not overly warm water, the family were a trifle less distant. the wife was very much provoked over the husband's actions. reinforced by billy hickman, the preacher, and several church members, renewed her efforts to have uncle joe ally himself with the church. uncle joe assured one good brother that if sheep-washing time was over--it was then september and sheep are washed in may or june--he would join the church. he explained that he felt he must have a little "licker" sheep-washing time or he would "ketch the rheumatiz." the district fair was on, black fan was entered in the free-for-all pace. she was considered a joke by horsemen and the knowing ones. but alfred would have bet all he had that black fan was the fastest goer in the world. ike bailey's black bess, john krepps' billy, john patterson's morgan messenger, were the other entries, all under saddle except morgan messenger. patterson drove him to a sulky, the only sulky in the county, the wheels higher than the head of the driver. it was the idea of the builder the larger the wheels the greater the speed. black fan had much the worst of the get-away and it looked as if she would be left in the stretch. it was a half-mile track. twice around completed the heats. the crowd laughed themselves hoarse at uncle joe's entry and rider. [illustration: "git up, fan!"] the other riders leaning forward, holding their bridle reins close down to the bit, seemed to lift their horses as they sped away from black fan whose rider was leaning back holding the briddle reins at arm's length as if he feared she would go by the head. there was no grandstand, the populace standing thick along the track, separated from it by a rough board fence. as the horses neared the starting point on the first turn, black fan far in the rear, uncle joe was seen pushing through the crowd, towering above the multitude. he made his way to the side of the track, climbing up on the fence-board next to the top, he stood erect. the leaders flew by and, as black fan got opposite, he raised his arms as if to throw a stone or club at her, at the same time, in stentorian tones, yelling: "git up! git up! git! git out of that, you black b---- h! git up fan. gin her her head! don't hold her, dam her! let her go! scat!" [illustration: "give her head! don't hold her!"] as the last yell left his lips over he went onto the dusty track head-first. black fan surely imagined uncle joe was after her, she shot forward, her hind legs going so fast she looked in danger of running over herself, taking up nearly the width of the course. john patterson and his high-wheeled sulky were swept off the track. black bess jumped the fence, ran off with her rider and was disqualified. only john krepps kept his little horse on the track, but black fan had the race in hand. great confusion reigned. several fights started, uncle joe being in the midst of all of them. everybody surrounded the judges, and the other horse owners protested the race. as the judges were all farmers with the usual fairness pervading decisions as between town folks and country ones, black fan was given the race. [illustration: after the race] uncle joe led the mare all over the fair grounds with alfred mounted on her, and notwithstanding the boy was surfeited with ginger bread, cider and other district fair delicacies, he importuned the uncle for more. finally the uncle impatiently handed him two cents, "so there go eat ginger bread till you bust." uncle joe celebrated his victory all afternoon. when he advised alfred that they would soon start home and that he could ride behind him on black fan, alfred slid down and requested a neighboring farmer to permit him to ride home in his dead axe wagon. uncle joe did not get home until very late, claiming that he did not know that alfred had gone before and that he was searching the fair grounds for him. alfred's aunt gently chided him and advised that when he went anywhere with his uncle thereafter he must remain until his uncle came, but to urge his uncle to come early. uncle joe was very sick the next day. aunt betsy said it served him right. she hoped he'd "puke his innards out." alfred was busy carrying the afflicted man water by the gourdful from the spring. uncle joe would not permit him to bring it in a pail: he wanted it cold and fresh. "dip her deep, son," he would say as he emptied the gourd and sent the boy for more. the sufferer grew worse and finally aunt betsy's womanly sympathy impelled her to go to the sick man. she began by saying: "i oughtn't to lift a hand to help you. any man that will pour licker down his stomach until he throws it up is a hog and nothing else." catching a whiff of that which had come up, she turned up her nose and contemptuously continued: "i don't see how any one can put that stuff down them." she held her nose and turned her head in disgust. the sick man raised his head and feebly answered: "well, it don't taste that way going down. go away and let me die in peace. i deserve to die alone; i don't want any of ye to pity me. just bury me is all i ask." [illustration: she asked him if he were not afraid to die] the woman's sympathy entirely overcome her anger as the man well knew it would. she begged to be permitted to do something for him. he was obdurate. he was "not worthy of being saved"; all he desired was to "die alone and be forgotten." she asked him if he were not afraid to die. "no, no" he answered, "i'm not afraid to die but i'm ashamed to." feeling his heart was softening, she begged to do something to relieve him, a cold towel for his head or hot tea for his stomach. no, nothing could do him any good, so he declared. "if you don't have something done for you, you might die." "let me die, but if i ever get over this one, it's the last for joe. i hope every still house in fayette county will burn down afore night and all the whiskey ever made destroyed." the wife exulted greatly at these words and renewed her entreaties to do something for him. "well, if you insist on doing something for me", and he hesitated, "but i know it will do no good--go down to the kitchen, fill a big coffee cup half full of bilin' hot water, dissolve a lump of loaf sugar in it, drop in a little lump of butter 'bout as big as a robin's egg. then reach up in the old cupboard in the hall, top shelf and way back in the corner, you'll find a big, black bottle. pour quite a lot out of this bottle into the cup, fill it up. grate a little nutmeg into it and fetch it up yar." then holding his hands to his head as if suffering great pain, dropping his voice to a faint whisper as if he were about to collapse, he said: "bring it up here and if i don't want to take it you jes' make me." not long afterwards the whole neighborhood was talking of the conversion of uncle joe and the day of his baptism marked an epoch in that section. the lion and the lamb were roaming together. old bill colvin and uncle joe were making cider on the shares. many were the strange tales told of how the conversion of uncle joe came about. the day of baptism saw the largest gathering in the history of red stone meeting house. alfred, cousin charley and all the country folks round about were there and many from town. many were the conjectures made by the idle gossipers as to whether joe would hold out. tom porter prophesied that the first time joe got on a tear he would lick the preacher. billy hickman, the preacher, was a mite of a man, while uncle joe was a giant in comparison. [illustration: alfred's ride] uncle joe had never been ducked or put under water but once, that the writer knows of. it was sheep-washing time. the sheep in a pen on the bank of the creek. uncle joe and another man in the creek up to their middles washing the sheep. alfred and another boy in the pen catching the sheep dragging them to the bank as the workers called for another sheep. there was one old bell-wether that was too strong for the boys. after futile attempts to drag him to the creek alfred decided to ride him. jumping astride of the animal it made frantic efforts to free itself from the burden. round the pen, bleating and panting it ran. it started for the creek and from a height of several feet it plunged, hitting uncle joe square between the shoulders. [illustration: they all follow] its weight and alfred's sent the powerful man under the water. where one sheep leads another will follow. as he attempted to rise, sheep after sheep hit him on head or back. under he went again as often as he arose until the whole herd were out of the pen. this experience probably accounted for uncle joe's actions the day of the baptism. grouped on the banks of the creek, in fence corners, some lying on the grass under the red haw trees, were the rabble--all there out of curiosity. standing near the creek, chanting a familiar hymn as only an earnest congregation of good people can sing, were the church members. walking slowly from the church was the preacher and uncle joe, the disparity in their size all the more marked as they waded into the water. uncle joe seemed ill at ease and it appeared as though he was sort of holding back. by the time the minister was in up to his middle, the water only flowed about uncle joe's knees. the little preacher paused, folded uncle joe's hands across his breast. uncle joe looked behind him as much as to say: "it's a long ways down to the water." the minister began the solemn baptismal service. at the last word he attempted to lay uncle joe back, immersing him in the usual manner but uncle joe resisted. alfred said afterwards he "knowed uncle joe was skeered, that hickman couldn't rise him up after he got him under." alfred explained that it was hard to keep from strangling when you went down backwards. "that's the way i nearly drowned. they ought to baptize 'em forward," was his conclusion. the silence was oppressive. the minister sort of squirmed around and began the service over. at the last word he made another effort to immerse the sinner. again his strength was insufficient, both men jostled around. sam craft, who was watching the proceeding from a fence corner, at the failure of the second attempt to dip the penitent, drawled in a voice thick with hard cider: "trip--him--bill--dam--him--trip--him." uncle joe quickly took hold of his nose with thumb and finger; stooping, he put his face under water to his ears, left the preacher standing in the creek as he rushed out, not to the church members but to his old cronies, until led to his proper place among the congregation. the conversion of uncle joe made aunt betsy happy. alfred had liberties he never enjoyed previously. he rode billy, the pony, when and where he chose. he ran rabbits, chased through the woods until the scant wardrobe he brought from home was in rags and tatters. the great civil war had just begun. all the country was marching mad--soldiers passing and repassing along the pike. aunt betsy and lacy hare, the hired girl, decided that alfred should have a soldier's suit that would surprise the natives. neither had ever been blessed with children, neither had ever attempted to make a garment such as they fashioned in their minds for alfred. the original that alfred's suit was patterned after was a military uniform worn by john stevenson in the war of between mexico and the united states. as the faded garment was brought from the garret and alfred, with wood-ashes and vinegar brightened up the ornaments and medals, he thought john had been a mighty general, judging from the medals he wore. when he learned john was only a fifer his admiration for him greatly increased and often he coaxed john to play the old tunes that cheered the warriors on to victory in the many battles john graphically described not recorded in history. lacy with a pair of sheep shears cut out the coat, while aunt betsy held the pattern down on the heavy grey cloth. the goods were of the home-made quality, known as "linsey-woolsey," a material worn by farmers almost universally in those days. the household scissors were too dull to cut it, hence the sheep shears were pressed into service by lacy. the coat cut, alfred had to stand out in the entry while the women used his nether garments to pattern by. the door a little ajar, alfred impatiently watched the two women cut out the pants. lacy remarked, after he had asked for his pants twice: "land sakes! have a little patience. you climb trees, run through thickets, till you're rags and tatters, and i hope when we get these clothes done you'll settle down and save them to wear when you go anywhar." the women decided, or rather endeavored, to make the suit after the cut of the uniforms worn by the soldiers. lacy insisted that a blouse would not look well on alfred and it was decided to make him a jacket at the bottom "close fittin'" as lacy expressed it. nothing like this suit was ever seen before or after the war. angles and folds were, where should have been smoothness; too short at the bottom, too high at the top, too tight where they should have been loose and vice versa. the jacket was short in the waist and high in the neck. lacy remarked as they basted the thing that there seemed too much cloth in some parts but she thought it would take up in the sewing. the surplus cloth in the west side of the pants hung to the boy's calves, covering the limbs that far down. therefore, it was difficult to decide at a distance where the jacket ended and the pants began. in fact, the boy, from a backside view at a little distance, seemed to be wearing a long-tailed coat. going from you, alfred looked like a grown man; coming towards you he looked more natural. wherever there appeared a bunch or angle that seemed out of place, lacy endeavored to modify the over abundance by tacking on one of the ornaments taken from the old uniform of which a great number were used. the shoulders of the jacket seemed to fit to suit lacy, therefore she used the epaulets from the shoulders of the old soldier's uniform elsewhere. the seat of the pants hanging so low, lacy said looked too bare, whereupon she tacked the epaulets on that part of the pants, with the yellow and red fringe hanging down. there was a very large lump resembling "richard the third's" hump; on this lacy perched a brass eagle with wings spread as if about to fly off with the coat. red and yellow stripes ran up and down the outside seam of the pants. lacy said they "looked so purty it was a shame the folds of the cloth kivered so much of the stripe"; she "allowed it was too bad that more of the folds had not found their way into the seat of the pants cos it wa'n't noticed there, the epaulets hid it." lacy had such a great quantity of this yellow and red material, she insisted on running a double row around the cuffs of the coat and around the bottom of the pants. aunt betsy gently dissented but lacy seemed the moving spirit in the project and the elder woman deferred to her. the aunt said the only fear she had was that folks might think the suit too gaudy. aunt betsy said she feared they had not sewed the braid on straight or the pants wouldn't pucker so at the knees. all the ornaments, space could not be found for elsewhere, were tacked on the cap. the vizor or brim was the only disappointment to the women. no stiff leather procurable, they used cardboard and blackened it with shoe polish. this soon broke and crumpled. lacy remarked: "the blame rim spiles the whole outfit." it dangled in alfred's eyes all the time, hence he generally wore the vizor behind. the soldier clothes were to alfred a thing of beauty and joy until he went to town. alfred collected all the country boys he could enlist and called them the "red stone blues." he found an old, rusty sword, its scabbard a load, yet he carried it wherever he went. others of his company had corn cutters, old scythes and muskets. alfred attempted to drill the boys as he had seen the home guards and sam graham's zouaves do in town. two old stove pipes were mounted on wheels for cannon. it was alfred's ambition to ride at the head of his command as did the commander of the ringold cavalry, but lacy had attached the epaulets to the seat of alfred's trousers as they came from the shoulders of the old coat, and the tin shape frames prevented alfred assuming any attitude while in the uniform than that of standing. when alfred spoke to lacy as to the advisability of changing the location of the epaulets she explained that they had nothing suitable to replace them. when alfred complained he could not sit down, lacy said: "law sakes, you shouldn't think of it. them 'air things are too purty to kiver up." the battle of bull run had been fought. the country was ablaze with excitement, war and rumors of war, war stories, war talk. everybody was up in arms, soldiers moving everywhere, as the locality was not far from where battles were soon expected. uncle joe and aunt betsy went to town to hear the news. alfred, left alone, marshalled his hosts in battle array. in the romance of pierce forrest, a young knight being dubbed by king alexander, he was so elated he galloped into the woods, cut and slashed trees until he eased his effervescence and convinced the army he was a most courageous soldier. alfred at the head of his army, strode down the column as jupiter is said to have strode down the spheres as he hurled his thunderbolts at the titans. alfred and his army charged and recharged, uncle joe's hedge fence. on and on they charged, coming on the enemy standing ten deep in line, asking or giving no quarter; the enemy fell bruised and bleeding. every stalk of uncle joe's broom corn patch lay on the ground, not one stalk standing to tell the tale. how vain are the baubles of war. alfred standing in the midst of the field of slaughter--he could not sit down--heard a roar that froze his hot blood and scattered his army to the winds of anywhere and to the thickets. uncle joe, returning, had witnessed the slaughter of his broom corn from the top of the hill by the big shell-bark hickory nut trees. his yells not only struck terror to alfred's heart but black fan and other stock broke from the fields into the big road where they stood trembling. [illustration: alfred's redstone blues] lacy said she hadn't heard uncle joe chirp since he was baptized. when he hit his finger with a hammer she felt certain he would "break out," but he stuck to his religion. as he crossed the apex of the hill and saw the broom corn falling before alfred and his minions, the roar that floated across the flat sounded very much like: "whatinthehellanddamnationdoesthismean?" when alfred saw ajax drawing nearer, his sword fell from his hand and alfred fell on the broom corn, an object of abject fear. ajax grabbed him by the nape of the neck and seat of his uniform, nearly ruining one of the epaulets. never was warrior so ignobly driven or dragged from a field of victory. aunt betsy could find no excuse for alfred. broom corn was a necessity in the household work. every farmer made his own brooms. after a very short trial by court martial it was decided that the country was too quiet for alfred and that he should be transferred to town at once. although tried and found guilty, alfred, to his delight, was permitted to retain his side-arms and wear his uniform. the next day, standing between aunt betsy and uncle joe in the old buggy driving the old mare, he began the journey home. he was arrayed in full regimentals, the brim of the cap turned behind, his yellow hair hanging in strings, (it had never been curled since he went to the country). everyone they met cast admiring glances at alfred's uniform. the aunt was proud of the attention attracted. passing through sandy hollow, sid gaskill, the roughest girl in the neighborhood, motioned the buggy to stop. as sid inspected alfred she requested him to turn around. looking him over she asked: "who made 'em?" referring to the uniform. alfred promptly replied: "lacy hare helped aunt betsy make 'em." the aunt's face showed her satisfaction. not even when sid inquired if the clothes were made to wear in a show did the aunt's pride in alfred's suit diminish, although the inference is that it was the military character of the clothes rather than the cloth or fit, she was proud of, as aunt betsy was very patriotic. all the way to town she was picturing what a surprise the suit would be to mary and john, and it was. alfred was driving the old mare as she had not been driven in years. uncle joe made him slow down. uncle joe sometimes exceeded the speed limit leaving town but usually went in at a respectable gait. alfred's desire to see the loved ones at home was so strong that he jumped out of the buggy as they entered the town. running ahead of the buggy he passed uncle bill's: waving a welcome to martha and hester, who stood in the front yard, he regarded their laughter as evidence of their pleasure at seeing him back home again. when martha shouted, "what devilment are you up to now?" he never imagined it was his appearance that so amused the girls. over the fence, across lots to the rear of the house he scampered. lin was out mopping the floor of the back porch. perched on the top of the fence he caught sight of her. "hello, lin? how-dye?" lin heard the voice. she did not recognize the speaker at once. "hello, lin?" he shouted again. lin shaded her eyes, gazed hard at the boy, dropped the mop, and alfred heard her call: "my gawd, mary! come out here, quick!" the mother appeared as alfred neared the house. looking curiously at him, she covered her face with her apron and began to laugh. lin ran into the house screaming and laughing. the boy stood abashed. the mother motioned him to approach her, pushing him into the house. she obtained a view of the rear of the warrior's uniform and a fresh outburst of laughter prevented her even speaking to him. lin and the mother clasped each other in their arms as they swayed, weakened with laughter. lin was the first to recover her speech. the boy's feelings were hurt. "where's your regular clothes?" lin first asked, "you bin in a-swimmin' agin and lost 'em, i reckon." the children came romping home from school, sister lizzie rolled on the floor as she caught sight of the boy and asked lin, between screams: "who dressed brother al up like that?" the mother ordered him to remain in the room until they got other clothes for him. they did not want the neighbors to see him dressed as he was. the boy's spirit began to assert itself. "laugh, if you feel like it. lacy hare and aunt betsy made me these clothes, they're regular soldier clothes. i'll bet if you laugh at them when aunt betsy comes she will tell you something. i don't see nothin' to laugh at." "landsakes," spoke up lin, "step in the parlor and look at yerself. ef you don't laugh you're not the kind i took ye fer." alfred did laugh and he got out of the clothes mighty quickly. lin was delegated to explain to aunt betsy why they changed alfred's clothes so quickly. aunt betsy informed them: "the boy had jes' romped until he was most naked. they didn't want to send to town for clothes for him, so lacy and her jes' banded together and made him the suit. they had plenty of time and they concluded to make him a suit different from any other boy's. and it warn't much trouble to trim it up and make it nice rather than to make it plain. it took two days more to trim it than it did to make it." lin told the good, honest soul they could not think of alfred wearing the clothes every day in town. "we'll keep 'em off him 'til the next battle and when the peepul are all sad over their friends that's been killed, we'll dress him up and send him down the street." many years afterwards, the writer, rummaging through the garret of the old home, the odd garments fashioned by lacy hare and aunt betsy were discovered. recollections of the mirth they aroused when first brought to the notice of the family, prompted the carrying of the old musty outfit to the sitting room below. but somehow the odd looking suit failed to excite any merriment. it was rather regarded with reverence. the sight of it sent the thoughts of all traveling back to other and happier days. the mother thought of those whose kindly hands had fashioned the fantastic garments; of an elder sister who had filled a mother's place in the family. she remembered a happy home, its like unknown in all the country about, where hospitality was liberally dispensed, visitors always welcome. she thought of the first wife's passing, the coming of another to the big house. the lowering of the family name by the second marriage. the shunning of the old home by friends and relatives; of the rapid decline of the master; evil associates whom he preferred to those who had honored and loved him; the estrangement of family and friends. in her mind she could see in him a bent old man, prematurely old, leaving his home to seek shelter with strangers, lost to the sight of former friends, his whereabouts known only when the final summons came to him; his identity made known by his last request: "i have left money with george gallagher to bury me. bury me beside betsy." and in her mind she saw two graves side by side, one with a marker reading "my beloved wife," the other unmarked. the mother softly said as she folded the coat and nether garments: "put them away again." chapter seven backward, turn backward, oh, time in your flight, make me a child again, just for tonight. "help is mighty skeerse an' ye got to take what ye kin git," was lin's answer to the query of a neighbor as to why they had re-employed cousin charley after the confusion he had created in the family of alfred. cousin charley was sent to the country on an errand that was supposed to consume a couple of hours. it was circus day. the head of the family gave the boys sufficient money to pay their way from side-show to concert. that they might not miss any of the sights of circus day, charley arranged with lin to serve breakfast by a. m., to give him an early start, enabling him to return by o'clock and take alfred to the circus grounds to remain all day, the custom of the country folk in those days. many families brought their lunch with them and picnicked on the show grounds. among them was abner linn, a large man noted for his appetite and great strength. abner was making his way through the crowd on circus day, clearing a path, as it were, for his delicate little wife and more than half a dozen children. the frail little woman carried a large basket filled with eatables. the basket was more than a load and the little woman struggled to keep near her muscular husband. glancing back and noticing the wife faltering, he relieved her of the basket and started forward at a faster walk than before. gentle harry mason admiringly complimented him by saying: "abner, that was very kind and thoughtful of you to carry that heavy basket for your wife." ab, with a leer, said: "gosh, i was afeard she'd get lost." alfred cried to go to the country with charley. lin said: "ye'll be so tired ye can't enjoy the show ef ye walk out thar an' back so early in the mornin'." go alfred would. up town hill, through sandy hollow, through the old toll gate to thornton's lane where the boys were to turn off the old pike. but they did not turn off. they lingered under the big locust trees throwing stones at birds and against the high fence surrounding the fair grounds where black fan had won her famous race. the circus was coming in on the old pike from uniontown. all circus travel was overland in those days. cousin charley argued if they did not see the show come in they'd miss one of the big sights of the day: they had plenty of time. the show would pass that way soon and alfred was only too willing to linger. the dew, sparkling like diamonds as it lay on grass and plant, had disappeared; a summer's sun was pouring its direct rays on the old pike. cousin charley prevailed on the younger boy to continue the journey further eastward on the pike until they met the wagons. cousin charley explained that he was familiar with a short cut to their destination, and as they crossed the creek they would have a swim. this met with the hearty approval of alfred. the boys walked out the old highway, passing captain abram's fine farm where charley had dug potatoes on the shares, on beyond uncle jack's big stone house, nearly to redstone school-house ere the circus wagons were met. as the wagons rolled by, the boys conjectured as to what each contained. there were no animal vans as the menagerie had not combined with the circus in those days. the big, gold-mounted band wagon, followed by a dozen passenger wagons, buggies and hacks, a half dozen led ring horses and ponies, passed, and the cavalcade was lost in the dust. striking across the fields the boys were soon on the banks of dunlap's creek. instead of the gently flowing stream in which they expected to bathe their heated bodies, they found a raging, muddy torrent, fast flowing, spreading over bottom lands, water half way up the stalks of the growing corn. cousin charley declared the water too muddy for bathing purposes; but he would undress, construct a raft of the plentiful rails that had lodged along the banks of the creek, and seating alfred on the raft, he would swim, pushing the raft across the creek. cousin charley began constructing the raft near the creek bank proper, where the water was backed into the field. he dragged the rails through the water, sometimes lying down and swimming, at other times diving under the water. alfred could not resist the temptation to undress and assist with the raft. [illustration: the life raft] when completed, cousin charley seated alfred on the top of the raft, the clothing of both boys being piled on his lap that they might not get wet. the raft was pushed off, cousin charley insisting that he was a stern wheel tow boat, kicking his feet out of the water to imitate the splash of the wheel. the boat did not make great headway but backed and went ahead as the raft floated down the creek. the banks were steeper on either side, therefore, the tow boat decided to go down the stream a little further ere landing. in fact, the towboat was having such a good time he did not fully realize the current was carrying his tow rapidly towards the old mill dam. neither did the passenger on the raft realize this until he noticed a changed expression on the face of the tow boat. he further realized that the tow boat was laboring powerfully. in rounding a bend in the stream the tow actually swung around in the current, the tow boat not having power to prevent it. the younger boy for the first time noticed the roaring of the old dam, a fact the boy doing the towing had been aware of and terribly worried over for some time. in his excitement, the younger boy stood up on the raft. "set down! set down!" frantically yelled the boy in the water. another alarming fact presented itself at this juncture. several of the under rails had worked out and were only connected to the raft by one end. this caused the raft to settle on the port side and the younger boy could no longer keep his seat, fearing he would tumble off backwards into the stream. the boys became more and more excited, the roar of the old dam grew nearer and nearer. louder and louder came the noise of the waters tumbling over it. both boys pictured themselves being swept over the dam into the whirlpool below. no victim of niagara's treacherous tides ever neared his doom with greater terror. down, down, floated rails and cargo; cousin charley struggling as he never did before; alfred screaming as he never did before or since. when cousin charley began shouting for help, the younger boy became hysterical. the roar of the rushing water seemed to drown all other sounds and cousin charley's voice, though he shouted at the top of his lungs' strength, sounded to alfred's ears like a voice in the distance. "set down! set down! for god's sake, set down! you'll fall off. set down!" yelled cousin charley. instead of obeying, alfred clambered higher and higher on the rails, waving his shirt frantically and shouting for help. the shirt served as a signal of distress. morg gaskill was in the field above the young house. he saw the shirt waving. the roar of the waters drowned the boys' voices. gaskill, rushing to the saw-mill, grabbed a log hook and ran up the banks of the creek. the boys could see the break of the water as it rushed over the crest of the dam and the white, foamy splashes as it bounded up from where it fell below. cousin charley was barely holding on to the tow; alfred was sinking down on the almost disintegrated raft. gaskill, muscular and active, rushed into the water up to his middle, shot the pole out. the hook caught over the rails, but they pulled out. alfred fell on them as the raft drifted apart. down went all of charley's wearing apparel excepting his big straw hat and one shoe which alfred clutched unconsciously in one hand. as alfred fell forward on the rails he grabbed the hook or pole and held on for dear life as gaskill pulled him ashore, more dead than alive. the elder boy was floated off holding onto two rails. it was but a moment until the strong young man had both lads ashore. they dragged the hook along the bottom of the creek but not a vestige of the clothes of either could be found. charley had one shoe and a large straw hat. alfred had a shirt, rather long, and a hat. explanations were gone into. gaskill went into the house, returning with an old rubber boot, a calico shirt and a pair of corduroy pants. many patches made their original material a matter of doubt. he explained that was the best he could do for charley and said: "i don't know what we will do for the chap," scanning alfred, "unless he wears one of hannah's dresses," which cousin charley endeavored to persuade alfred to do. alfred declared he would sneak home as best he could with only the shirt. the boy realized that cousin charley would never cease teasing him if he wore the dress. alfred's body was covered with mud, cousin charley insisted that he go down to the water's brink and wash the mud from his body but alfred could not be prevailed upon to go near the creek. a large pail of very cold water was fetched from the well. with a mischievousness little short of cruelty, the water was poured on alfred's head, streaming down over his body, his teeth chattered, his lips turned blue. the women folks of the house were coming, so alfred ran into the high grass to hide; while cousin charley and gaskill renewed their search of the creek for the lost clothes. the house had been searched and nothing suitable to clothe alfred could be found. there were no boys in the family. there was a whispered consultation and one of the women hastened to the house. returning, she handed gaskill a white linen garment. he walked towards alfred, his face distorted, endeavoring to suppress his laughter. gaskill, unrolling the something made of muslin, commanded alfred to get into it. as he put one foot through the upheld opening, he caught sight of cousin charley's face and his attempted concealment of laughter. this so exasperated alfred that he did not notice the garment he was being encased in. he upbraided cousin charley for his unseemly levity: "yes, laugh, you durn big fool! laugh! you was skeered more than i was. dog-gone ye, it was all your fault. if we had drowned you would have been to blame, then i reckon you'd laughed tuther side of your mouth. you big fool, you." by this time gaskill had the muslin garment fastened on alfred. the waistband, which was too wide, gaskill doubled over and pinned it. the legs were the same size all the way down, extending only a little below the knees. the seat seemed to have a surplus similar to the uniform lacy hare had fashioned, although this part of the garment stood off from his person, not clinging like the heavy material of the military clothes. alfred, surveying himself as they walked towards the house where mr. young had invited them to have a bite of dinner, "after their skeer," began to realize that the linen garments he wore were similar to those that lin washed last and never hung on the line in the front yard where the men came in. this discovery did not prevent him laughing at himself. [illustration: "i won't go through town with them things on"] alfred hesitatingly entered the house. gaskill and cousin charley were tittering and laughing. gaskill inquired: "well, how are you going to git home?" charley replied: "i reckon i'll have to hide him out 'til after dark or send him on ahead for, by the eternal, i won't go through town with him with them things on." old mrs. young, gently leading the abashed boy to the table, spoke words of assurance, reproving the men for their levity. the youngs were of the dunkard faith, a religious sect numerous in the vicinity. on their way home alfred was the more hilarious of the two. in a spirit of bravado he declared he intended to walk right down the main street crowded as it would be on circus day. he further declared his intention to tell pap and mother the whole story--just how it happened. alfred seemed to have the better of the bigger and older boy. in fact, during the past year alfred had been gradually gaining the mastery of cousin charley insofar as mind was concerned. it has been said that each mind has its own method, no two reason and think alike. alfred seemed to think quicker than cousin charley and often turned the tables on the older boy in a mental contest. on this occasion cousin charley finally gained the mastery by his threats not to take the younger boy to the circus. it was agreed that cousin charley should tell the folks of the day's adventure. as they neared home their mirth diminished as their fears increased: how to run the gauntlet, as it were. so far they had avoided the highways, skulking through thicket and fields. as they neared the old smouse place, now occupied by mart massie as a dairy farm, the milkman was hitching up preparatory to making his usual rounds. cousin charley, perhaps feeling it would be a good rehearsal, recounted the story he had concocted to relate to alfred's parents. the milkman was greatly interested in the thrilling narrative and consented to store the boys in the back end of the milk wagon, delivering them when he delivered the milk to their folks. the boys thought it a very long milk route. alfred had cousin charley as nearly nervous as his nature would permit by more than once threatening to get out and walk home. when they neared home, passing through church street, alfred made a move to leave the wagon, crawling over the end gate backwards, his limbs dangling outside, his head and body hid by the closely drawn curtains. cousin charley, after struggling, pulled him into the wagon under cover. [illustration: "if ye ain't lyin' about this and i'm hopin' ye air"] several women had caught sight of the limbs and the unmentionable garments. while the driver was entirely ignorant of the cause, he was forever disgraced on this part of his route. an old scotch lady declared to several of her neighbors the "shameless hussy was bare to the kilt." arriving in front of alfred's home, cousin charley hustled him into the house the front way as lin came up the path from the back part of the house in answer to the bell of the milkman, who was of the gossiping kind, and managed to give lin the outlines of cousin charley's story as he drew the milk and cream from his large cans. lin could scarcely wait until he poured the milk into her pitcher. giving the milk vendor a withering look, she slammed the gate and hissed: "i'll bet a fippennybit that's another of charley's durn lies." hurrying into the kitchen she seized a rolling pin, her favorite weapon. two stairs at a time she bounded, reaching the room where cousin charley had related about half of the harassing details of the rescue of alfred. this was his story: "he had stopped to rest. alfred got out of his sight in some way. he heard screams from the creek. he saw alfred floating down the stream on a log which he had been paddling around in the shallow water. it was but the work of a moment to disrobe. plunging into the raging torrent he had to swim for dear life to overtake the fast floating boy on the log. he had just managed to land him before the dam was reached. a moment later and they would both have been carried over the dam to certain destruction." the mother was faint with nervousness and sadly shook her head as she said: "that boy will be the death of me yet. his disobedience is something i cannot understand. no wonder his father is out of patience with him." lin was watching charley closely, occasionally casting side glances at alfred. she had a gleam in her eyes that made charley falter more than once in his narration. charley was still in the details when lin interrupted him with: "durn yer pictur', ye nivir take this boy anywhar yer not back with a cock and bull story. next ye'll be fightin' injuns or gypsies to save alfurd and it all amounts to alfurd gittin' whupped an' somethin, fer ye to laff over." here she brandished the rolling pin over charley, raising herself higher as the boy shrank from her threatening motions. "ef ye ain't lyin' 'bout this, an' i'm hopin' ye air, we ought to be mighty thankful to ye. but i'm boun' to hev the truth. set down, or i'll knock ye down." "'al-f-u-r-d,' i want ye to stan' up like a little man. ye nivir tol' me a lie 'cept when ye stol' us hungry carryin' vittles to this houn'," as she pointed to the thoroughly frightened charley, who whined: "that's all the thanks i git for risking my life." "shet up," lin almost yelled, "ye'll not tell one word of this to mr. hatfield." "stan' up 'al-f-u-r-d' an' look this helgrimite in the face an' shame the devil. didn't he push ye in the creek?" "no, ma'am," falteringly. "i went in myself." charley began to look triumphant. "did he pull you out?" "no, ma'am, morg gaskill pulled us both out." lin fairly hissed: "i knowed ye was lyin'." thus encouraged, alfred graphically related the adventures of the day, not omitting any of the details save the dangling of his limbs out of the milk wagon. charley was taken aback and thereafter his credibility was destroyed in so far as the mother and lin were concerned. he pouted and endeavored to deny portions of the younger boy's recital but was met with such positive assertions from alfred that he retired entirely discomfited. lin's only comment was: "durn ye; i'd be afeard to put my head in a circus, much less a church." lin looked upon one with as much reverence as the other. the boys missed the afternoon performance but were there early for the night show. at the opening note of the hand organ in the side-show cousin charley and alfred were inside. the orator had eloquently described the curiosities pictured on the long line of banners in front of the side-show. but the most alluring object had not been mentioned, namely, a long show case filled with jewelry, symbolic numbers, bank notes of all denominations. a dice box on top of the glass-covered case was the means by which the yokels were assured they could extract the jewelry, bank notes, etc. the father had given charley ample funds to cover admission fees to all shows and a liberal allowance for refreshments. alfred was very much interested in the big snake and the lady whom the lecturer introduced as a snake charmer. the lecturer announced that the performance was over, but another would be given in fifteen minutes. all those wishing to remain for the next performance were privileged to do so. those congregated around the show case whereon the dice rattled were the only ones to remain. alfred heard the man behind the case saying: "try your luck again, young man. you were within one number of the capital prize. you can't win it every time. try again." charley did try again and again. he did not win the capital prize but in lieu of $ he had two brass rings, a pair of brass cuff buttons and a lead pencil with a sharpener on the end of it. the shades of night were falling. the lights in the big tent could be seen over the side wall. hundreds of candles on a pyramid-shaped candelabra made of boards. think of it, ye modern ringlings, candles the only lights! the band playing, alfred imagined the show going on: the horses going around. all the glories and beauties he had been anticipating for weeks would be lost to him. he implored cousin charley to hurry up and purchase their tickets. hundreds were buying tickets. the big red wagon was open, the ticket seller handling the pasteboards with lightning-like rapidity. it was ben lusbie. he was the lightning ticket seller of the circus world. such was his dexterity that forepaugh afterwards lithographed him as an attraction. alfred's urgent appeals to "hurry and get our tickets" were lost upon cousin charley. he was seemingly dazed. the man at the big door shouted: "everybody hold their own ticket; all must have tickets." the hustle and confusion made alfred still more impatient. he gave the older boy's arm a rough jerk as he urged him to get their tickets. cousin charley seemed to wake up and the awful truth was revealed--cousin charley had been robbed. alfred must stand right there until he took the jewelry back to the side show and recovered his money. alfred stood right there. hundreds passed him, laughing and crowding into the big show. the longer alfred waited the more miserable he became. despair came over him. he waited, cousin charley did not come. the crowd thinned out; deeper and deeper alfred's heart sank within him. anger began to take the place of disappointment. he would beat cousin charley black and blue with the first thing he could lay his hands on. he would expose all he had been concealing in a hundred mean things charley had been guilty of. the band played louder in the big tent. the feeling that he was missing all came back to him stronger than ever, bringing the hot tears to his eyes. they rolled down his cheeks until it seemed they would dampen the earth at his feet. alfred saw a large man pushing his way to the ticket wagon. it was doctor bob playford, the biggest whole-souled friend any boy ever had. when the circus came, it was the custom of bob playford to wait until the crowd got in, then, collecting all the boys on the lot who could not command the price of admission, make a contract with the door-keeper and put them all in the show. there are scores of men now, boys then, whose prayers have gone up that kind hearted bob playford found it as easy to enter the gates above as he made it for them to enter that heaven to a boy below--the circus. alfred knew full well that doctor playford would buy him a ticket but his pride would not permit him to ask this. accompanying the doctor were willie playford, his son, and bob kennedy, his nephew. the boys, recognizing alfred, asked if he were going in the show. endeavoring to swallow a big lump in his throat, his voice choked as he answered: "no." "were you there this afternoon?" again alfred answered: "no." no longer able to restrain himself he told of charley's folly. the doctor, approaching, alfred's story was repeated, as it progressed, alfred's sobbing and crying increased. the doctor, giving him a sympathetic look and a rough shake, said: "now stop crying, stop crying, you dam little fool. when the circus comes to town you always come to me and i'll see that you get in." the big doctor, alfred and the boys were seated long before the performance began, alfred forgetting cousin charley, the raft, the garments he had dangled out of the milk wagon; in fact all the trials and tribulations of life were as fleeting dreams. happiness lingered within his whole being. the sights and wonders, the clowns were all flitting before him. the evening was one of bewilderment and enchantment to the boy. the old clown was his especial delight. he fairly shouted at his quips and antics. when the mules were brought in and $ offered to the boy or man who could ride one of them, alfred was tempted to make the trial. he felt certain he could do better than those who were being cast off like babies by the agile animals. the show over, they started with the crowd toward the door. a whistle sounded, the walls of the tent fell as if by magic. the doctor and the boys stood a long time watching the tents lowered. as they passed up the narrow passage leading from the show lot to the street, cousin charley met them, his appearance evidencing his shame and disappointment. the doctor began chiding him. charley, in his illuminating way, explained that he went into the side show, and the man coaxed him to shake the dice. he shook and came within one every time he shook of winning the capital prize. he left the game, was induced to go back and shake again and the first dash out of the box he won the capital prize. they refused to give it to him, grabbed the money he had in his hand and put him out of the tent. he had been up on the hill to see squire wilkinson to swear out a warrant for their arrest but the squire was at prayer-meeting. (they always have prayer meeting when the circus comes to town). he ran back to find the man who took his money. "if i'd found him, i'd licked him or he'd licked me," concluded charley. the big doctor playfully straightened out his powerful arm, pushing charley backwards. gazing at him in a humorously contemptuous manner as he said: "look here, my boy, you lie. you were gambling? no one but a country jake would try to beat that game. i lost two dollars on that eight dice case myself. now let me give you a little advice: 'don't bet on another man's game unless you have money at home, for you are sure to lose all you have with you.'" alfred and cousin charley wended their way home alfred endeavored to express his sympathy in detailing the wondrous sights he had witnessed in the circus. alfred was sorry for cousin charley and while his intentions were commendable his descriptions of the circus only added to the disappointment and chagrin of the elder boy. that night alfred dreamed of heaven in his happiness. he dreamed that heaven was one big circus, with angels in pink tights and clowns capering on the golden streets. peanuts and candy were heaped in piles invitingly, free to all. he dreamed of a big, blue-eyed man who stood at the golden gates and passed all the boys in free and when they did not come of their own accord he beckoned to them. he seemed to enjoy the happiness of the boys more than the boys themselves. next morning at breakfast the wonders of the circus were gone over again. alfred did not breathe a word as to cousin charley's loss of the money at the gaming table. since the night of the circus alfred had busied himself preparing to give his first show. the costumes and a place to give the exhibition seemed to worry him more than the entertainment he was to offer. lin was his assistant. it might be more proper to state that lin was the prime mover, and the director of the proposed exhibition, although lin kept her activity concealed from the other members of the family. she explained her participation in the coming show thusly: "well, it's better fer a body to keep yer yungins to hum even ef it does clutter up the house to hev their fun. alfurd's mos' crazy 'bout bein' a circus clown an' ye'd die laffin' to see the little cuss cuttin' didoes. i'd rather see him doin' it than hev him trapesin' the streets like bill's charley." lin never lost an opportunity to cast a reflection on charley. alfred, lin and the mother were seated at the breakfast table, discussing alfred's show. ways and means were the subjects. the mother was an interested listener, although a quiet dissenter. she could not understand how alfred, even with lin's aid, could offer anything in the way of a show to entertain even children. the price of admission was to be two ten-penny nails. the boat building industry was thriving and the boys often went aboard a new boat picking up the nails the carpenters let fall in their work. the nail idea was lin's and we must accord her some degree of originality. "pins had always been the equivalent for cash for admission to amatoor shows." lin said "our show." she always said "our show" when talking to the neighbors. when the show was referred to at home it was "alfred's show." costumes were the perplexity of alfred. he desired "purty" clothes: it made the acting look better. lin added: "purty duds makes a lot in a show, or in meetin'," meanwhile looking mischievously at the mother. she said to alfred: "ye've got a tolerable good start fur as ye're concerned yerself, with the two suits ye fetched hum lately--the soldier suit lacy hare and aunt betsy made ye an' the one mrs. young lent ye." morg gaskill had requested the return of the latter mentioned garments but alfred's climbing of fences, running through briar patches and dangling out of milk wagons had pretty well used the garments up. the mother therefore in return sent similar garments. alfred insisted that the unmentionables mrs. young loaned him should be the basis of his clown suit. although alfred has worn many grotesque costumes since, none ever more strongly appealed to the risibilities of an audience than did those same garments. lin said they were "the funniest fit she ever seed an' she wondered to gawd who they ever wuz made fer. two meal sacks fastened together would fit jes' as well." the show passed off as amateur shows generally do, with a great many hitches, accidents and quarrels. the night was a stormy one, without and within. the audience all came early and stood around the kitchen stove while alfred and the other performers robed themselves, for there were no dressing rooms. lin commanded the audience to turn their faces and look toward the stove while the actors were dressing. the audience were compelled to go through the kitchen to gain entrance to the place of exhibition, the cellar. on lin would fall the labor of cleaning up next day; therefore, as each auditor appeared at the kitchen door, lin shouted: "wipe yer feet 'fore ye come in." that the show might go on without hindrance, or for some other reason, the father and mother visited a neighbor that night. this was a great relief to alfred and lin. lin said: "ef mary ever sees this kitchen afore i git at it in the mornin' she'll hev a fit of the conniptions." the show was very unsatisfactory to alfred. he was dissatisfied with his company and declared they "couldn't do nuthin'." one or two weakened at the last moment. when looked for to take their place in the ring they were found seated or standing among the audience and no persuasion from the manager or the audience could induce them to go on with their part of the performance. this was exasperating to alfred. he either enacted their roles or explained the part they were expected to perform. lin went wild over his impersonations of daniel boone, santa anna and davy crockett. lin said: "i tell ye what, lacy hare's soldier suit come in jes' right." young bill colvin, a nephew of uncle joe's neighbor, was seated near the ringside. he plucked at one of the epaulets while davy crockett was supposed to be holding the cabin door against the wolves. this ruffled the temper of davy to such an extent that he smote bill. bill smote back. over and over they rolled on the cellar floor. davy might have been a mighty man pitted against the wolves, but bill colvin was getting the better of him until lin rushed to the rescue. parting the combatants, young colvin was rushed to the door, flung half way across the street by lin and the door slammed in his face. lin was more loudly applauded than any other part of the show. she made a speech: "ef there's any other freckled faced willun here thet's goin' to do anythin' to bust up this show, now's the time fer 'em to wade in while i'm het up. huh, bill colvin thinks caus' his daddy's rich he kin do anythin' he wants to, but he'll find he's up agin a stump when he starts a fuss in this shanty." lin's sunny disposition was rarely crossed by shadows, but she was terribly angry and the best of order was maintained for the remainder of the evening. although there was no visible evidence of the mud and dirt tracked into the kitchen by the audience, the next morning the mother forever put the ban on future shows in so far as the cellar or kitchen were concerned. lin had constructed a rude candelabra after the style of the one in the circus. it was left hanging in the cellar. lin lit them up when aunt betsy came on saturday to show her how "purty" they were. afterwards, in the absence of lin, the mother confidentially imparted the information to aunt betsy that "lin was crazier over such things than alfred, and it was pretty much all her doings." * * * * * lin had been busy for weeks, in fact, ever since the show in the cellar, patching, sewing, and putting together old rag carpet, canvas, heavy with paint, that had been ripped from the hurricane deck of an old steamboat. alfred was to give another show, this time on jeffries' commons and under canvas, or rather, inside of canvas. since the night the side wall fell as dr. playford and he were leaving the tent, the boy had been revolving this plan in his mind. he felt certain he could collect, with the aid of the boys, sufficient material to encircle the ring which had been long constructed and used to practice in. a center pole with side poles planted in the ground like fence posts. a top for the tent was out of the question but nearly sufficient material had been collected to encircle the poles, making a sidewall nearly ten feet high. lin had announced the price of admission at one cent and had so extensively advertised the show by word of mouth that the children were already visiting alfred's home to buy tickets of admission. this aggravated the mother more greatly than even the cellar show. the mother feared the neighbors would think that she was interested in the show, financially. lin said: "let 'em think what they durn please. some of 'em's in a mighty big hurry to pay fur their tickets. ef they'd pay back the saleratus, salt, sugar, tea, coffee, an' sich they've borryed from us we'd be better off. but some peepul will spend money quicker fer fun than they will fer vittles or religion." it was the night before the show. a consultation was held in the tent between alfred and his aids. there was an opening of at least ten feet in length in the side of the tent and no canvas or other material to close it up. turkey evans had brought the last strip of an old rag carpet he had taken surreptitiously from an unused room of his home. the two old quilts tom white had stolen from betsy smart were in place with half moons, hearts, diamonds, and sunflowers worked on them in raised figures. they gave the tent the appearance of an indian tepee. win scott had contributed all the coffee, grain or salt sacks he could secure by rummaging every building on stable street. some of the boys had even appropriated the aprons worn by nimrod potts, the shoemaker. as mr. potts was of goodly size the two aprons from his shop went a long ways toward making a partition between the tent and the dressing room. spliced to the bed tick bindley livingston had thrown out of the third story window of his father's house, the aprons closed up the opening completely. but the big opening near the door was still a gaping void. after all had confessed to their inability to furnish another yard of material, alfred advised that in the garret of his grandfather's home there was a large cedar chest filled with whitest linen, three pieces of which would close up the opening but he knew grandpap would not let him take it "caus' he was a baptis' and agin shows." win scott argued that it would be no harm to take the linen. the fact that it had lain there unused was proof positive they would never miss it. just as soon as the show was over they would take it back and no one would ever know it but themselves. alfred being entirely familiar with grandfather's house it was planned he should creep upstairs, open a window and throw sufficient of the linen out of the garret into old man morehouse's back yard where the others would station themselves, carry the linen to the old school house and secrete it until the following morning. alfred's limbs trembled so he could scarcely stand as he opened the back door of the big stone house. up the long flight of stairs he crept, the creaking of a loose board startling him so he nearly fainted. although not a light burned in that part of the house, so familiar was he with its interior that he had no difficulty in finding his way. as he reached the top of the stairs leading to the garret, still on hands and knees, the old furniture, odds and ends piled around indiscriminately, took on the grotesqueness of imps, demons and other fantastic figures. so wrought up was his imagination that nothing but the fear of ridicule from his confederates forced him on. crawling along the dirty, sooty, begrimed floor, he soon located the old cedar chest. raising the lid, the aroma of camphor and rose leaves nearly overcame him. even in the dark he could discern the folds of whitest linen. counting out five pieces, he tiptoed to the window. with the signal--a soft whistle--down floated the first sheet, caught by one of the boys ere it touched the ground. the next sheet hit the brick pavement with a thud. partly unfolding the next two alfred followed their fluttering course to the earth with his gaze. he could see the white objects moving off like specters floating through space. they appeared so ghost-like the sight almost paralyzed him. shaking with nervousness, the last sheet left his hands accidently catching on the window fastening. it spread out like a great, white bird with flapping wings and slowly fluttered to the earth. a door opened below. alfred nearly collapsed. tip-toeing across the room he stumbled over an object on the floor causing a great racket. falling on the floor he crawled behind a number of old quilting frames and lay there ever so quiet expecting momentarily to hear some of the family ascending the stairs. crawling slowly to the stairs he softly descended, opened the door and shot out into the darkness of the night. the perspiration streaming down his face. wiping it away with his soot begrimed hands, so blackened his countenance his companions scarcely recognized him when he reached the rendezvous, the old school-house on the commons. when the last sheet fluttered down from the garret, win scott stepped under it. tommy morehouse's back door opened. with the sheet fluttering about him, scott ran down the garden path and out through the barn into stable street. nearly opposite the stable from which he had just emerged was the big stable of the marshall house, a tavern kept by isaac vance, the uncle of ike stribeg, the afterwards noted circus agent. baggy allison and hughey boggs, characters of the town, were seated on a bench outside the door of the big stable. scott, pulling the sheet more closely about him and waving his arms wildly, quickly crossed the street towards the two worthies, thinking to have some fun with them. both caught sight of him at the same instant. one corner of the sheet, fluttering high in the air, it certainly was a skittish looking object that floated down upon the two superstitious men. over went the bench, a chair or two, allison stepped in a tin pail as he arose, his foot entangled in it. the clattering of baggy's foot in the pail added ten fold to the terror of hughey. he swore afterwards he could feel the clutch of the long, bony fingers of the ghost on his neck. [illustration: he could feel the clutch of long, bony fingers on him] the hostlers flew, both trying to enter the narrow door of the tavern. wedged in the doorway, each thought the other holding him. fighting, cussing, scratching, they were pulled into the big tap room filled with guests. all imagined the two hostlers were fighting and endeavored to separate them. baggy allison was very slow of speech; hughey boggs stuttered painfully. after they were separated they kept up their clawing and waving. baggy, pointing toward the stable, blurted out: "ghost! ghost! ghost after us! ketch it! ketch it!" hughey stuttering more terribly, owing to his fright had, only got to "gh--gh--gh--gh," when baggy had finished explaining the cause of their fright. bud beckley, old johnny holmes and jim hubbs, the town constable, were the first to run towards the stable, but nothing was to be seen in any direction. baggy and hughey were unmercifully scored for their cowardice, and were ridiculed for days afterward. win scott was as badly frightened as the two hostlers. the flight of the men caused him to redouble his speed. on down stable street to playford's alley, out along the high stone wall enclosing nelson bowman's castle, on to jeffries' commons, formerly an old graveyard. here, according to report, the spook sank into a sunken grave. albert baker's mother saw the apparition as did sammy honesty, one of bowman's servants. * * * * * saturday morning, the day of the show, was one of those days that nature often bestows on brownsville: not the fleck of a floating cloud in the firmament above. even the winds slept that they might not ruffle the tranquility of the scene or alfred's tent. lin was greatly disturbed over the opening in the tent. she declared: "every dadratted, stingy critter in the neighborhood would jes' stan' outside and peek in fer nuthin'; and jes' to think, we got all the other places kivered only that plague-goned old hole right by the door." when win scott arrived with the white linen sheets, lin was greatly surprised. she feared they were not come by honestly. the boys assured her they had borrowed them, promising to return them as good as they came. lin was finally persuaded to tack and sew the sheets on the tent. when completed, she surveyed her work for a moment and said: "we're all hun-ki-dora now"--a slang phrase in those days signifying "all right." jeffries commons swarmed with children. so impatient was alfred to open the circus that he refused to eat dinner. lin fetched him a pie which he devoured as he worked. win scott was the door-keeper and treasurer. lin had a wordy war with the treasurer soon after the doors opened. willie shuman, who was lame, wanted to sit on the treasurer's seat, a soap box near the main entrance. win objected solely on the grounds that real shows did not permit patrons to sit where they pleased but made them stand around. lin secured another soap box and willie was given the kind of seat he desired "up high," as lin expressed it, "so nobody could stan' in front of him." lin insisted on counting the receipts several times while the audience was assembling and when they reached sixty-eight cents, she concluded it was too much money to entrust to any one connected with the show. emptying the pennies in her pocket, she pinned it up, remarking: "ef there's no trouble comes up about them there new linen sheets, we'll give another show tonight. i hev all the lights hangin' in the cellar ready." the ghost seen the night before had been the talk of the town and that it disappeared on the old commons near the tent was whispered about among those in attendance at alfred's show. lin heard whispers of the reports and somehow she could not entirely dispossess her mind of the idea that the new linen sheets were connected in some way with the ghosts. however, so deeply interested was she in the manifold duties she had imposed upon herself that ghosts and linen sheets were, for the time, forgotten. sitting on a soap box holding two children on her lap, so they could see it all, lin was calling on alfred to come back into the ring and repeat a twisting about trick he had just performed. lin said the children wanted to see him do it "agin." encores were numerous from lin, no matter whether the major portion of the audience desired them or not; if the children expressed a wish to see any feat repeated lin simply commanded that it be done and if the performer hesitated to take a recall, lin sat the children off her lap and marched the performer out and compelled him to comply with the children's wishes. although it was balmy spring, there was a tinge of chill in the air that touched one. many of the boys were compelled to undress to don their costumes, and joe sandford's costume especially was not conducive to comfort and warmth. alfred had strongly impressed it upon all who participated in the performance that they must have real show clothes. many and surprising were the costumes. tom white's father had been a member of the sons of malta. young white wore his father's regalia, a cross between the make-up of captain kidd and rip van winkle. joe sanford's costume made alfred slightly jealous. lin had trimmed the garments loaned alfred by mrs. young. she had made him a body dress from an old patch quilt, the figures worked in yellow and red. yet the colors were not as bright as those in the costume of joe. it was spring time, house-cleaning and wall-papering time. mrs. sanford, being of an inventive turn of mind, collected the wall paper scraps, particularly the red border paper. fashioning a suit out of the paper, she pasted it together. the costume was after the style of napoleon, as we have seen him in pictures. joe was without clothing of any kind except the pasty wall paper suit, stripes on the trousers running up and down and on the jacket encircling. as joe walked about the dressing room to keep warm the paper suit rustled and swished. he was the admiration of all the performers. although joe was not to appear until later he insisted that he be permitted to perform his feats at once, that he was almost frozen. lin was advised of this fact and said: "oh, well, let him do his showin'. ef he ketched cold he would hev the tisic, (phthysic)." joe was subject to this affliction. joe's part of the performance was hanging on a horizontal pole a little higher than his head, skinning the cat, then sitting upright on the bar, clasping his knees with his hands, revolve around the pole. joe had performed this feat a thousand times. but he had never attempted it in a show costume constructed of wall paper. [illustration: joe's wall paper duds] the wall-paper suit began to give along the pasted seams even while joe was skinning the cat. lin said afterwards: "he was so durned skeered and a wheezin' with the tisic he didn't know whether he was a-foot or a-horseback. i seed the rips openin' every time he stirred." joe was evidently uncertain as to the strength of his show clothes. despite a parting of seams he squirmed upon the horizontal bar, gripped his knees with his hands. thus doubled up the strain on the wall paper was greater than ever. joe ducked his head forward. the first revolution, the greater part of the wall paper suit was scattered over the saw-dust ring. joe started on the second revolution but when he got under the bar he hung there swinging backwards and forwards. lin said: "he jus' clung thar doubled up like a toy monkey on a stick, jus' swinging like the pendulum of a stoppin' clock." the red flowered belt and a sort of collar around the neck remained. joe had on very white stockings; however, they only reached below the knee. as he had lost his hat at the beginning of his stunt he was almost devoid of clothes. the vast audience giggled and shouted "accordin' to their raisin'" as lin expressed it afterwards. joe, through shame or stage fright, made no effort to release himself. the situation became embarrassing to the few grown ones present. mothers took occasion to look down at their children, smoothing their hair or straightening their clothing. the big girls looked another way but the greater part of the audience yelled with delight. lin "jus' couldn't stan' it any longer." dropping the children, she rushed to poor joe's rescue. she was compelled to unclasp joe's hands from the bar. in his fright and confusion he had a vise-like grasp on it. in the position in which he hung his face was hidden. lin said that "his old wall-paper duds was all off him" and she reckoned "long as his face was kivered he'd hung thar 'til he fainted or fell." when lin stood the poor fellow on his feet after relieving him from his perch, he was confused. instead of going into the dressing room where all the boys were yelling with laughter, poor joe ran out of the tent across the commons and crawled into jeffries' coal house. the door-keeper, win scott, hurried his regular clothes to him, but joe left for home and never thereafter did he essay to become an actor. every child carried home as a souvenir a remnant of joe's wall-paper show suit. meanwhile, alfred was changing the clown suit for lacy hare's military uniform in which he always appeared as davy crockett and daniel boone. someone called to him: "alf, here comes all yer grandpap's family." alfred peered through a hole in mrs. evans' rag carpet and his blood froze in his veins. heading the procession was grandpap, wide flowing, white collar, hat in hand. he appeared to alfred an avenging nemesis. following closely, came uncle ned, stern, and solemn aunt sarah. cousin charley and old tommy moorehouse brought up the rear of the advancing column. alfred felt the tent swaying as if in a gale. the tent swayed again. lin sat the children down quickly, "thinkin' it was some of the tarnel brats that had pestered the show tent ever since alfred started it." at the door she came face to face with the angry grandfather. "you're more to blame than the boy" was all alfred remained to hear. half naked, half dazed--for alfred feared his grandfather's wrath greatly--down the big hill the boy fairly flew, through the jimson weeds, their prickly pods stinging his bare breast and arms until the blood flowed. nor did he slacken his pace until the old coal road was reached. then along the dusty road to krepp's coal bank; into the dark tunnel penetrating the hill, nor did he stop until so far under ground that the opening to the coal mine, although large enough to admit a horse and cart, appeared to the sight as a ring of daylight no larger than an eye. realizing that the white and red clown paint lin had smeared on his face would be difficult to explain to the miners should he encounter them, alfred endeavored to remove it by washing it with the yellow sulphur water standing in the cart tracks where it had dropped from the damp sides of the old mine. he only spread it with the yellow water; his face presented a sight similar to an indian's in full war paint. his fears subsiding, he retraced his steps towards the entrance. the opening darkened and he could discern a figure standing out against the sky beyond. hastening on he whistled shrilly. the answering whistle he recognized as that of his treasurer, win scott. when they met, win gave alfred the particulars of the wrecking of the tent by uncle ned and imparted the information that all grandpap's family, with the linen sheets, had gone home excepting the grandmother, and he had a message requesting that alfred come to her at once, with the assurance that he would not be punished. the grandmother had frequently interceded in alfred's behalf and he was greatly pleased to receive her message. he felt so good over the turn of affairs that he could scarcely walk up the long hill so weak was he with laughter over joe's wall-paper circus clothes, nor did his good humor forsake him until they approached the spot where the tent, the work of many weeks, lay on the ground teetotally wrecked. win gave alfred a graphic description of uncle ned's wrecking of the tent, the escape of the audience, of lin's offering to pay for the sheets and her subsequent anger. lin endeavored to appease uncle ned's wrath. "but the more she talked the wuss he raved." when alfred entered the kitchen, lin's face was still red from anger and weeping. looking angrily at alfred, she began: "why did ye run? by golly, i'd stood my ground ef they'd all piled on me. ef it hadn't been fur grandmother, i'd licked ned myself." alfred explained that if he'd been dressed he'd stayed, but being "mos' naked he jus' knowed uncle ned would pull the tent down caus' he always wants to tear things up by the roots. i didn't want to be ketched naked like joe." at the thought of joe's mishap his laughter broke out again. lin's good nature began to assert itself. suppressing her smiles she placed her fingers on her lips which implied silence. jerking her head toward the sitting room door she informed the boy his grandmother was "thar waitin' fer ye," adding: "ye needn't be skeered, she's got more religion and more sense than the whole caboodle of 'em put together. go on in." softly approaching the door leading to the room he heard voices, his father's among them. he was half inclined to flee again. timidly rapping on the door he heard footsteps leaving the room. lin took him by the arm and led the boy into the large room. it was growing dark. his grandmother sat alone. they halted in front of the gentle lady, lin addressing alfred in an encouraging manner, said: "'al-f-u-r-d,' tell grandmother the truth. don't stan' up and lie like cousin charley does, caus' he allus gits ketched up in it." the boy looking into the kindly face of the quiet old lady felt no fear; however, his shame was most intense. drawing the abashed boy nearer to her, she put her arm about him, softly saying: "i greatly fear you have been led by those older than yourself to do things you would not have done had you had proper advisors. i fear you will get into serious trouble if you do not follow your father's and mother's advice. now, alfred, listen to every word grandmother says to you. you will not be punished for taking the sheets more than your conscience reproves you. you are a good boy and everyone loves you. it is only your father's love for you that influences him to be severe with you at times. your playful spirit, your mischievousness leads you into many actions that pain us all greatly but i am sure you do not intend to be bad. you are not vicious, only mischievous. now tell me, alfred, who prompted you to take the linen out of the chest?" "no one. i was all to blame. lin has sixty-eight cents and i have nearly three dollars uncle joe gave me and i'm going to give it all to uncle ned to pay for any tearing of the sheets and lin will wash and starch them. they'll be as good as new." with this speech the boy broke down completely. kneeling, he buried his face in the old lady's lap. she stroked his head gently, and in a tone more soft and quiet than heretofore, she asked the contrite boy if he was aware of the reverence in which the family held the linen contained in the old chest. the boy assured her that he supposed the old chest and its contents were cast off or unused articles the same as other goods stored away in the garret. when the grandmother informed the boy the family held the contents of the old chest as almost sacred, that the linen was the last winding sheets of those of his family who had gone to the great beyond, his shame brought a flood of tears that nothing the grandmother could say would stop. it was the custom that persons who died in those days were covered with whitest linen and this linen was ever afterwards preserved by the family as sacred. the grandmother in gentle tones reminded the boy of loved ones whom he held in sweetest remembrance, and when he fully realized that the linen in the old chest had been their last covering the tears of the boy and the aged woman mingled as he solemnly promised to so conduct himself in the future that his behavior would never wound her feelings more. thereafter the boy always found a loyal defender in the grandmother when troubles came to him. "i'll jes be durned ef ol' gran'muther ain't got more sense in a minute than her son ned will have ef he lives twict es old es jehu adams," said lin, referring to the oldest man in the neighborhood. "why, jes' see what she hes dun fer that boy. he's a perfec' little angel since she hauled him over the coals. bet he'd never teched them sheets ef he'd knowed they wus fer layin' out dead peepul in. he'd got others somehow, an' i'd been sort a lazy like 'bout sewin' 'em on the tent ef i'd knowed what they'd bin used fur. it's no wonder baggy allison and hughey boggs got skeered. durned ef they warn't purty near ghosts, enny how." "ef it had been left to gran'muther she'd let the show go on es long es we had the sheets hung up. they warn't hurtin' nobody. no, by golly, it's jes' like ned; he's jes' like his daddy an' the other baptusses. they don't hev any fun and they hate to hear a body laugh. huh, ef it had been a prayer meetin' or somethin' mournful for the baptusses' meetin' house to git money fur, ned ud never tore down the tent. durn him! his heart ain't bigger'n a rat pellet and it's twict es hard. he don't know nuthin' but to eat an' pray. let him kum yere fer another meal of vittles and i'll not cook it fur him; i'll jes' tell mary and john so. why, grandmother's talkin' to him done alfurd more good than all the whippin's he ever got in his born life." "it jes' worries ned to deth to see a boy, a boy. he gets a heap of pleasure out of not havin' any fun in life." chapter eight though the road be long and dreary, and the end be out of sight, foot it bravely, strong or weary, trust in god and do the right. the realities of life are continually changing. persons can retain a hobby or an illusion for a time or for all time. an illusion may live in our minds, even become a part of our lives. life is but thought. pleasant illusions are, as a rule, weapons against meanness and littleness. illusions, when based upon the sensible and material things of this life, are uplifting. it is said genius and common sense never dwell in the same mortal. the lives of all of those of genius of whom the world has been informed have been governed to a very great extent by illusions not fanatical fads, not an illusion that impels one to endeavor to solve improbable problems. the centralization of ideas on some particular project or profession that appeared impracticable at first, often leads to an inspiration, the enthusiasm created by the illusions leading to success. illusions have side-tracked many life-failures. you may endeavor to persuade yourself that you have no illusions. search your mind. is there not a recollection of something you have worked and hoped for? you may not have attained that which you aimed at, yet the illusion enriched your imagination. is there not something that you dreamed of in youth, forgotten for years, that has come to you later on? hug your illusions if they are pleasant. treasure them, they make you cheerful, they sun your soul. the father and mother of alfred had different ideas of the boy's future. the father was wedded to his calling and fondly hoped the boy would follow in his footsteps in mechanical pursuits. it was the mother's hope that the son would become a medical practitioner. the grandfather prayed that the boy would embrace the ministry as had two of his sons. consequently, when alfred seriously announced that he had determined to become a clown in the circus, the family were greatly shocked, but the boy's declaration was regarded as a harmless illusion. this idea had taken complete control of his boyish imagination. urged on by illusory hopes he was constantly practicing tricks and antics that led him into many heartbreaking escapades that made the cellar sessions more frequent. but nothing could suppress his good nature and innate love of fun. there was but one human being in the world thoroughly in sympathy with the boy's ambitions. she it was who bought the rouge and red that painted his face in his first attempts to become a clown. she it was who cut up one of her best red skirts to complete the costume of which mrs. young furnished the foundation in the garments alfred was sent home in the day of the rescue from the raft. and it is a fact that to this day the costumes of clowns and near-clowns have been patterned after those self-same garments and they are as strikingly funny to spectators today as they were in the days alfred first wore them, a tribute to lin's ingenuity. lin often remarked: "alfurd will come to town some day a real clown in a circus and the whole country will turn out to see him, and litt dawson (the congressman) won't be so much when alfurd gits a-goin'. why, he kin sing eny song and do ent cut-up antik eny of 'em kin. he's the cutest boy i ever seed. they'll never whup his devilishness out of him." lin was always an appreciative audience for alfred. when he learned to do head-sets, hand-springs and the like she urged him on to greater acrobatic achievements. when he attempted to walk on his hands she followed his zig-zag course, steadying him when he threatened to topple over. when bent wilgus, a bridgeport boy, came up to jeffries' commons and entered the ring that was once enclosed by alfred's tent, and performed a dozen feats that alfred had never even witnessed, thereby winning the applause of the crowd of boys, both lin and alfred remained silent. when he did a round off a flip-flap and a high back somersault, a row of head-sets across the ring, finishing by doing heels in the mud, alfred turned green with envy. he felt his reputation slipping away from him and realized he was deposed as the boys' and girls' idol, as an actor. lin felt like driving the usurper off the commons. later, she consoled alfred with the statement that bent wilgus had gum in his shoes that made him bounce so. "his daddy keeps a shoe store an' thet's where he gits bouncin' shoes from. i'll git ye a pair ef i hev to send to filadelphy fur 'em." the quaker city was the metropolis of the world to the good people of the town in those days. new york city was never considered in the same breath with old philly. brownsville had but one representative in the show profession so far as any one knew. he had left the town many years before and it was reported had become a great actor. alfred had never heard the word actor save in connection with a circus performer. he had never witnessed or even heard of a dramatic actor. he had gotten his idea for his impersonation from a rider, who, standing on a broad pad on a horse's back in the circus ring, impersonated noted characters such as richard iii, daniel boone, davy crockett and a shepherd boy. the reputation of tony bailles, the only actor brownsville ever produced, was folklore in his native place. tony had never appeared in his home town. and that which greatly enhanced the reputation of the great actor in the minds of the people in his home was the oft repeated stories of his prowess as a fighter. in those days every man and boy was judged by his personal courage. courage was the supreme test by which all males were gauged. the man or boy who did not have the bravery to uphold his dignity with his fists was not worthy. in the tales told of tony bailles' great prowess with his fists and feet, it was asserted that he more often used his feet than his fists and that his adversary rarely got near him. as they advanced upon him tony kicked them under the chin just once. one kick and all the fight was out of them. tony was one of alfred's illusions. he desired to imitate him, travel all over the land and become a great actor, a greater actor than even his heroic model, as alfred had never heard tony's great feats described. the kick under the chin was tony's only feat impressed strongly enough on alfred's mind to have him imitate. tommy white, lash hyatt and jim campbell were either housed up or walking about with stiff necks and swollen jaws ere it was discovered that alfred was imitating tony bailles. lash hyatt's folks, feeling sure the boy had the mumps, sent for the doctor. it was then revealed that alfred did not fight fair but "kicked you under the chin before you could raise a hand," as the boys described it. alfred tried the tony bailles' high kick on big, husky george herbertson. the kick started as it had with the other boys but instead of reaching the chin at which it was aimed, a big, husky blacksmith's helper checked it. alfred sat down so suddenly he imagined the earth had "flew" up and hit him. while the blacksmith helper held his leg aloft alfred, as he lay on his back, saw a big fist coming straight for his face. he has no distinct recollection of when it reached its landing place. uncle ned snowden assisted alfred home, where he remained in doors several days with two parti-hued eyes. while housed up, alfred promised lin he would always thereafter fight fair. consequently, he thereafter carried two big limestones, one in each coat pocket for george herbertson. somehow the blacksmith boy was always too quick for alfred and the next time they met, which was on the bridgeport wharf, the blacksmith boy trimmed alfred again. and thus it was that the old iron bridge, the first of its kind constructed in the united states and built by john herbertson, the father of george, became the dead line between the boys of the two towns. if a boy from one town was found in the other he was compelled to fight or flee. [illustration: the first iron bridge built in the u. s.] the word "actor" to the good people of those days always referred to a circus performer as mentioned previously. it is related of joseph jefferson, the dean of the dramatic profession, that while visiting his plantation near new iberia, louisiana, he walked over the grounds accompanied by an old, colored field hand. he talked in his usual manner with the old negro telling him of the many cities in which his contracts compelled him to act ere he would again visit his beautiful southern home. the old negro said he was sorry "kase all de folks, white uns an' black uns, was jes mos' crazy for to see massa joe ak." as they walked and talked the old negro informed mr. jefferson that dan rice's circus was "dere a while back, jes on the aidge ob kane cuttin' time, an' dey had some mighty fine actuhs but nuthin' like de actin' ob massah joe." the old fellow, growing more confidential at the pleased manner in which mr. jefferson received his compliments, added that he would gladly walk to new orleans to see him act. when the great actor advised the old fellow that he would not appear in new orleans that year, the old fellow said: "now des look at dat. i'll nevah git to see you ak, massa joe." the actor assured him that at some time in the future he would have that pleasure. the old negro said: "no, no, i'm an ole man. i ain't got much futhah to go, an' i des doan wan' to die fo' i see you ak." mr. jefferson assured the earnest old negro that he would be glad to arrange some plan whereby not only he but all of his friends in the parish might witness him act. the old negro began in an entreating tone: "massa joe, i knows you'd like to ak fer all ob us but lor' only knows when it'll be. i'se mos' f'raid to ax ye but de grass out yar is so sof' an 'nice i jes' thought maybe ye'd ak out a little fer me. jes' twist about an' turn a couple of summah-saults fer dis pooh ol' nigger." this was the only idea alfred had of acting. he longed to see tony bailles act, that he might catch an idea. he felt it would be so much easier for him to learn to act by seeing bailles than it would be to see others, that bailles was more like himself, not a superior being, as other actors were regarded. cousin charley was even more elated than alfred when they read and re-read the joyous announcement, to them, that van amburg's great golden menagerie and zoological institute was headed for brownsville. the startling news was spread that tony bailles was with the show. alfred scanned the bills, no names appearing on them or descriptions of the great feats their owners performed, and his youthful mind could not comprehend this omission in advertising. animals of all species were pictured but the graceful bare-back rider, high in the air above the horse's back, throwing a back somersault through a paper balloon, was not there. the lady rider on the back of a fast flying steed, one foot pointing to six o'clock, the other to high noon, was searched for in vain. alfred finally arrived at this explanation of the oversight in not advertising the circus actors--that the menagerie was so immense the circus was a secondary consideration. he argued that they never advertised the side-show but it was always there. circus day dawned, the crowds came, the old town was a scene of bustle and activity. the town people were all agog, all the older ones seemed to be seeking tony bailles. alfred and charley followed his brother joe up through bridgeport to the new show grounds. the advertisements gave it that the old bottom, the usual show grounds, was too small for the big show. when the grounds were reached a large man with a very red nose announced from the top of a wagon the program of the day: first, mlle. carlotta de berg would ascend a slender wire from the ground to the apex of the grand pavilion. after this thrilling free exhibition the grand annex containing one thousand animate and inanimate wonders would throw open its doors. as this was a new name for the side-show, cousin charley and alfred began to get their money ready. (alfred carried his own money this show day). but when the front of the tent was reached and the same old gaudily painted pictures swayed in the breeze, both boys involuntarily halted as they realized the grand annex was that deadfall known as the side show. cousin charley swore he "seen the same feller standing in the door of the tent that swindled him and so many others at the last show." cousin charley said: "he dodged back when he seen me." in the verdancy of his suckerdom, charley imagined the fakir who had done him had preserved as keen a recollection of the transaction as himself. he learned afterwards that there is a sucker born every minute and the crop of fakirs is nearly as great. a tall, black-haired man, with rather a heavy face, black velvet vest, stood at the door. a long gold watch chain was around his neck and running across the velvet vest it made the chain appear the most conspicuous thing about the man. of course he wore other articles of clothing but the above description stands out in alfred's mind to the exclusion of his other apparel unless it be the flat-top hat and the white bow tie. the hat and tie gave the wearer a sort of clerical appearance. he had the appearance of a respectable gambler, such as were on river steamers in those days. and this was tony bailles, the actor-athlete of alfred's dreams and talks. alfred was simply bewildered. his hero stood aloft pacing to and fro on an elevated platform, describing the wonders of the great moral exhibition especially for ladies and children. alfred argued to charley that this was tony's home and his oratory would appeal more strongly to the people than a stranger's and he was only of the side show for the day. he disliked to have the hero of his dreams discredited so prematurely and he still hoped to see his idol in spangled tights in the big show performing all kinds of wonderful feats. but the big show was an animal show, pure and simple, not an actor, not a clown, not a rider, not a horse, not even a ring. two ponies and a little cart introduced in the show could not dispel the gloom that had settled over the disappointed gathering in the big tent. the only excitement of the day was when bill gaskill, mart claybaugh, ab linn, and two or three washington county men engaged in a fight. when tony bailles rushed in to quell the disturbance and did not kick one or more of the combatants under the chin, the boy's admiration gradually turned to disgust and he was ready to leave the tent although all were admonished that the most astounding and greatest treat in natural history was about to be brought to their notice. the mammoth of mammoths, the behemoth of holy writ was about to be exhibited, the only one in captivity, something to tell your children and your children's children of. the hippopotamus was brought from his cage and waddled into the roped enclosure in the center of the tent. bob ellingham, the lecturer, talked long and learnedly on the habits and capture of the animal. the name hippopotamus was mentioned at least twenty times in the lecture as a dramatic climax. ellingham rubbed a piece of white paper over the animal's back. standing on a stool above the heads of the multitude he held the once spotless sheet of paper in his left hand, pointing his right forefinger at the paper, now discolored with the matter that oozed from the animal's body, he dramatically exclaimed: "he is truly the behemoth of holy writ. see, he sweateth blood!" as he stood motionless, still holding the paper aloft, old man hare, lacy's father, who had stood a most interested listener during the lecture, looked up into the lecturer's face and, in a querulous tone asked: "what fer animal did ye say it was?" "a guinea pig, you dam old fool," flashed back ellingham, as he stepped off the stool, while the crowd yelled, "bully for hare." the old fellow felt greatly grieved although the shouts of approval from the crowd partially appeased him. how he talked back to the show man made him quite a hero among the country folks for a long time afterwards. it is safe to assert that a more disappointed audience never left an exhibition than filed out of the big tent. even the ministers, and they were all admitted free, were not satisfied. bob playford did not gather up the boys on the lot and pay their way in. as the audience filed out the man with the big red nose stood on top of the wagon and invited everybody into the tent where christy's original minstrels were about to offer the good people of brownsville the same choice and amusing performance they had won fame with in the principal theatres in new york city. songs, glees, choruses, banjo solos, pathetic ballads, side-splitting farces, the whole concluding with a grand walk around by the entire company. bob playford and dan french made all manner of fun of the big man with the red nose. playford laughingly shouted: "pay no attention to him, he don't belong to the show, he lives out in the country. he's a neighbor of old man hare's." cousin charley and alfred were won by the man's eloquence or the twanging of the stringed musical instruments that could be heard in the tent. they were soon inside. a platform on a wagon served as a stage, and a curtain with a cabin and woods as a background hung at the rear of the stage. the entire company of seven persons attired in shirts and trousers made of bed-ticking material, were seated in a semi-circle on the improvised stage. this was alfred's first sight of a minstrel first part. "gentlemen, be seated." the opening chorus was not half over before alfred was laughing as heartily as ever boy laughed. the antics of the fellow with the tambourine who hit the singer sitting next to him on the head with it in time with the pattering of the sheepskin on his knees, hands and head, the assumed anger of the singer as he again hit him a resounding thwack, the finish, where the man with the bones and tambo worked all over the small stage and seemed in danger of upsetting it with their antics, had the crowd wild with their enthusiasm. [illustration] the songs, the jokes, the final farce, "handy andy," pleased alfred so greatly that he remained for the next performance as did lin and her beau, cousin charley and several of alfred's friends. he bought a song book containing only the words. he caught several of the airs and sang them all the way home. it was difficult to convince alfred that the performers were white men blacked up. at supper van amberg's great moral menagerie received a lambasting that boded no good for its future in brownsville. lin said: "it was jes a show for baptusts and sich and they was all thar. huh, they let the preachers in free gratis, an' they ought to let everybody in fer nuthin' caus it warn't wuth nuthin'. durned ef i walk to the grounds to see seven shows like it. the niggers in the side show beat the big show all holler." alfred declared that outside of the animals _his_ show was better than van amberg's. lin added: "yes, ef joe sanford's wall-paper suit wus out of it." the supper was not over ere lin and alfred were in the parlor with the melodeon endeavoring to sing the songs of the minstrels. they had the book and hot were the arguments as to whether they had the tune right or not. lin, cousin charley, alfred, billy woods, and bill hyatt decided to go back to the minstrels at night. alfred sang the songs under his breath. he drank in every word of the jokes and the farce he committed to memory. when they reached home the melodeon was started up again, and its strains swelled out on the night air until the father closed the rehearsal abruptly by ordering all to bed. the seed had been sown; even the chaff had taken root. the clown illusion still clung to alfred but the minstrel idea seemed nearer realization. did ever a party of amateurs decide to assault the public that they did not use a minstrel performance as their weapon? despite the protests of the parents, the old melodeon, notwithstanding its age and other infirmities, was worked overtime. alfred sang and resang the songs they had learned or deceived themselves into believing they had learned at the minstrels. billy woods had a good ear for tunes. as lin put it, billy caught more of the tunes than any of the others. billy became a nightly visitor. billy's flute and the melodeon did not harmonize as the melodeon had only three notes left in it. lin just waited when a note was missing until the next measure and then "ketched up" as she expressed it. amity getty was another addition to the little band. he was really a good performer on the guitar. alfred's especial favorite in the minstrels was the fellow who handled the tambourine. the mother said there was not a pie pan in the house they could bake in, alfred had them so battered and dented thumping them on his knees, head and elbows. "i declare, i believe the boy is going crazy; i don't know what we will do with him," often said the mother. cousin charley was of an inventive turn of mind. he had become greatly interested in the nightly singing and fashioned a tambourine out of an old cheese box by cutting it down. dennis isler put tin jingles in it and put on a sheepskin head. the instrument in alfred's hands became a terror to the household. he was banished to the commons where, surrounded by the children of the neighborhood, he did his practicing to the delight and danger of his audience as he persisted in finishing his antics by thumping one of the audience on the head with his instrument of torture, which generally sent the recipient of his thwack home, holding his head and crying. this usually brought a complaint from the victim's parents and alfred's visits to the cellar accompanied by his father became so frequent that a boy with less ardor would surely have lost interest in his instrument. alfred repeatedly advised lin that they never could be minstrels if they did not have bones. he selected billy storey to perform on these necessary adjuncts to the minstrels. when lin brought home from john allison's meat shop a rib roast, the mother, astonished at the size of it, said: "my goodness, lin, that roast is big enough for any tavern in town." the fact was lin had not closely studied the bone player's instruments. she was of the opinion it required eight bones instead of four, hence the magnitude of the roast. the little band made the big front room the mecca for pilgrims nightly. the mother was nearly frantic; after every concert of the embryotic minstrels she solemnly admonished lin and alfred that that would be the last. lin in turn would accuse alfred of being the cause of all the din and racket. "ef it hadn't been fer cousin charley makin' alfurd thet infernal head drum (lin could never say tambourine), mary would never sed a word as she jus loves music es well es eny body else." lin asserted that "the durn jingling contraption, jes spiled the hull thing and ye don't make good music with it nohow." lin's deductions could not be controverted. alfred did not make good music with his tambourine but it is a fact that he succeeded in drowning a great deal of bad. it was a night never to be forgotten; one of those nights that will linger long in fondest remembrance by any who have enjoyed them. it was the night of one of those old time parties, one of those healthful, pleasure giving affairs, an old fashioned family party. relatives, near and distant, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces, cousins and friends, came by invitation to the old home. games and recitations, blind-man's buff, button, button, who's got the button, uncle joe, blindfolded, pursuing the prettiest girl at the frolic, brought roars of laughter from everyone but aunt betsy. lin, sitting on a crock endeavoring to pass a linen thread through the eye of a cambric needle; uncle jack, blindfolded trying to pin the tail on the proper place on the paper donkey stuck against the wall. when he stuck the pin in the keyhole of the parlor door the laughter shook the sash in the windows. the young folks formed in a circle holding hands, slowly revolving around a bashful young man standing in the center of the circle. as they circled they sang that old ditty so dear to the youth of those days: "king william was king george's son, and from a royal race he sprung; and on his breast he wore a star, that marked his bravery in the war. go choose your east, go choose your west, go choose the one that you love best." here the young man tagged the girl of his choice. of course, the girl broke from the circle and ran but was easily captured. she was led to the center of the circle which again revolved and the song continued: "down on this carpet you must kneel, just as the grass grows in the field; salute your bride and kiss her sweet, and you may rise unto your feet." when the bashful young man received a thumping thwack from the girl of his choice in return for the kiss he planted on her rosy cheek, the laughter was renewed tenfold. all this may look cold in print to the young folks of today but it made the hot blood of the boys and girls of those good old days flow faster than the patter of their feet to the tune of the songs they sang. sis minks sang "barbara allen" with such telling effect that the assembled multitude became "as subdued as a quaker meetin'" as lin described it. sis was an old maid and lived in the country; her dog had followed her to the party. the standing of every family in those parts was rated by the number of dogs they possessed. sis's people had stood high for many years but their canine possessions had decreased. when questioned by a neighbor as to the number of dogs in his possession, the father of sis ruefully replied: "wall, i hev a house dog, a coon dog, a fox dog an' a 'feist'--it just seems like i can't git a start in dogs again." it was the house dog that had followed sis. sis always sang "barbara allen" with her eyes shut. lin said: "becaus' she'd furgit it ef she looked." sis was in the midst of barbara's woes when someone opened the door slightly. her dog slipped in. seeing his mistress before him and hearing her voice, the dog instinctively crept towards her. as her voice grew more tremulous describing barbara's sad fate, the dog, encouraged by the kindly tones, crept nearer. rising on his hind legs he drew his long, red tongue across her face and mouth. sis opened her eyes and sat down in confusion and no entreaties could induce her to continue. lin said: "i'll bet a fippennybit she thought she'd bin kissed by some feller." alfred did not greatly enjoy the party. he whispered to lin: "let's practice." [illustration: sis opened her eyes and sat down] lin ran her fingers over the keys of the melodeon. the others wanted to be coaxed as amateurs always do. there is no backwardness that requires as much persuasion to appear before an audience as that of an amateur, but when once persuaded there is no cheerfulness that exceeds that of an amateur in responding to an encore. it was not long before the little band began their concert. as they had been rehearsing for several weeks, the opening chorus, with musical accompaniment, was rendered with such vim that the assembled guests were carried off their feet. alfred's antics with the tambourine, storey's manipulation of the bones, the singing, the instrumentation, were a revelation to the good people. alfred's reputation as an actor was known to all the guests. urgent requests were made that he should don his costumes and perform his feats. alfred and lin hastened to his room, returning soon, alfred in his clown make-up, mrs. young's lowers and lin's body dress. prolonged laughter and applause greeted his appearance. first he essayed to sing a clown song entitled "the song of all songs" which runs thusly: "the subject of my song you have seen i dare say, as you've walked along the streets on a fine summer's day; on fences and railings wherever you go, you will see the penny ballads pasted up in a row. i noted them down as i read them along, and i've put them together to make up my song. there was abraham's daughter going out on a spree with old uncle snow in the cottage by the sea. do they think of me at and i'll be easy still, give us back our old commander with the sword of bunker hill." there was a great deal more of this jingle of words, ringing in the titles of all the songs of the day. notwithstanding, alfred had sung it without pause or hesitation night after night with only his associates as an audience, yet at "the sword of bunker hill" his voice faltered and a stage fright that could not be conquered overtook him. the words of the song had left his mouth, the tongue was paralyzed. as many an older actor has done before and since, alfred endeavored to conceal his confusion by stalling. it was really alfred's first appearance before a heterogenous audience. alfred learned even at that early age that there is a difference in audiences. notwithstanding his failure, with the density of perception that usually pervades an amateur's mind, alfred changed his costume to lacy hare's military togs. he mistook the shouts of laughter aroused by this suit as approval of his acting. lin relieved the situation by leading alfred out of the room ere he had presented half of his famous impersonations. lin said afterwards: "i don't know what got inter thet boy. why i allus said he had brass enuf in his face to act afore a protracted meetin' but be durned ef he warn't es bad es joe sanford when he stuck on the pole. i never been more cut up in my life, fur i would a swore he was too spunkey to git skeered." the remainder of the program was more than successful. everyone acquitted themselves creditably excepting alfred. lin sang the pathetic ballad: "out in the cold world, out in the street, asking a penny of each one i meet; shoeless i wander about through the day, wearing my young life in sorrow away. no one to help me, no one to love, no one to pity me, none to caress, fatherless, motherless, sadly i roam; a child of misfortune, i'm driven from home." lin had a deep, sweet voice, almost a baritone. she was full of sentiment and magnetism. deeply in earnest she sang the song with telling effect. a tear, a heartfelt tear, came from the eyes of more than one of the sympathetic group. uncle joe and uncle jack and one or two of the elder men had been led to the cellar several times during the evening, for a more pleasant purpose than alfred generally went there for. the hard cider was kept in the cellar, the sweet cider upstairs. uncle joe was as mellow as a pippin. at the end of lin's first chorus he threw her a handful of change. the other men threw coppers or small silver pieces. lin, like a true artist, stood unmoved and continued her song. alfred picked up the money and handed it to her. she disdained to receive it. how the fires of jealousy burned within alfred's breast as he noted the triumph of lin. how the men could become so affected as to throw her money he could not comprehend. before the next song, lin lectured alfred before the entire company, saying: "the fellur with the head drum (tambourine) in the circus minstrels never beat it in the sad tunes, only in the comic ones. es long as ye've bin showin', a body'd think ye knowed thet much." this calling down further humiliated alfred. bill storey followed in a tuneful baritone, singing: "oh, the old home ain't what it used to be, de banjo and de fiddel am gone, an' no more you'll hear the darkies singing among de sugar cane an' corn. great changes hab come to de poor colored man, but dis change makes him sad an' forlorn, for no more we hear de darkies singing among de sugar cane an' corn." then all sang the chorus: "no, the old home ain't what it used to be, (etc.)" this number met with great approval. professional jealousy surged through alfred's breast. he hated everyone who had been successful. thoughts of all kinds of revenge ran through his mind. he would tell mother that the ten pound rib roast was bought only to get eight bones for bill storey and four bones was all he could rattle on at one time. alfred felt that the whole company had conspired against him, that they were the cause of his not being appreciated. supper was announced. yes, supper, and they all sat down to a table; none of your society lunches, juggled on your knees, as served at the fashionable functions of today. when uncle wilse called down blessings upon all, even those sitting around the fire in the other room, who could not find places at the first table, bowed their heads reverently. cold roast chicken, pickles, sweet preserves, doughnuts, jellies, fine and red, cold claw, beets, hot mince pie, pound cake, layer cake, apples, tea, coffee and cider. it took mother and lin all day to prepare the repast. fun and jokes were passed at and upon one another and everybody was happy, everybody but alfred. with jealousy gnawing his vitals he sat between two big, grown-up men, unnoticed save when he requested some edible passed to him. he almost made up his mind to forsake the amusement profession and take his mother's advice to study to become a doctor. supper over, good nights were said. guest after guest departed. one garrulous gentleman remained; he was noted for his staying qualities. he would visit a family in the country near his home and keep them up until after midnight, which was a terrible breach of etiquette in those days when country folks went to bed with the chickens and town people who stayed up after eleven were looked upon with suspicion. the mother had caught herself nodding several times, the father was yawning, lin could scarcely keep her eyes open, and alfred had taken two or three naps. the prolonged visit had become almost unbearable to all except the lone guest who kept up a commonplace conversation, just sufficiently animated to keep him awake. in the middle of one of his dryest sentences lin jumped up and said: "come on folks, let's go to bed, i expect uncle wilse wants to go home." chapter nine never mind the pain for gladness will outlive it. when your neighbor needs a smile don't hesitate to give it. then came sorrow into the life of alfred. the father was ill for many months; war came with its blighting influences, bringing ruin to many, prosperity to a few. the father's family were virginians, the mother's marylanders. true to their traditions they believed in the people of the south, not favoring secession, however. in the white heat of continued controversy relatives became enemies. to add to their troubles brownsville was visited by the most disastrous fire in its history. alfred's folks lost everything, even to their wearing apparel. alfred was the most fortunate member of the family. he entered and re-entered the burning home after he had been warned not to do so. at every return from the blazing house he carried some of his boyish belongings. lin, in recounting the thrilling scenes of the night of the fire, said: "ef the men hed hed any sense all the things could hev been got out. jim lucas and tom brawley jes piled the bedsteads, bureaus, looking glasses and arm-cheers out of the third story winders an' durn ef i didn't see tom brawley kum out of the house with a arm load of pillurs wrapped up in a blanket. hit takes a fire or a dog fight to show whuther peepul hev got eny judgment or not." on his last trip out of the house alfred carried his dog "bobbie," two pet frizzly chickens, the uniform lacy hare and aunt betsy fashioned, mrs. young's part of his clown suit and the head-drum or tambourine. lin fairly snorted when she saw the boy approaching; "now look at the dratted, fickle boy, leavin' his sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes to perish fur them ole show duds. hit beats the bugs jes to think thet boy 'ud run into thet house blazin' like a lime kiln from top to bottom. a body'd thot he'd tried to save somethin' thet would a done us good. but no; all he thinks about is them ole show things. it's a wonder he didn't try to get the melodeon out eny way." the condition of the family was changed in one night from prosperity to near-poverty. the mother resolutely refused all proffered aid from relatives with whom relations had been strained. to uncle joe's and betsy's offer she returned the message: "if we were southern sympathizers before the fire, we are not beggars now." lin was as defiant as the mother: "huh, yes. ef we'd let 'em help us now, the fust election kum up they'd throw it up to us. uncle billy is a candidate fer county jedge, i reckon he wants a few votes. the lord will purvide a way." she added: "jus tell joe an' betsy an' all the rest of 'em thet we'll hoe our own row yit a while. no siree-horse-fly-over-the-river-to-green-county, we don't want no abolishunist to help us." alfred could not fully comprehend the feelings that influenced the members of the family in the stand they took, but anything his mother said or did always met with his loyal support. the proud, strong-minded mother guided the destinies of the family through the troublesome times that followed. the strictest economy was practiced in all things. brownsville has ever been noted for the hospitality of its people and the plenteous supplies found on the tables of all. therefore, when the usual good things were missing from the table and the mother explained that it would not be for long but for the time being it was imperative to live sparingly, alfred put all in a good humor by calling on muz, (the children's favorite name for the mother), "muz, cook it all up at once and let's have one good, big meal like we used to have, then starve right." uncle jake and aunt betty and all their family were steadfast friends during all the days of distress, as were uncle william and grandfather and his family. even cousin charley exerted himself to be of assistance. lin afterwards declared that the biblical prophecy, "meny shall be called an' only a few kum," had found verification in charley's changed conduct. since lin "jined" church, she often attempted to quote scripture. among other offerings that cousin charley bestowed upon alfred were two hounds with a colony of lively fleas. this gift was greatly appreciated by alfred as the dogs were good coon hunters. it was not long ere the news came to alfred's folks that cousin charley had stolen the hounds from turner simpson, a colored man who lived near the town, and noted for his superior hounds and numerous children. when the mother firmly commanded that the dogs be returned to their owner alfred was greatly disappointed. lin informed the boys that the dogs had to eat and that the mother had enough mouths to feed "without runnin' a dog's boardin' house. why ye durned little fool ye, don't ye know charley's jus put them dogs yar to git 'em kept. they'll jus keep 'em yar till they want to hunt coon an' then they'll take 'em. ef it wur a hoss or hippotumas es was in thet sorry animile show, an' charley 'ud gin it to ye, i'd feel ye could call it yer own. but a houn' dog, never. he'd never part with a houn'. some fine mornin' the houn's'll turn up missin' an' ye'll find dr. playford hes bought 'em fur about five dollars." lin's reference to dr. playford gave alfred an inspiration. he was on his way to dr. bob playford's with the hounds chained together and nearly pulling him off his feet, so eager were they for exercise. the sporting doctor's eyes glistened as he looked the dogs over and noted their good points. alfred explained that they were a present from cousin charley, that he prized them greatly but his mother would not permit him to retain them. the doctor purchased and paid for the dogs, handing the boy a crisp five dollar greenback bill. although greenbacks were greatly depreciated in value at that time, no bill of like denomination has ever before or since had the purchasing power that that five dollars had for alfred. he could scarcely contain himself until he arrived at home, that he might hand the money to his mother. the doctor informed alfred that he would give him an additional dollar if he would deliver the dogs to turner simpson, adding: "simpson keeps all my hounds; he has a pack of them there now and these two will be all i'll need for a while. be careful of the dogs, almost anybody will steal a hound dog and brag about it afterwards." when requested to deliver the dogs to simpson, alfred was dumbfounded. he was soon on his way with the dogs. they did not have to drag the boy as on the way to the doctor's house. when they struck the old road above the tannery, alfred gave the hounds a run, until turner simpson's house came into view. their arrival brought hounds from under the old log house, the porch and the stable. kinky, woolly-headed, barefooted pickanninnies peeked through broken window panes and out of half-opened doors. the baying of the hounds brought old simpson out to the road. alfred advised him that dr. playford had paid him one dollar to deliver the hounds and sent instructions that they be properly cared for. "oh, shucks. you jes tell bob i allus takes good keer ob his dawgs," spoke the old negro in a half joking way. "an' you say to de doctor, dat when he wants to take a pair ob houns away from yar agin he better jes tell me. i done sarch four days fuh dem houns. i neber dream de doctor hed 'em. i nearly hed a fite wid john mccune's boys kase i cused dem ob kidnapin' de houns. now i mus' go ober an' tell john de doctor hed de dawgs all de time." the six dollars were given to the mother. lin declared alfred the best boy in the world and one who, "ef he had the chance, could take keer of himself." a few days later cousin charley brought alfred a fine pair of white and blue pigeons in a nice little box. after talking on many subjects charley came to the real object of his visit. he stated that he had bought the two hounds from a man whom he did not know. he paid the man the cash for the dogs. now he had learned that the dogs had been stolen from turner simpson and he felt it his duty to restore them to their rightful owner. lin was washing dishes at the beginning of charley's talk. she seated herself on the table--a favorite position of lin's--and nodded approval at the end of every sentence charley uttered. when _he_ concluded, lin began: "i'll be tee-to-tall-y dog-goned ef this haint the mos' curious sarcumstance thet's ever kum up. now a man--and lin emphasized each word with the laying of the forefinger of her right hand into the palm of her chubby left--stole turner simpson's houns. ye say ye bought 'em--nodding at charley--ye didn't know they wus stole. ye gin the houns to alfurd. now ye kum after the dogs; ye has to gin the houns back to turner simpson. ye furgit who ye got the houns from an' can't git yer money back, ye're out jus thet much. now s'posin' alfurd sole them air houns to doctor bob playford--charley crimsoned--an' the doctor says 'yere alfurd, yers a dollar, carry the houns to turner simpson's' an' alfurd 'ud do hit, then yer conscience 'ud be easy, wouldn't hit?'" "yes um," meekly answered charley, "but i don't think bob playford wants to buy any houns, he has a plenty, 'bout twenty i reckon." lin smiled as she informed cousin charley that "he hed twenty-two by this time. an' let me tell ye sumthin' further: ef ye're tradin' in birds or pigins or whatever ye call 'em, ye better fin' sum other feller to handle 'em kase alfurd's got on a swappin' canter an' it'll be hard to head him." lin laughed long and heartily. cousin charley mumbled something about the principle of the thing as he left the house. it developed that cousin charley had been doing quite a business in hounds. the pair alfred had, or a similar pair, had been sold to doctor playford, at least twice during the past six months. when charley needed a little money, he just sold the doctor a pair of his own hounds. the doctor took it all good naturedly as he remarked: "charley has stolen more hounds for me than he has sold me, therefore, i still owe him." the mother, when the facts came out, forthwith sent alfred to the doctor with the five dollars. the doctor laughed and said: "alfred, go home and tell mary (his mother) that i gave you the five dollars for keeping the dogs. and say--if charley steals them again you just grab them, come and tell me and i'll give you five dollars more." alfred played spy on charley for some time but charley seemed to have lost interest in the hound business. after the old play-ground, jeffries commons was abandoned, sammy steele's tan-yard became the favorite practicing place of the athletically inclined boys of the town. the soft tan bark was even more suitable for tumbling, leaping and jumping than the old saw-dust ring on the commons. the owner of the tan-yard, sammy steele--no one ever called him samuel--was thought, by those who did not know him intimately, to be hard and severe. and so he was to those who fell under his displeasure. only a few of the boys of the town were permitted to enjoy the practicing place. alfred was one of them. to alfred, the dignified, hard working, honest tanner, was always kindly. alfred performed many errands and did many chores with quickness and willingness for the owner of the tan-yard. the willingness of the boy caught the fancy of the industrious man. one day he called alfred up to his office. the big, earnest man began by saying, (he always repeated his words)--: "little hatfield boy, little hatfield boy, you are not big enough to do much work, much work, but you are willing, you are willing, to do all you can. you are here a greater part of your time, the greater part of your time. the bark is thrown down, thrown down, from the loft to the mill, to the mill, where they grind it; i say grind it, little bits of bark fly off, fly off on the ground bark. i want the ground bark kept clear of the unground, of the unground bark. you are spry, i say you are spry. it will take you but a little while morning and afternoon to clear the ground bark pile of the unground pieces, of the unground pieces. for this i will pay you twenty-five cents a day, twenty-five cents a day." alfred wended his way home in high glee. the prospect of earning money was pleasing to the boy. long before the family arose in the morning he was up and waiting for his breakfast. although it was but a few moment's walk to his place of employment, he insisted that he had best carry his noonday lunch. this the mother would not permit. [illustration: the bark mill] active as a squirrel the boy scampered over the bark pile picking up the bits of unground bark. the work was but play. the noon hour found him on the tan bark pile practicing. as the bell rang calling the men to work he was at his place with the most industrious of them. during the many years that have begun and ended since he worked in sammy steele's tannery, alfred has received some pretty fair weeks' salaries, but no pay ever brought the happiness the one dollar and fifty cents he received for that week's work in the old bark mill when he presented it to his mother. not many days elapsed before his industry was rewarded by an increase of wages to three times the amount he had previously received. his work took wider range, upstairs to the big finishing room and the office where he came in constant contact with the owner of the tannery. he made himself more useful to the man higher up, and when his pay was increased to one dollar a day, it seemed a fortune was in sight. the illusion still clung. the present was but the means to an end and beyond lay his hopes. to become a great clown in the circus was the goal. nor were the little band of minstrels, whose rehearsals had been checked by the fire and the loss of the melodeon, lost sight of. the big finishing room found the little band of amateur minstrels rehearsing almost every night, strange to say, the straight laced old tanner did not object. when several of the nearby neighbors complained of the noise and din, he simply gave orders to limit the rehearsals to p. m. lin said: "huh! ef enybody but alfurd was at the head of it, sammy steele would a histed every one on 'em long ago." lin was peeved. she could not imagine how the singing could be anything without her voice and the melodeon. a tan-yard hand who played the violin by ear had supplanted lin. she declared he could only "fiddle fer dancin', he couldn't foller singin'. ye can't foller a fiddle an' sing, ye got to hev a melodeon or accordion. a fiddle wus never made to sing with, hit's all right fer dancin'. lor', ye never hear any real music less ye got a lead. that's the reason ye never hear any good singin' in baptus meetin'. they're agin manufactured music, they haven't got enythin' to go by." lin had joined the campbellite church for the reason that it was the furthest from the baptist belief, so she claimed. alfred always believed down deep in his heart that lin had allied herself with that particular denomination for the reason that her vocal abilities were appreciated in the little congregation and for the further reason that the church had an organ. lin felt her exclusion from the minstrel rehearsals more than she cared to reveal. alfred did all he could to comfort her. he assured her that charley wagner, the violin player, was not nearly so satisfactory as she. "but s'pose i had saved the melodeon"--(lin always attributed her rejection by the minstrel band to the loss of the melodeon)--"you couldn't a-used it in the tan-yard, it's too damp there and it would spoil the tune of it. why, it's most ruined my tambourine. beside," concluded alfred, "regular minstrels are all men, they don't have any women folks in 'em." his explanation was plausible but it did not satisfy lin. "huh! i wasn't good enuf fur yer ole tan-yard pack. i s'pose when ye got a lot of patchin' and sewin' to do, ye'll be callin' on me but ye won't fin' me in. good bye, mr. clown, minstrel. next time ye try to ak out afore folks i hope ye'll do better en ye did the nite uv the big party." this was a home thrust, it pierced to the quick. alfred was over sensitive. often, when the remembrance of the failure alluded to by lin troubled his mind, he had soothed himself with the hope that few had noticed his failure. but lin's remark forced the awful feeling upon him that, like cousin charley's potato deal, it was known and talked of by the whole town. unexpected happenings brought the rehearsals of the minstrels in the old tan-yard to an abrupt ending. it was during the dark days of the reconstruction period, immediately following the war. only those of the south can fully realize what those days meant to a people already impoverished by the _most gigantic war of christendom_. colonel charlotte, once wealthy, now reduced to almost want, (we will place his residence, oh anywhere, in virginia, georgia or alabama); his once productive plantation neglected for want of tenants and help to cultivate it, stock and products confiscated. many and earnest were the conferences held by the colonel and his unfortunate neighbors, to devise ways and means to recuperate their lost fortunes. after each conference with his friends the colonel would wend his way homeward to confer with his good wife, who was a most sensible and therefore a lovable woman. when the colonel was most despondent the wife was most buoyant, cheering him as best she could. after the colonel had given vent to his feelings, recounting for the hundredth time his helplessness in the face of the oppressive laws rigidly enforced by the carpet-bag officers; after he had delivered himself of a tirade against those who were responsible for the condition of affairs, the good wife said: "colonel, i know if the christian people of the north were aware of the sufferings of our people, we would get relief. i pity you in your troubles and do hope we may see a way to help ourselves. we are out of corn, the meal is almost gone and we have very little bacon left. our children should be in school but i cannot bear to send them with the toes out of their shoes and their shabby clothes." the colonel would compress his lips, cussing every yankee on earth. he would find his way to the country store to while away another day in useless conference with his neighbors. the same persons met daily and dispersed nightly to carry their woes to their homes. time and again colonel charlotte informed the patient little wife that he was without hope. "don't give up," encouraged the wife, "i know it looks dark but it is always darkest before dawn; let us look toward the east and pray for light. i know something will come to us, but for my part, i would not care. i can stand it, but the children, poor innocents, should not be made to suffer; no shoes or clothes fit to go to school or church in. the winter is coming on and our provisions are scant. i worry only on account of the children. colonel, do the best you can; that is all mortal can do, the lord will do the rest." the colonel left his fireside early the next morning resolved to find something to relieve the wants of his family. returning home later than usual he was in a towering rage. the good wife was alarmed. "why, colonel, what has disturbed you so?" "wife, i'm mad clar through and if captain barbour warn't an old friend of the family, i declar' to god i'd assaulted him today." "heaven forbid," pleaded the wife, "i know captain barbour surely would not wound your feelings intentionally." the colonel explained that they were talking over their troubles, bewailing their helplessness, when captain barbour said: "why colonel charlotte, you're better off than any of us, you have the means at your command to not only make a living but to lay a little money by." "and wife, when i asked him how, what do you think he said? that i had a carriage and horses and i could open a livery stable. open a livery stable!" and the hot blood of the charlottes' reddened his temples again as he clinched his fists and walked up and down in his anger. "me, a charlotte, engage in the livery business. why, wife, i could scarcely keep my hands off him. me, a charlotte, in the livery business. pollute that old family carriage that bears on its panels the crest of the charlotte family, whose blood runs back to the men of cromwell." the facts are the old family carriage was about the only relic of the charlotte family's former greatness; imported from england years before, held as almost sacred by succeeding generations of the charlotte family. to have one intimate that the sacred old vehicle should be used to convey the common herd was a heavy blow to the pride of the colonel. "well, colonel," soothingly spoke the wife, "i know your pride has been hurt, i know just how badly you feel. i know you are proud and i really fear that captain barbour in his zeal to assist you was indiscreet. he should not have spoken so abruptly but should have given you time to consider the motive that prompted him. i know--he--he--meant--well--and--and--perhaps--you--should--consider his advice. can't we talk it over?" as she approached him, looking up into his face with a half smile and a half cry, she pleaded: "i would hate to say one word that would humble your pride, but--but those children--you know they ought to have schooling. and i declare, colonel--i do not know--what we're going to do for something to--to--eat." and here the wife broke down. the colonel folded her in his arms as he soothed her, stroking her hair. he declared he would sacrifice all the pride of the charlottes that she and his did not suffer. the negroes were sent to the corn patch to fetch the old horses, pluck the burrs out of manes and tails, smooth them up by currying the long hair off their shaggy coats. the old family carriage was hauled out of the shed, washed, the brass mountings brightened, the coat of arms, the panels scoured until they shone again. the sting was somewhat removed from the colonel's feelings by the painter making the sign read "liberty stable." the word "livery" was not in the painter's vocabulary. when he assured the colonel that the sign was proper the colonel was more satisfied. four or five days wore away. the colonel, from his seat in front of the store, like enoch arden patiently watching for a sail, grew more despondent each day. one november evening, the rain gently falling from the weeping clouds seemingly in sympathy with the colonel's dismal feelings, a young negro was seen coming towards him. colonel charlotte recognized sam, a former slave, the son of an old house servant. the colonel returning the salutation in a manner none the less cheery said: "why, sam, how you all has growed up. i declare i wouldn't knowed you only your voice is so much like your father's. how's all? whar you livin' and what you a-doin' for yourself? come on boy, tell me about you eh?" sam explained to the colonel that "he was working on de new railroad buildin' down raleigh way an' wus doin' tolerable well. a dollar a day, not countin' sundays an' i gits my fodder." "well, sam, if you can stow vittles away like you all done when i fed you, you're gettin' well paid." the colonel laughed at his own joke, the first laugh he had indulged in for days. sam was encouraged by the colonel's good humor. doffing his hat, he addressed the colonel in a sort of patronizing manner: "cunnel, i dun heard you all gone into the liberty business." this flattered the colonel slightly and he straightened up, replying: "yes, sam, i just got tired of seeing my horses and vehicles around doing nothing and i wanted something to occupy my time. i don't count much on what i'll make but it will keep me from rusting out." "well, cunnel, i'se jus come all de way down yar to see you. dar's gwine to be a dance down to townsley's tonight an' me an' my company an' my friend an' his gal wants to go, an' i kum to ask you all how much you gwine fur to ax us to carry us all to de dance an'----" like a flash the colonel jumped to his feet, the old rickety, split-bottom chair was hurled after sam with the words: "you dam black scoundrel, i'll break every bone in your black body if i get hold of you." this speech was hurled after the thoroughly frightened sam as the colonel pursued him. giving up the chase the colonel stalked home. his wife observed his anger as he entered. "wife, i've never in my life sustained a worse shock than today. to think of it after all these days of waitin', after i have been in the liberty business all these days, the first human being to come to me"--and the colonel choked with rage--"the first human being to come to me to hire that old family carriage, was a dam nigger." then the colonel in more moderate language described the scene between himself and sam. the good wife listened to the colonel until he concluded. then in a conciliatory tone, she said: "well, colonel, it does seem as though fate is cruel to you. i do hope you will bear up bravely. i think it just awful that the first customer should have been a nigger. i do hope we will have others soon." then after a pause, she resumed, "insofar as i am concerned i would willingly die before i'd ask you, a charlotte, to sacrifice your pride further. but when i think of our children i don't know what to say. colonel," and she trembled as she spoke, "do you--do--you think--sam had money to pay for the hire of the carriage?" "i done heard the money jingle in his pocket when he run." "well, colonel, i wouldn't even suggest that--that--you carry those niggers to the ball, but if--if we only had the money--it would do us so much good. those children--." the colonel waited to hear no more. out into the chilly autumn evening, more briskly than he had moved in weeks, stalked the colonel. reaching the liberty stable, he ordered one of the boys to locate sam. "make haste," was his parting order. the boy soon returned escorting sam who seemed somewhat afraid to get too near the livery stable proprietor. the colonel assured sam that he desired to talk with him. leading the way he walked until well out of hearing of his stable boy. he began inquiringly, "so there's a big ball at townsley's tonight. it's the fust i've heard of it, an' you an' your company wants to go. well sam, you work hard fur your money an' you ought not to spend it too freely because winter's coming on and these reconstruction laws the yankees have put on us will make it hard on all of us." "about how much do you reckon it will cost you all to go to the ball in a first class livery turn out?" "i dunno sah," meekly answered sam. "how much you got?" was the colonel's next question. "five dollars," and sam jingled the coin in his pocket, showing a set of ivories that would have been the envy of any society belle in the land. "give it to me," and the colonel reached his long arm out towards sam, the palm of his hand up. sam placed the five dollars in it. "sam, i want to see you have your pleasure. five dollars is less than i ever charged for a carriage to a ball before. being's it's you i'll let it go fer that figure providin' you never mention to any person on earth that you hired a conveyance from colonel charlotte." "yes, sah. i'll promise an' i'll neber tell airy livin' soul 'bout it," answered sam, showing signs of fright. the colonel looked about to assure himself that there were no witnesses and commanded sam to raise his right hand and kneel on the ground. sam hesitated, the ground was wet and he had on his new store pants, but down he knelt. "now swear by all the laws of reconstruction that if you ever tell you rid in colonel charlotte's kerrige, you will be whipped by the ku-klux, haunted by ghosts and burned by witches until you are dead and buried in a grave as deep as hell." the thoroughly frightened boy assented to the oath. the colonel ordered him to arise, get his company together, "mosey" down to where the big road crossed the branch and wait until the carriage arrived. the colonel never entered the livery stable, content to leave the conducting of the same to his help. however, he was not content to trust the old family carriage to them. ordering the horses hitched to the sacred vehicle, the colonel hastened to the house, "to plant the tin, afore some dam yankee carpet-bagger grabbed it," as he expressed it. he returned to find the carriage ready for him. two tallow dips burning dimly in the big, old-fashioned lamps on either side of the driver's seat were the admiration of the boys who lighted them. the colonel ordered them to "blow them thar candles out," saying that they only blinded him. the real reason was that the colonel did not desire any light shed on the transaction that would disclose his part in it. once down the hill he halted the team under the big oak tree where four dusky figures, two males and two females, stood. in a voice he intended to sound other than his own, the colonel ordered the waiting group to "git in quick, pull down the curtains and don't airy dam niggers poke your heads out till we git to townsley's." the horses moved off, the colonel soliloquizing as they trotted along the sandy road: "s'pose i meet a white man an' he asks me where i'm goin', what will i tell him? was there ever a white man, was there ever a charlotte put to this test before. if ever a charlotte knew that i engaged in this business what would i say to him? did i ever think i'd come to this? me, colonel charlotte, hauling niggers to a ball." and he again cussed the reconstruction laws. arriving at the country store the dance was already under full headway. the fiddles and scraping of feet could be plainly heard. the voice of the caller, "swing your partners; all hands around; first gent lead off to the right," floated out on the damp air. "git out," was the colonel's orders to his fares. "now, don't stay all night or you'll walk back," were his last words to sam and his company as they ran upstairs to the ball room. tying the horses to the fence, the colonel lighted his pipe, walking to and fro to warm his chilled blood, he gave way to his gloomy thoughts again. "what would captain barbour, colonel woodburn and major hinkle say if they found out that he, colonel charlotte, was engaged in carrying niggers to a ball. ef i was to be ketched yar by a white man, what explanation could i make that would protect the honor of my family?" for himself the colonel felt that he was eternally disgraced and had reached the point where he was willing to be ostracized but hoped to protect the family name. sam returned to the carriage to find a wrap or other article the women had forgotten. the air was very chilly. "sam, have you all got any fire upstairs," asked the colonel. "yes, sah, dars a roarin' fire up yander colonel. jus walk up sah an' warm yoself." pulling his hat down over his eyes, turning his coat collar up to disguise himself, the colonel climbed the narrow stairs. peeping through the door at the whisking dancers he skulked along the side of the room until he reached the big, open wood fireplace. the warmth was very grateful to his benumbed frame. he had not the assurance to look around at the dancers; while his front side was thoroughly warmed, the rear of his anatomy was still numb. about the time he had determined to about face, the dance ceased. he heard several remarks not intended for his ears: "who is dat ole white man 'trudin' yar? whar did dat ole white man kum frum? who fetched him up yar?" the colonel couldn't bear it longer. stalking out, he descended the stairs, asking himself if he could sink lower. in the depths of degradation, what could happen that would sink him lower. a charlotte ordered out of a nigger ballroom. the cold air pierced him more quickly since leaving the ballroom. the big wood fire influenced him to return to its comforting warmth. by this time the fire had heated up the room. the heat from the over-heated revellers, the aroma permeating the atmosphere, was not unfamiliar to the colonel's sense of smell yet none the less unpleasant. it impelled the colonel to seek fresh air more quickly than the side remarks had previously. out in the chilly air he gave way to his thoughts as before, thoughts tinged with even more bitterness. the fire had made him more and more susceptible to the cold and it was not long ere the colonel started on his way to warm himself again. sam met him at the foot of the stairs. bowing and scraping, he began by apologizing profusely: "cunnel, i declars i hates to tell you all but the gemmen dat runs de frolik jus tol' me i has to. i'se been pinted a committee to tell you dey hes made a good hot fire in de back room down stairs fer you. you kin go in an' warm yerself. dey all doan wants you to kum in de big room up stairs eny more. de fak is, de ladies up dar objecks to de oder ob de stable on yer clothes." the facts are that a tannery is not as pleasant to the olfactory senses as pinaud's perfumes, but alfred, unlike col. charlotte, had exposed himself to objectionable odors by working over the vats and leather by day, and thumping the tambourine by night in the big finishing room. but no complaints ever came to his ears of the unpleasant odor of the tannery he carried home with him until lin was discarded by the minstrel band. therefore, when the mother, backed by lin, informed him that he would have to give up his tan-yard affiliations, the boy felt in his heart that as in the colonel's case, it was not the odor but prejudice. he almost wished he had arranged that lin might have retained her place as leader of the singing. but there were other reasons why he was ordered to leave the tanning business. the workman hotel was but a few steps from the old tannery. the new landlord was giving the place a cleaning up. cal wyatt, the son of the hotel man, came over to the tannery and requested alfred, john caldman, vince carpenter and several others to go over during the noon hour to the cellar and give them a hand in stacking up sundry barrels and kegs. all complied. the barrels were quickly lifted on top of each other. a tin cup full of some sort of fluid was passed around several times. all sipped from the cup, much as folks do from a loving cup nowadays. as the barrels were piled higher, the tin cup went around again and again. alfred had sipped from a large spoon a little of the same sort of tasting stuff when grandpap irons made a little toddy before breakfast. but never had his lips sunk into a tin cup filled with the stuff previously. a feeling came over him such as he had never experienced, and it seemed as if all in the cellar were similarly affected. those of the tan-yard hands who had never been known to raise their voices in song, essayed to sing the minstrel songs. those so awkward that they could not walk naturally endeavored to dance. ordinarily alfred would have laughed himself weak at the hilarious attempts of the tan-yard hands, and their imitations. under the influence of the tin cup's magic fluid he held them in that contempt that only the professional can feel for the jay who endeavors to imitate him. [illustration: the tin cup went round again and again] alfred stood motionless, or as near motionless as he possibly could. john caldman, who was known and respected as the one quiet and unobtrusive person in the tannery, and from whose lips a loud word never escaped, stood erect and immovable as the singing, dancing tan-yard hands whirled about him. with compressed lips and haughty mien he seemed not to notice them. suddenly he spoke and in a voice so loud and unnatural that all were awed into silence. the quiet man had changed so completely he seemed another person. alfred gazed at him in astonishment. he hurled epithets and denunciations at those whose names he had never before mentioned aloud. he recalled insults and abuse heaped upon him by all connected with the tannery; he invited, he insisted that the biggest and strongest of those about him come out and fight. he dared the whole crowd to jump on him. none accepting his dare he declared his intention to go to the tan-yard and clean out the old shebang, following his threat with a movement towards the tannery followed by the wobbling crowd. entering the big finishing room alfred saw the infuriated john standing in the middle of the room, an iron hook in one hand, a lump of coal in the other, while the workmen were flying upstairs and down stairs. alfred endeavored to follow those who went down stairs. he remembered starting from the first step at the top. vince carpenter afterwards informed him he never hit another step in his descent. [illustration: sammy steele's mule kicked the boy] gathering himself up in time to hear vince shout: "here comes mr. steele," as badly scared as his dazed senses would permit him to be, alfred fumbled and scrambled about for a moment. he spied a large wheel-barrow overloaded with cows' ears and other by-products of green hides that go into the refuse and find their way to the glue factory. this slimy mess was just out of the lime vat. alfred grabbed the handles and started with the wheel-barrow he did not know where, his sole object being to stall and make the boss believe he was at work. along a narrow plank walk he pushed the gruesome load, weaving, wobbling at every step, threatening to go off one side or the other at any moment, headed for the dump where all the water-soaked, discarded tan bark was deposited. reaching the dumping ground, standing between the handles of the wheel-barrow, alfred attempted to overturn it. the handles overturned alfred. down the steep incline, rolled alfred, wheel-barrow and contents in one conglomerate mass, alfred under the avalanche of cows' ears, tails, etc. mrs. hampton witnessed from her back porch the race down the dump pile. calling a couple of boys the lady led the way to where alfred lay, digging him from under the slimy mess. the boys loaded the soaking figure into the wheel-barrow and carried him home. sammy steele used as motive power in his bark mill a fine white mare and an iron grey mule. when alfred could not get the use of the white mare he rode or drove the mule. alfred's parents and others continually cautioned him to beware of the mule, that it was vicious and would surely kick him. when the boys arrived at alfred's home and lin saw them assisting the almost senseless boy into the house, she began: "well, fur the luv of all thet's holy, what's the rumpus now? i'll bet a fip sammy steele's mewel's kicked thet boy." the boys did not reply, depositing their burden on the floor, hastily departed. to lin's persistent inquiries, alfred admitted that the mule had kicked him. in a maudlin way he stuttered: "l-o-o-k-o-u-t, lin, she'll k-k-i-c-k you." then he laughed a silly laugh. lin was convinced that the boy was out of his head, delirious from the mule's kick, sent for the doctor who came in haste. lin explained that she was "skeered nearly to death. i wus yar all alone an' they kum draggin' him in. i tried to talk with him but he's plum out of his head. his mother an' his pap an' me an' all of us hes warned him time an' 'gain that that mewel would be his death, but he jus kept a-devilin' aroun' hit; now ye see what kum of hit. he's jus like he had a stroke of palsy, hit's a wonder the mewel hedn't killed him stun dead. ef hits palsied him he mought jus es well be dead." thus lin ran on as the old doctor carefully looked the patient over. the doctor had long practiced in brownsville. tomato vine poisoning cases were rare. alfred's ailment on this occasion was common. he made no mistake in diagnosing the case although he did not inform the family of his conclusions. however, he assured them that "the boy would be all right in a day or two. his appetite might not come to him at once but he would be all right in the morning. just let him sleep, don't wake him, and when he gets out caution him to--keep away from the mule," added the doctor dryly. lin said: "be durned ef hit ain't the queerest case i ever seed. alfurd's jus es sick es he kin be an' the old doctur didn't gin him nothin'." a few days later it was whispered among the neighbors that alfred and a number of the tan-yard hands broke into bill wyatt's cellar and drank up all his liquor and alfred, "little as he wus, drinked more'n eny of em." george washington antonio frazier 'lowed that alfred "drinked so much he wouldn't want another drink fer a month. i wouldn't ef i'd hed his cargo," he concluded. lin threw her head up in disgust as she denied this rumor: "huh, all ole frazier is peeved 'bout is bekase he didn't git his ole hog belly filled up fur nuthin'." alfred slept he knew not how long. it was night when he awoke. half awake, he would doze and dream--now he was carrying gourds of water to uncle joe, hastening back to get a gourdful for his own parched lips. he would invariably drop the gourd or have some other mishap--he never got the water to his lips. he realized that there were others in the room, the lamp was too low to distinguish them. he listened endeavoring to hear what they were talking of. the old clock down-stairs struck two, then the little clock on the mantelpiece chimed twice. a figure arose, softly crossing the room and a hand was laid softly on the boy's forehead. his eyes were closed but he knew it was his mother's hand. "he is a little less feverish, pap, you had best go to bed. i'll call lin early and lie down. now go on, you have to work and you won't feel like it, if you don't get your sleep. go on now, if he gets worse, i'll call." "gets worse i'll call you." alfred repeated the words over and over in his mind. he imagined at first that he had been sick a long time. he gathered his thoughts--the old tavern cellar came into his mind, the antics of the tan-yard hands after they had quaffed from the tin cup. alfred got no further in his ramblings than the tin cup; only a ray of thought, yet it was of sufficient power to cause the boy to retch and strain as though he would heave his stomach up. the mother was holding a vessel in one hand and supporting the very sick boy with the other arm. "muz, muz, what's the matter with me--how long have i been sick--d-do you th-i-n-k i'm goin' to die?" the mother soothed him and persuaded him to go to sleep. alfred closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. he heard footsteps and, peering out of the corner of his eye, he perceived the form of his father bending over him. softly walking over to where the mother sat with bowed head, the father began: "i thought i heard him talking. was he awake?" "yes," answered the mother. "what did he say?" eagerly inquired the father. the mother informed him. the father, looking toward the bed, remarked half to himself: "i hope he will be sober enough to talk to me before i leave the house." "why, john," hastily began the mother, "you speak as if he were an old toper." "well, mary. i did not mean it that way. but i have been worried ever since that minstrel crowd has been gathering at the tan-yard. of course, i never knew alfred to drink whiskey but they all drink more or less and alfred is not the boy to pass anything by there's any fun in." "but they had no business to give a boy whiskey," argued the wife, "and i would see about it and i would make an example of them if i were you." "i will do all of that and more," warmly answered the father. after a pause, he resumed: "they tell me they were all in wyatt's cellar and cal wyatt drew a tin cup of high proof whiskey. alfred put the cup--" alfred was following the father's words. at the mention of the word "cup," his stomach rebelled again. his father was holding a vessel, his mother supporting the boy's head. turning his head, the father ejaculated: "phew! if that isn't rot-gut i never smelt it." alfred pretended to go to sleep and the father and mother talked long and earnestly. their solicitude for the erring boy, touched alfred to the heart. he had not realized until this moment the meanness of his actions. when alfred fully realized the misery and suffering he had caused his parents, he was impelled to crawl to them and kiss the hem of their garments, promising never to cause them pain from the same cause again. let it be recorded he did not realize immediately when he drank from the cup, that it was whiskey. after the first swallow or two he became oblivious to his danger. he felt that he was forever disgraced. he thought of getting out of bed and fleeing, he cared not whither, only to get far away from the scene of his disgrace. we do not know that the boy resolved that he would never touch, taste or handle whiskey again. we do not know what resolutions he made to himself, but we do know that whisky never passed his lips again until he was more than a man grown and then rarely and in very small quantities. alfred slept. when he awoke it was daylight. the sun was shining brightly. his first thought was that he would be late for work. then he heard the voice of a neighbor woman, one whom the mother disliked, one who was noted for her tatling propensities. as an excuse to call she had brought fruit for alfred. the boy overheard her inquiries as to his condition. she whispered long and earnestly with lin. the latter, looking down at the pale face of alfred began questioning him: "well, i see ye're alive yit, i gess ye'll kum out of hit. i s'pose the hull durn town'll be laffin' at me. i never dreamed ye wus jus corned. ef i'd knowed, i'd brot ye out uf it quicker; i'd jus made a hull tin cup uf hot mustard--" alfred heard no further than "tin cup." flopping over on his stomach, endeavoring to hold down the last remnants of his innards, he begged to be left alone. but lin kept on: "an' yere i sends fur the doctor es innercent es a baby an' up an' tole him sammy steele's mewel hed histed ye. an' when he was feelin' roun' ye i thot he was feelin' fur busted bones, an' durned ef i ever knowed even when ye begun throwin' up on the carpit thet ye wus jus drunk." lin continued: "ef i hadn't sent fur the doctor it wouldn't be so blamed green lookin' in me. i'll never hear the las' uf hit. i'll bet sammy steele's mewel's ears will burn, the hull town'll be talkin' 'bout thet mewel. they'll say he's a powerful kicker," and lin laughed despite herself. "why, fur weeks after joe sandford got into thet fix with his wall-paper show clothes folks would laff when i went into meetin'. i could tell what they wus thinkin' uf the minnit they'd smile. un the wust part uf hit is i went over to mrs. todd's an' we cried fur two hours. mrs. todd's brother got kicked in the spinel string (cord) with a mewel an' he died the same nite. he never moved after he wus kicked. he wus ossified from head to fut." alfred laughed. lin corrected herself by saying: "thet's what mrs. todd sed ailed him, but i knowed she meant 'palsified'." alfred again laughed. lin knew she had made a mistake; she was sensitive and it nettled her to notice the smile on alfred's face. in tones quite testy she advised him to "hold his laff 'til he could feel hit. ye needn't git so peart, ye hain't out of danger yit, ye're liable to have anuther collapse or sumthin' else. ye'll never look as white aroun' the gills when ye're laid out in them linen sheets ye stole fur yer show." lin "wondered what gran'muther would say when she heard of his 'sickness'." at the word "sickness" lin winked with both eyes. "i'll bet a fip uncle ned will say: 'well, he's another notch nearer hell.'" alfred did not consider the reference to uncle ned, but grandmother came up in his mind and he determined to go to the old lady and tell her the whole truth. and this he did and, instead of condemnation, he received advice that strengthened him in avoiding many of the same sort of pitfalls thereafter. the tin cup incident ended alfred's connection with the tan-yard but alfred never regretted his experience. the work was most health-giving and muscle developing. the examples of industry and integrity learned from sammy steele have been a guiding post in the life of the boy. alfred had not been in his employ long until he was permitted to conduct small trades with the customers who visited the tannery. one day a highly respected farmer brought in a hide. alfred weighed the hide and figured up the amount due the farmer when mr. steele entered the room, passing the compliments of the day with the farmer. the hide was spread out on the table. the tanner folded it over as if to ascertain if it had been damaged in the skinning process. at the first touch of the hide he looked into the farmer's face, and in a careless tone, asked: "been killing a beef?" "yes," drawled the farmer. "eh, huh, eh, huh," nodded the tanner, "what did you do with the carcass?" "oh, we found a market at home for it. we got a big family," replied the farmer. "eh, huh" assented the tanner. reaching over, he took up the slate, rubbed out alfred's figures, figured the hide at about two-thirds the amount alfred was about to pay the farmer. to alfred's surprise the farmer accepted the cut in price and hastily took his leave. the tanner looked after him in a contemptuous manner, turned to alfred and inquired if he knew the farmer. alfred answered: "yes, he's a neighbor of my uncle. he belongs to the baptus church and i heard the preacher say if god ever made an upright man, he was one." "yes, yes," answered the tanner, "god made all men upright but a murn hide will warp most of them." a murn hide is one taken from an animal that dies of a disease. the sensitive touch of the old tanner detected the diseased hide immediately. alfred has applied this incident to many deals in his life and a murn hide became one of his pet references to a crooked transaction. the tie of friendship between alfred and sammy steele lasted while the tanner lived. sammy steele had not acquired a fortune in all the years of his hard labor. a skilled workman, he respected labor. no employe of his was ever tricked out of his wages. he was as fair to the poor as to the rich and both trusted him. in an uncouth world he was a gentleman; he bowed as courteously to a wash-woman as to an heiress. an honest man, he was alfred's boyhood friend, his friend in manhood. alfred loved him while he lived and respected his memory after he was gone. if there were more like sammy steele in this world there would be better boys and better men. chapter ten if every man's eternal care were written on his brow, how many would our pity share who raise our envy now? lest those who read these pages through feelings of sympathy for the author, or influenced by curiosity, may gain the impression that the people of brownsville were not as staid as the exacting proprieties of society demanded, it must be pointed out that there was not a bar-room in the town. the two bakeries, william chatland and josie lawton, sold ale by the glass. every tavern sold whisky by the drink from a demi-john, jug or bottle that was kept locked up. the landlord carried the key and served his customers from a glass or tin-cup. he poured out the drink, limiting the amount to the condition of the one served. alfred would never admit pittsburg in advance of brownsville except in one thing--the mirrored palaces where only cut glass was used in serving the thirsty. [illustration: bill brown] it is peculiar how one's environments will influence his actions in after years. bill brown continues to send cut glass goblets to his friends. he boasts that _his_ friends drink only out of cut glass. this boast does not arouse alfred's envy as he has friends in brownsville who can drink out of the bung hole of a barrel. with going to school five days in a week and hunting saturday, alfred was kept within bounds. kate abrams--everybody who knew him addressed him as "kate" (none ever called him decatur)--captain kate abrams was the beau ideal of a man in alfred's estimation. brave, gay and companionable, a man who loved boys and hated hypocrites, a riverman, one who had plyed the southern rivers from mouth to headwaters, as well known in st. louis or natchez as in his home town, high strung and generous, he was just the kind of man that boys love and respect. to go hunting with kate was a pleasure alfred esteemed above all others. he was the first wing shot alfred ever hunted with. it was the custom of the hunters of that section to kill all their game sitting. when alfred was permitted to handle and shoot the double-barreled gun captain abrams had purchased in st. louis, he experienced thrills known only to an ardent hunter when a gun, the like of which he had never seen before, comes into his hands. "you can't miss shootin' that gun", was alfred's comment. captain abrams generally killed all the game, furnished all the ammunition and divided even with the boys. the captain, daniel livingston and alfred had been out one saturday but bagged only two rabbits; the boys were figuring in their minds how two rabbits could be divided among three persons. when they arrived at the parting point, the captain remarked, "i know you boys would rather have a half dollar each than a rabbit." with this he handed each a bright half dollar. alfred had gone but a few steps toward home when a stranger halted him, inquiring as to the location of the office of the _clipper_, the weekly newspaper. alfred obligingly directed the man to the office. the stranger had alfred greatly interested. he was a journeyman printer. harrison was his name. harrison was only one of the many who roamed over the country in those days. they roamed from one spree to another, sometimes looking for work and never keeping it long if found. harrison was an editorial writer. there were many of them in those days; their enunciation of their political faith was abuse of all who dared dispute them. they wrote for many years and not one line of their output serves as a true mark of the times or people of the days in which they lived. [illustration: harrison and alfred] harrison had walked from uniontown. he had been working on the _genius of liberty_, had left the paper before it ceased publication, as he put it. he borrowed alfred's half dollar. he promised he would meet alfred at the _clipper_ office early next morning. alfred was there early but harrison did not arrive until noon. alfred learned afterwards that high noon was early for harrison, he always did his work between twelve o'clock midnight and bed-time. alfred never liked the man from the time he failed to keep his appointment and repay the half dollar, although for the next year he was in closer touch with harry harrison than any human being on earth. but he soon discovered that harrison had knowledge of many things that he wished to learn. of course, he got a great deal of chaff with the grain, but it was all enlightening. harrison had no difficulty in arranging with mr. hurd as editor, foreman, pressman, reporter and general manager of the _clipper_, issued every thursday. he had come from the _genius of liberty_ published in uniontown, a paper savagely opposed to the _clipper_. alfred's father was a reader and an admirer of the _genius of liberty_, a democratic paper, a hater of the principles of the _clipper_ and not very friendly toward the owner thereof. when harrison called at alfred's home to induce the parents to permit alfred to ally himself with the office force of the newspaper of which harrison was the head, the father bluntly told him that he did not have any faith in a democrat who espoused the principles continuously enunciated by that abolitionist sheet, the _brownsville clipper_, and he would not permit a child of his to work for the paper. harrison advised the family that although he was a democrat he was above all a newspaper man, and newspaper men were compelled often times to sacrifice principles to exigencies. that it was not a matter of the present but of the future. alfred should be fitted for a career that would bring him honor and renown. harrison declared the boy was precocious beyond his years, all he required was training, and he, harrison, was in a position to offer the boy opportunities that might never knock at his door again. notwithstanding the fact that the _brownsville clipper_ had on many occasions praised the business competitor of alfred's father and, while uncle billy was a candidate for county judge, not only assailed his loyalty but referred to all his family in uncomplimentary terms, alfred became an attache of the paper. according to harrison's statement alfred was to be one of the business staff, although there was no written agreement to that effect. however, harrison made mention of this fact several times in conversation with the family. as harrison was editor, reporter, foreman of the composing room, and also the compositor, pressman, etc., the only opening for alfred was in the business department. lin said that harrison was the "most nicest man that ever kum from uniontown, thet they was nearly all 'mountin hoosiers' but she would bet harrison kum from a good family and she hoped hurd's would feed him right." in those days it was the custom for the employer to board his hands. the first three days alfred was in the business department he carried two tons of coal in two big pails from the cellar to the third story--the press room. harrison declared it was not possible to publish a clean sheet unless the room was kept at an even temperature. harrison had reference to the mechanical part of the paper, not the literary. on press day, baggy allison, the town drayman, helped out. he worked the lever of the hand-press. it required heft and strength to pull the lever as it was necessary to press the form heavily to give the type the proper impression on the paper. alfred was the roller. two gluey, molassy, sticky rollers about four inches in diameter with handles on them, not unlike a small lawn mower without wheels, was first run over the ink smeared on a large flat stone, then over the form lying on the press after each impression. press day was a big day in the little printing office. harrison had inaugurated reforms and improvements in the paper. he had a catchy style in writing up the news. for instance: when polly rider and jacob rail were united in marriage, the groom requested a nice mention of the wedding, it was promised him. the following appeared in the _clipper's_ next issue: "on wednesday evening in the presence of a large and respectable gathering of the quality of bull skin township, jacob rail and polly rider were married by a duly qualified squire. the affair was held at tom rush's tavern. all following the bride and groom a-horseback made a crowd as long as any that ever attended an infair or any other public outpouring in this neighborhood. rush sets the best table on the old pike twixt brownsville and cumberland. at this infair he outshone all others; many claimed it was the best meal they ever sat down to. mine host is not a candidate for any office we know of but he can get anything he wants in this county insofar as the support of this paper goes. and we know whereof we write. two baskets filled with dainties and a demi-john came to this office. the whole office wishes the happy landlord 'bon vivant' until we can do better by him. the bride wore red roses and other posies; the groom wore a new black suit which he bought at skinner's round corner clothing store. everybody wishes them a pleasant voyage through life, as does the clipper." the two baskets of dainties had not been received when the article was written but a copy of the paper found its way into the hands of the landlord before the ink was dry and the baskets and demi-john were in the office soon thereafter. folks were just as susceptible to favorable mention then as now. in the same column of the _clipper_ appeared this voluntary tribute: "t. b. murphy, the handsome and polite ladies' man, the artistic grocer, has just gotten in a large supply of everything in his line. murphy is just a little cheaper and a great deal better than other grocers. among the toothsome goodies which the boys of the clipper dote on are the fresh scotch herring all ready for eating and the sugar crackers. they go together and make a snack fit for a king to gorge on." harrison never tired of sugar crackers and scotch herring. the herring kept him continually thirsty, hence jose lawton came in for favorable mention: "jose lawton, the oldest and best baker in the town this day received a dray load of spencer & mckay's cream ale. spicy and brown, it is a nectar fit for the gods and spurs on ye editor in his untiring labors for that great moral inspiration, the public." all that day the business department of the paper was very busy with a large coffee pot carrying inspiration from lawton's to the press room. harrison carried his reforms and innovations to the editorial pages of the paper. in his first editorial he attacked those who held the offices and those who aspired to them, that is, those to whom the paper was opposed. uncle billy hatfield was a candidate for county judge. the _clipper_ said: "the office holding habit is so strongly imbedded in the family," (uncle billy had been a justice of the peace, another uncle a constable and alfred's father burgess for one term), "that if the voters of this county defeat them, as they surely will do as the clipper is in the fight to stay, and they were sent to the island of ceylon, where the natives have no clothes on, they wouldn't be there long before they would hold all the offices. and thus, like here, have their hands in the pockets of the naked voters." press day harrison would fly fold and what not until a dozen copies had been run off that looked right to him. with these he left the office, the drayman and business department struggled along with the printing of the paper. the circulation was nine hundred and it generally took the day and far into the night to work off the edition. harrison carried the copies containing complimentary write-ups of various enterprises and persons in town to the persons themselves and frequently returned with articles contributed by the recipient of the write-up. he would bestow them on the office force, a pair of suspenders to alfred, a pair of gloves to baggy allison, cigars, cheese, scotch herring, sugar crackers and tobacco, were distributed and kept on hand at all times, that is all times near press day. harrison generally celebrated for three days. press day was thursday; he kept it up until sunday when he was generally very sick. on this, alfred's first press day, baggy allison, the pressman, grew very tired when three hundred of the edition had been worked off. the pressman proceeded to take a nap. that the great preserver of public morals might not be delayed in delivery, alfred essayed to work the press. the foot rest was too far away for him to reach the lever. the first time he pulled it towards him while on a tension, the lever slipped from his slender grasp, and flying back, snapped one of the small springs in the press. harrison was sought and finally found but was too effulgent to realize the calamity. he recommended the press be shipped to philadelphia and the office closed for two weeks. he was evidently feeling so good that he could not entertain the idea of getting back to the regular life in less time. mr. hurd, the owner, insisted that davy chalfant, "the best blacksmith in the country," could repair the spring. alfred was dispatched with the broken bits to davy's shop. davy was not only noted for his mechanical skill but for his likes and dislikes. he had a great admiration for mechanics who labored with heavy tools or machinery and greater contempt for all who were engaged in lighter labor. davy could shoe horses, weld tires or axles as no other blacksmith in those parts. [illustration: "what does hurd take me fur, a damned jeweler?"] kaiser, the town jeweler, a german of delicate physique and features, a skilled workman, was held in special contempt by the big blacksmith who never passed the jeweler's shop that he did not hurl, under his breath, contemptuous words at the delicate little jeweler sitting in his window with a magnifying glass on his eye, plying his trade. when alfred handed the blacksmith the broken bits of the spring he took them in the hollow of his big palm and said: "what's these?" alfred explained that the press was broken and it would be impossible to print the paper until the spring was repaired and mr. hurd said he knew that he, mr. chalfant, could fix it. davy turned the bits of broken steel over in his palm with the forefinger of his other hand as he musingly said: "so hurd said i could fix this thing, did he?" and here he handed alfred the broken bits. "well, you take it back to hurd an' ax him what he takes me fur, a damned jeweler?" someone suggested that gus lyons, the machinist and piano tuner, could repair the spring, which he did after several hours work. harrison celebrated longer, with the result that the remainder of the edition was not worked off until after the regular edition of the following week. the edition of the week before went out with the regular edition with an added note at the top of the page explaining the terrible accident to the press which caused the delay. it was one of the onerous duties of the business department to deliver the paper in three towns, brownsville, bridgeport and west brownsville. to the houses on the hill above workman's tavern he generally sent the paper by a boy; the subscribers along water street, down toward the coal tipple, were served by somebody alfred met going that way. [illustration] when alfred took charge of the business department he was furnished a list of the subscribers in the three towns. it was not long until he lost the list; in fact, he never was guided by the list. none of the democrats of any prominence in the town took the paper, but every week, those holding office would be touched up in the paper. the business department always took pains to deliver a copy of the paper to one thus mentioned. if the article were pretty severe alfred saw to it that all the family of the one roasted received a copy of the paper. this kept things stirred up around the office and the town. alfred generally distributed the papers to every family whether they subscribed to it or not. from the outlying districts there came many complaints of the non-delivery of the paper. the owner of the paper hired a horse and buggy to trace the business department in its work. bob and mrs. hubbard owned a malt house and made excellent ale, so it was said. they were subscribers to the paper. the owner of the paper visited the hubbards. the mrs. was the business end of the firm. after visiting a little while and sampling a goblet of the ale, the owner of the paper announced the object of his visit: "we have a new boy, complaints have come to the office that our readers are not receiving their papers regularly. how about yours?" mrs. hubbard looked at the owner rather surprised, as she informed him that she "'adn't noticed the paper around the 'ouse in several weeks." she said: "i thought you 'ad stopped printing it." this nettled the owner, who was proud of his paper. "no ma'am! we have never stopped it but you won't lose nothing, we will run you five weeks over on the next year's subscription." and he took another glass of ale. the owner expressed his disappointment that the paper had not been delivered regularly. he remarked as he sipped at the fresh goblet of ale the lady had insisted on him taking, "you shall have your paper regularly hereafter, i shall bring it down myself every thursday evening." "oh lor', no, mr. urd," the good woman began, "oh lor', 'urd, we wouldn't 'ave you trouble yourself for hennything. never mind the paper, we never reads hit enyhow." alfred did not fancy harrison but was constantly associated with him. there was a charm about the man for alfred that was stronger than his dislike. harrison knew, or pretended he did, all the showmen of the day, he would discuss them for hours while alfred sat in open-mouthed wonder. there was one feature alfred studied over greatly--harrison's acquaintance with all noted showmen was brought about in nearly every instance by harrison having assisted them financially at some time. alfred had never thought of a clown or a minstrel except as one rolling in wealth. when harrison related how he had assisted dan rice out of louisville when in distress and sam sharpley out of maysville when creditors oppressed him, alfred's respect for the man was still more lessened. but it influenced him to look upon actors with a feeling less exalted than previously. [illustration] alfred learned in after years that the hallucinations of harrison as to assisting actors financially were common in the minds of those who lived a roving life. harrison gave alfred the first copy of the _new york clipper_ he ever read, probably the only amusement paper in the united states at that time. alfred was all of one rainy sunday reading that copy of the _clipper_. he kept it hid in the cow stable fearing his father would object to the paper. alfred became an authority on sports and amusements. the town people marveled at his knowledge. frank mckernan, the sporting shoemaker, referred every argument that came up in his shop as to actors or prize fighters to him. harrison presented alfred a book on stage management. it contained just such information as he had been seeking. the band of minstrels were busily rehearsing in the back room of frank mckernan's shoe-shop. harrison elated alfred with the information that after the troupe became perfectly rehearsed they could give performances every saturday night in jeffres hall and money would roll in on them. john and charley acklin, splendid singers from the methodist church choir, joined the troupe when the minstrels serenaded alfred's family. lin acknowledged, "the singin' wus purty an' ye git along right good although hit mought be better." harrison pronounced the troupe perfectly rehearsed and ordered alfred to secure jeffres hall for the following saturday night. then came trouble. harrison assumed to be manager and treasurer. win scott, alfred's dearest pal, had always been the door-keeper. win was intensely jealous of harrison. alfred required harrison's aid with the newspaper and to have a few handbills printed. he loved old win and he was greatly disturbed as to how to appease win and satisfy harrison. harrison had become very much interested in lin. the lady had not given him any encouragement. lin had a beau to whom she was loyal. harrison continually quizzed alfred as to lin's attitude toward him. alfred truthfully advised harrison that lin had never referred to him. harrison, in addition to his impecuniosity, had other peculiarities of which vanity was not the least. alfred persuaded lin to accompany harrison to the proposed show. as lin's "steady" was employed in a distant town and she was very anxious to witness the first minstrels performance, she sort of half way promised to permit the itinerant printer to escort her to the show. but she decidedly declared, "ef he kums near me with the smell of licker on him i'll sack him quick." alfred felt that he was playing a desperate game but he had a great deal at stake. the fact is, in all his other shows he had never enjoyed the luxury of a treasurer. he did not fully comprehend the meaning of the term; a door-keeper was all he required and when harrison continually talked of the treasurer as the one who held the destinies of the troupe in the hollow of his hand, it was displeasing to alfred. in fact, alfred had inwardly resolved that harrison should not handle the funds. win scott, his boyhood friend, should keep door and take in the money as heretofore. alfred resolved, though lin even refused to accept the invitation of harrison, that he would declare himself at the last moment as to the treasurership. alfred called on mr. jeffres, the owner of the hall, the only one in town, stated his business, inquired as to the rental for a single night, intimating to the fidgety little englishman that the hall would be rented many subsequent nights if the price was satisfactory. alfred has experienced many rebuffs but none so overwhelming as the refusal of mr. jeffres to consider his proposition. he was smothered with astonishment, chagrin and several other emotions that no appropriate names have been found for. the parting words of mr. jeffres kept ringing in his ears as he sorrowfully walked homewards, his heart so heavy he could scarcely lift his feet from the ground: "hi do not care to rent my 'all to hirresponsible persons. hi 'av no desire to 'ave you an' your scalawags ha-running about my 'all naked as some of you did the day you 'ad your grandfather's coolin' sheets tacked hon the hold rag tent hin front of my 'ouse." jeffres bowed alfred out of his house as he concluded his speech. lin was up in arms. "huh! let ole tilty go to blazes with his ole 'all (mimicking jeffres). i'll git ye the campbellite meetin' house, see ef i don't." the true inwardness of the refusal of the hall was that jeffres was the business competitor of alfred's father. captain decatur abrams was building the steamboat "talequah." jeffres greatly desired the contract and felt sure that he would get it. captain abrams was the father's friend through all the vicissitudes of those troublesome days and the contract went to alfred's father. in after years, when the old gentleman, whose feelings had softened with age, invited alfred to appear in his hall, alfred met the astounded man with a courtesy and consideration that made the two men friends ever afterwards. spurred to greater activity in furthering his scheme to produce his first minstrel enterprise, alfred, without consulting anyone, walked out the old pike to the redstone school-house. he waited outside until the noon hour. with the sound of the children's voices in their happiness at play disturbing his interview he made his errand known to the teacher. miss lenhart, the teacher, was the sweetheart of his cousin will, although alfred was not aware of it nor did he know of the influence this had in securing him the school-house until long after the couple were wedded. washington brashears, the president of the school directors, gave his permission and thus was the school-house secured. all the scholars, the teacher and the school directors were to receive free tickets for the performance. the mother, remembering the boy's mishaps in similar attempts, was very earnest in her efforts to dissuade him from giving the exhibition, particularly when she was informed by the enthusiastic showman that the price of admission would be twenty-five cents for grown folks and a levy (twelve and a half cents) for children. harrison wrote up jeffres in the _clipper_ as "one who would impede the progress of civilization. the discourager of genius and talent." hurd toned down the article somewhat. however, it had the effect of advertising not only alfred but his great moral exhibition. lin loaned alfred the last cent she had in the world and accompanied him to the dry goods store that he might not be imposed upon in the purchase of red calico to be used as a curtain. "i'll be thar from the time hit opens 'til it's over an' thar'll be no wall-paper show clo's in it nuther, ye see ef thur is. mary, ye needn't be skeered, jes res' easy, i'll see hit's all es proper es eny meetin' or sunday school an' ef they don't like it, be dog-goned ef i don't make alfurd gin the money back." this last declaration did more to allay the worry of the mother than anything that had been said before. the mother actually so forgot her fears that she assisted lin in sewing the curtains. old man risbeck, a neighboring farmer, not only loaned alfred the lumber to build the platform, or stage, but assisted in building it. park mcdonald, another farmer, a little the worse for hard cider, also assisted, with a great deal of advice which was not followed. the teacher dismissed school at noon friday that all might be in readiness for the big show saturday night. alfred was not altogether pleased with the idea of lin bossing the whole job, fearing that many members of his troupe would be disgruntled over her domineering manner. however, she was so enthusiastic and inventive he refrained from doing or saying anything that would impair her usefulness. lin was very sensitive and somehow alfred felt that the success of the great undertaking required lin's help. alfred had worked all night setting type and working off a small, square bill, printed in black ink on pink paper. he would have used red, blue or any other highly colored ink if it had been in the office. the bill read: hatfield and storey's alabama minstrels redstone school-house early candle light come one--come all admission price cents for men and women twelve and a half cents for children. [illustration: alfred as a bill poster] alfred not only set up and printed the bills announcing his first minstrel show but distributed them, tacking them up in conspicuous places. the first bill was tacked on mart claybaugh's blacksmith shop near the old brubaker tavern. alfred then continued out the pike to searight's tavern. at uncle billy hatfield's a great display was made on barn, blacksmith and harness shop. when uncle billy returned home and read the bill headed "hatfield and storey's alabama minstrels," he first imagined that his political enemies were working something off on him. cousin will's explanation did not satisfy him and he ordered the bills removed, fearing they might jeopardize his political chances. alfred visited plumsock, cook's mill, joshua wagner's cider press. even at that early day alfred had the advertising idea pretty well developed. press day the paper was worked off more promptly than usual and alfred had the entire edition delivered by dark. harrison had a longer list of complimentary mentions than usual, hence he celebrated more copiously than ever. lin learned of this through alfred. she remarked: "durn him an' his drinkin'. i'll jes fool him; i'll go out with you all." this was another jolt for alfred as charley wagner, the violinist of the company, was one of those obstinate dutchmen who had to be treated "just so," otherwise he would "pack up his wiolin und scoot," as he expressed it. wagner was fully informed as to the insinuations lin had indulged in reflecting upon his ability and more than once he had advised alfred, "if dor beeg wirginia gal gets anyting to do mid dis troupe, yust count me out." george washington antonio frazier, the town teamster, had been engaged by alfred to transport the troupe and properties to and from the little red school-house. a good sleighing snow covering the ground, the teamster had provided a big bob-sled well filled with straw to keep the feet warm. the start was to be made at o'clock. alfred finally prevailed upon lin to walk to the top of town hill and get in the sled there. he argued to her that she being the only woman in the party it would not look well for her to ride through town. lin finally agreed to do as alfred desired. then came another embarrassment. alfred's brother joe insisted on going. he followed his elder brother up and down stairs crying all the while. finally it was decided to take the little fellow along. customs cling to a family the same as other entanglements. alfred's little brother was handicapped with a crop of curls exact imitations of those that had so embittered the early days of alfred's life. when the sled was loaded and all the troupe comfortably seated therein, it was discovered that the driver was not in sight. alfred knew where to find him and was at his side in a moment. the old fellow was in the act of raising a large glass of whiskey to his lips as alfred touched him on the arm and politely announced that the sled was loaded and all were waiting for the driver. lowering his arm, with the liquor untouched in his hand, the driver began: "look yer, young man. you agreed to give me four dollars to carry you out to redstone school-house an' back. my team'll hev to be fed thur an' i'll hev to eat supper somewhar. ye'll hev to pay up the money afore i move a dam foot." with this he raised the liquor to his lips and swallowed it with one gulp. the bar-room was crowded, as it usually was at that hour of the day. for a moment alfred was confused; he did not possess one cent of money and it flashed through his mind that no one in the troupe would be likely to have any. for just one moment his heart started downwards; the eyes of all were upon him. pulling himself together and straightening himself up to his full height, he said: "mr. frazier, i hired you to haul us to the school-house and return and insofar as your horse feed is concerned, that was not mentioned. i always intended you to eat supper with us at eliza eagle's. when you get back to town and complete your part of the bargain i will pay you, and not before." this speech caught the crowd and took the old teamster somewhat by surprise. "wall, ef you'll put up the money with the landlord, i'll take ye out an' ef ye don't ye can hoof it," was the teamster's reply. turning to the bar-tender, he said: "give me a little more licker." the last demand of the teamster was not an unreasonable one and it would not look well to refuse it. alfred hotly replied: "you'll get your money when you do your work; i would not put up five cents for you while you are drinking whiskey." this angered the old fellow. he sneeringly replied: "i pay fur my licker an' it's nun uf yer dam business how much i drink uf it." through the window alfred discerned a team and sled driving by. rushing out he discovered that it was his uncle jack craft. the two families were not on speaking terms and had not been for a long time. alfred shouted: "ho, uncle! ho, uncle! hold on; pull up, i want to see you." the uncle seemed more than glad to have alfred approach him. he did not even wait to hear the whole of the story alfred had to tell of frazier's meanness. driving his much larger and more stylish conveyance alongside frazier's rig, the passengers and baggage were transferred before frazier realized what had transpired. as he emerged from the hotel he was met with jeers from the troupe as they started off up the old pike, not so rapidly as alfred and uncle joe once traversed it on black fan, but at a pace that put all in good humor. alfred sat on the front seat holding his little brother and charley wagner's violin. it was not solicitude for the safety of the instrument that prompted him to persuade wagner to permit him to hold it. he figured that if wagner balked when lin got in the sled at the top of the hill he would be better entrenched to argue with the obstinate leader with the violin in _his_ hands. when lin hailed them by shouting: "how-dye, how's the minstrels?" all greeted her cordially. alfred had his eye on the leader. while he was not as cordial in his greetings as the others, he smiled and returned lin's salutations. alfred explained jokingly that lin came along to take care of little joe and to help lize eagle out with the supper. the party was a merry one and everyone they met was the butt of their mirth. old man bedler at the toll gate passed the party free and wished alfred all kinds of good luck. the old german's voice trembled and a tear rolled down his bronzed cheek as he shook hands with alfred and said: "good luck! ef my poor billy was only here he'd be with you." he referred to his only son who was drowned a few months previously. alfred had assisted in recovering the body and the old toll-gate keeper had the kindliest feelings for him. it did not require long to arrange the stage and place the few properties. lin was everywhere busy at all times. the widow eagle's humble home was only a short distance from the school-house. supper was called and lin and charley wagner were seen coming from the school-house together joking and laughing. lin had captivated the leader. lin refused to sit at the first table, she declared she would wait and eat with mrs. eagle and mary emily, the daughter. meanwhile, she busied herself waiting on the table. she was markedly attentive to the leader, filling his plate even when he protested that he had more than enough. the leader was an old bachelor. when he got the wishbone of the chicken all insisted that lin and he pull it. when the leader got the short piece all laughed and joked him; all the party was jolly. no. there was one who was not, although he endeavored to conceal it by laughs and remarks. lin knew that alfred was nervous and worried. he was in doubt as to the receipts covering expenses; he was in doubt as to the show pleasing. in fact, he was suffering the tortures all have endured--who have a conscience--who ever produced a public entertainment. the curtain went up, or rather was pulled aside, on alfred's first minstrel show. seated in the semi-circle were billy storey, bones and stump speech; amity getter, interlocutor or middleman, vocalist and guitar player; the acklin brothers, vocalists; billy woods, flute and piccolo, guitar and vocalist; charles wagner, violin; billy hyatt, clog and jig dancer; tommy white, clog and jig dancer, and alfred, singer, dancer, comedian, stage manager, property man and superintendent of wardrobe. the little school-house was packed--sitting, standing and leaning room was all taken, even the window-sills were occupied. lin, seated near the stage, was lost in amazement at the improvement in the troupe. her head nodded and foot patted in time with the tunes with which she was familiar. when storey and alfred concluded their double song and dance, (this was a new number to lin), she led the applause and hustled uncle jack back of the scenes requesting the boys repeat the number. alfred had profited by reading the book harrison had presented him. the song and music made a very great impression on lin. late and early you could hear her voice as she went about her work singing: "i feel just as happy as a big sunflower, that bows and bends in the breezes, and my heart is as light as the winds that blow the leaves from off the treeses" there was but one mishap that marred the evening's performance. the front curtain was run on rings, on a small, tight wire stretched across the entire width of the school house. the curtain that formed a background of the stage, and behind which the performers dressed, was much too heavy for the small nails with which it was secured. someone pulled on the curtain and down it came. alfred and one or two others were changing their costumes. alfred with surprising nimbleness jumped into a large trunk, concealing himself so quickly that the audience caught sight of only his feet as he plunged head first into the trunk. the other two members were completely confused and ran into a corner turning their backs to the audience. [illustration: hatfield and storey] dr. john davidson and othey brashears were seated in the front row, grabbed the curtain and held it head high until all were costumed. it was then replaced and the show went on. lin, in commenting on what alfred considered the most unfortunate accident that ever befell his show, said: "well, ye jus couldn't call hit a back-set to the show, kase peepul laffed more about hit then anythin' else in the hull thing." when the last note of the walk around had died out, the audience remained seated, waiting for more, (printed programs were unknown in those days). getty went before the curtain and announced that the show was over. the crowd began to disperse; the boys from town and some of the country folks forced their way behind the scenes to congratulate alfred, all declaring that it was the best entertainment they had ever witnessed. one over-enthusiastic young fellow offered the leader two dollars to have fiddlers play for a dance; in fact many of the young folks desired to turn it into a dance. this seemed like desecration to alfred and forever after he respected the dignified farmer, washington brashears, who, standing stately and tall, with the beard of a patriarch, in a voice mild but firm, said: "we have been entertained by our young friend and his companions in a way that it falls to the lot of but few to enjoy; only those in filidelphy have the privilege of enjoying such exhibitions as we have enjoyed here tonight. as the chairman of the board of school directors, i can say that we permitted the use of this school-house for the entertainment. it is our only meeting house now, and there will be preaching here next sunday evening, therefore we cannot permit dancing tonight." the nearly ice cold, spring water influenced alfred to go home with the black on his face. the little party and belongings were soon loaded into the roomy sled. bidding goodnight to the few friends who remained to see them off, they headed homeward. it was a happy party that sped along the old pike. lin led in the singing of songs long since discarded by the minstrels. even uncle jack entered into the jollity of the occasion. he was greatly elated over the success of the show. the spirited team was traveling much faster than safety demanded. at a turn in the road there was a treacherous, slippery place, the sled swung around sideways--skidded would explain the motion--one runner slipped over the edge of the bank, the sleigh turned upside down throwing out the cargo of human freight. lin's scream could be heard half a mile. alfred's only solicitude was for his brother joe. uncle jack held on to the team which was released from the sled by the breaking of the pole. after the occupants extricated themselves it was found that the only serious damage suffered was the breaking of amity getty's fine guitar. [illustration] it required the combined strength of all to right the sled and get it up the steep bank to the roadway. the tongue or pole was made fast to the sled with rope and the journey resumed. up hill, all could ride; down hill all were compelled to walk and hold the sled off the heels of the horses, as the broken pole would not permit the team to hold back. it was two o'clock in the morning when the welcome lights of the town shone on the belated minstrels. alfred was too tired and sleepy and the water too cold to wash the black off his face. he crept upstairs to the big room rarely occupied. not answering the breakfast bell, sister lizzie was sent up to call him. one glance at the black face on the pillow sent her scampering down the stairs. "i believe brother alfred has brought a darkey home with him. there's one in the big bed any way." this sent the father upstairs by bounds. alfred was unceremoniously yanked out of bed and shoved down stairs. when he appeared in the kitchen such laughter as greeted him would have pleased him greatly the night before. alfred explaining all the while that it was too cold to wash the black off his face the night before and that he couldn't get it off with cold water "no how." the father insisted that he go to the back yard and scrub his face with cold water as punishment for going to bed blacked up. to lin's question as to how much he had made the night before alfred gave evasive replies. hastily eating his breakfast he was quickly on his way to win scott's home. before he had proceeded far on his way he met his pal scott on his way to alfred's home. alfred judged from the size of the audience that there was not only sufficient money in win's hands to pay all obligations but also a handsome surplus. he was simply crushed to learn that the receipts amounted to just $ . . alfred felt that he would be everlastingly disgraced when he announced that he was not able to pay the debts incurred. the boys conferred long and earnestly. win proposed that they pay lin and uncle jack and then run off; go to the newly discovered oil country and make their fortunes. this proposition was rejected by alfred. to go to the oil regions was a pet idea of the older boy and it was not long ere he left the old town to seek his fortune and alfred never saw him afterwards. alfred took the money. when he reached home he settled with lin in full. uncle jack was handed his four dollars by alfred with the air of a millionaire. after paying lin and uncle jack, alfred had $ . left, with debts to the amount of $ . pressing him, or they would be the next day. he retired to his room. he could plainly hear lin describing and praising the performance. she dwelt at length on the high quality of the gathering, saying that all the best people in red stone section were there. when lin wondered what alfred would do next, now that he had money, alfred felt like rushing from the house to seek his pal and flee to the oil regions. he opened the front door and walked out without any idea of where he was going. he walked aimlessly and found himself on church street where sammy steele overtook him on his way to church. the reverend kerr was pastor, the father of e. m. kerr, afterwards noted in the minstrel profession as e. m. kayne. when mr. steele asked alfred if he were on his way to church, alfred answered: "yes." the two walked to the church together and home after the sermon was over. on the way the tanner described in detail the improvements he was making in his plant and invited alfred to accompany him to the tannery to look over the work under way. in those days everybody ate dinner at high noon. alfred was impatient at the seeming delay of lin in serving the meal. lin remarked: "ye're jus like every man thet gits to makin' money, figity." alfred arrived at the tannery long before the owner. the suction pumps and other labor saving devices were examined and explained to alfred who pretended to be deeply interested. after all had been explained, they found themselves in the big finishing room where alfred had passed so many pleasant days and evenings. the boy wished that he was back in the tannery free from the cares hanging over him. finally, he looked his former employer full in the face and, in a voice full of earnestness, asked the big, dignified man for the loan of thirty dollars, promising to work it out night and day until it was paid in full. he dwelt at length on the shame that would come to him if he could not meet his obligations. "if you will help me out of this i will never forget you and you will never regret it," concluded alfred. the straightforward man of business complimented alfred for his anxiety to pay his debts, at the same time pointing out to him the danger of contracting debts he could not meet; that an honest man never had peace of mind when in debt; that a man was never as brave or useful to himself or family as when free of the haunting fear of losing his standing through debt. he told alfred to meet him at o'clock the next morning and he would give him his answer. after a sleepless night alfred was at the tannery on time. mr. steele was there when he arrived and greeted him kindly. noting alfred's worried expression, he said: "there is no use worrying over affairs of this kind; the proper course is to steer clear of them, which i think you will do after this." alfred assured him that he would be sure to do so. the tanner handed alfred a paper, requesting him to read it carefully. alfred could scarcely believe his eyes as he read: "in consideration of $ to me in hand paid, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, i hereby agree to bind myself to work for samuel steele for a period of two months, performing such duties as he may direct...." alfred studied a moment and said: "i do not mind any work you may put on me and i will work all day and part of the night, but if you would only let me have the money i can pay you back much sooner out of what i make at hurd's. i want to get out of debt and you are the only person in the world i can go to. i don't want my folks to know of this." "then you will not sign the paper?" questioned the tanner. "i don't like to and it don't seem hardly fair after the wages you paid me before. give me a dollar a day and i'll sign it." mr. steele took the paper from alfred's hand, tore it up and threw it into the open grate as he said: "my boy, i was only trying you. i wanted to show you how those in debt are in the power of anyone who is unscrupulous. if you had signed the paper i would not have had confidence in you. in fact, i did not intend to permit you to sign it if you had shown a willingness to do so. i will loan you the money and you can pay it back to me as you earn it, without interest. settle with your creditors and keep out of debt. and furthermore, tell no one that i loaned you this money, and never borrow another dollar unless you see a way to pay it." the advice given alfred by the old tanner has saved him heart aches and much money. all the outstanding bills were met. when the members of the troupe gathered at their room and the final statement laid before them there was deep silence for a moment. it was a commonwealth arrangement insofar as the profits were concerned, a one man concern as to the losses. however, none ever expected a deficiency, each expecting to get quite a little money for his share. the members of the troupe sympathized with alfred. charley wagner, who was the only salaried member, consoled him thusly: "yah, und ef you ever go to dot redstone school-house mit your troupe again you'll git him all back." how many times alfred has heard like statements since! win scott explained the small receipts and the large crowd. all the school directors and their families were to be admitted free. no tickets were used, the money was taken in at the door. when anyone appeared and said "school director" or "school director's family," win passed them in. it was afterward learned that some of the directors had as many as thirty in their families the night of the show. harry harrison came forward at this critical period of the minstrel enterprise and took upon himself the management. although alfred had his misgivings, he was glad to be relieved of the responsibility and to have the concern continued. not a line appeared in the _clipper_ as to the first show but glowing accounts of what was to follow were printed weekly. harrison prevailed upon the shoemaker to build a small stage in the room the troupe had rented for rehearsing purposes. also to move a partition, giving the minstrels quite a large room which was provided with heat and light. the announcement was sent forth that the evening star minstrels would give entertainments every saturday night at mckernan's hall, at barefoot square. harrison gave no explanation as to why he changed the title of the company. story was angry. alfred was pleased, inwardly congratulating himself that future deficiencies would have to be made up by harrison. the next saturday night and the following saturday night saw the little hall packed. and thus another pang of jealousy will be added to the heart of bill brown, that brownsville enjoyed the distinction of a permanent minstrel hall while pittsburg never had such an institution, traveling minstrel shows appearing there for only one or two nights in masonic hall. after several nights of big business several members of the troupe made inquiries as to the funds and their disposition. at first harrison was very courteous and explained that the establishing and opening of the hall was expensive; that later on when well established, jeffres hall would be secured and nightly dividends would be paid. charley wagner, true to the traditions of history handed down from the days of babylon, namely, that musicians are the first to stir discord, laid down his fiddle and bow and declared: "no more music until we get our money." it then developed that nothing had been paid in the way of salaries or other expenses since harrison had assumed the management. at this juncture harrison became insolvent. the landlord locked up the hall with all the belongings of the troupe nor would he release the goods until the rent was paid in full. harrison was appealed to. he sneered at the impecunious minstrels and taunted them by saying: "now go get your stuff out. if you all hadn't been so peart i'd seen you through." each minstrel was compelled to pay his proportionate share of the amount due for rent and lights. his private property was then delivered to him by the sporting shoemaker. when he had collected the rent due him he sent for harrison, escorted him into the deserted hall and demanded that he (harrison) have the partition replaced in its original location. when harrison angrily refused, the shoemaker proceeded to give him a drubbing. harrison did not collect anything that week from those to whom he gave favorable mention in the paper as two black eyes compelled him to keep close to the office. chapter eleven and i would learn to better show my gratitude for favors had, to see more of the good below and less of what i think is bad. to live not always in the day to come, and count the joys to be, but to remember, as i stray, the past and what is brought to me. lured by that feeling which impels the criminal to visit the scene of his crime, alfred began a pilgrimage to the little red school-house. walking along the old pike the sound of a horse's hoofs beating a tattoo on the road reached his ears. he recognized in the rider, joe thornton. the white pacing mare which thornton bestrode had one of those peculiar high-lifting gaits, that, from the sound of the hoofs on the roadbed, caused one to imagine that she was going at a very rapid gait, while in fact she was not doing much more than pounding the road. uncle joe said of her: "she'd pace all day in the shade of a tree." when opposite alfred, mr. thornton slowed up and made numerous inquiries as to the minstrel show, expressing regret that he was not able to attend; he intended going, having received an invitation from one of the school directors. he requested alfred to advise him of the next performance; he would be there sure. then, as if to make up for the few moments lost conversing with alfred, he gave the mare the word and she pounded the pike more heavily than before. alfred admired the big, handsome rider and the white mare; he longed to bestride her and kept his eyes on horse and rider as they traveled on before him. alfred noticed a black looking object fall to the dusty pike. at the distance it seemed a large sized shoe. alfred kept his eyes on the object as he neared the spot where it lay. bending over he discovered a very large, black book. picking it up he saw bills, money, more money than the boy had ever held in his hands before. he trembled as he turned over bill after bill. he had dreamed that he would be rich--some day in the far future--day dreams. his riches were always to come. they had come suddenly, unexpectedly. mother would have a new cooking stove; lin declared daily that the old stove would not bake on the bottom. brother joe would have toys and a sled, sister lizzie anything she wanted, brother will anything he needed, a melodeon for lin. sammy steele would be paid with the same flourish with which uncle jack was paid. harrison would be deposed, the minstrel troupe would go out, travel to distant parts and make money, more money than alfred wanted; he would divide it with all his best friends, he would make all happy. with these thoughts flying through his mind he walked on in the direction the rider had gone. suddenly realizing that the money was not his he cast a glance ahead, expecting every moment to see the rider returning post haste to claim the treasure. when he reached the lane leading off the pike to the thornton house, he hesitated, opened the book again and looked at the money, turning over the neat layers of bills, fives in one section, tens in another, twenties in a third, legal looking papers in a fourth, tied about with a thin, red ribbon. he thought of concealing the book. no, he would hasten home and conceal the money in the cow stable. he was opposite the gate of the yard in which stood the big thornton house. should he enter? alfred looked long and anxiously for the man on horseback; instead he noticed a proud looking, elderly lady walking about the flower beds. he nodded respectfully but the lady did not make a sign of recognition. however, in quite a loud voice he inquired if mr. thornton were at home. "which mr. thornton? there are two mr. thorntons, russell and joseph." "joseph thornton," answered alfred, "is the gentleman i am looking for." alfred felt his importance. from down the lane toward the barn there came the sound of horse's hoofs clattering on the road. alfred's ears told him that it was the white pacer. as the rider caught sight of alfred he dismounted. running toward the boy, his long beard flowing on either side of his neck, he began: "mr. hatfield, did you see--." here alfred held up the book to his view. as he fairly bounded forward, he grasped the book in one hand and threw an arm around alfred. he exclaimed: "where the h--ll did you find it? it's a good thing for me that you came out the pike; if almost anybody else had found it i'd never have gotten it back, that is the money; i never could have traced that. the papers could have been traced. no one who loses money ever gets it back." as the man turned the book over in his hand he inquired: "did you open it?" then a little ashamed of the question continued: "of course you had to open it, otherwise you wouldn't have known to whom it belonged. now see here alfred, i want to do the right thing by you. i will call at your house tonight. i want to meet your mother; your father i am well acquainted with. your uncle will has told me that he is too hard on you and you're a dam nice boy and you ought to be treated right." at this insinuation alfred fired up. "my father always treats me right, but i've been a pretty bad boy. he has his notions and i've got mine. he never hits a lick amiss. he never hurts me when he does whip me. it's always a big laugh to me. he's the kindest pap in brownsville." "oh, you did not understand me. i did not mean to say that your father whipped you. i heard that he did not give you credit for your--your, that he--he--er hampered you in your--your--er--." "oh, i understand pap," interrupted alfred, "he's all right, we get along all right." then mr. thornton made inquiries as to where alfred was going. when the boy informed him, he said: "that's too far to walk; come on out to the stable, i'll loan you a horse. you can ride him home and i will get him tonight." they walked toward the white mare. alfred asked what kind of a saddler she was. "good," answered the man, "would you like to try her?" "why, yes, if it's all the same to you." by this time alfred was shortening the stirrup straps to the length of his limbs as measured by his arms. alfred's thinking gear was working faster than the white mare's hoofs ever pounded the earth. as he was about to mount he said: "mr. thornton, i'll bring this mare home. i don't want to trouble you to call at our house." [illustration: joe thornton and alfred] "why? i want to see your parents and i want to reward you." alfred, sitting on the horse's back, leaned far over toward the man and detailed the sad results of his first venture in minstrelsy. "whatever you give me will be applied on the payment of my debts. if our folks know that you gave me money they'll want to know what i did with it." the man grasped the situation, but informed alfred the money in the book belonged to his mother. he had withdrawn it from the bank to pay a note. he would help alfred out but must go to town before he could do so. "from whom did you borrow money," asked mr. thornton. alfred hesitated and said: "well, there's where i made another promise not to tell, but i'm going to tell you, i borrowed it from sammy steele." "well, i'll be damned if you ain't a good one. why, sammy steele is the tightest man in brownsville. how did you come to go to him?" alfred explained all. mr. thornton insisted that he ride the white mare home, adding that he would get her that night. alfred rode off, visiting not only the school-house but many old friends. he arrived home as it was growing dark. entering the house he found mr. thornton there; he had told the family all. he informed alfred that he had left an order on jake walters, the town tailor, for a suit of clothes, the material to be selected by the bearer. while the clothes were more than acceptable, alfred was disappointed. he feared he would not be in a position to pay the sammy steele note, although he was bending every energy, even dunning harrison for the fifty cents loaned him at their first meeting. the next week's issue of the _brownsville clipper_ contained a lengthy article, as follows: "one of fayette county's most prominent citizens lost a pocket-book containing a large amount of money and valuable papers. the book was lost on the old pike somewhere between the borough line and thornton's lane. fortunately for the loser, one of the clipper's most trusted employes traveling on the pike, found the valuable book. the finder is one who has been trained under the vigilant eye of the editor of this valuable paper. through the influence of the editor of this paper the money was returned to the owner in less than one hour after its loss was discovered. the finder was suitably rewarded and will soon be advanced to a more lucrative position on this paper." harrison, in addition to his promised reforms in the editorial columns of the paper, introduced innovations in the advertising department. the _pittsburg gazette_ was the only daily paper on the _clipper's_ exchange list--this fact compels the admission that pittsburg was a little ahead of brownsville in the newspaper field, boasting two papers at the time, the _gazette_ and _post_. both papers carried display advertisements of hostetter's stomach bitters and dr. jayne's liver pills for grown people and vermifuge for children. those were the only patent medicines that advertised at that time. harrison, in his illuminating way, wrote to the concerns soliciting advertising. dr. jayne's representative wrote, requesting the weekly circulation of the _clipper_ and the localities wherein it was circulated. harrison answered giving advertising rates, with unlimited reading notices and concluded his letter by advising that "the _brownsville clipper_ goes to greene, washington, westmoreland and bedford counties; it goes to pittsburg, cumberland and washington, and before i took hold of it the owner had all he could do to keep it from going to h--ll." something in harrison's letters appealed to the medicine men as advertisements were secured from both the concerns. in conformity with the custom of the times, part payment for advertising was to be taken in trade. big boxes containing bottles of the stomach bitters, smaller boxes containing pills and vermifuge were received. small quantities of both medicines were, with a great deal of persuasion, exchanged with country stores for farm products. after the first effort none of the bitters were offered for sale or trade insofar as the _clipper's_ supply was concerned. like the farmer who endeavored to sell the tanner the murn hide, harrison had found a market for the bitters at home. they contained about % alcohol, therefore it was a panacea for all ills that harrison was afflicted with, and he had many. the bitters were a pill for every ill. that was a hard winter. sugar crackers, scotch herring and cheese were harrison's principal food and a few of the liver pills were used, but the vermifuge stood on the shelves in the press room covered with dust. mr. hurd ordered alfred to get rid of it even if he had to give it away; not to destroy it; if he could not sell it to give it to the subscribers to the paper with the compliments of the editor. alfred covered his route with renewed vigor, a bundle of papers under his arm and both coat pockets filled with pills. alfred was personally acquainted with nearly every family in the town; he was familiar with the habits and health of all the boys. red haws, green apples, may apples, green chestnuts, in fact, everything that grows which boys devour more greedily before than after maturity, were plentiful in the country around brownsville. alfred did a fine business for a time. the paper was published only weekly and alfred was ordered by mr. hurd to dispense the medicine only when the paper was delivered. alfred was doing so well that he intimated to harrison that the paper should be semi-weekly, at least. alfred was receiving a commission on all pills he sold. alfred looked over the medicine stock; about the only thing in stock was liver pills. there were large quantities of liver pills lying on the shelves. alfred figured that the pills would do johnny's cow no harm and possibly might help her, as the cow was very sick. alfred did not wait until the paper was printed as the case was an urgent one. he made a special call, carrying nearly a pint of the liver pills in a paper collar box. (harrison always wore paper collars and a dicky.) alfred assured johnny that the pills were specially prepared for just such disorders as his cow was afflicted with. there was some question as to the number of pills that constituted a dose for a cow. as the printed directions gave no information on the matter, alfred thought a teacupful of the pellets would be about right. it required a great deal of hard labor on the part of both alfred and the owner to compel the cow to swallow the pills. however, a goodly part of the cupful of pills was administered to her. at first the cow appeared a great deal worse and her owner feared she would die. squire rowley, the best cow doctor in the neighborhood, was sent for. he administered blackberry tea and other astringents and the cow recovered. [illustration: "a cow's dose is a teacupful"] when lin heard that the boys were addressing alfred as "doctor," usually prefixing the title with the word "cow," she said: "they needn't try to plague alfurd, caus' it wus a durn good joke an' besides it cured the cow and it wus about time hurd's paper done somethin' good." alfred had saved sufficient money to cancel the note of sammy steele. with a light step he ran up the stairs leading from the street into the large finishing room. greeting all cheerily he inquired for the boss. mr. steele entered. looking curiously at alfred, with a twinkle in his eye, the old tanner remarked dryly: "hurd--mr. hurd--mr. hurd--must be gettin' mightily pushed when he starts his hands to peddling pills." mr. steele's remark made the boy redden and he mumbled something about the pills being received in trade and had to be sold by somebody. the tanner laughingly continued: "i expected to see johnny mccan coming in with a murn hide. how many of hurd's pills constitute a dose for a cow?" cooney brashear added to the jollity by suggesting that alfred "give sammy's mewel a dose the next time he kicks you." this reference to the "mewel" was only a reverberation of the town talk as lin had predicted. in fact, the reference to the "mewel" kicking alfred became, and is still, a by-word in the old town. mr. steele, to the surprise of alfred, refused to count the dollars and dimes he poured from the old leather purse on the desk. instead the man bid the boy "keep the money until the note was due, then bring it here, not a day before nor a day after. if you think you are going to die, leave directions to pay the debt. the man who pays beforehand shows himself a weakling, he is afraid of himself, he is afraid he cannot hold the money. he usually spends his money before he earns it." it was a great day for brownsville and the leading journal of the town, the _brownsville clipper_. two circuses were headed for the town; rosston, springer & henderson's and thayer & noyse great american circus. the agent of the first named show was first in, andy springer, "old rough head." the agent was aware of the coming opposition although he never mentioned it. his contract for advertising space in the _clipper_ had a clause to the effect that no other circus advertising or reading matter should appear in the columns of the great family paper prior to the date of the exhibition of the r. s. & h. aggregation. harrison made this "slick contract" as he termed it. he charged the circus man double the usual advertising rates, working the agent for unlimited free tickets. the genteel word "complimentary" had not become associated with show tickets as yet. in making up the free list harrison was as liberal to the families of the force as the school directors had been on the occasion of alfred's exhibition. the editor and owner's family received sixteen free tickets; there were five in his family all told. the managing-editor, harrison, and his family received fifteen free tickets. he distributed all of his tickets within two hours after they were counted out to him. (in those days the agent distributed the tickets, not by an order on the show as now.) harrison sought the circus agent at the hotel explaining that since he received the tickets he had consulted his family and they desired to go to the show twice, afternoon and night. the agent, knowing that there was opposition in sight, stood for the hold-up and harrison celebrated most gloriously the next few days, with free tickets to the circus. the foreman of the composing room was to have ten tickets. he was a poor man, harrison advised, and had a lot of children. the circus wouldn't lose anything as they would not pay to go nohow. the pressman and his family were to receive ten free tickets. the devil, alfred, was to receive six free tickets. he managed to get two that harrison carelessly dropped while changing his clothes. scarcely had the first agent cleared the town before charley stowe, agent for thayer & noyse arrived, brisk, bright and beaming. entering the _clipper_ office he found alfred the only person in. mr. stowe was very gracious. he won the boy to his side ere he had conversed with him five minutes. the agent was in a great hurry, he desired to get to pittsburgh at once--most agents are in a great hurry to get into a big city from a small town. alfred informed the agent that he did not know where harrison could be found. "please sit down and look over our paper," said alfred, and he left to seek harrison, who was diligently distributing circus tickets and judging from his condition, getting value received. alfred was almost overcome with the thought of two circuses coming to town. he imparted the information to everyone whom he met who was interested enough to listen. another circus coming, bigger and better than the first one, was alfred's guarantee. he was prompted to this through the fact that the newly arrived agent had been courteous to him. probably the twenty-five cents and two free tickets had something to do with alfred's leaning towards the second show. harrison was finally located at bill wyatt's, a place he had not frequented in a long time as the slate bore figures that had been written on it about the date harrison struck the town. harrison had partially squared the score with circus tickets. harrison was just able to walk with alfred's assistance. as they wobbled down wide market street alfred imagined the man in a mood to be approached. he reminded harrison of the half dollar long over due, and obligingly offered to take it out in circus tickets. harrison scorned the proposition. straightening himself up he endeavored to push alfred aside as he proudly exclaimed: "i don't want you to take anything out in circus tickets. i'll pay cash after the circus." it required all of alfred's powers to make harrison understand that there was another circus agent in town, another circus coming. harrison persisted in the belief that it was the same agent with whom he had done business. stowe meanwhile, as all intelligent agents do, had gone to headquarters. as alfred, with his tow, entered the office, the owner of the paper turned on the managing editor, foreman of the composing room, etc., and let loose a tirade of abuse such as alfred had never heard the like of before: [illustration: "put up your things and git!"] "you damned little shriveled up, whiskey soaked, tobacco smoked, copperhead. what in hell do you mean by making a contract like this for my paper? i'll cram it down your jaundiced jaws, you whelp of hell, you!" and the rage of hurd, who was a very large, fat man, caused his face to turn purple. "pack up your things and git, or i'll slap you into the bowels of the jail. i know enough about you and your record on that traitor sheet, (he referred to the opposition paper, the _genius of liberty_), to have you and all connected with it sent to johnson's island. git out of yere!" yelled hurd. harrison pulled away from alfred and in the effort fell partially over a settee as he sputtered out: "i'm a gemptman, what-smatter with hanner." he intended to use the cant phrase, "that's what's the matter with hannah." hurd shook a purplish looking bit of paper in harrison's face: "what do you mean, you shrimp, by entering into a contract to the effect that no other circus can use my paper?" harrison attempted to look indignant but he was a bad actor, he could only look drunk. on this occasion he could not dissemble. his effort to do so only made him appear more drunken. "i'm--a--man--of--h-honor--i'll stan'--by--anythin' i do." here harrison fell down, full length on the settee, muttering and shaking his fist at hurd. "get him out of this house!" was hurd's order to alfred. alfred pulled and pushed harrison to the bottom of the stairs leading up to his room. harrison fell on all fours and began a slow ascent of the stairs, alfred pushing him as he had seen deck hands shove refractory cattle when loading them on a boat. he returned to the room. hurd was very crusty. he hinted that alfred should not have permitted the first circus agent to induce harrison to sign the shut-out contract. stowe, the circus agent, further endeared himself to alfred when he informed mr. hurd that alfred should not be blamed. alfred, in the brief interview between the second agent and himself, had informed him as to the contract made by the first agent, the price charged for advertising, the free tickets extorted and other information that was valuable. the agent was very diplomatic. he began by calming hurd: "now, mr. hurd, i know the value of your paper to us, i know you to be a man of honor, and i would not offend you by even insinuating that you could find a way to carry our advertising and reading matter as i know you would not violate the contract made with the other concern, although it is evident that contract was obtained by fraud. there is only one way around this;" here the circus agent placed his hand on the shoulder of the big editor, "we will have to get out an extra edition, their advertising and reading matter to go in the regular edition, mine in the extra." the editor beamed on the agent, the beam expressing more strongly than any words: "you're a daisy--but, but," stammered hurd, "we haven't got matter enough for our regular edition. i've been working all morning; harrison's been drunk all week an'--" "never mind," interrupted the agent, "don't you worry, let me do the work and the worrying also. where can we get a little something to clear the cobwebs out of our tonsils?" and they left the office arm in arm, but not until the circus agent had asked alfred if he knew where all the office force could be found. alfred answered "no, sir." and he was truthful; as he was not certain whether he was on the stairs, on the landing, at the top of the stairs or had rolled back to the bottom. when the agent ordered alfred to get the office force together and inform them that they would have to work all night but would be paid double time, alfred ran upstairs, as was his custom, four steps at each bound. harrison was not on the stairs nor at the top landing. running into the press room, alfred found harrison sitting in the coal box, sleeping soundly. after vain efforts to arouse him, alfred hastened to the residence of bill smith who had once worked on the paper. cal wyatt had also served some time setting type, and baggy allison was notified to repair to the office instanter. all were on hand when the circus man returned. cal wyatt, advised alfred to fill harrison's mouth with salt, that it was a never failing remedy. it did bring harrison partly around, just enough to make him a pest, in the way of all with both person and talk. he slobbered over copy and case, hiccoughed, cursed alfred for trying to doctor him; informing alfred that he wanted no "dam cow doctor to fool with him." stowe, the circus agent, laughed until his sides ached. he was informed by the others that alfred was a great minstrel and he volunteered to find him a place with some first class minstrel organization the coming winter. stowe played the banjo and carried the instrument with him. all the local minstrel band were introduced to him. he played and sang with them and within twenty-four hours he owned the town, including the printing office. the type-setters did not have to wait for copy; stowe had quantities. the printers were not compelled to decipher the peculiarities of anyone's handwriting; stowe's copy was printed and punctuated. such copy had never been worked from in the office before. of course all the agent's copy treated of thayer & noyse great circus. harrison got to himself finally. he could make himself very agreeable when he so desired. hurd insisted that there should be other matter written up. in this stowe acquiesced. he scribbled off political, local and other matter at a rapid rate, nor did he stop there. he gave the contract to isaac vance of the marshall house to feed all people and stock with the circus. there were no stable tents in those days nor did anyone stop on the lot. canvassmen, hostlers and actors--all in the hotels. vance got a big contract; stowe secured a half column advertisement for the paper, as he did from several others. the extra appeared, at first glance, as fat as the regular edition. when baggy allison tired, stowe worked the press. he rolled, folded and fed until the extra edition was off the press and ready for distribution. among his printed matter was a quarter sheet, with the portraits of thayer and noyse, and a small amount of reading matter printed on one side only. he dug up a can of red ink from some unexplored recess where it had lain since the presidential campaign of . he had three or four funny mule cuts. he wrote a funny line or two, made a rude cut resembling hurd, informing the public that hurd would ride the trick mule circus day. this bill was printed without the knowledge of hurd. it was folded in the extra and thus distributed. this fact makes valid alfred's claim of another honor for brownsville, namely: that the _brownsville clipper_ was the first paper in this country to issue a colored supplement. of course the word "supplement" was not in a newspaper's vocabulary at that time. another merit this supplement possessed, it was really humorous, and the humor was apparent, even to the people of that day, and that is more than the colored supplements of today can lay claim to. charley stowe was not only the prime mover in all that pertained to the issuance of the extra but he hired a horse and buggy and a boy to assist alfred in its distribution. brownsville was advertised as it had never been before. charley stowe following a precedent established by the first agent that ever traveled ahead of a show, promised many persons to return to brownsville the day of the show. and, unlike the first agent and almost all agents in all times since, he kept his promise and came back. it was a great day for brownsville, it was a great day for thayer and noyse, it was a great day for alfred. charley stowe had another faculty, shy in most agents, memory. he remembered the editor and the office force, particularly the latter. he gave alfred his first sight of the inner sanctorum of the show world, namely, the dressing rooms. he introduced him to big, good-natured dr. thayer, to natty little charley noyse, to the elder stickney and his talented son bob, to j. m. kelly, the long distance single somersault leaper, to little jimmy reynolds, the clown, to mrs. thayer and her charming daughter. it was the unfolding of the scenes of another world to the lad. his recollection of that day is as of a night of enchantment. the circus had a very sick horse, a beautifully marked mare, sorrel and snow white with glass eyes, as they are termed. the beautiful creature was housed in the stable of the marshall house. the animal was evidently one of value to the circus folk as many of them visited the stable; all seemed anxious as to the mare's recovery. after the afternoon performance, dr. thayer, his wife and daughter were in the stable administering to the sick horse. the circus man was completing arrangements to have the tavern keeper care for the mare and send her on to the show, if she were able to travel by the time the company reached uniontown. isaac vance assured the circus people that everything possible would be done for the mare, and turning to alfred, laying both hands on the boy's shoulders, facing him toward mr. thayer, said: "and here's the lad who will take your mare to uniontown. he can ride any horse or mule you have. you should have this boy with your show, he is an actor right. our people swear by him, he can beat anything you have in the nigger minstrel line." then alfred, with a freshness born of ignorance, said: "yes, mr. thayer, you have a fine circus but your minstrels ain't much, not as good as those with van amberg's menagerie, and everybody says so." mr. thayer and his wife both seemed greatly amused at the frankness of the boy. the showman quizzed alfred as to what he could do in the concert. alfred, as all other "rube" amateurs have done and always will do, wanted to engage to give the entire concert. thayer had more patience then than alfred has now as he listened to the boastful assumptions of the boy. finally he said: "if you will get a letter from your father granting me permission to employ you, i will give you the opportunity of your life, but do not come to me without the permission of your parents, as our show does not employ minors. it's against the law." it was further arranged that alfred should take the lilly mare to uniontown the day the show exhibited there. mrs. thayer led alfred to one side and, pressing two dollars into his hand, charged him to visit the sick horse several times daily, and no matter if those in charge asserted that they had given her sufficient water, alfred was to offer the animal drink. she so charged the stable man, stuttering hughey boggs. after the night show alfred called at the stable. the mare seemed very sick. he offered her water which she refused; he felt of her ears, they were cold; he stroked her satin-like coat; she opened her eyes and appeared almost human to alfred as he petted her. arriving at home he went to his mother's room and gave her a detailed account of the day's doings, not forgetting the sick horse or the arrangements made by mr. vance for him to deliver the mare to the show folk in uniontown. alfred had been careful not to reveal any of that part of the conversation touching on the offer of the big showman to employ him providing he could obtain the father's written consent. somehow the mother's fears were aroused, she felt that there was more behind the delivery of the mare than was revealed and she strongly objected to the arrangement. the mother communicated her fears to lin and that worthy was quite ingenious in quizzing the boy. she questioned alfred as to his intentions. "i tole yer mother ye wouldn't run off with thet ole show while yer pap wus away from hum. mary sed 'they mout coax ye off.' did they coax ye? did they offer to gin ye a job?" and she looked at alfred very hard and earnestly. alfred had been revolving in his mind a plan that included having daniel livingstone forge a letter signing alfred's father's name to it, granting the boy permission to join the show. alfred felt very guilty and hung his head when lin's questions grew pointed. alfred was giving the sick show horse all the attention promised and even more. the second day following the mare died. notwithstanding, all seemed to sympathize with alfred, who had become greatly attached to the beautiful horse, it was apparent that all were greatly relieved that alfred had been released from the agreement to deliver the mare to the circus folk. alfred wrote mrs. thayer a long letter, giving the particulars concerning the death of her pet, to which he received a prompt reply, ending with a standing invitation to visit them at any time, either while they were traveling or at their home. the boy was very proud of this letter and read it to all his friends. lin, in commenting on the death of the mare quoted scripture, after her own interpretation: "the lord gins us an' the lord takes hosses es well es peepul. uv cos ye kin buy hosses ef ye got money but ye can't buy peepul. ef ye'd run off with a show an' dide, w--, ye--" here lin stuck. she could not find words to complete the sentence; but after a moment's pause, she continued: "the'd not miss ye es much es the' will thet hoss. bet we'd miss ye every--time--we sot--up to--a--meal." in the vernacular of the show profession of today, rosston, springer & henderson took up the stand and did not appear in brownsville. they were advertised to play in pittsburg. mr. hurd sent alfred to pittsburg to collect the newspaper advertising bill. harrison was having his troubles with those to whom he had sold tickets. the holders of tickets held harrison personally responsible for the non-appearance of the circus. since the day frank mckernan had pummelled harrison, various and divers persons had been threatening him with similar treatment. harrison staved off hostilities by promising to have the tickets redeemed when alfred collected the paper's indebtedness from the circus. the circus had no band wagon. the musicians were mounted on horses. this was all there was of the parade. alfred has since learned that this feature was introduced into the circus as an expediency. g. g. grady, an impecunious circus proprietor, found his colossal aggregation without a band wagon and no funds to purchase one. he hit upon the idea of mounting his band on horses. the innovation was heralded as a feature and to this day circuses advertise the mounted band as a novelty of the "highway, holiday parade." john robinson's circus boasted a steam calliope, which dispensed "biled music." grady, not strong enough financially to annex a calliope, altered an old animal cage that resembled the exterior of a calliope. he installed a very large and loud hand organ inside the imitation calliope wagon, with a stovepipe poking out of the top, plenty of damp straw inside, a man to feed and burn it. in a stove inside, the volumes of smoke issuing from the stovepipe, a strong man turning the hand organ, the greatly improved steam calliope was calculated to astonish the public. if the music were not so vociferous as that his rival's instrument sent forth, it must be admitted that grady's was more tuneful and therefore less objectionable. grady's steam piano came to an untimely end almost before its career began. the man inside the calliope, the fireman, was too industrious. he filled the stove with damp straw, poured kerosene oil over it and applied a match. the parade was in the midst of the public square, in canton, ohio. thousands had congregated to witness it. the whole interior of the calliope was ablaze, smoke issuing from every crack and crevice. the show people grasping the situation, broke open the back door. the damp straw, the old stove, the two men and the hand organ were dragged from the smoking wagon. grady's attempt to rival john robinson was the joke of the circus world. alfred had quite a little difficulty in collecting the printing bill, which was grudgingly paid him. the circus people tore up harrison's order for payment for the tickets given. the treasurer said something about the paper being a "wolf." when alfred returned harrison endeavored to spread the impression by insinuations that he had collected for the tickets and not made returns to him as yet. he was cornered, it was his only way to square himself with those who were pressing him for a settlement. although alfred knew full well that harrison did not intend to injure him, the reports became so annoying and the insinuations so galling that alfred took harrison to account. harrison flew into a rage and threw a small shovel at alfred. things got lively for harrison in a moment. no telling where it would have ended had not the entire hurd family rushed into the room and separated the combatants. harrison was much the worse for the encounter. to drown his grief he started the rounds but jim bench, the town watchman, locked him up. when he sobered up he shook the dust of brownsville from his feet forever more. years afterward alfred met harrison in a far western city, leading the same life. the mother entreated alfred to forever give up the idea of becoming a newspaper man. she had cherished the hope that the boy would yet turn to the study of medicine. old doctor playford, bob's father, informed alfred's uncle that if the boy were so inclined he would take him into his office and see what there was _in him_. the doctor had three good horses, his son bob had a large pack of hounds. alfred's duties did not keep him in the office very steadily. he was on horseback a greater part of the time, by day delivering medicine, by night fox or coon hunting. it was a part of alfred's work to compound medicines in the small laboratory in the doctor's residence. a copy of materia-medica and a latin dictionary were the only guides to the beginner of a medical career in those days. there were no prescriptions sent to the drug store, every doctor filled his own prescriptions. alfred became very quick at compounding prescriptions. a dose of medicine was prepared for mr. hare. this particular dose of medicine did not have the effect the doctor desired, or rather, it had more effect than the doctor or hare desired. the old doctor was a very resolute man, fiery and game, nearly everyone feared him. bob, his son, was one of the few who dared brave the old doctor's wrath. the young doctor espoused alfred's cause when his father charged alfred with carelessness. bob swore that old hare was a notorious liar and that it was not the medicine that made him so sick. the old doctor was very practical, therefore a successful practitioner. alfred protested that he had prepared the medicine for hare as per the formula furnished him. some time after the above argument alfred was summoned to the doctor's room. holding in one hand a glass of water, the doctor handed alfred a lump of darkish color, ordering the boy to swallow it. alfred mechanically swallowed the lump, the doctor handing him the water to take the taste out of his mouth. as alfred drank, the doctor, with a humorous glance, ordered him to hang around until he could determine the effects of the medicine. "it's the same dose you fixed for hare. i'll see whether hare lied or not." alfred had a keen sense of the ridiculous. he had swallowed the pill ere he realized what he was doing and knew full well he would be dreadfully ill, yet he laughed immoderately. "ef hare suffered more than alfurd, he sure wus sick," was lin's comment. "no, alfurd wus not sacked by the ole doctur, he jus naturally did not like doctorin'." mr. todd replied: "i dunno nuthin' 'bout it, only what i've heard. they do say thet since alfred nearly pizened mr. hare, most of doctor playford's patients has gone to doctor jackson. folks is jus naturally afeared to doctor with playford since they found out alfred mixes the medicine. john mccune's two children, ole lige custer an' dave phillips wus all took sick jus like ole hare an' nobody but alfred ever mixed the medicine they took. you know it takes a man thet's hed practus to mix medicines an' alfred ain't hed no chance to learn." lin contended that alfred hed plenty of practice. "he mixed paint in his pap's shop an' he mixed ink in the printin' offis an' lord, he could certinly mix a few squills an' a little castor ile an' sich, that's all playford ever gives. alfurd cud a kep on doctorin' ef he'd wanted to, but the ole doctor sed when he took him thet he would see what wus _in him_, an' i s'pose he did." chapter twelve a man may be defeated half a score of times or more, his prospects may be darkened and his heart be bruised and sore; but let him smile triumphantly-- and call misfortune's bluff. for no man's ever conquered till he says: "i've got enough?" hans christian andersen, the famous danish poet, says: "the life of every man is a fairy tale written by god's finger." carlyle says: "no life of a man faithfully recorded but is a heroic poem." with all the advice and experience one can acquire or have thrust upon him it is passing strange how easy it is to go wrong in this world. it forces one almost to the belief of him who wrote: "the aim is the man's, the end is none of his own." someone has said that the only guide a man requires in this world is to side-step wrong doing. but like many prize fighters, some of us are deficient in foot work. if life is a mission and any other definition of it is false and misleading, fate has certainly picked out some men as the hammer and others as the anvil, some men for door-mats and others for those who walk thereon. alfred claimed to have an aim in life but his entire family and a township of relatives differed with him. alfred's most ardent apologist was compelled to admit that even though he was exerting himself greatly to hold his course he was drifting. the minstrels were back in the old quarters, frank mckernan's shoe-shop, rehearsing nightly. at this time there came a proposition from a man of the town who had recently failed in business. it is a peculiarity of human nature or the fore ordination of fate that when a man fails in a commercial business he engages in show business or life insurance. if he be not mentally equipped to carry to success the business in which he failed, he generally engages in a business that requires ability of a higher order than that in which he was unsuccessful. and so it was of the man who entered into an agreement to finance the minstrels. he possessed a little money and a mother who was well supplied with it. he spent money liberally in equipping the minstrels for their first road venture. all preparations were quietly consummated by order of mr. eli, as that gentleman had numerous creditors whose feelings would have been terribly lacerated had they known that he was soon to take himself away from them. alfred soon had every arrangement completed. he was very happy he was to realize the ambitions of his life's dream. he had been relieved of all financial responsibility. there would be wood cuts, printed bills, an agent and all that goes to make for a real show. the three-sheet bill depicting alfred as a plantation negro dancing "the essence of ole virginia," was his especial pride. many times daily he unrolled this bill and secretly admired it. alfred learned to dance "the essence of ole virginia." although billy hyatt or tom white danced "the essence" much more cleverly, alfred argued that, owing to the bill bearing his name, consistency demanded he execute the dance. the stock bill was from the jordan printing company of boston, wood cuts in two colors, red and yellow. the imprint "boston" on the bills, it was argued, would give the company prestige, that is, after they reached greene county and other far away points on their proposed itinerary. all were instructed to spread the impression that the troupe was from boston. it was rumored that the minstrels were to travel afar, visiting baltimore, washington and other cities. the mother was very greatly disturbed, she questioned alfred frequently as to the rumors. lin, in some way known only to herself, had fathomed alfred's plans; she even knew the backer's name. alfred begged her to keep it secret, that it would ruin everything to have it known. to alfred's surprise she advised that he leave home surreptitiously if he must, with the consent of the mother if he could obtain it. lin argued that he would never do any good at home with "them yar show notions flyin' through yer head. durned ef i wouldn't go an' show 'em i cud be sumthin'." this was the first time lin had ever advised alfred to disobey his mother and, while her advice was pleasing to him insofar as furthering his ambitions was concerned, it was displeasing in other ways, and lowered lin in his estimation. the mother objected strongly to the boy's connection with the minstrels, arguing that the father was absent; that alfred should not leave home until the return of the father. alfred argued with the mother that he had accepted money from eli and was in honor bound to work it out. uncle thomas was called into conference. uncle ned came in without being called. grandpap threatened legal proceedings to restrain the boy if he attempted to leave the town. consternation reigned in the minstrel camp. eli was frantic. without alfred the show could not hope to succeed; so declared all. alfred grew desperate, declaring, since his mother so strongly opposed his going, that he would remain until his father arrived, explain the matter; then, come weal or woe, he would join the show. thus matters stood. eli endeavored to drown his disappointment; he was not visible for a day or two. meanwhile uncle ned was a frequent visitor "to keep an eye on mr. alfred that he did not run away," as he expressed it. alfred boldly declared that uncle ned was interfering and further that they could not hold him; even if they did estop him from going with the minstrels, he would run off to the oil regions. another visit from uncle ned precipitated a war of words. as the meetings between alfred and the uncle became more frequent alfred "grew more tantalizing and impudent," so the uncle asserted. finally, alfred informed the uncle that he was meddling and that his meddling was not appreciated. a quarrel followed. alfred's powers of vituperation were a surprise to the mother and uncle and a delight to lin, who informed mrs. todd: "lor! i expektid tu see alfurd mount him enny minnit; he shook his fingur under ned's nose an' mos' spit in his face. i hed the rollin' pin redy, i'd bin in h'it ef h'tit hed kum to a klinch. i tell ye alfurd's lurned somethin' since they shaved his kurls off. he combed ned es he'd nevur been combed afore, an' mary jes stood an' luked 'til ned got her riled up then twixt her an' alfurd's bumburdment, he mighty nur forgot his religion an' his hat." the uncle in reply to one of alfred's keenest thrusts permitted his anger to get the better of his judgment. he reflected strongly upon alfred's father and the manner in which he had reared alfred and concluded by declaring that he, alfred, had been a disgrace to the entire family and that if his parents were powerless to control him "we'll take a hand in it." the entrance of the mother into the verbal battle at this juncture was so sudden, so earnest, so swift, that uncle ned left the house, almost forgetting his hat. the mother ended the scene by turning on alfred: "you have almost broken my heart, you are a constant source of trouble and worry to me and as if that were not sufficient, your father's people must force themselves into our affairs as they always have done since i married into the family. now if you have promised this man to go with him, if you have accepted money from him, you keep your word, you go and i will stand between your father and you insofar as any of his family are concerned. you go with this man until the money you owe him is paid; then you come straight home. if you do not it will only be the worse for you, i will send rease lynch, the constable, and have him bring you home." alfred's elation by the victory over the uncle was not lowered in the least by the fact that the mother's consent was given only to emphasize her displeasure at the interference of the father's folks. eli was positively informed that alfred would be compelled to return home if the mother sent for him; that he was only permitted to leave home that he might discharge the debt. eli suddenly recalled the fact that he had advanced alfred one dollar and seventy-five cents. he realized that it would not require many days of labor ere the debt would be cancelled. he therefore suddenly decided to make a further advance of money on behalf of alfred's services and, to make it more binding, pay the money to the mother. cousin charley interfered with this plan by calling alfred aside and whispering: "if eli goes over to your house and gives aunt mary any money, and she sees he's been drunk, she'll hist him higher then gilroy's kite. you better let him gin it tu lin." and so it was arranged. eli went to lin, saying: "mrs. linn, i owe alfred thirty dollars. he's a minor. i do not want to pay him the money as i know it is not legal, so i told him i'd give it to his mother, she can do as she likes about it. but if i wus her, i'd keep it; he will git enough to do him, he's a good boy, he don't drink, smoke or chew. i wouldn't have a drinkin' man in my troupe. i didn't know his mother was out. when will she be back? well, mrs. linn, you jus sign this receipt, it will be all the same. now there's thirty dollars and here's a dollar for you to buy yourself some sugar kisses. no, no, sign his mother's name, not yours. now, good-bye, mrs. linn. i forgot to ask, are you any relation to the linns out on redstone. well, i thought not, you're too good lookin'. if i wern't married i'd be after you." lin opened the door, she jerked her head toward the opening, as she said: "now, say, does yer muther know yere' out? run along sonny. don't git mushy." lin reckoned: "the reason eli wouldn't tulerate drinkin' peepul in his trupe is bekus he is afeared the supply will run out." alfred calling on mr. steele to pay the note, produced a roll of bills. mr. steele smiled approvingly. counting out three ten dollar greenbacks, the boy requested the tanner to figure up the interest on the note. "there's no interest to pay and there's no note to pay; here is the cancelled note paid in full." as the man pushed the note toward the boy he was written in red ink across the face, "paid", and also the date. alfred demurred. "no, mr. steele, i never paid the note, i won't have it that way." "well," replied the tanner, "i am not in the habit of taking that which is not coming to me. a friend of yours called sometime ago and informed me that he owed you money and that you was desirous of paying off the note." "joe thornton!" guessed alfred, without a moment's hesitation. "yes, he was the man. how did mr. thornton know that i held your note?" "well, that's where i broke my word with you, but i couldn't very well get around it. i did mr. thornton a favor, he told me he wanted to reward me. i told him i was in trouble, i owed money and i had no way to pay it and i would apply whatever he gave me on the note. he gave me an order for a suit of clothes but he never mentioned the note. i am as much surprised as you; i never dreamed he would pay the note for me." "then you did not borrow the money from thornton?" "no sir, i did not." "well, i would not contract the borrowing habit. the borrower is always a servant to the lender." the mother was troubled. "how did it come that eli paid for services in advance? others never paid their employes until they performed their labor." alfred airily informed her that it was the custom in the show business to pay in advance, that is, the good actors always drew their pay in advance. in fact, he assured the mother that it was the only way to keep good actors, keep them in debt to you; even then, sometimes, they'll run off with another troupe. "well, what do you purpose doing with this money mr. eli left here for you?" enquired the mother. "oh, i want you to keep it for me. i'm going to send you all my money; you use whatever you please, use it all if you want to." "i will keep this money for you," she said, "something seems to tell me you will need it later on." lin allowed that alfred would never need money thereafter. "ef ye git a good start ye'll jes hev cords of greenbacks, an' i believe yere on the right road. i jes tol' yer muther, i ses, 'mary,' ses i, 'alfurd ain't fit fer nuthin' only minstrel showin', he's gittin' more un more like a nigger every day.'" the mother did not relish the compliment. lin advised that alfred keep up his clownish pranks, "then ye kin nigger hit in winter an' clown hit in summer." alfred declared that if he attained his hopes and ambitions, inside of ten years he would be the possessor of a farm and live on it the remainder of his days. in his boyish buoyancy he grew enthusiastic; he pictured how mother and pap would enjoy country life. alfred knew the mother had confidence in him, no matter how strongly she opposed his ways. he knew she had faith in him and it has been the saddest regret of his life that she was not permitted to remain on earth until his boyish dreams were fully realized. a few days later alfred was seated on all his earthly possessions, a hair trunk with big brass tack heads as ornaments, in a big heavy wagon, waving a last good-bye to mother, lizzie, joe, the baby and lin. lin shouted as the wagon moved off: "good luck! good-bye! i know ye'll bring the koon skin hum." it was twelve miles to bealsville on the pike. the big wagon, the small trunks and big boys were too much of a load for the two ordinary horses. the minstrels walked up the hills to lighten the load. "handy andy," alfred's favorite farce, in which he impersonated the character of the awkward negro who breaks the dishes, was the closing number on the program. alfred, always a stickler for natural effects, prevailed upon one of the boys to borrow his mother's china tea set. for safety these dishes were carried in a large carpet-sack. [illustration: "and ask fer licker," added the old stage driver] when the edge of town was reached the team was urged into a smart trot that the advent of the troupe might appear business-like. the minstrels were instructed as to the proper manner in which to conduct themselves that they might appear experienced in traveling--jump out of the wagon, carry their belongings, entering the tavern briskly, "and ask fer licker," added the old stage driver who had been an attentive listener to the instructions. at the edge of town the team was halted to freshen them up for the finish. the minstrels perched themselves picturesquely on the trunks, posing as if for a photograph. the old horses were urged into a trot by jerking and slapping the lines and wielding the whip. the pace was kept up until the tavern was reached. charley guttery, the landlord, was there to greet the minstrels. mrs. guttery was a davis before marriage, the sister of uncle bill's wife. therefore, alfred was welcomed by the entire family. all jumped out of the wagon except tom white; he began unloading the parcels, tossing them on the sidewalk. out came the carpet-sack loaded with chinaware. it struck the ground with a crash. "there goes mother's china teapot smashed all to h--ll," piteously whimpered the boy who furnished the dishes. he began to climb into the wagon, vowing he would throw tom white out quicker than he threw his mother's teapot out. tom was ready for fight and eli had all he could do to keep the boys apart. all this was great amusement for the natives. "let 'em go," one shouted, "let 'em fight; we'd ruther see the fight then yer show." the large room of the tavern was filled with minstrels and town folks. "purty long ride ye hed fur such a big load," remarked one towner. ere alfred could reply, a big gawk chimed in with: "by the dust on their britches laigs i callerate they didn't ride much." then all the crowd laughed. the pike was very dusty and the minstrels showed the effects of their contact with it. "well, ef they haint got a good show we'll gin 'em a ride they won't furgit. yes, an' the rail'll be three cornered. how many monkeys has they?" yelled another. then came quickly, "i dunno, i haint counted 'em yit." this sally brought the biggest laugh yet heard. alfred's blood was boiling; he could stand it no longer. his fist shot out and immediately there were legs and arms sprawling all over the floor; the crowd trampled each other as they stampeded, all endeavoring to exit through the one door at the same time. once outside, several of them, more bold than the others, began making threats and movements to re-enter and bring alfred out. at this juncture the old stage driver and eli waded into them and soon there was not one of the rowdies to be seen. alfred was hustled upstairs and into a room and ordered to remain quiet until further developments. the constable was soon on the scene with warrants for eli and the old driver. they were taken before a justice of the peace and, by the advice of mr. guttery, they requested a continuance of the case until the following morning. this was granted. a few moments later, three or four of the minstrels were arrested. not one of them had engaged in the disturbance; they demanded an immediate trial, feeling certain of acquittal. no evidence was offered as to their participation in the fight. several residents of the town swore positively that none of the accused had engaged in the row in any way. one witness testified that they had just stood around doing nothing. this he emphasized by repeating at intervals in his testimony, "they just stood around doing nothing." the evidence all in, the justice of the peace addressed them somewhat as follows: "you have been arrested charged with disturbing the peace. the evidence goes to show that you are not guilty of that crime; therefore, on that count i will discharge you, the borough to pay the costs. but it appears by the testimony of one of your own witnesses, one of our most reliable citizens that you were standing around doing nothing. therefore, i will fine you two dollars each and costs for loitering." by the advice of the landlord the costs were paid by mr. eli and the fines were to be paid the next morning when the other cases were called. the minstrels that night were slimly attended. in the middle of the night alfred was rudely disturbed by someone awakening him. "git up, git up, quick! we've got to git out of this town or it'll take all the money i've got to square the fight you started yesterday. git up quick!" it was eli's voice and he was very thick tongued; he had been up all night. the team was harnessed and hitched to the wagon. the landlord was there to see the sleepy minstrels off. the last good-byes were scarcely spoken ere the door of the big room was closed by the landlord and the lights put out. it was inky dark to alfred as he sat on the high seat by the driver and heartily wished himself home. it came out later that the landlord and one or two others advised eli to get the minstrels into greene county ere the eyes of the law opened the next morning. hence the a. m. exodus. arriving at carmichael's town after a long and tiresome ride, the minstrels found tom kerr, the jolly landlord of the tavern, with a dinner ready that changed their minds from gloom to gayety. the minstrels were well advertised. winn kerr, lias and dee flannigan had witnessed their entertainment previously, hence the town turned out to welcome them. wealth flowed in upon eli and all went merry as a dinner bell. but eli had great difficulty in tearing himself away from old and new found friends. the regular minstrel wagon was not large enough to carry eli the next morning, consequently jim kerr carried alfred and eli to waynesburg in a private rig. again the crowd was too large for the courthouse; again eli made friends who detained him after the departure of the troupe. alfred refused to remain behind with eli but left with the minstrel boys. eli failed to arrive in the next town in time to open the doors. the crowd was more than ample to fill the hall. alfred took the door and made settlement of bills. eli arrived during the night. the next morning alfred and two others advised mr. eli that they had received word from home that their engagement with the minstrels must end. when eli came to his senses he appealed to alfred to explain why they had decided to quit. alfred said: "because you have been drunk ever since the show left brownsville and the boys are afraid you will not pay them." that night eli invited all the company to meet him in his room at the tavern. by the time the boys arrived eli was so saturated he forgot that which he desired to say to them. instead he insisted on drinking with each one individually, he scorned to drink with the company as a whole. "i want you all to know me. if you want money, i've got slathers of it." all wanted money and they got it. and they spent it. gaudy bows and ties, striped shirts, congress shoes and other dependables never possessed by the wearers previously, began to make their appearance. eli was voted the best ever. those who had threatened to leave because eli imbibed too freely were termed methodists and back-biters. fairmount reached, the old stage driver and his team left for home. from this point the baltimore & ohio railroad was to be the mode of travel, a change hailed with delight. some began figuring on how many days it would be until the minstrels invaded baltimore. two nights were played at fairmount; the first night a large, well pleased audience attended. more invitations to eli's room, more liquor ladled out and more money handed around to the company. on the second night there was a very light attendance; a long hunt to find eli ere bills could be paid and the company could move on to grafton. eli had decided to remain in fairmount until the next train. morgan, the advance agent, accompanied the minstrels to grafton. morgan took the night's receipts. the next morning he could not be located nor did eli make his appearance. the minstrels watched and waited; the day wore along. finally, it was decided that the performance would be repeated that night. a man walked over the town, ringing a bell as he went. halting at short intervals he loudly announced the second exhibition of the minstrels at early candle light. the landlord of the tavern volunteered to look after the financial end of the enterprise. after the exhibition he called the boys together and advised that after his bill and other expenses were deducted, there would be enough left to pay their railroad fare to fairmount and that they would probably find eli there. arriving at fairmount it was learned that eli had left for baltimore the night before. it came to light that morgan had left on the same train, boarding it as it passed through grafton. some members of the company contended that eli had gone on to baltimore to arrange for their coming and that they would hear from him or see him soon. others, that he had left for good. the four musicians, men who had seen more of the world than the ambitious amateurs, boarded a train for wheeling. alfred decided that he and his followers would make their way to new geneva and there board the boat for home. loading their few belongings, including alfred's hair trunk with the brass tack ornaments, into a farm wagon drawn by two big bay mules, the homeward journey was begun. not in dejection, as one might imagine, the boys were too full of spirit to be cast down greatly. one or two began to fret but the jibes of the others soon had all in good humor. the roads through the hilly, muddy country were not as firm as those previously traversed, a contingency the boys had not taken into consideration. at times the mules were unable to move the wagon, even though all the minstrels were pushing or prying to the extent of their muscular power. instead of dust, as on the first day out, the minstrels were covered with mud, from shoes to hats. arriving at new geneva, mud bespattered, tired and hungry, they congregated on the old wharf boat until the steamer was heard coming below the bend. when the boat hove in sight, her prow cutting the water, it was the most welcome sight alfred ever remembered witnessing. safely aboard, it was found that not in the whole party was there enough money to pay the fares to brownsville. therefore deck passage had to be taken and without meals. george warner, the colored steward, knew every one of the boys. one by one they were smuggled into the pantry and a meal that was never excelled given each one. it was two o'clock in the morning when the boat touched at brownsville. alfred determined to carry his trunk home with him. hoisting it on his broad shoulders he began the walk up the hill homewards; every little ways lowering the burden to the ground, he would seat himself upon it pondering as to the tale to tell of the ignominious ending of his dream of prosperity. he thought of lin's parting words: "i hope ye bring the koon skin hum," and he could not suppress his laughter. he brought the big iron knocker down rather lightly, hoping only lin would hear it. he did not care to face his father or mother until he got a little more courage. again the knocker was raised and lowered, a little louder than before. the window sash above was raised and the father's voice, gruffer than alfred had heard it in a long time, demanded, "who's there?" alfred hesitated to give his name. "who's there?" louder and more gruffly than before, impelled the boy to answer: "it's me." "who's me?" came from the window quickly. "oh, come on down, pap, let me in. it's me, pap, don't you know me?" alfred was so crestfallen and ashamed that he could not bear to speak his own name. "in a minute, alfred," came in a more kindly tone as the father's head was withdrawn from the window. then the father's voice was heard informing the mother, "the boy's back." it flashed through the boy's mind that the conditions that brought him home so unexpectedly were known only to himself and he could stave off unpleasant explanations for a time at least. the door opened, the father shook his hand heartily. "how are you? how have you been? we've been expecting you. how did you get out of the trouble in bealsville? the _clipper_ says you were all jerked up and slid out between two days." the mother and all the children were up. lin insisted on setting out a pie and making a hot cup of coffee. alfred was highly complimented that he had kept his promise to return. alfred accepted the praises with a conscience stricken feeling that kept him miserable under his assumed gaiety. the first time lin and alfred were alone in the kitchen, she turned full on him as she asked in a deeply interested way: "how much did ye make outen yere trip?" the question was so direct and without warning that alfred dropped his gaze and began stammering. lin continued: "there's somethin' ded about yer; i smelled a mice the minnit i seen yer face. jes let hit out, ye'll feel better. i'll help ye. where's eli? where's the other boys?" alfred gave lin the whole miserable story, neither adding to it nor concealing anything. lin summed up the matter thus: "ef ye're out enything ye kin sue eli. his muther'll settle." they figured it up, alfred was a little in eli's debt. "then what ye palaverin' 'bout, ye've done all right?" "but it's the disappointment of the thing, the way it wound up and it looked so promising," whined alfred. "well, ef ye never git hit harder then eli hit ye, ye'll need no poultices," consoled lin. "why don't ye gin redstone skule-house another try? charley wagner an' everybody else sed ef ye'd go back that ye'd make all back ye wus shy afore." alfred was on his way in less time than it takes to record it, notifying the boys that they would go to redstone school-house next saturday night. the school-house secured, the music was the next important matter. charley wagner had a sore throat, so he informed alfred. all others approached were affected in the same way. it looked very much as if the exhibition would have to be given up. cousin charley suggested that alfred go to merrittstown and hire the blind hostetler family. all were blind excepting john, who had one eye. there were three brothers and a sister--two violins, a double bass violin, the girl sang and in time with the music manipulated two large corn-cobs, much in the manner of a minstrel's cracking the bones. a contract was entered into with the family whereby they were to receive ten dollars for the night, and their suppers. the school-house was packed, there was some thirty-seven dollars in all. when the performance was nearing the end, cousin charley made his way behind the curtain and in a whisper informed alfred that the constable had seized all the money and properties of the minstrels and that he, alfred, was to be arrested and put in jail. alfred's acting was not so spirited as in the opening. those who were aware of the load that oppressed him, sympathized and condoned with him until he was nearly unmanned. the suit came up before a justice of the peace. eli's creditors had an attorney, alfred and the minstrels had none. the plea that eli was not interested in the venture, that it was alfred's show, was offset by the fact that alfred, in his dealings, informed every one that the show belonged to eli. and there was the advertising matter. did not all bear the words, "eli, owner and manager." alfred had designedly and against his pride ordered eli's name placed on the bills to relieve himself of all responsibility and worry. the evidence was conclusive. at least that's what the lawyer, isaac bailey, said. lin said: "it was boun' to go agin alfurd. limpy bailey cud make black white an' squire wilkinson's agin' evurythin' but the methudis' church." there were numerous little bills unpaid, including five dollars to the blind family. chapters of truths and unfounded rumors, were in the mouths of the gossips as to how the troupe stranded in west virginia, compelled to walk home, traveling as deck passengers on the steamboat. it even went the rounds that they would have starved if george warner had not fed them surreptitiously on their way home. alfred was crestfallen. he was ashamed to visit his old haunts in the town. he evolved plan after plan only to be persuaded by lin to abandon them as soon as they were broached to her. the father rubbed salt into his wounded feelings at every reference he made to the minstrel business and the lowness of those connected with it, holding eli up as a terrible example of what minstrel life would bring a man to. berated, brow-beaten, driven to the wall, alfred answered his father in kind following one of his most bitter arraignments of show people: "father, what are you talking about? something you know nothing of. eli was not a showman, not a minstrel man. he was only with an amateur minstrel show eight days. nothing in his associations made him lower than he was before he left." "then why did you go with him?" sternly demanded the parent. "i wanted to make money." "yes, you wanted to make trouble and disgrace for your poor mother and myself," was the father's rejoinder. "how sorry i am i did not do differently. how sorry i am that this ever happened and i planned it all so differently. i felt i was protecting myself and i'm into it deeper than before." thus would alfred reason with himself. but the judgment of regret is a silent witness of the heart to the conviction that some things are inevitable. with alfred it was a confession hard to make--another battle lost that seemed won. the words, "disgrace to the family, to your mother and myself," kept ringing in his ears and he resolved to leave the town, go to the oil regions, go west, go anywhere, get rich, come back and make his people retract all their cruel reflections. lin adjured him to "furgit the sore spot; es long es ye pick hit, it'll never heal. why, ye cud go to capt. abrams, sammy steele ur joe thornton an' borry enuf to pay every durn cent ye owe; though ye don't owe nuthin', everybody ses so thet knows enythin' bout hit. thet eli's in fur hit all. he ought to pay hit. thur's thet blin' family, he'll nefer hev no luck ef he don't pay 'em." this allusion to the blind family was the last stone. alfred felt that he and he alone was responsible for the amount due the blind family. this obligation brought him more regrets than all his troubles. he crept upstairs, he fell on his knees and prayed, yes, prayed fervently, earnestly. no penitent, no prisoner, no saint, no sinner ever beseeched guidance and assistance with a more contrite heart. it was announced that uncle thomas was to preach to the young people of his congregation. alfred went early. he was ill at ease. he imagined all the congregation gazing at him and when two or more bent their heads and whispered, he imagined that it was he who was under discussion. the song services ended, the minister arose, opened the bible and very slowly read the text selected--"honor thy father and thy mother." raising his eyes from the book, looking over the congregation as if to select some one to whom to direct his words, he repeated, "honor thy father and mother, which is the first commandment with promise. honor thy father and mother, that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest live long on earth." then followed a lengthy discourse as to the duties of children to their parents. as the sermon progressed, the preacher said: "rebuke not an elder but entreat him as a father. rebuke not an elder but treat all your elders with that respect you would others should exhibit toward your parents. show me the young man who is disrespectful to his parents or elders, disregards their admonitions and i will show you a boy who is without the pale of content." uncle tom seemed to look straight at alfred as he let fall the words. alfred felt sure that he referred to the quarrel between himself and uncle ned. in the next quotation alfred was slightly reassured: "an angry man stirreth up strife and aboundeth in transgressions, for he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." alfred said to himself, he is touching up uncle ned. he wanted to turn his head around to see how the uncle took his medicine, but the preacher had his attention. alfred was sitting erect, looking straight at the speaker. his attitude seemed to say: "if you are going to hit them all i can stand it but don't hold me up as a lone example of all that's sinful in this congregation." then the speaker waded into the popular frivolities of the times; cards, dice, gambling, drinking, dancing and other pastimes. as alfred was immune from all of the above sins he sat up still more straight and even ventured to look around at some of the society young folks of the congregation. he began to feel that uncle tom was a very good preacher. after a moment's pause as if to pull himself together for the final onslaught upon all that was sinful, the preacher resumed: "i do not hesitate for a moment to condemn show life and all who are aware of its iniquity that engage in it. the circus, the theatre, the actors therein, the proprietors, those who, for sordid gain, place these terrible temptations before our young people." alfred felt himself sinking in the pew. "i do not hesitate to condemn the theatre as one of the broadest roads that leads to destruction. fascinating no doubt to the young of susceptible and impressionable feelings, on that account all the more dangerous. show life is a delusion. it holds out hopes never realized; it poisons the mind and diseases the soul; it takes innocence and happiness and repays with suffering and misery. it separates families; it desolates homes; it makes wanderers on the face of the earth of those who are allured to it. once let a young man acquire a taste for show life and yield himself up to its wicked gratifications; that young man is in great danger of losing his reputation. he is rushing headlong to certain ruin." alfred was sitting straight up. his cheeks burned like fire but there was no shame in his face, he even looked about him; he met the gaze of those who stared and held it until the eyes of the others dropped. the preacher continued: "all the evils that can blight a young life, waste his property, corrupt his morals, blast his hopes, impair his health and wreck his soul, lurk in the purlieus of this abominated show life that is threatening some of the best beloved and most talented of our young people. folly consists in drawing false conclusions from just principles; and that is what the theatre does. men may live fools but fools they cannot die. the instruction of fools is folly; therefore, the actor cannot teach wisdom or morality. he that refuseth instruction despiseth his own soul; but he that heareth reproof getteth understanding." the parting admonition, delivered to the young people in general and, alfred felt, to himself in particular, was: "choose a good name; a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches and loving favor rather than silver and gold." alfred felt that the latter part of the sermon was directed at his ambitions to become a clown, get rich and buy a farm. he wondered who had informed the preacher of his ambitions. when the congregation stood up and sang, alfred's voice could be heard above those around him. when the plate was passed he placed his last dollar on the coppers and dimes on it. when the minister requested that all the young people who desired the prayers of the congregation for their future guidance, stand up, alfred remained seated. there was no contriteness in his heart; no impression had been made upon him. he forgot his surroundings; he felt no embarrassment that all stared at him, their looks seeming to say: "well, how did you like it? hit you pretty hard, did it not?" alfred forgot the sermon, forgot the surroundings; other thoughts swayed his mind. "i'll make uncle tom, i'll make this congregation, i'll make this whole town acknowledge my worth. i've not done anything i'm ashamed of." then the five dollars he owed the blind family flashed upon his mind. "i'll pay them, i'll pay every cent i owe." he passed out of the church unconscious of the gaze of a half hundred young men lined up on either side of the door waiting for the girls to run the gauntlet, each one offering an arm to the girl he fancied; if rejected he was termed "sacked" and the rejected one felt the ridicule of his fellows for many days thereafter. lucy fowler "sacked" john albright that night. lin was so full of this affair that she seemed to forget the sermon in her eagerness to recount the other incident. alfred interrupted her by sneakingly inquiring as to how she liked the sermon. lin forthwith straightened up: "well, ef i wanted tu tell jes what i thot, i'd say he gin ye particular fits, but preachin' is preachin', nobody takes hit to tharselves, they jes think hit's fur everybody. now i reckon ye think the hull blast wus fer ye. s'posen he'd preached on dram drinkin'. i reckon the fellur thet guzzles wud take hit all tu hisself. no, sonny, religun's fur everybody an' ye kan't thro preachin' bricks ye don't hit somebody. so don't take a foolish powder kase a preacher workin' at his trade handed ye a few. hit done ye good, ye never looked so purty in yer life, yer cheeks wus red es cherries an' ye sung like a exorter." alfred asked: "didn't you think he took a shot at uncle ned?" "well, ef he did he never teched him fur ned never winced. ye know them church members never take nuthin' to tharselves; no, they jes believe when the preacher ladles out spiritual feed hits fur sinners on the outside uf the church. they think they're above suspishun. ye know the pharisee thanked gawd he wus not like other peepul, 'an he was _jes awful_. of course a great many say thet the sermon fit yer kase. hit's the best praise ye ever got, hit's better'n a piece in the newspapers. thur's a heap uf peepul in this town never knowed ye amounted to enuf to be preached about. es long es ye hain't stole nuthin' er caused anybody misery er shame, yer on the safe side. yer troubles hain't nuthin', ye jes think they are. uncle tom's got more trouble on his min' now en ye ever had." "i'll bet if i ever get out of this trouble, i'll steer clear of it hereafter," mused alfred. "yes ye will. let me tell ye, sonny, the minnet ye begin to feel yer troubles at a end ye'll begin to look fer more en ye wouldn't be wuth cracklins ef ye didn't. i wouldn't gin four cents fer a man thet didn't git into truble; hit trys 'em out an' ye ken tell what they're made uf. look at all the men ye know who don't know enuf to make truble. what do they amount to? why they ain't got enuf grit in 'em to suck alum." she continued: "onct thur wus a new preacher kum to a place to take charge of a church. a member uf the church called tu pay his respeks an' afore he left he said, confidential like: 'parson, ye preach yer first sermon sunday. now i want to tell ye this fer yer own good: we hev a good many members thet plays ole sledge, ten cents a corner. thar our best payin' members an' i wouldn't, ef i wus ye, say anythin' 'bout card playin' in my fust sermon, they mought think ye wus pussenal.' another member called. after talkin' 'bout the weather an' crops a bit, he sed: 'several uf our best payin' members sell whiskey wholesale, they're agin dram drinkin' but ef ye preach agin whiskey right away it mought make 'em mad, so i wouldn't say anythin' agin whiskey in yer fust sermun nex' sunday.' the preacher began to git a little shaky but he thanked the man. a little later anuther member called. when 'bout tu leave he sed: 'parson, ye preach yer fust sermon sunday; i want ye to start right. we hed a good many dances through the winter, and our peepul is very fond uf dancin'. thur's two ur three big dances to kum off soon. these members thet dance is all willun workers an' liberal givers; ef ye pitch into dancin' en frolikin' in yer fust sermon hit's sure to raise a click in the church thet'll be agin ye. therefore i wouldn't mention anythin' 'bout dancin' in my fust sermon ef i wus ye.' soon another called. after he'd talked a spell, he kum to the pint: 'parson, we got some mighty fine hosses an' most uf 'em belongs to the leadin' members uf yer church an' we has hoss races an' we bets on 'em, an' ef ye preach 'bout anythin' uf thet kind in yer fust sermon it'll hurt the hoss bizness an' put some uf the best members uf the congregashun agin ye.' the preacher raised his hans in holy horror, as he said: 'i can't preach agin the frivolities of fashun, dancin' an' sich; i can't preach agin drunkenness; i can't preach agin gamblin'. fur heavin's sake, what kin i preach about?' 'i'll tell ye,' volunteered the caller quickly, 'preach about the jews, jes gin 'em hell, thar's only one in town.'" lin concluded, "maybe uncle tom figgered the same way on yer kase," and she roared with laughter as she gave alfred a playful push. after the boasting alfred had indulged in previous to going on tour with eli, he could not face his friends. he borrowed five dollars from lin and in a careless way, informed the family that the next day he would go up to uncle jake's for a couple of weeks' visit. he packed up his belongings, bade the family an affectionate good-bye and ran away, like many another coward has done before and since. he was not in debt to any extent, it was simply his vanity, a false pride that would not permit him to face the little world in which he lived. those who should have advised him censured; those who had influence for good held aloof. he went to a big city, to pittsburg, to seek his fortune among strangers, return rich, reward all who were kind to him and humble all who had lost faith in him. he went aboard the boat bound for pittsburg. he slept soundly and was only awakened by the clanging of bells and the blowing of whistles. peering out of the stateroom ventilator, his eyes met a sight such as he had never witnessed before. fire in long-tongued flashes blazed up a hundred feet out of blackened chimneys, shadowy demons working over fiery furnaces, boiling, white hot lava flowed in streams, the air was filled with smoke and sparks. alfred imagined he had died in his sins and was now nearing the place of eternal torment. he could liken the scene before him to nothing on earth. it must be hell, and he felt that the lid had been lifted for his especial benefit. there was a rap on his stateroom door and a voice called: "all out for pittsburg." alfred hustled into his clothes and walked out in the cabin, not desiring to leave the boat until after daylight. he inquired of the clerk as to how long the boat would remain there. "we leave at eight o'clock," replied the clerk. "eight o'clock what? morning or night?" asked alfred. "eight o'clock morning," replied the man. "why, when does it get daylight in pittsburg?" inquired the bewildered boy. the clerk laughed as he answered, "tomorrow, if the sun shines." alfred hastened ashore. the old national hotel, water and smithfield streets, had sheltered him before. therein he entered. changing his clothing he wandered forth aimlessly. he entered the red lion hotel, looked over the circus grounds and then to ben trimble's theatre; from there to the old drury theater, wood and fifth avenue. he took in all the sights of the big city. then he began to make plans as to the future. the hotel rate was one dollar and a half a day. when alfred settled, which he did at the end of the first day, he had but thirty-five cents left. he left his baggage with the hotel people and began a search for work. were you ever in a strange city, broke and without a friend, without the price of a bed, without the price of a full meal? did you ever feel the loneliness, the forsakedness of this condition? you may say, "well, i'd get a job; i'd do anything; i'd dig ditches; i'd--" well, they do not dig ditches in winter, and when they do dig them you must have a vote before you can get a job even at that labor and you cannot get a job at any kind of laboring work unless your physique and clothes look the part. you say there's no excuse for any man being broke or out of a job these times? well, there may be no excuse that will satisfy you but there are men in this condition all over this land--and good honest, willing men, willing to do any kind of work to earn a living. when they apply to you encourage them even though you do not hire them. alfred applied to a large concern that employed many men. he was told there was nothing open. the wholesale drug stores were all supplied with help. another place had a sign out--"no help wanted." alfred failed to notice it as he entered. when he made his errand known the oily haired youngster in the place impudently asked him if he could read, and pointed to the sign. at another place he felt sure he had landed when the boss told him they wanted a married man and that he was too young looking. at the headquarters of a great fraternal society, the principles and teachings of which are mercy and charity toward all mankind, the officer or secretary in charge was particularly unkind and actually spoke and behaved towards the boy as though he had been guilty of some offense, instead of seeking honest employment. after walking more than four miles to a large factory, the head of which stood high in the councils of one of the great political parties of the day, one who had lately issued a statement to the country that the only difficulty his firm was having was to secure men to do their work, he met the great man coming from his office and appealed to him in person, and was informed that they required no more men at that time, but intimated that a factory in a city several hundred miles distant required help. he did not mention that it required several dollars to pay railroad fare to the town referred to. his experience in seeking employment caused alfred to resolve that no man or woman, no weary soul, no matter what the conditions, applying to him for employment or aid should be turned away without a word of encouragement and advice. some philosopher has likened kindness as lighting a neighbor's candle by our own by which we impart something and lose nothing. try a little kindness upon the next applicant who calls upon you. walking down fifth avenue alfred read a sign hung on a door: "wanted. two boys over fifteen years of age." it was the white house saloon. alfred walked in and asked for the position. he learned it was setting up ten pins in a bowling alley. the proprietor, john o'brien, was very kindly spoken and, looking curiously at alfred, he inquired: "how did you come to ask for this job? you look too well groomed for such work?" "well, i'm broke and i've got to do something." alfred was given the job and started to work at once setting up the pins. it was pay day in pittsburg; the big, husky iron workers hurled the balls down the alleys with such tremendous force that the pins were scattered in every direction. at times the bowlers, in their haste and excitement, would not wait for the pins to be set up before hurling the balls and it required quick action on the part of alfred to keep out of harm's way. closing up time came and as the dollar and a half was passed to alfred he noticed that the game keeper was a brother of eli's. pulling his hat over his eyes that he might not be recognized, the star of eli's minstrels fled the place. the barkeeper at the national hotel, dick cannon, had befriended alfred before. when he learned that alfred was living on doughnuts and coffee at the little stand in the market house, cannon took him in and fed him until he secured a position. it was through cannon that alfred finally secured the position of night clerk in the hotel. that a saloonkeeper and a bar-tender, the very people whom alfred had been so constantly warned against, should be the only ones who took an interest in him when in distress, was most surprising to the boy. surely it was not from the fact that he patronized their establishments, as he never entered the place of one and was in the house of the other for only a few hours. john w. pittock, the founder of the _pittsburg leader_, was also proprietor of a book store at the corner of fifth avenue and smithfield street. the _leader_ was the first paper, that the writer has knowledge of, to print a sporting page. pittsburgh, then as now, was strong for athletic sports. aquatic sports were the most popular; jimmy hamill, the champion single sculler of the world, was at the zenith of his career. the day following alfred's experience in the ten pin alley the city was all excitement over a sporting event. alfred was sent to the _leader_ office to procure a number of copies of the paper for numerous guests of the hotel. the following sunday morning alfred sold over two hundred copies of the paper. the superintendent of the smithfield street bridge was a friend of alfred's father. he permitted the boy to establish a news-stand at the end of the bridge. from a. m. until noon hundreds of copies of the _leader_ were sold. with his wages from the hotel the minstrel was making and saving money. alfred was homesick often but determined in his mind not to return to brownsville until he had a stated amount of money. the father wrote him to return at once. alfred replied that he had a good position but would return by a certain date. it was a holiday in the smokey city. alfred cleaned up over forty dollars on papers alone. that night he visited brimstone corner, a methodist church. no man or boy who ever lived in pittsburgh but remembers its location. it was a revival; the church was packed, the sermon eloquent and it made a deep impression upon alfred. the minister read the text as follows: "and he said, a certain man had two sons; and the younger of them said to the father: 'father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me.' and he divided unto him his living. and not many days after the younger son gathered all together and took his journey into a far country and there wasted his substance with riotous living. and when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land and he began to be in want. and he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. and he would feign have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat, and no man gave unto him. and when he came to himself, he said: 'how many hired servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and i perish with hunger.' i will arise and go to my father and will say unto him, 'father, i have sinned against heaven and before thee and am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants.' and he arose and came to his father. but when he was yet a great way off his father saw him and had compassion and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. and the son said unto him, 'father, i have sinned against heaven and in thy sight and am no more worthy to be called thy son.' but the father said to his servants, 'bring forth the best robe and put it on him and put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet; and bring hither the fatted calf and kill it and let us eat and be merry. for this, my son, was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' and they began to be merry." the preacher continued: "who can say what the causes that led to the young man's leaving the luxurious home of his father to wander, an outcast, over the earth? the vagaries of the human mind are beyond our understanding. the prodigal son may have had illusions; he may have had ambitions. he may have been induced by illusions born of ambitions to make something of himself other than a plain farmer's boy. the dangers that lay along his pathway were not known to him. that he fell in with evil associates and did not have the will power to free himself from them is obvious. "we cannot all live in one city; we cannot all live in one country or on one farm. it is but natural that boys will stray away from the old fireside. read the history of this country; it was settled by hardy yeomen, possessed of that desire for changed conditions. look at the great and growing west, settled by the descendants of those first settlers of new england and virginia. "that boys leave home, as did the prodigal son; that boys fall from grace, as did he who ate husks with the swine, should not shake our faith in the future of a young man who has fallen by the wayside. he is to be reclaimed, not by the mighty hand of the law, not by the chastisement of the father, but by the love and pity that man should exhibit not only for the good but for the lowest of god's creatures. we should extend to them the helping hand; we should prove by our actions that they have our love and pity. "pity is a mode, or a particular development, of benevolence. it is sympathy for those who are weak and suffering. hence, our compassion for the erring one. we have affections for men who are good and noble, men who are prosperous, strong and happy. but for those who have been beaten down by the storms of life, for such we should feel that pity the father displayed for the prodigal son. "if those who have strayed and forgotten the father's advice and the mother's prayers come to us, we should not receive them with reproaches and rebuffs but with open arms; always remembering that the father of all has gladness for those who are glad and pity for those who are sad. "when the erring one returned, envy filled the heart of one of the family and he said to a brother of the prodigal: 'thy brother is come and thy father hath killed the fatted calf because he hath received him safe and sound.' and the brother was angry and would not go in to the feast. therefore came his father out and entreated him to enter. and he answering, said to his father: 'lo, these many years do i serve thee, neither transgressing at any time thy commandments and yet thou never gavest me at any time a fatted kid that i might make merry with my friends. but as soon as this, thy son, came, which has devoured thy living, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.' and the father answered, 'wealth killeth the foolish man and envy slayeth the silly one. there is not a just man upon earth that doeth good and sinneth not. it is good for a man he beareth the yoke in youth.' "it is sympathy in this world that must reclaim the fallen. it is sympathy in the return of the erring that must reunite families and heal the mother's sorrow for him who has wandered from the fireside and, like the prodigal, returns to be elevated to a life that might been have wasted had not the father's love prevailed to welcome his return. "if this world is to be bettered, if the children of men are to be uplifted, it must be by a love that is as strong as that of the father for the son, the mother for her children. "young man, if you have wandered from home, if you have felt you were abused, return to your family, start life over, reconcile yourself to what you may have imagined were wrongs. if they have wronged you, their love, won by your obedience, will atone for all. if you have wronged anyone, make amends. "fathers, mothers, friends, stretch out your right hands for the salvation and preservation of our young men, for in their hands lies the greatness of the future." the river was low, the boats were not running. the next morning a train bore alfred to layton station on the youghiogheny. a stage coach landed him at the door of his father's home in the middle of the afternoon. there never before was the happiness in alfred's heart that filled it on his home coming. the father was proud of his boy, the mother overwhelmed with her emotions. the children clung to him as though they feared he would fly away from them. lin baked and cooked as she never had before. when it became known that alfred had laid one hundred dollars in his mother's hand and that he "hed plenty more," as lin informed all, the boy could feel a difference in the atmosphere when he mingled with the people of the town. cousin charley and alfred hired a horse and buggy and drove out to merrittstown, passing the thornton home, the old mill, the dam and the home of the youngs. the blind musicians were paid the five dollars yet due with five dollars added for interest. there was only one incident that marred the happy home-coming. alfred licked morgan, eli's agent. eli was a very ill man; his excesses had brought him near death's door. alfred forgot the past and no more attentive friend had eli in his last illness. the fight with morgan was regrettable but, as lin expressed it: "hit let the kat outen the bag an' klarified matters in general an' some mighty big peepul tried to krawl into some mighty little holes, but they stuck out wuss then ef they hed stood up an' sed, 'well, we tuk alfred's money but we thought we wur right but we find we were wrong.'" of those who levied on the money at redstone school-house, but one returned the amount he had illegally received. fred chalfant, the liveryman, was that man. chapter thirteen forgot is the time when the clouds hid the sun. and cold blasts the earth forced to shiver. for such is the power of one warm spring day from winter's whole spell to deliver. alfred was unconsciously broadening in his knowledge; life in its various phases was unfolding to him, and he was profiting by his experiences. his faults appeared very great to others, were only an incentive to him. he had learned thus early that it was not the being exempt from faults so much as to have the will power to overcome them. in early life he had it very strongly impressed upon his mind that some men were perfect, others hopelessly vile. experience and observation forced alfred to the conclusion that none were so good but that some thought them bad, and none so vile but that some thought them good. we generally judge others as to their attitude towards us, agreeable or otherwise. our estimate of another depends greatly upon the manner in which that person affects our interests. it is difficult to think well or speak well of those by whom we are crossed or thwarted. but we are ever ready to find excuses for the vices of those who are useful and agreeable to us. therefore, he is a mighty poor mortal who is not something on his own account. alfred had graduated in that dear old school of experience, wherein education costs more but lasts longer than that acquired in colleges, that it is with the follies of the mind as with the weeds of a field--those destroyed and consumed upon the place of their growth, enrich and improve that place more than if none had ever grown there. the boy had been so continually advised against evil associates that he began taking a mental inventory of every stranger at first meeting. harrison was his estimate of the bad; mr. steele of the good. alfred had arrived at that stage where he not only stood aside and watched himself go by, but he was also watching the other fellow go by. he was out of newspaper business, out of the tannery, had abandoned the practice of medicine. charley's father, who was very strict with his boys, advised the parent to "give alfred more tether, not to stake him down too close. give him a little more rope, there's something in that boy." all of which was communicated to alfred by cousin charley, and uncle bill was thus greatly elevated in alfred's estimation. alfred's father was little short of a genius in a mechanical way; he had a peculiar temperament, mild and easily influenced. he was a creditable artist; many meritorious paintings from his brush in both oil and water adorn the walls of the residences of his friends. he was greatly interested in mechanical pursuits, particularly if of an artistic character. when uncle joe prepared to build a house, "pap" made the plans; when sells brothers built a tableau car or an animal van of an elaborate character, "daddy" made the drawings; when aunt betsy desired patterns to make a quilt to take the premium at the fair, "pap" made the drawings or figures. he became acquainted with an artist from philadelphia and was completely taken with the man's talents. the artist informed him in confidence that he had expended the greater portion of his man life on a work of art that would astonish the world, the father became even more interested in him. the father was the only person who had ever been permitted to look upon the wonderful creation of his genius; yard after yard of art was unwound for the admiration of the father. when he returned from his second visit to the art gallery of the philadelphia artist, he interested the family greatly by his description of the wonderful scenes the painter had wrought on the canvas. the sufferings and privations endured by the man while creating his work seemed to make as profound an impression upon the father as the painting itself. the father predicted that the talented painter would come into his own; the painting would be exhibited all over the world, admiring throngs would rush to see it to praise its incomparable beauties. the father made weekly visits to the home of the great painter, he desired frequent conferences with the father as he required his advice, at least, he so stated. after one of his frequent visits to the art studio the parent inadvertently let fall the remark that the great painting was about ready for exhibition but that the artist did not have money to complete it. he also hinted that if alfred were a boy of proper ambitions he might become attached to the exhibition of the picture, but no, "alfred's ambition did not rise above saw-dust and burnt-cork." these few words aroused alfred's curiosity. by adroit questioning he ascertained that the great work of art was a panorama illustrative of "the pilgrim's progress," to be exhibited in churches, schools and such places, at twenty-five cents for adults; children, half price. the mother wondered that the artist did not exhibit his wonderful painting in the art centers, philadelphia, boston, new york city, instead of butler, pittsburg, perryopolis and muttontown. the father explained that after the professor got the rollers to working smoothly and the lecture down pat, he intended visiting philadelphia, boston and new york. alfred began to realize that the picture was some sort of a show and he marvelled that his father favored it. lin said: "so fur es i kin kalkerlate it es some sort of meetin' house show, nuthin' but picturs. hit may be good, but durned ef i ever got much satisfaction out uf a cirkus lookin' at the picturs. but i s'pose peepul will want to look at the feller thet made hit. they say thet he nurly starved to death to git hit done. ye know, they'll run to see him. mor en they will his pictur--i reckon he has long curley hair an black eyes, they all has, them sufferin' fellers that due wunderful things." lin glancing mischievously at the mother in a tone she pretended to be only for the mother's hearing but really delivered for alfred's annoyance. "well, i hope he kums to red stun' skule-house. it's whur all the big shows gits thur start; they allus git a crowd, the skule direkturs sees to thet an' ef they don't make muny, sammy steele'll hulp 'em out." how did she know about sammy steele and his loan? it was long afterwards that alfred learned that joe thornton had confidentially imparted to bill wyatt, the tavern keeper, the part that he and steele had played in alfred's show life wyatt, in turn, confidentially imparted the story, with a few additions, to uncle bill. the uncle confided the story to the family and cousin charley gave it to the town--but what's the use. professor palmer, the artist, was to visit the family the following sunday. when there appeared a smallish, yankee looking individual, wrinkled face, a tuft of beard on his chin, similar to that bestowed upon the comic cartoons of the face of uncle sam, a beaked nose, very dirty hands and iron grey hair, sparsely sprinkled over his acorn-shaped head, alfred thought a farmer or stock breeder had called on his father. when introduced by the father as "my son, alfred, professor palmer," alfred was taken off his feet and his idea of art dropped away down. the only attraction of the professor was his eloquence, his ability to talk entertainingly. this he did continuously with a pronunciation so correct and studied that it sounded pedantic. the professor kept up his talk, as affected at times as the hand-cuff king's stage announcements or those of the middleman in a minstrel show. after dinner the professor expressed a desire to take a walk with alfred. they walked far, the professor talked long, and became annoyingly confidential. he said: "your father has told me a great deal about you and i must admit that you are a mighty smart young man. you don't belong in this one-horse town, you should get out in the world where there are opportunities waiting for all such as you. you could live in this town a thousand years and you'd be just what you are now. you have had some experience in the show line but in a line that is beneath you; your place in the show business is higher up. i want your advice," he continued insinuatingly. "now, i offered john (he referred to alfred's father), the best thing of his life. he has worked hard all of his days; he is deserving of something better. i have offered him a half interest in my show. ("holy mother of moses!" thought alfred). i have borrowed a little money from him but i need nine hundred dollars more to put me out right. now jack is considering the matter. i wish you, who know more about the show business than both of us put together, (alfred knew he was being flattered), would talk to him, use your influence with him." notwithstanding alfred's life's ambition to become a showman, the idea as presented by the professor filled him with disgust. his father going into the show business! he had pictured show life in his illusions as one long, summer day's dream, but now it seemed the meanest of careers. the idea of his father associating himself with such a calling was repugnant in the extreme. alfred could scarcely restrain his thoughts from taking expression in wrathful words. the man continued, not noticing alfred's changed expression: "you could sing and dance in this entertainment, do just what you pleased, it would make it all the better. i'll deliver the lecture and your daddy, (he was becoming insultingly familiar), could sit at the door and rake in the money. hasn't the old man talked to you about it? i've been talking to him for six months." "talking to my father about going into the show business and he did not knock you down. if he didn't he is a hypocrite." this is only what alfred thought; his reply was: "no, sir." he did not realize whether "no, sir" was the answer to the professor's question or the announcement of the decision he had come to in his mind as to the show business in so far as his father was concerned. the professor rattled on: "now, you get your old man away from the women folks and talk it over with him. it's the best thing ever offered him; he'll get his nine hundred dollars back before a month is out. i'm going to do business with churches and preachers wherever i can. i preached four years in missouri and had to give it up on account of my health; i got stomach trouble from eating rich food. i know just how to work this thing, and if you and your daddy go in with me we will not only make money but have a hell of a good time." they had arrived at the door of alfred's home. the professor, as they passed in, admonished alfred to "think it over and let me hear from you." the professor was soon in the midst of a description of a scene he intended introducing in his church entertainment wherein he used living figures. alfred did not follow his conversation; he was trying to think, but could not think connectedly. he could not talk to the professor, he answered him by nods or shakes of his head. the more reticent alfred became the more voluble the professor grew. at leave-taking time, the professor admonished alfred: "do not forget what i told you." alfred promised that he would not and he was sincere; he could not have forgotten had he tried. the professor gone, alfred hurried to his room. was it possible that his father had even partially entertained an idea of joining the man palmer in a show scheme, the father, who had berated, abused and condemned all and everything pertaining to shows, now favorably considering engaging in the show business himself. alfred endeavored to find excuses for his father--"he was generous, sympathetic, he was listening to the professor only to encourage him." alfred had never been subjected to the influence of a promoter; this was a leaf of life yet unturned by him. alfred felt certain that his father had entered into some sort of an arrangement with the professor. he felt certain the panorama man was endeavoring to induce his father to invest money in the panorama and he finally resolved that it should not be. the more he thought the matter over, the more distasteful show life appeared to him. then the illusion came back to him. he had dreamed by night and prayed by day; he had lived for years with the wish, the hope that he might, after a few years of show life, earn enough to gratify his life's desires, to possess a farm, to own fine horses, to plant fields, to reap harvests, to live near nature. he figured over several sheets of white paper. he would be compelled to labor forty years in the tannery to acquire sufficient money to buy a farm and nearly one hundred years in the newspaper office. jimmy reynolds, the clown with thayer & noyse circus, received one hundred dollars a week, board and lodging, so alfred had been informed. alfred felt in the innermost depths of his soul that he was a much better clown than jimmy. he would secure the position now held by reynolds--one hundred dollars each week for thirty weeks, three thousand dollars a year; ten years, thirty thousand dollars. ten years a clown, then a farm. show business was improper for the father but the means to attain the end for the son, as he reasoned. when lin found the figures and writing on the many sheets of scribbling paper in his room, she pondered long and confusedly over them. "what in the world hes thet consarned boy got intu his punkin' agin? thirty years a clown, ninety-nine years in a nusepaper, furty years in the tan-yard, and a farmer all the rest uf my life." then she laughed. "he must think he'll be as ole as methusulus got." she carried the paper to the mother. they confronted alfred with the sheets on which were scribbled the hieroglyphics. alfred laughingly said it was a new way to tell fortunes. alfred decided to talk to the father the first opportunity that offered. father and son were seated in the front room. "father"--alfred rarely addressed the parent as "father;" "pap" was the every-day appellation but the present matter was of greater importance--"father, i would like to talk to you privately and want you to answer me truthfully." the father had his feet on a stool reclining in the big, easy chair. at the words "answer me truthfully," the father's feet fell to the floor, his cigar dropped until it lay on his chinbeard; the man looked at the boy to convince himself he had heard aright. "why, what the h--ll tarnation do you mean?" alfred was frightened, his voice trembled and sounded unlike his own, but he was determined. "father, i want to talk to you, come upstairs to my room." if alfred had not been so earnest, the scene would have been a laughable one, as it was like burlesquing many similar scenes when the parent addressed the boy in the same words. alfred walked up the steps very slowly, hoping thereby to cause the parent to follow. it was a long time (to alfred) ere the father entered the room. "what's the trouble now?" began the man, as he gazed inquiringly at the boy. "who is this man palmer whom you are so greatly taken up with?" inquired alfred. "why, what's that to you? he's a friend of mine." "has he a show?" was the boy's next query. "a show? not a show like you know anything of. he has a painting, a work of art, that will be exhibited soon." "father, you have always berated, abused and condemned shows and show people. did this man palmer borrow money from you?" the father was confused. he reddened as he stammered: "no--no--not much. you see he is a poor devil of an artist, he would rather paint than eat; he has spent years of his life on a painting. he has a fortune almost in his hands and i loaned him a little money to buy glue and colors to finish his painting. i tell you, he is a genius; why, the roller the pictures work on is one of the most ingenious contrivances you ever saw and it's simple, it can be applied to other uses. no man but a genius like palmer would have thought of it." this and much more information he gave alfred. by his manner alfred could readily see that the parent was greatly interested in palmer and his scheme--for alfred felt such it was. "well, then, father, you have changed your mind as to shows?" "who said i had? no, i have not changed my mind as to shows! who told you i had? but your uncle will, who thinks more of you than you think he does, has persuaded me to give you your own way a little more and if you want to go with palmer i will consent to it after i see palmer and put you under his charge. he must control you just as i want you controlled. he is a man who knows how to manage boys; he is a man you can depend upon and i don't mind you going with him if it can be arranged to suit me and your mother. i am glad you asked my consent and did not run off, like you threatened to do with the nigger minstrels." and he emphasized "nigger minstrels" to strongly convince alfred of his disgust with that branch of show business. the father was so completely wrapped up in palmer, so totally captivated by the eloquence of the man that he had altogether mistaken the questions of the boy. "father, has palmer tried to get nine hundred dollars out of you? did he want you to buy a half interest in the show?" "well," hesitatingly he answered, "palmer has got to raise some money and he asked me to help him out. i haven't said whether i would or not. if you go with him you could look after money matters for----." here alfred interrupted the parent: "have you said anything to mother about this? you know when you went into the patent wash-board concern with niblo and grandpap, you never told mother and when you got took in with uncle thomas on the patent shoe blacking, you said you would never enter into anything outside your business without asking mother's advice. and now you're dickering with this man palmer about a show, something you know nothing about. now pap--." the wash-board and blacking were two of the father's investments that were losses, so he became very much irritated at mention of them and checked the son. "now you hold on, young man! if you tell your mother anything of this, you and i will have trouble. you're meddling with matters that don't concern you. i thought you called me in to ask my permission to go with palmer. now you set yourself up to pry into my business. i'm your father, i've always taken care of you and i am able to take care of myself. i don't want a green boy to look after me." "well, pap; i'm not trying to nose into your business. you told palmer that i knowed a heap about the show business, and you recommended me highly as a showman." the father was sizzling. "who told you so?" "why, palmer himself. now, i don't want to brag on myself," continued alfred who had gained confidence as the interview progressed, "but i've seen a great deal of this show business and you've got to know what you're doing when you get into it. why, look how many men have lost all their money." and here alfred mentioned the names of several men, the details of whose losses in show schemes he had read in the _new york clipper_. "why," he continued, in an outburst of confidence, "i"--and he emphasized the "i"--"i lost money on my last show." he should have added, "my first and last show." but the boy felt that he had pap going. "i had to borrow money from sammy steele to pay my debts." the father gasped. "so you've been borrowing money to get into the show business?" "no, i had to borrow money to get out of it and that's why i don't want you to loan palmer money without you ask mother." alfred knew full well that this reference to the mother would bring the father to terms. "now look here, my boy; i warned you once before not to blab my business to your mother to make trouble in the family--" "well, i'm going to tell her," broke in the boy. "you're going to tell her what?" threateningly asked the father. "i'm not going to tell her anything about you," replied alfred somewhat subdued, "i'm just going to tell her that palmer is trying to borrow money from you." the mother was no different from other women. the father knew full well that her first remark would be: "so palmer wants to borrow money! so that's what brought him here! he is a slick one, you could tell that by his talk. john, i hope you are not fool enough to loan that man money." "no, mary, don't worry yourself, he'll get no money out of me, i could see through him the first time i met him." this line of conversation had been heard so often in the family that it was stereotyped on the memory of all. the father therefore capitulated, and in a tone intended to pacify the boy he said: "now there's no use in stirring up anything over this matter. if you want to go with palmer i will gain your mother's consent. i'll tell her you have asked my permission. i will permit you to remain there as long as you do right. you know more about this business than i do and i'll leave it all in your hands and i'll tell palmer so," the father resignedly concluded. his father had outgeneraled him; he was not the diplomat he imagined himself. he was left in deeper doubt than before the interview. letters came from palmer. alfred knew by the postmark that they were from him. he was tempted to open them. the father read the letters and placed them in the desk, never mentioning palmer's name. this was very perplexing to alfred. it was reported that palmer's great panorama was coming. it was also reported that alfred's uncle thomas, the minister, uncle ned, uncle will, grandpap, and all of alfred's relatives who had opposed his show ambitions previously, sanctioned his going with professor palmer's panorama. uncle thomas explained that palmer was a retired minister, that the surroundings, instead of being degrading, would be uplifting; taking it all in all, john and mary had acted wisely in giving their consent to alfred's joining professor palmer's panorama of pilgrim's progress. somehow it got out that alfred was not anxious to go. lin, in referring to the latter phase of the matter, said: "i jes can't understan' hit. uncle thomas ses hit will satusfy alfurd's ambishun an' possibly settle his min'. but alfurd don't seem to want to go. maybe hit's his muther. alfurd is a great muther's boy, ye wouldn't think hit either, he's sech a tarnel devil ketcher, but he is. i guess he don't like the idee uf this prayur meetin' show an' the show fellur thet painted hit he jes disspises. i bet ye a fip ef hit wus a show with hosses an' gals ur singin' niggurs he'd bust a biler to go. be durned if he ain't the queerest cuss i ever seed. why, it tuk the hull kit uf us tu head him frum runnin' off with a show a while back. now, be dog-goned ef ye kin chase him off with a pack of bob playford's houn's." it was announced by the father that palmer would be the guest of the family for a day. alfred determined to have a heart-to-heart talk with palmer, pretend he was in full accord with his plans, engage to go with the panorama and thus protect the father in his dealings with the man. palmer arrived and with him an open faced, honest appearing pennsylvania dutchman, from bedford county, whom palmer introduced as jake. jake had a continuous smile. sometimes it expanded but never contracted. the smile was a fixture and it became jake greatly. he rarely spoke, the smile sort of atoned for his reticence as it assured those addressing him that jake was not deaf, even though dumb. it was not necessary to question palmer; he was a willing subject, volunteering all the testimony necessary to set alfred's mind at rest. in answer to the query as to whether father had concluded to take an interest in the panorama now that he, alfred, had decided to go with it, palmer rolled off his reply so rapidly that alfred could scarcely follow his words. "i hope john will not be angry with me, i offered him first chance and held off until i almost lost the other fellow. john's all right but he's too conservative. he's afraid of his wife and he'll never make money as long as he continues in business in this town. this dutchman, jake, had the money, he is anxious to travel, he has never been outside of bedford county. jake has a team, a fine team. we can't stick anywhere. he'd sell the team if i said the word. he will haul the whole outfit. i am going to buy another team and a good one, then i can take my wife and you and go ahead and have all the arrangements made before jake arrives with the panorama. of course if john talks his wife into it he will want to come in later. we can easily get rid of jake, he's a "gilly." this is the very business for john. he is a painter, he could paint the panoramas; all he requires is a little experience with water colors. why, look at those flags on the old fellow's barn out the pike; no one but an artist could shade and color like that.[a] those flags are painted so naturally they appear to be fluttering in the wind. john and me could go in together, and paint panoramas of bull run and other battles and sell them or send out a half a dozen. this war will make the panorama business good. your daddy is good on flags and eagles and sich; that's where i am weak. we could make all kinds of money." the exhibitions would be confined to churches and educational institutions; therefore, it was most fortunate for alfred that he should be privileged to become attached to an exhibition that possessed the elevating and refining influences of the great moral entertainment of professor palmer. the father, instead of requesting the minister to ask the blessing, as was his custom, nodded to palmer. all bowed their heads as palmer, in a loud voice, called down a blessing upon the food, the father, the mother, and the boy about to go out into the world to seek his fortune; he also prayed for lin. he called down a blessing upon the panorama and that it might attract thousands that the great moral lesson it was designed to teach might be carried to the furthermost corners of the earth. alfred could not resist the impulse to raise his eyes. the very beard on palmer's chin was quivering with the fervor of his beseechings. all were bowed in respectful reverence except jake--he was gazing nowhere, the smile a little more expansive. after the men had retired from the dining room, lin, the mother and alfred remained seated. lin turned a cup in the tea-grounds. she read that alfred would wander a long way off and "maybe kum back with a great bag of gold, at eny rate, he wus carryin' a heavy load." finally lin, turning to the mother, inquired: "what did ye think uf the blessin'?" "it was very fervent," absently answered the mother. lin sniffed. "well, i'd swore afore a volcany uf fire thet i smelled licker on both uf 'em." the mother communicated lin's suspicions to the father. he admitted that jake might be addicted to liquor. palmer, as an artist, used a great deal of alcohol to dissolve the shellac used for sizing the canvas preparatory to painting and the fumes of alcohol would pervade a man's clothing a long time after being subjected to its permeating influences. lin, with a twinkle in her eye, declared in a loud whisper as the father left the room: "well, durned ef i wus him ef i wouldn't change my clothes afore i asked a blessin' agin." the mother was very much worried. she communicated her fears to uncle thomas and aunt sarah. uncle william, the county judge, was called into conference. he advised that since alfred seemed inclined to a roving life it would be better for him to be connected with a religious show than with a worldly one for he would be free from the vicious surroundings of a circus or minstrel show, and suggested that a binding contract be made with palmer. grandfather secured a copy of the contract under which his brother, the judge, had been apprenticed, and had a copy made to fit alfred's engagement to palmer. the following is an exact copy of the indenture which bound uncle william to learn the trade of a blacksmith. it is now on record in the county courthouse at uniontown, pennsylvania: this indenture witnesseth: that william hatfield, of the township of union, in the county of fayette, state of pennsylvania, hath put himself by the approbation of his guardian, john withrow, and by these presents doth voluntarily put himself an apprentice to george wintermute, of the township of redstone, county and state aforesaid, blacksmith, to learn his art, trade or mystery he now occupieth or followeth, and after the manner of an apprentice to serve from the day of the date hereof, for and during the full end and term of five years, next ensuing, during all of which time he, the said apprentice, his said master shall faithfully serve, his secrets keep, his lawful commands everywhere gladly obey; he shall do no damage to his said master, nor suffer it to be done without giving notice to his said master; he shall not waste his master's goods, nor lend them unlawfully to others; he shall not absent himself day or night from his master's service without his leave; he shall not commit any unlawful deed whereby his said master shall sustain damage, nor contract matrimony within the said term; he shall not buy nor sell nor make any contract whatsoever, whereby his master receive damage, but in all things behave himself as a faithful apprentice ought to do during said term. and the said george wintermute shall use the utmost of his endeavors to teach, or cause to be taught and instructed, the said apprentice the trade or mystery he now occupieth or followeth, and procure and provide for him, the said apprentice, sufficient meat, drink, common wearing apparel, washing, lodging, fitting for an apprentice during the said term; and further he, the said master, doth agree to give unto the said apprentice, ten months' schooling within the said term, and also the master doth agree to give unto the said apprentice two weeks in harvest in each and every year that he, the said apprentice, shall stay with his said master; also the said george wintermute, doth agree to give unto the said apprentice one good freedom suit of clothes. and for the true performance of all and every the said covenants and agreements, either of the said parties binds themselves to each other by these presents. in witness whereof, they have interchangably put their hands and seals, the first day of april, one thousand, eight hundred and sixteen. george wintermute, (seal) william hatfield, (seal) john withrow, (seal) witness present: benjamin roberts. fayette county, ss.: may the th, one thousand eight hundred and sixteen, before me the subscriber, one of the justices of the peace, in and for the said county, came the parties to the within indenture and severally acknowledged it as their act and deed. given under my hand and seal the day and year above mentioned. benjamin roberts, (seal) a copy of the paper binding alfred to george washington palmer is on record in the county courthouse at leesburg, loudoun county, virginia. grandfather argued that if his brother, the judge, could accumulate farms and town property and raise himself to the dignity of a judge, alfred certainly should do equally as well. it was not many days before alfred's duties would take him away from home and he began a round of visits to bid all good-bye. [illustration: the taffy pulling] cousin mary craft gave a cotillion party in the country. cousins hester and martha gave a party in town. frank long gave a taffy pulling. the hot plates of taffy were placed outside the kitchen door on the brick walk to cool before the taffy was pulled. archibald long, frank's father, not knowing of the taffy's location, walked out of the house in his stocking feet, as was his custom ere he retired. in the darkness he planted one foot, then the other, in a plate of the hot taffy. this caused him to jump several feet in the air. he started to run. at each step his feet found another taffy plate. gobs of the hot stuff sticking to his feet, pressing up between his toes, the old man introduced a dance--a high kicking dance that would have won him fame and fortune on the stage. the hot gobs of taffy clinging to his expansive, woolen sock-encased feet caused him such intense pain, the old man endeavored to introduce a new stunt, namely, to throw both feet in the air at the same time. all the boys and girls ran from the dining room at the first sound of the yells of the old man. the lamps within enlightened the weird scene without. when both feet were flung in the air simultaneously the old man sat down suddenly. he sat on the largest plate, with the hottest gob of taffy in the collection. his seat had barely touched the plate, the taffy had scarcely squashed through his jeans pants, until he made an effort to rise again. failing in this he flopped on his stomach, clutching and tearing at his seat of latest misery, taffy stringing from his fingers. rearing his rear end high in the taffy laden air he planted his head in another plate of taffy which, was still tenderly clinging to the few straggling hairs on the old man's pate, as they carried him into the house, the taffy plate on his head like the crown of the old king. gradually dangling, it descended to the floor, only to be trampled in the dust by the rabble. the old man was put to bed. poultices of apple butter, sweet-oil and a whitish-bluish clay dug from the bottom of the spring were applied to his blistered parts. the taffy pulling party, the scene of gayety so suddenly transformed to one of suffering, lives in the memory of alfred by the recollection of long threads of amber colored taffy shimmering in the soft moonlight as they clung to the plum tree branches where the old man's vigorous kicks had landed them. it was maple sugar making time. uncle jacob irons, who lived near masontown fifteen miles away, had a large sugar grove. a visit to uncle jake's was always one continued round of pleasure. the staid uncle, jolly aunt bettie, kate and tillie, joe and george, john and wilson, were always delighted to have alfred visit them. it was a day that marked the passing of winter and the coming of spring, after a night of light freezing with a white frost, the morning sun shining all the brighter that he had been hazed so long by winter's shadows. the earth, the trees, appeared even more brown and barren by contrast with the splendors of the sky. here and there a patch of snow, left sheltered by tree or fence, seemingly endeavoring to hide from the sunbeams that came out of the south, to pour its flood of warmth on it until it melted and mouldered away. it was springtime, the boyhood of the year, when half the world is rhyme and music is the other. it was springtime in the country, far from the city and the ways of men. the mountains in the distance, brown colored in spots, the peaks, like winter kings with beards of snow, seemed to say: "'tis time for me to go northward o'er the icy rocks, northward o'er the sea. come the spring with all its splendor, all its buds and all its blossoms, all its flowers and all its grasses." it was a day that awakened feelings that seemed sacred. have you ever lived in the country? have you ever visited in the country in springtime? have you ever asked yourself: "i wonder if the sap in the sugar trees is stirring yet? is the sugar water dripping?" have you ever worked in a sugar camp, such as there were in old fayette county in those days? nearer the south than bleak new england, the trees more full of sap, the sap sweeter than it flows anywhere on earth. the trees in the camp tapped, the spiles driven, the sweet water dropping; the boys and girls, the men, yes, the women too, gathering the sap. the day is warm, the run a big one; to save it, all must hustle the big barrels loaded on the sleds as the horses move from one tree to another, turning over the mosses and dried leaves, exposing the johnny-jump-ups and violets as if they were just peeping up through the ground at the busy scene. the redbird is singing in the tree, his plumage all the brighter for the winter's bleaching. the day is not long enough, the night is consumed. the boys from all the country about gather at the camp. the moon was a book and every star a word that read fun and frolic to the jolly crowd at the camp at uncle jake's that night. alfred sang songs, and told jokes. they had sugared off, made a big kettle of sugar. some dipped big spoonfuls of the thickened syrup from the kettle, and poured it slowly into tin cups filled with ice cold water. as it cooled the large lump of wax was pulled out of the water with the fingers. some, with buttered hands, worked the wax until they had whitish taffy, others filled their mouths with the wax as it came from the water. the writer will engage to cure any case of stomach trouble that ever worried man or woman with this maple wax. the night wore on, the fun flagged. ben paul, a husky country boy, proposed that two or three go to nick yonse's still house and procure a little "licker." cousin wilson frowned upon this proposal but as the boys were his guests he did not further protest. it was impossible to awaken anyone to get the matured article from the distillery; therefore, with the aid of a clothesline fastened to a jug which ben lowered into a vat filled with corn juice distilled the day previous, a supply was secured. ben returned to the camp. he was truthful when he explained that the offering he brought was no old stale stuff such as they were accustomed to, but something new and fresh. its newness did not deter the boys from helping themselves to big swigs from the jug, smoothing out their wry faces with draughts of sugar water. cousin wilson refused to participate as he busied himself with his work. the sight of a tin cup made alfred fearful that he would spill his sugar. he also declined. after the custom that had prevailed in the tavern cellar, the tin cup went round and round, the result was the same or nearly so as at the tavern. some sang, others danced, one or two slept, some wanted to fight. alfred attempted to pour melody on the troubled revellers but the only effect of his song was to encourage ben paul to knock the bottom out of a new tin pail endeavoring to keep time to the song as he had seen alfred do with the tambourine. cousin john, unnoticed by cousin wilson, was chief among those who passed the tin cup around. john was of a friendly disposition and, not to be rude to his guests, sent the cup around often. several of the boys retired into the shadows of the trees just beyond the glare of the furnace fire to regret their mixing corn and sugar. [illustration: the night at the sugar camp] wilson plainly informed john that this thing had gone far enough. it was john's idea of courtesy, or rather his confused notion, that a host's guests should be permitted to conduct themselves as best suited their pleasure. several of them wanted to fight. john said, "all right, let them fight." wilson interfered. john stepped out of the circle and invited any one or all present to come out. "any of you excepting alfred, he's all right. i can lick any of you with one hand tied behind my back," and john spat on both hands. "come out yer," he pleadingly invited wilson, "or anyone excepting alfred." john, when he invited any or all of the others out, had evidently forgotten his courtesy to his guests or probably he desired to further increase their pleasure. perhaps that was the way he reasoned it, as several had declared they would rather fight than eat. john did not wish them to go home feeling they had missed anything. as a last request, john just pleaded with wilson to step out. he seemed more anxious to have wilson tackle him than any other. as a last declaration of what he wouldn't sacrifice to have wilson step out, he concluded as he slapped his hands together: "step out, ole feller, just step out yer. will you? i'll fight you anyway, i'll fight you now. come on; i don't care a dam if i have my sunday pants on, i'll fight you anyhow." the shouts of the boys could be heard re-echoing up and down the hollows as they wended their ways homeward. the moon had gone down, the night was darkened; it was nearly dawn. the fire had gone down in the furnace, the steam ceased to rise from the kettles, the hoot of the old night owl, after the scenes of the night, made it seem even more quiet. how to get john into the house that uncle jake and the family, might not be awakened, concerned both alfred and wilson. to alfred was delegated the task of conducting john home. john led quietly until a shout of laughter from those bringing up the rear was heard which he chose to construe as derision directed at him, and then he balked. alfred would get him quieted and thus they finally reached the house. here john balked again. alfred and wilson were both over sensitive. if the folks discovered john's condition it would reflect upon them. alfred greatly feared that mrs. young and uncle jake would blame him for john's downfall. they had about made up their minds to carry john to the barn and stow him away in the hay mow but it had turned uncomfortably cool and this plan was abandoned. alfred opened the door leading to the stairs, partly pulling and pushing him upstairs. he landed john in the room, where he fell over on the bed. john muttered and mumbled, flapping and flinging his arms wildly about his head--he arose to a sitting posture. alfred endeavored to lay him down. his face and head were covered with cold perspiration. alfred knew the symptoms of the distressing effects that follow the circulation of a tin cup. he hustled john out of bed. john floundered away from him in the darkness, and found his way into an unused room. alfred could hear him but could not locate him. groping his way in the darkness alfred kept calling in a muffled voice: "john, john, john, where are you? come to me." just then the house seemed to shake from roof to cellar as john and his two hundred pounds fell over uncle jake's home-made sausage stuffer. the stuffer was ten feet long. stuffer and john carried a big rocking chair, a tin boiler and several other reverberating pieces of household junk with them. ere alfred could rescue john from the mass of ruins under and on which he was piled, john began to realize how difficult it is to retain what you have no matter how strongly you desire to do so. alfred had to get out of hearing of john's sufferings to suppress his feeling. he felt very deeply for john from the very bottom of his stomach; in fact, the bottom of his stomach seemed disposed to come up. he endeavored to divert his thoughts but they went back to a tin cup, a wheel-barrow, cow's ears and other things. uncle jake came out of his room. "what's the matter, what's up? you boys trying to tear down the house? what's the trouble anyway?" "oh, john's drunk too much syrup and it's made him deathly sick," alfred began to explain. uncle jake interrupted him, saying, as he backed into the room and closed the door: "oh, i thought sammy steele's mule had kicked some of you." the wings of fame fly slowly, reputation travels faster. it is said that remorse is the echo of a lost virtue. alfred felt that remorse of conscience that can come only to one who has fallen and lived on in the happy illusions that no one heard him drop. governor tener, doctor van voorhis, mr. daly and others of john's friends will no doubt be surprised at this leaf in his life. in all the years that john and alfred have lived since, neither has ever forgotten his first experience with a tin cup that was loaded. footnotes: [a] the flags referred to were painted on the upper doors of james fouts's barn, situated on the old pike three miles east of brownsville. the flags were very brilliantly colored and naturally draped. they were the admiration of all travelers over the great thoroughfare. as the war progressed the confederates raided near that section several times. the owner feared that the flags might imperil the safety of the barn and other buildings on his farm. he therefore sent an order to alfred's father to paint the flags over, who desiring to cover their brilliant colors with one coat selected dark prussian blue. very soon after the flags were painted over, their colors began to appear through the blue. not many hot summer days had gone by until the flags were almost as distinct as when first painted on the big doors of the barn. the reappearance of the flags was regarded as a phenomenon or a miracle by the country folk. the "brownsville clipper," in commenting upon the miracle, declared: "it is an omen of victory for the federal armies; you cannot efface the star spangled banner, it still waves on fouts's barn." the paper criticized the owner for having the flags daubed over and intimated that fouts was lacking in loyalty. (fouts was a democrat. three weeks later the owner of the paper ordered danny stentz to pull in the big flag that hung out of the third story window of the "clipper" building; the confederates were reported as but fourteen miles away. the chemical properties of the coloring matter in the paints was the cause of the reappearance of the red bars of the flags through the blue paint that was spread over them.) chapter fourteen the man who borrows trouble is always on the rack, for there's no way, by night or day, that he can pay it back. mt. pleasant, pa. dear muz: we got here safe and sound. this is a pretty place. palmer lives on the edge of the town; it's an old house; one end of it is all taken up with his "art studio," he calls it. he biles glue and the smell goes through the whole house. you and lin thought i stunk when i worked in the tannery, you ought to smell palmer and his art studio. he has another preacher helping him. his wife is very quiet; she is making the clothes for the panorama; they have a pile of clothes to make. he asked me if i had read "pilgrim's progress." he knows the book backwards, so i have to read it and learn it too. the way he talks this is a regular show, but he won't let you call it a show. the painting looks awful to me but palmer says it looks all right under the lights. he is about done and wants pap to come over to see it. if he comes don't let him bring any money. tell lin to get my shotgun from under the feed trough in the cow stable. she'd better get it quick. turkey evans knows where it is and he'll steal it. answer and let me know if he has stole it yet. tom white is too short. if cousin charley was a few inches taller i could get him this job. it takes tall people to be characters in pilgrim's progress, especially "christian," "help" and the "evangelist." jake's goin' to be somethin' in the panorama. they don't live very well; maybe mrs. palmer didn't know we were coming and didn't fix for us. they have had no meat any meal yet, only flitch.[b] palmer works all night and sleeps all day. he talks the rest of the time. his wife don't say nothin'; just wears a sun bonnet. maybe she has the newralgy. give my love to all. your affectionate son, alfred griffith hatfield. p. n. b. don't forgit the gun. turner simpson promised me when queen had pups to give me one. if he brings it you'll keep it, won't you muz? mt. pleasant, pa. dear muz: the livin's no better, it's flitch every meal; they haven't had pie or cake since we came. palmer says when they get the thing going we'll live on the fat on the land. his wife don't say nothin', just sews and cooks and wears a sun-bonnet. they've got two children somewhere. i heard palmer say they'd have to stay, that they'd be too much trouble on the road. this seemed to make mrs. palmer more quiet, i reckon you'd call it sad. she ought to say somethin', then a body would know what ails her. i don't think it's newralgy. i told her mustard plasters always helped aunt susan and she just looked at me. i hope he gets her goin' soon, i'm hungry. if this show is good, as he says she is, he ought to make enough to buy something to eat besides flitch, corn meal and potatoes. he's got two more scenes to paint, then we're ready to show her up. tom tried to help mrs. palmer wash the dishes, he broke two plates. palmer says he's all thumbs and mouth. your affectionate son, alfred griffith hatfield. p. s. was the gun gone? the pup's a hound but it's bound to be pretty, the children will like it. you keep it till i get home. mt. pleasant, pa. my dear muz: palmer's the awfulest worker i ever saw. he knows his business but he ain't got any money. we're waitin' on jake to come. palmer owes everybody in town, they won't let him have anything until he pays. the flitch gave out last night, and we had nothin' but corn pone, buttermilk and potatoes. palmer said he ketched the gout once from high livin', and he did not want to see another human suffer like he did. i guess his wife's dietin' too, as she don't set down to eat with us. palmer is a wonderful man. he's got his lecture all wrote out and all the characters and all the costumes for them. he's going to begin the rehearsals tomorrow. practicin' we called it. i looked in the dictionary, rehearsing is to recite, to recount, to relate, to repeat what has already been said, to recite in private for experiment and improvement before a public representation. i have learned more from palmer than anybody i was ever with. the old preacher, reverend gideon, writes letters all day; he has the names of all the churches and preachers and we know where we are to be weeks before hand. jake came today and brought his two horses. they're nice horses but he won't let you drive them, he wants to drive himself. palmer went to the stable while jake was unhitchin' and i seen him get money from jake. we had beefstake for supper, fried, but it was too dry. she did not make any sop.[c] we had hot biscuits and good butter, but no pie and cake. i got acquainted with a boy, will peters. he invited me over to his house several times. i want to go but am ashamed to; they have pie and cake three times a day just like we all do at home. mrs. palmer talks a little to me now. she still wears the sun-bonnet but i don't believe it's newralgy that ails her. she asked me if your name warn't mary irons before you married pap. i finished the pilgrim's progress last night. it's a great book, you ought to read it. the one we got at home is not complete, borrow uncle tom's. i'm glad turkey evans did not get hold of my shotgun. palmer's done all his "work of art," as he calls it. tonight he reads the whole thing over to us and then we got to learn our parts. jake is going to be "christian;" that's what i wanted to be but "christian" carries a heavy load on his back and palmer says i'm not strong enough. me and tom must double a dozen different characters. mrs. palmer tried all the clothes for everybody on me. one of the suits i do not like; it's just like you had nothin' on but a shirt; it's for "faith" to wear. i told palmer it would not look right before women and children and he said the costume was patterned after the original plates. i don't know what he meant but he'll not put "faith's" clothes on me, plates or no plates. [illustration: "he'll not put faith's clothes on me"] is pap coming over before we start? if he is, you have lin bake a peck of doughnuts, put them in the big carpet-sack. i'm glad you got the gun. i wrote turner simpson to send you the pup when it was old enough to wean. your affectionate son, alfred griffith hatfield p. s. don't forget the doughnuts. somerset, pa. dear muz: it will be my luck to have pap come to mt. pleasant with the doughnuts and find us all gone. we left last night. i wrote you we was going but i didn't know it until palmer woke me up in the middle of the night. reverend gideon left two days before. someone pulled me out of bed. i hollered, "here, here, hold on!" then i knew it was palmer. i jumped up. he ordered me to dress quickly. i dressed and looked for tom. i asked palmer where he was. he said: "i've called him as often as i'm going to." i called tom and had to wait so long for him to dress that when i got out doors there was jake sitting up in the front seat of the wagon, and mrs. palmer beside him. she looked to me as if she was cryin'. jake told us to "get in, she's going to go." palmer was locking the doors. i heard something splash down in the well. his wife asked for the keys. "they're down in the well; old lane, the landlord, can look for them." mrs. palmer looked very much worried. they left all their things excepting a few bedclothes and the sewing machine. palmer spread the bedclothes on the panorama in the bottom of the wagon; tom, me and him slept all the way here. poor mrs. palmer set up all night beside jake on the seat. if she ain't got the newralgy she'll katch it sure. mrs. palmer wouldn't get out of the wagon to eat breakfast when we stopped on the road at a country house, and palmer spoke real cross to her and she cried. it's the only time i've seen jake's face without a smile and he looks a different man when he ain't smiling. i like jake and he likes me. he wants to see pap. reverend gideon met us here. palmer forgot his clothes and i heard him tell gideon they'd have to go, he had flung the keys in the well and if gideon went back after his clothes they was liable to fling him in jail. i believe palmer's run off owing everybody. this thing's bound to make money. i'm sorry i came for twenty a month. if he does well he'll have to raise me. your affectionate son, alfred griffith hatfield. p. s. the hound was to be a dog, not another kind. palmer, the wife and gideon, were a source of much speculation to alfred; he could not fix their standing in his mind. the facts were that palmer was one of those soldiers of fortune who had experimented with many things and failed in everything. he fitted dryden's description of: "a man so various, that he seemed to be not one, but all mankind's epitome; stiff in opinions, always in the wrong was everything by starts, and nothing long; but, in the course of one revolving moon, was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon." the only aim palmer seemed to have in life was to create the impression that he might have been worse. store clerk, school teacher, politician, preacher, scene painter, amateur showman; such were the pursuits he had been engaged in, not successful in any of them. abusive of all, save that one he was engaged in, blaming the world for his failures. he respected no man or woman. he approached no man save with a selfish motive; could he but injure those with whom he dealt he was happy, though he did not profit thereby. yet he did not so speak, but all his actions conveyed this impression of the man to alfred. and thus his character was impressed on the boy's intuitive mind as strongly as were the scenes on the canvas of the panorama. [illustration: palmer] the wife was only another of that type of woman who has blasted a life, one full of hope, by clinging to a man who was unworthy of one day of her life. it was a pathetic spectacle to see the faded wife standing helpless in the shadow of her husband's selfishness, having sacrificed youth, beauty and everything that woman holds dear. it did not matter to palmer that she was once a school teacher, more than a fair musician, courted by numbers who could have made her useful to society and happy in her life. it did not matter to palmer that she had burned up much of her attractiveness over the cooking stove; that she lost more of it at the washtub; in caring for and rearing the children that had unfortunately come to them. the slaving she had gone through in all their married life to help her husband to get on in the world was all lost upon the selfish man who never gave a thought to her sufferings. he actually treated her if as she had been the cause of his failures, and seemed ashamed of her when younger and more attractive women were near. her two children, somewhere in missouri in the keeping of her mother, seemed her only hope in life and the only time the poor crushed soul evidenced interest in anything was when tidings came from the children or she could prevail upon their thankless father to send them a little money. the mother's wardrobe was scanty that the darlings of her heart might be better clad. aunt susan wore a sun-bonnet almost continuously that she might better keep in place mustard plasters and horse radish leaves to relieve the neuralgia pains. alfred presumed that mrs. palmer was similarly affected since she always wore a sun-bonnet. that was before they left palmer's house. afterwards he became convinced that the woman wore the sun-bonnet to conceal the lines of sorrow in her once fine face. rev. gideon was the last of the trio whom alfred figured out. he had married palmer's sister. they went to a foreign country as missionaries; gideon's health gave way under the tropical climate. he returned to this country and had since made his home with the palmers. but little was learned of the wife. she still lived, and if remittances were not forthcoming, gideon was on the rack. in fact, each one of her complaining letters made gideon turn more yellow in color, sit up later and get up earlier than usual, no matter how poor gideon suffered. if he was ailing and palmer noticed it, he would sneer and jerk out: "huh! got a letter from sis, did you? s'pose she wants you to go back to china. say gideon, that must have been a hell of a job to instill the gospel into heathen when you can't make an impression upon those who understand what you say. it must have been discouraging to waste your eloquence upon those copper-colored thieves. there's many a game to catch suckers in this world but that foreign mission play is the rawest ever sprung. say, gideon, how much did you get? so much for each sinner saved or did you lump the job?" under such cynicism gideon would turn about and walk off as though nothing had been said to him. palmer took an especial delight in teasing gideon as to his mission labors. gideon never deigned to notice the ridicule of palmer, at least in words. yet there was one thing that impressed alfred. palmer always deferred to gideon in any business proposition under consideration; he would bluster and rave a little but always in the end gave in to gideon's judgment. in addition to the receipts that came to him from the exhibition of the panorama, palmer had a large, framed, steel plate engraving of john bunyan which he sold while soliciting subscriptions for several religious publications. he worked diligently. he never desisted when he once went after preacher, deacon or the entire congregation, and he generally sold what he offered or secured their names to one of his numerous subscription lists. he worked so adroitly that he made many his aides. not infrequently a minister would get up during an intermission in the pilgrim's progress exhibition and announce one or more of palmer's offerings. these announcements invariably wound up with the statement that the proceeds were for the benefit of a retired minister who had lost his health in an endeavor to carry the gospel to the heathen in foreign lands. alfred became curious as to what effect these announcements would have upon gideon and he often peeped from behind the scenes to note it. but gideon was never in sight. he would step out of the door as the speaker began. alfred noticed that mrs. palmer always lowered her face over the keys of the piano or organ when the announcement of this character was being made. palmer, behind the scenes, standing near the curtain his head bent to one side his hand up to his ear. if the speaker's efforts pleased him he would pull his tuft of beard with his free hand and ejaculate: "good! fine! capital! good boy, go it old beeswax. i didn't think it was in you. go it boots, you'll win in a walk. they're gittin' their pocket books out now; gideon will do well tonight, ha, ha, ha." did the speaker not measure up to his ideas, he would say: "wade in! wade in! wade in! dam you, the water's not cold. warm up now or you'll freeze them to the pews. oh, what you tryin' to git through you? just listen to that crack; he'll make them think he's going to take up a collection for the foreign missions. you can't get seventeen cents. it's been worked to death. come off, come off your perch, you poll parrot! come off! well you ought to be studying your primer instead of preaching; you don't know as much as gideon." palmer, through the influence of the church members, procured a half dozen young girls, at each place visited, to represent the multitude passing through the gates in the final scene of pilgrim's progress. although these girls were before the audience but a moment or two at the very end of the panorama, amateur like, instead of remaining in front witnessing the exhibition, they would repair to the rear of the curtain, don their robes and stand around during the entire performance, to the annoyance of everybody working the panorama, and, more frequently than otherwise, be late for their cue. one night, an old preacher was laboring with an announcement palmer had written and rehearsed him in, palmer was most vicious in his comments. the old speaker's daughter was one of the virgins, standing near she heard every word uttered and there was enough and there would have been more, had not alfred, by a nudge and a whisper, checked him. palmer grasped the situation at once. he stepped nearer the girls. then with a start, he shaded his eyes, dramatically gazed at the girls and began: "oh, woman, lovely woman, nature made thee to temper man; we had been brutes without you. angels are painted fair to look like you. there is in you all we believe of heaven, amazing brightness, purity, truth, eternal joy and everlasting love." he was never at a loss, his quick wit extricating him from embarrassment at all times. * * * * * somerset, pa. dear muz: we showed, or we exhibited, last night. it was the most crowded church i ever seen. i did well, better than anyone. gideon, mrs. palmer and all said so. gideon said i saved the day, but palmer held me back, he wouldn't let me sing or dance. i heard him tell gideon: "i'll have hell with that gilly kid, he thinks it a minstrel show; i got to hold him down or he'll queer the fake." i don't know what he meant, only he meant me. jake made some awful blunders but gideon said it was like palmer to put him in to play "christian." tomorrow's sunday and i'll write you the full purceeding. i know the whole thing by heart and if pap can paint a pilgrim's progress i can show it, exhibit it. palmer will make a million. lin could go along and play the organ like mrs. palmer. i tell you she can put in the music right, she fills out the thing just grand. lin would have to learn to play with both hands and she must learn music. mrs. palmer won't play without the notes to lead her. i will take the whole sunday to write you the full history of the first night. you better read "pilgrim's progress." did you borrow uncle tom's? does uncle ned feel hard towards me? if anything happens to me and i get ruined it's their doings because i could have been with a minstrel troupe. you have to lie more here in a day than i did all the time i was with a minstrel show. your very affectionate son, alfred griffith hatfield. p. s. i looked at the dictionary. a "gilly" is a man attendant in the scottish highlands. a "kid" is a young goat. it don't tell what a "fake" is. now i know palmer will have to raise my wages. if pap agrees to paint a panorama and take lin along you can get sis minks to work for you. [illustration: "oh! my dear hearers!"] palmer began the exhibition with a lecture: "ladies and gentlemen: john bunyan, the author of that wonderful work, 'the pilgrim's progress,' was an english religious writer, soldier and baptist preacher. he enlisted in the parliamentary army very young. he was so strongly impressed with the glimpse he caught of war that all his writings, even things sacred, were strongly illustrative of fortresses, camps, marching men, guns and trumpets. bunyan was but seventeen years old when he entered the army, hence the lasting impressions his military life made upon his mind. he became famous as a baptist preacher and was flung into bedford jail under order of the restoration. he was frequently offered his liberty on condition that he would desist from preaching. this he refused; therefore, for twelve years he suffered imprisonment for his conscience's sake. "while in bedford jail he began the book that has immortalized him. it is the best allegory ever written and is the only book, excepting the bible, about which the educated majority have come over to the opinion of the common people. the peculiar glory of bunyan is that those who hated his doctrines have acknowledged his genius by printing and using a catholic version of his parable, the pilgrim's progress, with the virgin's head in the title page. "oh, my dear hearers, how similar to the sufferings of the lowly genius in producing his masterpiece were those undergone in painting the work of art about to be unfolded for your inspection. for years he who transferred the thoughts of bunyan into almost real life, for years he who wrought these fancies upon canvas, labored and suffered in secret. no living eye was ever permitted to gaze upon his work save his own. night after night, by the dim light of lamp, the artist labored. lack of food, lack of sleep, did not deter him. he was inspired to produce that which has been pronounced by men of highest learning as the greatest painting the world has ever known, the greatest educator of the masses, the greatest object lesson ever presented to the people of this country. "the pilgrim's progress in living figures and realistic scenes, the hills, the mountains, the sunny pastures, the soft vales, the wilderness, the shining river, the beautiful gates, the celestial city. "like bunyan, the painter had no idea that he was producing a masterpiece." here palmer would step to the front of the platform and, after a modest pause, in a lower tone, continue: "ladies and gentlemen: i was not aware the printed bills had announced to the world that i, professor palmer, d. d., was the author of this work of art, otherwise, i am sure i would not have mentioned it." alfred could never disassociate this announcement from that of the clown in the circus who, after singing his song, announcing the sale of the books, assuring the audience that the proceeds of the sale of the book were for the benefit of an orphan who was a long ways from home, without money or friends. hoping the charitably disposed would assist the orphan by buying the song books. bowing low, he would add: "i forgot to tell you that i am the orphan." dear muz: the first night is the most terrible thing one can go through. we had a hard time of it; palmer became excited and cussed; tom did well as long as i told him; mrs. palmer filled in all the stops with music and this helped but if it hadn't been for me it would have been a bad failure. it was all i could do to keep it going; i nearly worked myself sick. i'm going to ask palmer to raise my wages. palmer praised all of us, but i know he was lying because every time jake or tom made a mistake he cussed. palmer does all the talking for all the characters; the way he can change his voice you'd swear there were several people talking. he is hid from the audience and of course they think it's the characters that talk. in spite of gideon's advice, palmer gave jake the part of christian. the first scene is a field. jake, as christian, is discovered standing in the middle of the field. here is where the pilgrimage begins. jake is supposed to be reading a book and asks: "what shall i do to be saved?" jake held the book in his hand, not looking at it but at the audience, smiling. from behind the scenes palmer hissed; "look serious! look worried! read the book! hold the book up! oh you dam dutch galoot look scared!" jake only smiled louder. i know jake didn't hear a word palmer said. i could hear him breathing from where i stood. you know christian is dressed in ragged clothes, he has a burden on his back. palmer wrapped an old coffee sack about a big stone and this was fastened on jake's back to represent christian's burden. i was evangelist. i had a long, white robe on and wore a wig with long curls; not yellow curls like you used to make me wear, but black curls, with a blue ribbon around my forehead. i walked solemn towards jake; i looked at him a little while, then i raised my hand, pointing the roll of parchment and, in the most saddest way i could speak, i said: "wherefore dost thou cry?" jake said easy like, "not by a tam sight." palmer came right in with the proper speech: "if i be not fit to go to prison i am not fit to go to judgment and thence to execution. the thoughts of these things make me cry." here jake looked at me, then at palmer; then he winked at me. i could scarcely go on with my speech: "if this be thy condition, why standest thou still?" "i don't vant to, i'd rather valk to bedford dan stan' dis way still," was jake's reply. a number of those nearest the platform overheard jake but palmer came in quickly with: "because i knoweth not whither to go." i didn't give jake any time, i just shouted at him: "do you see yon wicket gate?" i pointed at the imaginary gate. jake turned about, shook his head and answered: "no." i cut in before he could get further: "do you see yon shining light? keep that light in thy eye and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do." [illustration: "hold her down, tom"] jake was lost. he walked he knew not whither, palmer pleading and swearing to guide him. the gate and shining light to which i referred were imaginary. i pointed off stage. jake, in his excitement was trying to get away from the audience. he walked up stage; he pressed against the canvas, trying to force his way further. palmer and bedford tom had all their weight against the frame of the panorama. when jake felt resistance he put his powerful muscles to work. "hold on! hold on! stop! you can't go further," cried palmer. jake kept on pushing. "hold her down, tom; hold her down." then came a crash, the lights went out and over went palmer, tom and the panorama. jake's breathing and his efforts to release himself from the heavy canvas covering him could be heard above the din and confusion. palmer was here, there, everywhere, assuring the audience that a slight accident had befallen the mechanical part of the panorama. "just remain seated, we'll give you a good show." he forgot himself and called it a show after all his orders to us not to speak the word "show." the strong arms of bedford tom, and jake soon righted the panorama. mrs. palmer played the organ, and right there is where one of my songs would come in right. i sung for jake and tom last night and jake declared: "the people in bedford would like one of dem nigger songs better dan palmer's hull tarn pictur show. de hull tam ting is a fraudt; no such a man as bunjun was ever in bedford yail. i and tom knows every man dot's been in dot yail and dey don't put 'em in yail fur what he sedt." jake's mixed up; he imagines palmer refers to bedford, pa. the panorama worked along smoothly until pliable and christian, (i and jake), fell into the slough of despond. you know, in the book, pliable and christian are traveling together; they fall in the slough of despond; pliable struggles and gets out. christian, owing to the burden he carries on his back, flounders about and is fast sinking when help appears and asks: "what doest thou there?" jake answered: "noting." palmer hissed: "roll over! roll over! hold your head under the canvas; duck, you son of a gun, duck!" palmer answered with the speech jake was supposed to deliver, as jake rolled over and over: "sir, i was bid by a man named evangelist, who directed me to yonder gate that i might escape the wrath to come and as i was going thither i fell in here." then i come as help; i say: "why did you not look for the steps?" jake is supposed to say: "fear followed me so hard that i fled the next way and fell in." then as help, i lean far over, hold out my hand and say: "give me thine hand that i may draw thee upon hard ground that thou might go thy way." instead of jake following the business as rehearsed, he arose, took the burden off his back, walked out the opposite side, back towards the city of destruction. the audience, or some of them, tittered, others laughed outright. palmer was prompting jake: "get into the pond! complete the scene!" the more palmer prompted, the more confused jake appeared. "get your burden, it's not time to drop it; get your burden." jake, smiling, walked over the miry, muddy slough he was supposed to have struggled in a moment before, and took up the burden. instead of putting it on his back he carried it under his arm, nodded at palmer, as much as to say: "i'm ready for anything further, go on." worldly wise man here appears before christian and speaks to him: "how now good fellow; whither away after this burdened manner?" christian answers: "a burdened manner indeed as ever, i think, poor creature had. and whereas you ask me whither away, i am going to yonder wicket gate, for there, as i am informed, i shall be put in a way to be rid of my heavy burden." then worldly wise advises christian: "wilt thou hearken to me if i give thee counsel?" christian answers: "if it be good i will, for i stand in need of good counsel." worldly wise then answers: "i would advise thee that thou, with all speed, get thyself rid of thy burden, for thou will never be settled in thy mind until then." palmer answered with christian's speech: "that is which i seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden, but get it off myself i cannot, nor is there any man in our country who can take it off my shoulders." [illustration: jake as christian] jake, smiling more pleasantly than ever, answered, "i kin." suiting the action to the word, he flung his burden into the slough of despond. the pond was a thin piece of canvas painted to represent the quagmire. the burden made a sound as of the house falling down. jake wiped the perspiration from his face and, spitting a mouthful of tobacco juice to one side, he gazed on the audience and smiled. it was too much for even the staid old church members. the laughter was so great that palmer pulled the curtain and announced an organ recital. christian's burden was replaced on jake's back, he was admonished to pay closest attention to palmer's promptings. jake continued the pilgrimage. in the next scene jake, representing christian on his journey from the city of destruction to the celestial city, must pass through the dark valley of shadows. when jake, instead of keeping to the right and following the straight and narrow path, boldly walked into the mouth of the burning pit, out of which palmer was sending sparks and smoke. palmer again pulled the curtain on the scene. jake sat on a stage stump. smoke was still coming from the pot of damp straw. tears filled jake's eyes, tears caused by the smoke. palmer rushed back and forth, declaring jake had made a farce of the most beautiful and inspiring scene in the entire exhibition. i was substituted for jake. i knew every speech; i had learned them all and it went good to the last. the second book is even more impressive and instructive than the first. you should read it. as the young ladies walk in at the beautiful gate of the city, pilgrim is seen through a gauze; one by one the sheets of gauze are pulled down until christian fades away like a vision. it held the audience dumb; they never witnessed anything like it; neither did i. palmer wouldn't let me speak the words; he said they must be delivered with great dramatic effect. the words are: "i see myself now at the end of my journey, my toilsome days are ended. i have formerly lived by hearsay and faith, but i now go where i shall live by sight." but glorious it was to see how the open regions were filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players upon stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up and followed one another in at the gates of the beautiful city. here the young ladies, with lighted lamps, passed in. as pilgrim disappeared, palmer, with great effect, ended the scene with the eloquent words: "now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed under him and, after he had said: 'take me, for i come unto thee,' he ceased to be seen of them." alfred griffith hatfield. footnotes: [b] bacon. [c] gravy. chapter fifteen do not believe all that you hear, for hot air men are hawking; and even keep a cautious ear when you, yourself, are talking. brownsville, pa. my dear son: i take my pen in hand to write you a few lines hoping that they may find you as well as we all are here. mother reads your letters to us at dinner time. i hope you are living better. i never knew a genius that cared much about his eating, therefore, i do not suppose palmer ever gave it a thought that you were suffering. he is a good fellow and i know he will make out well, except in the eating line. you need not worry about your shotgun; i have it and will look after it until such time as i feel you should be permitted to handle dangerous weepuns. turner simpson says your cousin charley got that hound pup weeks ago; he claims charley said you sent him after the pup. all your friends inquire about you. bill johnston told me he was sorry he had to have you arrested for overturning his hay stack; that he did not believe you was to blame, the boys with you led you into oversetting the haystack to catch the rabbit. your uncle joe was in town saturday, got tite and carried on high. he is getting worse as he gets older. betsy is mortified to death. they were just at communion afore it happened. how is palmer doing? is he making money? did he get my letter? hoping to hear from you very often and that you will remember that your father and mother and all the children think of you daily and all look forward to the time when we shall see you again, your affectionate father, j. c. h. alfred was living in a little world all his own. jake, bedford tom, mrs. palmer, gideon, tom white, were its inhabitants. palmer was not of it. he was not of the agreeable circle. alfred often read letters from home to mrs. palmer. she was greatly interested in the correspondence. alfred knew she desired him to read the father's letter to her. in a serious manner he advised the letter was a business one. this seemed to make the good woman even more anxious. she actually quizzed alfred as to whether the letter was not one demanding payment of money borrowed by her husband. alfred asked her if she knew the amount due his father. she did not, but said she would ascertain; further, she would exert herself to earn money to repay it. alfred appreciated this and regretted he had ever mentioned the flitch in his letters to the folks at home. he felt that he had reflected upon mrs. palmer. he re-read his father's letter that he might expunge the reference to the scant living. he read to where bill johnston had apologized for having him arrested; he did not care to have mrs. palmer know of this. [illustration: palmer and the wise virgin] palmer, with his panorama and side issues, was making money, and there was not a day, not an hour, that something coarse, selfish or mean, did not show itself in word or deed of the man. the half dozen young women, who took part in the final scene, were robed in long, pale blue gowns, worn over their street apparel. it was necessary to fit the costumes on the young ladies previous to the opening or first exhibition. in arranging with the fathers or mothers of the girls, palmer always emphasized the statement that: "my wife, mrs. palmer will take charge of the young ladies, show them their costumes." mrs. palmer was always ready to do so but palmer was always there. he insisted, he forced his services in fitting the costumes. he would take an unusually long time to smooth out the wrinkles on the waist and bust lines. all this was done so unconcerned that none would ever suspect he was playing a part. his wife would flush up, walk away and occupy herself with other duties. if there was a foolish virgin among the damsels--and there were some foolish ones in those days, though not so many as now--palmer would begin a flirtation, kept up until he departed. this was only one of the many mean traits of the man that lessened alfred's respect for him. palmer could not understand alfred. always full of fun and mischief, always ready to laugh, yet at times the boy was positively rude to the man nor would he permit any familiarity from palmer. one day in setting up the frame of the panorama, several members of the church in which it was to be exhibited, entered the auditorium unnoticed. palmer, while driving a nail, miscalculated, the hammer came down on one of his fingers. flinging the hammer on the floor with all the force he could command, he poured forth a torrent of profanity. gideon, by signs, gave palmer to understand that others were near. with a change as quick as a flash, palmer grabbed alfred by the coat collar, nearly lifting the boy off his feet. with a voice that sounded as if it were choking with indignation, he began: "you young scamp, i never heard you swear like this before, and i never want to hear you again. how dare you use such language in this house?" the onslaught was so sudden and unexpected that alfred was taken off his feet. he had been in high good humor, laughing heartily at palmer's mishap. palmer led the intruders out in the auditorium ere the boy gathered his scattered senses. jake exclaimed: "huh! balmur knocks his fingers und makes oudt alfred does der tammen." shaking his head, he continued: "balmur beats der bugs." alfred was savage with anger. he started after palmer but gideon restrained him, standing in his pathway, holding him back, appealing to jake to assist him in controlling the boy. gideon persuaded alfred to drop the matter for the time. jake desired that the boy call palmer to account. he answered gideon's appeals in a sort of careless, i-don't-care way: "vell, it's yust like alfredt feels, if he vants to yump balmur, i tink he kann handle him, i von't interfere. it iss none uf my biziness, yett." [illustration: palmer grabbed alfred by the collar] it was late in the afternoon when palmer again appeared in the church. he entered, as was his custom, all hurry and bustle. "hello, alfred! i thought you'd have the panorama all set. waiting for the boss, hey?" "yes, i'm waiting for the boss and i want to tell the boss the next time he tries to make a scapegoat out of me before a lot of church people he'll hear something he won't like. i'm no clod-hopper to have you make me appear a rowdy. you daddy your own cussing." palmer seemed greatly surprised at this and, as usual, in an argument with his people, became greatly excited. he endeavored to win with a bluff. "here, my young man, you're always playing your jokes on jake and all the others; i was only having a little fun with you, i didn't intend to hurt your feeling." "feelings! feelings! what about my good name? what'll those men think of me? i'm ashamed to face them again while i'm here." "oh, you're too soft to travel; you ought to be at home with your gilt edge ideas." "well, i can go home," hotly retorted alfred. "i've got a written agreement with your father and i'll hold you to it," threatened palmer. "you'll hold me to nothing. you've got no writings that'll permit your making me out a rowdy." "now see here, mr. minstrel," and palmer assumed mock politeness, "i've heard enough of your slack; dry up or i'll make you." alfred jumped to the middle of the platform and dared palmer to lay his hand on him. palmer got so excited he could not talk. gideon, as usual, in his quiet, argumentative way, endeavored to smooth the matter over: "come on, let's get ready for tonight. we're going to have the best business since we opened." "i've quit," announced alfred, "i'm going home." jake's smile fled; his under jaw hung down, giving his face an expression alfred had never previously seen it wear. gideon turned even more yellowish looking. bedford tom ejected a mouthful of tobacco juice as he blurted out: "i pity pilgrim's progress." gideon continued his plea: "well, if this company isn't demoralized i don't know what i'm talking about. now see here, boys, listen to me; we're together, let's reason like honest people should: to have you," and he looked at alfred, "quit thus abruptly would cause innocent ones to suffer. see what an embarrassment it would be to mrs. palmer. why, it would kill her. she has sacrificed everything she holds dear in the world; she has two children." (gideon had won his point, it was not necessary for him to say more). "she has not seen those children in two years; she hopes to have them with her soon. see what a disappointment it would be to her and the children. alfred, as at present arranged, we could not spare you. i will get palmer and we will fix this matter up satisfactorily to you." alfred was just a boy, not unlike any other boy. he did not desire to quit; and he knew he was indispensable to the successful production of the panorama. he also felt that he had won thus far. he did not yield, outwardly at least, but agreed that he would await gideon's interview with palmer. he had no preconceived ideas as to what to do or say further, but, like all who are disgruntled, he could not bring himself to say that he would. while gideon was seeking palmer, jake endeavored to console alfred: "ef you do go out of der paneramy it vill be too tam bad; i will not acdt out annudder time. i toldt balmur delas' time. i'm no handt at paneramy buziness und it's no more fur jake to do it." bedford tom put another blotch on the white pine floor as he patted jake on the back: "you're all yerself agin, ole man, your sensibilness is kerrect; don't try to act in a panerammer or enythin' else. ef ye hed seen yerself with thet tume-stun, er whatever it wus, on yer back, an' wallerin' in thet painted pond, ye'd never went back to bedford. ye certainly made a muss of hit." "vell, i toldt heem i vus ashamed mit myself, end he sedt: 'oh, hell yu kann standt und look myzerbul, kan't yu?'" bedford tom laughed in the honest dutchman's face as he assured him he looked "myzerbul enuff but his actin' was more myzerbul then his looks." "vhy don'dt yu try it ef yu tink it ees so tam easy?" was jake's answer. gideon walked in, beckoned to alfred: "come down to palmer's room, he wants to talk this whole thing over." alfred did not care to meet mrs. palmer. "tell palmer to come up here," was the message gideon carried back. alfred was feeling just a little ashamed of the part he had played in the dispute; he felt that he had gone a bit further than he should. but his instinctive dislike to palmer had grown day by day. the man's face, that index to character, had repulsed him when they first met. there are lines in the face chiseled by a sculptor who never makes a wrong stroke. the face is a truthful record of our vices and virtues. it is a map of life that outlines character so clearly that there is no getting away from the story it tells. the face is a signboard showing which way the man or woman is traveling, which of life's crossroads they are on. the face cannot betray the years one has traveled until the mind gives its consent. the mind is the master. if the mind holds youthful, innocent thoughts, the face will retain a youthful appearance. and the more permanent are the marks made by petulancy, hatred and selfishness thereon. the best letter of recommendation ever written is an open fearless face. palmer put in an appearance, his face showing plainly that he was not at ease. his manner was as flambuoyant as ever: "where is this mainstay of the only panorama on earth? come here, boy, i want to talk to you like a father: "i was a boy not long ago, unthinking, idle, wild and young, i laughed, and danced and talked and sung." the antics palmer cut while delivering this couplet were truly amusing. palmer was an actor. placing his hand on alfred's shoulder, gazing into his face, he continued: "just at the age twixt boy and youth, when thought is speech and speech is truth." then quoting christian in the pilgrim's progress: "i have given him my faith and sworn my allegiance to him. how then can i go back from this and not be hanged as a traitor?" palmer pointed his long, bony finger at alfred and awaited a reply. it came: "i was indeed engaged in your dominions but your services were hard and your wages such as a man could not live on. for the wages of sin is death." palmer, a little discomforted, led the boy to one side, saying: "now see here, young fellow, i'm as old as your father; i don't look it, but i am. now you want to quit, eh? you wouldn't be at home four days before you would wish yourself back here. you are not rich, your father is not rich. you have to make a living. i'll give you an opportunity to make money. you are learning this business, you have good ideas. you remain with me, i'll make a man of you; i'll put you in a way to make more money than you've ever seen." alfred intimated that he could not see himself making a great deal of money at twenty dollars a month. "why, don't you count your board, as anything?" "well, i'm not satisfied. i'm worth more than twenty dollars a month to you," stubbornly contended alfred. "but you and your father are both bound up to me in a written agreement. do you want to break it? would that be right?" "well, you broke your written contract with the members of rock hill church. you said gideon made the contract without consulting you. grandpap made this contract without consulting me." palmer laughed long and loud: "egad, that's good! this kid finds me skinning a couple of old duffers and forthwith he sets about to skin me. the harvest truly is plenteous but the laborers are few; ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you." pointing at alfred, he continued: "but remember, the love of money is the root of all evil. say, what are you going to do with all this money?" "buy a farm, some day," answered alfred. "how great a matter a little fire kindleth," quoted palmer as he pleadingly asked: "say, kid, how much are you going to hang me up for?" "well, if you give me fifty dollars a month, i'll stick to you." "holy mother of all that's evil; the devil and tom walker! say, who do you take after? not your daddy. he's easy. fifty dollars a month? say, i worked two years and had a wife and two children to take care of and i never cleared forty dollars a month. i've been a lifetime working myself up to what i am and you jump into the game, inexperienced, green as a cucumber, and want to hog the persimmons at the start. 'taint fair, 'taint right; i'm an honest man; i want to treat everybody right. you're taking advantage of me. it's the principle of the thing i look at." "well, get another boy, you can find one any day. if i stay with this panorama i will get fifty dollars a month." "yes, and if i permit you to hold me up this time, the next move you'll want the panorama. your uncle william served his time like an honest boy, he has made a fortune. he has the best farm in fayette county; he has money, he is the judge of the county court. he never got where he is by breaking written agreements." "yes, but that was different, uncle william was learning a trade. he got all kinds of chances to make money on the outside of his work." "hold on right there--i'll give you any opportunity you want to make money on the side. you can sell the "life of john bunyan," "the pilgrim's progress," "paradise lost," the steel engraving of the twelve apostles or anything we sell and i'll allow you a good, big commission." the sale of the above mentioned articles was that which first turned alfred against palmer. the sneaking, wheedling methods he employed, the subterfuges, the lies in disposing of books and pictures, were the things which made the man most repulsive to alfred. he therefore felt insulted when palmer offered him the opportunity to make money from this source. alfred plainly informed palmer that he would not have anything to do with the sale of the books or pictures. "huh! i suppose you feel above selling books that are in the libraries of the best people in the world. you'd prefer, no doubt, to sell pills." a little abashed, alfred came back with: "well, if i did sell pills, i sold them on the square and at a less price than they were worth and they were sold to folks that needed them and if they needed them and wern't able to pay for them they got them free and we didn't lie about what we did with the money. we didn't pretend to send it to the heathen." palmer interrupted the boy: "wait and see how you get along when you strike your own gait, when you get your own show out. that's your idea; that's why you are so unreasonable. i'm going to give you the money you ask, not because it's right but because i want to do what's right. if i'd let you go, you'd go back to brownsville and it would not be a week until you'd have some fool thing afloat that would bring all sorts of trouble on your folks. i'm doing this for your people, not for you." alfred had won. he was not entirely free from the feeling that he had not acted quite right but he stilled his conscience by arguing to himself that grandpap had no authority to enter into a contract for him; besides hadn't his mother declared that no indenture was valid without her signature, that no child of hers should ever be bound to anybody? when she demanded to see the papers it was not convenient for those interested to have them at hand. the mother had forcibly informed palmer that there must be no restraint upon alfred should he become homesick and that he must be permitted to return to his home at any time he desired to do so. all of which palmer had unreservedly agreed to. bedford, pa. dear father: your welcome letter came to hand today; glad you are all well and hearty. i've had a big fuss with palmer. i wanted to quit. he coaxed me to stay and promised me fifty dollars a month. is that paper he holds on me binding? could he hold my wages if he wanted to. he told gideon he was going to record the indenture when we got to leesburg and it would always stand in evidence against me. he is not the kind of man grandpap and uncle thomas crack him up to be. if palmer don't pay the fifty, i don't stay, papers or no papers. he is gouging everybody and it is no sin to gouge him. say pap, now don't get mad; how much did he set you back? tell me. if i get the fifty i think i can get yours. if cousin charley has my hound he'll have to give it up when i get home. if i get the fifty i'll buy me a new shotgun like capt. abrams has. my love to muz and all the children and lin. your affectionate son, alfred griffith hatfield. p. s. i am not afraid of palmer; i could break him in two. but i don't like to break the law. let me know about the paper he holds, he would do anything, law or no law. * * * * * since alfred's experience with the law in the eli affair it could not be said that he had more respect for the law but undoubtedly he had more fear for it as evidenced by his letter to the father. things went on much the same with the panorama. palmer was more polite and condescending toward alfred in speech, but many little inconveniences were put upon him that he had not experienced previous to the unpleasantness. jake seemed to have fallen under the displeasure of palmer and many were the squabbles between them. at one place where the panorama exhibited the church was too small. an old carriage factory was used instead. at one end there was a large freight lift elevator. palmer's inventive genius prompted him to use the platform of the elevator for a stage. it was about twenty by thirty feet in dimensions much larger than the stages usually constructed for the panorama. when the elevator was in place it formed a part of the floor of the room. palmer and jake labored all day and into the night to elevate it about two feet above the floor. when elevated thus it was pronounced by the little company the best stage since the season began; just high enough to show the effects to best advantage. jake said he hoped "dey vould strike more blaces mit dings like dis." the building of a platform or a stage in the various churches had made strenuous work for jake. all was set for the unveiling of the wonderful work of art. the old factory was crowded. all went smoothly until the scene where "faithful" is adjudged guilty and condemned to the terrible punishment supposed to be meted out to him. this scene is not visible to the audience but is described by the lecturer, as "faithful" is supposed to be burned to ashes after being scourged and pricked with knives. palmer had just concluded the speech: "now i saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for 'faithful', who, as soon as his adversaries had dispatched him, was taken up into it, and straightway, was carried up through the clouds with sound of trumpet." palmer sounded the trumpet. tom white, in a long, white flowing robe, with gauze veils over his face, is pulled up by a block and tackle, the rope concealed by the long, white robe. with appropriate music this scene was one of the most beautiful in the exhibition. the trumpet sounded signaling "faithful's" ascension. how what followed happened no one will ever know. palmer blamed jake. jake never admitted or denied that he was the cause. when there should have been an ascension there was a descension. the elevator slipped a cog, or something; there was a slow, regular descent, not too hasty. down went the whole panorama, descending in time with the music; down went the city of vanity with its fair, its thieves and fakirs painted on canvas, while poor "faithful" dangled in mid-air. as the elevator sank out of sight, as the characters, painting and frame disappeared below the floor, the audience applauded approvingly at first, then the absurdity of the scene struck them and approving applause changed to aggravating laughter. jake stood manfully by the rope he was holding; palmer was wild; alfred and bedford tom were doing all they could to suppress their laughter. suddenly the thing stopped, struck the floor in the room below. jake, grabbing the windlass, soon had the panorama slowly ascending. as it came into view the audience applauded lustily. mrs. palmer kept the ascension music going until the stage was back in its proper place when palmer, who was always seeking an opportunity to make a speech, walked out in front of the curtain and explained that the panorama weighed several tons, the great weight had broken the lift. at this juncture jake appeared with two heavy pieces of scantling; unmindful of palmer, he began spiking the props under the edge of the platform. the strokes of the hammer completely drowned palmer's voice. when jake sent the last nail home he arose from his knees with a "dere, tam you, i ges you'll holdt now." palmer was in a greater rage than at any time since the tour began. his wife, gideon and several others endeavored to pacify him. everybody but alfred came in for a share of the abuse; even his poor wife, who was really deserving of all praise for saving the scene, was more than censured. alfred could not control his laughter; he fled fearing palmer would turn on him. palmer swore so loudly that gideon came from the front to quiet him. he swore at gideon; he did not care if the whole town heard him curse. he had worn his life out to produce the pilgrim's progress, and now a darn clod-hopper, a reuben, a gilly, a jay, had undone the work of a lifetime and made him (palmer) ridiculous in the eyes of the world. what would people say? what would church people say? they would not pay him for such an exhibition. would he (jake) furnish the money to pay the expenses after ruining the business of the panorama? jake sat on a box, his eyes following palmer as he walked from one side of the platform to the other, busying himself all the while with some part of the panorama, never looking toward jake. jake's smile was the same, that is around the mouth; but looking more closely you could see an expression in the deep-set blue eyes that betrayed feelings far removed from those which cause smiles. palmer concluded his tirade by flinging a hammer on the floor and declaring his belief that the mistakes were the result of a deliberate attempt upon the part of the perpetrator to ruin him. "but i will not be driven away from this work of my life by conspirators." jake had but a limited understanding of palmer's language, yet sufficient of what had been said sifted through his mind to convince him that palmer had made strong charges against him. jake, in a tone of voice that would have convinced anyone more reasonable than palmer, of his sorrow, inquired: "vot i tid?" "vot i tid?" repeated palmer, imitating jake. "vot i tid? ha! ha! what didn't you do? from the night we opened it's been one round of breaks and blunders upon your part." jake, in open-eyed surprise, repeated: "breaks? breaks? breaks? vot i breaks?" palmer never ceased talking nor noticed jake's questions. pointing at jake, he said: "first you assumed the part of christian, the most important character to be impersonated. every schoolboy or girl knows the christian makes a pilgrimage beginning at the city of destruction, from which he flees to the celestial city. he carries a burden, of which he is relieved at the proper time. he is supposed to encounter all sorts of hardships and avoid pitfalls of danger, coming out triumphant at the end of his journey. i ordered you to read the book. alfred read it and is familiar with every detail; you know nothing, positively nothing." "vot i tid?" again demanded jake, a bit sternly. "vot you tid?" and palmer pretended to tear his hair. "the first night, the first scene, by holding the book you were supposed to be reading, down by your knees, gaping at the audience like a baboon. you rolled over on the floor in the slough of despond like a hog wallowing; you throwed your burden in the slough, then walked in the pond after it. the pond you was supposed to be sinking into, drowning, you walked over it as you would over a lawn or carpeted room, not sinking one inch in it. you gathered up christian's burden. instead of replacing it on your back you took it under your arm like a basket; instead of walking as you were directed, towards the wicket gate, the shining light, you steered straight into the bowels of hell. not being satisfied with going to hell yourself, you so arrange this lift, this platform that, at the very climax of the most beautiful scene in the marvelous exhibition, you send the whole panorama down to the lower story of the building, thus conveying to the audience the idea that we are burlesquing pilgrim's progress. instead of steering for heaven, steering for hell! bah! every last one in that audience will leave this building with the idea that the entire panorama went to hell." then in an injured, pleading tone, as if scared, palmer continued: "if this goes ahead of us it will surely ruin our business. i will sell my interest in this show for one-half of what i'd taken yesterday." all this was acting. poor jake was completely confused, dumfounded. most conscientious, honest and sincere, without deceit, he scarcely knew what to say to explain that he was unfortunate and all that had happened was unavoidable. he said: "meester balmur, i'm werry sorry dot i haf you so much troubles made. i haf neffer toldt you dot i cud do vork as alfredt und tom. i cannot speek me plain und i did yust so goot as i cud. i am sorry i kan't exbress my, my, my feelings mit dis ting, but i hope you must exkuse me." palmer interrupted: "oh, well; it's gone beyond my patience to stand it longer. you are an incumbrance, you are a barnacle. i'll sell you my interest in this enterprise and you can go on and run it; this partnership business don't suit me." palmer ended it by saying: "i'll see you in the morning." the little party with the panorama were generally quartered with members of the congregation of the church in which the panorama exhibited. in making contracts with the various churches, palmer, whenever possible, made it a part of the agreement that his people and horses were to be boarded. one family would take palmer and his wife, another a couple of the others. when palmer paid their board they were quartered in the meanest, cheapest taverns or boarding houses in the town. at times the company would lodge in a house the owners of which were very poor people who were sorely in need. it seemed to alfred the more needy a family appeared, the more insistent palmer was in forcing pictures, books, etc., upon them. it was a trick of his to hang a picture in the best room, place books on the center table. if they insisted that conditions would not permit enjoying the luxury of the books or pictures, palmer would become insulting and complain of the quality or quantity of the food. alfred and jake were both so thoroughly ashamed at times they would go elsewhere for their meals. it happened that, when the trouble came up between jake and palmer, the entire party were quartered at a modest little tavern kept by a pennsylvania dutchman of large girth and little patience. palmer had failed to induce him or his good wife, who did all the cooking, to buy pictures or books. "ve vant no more picturs und ve don't reat der pooks," was the argument with which the old fellow met all of palmer's solicitations. after one of their arguments, palmer, as usual, lost his patience: "what sort of humans are you? you belong to no church. where are you bound for? like jake--hell, i suppose." then he laughed sarcastically. "vell, ve haf got along always in frostburgh und hell can't be much vorse und if you vant to sell picturs und pooks to pay fur your bordt, you besser stop mit con lynch (referring to a rival tavern). ve don't keep travelers to kepp oudt of hell, ve keep bordters to keep oudt of der poor house." palmer answered the old fellow's argument with a reply that he thought humorous: "well, if i'd thought there was a poorer house in town than yours i'd stopped there." "vell, it's not too late, gitt oudt, tam you, pack up your pooks und picturs und gitt oudt purty quick or i'll trow you oudt on der rote." palmer, his wife and gideon, sought quarters at the other tavern; jake and alfred remained. the next day was one of unpleasantness. palmer never permitted an opportunity to pass that he did not cast slurs at all, jake in particular. it was evident that palmer was imbibing more freely than usual. he constantly drank whiskey; he was drinking to excess. mrs. palmer cried almost constantly. gideon was more nervous than usual. he was at palmer's side constantly; everywhere palmer went gideon followed. long and earnest talks were engaged in, palmer always obstinate, gideon pleading. when palmer left the place where the panorama was on exhibition, mrs. palmer stood in or near the door gazing out wistfully until he reappeared; then seat herself in the furthermost part of the room from her husband seemingly desirous of keeping out of his sight. alfred finally inquired if he could do anything for her. in a few words she gave him to understand that her husband was of a very excitable nature at intervals, took to drink and continued it until he fell sick. she begged alfred to have jake apologize and not to quarrel or cross the man, no matter what provocation he gave them, all of which alfred promised her. jake readily agreed to do anything she suggested. alfred and jake retired to their room where jake took alfred into his confidence, informing the boy of the circumstances that led to his connection with the panorama. palmer had an advertisement in a newspaper offering flattering inducements to a man with six hundred dollars. jake read the advertisement. palmer visited jake in answer to his letter. his smooth talk won the honest german. palmer was very sorry that jake had not written sooner as he had about concluded a deal with a man in brownsville and before he could arrange with jake he must go to brownsville, see the man and make some sort of an honorable arrangement to relieve him of the promises made. he induced jake to accompany him to brownsville. hence the visit of palmer and jake to alfred's home. afterwards palmer informed jake that he was compelled to pay alfred's father two hundred dollars to release him from their agreement. the honest german was thereby convinced that the panorama was a good investment. he persuaded his mother to borrow six hundred dollars, all of which was turned over to palmer. jake's understanding was that he was to be paid thirty dollars a week for his team services. jake was to have charge of all moneys received, the six hundred dollars was to be repaid from profits of the venture. jake had received to that date forty-one dollars. drawing a paper from an old fashioned leather purse, passing it to alfred: "here iss der writing vot vill tell you how it all iss." alfred read and re-read the paper which was in palmer's handwriting. the legal phraseology was somewhat confusing, but his deductions, were that jake was to receive thirty dollars a week for the use of the team and his and bedford tom's services; that jake was to handle the money; that he, jacob wilson, was to retain six hundred dollars from the profits and that, when the said six hundred dollars had been paid, the terms of the contract had been complied with. such was alfred's understanding of the contract. he became convinced that palmer had in some way defrauded, or intended to defraud jake. the fact that palmer had repeatedly asserted that he could get rid of jake--he so informed alfred when urging the son to influence the father to take an interest in the panorama--caused alfred to feel sure that jake was being tricked. respecting mrs. palmer's request and owing to palmer's condition, alfred decided to keep the matter quiet for the present. ending the interview with jake, he returned the paper to the german with the advice that, when palmer got off his spree, to take the matter up, have the contract examined by a lawyer. although jake was quiet and undemonstrative, he was no easy man to control when aroused. his limited experience in business, his unsophisticated nature naturally made him suspicious and there was not an hour while he was awake that he did not seek alfred to talk over the possibilities of palmer absolutely dropping him without returning any of his money. the night following that of the scene between jake and palmer, after a day that saw palmer in front of the bar of the tavern at least twenty times, the second exhibition of the panorama began. it was the first town wherein the exhibition failed to attract a larger audience the second night than that which witnessed the first exhibition. the facts were palmer's condition was apparent to all with whom he came in contact. the talk went over the town that one of the preachers with the show was on a tear and the other one couldn't hold him down. the church people held consultations and it was determined to cancel the third night. the second exhibition was even more ragged and uneven than the first night. the lift, or platform, did not give way and carry the painted pictures towards the lower regions; "faithful" made the ascension as scheduled; and the climaxes and tableaux were all more beautifully presented than on the opening night. but the eloquent speeches were delivered by palmer in a thick-tongued voice; his pronunciation was so imperfect that many of the most beautiful speeches were lost upon the audience. palmer did not complete his lecture. all were nervous, all were laboring under great strain. the members of the little party exerted themselves; not one made a mistake, not one forgot a line. but palmer, the manager, the proprietor, he who should have been the first in the work, palmer was drunk, and the pilgrim's progress was ruined, insofar as that town was concerned. palmer had become frenzied the night previous and cried over the excusable blunders of an honest meaning man. yet tonight he had ruined the entertainment, disgusted all who heard him. palmer imagined the performance the most excellent yet given, he so informed all. none had the heart to correct his bewildered imaginings. when gideon came back and informed him that the church officials would have nothing further to do with the exhibition and that if it were put on the next night they would announce to the town that they were in no way responsible, he defied the church people, swore he would compel them to comply with their contract, that he would show, (he always used the word "show" when he was excited or drunk), the next night and several nights thereafter. he left the scene for the tavern. jake and alfred repaired to their lodgings. a long time after they had retired, a timid rapping on the door aroused them. the door opened, and gideon and mrs. palmer were standing in the hall. the woman's face was the picture of misery; gideon was in a terrible state of mind. palmer had continued his debauch until he was frenzied. both feared to remain in the house with him; he had attempted to injure both of them. gideon implored alfred and jake to endeavor to calm him; at least, prevent him drinking any more. jake was loath to go. he had no fear of palmer but brooded over the abuse the man had heaped upon him--bedford tom had fully explained and exaggerated all that palmer had said and that jake did not comprehend at the time. jake, after due deliberation, decided in his mind that if palmer ever abused him again, and mrs. palmer was not near, palmer would feel the weight of his hand. therefore jake thought he had best not trust himself in palmer's presence. loud words could be heard. alfred trying the door, found it locked. the landlord demanded to know who was there. alfred informed him that he was a friend of palmer's and had come to look after him. he was admitted. palmer was singing a popular song of the day at the top of his voice, the landlord endeavoring to quiet him. when alfred caught a glimpse of palmer he could not resist laughing outright. the man was minus coat, vest and outer shirt, his long, yellow neck, his sharp face with its tuft of beard, the hooked nose, made his head appear like punch on a stick. catching sight of alfred, palmer extended his hand and began singing a negro minstrel ditty, cake-walking around the boy several times, his hand extended as if he were inviting the boy to join in his dance. "mr. palmer! mr. palmer! it's very late. the folks in the house desire to sleep. come on with me; come on to your room," pleaded alfred. palmer kept up his singing, keeping time with his feet. jake appeared. palmer rushed toward him, threw his arms about him, embraced him, calling him his only friend. "stick to me, jake, i'll do the right thing by you. i know you're all right; i am ashamed of myself for cussing you. but--never--mind. come--on--jake--come--on. where's gideon? i want to give you $ . . come on jake." jake held palmer like a baby, pleading with him to go to bed. palmer swore he would not leave the room until the landlord gave him another drink. then he wanted all to drink with him. all declined. then he wanted to fight the whole crowd. alfred and jake finally pushed and carried palmer to his room. they deposited him upon the bed and held him there by force until his senses began to leave him. sleep overcame him and, although he kept up a twitching of the fingers and mutterings, he slept. alfred and jake both fell asleep. when alfred awoke, palmer still slept. he tiptoed toward palmer and was more than startled to see mrs. palmer seated at the head of the bed, where she had sat all night. gideon called the boy and jake into a conference. it was gideon's idea that the party leave the town immediately, keep palmer on the road away from drink until he was completely sobered up. the panorama was dismounted and loaded in the big wagon in less time than ever before. jake gave the word and they were on their way. palmer fretted and fumed the whole journey; jake did not drive fast enough to please him; he would walk, then ride a short distance; all the while complaining and censuring first one, then another. jake had not traversed half the day's journey until he became convinced that palmer's effusive exhibitions of friendship the night previous were prompted by the libations of which he had partaken. finally, donning hat and coat palmer started at a pace so brisk that he was soon a considerable distance in advance of the slow moving wagon. jake was thoroughly disgusted. at a little distance on he made excuse the harness was broken, and halted the team at least half an hour. jake, like alfred, concluded that palmer would go a little ways and await them. when jake resumed the journey he drove the team somewhat faster, prompted to do so by the anxiety of the good woman, who sat by his side straining her eyes, gazing ahead along the white, dusty way. the object she looked for did not come into sight. the shadows of night began to fall. jake had the team going at a faster pace than the big wagon had ever sped previously. all eyes looked down the pike ahead of the team; all expected every minute to see palmer on the road ahead of them. gideon broke the painful silence: "whoa! whoa! jake, pull the horses up." jake obeyed. all turned towards gideon. "no man could keep ahead of the team the rate we have been going. he couldn't keep ahead of us even if he had run, let alone walked. if palmer hasn't caught onto someone who is traveling in a buggy or other light vehicle, he has laid down by the roadside and fallen asleep and failed to hear us go by. i will go back and look for him; it's only two miles further to town, you all go on." all hesitated. jake then proposed that the wagon halt where it was and all go back seeking palmer. jake, alfred and bedford tom retracing their steps, looking on each side of the road as they walked. every person they met was questioned, but none had noticed a man answering palmer's description. inquiry was made at every farm house. finally a traveler on horseback informed the searchers that a man answering the description of palmer was seated on the driver's seat of the stage coach going west. the three retraced their steps and gave gideon and the wife the information gained. driving into hancock, gideon, who was best informed as to the lines of travel, decided he would take the train for cumberland and ascertain there as to whether palmer had been a passenger on the stage coach. later in the evening news came that a stranger had been discovered by the roadside dead. to attempt to describe the misery of the wife would be impossible, and to aggravate the situation, to still more deeply aggrieve the trouble laden woman, a letter came with the news that one of their children was very ill at home. jake and alfred mounted the horses and rode to the point where the dead man was found. they arrived previous to the coroner; the body had not been removed. it was a lonely place on the pike. two or three country folk stood near the fence, recounting for the tenth time the circumstances attending the discovery of the body. the darkness, the presence of death, were surroundings to which alfred was not accustomed. the body lay about twenty yards from the road under a big tree. as they climbed the fence and faced towards the spot, a stench met their nostrils. they looked at each other. jake was the first to recover his speech: "phew! if dot's bolmur, he iss spiled werry queek." alfred reclimbed the fence. jake looked over the dead man and remarked: "it don'dt look more like bolmur as you do." mounting their horses they were soon back at the tavern. the wife gazed appealingly at them as they entered, and, in a trembling voice, asked: "no news?" "no, it vasn't him, he iss been dedt a veek or two." jake spoke as if disappointed that the dead man was not palmer. later, alfred was lying on the bed laughing, jake, looking at him with a smile which spoke inquisitiveness more plainly than he could have articulated the word, inquired: "vot you laffin at? you laff like a tam fool. it makes me feel like a tam fool, too; i kan't tell but vot you iss laffin at my back." this only brought more laughter. finally, jake began laughing also. "i see, you iss laffin becos i toldt mrs bolmur dot de dedt man vos spildt." "why, jake, the manner in which you gave the news to her sounded as if we were disappointed that the dead man was not palmer." jake arose, walked over to alfred, his face assuming a serious aspect: "it's a werry great bitty for der poor heart-broken-down woman dot it was not bolmur." gideon telegraphed from cumberland that palmer was there; that he would arrive on the next train. jake and alfred had the panorama all set. night came on and neither gideon nor palmer had arrived. no train was scheduled to arrive until midnight. mrs. palmer was too nervous, too ill to give any advice or to even offer a suggestion. "could she play the music as usual if they went on with the exhibition?" "yes, she would get a cup of tea and be ready for her part of the work." alfred arranged with the son of one of the church members to take charge of the financial end. jake said he could do the part of christian and he was sure that he would not make any mistakes. the church was crowded. alfred had assured himself a thousand times that he could go through the whole dialogue. he was correct but there was quite a difference in the delivery of the impassioned speeches; the weak voice of an amateurish schoolboy could not impress the auditors as would that of an elocutionist with a deep musical voice. the panorama did not give its usual satisfaction although jake, to his credit, went through his part without a mistake. but he did so in such an awkward, halting way, that it seemed like anything but a character to excite sympathy; in fact, his fall into the slough of despond was so clumsy that he injured one of his knees. all the while he was rolling about, supposed to be sinking, he was holding his knee in both hands and crying: "by yimminy crickitts, uh! uh!" people sitting near the platform were tittering and laughing. gideon and palmer arrived sometime during the night. gideon was up and about early. he advised that palmer would be all right by night. gideon appeared more ill at ease than alfred had ever seen him. back of the scenes was palmer so drunk he could barely articulate. he looked at jake and alfred as they entered and said: "i--can't--work--tonight; go--on--with--the--performance. i'm going--to--bed." with this he stretched himself out on the floor. jake and alfred gathered him up and laid him none too gently to one side of the stage. confusion or some evil spirit awakened palmer. he walked out into the auditorium. sitting near his wife, he attracted the attention of many of the audience by giving orders, not only to his wife but in one or two instances he shouted at alfred. this so completely unnerved the wife that she actually made mistakes in the music cues. this confused all and the exhibition was terribly marred. the minister of the church was outraged. he ordered the panorama removed at once and palmer ejected. the town marshal escorted palmer out. alfred was so angry at the tantalizing remarks palmer had cast at him from the audience that he did not dare trust himself near the man. he warned jake: "if that palmer speaks to me i will slap his face until it is as red as he made mine." the marshal, through gideon's pleadings, did not lock palmer up but carried him to the tavern. gideon placed him in bed and returned to the church to escort the wife to the tavern. when alfred and jake appeared, gideon was pleading with palmer to go to his room. palmer was demanding drink, the landlord informed him that he sold no drink nor would he permit drink carried into his house. alfred, ashamed of the man, walked out on the sidewalk. palmer forced his way out, gideon feebly holding him. palmer gave the feeble old man a push that would have sent him headlong into the gutter had alfred not caught him. alfred stood gideon on his feet. palmer backed off a pace or two, bowing and feinting as if to fight. he cried mockingly: "who, who art thou? what kind of meat does this, our caesar feed upon that he should thus command us?" putting up his hands prize-fighter fashion, he sparred towards alfred. he made pass after pass as if to strike the boy who stood motionless, permitting palmer's fists to fly by his face without moving or dodging. whether through alfred's passiveness or by mistake, one of palmer's fists landed square on the nose of alfred. the red blood spurted over his shirt front. before jake or gideon could interfere, alfred had the man by the coat collar raining open handed slaps on his face, slaps that so resounded they could be heard above the confusion and bustle of the encounter. palmer had become as a madman. seizing alfred's arm in his teeth, sinking them into the flesh, he held on like a bulldog. the blows alfred rained on the man's face had no effect on him and it was only when beaten into insensibility that the jaws relaxed. the light was dim on the outside and those near by did not realize that palmer was biting the boy. the severe punishment he meted out to palmer did not meet with the approval of many. however, after they were separated and alfred exposed his lacerated arm the talk turned the other way: "he did not give him half enough." the landlord sent for a doctor; the arm was treated. mrs. palmer assisted in binding up the wound. alfred felt so humiliated he scarcely knew how to thank her. he requested the doctor to go up and see palmer, but the good wife had attended to his injuries. palmer, his wife and gideon, decided to travel to the next stop by train. all day on the road jake and alfred were debating as to the course they would pursue. jake was inclined to demand a settlement at once. alfred persuaded him to hold off until he heard from home, then he would endeavor to collect the amount due his father, and if jake desired to travel, he, alfred, would organize a minstrel show and they would go on the road right. the panorama was set. gideon was at the church but mrs. palmer and her husband had not put in an appearance. alfred ran out to the door to inquire of gideon as to whether palmer would be on hand. gideon assured him that the husband and wife had left their lodgings with him and should be at the church at the present time. alfred ran back to the panorama. as he passed behind the curtain he came face to face with palmer. a badly bruised, black and blue face was that into which the boy gazed. he was strongly inclined to take the man by the hand and beg his forgiveness. jake, when advised of alfred's feelings, said: "vait, you kan't tell, he may make your forgiveness. it iss his place to do der beggin'; don't you make vrendts mit him till he askts you to." palmer worked as effectually as if nothing had occurred, although his voice was unsteady at times and slightly hoarse. palmer kept out of view of the audience. alfred never worked so effectually, although his arm pained him constantly. mrs. palmer seemed in better spirits than for a long time. gideon reported professor palmer had met with a painful accident in the last town and could not be seen--this was gideon's statement to all inquiries for palmer. the next morning ladies called at the tavern with flowers. the minister called; he talked to palmer until the panorama man was so nervous he coaxed gideon to get him whiskey. the next night palmer was at the church early. he was particularly deferential to jake and alfred. anything they said or did he acquiesced in. mrs. palmer seemed like a different woman. a letter bringing good news from the sick child was ascribed by jake and alfred as the cause of her cheerfulness. gideon lingered at the church after the performance. jake asked for one hundred dollars to be paid on the morrow. gideon advised that the order must come from palmer ere he could pay out the money. jake answered: "i vill see mr. bolmur aboudt it early tomorrow." gideon begged that jake defer it: "palmer is just getting back to himself; if he gets excited he may go to drinking again." "if he does ve know how to kure him, jes give him a tam goot trashing; dot's vot vill kure him. heh, alfredt?" gideon carried the news to palmer that alfred and jake had combined and at any time they saw him look toward liquor they intended to give him a thrashing. whether gideon understood this to be the attitude of alfred and jake toward palmer or whether he used the threat to deter the drunkard, is not certain. its effect was to so embitter palmer that he set about getting rid of jake at once. mrs. palmer was assured by alfred that no such threat had ever been indulged in by jake or himself. after he had exhausted all subterfuges, palmer grudgingly gave jake the one hundred dollars. alfred was behind the scenes of the panorama dressing his sore arm. he had been thus occupied for some time when palmer and gideon entered and resumed a conversation they had evidently begun previously. gideon seemed in doubt and fearful: "but how will you manage to get rid of him?" was the question he put to palmer. "you leave that to me and don't you give him any more money; stand pat the next time he approaches you." "but he is a partner in the concern. if he went to law he could compel you to make an accounting from the time we began." "what do you think i am?" and palmer looked at gideon in disgust. "don't imagine for one moment of your innocent, unnecessary life that i would sell a reuben like jake or anyone else a third interest in this panorama for six hundred dollars. jake has no interest excepting in the profits until he is paid six hundred dollars. after the six hundred dollars is paid he has no further claim upon me. i could pay him six hundred dollars and kick him out today, or if the panorama did not make six hundred dollars this tour he would get nothing." "well, it's best you pay jake the six hundred dollars and get rid of him honestly," answered gideon. "i'll get rid of him. it's a hell of a nice business to carry two men with you that threaten if you don't carry yourself straight they will thrash you. i am justified in doing anything to free myself and the law will uphold me in it." "well, you will be compelled to get another man if you dispense with alfred," urged gideon. "oh, i can run into baltimore and get a dozen people if i want to. however, i'd like to keep the boy; he's useful and you can trust him. but he's the damndest, greenest kid that i ever met to have had the experience he has." "well, he's a pretty good boy. he did all your work the night you were not here and your wife says he did it well; the boy has talent." "talent, hell! that's not talent; that's nerve. that's why i say he's green. did he ever say anything to you about his arm where i bit him?" inquired palmer. "no; only to say it was pretty sore." "why the dam little fool could shook me down for all i had in the world, mayhem is a penal offence in maryland. that's why i say he's green. i skinned his daddy out of nearly two hundred dollars. he imagines he will get it when we go to brownsville. i'll keep this trick so dam far away from that town a crow couldn't fly to me in a week." alfred had a mind to walk out on the man and declare himself, but he held his peace. he sought jake and together they consulted an attorney. alfred's father would be compelled to bring suit where the debt was contracted, get judgment, send the transcript on before the debt could be collected. jake did not own any of the panorama proper; his agreement gave him one-third of the profits until he was paid the sum of six hundred dollars and thirty dollars a week as hire for his team. alfred did not believe palmer would do anything at once; he concluded that the talk he had overheard was of the same character as that which palmer had indulged in so often previously. alfred was in bed; jake sat by the window buried in thought. finally jake muttered: "to hell mit dis bizness, i vish i vas back at my home in bedfordt." after musing in silence for some time, he muttered: "to hell mit palmer; to hell mit gideon; to hell mit everything but der panorama." jake mused a few minutes. rising to undress, he said defiantly: "to hell mit der panorama." the following day jake asked for an accounting. palmer endeavored to put him off. "how much uv dis panorama i own?" asked jake. "oh, jake, what's the matter with you? you know what our contract is. come now, you're an intelligent man, let's do business on business principles. i'll have gideon balance the books by sunday." "i vant dem balanced today; my condract says dat i am der vun dots to handle der money; maybe i take holdt tonight." palmer became frightened. gideon furnished jake a statement showing the profits to be six hundred dollars and a few cents over. as jake understood the contract he was to receive one-third of the profits, this would entitle him to $ , one hundred of which he had received. jake immediately demanded another hundred dollars. palmer pleaded that he had sent his money away. jake was obdurate. palmer finally produced the amount. jake demanded that he have access to the books; both palmer and gideon demurred, but jake was again triumphant. however, nothing that favored jake was learned from them. hagerstown, md. dear muz: your letter to hand. pap will never get his money from palmer. he is never going to brownsville or near there. i heard him tell gideon, pap was a reuben and he had skinned him out of two hundred dollars. and pap needn't deny it to you. this man is awful; he will cheat anybody. i had to lick him, he nearly bit my arm off. i nearly beat his head off; it was the only way to get loose. i can't tell you all i know in one letter. let pap sue for his account, send the transcript on and i'll get it or i'll know why. he'll not get a chance to bite if i go at him again. i went out to your old home yesterday; they're real nice people. i found the room where i cut my name on the walnut window frame, it's nearly rubbed out. the house looks natural but the garden and flowers are not like grandmother kept them. all the old people asked about grandpap, uncle john and uncle jake. stir pap up. if i come home, i'll write you before i do. your affectionate son, alfred griffith hatfield. p. s. jake's written agreement is a fraud. if pap has an agreement with palmer, it's a fraud too, don't go by it. do as i tell you, i know what's best. you'll learn law if you travel with a panorama. the next move, to winchester, was a long journey. one of jake's horses having been sick, palmer advised a day or two previously that the panorama and people, excepting bedford tom and jake, would travel by train, thus relieving the team. he also promised jake a payment on the profits at the end of the week. as an evidence of good faith he advanced jake a week's wages. jake wanted alfred to make the journey with him in the wagon, but palmer became offended: "what do you people want to do, get rid of the work of preparation? i should take bedford tom with me also but i will permit him to go with you for company, but not alfred." palmer gave all directions as to the roads as he always did. in fact, he cautioned jake more particularly than usual. he also left orders that a dinner be put up for jake and tom to carry with them. palmer arose early to see jake off and again cautioned him not to lose his way. gideon, palmer, the wife and alfred boarded the train. they were to change cars at harper's ferry. but alfred took the train for winchester, gideon excitedly calling him to take the other train. "but that train goes to washington, the man said so," pleaded alfred. "get aboard, quick," shouted gideon, as he jumped on the moving train. alfred ran into the train to palmer. "don't we go to winchester?" he inquired. "not until next month," answered palmer. "where's jake and the team going?" asked alfred. "they told me they were going to winchester." palmer gave a little forced laugh: "jake was your friend, was he not? i thought so at least. didn't you regard him as your friend?" inquired palmer. "of course i did," answered alfred. palmer looked at gideon: "i told you there was something behind this. didn't i tell you so, eh?" gideon seemed undecided; he both nodded and shook his head. palmer threw one limb over the other and rubbed his dirty hands together. "it was like this: jake was a partner of mine. we've been having trouble for some time past. yesterday he accepted a proposition of mine on condition that i was not to mention it to you. he stated you were friends but he did not desire to go into the minstrel business. he feared if you learned he had received his money from me you would be after him hot-foot to invest in a minstrel show." alfred's face flushed. he did not deny that he and jake had conversed many times regarding a minstrel show; jake seemed greatly interested in it. alfred fell for palmer's plausible story. palmer exhibited that which he claimed was a clear receipt from jake. when the party arrived in washington alfred was so taken up with the thousand and one places of interest, he took note of nothing save sight-seeing. lodging at a little hotel on a side street, palmer had not been seen for a day or two. to alfred's inquiry, gideon mumbled something about new people. mrs. palmer became more anxious-looking every day. alfred overheard gideon mention pharoah to the wife. alfred connected the biblical character of that name with the remark. thinking the matter over he remembered hearing palmer oftentimes refer to losses or gains at pharoah. he finally connected it with some sort of a game and made bold to ask gideon what palmer had done about old pharoah. gideon, with a surprised look, asked how he knew palmer was sitting in. "oh, i heard he was after old pharoah." "you've got the pronunciation wrong but the facts right. palmer was one thousand ahead of the game. i begged him to cash in but that's the way with all who play faro. he didn't know enough to quit the game when he had velvet in front of him." palmer had lost all his money but the little savings of his wife. gideon had a few dollars, but that went also. alfred had twenty-nine dollars which he refused to loan palmer. the landlord finally yielded to the arguments of palmer and gideon and agreed to permit the baggage to be taken to the depot and, with the panorama, shipped to the next town; he, the landlord, to accompany them until his claims were paid. the party were off their route. no previous arrangements had been made. none of the religious denominations in the town could be induced to take an interest in the panorama. finally, the courthouse was secured by rental, but without the influence of the church people, the receipts were not fifty per cent of what they usually were, so palmer repeatedly stated. the hotel man had to advance money to move the company to the next place of exhibition. here the receipts again fell short of the expenses. the hotel man sent home for money finally. thoroughly disgusted, the hotel man left the party with palmer's note endorsed by gideon. he requested alfred's endorsement also. that gentleman remembered sammy steele's advice and very politely declined to attach his signature to the paper. palmer insisted that alfred endorse the note, arguing: "it's only a matter of form; i'll take up this note within two weeks." but alfred did not sign. later on, alfred overheard palmer cussing gideon's lax business methods: "since you have been a missionary you don't know enough to top broom-corn. i told you to hold out everything on that hotel guy and you made him put up only thirteen dollars." it developed that there were no losses while the hotel man was with the panorama. palmer made it appear there was in order to get rid of the man. alfred wrote jake a sarcastic letter advising that he thought it would have been more gentlemanly to have informed him of his dislike of the minstrel business instead of talking to palmer. "i assisted you in every way and i thought you were my friend." no reply came. "jake was ashamed to answer," was the conclusion reached by alfred. disgusted with palmer, homesick, offended at his folks that they did not reply to his letter, he resolved to write no more but next pay day leave the panorama and go home. he so informed palmer. palmer's arguments had no effect upon him. finally mrs. palmer persuaded him to remain until they could secure someone to take his place, promising to do so at the first opportunity. "if it's not too long i'll hold out but i want to go home; i'm homesick." mrs. palmer covered her face with her hands as she cried: "if there is a more distressing feeling than a longing for home i pray to god no one will ever suffer as i have. i've been homesick for years." palmer sneered and sarcastically granted her permission to go home at any time she wished. "you and alfred better go home together." alfred felt like slapping the man and would have done so had not his wife been present. palmer greatly interested the family with whom they were boarding. his long prayers at family worship and his eloquent talk completely captivated the entire family including two fine young men. alfred the last day of their stay found palmer rehearsing the elder of the two boys, the younger holding the prompter's book. later alfred overheard palmer assure the old gentleman the panorama was the best money making and the most refined exhibition ever devised. two days later the old gentleman, his two boys and another gentleman arrived in the town where the panorama was on exhibition. the report became generally circulated that the panorama had been sold to the old man for his sons. gideon was to remain as long as they desired his services. alfred was also a part of the sale. palmer advised the buyers that alfred knew as much about the panorama as himself. alfred very promptly informed the old gentleman that he could not remain longer. this held up the sale. palmer coaxed, begged and implored the boy to remain with the panorama. he assured the purchasers his only reason for disposing of the panorama was his wife's health. she had been separated from her children for two years, she was a nervous wreck. he had to make the sacrifice no matter what the consequences--his wife's happiness came first. the wife's appearance more than corroborated palmer's statement. finally he offered alfred one hundred dollars to remain until the new owners learned the way of running the exhibition. alfred's answer was: "you owe my father two hundred dollars." "i do not, i owe him only a hundred and ninety dollars," contradicted palmer. "pay my father and i'll stay." palmer replied: "i always intended to pay your father; i'll pay him whether you stay or not." "when will you pay him?" asked alfred. "as soon as i get my money from these people." "will you give it to me for him?" "no, i will not. i will pay him as i promised. your father is not worrying about his money. we're going to paint a panorama in partnership. i expect to be in brownsville inside of a month, just as soon as i can settle my wife at home." alfred agreed to remain. the sale was made, and alfred was paid one hundred dollars. he wrote the folks at home detailing all the changes, advising that palmer would be in brownsville soon to paint a panorama. alfred remained two weeks. the new people hired an actor to take his place. they did not do well with the panorama, gideon remained but a short time after alfred left. * * * * * palmer forgot to pay alfred's father; he also forgot to visit brownsville. years afterwards alfred met palmer. he was painting, he was an artist, so he stated. he looked like a vagrant; there was not much change in his face, only a little more weather beaten, the lines and wrinkles deeper, the eyes more dull and his hands more dirty. he advised alfred that he had a contract and the work was partly done, but he could not draw any money until it was completed. "now alfred, you know me, you know how i have struggled, you know how the world has been against me. but i'll come back; i'll come into my own. i've got a scheme and i am working it out and it will be a winner. it will put me on easy street all the rest of my days." alfred knew all of this talk was leading up to a "touch." alfred had mellowed in his feelings. he had sympathy for the outcast but felt he did not care to waste any charity on the man. he was figuring rapidly mentally: "i will buy him clothing and give him a small sum of money, that's all." "now you know my ability to earn money," continued palmer, "and you know my family. i want you to do me a favor." ("the 'touch' is coming," thought alfred, "i'll have to give him $ at least.") "now, don't refuse me. i will have money as soon as this job is done, and i'll send it to you; i don't want you to give me nothing. i want you to loan it to me. now alfred, don't go back on me." "well, business is none too good and i have heavy expenses and calls like yours every day. how much do you want?" cautiously inquired alfred. "loan me a dollar," pleaded palmer. alfred handed the man two dollars with a sigh of relief, crediting himself with eighteen. "where are mrs. palmer and gideon?" asked alfred. "oh, gideon died years ago. he hadn't nothing to live for; he just laid down and died. mrs. palmer is at home; i've got a fine home. the children--oh, one of them married a big orange grove man in california and the other is with her mother." alfred afterwards learned that gideon was dead; that the contract palmer was working on was decorating mirrors in bar-rooms. mrs. palmer was living with relatives. palmer had not contributed to her support in years. one of the girls was cashier in a store in kansas city, the other a nurse in a sanatarium. palmer died of alcoholic dementia only a year or two ago. jake is living in bedford; he began where he left off--on the farm. when alfred met jake he summed up his panorama experience thusly: "balmur cheated us all; he cheated everybody und got no good oudt uv it. he stoled the letters i wrote you und made you badt frednts mit me. but it iss all gone now and so iss balmur. i dond't know vich vay he iss gone. he sed i valked straight into hell mit der panorama; i hope he valks straight oudt of it. if he does get in i'll bet dey haff a hard yob to keep him dere; he neffer stays no place long; und i'll bet dey'll be gladt ven he leaves--dat iss if he makes es much troubles in hell as he didt mit der panorama." it is not necessary to state that palmer sent jake to a place he never intended visiting with the panorama. jake, confused and deceived, made his way home. chapter sixteen something each day--a smile, it is not much to give, but the little gifts of life make sweet the days we live. the world appears different to different persons; to one it is dull, to another bright. contentment has much to do with it. the pleasant and interesting happenings crowded into the life of one being may arouse envy in another. the man of genius, the man of imagination will note things in the every-day trend of human affairs that will enrich his memory, store it with wisdom. the man of dulled faculties will never see things in this world as does he who is of a higher intelligence. two men may travel in a country strange to them, their impressions of the customs, habits of the people, conditions and appearances of the land, will be widely different. after alfred's return from the tour with the panorama he became the sir oracle of the town. the shoe-shops of frank mckernan and nimrod potts were the gathering places of those who came to hear the stories that alfred had collected in his travels. previously the atmosphere of the two shoe-shops had been different. mckernan's shop was the gathering place of those who lived under the teachings of thomas jefferson, they were democrats; the audiences at pott's shop had formerly been composed of abolitionists. nimrod potts had been an avowed abolitionist. a change had come over him, politically at least. from a rabid abolitionist he had changed to a dignified democrat, nor was it lust for office that wrought the change--that unholy feeling which influenced horace greeley, who was potts' political god. greeley, after twenty-five years of vituperation and personal abuse, such as was never before applied to opponent by political writer, denouncing those who were opposed to his opinions, as representing all that was of vice and violence, crawled to those he had abused for years begging their votes, willing to pretend to espouse their principles to attain office. horace greeley's seeking and accepting a presidential nomination did more to discredit partisan journalism in this country than all other causes combined since the establishment of the republic. dr. patton, a clean cut man, was the democratic nominee for burgess (mayor) of brownsville. the doctor was slightly aristocratic in his bearing, and a number of his own party were dissatisfied with his candidacy, although a nomination on the democratic ticket was equivalent to election. nimrod potts was the nominee of the republican, radical and abolition element; no one imagined potts had a living chance of election. the times were propitious for the elevation to office of those of humble origin. andrew johnson, a tailor, was then president (by accident). the argument was used, "why not elevate nimrod potts, the cobbler, to the highest office within the gift of the electorate of brownsville?" alfred had unconsciously boosted the candidacy of potts by publicly announcing that he had visited the tailor shop of andrew johnson while in greenville, tenn., and that the shoe-shop of nimrod potts in brownsville was much larger and more pretentious than the tailor shop of the man who was then president; and since the qualification for holding or seeking office in those days seemed to be graduation from some sort of a shop, potts' claims should be considered. whether it was this statement or the vagaries that at times influence the minds of voters, potts was elected. it is a peculiarity of human nature that people neglect little bills--bar bills, cobbling bills, etc. now every man in brownsville did not run bar bills, but every man wore shoes (except in summer). nimrod potts had a list of names in the debtor column of his book embracing some of the best known men and hardest men on shoes in town. when nimrod instituted what he considered needed reforms in the judiciary system, certain ones of the borough's citizenship--although they had never heard of the recall--brownsville had not advanced that far toward socialism as yet--instituted proceedings in the county court, impeaching potts. he was removed from office. those who instituted the ouster proceedings were republicans. alfred's uncle william, who was judge of the court, was a democrat. potts evidently reasoned that it was but natural that a democratic judge should decide to remove him, but to be assailed by his own party was too much for even his fealty. hence he proclaimed himself a democrat and was received with open arms by that party. the causes that led up to the removal of nimrod potts as burgess of brownsville are recorded in history. however, the reader may have failed to note this famous "causus bellus" or forgotten it. in expounding the law two points were always kept in view by burgess potts--the constitution of the united states and his cobbling accounts. if either the plaintiff or defendant were indebted to the cobbler, justice was meted out as the law required, with the addition of the amount due for cobbling. the cobbling bill was always added to the costs. if both parties to the case were indebted to the judge the law was bent to apply to the assessing of costs with the cobblers' bills added. potts felt the honor that alfred had conferred upon him in likening him to andrew johnson. the gatherings at potts' shop, of which alfred was the center of attraction, became more conspicuous than the assemblages at mckernan's. as may be inferred there was bitter rivalry between the two shoe-makers. it was not long ere doubts were expressed as to the correctness of the word pictures alfred painted of the country and its people through which he had journeyed while with the panorama. some folks who had emigrated to brownsville from virginia and maryland could not remember anything of the scenes that alfred described. others remembered just such things as he pictured. barney barnhart, who was from shepperdstown, not only verified alfred's stories relative to the section where he formally resided but actually bettered some of them. alfred was in high repute. he had regained all the prestige lost through his unfortunate connection with eli. working for his father by day, relating his panorama exploits by night, he was leading an exemplary life. some folks ascribed his changed ways to the great moral uplift of the panorama. uncle ned gave palmer credit for the reformation of the boy. consequently they held palmer in highest estimation. alfred had not uttered one word derogatory to palmer to anyone as yet. he was secretly hoping palmer would put in an appearance and paint another panorama, that he might get control of it. he felt riches awaited anyone who possessed a panorama. even when alfred pushed a large pumpkin in the round hole of the chimney on potts' shoe-shop, smoking out the largest gathering to which he had ever described "the pilgrim's progress" as shown in panorama--while the auditors stood on the outside of the shop fanning the smoke from their faces with their hats, alfred, phoenix-like, stood in the middle of the shoe-shop reciting palmer's lecture. alfred was never suspected of smoking his audience out. instead potts hiked across the street to jake sawyer's grocery and accused jimmy edminston of smoking out the temple of justice. alfred's talks and recitals aroused considerable interest in john bunyan's work, "the pilgrim's progress." many were the arguments over the propriety of the work as presented by palmer's panorama. lin said: "fur the life of me i kan't figger out how bunyan hed ever hoped thet christian would turn out good after the load saddled on his shoulders an' the trubles he wus sent through. why, the devil wouldn't try tu win anyone by abusin' 'em thet way. i do not blame jake fur kickin' over the traces an' takin' the wrong path, kos i'd jes soon gone tu hell as some uv the places they sent christian tu." it was explained to lin that the book was written as an allegory and the sufferings were to try christian's faith. "allegery or perregary, i don't kur which. it's jes es bad es burnin' peepul tu deth tu make 'em christians. besides, i don't think much uv christian nohow, the book shows he run away, an' left his wife an' two childrun." however, it was generally admitted that the panorama had greatly benefited alfred. sammy johnson was no longer teased by him; alfred even assured him that the presbyterian church would soon have a bell and he would be employed to ring it. ringing a church bell was sammy's hallucination. alfred could even enter johnny tunstall's grocery, as he no longer shouted "wrang hule" at the old gentleman. alfred no longer associated with his former companions, but was more often seen with teddy darwin, john leclair and other good boys. the civil war, the presidential campaign, the fight between the rival steamboat lines, had kept old brownsville pretty well stirred up for several years, but nothing equaling the excitement caused by the campaign between potts and patton had ever been experienced in the old town. torch-light processions were the popular way of arousing enthusiasm. it was the general belief in those days that the fellow who carried the biggest blaze in the procession was the fellow of most importance. nowadays it's the fellow who buys the oil and sits on the porch and watches the procession go by. cousin albert was an ardent adherent of the potts faction. alfred's father was just as strong for patton. the father was well disposed toward albert but he was very much disgusted with albert's fondness for torch-light processions, particularly when albert bore a transparency on which was painted, in crude letters, a motto most offensive to patton men. the father more than once intimated that alfred was a very dull boy in some respects. "he can play practical jokes on people who should be exempt, and jokes in which no one but alfred could see the humor. but there's albert, who has laid himself liable to have any sort of a joke played upon him, goes scott free." therefore alfred fancied any joke perpetrated upon cousin albert must be pretty strong or the father would stamp it as inane and without humor. handbills advertised there would be a parade of the potts club and the route was given. alfred knew that cousin albert would be at the head of the marchers, bearing a very large transparency, with an offensive motto painted by his father's competitor, jeffries. alfred procured a piece of duck canvas, water proof, about one yard square. repairing to the bowman's pasture lot where the cows spent the night near the gate, alfred, with a scoop shovel, filled the canvas with a half bushel or more of fertilizer. he carried it to sammy steele's old tan house where he had once carried food to the exiles. an old finishing table stood under a window from which the sash had long since disappeared. one standing on the table at the opening was six or seven feet higher than the narrow street below. drums were beating, the procession was coming, the candle torches showed the parade turning hogg's corner off market street; they were coming toward the old tan-yard. alfred stood at the window with the canvas containing the mass of fertilizer. as the head of the parade came opposite he could see cousin albert outlined against the white-washed fence on the opposite side of the street. swinging the package a time or two to give it momentum, as one does a club, alfred loosened his hold on three corners of the canvas. the mess slid out as he had planned it would. he aimed all of it at cousin albert. alfred was pretty sure aim generally, but he had not experimented with the sort of ammunition he was using on this occasion; he was not familiar with its scattering qualities. alfred did not have time to either see or hear how his aim had affected cousin albert. there was an angry confusion of yells and curses extending down the line of march. alfred felt sure that something awful had happened. "catch him! hang him!" there was a shuffling of feet in the darkness. those at the head of the procession had dropped their torches. alfred's joke on cousin albert had spread to some twenty others; in fact, all in line opposite the window were included in the joke. there was a rush for the old tan-house. alfred flew. down the stairs, over the fence, through the widow cunningham's, across the street, through captain cox's yard and into his home, the thoroughly frightened boy fled. pete keifer, who had been in the army, a ninety day man, one of the first to go to the front at the call of duty, one of the first to leave for home after bull run, was most vehement in his threats on the lives of those who had broken up the torch light procession. keifer's hearing was undoubtedly affected by the two pound lump that struck him in the ear, and some scattering. sammy rowland's white shirt front caught a cluster as large as a saucer. his wife said she had a feeling something was going to happen when he put on a biled shirt on a week day. aaron todd, who wore a set of whiskers that would have sent him to the senate had he lived in kansas, carried home concealed in his whiskers a pound or so of alfred's joke. alfred lay in bed trembling. every sound, every footstep on the street startled him. when the father returned home he trembled until the bed shook, fearing it was the mob entering the house. he heard his father laughing, also the mother; then he heard footsteps on the stairs. pretending to be sound asleep he snored loudly. as his father neared the bed he pretended to suddenly awake. the parent carelessly inquired: "how long you been in bed?" "oh, i don't know how long, i've been asleep. why? is there anything happened?" asked alfred as he pulled the clothes up over his head to hide his laughter. the father replied: "yes there has and i feared you were mixed up in it. i am glad you came in early tonight." then the father informed alfred that some half a dozen rowdies had hidden in the old tannery and bombarded the potts procession with all sorts of missiles and _things_. he told of the rage of keifer, the plight of todd, etc. alfred was sorry the joke on cousin albert had miscarried but it seemed to him the hand of fate guided his aim, as all those who suffered were unfriendly, all save sammy rowland. he was a good friend with whom alfred had labored in the tan-yard. alfred went to sleep laughing and arose laughing. his mirth excited comment; it was so continued. the mother often asserted that alfred, from the time he was a baby, always awoke laughing in the morning. but his mirth was so uproarious this morning that it caused the father to look worried. finally, he called alfred into an adjoining room. looking him full in the face he asked: "did you have a hand in that affair last night?" had alfred been threatened with death he could not have suppressed his laughter. the more he laughed the more serious the father became. he had become satisfied that alfred was connected with the reprehensible act. the father continued threateningly: "well, my boy, you keep on, there will be an end to this kind of work. i cannot protect you if it gets out on you; it will be the worst blow you ever inflicted upon this family." thus the father talked until alfred said: "well, pap, i hope you are not going to connect me with this thing just because i laughed." "no, but i have a feeling that you know something of it. those associated with you in this thing will be very apt to blame it all on you." "oh no, they won't. now, just because i laugh _you're_ going to swear this thing onto me." "i am not," replied the father. "the whole town is laughing for that matter but it will go none the less hard with those engaged in it. i wouldn't go over in town if i were you," advised the father as he left the room. alfred made his way to potts' shoe-shop, passing the old tan-house on the way. broken transparency, bits of candles, and other odds and ends were scattered over the ground. the white-washed fence opposite the window in the old tan-house had the appearance of a field covered with snow, with here and there a bit of cedar shrubbery growing on it. dennis isler, jim johnson and piggy mann were under suspicion. alfred stood among the crowd and listened in silence to each description of the scene. no two had seen it alike; one man swore there were half a dozen shots fired, another declared a brick knocked the hat off his head without injuring him in the least. alfred returned home. the mother and lin repeatedly inquired as to what he was laughing at. lin finally, when the mother was not within hearing, with an air "you may fool everybody else but you can't fool me" half whispered: "i know ye done hit. everybody wud know hit wus ye. why, look at yer pants laig, up thar in the room, the marks is on hit." alfred flew up stairs. the right leg of a fairly good pair of pants was amputated just above the knee. the mother wondered why alfred gave those pants to cal pastor (who had but one leg). the _clipper_ had become very friendly. there was scarcely an issue that there was not a complimentary reference to the rising young actor, "an ex-attachee of this paper." the _clipper_ carried a graphic write-up of the disrupting of the potts procession. it was headed: "a dastardly attempt to defeat potts by discouraging his supporters." "a most unexpected and unprepared-for assault was perpetrated upon an orderly procession of brownsville's honest toilers, who were assaulted in the darkness of night with murderous missiles and other _things_, in a heated campaign with momentous issues involved. the hurling of foul epithets is bad enough but when political opponents hurl such things as were hurled at the potts adherents it is time to call a halt. many who were injured by the fusillade declare the onslaught was so unexpected; they were so completely taken by surprise that, had they been killed and interred the assault would not have been more surprising to them. among those who were in the worst of the affray was that gallant soldier and shingle maker, peter keifer. he has also seen service in assisting in arresting sam craft who was drafted. mr. keifer will devote his time to running down the hellish brigands who are a menace to the liberty of the ballot. mr. keifer says he will not be deterred in his purpose." among those employed by alfred's father was one, node beckley--"noah" was his proper name, but all, including his wife, called him node. in personal appearance he was not unlike palmer; spare and wiry, slim-faced, a large hooked nose, a tuft of beard on his chin. he had no particular calling or trade; first a hotel keeper, then a house or boat painter, paper hanger or decorator, saloonkeeper, book-agent, banjo player and cheap gambler. he was good-natured. his wife was the head man of the family; what node lacked in spirit she made up in talk. node was kind in his way to his wife and children, who accepted his efforts in their behalf without any untoward semblance of gratitude and with many complaints that he did not do more for them. consequently node was always on the hustle, or as near so as his indolent disposition would permit him to be. isaac jacquette, john barnhart, jim mann, cousin charley and others were continually teasing node over his many unsuccessful ventures. node did not always take their joshings good naturedly but would remind them that his time was coming, that he would yet strike a lead that would bring him fortune. he had hinted so often in this manner that alfred became convinced node was working on something in secret and became interested in him. the other men ascribed alfred's fondness for beckley to the fact that he could perform on the banjo; they often suggested that alfred and beckley start a minstrel show. "a boy's sense all runs to heart; a boy never sees the dark spots on the character of the man he fancies." node beckley was not a man of bad character. alfred's father dispensed with beckley's services that he might disrupt the intimacy between the two. node opened a saloon, the rialto, on the corner of barefoot square and market street. alfred's father forbade him ever to enter the place. alfred obeyed. the familiarity continued, the man and boy were often seen together on the street. cousin charley tracked them to the barn of the old james beckley tavern. alfred's father feared he was gambling; all the gambling in those days was in haymows or unoccupied buildings in winter, under the trees in summer. the games were "seven up" and "euchre". node was of an inventive turn of mind. it is not known whence came the inspiration, nor is it certain that there was an inspiration. however, it can be recorded to the glory of brownsville that the first flying machine or airship was the invention of a citizen of the old town. the flying machine was the mysterious creation that node had so often hinted at. alfred was deeply interested in the aerial machine. it was planned that the invention should be kept secret from all. harriet, his wife, knew he was working on an invention of some sort, as he had been engaged in this sort of experimenting a greater part of the time since they wedded. when his perpetual motion machine failed to work "had" beckley had lost interest in node's inventions. hence, the flying machine under process of construction was known only to alfred and the inventor. it was their intention to completely surprise the world at large and that part of it in particular bounded by the brownsville borough lines, by having node flit over the town and perhaps over the river; then later on, to uniontown, to pittsburg and other cities. then alfred and node would travel all over the world exhibiting the flying machine. in those days steam was the only propelling power. gasoline engines were unknown, electricity had not been harnessed except for telegraphing. the propelling power of node's flying machine lay in the arms and legs of the one who soared in it. the invention was a very simple contrivance, from which very fact node argued it would be successful. there were two large wings, nine feet in length and of a proportionate breadth, constructed of very light material, and, at alfred's suggestion, covered with feathers. alfred felt it would be more apt to fly if it wore feathers. every backyard, wherein a family killed chickens, ducks or turkeys, was ransacked for feathers. the variegated plumage of the machine would have defied the most learned of ornithologists in defining the species of the bird family to which it belonged. there was what node termed a "rear extension." alfred invariably alluded to it as "her tail." why he applied the feminine gender to the machine was another of those vagaries of which inventors are always possessed. node termed the wings, "side-propellers." the arms of the aerialist were thrust through loops under the wings, hand-holds were at the proper length from the base of the wings. there was a light frame, to which the wings were attached; two light ropes, through pulleys worked by the feet, flopped the rear extension up and down. the rear extension could be also used as a steering apparatus. the entire thing depended upon the movements of the arms. after the machine was far and away up in the air, it would sail as do eagles and buzzards, so node asserted. the only doubt node had was as to possessing strength to raise the thing to the proper height. when he once got in the air, he had no fears of staying there. alfred suggested that the first start be made from the steeple of the episcopal church. node seemed pleased with the suggestion. later, when they walked by the church and gazed up at the heights node concluded the wings and rear extension would have sufficient air pressure to make the rise from a hill. the work had progressed to the point where an experimental trial was in sight. node had been strapped in the frame-work several times. the wings worked perfectly; that is, so long as node's arms kept in motion. the rear extension did not work so well. node explained that it would not work until the thing got up in the air where his feet would have free play. he would sit astraddle of a bench, alfred would hold the frame off the floor, and node would work his feet. her "tail" would wobble and fly up and down at a great rate. its eccentric actions excited the admiration of alfred. he assured node that her tail would be the wonder of the world. "why, black fan's tail never flew around like that, even when she got in the bumble-bee's nest," asserted alfred. node had made several attempts to raise himself from the barn floor, but there was not space to work the machine properly. they determined to arise early some morning, take the machine to hogg's field, just below the pike and give it a trial. the apparatus was carefully carried to the little mound on the high hill overlooking dunlap's creek. alfred cautioned node not to fly down the hill, because it would be a job to carry the machine up the hill. [illustration: trying out the flying machine] lin, gazing out of the kitchen window at the chickens picking around in the yard, said: "lor' a-mighty! what's happened them chickens? they ain't one uf 'em got the shadder uf a tail." alfred had even stolen the big fly brush, made of peacock feathers, to birdify node's flying machine. the extreme end of the rear extension held the long peacock feathers. that the bird man idea should be carried out alfred had made a head dress of turkey feathers down the nape of the neck, and chicken feathers in front. when placed on node's head, with his beaked nose and tuft of chin beard, he appeared very much as one would picture uncle joe cannon robed in maude adams' "chanticler" costume. node was strapped in the frame, his arms adjusted to the wings, and alfred adjusted the head dress against node's violent protest. he argued: "the dam thing will get over my eyes and i am liable to fly into a tree top. take it off. i'll wear it after i get the hang of this thing, after i fly awhile." several attempts were made at a rise. the rear extension always got out of gear; the ropes and pulley tangled in the rigging. it was decided that alfred hold the rear extension aloft. node would run down the hill a few feet launching himself into the air. alfred assured node that he could be of even greater assistance. while the machine was in course of construction node had his own way in everything. now he was strapped in the apparatus and any innovation alfred insisted upon he was powerless to reject. therefore alfred hastened home. there was not a clothes prop in his father's garden long enough to suit his ideas, therefore, he ran to the next door neighbor's, alex smith's, selecting the longest prop he could find. hastening to the scene of the ascension, he found node in anything but an amiable mood. "what the devil do you mean by strapping me in this thing and running all over town to find a pole to push me up in the air? do you s'pose i want you to pole me like a raft? you hold up that end of the thing and i'll fly." node was mad enough to fly. against his angry protests alfred inserted the end of the pole between his legs, held up the tail part of the machine, encouraging node to take a running start, when he got the proper momentum to shout "now," and he, alfred, would give him a lift that was bound to shoot him into the air. they backed up the hill. node lowered his arms, the wings resting on the ground, resting himself a bit; turning his bird-like head toward alfred he asked if there was anyone watching them. node was evidently not sure in his mind that the flight would be successful. when assured by alfred that there were no witnesses node cautioned him not to lift too strongly on the pole which was still between his legs. looking up in the air as if to gauge the height to which he intended to ascend, he said: "now get ready and stand by if anything happens when i light." "ready?" asked node, in an eager voice. "let her go," was alfred's reply. down the hill ran the two. "now!" shouted node. alfred put all his power into the lift he gave the man-bird. node seemed to arise. one of the ropes caught around alfred's neck nearly severing one of his ears. alfred fell headlong, rolling over two or three times. when he arose he directed his gaze heavenward, expecting to see node soaring through the air. curses and struggles from a point twenty feet down the hill disclosed the whereabouts of the inventor. node was lying there, the apparatus in a tangled heap. it was with considerable labor, made more difficult as he was weak from laughter, that alfred released node. criminations and recriminations followed. node swore he had started on a beautiful flight; he could feel himself going up as light as a soap bubble, just then alfred's damn fool head-piece flopped down over his eyes, blinding him so he couldn't see what he was doing. he quit flapping his wings and fell like a log. if it hadn't been for the head dress there's no telling where he would have flown to. alfred contended that the tailpiece caught on one of his ears and pulled the bird-man back out of the air. as proof he exhibited the lacerated ear. alfred had assured node that there were no witnesses. however, the aeronauts had an audience. jake beeca and strap gaines stood in the road below; pete williams, billy brubaker and a couple of strangers were looking down from the pike above; johnny johnson and widdy gould were gazing on the wreck from their back yards. mary hart, jim hart and mrs. smith were at the front gate, inquiring of lin and alfred's mother the cause of the strange procession then passing. [illustration: the end of the flight] node came first. he had forgotten his hat and shoes, laid aside to lighten him for his flight, his clothes were literally bespattered with soft, brown earth, his nose scratched, one of his hands bleeding; on his head the bedraggled feather cap. following behind came alfred, one ear bleeding, his clothing covered with dirt. in his arms he carried the wrecked flying machine, the rear extension dragging, the beautifully colored peacock feathers trailing the dirt. node, with bowed head and abashed manner, walked as though going to his execution. alfred could scarcely walk at all, the ludicrous ending of the flight, appealed so to his mirth. lin gazed curiously at the two as they passed. she scrutinized the flying machine closely, the feathers, the head-dress on node. she entered the house: "well, mary," (addressing the mother), "i've seed a good many funny sights sence alfurd's been ole enuf tu run aroun' but i'll be durned ef this one ain't the cap sheaf." "what's happened now?" anxiously queried the mother. "well, i ain't seed enuf tu jes zackly say what it is but hit looks like alfurd hed turned his mind tu a injun show. he's got node beckley into hit; they has things all trimmed with feathers. now you know what has made our chickens look so bobbed; they ain't one uf 'em thet's got es much tail feathers es a blue bird in poke berry time. an' yer peafowl feather duster,"--here lin raised her hands--"why they ain't enough left to shoo a pis-ant, let alone a fly. lor' mary, hit's orful, they must-a had a sham battul or a war, fer node is kivered with blood an' alfurd looked peeled in several places. node had on a ole feather head dress, barefooted 'ceptin' socks, no hat or coat, kivered with dust and so was alfurd. he was carryin' the injun fixin's and laffin'; laffin', why you'd think hit wus the bigges' frolik in the world. node looked jes es joe sandford looked when he shed his wall-paper show duds. i'll jes run over an' see what had beckley has tu say. i'll bet she'll rear an' charge when node gets home." "good mornin' mrs. beckley, how's all?" was lin's greeting. "won't you walk in, we're all upside down here; walk in ef you can git in fur the dirt and cluttered up house. node's been up and gone for two hours; i'm waitin' fur him to kum so we kin eat breakfus an' clean up. i have no idee whar he is; your alfred an' him's together nite an' day now." lin looked surprised as she repeated, "nite an' day? an' what do ye s'pose they is up tu, mrs. beckley?" "well, i dunno. node's allus got some notion or other in his head. i never pay no tension to him; ef hit ain't one thing hit's anuther. i rekon hit's a patent rite concern. he's been putterin' on pattern things ever sence we wus married." "do they run out at nite much, node an' alfurd?" lin asked. "why, every blessed nite and all day sundays." lin suggested: "maybe they go to baptus meetin'. thar havin' a revivul; maybe node an' alfurd's thinkin' of jinin' the baptus church." "huh! node would be a hell of a baptus; he's so feared of water he hain't washed his feet this blessed wintur," snapped mrs. beckley. lin decided in her mind that mrs. beckley was entirely ignorant of the scheme her husband and alfred had under way and she changed tack: "perhaps they're startin' a show. has yer husband talked about injuns tu yer lately?" "no," answered the wife in open-mouthed wonder, "have you heard they were goun' off tu fight injuns?" "no, no," quickly assured lin, "i didn't mean they wus goin' tu fight injuns. yow know alfurd's full of show notions, an' you know we had a injun show yer on jeffres commons; hit wusn't much uf a show, nuthin' to hit. i thought maybe node an' alfurd had got hit into theur noodles to act injun. did ye see them things with feathers on them they wus draggin' aroun'? yes, an' they got pea fowl feathers on too; bet all they hev no luck, pea fowl feathers allus bring bad luck." here node entered the room. his wife scanned him, noting his skinned nose: "eh, huh, mr. injun, i hope ye ain't skulped?" lifting his hat and looking at his head. node was considerably taken aback; he muttered something about making it go yet, "but no damn fool could pole him into the air." poor node imagined that his secret was out and that all knew of his dismal failure. when he learned that the feathers had deceived all and that the flying machine was looked upon as some sort of show paraphernalia, he humored the deception and admitted that he and alfred were experimenting with indian arms and things, thinking of giving an indian show. this satisfied lin. with all her cunning she was easily deceived. running home she advised the mother that she had guessed it the first guess. "lor', hit's no use fur alfurd tu try tu fool me, i know thet thar boy better'n he knows hisself. i sed, sed i, es soon es i seed node an' him comin' 'hit's injun bizness this trip sure.' why, anybody'd know thet what alfurd was carryin' wus war hoops; war hoops is what injuns has got more uf then most anythin' else. but i swear tu goodness i don't see how node or alfurd cud pass fur an injun. node looked like a skur-crow an' alfred like a tom-boy girl. maybe alfurd kud be pokerhuntus an' node captin john smith." that first attempt at flying but increased the determination to make the thing a success. the complicated gearing of the rear extension, was supported with one rope. it was double gear previously; now it was single gear. before, it worked too rapidly and, like black fan when under full speed, was liable to go by the head. node declared again and again that it was the rear extension that caused him to shoot head-first into the earth. he had just started to rise, he felt himself going up; suddenly the rear extension flew forward, "hit me on the head, your ole injun feathers pushed down over my eyes, and i had to head her for earth. why i'd been a fool to gone on up in the air blinded. when a man's flying he's more anxious to see than when he's walking." alfred meekly suggested that the fellow with the circus walked the tight-rope blindfolded. node admitted this fact; "but he had a foothold. if i'd had a foothold all hell wouldn't held me, i'd been flyin' yet." often did they settle on a date for the next flight only to have something unforeseen interfere. node desired a cloudy day with moderate wind. furthermore, the next flight the course was to be laid out. node declared with decision: "i want to have the starting and the stopping points definitely in mind, i want to know just what i am doing. i know this machine will do the work; i've got more strength in my arms than i ever had afore," and here node would bare his spare arms and fling them about for exercise. "yes, sir, if my arms hold out i can fly anywhere. i'll start from town hill, light on krepp's knob an' pick about a bit, rest my wings and fly back agin." then node would look down on the river which flowed between--he couldn't swim--and with less enthusiasm add: "but i won't do that yet; i'll wait till i get more used to the machine and the air currents. a man to fly right must understand the air currents jes as a sailor understands the course of the winds. there are currents and cross currents; sometimes they git all tangled up, then i'll just quit flappin' my wings, sink below the disturbance, and fly about below until i git out of them. the main thing is to get the rise." "well, i'll give you a lift," suggested alfred. "i want no more of your lifts," quickly answered node. finally it was decided that the next flight be made from the roof of the old barn in which the flying machine was housed. in answer to lin's query as to what he was doing on the roof of the barn so early in the morning, alfred carelessly answered: "oh, i'm making a pigeon box." lin said it looked as if they were going to build a mighty big pigeon house. alfred declared it would be the proper thing to do to invite a half dozen or more friends to witness the ascension. node dissented: "wait until we get the rear extension to working as perfectly as the side propellers and we'll give an exhibition. if you invite anybody in this town to see me fly and anything goes the least bit wrong, they'll walk off and sneer and say: 'he'll never fly.' that's the way they did when i was working on the perpetual motion machine. i had it just about goin', and i invited two or three who i thought were my friends. they looked at it, praised me to my face and said: 'node, by golly, you got it,' then they went right down street and told everybody that i was a dam fool and that's what disheartened me and i quit working on it. if i hadn't invited anybody to look at my work i'd had perpetual motion down to a nicety today. why, i invented a magnet with which you could find gold or silver, no matter if it was buried ten feet deep." (it was the belief of many that there was gold buried in the hills around the old town; that eccentric, wealthy persons in the early days had buried.) "i had this magnet," continued node, "working to perfection. well, i took four men with me, and we went around the point to where a fortune teller told 'had' there was money buried. we worked along the hill up to where the fortune teller had said the money was. the magnet swung right, then left; suddenly it stopped, then whirled around and around. we all turned pale. there was a smell in the air like the damp in a coal bank. one of the men marked the place and said: 'node, it's too late to begin digging today; we'll dig tomorrow.' i waited all day, but none of the men came. 'had' was all excited about it because the fortune teller had described the spot to her; she could tell it with her eyes shut. well, we walked straight to the place, and what do you suppose?" node waited for alfred's reply. "well, i expect you found you was fooled," drawled alfred. "yes, that's what we did," asserted node, "that's jest what we did find, we was fooled, robbed, tricked. there was a hole in the ground four or five feet deep. at the bottom, just the size of a dinner plate and round as a crock, you could tell there had been a crock full of money taken out of the hole. not one of them fellers thet was with me has ever worked a day since." (node had forgotten that they had never worked a day previously.) node put his hand on the flying machine as he declared: "no, sir, no one shall know a thing about this invention until your uncle noah has it so he can do anything a bird can." the allusion to the hidden wealth impressed alfred greatly. he became certain node would make the flying machine a success. therefore, he built the platform on the barn longer that node might get a better start. alfred was strong in the belief that he could greatly aid node with the clothes prop as before. but at the mere suggestion node became angry. he threatened to abandon the flight if he caught sight of a clothes prop in alfred's hands. node knew full well once he was strapped in the machine alfred could do anything he chose. he therefore determined that no poles or props should be taken to the roof of the old barn. alfred had the clothes prop hidden in the barn below. node happened to discover it, and forthwith ordered alfred to carry it back to alex smith's yard. he never took his eyes off the boy until the prop was leaned against the fence in the yard of the owner. node swore he would inform alex smith the next time he went by jacob's store that alfred was stealing his clothes props, "and you know what that red-headed son-of-a-gun will do to you," threatened node, as he shook his finger at alfred. the morning was propitious; node said so at least. there were to be no witnesses, but cousins charley and george were hidden in john fear's coal house, baggy allison was in alfred's barn, jim hart and mary were at the upstairs windows in alex smith's house--all by invitation of alfred. node was very nervous. alfred could do nothing to please him. in preparing for the first flight he had alfred strap his arms in the wings first. he insisted all fastenings should be made ere his arms were strapped. alfred had occasion to go below. node watched him closely as he made his reappearance through the hole in the roof, evidently fearing he had brought a pole with him. finally, the side propellers were adjusted. node flapped them a few times, stood on tip-toes, very much like a cock crowing, as alfred encouragingly assured him that he saw him rising. "if you had only given two or three more flaps with your wings you'd been up in the air sure." then in a coaxing manner alfred continued: "now node, if i was you i would not go too far for the first flight; just flit about, then settle and rest. go at it moderate like." node seemed to gain confidence. he walked back and forth, or rather he walked forth and then back, as he could not turn about owing to the rear extension. node declared it wouldn't bother him in the air. node walked to the edge of the barn some three or four times, bending his bird-like head to look down as if measuring the distance. as he backed up after looking down the last time, alfred sort of taunted him by saying: "if you can't keep yourself from falling hard enough to hurt you, your flying apparatus ain't much account. s'pose you don't fly very high the first time, s'pose you don't fly far, with them wings and that tail you ought to settle so lightly you wouldn't break an egg shell." this seemed to strengthen the bird-man; he drew in a few deep breaths, gazing heavenward, then across the river at krepp's knob, then below him at the river. alfred was all a-tremble. he remembered that node said: "you must mark your course, your starting point, your landing place." alfred wondered in his mind whether node would cross to krepp's or only cross dunlap's creek over duck leonard's mill. node flapped his wings again. this time, with each flap of the wings, alfred gave the rear extension a gentle lift. node would rise four or five inches with each lift. he did nor realize that alfred was lending help to his efforts. after a more forcible lift of the tail than any alfred had yet given it, node, turning his head, with a triumphant look, shouted: "when i say 'three,' i'm going, but don't you do anything, jest let me handle her. let go the rear extension." [illustration: node's flight] pointing the wings heavenward, gazing up as if in prayer, raising himself on his tip-toes, straining every nerve, in a voice tremulous with excitement, he began: "one," stretching higher, he shouted: "two," rising on his tip-toes, he reached the edge of the barn, as he fairly yelled: "three." the wings came down beautifully, but they did not rise again. as node stepped off the edge of the barn he descended instead of ascending, the rear extension got sort of tangled on the comb of the roof, node and the machine dangled in the air momentarily. as alfred dropped through the opening in the roof, he heard node claw a time or two at the weather-boarding; something seemed to let go, to rip, then, there was a dull sound as of a bag of sand falling from a height to the earth. there was the sound of footsteps coming from several directions. alfred heard all this while he was moving faster than he had ever moved before. node did not beat him to the earth by a great margin. as alfred flew out of the door of the barn, he saw jack rathmell doubled over the fence laughing as only jack could laugh. ere node was disentangled from the wrecked airship, ere they escorted him to "had"--he declined to be carried--alfred was safely hidden away in alex smith's hay mow. buried under the hay he kept peering through a convenient crack which gave him a view of the territory between his home and node's residence. somehow he figured the whole thing would be blamed on him. first, lin was seen with her apron around her head going toward node's house. it was not long until she returned, walking hurriedly. she reappeared in a moment, bearing in her hands something that appeared to be bandages. then alfred's father came. in a moment or two he was seen going toward beckley's house. then, a little later, the father and two or three others, including cousin charley, reappeared, walking toward the old barn. cousin charley was evidently describing the attempted flight as he pointed to the roof of the barn. all looked up, then as charley marked a spot on the manure pile with his foot, all looked down. the father gathered up a part of the flying machine and carried it home. standing at the gate he gave a shrill whistle, one that he had used to attract alfred since he was a little boy. alfred made no response. alfred did not know how badly node was injured. he felt very sorry for him, he really liked the man. as miserable as he felt, as sorry as he was, the funny side of the affair crept into his mind and, as usual, he relieved himself with a good hearty laugh. alfred's laugh was cut short by a voice calling from below: "who's that? hey? who's that?" alfred recognized alex smith's voice. he remained motionless for a moment. the voice, part of the way up the ladder leading to the hay mow, called again, this time commandingly: "who's up in the hay mow? come down! come down! or i'll bring you down." alfred remained motionless. "you won't come down, won't you? well, you will when i come back." and the voice told alfred it's owner was leaving the place. alfred, climbing down the ladder, left the stable just as the gate slammed announcing mr. smith's coming. he stood motionless as mr. smith approached. when the elder man recognized the boy he was somewhat surprised. "was that you in the haymow?" "yes, sir," answered alfred. "why didn't you answer when i called to you?" alfred related the whole story. alex smith accompanied alfred home. the story of node beckley's flying machine was gone over. the father was mollified. lin commented thusly: "one story is good till another's told. i jes kum from beckley's; node's not hurt much, jes jarred. he sed he went on the barn to test his apperatus; he wern't ready to fly. an' i don't reckun he wus an' what's more, he never will be. he wus jes straitnin' out the perpellers. he ses: 'alfurd's been so alfired crazy to hev me fly he jes couldn't wait till i got my apperatus finished. while i wus standin' near the aidge uf the roof, my perpellers hangin' down, alfurd snook up ahind me an' gin me a push, and afore i could raise my perpellers i wus on the groun'. if i hed knowed hit i could've saved myself an' flew off an' lit in the field.'" alfred asked lin who made this statement. she replied mrs. beckley had told it to her. "if node told that story i am going over to contradict it, if his back's broken." "nevur mind, nevur mind," consoled lin, "i jes tole 'had' thet node wus a bird, an' like all birds, he knowed which way to fly, kase i heard he headed straight fur the manure pile." chapter seventeen laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone; for this brave old earth must borrow its mirth, it has trouble enough of its own. the world does not require the same attainments from all; it is well it is so ordered. some persons are well taught, some are ill taught, some are not taught at all. some have naturally good dispositions and absorb learning readily. some are deficient in mechanical ingenuity and yet can analyze difficult mental problems. it is no crime to fail in any pursuit or vocation, if failure is not due to idleness or deliberate preference of evil to good. there comes a time in the life of every reasoning person that they must take themselves for better or for worse, that they must take themselves more seriously. captain abrams had unintentionally contributed to alfred's discontent. he had remarked that to putty up holes, paint a board or smear a hurricane deck was not much of a trade or calling, but to be an artist like alfred's father was a profession that would bring success. alfred could not drive a nail straight; he could not saw a board straight; he was such an awkward writer, the school teacher made fun of his copy book. she advised alfred that she did this hoping that by publicly reprimanding him he would learn to write a more legible hand. "you excel in spelling, reading, geography and other studies; you should be ashamed of your writing." the grandfather, the father, the teacher, all liked alfred. none intended to injure his feelings, yet the taunts, the censure, just and unjust, sunk into alfred's soul, and, he advised captain abrams it was only the duty he owed his father that kept him there a day. alfred was low in mind. he sought his father and endeavored to reason with him, but was dismissed with the argument: "you don't want to learn anything useful; if it was something connected with a show, you'd master it mighty quick." "but father, i have no skill or sleight to work with tools." the father interrupted with a peremptory: "do as i did--learn." "i can't learn," pleaded the boy, "try as i may, i'm not cut out for a mechanic. if i could work like you it would be a pleasure to me to keep at it. i'm out of all heart with my work." the father evidently felt for the boy as he spoke in a more kindly tone: "you are not lazy; the things that you can do, you do well. now you painted around that hull quicker than any man at work on the boat. be a little more patient, take more pains and you'll make a good workman. i will pay you wages, try to make something useful out of yourself. you'll never amount to a hill of beans if you follow up your show notions," pleaded the father. "pap, i'm satisfied with what you give, it ain't that. i don't like the work. of course, i painted the hull of the boat quickly but that's all i can do and captain abrams says there's nothing in puttying up nail holes and painting hulls; anybody can learn that in six months." the father became cross again, and, in a threatening tone, said: "i am your father and it is my duty to do my best for you; i firmly believe i am fulfilling my duty as a parent in ordering you to give up all other notions as to the future and get down to business and learn this trade. now make up your mind; go at your work with the feeling that you are determined to succeed. if you go at your work in a half-hearted way you are certain to fail." "well, that's the way i feel about this work; i can't learn it, i don't want to. there's a dozen other things i'd rather do and i can make more money out of them." this stubborn talk exasperated the father, and pointing his finger at the boy to emphasize his words, he said: "first, it was circus, then it was minstrels. you tried the newspaper business, you were not satisfied." "why, you made me quit newspaper work," interrupted alfred. "don't interrupt me again," cautioned the father, "then it was that infernal panorama. that panorama was the worst of all, it gave you the habit of roving; you've never been satisfied a day since you went off with that panorama." "but father, you and all your family were willing i should go. you wanted me to go; i didn't want to go, i only wanted to get back the money palmer cheated you out of." the father thundered: "don't you try to saddle your roving onto me. you're not satisfied in any place and never will be. don't you ever tell me to my face again that i even hinted that you go with the panorama and i don't want you to ever mention that anybody cheated me. i'd like to see the man who can cheat me. now you go to your work, you're not your own man yet. i am going to send you to the merrittstown academy this winter and i want you to settle down. you've had it too easy. when i was a boy i had to get up at o'clock in the morning, make all the fires, milk four cows and feed a pen full of hogs and i had to be done by daylight. you've had it too easy, your mother is the one that's spoiled you. from this day on it's hands off with her; i'll be your boss. now, don't let me hear more of this roving talk." "why, pap, i haven't said one word about roving. can't i do other work right here at home if i quit this, i don't have to rove, do i?" "no, but that's the upshot of all this talk," persisted the father. "now get down to your work; learn it." "i can't," doggedly answered the boy. "didn't you tell me yesterday my fingers were all thumbs? didn't you tell me in front of all the hands that you were ashamed of me and that you didn't think it possible that a child of yours could be so ignorant and awkward." the father stammered and colored. he was a most affectionate parent, he was truly sorry that he had humbled the pride of the boy. "why, my son, the men all know i was only teasing you; they all know you are most intelligent. you can learn anything you set your hand to. why, when you went to dr. playford to learn to be a doctor he informed me as did bob, that they never knew anyone to learn latin as quickly as you. you could tell us all the names for medicines. why, uncle jake, steve gadd and joe gibbons told me the time they took you to washington county to the turkey shoot, that they'd all been down sick if it hadn't been for you. they say it rained a cold rain and you all got wet. uncle jake is subject to the quinsy and he was on the verge of it. they tried the drug store and everywhere and they couldn't get nothing. steve said you went to the drug store and got all they wanted, only you didn't ask for whiskey; you called it fermenting spirits. steve said the druggist told him confidentially you ought to be a druggist, you told him things he didn't know before. now, go at your work as you did at doctoring and you'll learn. it has been the regret of your mother's life that you did not learn to be a doctor. i've sometimes thought old hare just pretended your medicine made him sick to get out of paying the bill. i don't think dr. playford cared one thing about it so far as you was concerned but the other doctors talked so about it he just had to let you go. i've always felt sorry about it because, if any of our family is taken down with a fever, playford is the only fever doctor in town." arguments of this character occurred almost daily. alfred grew more and more dissatisfied, the father more insistent. alfred kept up his minstrel work, appearing ever and anon in amateur exhibitions. folks kept pouring it into his ears: "well, if i had your talent this town wouldn't hold me fifteen minutes; i'd take the boat for pittsburg tonight. what does your father mean by holding you down in this way? does your mother favor it? why, your folks are standing in their own light. if i had a boy like you i'd hire him out and travel with him," was shuban lee's comment. all this was not calculated to cool the ardor of an ambitious amateur. alfred read the _new york clipper_ weekly. he wrote many letters to many minstrel managers to which he did not receive replies. charles duprez, of duprez and benedict, answered one of alfred's letters thusly: dear sir: in answer to your letter--do you double in brass? charles duprez. alfred read and re-read the letter and finally answered: mr. charles duprez: respected sir: i do not double in brass or anything else. i'm a minstrel, not a contortionist. alfred griffith hatfield. no reply ever came. alfred concluded the minstrel field was overcrowded or managers would not have permitted him to remain idle, especially in view of the fact that he had offered to give their full performance, for as low as twenty dollars a month, washing and mending. to one manager he added a confidential p. s.: "if you are not doing very well i can put you on to a good thing, a panorama. i'm a panoramist." alfred turned his attention to acrobatics. every spare hour was spent on the tan bark pile with lint dutton, james todd livingston, tom white and lash hyatt. lint dutton was determined to learn bare-back riding. sneaking his father's horse from the barn, he would endeavor to stand alone on the back of the animal, alfred playing clown and bindley livingston ringmaster. mr. dutton, after lint had fallen and nearly broken his back, locked up the horse. lint determined to give up bare-back riding and practice the indian style of horsemanship. many are the persons who had narrow escapes from being run over by lint as his horse galloped up and down the back streets of the town, wearing the old feather head-dress that node wore in his attempts to fly. alfred and bindley livingston constructed a trapeze. completed, it was suspended to the roof of the cow stable; the boys spent many hours practicing. the climax of the act, livingston, the stronger of the two, hung by his knees on the little horizontal bar above, holding alfred by the ankles both hanging head downwards, swinging to and fro, as does the pendulum of a clock; the limitations of the stable would not permit the swinging part of the performance. a large locust tree in bowman's pasture lot, near alfred's home, was selected as the best possible place to try out the double trapeze act. from a limb of the tree, hen ragor, the assistant in the performance, suspended the trapeze. the news spread that there would be some wonderful acting in the old pasture lot, saturday afternoon, always a holiday to every boy and girl in old brownsville to go fishing, swimming, nutting or berrying. on this particular saturday all the boys and girls hied themselves to the old pasture lot; nor was the gathering confined to the younger set; a few of the adults were attracted. they stood at a distance, viewing the doings; however, not one of them but had a vantage position. as the exercises went along, danny gummert, george pee, denbow simpson and alf mccormick, drew nearer. caroline baldwin, seated on the fence, yelled: "come in and look out, you can see better." this brought a laugh and a few of the elders outside of the pasture sauntered a little ways off only to come nearer as the applause and laughter grew louder. alfred had covered himself with all sorts of glory in the numerous numbers in which he had participated. caroline baldwin, who, with her brothers clarke and charley, occupied two entire private boxes, (two panels of fence), proclaimed during an intermission that alfred was the greatest actor in the country; "it was just shameful he was held down when people all over the country were pantin' to see him do his showin'." lin declared: "nobody in eny show thet's ben yere in years kin hol' a candul tu him; they can't tech him. he kin walk ontu his hans better en some peepul kin on thar feet." here lin cast a withering glance at jack beckley that would have sobered one less saturated. jack returned lin's look with a vague grin, saying: "i'm drunk and glad of it." lin gave him a smart push as she ordered him to keep his distance: "i smell licker on yer close." "excuse me--i didn't--no--i hed--spilled eny--of hit." jack seated himself on the grass, unheeding the jibes of the little boys and girls. he was a good natured tippler. in fact, he seemed pleased that his condition was furnishing fun for the crowd. no blare of trumpet or beat of drum announced the coming of the death-defying gladiators; no eloquent orator was there to describe their deeds. unheralded, unannounced, without applause or acclamation alfred and bindley emerged from their dressing room, baldwin's barn. crossing the narrow alley, climbing the fence they stood under the shade of the trapeze tree, the open-mouthed, craned neck cynosure of all eyes, excepting jack beckley's--he had gone to sleep. the silence that greeted the duo was broken only by sotto voce remarks of lin, taking a mental inventory of alfred, or rather, his costume. he was attired in a red waist trimmed with beads, white tights, long, bright green, silk stockings tied with broad yellow ribbon garters, a big, double bow knot on the outside of each limb; a bright red nubia or neck comforter wound about his middle; no pumps, shoes or other covering on his feet. [illustration: the aerialist's debut] the silence that greeted the appearance of alfred was broken. jack beckley lying on the ground too listless and drunk to raise his eyes higher than alfred's green stockings, noticed the great expanse of feet in them, seemingly larger by the spread of the loose stockings. he remarked to those near him: "thar's a heap uf thet one doubled down on the groun'." lin spoke as if to herself: "well, i'll be tee-to-tully durned. ef thet harum scarum devul hain't got my nit drawurs on fur tites, an' they fit him like sassage guts that's too big fur the fillin'. an', an'," lin craned her neck towards alfred, "an', an', by jiggurs, ef he ain't a wearin' mary's (the mother's) green silk stockin's she used tu dance an' frolik in when she was a gal; an' aunt lib's worked, beaded jenny lind waist; an' lizzie's new red nubby woun' roun' his shad belly. ef he ain't stole the yaller ribbon offen sal whitmire's weddin' bonnit, i'm blind. well, jus' wate, jus wate. ef thar ain't a nuther circus to home tonite it'll be bekase his daddy ain't well." alfred and bindley bowed low, right and left, kissing their hands to the audience, then saluting the trapeze in turn. (this pantomime introduction they had copied from mathews and hunting, noted trapezists in those days.) however, the same salutes have been employed by all aerialists these many years, therefore alfred and bindley should not be charged with stealing the business of others. preparatory to ascending to the trapeze alfred unwound the nubia from his waist, casting it on the ground. lin grabbed it up with a look that seemed to say: "thank gawd, i'll get that anyhow." trapeze performers usually ascend to their rigging on a net webbing, hand over hand sailor fashion. alfred and bindley, after their bows and salutes, climbed up the trunk of the tree to the limb on which their trapeze was suspended. coon like, they crawled out on the limb and lowered themselves to the trapeze. they kissed their hands to the uplifted faces below. at an agreed signal they bent backward, beginning with the feats performed by all trapezists. after every trick the aerialists would come up smiling, seated on the lower bar, side by side. turning themselves upside down--which is the clearest explanation that can be written--they hooked their feet over the short bar in the small swing above and hung motionless head downward with folded arms. as they thus clung one of the yellow ribbons or garters on alfred's limb became loosened. the long ribbon fluttered in the air, furling and unfurling it gracefully descended. lin reached up her hands to catch it, muttering through her set teeth: "i wonder ef he'll shed the rest uf his borryed plumes. i wish he wud. stretchin' an' crawlin' about he'll bust 'em sure." and lin looked at alfred's limbs with an anxious expression: "ef he does you kan't sew 'em an' i ain't got no yarn thet'll match tu darn 'em." the last feat was the hanging head downward by bindley, clasping alfred by the ankles. hen ragor, with the aid of a rope cast over the lower bar, pulled the performers, backwards and forwards. when the proper momentum was gained alfred released his hand hold on the bar. henry was to hold the bar away from the swing of the human pendulum until alfred clapped his hands. he was then supposed to slacken the rope in his hands permitting the bar to swing within the grasp of alfred. this was the rehearsed procedure to carry the thrilling feat to the proper climax. henry swung the trapeze too forcibly, one end of the rope slipped out of his hands and pulled loose from the trapeze bar. the lower bar fouled in the branches of the tree. alfred was clapping his hands violently for the trapeze. henry was endeavoring to cast the rope over the bar, his efforts resulting in failure after failure. finally in his excitement he endeavored to cast the rope up to alfred. the pendulum had nearly stopped swinging, and alfred was waving his arms, clapping his hands and begging piteously for the big trapeze swing. bindley above was holding on to the boy below. he implored alfred to climb up to him. effort after effort was made by alfred to do so, but he hung limp and helpless. he could not command sufficient strength to pull his body up. he clutched at lin's unmentionables as he hung head downward. the earth seemed a long way from him and things on it upside down. the boys below were yelling in their excitement, the girls had covered their faces, the grown folks, who had stood afar, rushed to the scene. never will alfred forget the few moments he was suspended thus, nor will he fail to remember to his dying day the first message he received from the man above. there was a splash, an incipient shower of warmish liquid falling on alfred's upturned chin. alfred wiped it off with his hand; fearing it was blood he scanned it closely. he was greatly relieved when he discovered that it was tobacco juice. (bindley always chewed when acting). following the juice came this message: "i can't hold you all day, come up here or i'll come down there." alfred made frantic grabs, clutches and wiggles to climb up, only to fall back, more helpless. hen was making an effort to throw the rope to alfred. lin grabbed him. snatching the rope from him, she shouted: "clim' the tree, clim' the tree, loose the swing, ye dam fool." hen had started up the tree. a flood of hot juice rained down on alfred's upturned chin, flowing into his mouth. bindley, with clinched teeth, muttered: "if you get killed it's your own fault, i can't hold you any longer." alfred could see old mrs. wagner at an upstairs window waving a book at kenney shoup urging to the rescue. he could hear voices as if in the distance. he felt a lowering of his body. he felt himself rushing through space. he made an effort to look up, and then all was blank. he had a numb feeling in his whole body. "stan' back, stan' back, gin him air, wash thet tobakker juice off his face, hit luks like blud," were the first words he caught. his eyes were wide open. "pour water on his head; lor' don't pour hit down his bosum, you'll ruin lib's worked waist. open the gate an' we'll carry him hum an' fetch a doctur, ef thar's no bones broke he may be hurt innerdly." alfred raised himself up. he looked up into the faces about him. "where's bindley?" were the first words he uttered. "oh, i'm all right," alfred assured him, "we'll do it all right tomorrow, won't we bindley?" bindley nodded his head, doubtfully. alfred attempted to walk but would have fallen had not helping hands been stretched out, easing him down until he rested on all fours. he commanded all to release him: "let me alone, i'm all right. come on home with me, bindley." painfully, slowly he started, crawling toward the opened gate, over the spot where he had collected the ammunition that disbanded the torch-light parade; nor did he turn aside for anything. not unlike a four-footed animal he made his way to the middle of the street. he attempted to arise. again weakness, or pain, bore him down. hands that were willing to assist him before he crawled through the cow pasture, were now held aloof. lin, as she saw him fall in the dust, said: "well, ef he ain't a sight on airth. kum on james todd, help him hum; an' you boys strip him while i heat a kittle uf water, till we git him so the doctur kin handle him." alfred staggered to his feet again, bindley and charley brashear supporting him on either side. thus, the limping procession slowly moved homeward, the young ones and a few grown-up ones bringing up the rear. these latter were re-telling the story of the accident for the twentieth time, usually concluding with: "bindley is a fool; he had further to fall than alfred; he didn't have to fall, he could have just flopped alfred over and turned him so he would have lit on his feet and let him go. no, dam if he didn't hold on 'til he petered out and down they both come like two bags of salt. alfred hit full length, it's a wonder it hadn't busted him. bindley lit sort of half standing, but he got right up and limped a little and it was all over with him, but tother one was knocked colder than a wedge." alfred had been feverish, hot. the great amount of water poured over him to revive him had run down his body, and the many pads in the maiden aunt's garment absorbed the water. alfred complained of feeling cold. someone whispered behind him: "that's a bad sign. when that jones boy got throwed off a horse, nobody thought he wus hurt much but he turned cold just afore he died." aaron todd stood at his gate with a cynical smile spreading over the small expanse of face not hidden by whiskers. he viewed the plight of the boy with evident pleasure. as alfred, with the assistance of his companions, entered the gate leading to his home, todd elevated his nose, and turning about as though to enter his house, sneeringly muttered: "dad-burn him; he got a dose of his own medicine. ho, ho, ho; chickens comes home to roost, don't they?" lin led the way, as she commanded. "kum on in through the kitchen, it won't du fur ye tu track over the front room carpet." with bowed head, leaning on his companions, alfred limped to the kitchen door. bindley and charley disrobed him. placing a big, tin vessel in the middle of the kitchen floor, they soused alfred into it. there was not a bath room, private or public, in brownsville in those days. wash tubs were used in winter, the creek and river in summer. once there came an oldish, high-toned lady from richmond. she lodged with isaac vance at the marshall house. he bought a new carpet and other fine furnishings for her room. it was an unusually warm summer. one day vance noticed the colored porter carrying a tub to the lady's room: "yer, yer, where yer goin' with thet tub?" demanded the proprietor of the hotel. "i'se jes carryin' it up tu mrs. so and so's room," answered the colored man. "what's she goin' to do with thet tub this hot weather" inquired the landlord. "i reckon she's gwine to wash herself; she sed she's gwine to take a bath, i ges dat's washin' herself." "huh!" snorted vance, "not in this house in this weather. ef it wus winter i wouldn't mind it, but i won't have her floppin' aroun' up thar like a dam ole goose, splashin' water all over thet new carpet. take thet tub back to the cellar, an' you go up an' tell her ef she needs a wash to go to the crik like i do." alfred was put to bed. the doctor, after careful examination, declared no bones were broken, there were bad bruises and might be internal injuries. however, it would require several days to fully determine, meanwhile the patient must be kept very quiet. lin advised the doctor: "he lit mos' settin'; ef he'd hed a littul further tu fall he'd lit flat on his settin' down attitudes." a bottle of liniment was ordered, and alfred rubbed often with the preparation. john barnhardt and cousin charley volunteered to sit up with alfred the first night. alfred regained his good humor, laughed and jested over the termination of the trapeze act until all agreed he was in no danger whatever. "why, he's jes carryin' on same es he allus does; hit nevur fazed him," lin assured the mother. however, when the doctor called the following morning and lin confidentially advised him that the boy was all right and he needn't lay abed another minute, the doctor dissented, insisting that the patient remain quiet, at least another twenty-four hours. jim mann agreed to sit up the next night. the father requested jim to get someone to sit up with him for company. it was getting late, lin was dozing, alfred urging her to go to bed. there was a knock on the door; both felt sure it was jim. lin opened the door; there stood jack beckley and in about the same condition as the day before. lin hesitated to admit him. jack explained that jim had invited him to sit up with alfred. he said: "jim and dave adams had a quarrel and jim threw a pot of white paint on adams, covering him from head to foot. jim don't know whether he will be arrested or not; he does not want to be arrested and locked up at night when he can't give bail, so he sent me to look after alfred." lin, when jack's attention was elsewhere, whispered to alfred: "don't close a eye tunite, sleep tumorrer; ye can't tell what a whusky drinkin' man'll du, thar's no dependence in 'em." jack was a most attentive nurse, in the early hours of the night at least. he hovered over the bed at the slightest move of the patient. he insisted on using the liniment almost constantly, declaring he would rub all the soreness out of alfred's bruises before morning. alfred, half asleep, remembered jack saying something about looking for more liniment. jack left the house ere any of the family arose. alfred was loud in his praise of jack's kindness and declared him the best hand in the sick room he had ever seen. the mother was sorry he went off without breakfast. the father said he would hand him a piece of money when he met him. alfred insisted that he had entirely recovered; jack had rubbed all the soreness out of his hurts and he would not lie longer in bed. the father and mother commanded he lie until the doctor assured them danger had passed. the doctor called, and alfred assured him he was all well and wanted to get up and go to work that very day. the doctor said: "well, you ought to know how you feel. have you any soreness in your joints or muscles?" "no, sir; jack beckley rubbed all the soreness out of me last night." "turn over, let me see if there is any evidence of bruises." the doctor seemed deeply interested. alfred could not see his face but he seemed to be critically examining him. he would tap various places on the bruised part of alfred's anatomy. "does that hurt? does that pain you?" would be the question after each tap, to which alfred would invariably answer: "no, sir; no, sir." after studying a few moments the doctor passed into another part of the house; he was evidently conferring with the mother. returning he again took alfred's temperature, examining the tongue even more carefully than previously. the doctor remarked, as if to himself: "it's curious. did you sleep; have you no pain?" again he turned alfred over and gazed long at the parts of the body supposed to be bruised. alfred began to get interested: "what's the matter, doc; have you found any bones broken?" "no, no, nothing of that kind. but the bruises; have you no soreness." alfred assured him that he had not. "i will be back in an hour," was the conclusion of the doctor's instructions to lin. when lin entered the room alfred's first anxious query was: "what's the matter with the doctor, he wants to make you sick whether you are or not. i'm going to get out of this bed this day; i'll not lay here any longer." here the mother entered cautioning alfred to remain entirely quiet. "i'm going over to see grandmother; she is not well. i will bring your father home with me; the doctor will return by that time and we will know what to do for you." later mrs. wagner came, a good-natured, motherly, old german woman, a near neighbor. among her neighbors, she was esteemed as one whose knowledge was invaluable in the sick room. she insisted upon examining alfred's condition. although he insisted he was all right the old lady was permitted to examine his bruises. she left the room, returning soon with a large, hot poultice, applying it. alfred grew rapidly worse. the doctor soon returned. at every pressure of his fingers he found a new sore spot. "does that hurt?" "yes, sir," would be the answer from alfred. warm teas were administered, cold towels were placed on his head, and hot poultices on other parts of his anatomy. alfred feebly acknowledged he was feeling very badly. the father and mother came and with them the grandmother. when alone, the father advised alfred that his body was a solid mass of bruises, that the flesh had turned black and blue. alfred heard lin whisper something about "mortification hed set in an' the doctor feared blood pizen." the family were at dinner--alfred had been placed upon a diet of squab broth, none of the flesh, just the broth--alfred quietly arose and, with the aid of the big looking glass, (mirrors had not been discovered as yet, in brownsville), and a contortion feat such as he had never attempted previously, he scanned the bruised parts. lin's worst fears seemed confirmed; all his person reflected in the looking glass was black as ink, as he expressed it. good mrs. wagner, with the doctor's permission, continued applying the hot poultices. alfred's misery increased near night when the nurses advised him to calm himself as the bruised blood was rapidly disappearing. alfred urged the good woman on by declaring the poultices were getting cold, although they had been applied but a moment or so. uncle ned came to sit up. he greatly increased alfred's nervousness by his attempts at consolation. he showed alfred the error of his ways, assuring him he might have been killed outright and that his foolish ambitions to become an actor would probably lay him up for weeks, that it would cost his father a lot of money and possibly leave alfred with his health impaired for a year to come. alfred, to get relief, implored the uncle to bring in more poultices. he kept the good uncle so busy his lecture was greatly interrupted. in answer to the doctor's first question: "how do you feel this morning?" alfred replied: "very weak; i had no sleep last night." the doctor examined the patient carefully. "does that hurt?" "no, sir," answered the sufferer. "well, you're coming around all right; the blood is circulating and the bruises are much better, your flesh is assuming its natural color." "doctor, i think that liniment had something to do with my trouble, don't you? it nearly burned me up and the turpentine in it smelled so i could hardly stand it. i told jack when he was rubbing me it felt like he was raising blisters." the doctor interrupted the patient by hastily correcting him as to there being any turpentine in the liniment. "i know there was, i've worked with turpentine too long not to know the smell of it," persisted alfred. lin also declared the whole house smelled so of turpentine she was compelled to change the bed clothes. "ye kan't tell what a man thet drinks licker like water mought take intu his hed to rub ontu a body. i wanted tu hist him when he fust kum, but no, jim mann sent him an' he mus' stay." "where's that bottle of liniment i sent here," demanded the doctor. lin opened the closet door and handed out two bottles. one of them contained a few drops of an amber colored fluid. "this is the lotion i prescribed," said the doctor, and he poured a few drops of the liquid in the hollow of his hand. rubbing his hands briskly he held both palms over his nostrils. sniffing it he drew his hands back, his eyes watering. "there's no turpentine in that mixture." he held his hands over lin's nostrils and triumphantly asked if she could detect the odor of turpentine. lin admitted that it had no scent of turpentine. the doctor held his hands over alfred's face: "where's your turpentine? you're a good judge of turpentine and you work in it every day and cannot detect the odor of it from alcohol, wintergreen and chloroform." the doctor laughed as he seldom laughed. calling the mother the doctor laughingly poked a great deal of fun at lin: "i wouldn't want alfred or lin to buy turpentine for me." he kept the fun going by reminding alfred that jeffries (the father's competitor) was probably correct when he spread the report that the father used benzine in his paint instead of turpentine. this was a center shot at alfred. the report had been circulated that his father used benzine to mix his paint with. during the war the price of turpentine was almost prohibitive and benzine was used by many painters. it was not a good substitute and it was a common thing for one contractor to injure another by circulating the report that his competitor used benzine. raising himself up in bed alfred stoutly reiterated that it was turpentine he smelled in the liniment. lin said: "durned ef ye kin fool me in the smell uf enything; my snoot nevur lies. i not only smelt hit but ye kud taste hit." the mother added her observations to alfred's and lin's insisting the room smelled as strongly of turpentine as though it had just been painted. "i was compelled to open the windows," she said. the doctor could not combat the new evidence, it was too direct. "well, if there was turpentine rubbed on this boy, jack beckley brought it here. have you any turpentine in the house he could have gotten at?" the mother and lin both declared there was not a drop of turpentine in the house. the doctor left with orders to continue the poultices. bindley called with his coat pockets full of green apples. emptying the unmatured fruit on the bed, he cautioned alfred to eat salt on them and they wouldn't hurt him. bindley was insulted when the green apples were thrown out by lin, with the remark: "huh! he's got enough pizen in his sistum without loadin' him up with worms." the turpentine story was detailed to the father with the benzine reflection, and he was hot under the collar. he sent bindley forthwith to locate jack beckley and bring him to the house: "but don't say one word to him about what we want him for." the report had spread that alfred was in a serious condition. many were the callers and many the comments on the accident. mrs. todd said: "well, i can't understand why it was that the livingston boy, who was the higher up and fell the farthest, escaped injury, and alfred was hurt so badly. they say livingston could have saved himself the fall. they say he risked his life to save alfred. i can't just understand how alfred got hurt so badly; it seems like a visitation of providence; you know alfred has been so forward in his devilment with other folks." lin flared up as she answered: "an' i kan't fur the life uf me figger out how bindley fell so much higher down then alfurd an' didn't break his back. but judgin' by the terbakker juce he spilled on alfurd afore he fell he mus' dropped his quid an' then fell on hit an' thet broke his fall." there is no denying the fact that the accident made bindley the hero and alfred the goat. peter hunt said: "bindley was prompted by that sense of duty one boy feels toward another. he held alfred until he could hold no longer, and when strength gave out, he fell with alfred. it was an act of heroism." peter said there were two bodies falling with equal velocity; if one had fallen on top of the other the concussion would not have been great. johnny tunstall said of alfred: "huh! the munkey devil; ye kudn't kill him with a hax." george fee expressed his sorrow thusly: "it's a great pity they fell; i tole susan so, for when they wus up in them swings they wus nearer heavun un they'll ever git again." aaron todd pushed his whiskers over the garden fence, inquiring of lin as to alfred's condition: "he's purty badly hurt i fear," he began, and, with a tone that betokened anything but sympathy: "hurt internally i reckon. he'll hardly pull through ef he hes blood pizening; i never knowed anybody thet hed hit internally thet evur got up again." "oh, my!" and lin pretended to be greatly surprised, "oh, my, alfurd's all right. why he's up an' about. ef you're goin' out on a torch-lite percession soon ye'll hear from him." todd's face clouded, pulling his whiskers over the fence into his own yard, muttered: "the luck of sum peepul beats hell." the doctor and jack arrived. "what kind of liniment did you apply to alfred's bruises?" sternly demanded the doctor. "i dunno," quietly answered jack, "your liniment i reckon." [illustration: "and thar's the very bottle"] "was there turpentine in the liniment you used?" continued the doctor, not regarding jack's reply. "well i should say; hit nearly burnt my han' off, hit tuk all the skin off twixt the fingers; my han' wus jus' like when i hed the itch. i've been greasin' hit with hog's lard an' elder bark ever since," and jack pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it up to the doctor's view. the doctor bent over the hand; it was discolored with small blackish spots. "where did you get the liniment; did you bring it with you?" more sternly demanded the doctor. "no, sir, i didn't bring hit with me," somewhat impudently answered jack, "i'm no hopathekary; i got the liniment right thar," pointing to the closet door, "an' thar's the very bottle," continued jack as he opened the closet door. taking the large bottle off the shelf with both hands he passed it to the doctor who shook and uncorked it. as he was in the act of smelling it the father entered the room. turning toward him the doctor, with his nose still at the neck of the bottle, inquired: "john, where did you get this stuff, this liniment?" "liniment?" the father repeated, as he reached for the bottle. "liniment? why, doc, that's not liniment. who said it was? why, i've been experimenting with that stuff nearly a year. that's not liniment, thet's walnut stain; i can stain anything to resemble walnut. we--" the remainder of the father's recommendation was lost in the laugh. alfred kicked the bedclothes over the headboard; the women-folks ran, the doctor did not remain to see jack remove the mortification from alfred's body. when jack had scrubbed, rinsed and dried the supposedly affected portion of alfred's anatomy, he assured him the black and blue color had been supplanted by a redness of the skin that was remarkable. "hit's es red es scarlet," was jack's comparison. "well for heavens' sake, jack, keep it quiet or they'll be doctoring me for scarlet fever," cautioned alfred. as the doctor walked up the path toward the front gate lin shouted after him: "doctur, ye kin tell ole jeffres thet john uses turpentine in his liniment ef he don't in his paints." chapter eighteen thank god for the man who is cheerful, in spite of life's troubles, i say; who sings of a brighter tomorrow because of the clouds today. then came a letter--whatever you may be, your parents were probably more so about the same age; but the world is wiser now than then, the boy world at least. the writer had heard of alfred and his wonderful talents; he was organizing a minstrel show and would like to negotiate with him. the new organization would be one of the most complete in the country; it would be an honor to anyone to be connected with it. benedict would head the company. duprez and benedict's was one of the leading minstrel companies of the period. how was alfred to know the benedict who was to head the new show was not lew benedict? alfred engaged with the great benedict minstrels. rehearsals were called for a. m. daily, but were generally called off until p. m., by which time the principals were in such a jolly mood they did not require rehearsals; they felt funny enough to entertain royalty. the manager, or more properly, the angel, for angel he was, seemed more desirous of making a reputation in bar rooms than with his show. alfred learned the minstrels were being organized to invade the oil regions where money grew on derricks. after subduing the oil territory the angel was supposed to become so favorably impressed with the possibilities of the enterprise, augmenting the company, he would treat the larger cities to a sight of the mighty monarch of the minstrel world. doctor mcclintock and wife lived near rouseville, pa. childless, they adopted a boy, john w. steele. prior to the discovery of coal oil, the worn out fields of that locality were valueless. now broad acres were as valuable as the diamond fields of south africa. never in the wildest days of the gold excitement in california was money more rapidly accumulated or squandered than in the oil regions of pennsylvania. johnny steele fell heir to all the lands of dr. mcclintock. wealth rolled in upon him; he entered upon a career of extravagance. he spent thousands of dollars daily, he literally cast money to the winds. his notoriety spread to the furthermost limits of the country; the daily papers, the weeklies, the monthlies printed exaggerated accounts of his profligacy. skiff and gaylord's minstrels crossed the path of "coal oil johnny," as steele had been dubbed. lew gaylord made a great ado over the spendthrift. steele accompanied the minstrels for a few days; their pathway was one wide streak of hilarity. when hotel men complained of the boisterous behavior of steele the coal oil spendthrift bought the hotel for their stay. "coal oil johnny" was the sensation of the day. he bought the minstrel boys hats, coats, shoes, trunks and that most coveted minstrel decoration, a diamond. the minstrels flourished for a few months. the public rebuked the unenviable notoriety of "coal oil johnny." the minstrels steadily declined. "coal oil johnny" went down with them. his money gone, he was made treasurer of the troupe his prodigality had ruined. when the ending came there was none so poor as he. hotels where he had spent thousands, refused him even a night's lodging. he went back to the farm; the acres he had cultivated were covered with oil derricks; the friends he knew had departed; he was almost a stranger save for the notoriety he had acquired. unabashed he seemed to take a pride in the spendthrift race he had run. he drove a baggage wagon; afterwards he became the baggage master at the depot in rouseville. * * * * * there never was a full rehearsal of the minstrels ere they embarked for parker's landing on the good boat "jim rees." there was no railroad to the oil regions from pittsburgh in those days. the allegheny river was navigable to venango, opposite the present oil city. two members of the minstrels, song and dance men, took a dislike to alfred. others soon became intimate with him, they enjoyed his humorous narratives, particularly his experiences with node beckley and the panorama. the two members mentioned exhausted the new boy's patience and he invited both to fistic combat. his challenges were laughed at; the jibes and jokes became more and more insulting. jealousy, that canker that eats and festers at the hearts of actors as it does at those of no other humans, was the motive for their actions. alfred had introduced a bit of acrobatic comedy in the closing farce that was the laughing hit of the minstrels. owing to the lack of acts, the stage manager ordered alfred to put on a single turn. this act preceded the turn of the song and dance men. the singing of alfred took with the oil men greatly. the two who followed were not even fair singers, their efforts fell flat; they had the stage manager change them on the bill. the change put them just before alfred. when advised of the change he reminded the stage manager that he went on only for accommodation in the olio and flatly refused to follow the song and dance men. the angel ordered the two song and dance men on in their usual position, following alfred. alfred rehearsed a dance secretly. he finished his singing turn with this dance, introducing all his known acrobatic stunts. this rough dance simply set the oil men wild and the two worthies fell flatter at every performance. no philanthropist of the "coal oil johnny" sort had discovered the minstrels as yet, but the path of their travels was one of nightly carousals. the two dancers were assisting the manager-angel in scattering the money that came in. the people were hungry for amusements; hence the tour thus far had been one of profit. the manager and his companions never went to bed when there was another place to go. it was one of the pass-times of the two dancers to enter alfred's room noiselessly, pull him violently out of bed and steal out in the darkness. in one of their playful moods they carried alfred's wearing apparel to another part of the hotel. alfred warned the stage manager that he intended to resent this treatment. however, there was no cessation to the indignities the two put upon the young minstrel. but like all so-called ladders, they could not stand the gaff. after a particularly keen onslaught upon alfred with their tongues, in which several of his weaknesses were commented upon, alfred got back at them: "i don't have to cater to the manager to hold my job; i'm drawing my wages on my work, not on my cheek," was alfred's retort. * * * * * at titusville, a banquet was tendered the minstrels by the landlord of the hotel. many speeches were delivered, good, bad and very bad--all predicting the perpetual success of the minstrel enterprise. there was a lull in the gaiety. the toastmaster announced as there was no prepared program all would be expected to say something. he thereupon introduced one of alfred's tormentors. the fellow arose, cleared his throat and made a laborious attempt to speak a few intelligible words, concluding with an indelicate story. the landlord tiptoed across the room closing the door that none might overhear. with a maudlin leer he followed the landlord with his eyes, as he shouted: "thanks, landy, this ain't a ladies' story." as he sat down there was neither laughter nor applause. the toastmaster called upon alfred. he was overcome with bashfulness and did not arise until several urged him to say something. "get up, get up," urged the two men opposite. alfred arose, so confused he could not articulate. a voice shouted: "tell them about the panorama." alfred began palmer's lecture. it had no application to the occasion, but few understood it, there was an oppressive silence. alfred had no idea of when to cease talking, and would probably have given the whole lecture, had not bill young, a musician, one who took a very great interest in him, seized him by the arm, shaking him forcibly: "here, here; you forgot the song, you promised to sing for us." bill continued: "gentlemen: alfred will now give you a correct imitation of an old maid singing 'barbara allen.'" he gave the imitation so cleverly that the guests applauded again and again. as he ended the song, his eyes closed, imitating the old maid, something soft and mushy struck him on the breast of his white shirt. the juice spattered into his face and over those near him. a glance at the mushy mess, alfred's eyes fell on the two men opposite him. one was looking apologetically at the gentleman next alfred who was wiping his face with his napkin; the other laughing tantalizingly. retaliation was speedy. it was not two seconds after the decayed tomato landed on alfred until a large platter of soft salad of some sort, a sugar bowl and several smaller dishes were landing just where aimed. one of alfred's tormentors lay upon the floor, his face and vest literally covered with salad and other cold lunch. the other was making for the door, dodging plates and cups that flew perilously near his head. alfred, being the swifter, soon overtook the fleeing man. there was a short struggle, and alfred's well directed blows took all the fight out of him; he begged for mercy. the landlord led alfred to the parlor, commanding him to keep quiet and not cause further disturbance. alfred remained in the parlor for what seemed to him a long time. finally, the landlord returned to advise the man struck with the salad plate was pretty badly cut and they thought best to get a doctor. he further stated the other one had complained to the police. "the coward," sneered the landlord, "i wish we had let you give it to him; he would have had something to complain of. however, the chief is a good friend of mine and i think i can fix it so you will not be locked up." alfred's first thought was, what will the folks at home say should he be thrown into jail? the chief of police and members of the company and others crowded into the parlor. the chief, one of those officials who felt his importance greatly, assumed to try the case then and there. "have you had any fights before?" "yes, sir, thousands of them," answered alfred. he was under the impression the question covered his entire life. everybody in the room laughed. "no, i had reference to a fight with the parties whom you assaulted here tonight," continued the officer. alfred was just a little ashamed of the admission and entered into an explanation: "i never tried to fight them before, though they have done everything they could to worry me. ever since i joined the show it has been one insult after another. i could scarcely keep my hands off them only i was afeared they would double team on me. i'd had it out long ago but for that," and as alfred talked he warmed up. "hold on," the chief interrupted, "do not incriminate yourself. did either of these men ever offer you violence?" "no, they was afraid to, they're both cowards. i will fight it out with either of them right now." alfred was angry; the old brownsville way of settling such disputes was all he thought of. the chief remarked to those near him: "i feel sorry for this boy, owing to the fact that they have tormented him;" he turned to alfred, "i do not feel sorry for them nor wish to protect them, yet that is no legal excuse for your assault upon them." someone came forward with this proposition, that inasmuch as they all belonged to one family, that they shake hands all around, call everything square and go on about their business. "well, if the party will withdraw the charge of felonious assault it's all right with me. i don't get nothing out of it nohow," was the police officer's reply. "get them together," was the suggestion made by several. alfred interfered by saying: "i'm willing to get together or do anything that's fair but i'm not going to travel with this gang of rowdies another day." the chief nudged him to cease and whispered: "then they'll put you in jail." "well, i'll put them in jail, too," retorted alfred. "what charges will you prefer against them; you stated you had never had trouble with them before?" "but look what they have done to me," persisted alfred. "they have plagued me until i couldn't have a minute's peace of mind, and then they hit me with a rotten tomattus as big as a gourd, why--?" the chief here interrupted alfred to inform him that in law a rotten tomato was not considered a dangerous weapon. "well, if anybody would hit you with a rotten tomattus, i know what you'd do; you'd shoot 'em, that's what you'd do." "why, there was no tomattuses on the table; i can prove it by the landlord." "them fellers went to the slop barrel and fished it out; didn't i smell old sour swill on it. why the smell of that tomattus would made a dog sick." whether it was alfred's anger, emphasized by his smacking his hands together, his hurried speech, or the description of the condition of the tomato, the laughter that convulsed all seemed to make him more indignant. with heightened voice and more forcible gestures he continued: "if i do live in a little town, i've been away from home before, and i won't let no son-of-a-gun ride over me even if he is as big as the side of a house. i've got a home; i've got good people; i can go to them and i won't travel another day with a pack of drunken rowdies. you can do with me as you please. you say there's no law agin heavin' rotten tomattuses at a person in a banquet. what kind of law have you got in titusville? if anybody would hit another with a tomattus at the dinner table in brownsville they'd beat hell out of him quicker'n you could say 'jack robinson.'" the remainder of alfred's forcible, if not eloquent, speech was drowned by laughter. half a dozen present volunteered to go his bail. numerous attempts were made in the early sunday morning to influence alfred to continue his travels with the troupe. to all arguments he gave the same answer: "no; i'll not travel further with a lot of drunken rowdies." with all sorts of promises, a raise of salary, promotion, and other alluring inducements, they failed to move alfred. finally as do all cajolers, the manager endeavored to threaten the boy into following his wishes. but with no better results. "i would walk home before i would travel another day with you," was the parting shot as the manager left the room, swearing he would have alfred in jail and keep him there. the injured man swore out a warrant for alfred. captain ham came forward promptly and signed the bail bond. the captain was to open a summer garden or park a few days later. as alfred had no previous acquaintance with the gentleman, he has often thought the deep interest evinced by the genial captain was influenced by the two weeks' engagement offered and accepted by alfred to appear in the park. in so far as the writer's knowledge goes, this summer park in titusville was the first of it's kind in this country. titusville is renowned. rockefeller's career began there. titusville was the birthplace of the summer park and the standard oil company. the minstrels left titusville with diminished forces; four remained behind. after a few nights more of feverish hilarity the company disbanded without money or friends. thus early in life the fact was impressed upon alfred that the drunkard is an annoyance to sociability; without judgment, without civility, the drunkard is an object to be avoided in every walk of life. the drunkard is a detriment in business; a disgrace to his friends; the shame and sorrow of his wife and children. he is shunned by even those who profit by his excesses. at a banquet in chicago last year alfred was confused by someone shouting: "al, tell them about your panorama experience; there won't be any tomatoes thrown." he could not get his mind off the interruption. as the guests were departing a gentleman passed his card; the name was not familiar. alfred was passing on when the gentleman said: "al, don't you remember me? we attended a banquet thirty-nine years ago. you were served with tomatoes; i got a dose of salad or some such stuff. i didn't mind the salad but the plate kind of jarred me." here he pushed back a lock of red hair streaked with gray, exhibiting a small scar high up on the temple. alfred recognized him. to relieve the situation alfred inquired as to the whereabouts of dick, the other song and dance man. "oh, he is, or was, working in a saw-mill in williamsport. i haven't seen him in thirty years. al, i didn't throw that tomato. come over to the store, i want to talk to you." * * * * * fort duquesne, afterward pittsburgh, was builded at the confluence of the monongahela and allegheny rivers where they form the ohio, called by the villagers the "point"--a natural site for a beautiful village such as fort duquesne was at the time we write of. it was indeed a sight on which the eye might gaze enraptured, with ever changing beauties to charm it. the high hills on every side cast their shades over the peaceful village for, notwithstanding the prefix "fort", there was no semblance of soldiery, cannon or war, about the peaceful place. the hills of smiling green rising abruptly in places, gently at others, towering above the rivers, seemed to look down upon the village and its peoples. the hills crowned with lofty trees and climbing vines, the trees swaying in the breezes seemed to be bowing approval at the tranquil scene below. the locust, the sumac, the oak, the walnut, the dogwood, the haw, the red berries, glowing in the eyes of the boys of the village, and as impelling to them as the red lights that later glowed on the anheuser busch plants in the city that supplanted the village of fort duquesne. brownsville was one long symphony of content and happiness. the prosperity of its people excited the envy of those of fort duquesne. it was argued by the discontented of fort duquesne that the changing of the name of "red stone old fort" to brownsville was that which brought brownsville renown and riches. therefore, certain ones of fort duquesne called a public meeting to be held at the "point" where the matter of changing the name of fort duquesne was discussed. those who had emigrated from washington county insisted the name should be brownstown, hoping thereby to profit from the confusion that would arise as between that name and brownsville. they argued that when the traders from shousetown, sewickley and smith's ferry, came up the river to barter they would be confused by the similarity of the names and ascend the river no further, thus the trade of brownsville would be diverted. others argued that the name be changed to "three rivers;" still others insisted if change there must be, it be to fort pitt. others wanted a burg made out of the old fort. there was a compromise and the name "pittsburgh" adopted. immediately there was an influx of settlers, particularly from somerset and butler counties. the town profited greatly by the change of names; there were many who could neither spell nor pronounce "duquesne;" but now that it was made easier to explain where you lived, the town thrived. pittsburgh, with an "h", became noted. in fort duquesne the people had been content to live as they began; but the interlopers from braddocks field, greene county, and holidaysburg changed conditions. the luxuriant cabbage gardens gave way to boiler yards; the little brick houses were supplanted by glass houses, still houses and other manufacturing establishments, the mark of that van of commercial greatness that has made pittsburgh famous. that part of the town formerly given over to agricultural pursuits, namely the river banks, was now paved with cobble stones and termed "wharves," thus providing a vantageous place for the citizens to congregate when they had a boat race over the lower course. occasionally a raft from salamanca would be moored on the allegheny wharf and shingles unloaded in piles for the children to play ketch around in the twilight. on the monongahela side where the boats came from and departed for brownsville, there was always more activity. many of fort duquesne's best citizens seceded. the volunteer firemen remained faithful to the old fort. they went into business on smithfield street and are known to this day as the duquesne fire company. it was through those who seceded that the outlying boroughs of birmingham, brownstown, and ormsby, were created on the south side, while those on the north-west side christened their settlement "allegheny," thus destroying its future. as the river of that name that runs away from itself when it rains and drys up when it is clear, is so uncertain, the name allegheny does not appeal to the masses. had allegheny taken the name of "pittsburgh," the courthouse and all other public buildings would be located on the north side, a natural site for a populous city. as it is, pittsburghers are compelled to live in irwin, latrobe, cassopolis and kittanning, to make room for their public buildings. in the early days of the "smoky city," for such had become its nickname, the residents were wont to sit for hours and gaze at the sun and sky; this pleasure is denied residents in modern pittsburgh. the only knowledge they have that there are sun, moon and stars, is that which professor john brashears (from brownsville) supplies with his astronomical instruments. hurrah for brownsville! in those good old days there was no caste or class. on a saturday afternoon the entire populace would gather at scotch hill market and on fifth avenue at night. andy carnegie knew every man who worked for him by his first name and could be seen daily at the bull's head tavern where the men always stopped to open their pay envelopes. the leaders of society were consistent. there were two balls each winter and one picnic in summer. city hall and glenwood grove were the scenes of those gayeties. harry alden, mayor blackmore, chris ihmsen, tom hughes, major maltby, n. p. sawyer, john o'brien, jimmy hammill, harry williams, major bunnell, john w. pittock, bill ramsey and dan o'neil were the social, political and business leaders of pittsburgh in those days. no social function, no political scheme, no public celebration from a wedding to a boat race was successful without their active co-operation. ben trimble, harry williams, matt canning and major bunnell controlled all the theatres. jake fedder was the toll-taker at the smithfield street bridge, a position second in importance only to that of mayor. those were happy days for pittsburgh. everybody had a skiff and fishing was good anywhere. the suckers were all salmon in the river and you did not have to go to lock number one to catch white or yellow perch. a twine line could be bought at any grocery store. sporting goods emporiums had not taken over the fish hook industry. happy would pittsburgh have been could it always have existed as in those golden days. but communities, like humans, grow out of their simplicity, encouraged or subdued by the successes or failures of life. alfred was in pittsburgh again among friends whom he loved. johnny hart had graduated from second cook on the tow boat red fox to stock comedian at trimble's variety theater. harry williams was the stage manager. there was a place made for alfred on almost every bill. the levantine brothers, fred proctor, of keith & proctor, harrigan & hart, delehanty & hengler, joe murphy, johnson & powers, and all the famous artists of that time appeared at this house. alfred impersonated a wide range of characters while in this theatre. harry williams, the stage manager, was an ideal "mose" in the play of that name. (it was the saturday night bill for weeks.) alfred made a big hit as the newsboy, sharing honors with the star. he added new business to the part weekly and was retained several weeks for the one performance on saturday night. alfred was engaged by matt canning, the manager of the pittsburgh opera house. in those days all first class theatres employed a stock company; the stars traveled alone, or at least with only a stage manager. the manuscript of their plays, the scene and property plots were sent in advance. the company studied their parts until the arrival of the star when a grand rehearsal was gone through with. this was a strenuous day's work, particularly if the star was a stickler. booth, barrett, mccullough, edwin adams, joe jefferson, jane coombs and many other noted stars appeared at the pittsburgh opera house and alfred had the honor of supporting all of them, by assisting in moving bureaus, dressing cases, center tables, cooking stoves, bedsteads, bar fixtures and other properties required in the plays, up and down stairs. however, parts, and minor roles, were entrusted to alfred. if the stock system had continued it would be greatly to the advantage of the dramatic stage of today. it made the actor, it proved the actor. he remained in the ranks alone on his ability, impersonating many characters in one season. his art broadened. actors do not compare with those of the olden days. this is true. we may have a few actors as able as any that ever lived but the dramatic profession in general has deteriorated since the combination system superceded the stock company. the stage has advanced in the authorship of plays and their production, not in their rendition. the actors of today are not the students or workers as were those of the earlier days, neither have they the opportunities. alfred was entrusted with many roles not congenial to him; in those he generally failed. in a society drama, appearing in evening dress, a turn-down collar, a large red and white flowing tie, a huge minstrel watch chain attached to his vest, he was reprimanded by jane coombs, the star, in the presence of the company. another time he led a roman mob costumed as a quaker. john mccullough laughed over this afterwards, but at the time, what he said cannot be printed. when joseph jefferson appeared as rip van winkle, in addition to impersonating one of the villagers, alfred was entrusted with the task of securing children to take part in the play. the stage manager advised the bashful children to make merry with rip; that he was very fond of children and would enjoy their familiarity. whether it was the shaggy beard or the assumed intoxication of rip, a child refused to clamber up on rip's back. the stage was waiting; that the scene should not be marred, seventeen year old alfred attempted to perch himself on rip's back. it was not the jefferson of later days but the jefferson of middle manhood. alfred was dropped to the floor amid laughter that the scene never evoked previously. instead of the great actor being peeved, he kindly inquired of alfred if the fall had hurt him. as a matter of fact alfred purposely made the fall awkward. dick cannon had a number of young friends--billy conard, clarke winnett, charley smith, billy kane and alfred. dick had a large luxuriously furnished room in the hotel. one evening each week he set apart to entertain his young friends. to pass the time away dick introduced a game he had played a few times while tending lock at rice's landing. it was a greene county game, new to fort duquesne but universally popular in pittsburgh since. the game was known as "draw poker" in greene county. after several lessons, in which dick's courtesy and unusual interest in his young friends was evidenced at the end of every deal, as dick raked in the pot with the air and manner of a learned professor of a college, he explained to each player who had lost--and his lecture always embraced the entire class, for when the pot justified it, they all lost--just how they should have played their hand to win. "it's just as important to learn how to lay 'em down as it is to play 'em up," was his advice. alfred had failed, notwithstanding dick's teachings, to learn even the rudiments of the game, so he sought the dictionary. he had become convinced that a person to be proficient should, as dick advised in one of his lectures, not only study the game but human nature as well. therefore, alfred decided to start right. he found the word "draw" signified "to drag, to entice, to delineate, to take out, to inhale, to extend." the word "poker" signified any frightful object, a "spook." [illustration: the old greene county game] the echoes of gideon's words were daily percolating through alfred's gray matter: "don't know enough to quit the game when you got velvet in front of you." when questioned as to the cause of his absence from the weekly seance, alfred replied that, as he understood it, the object of dick was to teach and enlighten each in the class, and that he had thoroughly mastered the mysteries of the game and he felt it was imposing on dick to take up his valuable time and devour his delicacies longer; dick should get a new class. "i'm graduated," concluded alfred. * * * * * alfred's connection with the drama was both pleasant and profitable. the probabilities are that if a certain production had realized the hopes of its authors, he would have continued in the dramatic line. it was the beginning of that evolution of the stage that culminated in the ascendency, for a time, of the melodrama. a serial story under the title of "from ocean to ocean," then running in street & smith's _new york weekly_, was dramatized for j. newton gotthold and in so far as the writer is informed it was bartley campbell's first play. the play bore the title of "through fire." it was a stirring drama, and both actor and author had high hopes of its success. j. k. emmett, recruited from the minstrel ranks, had made himself immensely popular, and wealth was rolling in on him. his vehicle "fritz" was a flimsy frame on which was hung emmett's specialties. byron's phenomenal success in "across the continent" was achieved only through his artistic ability. it was argued that j. newton gotthold, a sterling actor, with a sterling play, was sure to attain success. alfred was engaged for the spring trial of the play; also the following season. the opening occurred in youngstown, a western city, so looked upon by pittsburghers in those days. after two nights in the west there would be a week or two weeks in pittsburgh. alfred, in addition to doubling the character of a young snob, afterwards a quick gun-man, also led the indians' attack on the wagon train. a number of supes were employed in youngstown, husky young rolling mill men of muscle and grit. alfred, at the head of his indian braves, attacked the wagon train of emigrants; instead of the supes falling back, as rehearsed, then charging forward, led by the star, they pitched into alfred and his indians at the first rush. alfred to save the scene, fought valiantly to stem the tide of strength and sturdy determination. but the supe pale-faces were too muscular for the copper tinted braves whom alfred led. in fact, at the first onslaught of the whites the indians, with the exception of one or two, fled and left alfred to battle alone. alfred was overpowered, completely vanquished--a blow between the eyes laid him low. the youngstown supes not only wiped up the stage with him but they wiped their feet on him. the gallery howled, the down-stairs applauded, the company laughed. the curtain fell amid loud applause. alfred was anxious to continue the conflict after the curtain dropped; the supes were agreeable. but the stage manager, the stars and others of the company interfered. the matter was amicably adjusted. alfred, although badly maimed, played his parts during the week's run in pittsburgh, although the war club he carried was not the imitation one he wielded in youngstown. however, there was no recurrence of the youngstown scene. the play did not meet with success. after the pittsburgh engagement it was carefully laid away and thus alfred was preserved to minstrelsy. it is a curious fact that the only play bartley campbell ever wrote, a play with the theme of which he was not in sympathy, written for commercial purposes only, has lived longer and earned more money than his most meritorious creations. we refer to "the white slave." who is not familiar with those thrilling lines: "rags are royal raiment when worn for virtue's sake." bartley campbell was a self made man--from laboring in a brick-yard to journalism, then a dramatist. he was a noble boy, a manly man. he toiled patiently all the days of his only too brief life for those he loved. * * * * * it was in the early days of the beginning of that race for wealth that has made pittsburgh both famous and infamous. jared m. brush had been elected mayor; hostetter stomach bitters had become famous in all dry sections of the country; jimmy hammill had won the single sculling championship of the world; the red lion hotel had painted the lion out and painted st. clair hotel in gilt letters to attract trade from sewickley, which community, so near the economites, had imbibed a sort of religious fervor exhibited outwardly only. it was argued by the proprietor that when the residents of sewickley drove by on their way to market to dispose of their garden truck, butter and eggs, they would be attracted by the word "saint." the st. nicholas hotel on grant street always boarded the court jurors. the st. charles on wood street had the patronage of the democrats of fayette county. brownsville people always stopped at the monongahela house. the bleating sheep, the frolicking calves, the cackling hens, that had been heard on the verdant ridges of pennsylvania road, had been crowded to the rural district known later as east liberty and walls. the log houses had given away to brick and frame dwellings owned by those who occupied them. doctor spencer had opened a dental emporium on penn street near the old ferry, then known as hand street, now ninth. business was so good joe zimmerman had to paint his name upside down on his store front near the union depot. the fact that this cigar store was always crowded suggested the idea of another railroad for pittsburgh. at first it was contemplated building the road along the south or west bank of the monongahela, extending the road to, or beyond brownsville. bill brown then resided on braddocks field, although he has repeatedly and earnestly protested to the writer that he was not at home when braddock fell and did not hear of it for some time afterwards. therefore, it is hoped those who are not acquainted with bill will not connect him in any way with anything that happened to braddock--the general, not the village. when bill learned of the projected railroad he interested a number of capitalists who owned coal land and town lots in braddock. hence, the new road was built on bill's side of the river. first, it was completed to mckeesport. the opposition steamboat lines plying the river, (the boats being much fleeter than the railroad), controlled the passenger traffic. when the projectors of the new railroad had this fact forced upon them they abandoned the plan of building the road further up the monongahela than mckeesport. surveying a route along the youghiogheny river and thence to connellsville they announced that they would eventually build to uniontown and down redstone creek to brownsville thus entering brownsville by the back door, as it were. however, this change of route did not work as the railroad people hoped for. the railroad carried a few passengers for layton's station, west newton and several settlements between mckeesport and connellsville. all travelers to mckeesport still patronized the boats, even those for west newton and layton station traveled on the boats to mckeesport, and awaited the train to continue their journey. the railroad people, dispirited and almost bankrupt, appealed to brown and his friends who had held out such glowing inducements to them to build the road on their side of the river. an investigation of conditions was ordered and bill, with his usual good luck and influence, appointed chairman of the investigating committee, with powers to expend whatever amount was necessary to the investigation. bill made one trip on the railroad to connellsville. thereafter, he spent the greater part of the beautiful autumn traveling up and down the monongahela, even as far up the river as geneva, although the scope of the investigation was to extend only as far as mckeesport. the palatial side-wheel steamers were always crowded to the guards with travelers. many slept on cots in the cabins but bill had the bridal chamber. the mirrored bars employed a double shift of irrigators. they were never closed except when the boats were moored at pittsburgh, and then bill could always get in the back way. the food was bountiful; stewed chicken for breakfast, turkey for dinner, fried chicken for supper, and at night a poker game in the barber shop. again and again the railroad people requested a report from bill but he was busy investigating as to why the steam cars were running with empty seats. finally notices were mailed to the railroad people, the superintendents who were also the section foremen, that the chairman of the committee was ready to report. they were requested to meet at dimling's where bill often assembled himself. [illustration: bill's report] brown arose to read his elaborate report. he began by making a short explanatory speech mostly devoted to the immense amount of labor entailed upon him in the investigation. he thanked the railroad people for the confidence they had placed in him. he deplored his lack of ability and knowledge. in fact, in his talk he expressed such a contemptuous opinion of himself that those present (country folks), from hazelwood and port perry were wrothy that they had entrusted bill with the mission and money to complete the investigation. they were ignorant of the fact that the speech was one he had delivered to the members of another body yearly when elected to the office of treasurer. bill then read his report. it dealt with the crowned heads of europe, the free traders of pennsylvania, the populists of kansas and nebraska, the government of ancient greece and the wars of the romans. of course this had nothing to do with the subject under investigation but it served to rattle and confuse those to whom the report was read and impress them with the wide scope of the investigation. the report referred in scathing terms to the unparalleled audacity of the officers of the rival lines of steamers, more particularly the new, or people's line. that line had only two boats, the "elector" and "chieftain," while the mail line had the "fayette," "gallatin," "franklin," "jefferson," "elisha bennett," and other boats. bill, like everybody on the inside, felt that the mail line would soon absorb its rival and it was politic to be "in" with the stronger corporation. the report demanded that the runners for the boats be restrained from soliciting passengers; that the steamboats be restrained from departing on the scheduled time of the railroads. thus, if the west newton and layton station passengers could not make connections at mckeesport, that is, if the trains arrived prior to the boats, travellers would be compelled to patronize the railroad. he also compared the officers of the steamboat lines to the gauls who devastated rome, the vandals who had over-run the fairest plains of europe. that part of the report ended with: "god forbid we live longer under these conditions." having thus artfully worked up the feelings of those present, bill gazed over the assemblage with the air of a man who has gotten that which he went after, and continued to read: "after diligent research, entailing much traveling, including many trips up and down the river at great expense including shoe-shining, your committee has succeeded in evolving a plan whereby the pittsburgh and connellsville railroad may be able to control the passenger traffic on its lines. and it is to be hoped that all concerned will take the proper view of the matter and concur in the recommendations of the committee: first, that all trains on the pittsburgh and connellsville railroad (excepting when otherwise so ordered), be and are hereby ordered equipped with an extra car, divided into three compartments, namely, dining room, bar-room, and another room." the chairman explained that the words "excepting when otherwise so ordered" were inserted as a precautionary measure. "it might happen at times that two cars, of the kind the committee recommended, might be required." after concluding his report the chairman carefully folded the paper, placing it in his hat. casting his eyes over the meeting he silently waited for some one to say something to dimling. after the meeting adjourned, one man ventured to remark that bill had gone about the investigation like a colt approaching a brass band, prancing and dancing, wrong end foremost. many were the written protests sent bill. all these he ignored. he not only refused to reply to them, but to emphasize his contempt, used them for an unseemly purpose. chapter nineteen hang on! cling on! no matter what they say. push on! work on! things will come your way. "a person dunno till after they've fell intu a muddy ditch how meny roads they cud a took an' kept out uf hit. but after ye've fell in the mud a time ur tu an' then ye don't no enuf tu keep outen hit, ye ain't much; ye're only gettin' muddy an' not larnen eny sense, an' thar ain't much hope fur ye." this was lin's answer to alfred's declaration that he would never go out with another show unless it was first class. if there ever lived a boy who has not experienced the feelings that must come to a rooster that has been in a hard battle and lost the greater part of his tail feathers, he is one who has never looked over his record and endeavored to rub out the punk spots. there are but few boys who have not an exaggerated ego, and it is well that they are so constituted, they will better battle with the rebuffs and the disappointments that youth always walks into. if a boy is lacking in confidence--conceit is confidence increased in a boy; conceit is ignorance in a man. conceit renders a man so cock-sure that he ignores advice. the first thing for which a boy should be operated upon is an overdeveloped bump of self-conceit. the earlier in life this protuberance is punctured the more quickly he will become useful to himself and family. it often requires several operations to effect a cure. over-zealous friends are responsible to an extent for the failure of many promising young men. many persons regard exaggerated praise necessary to the advancement of youth. a boy entering almost any profession or trade can be unfitted for his labors by fulsome flattering. alfred's best friends filled him with the false idea that he was a great actor, that he was being abused and thwarted. had his friends been sincere, he could have side stepped many stiff punches that he walked straight into. most fortunate is the boy who gets knocked through the ropes early in the bout of life; his youth will enable him to come back the stronger. the king solomon of showmen, p. t. barnum, the father of fakes, originated the "gift show"--the giving of presents to all who purchased tickets of admission. everybody received a prize. several hundred of the prizes were of little value. there was one that was valuable: a gold watch and chain, a diamond pin or other article of jewelry, was generally the capital prize as it was designated. people flocked to barnum's museum to win the capital prize; barnum reaped a harvest. of course the idea of the "gift show" was immediately taken up by ignorant imitators who are always quick to appropriate the ideas of others. numerous magicians were soon touring the country with their alluring advertisements promising presents far exceeding in value the receipts of the theaters in which they appeared, even though the prices of admission were doubled. the circus concert adopted the "gift show" scheme, and when a circus side-show, or concert, adopts an innovation of this character, it is safe to wager that the yokel will "get his" good and plenty. the "gift show" idea was worked so successfully that the numerous jewelry concerns that had sprung up in maiden lane and on the bowery could not fill the orders for the brass ornaments required to supply the enterprises distributing them. everybody got a prize; there were no blanks. alfred and another boy, george, did the distributing act. stationed on either side of the stage, they received the tickets. pretending to look at the number, they handed the prize out. alfred had four packages of prizes; he was ordered to alternate. first a lady's breast pin, then a gent's collar button, then a stud, then a finger ring. the capital prize the boss awarded in person. since the days of barnum's "gift show," no "sucker" has ever seen the capital prize except when the proprietor of the "gift show" was not looking. the "gift show" man usually placed the capital prize in the show window of a prominent store. everyone who bought a ticket hoped to capture the capital prize. the "gift show" always fixed the landlord of the hotel or some man about town to draw the capital prize, returning it to the "gift show" manager afterwards. it is amazing the many who were willing to play the part of capper in this game. after a number of tickets were presented and not less than a peck of the cheap presents distributed, the capper would pass up his ticket, and the boss proclaim in a loud tone: "four hundred and sixty-two wins the capital prize, a solid silver tea set." the plate was set out on a table covered with a black velvet cloth to brighten the appearance of the ware. "if the gentleman prefers we will gladly pay him one hundred and seventy-five dollars in gold for his ticket." the money counted out to him in the presence of the gaping multitude whetted everybody's desire to win the capital prize. the following night the hall was crowded again. "gift shows" always remained three nights in each place. the entertainment offered was a secondary consideration; hence alfred was the star of the show. he had unlimited opportunities. the fact was, the only reason the manager gave an entertainment at all was to escape the lottery laws. alfred was on the stage half a dozen times and would have gone on again had he had anything more to offer. alfred imagined the more often he appeared the more he was appreciated, until one night a sailor heaved an orange from the gallery, landing it on alfred's head. the seeds flew all over the stage. alfred did not regain his composure even when assured by others of the company that the seeds were not his brains. a gentleman whom he had met while with eli during their tour of greene county--he was only an acquaintance of a day--called on alfred. alfred introduced him as his friend. agreeable, intelligent and well dressed, he made an impression on the show people and without consulting alfred, the "gift show" man fixed alfred's friend to cop the capital prize which he did very successfully. when the boss called: "ticket three hundred and nine wins the capital prize," the rehearsed scene was gone through with, although alfred's friend made the play doubly strong by hesitating in accepting the cash in lieu of the tea set. "i would prefer the silverware; i wish to preserve it in our family." after a little further parleying, he was handed one hundred and seventy-five dollars. he received congratulations, answered questions and smiled on everybody. the night alfred's friend won the capital prize the audience was larger and more intelligent than usual. one gentleman remarked, as he passed back to alfred the present tendered him: "boy, keep this for me until i call for it. write my name on it; i don't want to lose it, i want to get it melted, we need a pair of candle sticks and brass is mighty high." an old lady opened her envelope containing a pair of ear-rings. handing them to alfred she remarked: "i hope there's no mistake here, the ticket reads ear-rings, these are chandeliers." the stool pigeon, after receiving the money for the capital prize, wandered leisurely out of the hall. he was supposed to be met by the fixer of the "gift show", to whom he was to return the money the boss had given him. alfred's friend played his part capitally. he sauntered out leisurely; he did not saunter out of the main door, or, if he did, the fixer failed to meet him. the hall was empty save for the two or three stragglers and the manager. the fixer entered hurriedly, looking sharply around the almost vacant room, he whispered with the boss. they turned their glances toward alfred. it was an illusion of the boss and his staff that others of the company were ignorant of the deception practiced in the awarding of the capital prize. the boss called alfred to his room and questioned him at length as to the gentleman he had introduced as his friend. alfred stated when the eli minstrels were touring greene county the gentleman accompanied them several days. his companionship was so agreeable that eli remained behind in carmichaelstown a day or two. the boss had learned the fellow was a short card player, and he swore he would not allow a cheap poker player to do him. "fix the olly! i gave him broads to the show! he's right as a guinea! fix him! have this cheap greene county bilk pinched. i'll land him in the quay." all of this, interpreted, meant that the boss wanted the winner of the capital prize arrested and thrown into jail. he did not dare proceed against him for holding out the money he had given him. to attempt to recover it by law would expose their nefarious practice. there was hurrying to and fro and in hot haste but nothing as to the whereabouts of the gentleman could be learned. the constable searched all night, and the fixer remained with him as long as he could keep pace with the officer. weary, blear-eyed, unsteady on his limbs, he finally lay down on a bench in the hotel sitting room and was awakened only by the breakfast bell. next morning he was very surly. he ordered alfred in a very rude manner to remove two large boxes of jewelry from the hotel to the theatre and to remove the boxes as soon as he got through his breakfast: "and don't eat all day either." alfred did not eat all day; in fact he ate but little. he was choking with wrath over the insult the man had put upon him. taking himself from the table he awaited the coming of the man. as he emerged from the dining room, alfred halted him with: "i say, you ordered me to move some baggage from the hotel to the theatre. i just called upon you to tell you that you ain't my boss; you didn't hire me, you don't pay me; furthermore, i did not hire out to this troupe to peddle brass jewelry or handle baggage. you move the boxes yourself." "well, we'll see if you don't move them boxes, and i'll give you a smack in the jaw, you jay, you!" alfred remembered titusville, and a greatly subdued manner, said: "if you're the boss, just hand me my money and i'll skedaddle double quick." later in the day the boss sent for alfred to come to his room. as he entered, the boss said: "well, you want your money, do you, eh?" alfred replied: "i couldn't very well stay here after what's passed between your manager and myself." "that's so," smilingly assented the boss. turning his back on alfred and pretending to look over his books, he continued: "where do you expect to meet your friend?" "what friend," inquired alfred. "the smart young fellow you rung in on us yesterday. i'd thought you'd skipped without waiting for the few bones i hold of yours. you're too fly to work for a salary. talk about sure-thing men, there ain't a strong arm game in the country can beat it; garroting is laid in the shade by your play." alfred could not understand the man at all. he was completely confused: "what do you mean? has that man who tried to boss me this morning been telling you anything about me?" the man wheeled around in his chair, facing alfred. pointing his finger at alfred, in a voice choking with anger, he exclaimed: "you're not as slick as you imagine you are; you've been under cover ever since you came here. you made all my people think you were a straight guy; you played the role of a gilly kid to the queen's taste. but i'm on to you bigger than a house; after you've worked me for a hundred and seventy-five dollars, now you want to wolf me for twenty-five more. i won't shake down for one dime more. you think you'll get your bit of the touch but i'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that guy will double cross you and it will serve you right for doing the man you were working for. you can leave; i can't hold you but you won't get a case from me. i'll stand pat on this proposition. do you hear?" alfred understood the man, in some way, was endeavoring to connect him with the gentleman who won the capital prize. "all i want is my money, the money you owe me and you'll pay me before i leave this town," was alfred's declaration as he left the room. a bluff always unsettles a scoundrel. spaff hyman, the magician of the troupe, was after alfred in a moment. he explained that the boss and one or two others were under the impression that alfred and the gentleman whom alfred had introduced as his friend were in cahoots, that alfred had brought the stranger there to do the gift showman out of the money and that alfred stood in with the play. alfred was indignant. spaff assured the boy that he had implicit confidence in his honesty. "i know that greene county gang," continued spaff, "jim kerr and lias flanagan had that old trotting horse sneak. this fellow that came on here was the brains of the gang; they skinned every sucker on the fair grounds where they entered this horse. he had this combination sized up; he came on here to trim the boss and he got away with the play. i know you had nothing to do with it, but if you leave now, those who suspect you will make others believe you are crooked. hold down the job until you prove yourself right, then skip if you want to." alfred began an explanation: "i never met this man but once. i heard several people say he was a young man with no bad habits: 'he does not drink a drop of liquor, he don't smoke, chew tobacco, nor cuss.' that's what i heard in carmichaelstown." "huh! yes, he's a saint," sarcastically mused the old sleight of hand man, "he's a saint and that's what makes him successful as a con. sam weller advised his son to 'bevare of vidders,' i advise you to beware of saints. since the days of the bible when saints were inspired, there have been but few of them roving the earth. latter day saints are material, hence, susceptible to all the temptations and frailties of this world. when you get acquainted with a man who boasts that he has no bad habits, look out for him, he will spring something on you that will outweigh all the minor defects that scar the character of the ordinary man. i do not say there are no good men, there are; but the man who pretends to go through this world on a record of no bad habits accumulates a heap of inward secretiveness. it keeps growing. he gets swelled up, and some day he breaks out and the enormity of his break surprises all. 'he had no bad habits,' that's what they all said. no, he had no bad habits that were apparent; he was a sneak. in order to conceal his little sins, he deceived himself and his friends. if he had been honest he would have gone through life like the average man. go back in your mind and figure up the fellows that have fallen and see if the fellow with no bad habits isn't in the majority. mind, i'm not figuring on the poor devil without education or advantages, the fellow who robs hen-roosts or steals dimes. i'm talking about the fellow who walks off with one hundred and seventy-five dollars, robs the banks or post-offices, the fellow who touches the widow and orphan." "i can't understand you," ventured alfred. "well, you can't understand the fellow who had no bad habits." "but the boss is not playing fair with the public," protested alfred. "well, who on earth ever did play fair with the public? i know you, with your ideas bounded by fayette county's limitations, don't understand these things. there's men who would not take advantage of any man in a personal business transaction, who will get in on almost anything that will worst the public. the public is a cruel monster; the public condemned and crucified christ; the public is behind every lynching. the public condemns and ostracizes a man, even though he has lived an upright life all his days, when some scalawag, for personal or financial reasons, assails him in a newspaper. when commodore vanderbilt gave utterance to the words, 'the public be damned,' he expressed the sentiment of four-fifths of those who have rubbed up against the public, as had the sturdy old man who acquired his estimate of human nature while rowing the public over the river. the public would ride across the river without paying him fare. the public will crowd into our show tonight without paying. the public will eat all the fruit that ripens, all the grain that grows, drink all the liquors malted and take anything they can get for nothing. i mean the public rabble, the mob, not the individual. the only time you can trust the public is when their sympathies are aroused over some great public calamity that brings death and desolation. then the public is of one mind, the public then shows to best advantage." "well, you are the funniest man i ever heard talk. now what are you going to do to make the public what you consider it should be?" "educate it; educate it. three-fourths of the public are suckers, one-fourth skinners. now, i don't mean to assert that one-fourth are dishonest men, but most of them are men a bit too fly for the others. you know there's not one man in a thousand that considers it cheating to give himself a bit the best of it. now you argue that the public is ignorant and that the only way to get it right is to educate it. well, the fellow who walked off with the boss's one hundred and seventy-five dollars is educated." "how do you account for his dishonesty" inquired alfred. "i don't account for it." it was arranged that spaff go to the boss, patch up matters between him and alfred. spaff requested alfred remain in the hall that he might be near. the door closed on spaff. alfred remained near it; he wished afterwards he had not. the transom was open and every word uttered in the room floated through it. spaff began: "say, boss, i've been talking to that fresh young nigger singer, and, while he don't know much, it's my opinion he knows nothing of the guy who done you for the capital prize. he's purty handy around here and i thought you better keep him. i've got him going; i told him if he left now everybody would conclude he was in on the capital prize trick. so i think he'll stick." "what the hell do i care whether he sticks or not? he may be straight but i doubt it. the only reason i want him to stay is that he will have trouble in finding the other guy; i'm certain they were to meet somewhere and split up the touch." spaff was heard to say: "no, i think you're wrong. i am sure this kid is not in on it. i know that fellow; he's slick, he's always been a sure thing man and he has been planning this touch for sometime. he simply used alfred to get an introduction." "well, he's a good one. he did not want to draw the prize, he argued; all the best people in town knew him and it would be difficult to deceive them. why, i thought he was a small town jay. he even cautioned me to have someone at the door to receive the money, he did not care to carry it about with him." after a pause he continued: "well, about this boy; what shall i say to him? i don't think it's a good play to let him go; not now, at any rate. you say he's straight. do you reckon he's on to the capital prize fake?" "well, i dunno," answered spaff. "if he is, and he's dirty, he could queer us in all these towns; he's been through here with two or three jim crow minstrel shows; these rubes imagine he's some pumpkins. why, i have to go out of the house every time he comes on. he's the rankest performer i ever saw; he can sing a little and that lets him out. why don't you cut his act down one-half at least? half of the audience, green as they are, wouldn't stay in the house if they were not waiting for their presents." "he comes on ahead of you and hurts your act," the boss assured spaff. that gentleman said: "well, we've got to give them something for their money and alfred does pretty good; if he only had the stuff he would be all right." the boss agreed to this. "yes, if he had something new. those gags he springs were told before the flood. lord, if i had the gall of some people i'd be rich. when he came here into this room and wanted money for that stuff he's telling, i got up and opened the door and planted a kick on him and says: 'now, leave, skip, git out of yere and don't let me see you around yere agin.'" "why, he never told me one word of this," and spaff's voice evidenced his surprise. "what do you say about keeping him?" questioned spaff. "oh, we've got to have someone, but watch him." when spaff came out of the room he found alfred some distance from the door. "now, i've had a hard time squaring this matter with the boss. someone has got to him and he is sore on you, or was. i just told him you were all right and that i would be responsible for you and he said: 'well, i'll let him stay on your account.'" alfred could not restrain his anger longer. whirling around, facing spaff, he said in tones neither low or slow: "you go back and tell that damn sneak that i don't want to stay with him. you tell him he is a liar if he says he ever kicked me. you tell him if he says i had anything to do with the disappearance of his capital prize money, he's another liar. you tell him i'll meet him outside the hotel and he'll take back everything he said to you." spaff began to look scared. "why, how do you know what he said to me," he queried in a voice that showed his fear. "i heard every word; the transom was open; i couldn't help it. i'm glad i did hear. i know where you all stand. i'm only a boy, but i'll clean up this capital prize swindle and i'm going after it tonight. 'watch me,' that's what the boss ordered you to do." poor old spaff was thoroughly frightened. he coaxed and pleaded with alfred to drop the matter, take his pay and he would endeavor to have his wages raised. at the first opportunity he slipped away from alfred, ran around the back way and up to the boss's room. alfred was seated at the supper table. the boss entered and, with a pleasant "good evening," seated himself opposite alfred, and familiarly inquired: "what they got for supper? they set a fairly good table here but the waiters are slow." alfred sulkily ate in silence, never deigning to look at or answer the questions of the boss. that gentleman rattled on, first on one subject, then another. finally, he carelessly asked alfred the title of the new song he sang the night before. never noticing the boy's rude behavior in not replying to him, he continued, dipping a half doughnut in his coffee: "i want you to tell that gag about noah being the first man to run a boat show; i think it's the funniest thing i ever heard. where did you get it? i always make it a point to be in the house when you tell that gag." alfred did not understand that all this was flattery; he imagined the boss was guying him. his face was hot, his voice trembled. leaning over the table, he sneered: "so you come in every night to hear the jokes that came over in noah's ark, do you? well, you needn't come in tonight, you won't hear them. when you get through with your supper i want a settlement with you and if you think you can kick me, come out of this house and try it." he left the table and passed out. instead, spaff came to him, handing him twenty-five dollars. "now, see here, young fellow, you're too hot-headed, you'll never get along if you keep this up. this man appreciates your work; he told me so. say, you didn't hear right. i was in the room, i didn't hear the things you did. come on, now, i'll get you a raise of five dollars a week." alfred walked away from the man. his baggage had been conveyed to the hotel from the theatre and his preparations completed. he left the "gift show." * * * * * "i'll never take another chance with a fly-by-night troupe. if i can't get with the best i'll stay right here in this town. i'll paint hulls, houses or anything; i'll go back to the tan-yard; i'll go to the newspaper office; i'll do anything, i don't care what it is or how badly i hate to do it. i wouldn't be caught dead with another troupe like the last one i was with." so declared alfred to lin and cousin charley. after alfred was out of hearing, cousin charley, with a laugh, remarked he had "heard that story afore. it won't be a month till he's off agin with some kind of a show. he can't git with a good one; they wouldn't have him with a good show. (cousin charley had assured alfred that very morning that he considered him the best actor he had ever seen). he'll be out with a fly-by-night troupe afore the next month. alfred's a gone goslin'. he's got no trade an' he'll hev to scratch to make a livin'. i sort of pity uncle john an' aunt mary, kase they think so much of the boy, an' it's a great pity for them. uncle john ought to beat the foolishness out of him long ago. he never touches him, no matter what he does. does he?" lin looked at cousin charley in a sort of pitying way as she asked: "how is hit thet all are agin alfurd? ye all like him, i no ye do, but durned ef ye evur lose a shot at him. no, his pap don't whup him eny more, he nevur did beat him tu hurt; hit wus sort of a habit tu take him intu the celler to skur him but hit nevur done him a mite uf good, he jus laffed an' made fun uf hit. ye kin do more with reasonin' with alfurd." cousin charley agreed with lin and declared that he always took alfred's part. "i told his father alfred would go off some day and then they'd all be dog-goned sorry they hadn't handled him different." "well, alfurd's not goin' off eny more till he goes rite; he's gettin' more sot in his ways every day, he's mos' like a man." alfred's family were greatly elated that he had settled down. staid old brownsville was stirred from center to sandy hollow. peter hunt, philosopher and photographer, leased krepp's bottom for the announced purpose of converting it into a skating park or rink. alfred was one of peter's right hand men. the creeks and rivers had furnished ample fields for the skaters of brownsville heretofore, but peter felt the time had come when the society people of the town, who did not care to skate with the common herd, should have a more exclusive place in which to enjoy this wholesome recreation. therefore krepp's bottom was selected. the proposed park was the talk of the town. dunlap's creek flowed in a circle, skirting three sides of the bottom land. levees three feet high were thrown up along the banks of the creek, a rope stretched along the west side. an opening in the levee admitted the water. two feet of water covered the bottom. the weather turned cold, ice formed, the park was opened, and three-fourths of the public walked in free. alfred felt that spaff was about right in his estimate of the public. the creek fell, the dry, clay land absorbed the water, the ice sunk and cracked in places. the waters of the creek flowed six feet below and the glory of the skating park was a memory of the past. later on a promoter endeavored to rent jeffries hall for a roller skating rink. george washington frazee, who learned of the man renting jeffries' hall for a skating rink, said: "huh! another dam fool 'bout skeetin'. jeffries hall won't hold water, an' if it did hit wouldn't freeze hard enuff to bear." for the winter the town went back to its time honored sport of sledding, "coasting" it is termed nowadays. sleds of all kinds were seen on the hills and streets of the two towns. even men engaged in the sport. the speed attained, especially on scrabbletown hill, was terrific. the big sleds, loaded with from four to eight persons, flew down the hills at the rate of a mile a minute. the sleds bore striking names, alfred's the "west wind." it was one of the speediest of the numerous fast ones. starting at the top of town hill, those on the brownsville side would speed to the iron bridge, even across it into bridgeport. those sliding scrabbletown hill would often be sent, by the speed attained on this steep incline, across the iron bridge into brownsville. thus the coasters of the rival towns would at times, pass each other going in opposite directions. the older men would sit in the stores and watch the sliders. the shoe-shops of mckernan and potts were the scenes of many heated arguments as to the fleetness of the different sleds. an old gentleman who had recently moved to brownsville from uniontown, endeavored to impress the shoe-shop crowds with the superiority of the sleds of the uniontown boys over those of brownsville. he related that a uniontown boy slid down laurel hill through uniontown and would have slid on down the pike to searight's only he was afraid he would 'skeer' somebody's horses. [illustration: brownsville's winter sport] shuban lee, ever loyal to brownsville and her sleds, related how alfred had loaned his sled to a show fellow he brought home with him from somewhere. "the show chap did not know much about sliding. alfred's sled was a whirlwind when it got to goin'. the show feller hauled the sled to the top of town hill. he started down the hill. the sled run so fast it crossed the iron bridge up to the top of scrabbletown hill. afore he cud git off she started back down the hill, across the iron bridge agin, up to the top of town hill an' back she started. half the men in town run out an' tried to stop thet sled but hit wus so cold they couldn't do hit. she just kept on a-goin' down one hill an' up tother." here the uniontown man, with a contemptuous snort, said: "i s'pose he just kept on slidin' till he froze to death?" "no," shuban answered, "he didn't freeze, he just kept on slidin' till they shot him to keep him from starvin' to death. an' i kin prove hit by ole man smith an' if you won't believe him i kin show you the feller's grave." chapter twenty this world would be tiresome, we'd all get the blues, if all the folks in it held just the same views; so do your work to the best of your skill, some people won't like it, but other folks will. jean jacques rousseau, a french-swiss philosopher, nearing the end of his days complained that in all his life he never knew rest or content for the reason he had never known a home. his mother died giving him birth, his father was a shiftless dancing master. rousseau claimed his misfortunes began with his birth and clung to him all his life. rousseau was one of the few persons who have attained distinction without the aid of a home in youth. no matter how humble the home, it is the beginning of that education that brings out all the better nature of a human being. the home is the god-appointed educator of the young. we have educational institutions, colleges, schools, but the real school where the lessons of life are indelibly impressed upon the mind is the home. we write and talk of the higher education. there is no higher education than that taught in a well regulated home presided over by god-fearing, man-loving parents whose lives are a sacrifice to create a future for their children. the parents, rather than the children, should be given credit for the successes of this life. alfred had separated himself from his home several times but never decided to leave it for any lengthy period; but now the time had arrived when it seemed to him the parting of the ways in his ambitious life was at hand. on the dead walls, fences and old buildings, were pasted highly colored show bills announcing the coming of thayer & noyes great american circus. alfred decided he would go hence as a member of the troupe. the humdrum life of the old town had begun to wear on his energetic feelings. there were social pleasures sufficient to make the days and nights joyous, but alfred was thinking beyond the days thereof. the circus had come and gone. "i will take your address. if anything occurs that i can use you i will write. you can expect a letter from me soon." with these words dr. thayer crushed alfred's hopes. alfred voted the show the best he had ever witnessed, but the concert, the after show that promised so much and gave so little, he condemned. after writing several letters and destroying them, deciding they did not fulfill all requirements, the following letter was mailed: brownsville, fayette co., pa. dr. james l. thayer: respected sir: i take my pen in hand to acquaint you with the effect your show had on our people. it is the opinion of all who take interest in actors and should know, that your show was better than george f. bailey's and it was considered the best we ever had. brownsville people are hard to please. they see so much it must be choice if it suits them. your circus suited all. i have heard many actors declare brownsville was the hardest town to please they ever tackled. an english sleight of hand man played jeffries hall three nights. he said they were a "bit thick." alf burnett, the humorist, compared brownsville to slush ice. bob stickney was the best one in your show. now comes the news that i hate to tell (and this was the sole reason that prompted the letter). your after-concert is a bad recommend for your real show. i reckon one thing that made it appear worse is we have a regular minstrel show on hand all the time. i'm at the head of it, and most of the people in town know our jokes and songs by heart and when your concert people told them they did not tell them right and our people noticed the mistakes, and of course you couldn't expect them to laugh at the jokes anyway. now you promised to write me. if you can do so, i can go to your show most any time providing you do not get too far away from brownsville. please send me where you're going to list. i am sure i can make a heap of improvement in your concert and i know you do not want people anywhere to call you an old fraud as they have done here. your most obedient servant, alfred griffith hatfield. p. s. please let me know what you can afford to pay a prime concert actor. between times i can help out in the circus ring if you have clothes fit to do it in. in due time this reply was received: fairmont, va. mr. hatfield: your letter duly received. you will find our advance route for the next ten days enclosed. you can join at any time it suits your convenience. your salary will be based upon the value and extent of services you can render this company. after a trial, if your ability is not what you represented it to be, your engagement will be ended without prejudice to you or expense to this firm. respectfully yours, thayer and noyes, per b. l. p. s. send your professional name and billing. alfred read and re-read the letter and immediately began making preparations to tempt fate once more. the preparations mostly consisted in surreptitiously secreting his wearing apparel in the old barn where node had labored so long on his great inventions. it was alfred's intention to leave home clandestinely. as usual with boys in his frame of mind he did not dare to trust himself to advise with anyone; like boys in general, he did not desire advice. approval was that which he most craved. uniontown was decided upon as the place to join the circus. alfred felt the leaving of home and family meant more to him than ever before. at times he was buoyed up by hopes of success. he would argue with himself thusly: i have promised to join the show. they need me; they will be expecting me. this is the opportunity i have been looking for. alfred spent all his spare time at home with his mother, sisters and brothers. his usual haunts in town were forgotten. family and friends noted the change and wondered thereat. lin was unstinted in her praise. lin asserted from the wildest, he had become the tamest boy in brownsville. "he'll eat out of your hand now," she assured mrs. todd. mr. todd jerked out a "huh" as he advised them to keep their eyes on the "devil ketcher." "he's just sittin' the megs for another outbreak. he's compilin' some devilment, yer ken bet yer bottom dollar. he kan't fool me twice." it was the day previous to alfred's intended departure. he had been at home all day. he gave his sled to brother joe. it was summer and the steel soles were greased to keep them from rusting. lin would not permit joe to haul it over the floor claiming it would grease everything it touched. to brother bill fell shinny clubs and bats, marbles and a kite. sister lizzie was the recipient of more than a quart of various colored beads taken from aunt lib's jenny lind waist. ida belle, the baby was remembered with a big dutch doll that rolled its eyes, the mother with an ornamental sugar bowl and lin with a pair of puff combs. a pair of skates and a bow and arrow were given to cousin charley. the greater effort alfred made to ease his mind, the more conscience stricken he became. try as he would he could not force the gayety he feigned. he clung to the baby sister every moment he was in the house. lin, in an adjoining room, heard him ask the child if she would miss her big "bruzzer" when he was gone. entering the room she found alfred in tears, the sympathetic child stroking his face. alfred endeavored to swallow the lump in his throat but he only sobbed the more. it did him good as ashamed as he felt. lin looked him over suspiciously as she, in a voice as commanding as she would pitch it, said: "look here, ye can't bamboozle me another minnit. what's on yer mind? spit it out afore it spills. get it out of yer sistum and yer'll feel a hull lot better. thar hain't a durned dud of yers in this house. air yu fixin' to fly the coop? if ye air, don't go off like a thief afore daylight. go away so you won't be ashamed to kum back. kum on now, let's hear from you! i'll durn soon tell you whar to head in." alfred made a full and complete confession. "so yer fixin' to run off and break the hearts of all at home, an' put a dent in your own. for a week ye been jumpin' to make yerself more dear to 'em afore ye hurt 'em. yer hain't learnin' much with all yer schoolin'. when do the retreat begin?" banteringly demanded lin. "tomorrow," feebly answered alfred. that night, the family were in the big room, mother sewing, the children playing about her. lin, seated behind the mother, repeatedly signaled alfred to begin his talk to the mother as per his promise. the boy looked another direction but lin never took her eyes off his face. her gaze became painful. finally he began: "muz, do you think pap would be mad if i was to go away while he is in pittsburgh?" the mother, without taking her eyes off her work, said: "i hope you're not going to uncle jake's again. you'll wear your welcome out, won't you?" "no, i'm going away on business. i'm tired and sick of the way things are going with me. i see nothing ahead for me and i'm going to strike out for myself." the mother put down her sewing and looked very seriously. lin, from behind her, nodded vigorously for him to go on. "look at dan livingstone," alfred continued; "he never had anything until he went off with capt. abrams. now see where he is and i don't know how many boys have gone away and all have done well. all i need is to get out of this town and i know i can do something for myself." "does capt. abrams want to take you with him," anxiously inquired the mother. "oh, no, he never said a word to me about it, but i know i could go with him if i wanted to." "well, where do you think of going?" questioned the mother. alfred hesitated a second. "well, first i'm going to try it with a circus but i don't expect to stay long. i'm just going on trial." noting the look of worriment on the face of the mother he continued: "i know i won't do. they almost tell me so in a letter and it's only to uniontown, twelve miles away. i won't be gone long," and he caught the baby up, tossed it up, and pretended to be very jolly. the matter was gone over and over with the mother who insisted that alfred remain at home until the return of the father. if he could obtain his father's consent he could go. lin endeavored to assist the boy by remarking: "well, if he's jes goin' for a trial, uniontown is so close to hum, you could walk back if ye hain't fit fer the work." the mother protested to the last. alfred had been so very liberal in bestowing presents to ease his conscience that he had but forty-six cents in his purse when the leaving time came. he was acquainted with all the old stage drivers on the line. it was his intention to walk up town hill, rest under the big locust trees at the brow of the hill until the stage coach arrived, the horses walking slowly ascending the long hill, he would get up beside the driver or crawl in the boot on the rear of the stage coach. he lolled on the grass as the stage approached. the driver was a stranger to him. he looked appealingly at the man but received no recognition. the heavy stage lumbered by. alfred ran for the rear end of it. the boot was bulging out with trunks and valises; there was no room for alfred. a broad strap that held the huge leather cover in place over the trunks dangled down within reach. grasping it as the four horses struck a trot, alfred was helped along at a lively gait. through sandy hollow by the old brubaker house, then a slow walk up the hill by mart claybaugh's blacksmith shop, through the toll gate, then into a trot on by the old school-house where his first minstrel show was given, on by all the familiar places. [illustration: leaving home] heretofore when traveling the pike alfred had a word and a smile for all as he knew every family along its sides. on this occasion he endeavored to conceal his identity. but once did the coach halt--at searight's half way to uniontown to water the horses and liquor the driver and passengers. old logan, the hostler at searight's crowed in imitation of a rooster, the passengers throwing him pennies. alfred with cast down head walked on to the next hill. when the stage rolled by he again grasped the strap and kept pace with the coach until the outskirts of uniontown were reached. a small colored boy directed him to the show grounds. through the main street of the town alfred trudged, carrying the large carpet sack formerly used with the eli troupe as a property receptacle for mrs. story's china tea set. arriving at the circus grounds, the afternoon performance was over. drawing near the tent he anxiously expected to find the show folks looking for him. he imagined they would all be expecting him. the huge form of dr. thayer loomed up. alfred hastened toward him. the doctor was engaged in an earnest argument with a mechanic of the town over the charges for repairs on a wagon. alfred walked up to the circus man. the doctor did not even notice him. he followed the two men around the wagon as they argued, alfred stationing himself directly in the big showman's path. their eyes met several times, still no recognition came from the circus manager. alfred finally accosted the big man with a "howdy, mr. thayer. i've come to work for you." the showman's surprised look showed plainly he did not recognize alfred. "i'm the new boy to work in your concert." motioning with his arm he ordered alfred to go back and charley would attend to him. without any idea who charley was or what he was, alfred started in the direction indicated by the jerk of the doctor's hand. approaching the connection between the main tent and the dressing room tent, a man lying on the grass warned alfred back. even after he explained that he was searching for charley, the man, without heeding the appeal, motioned the boy back. walking around to the other side of the tent, he stealthily approached the opening and darted in. he was barely inside the tent when a big, burly fellow seized him roughly and hustled him through the opening, demanding why he was sneaking into the ladies' dressing room. "mr. thayer hired me. he sent me here. he told me charley would attend to me. i'm looking for charley." the man asked: "what charley are you looking for?" "i don't know. mr. thayer told me charley would put me to work." the man laughed and led the way into the tent as he cautioned the lad to use the name of mr. noyes instead of charley. mr. noyes was too busy to talk to him. alfred's attention was divided between the performance and the novel scenes in the men's dressing tents; the latter were as interesting to him as the ring performance. the order and decorum pervading the organization was marked. charley noyes, a most competent director of a circus performance, the deportment of his employes was nearly perfect. even the property men were respectable and well behaved. the performance over, a heavy set man was packing a huge trunk with horse covers and other trappings. he had repeatedly requested the others to lend a hand. alfred assisted the man with his work until completed. in the interim alfred advised him why he was there. the man looked the boy over carefully saying: "where are you going to pad?" alfred had no idea of the meaning of the word "pad." afterwards, he learned that "pad" was slang for bed and sleep. he answered correctly by chance, "i don't know." "well, you can get in with me. it's a two o'clock call. i'm going to spread a couple of blankets under the band chariot. i sleep better there than in a hotel." the blankets spread, alfred's carpet sack served as a pillow for him. they were about to crawl in when the other asked alfred if he had been to "peck." "not within the last week." the man looked at him pityingly. there was a lunch stand nearby. the man, returning from it, handed alfred a half of a fried chicken and an apple pie. although alfred insisted, the man would not eat any of it. he ordered alfred to eat it all, remarking "you need it." alfred found himself the object of considerable sympathy the following day and not until someone asked him how it was he had been without food for a week did he learn that "peck" in show slang signified meals--eating. boy-like, he had worn his new sunday shoes. his feet were feverish and sore. even had alfred not been footsore, the snoring of the other would have made sleep impossible to him. how long he lay awake he had no reckoning of. it seemed to him he had only closed his eyes when he felt a yank at the blankets and a rough voice ordering him to get up. it was the lot watchman. the big band chariot was slowly ascending the foothills of the mountains. the east was ahead over the mountain. the curtain of night was being lifted by the first streak of gray dawn spreading over the sky. all were asleep in the wagon excepting the driver. halting his team he began winding the long reins about the big brakes. he was about to climb down when alfred inquired as to the trouble. the driver advised that the off leader's inside trace was loose and the lead bars dragging. alfred advised the driver to sit still. "i'll hook it up. how many links do you drop?" he asked as he pushed the horse into place. he was on the wagon in a jiffy. the driver was greatly taken with the boy. further up the mountain at the big watering trough, alfred assisted in watering and washing the horses' shoulders. it was only a day or two until alfred was permitted to handle the reins over the team, a favor this celebrated old horseman had never conferred upon anyone previously. never will alfred forget that journey up the mountains. every turn of the wheels of the big chariot, as they ground the limestone under their weight until the flinty pebbles shed sparks, made him feel more lonely. in the dim gray of the early day the distance seemed greater than when softened by the light of the morning sun. he had often from afar viewed the mountains over which they were traveling. as they ascended, he gazed long and wistfully towards home, a home that lives in his memory today as clearly as on that morning in the long ago. [illustration: on the band wagon] when the crest of the ridge was reached and the descent on the other side began, looking backwards, he imagined the world between him and home. right glad was he of the friendly advances of the old driver--they were friends. soon the band men began to awaken, taking out their instruments, arranging their clothing, and making preparation for the entrance into town. the baggage wagons had preceded the band and performer's wagons. there was but one animal van, charley white's trained lions, the feature of the show. the teams halted. the driver placed plumes in the head gear of the horses. the band men pulled on red coats and caps. as the horns tooted and the cymbals clashed they entered the town. alfred assisted the driver to unhitch his team. mr. noyes arrived, meanwhile. alfred volunteered to take charge of his team. he drove the handsome horses to the barn and saw that they were fed and watered. mr. noyes remarked: "you seem to be fond of horses. have you handled them before?" "all my life," proudly answered alfred. "well, you ride with me tomorrow. it will be more pleasant than in the band wagon. i want you to go in the concert today." he had no orchestrated music, but phil blumenschein, the bandmaster, was an old minstrel leader. the orchestra played over alfred's stuff two or three times and played it better than it was ever played before. in those days an orchestra furnished the music for the entire circus performance. there came a heavy rain. the attendance at the concert was very light insofar as the paid admissions were concerned but all connected with the circus were there to witness the debut of the new boy who had joined to strengthen the concert. no opera house or theatre ever erected has the resonance, the perfect acoustics of a circus tent when the canvas is wet and the temperature within above degrees. there was a chord from the orchestra. alfred ran to the platform in the middle of the ring. (the gentleman who announced the concert assured the audience there would be a stage erected). this stage was a platform about ten feet square resting flat on the uneven earth. as alfred stepped on it and began his song and dance, in which he did some very heavy falls, the platform rocked and reeled like a boat in a storm. every slap of the big shoes on his well developed feet made a racket, the sound twofold increased by the acoustics of the damp tent. alfred's voice sounded louder to himself than ever before, notwithstanding he worked his whole first number with his back to the audience. (in theatres the orchestra is always in a pit in front of the performers--in a circus concert the orchestra is behind the performer). alfred faced the orchestra; his back to the audience, his work made a hit, even more with the show folks than with the audience. dick durrant, the banjoist, taught alfred the comedy of the familiar duet, "what's the matter pompey?" this was in alfred's line and the act became the comedy feature of the concert. salary day came on sunday. the employes of the circus reported to the room of the manager, where their salary was counted out to them by the treasurer. when alfred's turn came he was asked: "how much does your contract call for?" "i have no contract. here is the letter under which i joined," assured alfred, passing the letter to the treasurer. glancing at it: "yes, i wrote that letter but you'll have to see mr. thayer." as alfred opened the door to depart he said, "you had best see mr. noyes." "how much are you going to pay me, mr. thayer?" "well, let me see, ten dollars a week will be about right, won't it charley?" "eh, no, pay him fifteen. he's worth it. he's the best boy i ever had around me," was mr. noyes' answer. charley noyes paid alfred the first salary he ever earned with a circus and it was so ordained that alfred should pay the then famous circus manager the last salary he ever received, years after the day charley noyes declared alfred the best boy he ever had around him. the once famous manager, broken in health and fortune, was seeking employment and it fell to alfred's lot to secure him an engagement with a company of which alfred was the manager. when the salary of the veteran was being discussed, alfred's intervention secured him remuneration far in excess of that hoped for. soon after this engagement ended, mr. noyes died very suddenly. the end came in a little city of texas. it happened that the minstrel company, owned by the one time new boy of the circus, was in waco. letters on mr. noyes' person written by alfred led the hotel people to telegraph the minstrel manager, who hastened to the city where his friend had died. ere he arrived, the masonic fraternity had performed the last sad rites. mr. noyes was the friend of alfred when he needed friends and it was his intention to send all that was mortal of him to his old home. telegrams were not answered and charles noyes sleeps in the little cemetery at lampasas, texas. as the thayer & noyes circus was one of the best, alfred has always considered his engagement with that concern as the beginning of his professional career. dr. james l. thayer and his family were highly connected. mr. noyes married the sister of his partner's wife. the families did not agree and this led to a separation of the partners, disastrous to both. chas. noyes' crescent city circus, and dr. james thayer's great american circus never appealed to the people as did the old title, nor was either of the concerns as meritorious as the thayer & noyes concern. in the prosperous days of the show the proprietors and their wives were welcome guests in the homes of the best families in the cities visited. the writer remembers that in the city of baltimore, the mayor, the city council and other high dignitaries attended the opening performance in a body. the company was the cream of the circus world: s. p. stickney, one of the most respectable and talented of old time circus men; sam and robert stickney, sons; emma stickney, his daughter; tom king and wife, millie turnour, jimmy reynolds, the clown whose salary of one hundred dollars a week had so excited the cupidity of alfred; woody cook, who came from cookstown, fayette county, only a few miles from brownsville, and who, like alfred had left home to seek his fortune; james kelly, champion leaper of the world; james cook and wife, of the cook family, were of the company. all circus people in those days were apprenticed, all learned their business. one of the latter day hall room performers would have received short shrift in a company of those days, when every performer was an all-round athlete; in fact, in individual superiority, the circus actor of that day outclassed those of the present. the riders were very much superior as they had more competent instructors. the only particular in which the circus performance has progressed is in the introduction of the thrillers--the big aerial acts, the mid-air feats. combination acts are superior in the present circus and in this alone has there been improvement. the circus people of old bore the same relation to the public as does the legitimate actor today. there was an aristocracy in the circus world of those days that could not be understood by the circus people of today. some twelve families controlled the circus business in this country for years. they were people of wealth and affairs. the robinson family was one of the oldest and most famous of their times. the elder john robinson left an estate valued in the millions. the numerous apprentices of this master of the circus were the most famous of all of their times. james robinson who was the undisputed champion bare-back rider of the world, was an apprentice of "old john" robinson. assuming the name of robinson, he held a place in the circus field never attained by any other. he toured the world heralded as the champion, yet he would never permit himself to be announced as such. he earned two fortunes. today at an age that leaves the greater number of men in their dotage, mr. robinson is healthy and active. he enjoys life as few old persons do. in the office of his friend, dr. j. j. mcclellan, he may be found almost any day, the center of a group of good fellows and none merrier than the once champion bare-back rider of the world. the stickneys were one of the greatest of the old time circus families. in the summer the family followed the red wagons and in the winter mr. stickney managed the american theatre on poydras street, new orleans. america's noted players all appeared in this theatre. young bob stickney was born in this theatre. he made his first appearance on the stage as the child in rolla, supporting edwin forrest. no more talented or graceful performer ever entered a circus ring than this same robert stickney. only a few weeks ago the writer attended a performance of that improbable play, polly at the circus. the grace and dramatic actions of mr. stickney in the one brief moment in the scene where polly rushes into the ring, were more effectively and dramatically portrayed than any climax in the play. when thayer & noyes' great american circus exhibited in baltimore a special quarter sheet bill was printed, the program of the performance. al. g. field was one of the names on the bill, in two colors. the agent mailed one of these bills to the show. it was not until the portly proprietor, dr. thayer, explained to alfred that his name was entirely too long for a quarter sheet, and that if he, alfred, desired to be billed, he must curtail the name. "i've just knocked your hat off," laughed the good natured showman. alfred thought little of the matter. he only regarded the name as a _nom-de-plume_. other bills were printed bearing the name of al. g. field; when nearing the end of the circus season the management of the bidwell & mcdonough's black crook company applied to thayer & noyes for two or three lively young men to act as sprites, and goblins, mr. thayer recommended young mr. field as a capable person to impersonate the red gnome; this name went on the bills. alfred never signed a letter or used the newly acquired name until years afterwards circumstances and conditions had fixed the show name upon him and it was absolutely imperative he adopt it. therefore in , by act of the legislature of ohio and the probate court of franklin county, ohio, the name of alfred griffith hatfield field was legalized, abbreviated on all advertising matter to al. g. field. it is so copyrighted in the title of the al. g. field greater minstrels with the librarian of congress. chapter twenty-one we all fall down at times, though we have nerve and grit; you're worth a bet, but don't forget-- to lay down means to quit. "columbus, ohio, is a long ways out west and i don't hope tu ever git tu see you all agin but i hope you won't fergit me, kase i'll never fergit you. i'd go with you all but i'm 'bliged tu keep my promise. i hope my married life will turn out all right but you kan't never guess whar you're goin' tu land when yu sail on the sea of matermony. "they say the reason men don't practis what they preach is bekase they need the money. well, if he practices what he preaches, he'll be a good pervider and that's all i'll ask of him. "i hope john will do better when you git settled in columbus an' i know he will. alfred's mos' a man grown an' he'll be a big help to his pap if ye'll jes' take him right. i jes' told john day afore yisterday--i ses, ses i--'alfurd's no child enny more and you ought not tu treat him like a boy.' i want you all to write me and tell me how yu like it. i s'pose when yu git out in ohio you'll all git the ager. uncle wilse's folks did and they shook thar teeth loose. they moved to tuscarrarus county. newcomerstown was thar post office. they wrote us they wanted to kum back home afore they was there a month. "it's bad fur ole peepul to change their hums. hits all right fur young folks kase they're not settled an' they soon fergit the old love fur the new, but i hope you'll like hit. john says the railroads kum into columbus from both ways an' the cars are comin' an' goin' all the time. if you live close tu the depot you won't sleep much kase you hain't used tu hit." lin's fears were not realized. alfred's home was far from the depot. it was in the south end, in fact, the south end was columbus in those days. those who guided the destinies of railroads were as wise in those days as these of the present. the site of coony born's father's brewery was selected as the most desirable location for a passenger depot. the good people of columbus (the south end) were more jealous of their rights than the people of today when a railroad is supposed to be encroaching upon them; therefore when it was proposed to locate a depot where the noise would disturb their slumbers and their setting hens, the opposition of not the few, but many, was aroused. to locate the depot in their midst was an invasion of their rights. not only would it disturb the quietude of their homes but it would be a menace to their business inasmuch as it would attract undesirable strangers. the business men of the south end had their regular customers and did not care to take chances with strangers. they admitted a depot was a necessity--a sort of nuisance--to be tolerated, but not approved. railroad people of those days were as inconsistent as those of today. they were spiteful. they built a depot outside the city limits, as near the line of demarcation as possible. north public lane, now naghten street, was the north city limits. the south end had won. they celebrated their victory over the railroads by a public demonstration. hessenauer's garden was crowded. the principal speaker, in eloquent low dutch, congratulated the citizens on the preservation of their rights--and slumbers. he highly complimented them over the fact that they had forced the railroads to locate their depot as far from the south end as the law and the city limits would permit. the new depot was connected with the city by a cinder path, nor could the city compel the builders of the new depot to lay a sidewalk. the depot people claimed the land thereunder would revert to the city. therefore, in the rainy seasons incoming travelers carried such quantities of the cinder walk on their feet that the sidewalks of high street appeared to strangers in mourning for the sad mistake of those who platted the town in confining the city forever to one street. every incoming locomotive deposited its ashes on the cinder path. the city could not remove the ashes as rapidly as they accumulated. the task was abandoned and to this day no continuous efforts are made to keep the streets of columbus clean. like the good fraus of the south end cleaning house, the streets are cleaned once a year--near election time. there was no population north of naghten street until after the erection of the depot. it is true there were a few north of ireland folks living in the old todd barracks, and many of their descendants to this day can be found on neil avenue; yet they had no political power at that time; in fact the south end people, with that supreme indifference which characterizes those who have possession by right of inheritance, did not even note the invasion of the city by the yankees and puritans from worthington and westerville. it was not until pat egan was elected coroner that the residents of the south end realized a candidate of theirs could be laid out by a foreigner. it was in those days that alfred was introduced to columbus. they were the good old days, when all thrifty people made their kraut on all hallowe'en and the celebration of schiller's birthday was only overshadowed by that of washington's; when the first woods were away out in the country and quail shooting good anywhere this side of alum creek. the state fair grounds (franklin park) were in the city. the state house, the court house, born's brewery, the city hall, and hessenauer's garden, all in the south end, were all the public improvements the city could boast of. others were not desired. those days only live in the memory of the good people who enjoyed them--the good old days when every lawn in the south end was a social center on sundays; where every tree shaded a happy, contented gathering whose songs of the fatherland were in harmony with the laws of the land, touching a responsive chord in the breasts of those who not only enjoyed the benefits and blessings of the best and most liberal government on earth, but appreciated them. the statesmen of those days, the men who made laws and upheld them, chosen as rulers by a majority of their fellow citizens, were respected by all. it was not necessary for an official to stand guard between the rabble and the administration. office holders stood upon the dignity of their offices. demagogues had not instilled in the minds of the ignorant that to be governed was to be oppressed. those unfitted by nature and education to administer public affairs did not aspire to do so nor to embarrass those who were competent. in the good old days of columbus, in the days of "rise up" william allen, allen w. thurman, sunset cox and others, that fact that has been recognized in republic, kingdom and empire, namely: that that government is least popular that is most open to public access and interference. the office holders of those days were strong and self-reliant. they formulated and promulgated their policies. they had faith in themselves. the voters had faith in them and faith is as necessary in politics as in religion. the glories of the south end began to wane. south end people in the simplicity of their minds felt they were entitled to their customs, liberties and enjoyments. sober and law abiding, they only asked to be permitted to live in their own way as they had always lived. but the interlopers objected. the yankees interfered in private and public affairs, legislation was distorted, and still more aggravating, the descendants of the puritans demanded that at all public celebrations pumpkin pie and sweet cider be substituted for lager beer, head and limburger cheese. a german lends dignity to any business or calling he may engage in. honest and industrious, he succeeds in his undertakings. in the old days all that was required to establish a paying business in the south end was a keg of beer, a picture of prince bismarck and a urinal. patronized by his neighbors, his place was always quiet and orderly. but little whiskey was consumed, hence there was but little drunkenness. when william wall invited george schoedinger into john corrodi's, george called for beer. wall, with a shrug of his shoulders to evidence his disgust, said: "oh, shucks! beer! beer! take whiskey, mon, beer's too damn bulky." as there was no prohibition territory in those days there was no bottled beer. whether keg beer was too bulky or not relished, brewery wagons seldom invaded the sections wherein the interlopers dwelt. the grocery wagons of george wheeler and wm. taylor were often in evidence. both of these groceries in the north end did a thriving jug and bottle trade. the germans bought and imbibed their beer openly. the grocery wagons were a cloak to the secretiveness of those whom they served, therefore those who patronized the grocery wagons were greatly grieved and rudely shocked at the sight of the beer wagons and the knowledge that their fellow citizens drank beer in their homes or on their lawns. this became an issue in politics and religion. many went to church seeking consolation and were forced to listen to political speeches. preachers forgot their calling; instead of preaching love, they advocated hatred. the german saloon, being lowly and harmless, must go. in their stead came the mirrored bar with its greater influence for the spread of intemperance but clothed with more respectability outwardly. public officials were embarrassed, cajoled and threatened. the malcontent, the meddler, the demagogue, had injected their baneful innovations into the political life of columbus. it is related the indians would not live as the puritan fathers desired they should. they would not accept the dogmas and beliefs of the whites. at thanksgiving time, a period of fasting and prayer, the puritan fathers held a business meeting and these resolutions were adopted: first, resolved, that the earth and the fullness thereof belong to god. second, that god gave the earth to his chosen people. third, that we are those. they then adjourned, went out and slew every redskin in sight. politically, the same fate was meted out to the peaceful citizens of the south end. the sceptre had passed from the hands of the sturdy old burghers of the south end. in their stead came a crop of office holders who, striving for personal popularity, catering to the meddler and busybody--a class who had no business of their own, but ever ready to attend to that of others. from a willing-to-be governed and peaceful city, discontent and confusion came. every tinker, tailor or candle stick maker, every busybody in the city took it upon themselves, although without training, ability or experience, to advise how the city should be governed. in the new order of things, representatives were elected noted only for their talking talents, the consequence of which was that every official considered that he was entitled to talk and talk on every subject whether he understood it or not. there was a custom among the warriors of rome that when one fell in battle, each soldier in his command cast a shovelful of earth on the corpse. thus a mighty mound was formed. and so it was in the new order of things in columbus. when a question of moment came, every official endeavored to shower his eloquence upon it until it was buried under a mass of words. the busybodies who so greatly interfered with public matters were from the grocery wagon sections and were addicted to chewing cloves. those from the west side chewed tobacco. all ate peanuts. special appropriations were requested by john ward, city hall janitor, to remove the peanut hulls after each talk fest. and thus it was that peanut politics and peanut politicians came to be known in columbus. peanut politics like all infections, spread until the whole political system became affected. if the depot had been located in the south end there would be no north end today. do you remember the north end before the depot was located there? do you remember wesley chapel on the site of the present wesley and nicholas block. worship was never disturbed by the hum of business. in the north end in those days there was tom marshall's red bird saloon, jack moore's barber shop, and that old frame building, hickory alley and high street, no. , a floor space of twenty-five by forty feet. they turned out one hundred and fifty buggies a year. later, as the columbus buggy company, a buggy every eight minutes was the output. that was the beginning of the largest concern of its kind in the world. the columbus buggy company and doctor hartman, the foremost citizen of columbus, have done more to bring fame and business to columbus than all other concerns combined. their advertising matter, the most expensive ever used, is distributed to all parts of the world; hence, the man abroad hailing from columbus is not compelled to carry a map to verify his statement that columbus is on it. the columbus of that day had more street railways than the columbus of today. in fact, every man that had a pull had a street of his own. columbus has more streets than any city in the world, comparatively. it is true some of them are not as long as the names they bear, yet they are on the town plat. probably it was this ambition to own a street that influenced others to own street railways. we always spoke of "old man" miller owning the two-horse high street line. luther donaldson owned the one-horse line on state street. doctor hawkes owned the one-horse line on west broad street. doctor hawkes owned several stage lines diverging from columbus. he was the most serious of men. alfred was in his employ. his duties called him to towns on the various stage routes. hunting was good anywhere in those days. alfred was provided with a rickety buggy and a spavined horse. he provided himself with a shot gun and a dog. [illustration: the first home of the columbus buggy co.] returning from mt. sterling one raw autumn day, the game had been plentiful. the old doctor met alfred near where the hawkes hospital (now mt. carmel) stands. the doctor driving a nettled horse, hurriedly advised alfred that business of importance demanded he return to washington c. h. there was a fine bag of game under the seat in the buggy, also a double barreled shot gun and a hunting suit. how to explain their presence to the doctor was perplexing, although he had not neglected the business entrusted to him; in fact, he was an hour ahead of the time. alfred feared the doctor would be displeased. the doctor, quickly alighting, ordered alfred into his rig. "doctor, i have a bunch of quail under the seat. just let me get my gun out and you can have the quail if you want them; if not, send them out to father's." the old doctor knitted his brow but said nothing. however, the quail were sent to the father's house. another day, starting on a trip to the country, the doctor standing on the steps of the office, looked at alfred and asked if he had forgotten anything. "no, sir, nothing. i have everything i usually take with me." "where's your gun?" asked the doctor. "out home," replied alfred. "now doctor, i have done a little hunting but i always start early and i never neglect your business." the doctor muttered something about hunting being a frivolous sport and it should not be engaged in on your employer's time. he never permitted anyone to waste time. the hawkes' farm, embracing all the land on the west side near where the mt. carmel hospital is now located, was covered with stones. it was a fad of the doctor's to pass an afternoon on the farm, gathering stones. preparing to leave for aetna one morning, alfred called at the office to receive instructions. it was late when the old gentleman put in an appearance. he had had a bad night and desired alfred to accompany him to the farm. arriving at the farm, it was not long until he had alfred picking up stones. the greater part of the day was thus spent. alfred's back ached. he thought it the most peculiar fad a sane man ever indulged in. the doctor was as deeply interested as though engaged in some great undertaking. a dozen boulders were placed in the buggy, as heavy a load as the old vehicle would stand up under. driving to a point where the doctor had quite a pile, the stones were unloaded and another load collected. rabbits were numerous. the next visit to the farm alfred carried his gun. it was but a few moments until a cotton-tail jumped up in the path of the buggy. alfred killed the rabbit. it was not long until four of the big-eared bunnies were dead on the buggy floor. the old doctor began to show interest in the sport. when alfred made a move to lay away his gun, the doctor requested that he continue the hunt. nor was it long until he advised alfred that he would accompany him to mt. sterling and requested that the gun and dog be taken along. the doctor without expressing himself as being at all interested, followed alfred in the field. the only interest he seemed to take in the sport was when the hunter missed; then, knitting his brows, he would follow the birds with his eyes as they flew away. dr. hawkes was the most unimpressionable of men. he had no conception of humor. he rarely smiled and never laughed outright. he assured alfred that he would employ a man who had been in the penitentiary in preference to one who had traveled with a circus. the prejudiced old doctor was not aware that alfred formerly followed the "red wagons." a contract had been entered into to convey a number of young school girls to their homes in the country. the driver failed to report. an hour passed. the old doctor was greatly worried. the team was the best in the barn and more than anxious to answer to the driver's command. alfred climbed to the seat. old miles, the barn boss, was in doubt as to entrusting the horses to a driver who was not familiar with them. "hol' on, boy. everybody kan't handle dis team." "turn them loose, miles, i'm on my way," alfred shouting "all-aboard." the doctor looked on in doubt. gazing up at alfred he began questioning him as to where he had learned to drive four horses. "oh, when i was with a circus," replied alfred. "i reined six better ones than these." "you have a precious load. i'm really afraid to trust them to you. it would be an awful thing if you should not be able to handle the team. i'll send old joe with you." "it's not necessary," alfred replied. the young ladies aboard, the whip cracked, they were off; around the state house square, up high street on a lively trot. the old doctor stood on the corner with as near a smile on his face as alfred ever noticed. in the evening he complimented alfred meagerly on his proficiency as a whip. alfred laughingly reminded him that they did not teach you stage driving over at the "pen". uncle henry, a blacksmith who shod the doctor's stage horses, asserted the reason the doctor preferred those from the "pen" was that he could hire them cheaper. james clahane was facetiously dubbed "the duke of middletown" by his friends, and that meant everybody who was intimate with the good-natured irishman. there must be something ennobling in the blacksmith calling. it not only strengthens the muscles but the nature of a man. when doctor hawkes projected the horse car line on west broad street, he solicited clahane to buy stock. the old blacksmith had his hard-earned savings invested in west broad street building lots. the doctor argued the street car line would not only pay handsome dividends but greatly enhance the value of abutting property. clahane, very much against his judgment, invested considerable money in the street car line. the cars were not operated a month until clahane questioned the doctor as to when the road would strike a dividend. it was considered a good joke by all, save the doctor. burglars cracked the street car safe, securing over four hundred dollars of the company's money. the news spread quickly. clahane, minus coat, with plug hat in hand, (it was a hot morning), approached the office. several gentlemen, including the doctor, stood on the steps viewing the wreck within. clahane, while yet the width of broad street away, shouted at the top of his voice: "egad, dhoctur, yese hev got yere divident." if the old doctor realized the humor of this dig he never evidenced it. the world declared the doctor cold and uncharitable, but alfred never enters mt. carmel hospital that he does not lift his hat in reverence as he halts in front of the marble bust that so faithfully portrays the serious face of doctor hawkes. in those days heitman was mayor, sam thompson chief of police, lott smith was the 'squire of the town, and 'squire doney in the township. chief heinmiller ran the fire department and ran it right. oliver evans had the exclusive oyster trade of the city, handling it personally with a one horse wagon. the postoffice was near the neil house. the canal boats unloaded at broad street, and columbus had a fourth of july celebration every year. alfred was one of a committee of young men laboring, to demonstrate to the world that the birth of this nation was an event, and incidently, to attract attention to a section of the city that had been overlooked in the way of street improvements. the large vacant field opposite the blind asylum was selected as the proper location for the fourth of july celebration. the fact that the brass band, lately organized by the officers of the blind asylum, would be available for the exercises, had great weight with the committee, in selecting the location. parsons avenue, then east public lane, was the muddiest street in the city. those who drove their cows home via east public lane will verify this statement. the city council had been appealed to personally and by petition. finally, to partially appease public outcry, a very narrow sidewalk was constructed from friend, now main street, to mound, one short square. this very narrow sidewalk aroused those of the neighborhood as never before, excepting when the pound was established and citizens prevented pasturing their live stock on the public streets. among the attractions of the fourth of july celebration were lon worthington, tight-rope walker; billy wyatt, in fire-eating exercises; a greased pig; ed delany, who was to read the declaration of independence and alfred a burlesque oration. there was universal dissatisfaction over the narrow sidewalk and many independent citizens refused to walk upon it. they waded in mud to their knees, and proudly boasted of their independence as citizens. even ladies refused to use the sidewalk, asserting it was so narrow two persons could not pass without embracing. there was an old soldier who bore the scars of numerous battles and was looking for more. on the glorious fourth, to more strongly emphasize his disdain for the narrow sidewalk, he rigged himself out in the uniform he had worn throughout the war. although it was excessively hot he wore not only his fatigue uniform but his heavy blue double-caped overcoat. he paraded up and down along the side of the detested sidewalk, never stepping foot upon it. when his feet became too heavy with mud he scraped it off on the edge of the walk as he cursed the city council. he consigned them to----, where there are no fourth of julys or sidewalks. strains of music foretold the coming of the grand parade, headed by the blind band, marching in the middle of the street, their movement guided by a drum major blessed with the sight of one eye. on they came, four abreast, taking up the narrow street from field fence line to narrow sidewalk line. from the opposite direction came the son of mars. he was large enough to be the father of that mythical warrior. the four slide trombone players leading the van were rapidly nearing the violent soldier who was taking up as much street as the four musicians; in fact, after his last visit to ed turner's saloon, the old soldier actually required the full width of the street. as the band and soldiers neared each other, it was evident there would be a collision. on the old "vet" marched, oblivious of everything on earth excepting the sidewalk. people yelled at him. one man who knew something of military tactics shouted "halt!" the old veteran shouting back, to go to where he had consigned the city council and their sidewalk. "get out of the way; let the band by!" waving his mace as an emblem of authority, jack nagle, the policeman, ran towards the old soldier. "get out of the way! get out of the street! get on the sidewalk! can't you walk on the sidewalk?" "walk on the sidewalk," shouted the old soldier, "walk on the sidewalk? huh, what in hell do you take me for, the tight-rope walker?" the fourth of july celebration was successful. in obtaining street improvements, east public lane was paved with brick twenty years afterwards, thus alfred gained a reputation as a politician. years later, george j. karb, a candidate for sheriff, requested alfred and several of his friends to make a tour of the northern part of the county in his interest--a section noted for its piety and respectability. there were mayor george pagels and bill parks and jewett of worthington, fred butler of dublin, tom hanson of linworth, and numerous other deacons and elders to be seen. karb requested that alfred select the right people to accompany him. w. e. joseph, charley wheeler and gig osborn, made up the committee that was to present the merits of the candidate for sheriff to the voters of the linwood and plain city section. karb was furious when he learned that fred atcherson had volunteered to carry the party in his big packard machine. he swore they would lose him more votes than he could ever hope to regain; an automobile was the detestation of every farmer. to complete the campaign organization the committee decided to wear the largest goggles, caps and automobile coats procurable. the first farmer's team they met shied off the road, upsetting the wagon, breaking the tongue and crushing one wheel. the committee gave the farmer an order on fred immel to repair the wagon if possible, otherwise deliver a new wagon to the bearer, charging same to george j. karb. this experience cautioned the party to be more careful. another farmer's team approaching, they halted by the roadside a hundred yards from the passing point. do what he would the farmer could not urge his team by the automobile. charley wheeler became impatient and sarcastic. "what's the matter? you going to hold us here all day? didn't your crow-baits ever see a gas wagon before?" "yes, my team has seed gas wagons and gas houses afore," sneered the farmer, "but they hain't used to a hull pack of skeer crows in one crowd. when we put a skeer crow in a corn field, one's all we make. some damned fools make a dozen and put 'em all in one automobile. if you'll all get out and hide, my team will go by your ole benzine tank." hot and dusty, the party halted in front of a hotel. the village was larger and more prosperous than any yet visited. a number of men were threshing grain a few hundred yards away, the steam threshing machine attracting farmers from all the country about. one a peculiar man, more refined appearing than the others, had once been a college professor; overstudy had partially unbalanced his reason. he was versed in the classics. he took an especial interest in alfred. bill joseph is the luckiest man that ever tapped a slot machine. when traveling he often steps off the train while it halts at a depot and pulls his expenses out of a slot machine. on this day he was unusually lucky. the hotel had a varied assortment of drop-a-nickle-in-the-slot devices. joe tapped them in a row. the hotel people looked upon him with suspicion. but when he carried the winnings into the bar, ordering the hotel man to slake the thirsts of the threshers, they were sort of reconciled. the old college professor, unlike the others, demanded something stronger than beer. his neighbors, who evidently had him in charge, endeavored to persuade him to go home. [illustration: on the crowd cheered] "wait! hold a minute. i want to talk to this man field. he is a scientific man. his father laid the atlantic cable. his family is noted the world over. i want to talk to him. the field family are noted scientists." one of those who seemed most intimate with the professor was an old soldier, very deaf. "what did you say his name was?" he inquired. "field," replied the professor. "f-i-e-l-d." "field," repeated the old soldier. "field. well, i want nuthin' to do with _him_. field was my captain's name in the army, an' he was the damnedest beat i ever knowed." the old professor stuck to alfred quoting latin. he quoted a striking climax from one of bryan's speeches, a quotation bryan has been using in his chautauqua lectures and political speeches for years. the old professor observed claudius evolved this idea years ago. alfred had no idea of who claudius was, or how long ago he lived. however, when he located him four hundred years back, the old professor said "huh, four hundred years ago? h-ll! four thousand years." alfred did not delve into the classics further. alfred presented the claims of geo. karb for the office of sheriff and concluded his talk by inviting all to call on karb when they happened in columbus. "and when election day comes around, i hope you will all see your way clear to cast your votes for him, even though you are opposed to him politically. we must not adhere too strictly to our political prejudices in selecting officers to look after our personal affairs. and that's what a sheriff should do, and that's what geo. karb will do. therefore, i ask you to cast your votes for geo. j. karb for sheriff of franklin county." the crowd cheered. the old professor took it upon himself to reply. first, he thanked all for the honor they did his community by visiting them. "we have too few scientists visit us and i hope mr. field will come again when he can enlighten us on many scientific matters of which we are in doubt. as to his candidate for sheriff of franklin county, we know he is deserving or mr. field and the eminent gentlemen would not commend him. and i know that every voter here would be glad to vote for mr. karb if we lived in franklin county." the facts are, the committee in their zeal, were electioneering in milford center, union county. joe was pryed off the slot machines and a solemn compact entered into that the part of the electioneering tour over the franklin county line be forever held and guarded as a sealed book. chapter twenty-two and far away--up yonder, in the window o' the blue, the dreamed-of angels listen to an echo glad and new-- thrilled to the gates of glory, and they say: "heaven's love to you, brother of the light that makes the morning!" "if john kin do better in columbus, hit's yo're duty to go." thus linn advised the mother. columbus was a big city but it was not home. the mother was discontented and longed for the old town back yonder. alfred had promised to abandon his circus ambitions. he had just concluded a season in the south with the simmons & slocum minstrels, a famous troupe of those days. e. n. slocum was a columbus man. alfred had received an offer to cross the ocean with haverly's minstrels, a very large company. haverly had invaded london previously and the success of that venture aroused great hopes for the success of the second company. the mother's strenuous opposition to alfred's acceptance of the engagement was backed up by uncle henry hunt, who was on a visit from burlington, iowa. uncle henry was born in elk county, ky. his mother died when he was very young. his father married soon after the death of the first wife. the younger sister and himself did not appeal strongly to the step-mother. she was deeply interested in church work, and had little time to devote to the half orphaned children or her home. a plantation and a hundred and fifty slaves engaged all the father's time. the boy and girl ran wild on the place and it was little wonder they often came in for censure and even more severe punishment. the sister seemed more aggravating to the new mother than the boy. reprimands became more frequent, followed by bodily punishment. during the father's absence in louisville, the step-mother's abuse of the sister became so aggravating to the brother that he assaulted the step-mother. the boy, fearing the wrath of the father, determined to run away. he had relatives, a brother in newark, ohio. walking and working, he reached newark, footsore, weary, lonesome and homesick. he felt he had reached a haven of rest. the wife of the brother was the best man. she ran the husband, she ran the home. ragged and miserable looking, his reception was anything but cordial. the recital of his wrongs, the abuse of his sister by the step-mother, instead of creating sympathy, brought censure. the brother's wife was a most devout church member and that a boy of fourteen had descended to the depths of degradation his condition denoted, was most abhorrent to her. the boy realized that he was an unwelcome guest. it was not long ere the brother, influenced by the wife, informed him that he must go back to his home, to the old plantation in kentucky, that he must submit to the authority of the step-mother, become a better boy, that his behavior, had disgraced the family, and that he, the brother, could not harbor him longer. the brother's wife assured him the prayers of herself and family would go up for him nightly. they gave him no food, they gave him no money. when the door of his brother's house closed upon him, all there was of love in his being for kith or kin went out of him, save for the memory of the dead mother and the living sister. he worked on a farm barefooted; he slept in an out-house without sufficient covering to keep him warm; he carried a clap-board to the field that he might protect his feet from the frost while he husked corn. he apprenticed himself to a blacksmith, learned the trade and came to columbus. he established a shop at a crossroads in the country. it became known as hunt's corners. it is now the corner of cleveland and mt. vernon avenues. uncle henry, through influence, secured a contract from the penitentiary. he accumulated money, moved to burlington, iowa, became one of the prosperous, progressive business men of that beautiful city. that uncle henry's heart was hardened towards relatives did not change his generous disposition towards friends. alfred liked the rugged old blacksmith whose good nature and wholesome hospitality were the admiration of all who were fortunate enough to be his guests. he entertained as few men can entertain. the host of a home is a difficult social role to fill. there are no rules, no book-lessons that teach it. it is an inborn trait and comes only to a man who loves the companionship, the good-fellowship of human beings. uncle henry was noted for the good things to eat he so abundantly provided. however, had he served the plainest food to those whom he welcomed, his hearty hospitality would have made it a feast. [illustration: uncle henry] uncle henry soothingly addressed the mother: "sis," (he always addressed her as "sis,"), "alfred's not going to england. he has walked many dusty roads, like myself, and he's all the better for it, but you can't walk back from england. i've told him so. alfred's going to stay right here in this country. he's all right. he's going with a circus. he's a better circus manager than plenty of them that's making money. when he gets a little older, hard behind the ears, we're going to get up a company and start him out right. i've talked it all over with grimes and two or three other friends. now you and john just let that boy alone. he'll come out all right." the mother said: "alfred has promised me he will not go with another circus. it keeps us worried all the time. i'm afraid something will happen him." "yes, something will happen him, and you take it from me, it will happen here or there, and it's more liable to happen here than there. say, sis, come on, be a sensible woman. never drive your boys away. never coax them to lie." "why, i haven't coaxed alfred to lie," quickly answered the mother. "say, sis, you've been coaxing that boy to lie since he was able to paddle his own canoe. your coaxing him to do that, he will never do. that is, stay at home and paint wagons, houses or boats. give him his way. he'll have it anyhow, you see if he don't. if he wants to start a grocery, i'll loan him the money. but, he'll never make a groceryman. suppose they'd tried to make a preacher out me," (and all laughed), uncle henry said, "yes, you laugh at the very idea of it. let me tell you something, and i hope alfred's high-falutin' preacher uncles and others won't get red in the face when they hear of it. if you all keep caterwauling alfred around, he wouldn't amount to three hurrahs in halifax." "he may work for doctor hawkes forty years longer and he will be no better off than a living. there's no hope for a boy in working for a man like doctor hawkes. the doctor's all right but he never assisted a human being to better himself. he's like all other rich men. he just uses men to pile it up for himself, and any man that can't pile it up for himself, or don't make a big try to do so, needs shingling. i never had any relatives to pull me back, and i never had any to put me forward." "where is your brother and his wife?" someone asked uncle henry. "wheeling cinders," came quick as a flash. "oh, uncle henry, i am surprised." "well, the reason i say that, is, they told me that people that did certain things would sure go there"--and he pointed downwards--"and they did those very things so what can i say when you ask me where they are?" * * * * * peter sells and alfred were close friends. the sells bros. show had opened early--april , , . it rained or snowed every day during their engagement in columbus. the show was to appear in chillicothe a few days after leaving columbus. peter sells came into the stage office and arranged to go to chillicothe. he had returned from kentucky to confer with his brothers. alfred accepted his invitation to accompany him to chillicothe. the after concert, with no performers to present it, had been omitted for three days. alfred advised ephraim sells that could he find wardrobe a concert could be given that afternoon and night. the wardrobe was secured. the announcer made much of the "great minstrel comedian" who would positively appear in the concert for this day only. nat goodwin and his company, who were to appear in the opera house that night, were in the audience. ephraim, allen and peter sells, and alfred were seated on a bench in front of the hotel. allen sells was endeavoring to persuade alfred to remain with the show. while the dicker was pending, a young clerk from a store door, yelled to a passer-by on the opposite side of the street: "were you at the circus?" the other yelled: "yes." "how was it?" "bum, but the concert's good. that al. g. field that was here last winter in the opera house, is with them. the concert's the best part of the whole thing. i guess the minstrels are busted, or field wouldn't be with such a bum circus." the sells brothers appreciated the joke. the argument ended abruptly by the engagement of alfred. ephraim sells was exacting in all his dealings. severe with the drunkard, he endeavored to assist all temperate and deserving employes, advising men to secure their own homes. "own your home. you will never accumulate anything without a home. establish a home, raise a family, be somebody." there are many men living in columbus today who owe all their possessions to ephraim sells' advice. the sells brothers shows were larger than the thayer & noyes. in fact, the sells shows had the advantage of a menagerie. the circus performance was not so meritorious as the first circus alfred was connected with. the sells brothers, with the exception of peter, were not good showmen; that is, they were not producers, although good business men. had the sells brothers possessed the talent for originating and producing displayed by james a. bailey, or alfred t. ringling, their organization would have been second to none, as they had the opportunities but did not take advantage of them. they were undoubtedly exhibiting the finest menagerie in the country, the collection of animals, with the exception of a giraffe, was most complete. peter, the advance agent, returned to the show. he severely criticized the appearance of the show, particularly the lack of decorations. nashville was a two days' stand. ephraim gave alfred orders to buy all the decorations, banners, flags, etc., necessary to convert the interior of the tents into a bower of beauty. nashville stores were ransacked. printed calico or other goods with the national colors emblazoned on them were the only decorations available. wagon loads of these goods were purchased. side poles were festooned with the gaudy colored calico, and lengths of it hung in front of the reserved seats, on the band stand, the entrance to the dressing tents. the decorations were the wonder and admiration of the circus folks. drivers, razor-backs, car porters, cook tent, side show people came again to gaze upon the riot of color presented by the decorations. it rained as it only rains in nashville. the surrounding country is fame's eternal camping ground. here sleep men from all the states of the north and south. it is the bivouac of the dead. the hills have trembled with the tramp of armies. blood has flowed as freely as the rushing waters of the murky cumberland. hills now green with nature's garb were once stained with the blood of those who struggled for the mastery. but no battlefield near nashville ever presented the sight that did the hill on which stood sells brothers tents in the soft haze of that october morning. running rivulets of red percolated in a hundred gulleys from under the circus tents. the gaudy red calico was now white, but all the plains below were red. thousands came to view the sight. one negro spread the news that "the varmints wus all loose and had et up all de circus folks case de blood was leakin' out de tents in buckets-full." another surmised "de elephans had upset the lemonade tubs." the decorations had faded white, the hills were red, ephraim and lewis made the air blue. lewis sarcastically suggested alfred communicate with peter advising we had decorations, but they ran away, and we didn't have time to go down in the hollow and dip them up. one morning the startling news went around that the old man had fired the principal clown. in those days the old clown was best man with a circus. he was the entertainer--the leading man. he must be eloquent, nimble and a comedian. every circus had it's popular clown. it was the days of dan rice, ben mcginley, pete conklin, johnny patterson, walcutt, den stone, john lowlow, and others. therefore, when alfred was ordered--not requested--to prepare himself for the important role of principal clown, he was no little taken aback. "i have no costumes, i have no gags, i have no make-up," were alfred's excuses. after all the boyhood day dreams, after all the preparations in his mind, after all the yearnings, all the ambitious hopes of a boy's lifetime, here was the coveted opportunity to become a clown in the circus. and, now when the opportunity to immortalize himself, to earn a salary as great as jimmy reynolds, and eventually buy a farm, he shied. a performer from chiranni's circus in south america dug from the bottom of his trunk as funny a clown costume as ever joy donned. when made up, all pronounced alfred as funny appearing as any clown. "he has a beak like dan rice and feet like dr. thayer," were a few of the side remarks. alfred determined he would not use the jokes of the clown who had just left. the clown in those days was given unlimited opportunities. the tents were smaller--his voice reached every auditor. sam rinehart, good old sam, was the ringmaster. those of jimmy reynold's jokes alfred could not bring to memory, sam remembered. therefore, the new clown was a success, with the circus people at least. jimmy reynolds' gags were new around the show, and if alfred was not receiving jimmy's salary he was telling his jokes. alfred introduced local talks, which pleased the audiences greatly. [illustration: alfred as the old clown] all efforts to engage a clown were terminated by the manager making an agreement with alfred, installing him as principal clown, a vocation he followed many summers. lin's prophesy was literally fulfilled: "you kin clown h-it in summer and nigger it in winter." on that first day alfred, nervously awaiting his cue to enter the ring as a clown, cautiously peered through the red damask curtains at the dressing room entrance. a boy on a top seat nearby caught sight of the white-painted face. in an ecstacy of joy he clapped his hands, shouting: "oh, there's the old clown, there's the old clown." sam rinehart, sotto voice, standing near the band stand, remarked: "if that kid only knowed how dam new he is he wouldn't call him the _old_ clown." of all the roles enacted by alfred, that of the circus clown was most enjoyed. with thousands around him, in sympathy with every mishap or quip, at liberty to introduce any business that would amuse, with constantly changing audiences, alfred enjoyed his work as greatly as did his auditors. "alfred will come to town sum day a real clown in a circus, and the whole country will turn out to see him. litt dawson, the congressman, won't be so much when alfred gits to goin'." this was another of lin's prophesies. alfred came back home a real clown in a circus. the whole country turned out. no circus ever attracted the multitudes in such numbers. hundreds turned away at both performances. alfred's only regret was that lin was not present. two children had come to her. one was named john, the girl mary, in honor of alfred's father and mother. lin had trouble with the school-marm. the children, as children often did in those days, brought home a few insects in their hair. lin pursued them vigorously with a fine-toothed comb. to more quickly exterminate them, lin gave the head of each child an application of lard and sulphur. the teacher sent the children home with a note advising lin the preparation on their heads was offensive to her, the smell could not be tolerated. lin led the children back to the school, tartly informing the school-marm that her children were "sent to school to be larnt, not smellt." when alfred visited old loudon county he fully expected to meet lin and her family. when informed the big, hearty, wholesome woman had paid nature's debt and that nearly her last words were a message to his father and mother, the pleasure of his visit was greatly marred. the sells brothers and the barnum show were having opposition in indiana. the late james anderson, of columbus, who for years was the superintendent of doctor hawkes stage, carriage & transfer company, was the manager of sells brothers show. ben wallace was the liveryman who furnished the hay and oats for the circus. anderson and wallace became acquainted. a few days later anderson informed alfred that he and the tall young liveryman in peru had formed a partnership to organize a circus. they offered alfred a much greater salary than sells brothers were paying him, and also a winter's work organizing the show. a contract already signed with the duprez and benedict minstrels was cancelled, an office opened in comstock's opera house, columbus, ohio. every performer, every musician, etc., with the wallace show that first season was engaged by alfred. neither wallace or anderson knew what their show was to be until rehearsals began in peru. both were pleased. a bit of heretofore unwritten history: after alfred had refused several offers, after all the best shows had their people engaged, mr. anderson, returning from cincinnati, called on alfred. the first word he uttered chilled alfred's blood. "call everything off, cancel all contracts, the show don't go out." alfred had antagonized sells brothers and others by engaging people who had been with them for years. he had burned the bridges behind him, as it were. mr. anderson, in explanation, advised that he had been disappointed in money matters. men that were to assist him had gone back on their promises, the printing firm demanded a deposit, he saw ruin staring him in the face. it was useless to argue the matter with anderson. it was nearly morning when the men separated. at eight o'clock alfred was at the office awaiting mr. anderson's arrival. anderson was still more dejected than the night before. "what amount of money do you require?" asked alfred. "three thousand dollars." "will that see you through and put the show out?" was alfred's next question. "with what i've got i can get through on that." "well, i'll let you have it." ben wallace is a money-getter and would win success in any business. however, the president of the wabash valley trust company, the owner of the hagenback-wallace shows, with the finest winter quarters of any show in the country, with hundreds of acres of the most productive farming land in miami county, ind., will never know until he reads these pages the narrow margin by which the show was saved, insofar as anderson was concerned. lewis sells was a peculiar man in many respects and one must thoroughly understand his composition to appreciate him. his educational advantages were limited. from a street car conductor to an auctioneer, showman and capitalist, were the gradations of his career. he was conservative and sagacious, a faithful friend, and, like uncle henry, and most men who have tasted of the bitter and prospered by their own exertions, a candid hater. the after years of his life were made unpleasant by a heartless robbery perpetrated by those near him. the loss of the money, some thirty thousand dollars, was as nothing compared to the chagrin over the fact that those who committed the theft were enabled to cover their work so completely the law could not reach them. he fretted that they robbed him at the end of his long and successful career. for several months alfred filled the position of general agent for the sells brothers combined shows, to the complete satisfaction of all the brothers and the disappointment of many subordinates. it is not wealth nor ancestry, but honorable conduct and a noble disposition that makes men great. peter sells was a great man. he would have graced any profession or calling. in all his life he was affable and congenial. when he was prosperous he was not imperious or haughty. when he was oppressed he was not meek. suffering as few men have suffered he refused to wreak that vengeance upon the destroyers of his home, man is justified in--take a doubled-barreled shot gun and inform those who have wronged you that the world is not large enough for both. this was the advice of one who stood by peter sells in all his troubles. another took him to the country, engaged in shooting at a mark with a forty-four smith & wesson, intimating that he could settle all his troubles by dealing out the punishment those who had broken up his home deserved. peter, with a calmness that was most impressive replied: "i'll commit no crime. there comes a time in the life of every human being that their life is lived over. it is in that hour when the coffin lid is shut down. just before the funeral when earth has seen the last of you, your life is lived over in the conversation which recounts your deeds upon earth. i will do no forgiving, but i will do no killing." in comparison with the loss of a wife, all other bereavements pale. she has filled so large a sphere in your life you think of the past when your lives were entwined, of the days when life was a beautiful pathway of flowers. the sun shone on the flowers, the stars hung overhead. you think of her now as you thought of her then in all the gentleness of her beauty. you think of her now as the mother of your child. no thorns are remembered. the heart whose beat measured an eternity of love to you lies under your feet but the love of her still lives in your being. you forget the injury, you forget the disgrace, you forget all of the present, only remembering the happiness of the past. you know she lives in a world where sunshine has been overshadowed by clouds, yet you love her all the more, although to you she is even further removed than by death. such were the last days of peter sells. it is well the old way of satisfying honor is giving way. yet with all its brutality it had the merit of protecting the home. only those who were close to peter sells knew of the burden he bore, the weight of sorrow that cut short a life that has left its impress of nobleness upon all who were privileged to share his confidence and friendship. chapter twenty-three in the land of the sage and the cottonwood, the cactus plant and the sand, when you've just dropped in from the effete east there's a greeting that's simply grand; it's when some giant comes up to you, with a hand that weighs a ton, and cries as he smites you on the back; "why, you derned old son of a gun!" texas, quoting col. bailey of the _houston post_, "is a symphony, a vast hunk of mellifluence, an eternal melody of loveliness, a grand anthem of agglomerated and majestic beneficence. texas is heaven on earth and sea and sky set to music." with ample room to spare, texas would accommodate either austria-hungary, germany and france; and if it were populated as thickly as is belgium it would have a population of over , , . the state of texas could accommodate comfortably the people of all the european nations. texas was wild and woolly when alfred first toured it with a wagon show. weatherford was away out west; dallas was in its swaddling clothes and houston was a village. hunting was good just over the corporation line and there was no closed season on anything. charley gibbs and henry greenwall owned the state. charley highsmith was a schoolboy; he had never owned a dog or looked along the barrels of a double-barreled gun. mike conley was setting type in a printing office run by hand, and bill sterritt was the printer's devil, excepting when ducks were coming in. ben mccullough was the only railroad man in north texas, and george green the only republican in the state. jake zurn had not left germany and jim hogg was a cowboy. a pair of texas ponies, an open buggy, a doubled-barreled shotgun, two dogs and an invalid, were alfred's constant companions on that tour of texas. the invalid who was touring texas for his health, was a relative of the managers, a german, refined and scholarly, a high class gentleman. this was the introduction: "alfred, mr. smith is not well. the doctor advised that he live in the open. he is my guest and i want him to ride with you. i am sure you will like him. i want this trip to benefit his health. you have the best team with the company. you can make the route in half the time it requires the show to drive it. sleep late in the morning." despite this advice, the invalid and alfred were well on their way by daylight almost every morning, nor did they make the routes in half the time the show did. it was more frequently the reverse, particularly if the shooting was good. the invalid was the wellest sick-man companion ever toured with. his cheeks were sallow, low in flesh, but the spirit was there. it was a case of the invalid looking after the nurse. the vast plains were covered with cattle--texas steers. the invalid marvelled at their numbers. while alfred was scouring the prairie with dog and gun the invalid would stand erect in the buggy, on the road side, computing the number of texas steers within sight. how the cattle men separated their droves, claiming their cattle, was a wonderment. cowboys and texas steers was a theme on which the invalid never tired talking. texas steers were a hobby with him. he would talk with cowboys for hours, collecting information. many nights the circus people in making long drives between exhibiting points were compelled to sleep in their wagons, tents, or anywhere they could find shelter. this sort of life soon brought bronze to the invalid's cheeks and strength to his body. pidcock's ranch, embraced several thousand acres of land, a house with four rooms and porch or veranda. all the house was given over to the ladies. alfred explained to the manager of the ranch that he had in charge an invalid and requested the ranchman to do the best he could for them in the way of sleeping quarters. the ranchman arranged a comfortable bed on the porch for the invalid and alfred, advising they would be compelled to sit up until the ladies retired. all had long retired ere the invalid put in an appearance. the invalid invariably found congenial company--cowboys, cattlemen or rangers. each night finding his way to bed he would awaken alfred to explain something new as to texas steers. the invalid had dispatched two cowboys thirty miles for refreshments. the invalid did not part from his guests until late. alfred's wife had sent him a birthday present, a pair of night-shirts worked with red braid, and he was very proud of them. the invalid on retiring commented again on the beauty of alfred's hand-painted night-shirts and the immensity of the droves of texas steers. sleeping in the open on the porch, their slumbers were deep. awaking late, alfred's face felt drawn up. it was as though it was puckered out of all shape. placing his hand on a substance as large as a hulled hickory nut, it was with some little difficulty peeled from his face. a dozen other lumps of similar size were scattered over his ample countenance. glancing at the invalid whose face was adorned with a full set of whiskers, alfred discovered they were liberally sprinkled with the whitish-grayish substance that adorned his own face and the front of his decorated night garments. prying loose another lump, alfred, holding the substance at arm's length, scrutinizing it closely, endeavoring to analyze it. a "cluck-cluck" caused him to look aloft and there, on a beam, sat ten or twelve contented "dominicker" hens. he could discern but half of their bodies--that part that goes over the fence last. rudely awaking the invalid, alfred brushing, picking and pinching the white and greenish bumps from face and night-shirt, indulging in language not proper even on a texas ranch, he slowly worked his way to the watering trough (the only bathing facility), followed by the invalid, who was parting his whiskers to free them from the hidden lumps, meanwhile endeavoring to console alfred: "never mindt, alfred. never mindt. your shirt vill vash all right, und my viskers, too," parting his whiskers and dumping a few more deposits, he remarked: "it's purty badt i know, but, alfred, it might a bin wusser. 'ust s'posin' dem schickens roostin' over us hadt been texas steers." * * * * * "the sooner a man goes into business, the sooner he will be able to retire; that is, if he is baked done. if he ain't, he better let somebody do business for him. my boy, it's better to go into business too young than too old. if you happen to spill the beans, you've got the vim to pick them up again." "well, uncle henry, if i have good luck this season, i'm going to make a break for myself." "good luck, huh? if you're lookin' for luck to help you, you'll be so near-sighted you can't see a business chance across a narrow alley. if luck got you anything you might. there ain't no luck coming to any man that waits on it. every man that's got any get-up in him always has bad luck. he brings it on himself, then he just beats luck out. there ain't no good luck. it's grit and judgment agin dam-fool notions. and grit and judgment wins out nearly every time. i'd rather drive a bad bargain than drive a dray. you can drive a dozen bargains a day. you can drive only one dray. one of your bargains may buck, the other eleven win out. a minstrel show is alright, but, mind, it's a lifetime job, going into business. you ought to know what you're doing. but, i'd thought you'd go into the circus business." "well, i would, uncle henry, but i haven't got the capital. it takes more money than i ever hope to possess. besides, i want a business wherein i can make a reputation for myself." "you better go into a business where you can make money. the reputation will make itself. if you can't make money, you can't make reputation." "but it's my ambition to have the biggest minstrel show in the country." "well, you do that which you feel would be the most agreeable to you. when i went into the grocery business in burlington, everybody behind my back predicted i would lose out. everybody told me to my face i'd win out. make up your mind to stand on your own judgment." sam flickinger, editor of the _ohio state journal_, wrote the first mention of the al. g. field minstrels. he gave alfred desk room in the job office of the _journal_, of which he was manager and editor. the first advertising for the al. g. field minstrels was printed in the job office of the _ohio state journal_. the dates and small bills have been printed in that office, or the successors of it, ever since. almost every one of alfred's friends advised him to abandon the idea of entering the minstrel business. his family were all opposed to it. this was the manner in which alfred's declaration as to going into business seemed to be received by his friends. col. reppert of the b. & o. assured alfred he would send him a ticket to any point he might require it from. billy mcdermott, probably fearing the colonel might not get the ticket to him, presented alfred with a pair of broad-soled low-heeled walking shoes. there was one staunch friend whose words were always encouraging. "you're right, old boy. i wish you all the success you so richly deserve. never mind the knockers. you're in right. you'll make it go." thus did bill hunter of the penna. r. r. encourage alfred. alfred often declared bill a level-headed man, one who would be heard from later. frank field was the city passenger agent of the penna. r. r. frank and bill were very kindly disposed towards show folks. they carried a troupe on their own account over the penna. lines. they were security for the fares to the amount of a couple of hundred dollars. the troupe stranded bill held the musical instruments. the instruments were taken to the city ticket office, concealed under the counter. bill and frank were "stuck." they endeavored to dispose of the horns to alfred. alfred joked bill frequently, advising him to organize a band, and learn to play one of the horns. this "guying" did not alter bill's attitude towards alfred's enterprise. he was even more optimistic as to its success. bill would slap alfred on the back, saying: "never mind the salary you are leaving. you'll make more money with this minstrel show in a year than you would on salary in two." alfred from the first day he began his minstrel career sought to introduce new ideas; not to do things as they had been done. he was the first to uniform the parade. the costumes were long, light-colored, newmarket overcoats, black velvet collar, stylishly patterned. they were very attractive overcoats, contrasting effectively with the red broadcloth, gold-trimmed band uniforms. the company rehearsed in columbus and opened at marion, ohio, october , . the opening day was a dismal, rainy, fall day, just verging on winter. alfred's good friends gathered in the union depot at columbus to bid the minstrels godspeed, although they traveled on another line. bill hunter was at the depot to see them off. the genteel appearance of the troupe, especially the overcoats, were favorably commented upon. bill shook hands with each member of the company as they entered the car. when the last man was aboard, when the last good-bye had been spoken, barney mccabe remarked to those assembled: "i don't know what kind of a show alfred's got, but they have the finest overcoats that ever went out of this depot." bill, winking at barney, said: "i'll have 'em all before two weeks. if he makes money with this troupe, he can ketch bass with biscuits." another of alfred's innovations was a large amount of scenery and properties. each piece of baggage was marked with bright letters, "the al. g. field minstrels." the afterpiece, "the lime kiln club," was quite a pretentious affair for a minstrel company in those days. the stage setting, representing the interior of a lodge, required antiquated furniture such as could not be hired in the one night stands. therefore, the minstrels carried all this furniture, a large sheet-iron wood stove with lengths of stovepipe. not until the last trunk was loaded onto the baggage wagon, did alfred leave the depot that first morning. walking slowly along the street, keeping pace with the heavy wagon, proud of the new trunks with the plainly painted names on each, the furniture for "the lime kiln club," with the stove and stovepipe atop of all, the wagon passed up the street. while passing a building in course of erection, the workmen ceased their labors to gaze at the wagon. a plasterer with limey overalls gazed at the wagon intently until it passed by. turning to his fellow workmen, pushing his hands in his pockets deeper, and shrugging his shoulders, he sympathetically remarked: "hit's mighty cole weather fur flittin'. i allus feel sorry for pore folks as has tu move in cole weather." looking down the street from where the wagon came he continued: "i wonder whar the folks is. walkin' to keep warm, i reckon. i hope they hain't any children." thereafter, alfred ordered the odd furniture, stovepipe and stove loaded in the bottom of the wagon. a heavy rain interfered with the attendance the opening night. in the excitement, alfred did not realize that he had lost money. it was only after the second night--upper sandusky--that he figured the first two nights were unprofitable. chas. alvin davis, of alvin joslin fame, and his manager, were visitors the second night. the receipts at bucyrus were very light, and to pile up troubles for the new minstrel manager, a boy connected with the theatre stole from alfred's clothes in the dressing room all his private funds. the empty pocket-book was found in an ash-barrel at the rear of the boy's residence, yet the police did not feel it was sufficient evidence to warrant the arrest of the young scamp. the fourth night, at mansfield, rain, hail, sleet and snow, such as ohio had never experienced at that season of the year, (october ), made the streets impassable. the minstrels played to a very meager audience. after all bills were paid the company had thirty-seven dollars in the treasury. several friends in columbus assured alfred that if he ran short he could draw on them. alfred had learned six weeks was the most lengthened period any of his friends gave him to keep the company afloat. "he's ruined. all his savings gone, he will be worse off than when he began life." this was the comment of one of his dearest friends. leaving mansfield at midnight, arriving at ashland, alfred, that he might not have the night lodging to pay, sat in the depot until daylight, then sauntered to the hotel. thirty-seven dollars in the treasury, cold and snowing. alfred debated in his mind as to whether he should telegraph his friends in columbus for assistance. his decision was: "no, i will not humble myself. i'll pull through some way. besides, i have invested my own money in this concern. if i lose it, it's gone. i can earn more. if i borrow money and lose, i'm in debt." he didn't know he could do it. he wasn't sure he could pull the show through. he had heard and seen the sneers and smiles of incredulity. he remembered uncle henry's advice: "if you haven't got the stuff in you to stand alone and fight for yourself, you're wasting time trying to do business. being smart is only half of it. being game is the other half. the biggest persimmons are atop of the tree. you've got to climb to get them. there are times when you'll have to hold on by your finger tips. but if you're not game enough to take the risk, you don't deserve what's up at the top. the cowards are standing under the tree waiting for the persimmons to fall. there's so many of them they have to fight harder to get those that fall to the ground than the game fellow that climbs the tree. men will pull you down, tramp on you, in their endeavors to climb over you. it's the selfish idea of many men they can build up more rapidly if they tear down. they'll block your game, they'll lie about you, they'll not only throw you down but they'll sit on you, and hold you down, until you gather force to squirm from under. you'll never suffer as much when you have the least as you do when the grit has leaked out of you. the man who climbs the tree from the bottom to the top is never licked. if they pull him down he will start from the bottom again. poverty cannot ruin him. it's only a check. he has less fear than those who have had a ladder placed against the tree for them to climb up. believe in yourself. take everything that belongs to you. take your licking but don't sell out to cowardice. when your grit's gone you're done for." a thin, a very thin partition between the room he occupied and that of two of his principal people, alfred was compelled to play the role of eavesdropper again. "he won't pull through. i am sorry i joined the show, i throwed away a good engagement to accept this one. i'm stuck again. this thing won't last a week. i'm going to get away at the first opportunity." it was one of a talented team of musicians. they not only did a fine specialty but doubled in the band. the one talking was the manager of the act. alfred held a contract with the trio. he had fulfilled all the requirements of it and they owed him considerable money, advanced for hotel bills during rehearsals, railroad fares, etc. he lay on the bed debating with himself what to do, enter the room and throw the talker out of the window, or have him arrested. "i heard field tell his treasurer he had no money. i'm going to skip. take my word for it, we're all up against it." the other replied: "well, i owe the company a lot of money. i'll stick until i see how it goes." alfred was on fire. he would die rather than fail. the following day was sunday. this would entail extra expense. basing his calculations upon receipts in other cities, he feared he would not have funds to carry the company to akron, the next exhibition point. he accidently met a columbus man, a minister, reverend messie, the pastor of the church where alfred's family worshipped. he had recently officiated at the wedding of alfred's sister; he felt he had met a friend from home. he decided to lay his troubles before the good man but weakened at the beginning. instead he inquired as to whether the minister was acquainted with a banker in the city. the minister accompanied alfred to a bank and had alfred requested him, to make a favorable talk for him, the good man could not have said more. "this is mr. field, a friend and neighbor of mine. he has not acquainted me with the nature of his business with you, but he is responsible, owns property in columbus and bears an excellent reputation." the banker invited the minstrel into his private office. alfred made a statement of his affairs, dwelling strongly on the robbery at bucyrus, exhibiting newspaper clippings to substantiate his statements. "let us see what your liabilities are. going over them, there were none. nearly all of the company were indebted for money advanced. i can't see where you are in any financial trouble. you have no debts following you, have you?" "none," answered alfred. "well, what is the trouble?" "it's like this," the minstrel explained. "we've done no business since we opened. i have lost money at every stand. i have but thirty-seven dollars on hand. it's a big jump to akron. i am sure, i'll require a little money, not much. if it hadn't been for that touch at bucyrus i'd be all right." "you'll do business here. it's the best minstrel town in ohio. primrose & west did fairly well, although our people didn't know them. hi henry packed the house." "i fear people do not know us," sighed alfred. "well, i'll introduce you--they will know you." alfred had ended every statement with the wail that if he had not been robbed in bucyrus he would be all right. "the bank closes at noon. come around, take lunch with me, i'll see you to akron. don't worry. i fear you're a bit shaky. you are just starting in business, you require confidence." "if it hadn't been for the touch at bucyrus, i'd have been all right," ruefully remarked alfred. the president and alfred made a round of the business houses of the town. "this is mr. field, the minstrel man, one of our people. his home is in columbus. i just bought four seats. the seats are going pretty fast. i want you to be there tonight. have you got your tickets?" no one seemed to have taken the precaution to buy seats in advance although all declared they were going. rarely did the callers leave a place until those called upon had reserved their seats. it was not long until the seat sale assured alfred it would not be necessary to negotiate a loan. "i would have helped you out if you had needed the money," declared the banker, "but i knew we could hustle a bit and fill the house." the gentleman was a good story-teller. alfred was in a rare good humor. he had a fund of stories new to the banker. the fact of the robbery in bucyrus was detailed to every business man they called upon. all sympathized with alfred. "bucyrus is a tough town," several remarked. "you'll never get your money," another declared. "be more careful if you ever go there again." when about to separate, the banker in a kindly manner assured alfred that he was only too glad to have been of service to him. he spoke encouragingly of the future. "if you have a good show, you are sure to pull through. i wouldn't carry a great amount of money on my person hereafter if i were you. be careful. do not have a repetition of the bucyrus affair. how much did they get from you over there?" "sixty dollars." the words were scarcely uttered until the banker bursted into a fit of laughter. alfred had never been accused of destiny, but he could not realize what there was in the admission to so excite the man's mirth. had the gentleman known what sixty dollars meant to him at that time, it would not have seemed so funny. from the fact that alfred had dwelt so strongly on the theft of his money, with the constantly repeated statement that "if it had not been for the robbery, he would have been all right," the moneyed man had gained the idea he had lost several hundred dollars; hence his mirth. at akron the minstrels did capacity business. warren and youngstown were equally satisfactory as were new castle and steubenville. wheeling was the first city wherein opposition was encountered. wilson & rankin's minstrels were billed at the opera house, the field company at the grand opera house. when the wilson & rankin party started on their parade, the other company followed in their wake. wilson shouted to the bystanders in front of the mcclure house, "war! war!" this opposition embittered george wilson and for years the two companies waged a relentless war, which never ceased until mr. wilson disbanded his company. carl rankin, who was a columbus boy and an old friend of alfred's called on alfred. he advised that he was dissatisfied with his surroundings and a tentative partnership agreement was entered into for the next season. however, the arrangements went no further as mr. rankin's health failed him rapidly and it was not long until minstrelsy lost one of the most versatile performers that ever adorned it. since the conversation overheard in ashland, alfred had not spoken to the manager of the musical act. the telegraph wires were carrying messages daily seeking an act to take the place of the dissatisfied one. at zanesville, just before the matinee, (zanesville was the first city wherein the al. g. field minstrels appeared in a matinee), alfred called the manager of the musical act to his dressing room. "mr. turner, it has come to me that you intended leaving this company. therefore, i have engaged an act to take your place; you can leave after tonight's performance, or as soon thereafter as it suits your convenience." "why, mr. field, i did not intend to leave your company. who so advised you? i never told anyone i intended leaving." "now bob, don't deny it. i heard you say you were going to leave the company, that you had no confidence in the stability of the enterprise. your talk came at a time when i was feeling pretty blue and it hurt. judging from your talk you are an undesirable man to have around and i certainly am glad to dispense with your services." the man threatened legal proceedings. alfred was obdurate. the man was tendered his salary. he refused to sign a receipt. alfred ordered the treasurer to give him his money without his signature to a receipt. the other two members of the act protested vigorously. they presented their case in this manner: "we were working for bob. he owned the act. we like the show; we like you. it's the middle of the season. we are liable to be idle for months. we don't think we should be discharged for the threats of bob. we can't control his mouth. mr. field, if you discharge every performer who indulges in idle talk, you won't have anybody around you." "boys, i do not propose to discharge anyone for idle talk but i won't keep a traitor in this camp. you remain with the company. i will pay you the same salary you have been receiving just to play in the band and sit in the first part." with varying success the first season progressed. but never a salary day that the "white specter" did not perambulate. every obligation met promptly, a few folks began to take notice of the new show, persons who had held their faces the other way. the manager was forced to practice the greatest economy. there was a few weeks around christmas time when his shoes leaked. after christmas he purchased two pair of shoes, preparing for future contingencies. smallpox was raging through minnesota and wisconsin, many cities were quarantined. at lacrosse, winona, rochester and eau claire, the people would not go to the theatre; hence, the show was a big loser. at hudson, wis., a big lumber camp in those days, the gross receipts were the least the company ever played to--just sixteen dollars--a few cents less than the receipts of alfred's first show in redstone school-house. alfred requested the manager of the opera house to dismiss the audience. the manager refused to listen to the proposition. he contended it was saturday night, and that many would drop in. they failed to drop in or to be pushed in. however, alfred has always felt grateful to that manager. no audience was ever dismissed by the al. g. field greater minstrels in all the years of their existence, although an engagement in atlanta, ga., was curtailed. the company opened to an over-flowing house. the advance sale for the remainder of the engagement was gratifying. henry grady, the famous journalist and orator, after delivering a speech that electrified not only the boston audience that listened to it, but the nation, had died. atlanta and the entire south was stricken with sorrow. the minstrel manager was intimately acquainted with mr. grady. mr. grady was one of the promoters of the piedmont exposition. peter sells was one of mr. grady's admirers, and as a courtesy to him had loaned the exposition a flock of ostriches; which was one of the attractive features of that most memorable exposition. alfred was entrusted with the details pertaining to the transaction. mr. grady had been very courteous to alfred. there never was a man who knew henry grady that did not admire his charming personality. therefore, when mr. de give suggested the engagement of the minstrels end and the theatre be closed out of respect to the memory of mr. grady, alfred promptly acquiesced. the closing of this engagement was a sacrifice that alfred felt greatly at the time. it meant pecuniary loss that was embarrassing to him, yet there never was a moment he regretted his action. it was the beginning of friendships that have endured all the years since. not only the success attending his annual visits to atlanta, but the associations are of that pleasant character that make a stranger feel he is in the home of his friends. capt. forrest adair, one of atlanta's foremost citizens, journeys each year to the annual banquets celebrating the birthday of the al. g. field greater minstrels. he is as well known and as greatly respected by every member of the organization as by alfred. the first season the profits were not great, although on the right side of the ledger. the opposition of family and friends continued. "abandon the minstrels, go back to a salary." alfred was considered bull headed, contrary, without judgment, etc. however, nothing swerved him. he announced to all he would continue in the minstrel business. george knott, (doc.) and gov. campbell were the agents of the al. g. field minstrels the first season. gov. campbell's folks once resided in woodville. the citizens united in their endeavors to have him bring his minstrels to the town. there had never been a minstrel entertainment presented in the town previously and none since. the hotel man had undertaken the building of a hall. all sorts of inducements were held out in the letter received by alfred. terms were satisfactorily arranged, a date scheduled and the minstrels billed to appear in woodville. a narrow-gauge railroad, a train with a disabled engine and a disgusted minstrel troupe arrived at p. m., six hours late. charles sweeny, the stage manager, came swiftly into the dining room, leaning over alfred, he whispered: "there's no stage, no scenery, no seats. just a bare hall. no reserved sale. there's--" only thus far did sweeny get in his enumeration of his troubles until alfred was searching for the manager. he hurriedly inquired of the hotel man as he left the dining room, without his dinner, as to the place of business of the manager of the theater. the hotel man gazed at him in blank surprise. alfred, in his impatience, did not await an answer. rushing up the principal street of the village, he inquired of several persons as to where he could locate the manager of the theater. finally the postmaster, in answer to his impatient questions, said: "you will not find any particular manager as he ain't got to that yet. he's just built a room and thar's nuthin' in it. he's at the hotel down yonder." it began to dawn upon alfred that the landlord of the hotel was the man he was looking for. "lord, young man. if i'd known you was lookin' for me, i'd told you quicker, who i was. i'm no theater manager." "but you wrote me you had a theater. i am here with my company ready to give a performance and you have neither stage nor scenery in your hall. how do you expect me to put the show on?" "why! don't you carry your stage and scenery?" the man asked, in candid surprise. "certainly not. and you should know it. you haven't even got a seat sale on." the hotel man began to get excited. "what the hell have i got to do with selling tickets? if you don't carry your own tickets you're a purty cheap concern. i don't propose to be brow-beaten by you. if you don't like the place the road runs both ways out of it." and he walked away from the minstrel man in high dudgeon. seats were borrowed from the court house, the methodist church, the hotel, anywhere they could be secured. a half dozen carpenters were working on the improvised stage until the minute the curtain went up. the dining room of the hotel was converted into a dressing room. after supper was served the minstrel trunks were placed in the dining room. pickles, crackers, ginger snaps, etc., were all in place on the table for an early morning breakfast. the minstrels ate the tables bare, ransacked cupboards and sideboards in kitchen and dining room, feasting and frolicking during the performance. the bar adjoined the dining room. the minstrels blackened and in their stage attire, they said to the peg-legged barkeeper: "these are on me; i've got on my other clothes; i'll settle after the show." the dressing, or dining room, was about twenty yards from the stage of the hall. as there was no stage door, (only a front door in the hall), the minstrel men were obliged to enter by a window. the sash taken out, leaned against the wall. in the piano chorus of a most pathetic ballad, both window sashes fell over. the crashing glass brought the entire audience to their feet. the hall owner stepped over the low footlights onto the stage, brushing the semi-circle of surprised minstrels to one side. disappearing behind the curtain, he reappeared in an instant, bearing in either hand a window sash with shattered bits of glass sticking here and there. crossing the stage, at the instant the interlocutor announced the singing of the reigning song success, "there's a light in the window for you," placing the sash in front of the stage, he seated himself. the stage, or platform, was very low. the sash stuck up several inches above the footlights. harry bulger, in one of his dances purposely kicked them over again. down they fell among the musicians. mr. hall-owner was again to the rescue, this time triumphantly bearing the sash to the rear of the hall. alfred looked after the front of the house as well as his stage work. remaining at the door until he had barely time to make up, he requested the hall owner to take tickets until he returned, and not to permit any to enter without tickets. the hall man promised not to permit any to enter without tickets. alfred sang a song, "hello, baby, here's your daddy," the title of it. the dozen end men, during the chorus, drew from under their chairs large dolls with blackened faces. each burlesqued a person handling a baby awkwardly. as alfred took his seat his eyes went anxiously to the door. it was closed. no one entered all the while he was on the stage. at the end of the baby song, it was customary for alfred to cast a big ugly doll, with the words "here's your daddy," into the audience. one of the company dudishly attired was seated in the audience to catch the doll, leave the house, pretending to be greatly embarrassed. the audience usually howled. the baby was flung in the direction of the member of the company. unfortunately, it had to pass over the head of the manager of the hall. jumping up, reaching into the air much as an expert baseball player does in pulling down a hot one, he pulled the baby down. holding it upside down, he flung it towards alfred. anxious to save the scene, with all his force alfred flung it towards the young man of the company, who stood waiting to play his part. but again the hall man jumped between and caught the baby. by one foot he swung it about his head a couple of times; the head and arms of the rag doll flew towards alfred, striking the stage at his feet. the man holding the legs and all that part of the baby below the belt, waved it aloft. meanwhile the audience was encouraging him with shouts of approval. concluding his stage work, hastening towards the door, not even delaying to change his costume or remove the black from his face, he vigorously beckoned the hall man to him. walking towards the door, alfred poured forth a torrent of peevish abuse: "why, you wrote me all sorts of letters that people were crazy mad for a minstrel show and there's not fifty dollars in the house." the landlord doubted this statement. "not fifty dollars in the house, huh? why, there's men in thar," and he jerked his head towards the audience, "there's men in thar with three hundred dollars in thar pockets right now. don't you think you're in a poverty-struck place. our people have all got money." thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, jingling keys and coins. "i mean the tickets do not represent fifty dollars so far. i'm in good and deep and you are the cause of it." "i find nothing to do business with. i ask you as a last request to watch the door for me. you leave the door and every jay will walk in." "oh no, they won't," interrupted mr. hall-man. "they won't get in this hall without paying." "why, what in thunder is to hinder them? the whole town could walk in without paying one cent." [illustration: he waved the key] "i'll be durned if they could," ejaculated mr. hall-man, and he waved the key of the door triumphantly at alfred. the man had actually locked the door. when opened, there were some dozen seeking admission. many left in disgust. there was a bill for lights of glass, and numerous drinks at the bar presented to alfred. the glass he settled for, informing the hotel man he did not pay bar-bills. the barkeeper could not recognize any one of the performers in their street attire. he assured alfred "the hull pack of niggers with you jus' drank and drank and only a few paid. the bill don't amount to much, so far as enny one of the men is concerned; but one gal, one nigger gal, jus' treated right and left. if we could get what she owes, i'd let the rest go." the barkeeper referred to harry bulger. alfred's great desire was to present his minstrel show in his old home town, brownsville. the stage in jeffries' hall was too small to accommodate the minstrels. therefore, one of alfred's boyhood friends, levi waggoner, arranged to play the minstrels in the skating rink. levi was one of the boys who had stood by the old town through all its changes and become one of its substantial citizens. awake to every business opportunity, he had not only seated the floor space of the rink but builded circus seats against the rear wall. alfred was not in the old town an hour until it became imperative that he should seek protection from his friends. he delegated one of the company, one who was noted for his staying qualities, to represent him. every man met, no matter how old, claimed to be a schoolboy friend of alfred's. "there goes another old friend of alf's" became a by-word long before night. "spider" pomeroy, six feet six then, when a boy, (he has grown some since), celebrated alfred's return more uproariously than any one person in the town. alfred supplied him with a ticket early in the morning. by noon "spider" had obtained six tickets, always claiming he had lost the other one. when the doors opened, "spider" ran over the small boys in his way, brushed the ticket taker aside, entering without a ticket he perched himself on the top of lee wagoner's improvised circus seats, his legs doubled up until his knees stuck up on either side above his head like a grasshopper. he sat through the first part. the minstrel with the staying qualities was laboring with a monologue. "spider", after his strenuous day, was sleeping off his exuberance. at the dullest part in the monologist's offering, "spider" let go all holds. the skating rink was built on piles, over the river's bank. one walking on the floor, their footsteps awakened echoes. when "spider" hit that floor--and he hit it with all his frame--legs, arms, feet and head, all at one time, it sounded as if the building had collapsed. all were on their feet looking towards the back of the rink. as "spider" lit, the monologist shouted: "there goes another old friend of alf's." it came in pat. the audience grasped it and the monologist established a reputation for originality. "there goes another old friend of alf's" is a common saying in brownsville until this day. the property man that first season was a german, new in the minstrel game. he is now a capitalist and probably would not relish the disclosing of his name. chas. sweeny, the stage manager, was a stickler for realism. in the burlesque of "the lime kiln club," one climax was the sound of a cat fight on the roof. the cats were supposed to fall through the skylight. every member of the lodge was supposed to have his dog with him--colored people are fond of dogs. when the cats fall into the lodge room, every dog goes after them. fake, or dummy cats were prepared for the scene and used during rehearsals. the first night sweeny ordered gus, the property man, to procure two live cats. gus, stationed on a very high step-ladder in the wings, at the cue was to throw the cats on the stage. gus was heard to remark: "you all better hurry or send some von to manage one of dese cats." the cat fight was heard on the roof. the glass in the skylight was heard to break. the cats were, with great difficulty, flung by gus. they clawed and held onto him. the long step-ladder was rocking like a slender tree in a gale. one cat left the hands of gus, alighting with all four feet on sweeny's neck, with a spring that sent it out over the heads of the orchestra to the fourth or fifth row in the parquet. the cat left its marks on sweeny's neck and the scars are there today as plain as twenty-seven years ago. as gus flung the second cat the exertion was too much for him. he followed on the step-ladder, overturning brother gardner and the stove. three dogs pounced upon gus as he rolled over and over on the floor. three of the largest dogs had followed the first cat over the heads of the orchestra, and a stampede of the audience was in progress, the dogs and cats under the feet of men and women, who were jumping on chairs or rushing towards the exits. the curtain went down without the humorous dialogue that usually terminated the scene. "mr. president: i moves you, sir, dat no member ob dis club hyaraftuh be admitted wid more'n three dogs." alfred put his shoulder to the wheel wherever and whenever a push or a pull was required. night after night, he assisted the stage hands in hustling effects from the theatre to the train. on one occasion the train was scheduled to leave in a very short time after the curtain fell. alfred, without changing his stage clothes, busied himself assisting the stage hands. gus, the property man, flung alfred's clothing into his trunk, not observing they were his street apparel instead of stage costumes. the trunk was sent to the depot. when alfred prepared to follow he was minus everything except a large pair of shoes, thin pants, long stockings and undershirt. there was no time to be lost; grabbing up a large piece of carpet, alfred wound it around himself and started for the depot on a run. doc quigley, arthur rigby and several of the company stationed themselves along his route to the depot, hiding in the shadows of doorways. one after another shouted: "good-bye, al, good-bye old boy. you've got the best show ever. come back again. your show's great." [illustration: "good-bye al, old boy"] "all right boys, good-bye. i'll be with you next season," shouted the hustling minstrel as he sped for the train. alfred was completely deceived. he imagined the compliments were coming from the towns-people. the german property man, whose mistake was responsible for alfred's grotesque appearance, was stationed by the jokers behind a fence near the depot. as alfred hove in sight with the old rag carpet flapping around his form, gus shouted: "goot bye, mr. fieldt. goot luck. your show iz great. kum unt see us agen. i hope your show will be here nexdt season." "it will be, but you won't be with it, you dutch son of a gun." alfred had recognized the voice. chapter twenty-four into the city during the day, back to the country at eventide, courting the charm of the simple way, casting the tumult of greed aside. "he is the happiest man who best appreciates his happiness. happiness comes to him who does not seek it." "well, you've got there. i was opposed to your goin' into the minstrel business. it's not good to argue agin anything a young man sets his mind on. i figured if you got knocked out, you'd be able to come back agin. i'd rather seed you in the circus business, but say, boy, if this show of yours ain't a jim dandy. are you making any money?" "well, i have made money, uncle henry, but i'm investing it in my business as fast as i earn it. you see the minstrel business is changing. the basis of minstrelsy will always be that which it is and has been, but you can't hand them the same things they've been accepting the past forty years and expect them to enjoy and buy it. the farce comedy, the musical show are virtually minstrel shows. based upon music and dancing, they produce about the same stuff the minstrels do." "well alfred, we hear a great deal about the old black-face minstrels. some people say they like them best." "that's true, uncle henry. you can't gainsay it. some people like the old-fashioned cooking the best. but the public, the majority demand something different. even if they eat the same sort of food they ate when younger, they demand it be served differently. let me call your attention to this fact: every manager that has endeavored to present an old-time, black-face minstrel show in late years has failed. the old-time minstrel show, like the one-ring circus, is pleasant to dream of, pleasant to talk of, but not profitable to present. two friends were responsible for my decision to put on a simon-pure, old-time minstrel show. i engaged the best talent procurable, costumed the show in conformity with the ideas of my friends. it was the least profitable of any season since my first year; or it would have been had i continued. i changed my entire show in the middle of the season, going back to the black-face comedians, white-face singers. "the minstrels in all climes have sung their songs of love and war. even in the days of the ancients there were minstrels who sang the news of the times to the gaping multitudes in the streets and market places. in fact, david, with his harp of a thousand strings, whose voice charmed king saul and his court, was the first minstrel. i can fully understand why a minstrel, an american minstrel, singing a plantation melody to his dusky dulcinea, should have a blackened face, but why a man blackened as a negro should sing of 'my sister's golden hair,' or 'mother's eyes of blue,' is too incongruous for even argument's sake." [illustration: david, the first minstrel] "well, alfred, how is it the other managers do not adopt the style of your entertainment." "uncle henry, i am not my brother's keeper. i had opposition with one of those so-called old time minstrel shows a short time ago. our company was making money every night. they were barely paying expenses. and yet the greater part of their press work was devoted to informing the public that we were not genuine minstrels, our singers wore white wigs, flesh colored stockings and satin suits. they were really advertising one of the attractions of our exhibition. we copied that notice and had it sent broadcast over the sections where the companies conflicted. i watched the press closely and but one paper that came under my observation endorsed their idea." "now, alfred, let me tell you something. i've had all i wanted to eat and drink; i've worn good clothes; i've helped the poor; i've kept my family right; and i've seen enough of this world to convince me the only way to have money to burn is not to burn it. to have money to spend when you are old, is to save it while you're young. i was so poor when i was young, i had my lesson. say, son, it's a sad thing to be poor when you're young, not wanted in your brother's home. but it's dreadful to be poor when you are old and not wanted anywhere. you can't make a living. you are dependent upon charity. now don't fool yourself and say with your income you can't save. if you can live you can save. george m. pullman, marshall field, john d. rockefeller, and a thousand others began saving on less than your income. now, alfred, don't think because the fool in your business has spent money recklessly, don't think that's an excuse for you to spend. i know minstrel people. i know them backwards. don't be like them. the only things to do in this world, day after day, are the things you ought to do. you can't do too much for others, but don't depend upon them to do for you. a poor, old man is the saddest sight on earth." "it's true i felt mighty sore that my folks threw me on the world so young. but you bet i am proud of the fact that i can buy and sell the whole kit of them. i help them, i give them, i don't begrudge it to them; but, while i can't entirely forget the bitterness of those boyhood days, i can't help but feel a bit proud that i am independent of them in my old days. and to hear some of them talk, you'd think they made me. well, they did, but they didn't intend to. while they were sitting around praying for prosperity, i was sweating. sweating, it's a good thing. it takes all the bad diseases out of you and a good deal of the cussedness. say, alfred, you never knowed a skin-flint that sweat. stingy men never sweat. i admire all good people but i would rather see a man give another a meal, than talk over his victuals and eat them alone when he knows there's someone next door hungry. did you ever notice when a man thinks he's a genius he lets his hair grow long and when a woman gets out of her place, to be something she oughtn't to be, she cuts her hair short. every crank puts some kind of a brand on themselves. you don't have to talk to them to find out what they are. "i sold whiskey when i was in the wholesale grocery business. everybody in my line sold it. you remember the best stores in columbus sold it. you couldn't hold a first-class trade if you didn't sell it. i never sold it to people who had no shoes. i never sold it to young men nor to old men in their dotage. there was never preacher came to me to talk religion or anything else while i was selling whiskey. but as soon as i sold out the whiskey business, they began runnin' after me. one of them kept a-comin' and a-comin'. he kept tellin' me how to live, how to spend the rest of my days. get a library. a library was the greatest thing a man could have. it kept your mind at rest; you could seek refuge in your library at any time when in trouble. i promised him to get a library. i had one built expressly. i had two barrels of old crow whiskey that i kept when i sold the store. i filled a sufficient number of quart bottles to fill the shelves of the library, labeled the bottles, and waited for the next visit of the gentleman who induced me to invest in a library. he congratulated me on taking his advice. i told him i never had any learning to speak of; when i should have been at school i had to be at work; perhaps i should have consulted him about stocking the library. he expressed a desire to examine it. when i threw the doors open and the rows of bottles of old crow came into his view, he never flinched. i told jim if he fainted to be handy with a pail of water. but he never backed off. he put his glasses on his nose, read the labels and 'lowed while my library was large it was not greatly diversified. thereafter the good man was more deeply interested in me than ever before. at first he called once a day. it was not long until he called three times a day regularly." [illustration: uncle henry's library] jim describes the scene thusly: "uncle henry, lolling in the big, easy chair, sleepily. enter the gentleman who recommended the library. 'good morning, brother hunt, i hope you are feeling well'; uncle henry, with eyes half-closed, never waited to hear more. he languidly motioned towards the sideboard, closed his eyes, looked the other way. uncle henry's idea of a gentleman was one who turned his back while you were pouring out your liquor." uncle henry was known to every showman in america. he maintained a field whereon the circuses pitched their tents. he owned the billboards. no circus visited burlington that did not find him an interested friend. i have heard that uncle henry could drive a good bargain in a trade. i never knew him as a buyer or a seller. i only knew him as one who knew how to give. i only knew him as one who found it more blessed to give than receive. his qualities of good more than overbalanced his imperfections. his was a character that left its impress on the community in which he was known. he was loved by those who were welcomed in his hospitable home. there have been men of more renown than the hardy old blacksmith, who, from a barefooted boy made his way without education or friends, and that he was influenced in his feelings by his early hardships was only the man that was in him, over-balancing the better nature of one who, when a friend was a friend, who, when against you, was always in the open. he was as honest in his dislikes as he was in his admirations. when the sands of his life were ebbing fast on that sunday afternoon in midsummer, the last of earth, the last sounds that fell upon the ears of uncle henry were the rumbling of the wheels of a circus moving over the paved streets from the train to the show grounds. * * * * * they have got a newspaper fixed and the worst roast ever read published today. mailed copy. if you want a good lawyer, advise. joe kaine. alfred read and re-read this telegram. he was having the most strenuous opposition of his business career, fighting one of the most unprincipled of men, the head of a company that had attained great popularity although on the decline at the time, and soon thereafter went the way of all such concerns--those of the minstrel kind at least. it was known to alfred that the opposition had engaged a noted press agent and that this agent had been on the route of alfred's company. alfred answered the telegram, requesting a synopsis of the article. it was at the time the notorious hatfield gang of west virginia, were the subjects of unusual newspaper exaggeration. the write-up that had stirred kaine was in substance: "prominent minstrel man's real name leads to conjecture he was once one of the notorious hatfield gang. doubts as to his braving the laws of west virginia. "it is reported though his company is advertised, it will not appear in any of the cities in this state. the depredations of the notorious hatfield family has made the name feared wherever it is known. officers have been on their track for years. the majority of the desperate family seem to be secure in the fastnesses of their mountain hiding places. so completely terrorized are the mountaineers by this family that no arrests have been made of any of the gang lately. however, should the member of the family now masquerading under an assumed name enter the state he will be arrested on sight and made to stand trial for past deeds of the family. however, it is not believed that the man will run the risk of entering the state. it is rumored he is on his way to canada." kaine supplemented his first telegram with a second one advising alfred that the evening paper would publish any statement he telegraphed, and to make the denial strong. alfred wired him: engage counsel who will answer for me. i am prepared to give bond in any amount. al. g. field. he further telegraphed "devil anse" hatfield and several others of the family: will be there. meet me on arrival. another telegram read: get this in newspapers, but not as coming from me. another telegram went forward later as a news item: "it is reported here that a dozen armed men from kentucky and west virginia are secreted on the cars of the al. g. field minstrels, to resist arrest of one of their number who is reported with the minstrels." of course all this was false. when the minstrel troupe arrived, hundreds were at the depot. alfred was one of the first to leave the train. the officers and many others were aware of the falsity of the published statement, but hundreds were deceived by the sensational reports. the owner of the paper wherein the reports originated assured alfred they had been imposed upon and the columns of the paper were open to anything he might dictate for publication. introducing alfred to his city editor, the owner of the paper remarked: "i have requested mr. field to prepare a statement for publication. we want to do what is right by him." the matter was submitted to the editor. he reminded alfred that it did not answer the article published by them but was a boost for his minstrels. alfred replied: "i realize the matter published was false, but the dear public has gained the idea that i am a desperado. they will only remember this a day or two. if i endeavor to contradict the published reports, it will keep it in their minds. this matter i submit will benefit me. a denial such as you have in mind will not do me any good." while this advertising was not the sort alfred desired, he was bound to make the most of it. the theatres were packed to their capacity during the three or four weeks the opposition worked the press with the silly matter; although many newspapers treated it as a joke. for a few weeks alfred was a living curiosity, pointed out by some as a desperado to be shunned, sought by others to be idolized. surely, human nature is past understanding. it is dangerous to try to blacken the character of your opponent as it invariably places one's own under the spotlight and they'll find spots you were sure were never visible. * * * * * ed boggs, now secretary to the governor of the state, was at the time engaged in the drug business and managed the opera house in charleston, w. va. the gross receipts were the largest in the history of the opera house. alfred carried his share of the money in a satchel after the show. boggs accompanied him to the ferry. there was no bridge spanning the river in those days. boggs' store was on the corner of water street near the ferry landing. the ferry boat was on the opposite side. boggs suggested they step into the drug store and smoke a cigar until the boat returned. alfred, arriving at his private car--the wife was a visitor--the first question propounded was: "where have you been to this hour of the night? where's your satchel?" alfred nearly fainted. he rushed out on the platform of the car. the ferry boat had left on the last trip of the night. alfred was not clear in his mind as to where he had left the satchel, whether in the drug store or on the boat. he floundered along the banks of the river, endeavoring to locate a skiff that he might recross the river. his fears were that he had left the satchel on the forecastle of the ferry boat where he stood smoking while crossing the river. the kanawha is a narrow stream as it flows by charleston, yet it seemed an ocean that night. alfred's slumbers were neither lengthy nor soothing. one hour previous to the scheduled time of the ferry boat's arrival on her first trip of the morning, he stood on the shore gazing across the river. when the boat was within four feet of her dock, alfred leaped aboard, and began inquiries. the captain said: "i was at the wheel. if you left your money on the boat you might as well stay on this side. there was a rough crowd aboard after the show. that money's split up and partly drunk up by this time." mr. boggs had not arrived. the clerk searched the drug store. he urged the minstrel man to assist in exploring the mysterious recesses behind the counters. no satchel was found. mr. boggs was late coming to the store. "he always gets here before this," the clerk asserted. alfred could not restrain himself longer. he fairly ran to the residence of mr. boggs. the servant brought the message: "mr. boggs was not well this morning. he would probably not go to the store until afternoon." "jumping jupiter, holy moses," and other expressions were suppressed by the highly wrought-up minstrel, as he stood on the doorstep. say to mr. boggs: "mr. field must see him, if only for a moment. must see him at once." "howdy, al, i thought you were on your way to huntington." "no, our train does not leave until eight-thirty. i only have twenty-five minutes. are you going to the store?" alfred tried to look unconcerned as he asked the question: "did i leave my satchel in your drug store last night? i feel sure i did." boggs gazed at him in blank amazement. "your satchel with all that money in it? you don't mean to tell me you left that satchel somewhere and are not certain where?" "oh, i am pretty certain i left it in your store." "well, if you left the satchel in my drug store it is there yet." "i am pretty sure i did." "but you're not certain," persisted boggs. after every corner and nook of the store had been searched, alfred went behind the counters. again he looked under them. boggs did not seem to be greatly interested in the search. he seated himself at a desk as alfred rose from his knees, from exploring a dark corner, and inquired in an unconcerned tone, "find it?" alfred was irritated. he did not reply. the ferry boat whistle sounded. the bell was tapping. alfred looked at boggs. he was still at the desk. "good-bye, i'm going. i guess the hatfields haven't exclusive privileges in west virginia. i think i'll join them to get even. i either left that satchel in this drug store or on that boat. that's a cinch." boggs raised his eyes. "well, if you only knew where you left your satchel you'd have a better chance to recover it." "well, i'm going," replied alfred, moving towards the door. "good-bye," boggs shouted. alfred was on the front steps. "hold on," boggs yelled, "i'll go over the river with you." alfred was looking across the river. boggs was by his side. they had walked several yards towards the ferry boat. boggs inquired as to what excuse he would make to his wife. alfred turned his head. boggs was carrying the satchel in his hand farthest from alfred. as the latter reached for the grip, boggs laughed as he pulled away, saying, "i won't trust you with it." boggs discovered the satchel after alfred left the drug store. he awaited the return of the ferry boat and endeavored to have the captain make an extra trip to relieve alfred's suspense. the captain refused, saying: "if a man is that careless with money, he ought to worry." * * * * * in the early days of alfred's minstrel career he became acquainted with dan d. emmett, the originator of american minstrelsy (the first part). emmett was living in chicago at that time. [illustration: dan emmett] years afterward alfred learned that mr. emmett was living in retirement in his old home, mount vernon, ohio. he called on the aged minstrel. mr. emmett pleaded that he be permitted to accompany the minstrels on a farewell tour. his request was granted. at the time there was no intention of advertising emmett. he was simply to accompany the troupe as a guest of mr. field. about this time several persons were claiming the song "dixie." alfred furnished the _new york herald_ with irrefutable proof that to emmett belonged the honor. that paper sent a man from new york city. he spent several days at the home of emmett. the feature story and the subsequent proofs published by col. cunningham, editor of the _confederate veteran_, forever settled the controversy as to the authorship of dixie. emmett's memory, in his last years, as to dates was defective. the story of dixie was often related to alfred by emmett and, from other information, alfred is of the opinion that dixie was sung in the south long before its new york production. emmett was the musical director of bryants' minstrels. dan bryant desired a walk-around song and dance. emmett, on saturday night was commissioned to have this number ready for monday night's performance. he labored all day sunday. dixie was produced on monday night and made an instantaneous hit. this is the accepted story as to the production of "dixie." it is well known to all of emmett's intimates that he was a slow study and a very indifferent reader but once he memorized music, he required no notes thereafter. it is not probable emmett turned out dixie in one day or the company learned and produced the song with only one rehearsal. all minstrel people admit this. dixie was produced in new york in . prof. arnold, of memphis, (of montgomery, ala., then), claims that emmett visited montgomery in january, , and sang dixie, the words, however, a little different from those used in new york later. in presence of mr. field, prof. arnold called emmett's attention to this. emmett's reply was that the air of dixie--the melody--had been played by him for a year prior to his writing the words of the song. it is alfred's opinion that emmett first sang the song in the south else how could it in those days become so suddenly popular. it is an authenticated fact that the troops from alabama first sang dixie as a war song of the south. there are gentlemen living in both eufala and montgomery who assert that dixie was sung in those cities early in and that it attained great popularity. however, the memory of emmett will be preserved to future generations as the author of a song the common people love to sing. * * * * * "i have bought a farm." the wife looked incredulous. the past four years alfred had optioned as many different farms, always dissuaded by the wife to give them up. in fact, the wife did not show the husband's enthusiasm as to the bucolic life. "i've bought a farm: bienville, a part of the old goodrich tract ceded to that family by the government for services in the revolutionary war, opposite 'high banks' on the olentangy river, where the ruins of the old fort are. it is a place of historic interest. the river, the best bass stream in ohio, skirts the east side of the farm. there's a lovely brook running through the farm, and the largest virgin forest in the county. why, the timber in that woods will sell for more than i paid for the whole farm. but i will not cut a single tree down, only an occasional shell-bark hickory tree to smoke our meat. uncle jake always smoked his meat with hickory wood and he cured the finest meat in fayette county, generally a little too salty; we must look out for that." "the bottom land is a farm in itself. there are two orchards, an old one and a young one. the old one is about run out and i'll cut it down when the young one comes in. the wood will be fine to burn. dry apple wood makes the hottest fire." "dried apples? what are you talking about--burning dried apples?" but alfred was not to be interrupted. "the hill land is not so good but i'll bring that up. i've bought a book on liming land. i won't have a great deal of stock to begin with. it's my intention to begin with a few of each species and breed up, that's the way doctor hartman does. "the hill land is not productive now and the bottom land will have to supply the farm until we get the hills tillable. there's only one thing that troubles me. the bottoms overflow every time the river rises. as you know, the olentangy rises every time it rains." "well, for heaven's sake, you haven't bought a farm like that, have you? now, al, you are just like your father. your mother often told me he could make money but always had a plan to spend it and his investments always proved failures. why don't you let this farm business go? you've got enough on your hands without a farm." alfred never noticed the interruption. "chickens are very profitable. poultry raising is one of the most profitable things about a farm, and the average farmer does not give his chickens any attention. i expect you to look after the chicken end of the farm. all the profits will be yours." even this liberal offer did not interest the wife greatly. "the first thing i am going to do is to build a dyke or levee along the river bank to protect the bottoms from overflows. this must be done this winter. mr. monsarrat is at work on one on his place. he went to the expense of hiring regular dyke-builders, civil engineers and all that sort of thing. i'll just hire farmers and their teams. i've got onto a man that built all the dykes down toward chillicothe. he knows just how to construct them. i'll hire him to superintend the work. of course, i'll be on the ground all the time to look after the details." "when will you have time to attend to matters of that kind? now, al, you're just hatching up a lot of trouble for us. why don't you rest? you have been working all these years to lay by a few dollars and now you are contriving to spend them. we know nothing of farming. we will be worried to death." "now don't get excited, tillie. hold your horses. i've thought the whole matter out. now listen to me. you can't farm in winter, can you?" and alfred waited for his wife to answer. the wife deigned no reply; she either considered the question too deep or too silly. alfred answered his own question: "no, you can't farm in winter. this is november. i've fixed it that by the time we are ready to farm we will be all prepared. i've subscribed for three farm journals, a poultry paper and a dairying book. the farm journals are published in new york, los angeles and denver. this will educate us up to farming methods in all sections. what they don't know in one section, we will learn from another. you leave it all to me. country life will make another woman out of you and pearl will like it. it will be good for you all. it's the dream of my life realized and i do hope you will enter into my plans and be the help you have always been. i'm going to have a horse and phaeton for your exclusive use. i don't want you to do anything. just sort of look over things. you need not read the farm journals unless you are interested. you read up on poultry and the dairy. they go together. all i'll ask you to do is to look after those two things, the poultry and the dairy. i'll take care of the farming." bob brown, (no relation to bill brown), editor of the _louisville times_, one of alfred's warmest friends, published a feature article, a brief history of alfred's career, touching on his newspaper experiences, however, omitting the cow-doctor experience. the article concluded with a lengthy write-up of alfred as a farmer. the paper was carried in triumph and read to mrs. field and pearl. bob predicted the success for alfred in farming that he had attained in minstrelsy. several illustrations in bob's write-up exhibited alfred in farmer's garb, feeding cattle, sheep and hogs out of his hand. the wife observed: "why, you haven't got sheep, hogs or cows as yet; have you imposed upon mr. brown?" "no, certainly not. bob is an up-to-date newspaper man. newspapers that wait to print things as they are, get left. newspapers that print things as they are to be, are the live, up-to-date, always read journals. bob knows i'll have things just as he represents them." bob brown's write-up was greatly appreciated by alfred even after emmett logan informed him that bob had written him confidentially that he, alfred, had turned farmer, but he did not know what for, as he felt certain alfred could not plant his feet in the road and raise dust; in fact, he did not think alfred could raise a parasol. alfred was advised that a club, of which he was an honorary member, would entertain him--that it would be a farmer's night. alfred well knew there would be great fun at the expense of the farmer. he would be the butt of all the jokes the busy brains of a dozen or more keen wits could devise. therefore, he studied for days that he might in a humorous way parry the jibes. nothing humorous in connection with the farm could be evolved from his brain. he was too ambitious, too enthusiastic a farmer to ridicule any phase of his newly adopted calling. therefore, when the chairman concluded his introduction in these words: "and now, gentlemen, we have a farmer as our guest here tonight. it has been the plaint of the farmer from time out of mind that he had not representation; that he had not voice in affairs that had to do with his vocation. the newly made clod-hopper is respectfully informed that he can air his grievances to the fullest extent and that, unlike others, we will not pass resolutions of acquiescence in his views and then repudiate them. we will file them in our archives as a memento of the fact that another good man has gone wrong. alfred, it is the fear of all your friends in this club that the minstrel show will not make enough money to run the farm." [illustration: alfred as a farmer] alfred replied to the introduction: "gentlemen, the introduction honors me; to be a farmer has been the dream of my life. beginning life on a farm, i ask no more pleasant ending than to live the last days of my earthly time on a farm. "the facetious remarks of the toastmaster do not explain my reasons for engaging in farming. it is true, financial consideration did not govern me in this matter, although i do hope to make the farm self-supporting. if i do not, i shall not feel that i have made a bad investment. "in seeking the quietude of the farm, i was actuated by that yearning that comes to all men who have led a busy life--to turn back the years and try to live the days of patches, freckles, stone bruises and laughter; to live those days again when there was only one care in the world, not to be late for meals. "i want to go way back yonder in my life to a house half hidden from view by the locusts and maples, where the bees hummed and swarmed. i want a scent of the honeysuckle as the maples and locusts budded forth in what seemed to me the morning of the world--springtime. i want to follow the path down by the big spring, through the hazel bushes, where the cotton tail jumped up just ahead of you and the redbird sang his sweetest song. i can follow the path in my mind as the hunting dog follows the scent, down to the old rock hole where the clear, cool waters of the creek formed an eddy, in which the chub and yellow perch lurked and jumped at the bait as they never did anywhere else. "i want to feel that ecstacy that only comes to a boy when the bottle cork you used for a bobber goes under water, when something is pulling on the line like a scared mule, bending double the pole cut in the thicket on your way to the creek. i want to throw the pole away, roll up the tangled line, hide it away in the corn crib, and sneak back to the house the opposite direction from the creek, that the folks wouldn't suspect i had been fishing on sunday. "i want to go back yonder in my life where the hills meet the sky in a purple haze, where you feel yourself growing with the trees, where the smell of new earth calls you to the woods, where the dogwood is budding and the may-apple peeps up through last year's leaves at the new leaves budding out on the grand old maples above. "i want to go so far back from the worries of city life that the crowing of the cock and the cackle of the hen will tell me it is morning, instead of the clanging of bells and blowing of whistles. i want to go back yonder where the setting sun, instead of the city lights, will tell me it is night. i want to hear the cricket and whip-poor-will as we heard them in the evenings long ago, as we listened with bated breath to the jack o'-lantern legends that stirred our childish fancy until the croaking of the frogs sent us to bed to dream of uncanny things. "i want to live in the happiness of an autumn when the frost was on the pumpkin and the fodder in the shock; when the hickory nuts falling on the ground called the squirrels; when the stars gleamed bright enough to afford you light to bring a 'possum out of a tree with the old flintlock musket--how you cherished that gun. and when the snow hid the roads and paths like the white coverlet on the big bed in the spare room and the big backlog crackled and burned on the hearth, and the red apples glistened in the firelight, and the popcorn imitation of a snowstorm was more realistic than any artificial one that you have since witnessed. "how you shivered as you undressed in the room above going to bed, but how soundly you slept after you got warm. i want to go back to one of those hallowed sunday mornings in summer when the hush of heaven seemed to fall on earth; when the quiet that spread over hill and vale seemed to announce the spirit of god in some unusual sense; when the peace of heaven seemed so near you felt its happiness. "while living the old days over--the days way back yonder--i want to live in the love of my friends of today. whilst i cherish only a memory of the friends of the old days, i hold, after my family, the love and esteem of my friends of today above all things in this life. "gentlemen, come down to the farm. visit with me and endeavor to live the life of a boy again, if only for a day." [illustration: bill brown as a farmer] alfred's response was not what the assemblage expected. congratulations were showered upon him. the speech was reproduced in newspapers all over the country. printed copies of it were circulated. the sentiment expressed therein seemed to have struck a responsive chord in the hearts of all men who love to live close to nature. it does not seem possible that any one would have the hardihood to endeavor to controvert the sentiments set forth in alfred's tribute to the "back to the farm" life, yet there appeared in all the papers that had given publicity to alfred's speech, a diatribe from bill brown, headed "the truth," as follows: pittsburgh, pa. i have read with much interest al. g. field's address on "the farm." if you will pardon my profanity for a minute, i will say "damn the farm." our paths through the woods on the farm must have been different. al. pursued the cotton tail through the level and green grassy meadows, getting pleasure in pursuit, and which left no traces of his going; i pursued the ever ready pole cat through hollows, over logs and stone piles, which left nothing but bruises, but i found more pleasure in pursuit than possession. al. had patches, freckles and laughter; i had rags, bruises and tears. al. took the path down to the spring through the hazel bushes; i took the stony road to a mudhole through thorns and blackberry bushes. al. caught nice yellow perch with a cork bobber; i caught suckers with a paper bobber, for there were no corks used on our farm. al. fished on sunday; i went to church at o'clock, sunday school at , church again at : , and perchance prayer meeting in the evening. al. smelled the new earth from a two seated surrey or horseback; i smelled the new earth from the back of the harrow or plow. al. watched the dogwoods bud, and breathed their fragrance as they budded; i felt the dogwood switches drop on my poor back and bare limbs. al. had to be told when it was dark and when it was morning. i knew when i was told to quit work that it was dark and bed-time, and knew that it was daylight when i was yanked out of bed to walk two miles before breakfast to bring in a lot of cows. al. had a nice "coverlit" over his bed, and turned into a nice feather bed and rested in peace. i rolled myself up in a worn-out horse blanket, and turned into a tick filled with straw, shivering until i got to sleep and kept on shivering. oh yes, i cherish the days on the farm and will never forget them. but a more pleasant recollection to me is the day that i left the cackling of the hens, the braying of the donkey, the bellowing of the cows, and the old plow standing in the furrow, where i hope it still stands. the new stack of hay might have brought fragrance to al's sensitive nostrils, but to me it seemed as well suited as a reservoir for perfume as for a monument in a cemetery. i want to live in the love and esteem of my friends of today; i cherish the memory of the old friends, and i value their love and esteem, but the memory of the old straw pile back of the barn still clings to me closer than all these, and e'er i get ready to go back to the darned old farm, i will make myself a pair of wooden bills and perch myself on the stake and rider fence, prepared to take my turn with the hennery. "visit me," he says, "and endeavor to live the life of a boy over again on the farm." not for bill, and i can but repeat what i said in my profane way, again and again. al. can have the farm, but as for me it's first "back to the mines, bill." with sad memories of the milk pail, the fork and curry comb, i am, sadly and sorrowfully yours, bill brown. insofar as alfred's knowledge goes, bill brown's pessimistic views of farm life were not accepted by any save alfred's immediate family. alfred carried a copy of his address, "a glimpse of nature, or back to the farm" in his pocket. mrs. field preserved bill brown's screed. as one prediction of bill's after another came to pass, she would say to alfred: "there, see there? even mr. brown knew what would come of this farming business." the dyke was constructed and would no doubt have answered the purpose intended had it not been constructed of clayey soil that disintegrated and floated away with the muddy current the first freshet. chickens were the first purchases. rhode island reds, alfred asserted, were superior as farm chickens. they were good layers, good setters and good mothers. one hundred hens and two roosters were the basis of the poultry plant. alfred had read that one hundred hens properly catered to would produce on an average five dozens of eggs a day. eggs were fifty cents a dozen. he figured that fifteen dollars a week would be pretty good. of course, he had forgotten that farm hands eat eggs. two dozen eggs were brought to the city and delivered to the home of alfred, where the family rests up in the winter from the farm labors of the summer. "of course, it's not what i expected," he consolingly admitted to his wife, "but you can't move chickens from one place to another and have them do well. howard park says so and he has had a heap of chicken experience. they will do better when you get out there. you will feed them properly and regularly. their laying streak has been broken up. we must train them to lay while eggs are expensive and lay off when they are cheap." alfred insisted pearl keep a "farm book," entering on one page the expenditures opposite the receipts. after two months alfred declared the book a trouble and worry. "just spend what you have to and let it go at that. howard park says everybody has the same experience when they first go into farming." there were two entries on the two pages of receipts, nineteen pages of expenditures: february th--credit by dozen eggs $ . march th--one bull . alfred bought the bull from a neighboring farmer. "registered jersey, worth at least $ ; i got him for $ ," boasted alfred. "the man needed the money." it was learned later that the bull had been accidently shot by trespassing hunters and permanently disabled. when alfred was put wise to this, he sold the bull for beef. [illustration: "i want a rooster for every hen"] in the grocery bill, (alfred furnished everything), there was a charge of four dollars and thirty cents for eggs. alfred argued to his wife it was for hatching eggs for the incubator; that he had instructed mrs. roost she must raise four hundred chickens at least. but mrs. roost, over the telephone, advised that farmers must have eggs to eat and she always cleared her coffee with eggs, and our hens were not laying and that most of them had the roup, and you can't expect eggs when you only got two roosters for a hundred hens. alfred called up mrs. reed and advised that he must have more roosters. "how many do you wish?" she inquired. [illustration: al. g. field, ] "well, we are not getting any eggs. i want a rooster for every hen. i'm bound to have eggs." the wife changed her mind as to rhode island reds. she declared the only person she knew that had good luck with rhode island reds was mrs. mott and she just lived with her chickens. "now, mrs. goodrich has barred plymouth rocks and they are the chickens." alfred ordered a flock of barred plymouth rocks. someone recommended to alfred black minorcas. charley schenck had a pen he wished to dispose of. alfred figured that since they had experienced so much bad luck with one breed they would soon strike a winner by having several kinds. therefore, when s. s. jackson presented alfred with a pen of india games, you could look out upon the chicken lot at any time of day and see three or four cock-fights in progress at the same time. the hands were kept from their work, attracted by the gameness of the cocks. a beautiful litter, (as alfred termed them), of top-knots, van houden chickens, were the next addition to the poultry yard. when cautioned that he would soon have a polyglot lot of poultry, alfred, for the first time, weakened on the chicken proposition; more for the reason that he was disgusted with their polygamous propensities. although living in one herd, he imagined that each breed would live to itself. alfred dubbed them "mormons." pearl and mrs. field had become interested in the little chicks. as hen after hen came off, her brood was carried to the house and endeavors made to raise the chicks by hand. they had some forty or fifty, when rats, or a "varmint" penetrated the coop and twenty-four were killed in one night. the sorrow caused by this loss of their pets was partly compensated for by the closer ties formed with those spared. each one was named. when either pearl or aunt tillie passed out of the kitchen door, the chicks would fly to meet them. stooping down to feed them, they would fly on the shoulders of the two women. one of the grocery bills rendered contained an item, "four dollars for chickens." mrs. mott had also sold mrs. field quite a number of chickens. alfred supposed these chickens were for breeding purposes. one sunday the table was without chicken. mrs. field explained she had no one to go after them. "i'd have shot them for you if you had advised me you wanted chickens killed." "chickens killed?" repeated both pearl and aunt tillie, "well, i'd like to see you or anyone else kill _our_ chickens. why, there's betty, biddy, snooks, dick and kelly; they're just like humans. you don't imagine for a moment we will kill any of _our_ chickens, do you?" and alfred bought chickens for the table all summer. alfred promised his wife that he would look after the farming part. the chickens and dairy came under her charge. he therefore, sat down to his desk and wrote out minute instructions as to fields to be planted and designated the crops to sow in each field. he ordered a hill field, near the barn, sowed in buckwheat. the farmer meekly intimated that ten acres of buckwheat and five acres of oats seemed rather disproportional. "never mind, follow my order," haughtily commanded alfred. "none of us care for rolled oats and we all like buckwheat cakes." alfred discharged his regular farmer; he claimed the man got up too early; he got up at four o'clock and threshed around making so much noise nobody could sleep. the hills had not been plowed in years. the land was shaly, easily washed. it rained from the day the family moved onto the farm until late in june. seeds of all kinds from the fields above washed down into the bottoms below. beans, potatoes, egg plant, rye, peas, beets and cow peas grew in the bottom as only noxious weeds and wild crops grow. from this conglomeration sprang the noted bean that bill brown and alfred are forming a company to distribute. the rain continued. the weather being cool, fires were necessary. nothing but wood was used as fuel. the wife protested the heat for cooking was not sufficient. it just dried the juices in the meats. a heating plant was put in. kerosene lamps did not produce sufficient light, so a lighting plant was installed. springs and well were unhandy. alfred installed a water plant. alfred swore you might just as well live in the city if you had all city fixin's. the walks in the yard and across the lawn were inches thick with mud. pearl and mrs. field, by the light of the wood fire, would read bill brown's life on the farm, while alfred watched the barometer. the women began to talk about moving back to town. alfred was as miserable as life could make him. day after day the rain fell in torrents. the dam that formed the lake wherein alfred intended raising fish in summer, and a skating pond in winter, and also to furnish ice, broke, flooding the cow stables, washing out the sweet corn patch and the garden floated. alfred was unmercifully berated that he had dragged his family to the country, destroying their happiness and spending all his money for--what, for what? just to gratify a whim, a boyish illusion. alfred felt he must do something to turn the tide. the rain kept falling. he started to the city on his mysterious errand. returning he proudly hung above the mantle piece this motto: "it hain't no use to grumble and complain, it's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice; when god sorts out the weather and sends rain, why, rain's my choice." the rain ceased. the sun shone, the grasses grew. happiness came into the family. ere the summer was over, farm life had so ingratiated itself that they did not relish the idea of moving back to the city. bill brown is ever kind. he sent a half dozen guineas, advising they were "chicken-house sentinels." they multiplied more rapidly than any fowls known; that the hen laid forty and fifty eggs in one nest. mr. field and all the hands followed those guineas all summer, nor did anyone find a guinea egg. after months of seeking guinea eggs, an old lady familiar with guineas advised alfred that all of bill's guineas were cocks. it was true; they were all shriner guineas. alfred procured a few suffragettes and guineas are now the most prolific fowl production of the farm. [illustration: home, sweet home] chapter twenty-five it's curious what fuss folks makes 'bout boys that went away years ago from home. there's young bill piper that used to keep recitin', do you know what he's done? he's gone to actin', there's some that actually pay to go an' hear bill talkin', public in a play. why, he couldn't chop a cord o' hickory wood in a year; he may fool the folks out yonder, but he ain't no hero here. i am glad to have uncle tom visit us. he is a good man. it is true his calling made him very narrow when a younger man, but he was always kind hearted, and under his austerity there's a lot of man. i am doubly glad he is to visit us. i want him to carry back to my old home, to those who predicted a much different career for me, a few things i would like them to know. [illustration: uncle tom] "what are you going to do with polly?" inquired the wife. polly was a bird purchased in new orleans; warranted to be one of the best talkers ever imported; talks french, english and spanish. the bird came up to the guarantee and even surpassed it. she can cuss in two or three languages not specified in the guarantee. the wife suggested we carry polly to sister's. "but uncle tom will visit there and it would come out that the parrot belonged to us. besides, it would be disreputable to have polly's profanity charged to sister's family." janet wolfe, a teacher of languages, was also a guest of the family. she and the uncle spent a great deal of their leisure talking to polly. janet was particularly interested in polly's spanish and french. one morning the two were standing near polly's perch. polly was unusually talkative. in answer to a sentence of janet's purest south end french, polly rolled off sentence after sentence of new orleans french market french. janet turned red, then pale. she hurriedly inquired as to whether uncle tom understood french. when assured he did not, she elevated her hands in thankfulness. uncle tom adhered to the custom of family worship. one morning uncle tom's prayer was very long. polly, evidently--like others of the family--was hungry, but, unlike them, did not have the politeness to conceal it. stretching her wings to the fullest width, craning her neck, in a bored tone she squeaked: "o-h h-e-l-l. give us a rest." there was no suppressing the laughter. polly laughed too. uncle tom smiled faintly. alfred pretended to chastise the bird, raising the feather duster over her. polly began a tirade that all the family understood. it must have sounded to uncle tom something like this: "go to hell-go-to-hell-all-of-you. get-to-hell-out-of-yere-dam-you, dam-you-all. polly's-sick-poor-polly. chippy-get-your-hair-cut-hair-cut. oh-hell." many were the arguments and interchanges of opinions as between alfred and uncle tom. the younger man never mentioned the old days at home, he was more anxious to have the uncle refer to them. many years had elapsed and alfred surmised the uncle had forgotten events that were ineffaceably impressed upon his own memory. the uncle and nephew, held many long conversations. one night while alone the uncle took alfred aback a bit, when he very abruptly inquired as to whether he was satisfied with his profession--his life. "i can see you are well fixed and financial success has come to you. but, are you satisfied with your life? would you live the same life over again?" "uncle in the main, i am satisfied with my life. there are many things that i would prefer to forget and there are many things i hope to remember. as a boy, i was ambitious to become a circus clown." the uncle smiled. "this at first, was a boy's whim, an illusion. that ambition was based entirely upon a desire to acquire sufficient money to make me comfortable. it was a boyish fancy at the beginning but some of the happiest days of my life were when i wore the motley and endeavored to spread gladness as a circus clown. "to see others enjoying themselves, to hear and see folks laugh, is one of the greatest pleasures to me in this life. but i am sorry i did not become something other than a showman." the old minister looked at alfred in amazement. "i will always retain most pleasant recollections of the many friends that i have made in the show world, but, uncle thomas, i feel that i could have done something better for myself if i had only been as bent upon it as i was upon show life." "why, alfred! you surprise me. what do you think you should have gone into? a mercantile business?" "no, i never had any taste for that. of late years i have often wished i had been enabled to enter the legal profession. i believe i would have made a success as a lawyer." "oh, as a politician?" "no, no, uncle, i abhor politics as i know them. i mean a lawyer. one who was respected by all the people in the community where he practiced. i have often thought i would like to be a sort of lawyer and farmer. i never was satisfied with myself until i became the owner of a farm." "well, if you are dissatisfied with your business, i cannot understand why you have been so successful." "now, uncle tom, you misunderstand me. i am not dissatisfied with my business. i had ambitions as a boy, i have ambitions as a man." "are you ashamed of your calling?" this was a leading question. alfred felt the inquisitor was digging pretty deep. "no, uncle, i am not. i shall always respect the calling of a public entertainer. i thank god, and pat myself on the back often, that not one dollar i possess was wrung from a human being that they were unwilling to part with. i respect myself all the more that not one penny of the little that i have saved is tainted, that is in the latter day application of the term. in my professional work i have carried gladness. i have endeavored to make two blades of grass grow where one grew before. i have injured no man by my profession, but have made many happy. why should i be ashamed of it? of course, i often wish that i had entered a field where i could have enjoyed more opportunities; where i could have extended myself as it were. i would like to live in a larger world." "why, alfred, i am again surprised. you travel the world over." "yes, but uncle, it's the narrowest world you ever dreamed of. a crowd's no company. the loneliest moments i pass are when in the largest gatherings. i was cut out for a showman, but i ought to be a stationary one. if you and father and all my other relatives had only headed me for the law, perhaps i'd be a different man." "alfred, what was to be could not be changed. you have everything to be thankful for and little to regret. you have a faithful helpmate in your wife. your father is a great consolation to you. he tells me of the lovely traits of your character. if i had my children around me as he has, if i could live in their love as he does, i would sacrifice all else in this world." "why, uncle tom, aren't you satisfied with your calling?" "if you refer to the ministry, i answer 'no.' the salaries of the ministers of this country do not average five hundred dollars a year. and yet, as a class, they are the best educated the hardest working, poorest paid, underfed profession i know of. with less culture, less mental power, there are men in all walks of life that are paid three times the salary even our most eloquent and useful ministers receive. and yet, no matter how great the good a minister may have accomplished, if he makes the slightest allusion to the matter of money, it discredits him. that i have worn the livery of christ all my days will buoy me up, and that i am proud of my service in the army of the lord lends happiness. i have endeavored to maintain the character i have assumed in meekness and sincerity. but the character of a minister is the most assailable of that of any of the professions. the slightest slip, the one misstep, and he is lost. like samson, shorn of his hair, he is a poor, feeble, faltering creature, the pity of his friends, the derision of the public." "well, uncle tom, yours is not the only profession that's held back by popular prejudices. it's one of the peculiarities of the littleness of human nature. it's a sure sign of a dwarfed mind to have your actions criticized and misconstrued. there's not a great calamity, a pestilence, a plague, a drought or a famine, a galveston disaster, a johnstown flood, a poor family's poverty, that the theatrical profession are not appealed to first and are first to respond. but if a theatrical man interests himself in public affairs his motives are impugned." "i am surprised at this, alfred. it sounds so very much like the restrictions placed upon ministers. does it hamper you in your affairs?" "not in the least. that is, not now. there was a time when i was younger that i felt the sting pretty keenly. now it has a different effect. you remember bill jones in brownsville? he had a boy named bill. young bill was under discussion by the cracker barrel committee in oliver baldwin's grocery. andy smith had just remarked that 'bill jones's boy is a durned fool; he don't know nuthin'; he don't know enough to gether greens; he don't know enough to slop hogs.' just then he noticed the boy's father sitting behind the stove. old bill had overheard andy's talk. andy endeavored to square himself. in an apologetic tone he said: 'but, taint' your fault, bill; tain't your fault; ye ain't to blame. you learnt him all you know.' you can't tell anything about human nature and the better plan is to make yourself as agreeable to those you respect and love and to keep others at arm's length. when you feel that folks have any objections to you, beat them to it. they soon come over." "do you remember a boy that was raised in brownsville, worked in snowden's machine shop? do you remember he worked his way up? he entered the ministry. he became a very good preacher, quite eloquent. there was a movement inaugurated by some of his boyhood friends to have him brought to brownsville to fill the pulpit of a church. the women of taste were sort of running things. the brownsville boy who had become a preacher was turned down. do you remember why? well, his parents were very humble people. the taste of many of the members revolted at the idea of the pulpit of the church being filled by one whose father worked around the town in his shirt sleeves. do you remember the trade of his father?" "no, i have forgotten." "well, he was a carpenter." the uncle did not perceive the application at once. after a moment he nodded his head a half dozen times, very slowly as he framed the question: "what became of--?" "he is living in retirement with his children in houston, texas. he became a noted man in the ministry of that state. he never visited his old home after the slight put upon him by the taste of a part of the congregation." "well, alfred, your experience has been of great value to you. you have met all manner of people." "yes, and in all walks of life. and my estimate of them is, that human nature is about the same in all men, although some of them possess the faculty to a greater degree than others of concealing it. the first president i ever met to talk to was general grant. i had always read of him as the silent man of destiny; but he did about all the talking for all those about him the few moments i was in his presence." "i met ben harrison, but that was before he was president. it was during a political campaign in indiana. he seemed to me to be about as cool and level-headed a man as i ever met. i stood beside him on a car platform. in petersburg, va., after he was elected president, he came out of his private car in response to the cheers of the crowd. i feel sure he intended to make a short speech, as the multitude seemed to demand it. the president was bowing his acknowledgments to the large gathering, when someone, with that bad taste that always crops out at the most inopportune moment, yelled 'hurrah for cleveland.' a great many others, with bad taste, laughed. harrison flushed to his temples, bowed and backed into the car. "i met cleveland twice. once in that old club in buffalo, n. y. cleveland was sheriff at that time. he was in the prime of manhood, sociable and full of animation. he did not talk much but was a good listener and a hearty laugher at the stories george bleinstein related. i met him again after he was out of the presidential chair. his health was shattered. he was endeavoring to recuperate in that most sensible way, hunting and fishing. his limbs were in such condition he could not endure the exercise and did not get the benefit he anticipated from the outdoor life. "i met rutherford b. hayes many times while he was governor of the state of ohio, and once after he became president. he was the most democratic of men, plain and approachable. "of all the presidents i have had the good fortune to meet mckinley was the most lovable to me, probably because i was better acquainted with him than the others. mrs. mckinley and her sister owned the opera house in canton, ohio. mrs. mckinley's brother, mr. barber, was the manager for them. i met mckinley in columbus, canton and washington. he was always the same. he never mentioned politics at any time i was in his presence; always talked upon commonplace subjects, inquiring after friends or conditions of business over the country. mckinley had the good taste to remember his friends. "it was the custom of the president and his wife, while in washington, to call up the home of mr. barber in canton, on the long distance telephone daily. alfred happened in canton on new year's day. he wished the president a happy new year over the phone. the president, in turn, invited him to call at the white house when visiting washington. alfred, after the phone was hung up, remarked to barber: 'the president is too busy with politicians to bother with minstrels.' barber afterwards repeated alfred's remark to the president. later, alfred visited washington. the president sent a messenger inviting him to call at the white house, nor did alfred have long to wait when his card was sent in. after a hearty handshake the president invited him to have a cigar. the first question he asked was as to the health of an old columbus liveryman--brice custer--a democrat at that. "the most interesting near-president i ever met was your old fellow-townsman, james g. blaine." "oh, i knew blaine well as a boy," uncle tom said. "i never met him after he left brownsville. where did you meet him?" "i visited augusta, me., with my minstrels. i sent a messenger inviting him to attend the entertainment. in reply he invited me to call at his residence. to my surprise he seemed to be familiar with my career. he inquired after many of the older men of brownsville, particularly john snowden, bobby rodgers and others. he could not remember my father but he remembered grandfather, uncle william and uncle joe's father. his memory as to the older inhabitants of the town was most remarkable. he gave me much information as to the early history of brownsville. he advised when he regained his health he intended visiting the valley again, renewing old friendships. the cheeks of the famous american were sallow and flabby. his general appearance was that of one who was desperately struggling to fight off the finish. although he talked hopefully of the future and outlined his precautions for guarding his health, it was not long afterwards until he 'crossed the bar.' "blaine was a wonderful man. do you remember the last speech he made at his old home? it was in the midst of a heated political campaign. several noted orators accompanied him. the issues of the campaign were discussed by the speakers who preceded him. blaine was introduced; the applause was long-continued. speaking slowly at first, with distinct enunciation, he said: "'ladies and gentlemen, neighbors, friends, all: i am here tonight in the interests of that great political party of which i have the honor to be a member. i came here to make a political speech. i came here to discuss the questions in which this section is so vitally interested. i see many familiar faces. i see many in front of me tonight who have always held views opposed to mine, politically; but our opinions on public questions have never marred our friendships and never will insofar as i am concerned. i always hope to retain the respect and good-will you bear me, evidenced by your presence here tonight.' "'when i gaze around me, i note the silver tops of many men whose hair was as black as the raven's wing when we trod these old hills together. i note cheeks even whiter now than the hair that shades them--cheeks then flushed with the bloom that only comes to youth. i know many of you here tonight expect me to discuss the issues of the day. i hope you will excuse me when i inform you i cannot bring myself to do it, that word of mine might cause pain to one friend--that would destroy all the pleasure that has come to me from this meeting of old friends here tonight--it is a pleasant feeling to the wanderer that he is again in the home of his fathers, in the home of his friends.' "he continued relating incidents of his boyhood. i venture to say it was the most effective political speech ever delivered and not a word of politics in it." "alfred, your experiences are valuable, and i believe you are filling the mission god intended you for. i feel when i talk to you my little world growing smaller. i have lived in a little world all my life. the only information i get of the big world comes through well-meaning, but often prejudiced, persons. i do not know man as i should. i believe to know god you must know man. alfred, i am told intemperance is the curse of the theatrical profession. are many of your people drunkards?" "very few of them. we do not tolerate a drunkard one day. it would be an insult to permit a drunkard to go before an audience. theatrical people with their peculiar temperaments and manner of life, are easily led astray but i do not believe, comparatively speaking, there is nearly so much intemperance among theatrical people as some other professions." "how do you manage the members of your company?" "we endeavor to dissuade them from all practices that will interfere with their duties. we take a great deal of pains with the younger ones; particularly as to the drink habit; do all we can with advice, and endeavor in every way to have them lead sober, moral lives. the general manager of one of the largest railway systems in this country, after twenty-five years' experience, has arrived at this conclusion. 'do all possible to rescue the man starting in on a drinking life. bump the old soak and bump him hard; bump him quick. never temporize with a man who has broken his promise as to the liquor habit. if he gets bumped hard, it will either cure him or cause him to drink himself to death. in either way society is the better off.'" "what a load of sin the saloonkeeper carries, the man that sells the drunkard rum. if all the saloons could be closed--uncle tom, have you given the subject, or this sin, or whatever you may term it, serious study? the saloonkeeper may have it within his power to curtail, to lessen the evil effects of drunkenness, but it's high time the fellow on the other side of the bar came in for his share of the censure. don't you know that if every saloon in the land was closed, under existing conditions, drunkenness and the increased consumption of whisky would go on. statistics bear this out." "well, what is your remedy for the evil, alfred?" "i have no remedy. i have a safeguard--high license, the sale of whisky placed in the hands of reputable men." "but, alfred, there are no reputable men in the whisky business." "uncle tom, you admitted a few moments ago you lived in a little world, you did not know men. i am not entering upon a defense of the saloonkeeper, but human nature, is human nature. bad taste is bad taste. it's bad taste for a minister of the gospel to make statements that can be controverted so readily that his veracity is made questionable. if i were a minister, i would inform myself, visit the saloons. i would go into the neil house, the chittenden, the lowest dives in the city; not as a sneak or a spy, but in my duty, my profession, my calling as a preacher, as a man with the determination to do good unto my fellow men. i would go as he, in whose footsteps preachers profess to follow, did. i would shake hands with the business man, the bum. i'd pass them my card or have someone introduce me. i'd invite them to visit my church. i'd make them feel i was a friend, not an enemy. i would endeavor to instill into their lives the truth. i'd preach that god is love. i would make myself a welcome visitor everywhere i went. the presence of a good man with a desire to do good has a beneficial effect upon men in every walk of life, in church or saloon. "uncle thomas, if the clergy do not realize it, they should. they are widening a breach, a chasm between the people and the church, that will be difficult to bridge over. they are positively bringing their calling into disrepute. let nothing be done through strife or vain glory but in lowliness of mind, is a divine injunction they seem to have forgotten." "alfred, i am surprised at your arguments. i want to ask you: did you ever know an honest saloonkeeper, an honest man who made or sold whisky?" "there are thousands of them. thomas daly, one of the largest distillers in this country, belle vernon, fayette county, penn., is a man who stands as high morally as any in his section. "martin casey, who lately passed away in ft. worth, texas, a wholesale dealer in liquors, was a friend of mine for thirty years. he was a friend of your nephews, jim and clarke. he was beloved in the community where he lived and died. no charity, no public or private work for the betterment of mankind, was without his support. the widow and orphan did not appeal to him without receiving. in fact, it was not necessary for the poor to appeal to martin casey. his friendship would have honored any man. "you will say these men were too far away. tom swift, a saloonkeeper, stood as high among those who were intimate with him as any man in this city. joe hirsch is another, and there are hundreds of others." "then, alfred, you are against temperance?" "no, sir. i'm for temperance. if there is anything i can do to ameliorate or decrease the evil effects of intemperance, i will willingly take my place in the ranks and add my strength to the fight. ninety men of a hundred are in sympathy with those who are battling for the alleviation of the evils of intemperance. but there are not ten men in a hundred that have faith in the means employed. the only practical temperance work that has come under my observation was that of father matthews and francis murphy." "well, alfred, what do you think of sam jones, and billy sunday?" "sam jones is dead and nearly forgotten. as to billy sunday, i have made it a rule not to talk about a business competitor. talk is advertising. billy sunday is running a show. it's bigger than mine, but it's not as good because it's not an honest show. it's run under the guise of religion. religion, as i understand it, is your life work from day to day and not the inspiration or the evolution of a week, a month or a year. billy sunday has four or five advance agents, or promoters. i employ only two. billy sunday has promoters the slickest in the business: men who have had the experience of years in all sorts of schemes. his show is a sad reflection upon the ministers and church members of any city that falls for his methods. the preachers simply admit that they are not equal to the labor they are engaged in. they must have a buffoon, a mountebank, whose methods are repugnant to those who believe in the religion that is taught by the bible. billy sunday creates excitement that carries some folks off their feet for the time being: no lasting results obtain. those that will remember billy sunday longest are those people who give up their money to him. billy sunday's show has the gift show scheme distanced before the start." uncle tom enjoyed his visit to columbus greatly. on his last sunday he occupied the pulpit of the evangelical church on east main street. he advised alfred the day previous that he would preach a special sermon--text, i cor., chapter , verse : "i had rather speak five words with my understanding that by my voice i might teach others also, than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue." after elaborating upon the text, he reached the pith of his sermon: "a man out of place is only half a man. his nature is perverted. he becomes restless and discontented and his life is made a failure, while the same person might have made a success of all his undertakings if he had been properly placed. as a rule, that which one likes best to do is his forte. no man can be wholly successful in this life until he finds his place. some men glide into their proper sphere as naturally as the birds of the air fly, or fish in the deep swim. others never ask the question of themselves: 'what is my place? what shall i do that i may be content to labor and succeed in the world?' every man should ask himself: 'what is my place? how shall i decide it? how shall i fill it that my life shall not be a failure?' it may be difficult to answer this question. the answer may not always be from the heart, that is, influenced by sincerity. ignorance or lack of ambition may prompt an answer and failure follow. though difficult to answer, the question must be answered by all. 'what is my right place in the labor of this world? how shall i find it? how shall i succeed in it?' but few men can be really successful and discontented--contentment is success. "education and civilization will have found their highest value in this world when every man has chosen his proper work; work for which he is fitted by nature and inclination. how many boys have had their aspirations checked, their longings silenced, by loving but misguided parents and friends? how many boys, who might have attained eminence in a calling they were fitted for, have been forced to fill a place that was repugnant to their natures? there is not a day we do not see natural ability checked by occupations that are not congenial to those engaged in them. we can hardly conceive of a man or boy forced to do work they loathe. parents may feel they are fulfilling a highest duty when they choose a profession or a calling they believe the best for their children, but against which the whole nature of the boy revolts, and for which they have no natural ability. if instinct and heart ask for a blacksmithing trade, be a blacksmith; if for carpentry, be a carpenter; if for the medical profession, be a doctor; if for music, be a musician. there is nothing like filling your place in the labor of this world successfully. if you cannot fill a higher position acceptably and successfully, be content to choose a lower one. there's nothing more creditable in this world than filling a small place in a large way. it is better to be a first rate brick mason than a second rate lawyer. choose your calling in this world. prosecute it with all the vigor in your being. with a firm reliance in god and confidence in yourself failure is impossible." neither uncle tom nor alfred, in their conversation referred to the sermon at dinner. several complimented uncle tom on his sermon. as alfred looked across the table at the uncle, they both smiled. alfred thought of another sermon he had sat under years previously, and it's his opinion the uncle had the same thought. uncle tom sleeps in a little church yard in virginia near the people he loved so well, and that his views broadened in his last years only made him more beloved by those for whom he always faithfully labored, believing in the right as he saw it. he was an honest man, a consistent christian. chapter twenty-six not hurrying to, not turning from the goal. not mourning for the things that disappear in the dim past, nor holding back in fear from what the future veils; but with a whole and happy heart, that pays the toll to you and age, and travels on with cheer. uncle madison, stage driver, soldier, planter, historian, a gentleman of the old school; versed in the classics and current events, most positive in his deductions. he fought every day and year of the civil war for the cause of the south. he had labored every day since appomattox to better the conditions he had been active in unsettling. the soul of honor, as courtly as a king, as keen as a flint, as blunt as a sledge, as tender as a child. [illustration: uncle madison] it was telegraphed all over the country that a. p. clayton, mayor of st. joe, mo., and alfred, were behind the bars in pittsburgh, pa. bill brown telegraphed w. e. joseph, masonic temple, columbus: "clayton and field in jail here, will you help to get them out?" the answer was: "if clayton and alfred are in jail, it's where they belong. w. e. joseph." uncle madison read of it in the newspapers. he reared and charged. "bill brown nor no other man could put him in jail without suffering for it." alfred's explanation did not satisfy uncle madison. "it's only bill's way of having fun with his friends. no one that goes to pittsburgh but bill plays some sort of a joke on him. we are glad to get off so easy. we expected him to steal our clothes or have us indicted for bootlegging. why, there are a number of people in the west--good people--who will not go east via pittsburgh, fearing bill's practical jokes." pet clayton, imperial potentate of the shrine, was _compelled_ to visit pittsburgh in connection with his official duties. clayton carried alfred with him as protection. alfred, in his haste, forgot his dress suit. arriving in pittsburgh only a few moments before the ceremonial session, bill insisted alfred wear one of his (bill's) dress suits; that it was the rule of the temple that all must wear dress suits to gain admission. bill is wider than alfred, "thicker through," but not quite as tall. there was too much space everywhere excepting in the length of legs and arms of bill's dress suit, as it encompassed alfred. no coaxing or lengthening of the suspenders or pulling at the sleeves could make alfred look other than ridiculous. after walking from the ft. pitt hotel to the temple, the suit began to "set" to its new conditions. the legs, seat and sleeves, were drawing up at every breath. bill, in introducing the visitors, kindly made apologies for the condition of clayton, and the appearance of alfred, explaining that clayton had just come from louisville, where he was booked for one night only, but there was more to inspect than he had ever tackled before. he also assured the nobility that alfred owned a dress suit but they would not permit him to take it out of columbus; that the suit alfred wore was one he had kindly loaned him and he hoped that if anything happened alfred those assembled would respect the clothes. when alfred arose the next morning to prepare for the automobile ride the local people had tendered the visitors, his clothes were missing from the room. bill brown and the committee were waiting. "slip on your overcoat; that will hide bill's old suit. you won't be out of the automobile until you return. this hotel will make that suit good. how much did it cost you?" "sixty dollars; well, we'll make them buy you a hundred dollar suit." every out of town guest, (shriners) had lost something from their rooms. harrison dingman was tugging at an odd pair of shoes, a number eight and a ten, to get ready for the automobile tour. bill brown was everywhere consoling the losers, making notes of the losses pretending he wanted to bring suit against the hotel. alfred and clayton were hustled into an automobile under brown's tender care. as the auto sped on, clayton remonstrated as to the high speed at which the machine was traveling. brown was describing the carnegie technical school. clayton, seemingly not interested, bluntly informed bill he would not ride further at the speed we're going. "i'm too damn good a man to get killed by one of these machines," declared clayton. brown pretended his feelings were injured. halting the auto as he climbed out backwards, he remarked: "i don't want to annoy you, gentlemen. the educational institution we are now passing is one of the most noted in the world. i supposed you'd be interested in it. it is one of which pittsburghers are justly proud. we take a young man from the home, pass him through this school and turn him out versed in any profession or trade." clayton said something about an institution in st. joe that took a hog from the pen every minute, passed him through and turned him out every minute, ready for the table. clayton referred to st. joe's slaughter houses. after brown left the auto there was no slacking of its speed. both alfred and clayton remonstrated with the chauffer. he claimed they were not traveling nearly so rapidly as the machines containing the other guests; that he did not know their destination and must keep in sight of them. as clayton was insisting that the auto be halted, a policeman threw up his hands, commanding the chauffer to halt, advising all they were arrested for exceeding the speed limit. clayton quickly informed the officers that we were guests, not the owners of the machine; that we had protested since we entered the park at the high speed; that we were not to blame and should not be arrested. "i'm not here in pittsburgh to break laws that i instruct my officers to enforce. i am the mayor of st. joe and i won't stand for this arrest." "st. joe, st. joe," mused the irish policeman, "well, uv course, i have no authority to turn yez loose. there may be a st. joe but i haven't heered uf it. there's so meny new korporations springing up around yere, i exshpect coryopolis will be havin' a mayor next an' he'll come in the city an' want to have immunity fur any crime he may commit. no, you nabobs wid dese automobiles must be held in check. ye kilt two shill-dren and a hog out uv wan family last week." [illustration: "it's done every day in st. joe"] clayton led the officer behind the machine. alfred overheard him offer the cop two dollars and to set them up to turn the pair loose. "it's done every day in st. joe," clayton confided. the officer shook his head and remarked: "i'll have tu take yez down. get in!" and he pointed with his club to the open door of the machine. "climb in! i'll let yez talk to the sargent." the mayor of st. joe and the meek minstrel re-embarked. the officer sat up beside the chauffer, clayton slinging it into him every foot of the way to the station. there was a crowd outside the door. "phwat are they pinched fur?" inquired a ward politician who had a pull, and consequently got a reply from the cops. "exceedin' the spheed law in the park," replied the officer. "they're from out of town, are they?" "yis," answered the cop. "the big one claims he's the mayor of st. joseph's academy, er some other place. the other one has thryed to hide hisself in his overcoat." they were in front of the sergeant's desk. alfred whispered to clayton: "give a fictitious name." clayton was arguing the case with the sergeant. "my name's clayton. this is mr. field, al. g. field, of minstrel fame. he lives in columbus, ohio, right near you. he is the potentate of aladdin temple, columbus." [illustration: "it will cost us fifty dollars and costs"] "hold on, pet, hold on," pleaded alfred, "i--i--" "never mind, alfred, never mind. now, i'm the mayor of a city. i know just how to handle these matters." "well, don't give them my name and pedigree. handle it without that," requested alfred. "put them both together in cell twenty-three and send for the bertillon officers. i think you'll find their mugs in the hall of fame." clayton advised alfred the hall of fame had reference to the rogue's gallery. clayton clamored for an opportunity to telephone the chief of police, the director of public safety, or some other high mogul. "if i was in st. joe, i'd be out of here in two minutes," he excitedly declared. "of course you would," assented alfred, "but you're not in st. joe. you're in jail in pittsburgh, a shake-down town, and it will cost us fifty and costs, you see if it don't." "not on your life it won't. let me get this fellow on the phone. what's his name? i met him last night. i'll tell him something," said clayton. "do you know him?" meekly inquired alfred. "know him? hell? why, i'm well acquainted with him. i had fifty drinks with him last night." "well, telephone him quick," urged alfred. "hello, hello! this is clayton, clayton, c-l-a-y-t-o-n, clayton. i met you last night. (ha-ha-ha). how do you feel? (oh, all right). where am i at? no, no! pet clayton, mayor of st. joe, imperial potentate of the--hello--gurgle--gurgle," and pet hung up the phone. "well, don't that beat the bugs! now this fellow knows me but he says he must see me. he only met me last night, he isn't familiar with my voice. i told him who i was but he said i might be all right, but he would come out and investigate." "it seems to me bill brown would come back looking for us. you're the guest of honor." this reminder riled clayton up. "i'll attend to mr. brown's case. i put him where he is. i'll show him something next session of the imperial council." just then the jailer thrust a thin loaf of bread part ways between the bars. alfred and pet gazed at the bread as it stuck there. in a moment the man sat a thin can of water beside the bread. clayton endeavored to bribe him to go to a restaurant and bring some real refreshments. "phwat wud yez like to eat?" "oh, old crow or joe finch's 'golden wedding.'" "oh, yez'll git none of those things out here. they wudn't know how to cook them if they had 'em. yez'd better have some corned beef and cabbage. no, this is friday, yez can't get that. salt mackerel is the bhest i can do for yez the day." clayton pinched off a crust, with the remark: "i'll eat your bread but damned if i drink your water." clayton swore he could buy the police, the police station, the police department or anything else in pittsburgh, but he wouldn't be shook down. he had endeavored to bribe everyone he came in contact with, but all refused to accept, even the policeman. pet confidentially informed alfred, as they sat in the dark, dismal cell, that he knew there wasn't a straight man in pittsburgh; that being mayor of st. joe he had got next to all the grafting cities in the country. "i will admit to you, and you are the first man i ever breathed it to, there is a little, very little, grafting going on in st. joe." pet had pittsburgh people sized up right, but he applied st. joe prices and they were rejected. the old janitor seemed to be taken up greatly with the two prisoners. "yez belongs to some kind of a sacret society, don't yez?" he inquired. clayton straightened up to his full height. "yes, we belong to the ancient arabic order nobles of the mystic shrine of north america." pet rolled off the lengthy title so rapidly the old fellow was astounded. resting his hands on the cell bars, he gazed admiringly at clayton fully a half minute, ere he asked: "are yez pope of it?" later it developed the janitor was a captain of police, also a shriner. he played his part well. when bill brown and mccandless arrived they almost came to blows. bill swore they were disgraced. bill endeavored to borrow the fifty dollar fine from both clayton and alfred. failing, he borrowed, or pretended to borrow the amount from mccandless. clayton and alfred were liberated, loaded into an auto, the chauffer ordered to drive slowly to the work house. when clayton and alfred stepped on to the veranda, the doors were flung open. on each side of the long tables there was a row of red fezzes. under each a shriner. there was a welcome, and such a welcome as could only be extended by those who at one time or another have been the victims of bill brown's practical jokes. to those who are not intimate with bill brown, his sense of humor may appear forced. but his pranks are only the over-flowing exuberance of a great, big, fun-loving man--a big body--but scarcely big enough to contain a heart so filled with love for his fellow man. alvah p. clayton thanked the committee, thanked bill brown, thanked the police for their kindly consideration in placing him in jail. he stated that visiting the city in his official capacity, he had concluded the duties that called him to pittsburgh, that he carried on his person money and valuables representing thousands of dollars. he was compelled to remain in the city all day and he felt much safer in jail than loose on the streets of pittsburgh. we love men like bill brown and pet clayton because they are lovable men. happy is the man who has that in his soul that acts upon the dejected mortal as april showers upon violet roots. bill brown has a motto worked on brass, with steel fish-hooks. it hangs over the mantelpiece in his home, and reads: "i am an old man; my troubles are many, but most of them never happened." alfred has added to this motto: "they mostly happened to others." uncle madison never could understand why alfred was indifferent as to his arrest. he never could appreciate the sense of humor that influenced alfred to go to jail for a joke. uncle madison, while on a visit to alfred, read in the columbus papers of the different classes of people composing its citizenship. "you have the upper class, the middle class, the lower class." when uncle madison was asked if the people of virginia were not designated by classes, he replied: "no sir! no sir! we only have one class of people in virginia--the high class. all the others are republicans." uncle madison declares this is the age of shriek and frenzy, the over-zealous, ambitious politician who gets his ideas from history, going back a little further than most people read, puts them forward as his own. "the majority of folks, in this the best of countries, believe that the founders of it, knew just about what they were doing when they made out the plans and specifications. if you will read the writings of jefferson, you will find them as applicable to present conditions as they were the day they were written. "alfred i hope you won't be bamboozled by the ravings of demagogues, who constantly preach about the wrongs of the people. you'll find the wrongs that influence them are their own imaginary wrongs. the founders of this country provided for the righting of all wrongs. we can right any wrong at the ballot box. we do not require any new-fangled, or rather old-fangled, ideas warmed over. the man who advocates the so-called referendum, the initiative, and particularly, the recall, is a traitor to the true principles of government as established by our forefathers. we have lived and thrived for more than a hundred years under the best form of government ever devised. if we want to preserve it, if we desire to perpetuate our institutions, the demagogue, the mountebanking politician must be squelched. they ruined every republic of the ancient world and if we don't throttle them they'll ruin ours. "the self-seeking demagogue starts out with the captivating doctrine, the rule of the people, but his end will be the dangerous despotism of one man rule--the rule of himself. could you or any reasoning man who has followed the demagogues of this country, for a moment doubt that any one of them, on the slightest pretext or opportunity would make a despot that would shade those of the old world? "the initiative, the referendum and the recall lend themselves to the demagogues' schemes, and they call it progressiveness. nothing in government could be more reactionary. it was tried in greece and it failed. it was tried in ancient rome and it failed. the political party that's 'agin' the recall, the referendum and the initiative, will win and it deserves to win. "socialism, in theory, is a most beautiful dream, an illusion. socialism, as it is practiced by the discontented and turbulent, is about as near anarchy as we can get. see what they have done wherever they have obtained a foothold. it's un-american; it's unpatriotic; it is against all that a patriotic american citizen holds most sacred. despite the demagogues who have brought about these conditions, those who love this country, respect its laws and appreciate the advantages it offers to every man willing to work, will triumph. the evolution will never come to revolution. "the romans, two thousand years ago, experienced the same troubles we are having. there is a fable comparing the corporeal body to the body politic. once upon a time the feet became discontented and struck. they refused to be walked upon longer. the legs noted the dissatisfaction of the feet. although they never had cause for complaint before, they said: 'well, we will quit also. we will refuse to carry the body around longer.' the stomach said: 'well, i can't digest food if you refuse to work, so i'll just quit also; besides, i've been working all these years for that aristocrat, the brain. i am down under the table doing the work while the brain is enjoying the wit and gaiety. i want to be up where he is. the brain has been the master long enough.' the brain became stubborn: 'all well and good for you. if that is the manner in which you look upon your duties; if you feel that you have been imposed upon, go your way. i refuse to think for you further.' "the feet stubbed their toes; their course was irregular; they stepped on broken glass; they swelled up as large as watermelons. the legs, illy nourished, not clothed, became weak and rheumatic, gave way altogether. the stomach, not receiving food, began to ache and cramp. the brain was suffering from the ills that had befallen the stomach, the limbs and the feet. the misery became general. the entire body was suffering, and its sufferings had weakened it greatly. "after a while they all concluded their only hope to live happily was that one should depend upon the other. it was decided the brain should run things; but the ills brought upon the body had caused so much suffering that it required a length of time until all recovered the condition they were in before the strike--as we will call it. all agreed the brain should have all the powers as before but must consider the other parts of the body as of greater importance than heretofore. this the brain had learned, and further that they were all necessary parts of one great body. and thus they all concluded to go to work together. after the brain put food into the stomach, clothes on the legs, healed the wounds of the feet, it found its sufferings had ceased. the brain learned it must take good care of all parts of the body or it would suffer. neither one could long exist without the aid of the other. "god needs all kinds of people in this world. some represent the brain, others the stomach, more the feet and legs. as abraham lincoln said: 'god must love the common people: he made so many of them.' "along comes the demagogue. in his zeal to gratify vainglorious ambitions, he endeavors to convince the common people that confusion and agitation will right their wrongs. "they quote from abraham lincoln. let me ask you to compare their speeches and appeals with those of abraham lincoln. do you remember any speech of these modern demagogues in which they have told the common people that they were living in the best country in the world? that they, the common people, had it in their power to relieve themselves of their few wrongs? do you ever remember one of them telling the dear common people that good government was essential to prosperity? that it was a higher honor to be governed in a republic like ours, than to live in any other country? "every human being begins life under control and there is not one in a thousand that ever should live, only under control. three-fourths of the people in this world never knew they were counted until they get into a mob. "the demagogues array their hearers against wealth. they leave the impression that all who are so fortunate as to possess a little more of this world's goods than the poorest, are dishonest; that it is dishonorable to be of the moneyed class. they never tell the people it is but natural and necessary that some should be richer than others. these conditions have always prevailed and could only be changed by a gross violation of rights, held inviolate since the beginning of civilization. since the world began, industry and frugality have been rewarded by wealth. "these demagogues never tell the people that the opportunities are ever open that have made others rich. they never tell the boys growing up that ten or twenty years hence, they the boys of today, will be the business men, the moneyed class of this country. "to be prosperous is not to be superior. wealth should form no barrier between men. the only distinction that should be recognized is as between integrity and corruption. "the present day fads are only the revival of the brain throbs of demagogues gone before. read jewett's translation of politics. aristotle, who dealt wisely with many momentous questions, designated the initiative, referendum and recall, as the fifth form of democracy, in which not the law but the multitude, have the superior power and supersede the law by their decrees. homer says that 'it is not good to have a rule of many.' "as i said before, there will be no revolution. the patriotic people of this country will attend to this. but we will be compelled to do a little deporting and perhaps a little disciplining. the american people will attend to this sooner or later. the red flag has no place in this country. curb the trusts, curtail combinations in restraint of trade, let all men get an even start in the race and the deserving will win. i am not a rich man; i'm a poor man. i've worked all my life. i am happy and contented. insofar as riches are concerned, i would like to possess them, but damned if i want them if i've got to rob others who have labored more diligently and with more intelligence than i have." "now, uncle madison, what's your cure for the political and social upheavals?" "patriotism, loyalty to our country, to our flag, to our institutions, to the principles that have made us what we are." "uncle madison, you were a confederate soldier." "yes, and i'm proud of it. i fought for what i believed to be right. we of the south lived under conditions that had grown upon us, been forced upon us; i refer to slavery. i'm not defending slavery, i'm glad it's done, but we had lived under a government that guaranteed to protect our rights and property. no matter if slavery was wrong--was it right for one-half of the people of a country to insist the other half impoverish themselves--give up all their possessions? "slavery was handed down to us and--well, there's nothing in threshing this matter over; slavery was the cause of the war, the negro was the issue. if the negro had been a commercial product in the north there would have been no war. the south lost because it was ordained they should lose. that does not lessen my pride in the fact that i fought for the cause i thought was right; we were right in the fact that we fought for the property this government promised to protect us in, and that's just what the north would have done if conditions had been reversed." "uncle madison, do you believe in the majority rule?" "the majority, if you mean the greater number of people, never did rule and never will. it's the few that does the thinking, does the ruling. why, my boy, there are times in our lives when god and one are a majority." chapter twenty-seven mornin' little dreamer with sunshine in your eyes, the stars were talking to you ere they left the brightening skies. "the care of children, by dr. holt," is the title of the book by which the baby is being reared. on the care of feeding bottles it recommends: "when the baby is done it must be unscrewed and put in a cool place under a tap. if the baby does not thrive, it must be boiled." [illustration: an evening at maple villa] hattie remarked afterwards she "never reckoned the poor, measley little thing would stay with us." _it was_ little, _it was_ puny, but it brought a happiness into the household never before experienced--brought a happiness into the lives of uncle al and aunt tillie--that only those who love children and have never been blessed with them can appreciate. alfred with his usual assurance undertook to instruct the family, including the doctor and the nurse as to how the baby should be handled--yes, that's the term he used, "handled." aunt tillie reminded him the baby was not a colt. he was advised that the old fashioned way of nursing babies was obsolete. he was not permitted to up-de-doo baby, that is, throw him up and catch him coming down, notwithstanding he asserted this was the only way to prevent a baby from becoming liver-grown; nor would miss liston or pearl the mother, permit alfred to kiss the baby on the mouth. miss liston asserted that kissing was most dangerous in spreading microbes and germs; therefore, the baby must not be kissed on the mouth. "all right, little baby," alfred would say, "i can kiss his little tootsie ootsies." "please don't kiss his foot," appealingly pleaded pearl. "please don't kiss his foot, he might put it in his mouth." "i kissed you on the mouth a thousand times when you was a baby, and i'm living yet," snapped alfred. [illustration: field] baby cried at night. alfred declared it was unnecessary to lose sleep on account of a baby crying. all required was a cradle. every person that expected to rear a baby should have a cradle. alfred visited every furniture store in the city. not one had a cradle. few understood what they were. one young clerk advised that his grandfather in the country, near alfred's farm had one and he had heard the grandfather say his father before him had used it. alfred sent his colored man, doc blair, to borrow or buy the cradle. the cradle was borrowed. the man did not care to sell it. he sent the wagon to get the cradle. "hide it in the barn until i return; i want to introduce baby to it. this will prevent his crying at night, that is so wearing on his mother and so irritating to aunt tillie, and leg-breaking to his daddy." he explained to hattie, who knew all about babies. hattie just smiled: "you just rock him to and fro and he will go to sleep any time. you can't raise a baby without a cradle, it is impossible." "bring in the cradle," was alfred's command to doc blair. "mister field, you can't bring that thing in hyar. some of you all will get your legs cut off. you can't get it through the door nohow. we couldn't get it in the top wagon. we had to take the farm wagon." [illustration] on the lawn near the front door reposed an old fashioned cradle for reaping grain, such as farmers used before the horsepower reapers came into use--a hand cradle with rusty scythe and hickory fingers. alfred called at a cabinet maker's and ordered a cradle made to order. the rockers must be pointed and have plenty of circle so it would not overset easily. the german agreed to have the cradle completed by saturday. sunday was selected as the day to introduce baby field to the soothing influence of a cradle. alfred advised "all you have to do is sit near it. you can read or sew. just gently push the cradle with your foot. you can have a rope reaching to your bed. if the baby gets restless at night all you have to do is hold on to the rope." alfred insisted that eddie, the father, learn to sing the old nursery song, the inspiration of which was the sugar trough cradle alfred was rocked in: rock-a-bye baby on the tree top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock; when the bow bends cradle will fall, down comes baby, cradle and all. pearl claims it was the singing of this lullaby or the attempts of eddie to sing it, that spoiled field's disposition. the cabinet maker certainly misunderstood alfred's specifications as to the construction of the cradle. aunt tillie declared she would not have it in the house. pearl named it "noah's ark." when baby was laid in the cradle he appeared as but a speck. when alfred essayed to rock it to show the others how, baby howled with fear. alfred swore if they had known anything or consulted him they would have ordered the cradle before the baby came, put him into it on arrival, then he would have gotten used to it by this time. "now you'll have trouble breaking him to the cradle. every baby should be cradle-broke as soon as they are born." aunt tillie again reminded alfred the baby was not a colt. "the cabinet maker was ordered to make a cradle, not a life raft. i didn't order but two rockers. i never ordered it that big. do you think i'm a fool. i know what a cradle is." [illustration] "well, you don't call that thing a cradle, do you?" inquired aunt tillie. "well, it's as near as you will get to one, people don't know nothing about babies or cradles in these days." the cradle, with its three rockers and six sharp points and a big old fashioned rocking chair with four more pointed rockers, made the baby's room a storage place for ancient instruments of torture. the night was a wild one, winds without, colic within. eddie knew the route to the paregoric. after the first combat with the rocker eddie swore it would have to go or he would. he felt he had a chance with the rocking chair, but with six points more against him he balked. "besides nearly breaking my neck, i broke the paregoric bottle and got glass in my feet." [illustration: the wreck] doc and alfred sorrowfully bore the cradle to the chicken house and it has become a receptacle for old carpets and other rubbish. aunt tillie said: "well, you boasted field would have something no other baby in this section had and you made good--nothing like that cradle was ever seen in this section. i wonder what you will think of next to squander your money on?" when the cradle is referred to alfred flares up. "i've had three or four offers for it lately. i expect a man here to look at it tomorrow. don't you dare to break it up to make chicken coops with. i'll get three times as much as i paid for it just as soon as sensible people who are raising a baby learn i have a cradle. some smart man will start a cradle factory, and he'll get the money, too." all the common sense suggestions offered by alfred were rejected. he volunteered to walk the floor with baby while he was cutting teeth. "no, sir, no, sir, i will not permit you to walk the floor with him while he is cutting his teeth. you walk the floor with him when he is teething, when he grows up the dentist will have to carry him around the office before working on his teeth." "don't ride him backwards. he will be bald. riding backwards is the cause of half the baldness in the world." nurse had a schedule by which baby's cries were timed. lung expansion was necessary. crying was essential to lung expansion, exercising his voice field made a new schedule. he was on time; in fact, he worked overtime. he cried by sun time, that is, he began by sun time and quit by any time. he cried until george washington's portrait turned its face to the wall, the dogs howled, and the cream soured. notwithstanding, the baby of these days is raised after the automatic drop-a-nickle-in-the-slot manner, it is surprising how they thrive. he was a tiny, human toy a little while back; now he is the autocrat of the house, the absolute boss. riding or driving, walking or autoing--he is first. he sits at the head of the table. if he desires aught, his desires are gratified. it is only those who have crossed the apex and begun the descent on the other side, that can realize how quickly children--the baby of yesterday, becomes the head of the house, ruling all with love. field will be a year old the first of the month. he will have a birthday party; there will be a cake and one candle. aunt tillie will have a birthday party for uncle al soon. when she asked his age that she might order the candles to decorate the cake, he answered, "just make it a birthday party, not a torch light procession like ollie evans had on his birthday." * * * * * the inner man, like the negro, is born white, but is colored by the life he lives; but not one is so black they have not felt humbled and rebuked under the clear and open countenance of a child. who has not felt his impurities the more that he was in the presence of a sinless child? you have probably seen one whom some low vice has corrupted, one who is the aversion of man and woman, make of himself a plaything for a rollicking crowd of children, enter into their sports in a spirit that made his countenance glow with a delight, as though only goodness had ever been expressed upon it. you have seen another--a genteel person, cold and supercilious--endeavor to make himself agreeable to children, court their favor, win their fancy. you have seen the child draw back and shrink in undisguised aversion. i have always felt there was a curse upon such a person. better be driven from among men than disliked by children and dogs. one is as instinctive as the other. it is a delicate thing to write of one's self. it grates on one's feelings to write anything derogatory and may be redundant to write praise. i have endeavored to watch myself go by. to those who have followed me thus far, to those who have been my friends, to those who are my friends, to all mankind who despise hypocrisy and love human beings and dogs, i commend myself in a good indian's prayer. o powers that be, make me sufficient to my own occasions. teach me to know and to observe the rules of the game. give to me to mind my own business at all times, and to lose no good opportunity of holding my tongue. help me not to cry for the moon or over spilled milk. grant me neither to proffer nor to welcome cheap praise; to distinguish sharply between sentiment and sentimentality, cleaving to the one and despising the other. when it is appointed for me to suffer, let me, so far as may humanly be possible, take example from the dear well-bred beasts, and go quietly, to bear my suffering by myself. give me to be always a good comrade, and to view the passing show with an eye constantly growing keener, a charity broadening and deepening day by day. help me to win, if win i may; but--and this, o powers! especially--if i may not win, make me a good loser. amen. al. g. field. +-----------------------------------------------------+ |transcriber's notes | | | |while unusual spellings have been retained as in the | |original, unexpected inconsistencies in spellings and| |punctuation have been standardised. | +-----------------------------------------------------+ fen notation is an ascii representation of positions on a chessboard. to produce a fen file, remove the indicated lines at the start and end of this file. --delete this line and all previous lines. k q / / k / / / / / b - 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- / / / k k/ / q/ / b - - / / / k k/ / r/ / b - - / / / k k/ / / q/ b - - / / / k k/ / / r/ b - - / / / k k/ / / / q b - - / / / k k/ / / / r b - - / / / k / qk/ / / b - - / / / k / k/ / q/ b - - / / / kqk/ / / / b - - / / / qk/ k / / / b - - / / / q/ / k k/ / b - - / / / q/ / k/ k / b - - / / / q/ / / k k/ b - - / / / q/ / / k / k b - - / / / q/ / / / k k b - - / / / r/ / k k/ / b - - / / / r/ / / k k/ b - - / / / r/ / / k / k b - - / / / r/ / / / k k b - - / / / / k /k / /q b - - / / / / k /kq / / b - - / / / / k k/ / q/ b - - / / / / k k/ / r/ b - - / / / / k k/ / / q b - - / / / / k k/ / / r b - - / / / / k / qk/ / b - - / / / / k / k/ / q b - - / / / / kqk/ / / b - - / / / / qk/ k / / b - - / / / / q/ / k k/ b - - / / / / q/ / k / k b - - / / / / q/ / k/ k b - - / / / / q/ / / k k b - - / / / / r/ / k k/ b - - / / / / r/ / k / k b - - / / / / r/ / / k k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q /k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / /k q b - - / / / / / k / /k r b - - / / / / / k / /k q b - - / / / / / k / /k r b - - / / / / / k / /k q b - - / / / / / k / /k r b - - / / / / / k / /k q b - - / / / / / k / /k r b - - / / / / / k / /k q b - - / / / / / k / /k r b - - / / / / / k / /k q b - - / / / / / k / /k r b - - / / / / / k /q /k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q /k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / /q k b - - / / / / / k / /r k b - - / / / / / k /kq / b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / /q k b - - / / / / / k / /q k b - - / / / / / k / /r k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / /q k b - - / / / / / k / /r k b - - / / / / / k k/ / q b - - / / / / / k k/ / r b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / qk/ b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / k q b - - / / / / / k / / k r b - - / / / / / k / /q k b - - / / / / / k / /r k b - - / / / / / kqk/ / b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q / k b - - / / / / / k / q/ k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / / q k b - - / / / / / k / / r k b - - / / / / / k / /q k b - - / / / / / k / /q k b - - / / / / / k / /r k b - - / / / / / k / /r k b - - / / / / / qk/ k / b - - / / / / / k/ q / k b - - / / / / / k/ q / k b - - / / / / / k/ q/ k b - - / / / / / k/ / q k b - - / / / / / k/ / r k b - - / / / / / k/ / q k b - - / / / / / k/ / r k b - - / / / / / k/ / q k b - - / / / / / k/ / r k b - - / / / / / k/ / q k b - - / / / / / k/ / q k b - - / / / / / k/ / r k b - - / / / / / k/ / q k b - - / / / / / k/ / r k b - - / / / / / k/ /q k b - - / / / / / k/ /r k b - - / / / / / q/ k / k b - - / / / / / q/ / k k b - - / / / / / r/ k / k b - - / / / / / r/ / k k b - - / / / / / / q /k k b - - / / / / / / qk /k b - - / / / / / / k /kq b - - / / / / / / k / qk b - - / / / / / / kq / k b - - / / / / / / kqk/ b - - / / / / / / q / k k b - - / / / / / / qk/ k b - - / / / / / / / kqk b - - / / / / / / /kqk b - - / / / / / /kq / k b - - / / / / / /kqk / b - - / / / / /k k / /q b - - / / / / /k k / /r b - - / / / / /k / q / k b - - / / / / /k / q /k b - - / / / / /k / / k q b - - / / / / /k / /k q b - - / / / / /k / /k r b - - / / / / /k / /k q b - - / / / / /k / /k r b - - / / / / /k / /k q b - - / / / / /k / /k r b - - / / / / /k / /k q b - - / / / / /k / /k r b - - / / / / /k / /k q b - - / / / / /k / /k r b - - / / / / /k / /k q b - - / / / / /k / /k r b - - / / / / /k /q /k b - - / / / / /kq / k / b - - / / / / /kqk / / b - - / / / / /q / k /k b - - / / / / /q / /k k b - - / / / / /r / k /k b - - / / / / /r / /k k b - - / / / /k k / / /q b - - / / / /k k / / /r b - - / / / /k k / /q / b - - / / / /k k / /r / b - - / / / /kq / k / / b - - / / / /kqk / / / b - - / / / /q / / k /k b - - / / / /q / / /k k b - - / / / /q / /k k / b - - / / / /q / /k / k b - - / / / /r / / k /k b - - / / / /r / / /k k b - - / / / /r / /k k / b - - / / /k k / / / /q b - - / / /k k / / / /r b - - / / /k k / / /q / b - - / / /k k / / /r / b - - / / /k k / /q / / b - - / / /k k / /r / / b - - / / /kq / k / / / b - - / / /kqk / / / / b - - / / /q / / / k /k b - - / / /q / / / /k k b - - / / /q / / /k k / b - - / / /q / /k k / / b - - / / /q / /k / k / b - - / / /r / / / k /k b - - / / /r / / / /k k b - - / / /r / / /k k / b - - / / /r / /k k / / b - - / /k k / / / / /q b - - / /k k / / / / /r b - - / /k k / / / /q / b - - / /k k / / / /r / b - - / /k k / / /q / / b - - / /k k / / /r / / b - - / /k k / /q / / / b - - / /k k / /r / / / b - - / /kq / k / / / / b - - / /kqk / / / / / b - - / /q / / / / k /k b - - / /q / / / / /k k b - - / /q / / / /k k / b - - / /q / / /k k / / b - - / /q / /k k / / / b - - / /q / /k / k / / b - - / /r / / / / k /k b - - / /r / / / / /k k b - - / /r / / / /k k / b - - / /r / / /k k / / b - - / /r / /k k / / / b - - /k k / / / / / /q b - - /k k / / / / / /r b - - /k k / / / / /q / b - - /k k / / / / /r / b - - /k k / / / /q / / b - - /k k / / / /r / / b - - /k k / / /q / / / b - - /k k / / /r / / / b - - /k k / /q / / / / b - - /k k / /r / / / / b - - /kq / k / / / / / b - - /kqk / / / / / / b - - /q / / / / / k /k b - - /q / / / / / /k k b - - /q / / / / /k k / b - - /q / / / /k k / / b - - /q / / /k k / / / b - - /q / /k k / / / / b - - /q / /k / k / / / b - - /r / / / / / k /k b - - /r / / / / / /k k b - - /r / / / / /k k / b - - /r / / / /k k / / b - - /r / / /k k / / / b - - /r / /k k / / / / b - - k k / q / / / / / / b - - k k / / / / / / /q b - - k k / / / / / / /r b - - k k / / / / / /q / b - - k k / / / / / /r / b - - k k / / / / /q / / b - - k k / / / / /r / / b - - k k / / / /q / / / b - - k k / / / /r / / / b - - k k / / /q / / / / b - - k k / / /r / / / / b - - k k / /q / / / / / b - - k k / /r / / / / / b - - k q / / k / / / / / b - - k q / /k / / / / / b - - k r / / k / / / / / b - - k r / /k / / / / / b - - k q / / k / / / / / b - - k q / /k / / / / / b - - k r / / k / / / / / b - - k r / /k / / / / / b - - k q / / k / / / / / b - - k q / /k / / / / / b - - k r / / k / / / / / b - - k r / /k / / / / / b - - k q / / k / / / / / b - - k q / /k / / / / / b - - k r / / k / / / / / b - - k r / /k / / / / / b - - k q / / k / / / / / b - - k q / /k / / / / / b - - k r / / k / / / / / b - - k r / /k / / / / / b - - k q/ / k / / / / / b - - k q/ /k / / / / / b - - k r/ / k / / / / / b - - k r/ /k / / / / / b - - k / q / k / / / / / b - - k / q / k / / / / / b - - k / q /k / / / / / b - - k / qk / / / / / / b - - k / k / / / / / /q b - - k / k / / / / / /r b - - k / k / / / / /q / b - - k / k / / / / /r / b - - k / k / / / /q / / b - - k / k / / / /r / / b - - k / k / / /q / / / b - - k / k / / /r / / / b - - k / k / /q / / / / b - - k / k / /r / / / / b - - k / k /q / / / / / b - - k / k /r / / / / / b - - k /q / k / / / / / b - - k /q /k / / / / / b - - kq / k / / / / / / b - - kqk / / / / / / / b - - q k / / k / / / / / b - - q k / / k / / / / / b - - q k / / k / / / / / b - - q k / / k / / / / / b - - q k / / k / / / / / b - - q k / / k / / / / / b - - q k/ / k / / / / / b - - q k/ / k/ / / / / b - - q / / / / / / k /k b - - q / / / / / / /k k b - - q / / / / / /k k / b - - q / / / / /k k / / b - - q / / / /k k / / / b - - q / / /k k / / / / b - - q / /k k / / / / / b - - q / /k / k / / / / b - - r k / / k / / / / / b - - r k / / k / / / / / b - - r k / / k / / / / / b - - r k / / k / / / / / b - - r k / / k / / / / / b - - r k/ / k / / / / / b - - r k/ / k/ / / / / b - - r / / / / / / k /k b - - r / / / / / / /k k b - - r / / / / / /k k / b - - r / / / / /k k / / b - - r / / / /k k / / / b - - r / / /k k / / / / b - - r / /k k / / / / / b - - --delete this line and all following lines. the laws of euchre as adopted by the somerset club of boston, march , with some suggestions about the play by h. c. leeds and james dwight [illustration] boston ticknor and company tremont street _copyright, ,_ by ticknor and company. _all rights reserved._ university press: john wilson and son, cambridge, u. s. a. [illustration] preface. euchre is played in so many different ways and under so many different rules that there seems to be a necessity for more rigid and exact laws than exist at present. the laws of euchre, as here appended, have stood the test of time and received the attention of many scientific euchre-players. if any game of cards is worth playing at all, it should be played according to rule in the strictest interpretation, and no favors should be given or expected. an attempt has been made in these rules to make the penalties commensurate with the advantage which _might_ be gained by the error. a common instance of this is in the case of a lead out of turn. it often happens that the exposed card is an advantage to the side so offending, and the adversaries have no redress. here the whist law has been applied, allowing the non-offending side the option of two penalties. see rule . another instance occurs in a lone hand. an exposed card can only benefit the adversaries, consequently no penalty is attached; but should the lone hand lead out of turn, he is supposed to be attempting to gain an advantage, therefore rule has been adopted. [illustration] contents. page the laws of euchre the rubber scoring cutting formation of the table cutting cards of equal value cutting out entry and re-entry shuffling the deal a new deal a misdeal cards liable to be called cards played in error the revoke calling for new cards making the trump and playing the discard the trump card playing alone etiquette of euchre technical terms used in euchre general remarks eldest, or first hand second hand third hand the dealer the bridge lone hands coups case i. case ii. case iii. case iv. case v. case vi. case vii. case viii. case ix. [illustration] the laws of euchre. the rubber. . the rubber is the best of three games. if the first two games are won by the same players, the third game is played; should the score of the third game lap, a fourth game is played. scoring. . a game consists of five points. should a player order up, assist, adopt, or make the trump, and he and his partner take five tricks, they score two; three or four tricks, they score one. if they fail to take three tricks they are euchred, and the adversaries score two. . when a player plays alone and takes five tricks, he scores four; three or four tricks, he scores one. if he fails to take three tricks he is euchred, and the adversaries score four. . the penalty of a revoke takes precedence of all other scores. . an error in the score can be rectified at any time before the trump card is turned in the next deal. . points should be announced before scoring. . each game won counts one unless the losing side has failed to score, in which case the game counts two. two additional points are taken by the side winning the rubber. thus it is possible to win ten points in a rubber; that is, four double games, and two points for the rubber. cutting. . the knave is the highest card, then the ace, king, etc. . in all cases every one must cut from the same pack. . should a player expose more than one card, he must cut again. formation of the table. . if there are more than four candidates, the players are selected by cutting; those first in the room having the preference. the four who cut the highest cards play first, and again cut to decide on partners. the two highest play against the two lowest. the highest is the dealer, who has choice of cards, seats, and counters; and having once made his selection, he must abide by it. . when there are more than six candidates, those who cut the fifth and sixth highest cards belong to the table. cutting cards of equal value. . two players cutting cards of equal value, unless such cards are the two lowest, or the two highest, cut again. . three players cutting cards of equal value, cut again; should the fourth (or remaining) card be the highest, the two lowest of the new cut are partners, and their opponents have the deal. should the fourth card be the lowest, the two highest of the new cut are partners, and have the deal and choice of seats, etc. cutting out. . at the end of a rubber, should admission be claimed by any one, or by two candidates, he who has, or they who have, played a greater number of consecutive rubbers than the others, is or are out. when all have played the same number, they must cut to decide on the out-goers, the lowest going out. entry and re-entry. . a candidate wishing to enter a table must declare such intention before any of the players have cut a card, either for the purpose of commencing a new rubber, or of cutting out. . in the formation of fresh tables, those candidates who have neither belonged to nor played at any other table, have the prior right of entry; the others decide their right of admission by cutting. . any one quitting a table prior to the conclusion of a rubber may, with the consent of the other three players, appoint a substitute in his absence during that rubber. . should a player leave a full table after he has played but one of the two consecutive rubbers to which he is entitled, the candidate next in order for entrance to the table takes his place, but must go out at the end of one rubber, as his predecessor would have done. . a player cutting into one table while belonging to another, loses his right of re-entry into the latter, and takes his chance of cutting in as if he were a fresh candidate. . if any one break up a table, the remaining players have the prior right to him of entry into any other; and should there not be vacancies at such other table for all those candidates, they settle their precedence by cutting. shuffling. . the pack must neither be shuffled below the table, nor so that the face of any card can be seen. . the pack must not be shuffled during the play of a hand. . each player has a right to shuffle once only, except as provided by law , prior to a deal, after a false cut, or when a new deal has occurred. . the dealer's partner must collect the cards for the ensuing deal, and he has the first right to shuffle that pack. . each player, after shuffling, must place the cards, properly collected and face downwards, to the left of the player about to deal. . the dealer has always the right to shuffle last; but should a card or cards be seen during his shuffling or while giving the pack to be cut, he may be compelled to re-shuffle. the deal. . each player deals in turn; the right of dealing goes to the left. . the player on the dealer's right cuts the pack, and in dividing it he must not leave fewer than four cards in either packet. if in cutting or in placing one of the packets on the other, a card be exposed, or if there be any confusion of the cards, or a doubt as to the exact place where the pack was divided, there must be a fresh cut. . when a player has once separated a pack he cannot alter his intention; he can neither re-shuffle nor re-cut the cards. . when the pack is cut, should the dealer re-shuffle he loses the deal. . after dealing, the dealer should put the pack at his right hand. a new deal. . there must be a new deal by the same dealer if during the deal or during the play of the hand the pack be found to be incorrect or imperfect; but all points scored on previous hands stand. . if any card be found faced in the pack before a lead is made, there must be a new deal. . if, while dealing, a card be exposed by the dealer or his partner, the adversaries can call for a new deal, provided that neither of them has touched the cards. a card exposed by either adversary gives that claim to the dealer, provided that his partner has not touched the cards. if a new deal does not take place, the exposed card cannot be called. . if, during the deal, a player touch any of his cards, the adversaries may do the same without losing their privilege of claiming a new deal, should chance give them such option. . if, in dealing, one of the last cards be exposed, and the dealer turn up the trump before there is reasonable time for his adversaries to decide as to a fresh deal, they do not thereby lose their privilege. . a deal made with the adversaries' cards is good, provided that the trump card has been turned. if not, a new deal may be claimed. the players thus losing their cards may reclaim them at the end of the deal. . should the dealer, in turning the trump card, expose any other card of the pack, there must be a new deal. . a deal out of turn can be stopped, if the error be discovered before the trump card is turned; otherwise the deal stands. a misdeal. . a misdeal loses the deal. . it is a misdeal,-- i. unless five cards are dealt to each player. ii. unless the dealer begin by giving two cards to each player in turn in the first round of the deal, and three in the second, or _vice versa_. . a misdeal does not lose the deal if during the dealing either of the adversaries touch the cards prior to the dealer's partner having done so. should the latter have first interfered with the cards, notwithstanding either or both of the adversaries have subsequently done the same, the deal is lost. . if the adversaries interrupt a dealer while dealing, either by questioning the score or asserting that it is not his deal, and fail to establish such claim, should a misdeal occur he may deal again. . should a player take his partner's deal and misdeal, the latter is liable to the usual penalties, and the adversary next in rotation to the player who ought to have dealt, then deals. cards liable to be called. . all exposed cards are liable to be called, and must be left on the table; but a card is not an exposed card when dropped on the floor or elsewhere below the table. the following are exposed cards:-- i. two or more cards played at once. ii. any card dropped face upwards, or in any way exposed on or above the table, even though snatched up so quickly that no one can name it. iii. the trump card if lifted from the pack. . if any one play to an imperfect trick the highest card on the table, or lead one which is a winning card against his adversaries, and then lead again, or play several such winning cards one after the other, without waiting for his partner to play, the latter may be called on to win, if he can, the first or any other of those tricks, and the other cards thus improperly played are exposed cards. . if a player or players, under the impression that the game is lost or won, or for other reasons, throw his or their cards on the table face upwards, such cards are exposed, and can be called, each player's by the adversary; but should one player retain his hand, he cannot be forced to abandon it. . if all four players throw their cards on the table face upwards, the hands are abandoned, and no one can again take up his cards. should it then be proved that the game could have been saved or won, no such claim can be entertained unless a revoke be established. . in a lone hand, should either adversary abandon his hand by laying it face upwards on the table, or by failing to play to every trick, the party playing alone scores five points. . a card detached from the rest of the hand is liable to be called if either of the adversaries can name it; but should an adversary name a wrong card, he is liable to have a suit called when he or his partner next lead. . if any player lead out of turn, the adversaries may either call the card erroneously led, or may call a suit from him or his partner when it is next the turn of either to lead. . if any player lead out of turn, and the other three have followed him, the trick is complete, and the error cannot be rectified; but if only the second, or the second and third, have played to the false lead, their cards, on discovery of the mistake, are taken back, and there is no penalty against any one except the original offender. . if a player who has rendered himself liable to have his highest or lowest called, fail to play as desired, or if when called on to lead one suit, lead another, having in his hand one or more cards of the suit demanded, he incurs the penalty of a revoke. . in no case can a player be compelled to play a card which would oblige him to revoke. . the call for an exposed card can be repeated until such card has been played. . if a player called on to lead a suit have none of it, the penalty is paid. cards played in error. . should the third hand play before the second, the fourth may play before his partner. . should the third hand not have played, and the fourth hand play before his partner, the latter may be called on to win or lose the trick. . should any one have omitted playing to a former trick, and such error be not discovered till he has played to the next, the adversaries may claim a new deal. should they decide that the deal stand good, the surplus card at the end of the hand is considered to have been played to the imperfect trick, but does not constitute a revoke therein. . if any one play two cards to the same trick, or mix his trump or other card with a trick to which it does not properly belong, and the mistake is not discovered till the hand is played out, he is answerable for all the consequent revokes he may have made. if during the play of the hand the error be detected, the tricks may be counted face downwards, to ascertain if there be among them a card too many; should this be the case, the trick may be searched, and the card restored. the player is, however, liable for all the revokes he may have meanwhile made. the revoke. . is when a player, holding one or more cards of the suit led, plays a card of a different suit. . the penalty of a revoke is three points, except in the case of a lone hand, when it is five; and the penalty may be claimed as often as the revoke is repeated in the hand. . a revoke is established if the trick in which it occurs be turned and quitted; or if the revoking player or his partner, whether in his right turn or otherwise, lead or play to the following trick. . a player may ask his partner whether he has not a card of the suit renounced. should the question be asked before the trick be turned and quitted, subsequent turning and quitting does not establish the revoke, and the error may be corrected, unless the question be answered in the negative, or unless the revoking player or his partner have led or played to the following trick. . at the end of the hand the claimants of a revoke may search all the tricks. . should a revoke be claimed, and the accused player or his partner mix the cards before they have been sufficiently examined by the adversaries, the revoke is established. . a revoke cannot be claimed after the cards are cut for the next deal. . if a player discover his mistake in time to save a revoke, the adversaries may call the card played in error. any player or players who have played after him, except his partner, may withdraw their cards and substitute others; the cards so withdrawn are not liable to be called. . a revoking player and his partner may require the hand on which the revoke occurred to be played out. . an equal number of revokes on different sides cancel each other. calling for new cards. . any player (on paying for them) before, but not after, the pack is cut for the deal, may call for fresh cards. he must call for two new packs, of which the dealer has the choice. . a card or cards torn or marked must be replaced by agreement, or new cards called for at the expense of the table. making the trump and playing. . the trump card having been turned, the eldest hand may pass, order up, or play alone; in either of the last two cases the third hand may take it from him and play alone. . should the eldest hand pass, the second hand may pass, assist, or play alone; in either of the last two cases the dealer may take it from him and play alone. . should the second hand pass, the third hand can pass, order up, or play alone; and after him the dealer must pass, take up the trump, or play alone. . should all four players pass, the trump is turned down, and the first hand can name a suit, or pass; and so on in turn around the table. should all pass again, the deal is at an end, and the next player deals. . should the player entitled to make a trump name a suit, he cannot change; and should he name the suit turned down, he is considered to have passed. . should the player, after naming the suit turned down, or passing, mention the suit he intended to make trumps, his partner also must pass. . should a player pass, and then attempt to assist, or order up the trump, his partner also must pass. the adversaries, however, may elect that it shall be played. . should a player make a declaration, and his partner not hear it and pass, the declaration is not invalidated. . no player can take away another's right by passing, ordering up, or assisting, out of turn; but should the dealer turn down the trump card, or on the second round throw his cards on the table, such action is binding on his partner. . if any one, prior to his partner's playing, should call attention to the trick either by saying that it is or is not his, or by naming his card or by drawing it without being asked to do so, or call on his partner to take or not to take the trick, the adversaries may require that opponent's partner to play his highest or lowest of the suit led, or to win or lose the trick. . a player has no right to ask who played a particular card, but at any time during the play of a trick, or after the four cards are played, but before they are touched for the purpose of gathering them together, may demand that the cards be placed before their respective players. . when a player and his partner have an option of exacting from their adversaries one of two penalties, they should agree who is to make the election, but must not consult with one another which of the two penalties it is advisable to exact. if they do so consult, they lose their right; and if either of them, with or without the consent of his partner, demand a penalty to which he is entitled, such decision is final. the discard. . should the card turned up be made the trump, the dealer must at once discard one card from his hand. the discard is not complete until the dealer has placed the card under the pack and quitted it; after which he cannot change. . should the eldest hand lead before the discard is completed, the lead stands, and the dealer can change his discard if he wishes. . the trump card cannot be discarded. . should the third hand play alone, and the second player lead before the dealer has discarded, the latter can be called on to play his highest or lowest of the suit led, or to win or lose the trick. . should any player have more or less than five cards, or the dealer neglect to discard before playing, the deal holds good, and the party so offending forfeits two if all four are playing, and four if a lone hand is played. they also are not entitled to score any point or points they may have made on that hand. the trump card. . the trump card must be left in view till played, and if removed or lifted from the pack, becomes an exposed card. . after the trump card has been played, no player has a right to ask what card was turned up, but can at any time ask what is the trump suit. playing alone. . a player may play alone when he orders up, assists, adopts, or makes the trump, or when his partner does so, provided that he himself has not already passed. . if a player declares to play alone, his partner may take it from him, subject to the previous rule; in which case the form of declaration must be, "i take it from you." . a player cannot play alone when he or his partner is ordered up, or when his adversaries adopt or make the trump, or if before making his declaration he exposes a card. . the dealer must announce his intention to play alone before quitting his discard. . a player must announce his intention to play alone before naming the trump, otherwise he can be required to play the hand with his partner. . in all cases a single declaration must be made. it is not permitted to say, "i order it up and play it alone," or "i make it hearts and play it alone." the declaration must be, "i play alone at hearts," or, "alone at hearts." any other declaration precludes a lone hand. . should the partner of the player playing alone offer to take it from him after a lead has been made, or after he has himself passed, neither can play alone. . should a player announce that he will play alone, and his partner play upon the first lead, the player loses his right to play the hand alone, and must play it with his partner, unless his adversaries elect that he play it alone. . should a player announce that he will play alone, his partner must place his own cards on the table face downwards, and not again take them up. he shall have the right to gather and quit his partner's tricks, and his action is binding on his partner. . should a player expose the face of any of his cards, his partner can score only two points, should he take every trick; but in case of a euchre the adversaries score four. . after the partner of the lone player has placed his hand on the table, either adversary may count the hand, to see if it contains more or less than five cards. . a player playing alone is liable to no penalty for simply exposing a card; but should he lead out of turn, the card is an exposed card, and can be called. . should an adversary play out of turn to the lead of a lone hand, both opposing hands must be laid on the table, and can be called by the player playing alone. etiquette of euchre. . the following rules belong to the established etiquette of euchre. they are not called "laws," as it is difficult, and in some cases impossible, to apply any penalty to their infraction, and the only remedy is to cease to play with the players who habitually disregard them. . two packs of cards of different colors are invariably used at clubs, and this should be adhered to if possible. . a player having the lead and another winning card to play, should not draw the second card out of his hand till his partner has played to the first trick, such act being a distinct intimation that the former has played a winning card. . no intimation whatever by word or gesture should be given by a player as to the state of the hand or the game after the trump card is turned. . a player who desires the cards to be placed, or demands to see the last trick, should do so for his own information only, and not to attract the attention of his partner. . no player should object to refer to a bystander who professes himself uninterested in the game and able to decide any disputed question of fact. . it is unfair to revoke purposely; and having made a revoke, a player is not justified in making a second to conceal the first. . until the players have made such bets as they wish, bets should not be made with the bystanders. . bystanders should make no remark, nor should they, by word or gesture, give any intimation of the state of the game until concluded and scored, nor should they walk around the table to look at the different hands. . no one should look over the hand of a player against whom he is betting. . players should pass, assist, order up, etc., with as nearly as possible the same manner at all times, and should be careful not to give information by unusual quickness or delay. technical terms used in euchre. "right bower," or "right,"--knave of the trump suit, which is the highest card. "left bower," or "left,"--knave of the same color as the trump suit, which is the second best card. "alone,"--playing without your partner. "assist," or "help,"--ordering up the trump when your partner deals. "announce,"--to declare the suit which shall be trumps. "bridge,"--when the score of the eldest hand is four to one or four to two in his favor. "crossing the suit,"--making the trump of a different color from the suit turned down. "next,"--to make a trump of the color turned down. "euchre,"--when the party making the trump fails to take three tricks. "hand,"--the five cards dealt to each player. "ordering up,"--requiring the dealer and his partner to play the trump turned up. "pass,"--declining to order up, assist, adopt, or make the trump. "march,"--taking five tricks. "love game," "slam," or "double,"--where the score is five to nothing. "lap,"--is where more points are made than are necessary to win a game, and are carried to the next game. "rubber,"--consists of three games. when, however, a lap is made in the third game, a fourth must be played. a "lay card," or an "outsider,"--is a card of a different suit from the trump. [illustration] general remarks. the following points are written simply for the information of those not thoroughly conversant with the game of euchre. it is not the intention of the authors to write a treatise on the game, but merely to illustrate a few conventional plays, most of which are in use among the best exponents of the game. there can be no absolute rules about the play in euchre, as in whist, as the number of cards is so few that the importance of each play is intensified, and the score has so great an influence on the hand. the exceptions also are perhaps almost as numerous as the rules; but if the beginner will accept as a guide the appended hints, it is thought they will not lead him far astray. the play of the cards is governed by the card sense of the individual. the refinement of the game consists in playing to the score, which is quite peculiar to euchre, since it is so constantly changing. the same hand should suggest different ideas at different scores. a player should school himself to notice the score before he picks up his hand. no attempt has been made to go beyond the adoption of the trump, passing, assisting, and the original lead or play, at the risk of being confusing. a beginner should follow these hints pretty closely. a good euchre player can make his own exceptions; but they should be made with careful consideration, and not abused. eldest, or first hand. when the right is not turned, order with three medium trumps or better, and some strength in suit, _provided you have nothing to go to_; for example, ace, queen, ten of the turn-up, and two cards of another suit. do not order (unless with great strength) if you can make it next; for example, queen of clubs turned up, you hold right, ten, and nine of clubs, and king and ten of spades; or left, ace and seven of clubs, seven of spades, and seven of diamonds. in both of these cases pass, and make it next. make it next when you can, and do not cross the suit, unless very strong, especially when a bower is turned down; for example, the dealer has turned down the king of spades, with ace, king, and seven of hearts, knave of spades, and ten of clubs: make it next, and lead the left. when making the trump with ace and two others (without the king), lead ace in next, and small one when crossing the suit. if the right is not turned, lead trumps through the assisting hand. the exceptions to this are,--with left and small one; ace and small one; with score four to three in your favor, and you play with certain reasons to stop a march; and occasionally when short of a suit. with a large tenace in trumps as right, ace, or right, king, and no outside cards of any special value, play an off-suit, whether dealer takes up with or without assistance. with one or two trumps and two aces, lead trumps, whether through assistance or not. if the dealer adopts the trump, avoid, if you can, leading from suits of king, seven; queen, seven, etc. if possible, lead an ace, or from a short suit of king or queen, or from a suit of equals, as king, queen, or queen, knave, or knave, ten. in general do not lead trumps up to the dealer's adoption; but with three trumps, and the score two points in your favor, lead a trump, if the turn-up is not above the king. if you hold the two bowers and an outside ace, always lead them in the order named. always lead a trump when your partner has ordered up, or made the trump. if you have no trump, play your best card. avoid leading the turn-down until at least one round of trumps has been played. if you have left and small one, lead the left and continue with small one if both opponents follow. with any two others, lead smallest, unless equals. score four to three in your favor is a position of caution, and consequently your play should be very conservative. second hand. do not assist too light. this is the most common error in euchre. assist with three trumps. right and another.[ ] left and another, and outside ace. [footnote : "another" means "a small one."] assist with left and another; dependent upon the score, two trumps and two aces. ace and another, and outside ace; dependent upon score; always, however, if right is turned. two medium trumps, and one suit of three, headed by the ace, dependent upon the score. ace and another, and king and another, even when short of a suit, are permissible only when justified by scores of four-all or four-love in your favor. anything less than this is not good euchre, except, of course, at the two above-named scores. do not assist the right with two small ones. your partner usually will know what to do with the bower. by too light an assistance you may tempt him into a lone hand, under the impression that one or two big trumps are out of his way. remember that to be short of one or two suits is a great advantage to an assisting hand. when led through with right and another, play the right, except when the ace is turned,--when it is permissible to finesse. when led through, when assisting with left and another, play left, unless right or ace is turned. when assisting with three trumps, if you take the first trick in suit, lead trumps at once. if you take the first trick by trumping a suit, your play is then dependent upon the value of your remaining trumps and the turn-up. with two trumps and two aces, lead trumps as early as possible, if your opponents have not done so for you. if your partner adopts the turn-up without your assistance, and you hold queen, seven; ten, eight, etc., in trumps, ruff as early as possible with the big one, and lead the small one. if you take the first trick in suit, and your partner throws away, do not lead the suit he has shown, even if you have the ace of it. if your partner turn down black, make it red if you can, especially if he has turned down the bower. when playing second to a small card, do not ruff with right alone if it is the first trick. ruff with left alone, especially with your partner's make or adoption. if your partner refuses to adopt the turn-up, and the third hand declares to play alone, lead a card of the same suit as the turn-down. with one small trump, ruff as soon as you can. do not finesse in lay cards. third hand. it requires a stronger hand to order or make the trump in this position than in the eldest hand, since you cannot depend upon your partner's lead, and he has displayed weakness by passing. however, if you have a good hand at the turn-up, and are very strong at next, it is better to order, since the stronger you are at next, the greater the improbability that your partner will be able to make it next. it is wise to see your way absolutely clear to three tricks before ordering the right. there are certain hands, however, which by their strength compel you to order,--the right not being turned; and here are most of them. order with four trumps. two bowers and another. two bowers and outside ace. three trumps and two aces. three trumps and one suit, headed by ace. right, ace, and another. left, ace, king, and outside ace. left, ace, king, and one suit. left, ace, king, dependent upon the score. left, king and another, and outside ace. left, queen and another, and outside ace. order with ace, king and another, and outside ace. if you ruff, it is usually well to beat the turn-up. the dealer. take up three trumps. right and ace. right and king right and queen. right and another, and one suit. right, another, and outside ace. left, ace, and outside ace. left, another, outside ace; and king, queen of the third suit. ace, king, and one suit headed by ace; dependent upon score. two trumps and two aces. with the score at four-all or four-love in his favor, the dealer may play a lighter hand than any mentioned above, especially if it is his best. scores of three-all and four to two in dealer's favor require more than ordinary caution. with score four to three in dealer's favor he may play a shade lighter than ordinary. if it comes round to the dealer to make a trump, it is permissible to make it with somewhat less strength than would be required in the other three hands. it is usually better with a fair hand to try for a point rather than to turn down for a euchre. if, however, the dealer is better at next, and holds both bowers of the cross-suit, it is good euchre to pass. if the dealer adopts the turn-up without assistance and has right and another, and takes the first trick with his small trump, he should not lead the right unless he can follow with an ace. always be careful how you play your small cards, and never play false cards. if the dealer adopts the turn-up, he should discard the lowest card of a short suit; for example, with three trumps, ace, seven of one suit, and outside king, discard the king. some prefer to keep the king with score four-all with only two trumps in the hand. with two trumps (clubs), ace, seven of hearts, and king, seven of diamonds, discard the seven of diamonds. with three trumps (clubs), ace, king of hearts, and ace of diamonds, discard the king of hearts, except when playing a lone hand, in which case discard the ace of diamonds. when your partner assists, and you take the first or second trick, always give him a trump if he has not played one. give all the information possible to your partner by your play; for example, queen of clubs is turned up, and you are assisted and hold the king of clubs in your hand. if you or your partner take the first trick with a trump, play the king. if you hold both ace and king of clubs in your hand, play the ace. if you hold ace and king of an outside suit, throw away the ace as soon as possible on your partner's trick, thereby showing him you have command of that suit. if, however, you see by the fall of the cards that your partner has no strength in his hand, you may conceal this information, since it will do him no good, and can only benefit your opponents. this, of course, applies to all four hands. the bridge. there is such a variety of opinion about the bridge that the writers do not feel confident enough to express any decided view about the matter. it is a complicated question from a mathematical point of view, and they have never kept any record for a long enough period of time to be of any practical value. they doubt, however, the expediency of keeping the bridge strictly. if, however, the bridge is to be kept at all, it should be kept always, and in the same manner; otherwise you deceive your partner. there is a growing tendency to abolish the bridge. the writers remember distinctly not long ago when every one kept the bridge; now the same players take their chances with two lay aces, or the ace and another in trumps. this, however, is purely a matter of taste, and is not offered here as an arbitrary rule. naturally, some hands will make four beyond a doubt; but it is much harder to get an imperfect lone hand through against two good players than against two inferior ones; hence the better the players, the less is the value of the bridge against the ordinary lone hand. lone hands. it is impossible to absolutely define a "lone hand." with the score three-all, four-all, or any score in your favor, do not risk a light lone hand. it is our opinion that a great many points are lost by not taking your partner with you for a march. with the score four-one or four-two against you, you may take a desperate chance. if your opponents keep bridges tolerably strictly, you must, of course, be more careful if they have passed. the eldest hand has the best position to play a lone hand, and the dealer the next best. the second and third hands have the weakest positions for lone hands, especially the third hand, if the turn-up is the trump, since if the third hand declares to play alone it has become an established custom for the dealer to discard next in suit, and for his partner to lead it to him. the third hand should take this into consideration before playing alone. this is the only case when the original lead of next in suit has any significance. in playing against a lone hand, you should lead from a short suit or suit of equals, if possible, and the fourth card you play (supposing always the lone hand to take the first four tricks with trumps) should inform your partner what suit you mean to keep. for example: clubs are trumps. eldest hand has two small trumps, queen of hearts, and queen and seven of spades. lead the queen of hearts. the dealer, who is playing alone, ruffs the heart and leads both bowers and the ace of trumps. on the fourth trick you play the seven of spades; your partner, holding the ace of spades and the ten of diamonds, should throw away the ace of spades and keep the ten, thereby attacking the lone hand in all three suits. example: clubs are trumps. the eldest hand has the king of clubs, the king of hearts, the ace and seven of diamonds, and the ten of spades. lead the king of hearts, throw away the ten of spades as early as possible, and play the seven of diamonds on the fourth trick, thereby informing your partner that you are keeping a diamond. if you lead from equals,--as king, queen, or queen, knave,--and your opponent takes the trick with a card of that suit, throw away all your other cards, however high, and keep your second one of that suit. this applies always against the dealer, and usually against any other player. if the eldest hand holds the ace of hearts and the ace and king of spades (the trump being a club), lead the ace of hearts and advertise the command of the spade suit by throwing away the ace as soon as possible. an exception: for third hand, supposing the dealer to have taken the first three tricks without showing a lay card and to have led a winning trump for the fourth trick. if your partner's fourth card is a lay king, and you hold one card of that suit and one of another, neither of which suits has been ruffed, keep the card of the same suit as your partner's king on the fourth trick. with an assistance you may play a lone hand with less strength than otherwise. should your partner declare to play alone, and you have a fair trump hand with no weakness in lay suits, it is good play to take it from him. coups. the following cases are offered to illustrate some of the fine points in the game. opportunities for making some of these plays occur frequently, and every ambitious euchre-player should be familiar with them. the easiest way to follow them is to place the cards on the table as shown below. a coup is when you depart from the ordinary established rules of play, with certain reasons for each special case. do not hesitate when attempting a coup. consider what the play of your adversaries means, as well as that of your partner. bear in mind that coups are justified only in exceptional cases. in all these cases a and c are partners. a is the dealer, and the discard is supposed to have been properly made. case i. refusing to over trump. a of clubs (turn-up), knave of clubs, ace, king of hearts, of spades. d b king and of clubs, ace of clubs, ace, of spades, queen, of hearts, of hearts. knave of diamonds, of spades. c , , and of diamonds, queen of spades, of hearts. score, love-all. a adopts the trump. _first trick._--b leads knave of diamonds, c plays the seven, d ruffs with the ten of clubs, and a throws away the eight of spades. _second trick._--d leads the ace of spades, a ruffs with the nine of clubs, and both b and c follow suit. _third trick._--a leads the right bower and catches the ace and king from b and d, while his partner throws his small diamond. _fourth trick._--in this case a will win whether he leads the ace or king of hearts; but his play should be the king, since his partner cannot help him in any way, and b might hold the left bower and pass the king of hearts, when he would ruff the ace. remarks.--if a goes over the ten of trumps with his right in the first trick, he will be euchred. this is the simplest coup, and is in constant use. it is not good euchre to do this when your partner has assisted. case ii. leading through assistance. when to continue with trumps. a king of hearts (turn-up), queen of hearts, queen, knave of spades, queen of clubs. d b , , of diamonds, knave, of hearts, of clubs, ace of clubs, of hearts. king, of spades. c knave of diamonds, ace of hearts, ace, of spades, of diamonds. score, love-all. c assists. remarks.--b leads the right through the assisting hand, c plays the ace, d the seven, and a should play the king. if a plays the queen to give information to his partner, b should at once continue with the eight of hearts, and thus effect a euchre. if a plays the king, b's natural play would be to lead the ace of clubs, whereby a and c make their point. few cases arise when you should conceal information from your partner, but this is one of them. case iii. ruffing a winning card in order to draw trumps and score two. a of hearts (turn-up), knave of diamonds, of hearts, queen, of clubs. d b ace, king of hearts, queen, of hearts, king of spades, ace of diamonds, king of diamonds, king of clubs, of clubs. of spades. c right, of hearts, ace of clubs, ace, of spades. score, four to three in favor of a and c. c assists. _first trick._--b leads the ten of hearts, c plays the right, d the king, and a the seven. _second trick._--c leads the ace of clubs, d plays the ten, a the eight of clubs, and b the king. _third trick._--c leads the ace of spades, d plays the king, a ruffs with the nine of hearts, and b plays the nine of spades. _fourth and fifth tricks._--a leads the left, thereby drawing all the trumps, and continues with the winning club. case iv. leading a trump up to the right. a knave of hearts (turn-up), king of hearts, ace of clubs, ace, king of spades. d b of hearts, knave of diamonds, , of spades, ace, queen of hearts, king, of clubs. of spades, ace of diamonds. c , , hearts, knave, of spades, king of diamonds. a adopts the trump. score, four to one in favor of a and c. _first trick._--b leads the left, c plays the seven of hearts, d the nine, and a wins with the right. _second trick._--a leads the ace of spades, b follows with the nine, c with the ten, and d with the seven. _third, fourth, and fifth tricks._--no matter what a plays, he is euchred, since b wins the last three tricks. case v. under-play in fourth hand with a large tenace. a ace of diamonds (turn-up), queen, of diamonds, , of hearts. d b king, knave of clubs, knave, king, of queen, of spades, diamonds, of hearts. ace, queen of hearts. c knave of hearts, king, of hearts, king, of spades. score, three-all. a adopts the trump. _first trick._--b leads ace of hearts, c plays the ten, d the eight, and a the seven. _second trick._--b continues with the queen of hearts, c covers, and wins with the king, d throws the ten of spades, and a the nine of hearts. _third trick._--c leads the left bower, d throws the queen of spades, a the seven of diamonds, and b refuses to win by playing under with the ten of diamonds, thereby making a certainty of establishing the euchre with the tenace of right and king in the fourth and fifth tricks. case vi. trumping your partner's trick to put the lead through the strong hand. a ace of diamonds (turn-up), knave of diamonds, of diamonds, king of spades, of clubs. d b king, of hearts, ace of spades, , of clubs, of spades, queen of diamonds. knave of hearts, king, queen of clubs. c ace, of hearts, knave, of clubs, queen of spades. score three-all. a adopts the trump. _first trick._--b leads the king of clubs, c follows with the seven of clubs, d with the eight of clubs, and a with the ten of clubs. _second trick._--b continues with the queen of clubs, c plays the knave, d the nine, and a wins with the ten of diamonds. _third trick._--a leads the king of spades, b covers with the ace, c plays the queen, and d trumps, and wins with the queen of diamonds. _fourth trick._--d leads the king of hearts, a ruffs with the ace, and is euchred by b's left bower. remarks.--c in the third trick perceived that his queen was useless, unless used to trump his partner's trick and put the lead through a, with the hope that his partner had the left and might be able to get it in. the ace was turned up, and a could have no card _lower_ than the queen, since he had ruffed fourth hand with the ten. case vii. refusing to ruff when you hold the high trump. a queen of clubs (turn-up), right, ace of clubs, king, queen of spades. d b ace, of spades, knave of spades, king, queen of diamonds, of clubs, knave of hearts. ace, , of hearts. c king, , of clubs, , of diamonds. score, three to one in favor of b and d. c assists, and a plays alone. _first trick._--b leads ace of hearts, d follows with knave, and a ruffs with queen of clubs. _second trick._--a leads the right, b plays the eight, and d the nine, of spades. _third trick._--a leads the king of spades, b refuses to ruff, having the highest trump, thereby euchring a. the opportunity for this coup of refusing to ruff occurs very frequently. the following coups, which occurred recently in play, serve to show the possibilities of the game. they are offered here for the inspection of experienced players only, and not for the emulation of beginners. case viii. a of diamonds (turn-up), knave of hearts, queen of spades, queen, of hearts. d b ace, queen, of clubs, ace, king, of diamonds, king of hearts, ace, of spades. of spades. c queen, , of diamonds, ace, of hearts. score, game-all and four-all. _first trick._--b very properly orders up, and leads the ace of diamonds; c follows with the seven, d throws the ten of clubs, and a takes with left bower. _second trick._--a leads queen of spades, b covers with the ace, and c wins the trick with the eight of diamonds, d playing the nine of spades. _third trick._--c leads the eight of hearts, d plays king of hearts, a plays nine of hearts, and b throws ten of spades (not a sure winner) on his partner's trick. _fourth trick._--d leads ace of clubs, a ruffs with the nine of diamonds, b covers with the ten, and c wins the trick and scores a euchre with the queen of trumps. remarks.--c makes the coup by leading the eight instead of the ace of hearts. c recognized the fact, after the fall of the cards in the second round, that b must have had three trumps to order with, and they must have been the ace, king, ten; and after he had taken the second trick he must throw the lead into d's hand, thereby making his queen against the king, ten. case ix. a queen of clubs (turn-up), right and left bowers, queen, knave of diamonds. d b of clubs, ace, king of clubs, of diamonds, ace, king, of diamonds. king, of spades, of hearts. c score, a c one; b d three; and one game. a plays alone. _first trick._--b leads the ace of diamonds, d plays the ten, and a the knave. _second trick._--b leads the seven of diamonds, d trumps with the nine of clubs, and a plays the queen of diamonds. _third trick._--no matter what d leads, a is euchred. b here makes the coup by recognizing what a must have for a trump-hand, and leads his small and losing diamond, making it imperative for his partner to ruff, thereby putting the lead through a, and establishing the euchre. [transcriber's note: "turn-up" was misprinted "turn up" in case vi; this typo has been corrected for this electronic edition.] chess history and reminiscences by h. e. bird ====== to my highly esteemed chess opponent and patron of nearly years w. j. evelyn, esq., of wotton, surrey ====== contents preface peculiar and distinguishing characteristic of chess writers, lack of chess history retrospect, and habits, and idiosyncracies of chess players: temperament, attitude and deportment, style, stakes, losing, lookers-on, oddities, and patrons concerning the origin of chess: prevailing misconception its ever growing popularity theories as to its invention traditions the three indian traditions early and middle age conjectures progress of chess india china egypt the ancient greeks and romans scandinavia persia arabia, spain, france: chosroes, al walid, harun, princess irene, charlemagne, offa, alcuin, egbert, al mamun the roman edict of b.c.: supposed european first knowledge: scandinavia. italy. ireland. wales. opinions on chess and its origin: pope's lines the track of chess (unique specimen)--the indian king to sassa the king of hind to chosroes the early examples of praise and censure the remarkable advantages of the asiatic societies, and physicans recommendations. food for the mind as well as for the body middle ages and modern: chaucer to lydgate caxton, elizabeth's reign vida pratt saul and barbiere salvic carrera encyclopaedia an american view the indian philosopher sovereigns commemorated as chess players philidor's ascendency, popularity & patrons the nineteenth century: simpson's - -chess clubs chess masters of the day, magazine notions, the fortnightly review, and reply in an impartial article from h. e. bird national chess of , the belfast congress and newcastle support. specimens of play blindfold chess the game of chess, (summary or bird's eye view) dedicated to belfast and newcastle four styles of chess, "the lion," "the eagle," "the slow worm," and the locomotive a skit van der linde's conclusions chess losses supplemental and separate. review of steinitz, part , ( pages.) note. postponed. "times reminiscences" ( in number) "ruskin's letters" ( ), "bayley's article" and "fortnightly review" controversy, and "a few words with the german writer, and the works of and ." notes and references-beckett, luther, cranmer, wolsey, &c. preface this little work is but a condensation and essence of a much larger one, containing the result of what can be discovered concerning the origin and history of chess, combined with some of my own reminiscences of years past both of chess play and its exponents, dating back to the year , the th of simpson's, years after the death of a. mcdonnell, and after that of l. de la bourdonnais when chivalrous and first class chess had come into the highest estimation, and emulatory matches and tests of supremacy in chess skill were the order of the day. english chess was then in the ascendant, three years before howard staunton had vanquished st. amant of france, and was the recognized world's chess champion, while h. t. buckle the renowned author of the history of civilization was the foremost in skill among chess amateurs, mr. w. lewis and mr. george walker the well known and prolific writers on chess, were among the ten or twelve strongest players, but were seldom seen in the public circle, mr. slous and mr. perigal were other first rate amateurs of about equal strength. mr. daniels who attended simpson's had just departed. captain evans and captain kennedy were familiar figures, and most popular alike distinguished and esteemed for amiability and good nature, and were the best friends and encouragers of the younger aspirants. at this time simpson's was the principal public arena for first class chess practice and development: the st. george's chess club was domiciled in cavendish square at back of the polytechnic. the london chess club (the oldest) met at the george and vulture on cornhill, when morphy came in , and steinitz in , these time honoured clubs were located at king st., st. james, and at purssell's, cornhill respectively. other clubs for the practice and cultivation of the game were about thirteen in number, representing not five percent of those now existing; the oldest seem to have been manchester, edinburgh, and dublin, closely followed by bristol, liverpool, wakefield, leeds and newcastle. annual county meetings commenced with that held at leeds in . the earliest perfectly open tournaments were two on a small scale at simpson's in and , and the first world's international in the exhibition year , at the st. george's chess club, polytechnic building, cavendish square. in each of these tournaments the writer participated. three chess columns existed when i first visited simpson's in , viz., bells life managed by mr. george walker from to . the illustrated london news from th february to , in charge of howard staunton, and the pictorial times which lasted from february to june . the first column started had appeared in the lancet , but it continued not quite one year. the chess player's chronicle issued in (staunton), was then the only regular magazine devoted to chess, but a fly leaf had been published weekly about the year , in rather a curious form of which the following is found noted: about the year the garrick chess divan was opened by mr. huttman at no. little russell st., covent garden. one of the attractions of this little saloon was the publication every week of a leaf containing a good chess problem, below it all the gossip of the chess world in small type. the leaf was at first sold for sixpence, including two of the finest havannah cigars, or a fine havannah and a delicious cup of coffee, but was afterwards reduced to a penny without the cigars. the problem leaf succeeding well, a leaf containing games was next produced, and finally the two were merged in a publication of four pages entitled the palamede. the gentleman's magazine , , british miscellany , bath and cheltenham gazette , and saturday magazine , , had contained contributions in chess, but of regular columns there were only the three before mentioned, now there are about one hundred and fifty, mostly of larger dimensions. mr. george walker's games published in , gives no game of earlier date than , viz., one of philidor's of whose skill he gives specimens, and there are games by correspondence played between and . the list of chess works of consideration up to philidor's time, number about thirty, but there were several editions of jacobus de cessolus ( to ) including translations by j. ferron and jean de vigny, from which last named caxton's book of was derived. lucena, vicenz, damiano, and jacob mennell appeared before , ruy lopez in , polerio, gianuzio, greco, salvio, carrera, gustavus selenus and the translation of greco, followed in the interval from to . i. bertin and the six italian works of the last century, were the principal which followed with philidor's manifold editions, up to sarratt the earliest of the nineteenth century writers. dr. a. van der linde, berlin , pages, names in index, and diagrams includes notice of cotton's complete gamester , and seymour's complete gamester , with editions of hoyle's games from to , in fact about one-fourth of linde's book is devoted to the specification of books and magazines, mostly of the nineteenth century, even down to the a.b.c. of chess, by a lady. poems have been written on chess, of which the most esteemed have been aben ezra , (translated by dr. hyde) conrad von ammenhusen and lydgate's "love battle" in the fourteenth century vida, bishop of alba , sir william jones , and frithiofs saga by esaias tegner . of articles which have appeared during the last fifteen years, the retrospects of chess in the times particularly that of the th june , (the first on record) mark events of lasting interest in the practice of the game, which would well merit reproduction. professor ruskin's modest but instructive letters ( in number to ), also contain much of value concerning chess nomenclature, annotation, ethics and policy combined with some estimable advice and suggestions for promoting greater harmony in the chess world. the able article in bailey's , on chess competitions and the progress of the game, and that in the fortnightly review of december , entitled "the chess masters of the day," rank as the other most noteworthy productions of the last seven years' period in chess. i regret that it is not in my power to produce the more extended work, for to bring that now submitted within assigned compass and cost, i have had to omit much that would be needful to render such a work complete, and to give but a bird's eye view of chapters which would well merit undiminished space. thus the complete scores and analyses of the matches, tournaments and great personal tests of skill and statistics of the game would be acceptable to a few, whilst the full accounts of individual players such as philidor, staunton, anderssen, morphy, lowenthal, steinitz, zukertort, blackburne and perhaps even bird, (bailey's and ruskin's opinions) would be regarded and read with interest by many chess players. respecting the supposed first source of chess the traditional and conjectural theories which have grown up throughout so many ages, regarding the origin of chess, have not become abandoned even in our own days, and we generally hear of one or other of them at the conclusion of a great tournament. it has been no uncommon thing during the past few years to find xerxes, palamedes, and even moses and certain kings of babylon credited with the invention of chess. the conclusions arrived at by the most able and trustworthy authorities however, are, that chess originated in india, was utterly unknown to the greeks and romans, and was first introduced into europe from persia shortly after the sixth century of our era. in its earliest asiatic form styled the chaturanga, it was adapted for four persons, having four small armies of eight each. king, three pieces answering to our rook, bishop, and knight, elephant (chariot or ship,) and horse, with four pawns. the players decided what piece to move by the throw of an oblong die. about , years ago the game under the name chatrang, adapted for two persons with sixteen piece on each side, and the same square board of squares, became regularly practiced, but when the dice became dispensed with is quite unknown. it may not be possible to trace the game of chess with absolute certainty, back to its precise source amidst the dark periods of antiquity, but it is easy to shew that the claim of the hindus as the inventors, is supported by better evidence both inferential and positive than that of any other people, and unless we are to assume the sanskrit accounts of it to be unreliable or spurious, or the translations of dr. hyde, sir william jones and professor duncan forbes to be disingenuous and untrustworthy concoctions (as linde the german writer seems to insinuate) we are justified in dismissing from our minds all reasonable doubts as to the validity of the claims of the hindu chaturanga as the foundation of the persian, arabian, medieval and modern chess, which it so essentially resembled in its main principles, in fact the ancient hindu chaturanga is the oldest game not only of chess but of anything ever shown to be at all like it, and we have the frank admissions of the persians as well as the chinese that they both received the game from india. the saracens put the origin of chess at , says the "westminster papers," (although the indians claim we think with justice to have invented it about b.c. artaxerxes a persian king is said to have been the inventor of a game which the germans call bret-spiel and chess was invented as a rival game. the connecting links of chess evidence and confirmation when gathered together and placed in order form, combined so harmonious a chain, that the progress of chess from persia to arabia and into spain has been considered as quite satisfactorily proved and established by authorities deemed trustworthy, both native and foreign, and are quite consistent with a fair summary up of the more recent views expressed by the german writers themselves, and with the reasonable conclusions to be deduced even from the very voluminous but not always best selected evidence of van der linde. so much has a very lively interest in chess depended in modern times upon the enthusiasm of individuals, that the loss of a single prominent supporter or player, has always seemed to sensibly affect it. this was notably felt on the death of sir abram janssens and philidor towards the end of the last century, and of count bruhl, mr. g. atwood and general conway in this. during the last years the loss of staunton, buckle, cap. kennedy, barnes, cochrane and boden, and yet more recently of such friends of british chess as f. h. lewis, i. c. h. taylor and captain mackenzie left a void, which in the absence of any fresh like popular players and supporters, goes far to account for the depression and degeneracy of first class chess in england. though the game is advancing more in estimation than ever, and each succeeding year furnishes conclusive evidence of its increasing progress, in twenty years more under present auspices, a british chess master will be a thing of the past, and the sceptre of mcdonnell and of staunton will have crumpled into dust, at the very time when in the natural course of things according to present indications, the practice of the game shall have reached the highest point in its development. we miss our patrons and supporters of the past who were ever ready to encourage rising enterprize. none have arisen to supply their places. the distinguished and noble names we find in the programmes of our congresses and meetings, and in the british chess association are there as form only, and it seems surprising that so many well known and highly esteemed public men should allow their names to continue to be published year after year as patrons, presidents, or vice-presidents of concerns in which apparently they take not; or at least evince not, the slightest interest. of the score or so of english born chess masters on the british chess association lists of , but five remain, two alone of whom are now residing in this country. the british chess association of , which constituted itself the power to watch over the interests of national chess, has long since ceased to have any real or useful existence, and why the name is still kept up is not easy to be explained. it has practically lapsed since the year , when last any efforts were made to collect in annual or promised subscriptions, or to carry out its originally avowed objects, and the keeping up in print annually, of the names of the president and vice-president lord tennyson, prof. ruskin, lord randolph churchill, and sir robert peel seems highly objectionable. the exponents of chess for the th century certainly merit more notice than my space admits of. after philidor who died in , and his immediate successors verdoni and e. sarratt, w. lewis, g. walker, john cochrane, deschapelles and de la bourdonnais, have always been regarded as the most able and interesting, and consequently the most notable of those for the quarter of a century up to , and the above with the genial a. mcdonnell of belfast, who came to the front in , and excelled all his countrymen in great britain ever known before him, constitute the principal players who flourished up to , when the series of splendid contests between la bourdonnais and mcdonnell cast all other previous and contemporary play into the shade. the next period of seventeen years to , had produced harrwitz, horwitz and lowenthal from abroad, and buckle, cap. kennedy, bird and boden at home, whilst the great international chess tournament of that year witnessed the triumph of the great anderssen, and introduced us to szen and kiezeritzky, then followed a lull in first class chess amongst us from to , succeeded by a year of surpassing interest, for welcomed the invincible paul morphy of new orleans, considered by some superior even to la bourdonnais, staunton and anderssen the three greatest players who had preceded him. in the year england's second great gathering took place and anderssen was again victorious. in the four years after morphy's short but brilliant campaign, a wonderful array of distinguished players had come forward, comprising mackenzie, paulsen, steinitz, burn and blackburne, the rev. g. a. macdonnell, c. de vere, barnes, wormald, brien and campbell. in another ten years two more of the most illustrious chess players appeared in the persons of zukertort and gunsberg, and we read of matches between steinitz, zukertort and blackburne, for a modest ten pound note (see growth of stakes in chess). in at paris, at baden, at vienna, and again at paris, four more international chess tournaments of nearly equal interest to the and of london took place, and they were won respectively by kolisch, anderssen, (third time) steinitz and zukertort, berlin , a very fine victory for blackburne, vienna, honours divided by steinitz and winawer, and the criterion, london, a second remarkable victory for zukertort represent the other most noteworthy tournaments. of all sorts international and national, there have been meetings with county local gatherings, as well as of the university matches between oxford and cambridge, of which the two first and greatest were held at perrott's, milk st., in and . continuing with the chess giants of more modern date, mason's great powers became developed in , and tchigorin of st. petersburg, a splendid player came to the front in . equal to him in force, perhaps, if not in style, and yet more remarkable in their records of success are the present champions dr. tarrasch of nuremberg and e. lasker of berlin. the havanna people, who, for five or six years past have spent more money on great personal chess encounters than all the rest of the world combined, have put forth walbrodt of leipzig. in the above mentioned four players, chess interest for a time will mostly centre, with steinitz, yet unvanquished, and, as many consider, able to beat them all, the future must be of unique interest, and the year may decide which of five favourite foreign players will be entitled to rank as the world's champion of chess, so far as can be decided by matches played on existing conditions. chess with clocks and the tedious slow time limit of fifteen moves an hour (say a working day for a single game) must not be confounded with genuine, useful and enjoyable chess without distracting time encumbrances as formerly played. played at the pace and on the conditions which the exigencies of daily, yea hourly, life and labour admit of experience shews that there are yet english exponents that can render a good account of any of the foreign players. first class chess enthusiasm and support for the past year has been limited to newcastle-on-tyne and belfast. the unbounded and impartial liberality of these very important cities has met with gratifying reward in the increased appreciation of their efforts and the enhanced number of club members and interest in the general circle. these highly successful meetings, however, have caused no impetus in metropolitan management, and has seemed to divert the attention of chess editors and the responsible powers entirely from the fact that the london first class international chess tournament promised has been altogether neglected, if not forgotten. we are thus in grave default with the german and dutch chess associations, who have so faithfully and punctually fulfilled every engagement. the forthcoming monster chess competition at birmingham, from which first class players are excluded can scarcely be deemed a fitting substitute for our owing international engagement with any true lover of chess and its friendly reciprocity, and least of all in the eyes of our foreign chess brethren and entertainers. note. this monster chess contest between the north and the south of england, represented by competitors on each side, which terminated in a victory for the south by / to / , took place at birmingham on saturday, the th january last, and has occasioned considerable interest among the votaries of the game and reports pronounce it a great success. as affording indications of general chess progress, since the game became a recognized item of public recreationary intelligence, and the time of the pioneer international chess tournament of all nations, london , the event may be deemed of some import and significance, as evidence of the vastly increased popularity of the game, but the play seems not to have been productive of many very high specimens of the art of chess, and has not been conspicuous for enterprise or originality, and if these exhibitions are to take the place of the kind of international tournaments hitherto held, much improvement must be manifested, before they can be deemed worthy substitutes, even from a national point of view only. books on the openings in chess have continued fairly popular, but it is singular how very little novelty or originality has been imparted into them. since staunton and wormald's works, and the german hand-books, the modern chess instructor of mr. steinitz, , was looked forward to with the greatest interest, and the second of the several volumes of which it was to consist, promised for september, , is still awaited with anxious expectation. in regard to the practice of the game, the lack of national chess spirit, or organization, and the extraordinary denominating influence of the foreign element, is the remarkable and conspicuous characteristic, and the modest seat assigned to british masters in the retrospects of and (times), will it is feared have to be placed yet further back. the chess openings: considered critically and practically by h. e. bird. "this is the work of one of the most distinguished of english players. since the death of mr. staunton nobody can more fairly claim to represent the national school of players than mr. h. e. bird, who took part in the first international tournament of , and also played at vienna in , at philadelphia, and recently at paris. perhaps his most brilliant performances have been in single matches, in two of which he made an equal score with falkbeer, while, in , when contending against steinitz (fresh from his victory over anderssen), he won six games against his opponent's seven, while seven others were drawn. six years later mr. bird once more proved his right to be considered second to none among english players, by defeating mr. wisker, the holder of the british association challenge cup, after a protracted struggle. so far, therefore, as practical proficiency constitutes a claim to respect as a teacher of chess-theory, the author of `the chess openings' is in no need of an excuse for coming forward as an instructor. mr. bird by no means confines himself to mere reproduction. he has the merit of having identified his name with several original variations, and of having revived several older defences, such as the cunningham gambit, with no small degree of success. the book has been evidently the result of painstaking and accurate analysis, and it may be confidently recommended to the more advanced players who have graduated in the beaten tracks of the 'handbuch,' and are willing to follow in the steps of an able and original guide. in addition to the usual appendix of problems, mr. bird supplies a very useful and attractive feature in a series of end game positions from the most celebrated modern match-games. owing to clear type and large diagrams, the volume will prove an agreeable companion when a board is out of reach."--athenaeum, september th, . ------ chess masterpieces: comprising--a collection of choice games of the past quarter of a century, with notes, including the finest games in the exhibition of , and in the vienna tournament of , with excellent specimens of the styles of anderssen, blackburne, der laza, hanstein, kolisch, lowenthal, morphy, staunton, steinitz, and the principal english players. supplemented by games of la bourdonnais, mcdonnell and cochrane, contested prior to , compiled by h. e. bird. cloth, black lettered, / ; or, handsomely bound, gilt and gilt edges /-. the entire series will be found full of interest and points of excellence, and can scarcely fail to afford amusement and pleasure, as well as to impart instruction, to all who may avail themselves of the opportunity of examining them, they will be of especial service to amateurs who aspire to preeminence in chess. ------ times, biographical notices, illustrated sporting and dramatic, pictorial world, american and continental, newcastle chronicle, and hereford times. professor ruskin (from letters in all, since ). "your games always delight me, as they seem in my humble judgment specimens of chess skill remarkable for originality and vivacity."-- th june, . "indeed i feel that you have done more for chess at home and abroad than any other living player."-- th april, . "your catalogue is quite admirably drawn up, and if ever i can recover some peace of life and mind i hope to be of some use in furthering the sale of the book and recommending its views."-- th june, . h.r.h. prince leopold, earl dartrey, sir c. russell, lord randolph churchill, etc., etc., (also great musicians, amateur chess players, letters and support.) ------ steinitz as a player, analyst, critic and author. considerations of his book on the openings. notes on his general play, and conduct of the game, &c., are dealt with in review of modern chess instructor. steinitz claims with justice to be very conscientious in the performance of his work at all times, and he had no need to excuse himself for the following criticism, which occupied him (he told me) months in its preparation. it seems to me that an author has reason to be obliged to any who may point out his real errors and shortcomings. steinitz, however, was betrayed into a degree of unfairness and prejudice in dealing with staunton and wormald's books, and morphy's play, bordering almost on imbecility. that the great artist himself is not infallible appears from my review of his modern chess instructor. steinitz's review the field, december, . chess openings, . the chess opening, considered critically and practically. by h. e. bird. london: dean & son, , fleet street. the public record of chess matches and great tournaments places the name of the author of this work above that of any living english competitor for chess honours, excepting mr. blackburne. it is therefore all the more disappointing to find that mr. bird's book has not done justice to his great reputation as a player. the author's chief defect as an analyst arises probably from one of his distinguishing qualities as a practitioner over the board. few chess masters could excel mr. bird in rapid survey of position and in the formation and execution of surprising maneuvers, which, though not always sound--and sometimes, as he admits, even eccentric--tend to raise confusing complications, difficult for the adversary to disentangle at a quick rate. these qualities make mr. bird one of the most dangerous opponents in "skittle play," or in matches regulated by a fast time limit; but they prove almost antagonistic to the acquirement of excellency as an author on the game. for the first-class analyst is not merely expected to record results, but to judge the causes of success or failure from the strictly scientific point of view, and he has often to supplement with patient research the shortcomings of great masters in actual play. in such cases every move of a main variation becomes a problem which has to be studied for a great length of time; and the best authors have watched the progress of different openings in matches and tournaments for years, and pronounced their judgment only after the most careful comparisons, mr. bird is, however, too much of an advocate to be a good judge, and he evinces great partiality for ingenious traps and seductive combinations, which form an attractive feature of his own style in actual play, but which mostly occur only in light skirmishes. moreover he often treats his duties as an analyst in a cavalier fashion. in his quotations from other authors he embodies variations which stand already severely condemned by first-class chess critics in various chess periodicals; and his original researches contain a considerable portion of "skittle" analysis, which does not bear cursory examination. we have no room for lengthened demonstrations, and must confine ourselves to a few instances of the latter description, all occurring in the compiler's new additions. on page , he overlooks the winning of a clear piece which white can effect by q to r , followed by p to qr if the b be defended. on page black can win a piece on the th move by p to kb , followed by p to kkt , and there is no chance of any counter-attack by p to kkt , for black may afterwards interpose the b at k , and get the k into the corner. on page a piece can be won by black on the l th move by b to q , for the kt has no retreat, a mate being threatened at kb . the ending of a game between messrs. bird and macdonnell affords a still more remarkable illustration. there is abundant proof that the author must have examined the position at least more than once, for, by a singular error, the identical ending appears twice in the book--on pages and ,--each time with a large diagram. on each occasion a win is demonstrated for white in nine moves, while at least a piece can be gained at once by q to k , followed accordingly by p to q dis. ch., or b to kkt . mr. bird would be annoyed to make such oversights over the board; and there is no excuse for such shallow examples being recommended to the student without the least comment on their weak points. as regards the general arrangement, we have to remark that the variations sometimes seem to have been examined loosely and separately, irrespective of their relation to each other, or to the main propositions of the author in reference to the form of opening he deals with; and the brevity or length of space assigned to different forms of play have apparently been decided in a whimsical and arbitrary manner. for instance, on page , in the philidor's defence, . kt to kb , is described to afford the most satisfactory and secure opening for black. on the next page the move is repeated under the separate heading, example ii, and it looks odd enough that one single move should have received such prominence, the only addition being, "won by harrwitz in moves," as if it were to be forced by black in that number, while at the time the positions show little difference. but, stranger still, four pages later on (page ) the identical variation reappears, taken from the same game between morphy and harrwitz (though this is not stated), with three more moves on each side added to it, but this time the remark is made, that "white has a good position." to take another example. on page there is a repetition of moves on each side, merely for the purpose of indicating a different th move for white. it is scarcely necessary to point out that in each case the stronger move should have been inserted in the main variation, while the weaker one could have been disposed of in a foot-note of one line. while on this subject we cannot refrain from mentioning the frequent references to "chess masterpieces," a work previously published by the author, which contained a collection of fine games partly reproduced from howard taylor's "chess brilliants," and other publications, with additions mostly from mr. bird's own practice. we must confess that some of the so-called variations extracted from the "masterpieces," appear to be nothing more than advertisements. notably, on page , four "examples" are given, which do not go beyond the th move, and leave no mark on the positions, and then we are gravely informed, in a manner already described, that white or black won in so-and-so many moves. we notice with great pleasure the handsome and courteous manner in which almost all the prominent chess masters of the day are mentioned in the book, and the sense of fairness evinced by mr. bird in the selection of variations and examples from his own practice, irrespective of his victory or defeat. but his chess historical references are unreliable, and he often wrongly ascribes the adoption of certain variations to different players in a manner which could have been easily rectified by taking a little more trouble. this is not unimportant, for the reputed strength of a player is evidence of the strength of an opening he favours in matches and tournaments. we can only adduce a few instances which are more within the writer's personal knowledge. the statement about . q to k , in the buy lopez, on page , is much confused. the move was adopted by mr. blackburne in the final tie match of the vienna tournament, but it never occurred in the first game of the steinitz-blackburne match, as mr. bird can convince himself from his own book, where the latter game is published in full on page . steinitz is also erroneously credited with strongly favouring the attack in the scotch gambit, for we do not remember a single game on record in which he ever adopted that form of opening as first player. on the other hand, a variation in the evans gambit is ascribed to zukertort, which actually occurred first in a game between steinitz and blackburne, played in the london grand tournament of . this error seems to have been quoted from staunton and wormald's "chess theory and practice." a few more words about the problems at the end of the book and we have done with the details. there are about a dozen compositions mostly by high-class american authors, and some of them of very good quality; but, unfortunately, mr. bird has omitted to indicate their solutions. we must suppose this to be due to an oversight, as he gives the key moves of the four problems by english composers. the omission is deplorable, for many students would wish to appreciate the author's idea, and the merits of the construction, if they fail to solve the problem. to quote an instance from our own experience; we could not find any solution to the problem on page , which composition, we conclude, is either of the highest order or suffers from the gravest of all faults, that of being impossible. in either case we should have liked to examine the solution. our judgment of the book, on the whole, is that it cannot be ranked in the first class with the works of heydebrand, zukertort, staunton, lowenthal, neuman and suhle, lange, &c.; but it will satisfy the demands of the great number of lovers of the game who do not aspire above the second rank. mr. bird's ability and ingenuity is beyond doubt, and there is ample evidence of his qualifications in the book before us, but he has not yet acquired that element of genius which has been defined as the capacity for taking pains. mr. bird could produce a much better book than this, and we hope he will. variously estimated from , to , b.c. chaturanga. the primeval hindu chess. bp--krnb np--pppp rp------ kp------ ------pk ------pr pppp--pn bnrk--pb [diagram of a chaturanga board with armies. yellow is in upper left. black is in upper right. green is in lower left. red is in lower right.] ------ the medieval and modern chess. white rnbkqbnr pppppppp -------- -------- -------- -------- pppppppp rnbkqbnr black [diagram of a standard chessboard, white pieces at the top, black pieces at the bottom.] derived from the persian chatrang, - a.d. ------ - . problem i. by the caliph mu'tasim billah. black -k------ rnr----- bn-p--r- p-nqpb-- p--n-b-r -------- -p--p--- -qbk---- white white to move, and give checkmate at the ninth move. ------ about . problem ii. by 'ali shatranj. black ---r---r ppq---r- b--bkp-p -------- --pp---- pp-b-q-- --k---pp --b----- white white to play and mate in eight moves. chess history and reminiscences concerning the origin of chess a not unfair criterion is afforded of the long prevailing and continued misconception as to the origin of chess, by the lack of knowledge regarding early records as to its history exhibited in the literature of last century, and the press and magazine articles of this even to the present year. we refer not to lines of poets such as pope, dryden and others, with whom the ancient order of fiction is permissible, or to writers of previous periods, from aben ezra to ruy lopez, chaucer and lydgate, or caxton and barbiere, but to presumably studied and special articles, such as those given in dictionaries of arts and sciences and in encyclopaedias. the great work of dedicated to the king-- which claimed to embody a reasonable and fair account--and even the best knowledge on all subjects referred to in it; contains an article on chess of some dimensions, which may well be taken as an example of the average ignorance of the knowledge of information existing at the time. the chinese, it says, claim to date back their acquaintance with chess to a very remote period; so with the best testimonies of that country, which acknowledge its receipt from india in the sixth century the writer seems to have been quite unacquainted. nothing occurs in the article as to the transit of chess from india into persia, next to arabia and greece, and by the saracens into spain; neither does a line appear as to egyptian probabilities, or the nature of the game inscribed on edifices in that country. though abounding in traditional names of trojan heroes, and others equally mythical as regards chess, the more genuine ones of chosroes of persia, harun, mamun and mutasem of bagdad, walid of cordova, the carlovingian charlemagne of france, canute the dane, william of normandy the english kings are entirely absent, nor is there a word concerning roman games or the edict which refers to them in which chess and draughts (both mentioned) were specially protected and exempted from the interdiction against other games; which has escaped all writers, and would certainly, if known about, have been deemed of some significance. the persian and arabian periods from the time of chosroes, to harun, covers the golden age of arabian literature, which is more prolific in chess incident than any other; yet even this and firdausi's celebrated persian shahnama, and anna comnena's historical work escapes notice. we may perhaps, not implicitly trust or credit, all we read of in some of the eastern manuscripts biographical sketches; but there is much of reasonable narrative we need not discredit nor reject. we may feel disposed to accept, with some reservation, the account of the , male and , female slaves, and , horses of al mutasem, (the eighth of abbasside). the prodigious bridal expenditure, comprising gifts of estates, houses, jewels, horses, described in the history of al mamun (the seventh of abbasside, and the most glorious of his race), may seem fabulous to us; the extraordinary memories of certain scholars narrated in biographies, who could recite thousands of verses and whole books by heart may appear worthy of confirmation; the composition of two thousand manuscripts by one writer, and the possession of forty thousand volumes by another, may somewhat tax our credulity. we may feel a little surprised to hear that chosroes' chess men were worth an amount equivalent to one million of our money in the present day; we may doubt, or disagree with the opinions attributed to hippocrates, or to galen; that cures were effected, or even assisted of such complaints as diarrhea and erysipelas by the means of chess; or, that, as the persian suggests it has been found a remedy of beneficial in many ailments from the heart ache to the tooth ache. we may doubt whether the two lydian brothers, lydo and tyrrhene, in the story of herodotus really diminished the pangs of hunger much by it; but, amidst all our incredulity, we can believe, and do believe, that chosroes and chess, harun and chess, charlemagne and chess, al mamun and chess, canute and chess, are as well authenticated and worthy of credit, as other more important incidents found in history, notwithstanding that encyclopaediasts and writers down from the days of the eastern manuscripts, the persian shahnama and anna comnenas history to the days of pope and philidor, and of the initiation of sanskrit knowledge among the learned, never mention their names in connection with chess as exponents of which the ravan, king of lanka of the hindoo law books, the famous prince yudhisthira and the sage vyasa of the sanskrit, and nala of the poems, and in more modern accounts, indian king porus, alexander the great and aristotle, are far more reasonable names inferentially, if not sufficiently attested, than those cherished by traditionists such as palamedes, xerxes, moses, hermes, or any of the kings of babylon or their philosophers. note. the ever growing popularity of chess is forcibly and abundantly proved in a variety of ways. one conclusive proof of it is afforded by the enormous and ever increasing sale of chess equipages, boards, men and figures, diagrams, scoring books, sheets, &c., a somewhat matter of fact, it is true, but at the same time practical, reliable, and satisfactory species of evidence. its progress is further attested by the extreme favour in which chess tournaments both international and national, are held, at home and abroad, which attract a degree of attention and awaken an interest little dreamt of during any past period of the history of the game; and it is further illustrated by the continued formation of chess clubs in every sphere, the ever widening interest in the home circle, and by many other facts which indicate with absolute certainty its highly enhanced appreciation among the thoughtful and intelligent of all classes of the community. the humble and working classes have, in recent years, began to avail themselves very considerably of the enjoyment of the game, and this is a powerful and laudable ground for gratification, because chess, besides being innocent, intellectual and mentally highly invigorating, though soothing also, is essentially inexpensive and does not tend to the sort of excitement too often occasioned by some other games where the temptation, too often indulged, of spending money principally when losing, in hopes of obtaining supposed stimulating consolation and nerve, is so frequently manifested, that it appears at times to be so irresistible an accompaniment of the game as to become almost a condition and part of the play. chess in fact, affords the greatest maximum of enjoyment, with the smallest minimum of expense; it is at the same time the most pleasingly absorbing, yet the most scientific of games; it is also looked upon as the most ancient, and with, perhaps, the exception of draughts probably is. the reason why it has been for so many ages, and still is called the "royal game" is, because it came to europe from persia, and took its name from schach or shah, which, in that language signifies king, and matt dead from the arabic language making combined "schach matt" the king is dead, which is the derivation of our "checkmate." the degree of intellectual skill which chess admits of, has been considered and pronounced so high, that leibnitz declared it to be far less a game than a science. euler, franklin, buckle and others have expressed similar views; and the egyptians, the persians, and the arabians according to many writers, including mr. warton and the rev. mr. lambe, have also so regarded it. chess is so ancient that, by that distinction alone, it seems taken beyond the category of games altogether; and it has been said that it probably would have perished long ago, if it had not been destined to live for ever. it affords so much genuine intrinsic interest that it can be played without pecuniary stake; and has been so played more than all other games put together, and continues to be so during the present time on occasions, by the very finest players. it exists, flourishes, and gains ground continually and prodigiously, although the average annual support in amount for first class chivalrous chess competitions, tournaments and matches in all great britain does not equal that put on in former years as the stake of a good prize fight; whilst the receipts of a great football match at bradford and other important cities, which can be named, exceeds the combined incomes of all the few remaining british chess masters derived from chess instruction and skill in play. chess is, moreover, surrounded by a host of associations, and is suggestive of a pleasant mass of memories, anecdotes, manners, and incidents, such as no other game, and hardly any science may presume to boast; and though never yet honoured throughout its long life by any continuous history, or consecutive and connected record, its traditions from time immemorial have been of the most illustrious, royal, and noble character. more apt at figures, than at diction, i have no claim to powers of writing or learning, which can afford me any hopes of doing full justice to so important a task as a worthy work on the history of chess would be; my labours and experience, however, may have enabled me to gather together materials for a more solid and substantial chess structure, than at present exists and i am not without confidence that competent and skilful workers will be found to construct an edifice more worthy of our day, which present, and pending, grand developments will still further consolidate in interest and glory; a building in fact cemented by the noblest and most worthy, praiseworthy, and commendable associations with which the aspiring and deserving artisan and mechanic of the present and future, may be as closely identified as the greatest rulers, deepest thinkers, and most accomplished and profound scholars, and distinguished men of science of the past; affording also a substantial boon, which may be conferred by philanthropists on their less fortunate brethren in society, as it is calculated to induce temperate as well as peaceful and thoughtful habits. a bond of social union also to all who appreciate and care to avail themselves of the relief and advantages which chess is so well known to afford, over other less innocent, less intellectual and more expensive and objectionable movements. ------ the following notice of chess shortly after the death of dr. zukertort, add materially to an increasing appreciation of chess among the working classes, and help the good work on. "the weekly dispatch," june th, . by the sudden death of dr. zukertort, last wednesday morning, the royal game of chess loses one of its most interesting and brilliant exponents. this distinguished master was only forty-six, and he has been cut off right in the middle of an interesting tournament at the british chess club, in which he stood the best chance of winning the first prize. amongst his last conversations was his arranging to play blackburne on saturday, the rd, and bird on monday, the th. the extreme painfulness of zukertort's death to his friends cannot be estimated by the general public. famous cricketers and famous actors are applauded by those they entertain or amuse. the chess master receives no applause; over the board, however, he enters into conversation with amateurs, and is rewarded by friendships that far outweigh the wildest ephemeral outbursts of approval. the friendships so formed by zukertort have now been snapped, and his removal has caused, in the words of the old player bird, "a severe blank." bird himself is an interesting character. he is by far the oldest chess master, does the chess correspondence for the times, and is as well known by his chess books as by his play. the game between him and zukertort in the tournament now in progress was looked forward to with intense interest, for he and zukertort were the leading scorers, and the fight for the first prize would have centred in this contest. a good feature in bird's character is his disposition to make acquaintances with working men. he has taught many of them his "charming game," and has frequently been told afterwards that it has been the means of saving them a few shillings every week. this is easily understood, for a man that plays chess is not likely to play "penny nap" nor to drink much four-ale. such at any rate, is mr. bird's theory; and he is just now endeavouring to promote a scheme for the popularising of chess amongst the industrial classes. chess notes and references theories as to the invention of chess the honour of the invention of chess has been claimed, we are told, by seven countries, china, india, egypt, greece, assyria, persia and arabia. capt. kennedy, in one of his chess sketches observes, and mr. staunton, in his chess player's chronicle repeats the statement, thus: "that this is as many countries as aforetime there were cities in greece, each of which, it is said, having peacefully allowed homer to starve during his life-time, started up after he died in a fierce contention for the glory of having given him birth. my old friends, capt. kennedy and mr. staunton, no doubt, used the words "starved" figuratively, for neglected by his country, for myself, i really do not know whether homer really was neglected by his country or not. ------ traditions as to the origin the traditions of chess are numerous and conflicting, zakaria yahya a writer of the tenth century in "the delight of the intelligent in description of chess" referring to stories extant and fables respecting its invention to that time remarks, "it is said to have been played by aristotle, by yafet ibn nuh (japhet son of noah) by sam ben nuh (shem) by solomon for the loss of his son, and even by adam when he grieved for abel. aben ezra, the famous rabbi, interpreter, and expounder of scripture, and who is said to have excelled in every branch of knowledge, attributed the invention of chess to moses. his celebrated poem on chess, written about a.d., has been translated into nearly all languages of the civilized globe, into english by dr. thomas hyde, oxford, . the unknown persian, author of the imperfect m.s. presented by major price the eminent orientalist, to the asiatic society, and upon which n. bland, esq., mainly bases his admirable treatise on persian chess, , says--"hermes, a grecian sage, invented chess, and that it was abridged and sent to persia in the sixth century of our era." the famous shahnama, by firdausi, called the homer of persia, and other eastern manuscripts as well as the m.s. of the asiatic society, give less ancient traditions of the adaption of chess relating to the time of alexander the great and indian kings, fur, poris, and kaid; in one of these the reward of a grain of corn doubled sixty-four times was stipulated for by the philosopher, and the seeming insignificance of the demand astonished and displeased the king, who wished to make a substantial recognition worthy of his own greatness and power, and it occasioned sneers and ridicule on the part of the king's treasurer and accountant at sassa's supposed lack of wisdom and judgment. however, astonishment and chagrin succeeded before they were half way through their computation, for when the total was arrived at, it was found to exceed all the wealth of the world, and the king knew not which to admire most, the ingenuity of the game itself, or that of the minister's demand. the earliest european work on chess is supposed to be that of jacobus de cessolus, a monk of picardy, which appeared (it is said) in (scheilt swischen - linde - ). his favourite names are evil merodach, king of babylon and a philosopher named xerxes, massman, , gives ammelin, amilin, amilon and selenus, ibl, xerxes whose greek name was philometer to whom b.c. has been assigned. palamedes and diomedes of trojan celebrity, the lydians of herodotus, the thoth of plato, the hermes of the asiatic society's philosopher; in fact nearly every one of the gods who has in turn served as the great mythological divinity has been credited with the discovery of chess. note. there are few parts of learning so involved in obscurity, as the history of pagan idolatry. it may, perhaps, be some satisfaction to us to think that the ancients themselves knew even less of the matter than we do; but if so, it furnishes a strong argument for the necessity of being very cautious in drawing our conclusions. we believe it may safely be said, that there is not one among all the fabled deities of antiquity, whom (if the writers of antiquity may be trusted) it is not possible to identify with every other--saturn, jupiter, mercury, pan, hercules, priapus, bacchus, bel, moloch, chemosh, taut, thoth, osiris, buddha, vishnou, siva, all and each of these may be shown to be one and the same person. and whether we suppose this person to have been the sun, or to have been adam, or seth, or enoch, or noah, or shem, or ham, or japhet, the conclusion will be still the same, each of them, it may be shewn was worshipped as the sun, and all of them, wherever their worship was established, were severally considered as the great mythological divinity. so far, it would not appear that there is any room for much difference of opinion, at least, not if ancient authorities may be depended on. ------ dr. salvic states on the strength of one of his authorities, and alexandre apparently quite seriously has repeated the statement that the text in samuel of abner and joab's twelve chosen champions "let the young men now arise and play before us" may be applicable to chess, but the context of the chapter is opposed to any such conclusion. all the foregoing fabulous accounts may be at least declared "not proven" if not utterly unworthy even of the verdict pronounced in those two words. there are three more modern traditions or accounts, the first of which is referred to alexander the great's time to b.c., and the two others to about the time of chosroes-- years later. forbes devotes thirteen pages to them and they are given with less detail by the rev. r. lambe in and n. bland in . ------ the three indian traditions in this, the first indian tradition referred to the time of alexander the great, it is related in the shahnama that a very powerful king of india named kaid, satiated with war, and having no enemies without, or rebellious subjects within his kingdom, thus addressed his minister sassa. "day and night my mind is harassed with the thoughts of war and strife; when in the hours of the night sleep overpowers me, i dream of nothing but battlefields and conquests, and in the morning, when i awake, i still think over my imaginary combats and victories. now you are well aware that i have no longer one single enemy or rebel in my whole dominions with whom to contend. it is utterly repugnant to justice and common sense, to go to war without any cause. if i were to do so god would be displeased with me, and a severe retribution for my evil deeds would soon overtake me, even in this world, for is it not said that a kingdom governed by falsehood and oppression is void of stability, and it will soon pass away. tell me, then, o sassa, for great is thy wisdom, what am i to do in order to regain my peace of mind, and obtain relief from my present state of weariness and disgust?" sassa hereupon bethought himself of a rare game, the invention of an ancient grecian sage, by name hermes, which had recently been introduced into india by alexander and his soldiers, who used to play it at times of leisure. sassa procured and modified the game and board from pieces and squares to pieces and squares, and explained it to the king, who practised it with both satisfaction and delight, sassa's stipulation of a reward of a grain of corn doubled again and again times, which was at first deemed ridiculous, was found to amount to , , , , , , rating the barley corn at two shillings the bushel, the value required from the indian king by the philosopher was , , , , pounds and s an unexpected and amazing sum. the second version is of another highly ambitious and successful king of hind, name fur, who died and left a young son, inexperienced in war and in danger of losing his possessions. the wise men consulted together, and sassa, the son of dahir, brought the chess board and men to the prince, saying, "here you have an exact image of war, which is conducted on principles similar to those which regulate this wonderful game. the same caution in attack and coolness in defence which you have to exercise here, you will have to put in practice in the battlefield. the prince with eagerness availed himself of sassa's instructions until he made himself fully acquainted with the principles of the game. he then assembled his army and went forth in full confidence to encounter his enemies, whom he defeated at all points. he then returned home in triumph, and ever after he cherished his love for the game of chess to a knowledge of which he considered himself indebted for the preservation of his honour, his kingdom and his life." the third account relates--"after belugi, reigned giumhur who had this royal seat in the city of sandali, in the province of cachemir. when he died, his brother, called may, was chosen king, who had two sons, ghav and talachand. upon the death of may, their mother paritchera, that is, endued with angelic beauty, reigned. these two young princes being grown to maturity, desire to know from their mother who of them was to be her successor. the mother concealing her mind, gave them both hopes separately. in the meantime, the brothers quarrel, and raise armies, and the mother endeavored to reconcile them by her good advice, but in vain, for soon after they broke out into open war. after various battles, it fell out that talachand was slain. upon this, the mother goes to her surviving son, and complains to him of these things. "then the wise men of the kingdom set about to compose the game shatranji, representing the battle of ghav and talachand. "the sorrowful mother contemplates this game, and by daily playing it, brings into her mind the battle and death of her son talachand. she could not forbear to torment herself with the remembrance of his death, and every day for a long time, to give herself up to the meditation thereof."--shahnama. ------ >from the early ages of the christian era back to the times of homer, herodotus, sophocles, plato, and aristotle, traditions, concerning the origin of this wonderful game have come down to us of a very various and conflicting character; the arabian and persian historians from the commentators on the koran interdict against lots and images to the days of the persian shahnama of firdausi and the asiatic society's famous manuscript, have spoken of the origin and history of chess, aben ezra, the famous rabbi, contemporary of maimonides, jacobus de cessolus the monk of picardy, ruy lopez the spanish priest, damiano the portuguese apothecary, gustavus selenus (the duke of luneburg), dr. salvic, carrera, and the writers of the italian school, have all contributed to the remarkably delusive and often mythical theories propounded in regard to it. in our own country we have them from chaucer, lydgate, caxton, barbiere and the encyclopaediasts, and pope writing just before knowledge of the sanskrit became imparted among the learned, and ere the classical sir william jones had began to enlighten us, thought probably he had set the matter at rest by declaring that the invention of chess, (which we had and could enjoy without caring to know from whence it came) and which was an imperishable monument of the wisdom of its unknown founder, involved a problem which never would be solved. ------ progress of chess it has been a subject of regret with writers that complete games of chess cannot be found for the earlier ages, and it has been suggested that a few well annotated games of the great eastern players of one thousand years ago, and of the rival champions of spain, italy and sicily in the sixteenth century would be of more interest than all the problems and positions handed down to us in existence and, it certainly would be pleasing and instructive to be able to compare the styles ali suli, adali, lajlaj, abbas and razi, the great players of the golden age of arabian literature, and that of ali shatranji of timur's court and ruy lopez, leonardo and paolo boi with those of philidor and the leaders of the nineteenth century. the first half of the nineteenth century witnessed the commencement of press notice, and the growth of a literature for chess, and was distinguished by the number of works devoted to the play of the game, not half a score of books could be traced in england before philidor's, besides which caxton, , dedicated to the duke of clarence, rowbotham, , to the earl of leicester, and saul and barbiere, and , to lucy, countess of bedford, which constitute the most noted works recorded, conveyed but little knowledge concerning the game, and were scarcely more than translations of foreign works from that of jacobus de cesso us, , and others, and were rather moralities and philosophical treatises than works of practical utility from a scientific point of view. during the second half, the advance in the appreciation and practice of chess has been yet more astonishing as compared with the single club in st. james' street, and the meeting place for chess players in st. martin's lane, which existed in philidor's time, and the thirty clubs or so which had arisen by , we have now at least five hundred, and as against the earliest chess columns in the lancet, bell's life, and the illustrated london news, we can specify near one hundred. it is among the middle and humbler classes that the spread of a taste for chess has been most apparent, with the fashionable or higher classes, so far as any manifestation of public interest or support is to be taken as a criterion, its appreciation has died out, and for twenty noble names among its patrons in philidor's time, we cannot reckon one in ours. another singular feature is the grave diminution in the recognized number of able exponents, commonly called masters, which in the british list are reduced to less than a third of the well-known names of . the support of chess, trifling as it is, comes from about a score of her majesty's subjects, and the total in a year does not now equal a sum very usual in a glove fight, or a championship billiard match, and the sums provided in a generation by our present machinery would not equal the value of one al mamun's musk balls or the rewards to ruy lopez for a single match. the time allowed for consideration of the moves in chess, and the management of the clocks used to regulate such is a most important element in estimating the relative strength of chess players. so important, in fact, that pure chess, and chess with clocks is found by experience to be a very different thing with certain players. bird finds the clocks more trouble than the chess, and as everybody knows is heavily handicapped by them, hence his force and success in ordinary play is far greater than in tournaments. take the time limit alone for two players of equal reputation, who may not be disturbed or distracted by the clocks, a difference in the time limit of ten or even five moves an hour would in some cases turn the scale between them. passing over the faster bird; and other english players who prefer the slower rate take a very notable example, steinitz and zukertort. after the criterion great tournament of opinions differed much as to which of these was the stronger player, but after the match at moves an hour, in the united states, won by steinitz with a score of to , the palm has been generally awarded to steinitz, and without any qualification whatever the term of champion of the chess world has been universally accorded to him and still continues to be so, notwithstanding the superior claims of dr. tarrasch based upon victory in three successive international chess tournaments, breslan , manchester , and dresden in , in the two first named not losing a single game, and in the last, one only, feats never accomplished by steinitz. zukertort was undoubtedly a far more ready, and we have long thought a finer player than steinitz, but skill was so nicely balanced between them that a very slight variation or acceleration in rate would have been in zukertort's favour. at moves an hour or at any faster rate it would have been odds on zukertort, at moves an hour or less it would have been safer to back steinitz. staunton, kolisch, and paulsen seem to have been the slowest of the players, moves an hour would suit them better than , a or hour game with them was not uncommon. bird is the fastest, and his best games have averaged moves an hour or two or three hours for a game, a reasonable rate for recreationary chess. in the last century one-and-a-half or two hours was considered a fair duration for a good game, moves an hour would give three hours for a game of moves or four for a game of moves, and such could be finished at the usual sitting without adjournment. the period dating from the france and england championship match between st. amant and staunton in , to the vienna tournament of , was singularly prolific in very great chess players. in addition to anderssen , and morphy , there appeared in the metropolis in louis paulsen, william steinitz, and j. h. blackburne, three players who, as well as captain mackenzie competed in the british chess association's tournaments of that year, and were destined with zukertort and gunsberg of ten years later growth, to rank as conspicuously successful among even the score or so of the pre-eminently distinguished players of the highest class the world has ever produced, the rev. g. a. macdonnel and barnes were of five and boden of years earlier reputation, all were competing in the contest, buckle died in this year, and his opponent bird had retired from chess, other pursuits entirely absorbing his time mostly abroad. he had been the hardest fighter and most active of the english combatants of years before, and it was his fate about four years later, once more to become not the least prominent and interesting of the leading chess players. chess as now played with the queen of present powers, imported into the game dates back about four centuries, to near the time when the works of the spanish writers, vicenz and lucena, appeared in , and shortly before that of damiano the portuguese in . in ruy lopez, the spanish priest of cafra, a name familiar to the present generation, from one of the openings most approved in modern practice being named after him, wrote the best work of a scientific character which had appeared in europe to that time, and he was considered in spain the very best player in the world, until the memorable contests between him and leonardo da cutri, and paolo boi of syracuse left the question of supremacy doubtful. these famous struggles are reverted to not without interest in our days, when the not very profitable task of attempting to institute comparisons between past and present great players is indulged in, for in the absence of a single published complete and annotated game until the th century, there is little advantage in conjecturing whether al suli was equal to philidor, razi or greco to a. mcdonnell of belfast, ali shatranji to la bourdonnais, paoli boi to anderssen, ruy lopez to staunton, or leonardo to morphy, though these conjectural comparisons in varied forms are not uncommon in modern chess talk. the records of incidents, and the anecdotes appertaining to chess or chess players in the middle ages, are so scattered, scant, and meagre, that no writer has attempted to put them into shape, or make a consecutive or connected narrative of them. even professor duncan forbes the most elaborate of all the european writers on the history of chess, dismisses the period from to a.d., in a very few words not vouchsafing to it in his volume of pages a chapter of a single page, though his book able as it is, contains much description of games of the past in different countries, the interest in which seems not considerable in present days. the hon. daines barrington writing in , says, (and others have followed him to a like effect), "our ancestors certainly played much at chess before the general introduction of cards, as no fewer than twenty-six english families have emblazened chess boards and chess rooks on their arms, and it therefore must have been considered as a valuable accomplishment." the opinions so commonly entertained and expressed, however, so far at least as they can be taken to apply to the period before queen elizabeth's reign, rest upon but slender data, and it is highly probable that even in that monarch's reign the practice of chess was confined to a very limited circle for we read of no fine player, great games, or matches, or public competitions of any kind, in our climes until philidor's time; his career in england though intermittant extended close upon fifty years and from his time may be dated the budding forth of the popularity of chess, which began to come to full bloom about , ( years after his death) and produced its fruits in the france and england championship contests of and , and the inception of international tournaments in which first established germany's great reputation and furnished a chess champion of the world from among them. though the contests between the rival champions of spain and italy, were promoted as tests of skill, at the courts of philip and sebastian, and rewarded with a liberality unheard of, since the days of chosroes and al mamun, and took place during the contemporary reign of queen elizabeth, when chess had become decidedly fashionable in england, we find no record of the games, or that any interest or enthusiasm appears to have been evoked by them in any country except those where they took place. they seem to have led to no emulation in other parts of europe, and we read of no chess competitions of any kind in france, germany, or england. it was not till a century later that the debut and successes of the brilliant greco the calabrian, in paris, began to cause a little more chess ambition in france and gave the ascendancy in the game to that country which it still held in legalle and philidor's time in , and continued to maintain until the matches of , between alex. mcdonnell of belfast and the famous louis de la bourdonnais of paris, followed in by staunton's victory over m. s. amant, first advanced british claims to a first class position in chess, and left our countryman staunton the admitted world's champion in chess, until the title was wrested from him by professor anderssen of breslau, in the international tournament held in london during the exhibition year . the career of england's champion, staunton, for about ten years successful as it was, is considered generally to have been even surpassed by that of anderssen which lasted till his death in near thirty years. their chess performances like those of philidor from to , and of paul morphy from to , would well merit full record in a longer work. note. a translation of greco was published in london in , with a likeness of charles the first in it. ------ space precludes the admission of the sketches and comparisons of the chess careers of philidor, staunton, anderssen, and morphy, and confines us to the brief account of philidor's extraordinary support and influence on the future of chess and such references as occur in the sketches of simpson's. continuously from the date of philidor's death in , to the ascendancy of deschapelles in , france maintained the lead in chess which she had held for one hundred and fifty years, producing in the interval the famous de la bourdonnais, who for genius, invention and force has never been excelled, and may be ranked with anderssen, whose supremacy for germany first became manifested in , and the unparalleled paul morphy, of new orleans, who in and , electrified the whole chess world by his signal successes in new york, london and paris. taking strength, style, and rapidity of conception combined, these are probably the three greatest players which the world has produced since al suli in the tenth century who was considered a marvel among the best of the eastern players, and paolo boi, leonardo and ruy lopez in the sixteenth century. even in the pools at paris in , when deschapelles essayed to give the pawn and move to la bourdonnais and cochrane, and in a boastful manner challenged the whole world on the same terms the superiority of la bourdonnais was already manifested, and for succeeding years became unquestionable. there are yet remaining old chess enthusiasts who recall with pleasure the satisfaction of the british chess circle at the zeal and prowess of alexander mcdonnell, of belfast, on his appearance in london in , and his continued pluck, perseverance and improvement, and gallant stand against the most formidable of french or living chess players, and which first began to establish english chess claims to equality with france and the very learned german school which had sprung up of which dr. bledow, heydebrand der lasa, hanstein and bilguer soon became like anderssen so especially distinguished. staunton, a household word in chess, first came decisively to the front in , the year in which la bourdonnais died. mcdonnell had already departed in . they lie close together in the northwest corner of kensal green cemetery. staunton became the recognised english champion, and by defeating st. amant, the french representative, and all other players he encountered, further enhanced british chess reputation by upholding his title against all comers, until his wane and defeat by anderssen, of breslau, in the first international tournament of , a result quite unexpected at home and abroad, but subsequent events confirmed what the character of staunton's play in this competition seemed to indicate that he had passed his best, for two english amateurs, very young, but rising into fame, not then considered by any means equal in force to staunton, yet fully held their own in against anderssen, the first great german conqueror in games which germany has ever held in very high estimation. in british chess circles, h. t. buckle, writer and historian was now the most patient and scientific of the players. s. s. boden, the most learned and profound, h. e. bird the most rapid, ready and enthusiastic. the last-named, a favourite opponent of the english leaders, also encountered one by one the phalanx of great foreign players assembled, such as anderssen himself, szen, lowenthal, kieseritzky, harrwitz and horwitz, and sustained our chess reputation, particularly in those dashing contests of short duration, which exigencies of time and other pursuits alone rendered practicable. the years to were not notable for first-class chess contests. boden and bird had both retired. the appearance of the invincible paul morphy from america in , caused a revival of chess; he came to play a great match with staunton, but no individual contest ever took place between them. barnes a very strong amateur chess player encountered morphy but lost by a large majority. boden next came forth from his retirement and played some excellent games with him. bird, long out of chess happening to return from a long absence abroad, also met him, but neither english player proved equal to morphy, and it was regretted that the more experienced staunton would not, and that buckle could not test conclusions with him, lowenthal and paulsen had both been defeated by morphy in america, and the young american proved decisively successful in matches against lowenthal and anderssen in london [paris], and harrwitz in paris. note. schallop, dufresne and alexis at the berlin chess club pointed out the great appreciation by anderssen for these games when bird was in berlin some years ago. chess history and reminiscences the origin and early history of chess when it first entered my thoughts to say a few words about chess and its principal exponents during the nineteenth century, and particularly of the forty years during which i have been in the circle, any idea of inquiring or examining into, and much less of attempting to reconcile the many conflicting theories so well known to exist in regard to the early history and progress of the game, had never once occurred to me. like many others, i was slightly acquainted with professor forbes' important work of , in which the age of chess was fixed at about , years, and india assigned as its birthplace; and i was more or less familiar with the theories advanced as to its supposed first introduction into europe and also into our own country. that the assumed great starting point of chess on a board of sixty-four squares (as at present used), with thirty-two figures, and played by two persons, was persia, and that the time was during the reign of chosroes cosrues, or khosrus (as it is variously written), about a.d. , was to the limited few who took any particular interest in the matter, considered, if not altogether absolutely free from doubt, certainly one of the best attested facts in early chess history; whilst the opinions of sir william jones ( ), the rev. r. lambe ( ), hon. daines barrington ( ), f. douce, esq. ( ), and sir frederick madden ( ), to the effect that chess first found its way into england from france after the first crusade, at about. a.d. , were, i know--although unfounded and erroneous--generally accepted as embodying the most probable theory. the circumstance which first induced me to take some additional interest in this question of chess origin, was the perusal of the lines attributed to pope (quoted by forbes at the foot of chapter xii of his book), and the vague and uncertain, and i now think unreasonable date fixed for our own probable first knowledge of the game, though concurred in with tolerable unanimity by so many ancient writers among those regarded as the chief authorities on the subject. this, however, is not all, for in regard to the european origin of the game of chess, as to which there is such a consensus of agreement; it may be that all the authors are yet still more at fault; for with one accord they all assume that chess reached europe from persia not earlier than the sixth century, the arabs and saracens getting it about a.d. , spain and the aquitaine dominions being commonly pointed to as the countries which first received it from the arabs or saracens in europe after the persian period above named. there is no indication in any of the works of a notion of the knowledge and practice of chess in europe at an earlier date, so it appears not unreasonable to conclude that the following extract, which applies to a period seven hundred years before the persian epoch, must have entirely escaped the notice of all the writers. the article occurs in the "biographical dictionary of the society for diffusing useful knowledge" (longman & co., vol. i, part ii, pp. , ), under the head of "ahenobarbus." the following is an extract of the biography, which is given in full in the appendix: "ahenobarbus triumphed at rome for his victory over averni, and, according to cicero, over the allobroges also, in b.c. . in their consulship (b.c. ), ahenobarbus and his colleague, l. coecilius metellus dalmatius, prohibited all scenic exhibitions at rome, except that of the latin flute players, and all games of chance, except chess or draughts, &c., &c." (signed) w. b. d. (presumably william bodham donne.) the contributions of w. b. d. are not frequent in the biography as those of duncan forbes, aloys sprenger, pascual de gayangos, and william plates are, and he does not apparently write, like them, as an authority upon eastern questions, and i might have overlooked this reference to chess had i not read through the whole of the volumes. it will be observed that both chess and draughts are referred to in the notice, which is important, for had chess alone been mentioned, it is probable that exception would be taken that the game was but a species of the latter; it is doubtful, also, whether ludus latrunculorum, a game of the romans, might not also have been suggested. i cannot find any writer who has referred to chess in rome or elsewhere at this period, and it is not improbable that the extract given may cause some little astonishment to those well-known writers who have assumed that the romans knew nothing of chess till some centuries later. the generally accepted theory is that chess reached persia from india in the sixth century of our era during chosroes' reign, as stated by lambe, ; bland, ; and others; and this is almost universally concurred in. the practice of chess in rome, as indicated by the foregoing edict seven hundred years before, may, however, tend somewhat to disturb all existing theories as to its first european origin, and it will be of interest to know what the learned in such matters will think in regard to it, while it may tend to closer investigation by more learned and able men, who have already devoted attention to the subject, and have greater facilities for extracting reliable information. spain is stated by all authorities to be the first country in europe where chess was known, to a.d. being the period assigned. the franks and aquitaines had it very soon afterwards, certainly in charles martell's reign, and evidence that the game was held in high esteem during the reigns of his successors, pepin and charlemagne, may now be regarded as perfectly satisfactory. as the views of pope before referred to represent something like those of many others, and they may not be altogether devoid of interest in the present day, i append them, with forbes' sweeping animadversions thereon. the lines which have been published as original (or without acknowledgment) by more than one chess writer in modern magazines, are as follows: "when and where chess was invented is a problem which we believe never will be solved. the origin of the game recedes every day further back into the regions of the past and unknown. individuals deep in antiquarian lore have very praiseworthily puzzled themselves and their readers in vain, in their endeavours to ascertain to their satisfaction how this wonderful pastime sprang into existence. "whether it was the product of some peaceful age, when science and philosophy reigned supreme, or whether it was nurtured amid the tented field of the warrior, are questions which it is equally futile and unnecessary now to ask. sufficient for us that the game exists, and that it has been sung of by homer, that it has been the delight of kings, scholars, and philosophers in almost every age; that it is now on the flood tide of success, and is going on its way gathering fresh votaries at every step, and that it seems destined to go down to succeeding ages as an imperishable monument of the genius and skill of its unknown founder." forbes introduces this article by observing: "pope has much to answer for as the originator of a vast deal of rhetorical rubbish upon us in chess lectures and chess articles in periodicals. here (he says), for example, is a fair stereotype specimen of this sort," and he concludes: "we recommend the above eloquent moreceaux, taken from a chess periodical now defunct, to the attention of chessmen at chess reunions, chess lectures, and those who are ambitious to do a spicy article for a chess periodical." this appears somewhat severe on pope, even if it be reasonable and consistent, which may be doubted; for forbes himself, writing to the "chess player's chronicle," in , about years after pope, and seven years before the appearance of his own "history of chess," thus expressed himself: "in the present day it is impossible to trace the game of chess with moral certainty back to its source amidst the dark shades of antiquity, but i am quite ready to prove that the claim of the hindoos as the inventors, is far more satisfactory than that of any other people." pope needs no defenders. there are writers of more recent date, who have inflicted what forbes would probably call more rhetorical rubbish upon chess readers. here is one other example, which appeared in : "though the precise birth and parentage of chess are absolutely unknown, yet a light marks the track of this royal personage adown the ages, by which we may clearly enough discern one significant note of his progress, that he has always kept the very best of company. we find him ever in the bosom of civilization, the companion of the wise and thoughtful, the beloved of the studious and mild. barbarous men had to be humanized and elevated before he would come to them. while the east remained the better part of the world he confined himself to the east; when the west was to be regenerated he attended with the other agents of beneficial destiny, and helped the good work on. he seems to have entered europe on two opposite sides. along with philosophy and letters spain and portugal received him, with other good gifts, from their benefactors the saracens; and he is seen in the eighth century at constantinople, quietly biding his time for a further advance. >from that time to the present, chess has been the delight of kings and kaisers, of the reflecting, the witty, and the good." ------ the indian and american views will be found in the sequel. it is a peculiar and distinguishing characteristic in the very long life of chess, that at no period of its existence has any attempt ever been made to place on record a narrative of its events, either contemporary or retrospective, or to preserve its materials and to construct a lasting history for it; and, notwithstanding, the enormous advance and increase in chess appreciation and chess reporting in th century ages, it will not, perhaps, be very rash to predict that a future generation will be scarcely better informed of our chess doings than we are of the past, and that the th century will, in this respect, be to the th as that is to the th and preceding ones. the valuable scientific and weighty works of dr. hyde, sir william jones, and professor duncan forbes were mostly devoted to chess in the east, and to arguments on the probabilities of its origin and proofs that it came from india. the book of forbes, the most elaborate and latest of them, is much devoted to the sanskrit translations of the accounts of the ancient hindu chaturanga; and descriptions of other games which, however able and interesting from a scientific point of view, observation and experience seem to indicate to us, few care to follow or study much in the present day. the period of to is dismissed by forbes in less than a single page. his work contains no account of philidor or his works, nor of the progress of chess in this century up to when his own book appears, and makes no mention of modern chess events or players and it is an expensive work when viewed by popular notions on the subject. these foregoing works with the admirable contributions and treatises of the rev. r. lambe, the hon. daines barrington, f. douce, h. twiss, p. pratt, sir f. madden, w. lewis, sarratt, george walker, c. kenny, c. tomlinson, captain kennedy, staunton and professor bland all combined fail to supply our wants, besides which there is no summing up of them or their parts, or attempt to blend them into one harmonious whole, and each writer has appeared too well satisfied with his own conclusions to care to trouble himself much about those of anybody else. the spanish, portuguese, italian and french writers who refer to chess, and in our own country chaucer, lydgate, caxton, barbiere, pope, dryden, philidor, and the encyclopaediasts deal mainly with traditions, each having a pet theory; all, however, conclude by declaring in words, but slightly varied, that the origin of chess is enshrouded in mist and obscurity, lost in the remote ages of antiquity, or like pope pronounce it a problem which never will be solved. the incomparable game of chess, london, , says, under "traditions of chess." some historians have referred to the invention of chess to the philosopher xerxes, others to the grecian prince palamedes, some to the brothers lydo and tyrrhene and others, again, to the egyptians, the chinese, the hindus, the persians, the arabians, the irish, the welsh, the araucanians, the jews, the scythians, and, finally, their fair majesties semiramis and zenobia also prefer their claims to be considered as the originators of chess. chess history, it may be assumed, has never been regarded as a very profitable subject to write upon; and, even in these days of very advanced appreciation of chess, it is highly probable, that only a very few among the more curious of its admirers, who care to consider the basis and essence of things, will take any particular interest in this branch of the subject; but it is just for such that we venture to submit a very brief outline of what we find suggested from the fairest inferences, which can be gathered from existing information, as to the source from whence our favourite and charming game first sprung. enquiries as to the habits and the idiosyncrasies of chess players known to fame, have, always, appeared to be of interest, and have been frequent and continuous from our earliest recollections, both at home and abroad. we have met with people, who would devote an hour to questions of this sort, who would not care to listen five minutes to chess history or devote that time to look at the finest game. in america, once, a most pertinacious investigator, in for a very long sitting (not an interviewer with his excellent bait and exquisite powers of incision but a genuine home brew), was easily disposed of by the bare mention of the words india, persia, china, chaturanga, chatrang, shatranji and chess masterpieces. this thirster after knowledge would have absorbed willingly any account of staunton's appearance and manners, his elevated eyebrows and rolling forehead, munchausen anecdotes, havannah cigars and tobacco plantations, buckle's peculiarities, pedantic and sarcastic johnsonian's gold-headed walking stick, so often lost yet always found, but once, and the frequent affinity between his hat and the spittoon, the yet greater absence of mind of morphy and paulsen and their only speeches, the gallantry, kid gloves, lectures of lowenthal and his bewilderment on the subject of charlemagne, the linguistic proficiency of rosenthal, the chess chivalry, bluntness extreme taciturnity, amorous nature and extreme admiration for english female beauty, of anderssen, mcdonnell's jokes and after dinner speeches, boden's recollections, pickwickian and other quotations, and in fact little incidents relative to most of the celebrated chess players, constantly flit through the memory in social chat, which invariably seem to entertain chess listeners whom a minute's conversation about the history, science, or theory of the game would utterly fail to please. the early censurer of chess in the old arabian manuscript who declared that the chess player was ever absorbed in his chess "and full of care" may have reflected the chess of his time, but he did not live in the nineteenth century and had never seen a la bourdonnais, a mcdonnell or a bird play or he might have modified his views as to the undue seriousness of chess. the fortnightly review in its article of december, devoted some space to the fancy shirt fronts of lowenthal, the unsavoury cigars of winawer, the distinguished friends of one of the writers, the foreign secretary, denial that zukertort came over in two ships, and other less momentous matters, so we may assume that the authors who greatly control the destinies of chess could even, themselves, at times appreciate a joke. despite however the preference so decidedly evinced on these subjects, concerning which we are advised to say a little, the real origin of chess, the opinions in regard to it and its traditions and fables interest us more, and tempt a few remarks upon prevailing misconceptions which it appears desirable as far as possible to dispel, besides there may yet be a possibility that some of the more learned who admire the game may produce a work more worthy of the subject, which, though perhaps of trifling importance to real science and profound literature, certainly appears to merit, from its many marked epochs, and interesting associations, somewhat more attention than it has ever yet received. ------ chess and opinions in regard to its origin chess is the english name for the most intellectual as well as diverting and entertaining of games. it is called in the east the game of the king, and the word schach mat, or shah mat in the persian language signifies the king is dead, "checkmate." chess allows the utmost scope for art and strategy, and gives the most various and extensive employment to the powers of the understanding. men whose wisdom and sagacity are unquestioned have not hesitated to assert that it possesses qualities which render it superior to all other games, mental as well as physical; it has so much intrinsic interest that it can be played without any stake whatsoever, and it has been so played and by the very finest players, more than all other games put together. the invention of chess has been termed an admirable effort of the human mind, it has been described as the most entertaining game the wit of man has ever devised, and an imperishable monument of human wisdom. it is not a mere idle amusement, says franklin, partakes rather of the nature of a science than a game, says leibnitz and sir walter scott, and would have perished long ago, say the americans if it had not been destined to live for ever. the earliest opinion found on record concerning chess, after the muslim commentaries on the koran passage concerning lots and images, is from a philosopher of basra named hasan, of celebrity in his day, who died a.d. , who modestly and plainly termed it "an innocent and intellectual amusement after the mind has been engrossed with too much care or study." in our age, buckle, foremost in skill, who died at damascus in , and more recently professor ruskin and very eminent divines have expressed themselves to a like effect; highly valuing the power of diversion the game affords and giving reasons for its preference over other games; buckle called his patiently hard contested games of three, four or five hours each a half-holiday relief; boden and bird, two very young rising amateurs, then approaching the highest prevailing force at the time would, to buckle's dismay, rattle off ten lively skirmishes in half the time he took for one. the younger of the two aspirants became in a favourite opponent of the distinguished writer and historian whom, however, he somewhat disconcerted at times by the rapidity of his movements and once, and once only, the usually placid buckle falling into an early snare as he termed it; and emulating canute of old and lord stair in modern times got angry and toppled over the pieces. colonel stewart used frequently to play at chess with lord stair who was very fond of the game; but an unexpected checkmate used to put his lordship into such a passion that he was ready to throw a candlestick or anything else that was near him, at his adversary: for which reason the colonel always took care to be on his feet to fly to the farthest corner of the room when he said "checkmate, my lord." in older times the narrative is silent as to the temper of charlemagne when he lost his wager game to guerin de montglave, but eastern annals, the historians of timur, gibbon and others tell us that the great potentates of the east, al walid, harun ar rashid, al mamun and tamerlane shewed no displeasure at being beaten, but rather appreciated and rewarded the skill of their opponents. they manifested, however, great indignation against those who played deceitfully or attempted to flatter by allowing themselves to be overplayed by their monarchs. concerning the origin of chess considerable misconception has always prevailed, and the traditions which had grown up as to its invention before knowledge of the sanskrit became first imported to the learned, are various and conflicting, comprising several of a very remarkable and even mythical character, which is the more extraordinary because old eastern manuscripts, the shahnama of persia, the kalila wa dimna, the fables of pilpay in its translations and the princess anna comnena's history of the twelfth century (all combined) with the admissions of the chinese and the persians in their best testimonies to point out and indicate what has been since more fully established by dr. hyde, sir william jones, professor duncan forbes and native works, that for the first source of chess or any game with pieces of distinct and various moves, powers and values we must look to india and nowhere else, notwithstanding some negative opposition from those who do not attempt to say where it came from or to contravert the testimony adduced by dr. hyde, sir william jones and professor duncan forbes, and despite the opinion of the author of the asiatic society's m.s. and mill in british india that the hindoos were far too stupid to have invented chess or anything half so clever. not a particle of evidence has ever yet been adduced by any other nation of so early a knowledge of a game resembling chess, much less of its invention, and it is in the highest degree improbable that any such evidence ever will be forthcoming. note. there are some who do not concur in this wholesale reflection on indian intelligence, among others, may be mentioned sir william jones, professor wilson, a writer in fraser's, and professor duncan forbes. as to the supposed origin of chess one of sir william jones' brahman correspondents, radha kant, informed him that it is stated in an old hindoo law book, that the wife of ravan king of lanka, the capital of ceylon invented chess to amuse him with an image of war, when his metropolis was besieged by rama in the second age of the world, and this is the only tradition which takes precedence in date of the hindu chaturanga. the princess anna comnena in the life of her father alexius comnenus, emperor of constantinople who died a.d. , informs us that the game of chess which she calls zatrikion was introduced by the arabians into greece, the arabians had it from the persians, who say that they themselves did not invent it, but that they received it from the indians, who brought it into persia in the time of the great chosroes, who reigned in persia years, and died a.d. , he was contemporary with the emperor justinian who did a.d. . of all the claims which have been advanced to the invention and origin of chess, that of the hindu game the chaturanga is the most ancient, and its accounts contain the earliest allusion worthy of serious notice to anything partaking of the principles and form of chess. the description of it is taken from the sanskrit text, and our first knowledge of it is obtained through the works of dr. hyde, , and sir william jones, , professor duncan forbes in a history of chess, dedicated to sir frederic madden and howard staunton, published in , further elaborated the researches of his predecessors and claims by the aid of his better acquaintance with chess, and improved knowledge of the sanskrit to have proved the chaturanga as the first form of chess beyond a shadow of doubt. accounts of it also appear in native works published in calcutta and serampore in the first half of this century, and it receives further confirmation in material points, from eminent sanskrit scholars, who refer to it rather incidentally than as chess-players. the accounts of the hindu chaturanga (which means game of "four angas," four armies, or "four species of forces," in the native language, hasty-aswa-ratha-padatum, signifying elephants, horses, chariots and foot soldiers) (according to the amara kosha, and other native works as explained by dr. hyde and sir william jones) give a description of the game sufficiently clear to enable anyone to play it in the present day. note. we have tried it recently. so great of course is the element of luck in the throw, that the percentage of skill though it might tell in the long run is small, perhaps equal to that at whist. ------ with every allowance for more moderate estimates of antiquity by some sanskrit scholars, the chaturanga comes before any of the games mentioned in other countries sometimes called chess, but which seem to bear no affinity to it. the oldest of these games is one of china, b.c., attributed to emperor yao or his time, another in egypt of queen hatasu daughter of thotmes i, to b.c., and that inscribed on medinet abu at egyptian thebes, the palace constructed by rameses iv (rhameses meiammun, supposed grandfather of sesostris) who according to the scrolls, we are told reigned to b.c., and is said to be the monarch represented on its walls. according to the bible chronology he would be contemporary with moses who lived to b.c. the moves of all the pieces employed in the chaturanga were the same as those made in asia and europe down to the close of the fifteenth century of our era. the queen up to that time was a piece with only a single square move, the bishop in the original game was represented by a ship, the castle or rook (as it is now indiscriminately called) by an elephant, the knight by a horse, the two last named have never at any time undergone the slightest change, the alteration in the bishop consists only in the extension of its power of two clear moves, to the entire command of its own coloured diagonal. the total force on each side taking a pawn as for the unit was about in the chaturanga as compared with in our game. there appear ample grounds for believing that the dice used, constituted the greatest if not the main charm in the game with the brahmans, and that the elimination of that element of chance and excitement, destroyed its popularity with them. ------ the ancient hindu chaturanga the chaturanga signifies the game of four angas, or four species of forces, which, according to the amira kosha of amara sinha and other authorities means elephants, horses, chariots and foot soldiers, which, in the native tongue is hasty, aswa, ratha, padatum. it was first brought to notice by the learned dr. thomas hyde of oxford, in his work de ludus orientalibus, . about years later the classical sir william jones, also of oxford, who became judge of the supreme court in india from to gave translations of the accounts of the chaturanga. this was at a time when knowledge of sanskrit had been only just disclosed to european scholars, the code of gentoo laws, &c., london , being the first work mentioned, though by the year according to reviews, books had appeared translated from that language, no mention of the chaturanga is found in europe before the time of dr. hyde, and all the traditionists down to the days of sir william jones would seem to have been unacquainted with it. in respect to asia, so far as can be judged or gathered, the details and essence of the sanskrit translations mentioned in the biography of the famous and magnificent al mamun of bagdad to or those for the enlightened akbar to are unknown to european scholars; there are no references to any translation of them, or to the nature of those alluded to in the fihrist of abu l. faraj. eminent contributors to the archaeologia, f. douce, , and sir f. madden, , adopt the conclusions of dr. hyde and sir william jones and they receive confirmation from native works of this century, and incidentally from sanskrit scholars who wrote not as chess players. duncan forbes, l.l.d., professor of oriental languages in king's college, london, is the next great authority upon the chaturanga; in a work of pages published in dedicated to sir frederic madden and howard staunton, esq., he further elaborated the investigations of dr. hyde and sir william jones and claimed by a better acquaintance with chess and choice of manuscripts and improved knowledge of the sanskrit language to have proved that the game of chess was invented in india and no where else, in very remote times or, as he finally puts it at page : "but to conclude i think from all the evidence i have laid before the reader, i may safely say, that the game of chess has existed in india from the time of pandu and his five sons down to the reign of our gracious sovereign queen victoria (who now rules over these same eastern realms), that is for a period of five thousand years and that this very ancient game, in the sacred language of the brahmans, has, during that long space of time retained its original and expressive name of chaturanga." the chaturanga is ascribed to a period of about , years before our era. according to the sanskrit text of the bavishya purana from which the account is taken, prince yudhisthira the eldest and most renowned of the five sons of king pandu, consulted vyasa, the wise man and nestor of the age as to the mysteries of a game then said to be popular in the country, saying: "explain to me, o thou super-eminent in virtue, the nature of the game that is played on the eight times eight square board. tell me, o my master, how the chaturaji (checkmate) may be accomplished." vyasa thus replied: "o, my prince, having delineated a square board, with eight houses on each of the four sides, then draw up the red warriors on the east, on the south array the army clad in green, on the west let the yellow troops be stationed, and let the black combatants occupy the north. "let each player place his elephant on the left of his king, next to that the horse, and last of all the ship, and in each of the four armies, let the infantry be drawn up in front. the ship shall occupy the left hand corner next to it the horse, then the elephant, and lastly the king, the foot soldiers, as are stated being drawn up in front." the sage commences general directions for play with the following advice: "let each player preserve his own forces with excessive care, and remember that the king is the most important of all." the sage adds: "o prince, from inattention to the humbler forces the king himself may fall into disaster." "if, on throwing the die, the number should turn up five, the king or one of the pawns must move; if four, the elephant; if three, the horse; and if the throw be two, then, o prince, the ship must move." ------ on the moves of the pieces "the king moves one square in all directions; the pawn moves one square straightforward, but smites an enemy through either angle, in advance; the elephant, o prince of many lands, moves, (so far as his path is clear), in the direction of the four cardinal points, according to his own pleasure. the horse moves over the three squares in an oblique direction; and the ship, o yudhisthira, moves two squares diagonally." note. the elephant had the same move as our rook has, the horse the same as our knight. the ship had two clear moves diagonally (a limited form of our bishop). the king one square in all directions the same as now. the pawn one square straightforward. there was no queen in the chaturanga, but a piece, with a one square move, existed in the two handed modified chatrang. the queen, of present powers is first mentioned in the game at the end of the th century, when the works of the spanish writers lucena and vicenz appeared in . ------ about two thousand six hundred years are supposed to have elapsed between the time of king pandu, prince yudhisthira, vyasa, and the records of the ancient chaturanga, to the days of alexander the great, to which period the references concerning chess and the indian kings contained in eastern accounts, firdausi's persian shahnama and the asiatic society's m.s. presented to them by major price, relate. note. the shahnama, it is recorded, occupied thirty years in its preparation and contains one hundred and twenty thousand verses. the long interval of three or four thousand years, between the date ascribed to the chaturanga, and its reappearance as the chatrang in persia, and the shatranj in arabia, has perplexed all writers, for none can offer a vestige of trace of evidence, either of the conversion of chaturanga into chatrang or shatranj; or that the game ever continued to be practiced in its old form either with or without the dice, it is conjectured merely, that when the dice had to be dispensed with, as contrary to the law and the religion of the hindus and when such laws were vigorously enforced, it then became a test of pure skill only, and was probably more generally engaged in by two competitors than four; but, it appears reasonable, when we recollect the oft translated story of nala, and the evident fascination of the dice to the hindus, to suppose that the dice formed far too an important element in the chaturanga to be so easily surrendered; and it is not at all improbable that the prohibition and suppression of the dice destroyed much of its popularity and that the game became much less practiced and ceased to be regarded with a degree of estimation sufficiently high to make it national in character, or deemed worthy of the kind of record likely to be handed down to prosperity. notwithstanding that the moves of kings, rooks and knights in the chaturanga were the same as they are now, the absence of a queen, (which even in the two-handed chess was long only represented by a piece with a single square move) and the limited power of the bishops and pawns, must have made the chaturanga a dull affair compared with present chess as improved towards the close of the fifteenth century; and it is not so very remarkable that it should have occurred to tamerlane to desire some extension of its principles, even with our present charming and, as some consider, perfect game, we find that during the th and th centuries, up to philidor's time not a good recorded game or page of connected chess history is to be found and we may cease to wonder so much at the absence of record for four or three thousand years or more, for a game so inferior to ours. were the chaturanga now to be revived without the dice it would probably not prove very popular. authorities say "but, unquestionably, the favourite game among the ancient hindus, was that of chess; a knowledge of which in those primitive times formed one of the requisite accomplishments of a hero, just as skill in chess was considered among us in the palmy days of chivalry." what this game was is not explained; beyond the description of the oblong die of four sides, used to determine which piece had to move in the chaturanga; we have no information how a game of interest could be made with dice alone, as is not easy to understand. ------ we have no means of ascertaining, says forbes the exact era at which the chaturanga passed into the shatranj, or in other words at what period as the muhammadans view it, the hindus invented the latter form of the game. the earlier writers of arabia and persia do not agree on the point, some of them placing it as early as the time of alexander the great and others as late as that of naushurawan. even the poet firdausi, the very best authority among them though he devotes a very long and a very romantic episode to the occasion of the invention of the shatranj, is quite silent as to the exact period; all that he lets us know on that point is that it took place in the reign of a certain prince who ruled over northern india and whose name was gau, the son of jamhur. sir william jones was judge of a supreme court of judicature in bengal, from april, to april, , when he died at calcutta. it is recorded that he came much in contact with intelligent brahmans and was much esteemed. he states on the authority of his friend the brahman "radha kant" "that this game is mentioned in the oldest (hindu) law books; and that it was invented by the wife of ravan, king of lanka, the capital of ceylon, in order to amuse him with an image of war while his metropolis was closely besieged by rama in the second age of the world." note. sir william jones says: if evidence be required to prove that chess was invented by the hindus, we may be satisfied with the testimony of the persians, who, though as much inclined as other nations to appropriate the ingenious inventions of a foreign people, unanimously agree that the game was imported from the west of india, together with the charming fables of vishnusarma, in the sixth century of our era. it seems to have been immemorially known in hindustan by the name of chaturanga, that is the four "angas" or members of an army, which are said in the amarakosha to be hasty-aswa-ratha-padatum, or elephants, horses, chariots and foot soldiers, and in this sense the word is frequently used by epic poets in their descriptions of real armies. by a natural corruption of the pure sanskrit word, it was changed by the old persians into chatrang; but the arabs, who soon after took possession of their country, had neither the initial or final letter of that word in their alphabet, and consequently altered it further into shatranj, which found its way presently into the modern persian, and at length into the dialects of india, where the true derivation of the name is known only to the learned. thus has a very significant word in the sacred language of the brahmans been transferred by successive changes into axedres, scacchi, echecs, chess and by a whimsical concurrence of circumstances given birth to the english word check, and even a name to the exchequer of great britain! "the beautiful simplicity and extreme perfection of the game, as it is commonly played in europe and asia, convince me that it was invented by one effect of some great genius; not completed by gradual improvements, but formed to use the phrase of the italian critics, by the first intention, yet of this simple game, so exquisitely contrived and so certainly invented in india. i cannot find any account in the classical writings of the brahmans." ------ eminent contributors to the archaeological society and to asiatic researches have adopted the conclusions of the foregoing authors, (dr. hyde, sir w. jones and professor forbes). francis douce, esq., after referring to dr. hyde's labours, says, "yet i shall avail myself of this opportunity of mentioning the latest and perhaps most satisfactory opinion upon this subject; for which we are indebted to the labours of that accomplished scholar sir william jones." he has informed us that chess was invented by the hindoos from the testimony of the persians who, unanimously, agree that it was imported from the west of india in the sixth century and immemorially known in hindustan by the name of chaturanga or the four members of an army, viz. elephants, horses, chariots and foot soldiers. sir f. madden, , remarks: "it is sufficient, at present, to assume on the authorities produced by the learned dr. hyde and sir william jones that for the invention and earliest form of this game we must look to india, from whence through the medium of the persians and the arabs, as proved demonstratively by the names of the chessmen it was afterwards transmitted to the nations of europe." it seems that we may be satisfied that chess is of asiatic origin, and india its birth place without subscribing entirely to the view that even the ancient hindu chaturanga so minutely described and which comes so long before any other game mentioned in china or egypt is even the first of chess; but we may say this much, that, notwithstanding, the doubts expressed by crawford in his history and rajah brooke in his journal, and the negative opposition of dr. van der linde, we cannot bring ourselves to be skeptical enough to discredit the trustworthiness of the accounts furnished to us in the works of dr. hyde, sir. william jones and professor duncan forbes of the existence of the game called the chaturanga at the time stated. note. the amara kosha was one of the most valued works of amara sinha one of the nine gems which adorned the throne of vikramaditya. the period, when he lived, was that from which the hindoos date their present chronology; that is he lived about the middle of the first century b.c. the amara kosha was one of his numerous works preserved, if not the only one that escaped. they perished, it is said, like all other buddhistical writings at the time of the persecutions raised by the brahmans against those who professed the religion of buddha. ------ sanskrit scholars, including colebrooke and captain cox, writing rather incidentally than as chess players, inform us that the pieces used in our game, viz. the rook, knight, and bishop are referred to in old indian treatises, under their respective names of elephant, horse, and ship, which is a most convincing item of evidence to chess players. this is one of the three main things which historians fail to notice; the roman edict of b.c. and to a.d., the least unlikely period for english acquirement of the game, on alcuin's three years visit from charlemagne's court, being the two others most meriting attention and noticed in their respective places. note. the roman edict of b.c. exempting chess and draughts from prohibition, when other games were being interdicted, seems to have escaped the notice of all writers, and does not harmonize with the germans weber and van der linde's theories of a.d. for the earliest knowledge of chess in its precise form. note. alcuin, - , is a name forgotten by all writers in considering the charlemagne, koran, and princess irene period and english probabilities. note. the sanskrit translations for the glorious al mamun, to , those mentioned in the sikust ( ), and for the enlightened akbar, to , seem to have been unknown to european scholars, who throughout the early and middle ages do not strike us as having been remarkable for zeal and application. ------ the chinese claims made apparently rather for than by them, are recorded in the annals of the asiatic society as being in respect of a game called "war kie," played with pieces, said to have been invented by emperor yao so far back as b.c. , the next account is of a game called hsiang kie, attributed to wa wung b.c. , with pieces on each side, like draughts with characters written on each so recently as , it was claimed to be played all over the country. the great dictionary of arts and sciences dedicated to our king in , merely says: "the chinese claim to date back their acquaintance with chess to a very remote period." the chinese call chess the game of the elephant, and say that they had it from the indians. the haipiene or great chinese directory under the word sianghki, says that this happened in the reign of vouti, about the year of christ . notwithstanding this statement there is an account of real chess given in , by eyles irwin, esq., a gentleman who had passed many years of his life in india, and contained in a communication to the president of the irish society. he says years after the time of confucius (which is equal to b.c.), king cochu, king of kiangnan, sent an expedition into the shensi country, under the command of a mandarin, called hansing, to conquer it, and during the winter season, to allay the discontent of his army at inaction, chess was invented to amuse them, with results entirely satisfactory. the board, or game, irwin says, is called chong ki or royal game. forbes says the game is called by the chinese "choke choo hong ki." the board is squares with a chasm in the middle, the army pieces, rocket boys, and pawns on each side. it has become the fashion to this day to dish up the great poets' lines more or less seasoned or to repeat, one or the other of the fabulous stories, or fallacious theories so constantly put forward in regard to the origin of chess, so it may be not amiss to state what is known or can be gathered in regard to it, concerning the claims of countries other than india. such consideration as can be found devoted to the game in egypt mostly relates to hypothesis and conjectures in regard to the inscriptions on tombs and on the walls of temples and palaces; some discussion has arisen in our own time, in notes and queries, and particularly in regard to mr. disraeli's references in the book alroy, concerning which the westminster chess papers in , instituted a criticism. chapter of alroy begins "two stout soldiers were playing chess in a coffee house," and mr. disraeli inserts on this the following note ( ). "on the walls of the palace of amenoph ii, called medeenet abuh, at egyptian thebes, the king is represented playing chess with the queen. this monarch reigned long before the trojan war." a critic, calling himself the author of fossil chess adds "in the same work may be found some account of the paintings on the tombs at beni hassan, presumably the oldest in egypt, dating from the time of osirtasen i, twenty centuries before the christian era, and eight hundred years anterior to the reign of rameses iii, by whom the temple of medeenet abuh was commenced, and who is the rameses portrayed on its walls." an unaccountable error on mr. disraeli's part in the same note assigns its erection to amenoph ii, who lived b.c. closer investigators of the hieroglyphics of ancient egypt, state rameses merammun ( th king of the th dynasty and grandfather of sesostris), who reigned as ramses iv from to b.c., is the name that appears on the great palace of medinet abu, and some other buildings in the ruins of thebes. according to the tables of egyptian chronology most approved in reviews sethos or sesostris reigned as ramses vi from to b.c. the reviews observe that herodotus thought that sesostris ascended the throne a few years later than b.c. amenophis ii reigned from to b.c. the draughtmen and board of queen hatasu among her relicts in the manchester exhibition of , are assigned to b.c.; but she was the daughter of thotmes i, who according to the tables referred to, reigned to b.c. egyptian chronology seems not to be conclusively agreed upon; however, the game found inscribed on the walls of medinet abu is not proved to resemble chess, and is generally assumed to be draughts, besides whether ascribed to amenoph ii to b.c., or to ramses iv to b.c.; the date is long after the period ascribed to the sanskrit writings, (said to be about b.c.) even taking the shortest estimate of the age of the ancient hindu and brahman writings assigned by sanskrit scholars. sir gardiner wilkinson says, the pieces are all of the same size and form, and deduces from this the inference that the game represented a species of draughts. mr. lane the egyptologist, apparently no chess player himself, in describing the sedentary games of egypt, says that the people of that country take great pleasure in chess, (which they call sutreng), draughts (dameh), and backgammon (tawooleh). sir f. madden says, it is however possible that the ancient egyptians may also have possessed a knowledge of chess, for among the plates of hieroglyphics by dr. burton no. , we find at medinet habou two representations of some tabular game, closely resembling it, and i am informed that a more perfect representation exists on the temples at thebes. sir john gardiner wilkinson, the celebrated egyptologist, in a note appended to mr. george rawlinson's of herodotus says: "still more common was the game of draughts miscalled chess, which is hab, a word now used by the arabs for men or counters. this was also a game in greece, where they often drew for the move, this was done by the romans also in their duodecim scripta, and terence says-- ti ludis tesseris. si illud, quod maxime opus est facto non cadit. illud quod cecedit forte, id arte ut corrigus. adelph iv. . - . notes. according to dr. young, , and m. champollion, , ramses iii was the th monarch of the th dynasty, the date affixed to him being to b.c., but the british museum catalogue, page says: the principal part of the monuments in this room are of the age of king ramses ii, the sesostris of the greeks, and the greatest monarch of the th dynasty; but, in the tables, he appears as the th of the th dynasty to b.c. and the catalogue is probably a slip. no consensus of agreement however has been arrived as to egyptian chronology. sesostris for example to b.c., (manetho, the scrolls young, champollion) herodotus thought, ascended the throne about b.c. some bible commentators have even called the shishak of scripture b.c. sesostris. bishop warburton was wont to vent his displeasure on those who did not agree with him. for instance, on one nicholas mann, whose provocation was that he argued for the identity of osiris and sesostris after warburton had pronounced that they were to be distinguished, he revenged himself by saying to archbishop potter in an abrupt way, "i suppose, you know, you have chosen an arian." under exodus c.b. a note occurs. the pharaoh, in whose reign moses was born, is known in general history by the name of rameses iv, surnamed mei amoun. he reigned years, which agrees with the account given ch. , , that he lived till long after moses had retired to the desert. the pharaoh who reigned when the israelites went out of egypt was rameses v surnamed amenophis. moses' birth is under b.c. , exodus ii., his death under b.c. , deuteronomy xxxiv., but as he was years old when he died, one of these dates must be wrong, he was probably born b.c. . opposite chapter v. of st of kings b.c. says: there can be no rational doubt that this shishak was the famous sesostris the conqueror of asia. herodotus, the father of profane history, relates that he, himself, has seen stones in palestine erected by the conqueror, and recording his achievements. ------ it is confidently asserted by the writers of the eighteenth century, and this, that the ancient greeks and romans were totally unacquainted with chess, but a roman edict of . b.c., specially exempting "chess and draughts" from prohibition passes unobserved by all the writers; and might have materially qualified their perhaps too hasty and ill-matured conclusions, and have suggested further inquiry into the nature of the sedentary games and amusements practiced and permitted by the romans. the roman edict mentioned by mr. w. b. donne, in his biographical sketch of ahenholarbus, , has evidently escaped the observation of all writers on the game. chess and draughts are specially exempted in it from the list of prohibited games of chance under date b.c. . the hon. daines barrington , sir f. madden , herbert coleridge, esq., , and professor duncan forbes are prominent among those who confidently assert that the romans as well as the ancient greeks were quite unacquainted with the game of chess, at least, says coleridge, without giving any reason for his qualification, before the time of hadrian. these writers having apparently satisfied themselves that the romans as well as the greeks played a game with pebbles, assume therefore that they knew not chess, but might have known a game something like draughts. here in the edict, however, chess and draughts are both mentioned inferring a recognized distinction between the two. it seems reasonable to assume that the writers would have paused and have searched a little deeper into the nature of the sedentary games which the romans knew and permitted if they had seen this explicit statement. it has never been suggested by any writer that the romans ever left an inkling or taste for intellectual pastimes in britain. the name of agricola or that of any other roman is not associated with any tradition or story of the game, even aristotle and alexander the great and indian porus (names we find in eastern accounts) are names not so familiar in speculatory traditions as to chess, though less remote, than that of thoth the egyptian mercury who plato says invented chess "hermes" (asiatic m.s.) or the more frequently mentioned moses, and the kings of babylon with their philosophers. the favoured notion that chess (first) came into europe through the arabs in spain about to a.d. may yet prove ill matured and require modification, and for english first knowledge of the game, we may on inferential and presumptive evidence prefer the contemporary period of offa, egbert and alcuin when charlemagne, the greek emperors and the khalifs of the east so much practised and patronized the game, rather than the conquest or crusaders theory of origin among us, which is also beside inconsistent with incidents related in the earlier reigns of athelstan, edgar and canute, and moreover is not based upon any direct testimony whatever. in proof of the ancient use of chess among the scandinavians. in the sages of ragnar lodbrog printed in bioiners collection, and in an ancient account of the danish invasion of northumberland in the ninth century entitled nordymbra, it is stated that after the death of ragnar, messengers were sent to his sons in denmark by king alla to communicate the intelligence and to mark their behaviour when they received it. they were thus occupied, sigurd snakeseye played at chess with huitzeck the bold; but biorn ironside was polishing the shaft of a spear in the middle of the hall. as the messengers proceeded with their story huitzeck and sigurd dropped their game and listened to what was said with great attention, ivar put various questions and biorn leant on the spear he was polishing. but when the messengers came to the death of the chief, and told his expiring words that the young bears would gnarl their tusks (literally grunt) if they knew their parent's fate, biorn grasped the handle of his spear so tight with emotion that the marks of his fingers remained on it, and when the tale was finished dashed it in pieces, huitzeck compressed a chessman he had taken so with his fingers that the blood started from each whilst sigurd snakeseye paring his nails with a knife was so wrapped up in attention that he cut himself to the bone without feeling it. all authorities down to the end of the eighteenth century, ascribe the first knowledge of chess in england, to the time of the reign of william the conqueror, or to that of the return of the first crusaders, some adding not earlier than a.d., h. t. buckle the author and historian who was foremost in skill among chess amateurs, in his references to the game, satisfied apparently with the evidence of canute's partiality for it, ( to ) thought it probable that it was familiarly known in england a century or so before that monarch's reign. sir frederick madden writing from to at the outset of his highly interesting communications to the asiatic society, at first inclined to the crusaders theory, but upon further investigation later in his articles he arrived at the conclusion that chess might have been known among us in athelstan's reign from to , and professor forbes writing from to concurred in that view. both of these authorities after quoting old chess incidents and anecdotes of pepin's and charlemagne's times with other references to chess in france, germany, and scandinavia, then pass on to chess in england, and after asserting the probability that the saxons most likely received chess from their neighbours the danes then fix apparently somewhat inconsistently so late as the tenth century for it. they assert that the tradition of the game having been brought from the north certainly existed, and is mentioned by gaimar who wrote about the year , when speaking of the mission of edelwolth from king edgar to the castle of earl orgar, in devonshire to verify the reports of his daughter elstreuth's beauty. when he arrived at the mansion, "orgar juout a un esches, un gin k'il aprist des daneis, od lui juout elstruat lu bele, sus ciel n'ont donc tele damesele." "orgar was playing at the chess, a game he had learnt of the danes, with him played the fair elstrueth, a fairer maiden was not under heaven." edgar reigned from to , english history referring to this incident among the amours of edgar, make no mention of the earl of devonshire and his daughter being found playing chess together. hume says elfrida was daughter and heir of olgar earl of devonshire and though she had been educated in the country, and had never appeared at court, she had filled all england with the reputation of her beauty. the mission of earl athelwold, his deception of the king, and marriage of elfrida follows, next the king's discovery, the murder of athelwold by the king, and his espousal of elfrida. this incident with others, such as the presentation to harold harfagra, king of norway of a very fine and rich chess table, and the account of and description of seventy chess men of different sizes belonging to various sets dug up in the parish of uig, in the isle of lewis, are referred to by the writers as the chess allusions of the north, but sir frederick madden who confines himself to the supposition of the saxons having received the game from the danes, rather disregards a statement of strutt, henry and others, based on a passage in the ramsey chronicle that chess was introduced among the saxons, so early as the tenth century. forbes however who usually agrees with madden, sees no improbability in it or grounds for disputing, and thinks that england may have obtained its knowledge from france between the eighth and tenth centuries. it is curious that forbes stops here like madden and all other writers, he evidently knew nothing of the roman edict of b.c., and neither of them cast a thought to the earlier reigns of alfred, egbert, and offa, which were contemporary with the golden age of literature in arabia and the period when chess had so long travelled from persia to other countries, and was so well known and appreciated in arabia; constantinople, spain, and among the aquitaines as well as by the carlovingian monarchs. al walid the first khalif noted for chess, the most powerful of the house of umeyyah, who (through his generals tarak and musa invaded, conquered, and entered spain, reigned from to b.c.), and comes before offa, whose reign commenced five years after the foundation of the mighty abbasside dynasty, which displaced the first house of umeyyah, and thirteen years before that of charlemagne, with whom he was contemporary years, and egbert was years. harun ar rashid; of abbasside, the princess irene, and the emperor nicephorus of constantinople, and the successors of harun, viz., al amin, al mamun, the great al mutasem and al wathik (the two last contemporary with our alfred), all cultivated and practiced chess and the strongest inference, and a far more striking one than any yet adduced, is that we got chess during the long reign of charlemagne, and his greek, arabian and spanish contemporaries, and this might well happen, for charlemagne knew both offa and egbert (the latter personally), and the knowledge becomes somewhat more than a matter of inference, for the saxon scholar alcuin was in england from to , on a farewell visit after being domesticated in charlemagne's household as his treasured friend, adviser, and tutor and preceptor in the sciences for more than twenty years, and could not be otherwise than familiar with the emperor's practice and enthusiasm for chess, in which he may to some extent have shared. alcuin would certainly have communicated a game like this, in which he knew other civilized people were taking so much interest, to his countrymen. the connecting links of evidence which sir f. madden and professor forbes have illustrated in athelstan's and edgar's reigns, would have been greatly strengthened and confirmed, if they had thought of alcuin's residence and influence at a court where chess was not only played, but talked about and corresponded upon. charlemagne's presents included the wonderful chess men which he valued so highly, and with which we are tolerably familiar through the reports of dr. hyde, f. douce, sir f. madden, and h. twiss, and the engravings in willeman's work, and by winckelman and art journal. these chessmen (still preserved) were perhaps often seen by alcuin and were possibly also shewn by charlemagne to the youthful egbert when in refuge at his court, and on the whole it seems unreasonable to assume that chess was unknown in england after alcuin's last sojourn, and during egbert's reign. it may be also that on further consideration of the roman edict and references to their games, and the accounts relating to the fourth century b.c., many will be indisposed to accept the dictum that herodotus, plato and aristotle meant nothing more than a game of pebbles, when they referred to chess and propounded their theories as to its invention. ------ persia "khusra anushirawan" naushirawan or chosroes as he is more frequently called, being the byzantine title applied to him, was king of persia and reigned years, from to as stated by some authors, or from to according to others. he is described also as chosroes the just. the receipt of chess in persia from india early in his reign, and the great appreciation and encouragement of it, is the best attested fact in chess history, if not really the only one as to which there is entire concurrence in opinion among all writers. the persian and arabian historians are unanimous that the game of chess was invented in india, some time previous to the sixth century of our era, and was introduced into persia during the reign of kisra naushirawan, the chosroes of the byzantine historians, and the contemporary of justinian, they differ only as to the time of its modification, some ascribing it to about this period, and others to that of alexander the great, to b.c. although several works concur in stating that chess first came to persia from india, through burzuvia the physician, most learned in languages with the materials of the book called culila dimna, quite early in chosroes' reign, some think differently and attribute burzuvia's mission to india and return to a late date. it is related from the shahnama, the great persian poem that it came from kanoj, kanauj, commonly written canoge, by means of a magnificent embassy from the king of hind, accompanied by a train of elephants with rich canopies, together with a thousand camels heavily laden, the whole escorted by a numerous and gallant army of scindian cavalry. after depositing the various and costly presents, last of all the ambassador displayed before the king and the astonished court, a chess board, elaborately constructed together with the chessmen, tastefully and curiously carved from solid pieces of ivory and ebony. then the ambassador presented a letter richly illumined, written by the hand of the sovereign of hind, to naushirawan the translation of which is given as follows: the king of hind's address to chosroes with the chess "o, king, may you live as long as the celestial spheres continue to revolve; i pray of you to examine this chess board, and to lay it before such of your people as are most distinguished for learning and wisdom. let them carefully deliberate, one with another; and if they can, let them discover the principles of this wonderful game. let them find out the uses of the various pieces, and how each is to be moved, and in to what particular squares. let them discover the laws which regulate the evolutions of this mimic army, and the rules applicable to the pawns, and to the elephants, and to the rukhs (or warriors), and to the horses, and to the farzin, and to the king. if they should succeed in discovering the principles and expounding the practice of this rare game, assuredly they will be entitled to admission into the number of the wise, and in such case i promise to acknowledge myself, as hitherto, your majesty's tributary. on the other hand, should you and the wise men of iran collectively fail in discovering the nature and principles of this cunning game, it will evince a clear proof that you are not our equals in wisdom; and consequently you will have no right any longer to exact from us either tribute or impost. on the contrary we shall feel ourselves justified in demanding hereafter the same tribute from you; for man's true greatness consists in wisdom, not in territory, and troops, and riches, all of which are liable to decay." when naushirawan had perused the letter from the sovereign of hind, long did he ponder over its contents. then he carefully examined the chess board and the pieces and asked a few questions of the envoy respecting their nature and use. the latter, in general terms, replied, sire, what you wish to know can be learned only by playing the game, suffice it for me, to say, that the board represents a battle field, and the pieces the different species of forces engaged in the combat. then the king said to the envoy, grant us the space of seven days for the purpose of deliberation; on the eighth day we engage to play with you the game, or acknowledge our inferiority. then followed the assembling of the men esteemed learned and wise, the sages of iran, and seven days of perplexity. at last buzerjmihr hastened to the presence of naushirawan and said: "o, king of victorious destiny, i have carefully examined this board and these pieces, and at length by your majesty's good fortune, i have succeeded in discovering the nature of the game. it is a most shrewd and faithful representation of a battle field, which it is proper your majesty should inspect in the first place. in the mean time let the indian ambassador be summoned into the royal presence together with the more distinguished among his retinue, also a few of the wise and learned of our own court that they may all bear witness how we have acquitted ourselves in accomplishing the task imposed upon us by the king of kancj. when buzerjmihr had explained the evolutions of the ebony and ivory warriors, the whole assembly stood mute in admiration and astonishment. the indian ambassador was filled with mingled vexation and surprise, he looked upon buzerjmihr as a man endowed with intelligence far beyond that of mere mortals, and thus he pondered in his own mind: how could he have discovered the nature and principles of this profound game? can it be possible that he has received his information from the sages of hind? or is it really the result of his own penetrating research, guided by the acuteness of his unaided judgment? assuredly buzerjmihr has not this day his equal in the whole world. in the meanwhile naushirawan in public acknowledged the unparalleled wisdom of his favourite counsellor. he sent for the most costly and massive goblet in his palace and filled the same with the rarest of jewels. these, together with a war steed, richly caparisoned, and a purse full of gold pieces he presented to buzerjmihr." the other version of the first receipt of chess in persia, based upon eastern works and perhaps more reasonable, if not resting upon yet better attestation, records that burzuvia, a physician, and the most expert that could be found in the knowledge of languages, and art and ability in acquiring them, at the request or command of chosroes, king of persia, undertook to explore the national work of the brahmans and the famous book, the kurtuk dunmix, and the result of his mission and labours were, after considerable research in india, the materials for and production of the culila dinma, a national work greatly treasured by chosroes and future kings of persia, and which work contained the art of playing chess. this work is said to have been jointly translated by burzuvia and buzerjmihr the vizier of chosroes and it is highly probable that the latter did assist, and thus learnt the secret, and this seems to form the most likely solution of the circumstance of his unraveling the mysteries of chess as alleged, without the slightest clue, to the amazement and delight of chosroes and his court, when it was received as a test of wisdom and profound secret from the king of hind. writers who concur in or do not dissent from either of these accounts, yet differ as to which should take priority in point of date, the more reasonable supposition seems to be, that burzuvia not unwilling to propitiate chosroes' favourite vizier and counsellor, reserved his knowledge from all but buzerjmihr in which no doubt he exercised wise policy and did not himself go unrewarded. the chief counsellor and vizier of a great king was a desirable person to conciliate in those days, and afterwards as is abundantly proved throughout eastern history and dynastics from the time of abu bekr, omar, osman, abdullah, and the prophet, and later from harun, and al mamun ( - ) even to the time of the enlightened akbar, ( - ), continued examples are to be found in the reigns of the rulers through all these ages where the real sway vested in the vizier who frequently combined a great knowledge of learning with an extraordinary capacity for war. ------ the ten advantages of chess according to the persian philosopher, are thus given in translation. the "first advantage" of which the commencement is wanting in the m.s., turns chiefly on the benefits of food and exercise for the mind in which chess is marked out as an active agent, intended by its inventor to conduce to intellectual energy in pursuit of knowledge, for as the human body is nourished by eating which is its food, and from which it obtains life and strength, and without which the body dies, so the mind of man is nourished by learning which is the food of the soul, and without which he would incur spiritual death; that is ignorance, and it is current that a wise man's sleep is better than a fool's devotion. the glory of man then is knowledge, and chess is the nourishment of the mind, the solace of the spirit, the polisher of intelligence, the bright sun of understanding, and has been preferred by the philosopher its inventor, to all other means by which we arrive at wisdom. the second advantage is in religion, illustrating the muhammedan doctrines of predestination (sabr and cadar) by the free will of man in playing chess, moving when he will, or where he will, and which piece he thinks best, but restricted in some degree by compulsion, as he may not play against certain laws, nor give to one piece the move of another, whereas, on the contrary, nerd (eastern backgammon) is mere free will, while in dice again all is compulsion. this argument is pursued at some length in the text. passing from this singular application of theology to chess play, we find the third advantage relates to government, the principles of which the author declares to be best learned from chess. the board is compared to the world, and the adverse sets of men to two monarchs with their subjects, each possessing one half of the world, and with true eastern ambition desiring the other, but unable to accomplish his design without the utmost caution and policy. perwiz and ardeshir are quoted as having attributed all their wisdom of government to the study and knowledge of chess. the fourth advantage relates to war, the resemblance to which of the mimic armies of chess, is too obvious to detain the philosopher long. the fifth advantage of chess is in its resemblance to the heavens. he says, the board represents the heavens, in which squares are the celestial houses and the pieces stars. the superior pieces are assimilated to the moving stars, and the pawns which have only one movement to the fixed stars. the king is as the sun, and the wazir in place of the moon, and the elephants and taliah in the place of saturn; and the rukhs and dabbabah in that of mars, and the horses and camel in that of jupiter, and the ferzin and zarafah in that of venus, and all these pieces have their accidents, corresponding with the trines and quadrates, and conjunction and opposition, and ascendancy and decline, such as the heavenly bodies have, and the eclipse of the sun is figured by shah caim or stale mate. this parallel is completed by indicating the functions of the different pieces in connection with the influence of their respective planets, and chess players are even invited to consult astrology in adapting their moves to the various aspects. the sixth advantage is derived from the preceding, and assigns to each piece, according to the planet it represents, certain physical temperaments, as the warm, the cold, the wet, the dry, answering to the four principal movements of chess, (viz, the straight, oblique, mixed or knights, and the pawns move). this system is extended to the beneficial influence of chess on the body, prescribing it as a cure for various ailings of a lighter kind, as pains in the head and toothache, which are dissipated by the amusement of play; and no illness is more grievous than hunger and thirst, yet both these, when the mind is engaged in chess, are no longer thought of. advantage seven, "in obtaining repose for the soul." the philosopher says, the soul hath illnesses, like as the body hath, and the cure of these last is known, but of the soul's illness there be also many kinds, and of these i will mention a few. the first is ignorance, and another is disobedience, the third haste, the fourth cunning, the fifth avarice, sixth tyranny, seventh lying, the eighth pride, the ninth deceit, and deceit is of two kinds, that which deceiveth others, and that by which we deceive ourselves; and the tenth is envy, and of this also there be many kinds, and there is no one disorder of the soul greater than ignorance for it is the soul's death, as learning is its life; and for this disease is chess an especial cure, since there is no way by which men arrive more speedily at knowledge and wisdom, and in like manner, by its practice all the faults which form the diseases of the soul, are converted into their corresponding virtues. thus, ignorance is exchanged for learning, obstinacy for docility, and precipitation for patience, rashness for prudence, lying for truth, cowardice for bravery, and avarice for generosity, tyranny for justice, irreligion for piety, deceitfulness for sincerity, hatred for affection, emnity for friendship. the eighth may be called a social advantage of chess, bringing men nearer to kings and nobles, and as a cause of intimacy and friendship, and also as a preventive to disputes and idleness and vain pursuits. the tenth and last advantage is in combining war with sport, the utile with the dulce, in like manner as other philosophers have put moral in the mouths of beasts, and birds, and reptiles, and encouraged the love of virtue and inculcated its doctrines by allegorical writings such as the marzaban, namah, and kalila wa dimnah, under the attractive illusion of fable. ------ vida there is scarcely any writer who has gone through so many editions and translations as marcus hieronymus vida, bishop of alba. the scacchia ludus was published at rome in , and since then no fewer than twenty-four editions have been published in the original latin, the last at london in . of translation there have been eleven in italian, four in french, and eight in english, including the one ascribed to goldsmith, which appears in an edition of that poet's works published by murray in . the only german translation hitherto noticed in this country is that printed at the end of kochs codex ( ) but we learn from an editorial note that the version now given in the schachtzeitung is by herr pastor jesse, and that it was published at hanover in . it was from vida that sir william jones obtained the idea of his poem caissa, which mr. peter pratt described in his studies of chess as an "elegant embellishment" an "admired effusion" and a classical offering to chess. in the introduction is found: to the reader, greeting. strange perchance may it seem to some (courteous reader) that anie man should employ his time and bestow his labour in setting out such bookes, whereby men may learn to play, when indeede most men are given rather to play, than to studie and travell, which were true, if it were for the teaching of games unlawfull, as dice play, or cogging, or falsehoods in card play, or such like, but forasmuch as this game or kingly pastime is not only devoid of craft, fraud, and guile, swearing, staring, impatience, fretting and falling out, but also breedeth in the players a certaine studie, wit, pollicie, forecaste, and memorie not only in the play thereof, but also in action of publick government, both in peace and warre, wherein both counsellors at home and captaines abroade may picke out of these wodden pieces some prettie pollicie both how to govern their subjects in peace, how to leade or conduct lively men in the field in warre: for this game hath the similitude of a ranged battell, as by placing the men and setting them forth on the march may very easily appeare. the king standeth in the field in middle of his army, and hath his queene next unto him and his nobilitie about him, with his soldiers to defend him in the forefront of the battell. sith therefore this game is pleasant to all, profitable to most, hurtful to none. i pray thee (gentle reader) take this my labour in good part, and thou shalt animate me hereafter to the setting forth of deeper matters. farewell. ludus scacchi. peter pratt of lincoln's inn, author of the "theory of chess," ( ) a work referred to by professor allen, the biographer of philidor as "the most divertingly absurd of all chess books." some idea of the plan and style of the work may be obtained from the following extract from the author's preface: "the game of chess, though generally considered as an emblem of war (the blood stained specie of it) seemed to him (the author) more to resemble those less ensanguined political hostilities which take place between great men in free countries, an idea which was at once suggested and confirmed by observing that when one combatant is said to have conquered another, instead of doing anything like killing or wounding him, he only casts him from his place and gets into it himself." fortified in this conceit the ingenious author converts the pawns into members of the house of commons, the rooks into peers, while the queen is transformed into a minister, and the whole effect of this curious nomenclature upon the notation of the games is ludicrous in the extreme. an american view was presented in the following words, it would probably have also have disturbed the equanimity of forbes like that of pope's did (page ). the date to which i have referred the origin of chess will probably astonish those persons who have only regarded it as the amusement of idle hours, and have never troubled themselves to peruse those able essays in which the best of antiquaries and investigators have dissipated the cloudy obscurity which once enshrouded this subject. those who do not know the inherent life which it possesses will wonder at its long and enduring career. they will be startled to learn that chess was played before columbus discovered america, before charlemagne revived the western empire, before romulus founded rome, before achilles went up to the siege of troy, and that it is still played as widely and as zealously as ever now that those events have been for ages a part of history. it will be difficult for them to comprehend how, amid the wreck of nations, the destruction of races, the revolutions of time, and the lapse of centuries, this mere game has survived, when so many things of far greater importance have either passed away from the memories of men, or still exist only in the dusty pages of the chroniclers. it owes, of course, much of its tenacity of existence to the amazing inexhaustibility of its nature. some chess writers have loved to dwell upon the unending fertility of its powers of combinations. they have calculated by arithmetical rules the myriads of positions of which the pieces and pawns are susceptible. they have told us that a life time of many ages would hardly suffice even to count them. we know, too, that while the composers of the orient and the occident have displayed during long centuries an admirable subtility and ingenuity in the fabrications of problems, yet the chess stratagems of the last quarter of a century have never been excelled in intricacy and beauty. we have witnessed, in our day contests brilliant with skilful maneuvers unknown to the sagacious and dexterous chess artists of the eighteenth century. within the last thirty years we have seen the invention of an opening as correct in theory, and as elegant in practice as any upon the board, and of which our fathers were utterly ignorant. the world is not likely to tire of an amusement which never repeats itself, of a game which presents today, features as novel, and charms as fresh as those with which it delighted, in the morning of history, the dwellers on the banks of the ganges and indus. an indian philosopher thus described it: it is a representative contest, a bloodless combat, an image, not only of actual military operations, but of that greater warfare which every son of the earth, from the cradle to the grave, is continually waging, the battle of life. its virtues are as innumerable as the sands of african sahara. it heals the mind in sickness, and exercises it in health. it is rest to the overworked intellect, and relaxation to the fatigued body. it lessens the grief of the mourner, and heightens the enjoyment of the happy. it teaches the angry man to restrain his passions, the light-minded to become grave, the cautious to be bold, and the venturesome to be prudent. it affords a keen delight to youth, a sober pleasure to manhood, and a perpetual solace to old age. it induces the poor to forget their poverty, and the rich to be careless of their wealth. it admonishes kings to love and respect their people, and instructs subjects to obey and reverence their rulers. it shows how the humblest citizens, by the practise of virtue and the efforts of labour, may rise to the loftiest stations, and how the haughtiest lords, by the love of vice and the commission of errors, may fall from their elevated estate. it is an amusement and an art, a sport and a science. the erudite and untaught, the high and the low, the powerful and the weak, acknowledge its charms and confirm its enticements. we learn to like it in the years of our youth, but as increased familiarity has developed its beauties, and unfolded its lessons, our enthusiasm has grown stronger, and our fondness more confirmed. note. the earliest example of praise and censure of chess strikes us as very curious and sufficiently interesting to be presented as illustrating two varieties of arabian style, and as exhibiting two sides of the question. it is from one of the early arabian manuscripts called the yawakit ul mawakit in the collection baron hammer purgstall at vienna. by ibn ul mutazz. censure of chess. the chess player is ever absorbed in his chess and full of care, swearing false oaths and making many vain excuses, one who careth only for himself and angereth his maker. 'tis the game of him who keepeth the fast only when he is hungry, of the official who is in disgrace, of the drunkard till he recovereth from his drunkenness, and in the yatimat ul dehr it is said, abul casim al kesrawi hated chess, and constantly abused it, saying, you never see a chess player rich who is not a sordid miser, nor hear a squabbling that is not on a question of the chess board. in praise of chess o thou whose cynic sneers express the censure of our favourite chess, know that its skill is science self, its play distraction from distress, it soothes the anxious lover's care, it weans the drunkard from excess, it counsels warriors in their art, when dangers threat and perils press, and yields us when we need them most, companions in our loneliness. ------ the manuscript of the asiatic society presented to them by major price, is a curious but interesting production, the author is unknown, but he is regarded as a very quaint individual, an opinion perhaps not unwarranted by his preface, and many a one (he says) has experienced a relief from sorrow, and affliction in consequence of this magic recreation, and this same fact has been asserted by the celebrated physician, mohammed zakaria razi, in his book, entitled "the essence of things," "and such is likewise the opinion of the physician abi bin firdaus as i shall notice more fully towards the end of the present work for the composing of which i am in the hope of receiving my reward from god, who is most high and most glorious. "i have passed my life since the age of fifteen among all the masters of chess living in my time, and since that period till now, when i have arrived at middle age, i have travelled through irak arab, and irak ajarm, and khurasam and the regions of mawara al nahr (transoxania), and i have there met with many a master of this art, and i have played with all of them, and through the favour of him who is adorable and most high, i have come off victorious. likewise in playing without seeing the board i have overcome most opponents, nor had they the power to cope with me. i, the humble sinner now addressing you have played with one opponent over the board and at the same time i have carried on four different games with as many adversaries without seeing the board, whilst i conversed freely with my friends all along and through the divine favour i conquered them all." the ten advantages of chess as set forth by the anonymous author of the asiatic society's m.s. form the most remarkable specimens of chess criticism. the first discusses it as food and exercise for the mind, the second, he says is in religion and free will, relates to government, to war, to the heavens and stars, to the temperaments, in obtaining repose, the social advantage of chess, wisdom and knowledge, , in combining war with sport. advantage the ninth is in wisdom and knowledge, and that wise men do play chess, and to those who object that foolish men also play chess, and though constantly engaged in it, become no wiser, it may be answered, that the distinction between wise and foolish men in playing chess, is as that of man and beast in eating of the tree, that the man chooses its ripe and sweet fruit, while the beast eats but the leaves and branches, and the unripe and bitter fruit, and so it is with players of chess. the wise man plays for those virtues and advantages which have been already mentioned, and the foolish man plays it for mere sport and gambling, and regards not its advantages and virtues. thus may be seen, one man who breaks the stone of the fruit and eats the kernel, while another will even skin it to obtain the innermost part, and in pursuit of knowledge men do likewise. one man is content with the exterior and apparent meaning of the words, nor seeks its hidden sense, and this is the man who eats the fruit and throws away the kernel. another desires to be acquainted with the secret and inmost meaning that he may enjoy the whole benefit of it, and he is like unto the man who takes out the very oil of the nut, and mixes it with sugar and makes therewith a precious sweetmeat, which he eats and throws away the rest. this is the condition of the wise man, and the foolish man in playing chess. the game of chess received by the arabians from the persians was differently regarded by the various sects, some practising, others disapproving it. familiar references occur to it in the time of the prophet, who died a.d. commentators considered that a passage in the koran concerning lots and images embraced chess within the meaning of the latter term. the words are "o true believers, surely wine, and lots, and images, and divining arrows are an abomination of the works of satan, therefore avoid ye them that ye may prosper." mussulman commentators supposed that the interdict applied not to the game itself in which chance had no part, but to the carved figures, representing the pieces, men, horses, elephants, &c. according to sokeiker of damascus, the author of the book mustatraph and others, it is related from the sunna. that about the time of mahomet they played in the east at chess with figured men. as ali accidentally passed by some men playing at chess he said to them, "what are these small images upon which ye are so intent." from which it appears says the historian, the prophet saw small images of which he knew not the use. the mahometans of the persian sect, it is said, used figures, and the turks and arabians plain pieces. the arabians had among them very expert chess players. the progress of chess from persia to arabia plainly appears from the number of persian words which are never used by the arabians except in this game. the elephants which held a place in it, and the chariot, ship, or boat, original terms for the bishop of our game are among the proofs adduced of its indian origin which neither european nor asiatic writers seem to doubt, whilst with chess players the agreement in principle and identity of pieces in the present game with the ancient chaturanga is deemed almost conclusive. al suli, who died in is recorded to have been the greatest player among the arabians. adali al rumi was also a player of the very highest class, both of these as well as abul abbas a physician, who died in , and lajlaj in the same age wrote treatises on the game. ibn dandun and al kunaf, both of bagdad were of the first class, called aliyat. note. khusra naushirawan, king of persia, who reigned to (anna comnena, lambe) or to (forbes and biographers) seems to be the first royal patron of chess and if we consider the accounts of alexander the great, and his contemporary indian kings insufficiently vouched shahnama, (asiatic society's m.s.), ranks as our earliest reigning great patron, (justinian perhaps coming next). al walid, conqueror of spain, to a.d. is the first mentioned among arabian rulers before the famous harun ar rashid. the enlightened, mild and humane al mamun (second son of harun) the great patron of science, comes seventh on the list, and is supposed to have been the most enthusiastic and liberal of all the khalifs, and we are told that it was a happy thing for any worthy man of learning or scholar to become known to him. "unluckily it is said for oriental literature, but few of the arabian treasures have been preserved, and of those that have, scarcely any are translated," but there are abundant references to shew that some of the most powerful eastern rulers were chess players, (gibbon and others and eastern historians) and probably as has been suggested, (lambe, bland, forbes, &c., &c.,) many of them were devoted to or partial to the game, list of the khalifs, sultans, emperors and kings of the east, africa, spain and at times of egypt and persia, from abu bekr to a.d. (the great battle) which finally overthrew the moorish ascendancy. the versions of persian chess. burzuvia , king of hind . ------ abu feda, who is regarded as one of the most reliable historians in the annals of the muslims, records the following letter from nicephorus, emperor of the romans to harun, "sovereign of the arabs," the date given being about a.d. after the usual compliments the epistle proceeds: "the empress (irene) into whose place i have succeeded looked upon you as a rukh, and herself as a mere pawn, therefore she submitted to pay you a tribute more than the double of which she ought to have exacted from you. all this has been owing to female weakness and timidity. now, however, i insist that you immediately on reading this letter repay to me all the sums of money you ever received from her. if you hesitate, the sword shall settle our accounts." in reply to this pithy epistle, harun in great wrath wrote on the back of the leaf: "`in the name of god the merciful and gracious.' from harun the commander of the faithful to the roman dog, nicephorus. "i have read thine epistle, thou son of an infidel mother. my answer to it thou shalt see not here. nicephorus had to sue for peace, and to pay the tribute as before." the above is adduced as tending to confirm by the familiar allusion to rukh and pawn that the game was known to the greeks and arabians in the eighth century. note. the unknown persian philosopher in his m.s. presented by major price, the eminent orientalist to the asiatic society attributes the invention of chess to hermes, who lived in the time of moses. this m.s. which is the one upon which bland mainly bases his admirable treatise on persian chess is imperfect, many pages being missing, including that in which the title, name of author and date would doubtless appear if the m. s. was perfect, what exists however is singularly curious and interesting. it commences with a description of the author himself, and his prowess and achievements. it then sets forth under ten headings the advantages of chess, explains its terms, and describes it fully, gives the names of great players with many positions, including some of al mutasem, eighth khalif of abbaside, ( to ) and by ali shaturanji the philidor of timur's time. bland assigns about the tenth century, between the time of the death of al razi the physician of bagdad, and that of the poet firdausi, as the age of the document. forbes strongly contends that it was more probably written in the time of tamerlane, between and a.d. and hints that it may have been prepared to please that monarch himself with an illustration of the great game called the complete or perfect chess of timur (with pieces and squares) to which he had become much attached. blindfold play by the author and others is described in the m.s. as well as the giving of odds, there being no less than thirteen grades of players enumerated. anna comnena was born and died , she was the daughter of the emperor "alexis comnenus" and "the empress irene." during the latter years of her life she composed a work to which she gave the name of alexius, which is divided into books, and has been more or less esteemed by critics, generally, and is called a memorable work by all. the biographical dictionary describes it as one of the most important and interesting works of the time, and the chief source for the life of alexius i, mention is made of her great beauty and extraordinary talents, also of her learning, and that her palace was the rendezvous of the most eminent greek scholars, poets, artists, and statesmen, and was surrounded by many of the distinguished barons of the first crusaders, on their appearance at constantinople; reference is made to her attachment to arts and sciences, but as to chess or music, or the diversions, or recreations, common to the period, or favoured at the court not one word is said, and this seems very remarkable, as due prominence is given to her notice of chess by chess writers. the article is initialed w. p. william plate, l.l.d., m.r., geographical society of paris. this gentleman may have been unacquainted with chess, and so may don pascual de gayangos and dr. sprenger, the other writers in the biography, but it happens that many of the articles in the same volume are by duncan forbes, who in other works so prominently makes due mention of anna comnena and her references to chess, and the fact that her father alexius was in the habit of playing the game. we are told by hyde that the princess anna comnena relates, in the alexius a work written by her in the beginning of the th century, "that the emperor (alexius), her father, in order to dispel the cares arising from affairs of state, occasionally played chess at night with some of his relations or kinsfolk. she then says that this game had been originally brought into use among the byzantines from the assyrians." the fair historian says nothing as to the time when the game came from assyria, which may have been five centuries before she wrote, her statement, however, proves that it came from persia, and not from arabia, for assyria formed an important portion of the persian empire under the sassassian dynasty, and in fact was for some centuries a kind of debatable land, and alternately occupied by the persians and romans, according as victory swayed to one side or the other. the term assyria, then, denoting persia in general, is used here in a well known figurative sense "per synecdechen," a part taken for the whole, just as the term fers is employed to at this day to denote the whole of persia, whereas it is only the name of a single insignificant province of that kingdom. finally, the once splendid empire of assyria, of media, and of persia, had all passed away long before anna comnena wrote, so that one name is just as likely to be employed by her as another. (forbes.) ------ the european origin of chess, or rather the supposed time of its first introduction through the arabs into spain , , though resting on a general consensus of agreement may yet prove to be ill matured, for though it is clear that spain did get knowledge of it at the conquest and occupancy during al walid's reign by the armies under musa ibn nosseyr and tarik ibn yeyzad it is not so certain, if the romans were acquainted with it at the time of the edict, years earlier, that it may not have been known in some parts of europe before the time supposed, besides which we have the asiatic society's statement, through its persian m.s., and from the shahnama applicable to alexander the great's time, and the indian kings in treaty with him. the commonly accepted theory, that england first got chess through william of normandy at the conquest or on the return of the first crusaders (in the latter case about a.d.), though concurred in with tolerable unanimity by all writers until sir frederic madden raised his doubts in also appears scarcely consistent with previous incidents found on record. canute's partiality for chess (he reigned to ) events mentioned in the reigns of athelstan and edgar and the chess pieces and boards we read of including those dug up at the isle of lewis, and of pepin, charlemagne, harfagia, king of norway, and in iceland seem to be unnoticed or too slightly regarded by those who wrote on assumed saxon or english chess, first knowledge. the period assigned for chess in england is years later than its arrival in persia, and subsequent receipt in arabia, and probably in greece, and nearly years after its practice among the spaniards, the aquitaines and the franks. the saxon monarchs who first became most given to the search after knowledge of all kinds and who were acquainted with and contemporary with pepin and charlemagne and harun and the great al mamun may well have heard of and acquired some knowledge of a game so popular as chess had become at the carlovingian and greek courts, and in the eastern dominions and mohammedan spain. the reigns of offa and egbert seem not improbable ones in which chess might have become known among us, the scholar alcuin from his long sojourn and domestication with charlemagne and his family, by all of whom he was revered and beloved, was familiar with that monarch's tastes and amusements. he was in fact his preceptor in the sciences. by arrangement with charlemagne he paid a visit to his native country, england, during the years to a.d., he probably knew chess and was familiar with the celebrated chess men which the emperor valued so much, and have been reported on in our own times, and he seems the least unlikely person to have noticed and assisted in encouraging a judicious practice of it in england. offa also corresponded with charlemagne. egbert took refuge at his court before he began to reign and was well received, and for a time served in the emperor's army, and that those kings may have known of the royal game, through alcuin, or even direct is not impossible or even improbable. h. t. buckle, the author and historian, (born , died at damascus in ) foremost in skill among chess amateurs, satisfied with the evidence of canute's partiality for the game thought it very probable that it might have been known before the commencement of that monarch's reign ( ), and suggested perhaps a century earlier. sir frederick madden ( to ) at the outset of some highly interesting communications to the "asiatic researches," at first inclined to the crusaders' theory, but upon later consideration in his articles he arrived at the conclusion that chess must have been known among us as early as the reign of athelstan ( to ), and professor duncan forbes ( to ) concurred in that view, both writers regard the incident related of the earl of devonshire and his beautiful daughter being found playing chess together, when earl athelwold, king edgar's messenger arrived to test the report of her great beauty as not unworthy of credit. edgar reigned from to . english history referring to this incident among the amours of edgar makes no mention of the earl of devonshire and his daughter being found playing chess together. hume says elfrida was daughter and heir of olgar (orgar), earl of devonshire, and though she had been educated in the country and had never appeared in court she had filled all england with the reputation of her beauty. the mission of earl athelwold, his deception of the king and his own marriage with elfrida follows, next the king's discovery, the murder of athelwold by the king, and his espousal of elfrida. this incident in edgar's reign with some in athelstan's, including the present to harold harfagra, king of norway, of a very fine and rich chess table, and the account and description of seventy chessmen of different sizes, belonging to various sets, dug up in the parish of uig, isle of lewis, are mentioned among the matters which cause the impression and assumption that a knowledge of chess had existed in the north of europe, and in england earlier than the conquest days assigned to it by all writers before madden's views of appeared. so early as the eighth century some courtesies began to be extended and enquiries made between contemporary monarchs on theological, scientific, and social matters. the presents received by the carlovingian rulers from constantinople and the east included the chess equipages deposited and preserved as sacred relics in france, which had belonged to pepin and to charlemagne. the latter was contemporary with the famous harun ar rashid of bagdad and princess irene and her successor emperor nicephorus of constantinople. greetings and embassies passed between them. offa corresponded with charlemagne and despatched the scholar alcuin to assist him in refuting certain religious heresies (as alleged) propounded by one felix, a bishop of urgel. egbert, we read, took refuge at charlemagne's court, was well received by him and served for a time in his army. alcuin was the preceptor and became the life-long friend and adviser of charlemagne, was domesticated with him and greatly revered in his family. letters of alcuin's are referred to in forbes' edition. the emperor's taste for chess, his celebrated chessmen and his communications on scientific and social matters with the east and elsewhere could be no secrets to alcuin. charlemagne seems to have fancied himself at chess, and from his avidity to find an opponent alcuin may have been induced to test conclusions of chess skill with him. on his visit to england in alcuin brought his knowledge with him and he is the least unlikely person to have noticed chess and to have assisted in diffusing a knowledge of it in england. egbert, a young man of the most promising hopes gave great jealously to brithric, the reigning prince, both because he seemed by his birth better entitled to the crown, and because he had acquired, to an eminent degree the affections of the people. egbert, sensible of his danger from the suspicions of brithric, secretly withdrew into france where he was well received by charlemagne. by living in the court, and serving in the armies of that prince, the most able and most generous that had appeared in europe during several ages, he acquired those accomplishments which afterwards enabled him to make such a shining figure on the throne, and familiarizing himself to the manners of the french, who, as malmesbury observes, were eminent, both for valour and civility above all the western nations, he learned to polish the rudeness and barbarity of the saxon character, his early misfortunes thus proved a singular advantage to him. ------ theories as to the invention of chess in the second volume of the "history of british india," by james mill, esq., we are told that the araucanians invented the game of chess. forbes sums up an article upon this claim by saying, "we must in charity suppose that mr. mill really knew nothing of chess, whether hindu, persian, or chinese." professor wilson's opinion of mr. mill's work is better worth recording. "history of british india," by james mill, esq., fourth edition, with notes and continuation, by horace hayman wilson, m.a., f.r.s., &c., london , vols., vo., vide preface by professor wilson, page vii, &c. of the proofs which may be discovered in mr. mill's history of the operation of preconceived opinions, in confining a vigorous and active understanding to a partial and one-sided view of a great question, no instance is more remarkable than the unrelenting pertinacity with which he labours to establish the barbarism of the hindus. indignant at the exalted, and it may be granted, sometimes exaggerated descriptions of their advance in civilization, of their learning, their sciences, their talents, their virtues which emanated from the amiable enthusiasm of sir william jones, mr. mill has entered the lists against him with equal enthusiasm, but a less commendable purpose, and has sought to reduce them as far below their proper level as their encomiasts may have formerly elevated them above it. with very imperfect knowledge, with materials exceedingly defective, with an implicit faith in all testimony hostile to hindu pretensions, he has elaborated a portrait of the hindus which has no resemblance whatever to the original, and which almost outrages humanity. as he represents them, the hindus are not only on a par with the least civilized nations of the old and new world, but they are plunged almost without exception in the lowest depths of immorality and crime. considered merely in a literary capacity, the description of the hindus, in the history of british india is open to censure for its obvious unfairness and injustice, but in the effect which it is likely to exercise upon the connexion between the people of england and the people of india, it is chargeable with more than literary element, its tendency is evil, it is calculated to destroy all sympathy between the rulers and the ruled. a writer in fraser's magazine, observes: "the native of india is defective in that mental and moral energy, that restless enterprise, which distinguishes the anglo saxon genius, and which gives him such a preponderance over the impassive and contemplative oriental, but, on the other hand, the native of india possesses in a high degree that acute perception and common sense strengthened by numerical traditions and maxims, which enable him to judge correctly of both the acts and motives of his foreign superior. it should be recollected to their credit, that the germ of almost every known invention, the original idea of nearly every useful secret in arts, the knowledge of the highest branches of the abstract sciences, had been familiar to the wise men of the east, and were taught in the most perfect language in the world, the mother of all other languages, the sanskrit. the anonymous or rather unknown author of the asiatic society's m.s. often declares that the hindus were far too stupid a people to have invented chess. ------ salvio, doctor of civil laws the inventor as some authors declare, and among them jacobus de cessolus, a friar and master of the dominican order, is xerxes, a philosopher and minister of ammolius, king of babylon whose object was to admonish his monarch of the errors that had been committed in the government of the realm. this opinion is followed by many, of whom the author of the historia del mondo is one. st. gregory of nazianzen in his third oration, cassiodorus the great in his thirty-first epistle and eighth book, allesandri allesandro in the third book and twenty first chapter of his dies geniales, torquato tasso in his romeo del gioco, thomas actius in his tractatus de ludo scaccherum, and other legal authors who have treated of play, say that chess owes its origin to palamedes who at the siege of troy, employed it in order that his soldiers should not remain inactive, and not being able to practice actual warfare, they might amuse themselves with mimic conflicts. for which reason palamedes played it with thersites, as homer tells us in the second book of the iliad, so also did the other heroes of the grecian armies, as is related by euripides in his tragedies. carrera , published a large volume concerning the origin of chess, in which he attempts to prove from herodotus, euripides, sophocles, philostratus, homer, virgil, aristotle, seneca, plato, ovid, horace, quintilian, and martial vida, that palamedes invented chess at the siege of troy. the encyclopaedia or universal dictionary of arts and sciences, dedicated to the king in , contains an account of chess, but it is neither a well informed nor useful article beyond the statement that schach is originally persian, and that schachmat in that language, signifies the king is dead, it vouchsafes neither reasonable nor useful information. the traditionary names mentioned in the article are schatrinscha a persian philosopher, palamedes, diogenes and pyrrhus, its authorities, nicod, bochart, scriverius, fabricius, and donates, and it concludes with a sample of the stereotyped character, with which we are so familiar of the trace of chess origin, being lost in the remote ages of antiquity. chess is thus described in it: "an ingenious game, played or performed with little round pieces of wood, on a board divided into squares, where art and address are so indispensably requisite, that chance seems to have no place, and a person never loses but by his own fault. on each side are eight noblemen and as many pawns, which are to be moved and shifted, according to certain rules and laws of the game." the same work specifies the various ancient opinions upon the origin of the game, inclining to those of nicod and bochart, supported by scriverius, who state that schach is originally persian, and schachmat in that language signifies the king dead. another opinion is that of all the theories enunciated, the most probable is that of fabricius, who avers that a celebrated persian astronomer, one schatrinscha, invented the game, and gave it his own name, which it still bears in that country. it adds, donatus observes, that pyrrhus the most knowing and expert prince of his age, ranging a battle, made use of the men at chess, to form his designs, and to shew the secrets thereof to other. the common opinion was that it was invented by palamedes at the siege of troy, others attributed it to diomedes, who lived in the time of alexander, but the text concludes by remarking, "the truth appears to be that the game is so very ancient, there is no tracing its author." ------ chaucer in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, chess continued to be extremely popular, chaucer in one of his minor poems "the boke of the duchesse," introduces himself in a dream as playing at chess with fortune, and speaks of false moves, as though dishonest tricks were sometimes practised in the game. he tells us: at chesse with me she gan to playe, with her fals draughts (moves) dyvers, she staale on me and toke my fers (queen), and wharne i sawe my fers awaye, allas i couthe no longer playe, but seyde, farewell swete yuys, and farewell ul that ever ther ys, therwith fortune seyde chek here, and mayte in the myd poynt of the chek here, (chess board) with a paune (pawn) errante allas, ful craftier to playe she was, than athalus that made the game, first of the chesse, so was hys name. (robert bell)-chaucer, vol. vi. p. . ------ saul and barbiere barbiere , in his work, "the famous game of chess play," dedicated to lucy, countess of bedford, observes: "for the antiquity of this game, i find upon record, that it was invented years before the nativity of christ, so that it is now , years since it hath been practiced, and it is thought that xerxes (a puissant king) was the deviser thereof, though some be of opinion that it was made by excellent learned men, as well appeareth by the wonderful invention of the same." the title is quaintly expressed. the famous game of chesse play, "being a princely exercise wherein the learner may profit more by reading of this small book, than by playing of a thousand mates. now augmented by many material things formerly wanting and beautified by a threefold methode of the chesse men, of the chesse play, of the chesse moves." by j. barbiere, p. to which is added representation of a chesse board and pieces, with two players thereat, in the act of drawing for the move with the following lines: "if on your man you light, the first draught you may play, if not tis mine by right, at first to leade the way. printed in london, for john jackson, dwelling without temple barre, . the introduction is in the following words: to the right honourable, thrice noble, and vertuous lady, lucy countesse of bedford, one of the ladies of her majesties privie chamber. this little book, not so much for the subject sake (though much esteemed), as for bearing in front your honour's honoured name having found that good acceptance with the world, as now to come to be re-imprinted. i have been desired by the printer, my friend, little to review it, and finding it indeed a prettie thing, but with some wants specially or a good methode, i have to my best skill rectified it for him, leaving to the author (now deceased), with the good respect and commendation due to him for his honest and generous endeavour, his phrase and stile whole as farre as i might of this madame, i now presume to offer your honour the censure whose singular judgment, and love in and unto this noble exercise, is reported to be a chief grace to the same, that so both his labour and mine herein, may returne to the sacred shrine of your honour's vertues, there still to receive protection against ignorance and malice. for which attempt of mine, humbly craving pardon i rest, noble madame of your honour, the most submissive observant, j. barbiere, p. ------ john lydgate the earliest english references to chess, are in the works of chaucer, gower, occreve, price, denham, sir philip sydney, sir walter raleigh, &c. john lydgate the english monk of st. edmund's-bury, calls this game, the game royal, and he dedicates his book, written in the manner of a love poem, to the admirers of chess, which he compares to a love battle, in the following words: m.s. john lydgate. to all folky's vertuose, that gentil bene and amerouse, which love the fair play notable, of the chesse most delytable, whith all her hoole full entente, where they shall fynde, and son anoone, how that i not yere agoone, was of a fers so fortunate, into a corner drive and maat. the old english names in lydgate, are , kynge, , queen or fers, , awfn, or alfin, , knyght, or horseman, , roke or rochus, , paune. although shakespeare makes no mention of chess in his works, some of his brother dramatists, and other writers who were contemporary with him, were fond of referring to it. skelton, poet laureate to henry the eighth, says: for ye play so at the chesse, as they suppose and guess, that some of you but late, hath played so checkmate, with lords of high estate, and again, our dayes be datyed, to be check matyed. many other poets and writers of that age, drew similes and figures of speech from the chess board, including spencer, cowley, denham, beaumont and fletcher, quaint arthur saul and john dryden. middleton's comedy of chesse, , was acted at the globe. it was however a sort of religious controversy, the game being played by a member of the church of england, and another of the church of rome, the former in the end gaining the victory. the play being considered too political, the author was cast into prison, from which he obtained his release by the following petition to the king. a harmless game, coyned only for delight, t'was played betwixt the black house and the white, the white house won, yet still the black doth brag, they had the power to put me in the bag, use but your hand, tw'll set me free, t'is but removing of a man, that's me. philidor states in his work that historians have commemorated the following sovereigns as chess players: charlemagne, tamerlane, sebastian, king of portugal, philip ii king of spain, the emperor charles v, catherine of medecis, queen of france, pope leo x, henry iv of france, queen elizabeth, louis xiii, james i of england (who used to call the game a philosophical folly,) louis xiv, william iii, charles xii, and frederick of russia. of these, charlemagne, who reigned to is the earliest name. tamerlane or timur who dominated at the end of the th century is the next. the remainder date from the th century. to this list the renowned and esteemed philidor might have made some very material additions. if the first indian account of kings, kaid and porus, in alexander the great's time, is to be relied on, the macedonian conqueror who was in friendly alliance with porus in b.c., might have become acquainted with chess, and aristotle, some time his tutor, may have played it as supposed in one of the arabian manuscripts. chosroes, king of persia, who reigned from to , harun ar rashid, to , al amin, his first son, to , the magnificent al mamun, his second son, to , al mutasem, the most skilful player among the rulers, to , and al wathick, to , the five successive caliphs of the powerful abbasside dynasty, during the palmy period called the golden age of arabian literature, are identified with a very interesting period of chess practice and progress, and are all recorded to have been chess players. al walid the sixth, of umeyyah, to , who through his generals, tarik ibn zeyyad and musa ibn nosseyr and their armies invaded, conquered and occupied spain, is the earliest ruler we read of as a chess player after its first great friend and patron chosroes, but it is pretty certain that justinian, who died in , and was contemporary with chosroes, was also an exponent and supporter of the game. of the one hundred and sixty monarchs who ruled the east africa and spain from the days of bekr, omar, and the prophet to the downfall of moorish ascendancy in the middle of the thirteenth century, we read of several who emulated the tastes of their most famous predecessors, and the rahmans, mansur and an nassirs vied with harun and al mamum in their patronage and encouragement of all sorts of learning arts and sciences. of the powerful abbasside dynasty which lasted from to , there were caliphs whose chess doings and sayings alone would, it is said fill a good-sized volume. note. in addition to the of abbas and of umeyyah to , there were of beni umeyyah to , there were fatimites, to , almmoravides (exclusive of abdullah, the founder), the mahdi, to , almohades, to , and sultans of almowat, to . these with about other rulers, sultans, emperors or kings of cordova, toledo, seville, khorassan, valentia and badajoz, make up a list of about rulers, who swayed the east africa and mohammedan spain for about years. the moors after suffering great defeats in and received a final check in the great battle of , and in when ferdinand iii of castile took seville their powers of aggression had vanished. note. abbasides is the name generally given to the beni abbas or descendants of abbas, who succeeded the beni umeyyah in the empire of the east. owing to their descent from the uncle of the prophet, they had ever since the introduction of islam been held in great esteem by the arabs, and had frequently aspired to the khalifate. in the year , a.d. - , abul-abbas abdullah, son of mohammed, son of ali, son of abdullah, son of abbas ibn aldi-l-mutalib, uncle of the prophet mohammed, revolted at kujah, and after putting to death merwan ii, the last khalif of the house of umeyyah, was unanimously raised to the throne. thirty-seven khalifs of the dynasty of abbas reigned for a period of lunar or mohammedan years over the east (spain, africa and egypt) having been successively detached from their empire, until the last of them, al mut'assem, was deprived both of his kingdom and his life by the tartars under hulaku khan, . note. the khalif al mamum was one day playing with one of his courtiers, who moved negligently and in a careless manner, the khalif perceived it and got wrath, and turned over the board and men, and said: "he wants to deceive me and practice on my understanding; and he vowed on earth that this person should never play with him again." in like manner, it is related of walid ben abdul malik ben merwan, that on an occasion when one of his courtiers, who used to play with him negligently at chess, omitted to follow the proper rules of the game, the khalif struck him a blow with the ferzin (or queen) which broke his head, saying: "woe unto thee! art thou playing chess, and art thou in thy senses." note. the th and last khalif of abbaside, was dethroned and put to death by hulaku. the son of genghis khan in , when the tartars were also sorely troubling part of the christian world, and frightening the popes. unluckily for oriental literature we are told, scarcely any of the comparatively few works of the "golden age of arabian literature" saved from destruction, have been translated or made known to us, but we may conclude that of the one hundred and sixty rulers, not a few emulating harun, mamun, walid and mutasem, were more or less like them, devoted to the game. the powerful abbaside dynasty lasted from to , and there were khalifs of that race, the chess sayings and doings of whom alone, it is said, would fill a good-size volume, chess has had to contend against the consideration that the greatest historians and biographers, with the exception of cunningham and forbes, and perhaps gibbon were not players, hence what we do possess is gathered from scattered allusion, incidental and accidental rather than sustained or connected narrative or biographical notice. canute the dane, - , william the first, and other english kings, not so well attested, are absent from philidor's list. henry i, john, two of the edwards, i and iv, and charles i are identified with the chess incidents. accounts of henry vii and henry viii, contain items of expense connected with the game. the bluff king it is said played chess, as wolsey and cranmer did, and as pitt, and wilberforce, and sunderland, bolingbroke and sydney smyth have in our generations. the vain and tyrant king, like the ras of abyssinia, who we hear of through salt and buckle much preferred winning, and was probably readily accommodated. less magnanimous and wise, these two, henry and ras, did not in this respect resemble al mamun and tamerlane, whom ibn arabshah, gibbon and others tell us, had no dislike to being beaten, but rather honored their opponents. the chessmen of henry viii were last heard of in the possession of sir thomas herbert, those of charles i were with lord barrington. chess men were kept for queen elizabeth's use by lord cecil, the earl of leicester, and sir john harrington. in olden times as supposed, alexander the great, perhaps from acquaintance with india and its kings, and their powerful porus, b.c., may have known chess and possibly aristotle, sometime his tutor, who some say, invented chess, also played it. the most ancient names are the renowned prince yudhistheira, eldest son of king pandu of the sanskrit chess period, the yet earlier prince nala of the translated poems, and further back we have the brahmin radha kants account from the old hindu law book, that the wife of ravan, king of lanka, ceylon, invented chess in the second age of the world. associated with games not chess, but more like draughts in china, there are emperor yao, b.c., wa wung b.c., confucius b.c., hung cochu, b.c, and in egypt, queen hatasu about b.c., amenoph ii, to b.c., and rameses iv to b.c. note. the throne, cartouche, signet, and other relics. the draught box and draughtsmen of queen hatasu in the manchester exhibition . date b.c. . the catalogue says: these remarkable relics, the workmanship of royal artists , years ago, i.e., years before the birth of moses, are now being exhibited for the first time, by the kind permission of their owner, jesse haworth, esq. queen hatasu was the favourite daughter of thotmes i, and the sister of thotmes ii and iii, egyptian kings of the xviii dynasty. she reigned conjointly with her eldest brother, then alone for years, and for a short time with her younger brother, thotmes iii. she was the elizabeth of egyptian history: had a masculine genius and unbounded ambition. a woman, she assumed male attire; was addressed as a king even in the inscriptions upon her monument. her edifices are said to be "the most tasteful, most complete and brilliant creations which ever left the hands of an egyptian architect." the largest and most beautifully executed obelisk; still standing at karnak, bears her name. on the walls of her unique and beautiful temple at dayr el baharee, we see a naval expedition sent to explore the unknown land of punt, the somali country on the east coast of africa near cape guardafui years before the fleets of solomon, and returning laden with foreign woods, rare trees, gums, perfumes and strange beasts. here we have . queen hatasu's throne, made of wood foreign to egypt, the legs most elegantly carved in imitation of the legs of an animal, covered with gold down to the hoof, finishing with a silver band. each leg has carved in relief two uroei, the sacred cobra serpent of egypt, symbolic of a goddess. these are plated with gold. each arm is ornamented with a serpent curving gracefully along from head to tail, the scales admirably imitated by hundreds of inlaid silver rings. the only remaining rail is plated with silver. the gold and silver are of the purest quality. . a fragment of the cartouche or oval bearing the royal name, and once attached to the throne; the hieroglyphics are very elegantly carved in relief, with a scroll pattern round the edge, and around one margin, and a palm frond pattern around the other. about one fourth of the oval remains, by means of which our distinguished egyptologist, miss amelia b. edwards, l.l.d., has been able to complete the name and identify the throne. on one side is the great queen's throne name, ru-ma-ka. on the other the family name, amen knum hat shepsu, commonly read hatasu. with all its imperfections it is unique, being the only throne which has ever been disinterred in egypt. . a female face boldy, but exquisitely carved in dark wood, from the lid of a coffin, the effigy strongly resembling the face of the sitting statue of hatasu in the berlin museum: the eyes and double crown are lost. . the signet: this is a scarabaeus, in turquoise bearing the cartouche of queen hatasu, once worn as a ring. . the draught box and draughtmen: the box is of dark wood, divided on its upper side by strips of ivory into squares, on its under side into squares, being at one end and down the centre; some of these contained hieroglyphics inlaid, three of which still remain, also a drawer for holding the draughts. these draughts consist of about pieces, carved with most exquisite art and finish in the form of lions' heads--the hieroglyphic sign for "hat" in hatasu. also two little standing figures of egyptian men like pages or attendants, perfect, and admirable specimens of the delicate egyptian art. these may have been markers, or perhaps the principle pieces. two sides of another draught box, of blue porcelain and ivory, with which are two conical draughts of blue porcelain and ivory and three other ivory pieces. . also parts of two porcelain rings and porcelain rods, probably for some unknown game. . with the above were found a kind of salvo or perfume spoon in green slate, and a second in alabaster. the coffin of thotmes i and the bodies of thotmes ii and iii, were found at dayr el baharee in , that of their sister, queen hatasu, had disappeared but her cabinet was there, and is now in the boulack museum, and i have no doubt whatever, says miss edwards, "that this throne and these other relics are from that tomb." hieroglyphics of ancient egypt note. the name which occurs most frequently on the finest monuments of egyptian art is ramses, which immediately recalls the names of rhamses, ramesses, or ramestes, and raamses, (exod. i., ) occuring in hebrew, greek and roman writers, and when we find this name with all its adjuncts, distinguishing some of the finest remains of antiquity from the extremity of nubia to the shores of the mediterranean, we are immediately led to ask whether this must not have been the title of sesostris. the flaminian obelisk at rome, its copy, the salustian, the mahutean, and medicean, in the same place; those at el-ocsor, the ancient thebes, and a bilingual inscription at nahr-el-kelb, in syria, all bear this legend. the power and dominions of this prince, must therefore have been of no ordinary magnitude; and such was in fact that of the rhamses, whom the priests at thebes described to germanicus as the greatest conqueror who ever lived (tacit. annal. p. ed, elzevir, ). but none of the ancient historians give this name to sesostris. he is however called sethos by manetho who tells us (joseph, contra, apion, p. ) that he was also called rhamesses, from his grandfather rhampses, and thus affords a clue by which all doubt is removed; and as sethos, sesostris and sessosis, are virtually the same name, and confessedly belong to the same person, so was the rhamses of tacitus and the remss of these hieroglyphical inscriptions, no other than that mighty conqueror. his grandfather is called rhameses meiammun by manetho ( th king of the th dynasty) and that name appears in the great palace of medinet abu and some other buildings in the ruins of thebes, but the one is always named ramses ammon-mei and has distinctive titles different from those of the other. this is alone sufficient to identify them; for as the ptolemies were distinguished by their surnames philadelphus, epiphanes, soter &c., so were the ancient egyptian kings by their peculiar titles, as is manifest from the double scrolls by which their names are usually expressed. >from the tomb of ramses mei-ammun, in the biban-el-muluk, mr. belzoni brought the cover of his sarcophagus of red granite, ornamented with a recumbent figure of the deceased king in the character of osiris. it is now preserved in the fitz-william museum at cambridge, to which it was presented by that justly regretted traveller. correction. the th king of the th dynasty he must have been if they were seventeen, for sesostris in the tables is st king of the th dynasty. ------ it is not unreasonable to infer that egbert and even offa, at about the end of the eighth century may have known chess, which had become popular during their times, in arabia, greece, spain and among the franks and aquitaines, these saxon kings were of an enquiring turn of mind, and not indifferent to what was passing on in other countries. two hundred and fifty years had elapsed since chess had reached persia, and contemporary monarchs were not altogether strange to one another's tastes and pursuits. justinian and chosroes held communication on historical and social matters, harun of bagdad, and the princess irene of constantinople, as well as her predecessor, made special presents to pepin and charlemagne, including chess equipages which probably were considered suitable and fitting compliments at the time, and they seem to have been appreciated and highly valued, especially by charlemagne, who evidently fancied himself at chess, and we find was somewhat demonstrative in his challenges. charlemagne must have known egbert, who took refuge at his court for a time, before he became king of england, from the usurper brithric. the biography of the celebrated scholar alcuin, says that charlemagne met him in parma; but hume is probably right in his statement that he was sent by offa as the most proper person to meet the emperor's views in aiding him to confute certain alleged heresies. this scholar was much esteemed and venerated by charlemagne, and his family, and from his long domestication in his household, and familiarity with his habits and pursuits, could scarcely be ignorant of charlemagne's enthusiasm for chess, and such a popular exponent of learning at the time as alcuin was, might well have been known and favourably regarded by such a patron and enquirer as the famous harun ar rashid of bagdad, who must have corresponded with charlemagne and sent his presents at the very time that alcuin was residing with the emperor. note. offa died , alcuin , harun , charlemagne , the great al mamun commenced to reign in , and he is undoubtedly reputed to have been the most mild, humane and enlightened of all the khalifs. he was, however warlike also and expressed his surprise that he could not manage the mimic armies of the chess board like large forces on the field of battle. ------ canute's great partiality for chess seems well attested. the three successive royal assassinations recorded in scandinavian history associated with chess incidents, need not alone be relied on and form not the most pleasing reading in connection with our now innocent, and harmless chess; neither perhaps is it a recommendation or evidence of the calmness, meditative tranquility and imperturbability so generally supposed to be incidental to the game, to repeat the authenticated statement that the son of okbar was killed by king pepin's son through the jealousy and irritation of the latter at being constantly beaten at chess, or that william the conqueror in early days had to beat a precipitate retreat from france through assaulting the king's son over the chess board, and a somewhat similar misadventure in early days to henry i, and john's unseemly fracas. it is related that an english knight seized the bridle of philip le gros in battle, crying out, the king is taken, but was struck down by that monarch who observed, "ne fais tu pas que aux echecs on ne prend pas le roi." among english monarchs, indeed, there are several which may be added to the list presented by philidor which comprises only elizabeth; james i and william iii, of those omitted canute, the first william, and perhaps edwards i and iv, are the most notable before the time of the unfortunate charles i, whose likeness is in one of the chess books, and whose chess men exhibited to the society of antiquaries were preserved in the possession of lord barrington. items referring to chess are mentioned in expense accounts of henry vii and henry viii. in a closet in the old royal palace of greenwich, the last-named had a payre of chess men in a case of black lether--(warton). the celebrated ras, at chelicut, was passionately fond of chess, provided he won, charles the xii was much devoted to the game. in frederick the great writes: "je suis comme le roi et echecs de charles xii qui marchait toujours." ------ canute sir frederick madden states in p. : snorr sturleson relates an anecdote of king canute, which would prove that monarch to have been a great lover of the game. about the year , whilst engaged in his warfare against the kings of norway and sweden, canute rode over to roskild, to visit earl ulfr, the husband of his sister. an entertainment was prepared for their guest, but the king was out of spirits and did not enjoy it. they attempted to restore his cheerfulness by conversation, but without success. at length, the earl challenged the king to play at chess, which was accepted, and, the chess table being brought, they sat down to their game. after they had played awhile, the king made a false move, in consequence of which ulfr captured one of his opponent's knights. but the king would not allow it, and replacing his piece, bade the earl play differently. on this, the earl (who was of a hasty disposition) waxing angry, overturned the chess board and left the room. the king called after him, saying, ulfr, thou coward, dost thou thus flee? the earl returned to the door, and said: you would have taken a longer flight in the river helga, had i not come to your assistance, when the swedes beat you like a dog--you did not then call me a coward. he then retired, and some days afterwards was murdered by the king's orders. this anecdote is corroborated (so far as the chess is concerned) by a passage in the anonymous history of the monastery of ramsey, composed probably about the time of henry i, where we are told, that bishop etheric coming one night at a late hour on urgent business to king canute, found the monarch and his courtiers amusing themselves at the games of dice and chess. in the year the kingdom of denmark was divided between three monarchs: svend, valdemar, and canute the fifth. this took place after many years of contest, between svend on the one hand, and valdemar and canute on the other. each king was to rule over a third of the realm, and each swore before the altar to preserve the contract inviolate. but it did not last long. canute asked his brother monarchs to spend a few days of festivity with him at roskilde. svend came with a crowd of soldiers. one evening valdemar sat at the chess board where the battle waxed warm. his adversary was a nobleman, and canute sat by valdemar's side watching the game. all at once, canute observing some suspicious consultations between svend and one of his captains, and feeling a presentiment of evil, threw his arms round valdemar's neck and kissed him. why so merry, cousin? asked the latter without removing his eyes from the chess board. you will soon see, replied canute in an apprehensive tone. just then the armed soldiery of svend rushed into the apartment, slew canute and severely wounded valdemar. the last named having strapped his mantle about his arm to serve for a shield, extinguished the lights, and fought like a lion. he succeeded in making his escape and is known in history as the powerful valdemar the great. a century later chess again makes its appearance upon the historic stage of denmark. at that time, eric plovpenning or ploughpenny as he was called, ruled wisely and well over the fierce and war loving people of that country. in the summer of he was on his way to defend the town of rendsborg against the attack of some german bands, when he received an invitation from his brother abel to visit him in slesvig. the unsuspecting and open hearted eric accepted. after dinner, on the th of august, the same day of his arrival, he retired to a little pleasure house near the water to enjoy a quiet game of chess with a knight whose name was henrik kerkwerder. as they were playing the black-hearted abel entered the room, marched up to the chess table, accompanied by several of his followers, and began to overwhelm the king with abuse. at length, the unfortunate eric was thrown into chains and was basely murdered that very night. the american chess monthly gives the following anecdote, but does not state its source. the princess charlotte and chess among the anecdotes related of the childhood of the princess charlotte, the daughter of a rascally father, and of an unfortunate mother, there is a story which we do not remember to have seen in any periodical devoted to the game. it is perfectly authentic, and runs thus: "being one evening present when a game of chess was playing. the sudden and triumphant exclamation of checkmate was given. on her inquiring its meaning, she was informed, it is when the king is enprise by any particular piece, and cannot move without falling into the hands of an enemy. `that is indeed a bad situation for a king,' said the little patriotic stateswoman, but it can never be the fate of the king of england, so long as he conforms to the laws, for then he meet with protection from his subjects." ------ we can find nothing in the form of evidence, as to whether either of our four kings, the georges, took any interest in chess, or played at it. some of our greatest men we hear, looked in occasionally at the club in st. james st., to witness philidor's performances. chatham, fox, pitt, godolphin, sunderland, rockingham, wedderburn, st. john, sir g. elliott, and many others, most distinguished and celebrated at the time, have been specially mentioned as visitors or members. as only those who know or care for the game subscribe to chess books, the three hundred principal names on philidor's edition of , affords a significant proof of the extraordinary appreciation and support of the game, throughout the period of his ascendancy, viz., from to . twenty-six ladies of title grace that list, which contains a large proportion of the nobility, cabinet ministers, men distinguished in science, and at the bar, and on the bench, and several eminent divines. prince leopold's support of chess, and encouraging remarks concerning it at oxford, in scotland and at the birkbeck, had much to do with the taste for the game which sprung up among the humbler working classes, and which happily has been continuously though steadily progressing. one of our most genial and reliable chess editors has recently informed us, on very high authority, that even our most gracious majesty queen victoria, has at times shewn an appreciation of chess. three years after the commencement of her reign the first county chess association, was formed in yorkshire. there were at this time but twelve chess clubs in this country. the year signalised the first chess tournament found on record, it took place at simpson's, and mr. h. t. buckle writer and author, the best amateur at this time, came forth first. this was two years before the first world's international chess tournament of , was held in london, of which the prince consort was patron, since then thirty-four national tournaments and forty-eight country meetings, and twenty university matches between oxford and cambridge have taken place. it is now reasonably estimated that there are quite five hundred clubs, and institutions where chess is practiced and cultivated, and near one hundred and fifty chess columns, and both press notice and chess clubs are continually on the increase. ------ the nineteenth century simpson's renowned establishment was opened by mr. samuel ries on its present site and strand in . it was soon found to afford the most admirable facilities for the quiet and comfortable enjoyment of chess, and hence became greatly appreciated and proportionately patronized, and has always been regarded by the best and most impartial friends of chess with sentiments of extraordinary partiality. its influence on the practice and development of chess has been of a very remarkable character, and of the first and highest importance, and notwithstanding the migration of some of its members on the occasions of the formation of the ill-fated westminster and west end chess clubs in and , and again on the institution of the present british chess club in , its popularity is maintained to this day. the chess events, anecdotes, and reminiscences of simpson's must ever form a most interesting chapter in the english or national history of chess for the nineteenth century, and is intimately linked with that of the whole chess world. as the arena of the finest and most brilliant chess play simpson's still stands, and has ever done so, pre-eminently first, from the time of a. mcdonnell of belfast, and l. de la bourdonnais of paris, and their first appearance there in and to the present day, and it is there (and there alone) that can still be witnessed in this country a competition or tournament open to all comers conceived in the spirit of pure enthusiasm only, and it is to simpson's that lovers of the game must still resort if they wish to see really fine contests between the recognized greatest players. it was here that h. t. buckle, the writer and author in gained leading honours in the first tournament ever held on british soil, or so far as is known, on any soil. about this time it was that the school of young players with some of whose games the public have become familiarized and pleased in later years, begun to radiate, educate, and progress. bird as a boy, became a favourite opponent of mr. buckle, so early as . boden soon followed, and by the year , both had, it was supposed, reached about the force of mr. buckle, and were hailed with welcome as british chess representatives of the highest class, and at this period and for a quarter of a century afterwards no games were watched with greater interest than those in the love contests between boden and bird, and no names are more familiarly associated with divan chess play. the former has departed this life, but the latter still plays, having within the past year or two, twice secured first prize in simpson's tournaments, and first position in and third in , though his forte is rather for rapid and lively play, which he cultivates now rather more than in his younger days, otherwise his style of and compared with , and remains the same in its characteristic features. bird's games with anderssen in (his best performance), with those against morphy in , steinitz in , and wisker (british champion) in , rank among the most notable encounters at simpson's. among the most recent events of the greatest interest at simpson's have been the visit of dr. tarrasch, of nuremberg, after his great international victory at manchester, the splendid performance of young loman the dutch champion in simpson's spring tournament (following his grand city of london successes and that in holland). the recent games of blackburne and bird, and lasker and bird have been other events of popular chess interest. to return to old times, (to boyhood days), it was during the years to that english ascendancy in chess first became universally recognized. as noticed in the history of chess elsewhere the supremacy of chess in past ages back to the sixth century, when persia (as well as china received chess from india) has alternately rested with arabia, spain, italy and france, while the question of the hour now is whether germany or england is best entitled to claim possession of the chess sceptre. the famous series of contests in at the old westminster chess club in bedford street, covent garden, between mcdonnell and de la bourdonnais may certainly be regarded as the inauguration of the spirited matches between individuals and representatives, both international and national, which have since become so popular. the following was the result of this great conflict, la bourdonnais won , mcdonnell , and there were drawn. the evans attack, which had been invented by capt. w. d. evans in , was played times: the attack won , the defence , and were drawn. these memorable contests are generally considered to have given the first great impetus to international chess competition which became further cemented and consolidated by the match between the champions of england and france, staunton and st. amant in , and the first world's tournament held at the st. george's chess club rooms in cavendish square, london, in . staunton maintained his title to the british championship until this great international event took place which was signalized by the decisive victory of prof. anderssen, of breslau. staunton made no real effort to recover his laurels afterwards or to in any way reassert english claims to supremacy. the foreign players, after the tournament, szen, lowenthal, kiezeritzky, mayet, jaenisch, harrwitz and horwitz frequented simpson's and anderssen (like morphy seven years later) greatly favoured the place, and readily engaged in skirmishes of the more lively enterprising, and brilliant description in which he ever met a willing opponent in bird, who, though a comparatively young player, to the surprise and gratification of all spectators, made even games. this young player who it seems had acquired his utmost form at this time, also won the two only even games he ever played with staunton, and also two from szen, which occasioned yet more astonishment, the last-named having been regarded by many deemed good judges, the best player in the world before the tournament was held, and even in higher estimation than his fellow countryman lowenthal, and considered not inferior to staunton himself. judging from the success of this the youngest player who was certainly not superior if equal to buckle or boden, it is not unreasonable to conclude that staunton with his greater experience and skill, had he possessed the same temperament as bird, and at the slow time limit which suited him as well as it has steinitz (his exact counterpart in force and style) would have regained his ascendancy for great britain. it is undoubtedly owing to the opportunities at simpson's that boden and bird so rapidly acquired first rank and the partial withdrawal of the former, and the entire relinquishment of chess by the latter from to was unfortunate for english chess renown, for on the appearance of the phenomenon, paul morphy, and staunton's default in meeting him, there was no english player in practise able to do honor to morphy over the board, except a new comer, barnes; and boden and bird, but acquiesced in a general wish, (albeit an equal pleasure to themselves) in revisiting simpson's to play with the subsequently found to be invincible morphy. simpson's divan was naturally the first resort of the incomparable paul morphy, and he greatly preferred it to any other chess room he ever saw, he even went so far as to say it was "very nice," which was a great deal from him, the most undemonstrative young man we ever met with. certainly nothing else in london, from st. paul's, westminster abbey and the tower to our picture galleries and crystal palace, not even the duke of wellington's equestrian statue, elicited such praise from him as "very nice," at least as applied to any inanimate object. louis paulsen arriving from america in , at once visited the divan and played twelve games blindfold simultaneously there against a very powerful team amid much enthusiasm, it being the earliest exhibition among us on so large a scale. morphy had in played eight games blindfold both in birmingham and paris. this was years after philidor's exhibition of two games blindfold (and one over the board) a performance then thought marvellous, and which it was predicted would not be believed or attempted in any future generation. however we read of a. mcdonnell playing without seeing the board and men in . bilguer in like manner did so sometime before his death in . la bourdonnais in , and harrwitz at hull in , but neither more than two games. paulsen in the west of america - - , was the first to accomplish ten or twelve games blindfold, which he did with very marked success. steinitz from prague, who for twenty-two years, from to , has been regarded as chess champion of the world, at the usual slow time limit is now residing in brooklyn, new york. soon after his arrival from vienna in he became a tolerably regular attendant at simpson's, and it was through this that his appointment of chess editor to the "field" arose, as well as that of mr. hoffer who superseded him in that post. mr. walsh, chief editor of the "field," had been for many years a constant visitor at simpson's, and the column for a long time was not favourable to our chess interests. foreign influence and views became far too conspicuously manifested. the great english chess players were of a retiring nature after the disappearance of the powerful staunton and captain kennedy, and the retirement of the genial mcdonnell; boden was as reserved as buckle or as morphy, bird cared only for his game. such eggs of chess patronage as continued to exist, somehow or other always found their way into one and the same basket, to which no british master could have access. no eminent english player had any voice in chess management, and though the jubilee year's proceedings, bid fair to balance matters on a more cosmopolitan basis, the facts remain that for the three last german tournaments at frankfort, breslau and dresden, neither lee nor pollock, the youngest, nor bird, the oldest master, could on either occasion manage to participate. small, but very enjoyable first class tournaments have been held at simpson's, which have always evoked a considerable degree of enthusiasm, and at times stimulated energy in the constituted authorities, and been productive of tournaments on a larger scale elsewhere. notwithstanding that the mammoth laws of limited liability in , absorbed the gorgeous and spacious divan saloon, for the present ladies dining room, and somewhat lessened the chess accommodation, the distinguishing characteristics of the place have remained unchanged, while the glorious chess events and reminiscences continue nearly as vividly fixed in the recollection as ever. the interest felt in the associations of simpson's, have in fact continued unabated from the days of the supremacy of la bourdonnais, staunton, and morphy, to the time of steinitz's appearance in , and, to the triumphs of blackburne, cap. mackenzie and gunsberg in our own days, and bird the winner of the tournament just held there, who has frequented the room for forty-five years, still plays the game, with a vigour equal to that displayed against the greatest foreign players in , and with scarcely less success. the transactions in chess connected with simpson's for the last quarter of a century, would fill a good size volume, only including events of the greatest interest to chess players. the lapse of the british chess association of , and the wane of the less successful b.c.a. of , during a period when chess has been making such rapid strides that clubs have more than doubled, is a very remarkable feature in modern chess play and its management. the seven years operations and accounts of the present british chess association, though it had the advantage of such names as tennyson, ruskin, churchill and peel, on its presidential list, have not resulted in one half the patronage, accorded to the tournaments of and , mainly promoted by one single club, (the st. georges') at times when no association of a public kind, ostensibly for the support, improvement, and extension of worthy chess existed. the eminent masters of the art of chess, registered in the list of the british chess association of , numbered , now there are but , such has been the effect of the management of a game yearly and daily increasing in favourable estimation, and the practice of which, judging from the increase of chess clubs, press notice and favour, sale of chess equipages of all kinds, and other indications conclusively prove, must have increased at least ten-fold in the present generation. simpson's has done most to assist in cultivating force and style in chess, and to prevent it becoming the idle amusement which at least one great philosopher has told us it is not, and ought not to be, and the only three recognized new masters which have risen up in the metropolis during the present generation, can be directly traced to its opportunities and influence. this same period has witnessed the rise and fall of two chess clubs, the westminster formed in , at covent garden, and the west end in coventry st., in , both (wonderfully successful at first), having lamentably failed through the predominating card influence and lack of undivided fealty and devotion to their legitimate and avowed objects, viz., the chivalrous practice and earnest cultivation of the noble and royal game of chess. cards and social pleasures (so called) cliquism, with the principles of mutual admiration so strongly in force there, have already seriously undermined the constitution of the british chess club, or the british club as it is now more properly called, and the fate of this third combination from its original avowed point of view that is for chess purposes, may be considered as virtually sealed, unless chess be at once restored to something nearer approaching its acknowledged true position. at simpson's of our own countrymen, a. mcdonnell in , and howard staunton in , each first in fame of his time, and the two greatest british chess players who ever lived mostly practiced. steinitz admits that his pre-eminency in chess is greatly due to the facilities of simpson's, and the courtesies of his early opponents. the luxurious couches, tables, and mirrors, (note. when bird first visited simpson's and was playing his first game, he became uneasy at finding so great a mirror at his back, and was greatly troubled at the bare possibility of his coming in contact with it. he was however completely reassured by john, who solemnly informed him that the glass was thicker than his head, and much less likely to crack.) with the splendid light afforded, tempted many visitors who played not chess, to resort there for pleasing converse, combined with ease and comfort, and a record of the distinguished men who have been seen in the divan, would make an illustrious list. h. t. buckle (already referred to as most eminent of amateur players) in his chess references, calls simpson's a favourite half holiday resort, for an occasional change and striking relief in a game of chess, so different from his usual meditative pursuits, and the arena and play of chess, has been so regarded by eminent men of all grades and branches of knowledge. among other english chess players of the past and present generation, that have come into front rank there, are boden and bird, the most successful of the young rising players during staunton's ten years chess reign. no games on record seem to have occasioned more interest than the contests between these two favourite opponents, unfortunately neither made any practice of recording games, which is rather a subject of regret, for they were much in request by chess editors in england as well as in america and germany. the few on record owe their preservation mostly to lookers on, who took them down. boden and bird were never known to play for a stake, not even for the time honored and customary shilling. in barnes, and a few years later cap. mackenzie, the rev. g. a. macdonnell, and cecil de vere, began to adorn the first class chess circle, in our unsurpassed blackburne appeared to the front almost simultaneously with steinitz, and ten years later the amiable dr. zukertort (the winner of the paris international of , and the great london "criterion" tournament of ), came to this country, and was destined to create nearly as much sensation in chess circles as paul morphy (who appeared years before him, and before steinitz and blackburne) had done, and it may be safely asserted that dr. zukertort's play in , has never been surpassed even by morphy's and anderssen's very best performances, though anderssen excelled both in fertility of invention. the "fondness" of dr. zukertort, like that of his distinguished berlin townsman, anderssen the renowned winner of , and ), for simpson's, and its associations was very great, and increased very much towards the latter part of his life, and the place has always formed a strong bond of union between foreign and english players. zukertort was engaged in conversation with the writer and others, in his usual genial manner, and spent some happy hours with us on the evening preceding his death. every true lover of chess must appreciate the chivalry and good feelings always observable in chess play at simpson's. there only leading players for mutual pleasure and without stake, and to the interest of spectators play many an emulatory game which may bear comparison with the best of the few good ones to be found in the most recent tedious chess matches played for amounts not thought of in previous times, and sufficient to disconcert and make timid both of the opponents. with our foreign visitors, simpson's divan is the first resort to meet old friends, to hear chess news, to compare notes, and to discuss topics of interest. it is a kind of landmark, or where the pilot comes aboard. when they do not dine at simpson's, which is regarded as "par excellence," but retire to darmstatters, the floric or the cheshire cheese for refreshment, the divan is yet the appetizer, or sherry and bitter starting point, in fact, wherever the abodes of our distinguished chess brethren may be, simpson's is always the centre and home of friendly attraction throughout their stay in this country, and so long as harmony and good feeling prevails it is ever likely to continue so. for clubs may come, and clubs may go, and make us ask what's next to see; but simpson's ever should remain, the place for chess in ecstacy. the above article was run off for the late deeply lamented captain mackenzie, the amiable and dignified united states chess champion, on one of his visits here. i dedicate it to our surviving foreign visitors. chess of the nineteenth century the following article from the british chess magazine furnished by the writer has been regarded with much interest, we are tempted to re-produce it. the chess masters of the day, impartially considered by an old english player. an article appeared in the fortnightly review of december, bearing the signature of l. hoffer, secretary of the b.c.a., entitled "the chess masters of the day." we are informed that the british masters, who have read it are unanimous in condemning its tone and spirit; and a short letter of protest has been inserted in the march number of the same magazine, from h. e. bird, specifying their principal objections to it! in a letter to us, mr. bird, incidentally, mentions that the article bears the semblance of having been prepared by more than one writer; and he suggests that a confusion of ideas may account for the discrepancies in it? he then proceeds to question mr. hoffer's authority for adding b.c.a. after his name, presumably for the purpose of giving weight to the article which it is contended does not meet with the general approbation of members of the british chess association, or other real lovers of chess and friends to its cause and advancement. the remarks of mr. bird, which we understand, are heartily concurred in by all the british chess masters, we give precisely in his own words. ------ however entertaining and amusing the article which appears in the fortnightly review, entitled "the chess masters of the day," bearing the signature of l. hoffer, may prove to the general reader, there are reasons why it is not likely to pass the more observant chess friend and true lover of the game without grave misgivings and deep regret; and it is probably not very rash to predict that, notwithstanding, the smile that may be evoked here and there at the expense of the unhappy lampooned chess masters, the feeling most predominant at the close of reading the article will be very near akin to extreme disappointment? it is but fair, at the outset, to observe that the writer does not seem to claim that his article is a disquisition on the game of chess; that it is not so may, at once, be granted; but, it is unfortunate that even as a record of what it purports to be, viz., "the chess masters of the day," a few lines will suffice to show that it is not sufficiently connected, reliable, or complete to form a chapter in chess history, or to be of any lasting interest from a descriptive chess master's point of view. having first generalised the main contents of the article, we may then proceed to point out its shortcomings, as well as the more serious objections to it. of the pages and lines to which the article extends, more than three-fourths are devoted to foreign players; that apportioned, by the author, to panegyric of his present colleague, zukertort and to sneers, and personalities bordering on vituperation of his past friend, the world's champion, steinitz, being about equally balanced. to the english chess masters mentioned, four in number, blackburne, burn, bird, and mackenzie, the space allotted is less than a fifth of that given to four foreign masters, zukertort, steinitz, rosenthal, and lowenthal. the writer himself also figuring somewhat conspicuously. the reason for the introduction, and at such length, of the name of the distinguished hungarian player, lowenthal, into an article presumably by title intended for living masters, is not at all apparent--he died in . anderssen, far more successful if not far greater as a chess-player considered by many, including the writer of this article, as king of all chess-players, who lived till , is not even mentioned. the selection may seem to have been made for effect, and for the purpose of reproducing certain too oft repeated jokes and quaint notions commonly attributed to lowenthal; that highly agreeable and justly popular gentleman having apparently been regarded (if the expression may be permitted) as a very convenient peg on which to hang some funny sayings and ideas. horwitz, who died in , is also in the article, supplying further pleasantry. there will not be wanting, however, many chess-players who will consider a description of anderssen's play, and great championship and tournament victories of , , and of at least equal interest. rosenthal of paris, next to steinitz and zukertort, absorbs the largest space among living players, more in fact than all the british masters combined; here again supposed witticisms and pleasantries open up at the expense of the volatile and amiable polish player; no other plausible explanation appears to offer for the prominency and length of space devoted to rosenthal. the name of a much greater though more demure master, happily still in the flesh, von heydebrand der lasa, considered by many, including morphy, as the finest chess-player of his time, and certainly one of the most distinguished of foreign writers, is not even mentioned. the prussian masters are entirely omitted; paulsen, most modest and distinguished, certainly, one of the greatest players and not second to any but blackburne as a blindfold artist, why is he forgotten? bardeleben, winner of the vizayanagram all-comers' tournament, criterion, london, , is another unaccountable omission. where is the incomparable schallopp, the present prussian champion? his welcome visits from berlin, and performances unsurpassed for brilliancy at hereford in , as well as london and nottingham this year, are still pleasurably remembered by us all. the absence of paulsen, bardeleben, schallopp, and riemann, all living masters of the highest excellence, has the effect of excluding prussia altogether, and makes a portentous void, as it would do in any article on chess. tchigorin of st. petersburg would probably, at the present time, be equal favourite against any player in the world except perhaps steinitz. though behind the champion in tournament record, the young russian player has been successful against him in three out of four individual contests. tchigorin is leader of the russian chess committee in the st. petersburg chess club now conducting the telegraph match against the british chess club. his absence from a list of the greatest living masters is a grave oversight, and this most likely is accidental; the omission of the only great russian chess representative, we have had the honour of welcoming to our chess circle, could hardly have been intended. coming to players of the past in our own country, great britain is made to occupy a very far back seat, and in this respect at least russia, prussia, and england, through their representatives, may join in mutual sympathy and condolence. there can be no jealousy where all are ignored! we are tempted to ask, "what can be thought or said of an article which, professing to portray and describe chess masters, devotes near a page to lowenthal and more to rosenthal, yet not a line to staunton or to buckle?" can the reviewer have forgotten that staunton and lowenthal were contemporary; if not, what can be the explanation of such an omission? howard staunton's name is certainly not second to any, however illustrious, ever known in chess, he will ever be remembered as the greatest chess-player of his day; and was the most vigorous and entertaining of chess writers. having witnessed his play during to , when he was still in full force, deep impressions remain with us of his extraordinary powers of combination, his soundness and accuracy. although comparison of chess-players, who lived or were in practice at different times appear of little use or value, we yet have been tempted once more to compare staunton's, anderssen's, morphy's and steinitz's best games without arriving at any conclusion except that anderssen's style still appears more inventive and finer than any other, while steinitz is pre-eminent for care and patience. h. t. buckle, writer and author, who died in , was for many years the strongest amateur player, mostly considered a shade weaker than staunton, but regarded by many as equal, like steinitz in style, sound and safe, running no risks, exactly the reverse of that of bird, who became his opponent on equal terms in . all chess admirers, not in this country alone, but throughout the world, would like to have seen the names of staunton and buckle, and the more recent ones of boden and wisker as much as those of lowenthal and horwitz. less convenient for facetious observation, it is yet more than probable that the grand chess researches, works and sayings of the english champion and shakespearian editor, and the diary chess extracts of the highly accomplished author of "the history of civilization," (in which reference is made to the relief and enjoyment afforded by chess), would have interested the chess public fully as much as the description of lowenthal's shirt front, rosenthal's grammar, winawer's inodorous and unsavoury cigars, or the fact that the author had played billiards with m. grevy, the president of the french republic, and that he was in a position to contradict the statement that zukertort came over in two ships. there are many old players and admirers, and perhaps some young ones, who would have felt both gratified and interested at a brief, descriptive sketch of de la bourdonnais and mcdonnell, and their great and never to be forgotten contests; staunton and st. amant's championship match, england v. france, which occasioned more genuine interest and enthusiasm than any other chess event of this century, would also have been a welcome and pleasing addition. coming to english players, the absence of the name of the rev. g. a. macdonnell, one of the most accomplished writers, experts, and masters of the game, cannot be satisfactorily explained. he is (though rarely practising) full of vigour. independently of his skill as a player, he is regarded as a living institution in chess. for a quarter of a century, with the late mr. boden, and bird still living he has been one of the foremost amateurs; as a writer, he has contributed as much to the amusement and edification of chess readers as any author known. he always has been, and is still highly popular, with many intensely so; his geniality is so great, as well as his wit, that his society is eagerly sought, and always enjoyed. the omission of the name of such a notable, worthy representative and general favourite, is alone sufficient to detract from the value of the article to no inconsiderable extent; if really intended as a trustworthy narrative and record of the world's chess masters. the amateur masters are not so numerous that they need have been passed over. the rev. w. wayte is alike distinguished for his honorary writings in support of chess, and his brilliant victories, at times, against the finest players, extending over a long period, not very far short of the experience of the writer of these lines. he is, in addition to his many well-known scholarly qualifications, a very distinguished amateur chess master, a liberal supporter of the game, and by many looked up to as the head of the circle. his name would grace any article. mr. minchin's national and international services are too well-known to require comment and he would deprecate any reference to them; still i must express the opinion that he has earned the gratitude of the entire chess-playing world for his disinterested services in promoting and so largely contributing to the success of great and popular gatherings. mr. thorold's eminence as an exponent, and modesty and courtesy as an opponent, are known to all; whilst mr. watkinson, though now out of practice, was an equally forcible player, and has rendered inestimable benefits to the cause of chess by conducting, for many years, a journal of the highest class; which has never wounded the susceptibilities of a member of the circle. the life-long services of the rev. mr. skipworth ought not to be forgotten; he is, when free from his official duties, quite formidable as an adversary, and is ever ready and willing to test conclusions with the best of players. the rev. c. e. ranken, too, a very strong player and analyst, has, in many ways, been of great service to the cause of chess. should the reader's stock of astonishment be at all limited, heavy draws will have been already made upon it; yet another call, however, remains, and that the most recent and in many respects the most unaccountable. the advent of a new chess master after a lapse of twenty years is in itself an event of considerable interest in the chess world. w. h. k. pollock was early last year admittedly a master, in the opinion of many considered competent to judge. in august of last year he won the first prize in the "irish chess association one game master tournament," winning from blackburne, burn, and six leading irish players. he is most modest and very chivalrous, always ready to play on convenient occasions for pure love of the game and credit of victory alone. this is truly a strange omission. the author's assertion with regard to morphy is that "he was head and shoulders above the players of his time." what precise degree of superiority that may imply in chess is not easy to define, and must be left to the imagination of the reader. as a matter of fact mr. hoffer never saw morphy; and his statement is based upon his published games and public chess opinion; which, it is true, mostly awards morphy the highest place in modern chess history; his title, however, is principally based upon his victories over anderssen and lowenthal, the former in bad health, and not in his best form at the time! staunton and buckle, the best english players of their day, never encountered morphy. against harrwitz he won five to three, and fourteen to six against barnes. morphy's record, though great, is not superior to staunton's before, and steinitz's after him. there do not appear sufficient grounds for estimating one more highly than the other. foreign critics sometimes as well as english ones have been apt for purposes of inferential comparison to exalt one player and proportionately disparage another; thus chess critics, with whom staunton does not stand in the highest favour in the past, or steinitz in the present, too often indulge in the most extravagant statements as to morphy's immeasurable superiority, not based on conclusive grounds; when the games and evidence are closely and impartially tested. the rapidly advancing chess skill of so many young amateurs in the present day is a great stimulus to the rising generation of chess-players, especially to such as aim at a high state of proficiency; and, though this may be regarded as one of the most interesting and popular features in the pursuit the author of the article in question makes no reference to this branch of the subject. the gradual introduction of the game as a mental recreation into seats of learning and industrial establishments, and the formation of many working men's chess clubs are now well known; the result is that for the first time within the recollection of present players several amateurs have come to the front scarcely inferior in force to the new master, pollock, whilst some in style may compete with him! anger, donisthorpe, guest, hooke, hunter, jacobs, and mills, with the most successful of the past university chess teams, chepmell, gattie, gwinner, locock, plunkett, and wainwright, are names scarcely less familiar than those of the half dozen older masters left, who form the remnant of the little band of twenty recognised masters living in . chess has become far more general than it formerly was because it is better understood. old fashioned notions that it was too serious and necessitated an unreasonable absorption of time, are passing away. a well-known amateur, whose games please the public much and are greatly admired in professor ruskin's letters has played many of his best specimens within an hour, some in half that time. this same player states that he recurs with great interest, though melancholy in its character, to some games, he has played with those afflicted in various ways, on account of the solace and consolation as well as pleasure it has been found to afford him! the excellent contests some blind boys made against him with their raised boards; the enjoyment they expressed and felt, as conveyed to him by the master of the asylum, is vivid in his remembrance. chess has proved highly beneficial to such of the lower classes, as have been fortunate enough to resort to it, in place of more exciting and expensive indoor games. the mental exercise called into play is of the most healthy character; and those who interest themselves in the welfare of their less fortunate brethren may benefit them and society, by assisting to diffuse a better knowledge of its advantages for those at present uninterested in it. there may be something in the author's opinion that no extraordinary mental power is needed for chess excellence; but his views, probably, would have been more valuable if less general, and expressed with such qualifications as the history of its masters suggests; his idea, however, that anyone of average capacity may play average chess, is not in accordance with experience, if, indeed, it is not decidedly in opposition to it. some of the finest players may appear to mr. hoffer to possess but average intellect; but, whether he is right or not, one thing is certain, that many with the greatest endowments and known powers of calculation and thought have failed at it and some have been candid enough to admit that they abandoned the game because dissatisfied with their own progress and skill at it. buckle in his opinion given by macdonnell in "life pictures," (the amusing and interesting work of the latter), considers imagination and calculation necessary, but discards any idea of superior mental capacity. it is clear, however, that the qualifications necessary to be met with cannot well be defined; we have never found any successful attempt to do so. franklin did not attempt it. we find by experience that a likely man fails and an unlikely one succeeds. stock-brokers have been very successful--mathematicians quite the reverse. twenty or thirty eminent players, barristers and solicitors, may be quoted to four engineers and accountants, the latter, however, including one of the masters! the church has been very prolific as well as medicine. >from the programmes of our more recent tournaments we find the most distinguished names of supporters, and the british chess association is honoured with those of lord tennyson, lord randolph churchill, professor ruskin, and sir robert peel on its presidential list. the late prince leopold was patron of the st. george's club, and president of the oxford university chess club. the late j. p. benjamin, q.c., and formerly, sir c. russell were among its admirers and supporters. sir h. james and sir h. giffard also honour the list; and a very brilliant amateur in past days, (scarcely inferior to john cochrane and mr. daniels), w. mackeson, q.c., still honours the chess clubs with an occasional visit, willingly taking a board and invariably running a hard race of combination with the best performers. earl granville, the marquis of hartington, the marquis of ripon, and the right hon. h. c. childers, m.p., have also appeared as patrons and supporters. blackburne, steinitz, and zukertort, our three greatest professional players, will not feel highly complimented to hear, for the first time, that their excellence arises from twenty years hard labour; and that inferentially their capacity, otherwise, is but common. memory, a quality not mentioned by the reviewer or by mr. buckle, must be essential in the playing of chess for hours without sight of board or men; it must be also advantageous in the ordinary game, when many variations have to be worked out; or the earlier combinations might be forgotten when the latter are maturing. steinitz is now residing in new york, (this fact might well have been stated) and the attacks upon him in his absence, moreover, can hardly interest or gratify chess readers. these attacks are in the worst possible taste; being calculated to lead to controversy with his friends and supporters, who are still numerous, both here and abroad. they will arouse a well merited and just sense of indignation for despite his faults of temper and a disposition, at times, prone to be touchy and contentious, steinitz is a true artist, a painstaking, careful, conscientious, and impartial annotator, whilst as a describer of play he is unrivalled. willing, at all times, to render full justice to the skill, style, and play of others, he has been frequently heard to observe that the "difference in force between the six leading chess-players is so slight, that the result of a contest between two of them would be always uncertain." as a chess-player he is far from lacking modesty. no "head and shoulders" comparison or claim of superiority has ever been made by steinitz. he is exceedingly courteous to young aspirants, and fairly communicative to all; he is, when vexed, as likely, (or more so), to offend his best friends as strangers. with all his shortcomings, however, it is doubtful whether any real admirer of chess from its highest aspect will feel aught but regret at the remarks applied to him; the space devoted to these attacks (exceeding that allotted to all the english players) might well have been devoted to chess in its social aspect, to its advantages and prospects, or to some more agreeable phase of it than extreme personality. even another page or two of chess-players' jokes and eccentricities would have been less objectionable. the personalities and lack of impartiality in the article cannot but be regarded as a very serious drawback; it is not written in a tone which is likely to benefit chess or advance its cause; and it is to be feared, that it will afford but little instruction or lasting interest and pleasure to its readers. national chess. chess of the nineteenth century. belfast, (the most recent meeting). as the events of the day or of the hour generally command the most immediate interest in chess (as in many more important things), we may commence notice of national chess with the memorable event which has most recently engaged public chess attention, viz., the north of ireland chess congress just concluded in the city of belfast. the history of first class modern chess competition upon an emulatory scale in our country may be almost said to begin with ireland. we know that a little band of chess enthusiasts assembled regularly in dublin so early as , and that the knowledge of it had a material influence on the advance of chess practice at the time, and so far as we can gather the letter from trinity college, dublin, in , was the suggestion which first led to discussions which resulted in the world's international chess tournament, (the first on record) held in london in the succeeding year. there is little doubt moreover among old chess players, and probably will be with observant young ones either, that from the appearance of the courteous and chivalrous a. mcdonnell, of belfast, in , may be dated the origin of genuine first class chess rivalry. it was mcdonnell's skill, courage, perseverance and gallant stand against the famous louis de la bourdonnais, of france, in , and his successes against all the other competitors he met with, and the encouragement that his example inspired, which first established british claims to ability in chess, and an equal reputation with the best of other countries in the exposition of the game. >from greco's debut in paris in to philidor's first appearance at london in , (about years) forms the first of three previous epochs of chess progress; philidor's own distinguished career to , a second, and the next quarter of a century, to the first great correspondence match between edinburgh and london, when books on the game, literature, and the formation of chess clubs first became conspicuous, marks the third epoch, from queen elizabeth's time when probably chess first became the subject of any considerable notice, or indication of approach to more general practice and appreciation. note. the extent to which the and tournaments were aided by indian feeling and support is another great and pleasing feature. the names of cochrane and minchin stand foremost in memory among the inceptors. ------ the wonderful evans gambit attack which has ever in its manifold branches continued so intensely popular, had been invented by capt. w. d. evans, in . it was played times, the attack won , the defence , and were drawn. the belfast amateur gained considerably in form in the latter stages and at the conclusion, whether in brilliancy or depth, there was not much to choose between them, though the great french professional would seem to have been the more rapid player. mcdonnell died on the th september, , aged , and la bourdonnais on the th december, , aged , being about five years before the appearance in the chess arena of the writer of this article, and who now, owing to the hospitality and liberality of belfast has the honour and pleasure of taking part in a national british competition in the native place of one who so greatly contributed to the pioneering of these interesting tests of skill. note. the match between la bourdonnais and mcdonnell produced games which for originality, enterprise and spirit have never been surpassed. they commanded the admiration and enthusiasm of all lovers of chess at the time, besides securing press notice and arousing a taste for its practice, and a genuine emulation never witnessed before this great example, and the appreciation of the games is now as great as ever, and few modern matches can bear comparison with them. different versions of the score have appeared; it was probably finally la bourdonnais , mcdonnell , and draws . ------ the chess congress of the north of ireland, which will sound yet more familiar to many ears, under the title of the belfast or belfast and holywood chess congress (for it is to the spirit and liberality of these two places that the meeting owes its origin) commenced in the central hall, belfast, on september th, and concluded with one of mr. blackburne's marvellous blindfold performances on september th, an ordinary simultaneous competition of twenty-one games by mr. bird, on september st, having also apparently afforded some pleasure and satisfaction. the belfast meeting must, owing to the originality and enterprise of its conception, and the complete success which has attended it form a unique item in great britain's local chess records, and will not form one of the least interesting and significant features in the national chess history of this generation, for it is the first occasion in the record of the forty-eight counties gatherings held since the first of , in leeds, that the idea has been conceived of adding a contest between the greatest living masters in the country on terms the most liberal and deeply appreciated. the proceedings of the congress, and the scores of the players in the tournaments have been reported from day to day in the belfast papers, and the games of the masters with some selected from the amateur handicaps have also been given, and save that the same have been presented without comment on the merits of the play, description, or notes which are found so useful and acceptable to the general reader, otherwise considered, from a purely local point of view, nothing remained to be desired. from a national chess point of view, however, it seems to have been too lightly regarded by the press, some trophy in the amateur competitions to commemorate the name of alexander mcdonnell, a native of belfast, who did more in his time than any other man to uphold british chess reputation, might also not have been inappropriate on such an occasion. personally i was surprised that the name of mcdonnell did not appear to be more vividly remembered in his native city. it seems desirable, if not indeed absolutely necessary before describing the games contested by the four masters, blackburne, bird, lee, and mason, to say a few words about the original inception of the great matches in which it was at one time proposed that two other eminent players, not british born should participate, but who at the last moment sought certain undue advantages beyond the very liberal bonuses provided, and even a controlling influence never anticipated by the committee, and to which of course it could not, with any full sense of propriety or regard to originally avowed intentions and subscribers views consent. asking pardon for a slight digression i will first say a word or two about the absentees in not an ill-natured way before coming to the essence of the play. it so happens that during the past few years the countries that furnished us with visits from the chivalrous anderssen, the hospitable and princely kolisch, the distinguished and retiring szen, the singularly modest paulsen, the courteous and gallant lowenthal, the amiable, unassuming, and as some think incomparable zukertort, and the genuine and in many respects greatest of all chess artists, steinitz, have also domiciled with us two more recent additions of chess experts, who arrived at the age when chess players most excel, and playing under conditions of time and clocks most favourable to them have each in turn achieved such remarkable successes, that native players have retired entirely to the shade, and a forty year bird (competitor of buckle, staunton, anderssen, morphy and steinitz, and still the most successful representative of the rapid amusement school), and a thirty year blackburne, perhaps the greatest all round chess genius who ever lived fade into significance before these foreign champions who, with the most commendable energy, combined with unbounded confidence and assurance, attempt to, and well nigh succeed in placing chess influence at their feet with a boss the shows determination openly and unequivocally expressed. the control of most of the london chess columns, and a large number of the provincial is also in foreign hands and proves a very powerful weapon in advancing personal interests. note. the chess of the daily news, evening news and post, standard, field, and telegraph and nearly all the provincial papers are conducted by german players. no leading british player has a regular chess column. ------ gunsberg, the elder of the two (slightly it is feared on the wane though still champion of many columns) and lasker twenty-four years of age, still at his height, are both wonderful performers, and enjoy a vast popularity among their race, and in certain circles, but in the long run it is not unlikely that either will feel extremely dissatisfied if he can maintain for half the time the sustained reputation of the oldest english players who so contentedly and modestly at present occupy their retired back seats, and there are not wanting reasons to believe that both gunsberg and lasker became most anxious to enter for the prizes in the belfast competition at the very time when it was finally determined to confine it to four leading national representatives. ------ north of ireland (belfast) chess congress, masters' competition. the proceedings opened at the central hall, rosemary street, belfast, on monday, with an admirable address from dr. barnett, who wished the players a happy and harmonious time and extended to them a hearty welcome. no. . bird against blackburne offered an evans gambit. this game was the only one played without clocks; both players seemed at ease, and glad to be free from the formality and encumbrance of time regulators and it is a happy omen that it proved one of the most interesting in the programme: the following is the complete list of the masters' games: j. h. blackburne, h. e. bird, t. j. lee, and j. mason bird blackburne evans declined moves drawn lee mason petroff " mason bird lee queens pawn counter " drawn blackburne mason vienna " blackburne lee blackburne kt kb pq " blackburne mason bird kp and qp " mason blackburne bird ruy lopez kt q " bird mason lee kp and qp " drawn lee bird pq " bird mason blackburne ruy lopez " draw blackburne lee ruy lopez " blackburne bird mason two knights def " mason lee mason kt kb pkb " mason bird blackburne kp kpb " draw bird lee kp one " draw blackburne mason giuoco piano " draw mason bird sicilian " bird lee blackburne four kts " draw no. is the best and most instructive; no. was the most lively and entertaining. of the eight draws, two are legitimate, the other six being unworthy the name of games. that lee when out of the running, directed a care and energy against bird which he did not against blackburne and mason will be readily observable by a comparison of the games, especially no. , , and ; in the last he indeed made no attempt to win at all, and a draw is the utmost he seems ever to have hoped for in the other. in the final score bird, blackburne and mason were even in their play, but bird only scored out of with lee, whilst the others gained / out of against him, this difference of half a game placed bird third only. the two last games, the th and th, were finished about the same time; thus, when bird had won from mason (doing his best in a game which in no way effected his position) blackburne and lee agreed to draw, which was a disappointment to the spectators, and of course, to bird, who was entitled to, and would have liked to have seen the game played out. these games present a very striking contrast. we particularly commend the last, and the other draw to the consideration of all who would wish to see chess continued as a noble and worthy game. bird by consenting to a draw with mason could at once have given him the first prize. no. . game played in the masters' tournament, rd september, , between messrs. james mason and h. e. bird: white black mason h. e. bird p to k p to qb kt to kb kt to qb p to q p takes p kt takes p p to q kt to qb b to q kt takes kt b takes kt b to q p to k castles p to kkt p to b p to kr p to b kt p takes p p takes p q to kt ch k to r square castles p takes p p takes p q to k p to k b to k kt to k b to kt p to q b takes kt b takes b b to b ch k to kt square p to qkt p to k kt to r q to b p to b q to k p takes p b to q p to kt b takes p qr to b square p to k ch k to kt square qr to kkt square r to b b takes r q takes b r to kb square resigns. no. . game played in the masters' tournament, rd september, , between messrs. f. j. lee and j. h. blackburne: a contrast. white black lee blackburne p to k p to k kt to qb kt to kb kt to b kt to b p to qr b to k p to q p to q b to k castles castles b to kt p to q kt to kt square p to r b to r kt to kr b to kt b to q qkt to q b to k kt to b p to b kt takes b p takes kt kt to q p to kkt p to qr kt to k b to kt b to b b to r b to k b to kt b to b b to r b to k b to kt drawn. ------ games at the belfast chess congress in the quadrangular competition between j. h. blackburne, h. e. bird, f. j. lee, and j. mason, sept. th to sept. rd, . of the eighteen games competed for by the above, eight are worthy to be placed in a first class collection. they are--no. , "evans gambit declined," (bird v. blackburne) which is thought in some respects the best, as illustrating the styles and resources of the two players, besides containing many instructive phases. no. , "a vienna opening," between blackburne and mason, was a game of considerable enterprise and interest, though the latter missed an ingenious and promising opportunity, which would have given him a considerable advantage, sufficient for so careful and reliable a player (who seldom misses chances) to have won. no. , a kt to q defence to the ruy lopez) a form not approved by the authorities, condemned once more by mr. hoffer, in the field, but passed without comment by mr. mason in the b. c. m.) was a popular game with the spectators and was won by bird, defending against blackburne, who also succeeded in no. on the last day against mason with a sicilian in a short and decisive game, pleasing and amusing to the lookers on who liked to see a lively and decisive game. no. , "a queen's pawn opening" produced fine combinations and critical positions and a brilliant finish (bird scoring from lee). no. , "a two knight's defence" terminated in a clever and meritorious victory for mason as second player over bird. the above six games were the most entertaining of the series, viz.--l, , , , & . no. lee and blackburne, kt to kb , and no. , blackburne and lee, a ruy lopez were steady, but rather dull, but furnished excellent specimens of blackburne's skill and masterly conduct of end games. next to the foregoing eight games in order of interest were no. , bird and lee. counter queen's pawn opening and no. , bird and blackburne kp one, these, though both drawn, were steady, well-played and instructive games. in no. , lee and mason, a petroff, the former should have drawn, but lost on his th move. in no. , mason was at a decided disadvantage with bird who committed an ingenious suicide in a game he could have drawn. in no. , a kt to kb opening, p kb reply. lee had much the better game with a pawn more against mason, but made a palpable blunder at his th move and resigned. no. , a tame draw in moves, mason and lee , mason and blackburne, moves, not much better , blackburne and mason moves, of no interest, and no. , the last game moves between lee and blackburne, from which something was expected, but which baffles polite description, and cannot be dignified by the name of, or as a game, completes the list. this was a four knights game, blackburne and mason a giuoco piano moves was a lamentable specimen of wood shifting. the following game presented some very instructive positions towards the close: game played in the masters' tournament, th september, , between messrs. h. e. bird and f. j. lee. white black lee bird p to q p to q kt to kb p to k p to b kt to kb p to k qkt to q b to q b to k kt to b castles castles r to k square p to qkt p to b b to kt b to q q to b p takes p p takes p b to kt square kt to k q to r p to b p to k b to b q to q square kt to kt p takes p b takes p kt to k b takes kt b takes b kt takes b r takes kt kr to q square q to k qr to b square b to kt p to b b to k r to k square p to kkt p to b r to q p to k r to q p to b qr to q square! p to k ! kt to kt p takes b r takes b p takes p ch q takes p kt to k q to kb q to qb ch k to kt p to kkt q to r r to b r to q . good q to k r takes r ch q takes r q to k ch k to b square q to kb ch r to kb q to r ch k to k q takes k ch resigns. ------ the north of ireland (belfast & holywood) chess congress masters quadrangular oompetition. h. e. bird, j. h. blackburne, f. lee, and j. mason. first round. september --blackburne drew with bird, lee v. mason adjourned after forty-two moves. resumed on thursday, mason won. september --bird drew with lee, blackburne beat mason. september --blackburne beat lee, mason beat bird. second round. september --bird beat blackburne, lee drew with mason. september --bird beat lee; blackburne drew with mason. september --bird lost to mason, blackburne beat lee. third round. september --bird drew to blackburne, lee lost to mason. september --bird drew with lee, blackburne drew with mason. september --bird beat mason, blackburne v. lee, drawn. blackburne won out of from mason. mason " " " bird. bird " " " blackburne. these three scores being equal. blackburne and mason each won / out of with lee, but bird only out of . final score--j. h. blackburne... ... / j. mason ... ... ... / h. e. bird ... ... f. j. lee ... ... ... ------ game no. .--ruy lopez attack. kt to queen's fifth defence (bird.) note. this defence is condemned by all authorities. the following was considered the game of the tournament and must be admired: white black white black blackburne bird blackburne bird p to k p to k p takes p b to b kt to kb qkt to b b to k b takes b b to kt kt to q r takes b p to q kt takes kt p takes kt p takes p r takes r p to q p to kr kt takes r p takes p p to qb b to b kt to q r to k square castles p to qb p to b r to k b to r p to q kt to k ch k to q q to k square q to b kt to kt r takes p k to r square kt to r p to b kt to b p to kb p to r kt to b ch k to k b to b b to q kt takes p p to q p takes p b takes p kt to kt ch k to k kt to b castles qr k to kt square r to kt b to k qr to k square p to kr p takes p en pas b takes b q takes b p takes p p to q q to b q takes q r to k square ch k to b r takes q p to kkt kt to k ch k takes p p to qkt p to kb kt to q ch k to b r to k p to kt kt to k ch k to kt p to kb kr to b square kt to b r takes p r to kb square k to b r to q square p to kt b to q square b to k kt to q kt to kt r to qb p takes p k to b square kt takes p mr. blackburne might as the annotators observe well have resigned here, he did so on the rd move. this was also a game of great interest which black should have been contented to draw after his ill-judged and fanciful th move had destroyed his chance of winning. white black white black mason bird mason bird p to k p to q b takes kt q takes b p takes p q takes p p to qkt p to qr kt to qb q to q square kt to b p takes p p to q p to kkt kt takes p q to q b to kb b to kt q to k p to qb kt to kt kt to qr p takes p q takes p p to qb p to qb qr to qb square qr to q square kt to r kt to b kr to q square q to r kt to b kt to b b to k r takes r ch p to kr kkt to q q takes r r to q square b to q castles kt to q q to k b to q r to k square q to k square kt takes kt castles kt to k p takes kt q to k r to k square p to qkt p to kb q takes b ch b to k b to qkt q takes q b takes p mason played the opening of this the following game with spirit and originality, but missed advantageous opportunities at moves and , and blackburne remaining with a superior position and pawn more won easily in the end game. white black white black blackburne mason blackburne mason p to k p to k qkt to b b to r ch kt to qb kt to kb p to q qr to k square p to b p to q p to kkt q to kt bp takes p kt takes p k to kt r takes p q to b p to kb p takes kt q takes q ch kt to r kt to qb k takes q p takes p ch b to kt q to r ch k to kt p to kt k to b b to b kt takes p r takes kt kt takes p castles kt to r r to kt b takes kt p takes b b to b b to k white black white black bird lee bird lee p to k p to k p to r r to kb p to qkt p to q k to r q to q b to kt b to q r to qb p to qr kt to kb q to k r to kkt p takes p p to b p to qb p takes p q to k p takes p p takes p b to b q to q kt to b kt to kb b to q q to k kt to kt kt to b b to b b to r kt takes b ch q takes kt q to r b to k b to kt p to k p to kkt bp takes p kt to k castles p takes p p to q b takes kt p takes b b takes p r takes b r to qb b to kt p takes r p takes p castles kt to q r to b p to kt p to b kt takes kt q to kt b to b b takes kt q to k r to qr r takes p b to q kr to k r to r ch k to r q to kt p to b k to kt q takes p r to b p to qr q to r ch k to kt kr to qb qr to b r to kr p to kt p to b k to r q to r ch k to b r to kb r to b q to r ch k to kt r to kb q to b q to r ch k to b q to r r to kb q to r ch k to kt p to kkt k to kt q to r ch k to b q to kt p to r q to r ch r to kt p to kt r to q q to b ch k to kt r to qb r to qr r takes b p takes r p to kr q to k q to k ch r to b r to b r to kb q to k ch r to b lee for once in this tournament worked his very hardest and his st move was of the highest order. bird's attack seemed irresistible. and the game was drawn after moves. the games in the amateur competitions for spirit and liveliness contrasted in many instances with some in the masters' tournament, and we would gladly have given a larger selection of them had they reached us a little earlier. the proceedings of the north of ireland congress and its play were worthy of a special work. white black white black r. s. gamble r. boyd r. s. gamble r. boyd p to k p to k p to q p to qb kt to kb kt to qb r to k p to b b to qkt b to b b to b qr to k square p to qb kt to kb qr to k square p to kkt p to q p takes p b to r k to r square p to k kt to kkt p to kkt kt to r p takes p b to qkt kt takes kt p takes kt castles castles q to r b to q square p to kr kt to kr r to k b to kt b to k kt to kb q to r b to k q to q p to q q to kb b to q square b takes kt p takes b b takes p r to kkt square b to kt q to q kt to k b to b square p takes p p takes p kt takes p r takes r kt to qb p to qr r takes r q to kb r to k square b to qkt b to k b to b p to kt b to r kt takes r ch b takes b q to q b to b and wins. white black r. a. williams lt. col. challice p to k p to q p takes p q takes p kt to qb q to q square p to q kt to kb b to k b to b b to k p to k p to qr b to k kt to kb castles kt to k kt to k b to b kt takes kt p takes kt p to qb p to kkt b to kt q to q q to b p to kr p to kr p to r b to r p to kt p takes p kr to kt b to q kt to q p to b k to k kt to q r to kt qr to k p to r p take p qr to r square k to kt r takes p k takes r b take p ch and mates in three moves. game played in the championship tournament (tie) between messrs. e. a. robinson and w. l. harvey, september th, : white black w. l. harvey e. a. robinson p to k p to k kt to kb kt to qb b to kt kt to kb p to q p to q p to b p to qr b to r b to q kt to q p to kkt kt to b square steinitz favours this continuation, which however is considered to lose time for white's attack. b to kt b to b kt to k b to k b to kkt at once seems to be much better. kt to kt b to kkt p to kb b to r b to k p to kr kt to r q to q kt to b kt to k q to q p to q p to b p to q p to qb is preferable at this point. p takes p p takes p b to b b takes b turning the chances in favour of black. if kt takes b, leaving bishops of different colours, there is all appearance of a draw. kt takes b p to kkt kt takes b kt takes kt kt to kt q to k castles kr (one hour) castles qr p to qkt kt (on r ) to kt q to qb p to kr kt to b p to r p to kt kt to b threatening trouble by p to r , followed by kt to kt , &c. p to r q to k (!) kt to q square kt (on kt ) to k kt to kt kt takes b q takes kt q to kt the position here bristles with interest. examination will show that black is in more serious danger than lies on the surface. p to kb kt takes p r takes kt judiciously giving up the exchange and pawn to escape the fatal attack threatened on rook's file. p takes r r to b square r to r r to b q to k ch k to r p to kb kts p takes p r (on r !) to r square the other r to r square, doubling, seems much stronger. if then r x p, q to kt ch! from this point white plays a weak game. r takes p q to kt ch q takes q p takes q ch k takes p p to qkt p to k r (q sq) to kt sq ch r interposes k to q kt to q square r takes r ch p takes r r to r after this it is only a matter of time. the pawns cannot be stopped. kt to b r to kt ch k to r r to k p to k ch k to k k to kt r to k ch k to b r to k kt to k r to k p to kt r to b ch driving him where he wants to go! k to k r to b p to b ch k to q sq p to kt r to b p to kt r to kt p to b resigns. ------ blindfold chess the arabs are the first we read of among the people of the east who excelled in playing chess without seeing the board. the introduction to one of dr. lee's manuscripts in his oriental collection, relates examples of the early mohammedan doctors, and even of companions and followers of the prophet, who either themselves played chess or were spectators of the game. some of them also are said to have played behind their back, i.e. without looking at the board, and it may not be generally known that the manuscript in the british museum , copied in , which is a translation and abridgment of an older work in arabic, contains a full chapter with a lengthy description, combined with maxims and advice for playing chess without seeing the board. al suli, who died a.d. , and ali shatranji, at timur's court, a.d. (the chess giants of their respective ages), were each highly proficient in blindfold chess. a man named buzecca, in , on the invitation of guido du novelli, the friend and munificent patron of dante, and who was master of ravenna, gave an exhibition of his powers at florence, which occasioned much surprise and admiration. the unknown author of the famous and unique manuscript, bequeathed by major price, the eminent orientalist, to the asiatic society, which has formed the subject of so much discussion among the learned, parades his own chess prowess, in a manner not unworthy of some great chess exponents of the present age. "and many a one," he says in his preface, "has experienced a relief from sorrow and affliction in consequence of this magic recreation"; and this same fact has been asserted by the celebrated physician muhammad zakaria razi, in his book entitled: "the essence of things": "and such is likewise the opinion of the physician ali bin firdaus, as i shall notice more fully towards the end of the present works, for the composing of which i am in the hope of receiving my reward from god, who is most high and most glorious." the philosopher continues: "i have passed my life since the age of fifteen years among all the masters of chess living in my time, and since that period till now, when i have arrived at middle age, i have travelled through irak arab, and irak ajam, and khurasan, and the regions of mawara al nahr (transoxania), and i have there met with many a master in this art, and i have played with all of them, and through the favour of him who is adorable and most high i come off victorious." "likewise in playing without seeing the board i have overcome most opponents, nor had they the power to cope with me. i the humble sinner now addressing you, have frequently played with one opponent over the board and at the same time i have carried on four different games, with as many adversaries, without seeing the board, whilst i conversed freely with my friends all along, and through the divine favour i conquered them all. also in the great chess, i have invented sundry positions as well as several openings, which no one else ever imagined or contrived." notwithstanding the accounts and allusions to blindfold chess here referred to, it would seem to have been generally unknown to us at the time when philidor performed his intellectual feat of playing two games blindfold, and one over the board, on several occasions at the st. james street chess club, about a century ago. the club which was held at parsloes hotel, was formed in , and its members comprised many prominent, celebrated, and distinguished men: pitt, earl of chatham, c. j. fox, rockingham, st. john, mansfield, wedderburn, sir g. elliott, and other well-known names are recorded among the visitors and spectators there. whilst the players who contended against philidor at the slightest shade of odds included sir abraham janssens, the hon. henry conway, count bruhl, mr. george atwood (mathematician and one of pitt's financial secretaries), dr. black, the rev. mr. boudler, and mr. cotter. stamma, of aleppo, engaged in london on works of translation, and who was one of the best chess players, was matched against philidor, but won only one out of eight games. these contests took place at slaughter's coffee house, in st. martin's lane, long a principal meeting place for leading chess players. philidor does not seem to have tried more than two games blindfold, but such was the astonishment they caused at the time, that doubts were expressed whether such an intellectual feat would ever be repeated; and certainly from the tenor of press notices of the event, and philidor's own memoranda, it seems that it could not have been contemplated or conceived that performances on the scale we have witnessed in our days by louis paulsen, ; paul morphy, ; j. h. blackburne, ; and dr. j. h. zukertort, , would become, comparatively speaking, so common in a future generation. the following article, from a newspaper of the period, was thought to reflect with tolerable accuracy the general impression prevailing at the time in regard to these performances. the world, a london newspaper in its issue of the th may, , makes the following remarks upon philidor's performance of playing two games simultaneously without sight of the board. it scarcely, however, comes up to our american cousin's views of morphy in , just three-quarters of a century later. it says: "this brief article is the record of more than sport and fashion, it is a phenomenon in the history of man and so should be hoarded among the best samples of human memory, till memory shall be no more. the ability of fixing on the mind the entire plan of two chess tables without seeing either, with the multiplied vicissitudes of two and thirty pieces in possible employment on each table, is a wonder of such magnitude as could not be credible without repeated experience of the fact." philidor himself notes also, being of opinion that an entire collection of the games he has played without looking over the chess board would not be of any service to amateurs, he will only publish a few parties which he has played against three players at once, subjoining the names of his respectable adversaries in order to prove and transmit to posterity a fact of which future ages might otherwise entertain some doubt. during the years - and , louis paulsen at chicago, and other cities in the west of america, first accomplished the feat of playing ten games at chess simultaneously, without seeing the board or pieces, now familiarly called blindfold chess; and at bristol, in , and at simpson's divan, london, in the same year, he repeated the performance, on the last occasion meeting twelve very powerful opponents. the phenomenon paul morphy, from new orleans, when twenty years of age only, conducted eight games blindfold at birmingham, in august, , losing one to dr. salmon of dublin, drawing with mr. alderman thomas avery, and winning the remaining six. morphy at paris, in march, , repeated the performance, and won all eight games; his play was superb, and all agree has never been surpassed, if equalled, and drew forth press notice even more gushing than that bestowed upon his predecessor philidor. j. h. blackburne appeared in , and with louis paulsen, the pioneer of the art upon the extended scale, was engaged by the british chess association at their international gathering, in , to give blindfold exhibitions; each played ten games with great success, amid much appreciation. mr. blackburne's subsequent thirty years blindfold chess is too well known to require comment, he is admitted to be second to none in the exposition of the art, some even claim superiority for him over all others. dr. zukertort, on the st december, , at the st. george's chess club, contended blindfold with sixteen competitors, comprising the best players that could be found to oppose him. from a physiological point of view zukertort's powers appear the most extraordinary, because his abstraction for chess was far less pronounced, and his mind seemed to be of a more varied and even discursive kind. it would scarcely have been less surprising to have seen players like staunton, buckle, or der lasa performing blindfold chess. the number of players of all grades of chess force who now can play without seeing the board is amazing; a tournament for blindfold play only could well be held. the faculty of playing chess blindfold is thought to apply mostly to those who have extraordinary retentive memories of a peculiar kind, and great powers of abstraction very slightly brought into action or diverted by other pursuits. this seems to be confirmed in considering the great chess exponents who have played blindfold, and those who have not, a comparison has been adduced but which might seem invidious to expatiate on. note. sachieri, a jesuit of turin, who lived in the th century, had a most surprising memory. he could play at chess with three different persons without seeing one of the three boards, his representative only telling him every move of the adversary. sachieri would direct him what man to play, and converse with company all the time. if there happened a dispute about the place of a man, he could repeat every move made by both parties from the beginning of the game, in order to ascertain where the man ought to stand. he could deliver a sermon an hour long in the same words and order in which he heard it. this is very remarkable, as the italian sermons are unmethodical and unconnected, and full of sentences and maxims. blackburne does the same. at one of the few blindfold performances i have witnessed by him, viz., at montreal, in , during our adjournment to dinner the positions had become disarranged, but blackburne on resumption called over all the eight games, with great facility, and perfect accuracy, the resumption being delayed not more than five minutes. the razi referred to above (called by our medieval writers rhasis) was a celebrated physician of bagdad, where he died about a.d. . the author of the british museum m.s. says: "some men from long practice, have arrived at such a degree of perfection in this art, as to have played blindfold at four or five boards at one and the same time, and never to have committed a mistake in any of the games." he further tells us that--"some have been known to have recited poetry, or told amusing stories, or conversed with the company present, during the progress of the contest." in another sentence he says--"i have seen it written in a book, that one man played blindfold at ten boards simultaneously, and gained all the games; he even corrected many errors committed by his opponents and friends, in describing the moves. it was a saying in the east, "he plays at chess like al suli." so that many believed him to be the inventor of this game, but erroneously. the arabians say that a certain great man showed one of his friends his garden, full of fine flowers, and said to him, "did you ever see a finer sight than this? yes," he replied, "al suli's game at chess is more beautiful than this garden and everything that is in it." al suli died a. d. . ------ the writer is not enamoured of blindfold play, preferring not to attempt to do that without his eyes, which he can do better with. "blindfold play" the term used nowadays, or "playing behind your back," as one of the old arabian manuscripts has it, seems not the most happy expression for the art, playing "sans voir" or without sight of chess board or pieces clearly expresses it. good players, actually blind, may be mentioned, the writer has played with such, in a simultaneous exhibition of chess play at sheffield, a game against two blind boys from the asylum, proved one of the best contested and most interesting in the series, and these bright but afflicted lads evidently, with their kind attendant, derived the greatest pleasure from the meeting. ------ the game of chess elaborate and learned works have appeared treating on the supposed origin of chess. oriental manuscripts, eastern fables, and the early poets have been quoted to prove its antiquity, and it would not be easy to name any subject upon which so much valuable labour and antiquarian research has been bestowed, with so little harmonious or agreed result as to opinions concerning the first source of this wonderful game. that chess reached persia from india in the first half of the sixth century, during the reign of chosroes, is well attested, and concurred in by all historians from the arabian and persian writers, the beautiful and accomplished greek princess anna comnena, and the asiatic society's famous manuscript to dr. hyde and sir william jones, and sir frederick madden and professor duncan forbes, china, also, admits the receipt of chess from india in the year , and got it about the same time as persia. whatever difference of opinion may exist as to the exact spot from whence chess first sprung, its asiatic origin is undoubted. the elephant, ship, or boat in the game was illustrative of its mode of warfare. the identity of the pieces in the ancient game with ours of the present day affords striking confirmation of it, whilst the most competent and esteemed authorities who have devoted the greatest attention and research to the subject deem the evidence of language conclusive proof that the persian chatrang, which we first hear of under date of about a.d., was derived from the ancient hindu chaturanga, found described in original sanskrit records. it is generally assumed on very fair inferences that the arabians were expert chess players, and also excelled in blindfold play. the game was known among them in the days of the prophet, to , who finding some engaged at chess asked them, "what images are these which you are so intent upon?" for they seemed to have been new to him, the game having been very lately introduced into arabia from persia. nice gradations of skill were observed among them, and thirteen degrees of odds are enumerated among them down to the rook. to give any odds beyond the rook, says one of the manuscripts, can apply only to women, children, and tyros. for instance, a man to whom even a first-class player can afford to give the odds of a rook and a knight has no claim to be ranked among chess players. in fact the two rooks in chess are like the two hands in the human body, and the two knights are, as it were, the feet. now that man has very little to boast of on the score of manhood and valour who tells you that he has given a sound thrashing to another man who had only one hand and one foot. it may be observed, however, that proportionately to the value of all the pieces in the old game, as compared with the present, the rook and knight would be equivalent to queen and rook with us. the earliest greek reference brought to notice is in a laconic correspondence between the emperor nicephorus of constantinople, successor to the princess irene, and the famous harun ar rashid of bagdad, the fifth of the abbasside dynasty, in , which mentions pawn and rook, implying that his predecessor in paying tribute resembled rather the former for weakness than the latter for strength; but it had probably been known among the greeks before the death of justinian, in , as he was contemporary with chosroes, and these rulers were at peace and in friendly terms of communication, allowing interpretations of their respective records, which seem to have been of mutual interest. all the writers who assert that the ancient greeks and romans were unacquainted with chess have overlooked the roman edict of b.c., in which both chess and draughts were specially exempted from prohibition. such consideration as can be found devoted to the game or games of the egyptians mainly relates to hypothesis and conjectures in regard to the inscriptions recorded to have been discovered on tombs and the temples generally, and especially on the wall of the great palace of medinet abu at egyptian thebes, which, according to the most approved authorities, derived from the scrolls, relates to the time of ramesses meiammun the th, out of the monarchs of the th dynasty, who as is supposed, reigned from to b.c., and constructed medinet abu, and is pronounced most likely to be the monarch represented on its walls. his title is ramses, and he is considered to have been the grandfather of sesostris st of the th dynasty, whose reign is stated as from to b.c. some discussion arose in chess circles in in reference to mr. disraeli's mention of chess in one of his books. chapter of "alroy" begins--"two stout soldiers were playing chess in a coffee-house," and mr. disraeli inserts on this the following note ( ). on the walls of the palace of amenoph ii, called medinet abuh, at egyptian thebes, the king is represented playing chess with the queen. this monarch reigned long before the trojan war. a writer, who styled himself the author of fossil chess, in criticising the above, refers to sir gardiner wilkinson's work, "a popular account of the ancient egyptians, which declares the game to resemble draughts, the pieces being uniform in pattern." the same critic further remarks, "in the same work may be found some account of the paintings in the tomb of beni hassan, presumably the oldest in egypt, dating back from the time of osirtasen i, twenty centuries before the christian era, and eight hundred years anterior to the reign of rameses iii, by whom the temple of medinet abuh was commenced, and who is the rameses portrayed on its walls. an unaccountable error on mr. disraeli's part in the same note assigns its erection to amenoph ii, who lived b.c. the eminent and revered writer and statesman may not have selected the supposed best authorities for his dates, but the sapient critic indulges in a strange admixture of misconception. however, egyptian chronology is not fully agreed upon, even manetho and herodotus differ some years as to the time of sesostris, and bishop warburton, we read, was highly indignant with a scholar, one nicholas man, who argued for the identity of osiris and sesostris after he (the bishop) had said they were to be distinguished. respecting english origin, all authorities down to the end of the eighteenth century agreed in ascribing the first knowledge of chess to the time of william the conqueror, or to that of the return of the first crusaders. perhaps, however, it reached us in the days of charlemagne, and may well have done so through alcuin of york, his friend and tutor in the reigns of offa and of egbert. al walid, - ; harun, - ; the great al mamun, to ; and tamerlane, to , are monarchs who honoured their chess opponents when beaten. charlemagne, - , seems also to have taken defeat good-humouredly, and queen elizabeth, who liked chess, philosophised upon it. canute, william the conqueror, and henry the eighth, like the famous ras, of abyssinia, whom salt and buckle inform us of, preferred to win. chess, as it is now played, came down to us from the fifteenth century, when the queen of present powers was introduced, and the extensions and improvements in the moves of the bishops and the pawns and in castling effected, and which made the game exactly what it now is. it has been so practised for four hundred years without the slightest deviation or alteration, and with so much continued satisfaction and advanced appreciation that any change or modification suggested, however trifling, has been at once discouraged and rejected, and additions proposed in the th century (carrera), th (duke of rutland), and th (bird) were regarded with no favour, and the objection that the game was difficult enough already. during the present century (especially in the second half) chess has become vastly popular. the game is innocent and intellectual, and affords the utmost scope for art and strategy, and for its practice we have about five hundred clubs and institutions, compared with the one club in st. james' street, and slaughter's, in st. martin's lane, which existed in the last century, during the height of philidor's career, and two of the first half dozen. chess clubs started found rest on irish soil, the first so early as the year . ------ philidor, born , dreux, near paris, died , in london. philidor's ascendancy and popularity in the last century, owing to his remarkable and perhaps unprecedented supremacy combined with the liberality of his treatment and the chivalry and enthusiasm of his opponents, tended to create an entirely new era in chess and its support. an interest became aroused of a most important character, unknown in any previous age in england, and which, though not fully maintained after his death, and least of all among the higher classes who ranked so largely among his patrons, was yet destined to have a marked and lasting influence on the future development and progress of the game, most apparent at first in england, but later nearly equally manifested in germany, since in america and other countries, and not exclusively confined to any country, class, or creed. several auspicious circumstances had greatly contributed to aid philidor in his london career. prominent among which were his introduction to lord sandwich at the hague. his patronage through the same source by the duke of cumberland and the never ceasing liberality of general conway, the inestimable count bruhl, the dowager lady holland, and the gallant sir gilbert elliot of gibraltar fame. of the players who encountered philidor, sir abraham janssens, who died in , seems to have been the best, mr. george atwood, a mathematician, one of pitt's secretaries came next, he was of a class which we should call third or two grades of odds below philidor, a high standard of excellence to which but few amateurs attain. some indication of the varied and important character of philidor's patronage is afforded by the names on the cover of his edition of , dedicated to the duke of cumberland. twenty-six ladies of title grace the list, including the historic chess names of devonshire, northumberland, bedford, marlborough, rutland, with upwards of male names comprising heads of the church, men illustrious at the bar and on the bench, statesmen, politicians, cabinet ministers, and many most distinguished in science, both in england and in france, with a long list of our nobility. devonshire is the earliest name mentioned in old chronicles connected with english chess, olgar or orgar, earl of devonshire is recorded to have been playing chess with his daughter elstreth or elpida when king edgar's messenger athelwold arrived to ascertain the truth of the reports of her extraordinary beauty. northumberland is mentioned two centuries later as a house in which chess was played. caxton's "booke of chesse," bruges , said by some to be the first book printed in london, was dedicated to the duke of clarence, rowbotham's, , to the earl of leicester, lucy, countess of bedford accepted dedication of a. saul's quaint work, and and barbiere's edition of the same, . the early love poem of lydgate, emblematical of chess was dedicated to the admirers of the game, and the duke of rutland in the last century took sufficient interest in it to devise an extension of chess. note. the names of the subscribers on philidor's analysis of chess, , include lord sandwich and the duke of cumberland for and copies respectively. the duchess of argyle, the duchess of bedford, the duchess of buccleuch, r. h. lady de beauclerk, viscountess beauchamp, miss sophia bristow, marchioness of carmarthen, marchioness of lothian, duchess of montrose, duchess of devonshire, countess of derby, lady derby, madame dillon, la countesse de forbach, dowager lady hunt, dowager lady holland, la countesse de hurst, miss jennings, the duchess of manchester, the countess of ossery, the countess of powis, lady payne, the marchioness of rockingham, the right hon. lady cecil rice, the countess spencer, lady frances scott, miss mary sankey, miss west, and the countess of pembroke. notwithstanding the enormous advance in chess, appreciation and practice generally, we have never since been able to boast of a list at all of this kind. there are dukes argyle, athol, ancaster, bedford, bolton, buccleuch, cumberland, devonshire, leeds, manchester, marlborough, montague, northumberland, richmond, roxburgh; marquis carmarthen, rockingham; earl ashburnham, besborough, dartmouth, egremont, gower, holderness, northington, ossory, powis, spencer, shelburne, waldegrave; lords, e. bentinck, bateman, barrington, beauchamp, breadalbane, g. cavendish, john cavendish, clifford, denbigh, fitzmaurice, fitzwilliam, falmouth, harrowby, hillsborough, irwine, kerry, kinnaird, march, mountstenart, north, oxford, palmerston, polnarth, robert spencer, temple, tyrunnell, warwick, willoughby de broke, amherst, petre. among statesmen and politicians we find such names as the earl of chatham, pitt, c. j. fox, lord godolphin, lord sunderland, st. john and wedderburn. prominent as players as well as supporters were general conway, count bruhl, the french ambassador, duke de mirepois, the turkish ambassador, dr. black, sir abram janssens, g. atwood, (one of pitts' secretaries), mr. jennings, mr. cotter, and the rev. mr. bouldeer. voltaire and roussca were friends of philidor, so also was david garrick the actor; supporters in the musical world were numerous. a combination of high appreciation for chess and music combined is often found. philidor died in . sir abram janssens had already departed in , as the recognized best player and one of the greatest enthusiasts, his loss left a great void in chess, scandigh, benedict, prout and asfra are musicians with whom we have ourselves played chess. ------ the carlovingian dynasty in a.d. constantine capronymus, emperor of the east sent to king pepin as a rare present the first organ ever seen in france. charlemagne's wager the romance of guerin de montglave turns wholly upon a game of chess at which charlemagne had lost his kingdom to guerin. the short dialogue which preceded this game on which so great a stake depended, as narrated by the hero of the story to his sons is characteristic, and has thus been modernized by the compte de tressan, "i bet," said the emperor to me "that you would not play your expectation against me on this chess board, unless i were to propose some very high stake." "done, replied i, i will play then, provided only you bet against me your kingdom of france." "very good, let us see," cried charlemagne, who fancied himself to be strong at chess. we play forthwith, i win his kingdom, he falls a laughing at it, but i swear by st. martin and all the saints of aquitain, that he must needs pay me by some sort of compensation or other. the emperor therefore by way of equivalent surrenders to guerin, all right to the city of montglave, (lyons), then in the hands of saracens which is forthwith conquered by the hero, who afterwards names mabolette the soldan's daughter. the earliest chess anecdote in france is given by augustus, duke of luneburg in his great work on chess. it is extracted from an old bavarian chronicle, then in library of marcus welsor, and states that okarius, okar or otkar, prince of bavaria had a son of great promise, residing at the court of king pepin. one day pepin's son when playing at chess with the young prince of bavaria, became so enraged at the latter for having repeatedly beaten him that he hit him on the temple with one of his rooks so as to kill him on the spot. this anecdote is confirmed in another bavarian chronicle, and in the guirinalia . the acts of saint guirin by metellus of tegernsee. the murder of okar happened during the reign of pepin to . in another romance containing the history of les quatre fils aymsn, we read that duke richard of normandy was playing at chess with ivonnet, son of regnant, (rinalde) when he was arrested by the officers of regnant, who said to him, "aryse up duke rycharde, for in despite of charlemagne who loveth you so much, ye shall be hanged now. when duke rycharde saw that these sergeantes had him thus by the arms and held in his hande a lively (dame) of ivory where at he wolde have given a mate to yennet he withdrew his arme and gave to one of the sergeantes such a strike with it into the forehead that he made him tumble over and over at his feete, and then he tooke rocke and smote another at all opon his head that he all loost it to the brayne. the habits and idiosyncracies of chess players (myself) note. speaking as a chess player, bird is used, for matters common or general, the editorial us or we is adopted, but when expressing my own individual knowledge or opinion only, i is preferred. ------ the temperaments of chess players vary, some get easily disconcerted, disturbed and even distracted; others seem little affected by passing events, a few, apparently not at all: some even like a gallery and don't object to reasonable conversation; by conversations or little interruptions which would pass unheeded by a mcdonnell or a bird, or perhaps a zukertortian would sadly disconcert a buckle or a morphy, make staunton angry, and drive a gossip to despair. the attitude as well as the deportment and demeanour of chess players at the board shows many varieties: anderssen and captain mackenzie were statuesque; staunton, not quite so tall as the rev. j. owen, seeming to be soaring up aloft. harrwitz not quite so small as gunsberg, seemed sinking to the ground, but the story that he once disappeared overawed by staunton's style and manner of moving, and was, after a search, found under the table, is a mere canard of staunton's which need not be too confidently accepted. harrwitz disliked being called a small german by staunton because it savoured too strongly of the sausage element, saying if he makes sausage meat of me i will make mincemeat of him. staunton pretended sometimes not to see harrwitz, and would look round the room and even under the chairs for him when he was sitting at his elbow, which greatly annoyed harrwitz, who, however, sometimes got a turn, and was not slow to retaliate. in a game one day, staunton materially damaged his own prospects by playing very tamely and feebly, and testily complained--"i have lost a move." harrwitz told the waiter to stop his work, and search the room until he had found staunton's lost move, and his manner of saying it caused a degree of merriment by no means pleasing to the english champion. staunton was considered full-blooded, and his amiable french opponent, who used to play for pounds a game no doubt thought he expressed himself favorably and forcibly when he said he is one very nice, charmant man, but he is a "---- fool." staunton's celebrated stories about lowenthal and williams, though very amusing to chess ears, i omit for obvious reasons, though extremely funny as staunton originally told them, and as macdonnell repeats them, they are probably not strictly founded on fact, and are lacking of the respect to which the memories of two such amiable and chivalrous chess players as williams and lowenthal are entitled. ------ stakes at chess the question of stakes or money terms upon which chess is played is a question of the first importance in the interests of chess, and a few notes of my experience upon the subject may not be inappropriate. after about three months looking on at chess play in , at raymond's coffee house near the city road gate, where dr. michaelson of the morning post, and mr. finley, a farrier, were the respective giants, and a cup of coffee the usual stake, i learned the moves at chess, and receiving the odds of a queen for a few games, i happened one day to hear with astonishment that the gentleman conceding me the odds was not as i supposed, the champion of the world, but that better players could be found at goodes, ludgate hill, and simpson's in the strand. to the former i soon resorted and found kling, kuiper and muckle, the principal professionals there; a nominal fee of sixpence being the charge per game, and staunton, the champion had played many games at that rate. it was some weeks before i mustered resolution to visit simpson's spacious and handsome hall, but, once arrived there, i made myself at home. lowe, williams and finch were the attendant players there, and extensively they were supported. from each received the queen soon improving to the odds of the knight, and then playing even with them. buckle alone, who did not mind hard work, essayed to give me pawn and move, but for a short time only. one shilling a game has always been the recognized stake at simpson's, and also at st. georges the principal london chess club, but there have been exceptions, john cochrane and bird, the rev. g. a. macdonnell and bird, and s. boden and bird never played for anything, and these ranked among the most popular of games, and the players were favourite opponents. in , wisker was holder of the british chess association challenge cup, but had never seen or played with bird, who had been for six years out of chess. an accidental meeting by them, and the presence and intervention of lowenthal and boden, led to the wisker and bird four matches, the first for pounds, and the other for credit of victory only. anderssen and bird always played /- a game, zukertort and bird / , steinitz and bird's first sixteen games were without stakes, their match of - for pounds only. before the year , pounds or pounds a side was a convenient and common stake for a match. staunton and harrwitz, staunton and horwitz, morphy and anderssen, steinitz and blackburne, steinitz and zukertort, and falkbeer and bird were all within these figures. the championship match in , england and france, between staunton and st. amant was for pounds a side, but the english player had to go to paris, and the match was a long one, and it was hoped even at that time that future matches would be mainly for the honour of victory, and that the entire money in the case would be a reasonable sum to liberally cover the players' time and expenses. morphy reluctantly played for pounds a side in , but his matches with anderssen, harrwitz and others were for merely nominal stakes. in a bad example was set in the case of steinitz and anderssen, when pounds a side was played for, and although steinitz and blackburne, and zukertort and blackburne were matches for pounds a side the stakes were only thus limited to the amount which could be conveniently obtained from backers at the time. so stakes progressed until steinitz and zukertort actually played for pounds a side, a sum neither party could afford to lose, even though they could tax their chess supporters for it. any chance of a return match which zukertort so much desired, became impossible, hence the extraordinary depression of the great chess victor in two of the most important internationals ever held, viz., paris in , and criterion, london, . there is too much reason to fear that the result of this match, and zukertort's sensitiveness to supposed coolness towards him afterwards mainly contributed to cause his premature break up and untimely end. i always advised him before the match, in justice to himself, to stipulate for a time limit of or moves an hour, and not to play for more than pounds a side, the previous extreme maximum for the greatest matches, happy for him if he had observed this rule; as he himself admitted. zukertort lived in the walworth road just past my single eleven years lodging -- heygate street; and he voluntarily confided many matters to me during the last twelve months of his life, which was for certain reasons fortunate. his two beautiful daughters, the sole care of his life, are now provided for, one nine years of age, and the other thirteen years of age, are being educated at or near berlin by zukertort's mother and his married sister. returning to stakes, i have met here and there with an amateur who has had scruples and preferred not even playing for the shilling. buckle, lord lyttleton, and many eminent in chess, were strongly in favour of the customary small stake, and i have seen dignitaries of the church, and spotless amateurs, pocket their shillings with as much gusto as the poor and much abused professional. it is a kind of voucher to mark the score. professor ruskin and others who have referred to this question, saw no objection to the time-honoured stake, and it has been the rule at the greatest clubs, for, by fixing a custom, it was hoped to keep the stakes within prescribed limit. it must be admitted that the difference between one shilling and pounds, pounds or pounds on a game is far too large. since the growth of the foreign demands for stakes, not thought of in the days of philidor, la bourdonnais, mcdonnell, staunton and morphy, squaring between players, has been asserted, viz.-- in , , and , besides which it has always seemed to me that as the stakes go up the play goes down, and it certainly would be difficult to name a match in which so few interesting games took place as that between steinitz and zukertort for pounds a side, played in the united states at new york, st. louis and new orleans in . a sedate and rather severe looking stranger challenged bird to a game of chess once, just when bird had finished a long sitting with a strong player, and was in rather a lively mood. "a stake, i suppose," said bird. "no, i don't like stakes," said the stranger. "then suppose we say a chop, or even a basin of soup, fried sole, or box of cigars." the stranger looked awful for a moment but dismayed by the good temper of his vis a vis, suddenly relaxed and conformed to the usual rule, and as the love tales conclude was happy ever afterwards. it is best to understand that the stake on each game is a shilling, not to say simply we play for a shilling. once, after an eight hours sitting, a countryman after losing twenty games blandly handed mr. f. one shilling for the sitting, and could not be induced to part with more. stakes at chess must not be confounded with the favourite "comestible." missing word calls it by that name. meat is sometimes pronounced by some we know almost like mate. an irishman addressing the cook instead of the mate once on board of a vessel, said, " are you the mate?" and was met with the reply, "no, i am the man what cooks the mate." it was remarked after a game that many checks were given without any mate being obtained. another says, "the queen in chess does all the work, yet the king gets all the checks." mr. c. b., the well-known enthusiast, but not always successful chess player dining with a friend at simpson's one day, the latter recurred to the changes which had taken place there and expressed regret that the grand chess divan had been transformed into a dining room. "faix," said mr. c. b. as he took up a toothpick," it's the first time in my life that i ever felt disposed to say grace after mate in this room." ------ slow play some players are very slow, hence one was called the "telegraph" and others by appropriate names of which i recollect best "west australian" and the "flying dutchman." about forty years ago there were eight young and rising players nearly approaching first class, they were s. s. boden, the rev. w. audrey, captain cunningham, g. w. medley, j. medley, c. t. smith, a. simons and h. e. bird. three of these, remarkable for ingenuity and sudden surprises had familiar appellations. one was termed "the snake," another that "old serpent," i was "the enemy of the human race." a well known looker on who used to lean over the board and talk a great deal was called "the coroner" because it was said he not only held an inquest on the board, but also sat upon the body. one wrote-- "i saw them sitting at a board like statues at a show, and i myself was also bored to find them move too slow." paulsen once after an hour's reflection moved his king one square only, a lady observed "that it seemed a great time for such a little move." three consultation games were played at one of the county meetings which lasted together hours, two were drawn and one adjourned. some games in matches between staunton and williams, and paulsen and kolisch about forty years ago were unduly protracted. against medley the last named (kolisch) took two hours for three moves and this had much to do with the initiation of the time limit with the encumbrances of sand glasses and clocks which the majority of players still approve of. ------ dinner and chess at purssell's, people used to eat chops, smoke cigars or pipes, play chess, and talk cricket all at the same time, which seems to contradict the assumption that it is impossible to do two things at once. some say they cannot play chess before dinner, others not after dinner. too much dinner is considered a fair excuse for losing at chess, but no dinner at all is not a valid plea. according to the rev. a. b. skipworth, who should be an authority on the subject, professional chess players are not supposed to dine at all, but our great friend, the genial mars, dissents from this view. staunton, boden, steinitz, mars and skipworth himself are essentially diners, and bird has been accused of a tendency that way. the professionals so called are very few, compared with former years, yet they find the beef for many a chess editor, who barely supplies the salt. it is not a desirable thing in england like it was in india, arabia and sweden to have the reputation of being great in chess, nor is it supposed now, as it was in the arabian manuscript, the treasure of the sciences, and olaus magnus' work to imply any particular proof of wisdom and discretion or evidence of fitness for other things and one is not likely to secure a patron, or a post, much less a wife by it. an example of how professional chess players are regarded and can be treated now-a-days is afforded by the gradual extinction of the class, and absence of the only two young masters from their native country. the british chess magazine managers are not ignorant of the significance of the course which they have and are still taking against chess masters. the rev. w. wayte and the rev. j. owen, both of whom have known for forty years, were captains of the respective teams in a proposed monster match north v. south which took place at the great western hotel, birmingham, on the th of january last, the inception of which shows how enthusiasm and ability can be treated by those who assume the management and control of these contests. at the very outset before any disposition or inclination of any kind in the matter was evinced by the masters the self-appointed inceptors took upon themselves the very superfluous and invidious task of barring all professionals, and the chairman who seems to have joined it recently, is the same chess patron who would not support my proposal for the jubilee tournament of (successfully carried out with the aid of the times) on the ground "that it was not within the province of any player, however eminent and enthusiastic to usurp the functions of the executive appointed for the purpose (whether paid executive chose to take action or not). may we ask are the parties who agitated this monster tournament, those who were specially appointed for any such purpose. who first thought of the happy idea of covering amateurs' expenses, and of excluding just those players likely to furnish the best and most instructive and amusing games, such in fact as the public most like to see. does this abundance of contests answer one good end, does it even divert attention from the fact that it is absorbing the funds, if not strictly taking the place of the international chess tournament which we are under engagement to our own public and still more to foreign chess players to provide in return for breslau, amsterdam and dresden hospitality and meetings. to return to dinners, next to them, headaches, stomach aches, and indigestion often explain the loss of a game, whilst an acute attack of gout is considered rather advantageous than otherwise. ------ lookers on i know players who have looked on at chess for years that have never been seen to engage in a game. occasionally the occupiers of the earliest seats carry cigar cases, but more frequently they do not. some talk over the game obtrusively which is not always convenient. such a one noticing that no money ever passed when boden and bird played, patronizingly said to the former, "mr. boden, i am so glad to find you do not care for 'filthy lucre.'" b. replied, "it is not to the `filthy lucre' i object, but to the `filthy looker on.'" it is bad form for spectators to remove the pieces from the board without the consent of the players, even if it be done for the purpose of demonstrating more forcibly what move should be made. one who never remained a spectator more than five minutes, observed, all he desired was to get a birds-eye view of bird's position. ------ excuses boden and bird were favourite opponents for years and though very opposite in styles were, in the long run, singularly even in their series. it was the practice of both to resign at the proper moment. bird, once it was thought, gave up too early. "oh, it is hopeless," said he. "i have my misgivings, i cannot contend against such forebodings, one boden is too much, for me." one player, who rarely scored a game, was likened to a very great musical composer--"beethoven"--(beat often)!! the excuse made for our old friend l., the hatter, that he was not playing in his best tile hardly applied. buckle, with his proverbially `bad hat', usually under the table, yet invariably played superbly. a man of leather found his efforts to excel, bootless. the retired fishmonger umpleby played but a (f) visionary game. the tailor complained that he played more like a goose than a bird. ------ the pieces in chess jokes have been sometimes made about the pieces used in chess. even the calm and serene mr. lambe could not refrain from being facetious in reference to the conversion of a pawn or private soldier into a queen. another remarked that the queen works very hard for a lazy king who alone gets all the checks. umpleby, the retired fishmonger in the chess story declared that he would have been the best player in the world, but for the knights at chess which jumped about in the most unreasonable and absurd manner without rhyme or reason, here there and everywhere, and the lady who it was said was found engaged and playing with thirty-two men remained single ever afterwards. a rather boasting player once said, "i must win, i have a piece --a (of) head." one answered, "you would be more likely to win, if instead of a piece of a head, you had a whole head." the rooks occupy the corner squares, and may be played along either of the files of squares they command. mr. serjeant drytong whose legal acumen was acknowledged by all parties, was also distinguished for a pretty wit and great skill in our royal game. on one occasion he appeared for the defendant in an action brought by four persons to recover a sum of money lost by his client in a betting transaction. in the course of his speech the judge (c. j. wontone) interrupting him asked, do i understand you to say that the plaintiffs were standing two and two at each end of the street in order to intercept the defendant when he came out. not exactly two and two, my lord, said the counsel, but as on a chess board. there was a rook at every corner, only these, as i shall show, did not act upon the square. miss rooster, on one occasion when her dearest friend, miss pullet called, was found so absorbed in studying a problem by the great schwerlagerbier, that her visitor could not obtain even a sign of recognition. after various unsuccessful efforts to attract the attention of the fair enthusiast, miss pullet departed, and meeting an acquaintance immediately afterwards jocosely remarked that she had left miss rooster engaged with thirty-two men, whereby she acquired the reputation of being a dangerous coquette. to this thoughtless jest miss rooster ascribed the circumstance, that during the remainder of her life she walked in meditation fancy free. ------ covent garden inspiration we have already seen that the chess masters whom the fortnightly review have in a sense made immortal are lowenthal, rosenthal, horwitz, zukertort, winawer and hoffer, the writers seem to have forgotten his lordship and purssell's great philosopher who have furnished more fun than all the above put together, and where is the typical "p.f.g." (pale faced german), "california" and the "fidgetty w." and hoffer's "estimate of the value of english players" ( ). surely half the wit of these fortnightly review contributors could have made an article of these alone without the addition of more serious persons such as steinitz, blackburne and bird. "a foreign estimate of the value of english chess players from covent garden" was the title of a little skit which caused some amusement five or six years ago. it commenced with blackburne pounds for a blindfold performance, gunsberg pounds: : : for a simultaneous performance, and ranges downwards till it comes to two pence for the price of pollock's proverbial pint of porter. bird could always be bought for a glass of whiskey hot and a pleasing nod, and mason could be got rid of on an emergency for half-a-crown. even poor zukertort at the b. c. towards the last stood very low. one evening, after the ordinary dinner at this famous chess club, the whole of the amateur company, with no exception, adjourned to cards and billiards, zukertort, blackburne, gunsberg and bird remained alone in the chess room, the last named proposed a match between themselves, the others less enthusiastic did not fall in and after a desultory conversation of half-an-hour or so the little band dispersed. the article about "fleas and nits" which well nigh led to the extinction of the chess monthly emanated from covent garden and was aimed at mr. steinitz. steinitz has perhaps been the subject of more jokes than any other chess player. from the day when he first assumed the responsibilities of chess editorship, and as some are wont to say "kept watch over the field office lest it should disappear before the morning," to the time when he unfortunately left us for america he was nearly always a fertile theme of amusement with the joke-loving members of the chess fraternity. we fancy we see him now with pen behind the ear pacing up and down the divan rooms with horried start and whisper dread, saying, "o have you seen my article! how many k's in occur? and is there more than one h in editor?" he has improved since then and is a match for hoffer. the clocks (implements of torture i call them) used for regulating the time consumed in chess matches have led to several facetious stories at steinitz's expense, some, however, not too good natured. still it was curious to see his gymnastics, mental and physical, between observance of the chess board and the time pieces on occasions when time run short and indeed sometimes when it did not. a game between steinitz and rosenthal in the london criterion tournament of furnished an example which will doubtless be familiarly remembered by those present. with eight moves to make in about as many minutes in his excitement he had apparently unwillingly climbed the back of a chair and not till he had completed the requisite number within the hour and began to breathe freely did he seem conscious of where he was. though anxious for a moment or so he succeeded in getting down very cleverly without mishap, not however escaping some signs of trepidation. a st. louis writer in , after one of his games with zukertort, described in true american fashion steinitz's tall chair and short legs and his frantic efforts to regain terra firma, as the writer described it, to reach the american hemisphere. steinitz's high appreciation of proficiency in the game and what is due to one who attains it was once illustrated before a great man at vienna, who rebuked him for humming whilst playing at chess, saying, "don't you know that i am the great banker?" the reply was characteristic of steinitz. "and don't you know that i am the rothschild of chess?" a beautiful chess position with steinitz beats any work of art as al solis chess, in the opinion of the caliph, one thousand years ago far excelled the flowers in his most beautiful garden and everything that was in it. more than this, prime ministers and lord chancellors, liberal and conservative, come and go but there is but one first lord in chess, says steinitz. steinitz was so much gratified with the reminder of mine at simpson's, that three of the greatest minds ever known have had the same initials that he will pardon the little addition joke from paternoster row. the three mighty w.s.'s are wilhelm steinitz, william shakespeare and walter scott. he was not so well pleased with the addition of the unnecessary missing words william sykes. steinitz was introduced at a club once as the champion. "of what?" was the reply. steinitz has been known to grieve much when he has lost at chess; at dundee, for example, in after his defeat by de vere his friends became alarmed at his woe and disappearance. again, after his fall to rosenthal in a game he should have won at the criterion in , news were brought that he was on a seat in st. james' park quite uncontrollable. steinitz is liberally disposed to others in mind and purse. the following brevities on chess are known to have been much admired by him, i therefore append them for his artistic eye. so old and enthusiastic a chess player as bird, and one who has travelled about so much professionally, and on chess, has naturally been the object of many pleasantries, and bon mots, although he escaped the fortnightly review writers, being regarded, at least by one of them as a very serious person, l'anglais comme il faut of the vienna neue frie presse. the despised britisher of custom house officers (who always chalk him away, hardly deigning to examine his luggage even). he has figured as the sea captain of the new york sun, the farmer of the rochester press, the ladies chess professor of the albany argus, and the veteran of the montreal press, his vicissitudes have led him into strange places, among others to a wigwam of the indians at sarnia in , and a representation of one in the vienna exhibition of , when much to the amusement of professor anderssen and baron kolisch he received such a cordial reception from a lady who recognized him as an old friend and customer at niagara falls, the lady in question being commonly termed a squaw (not a disrespectful word for a lady it is hoped). bird has been in the nest at amsterdam, in the bowery at new york, and in the accident ward at vienna, and has witnessed many strange things and distressing circumstances, and has endured interviewers and irish home rulers in america without a shudder, and has perhaps been asked more questions about chess than any man living, because he good naturedly always answers them, and has furnished matter enough in ten minutes for a two-column article. he has been accused of a partiality for whisky hot, especially when served by female hands, of ordering soles by special train at nuremberg, though he only disposed or them at breakfast not knowing their price or from whence they came. blackburne and hoffer are responsible for the statement that he sat up through the night at vienna preparing statistics, with nothing but his hat on. the allegation in the field and elsewhere that he instructed the french president to fetch a cab for him on a busy fete day at the champs de elysees, in , is not just, that genial and courteous gentleman having volunteered to do so under exceptional circumstances, and as all act of sympathy, and perhaps on account of bird's play, who though suffering acutely from gout on that particular day won one of his two best games of anderssen. if bird had a carriage and pair to the barbers to get a shave (quite recently asserted) it was because he could not find a conveyance with one horse in time to reach his destination. when he made a late dinner solely off pate de foie grass at the marquis d'andigny's banquet at st. germains, paris, in , when there were any number of courses, he did so because be liked the flavour (certainly did not find it savourless) not comprehending the waiter's surprise or aware of its bilious tendency till afterwards. even a king once dined off goose livers or something of the sort, and we have heard somewhere of a "feast of snails." even assuming glasses of lager, schnaps, and plates of bread and cheese were consumed at the village with the unpronounceable name miles this side of nuremberg, one intensely hot afternoon in july, , on the eve of the international tournament in that city when the train unpolitely went on, leaving him behind, bird was not the only consumer nor responsible for the food famine, which the field and the illustrated sporting and dramatic say prevailed afterwards for the whole of the inhabitants of the place (fifty souls) including the old lady ill in bed, and her attendant who deserted her for the afternoon partook thereof. neither steinitz nor bird are funny men; the latter most reserved among his superiors, yet looks good humored. at the anglo-american hotel, hamilton, in , he was honored by a recognition each morning for a week from the prince of wales. at the second universities chess match, perrott's, milk street, , a young gentleman introduced himself to bird, and a pleasant chat was commenced, interrupted only by unreasonable intrusion. this gentleman to bird's surprise who thus honoured him by interest in chess was h.r.h. prince leopold. professor ruskin, lord randolph churchill and many eminent men have supported bird's chess efforts with much approval; in the far past j. p. benjamin esq., q.c., and sir charles russell enjoyed an occasional game. chief justice cockburn, and sir george jessel seem to have liked chess. the list of highly distinguished men reported to admire the game is varied and significant. many working men have sought wrinkles from bird; the late mr. bradlaugh at intervals extending over thirty years has ardently played occasionally chess or draught skirmishes with much zest. he was singularly agreeable and good tempered and a moderate player at both. bird knew much of ireland and the people twenty to thirty years ago. isaac butt was fond of chess but played it but indifferently. chief baron pigott who also knew it presided in the long trial bartlett v. lewis, overend, gurney, etc., and seemed much surprised at a chess allusion. said butt to me, "come, you are not playing chess with me." whiteside and sullivan two of the six counsel on the other side, almost simultaneously replied, "a good thing for you brother butt, for you would surely soon be checkmated." the master hand who sketched mason for the fortnightly review scarcely did full justice to his vocal ability, dancing proclivities and christian friends, and blackburne's marvellous oracles and dictums pass unnoticed. tinsley lee, van vliet, muller and jasnagrodzky all have their peculiarities which shall remain untouched, for they are young and sensitive, whilst the most amusing since the loss of purssell's lordship (next to the philosopher who happily very much survives) is the extremely popular monsieur. ------ chess patrons there have in recent years been annually about eight or ten chess patrons who have contributed more to promote high class chess than all the rest of her majesty's subjects, and remarkable as it may appear, with one exception there is not one titled, or what would be deemed very distinguished name among them. pounds to pounds a year is an ample sum for necessary first class chess competitions, but nothing like that has been raised under present auspices in this great metropolis since , or on the average for many years. there are some who will buy chess books who would not care to play at least in a public room on any conditions; there are, on the other hand, some who drop their shillings freely at chess without the slightest instruction or improvement who would scorn to buy a chess book. even "california" who greatly desired to improve and apparently cared little about expense, and with his double or quits propensity in play would not deign to notice a chess book. one said that this amateur possessed all the requisites of a loser playing very fastly, very badly and risking very rashly. one morning about twelve before chess hours at the cafe international, new york, whilst writing i was accosted by a tall and fashionable looking american whom i had seen once or twice before playing with mackenzie or mason, but had never spoken to. "i see you are busy," said he. "it is not particularly pressing for the moment," said i, placing my work aside. he then commenced to interview me concerning morphy, asking my opinion and description of him in every conceivable manner; staunton, buckle, anderssen, steinitz and blackburne followed in rapid succession. all things temporal have an end and a welcome pause came in this case. taking up a chess book lying by my side which happened to be a gilt copy of chess masterpieces, just out, he said, "how much might that book be?" "oh! about a dollar," said i. he replied, "i guess that's a pretty tall book, but times are bad and i guess i cannot invest a dollar on that ere book." i found he was one of the non-purchasing class but had the gambling element. "i will play you a game for a dollar if you will give me the odds of a rook." "i cannot give it you," said i, "but will try the knight for the usual quarter." he would take nothing less than a rook and for half-a-dollar, so i made the attempt and he seem'd to play far too well for the odds, kept his advantage for a time well and my prospects or the prospects of my half-dollar were not encouraging, the game toughened, however, and i got a passed pawn. it was as monsieur would say "nothing," but it seem'd to bother him immensely. he brought four pieces to stop that poor little pawn when one would have done, utterly ignoring the policy of economy of force, his game consequently got disarranged and he lost, after about an hour's fighting, no. . he proposed another, played wretchedly, and lost no. ; worse and worse he played always wanting to increase his stake, but i remained true to the classics and would not deviate from the time-honoured stake. as it was i had to draw seven dollars which my opponent parted with most pleasantly, asked me to have a cigar and a nerver, and said i was a wonderful player. he felt that he had a fair look in. had he bought the book the bare possibility of an injudicious purchase might have preyed upon his mind; the book however was fairly priced. in new york the ten dollar game arose in this way, receiving rook, pawn and three moves, i lost on balance ten games, dollars, and demanded double or quits which i was forced to comply with. passed pawns bothered him also. i was new york sun chess editor and not a chess book investor. some have been known to accumulate chess libraries which frequently get dispersed, a copy of lolli sold for pounds, another equally good for / . the difference between two-pence and pounds for caxton represents the largest profit yet recorded on a chess book. a copy of mr. christie's little work on the greek and roman theory ( ) should be valuable. ------ style in chess some chess players make more lively games than others, and more interesting to watch, and it is curious what different styles can be discerned in the play of the greatest masters of assumed equal ability, a proof of the great versatility of the game; anderssen was remarkable for ingenuity and invention, morphy for intuitive genius and grace, zukertort for scientific development and staunton, buckle, steinitz and mason for patience, care and power of utilizing to the utmost the smallest advantages winning by hairs breadth merely. the above represent distinctive schools at chess. blackburne's play shews little resemblance to that of bird, tarrasch and tchigorin are quite different in style, the former most learned and profound the latter most enterprising. lasker's play partakes somewhat of the characteristics of both, burn and gunsberg have each a style of their own, and mackenzie was particularly grand and irresistible in his attacks, bird is sometimes called the best player of bad games and he often makes a capital middle and splendid end game from an unscientific and erratic beginning. one enthusiast observed that there were only three parts of the game he could not play, viz., the beginning, the middle and the end. the following is an illustration of four styles of play; the reader can supply real names to satisfy his own taste and imagination. ------ style at chess after a slumber of four years bangs the fresh, the growing, the vigorous, has risen from his lair, and shaking the dew from his mane, has given utterance to a roar that no champion of chess can hear without a shudder. there is no doubt that he has gained at least a pawn in strength since . dr. hooker too, the lightning player, now gives where he once received a castle. beach has returned to his native heath rich with the experience of morphy's old haunt the cafe de la regence. hall has toughened his sinews by many a desperate tug with the paladins of new york. mackenzie himself has felt the force of his genius and gazed on his moves with astonishment. between the styles of these four great players there is a notable difference. bangs, like the lion, tears everything absolutely to fragments that comes within the reach of his claws. hooker, like the eagle, soars screaming aloft sometimes to such a height that he loses himself but only to return with a desperate sense which bangs himself can hardly withstand. beach, more like the slow worm, insinuates gradually into the bowels of the enemy making his presence only felt by the effect, while hall, on the contrary, rushes right onward like the locomotive scattering obstacles to right and left, and treating his antagonist with no more ceremony than if he were a cow strayed accidentally upon the track. ------ buckle's chess references buckle's chess references, which are not so full as we could wish contain the names of gerbert (pope sylvester, ) ( , ), cranmer, wolsey, pitt and wilberforce, as chess players, but do not refer in any way to beckett, luther, or voltaire, names mentioned in linde, neither think of alcuin, or consider the chess probabilities of the contemporary reigns of offer, egbert, charlemagne, harun, and irene. van der linde assigns the th century for first knowledge of chess in england, and places it under the head of kriegspiel, but on what grounds, or what he conceives this kriegspiel to be, or how it differs from chess does not clearly appear in his book, his space being rather devoted to sneers or dissent from the statements and conclusions of previous writers, than at advancing any distinct theory of his own. he labours much to cast doubts on charlemagne's knowledge of chess, and to infer that the chess men preserved and considered to have belonged to him, reported upon by dr. hyde, f. douce, and sir f. madden, are of comparatively recent date. einhard, the historian of charlemagne, he says does not mention chess, cranmer, wolsey, pope, pitt, chatham, fox, wilberforce, and other well accredited names which interest us are absent from his list, which is surprising, considering his mass of petty detail. more than two-thirds of these volumes are devoted to descriptive catalogues of books and magazines from jacobus de cessolus, the first european work devoted to chess in the th century, down to the various editions of philidor, sarratt, allgaier, w. lewis, g. walker, the german handbooks, and staunton's popular works. ------ interdictions of chess al hakem biamri llah, or abu ali mansur, sixth khalif of the dynasty of the fatimites or obeydites of egypt, - , according to some authorities interdicted chess. mr. harkness in notes to living chess implies that he had some put to death for playing it. sprenger, gayangoz, and forbes do not mention or confirm this, besides, though this khalif did not much regard the koran, kept dancing-women and singers, indulged in all sorts of frivolous pastimes, and was very much addicted to drinking, as well as cruelty and tyranny, he was not a bigot. the more famous al mansur ( - ), the celebrated general and minister of hisham ii, tenth sultan of cordova, of the dynasty of ummeyah, was more likely to have issued such a mandate, for we read "in order to gain popularity with the ignorant multitude, and to court the favour of the ulemas of cordova, and other strict men, who were averse to the cultivation of philosophical sciences, al mansur commanded a search to be made in al hakem's library, when all works treating on ethics, dialectics, metaphysics, and astronomy, were either burnt in the squares of the city, or thrown into the wells and cisterns of the palace. the only books suffered to remain in the splendid library, founded by al hakem, ii (fourth of cordova, - , the enlightened humane and just rahman, ii) were those on rhetoric, grammar, history, medicine, arithmetic, and other sciences, considered lawful." any scholar found indulging in any of the prescribed studies, was immediately arraigned before a court composed of kadhis and ulemas, and, if convicted, his books were burnt, and himself sent to prison. i can find no other notice of a ruler or khalif likely to have forbidden chess, but in lewis, ix, in france, is recorded to have interdicted the game. ------ ireland the word, chess, whatever it may have signified, was common in ireland long before it is ever found in english annals. the quotation from the saxon chronicle, of the earl of devonshire and his daughter playing chess together, refers to the reign of edgar, about half a century before canute played chess; but in ireland the numerous references and legacies of chess-boards are of eight hundred years' earlier date. several scholars in ireland have discussed the question of probable early knowledge of chess there. fitchell, a very ancient game in that country, was uniformly translated, chess. o'flanagan, professor of the irish language in the university of dublin, writing to twiss about the end of last century in reference to dr. hyde's quotations, thought fitchell meant chess. j. c. walker wrote:--"chess is not now ( ) a common game in ireland; it is played at and understood by very few; yet it was a favourite game among the early irish, and the amusement of the chiefs in their camps. "it is called fill, and sometimes fitchell, to distinguish it from fall, another game on the tables, which are called taibhle fill. "the origin of fill in ireland eludes the grasp of history." the chess king preserved by dr. petrie, l.l.d., bears no small resemblance to those found in the isle of lewis, now in the british museum, and which have been graphically reported upon by sir f. madden. john o'donovan, esq., author of our best irish grammar, in "leabhar na'q ceart, or the book of rights," , from ms. of to , frequently refers to the game, and the legacies of cathaeir mor, who reigned to , contain, among other remarkable bequests, thirteen of chess-boards. once a set of chess-men is specified--and, again, a chess-board and white chess-men. the bequests of the said cathaeir mor are also cited by o'flaherty, who mentions to have seen the testament in writing, and in patrick o'kelly's work, dublin, , "the history of ireland, ancient and modern," taken from the most authentic records, and dedicated to the irish brigade, translated from the french of abbe mcgeoghegan (a work of rather more than a century ago). col. vallancey, in his "collectanea de reb. hib.," seems to insinuate that the irish derived it with other arts from the east. "phil," says he, "is the arabic name of chess, from phil, the elephant, one of the principle figures on the table." in the old breton laws we find that one tax levied by the monarch of ireland in every province was to be paid in chess-boards and complete sets of men, and that every burgh (or inn-holder of the states) was obliged to furnish travellers with salt provisions, lodging, and a chess-board, gratis. (note. that must have been very long ago.) in a description of tamar or tara hall, formerly the residence of the monarch of ireland--it stood on a beautiful hill in the county of meath during the pagan ages--lately discovered in the seabright collection, fidche-allaigh, or chess-players, appear amongst the officers of the household. "langst ver der erfindung," says linde; and again, "wenn die ganze geschicte von irland ein solches lug-gund truggewebe ist, wie das fidcill gefasel ist sie wirklich keltisch." ------ the german chess theorists dr. a. van der linde's great work (berlin, ), following weber, berlin, , der lasa and others, containing , pages, diagrams, , names, and , catalogue items. in linde's book, no less than of the diagrams are on the eight times eight square board, with the pieces used in modern chess (i.e., examples of the game with positions or problems thereat as we understand it). it is also curious as affecting linde's consistency, that al suli and adali, whose problems he gives at chess as we now play it, were dead before the time he assigns for the first knowledge of the same. his own pet authority, masudi, - , gives the story of al suli's chess, to which nothing could be compared without declaring it to be any other game (pages and ). ------ italy opposite italienisch linde has , to , , but the story of the rebuke of the bishop of florence by cardinal damianus, for playing chess in a tavern when he should have been at prayers, given by forbes and repeated by linde, is of earlier date ( ), buzecca's blindfold play at chess on the invitation of dante's patron, the master of ravenna, before a distinguished company, is attributed to the year . ------ kriegsspiel to sanskrit tschaturanza (column ) under the head of "kriegsspiel," a.d. , is affixed to arabisch (column ), the same year appears. (note. to this date of i cannot help adding for once a query mark like those in which linde's book abounds (!!). to persich (column ) (!) fransofitch jht, english jht, spanisch , italien - . to tschinesich, japanisch, siamesich, birmesich, and tibetisch, under aeltestes datum columns, to unbekannt appears as well as to tschaturanga column , notwithstanding the date of in another place. an the above are under the one head of "kriegsspiel." ------ schachspiel under this head italienisch is , latienisch , franzofitch , englisch , deutsch , danisch - , schwedisch , ungarish . dr. van der linde has nothing about the roman edict of b.c., or the other three points, which first caused our desire to invite a little more attention to the subject of the probable origin of chess, viz.: ( ) alcuin and egbert's contemporary records, with pepin, charlemagne, harun, the princess irene, and emperor nicephorus, the humane enlightened and glorious al mamum, with his treasures of learning, arabic, persian, and sanskrit translations ( & ). fortunately for the encyclopaedia writer of , and the poet pope, their articles have escaped his notice. we naturally try to discover what bretspiel and nerdspiel was, according to linde's own notions, and when they ceased and chess began, both chess and nerdspiel had been heard of and were terms used before al masudi and ibn khallekun wrote. why does not linde attempt to explain why harun, walid, razi, al suli, the khalifs, and others up to the shahnama poem, anna comnena and aben ezra call it chess, and nothing else, and again we ask how can he reconcile his own author, masudi's statement that al suli's chess was declared more beautiful than all in the caliph's garden (he died in ), with his own statement that chess was first known in arabia, in . ------ dr. a. van der linde the whole tenor of such reasoning as can be found in linde's stupendous work, seems to rest on subtle distinctions as to the precise accuracy of the word chess, rather than to valid argument to the effect that no game resembling it ever existed before the time he fixes, yet his diagrams of the tschaturanga which comes vol. following page , is exactly in accordance with the game as explained to us by sir william jones and professor duncan forbes, though linde seems to call it by the name of indischer wurfelvierschach or indische kriegsspiel, and there is not a single diagram of what the german writer conceives it to be other than the real tschaturanga (chaturanga). note. from such an assumptive writer, one would like to ask whether he had looked through the pages of livy polybius and tacitus, or explored the treasures in the fihrist, or the eastern works referred to by lambe, bland, and forbes, as well as dr. hyde and sir william jones. forbes in the body of his work roughly estimates the chaturanga at b.c., but at page xiii of appendix, he says: "the first period (of chess) is altogether of fabulous antiquity, that is, of three to five thousand years old," in fact, he seems to have been rather loose in his estimation, and not to have sufficiently distinguished between the supposed antiquity of the four sacred vedas, the epic poems, the ramayana and the mahabarata, and the puranas. professor weber and dr. van der linde assume a much more recent date for the bhavishya purana, from which the account of the chaturanga is mainly taken, than that assigned to it by sir william jones and professor duncan forbes. ------ the , name index already referred to includes adam ten times and even jesus three times, used, as it appears to me, rather for the purpose of irony, rather than valid or useful argument. when forbes gives the earliest chess position, known from british museum m.s.s. linde says adam was the first chess player (??) to sir f. madden about , , for the time when gaimur wrote quoting the incident of the earl of devonshire and his daughter being found playing chess together, (edgar's reign to ). linde says madden about it "keinen pfifferling werth." in another place he says, "forbes natte der freicheut," "insolence, impudence, audaciousness, boldness." it is not pleasing to english ears to be told that george walker is a humbug and a snob. professor duncan forbes the same, and william lewis something worse, and to find notes of exclamation and of queries (! !! ?), instead of argument opposed to the statements of such writers as dr. hyde, sir william jones, the rev. r. lambe, sir frederic madden, and mr. bland. linde's dealing with forbes' statement concerning his examination of the copies of the shahnama in the british museum, puts a crowning touch on his arbitrary and insulting style and furnishes an example of his notions of courtesy and argument. forbes in a reply to alpha having pledged his truth and honour that the account of the moves and pieces in the copies of the shahnama were precisely as he had given them, linde after honour has (!!) forbes' statement runs as follows: th november, , ( , p. ,) zu antworten. "my answer to alpha is that the m.s.s. from which i made (not derived) my translations describing the moves of the pieces are precisely those i mentioned, viz., no. and no. preserved in the british museum. at the same time i briefly consulted some nine or ten other m.s.s. of the shahnama in the british museum as well as macan's printed edition, yea more, i consulted the so called copy of great antiquity alluded to by alpha before it came to the museum. well, in all of these, with, i believe, only one exception, the account of the moves does occur exactly (!) as i have given them, always excepting or rather excluding a couplet about two camels (die namliche nicht in die bude des tachenspielers passten es weiter unten) und nun geht es echt fesuitisch weiter, alpha denies the existence (!) (a hat in gegentheil hyde i, p. citirt) of the account of the moves in every copy of the shahnama. i, on the other hand pledge my truth and honour (!!) linde), that the account of the moves does occur in every one of the manuscripts as well as in macan's printed edition (vgl. app. p. x. lin. unt.). the misconception on the part of alpha arose from a very simple (:) circumstance. in firdausi's account of the game the story happens to be interrupted (:) in the middle of the insertion of two other long stories, as we often see in the arabian nights. "in matters of this sort it is only the truth that offends. "(man vergleiche hierzu noch seine schnapserklurung der weisheit des buzurdschmir, p. .)" forbes also adds p. . and i am quite ready to point out the passage in all of them to any gentleman and scholar who may have the least doubt on the matter. historians of the th, th and th centuries who lived before masudi, deemed the game worthy of notice and recommendation, razi and firdausi thought so too, and hippocrates and galen before them refer very favourably to its advantages, describing it as beneficial in many ailments, and we may reasonably assume that they at least, as well as the poets and philosophers before them, back to the fifth century b.c. deemed the game passing in their minds, and the invention of which they were wont to speculate on, as one of some interest, beauty and significance and worthy of appreciation then as it has been in succeeding ages. once more, no example is given of his kriegsspiel, nerdspiel, wulfervierschach, trictrac, or any spiel or game implied under the word bretspiel, the last named being moreover a general term for games played on a chess board, rather than a distinctive appellation for a particular species of game or indication of the pieces or value of forces employed in it. ------ nerdspeil masudi, born at bagdad , died at cairo in , is linde's great authority. linde quotes or deduces from him the following: "die alten hindus wohlten einen konig uber sich burahman dieser regierte, bis er starb, (sic) jahre, seine nackkommen, heisen brahminen sein sohn et bahbud unter dessen regierung das nerdspiel (gildermeister ubersetzt duodecim scriptorum ludus) ein bloss auf zufall und nicht auf scharfsinn beruhendes gluckspiel erfinden wurde regierte loo jahre, andere sagen, dass azdeshir ibn balek das nerdspiel erfund." again "ardashirer ibn balek, der stammvater der letzten persischen dynastie, erfund das nerdspiel, das daher nerdashir, (also nerd ardashirer) genanut wurde." the copious index of linde's work of , items, also refers nerdspiel to page , but the word does not appear there and the above is all he tells us about his nerdspiel. among the diagrams contained in his work of , pages, as already observed, there is no representation of nerdspiel. the writer hopes to submit an analysis of these diagrams, and of the contents and conclusions of linde's work in a supplemental pamphlet of pages, price one shilling, in order to notice the manifold inconsistencies contained in it, as well as the wholesale aspersions upon the english historians. linde's book. it includes notice of hoyle's games, complete gamesters, magazines and trifling publications, down to a.b.c. for a lady and whatever we may think of the connexion of events and lucidity of his arguments, it may be pronounced an extraordinary monument and memorial of industry. ------ chess in italy forbes thinks it probable that chess was known in italy before or during the ninth century, and suggests that it was probably received there from the saracens rather than the greeks. the story of peter damianus the cardinal, (ravenna) who lived to , and his reproof of the bishop for playing chess, is given by both of the writers, forbes and linde. note. swiss in vol. , page , on the authority of verci, says that the following adventure happened to a bishop of florence, who, according to ughelli (ital sac tem ), was gerard, who died in . it is told by damianus, bishop of ostia and cardinal in his epistles, and is confirmed by baronius and lohner. these two prelates were travelling together, and on a certain evening when they arrived at their resting-place, damianus withdrew to the cell of a neighbouring priest, in order to spend the time in a pious manner, but the florentine played at chess all night among seculars or laymen, in a large house of entertainment. when in the morning the cardinal was made acquainted with this, he sharply reproved the prelate, who endeavoured to excuse himself by saying that chess was not prohibited, like dice. dice, said he, are prohibited by the canon laws; chess is tacitly permitted. to which the zealous cardinal replied the canons do not speak of chess, but both kinds of games are expressed under the comprehensive name of alea. therefore, when the canon prohibits the alea, and does not expressly mention chess, it is undoubtedly evident that both kinds of games, expressed in one word and sentence, are thereby equally condemned. the bishop who was very good-natured stood corrected, and submitted cheerfully to the penance imposed on him by the cardinal, which was: that he should thrice repeat the psalter of david, and wash the feet of twelve poor men, likewise bestowing certain alms on them, and treating them to a good dinner, in order that he might thus, for the glory of god and the benefit of the poor, employ those hands which he had made use of in playing the game. it must have taken some considerable time before the game became so common as to be played at houses of entertainment by seculars or laymen. floor games by (h)erbert (g)eorge wells contents i. the toys to have ii. the game of the wonderful islands iii. of the building of cities iv. funiculars, marble towers, castles and war games, but very little of war games section i the toys to have the jolliest indoor games for boys and girls demand a floor, and the home that has no floor upon which games may be played falls so far short of happiness. it must be a floor covered with linoleum or cork carpet, so that toy soldiers and such-like will stand up upon it, and of a color and surface that will take and show chalk marks; the common green-colored cork carpet without a pattern is the best of all. it must be no highway to other rooms, and well lit and airy. occasionally, alas! it must be scrubbed--and then a truce to floor games. upon such a floor may be made an infinitude of imaginative games, not only keeping boys and girls happy for days together, but building up a framework of spacious and inspiring ideas in them for after life. the men of tomorrow will gain new strength from nursery floors. i am going to tell of some of these games and what is most needed to play them; i have tried them all and a score of others like them with my sons, and all of the games here illustrated have been set out by us. i am going to tell of them here because i think what we have done will interest other fathers and mothers, and perhaps be of use to them (and to uncles and such-like tributary sub-species of humanity) in buying presents for their own and other people's children. now, the toys we play with time after time, and in a thousand permutations and combinations, belong to four main groups. we have ( ) soldiers, and with these i class sailors, railway porters, civilians, and the lower animals generally, such as i will presently describe in greater detail; ( ) bricks; ( ) boards and planks; and ( ) a lot of clockwork railway rolling-stock and rails. also there are certain minor objects--tin ships, easter eggs, and the like--of which i shall make incidental mention, that like the kiwi and the duck-billed platypus refuse to be classified. these we arrange and rearrange in various ways upon our floor, making a world of them. in doing so we have found out all sorts of pleasant facts, and also many undesirable possibilities; and very probably our experience will help a reader here and there to the former and save him from the latter. for instance, our planks and boards, and what one can do with them, have been a great discovery. lots of boys and girls seem to be quite without planks and boards at all, and there is no regular trade in them. the toyshops, we found, did not keep anything of the kind we wanted, and our boards, which we had to get made by a carpenter, are the basis of half the games we play. the planks and boards we have are of various sizes. we began with three of two yards by one; they were made with cross pieces like small doors; but these we found unnecessarily large, and we would not get them now after our present experience. the best thickness, we think, is an inch for the larger sizes and three-quarters and a half inch for the smaller; and the best sizes are a yard square, thirty inches square, two feet, and eighteen inches square--one or two of each, and a greater number of smaller ones, x , x , and x - / . with the larger ones we make islands and archipelagos on our floor while the floor is a sea, or we make a large island or a couple on the venice pattern, or we pile the smaller on the larger to make hills when the floor is a level plain, or they roof in railway stations or serve as bridges, in such manner as i will presently illustrate. and these boards of ours pass into our next most important possession, which is our box of bricks. (but i was nearly forgetting to tell this, that all the thicker and larger of these boards have holes bored through them. at about every four inches is a hole, a little larger than an ordinary gimlet hole. these holes have their uses, as i will tell later, but now let me get on to the box of bricks.) this, again, wasn't a toy-shop acquisition. it came to us by gift from two generous friends, unhappily growing up and very tall at that; and they had it from parents who were one of several families who shared in the benefit of a good uncle. i know nothing certainly of this man except that he was a radford of plymouth. i have never learned nor cared to learn of his commoner occupations, but certainly he was one of those shining and distinguished uncles that tower up at times above the common levels of humanity. at times, when we consider our derived and undeserved share of his inheritance and count the joys it gives us, we have projected half in jest and half in earnest the putting together of a little exemplary book upon the subject of such exceptional men: celebrated uncles, it should be called; and it should stir up all who read it to some striving at least towards the glories of the avuncular crown. what this great benefactor did was to engage a deserving unemployed carpenter through an entire winter making big boxes of wooden bricks for the almost innumerable nephews and nieces with which an appreciative circle of brothers and sisters had blessed him. there are whole bricks - / inches x - / x - / ; and there are quarters--called by those previous owners (who have now ascended to, we hope but scarcely believe, a happier life near the ceiling) "piggys." you note how these sizes fit into the sizes of the boards, and of each size--we have never counted them, but we must have hundreds. we can pave a dozen square yards of floor with them. how utterly we despise the silly little bricks of the toyshops! they are too small to make a decent home for even the poorest lead soldiers, even if there were hundreds of them, and there are never enough, never nearly enough; even if you take one at a time and lay it down and say, "this is a house," even then there are not enough. we see rich people, rich people out of motor cars, rich people beyond the dreams of avarice, going into toyshops and buying these skimpy, sickly, ridiculous pseudo-boxes of bricklets, because they do not know what to ask for, and the toyshops are just the merciless mercenary enemies of youth and happiness--so far, that is, as bricks are concerned. their unfortunate under-parented offspring mess about with these gifts, and don't make very much of them, and put them away; and you see their consequences in after life in the weakly-conceived villas and silly suburbs that people have built all round big cities. such poor under-nourished nurseries must needs fall back upon the encyclopedia britannica, and even that is becoming flexible on india paper! but our box of bricks almost satisfies. with our box of bricks we can scheme and build, all three of us, for the best part of the hour, and still have more bricks in the box. so much now for the bricks. i will tell later how we use cartridge paper and cardboard and other things to help in our and of the decorative make of plasticine. of course, it goes without saying that we despise those foolish, expensive, made-up wooden and pasteboard castles that are sold in shops--playing with them is like playing with somebody else's dead game in a state of rigor mortis. let me now say a little about toy soldiers and the world to which they belong. toy soldiers used to be flat, small creatures in my own boyhood, in comparison with the magnificent beings one can buy to-day. there has been an enormous improvement in our national physique in this respect. now they stand nearly two inches high and look you broadly in the face, and they have the movable arms and alert intelligence of scientifically exercised men. you get five of them mounted or nine afoot in a box for a small price. we three like those of british manufacture best; other makes are of incompatible sizes, and we have a rule that saves much trouble, that all red coats belong to g. p. w., and all other colored coats to f. r. w., all gifts, bequests, and accidents notwithstanding. also we have sailors; but, since there are no red-coated sailors, blue counts as red. then we have "beefeaters," (footnote; the warders in the tower of london are called "beefeaters"; the origin of the term is obscure.) indians, zulus, for whom there are special rules. we find we can buy lead dogs, cats, lions, tigers, horses, camels, cattle, and elephants of a reasonably corresponding size, and we have also several boxes of railway porters, and some soldiers we bought in hesse-darmstadt that we pass off on an unsuspecting home world as policemen. but we want civilians very badly. we found a box of german from an exaggerated curse of militarism, and even the grocer wears epaulettes. this might please lord roberts and mr. leo maxse, but it certainly does not please us. i wish, indeed, that we could buy boxes of tradesmen: a blue butcher, a white baker with a loaf of standard bread, a merchant or so; boxes of servants, boxes of street traffic, smart sets, and so forth. we could do with a judge and lawyers, or a box of vestrymen. it is true that we can buy salvation army lasses and football players, but we are cold to both of these. we have, of course, boy scouts. with such boxes of civilians we could have much more fun than with the running, marching, swashbuckling soldiery that pervades us. they drive us to reviews; and it is only emperors, kings, and very silly small boys who can take an undying interest in uniforms and reviews. and lastly, of our railways, let me merely remark here that we have always insisted upon one uniform gauge and everything we buy fits into and develops our existing railway system. nothing is more indicative of the wambling sort of parent and a coterie of witless, worthless uncles than a heap of railway toys of different gauges and natures in the children's playroom. and so, having told you of the material we have, let me now tell you of one or two games (out of the innumerable many) that we have played. of course, in this i have to be a little artificial. actual games of the kind i am illustrating here have been played by us, many and many a time, with joy and happy invention and no thought of publication. they have gone now, those games, into that vaguely luminous and iridescent into which happiness have tried out again points in world of memories all love-engendering must go. but we our best to set them and recall the good them here. section ii the game of the wonderful islands in this game the floor is the sea. half--rather the larger half because of some instinctive right of primogeniture--is assigned to the elder of my two sons (he is, as it were, its olympian), and the other half goes to his brother. we distribute our boards about the sea in an archipelagic manner. we then dress our islands, objecting strongly to too close a scrutiny of our proceedings until we have done. here, in the illustration, is such an archipelago ready for its explorers, or rather on the verge of exploration. there are altogether four islands, two to the reader's right and two to the left, and the nearer ones are the more northerly; it is as many as we could get into the camera. the northern island to the right is most advanced in civilization, and is chiefly temple. that temple has a flat roof, diversified by domes made of half easter eggs and cardboard cones. these are surmounted by decorative work of a flamboyant character in plasticine, designed by g. p. w. an oriental population crowds the courtyard and pours out upon the roadway. note the grotesque plasticine monsters who guard the portals, also by g. p. w., who had a free hand with the architecture of this remarkable specimen of eastern religiosity. they are nothing, you may be sure, to the gigantic idols inside, out of the reach of the sacrilegious camera. to the right is a tropical thatched hut. the thatched roof is really that nice ribbed paper that comes round bottles--a priceless boon to these games. all that comes into the house is saved for us. the owner of the hut lounges outside the door. he is a dismounted cavalry-corps man, and he owns one cow. his fence, i may note, belonged to a little wooden farm we bought in switzerland. its human inhabitants are scattered; its beasts follow a precarious living as wild guinea-pigs on the islands to the south. your attention is particularly directed to the trees about and behind the temple, which thicken to a forest on the further island to the right. these trees we make of twigs taken from trees and bushes in the garden, and stuck into holes in our boards. formerly we lived in a house with a little wood close by, and our forests were wonderful. now we are restricted to our garden, and we could get nothing for this set out but jasmine and pear. both have wilted a little, and are not nearly such spirited trees as you can make out of fir trees, for instance. it is for these woods chiefly that we have our planks perforated with little holes. no tin trees can ever be so plausible and various and jolly as these. with a good garden to draw upon one can make terrific sombre woods, and then lie down and look through them at lonely horsemen or wandering beasts. that further island on the right is a less settled country than the island of the temple. camels, you note, run wild there; there is a sort of dwarf elephant, similar to the now extinct kind of which one finds skeletons in malta, pigs, a red parrot, and other such creatures, of lead and wood. the pear-trees are fine. it is those which have attracted white settlers (i suppose they are), whose thatched huts are to be seen both upon the beach and in-land. by the huts on the beach lie a number of pear-tree logs; but a raid of negroid savages from the to the left is in the only settler is the man in a adjacent island progress, and clearly visible rifleman's uniform running inland for help. beyond, peeping out among the trees, are the supports he seeks. these same negroid savages are as bold as they are ferocious. they cross arms of the sea upon their rude canoes, made simply of a strip of cardboard. their own island, the one to the south-left, is a rocky wilderness containing caves. their chief food is the wild-goat, but in pursuit of these creatures you will also sometimes find the brown bear, who sits--he is small but perceptible to the careful student--in the mouth of his cave. here, too, you will distinguish small guinea pig-like creatures of wood, in happier days the inhabitants of that swiss farm. sunken rocks off this island are indicated by a white foam which takes the form of letters, and you will also note a whirlpool between the two islands to the right. finally comes the island nearest to the reader on the left. this also is wild and rocky, inhabited not by negroid blacks, but by indians, whose tents, made by f. r. w. out of ordinary brown paper and adorned with chalk totems of a rude and characteristic kind, pour forth their fierce and well-armed inhabitants at the intimation of an invader. the rocks on this island, let me remark, have great mineral wealth. among them are to be found not only sheets and veins of silver paper, but great nuggets of metal, obtained by the melting down of hopelessly broken soldiers in an iron spoon. note, too, the peculiar and romantic shell beach of this country. it is an island of exceptional interest to the geologist and scientific explorer. the indians, you observe, have domesticated one leaden and one wooden cow. this is how the game would be set out. then we build ships and explore these islands, but in these pictures the ships are represented as already arriving. the ships are built out of our wooden bricks on flat keels made of two wooden pieces of x - / ; inches, which are very convenient to push about over the floor. captain g. p. w. is steaming into the bay between the eastern and western islands. he carries heavy guns, his ship bristles with an extremely aggressive soldiery, who appear to be blazing away for the mere love of the thing. (i suspect him of imperialist intentions.) captain f. r. w. is apparently at anchor between his northern and southern islands. his ship is of a slightly more pacific type. i note on his deck a lady and a gentleman (of german origin) with a bag, two of our all too rare civilians. no doubt the bag contains samples and a small conversation dictionary in the negroid dialects. (i think f. r. w. may turn out to be a liberal.) perhaps he will sail on and rescue the raided huts, perhaps he will land and build a jetty, and begin mining among the rocks to fill his hold with silver. perhaps the natives will kill and eat the gentleman with the bag. all that is for captain f. r. w. to decide. you see how the game goes on. we land and alter things, and build and rearrange, and hoist paper flags on pins, and subjugate populations, and confer all the blessings of civilization upon these lands. we keep them going for days. and at last, as we begin to tire of them, comes the scrubbing brush, and we must burn our trees and dismantle our islands, and put our soldiers in the little nests of drawers, and stand the island boards up against the wall, and put everything away. then perhaps, after a few days, we begin upon some other such game, just as we feel disposed. but it is never quite the same game, never. another time it may be wildernesses for example, and the boards are hills, and never a drop of water is to be found except for the lakes and rivers we may mark out in chalk. but after one example others are easy, and next i will tell you of our way of making towns. section iii of the building of cities we always build twin cities, like london and westminster, or buda-pesth, because two of us always want, both of them, to be mayors and municipal councils, and it makes for local freedom and happiness to arrange it so; but when steam railways or street railways are involved we have our rails in common, and we have an excellent law that rails must be laid down and switches kept open in such a manner that anyone feeling so disposed may send a through train from their own station back to their own station again without needless negotiation or the personal invasion of anybody else's administrative area. it is an undesirable thing to have other people bulging over one's houses, standing in one's open spaces, and, in extreme cases, knocking down and even treading on one's citizens. it leads at times to explanations that are afterwards regretted. we always have twin cities, or at the utmost stage of coalescence a city with two wards, red end and blue end; we mark the boundaries very carefully, and our citizens have so much local patriotism (mr. chesterton will learn with pleasure) that they stray but rarely over that thin little streak of white that bounds their municipal allegiance. sometimes we have an election for mayor; it is like a census but very abusive, and red always wins. only citizens with two legs and at least one arm and capable of standing up may vote, and voters may poll on horseback; boy scouts and women and children do not vote, though there is a vigorous agitation to remove these disabilities. zulus and foreign-looking persons, such as east indian cavalry and american indians, are also disfranchised. so are riderless horses and camels; but the elephant has never attempted to vote on any occasion, and does not seem to desire the privilege. it influences public opinion quite sufficiently as it is by nodding its head. we have set out and i have photographed one of our cities to illustrate more clearly the amusement of the game. red end is to the reader's right, and includes most of the hill on which the town stands, a shady zoological garden, the town hall, a railway tunnel through the hill, a museum (away in the extreme right-hand corner), a church, a rifle range, and a shop. blue end has the railway station, four or five shops, several homes, a hotel, and a farm-house, close to the railway station. the boundary drawn by me as overlord (who also made the hills and tunnels and appointed the trees to grow) runs irregularly between the two shops nearest the cathedral, over the shoulder in front of the town hall, and between the farm and the rifle range. the nature of the hills i have already explained, and this time we have had no lakes or ornamental water. these are very easily made out of a piece of glass--the glass lid of a box for example--laid upon silver paper. such water becomes very readily populated by those celluloid seals and swans and ducks that are now so common. paper fish appear below the surface and may be peered at by the curious. but on this occasion we have nothing of the kind, nor have we made use of a green-colored tablecloth we sometimes use to drape our hills. of course, a large part of the fun of this game lies in the witty incorporation of all sorts of extraneous objects. but the incorporation must be witty, or you may soon convert the whole thing into an incoherent muddle of half-good ideas. i have taken two photographs, one to the right and one to the left of this agreeable place. i may perhaps adopt a kind of guide-book style in reviewing its principal features: i begin at the railway station. i have made a rather nearer and larger photograph of the railway station, which presents a diversified and entertaining scene to the incoming visitor. porters (out of a box of porters) career here and there with the trucks and light baggage. quite a number of our all-too-rare civilians parade the platform: two gentlemen, a lady, and a small but evil-looking child are particularly noticeable; and there is a wooden sailor with jointed legs, in a state of intoxication as reprehensible as it is nowadays happily rare. two virtuous dogs regard his abandon with quiet scorn. the seat on which he sprawls is a broken piece of some toy whose nature i have long forgotten, the station clock is a similar fragment, and so is the metallic pillar which bears the name of the station. so many toys, we find, only become serviceable with a little smashing. there is an allegory in this--as hawthorne used to write in his diary. ("what is he doing, the great god pan, down in the reeds by the river?") the fences at the ends of the platforms are pieces of wood belonging to the game of matador--that splendid and very educational construction game, hailing, i believe, from hungary. there is also, i regret to say, a blatant advertisement of jab's "hair color," showing the hair. (in the photograph the hair does not come out very plainly.) this is by g. p. w., who seems marked out by destiny to be the advertisement-writer of the next generation. he spends much of his scanty leisure inventing and drawing advertisements of imaginary commodities. oblivious to many happy, beautiful, and noble things in life, he goes about studying and imitating the literature of the billboards. he and his brother write newspapers almost entirely devoted to these annoying appeals. you will note, too, the placard at the mouth of the railway tunnel urging the existence of jinks' soap upon the passing traveller. the oblong object on the placard represents, no doubt, a cake of this offensive and aggressive commodity. the zoological garden flaunts a placard, "zoo, two cents pay," and the grocer's picture of a cabbage with "get them" is not to be ignored. f. r. w. is more like the london county council in this respect, and prefers bare walls. "returning from the station," as the guide-books say, and "giving one more glance" at the passengers who are waiting for the privilege of going round the circle in open cars and returning in a prostrated condition to the station again, and "observing" what admirable platforms are made by our x - / pieces, we pass out to the left into the village street. a motor omnibus (a one-horse hospital cart in less progressive days) stands waiting for passengers; and, on our way to the cherry tree inn, we remark two nurses, one in charge of a child with a plasticine head. the landlord of the inn is a small grotesque figure of plaster; his sign is fastened on by a pin. no doubt the refreshment supplied here has an enviable reputation, to judge by the alacrity with which a number of riflemen move to-wards the door. the inn, by the by, like the station and some private houses, is roofed with stiff paper. these stiff-paper roofs are one of our great inventions. we get thick, stiff paper at twopence a sheet and cut it to the sizes we need. after the game is over, we put these roofs inside one another and stick them into the bookshelves. the roof one folds and puts away will live to roof another day. proceeding on our way past the cherry tree, and resisting cosy invitation of its portals, we come to the shopping quarter of the town. the stock in windows is made by hand out of plasticine. we note the meat and hams of "mr. woddy," the cabbages and carrots of "tod & brothers," the general activities of the "jokil co." shopmen. it is de rigueur with our shop assistants that they should wear white helmets. in the street, boy scouts go to and fro, a wagon clatters by; most of the adult population is about its business, and a red-coated band plays along the roadway. contrast this animated scene with the mysteries of sea and forest, rock and whirlpool, in our previous game. further on is the big church or cathedral. it is built in an extremely debased gothic style; it reminds us most of a church we once surveyed during a brief visit to rotterdam on our way up the rhine. a solitary boy scout, mindful of the views of lord haldane, enters its high portal. passing the cathedral, we continue to the museum. this museum is no empty boast; it contains mineral specimens, shells--such great shells as were found on the beaches of our previous game--the titanic skulls of extinct rabbits and cats, and other such wonders. the slender curious may lie down on the floor and peep in at the windows. "we now," says the guide-book, "retrace our steps to the shops, and then, turning to the left, ascend under the trees up the terraced hill on which stands the town hall. this magnificent building is surmounted by a colossal statue of a chamois, the work of a wengen artist; it is in two stories, with a battlemented roof, and a crypt (entrance to right of steps) used for the incarceration of offenders. it is occupied by the town guard, who wear 'beefeater' costumes of ancient origin." note the red parrot perched on the battlements; it lives tame in the zoological gardens, and is of the same species as one we formerly observed in our archipelago. note, too, the brisk cat-and-dog encounter below. steps descend in wide flights down the hillside into blue end. the two couchant lions on either side of the steps are in plasticine, and were executed by that versatile artist, who is also mayor of red end, g. p. w. he is present. our photographer has hit upon a happy moment in the history of this town, and a conversation of the two mayors is going on upon the terrace before the palace. f. r. w., mayor of blue end, stands on the steps in the costume of an admiral; g. p. w. is on horseback (his habits are equestrian) on the terrace. the town guard parades in their honor, and up the hill a number of musicians (a little hidden by trees) ride on gray horses towards them. passing in front of the town hall, and turning to the right, we approach the zoological gardens. here we pass two of our civilians: a gentleman in black, a lady, and a large boy scout, presumably their son. we enter the gardens, which are protected by a bearded janitor, and remark at once a band of three performing dogs, who are, as the guide-book would say, "discoursing sweet music." in neither ward of the city does there seem to be the slightest restraint upon the use of musical instruments. it is no place for neurotic people. the gardens contain the inevitable elephants, camels (which we breed, and which are therefore in considerable numbers), a sitting bear, brought from last game's caves, goats from the same region, tamed and now running loose in the gardens, dwarf elephants, wooden nondescripts, and other rare creatures. the keepers wear a uniform not unlike that of railway guards and porters. we wander through the gardens, return, descend the hill by the school of musketry, where soldiers are to be seen shooting at the butts, pass through the paddock of the old farm, and so return to the railway station, extremely gratified by all we have seen, and almost equally divided in our minds between the merits and attractiveness of either ward. a clockwork train comes clattering into the station, we take our places, somebody hoots or whistles for the engine (which can't), the signal is knocked over in the excitement of the moment, the train starts, and we "wave a long, regretful farewell to the salubrious cheerfulness of chamois city." you see now how we set out and the spirit in which we set out our towns. it demands but the slightest exercise of the imagination to devise a hundred additions and variations of the scheme. you can make picture-galleries--great fun for small boys who can draw; you can make factories; you can plan out flower-gardens--which appeals very strongly to intelligent little girls; your town hall may become a fortified castle; or you may put the whole town on boards and make a venice of it, with ships and boats upon its canals, and bridges across them. we used to have some very serviceable ships of cardboard, with flat bottoms; and then we used to have a harbor, and the ships used to sail away to distant rooms, and even into the garden, and return with the most remarkable cargoes, loads of nasturtium-stem logs, for example. we had sacks then, made of glove-fingers, and several toy cranes. i suppose we could find most of these again if we hunted for them. once, with this game fresh in our we went to see the docks, which struck us as just our old harbor game magnified. "i say, daddy," said one of us in a quiet corner, wistfully, as one who speaks knowingly against the probabilities of the case, and yet with a faint, thin hope, "couldn't we play just for a little with these sacks ... until some-body comes?" of course the setting-out of the city is half the game. then you devise incidents. as i wanted to photograph the particular set-out for the purpose of illustrating this account, i took a larger share in the arrangement than i usually do. it was necessary to get everything into the picture, to ensure a light background that would throw up some of the trees, prevent too much overlapping, and things like that. when the photographing was over, matters became more normal. i left the schoolroom, and when i returned i found that the group of riflemen which had been converging on the publichouse had been sharply recalled to duty, and were trotting in a disciplined, cheerless way towards the railway station. the elephant had escaped from the zoo into the blue ward, and was being marched along by a military patrol. the originally scattered boy scouts were being paraded. g. p. w. had demolished the shop of the jokil company, and was building a red end station near the bend. the stock of the jokil company had passed into the hands of the adjacent storekeepers. then the town hall ceremonies came to an end and the guard marched off. then g. p. w. demolished the rifle-range, and ran a small branch of the urban railway uphill to the town hall door, and on into the zoological gardens. this was only the beginning of a period of enterprise in transit, a small railway boom. a number of halts of simple construction sprang up. there was much making of railway tickets, of a size that enabled passengers to stick their heads through the middle and wear them as a mexican does his blanket. then a battery of artillery turned up in the high street and there was talk of fortifications. suppose wild indians were to turn up across the plains to the left and attack the town! fate still has toy drawers untouched... so things will go on till putting-away night on friday. then we shall pick up the roofs and shove them away among the books, return the clockwork engines very carefully to their boxes, for engines are fragile things, stow the soldiers and civilians and animals in their nests of drawers, burn the trees again--this time they are sweet-bay; and all the joys and sorrows and rivalries and successes of blue end and red end will pass, and follow carthage and nineveh, the empire of aztec and roman, the arts of etruria and the palaces of crete, and the plannings and contrivings of innumerable myriads of children, into the limbo of games exhausted ... it may be, leaving some profit, in thoughts widened, in strengthened apprehensions; it may be, leaving nothing but a memory that dies. section iv funiculars, marble towers, castles and war games, but very little of war games i have now given two general types of floor game; but these are only just two samples of delightful and imagination-stirring variations that can be contrived out of the toys i have described. i will now glance rather more shortly at some other very good uses of the floor, the boards, the bricks, the soldiers, and the railway system--that pentagram for exorcising the evil spirit of dulness from the lives of little boys and girls. and first, there is a kind of lark we call funiculars. there are times when islands cease somehow to dazzle, and towns and cities are too orderly and uneventful and cramped for us, and we want something--something to whizz. then we say: "let us make a funicular. let us make a funicular more than we have ever done. let us make one to reach up to the table." we dispute whether it isn't a mountain railway we are after. the bare name is refreshing; it takes us back to that unforgettable time when we all went to wengen, winding in and out and up and up the mountain side--from slush, to such snow and sunlight as we had never seen before. and we make a mountain railway. so far, we have never got it up to the table, but some day we will, then we will have a station there on the flat, and another station on the floor, with shunts and sidings to each. the peculiar joy of the mountain railway is that, if it is properly made, a loaded car--not a toy engine; it is too rough a game for delicate, respectable engines--will career from top to bottom of the system, and go this way and that as your cunningly-arranged switches determine; and afterwards--and this is a wonderful and distinctive discovery--you can send it back by 'lectric. what is a 'lectric? you may well ask. 'lectrics were invented almost by accident, by one of us, to whom also the name is due. it came out of an accident to a toy engine; a toy engine that seemed done for and that was yet full of life. you know, perhaps, what a toy engine is like. it has the general appearance of a railway engine; funnels, buffers, cab, and so forth. all these are very elegant things, no doubt; but they do not make for lightness, they do not facilitate hill-climbing. now, sometimes an engine gets its clockwork out of order, and then it is over and done for; but sometimes it is merely the outer semblance that is injured--the funnel bent, the body twisted. you remove the things and, behold! you have bare clockwork on wheels, an apparatus of almost malignant energy, soul without body, a kind of metallic rage. this it was that our junior member instantly knew for a 'lectric, and loved from the moment of its stripping. (i have, by the by, known a very serviceable little road 'lectric made out of a clockwork mouse.) well, when we have got chairs and boxes and bricks, and graded our line skilfully and well, easing the descent, and being very careful of the joining at the bends for fear that the descending trucks and cars will jump the rails, we send down first an empty truck, then trucks loaded with bricks and lead soldiers, and then the 'lectric; and then afterwards the sturdy 'lectric shoves up the trucks again to the top, with a kind of savagery of purpose and a whizz that is extremely gratifying to us. we make switches in these lines; we make them have level-crossings, at which collisions are always being just averted; the lines go over and under each other, and in and out of tunnels. the marble tower, again, is a great building, on which we devise devious slanting ways down which marbles run. i do not know why it is amusing to make a marble run down a long intricate path, and dollop down steps, and come almost but not quite to a stop, and rush out of dark places and across little bridges of card: it is, and we often do it. castles are done with bricks and cardboard turrets and a portcullis of card, and drawbridge and moats; they are a mere special sort of city-building, done because we have a box of men in armor. we could reconstruct all sorts of historical periods if the toy soldier makers would provide us with people. but at present, as i have already complained, they make scarcely anything but contemporary fighting men. and of the war game i must either write volumes or nothing. for the present let it be nothing. some day, perhaps, i will write a great book about the war game and tell of battles and campaigns and strategy and tactics. but this time i set out merely to tell of the ordinary joys of playing with the floor, and to gird improvingly and usefully at toymakers. so much, i think, i have done. if one parent or one uncle buys the wiselier for me, i shall not altogether have lived in vain. from the online distributed proofreaders page of charles franks. chess and checkers: the way to mastership complete instructions for the beginner [and] valuable suggestions for the advanced player. by edward lasker table of contents information about this e-text edition introduction the history of chess the history of checkers part i: the game of chess i. the rules of the game board and men the moves of the men special terms symbols for moves chess laws ii. elementary tactics fundamental endings relative value of the men how the different men cooperate sacrificing iii. general principles of chess strategy king's pawn openings queen's pawn openings the middle game iv. illustrative games game no. : jackson showalter vs. edward lasker, lexington, ky., game no. : edward lasker vs. jose r. capablanca, new york, v. problems part ii: the game of checkers i. the rules of the game ii. elementary tactics iii. the five fundamental positions the first position the second position the change of the move the third position the fourth position the fifth position iv. general principles and illustrative games v. problems information about this e-text edition the following is an e-text of "chess and checkers: the way to mastership," by edward lasker, copyright , printed in new york. this e-text contains the chess and checkers board game diagrams appearing in the original book, plus an extra chess diagram that appears on the front cover of the book, all in the form of ascii line drawings. the following is a key to the diagrams: for chess pieces, r = rook kt = knight b = bishop q = queen k = king p = pawn black pieces have a # symbol to the left of them, while white pieces have a ^ symbol to the left of them. for example, #b is the black bishop, while ^b is the white bishop. #kt is the black knight, while ^kt is the white knight. this will let the reader instantly tell by sight which pieces in the ascii chess diagrams are black and which are white. for checkers pieces, * = black single piece o = white single piece ** = black king oo = white king those who find these diagrams hard to read should feel free to set up them up on a game board using the actual pieces. preface the present world war has given great impetus to the game of chess. in the prison camps, in the field hospitals, in the training camps and even in the trenches chess has become a favorite occupation in hours of leisure, not only because it offers a most fascinating pastime, but mainly because it serves beyond any doubt to develop what is now the most interesting study for every soldier--the grasp of the principles underlying military strategy and the ability to conceive and to carry out military operations on a large scale. frederick the great, napoleon and moltke, the great scientists of war, had a decided liking for the game of chess and owed to it many an inspiration which helped them in laying out their military plans. indeed, no other game exists which offers such complete analogies to war. two armies oppose each other on the chess board, composed of different units which may well be compared with infantry, cavalry and artillery. the success of the operations on the board, which represents the battlefield, does not depend upon any element of chance, but solely upon the ingenuity and the skill of the players who are the commanders-in-chief of the forces. although a chess game differs from a battle in that the material strength of the opponents is equal, the order of events is the same in chess as in war. the troops are first mobilized and made ready for action with utmost speed, then important positions are occupied which give the troops freedom of action and insure safe lines of retreat and, finally, when the formation of the enemy is known, the strategic plan is made which the generals try to carry out by means of different tactical maneuvers. considering this similarity of chess and war it is not surprising that chess has gained greatly in popularity among all those whose work or thought is more than superficially influenced by the present war. no special inducement, however, would be necessary to learn the game, were it more generally known that great advantage is to be derived from the study of chess, quite apart from the cultivation of strategic ability. the faculty which is developed by playing chess is useful wherever logical thinking and concentration are needed, and it cannot be denied that these qualities are most desirable in the every day struggle in which mental work has so largely superseded manual labor. the thoughtful playing of the game not only cultivates the logical quality and imaginative power of the mind but also tends to develop strength of character. it teaches us not to be hasty in our decisions, but to exercise foresight at all times as we must abide by all consequences of our actions. moreover, we learn from it circumspection which causes us to survey the whole scene of action and does not allow us to lose ourselves in detail; we also learn not to be discouraged by reverses in our affairs but to hold out and always search for fresh resources. thus, chess serves a good purpose for young and old. the boy will find it a fascinating pastime and, unconsciously sharpening his wits in playing the game, will acquire a fine preparation for his calling in life, no matter what it may be. for the man, and the woman too, chess is well worth learning, as it will prove the best companion in hours of leisure. the reason why many people hesitate to learn the game and to teach it to their children is that chess has been misrepresented as a game which is very difficult to master. this false impression has been created mainly by the wrong methods of teaching usually employed. the majority of writers on chess deal with a maze of variations and they expect the reader to memorize the moves with which to parry the maneuvers of the opponent, instead of simply developing a few common sense principles which are easy to grasp and perfectly sufficient to make a good player of any one. this is really the great advantage of the game of chess over any other board game, that it lends itself to the application of general principles, so that any one can grasp and enjoy it without memorizing more than the rules according to which the men move. i have tried to develop these principles in a simple way so that they are sure to be easily understood, and i have been greatly aided in my task by miss helen dvorak and mr. eugene fuller, who, without any previous knowledge of the game, have learned it in reading through the manuscript of this book. they have given me many valuable hints in pointing out all that did not seem readily intelligible to the mind of the beginner. in explaining the game of checkers, to which the second part of the book is devoted, i have also tried to develop general principles of strategy, rather than to offer a mere classification of analyzed lines of play, which the reader would have to memorize in order to be able to compete with experts. i was fortunate enough to secure the collaboration of the checker champion, alfred jordan, who enthusiastically adopted the new idea of teaching and furnished most of the material which i have used in illustrating the vital points of the game. edward lasker. introduction the history of chess the game of chess in the form in which it is played to-day is usually assumed to be of a much older date than can be proved with certainty by documents in our possession. the earliest reference to the game is contained in a persian romance written about a.d., which ascribes the origin of chess to india. many of the european chess terms used in the middle ages which can be traced back to the indian language also tend to prove that india is the mother country of the game. we are, therefore, fairly safe in assuming that chess is about years old. of course we could go farther, considering that the indian chess must have been gradually developed from simpler board games. indeed we know from a discovery in an egyptian tomb built about b.c. that board games have been played as early as years ago; but we have no way of finding out their rules. the game of chess spread from india to persia, arabia and the other moslem countries, and it was brought to europe at the time of the moorish invasion of spain. it also reached the far east, and games similar to chess still exist in japan, china, central and northern asia, the names and rules of which prove that they descended from the old indian chess. in europe chess spread from spain northward to france, germany, england, scandinavia and iceland. it became known with extraordinary rapidity, although at first it was confined to the upper classes, the courts of the kings and the nobility. in the course of time, when the dominance of the nobility declined and the inhabitants of the cities assumed the leading role in the life of people, the game of chess spread to all classes of society and soon reached a popularity which no other game has ever equaled. while in the early middle ages the game was played in europe with the same rules as in the orient, some innovations were introduced by the european players in the later middle ages which proved to be so great an improvement that within a hundred years they were generally adopted in all countries including the orient. the reason for the changes was that in the old form of the game it took too long to get through the opening period. the new form, which dates from about a.d. and the characteristic feature of which is the enlarged power of queen and bishop, is our modern chess, the rules of which are uniform throughout the civilized world. in the seventeenth century chess flourished mostly in italy, which consequently produced the strongest players. some of them traveled throughout europe, challenging the best players of the other countries and for the most part emerging victorious. at that time chess was in high esteem, especially at the courts of the kings who followed the example of philip the second of spain in honoring the traveling masters and rewarding them liberally for their exhibition matches. towards the beginning of the eighteenth century the game reached a high stage of development in france, england and germany. the most famous master of the time was the frenchman, andre philidor, who for more than forty years easily maintained his supremacy over all players with whom he came in contact, and whose fame has since been equaled only by the american champion, paul morphy, and by the german, emanuel lasker. during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the number of players who obtained international fame increased rapidly, and in , due to the efforts of the english champion staunton, an international tournament was held in london to determine the championship of europe. it was won by the german master anderssen, who maintained his leading place for the following fifteen years, until he was beaten by the youthful morphy. the latter, at twenty years of age, was the first american master to visit europe and defeated in brilliant style all european masters whom he met. morphy withdrew from the game after his return to america and did not try to match himself with the bohemian steinitz, who in the meantime had beaten anderssen, too, and who had come to america. steinitz assumed the title of the world's champion and defended it successfully against all competitors until , when he was beaten by emanuel lasker, who is still world's champion, having never lost a match. the next aspirant for the world's championship is the young cuban, jose raoul capablanca, who has proved to be superior to all masters except lasker. he entered the arena of international tournaments at the age of twenty-two in san sebastian, spain, in , and won the first prize in spite of the competition of nearly all of europe's masters. in the last international tournament, which was held in petrograd in , he finished second, emanuel lasker winning first prize. the present ranking of the professional chess masters is about the following: . emanuel lasker, berlin, world's champion. . j. r. capablanca, havana, pan-american champion. . a. rubinstein, warsaw, russian champion. . k. schlechter, vienna, austrian champion. . frank marshall, new york, united states champion. . r. teichmann, berlin. . a. aljechin, moscow. other players of international fame are the germans, tarrasch and spielmann, the austrians, duras, marocy and vidmar, the russians, bernstein and niemzowitsch, the frenchman, janowski and the englishman, burn. up to the time of the outbreak of the war the leading chess clubs of the different countries arranged, as an annual feature, national and international tournaments, thus bringing the chess players of all nationalities into close contact. this internationalism of chess is of great advantage to the chess player who happens to be traveling in a foreign country. there are innumerable chess clubs spread all over the globe and the knowledge of the game is the only introduction a man needs to be hospitably received and to form desirable social and business connections. it would be going beyond the limit of this summary of the history of chess if i tried to give even an outline of the extremely interesting part chess has played in french, english and german literature from the middle ages up to the present time. suffice it to mention that chess literature by far exceeds that of all other games combined. more than five thousand volumes on chess have been written, and weekly or monthly magazines solely devoted to chess are published in all countries, so that chess has, so to speak, become an international, universal language. the history of checkers the literature on the game of checkers (english: draughts) is very limited and there are no certain references to prove that the game was known before the sixteenth century. two theories are current as to its origin; one of them claiming it to be a simplified chess, the other explaining it as the result of transferring the spanish game alquerque de doze to the chess board. h. j. r. murray, the greatest authority on the history of games, considers it most likely that the game has been evolved from both chess and alquerque. the method of capturing men and the rule concerning the huffing of a man unquestionably point to the spanish game, while the board, the diagonal move of the men and the idea of crowning a man are taken from chess. in france, germany, italy and spain the name of the game is still that of the queen of chess (dame, dama) whose move in the middle ages was identical with the move of the checkermen. checkers has never been able to attain more than national uniformity, and it is played with different rules in different countries. in the united states it is more popular than in any other country and a number of players have obtained national fame. the best players at present are considered to be newell banks and alfred jordan. part i: the game of chess i the rules of the game board and men the game of chess is played by two armies who oppose each other on a square board or battlefield of sixty-four alternate white and black squares. each army has sixteen men; one king, one queen, two rooks (or castles), two bishops, two knights and eight pawns. the generals of the two armies are the two players themselves. the men of one side are of light color and are called white, those of the other side are of dark color and are called black. the object of the game is to capture the opposing king. when this is done the battle is ended, the side losing whose king is captured. to understand what is meant by the capture of the king it is first necessary to become acquainted with the laws according to which the different men move on the board. to start with, the board must be placed so that the players have a white square at their right. then the men take the positions shown in diagram . the rooks occupy the corner squares; next to them stand the knights; then the bishops and in the center the king and the queen. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | #kt| #b | #q | #k | #b | #k | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | #p | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | ^k | ^b | ^kt| ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram the white queen must be on the white square and the black queen on the black square. these eight, men are commonly known as "pieces" in distinction from the pawns. the latter occupy the line of squares immediately in front of the pieces. the lines of squares now occupied by the men and the other four vacant horizontal lines between them are called ranks. the vertical lines of squares running perpendicularly to the ranks are called files. the oblique lines of squares, that is, lines which connect squares of the same color, are called diagonals. to describe the moves of the men on the board in a simple way it is necessary to indicate every square and every man by a short symbol. for this purpose different systems have been suggested at different times, but only two of them have been generally adopted. the older one, called the "descriptive notation," still predominates in the english, french and spanish speaking countries, but as leading english and american writers have lately used the newer "algebraic notation" which is much more simple, the latter will be employed in this book. later the former method will be explained for the sake of completeness. in the algebraic notation the files are lettered from a to h, starting from the file on white's left. the ranks are numbered from to , starting from the rank on which white's pieces stand at the beginning of the game. each square is now easily indicated by naming the file and rank at which it forms the intersection. the rook in diagram , for instance, stands on e , the bishop on c , the pawns on h and g , the knight on f , the queen on d and the kings on c and g . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^kt| #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #q | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | ^r | | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^k | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram as symbols for the men the first letters of their names are used. thus k stands for king, q for queen, r for rook, b for bishop, kt or n for knight and p for pawn. the moves of the men each of the six kinds of men moves in a different way. to remember the six varieties of moves naturally requires a little more effort than to remember just the one way of moving as in most other board games. but it takes only very little practice to become familiar with the various moves of the chessmen and it is soon revealed to the learner that the variety of the moves enables a surprising depth and wealth of combinations which give keener and greater pleasure to this game than to any other. the rook the rook may move forward, backward or sideways in a straight line along a path not obstructed by a man of the same color. in other words, he may move to any square of the rank or file on which he stands unless another man of his own color is in the way. if there is a hostile man in the way he may capture him by occupying his square and removing him from the board. in diagram , for instance, the rook could move to e , e , e , e , e , e , e , f , g , d and c . in making the latter move he would capture the black bishop. the rook may not go to h because a man of his own color stands there nor may he go to b or e because he is not allowed to jump over the bishop. he could, of course, move to either of these squares on his next move after capturing the bishop. the bishop the bishop moves along an oblique line, that is, he may move to any square of the diagonals on which he stands unless--as in the case of the rook--his way is obstructed by a man of his own color. if there is a hostile man in the way he may capture him. in diagram , therefore, the bishop may move to a , b , d , e or, by capturing the knight, to f . he may not move, however, to g , until his next move after capturing the knight. in the other diagonal all squares, that is, fi, e , d , b and a , are accessible to him. as the bishop is confined to squares of the same color as the one on which he stood at the beginning of the game he has access only to thirty-two squares of the board, and from this it is evident that the rook to whom all squares of the board are accessible is a stronger man. the queen the queen has the power of both rook and bishop having the choice of moving to any square of the rank, file or diagonal on which she stands as long as her path is clear. in diagram the squares to which the queen may move are, therefore, e , b , c , e , f , f , b , c , b , d , d , d , d , ds, d , d , a , b , c , e , f , g and h . like the rook and bishop she has the power of capturing a hostile man by occupying his square. the queen is by far the most powerful of the pieces. later it will be seen that ordinarily her strength is about equal to the strength of two rooks. the king the king, like the queen, moves and captures in any direction, but he is much less powerful because he may move only one square at a time. nevertheless, he is the most important man, for, as said at the beginning, the object of each side is the capture of the opposing king. to save the king from untimely death there is a rule that the king may not move into any square which is in the direct range of any man of his enemy. thus, in diagram the black king may move to f , g , h , f and h , but he may not move to f or g nor may he capture the pawn on h , for on any of these squares he could be captured by the white rook. the white king in diagram has only three squares to which he may go, namely, b , b and c , as the squares d and d , though being in his range, are commanded by the black queen. the knight the knight moves neither in rank nor file nor diagonal and, therefore, usually offers a little more difficulty to the beginner than the other pieces. the knight's move is perhaps best described as a leap to the next but one square of different color.[footnote: it may be helpful to consider the knight's move when completed as having described a letter "l" composed of four squares, three in one direction and one at right angles to them.] for instance, in diagram the knight may move to d , d , e , g , h and h . in moving to d he would capture the queen. his move would be in no way obstructed if some of his own or his adversary's men were occupying the squares next to the one on which he stands. this enables the knight as the only one of the pieces to move at the beginning of the game before any pawn move has been made. the strength of the knight is ordinarily regarded as about equal to that of the bishop. the latter's range is larger but the knight has the advantage of being able to reach any square of the board regardless of color. the pawn it remains to describe the move of the pawn, the only man who captures in a different way from that in which he moves. the pawn moves forward only in the file in which he stands, and only one square at a time with the exception of his first move on which he may advance two squares. thus, in diagram , the white pawn may move only to h while the black pawn may move to either g or g . the pawn may capture only diagonally, only forward and only one square at a time. the privilege of taking a double step on the first move does not extend to the capture. thus in diagram , the white pawn could capture only a black man on g , the black pawn only a man on either f or h , but not on e . if a man stood on h , the pawn h would be blocked. likewise would the pawn on g be blocked by a man on g . there is one peculiar rule to be remembered in connection with the move of the pawn. if a pawn uses his privilege of making a double step to avoid capture by a hostile pawn he can be put back one square and captured just the same. for instance, in diagram , if the white pawn stood on h and black moved his pawn to g , white could put black's pawn back to g and capture him with his pawn. this way of capturing is called taking "en passant" (french for "in passing") and can be done only by a pawn, never by a piece. lastly must be mentioned the power of the pawn to become transformed into a piece. this is done automatically whenever a pawn reaches the extreme opposite side of the board. that is, the player must remove the pawn from the board and put any piece on his place except a king. thus it can happen that a player may play with three or more rooks, bishops, knights or queens. as the queen is the strongest piece the pawns are practically always exchanged for queens and for this reason the process of the exchange is called "queening." although a pawn has comparatively little value as measured by his mobility--his range of movement--he is really a very valuable man because of the possibility of his eventually queening. castling only once in a game is a player allowed to move more than one piece at a time. this one move is called "castling" and is made by the king together with one of the rooks. in castling the king moves two squares toward the rook and the rook is placed on the square over which the king has passed. in the position of diagram both players may castle either side. white, in "castling king's side" would place his king on g and the king's rook on f ; in "castling queen's side" the king would leap to c while the queen's rook would take his stand on d . likewise black would castle by either playing the king to g and the rook from h to f , or the king to c and the rook to a to d . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | #q | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | #p | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | ^p | | #b | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^q | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | #kt| | | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #p | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | | | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #kt| ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . castling is permitted only when neither king nor rook concerned has previously moved, when none of the squares between the king and the rook are obstructed and when none of the three squares involved in the king's move are controlled by an adverse man. thus if in check (see page ) the player may not castle. in diagram , neither white nor black may castle. special terms attack and defense a man is said to attack another man if he moves so that on his next move he could capture the other man. thus, in diagram , white could attack black's bishop by moving his rook to d or to e . a man is said to defend or to protect another man if he moves so that in case the other man is captured by a hostile man he could recapture the latter. thus, in diagram , black could defend his bishop by moving his knight to either e or e in case white attacks with the rook from d . should white attack from e , then black would not defend the bishop with the knight, for on e as well as on e the knight is unprotected and could be captured by the rook without white losing anything in exchange. black has a much more simple way to defend the attack of the rook from e , that is, by capturing the rook with the pawn f . for this reason white would not have moved the rook to e . check and checkmate if a man makes a move which attacks the opposing king the king is said to be in "check." the player whose king is checked then has to make a move which gets the king out of check +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | #p | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #b | | #kt| | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | | | | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . or he forfeits the game. this is the only case in which a player is not at liberty to make any move he likes. unless the attacking man can be captured there are only two ways of getting out of check. one of these is to interpose a man between the king and the attacking piece, and the other to move the king out of the line of attack. in diagram black could give check by moving the bishop to c . in answer to this white has four moves at his disposal. he may either move the king to f or h or h , or he may interpose his rook on e . the latter would be very unwise as black would simply take the rook with his bishop, again checking white's king. the situation would then not have changed at all except that white would have lost his rook. white's king could not move to f , for this would leave him still attacked by the bishop. instead of checking on c black could have attacked white's king on h . but in this case the king would have simply captured the bishop. if it were white's move he could give check with the rook on e . but black could take the rook with the knight. he would naturally do this instead of either moving out with the king to h or interposing the bishop on f . if a king is in check and there is no move with which to get him out of it he is said to be "checkmate" and the game is ended. diagram shows an example in which either player can give checkmate on the move. if it were white's move he would take the pawn on g with his queen. now black's king is in check as white's queen threatens to take him on the next move. the king cannot move to either g or h , for these two squares are also commanded by white's queen. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | ^r | | #kt| #k | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #b | #p | | | #p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | #q | #b | | | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^kt| ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | | ^q | | | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^k | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . moreover, the latter cannot be taken by the pawn on f as the black king would be in check by the bishop on b . the pawn is "pinned" by the bishop. black's knight cannot take white's queen either as he is pinned by white's rook. finally, there is no piece available which may be interposed between white's queen and black's king; in other words: black is checkmate, his game is lost. if it were black's move he would take the pawn g with the queen. now white's king is in check as black's queen threatens to take him on the next move. he may not take the queen as he would then be captured by the bishop b . neither may the knight f take the queen as he is pinned by the bishop d . moreover, the king may not escape to g , h or g , these three squares lying in the rangeof black's queen; and so there is no move on the board with which to get white's king out of check: he is checkmate, white loses the game. stalemate if a player, without being in check, cannot make any move which would not get his king into check, he is said to be stalemate. in this case the game is considered a draw. diagram shows an example. white on the move, although his forces are much inferior, can draw the game by checking with the rook on f . black cannot very well make a move with his king in reply, as then white's rook would take the queen. black, therefore, must capture the rook with the queen and with this move he stalemates white, as the latter has no move left which would not bring his king into check. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #q | | | | #k | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^r | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #r | ^kt| ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . if it were black's move he would easily win. in fact he has two different ways of checkmating white in three moves. one of them would be to take the knight with the rook, attacking the king and forcing white's rook to recapture as the king has no square to go to; then to give check with the queen on g forcing white's king to h and enabling the mate with the queen on g or h . the other way would be to start with the check on g . as white's knight is pinned he cannot capture the queen. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^q | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #q | | | | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | ^k | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram interposing the rook on g would not help either as the queen would simply take him at the same time checkmating the king. white's only move is, therefore, to play the king into the corner, and black then mates by first taking the knight and then moving the queen to g or h . perpetual check if a player is able to check the opposing king continually and he indicates his intention to do so the game is considered a draw. in the following position, for instance, white on the move can draw the game by giving a perpetual check on e and h . black cannot help himself as he has to go back and forth with the king on h and g . without the possibility of this perpetual check white would be lost, for he cannot prevent the pawn a from queening and with two queens against one black would easily win as will be seen later from the discussion of elementary endings. exchange to exchange means to capture a hostile man when it allows a man of the same value to be captured by the opponent. it is rather confusing that the term "exchange" is also used for the difference in value between a rook and a bishop or a knight. to win the exchange, in this sense, means to capture a rook and to lose for it only a bishop or a knight. double pawn two pawns of the same player standing in one file are called a double pawn. three pawns in one file are called a triple pawn. passed pawn a pawn whose advance to the eighth rank is not blocked by an opposing pawn in the same file and who does not have to pass one on an adjoining file is called a passed pawn. isolated pawn a pawn is called isolated if there are no pawns of the same player on the adjoining files. backward pawn a pawn is called backward if he cannot advance far enough to be protected by fellow pawns in an adjoining file. fork a pawn is said to fork two pieces if he attacks them simultaneously. minor piece the bishops and the knights are called minor pieces as compared with the rooks and the queen. sacrifice to sacrifice means to give up a man without obtaining for him a man of the opponent or to give up a man for one of lesser value. discovered check and double check a discovered check is an attack on the king caused by a man moving out of the line of a piece which he was obstructing. if the man discovering the check also attacks the king the check is called a double check. symbols for moves in addition to the symbols used for squares and men, as explained on page , the following are used to indicate the moves: -- means "moves to" x means "captures" o-o means "castles king's side" o-o-o means "castles queen's side" + means "check" +/- means "checkmate" thus: r-f means the rook moves to square f . if either rook could move to f then the original square of the rook to be moved must also be shown. kte xd means the knight standing on e captures the man standing on d . o-o-o means the player castles queen's side and in so doing gives check. [footnote: in the descriptive notation alluded to on page every square of the board has two different names, each player counting the ranks from his own side. the files are named after the pieces which stand on them at the beginning of the game. thus, c would be qb (queen's bishop's fourth) or qb depending on whether a black or a white move is described. if a square is referred to without relation to a particular move it is necessary to add from which side of the board the square is counted. it is customary to say in cases of this kind "white's queen's fourth" or "black's queen's fourth," etc. instead of naming the square on which a capture takes place, the man captured is named, so that an additional description is necessary in case more than one man of the same kind can be captured. as a matter of comparison the first ten moves of a game are described above in both notations.] ! signifies a good move. ? signifies a bad move. ( ) p-d p-d ( ) p-c p-e ( ) kt-c p-c ( ) kt-f kt-c ( ) pxd pxd ( ) b-f kt-f ( ) p-e b-e ( ) b-d b-e ( ) o-o o-o ( ) r-c kt-h ( ) p-q p-q ( ) p-qb p-k ( ) kt-qb p-qb ( ) kt-b kt-qb ( ) pxqp kpxp ( ) b-kb kt-b ( ) p-k b-k ( ) b-q b-k ( ) castles castles ( ) r-b kt-kr chess laws if a player having the move touches one of his men he is compelled to move him; if he touches a hostile man he must capture him. this law is void, however, if the man so touched cannot be legally moved or captured. a man may be moved to any square accessible to him as long as the hand of the player has not left him. if an illegal move has been made it must be retracted and if possible another move must be made with the same man. if a player has castled illegally, king and rook must be moved back and the king must make another move, if there is a legal one. if a player touches a man with the sole object of adjusting his position, he must indicate his intention by saying "j'adoube" (french for: i adjust) beforehand. in castling, the king must be moved first as otherwise a doubt might arise whether castling or a rook's move only was intended. a game is void if a mistake has been made in setting up board or men or if in the course of the game the position or number of men have been altered in a manner not in accordance with the rules of play and the position cannot be reconstructed from the point where the error was made. if a player resigns his game before he is actually mated he acknowledges that in the end mate is unavoidable, and the game is counted as a loss to him. if neither player has sufficient material left to enforce a mate (compare following chapter) the game is considered a draw. a draw may also be claimed by either player if the moves are repeated so that the same position occurs three times with the same player on the move, or if fifty moves have been made without the capture of a man or the move of a pawn. ii elementary tactics the beginner who thinks he ought to be able to play a good game of chess after learning the moves of the men is like the soldier who is confident that he could lead an army after he has learned how to march. he may have great strategical gifts but he will not be able to use them to any advantage unless he is thoroughly conversant with the tactical possibilities afforded by the cooperation of the different units of which his army is composed and by the topography of the ground on which the battle takes place. the different conditions of the battle ground in war which make some positions more easily accessible to infantry than to artillery and vice versa have their equivalent on the chess board in the different ways in which the men move and which make certain squares accessible to some of them which others cannot reach. the first thing, then, for the beginner to do is to acquaint himself thoroughly with the characteristic features of each man so that he may know exactly how much work to expect from him. the best way to accomplish this is the study of the elementary problems which are in end games, that is, in positions where only a few men are left on each side. fundamental endings considering that the object of the game is the capture of the opposing king, it seems most important to find out whether there are positions in which this capture can be accomplished in the face of the best possible defense. naturally a player must have a certain material superiority to be able to force a mate, and the first question which offers itself is what minimum force is required to compel the surrender of a king whose men have all been captured during the game. it is clear that in order to checkmate the lone king it is necessary to attack the square on which he stands as well as all adjacent squares to which he could escape. the most unfavorable position for the king is, of course, a corner of the board as there he has only three squares to go to while in the middle of the board eight squares are accessible to him. consequently, in an ending in which one player has only his king left the other player will try to drive the king into a corner where he needs control over only three additional squares. it can easily be seen that this can be done without difficulty with king and queen or with king and rook. supposing, for instance, white has his king on c and his queen on h while black's king stands on d as shown in the following diagram. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #k | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^k | | | | | ^q | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . how will white proceed in order to drive the king into a corner and checkmate him there? a direct onslaught with the queen on e or d is clearly not advisable as the queen would not be protected on these squares, so that the king could simply capture her. a long range attack from h , g , d or h is not effective either as it would not restrict the mobility of the king who could go to either d or e or e , that is away from the corner to which he is to be driven. the correct way of maneuvering for white will be to confine black's king to a smaller and smaller territory until he finally has to back up against the side or the corner of the board. this consideration indicates the following line of play: ( )q-f , k-c ; ( )q-e , k-d ; ( ) k-c , k-c ; ( ) q-e , k-b ; ( ) q-d , k-a . white must now be very careful to avoid a stalemate which would result if he deprived the king of all mobility without attacking him at the same time. this would be the case if he now moved q-c . for then black could not move the king to b , as this square is controlled by white's king, and he could not go to any of the other four squares in his range on account of white's queen attacking all of them. the correct move is ( ) k- c . this leaves only the square a for black's king, and white checkmates by ( ) q-a or ( ) q-b . if, in diagram , white had a rook on h instead of the queen, the mating process would take a few more moves, but there would be no escape for black either. it will again be white's aim to confine black's king to a smaller and smaller number of squares. the best way to start will therefore be ( ) r-e . no matter what black replies, he cannot prevent white from driving him to the edge of the board in a similar way to the one shown in the following example: ( ) ..., k-d ; ( ) r-e . this is a waiting move. black must leave d , thus enabling either white's king to advance or the rook to occupy e . ( ) ..., k-c ; ( ) r-e ; k-d ; ( ) k-d , k-c ; ( ) r- d , k-b ; ( ) r-c , k-b ; ( ) k-d , k-b ; ( ) k-d , k-b ; ( ) r- b , k-a ; ( ) k-c , k-a ; ( ) k-c , k-a ; ( ) r-h , k-a ; ( ) r-a mate. the two examples discussed show that it is not necessary to drive the king into the corner but that he can be mated on any square of the edge by queen or rook. it will be observed that in the mating position three of the six squares at black's disposal are controlled by white's king and the other three by the rook (or the queen). if white had only a bishop or a knight in addition to the king he could never mate black, for neither bishop nor knight can attack the king and at the same time control a square adjacent to the king. this, however, is at least necessary to force the mate, even in the most unfavorable position of the king, that is, in the corner. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^kt| | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^k | | #k | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . there are possibilities of a player mating his opponent with only king and knight or king and bishop, but then there must be a man of the opponent blocking the escape of the king. diagram is an example of such a case. white plays ( ) kt-c , k-h ; ( ) kt-e . now black cannot continue with p-h , as white would checkmate with kt-g . therefore, he must play ( ) ..., k-h . white then gets the knight in such a position as to deprive black's king of the escape to h and to keep the square g accessible to the knight: ( ) kt-d (not kt-g , which would stalemate black's king), k-h ; ( ) kt-f . the only move left to black is now p-h , and white mates by ( ) kt-g . if it were black's move in the position of the diagram the game would be a draw, for after ( ) ..., k-h ; ( ) kt-c , p-h black is stalemate unless white moves his king so as to make the square g accessible to black. however, he will not do that as it would enable black to queen the pawn and to win the game. in the case of king and bishop against king and another man a mate can only occur through a blunder. supposing for instance white has the king on f and a bishop on d and black has the king on h and a bishop or a pawn on h , then white on the move would mate by k-f . but it is evident that black must have made a blunder, for on the move preceding the position of the diagram he must have either played his king into the corner or moved the bishop or pawn to h , both moves which were in no way forced. to checkmate with king and two bishops against king or with bishop and knight against king offers no difficulty. +---------------------------------------+ | #k | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^k | ^b | ^b | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the only thing the player must keep in mind is that he needs his king for the drive. the two pieces are not sufficient to confine the opposing king to the corner. in diagram for instance, it will be the best policy for white to advance right away with his king in order to prevent black's king from escaping into the middle of the board. the following play might then ensue: ( ) k-b , k-b ; ( ) k-c , k-c ; ( ) k-d , k-d ; ( ) b-f , k-c ; ( ) b-f , k-b ; ( ) b-e , k-b ; ( ) b-d , k-b ; ( ) b-d , k-b ; ( ) k-c , k-a ; ( ) k-c , k-a ; ) k-c (not k-b which would stalemate black's king), k-a ; ( ) b-b , k-a ; ( ) b-c , k-a ; ( ) b-b , k-a ; ( ) b-c mate. in the fight of king, bishop and knight against the king the mate can be enforced only in a corner controlled by the bishop, if the lone king always makes the best move. diagram may serve as an example of this ending. white has a black bishop and so he will have to drive black's king to either h or a as it is not possible to mate him in the white corner a , unless he makes a blunder. after ( ) b-e for instance, black must of course not go into the corner as kt-b would mate him. he will play k-c and white will have to prevent the flight of the black king into the middle of the board. it is easy to see, by the way, that the kt cannot be placed so as to control the square c , thereby forcing the king into the corner, and to threaten the mate on b at the same time. for he can control c only from a black square while he would have to stand on a white square to be able to reach b in one move. after ( ) b-e , k-c ; ( ) k-b , k-d ; ( ) kt-f black's king is confined to the seventh and eighth ranks and it is only a question of time when he will be forced to h . +---------------------------------------+ | | #k | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^k | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^kt| | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | --------------------------------------- a b c d e f g h diagram . white's bishop being only capable of commanding black squares the knight will have to be used to drive the king from white squares. for instance: k-c ; ( ) k-c , k-d ; ( ) kt-g , k-c ; ( ) kt-e , k-d ; ( ) k-d , k-e ; ( ) k-e , k-d ; ( ) b-h . a waiting move. white wants to place the bishop on c so as to make d inaccessible to black. ( ) k-e ; ( ) b-c , k-f ; ( ) kt-f , k- e ; ( ) kt-g , k-f ; ( ) k-f , k-g ; ( ) k-g , k-f ; ( ) b- d , k-g ; ( ) kt-f , k-h ; ( ) +---------------------------------------+ | | #k | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^k | | ^kt| | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | --------------------------------------- a b c d e f g h diagram . b-a . again a waiting move. white cannot play kt-h right away as black would be stalemate. ( ) ..., k-g ; ( ) kt-h , k-h ; ( ) b-b mate. it is not possible to force a mate with king and two knights, for even if a position similar to diagram is arrived at, in which the king can be driven into the corner, the knight who prevents the king from escaping is never ready to give the checkmate, and in order to prevent a stalemate the other knight would have to let the king out of the corner again. if black had a spare move, for instance if he had a pawn left, then white would win. ( ) kt- a , k-a ; ( ) kt-e , pawn moves; ( ) kt-c mate. relative value of the men from the foregoing examples it is possible to form a vague idea of the strength of the different pieces. the queen is apparently the strongest piece. on account of her superior mobility she can confine the hostile king with a few moves and force him into a mating net. of the other pieces the rook is no doubt the strongest for he is sufficient to force a mate in conjunction with his own king, while bishop or knight cannot do so. two bishops apparently are stronger than two knights, while it is not possible yet to say anything about the relative value of one bishop and one knight. the above valuation, however, holds good only on the comparatively vacant board, where the pieces can make full use of their mobility. it is the mobility alone which decides the value of a man, and positions often occur in which a knight is more valuable than a rook or in which a pawn might be preferable to a bishop and so on. the reason is that sometimes the weaker man occupies a commanding square while the stronger man is obstructed somehow or other so that he cannot be made to work. examples for positions of this kind will be discussed in the chapter on combination. although it is impossible to indicate exactly the relative value of the men in each position, experience enables a fair estimation of their average strength. the queen is about as strong as two rooks or as three minor pieces (bishops or knights). a minor piece is about equivalent to three pawns, and a rook is consequently equal to a minor piece and one to two pawns. the value of a pawn is the hardest thing to grasp for the beginner. a pawn appears to be of so little use on account of his limited mobility, that it seems hardly worth while to waste time on saving a pawn that is attacked, as so much greater things are apparently at issue. what he overlooks is the latent value of the pawn which lies in the possibility of queening him later in the game. to realize the importance of the pawn it is necessary to know exactly under what conditions he can be queened. this knowledge is all the more indispensable to the chess player as the vast majority of all games finally resolve themselves into pawn endings in which the advantage of one or more pawns decides the issue. in most of these cases some pieces are on the board in addition to the pawns and sometimes it is only by their exchange that the game can be won. the most elementary example is that shown in the following diagram. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #q | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #k | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^q | | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white is a pawn ahead and it will be his object to queen it. the beginner, in his haste to advance the pawn, will probably play p- e at once and lose the pawn, as black can answer q-d check with simultaneous attack on the pawn. the correct way to play for white is ( ) q-d +, k-a or b ; ( ) qxa , kxa . now that the queens are exchanged white need not any longer worry about any interference with his plans to queen the pawn except maneuvers of the black king, which might still lead to the capture or the blockade of the pawn. a rash advance of the pawn would again be the wrong thing. the right way of playing is indicated by a simple calculation. the pawn needs four moves to reach the queening square. but the black king arrives there in the same number of moves, so that he can capture the pawn the moment he queens. consequently white will only be able to enforce the safe queening of his pawn if he can gain control of the queening square with his own king, thus protecting the pawn at the time of queening. now, white needs three moves to bring his king up to his pawn on f . in the meantime black will have reached the square d and after white's ( ) k-f black will block the further advance of white's king by k-e . however, white can force black to give the way free. the maneuver by which he does this is one which occurs in a similar form in nearly all pawn endings and its thorough grasp is therefore essential. diagram shows the critical position. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #k | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^k | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white can win the game only by playing ( ) k-e . the technical term for this move is "going into opposition." the kings oppose each other in one line on squares of the same color and the one who has to move out of opposition--in this case black's king--is compelled to allow the advance of the opposing king to the next line. if black plays k-d , white answers ( ) k-f , and if black plays k-f , ( ) k-d would follow. then, after black's k-e , white repeats the maneuver by taking the opposition with ( ) k- e , and again black must back out with either k-d or k-f , so that white can advance to either f or d . this clears the way for the pawn who now advances unimpeded to the queening square. the important role which the opposition of the kings play in pawn endings is still more strikingly illustrated by the situations which would result if in the position of diagram white played ( ) p-e instead of k-e . black would then draw the game by maintaining the opposition himself. he would play k-f and although after ( ) p-e , k-e ; ( ) k-e white has regained the opposition he cannot keep it if black continues correctly. the move which saves the game for black is k-e . k-d or k-f lose, as then white could go into opposition by k-d or k-f . the play in these three cases would be this: a: ( ) ..., k-e , ( ) k-f , k-f ; ( ) p-e +, k-e ; ( ) k-e and black is stalemate, the game is drawn. b: ( ) ..., k-d ; ( ) k-d , k-e ; ( ) p-e and black must move k-f enabling white to obtain control of the queening square by ( ) k-d . c: ( ) ..., k-f , ( ) k-f , k-e , etc., similar to the play in b. to sum up the investigation of this pawn ending: the deciding factor is the opposition of the kings on the th and th ranks. if the weaker party succeeds in obtaining that opposition with the pawn on the th rank he draws the game. if the pawn is not yet advanced to the th rank the opposition of the kings is of no avail to the weaker party as the pawn advancing would force the opposing king out of opposition again. suppose, for instance, white has the king on e and the pawn on e while black's king stands on e with white on the move. white must get out of opposition by playing k-f or k-d and black keeps the opposition by k-f or k-d . but then white has a move to spare which forces black out of opposition and thereby wins the game. he plays p-e and the game ends in the way discussed above. the ending king and pawn against king is one of the most important for every chess player to know, not only because a great number of positions can be reduced to this ending by the exchange of all the other men left on the board, but also because it gives the first insight into the peculiar maneuvers of the king which have to be carried out in connection with gaining or giving up the opposition, and which, as will be seen later on, constitute the essence of the most frequent pawn endings. for the beginner, of course, the opposition maneuvers are rather difficult to grasp and it is fortunate for him that the vast majority of pawn endings are of a much simpler form. the winning maneuver in these endings into which most chess games resolve themselves, is easily explained and after understanding it the beginner can readily see the fundamental principle underlying every game. diagram shows a typical position on which the winning method should be studied. white is a pawn ahead, but as demonstrated on the position of diagram he cannot queen his passed pawn because his king is not in front of it. on the other hand, there cannot possibly be any advantage in advancing the pawns on the other side of the board as there black has the same number of pawns as white and consequently there is no reason why one of the white pawns should succeed in breaking through. it is all the same very easy for white to win and the strategy to be employed will be evident from the following consideration: black's king is considerably confined in his movements as he has to be constantly watching white's passed pawn. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | |#p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #k | | | #p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^k | | | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white's king, however, is free to go wherever he likes without any immediate danger. there is consequently nothing to hinder him attacking and capturing the black pawns, for if black's king tries to stop white's advance, white's passed pawn marches on and compels the opposing king to catch him, thereby giving the way free to his own king. according to this scheme play could proceed like this: ( ) k-d , k-d ; ( ) k-e , k-e ; ( ) p-b , p-g ; ( ) p- b , k-d ; ( ) p-b , k-c ; ( ) k-d , kxb ; ( ) k-e , p-f ; ( ) k- f , k-c ; ( ) kxg , k-d ; ( ) kxf , k-e ; ( ) k-g , k-f . now white would win even without the pawn g by playing ( ) k-f and so on as explained on diagram . from the foregoing it will be clear to the beginner that if a player succeeds in winning a pawn he can win the game if he is able to exchange all pieces so that only the pawns are left. however, he will not yet see the way in which this exchange of pieces can be forced. it is evident that the player who has lost the pawn will try to avoid the exchange, hoping that he may be able to regain the pawn with his pieces. therefore, he will permit his opponent an exchange only if, in avoiding it, he would sustain an additional loss. the position of diagram offers a simple example. white on the move will play r-e , offering the exchange of rooks. if black tried to avoid the exchange by playing r-b , white would capture the pawn f with the rook and after black's king moves out of check he would take the pawn g too. therefore black has to make the offered exchange of rooks, and white then wins by advancing the c-pawn which forces black's king over to the queen's wing and leaves the pawns of the king's wing unprotected. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #r | | | | #p | | #k | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | | ^k | #p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | | | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^r | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the beginner might think that inasmuch as the loss of a pawn in most cases means the loss of the game on account of the final promotion of the pawn to the queen, it may be advisable to sacrifice a piece if thereby the loss of a pawn can be avoided. however, this idea, which is frequently met, is altogether wrong as the additional piece will easily enable the opponent to gain as many pawns as he likes within the further course of the game. the position of diagram may serve as an example. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | #p | #k | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #b | | | | | ^k | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^kt| | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | ^b | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . in the following line of play it is assumed that black makes the best moves, but the method employed is the same for any defensive maneuvers which black might try, with the only difference that white would win still more quickly. ( ) kt-c , b-c ; ( ) b-f , bxf ; ( ) kxf , p-b ; ( ) kt-e , p-c ; ( ) p-a . this move retains the black pawns so that the knight can attack them with better effect. ( ) ..., p-c ; ( ) kt-c , k-g ; ( ) kt-b , p-a ; ( ) kt-d , k-f ; ( ) ktxc , p-b ; ( ) pxb , pxb ; (n) kt-a , p- b ; ( ) kt-c , p-b ; ( ) kt-d , etc. often it happens that a player can give up his additional piece to advantage for one or two pawns thereby enforcing an ending which is won on account of the pawn position. diagram is an example. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #b | | | #k | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^kt| | | | ^k | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | ^kt| #p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . black is a piece down but his two connected passed pawns constitute a dangerous threat. white, therefore, does best to sacrifice a knight for the two pawns, as he then remains with two pawns against one. black must finally give up his bishop for white's a-pawn who threatens to queen, and then white wins by capturing black's g-pawn and queening his own. play might proceed as follows: ( ) ktxc , pxc ; ( ) ktxc , b-d ; ( ) kt-b , b-a ; ( ) p-a , k-g ; ( ) p-a , k-f ; ( ) kt-a , k-e ; ( ) kt-c , b-h ; ( ) p-a (queen), bxa ; ( ) ktxa , k-f ; ( ) kt-c , k-g ; ( ) kt-d , k-h ; ( ) k-f , k-h ; ( ) k-g , k-h ; ( ) k-g , k-g ; ( ) kt-e +, k-h ; ( ) kt-f , k-g ; ( ) ktxg , k-h ; ( ) k-f , k-h ; ( ) p-g , k-h ; ( ) kt-f , white could not play p-g , as black would have been stalemate. ( ) ..., k-h ; ( ) p-g +, k- h ; ( ) p-g +, k-h ; ( ) p-g (queen) mate. the game endings discussed up to now have illustrated the method of winning with a superior force and it is now possible for the beginner to understand that the leading rule for all maneuvers is to avoid the loss of material--no matter how small--as it will ultimately lead to the loss of the game by one pawn or the other queening. the next step will be to find out under what conditions it is possible to gain a man and when it will be possible to avoid loss. to understand the attacking and defensive maneuvers involved it is necessary first to become acquainted with the different ways in which the various pieces can be made to do some useful work, where their strength lies and where their weakness, and how they are able to cooperate. not before all this is clear to the beginner--in the outlines at least--will he be in a position to play a sensible game or even to understand the most elementary strategic principles. the reader is therefore urged to study carefully the next chapter in which the characteristic features of the different men are discussed. in this way he will much more quickly arrive at a fair playing strength than by relying on the experience which he may gain in playing a great number of games, trying to find out everything for himself instead of profiting by the knowledge which has been gathered by others in centuries of study. how the different men cooperate there are two kinds of elementary attack. one when a single man attacks two or more hostile men at the same time; the other when more men are brought up to attack an opposing man than can be mustered for defense. the beginner, as a rule, makes attacks with the sole aim of driving away a hostile piece; it is clear that these attempts will in most cases be futile as they generally allow the attacked piece to move to another square just as or perhaps more favorable. the advantage of attacking two men at once is evident in that probably only one of them can be saved. the advantage of bringing up more men for attack than can be gathered for defense is not less obvious, but will be found more difficult to carry out. using both methods of attack in conjunction is the secret of the successful cooperation of the men. in the following diagrams simple illustrations are shown of elementary cases of such attacks. these positions often occur in games of beginners on account of their placing the men on unfavorable squares. in studying them the eye of the beginner will become accustomed to dangerous formations of the pieces and he will be able to foresee similar threats in his games. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | | #k | | #kt| #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #b | #p | | #b | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | #kt| #p | | #q | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^p | ^b | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . this is especially true of the mating positions which are discussed below in connection with attacks instituted by the queen in the middle of the game. it is these attacks to which the beginner at an early stage of the game falls victim in ninety out of a hundred cases when playing against an experienced opponent. in the position of diagram white on the move wins the exchange and thereby practically the game by playing ( ) kt-d . with this move he attacks the queen and at the same time the pawn c . black, in order not to lose the queen, must move her, but he cannot move her so that she will protect the pawn c . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | #kt| #b | | #k | #b | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | #q | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | ^k | ^b | ^kt| ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . on the next move white will, therefore, take the pawn calling check and at the same time attacking the rook a . the king must move and the knight takes the rook. quite frequently a similar attack with the knight is likely to win the queen if the opponent is not familiar with situations of that kind. if in the position of diagram white plays ( ) kt- d , black must protect the pawn c by q-d or q-d , but not by q- c ; for in the latter case white would continue with ( ) b-b , qxb ; ( ) ktxc + and ( ) ktxb . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | #kt| #b | | #k | #b | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | #q | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^b | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | ^k | | ^kt| ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . sometimes two pieces are involved in the double attack, the line of one of the pieces being discovered by the other. thus, in the position of diagram , which could be brought about by the moves ( ) p-e , p-d ; ( ) pxd , qxd ; ( ) kt-c , q-a ; ( ) p-d , kt-f ; ( ) b-c , p-e ; ( ) b-d , white threatens to play ( ) kt-d , uncovering the bishop d on black's queen and at the same time attacking the pawn c , which black cannot keep protected. threats of this kind more frequently occur in connection with a discovered check. as an example the following opening will serve: ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) kt-f , kt-f ; ( ) ktxe , ktxe ; ( ) q-e , kt- f . black's last move exposes his king to a discovered check, and white wins the queen by playing ( ) kt-c +. next to the knight the queen is most frequently in a position to carry out a double attack. two typical examples are shown in the following diagrams. after the opening moves ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) p-f , b-c ; ( ) pxe ?? the position of diagram is reached, in which black wins a rook by q-h +. white cannot reply ( ) k-e on account of qxe mate. his only move is ( ) p-g and then follows qxe attacking king and rook simultaneously. this opening offers another opportunity to demonstrate the dangerous mobility of the queen. instead of ( ) pxe white should have played ( ) kt-f . the game could then have continued as follows: p-d ; ( ) b-c , kt-f ; ( ) pxe , pxe : again white cannot win the pawn e for ( ) ktxe would be answered by q-d , attacking knight and bishop and threatening mate on f . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | #kt| #b | #q | #k | | #kt| #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | ^k | ^b | ^kt| ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . diagram shows a typical case of a double threat with the queen in conjunction with other pieces. white on the move plays b-d , and now black cannot castle as white would continue with q-e threatening mate through qxh and at the same time attacking the bishop e for the second time who is only once protected. black would have to defend the mate by either p-g or p-f or q-h and white would capture the bishop. when castling on the king side a player must always beware of an attack by the queen and another piece on the king's rook's pawn. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | #b | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | #q | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | | | ^q | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^b | | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . in the case illustrated above it was the bishop who assisted the queen. a knight could aid in an attack on h from either g or f . more frequently he does so from g as usually the square f is not accessible to him on account of the pawn g protecting it. in the majority of cases the knight goes to g from f , and the queen attacks h from h , coming from her original square d . then, if black cannot protect h by a knight from f or by the bishop, from f for instance, or from g , the only protection as a rule is to advance the pawn to h . the position of diagram may serve as an example. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | #kt| #b | #q | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | #kt| #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | #p | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r |^kt | ^b | ^q | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram black's last move was kt-e , while kt-f , which protects the pawn h against future attacks, is generally preferable in any opening. white can now play kt-g , attacking the pawn f for the second time, as it is already attacked by the bishop c . the student will, at this stage of his development, not yet know why black should be so anxious to defend the pawn f , considering that he is a pawn ahead so that the loss of a pawn would only equalize the forces but would not give white a material advantage. however, later on, when discussing the strategy of the opening, it will become evident that in the position of the diagram black must, under all circumstances, defend the pawn f as otherwise his game would soon become hopeless on account of the exposed position of his king. there are only two ways for black to defend f . one is to advance the queen's pawn to d , interrupting the diagonal of white's bishop; the other is to castle, so that the rook procures the second protection for the pawn f which is needed. it would then not be good for white to capture the pawn because he would have to give up knight and bishop for rook and one pawn, which is not a sufficient equivalent. of the two ways indicated only the first one is feasible. for if black castles he gives white an opportunity to institute an attack on the weak pawn h with knight and queen against which black has no satisfactory defense. play would develop as follows: ( ) kt-g o-o ( ) q-h p-h this is the only defense against the threat qxh mate. but white's queen's move involved a double threat. it brought up a third attack on the pawn f , and the latter now falls, forcing black to give up some more material. ( ) ktxf rxf black has to sacrifice the exchange. if he moved the queen, which is attacked by the knight, he would expose his king to a deadly double check, viz.: ( ) ktxh ++, k-h or h ; ( ) kt-f + (discovered), k-g ; ( ) q-h mate. after giving up his rook for the knight on the third move black has a lost game, for as explained in the previous chapter white can simply exchange all pieces and force the win in the ending with his superior material. another square which after castling on the king side is often the mark of attack for the queen in connection with either knight or bishop, is the one immediately in front of the king in the knight's file. diagram illustrates several possibilities of this kind. white, on the move, can play ( ) q-g , attacking for the second time the pawn g which is only once protected. the threat, however, is not only to win a pawn, but to win the game, for in taking the pawn with the queen white would checkmate black's king. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #q | | #p | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | #kt| | | ^p | | | ^b | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^p | ^q | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram the only defense at black's disposal is p-g , but this move helps only temporarily. white can force the mate within a few moves in different ways. one would be the following: ( ) kt-h + k-g if the king goes to h white mates by q-f . ( ) q-f + kxh ( ) b-g + k-h ( ) p-h and the mate through p-g cannot be protected. another way would be: ( ) q-h pxf ( ) b-f and the mate through q-g cannot be protected. the position of diagram enables another mating attack for white, demonstrating the possibility of mating with bishop and knight in the middle of a game, which occurs oftener than one would be inclined to think. white can play ( ) b-f instead of q- g as suggested above. black cannot take the bishop as white would continue q-h with q-g mate. neither can black play p-g as then white would mate right away with kt-h . the latter mate with knight and bishop white can force, even if black does not move the pawn g but makes some other indifferent move, as for instance qxc . white would then make the surprising move q-h , allowing black to take the queen. in doing so, however, black again enables the mate kt-h . the only move which black could try in answer to ( ) b-f is p- h , preventing the queen from occupying g . now qxh would not be feasible as after pxh white does not mate with ktxh , but leaves the square h open to black's king. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | | #k | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | ^kt| #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #kt| | | ^r | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^b | ^q | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . however, white wins easily through ( ) ktxh +. if black takes the knight, white mates with qxh and q-g . if black does not take but plays k-h , white goes back with the knight to f , again threatening q-g and qxg . ( ) ..., r-g is of no avail, as ( ) q-g threatens mate of h which can only be prevented by either p-g or a move with the rook, after which white mates by either q-h or qxg . it remains to show some examples of the cooperation of rooks with other pieces. diagram shows one of the positions in which the beginner is frequently caught. +---------------------------------------+ | | | #r | | | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | | | ^kt| | | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^k | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white plays ( ) q-h , and if black makes an indifferent move he mates through ( ) qxh +, kxh ; ( ) r-h . black could try to defend himself with ( ) ..., p-g . white can then continue with ( ) q-h and again black cannot make an indifferent move such as p-d for instance, as white would have another mate in two moves, namely ( ) r-h (threatening qxh ), pxh ; ( ) q-f . more frequent than the mate with rook and knight shown above is one which usually occurs in the end game and which is illustrated in diagram . +---------------------------------------+ | | | #r | | #r | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | #p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | #p | | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | #q | | | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #kt| | | | ^p | | ^b | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | ^p | ^r | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | ^q | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^r | | | | ^k | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white plays kt-f + and black cannot go with the king into the corner as the rook would mate him on h . after k-f white draws the game through perpetual check; for after ( ) kt-h +, k-e ; ( ) kt-f + the king must go back to f as on d he would be mated by r-d . consequently white can check the king indefinitely on h and f . an example for the cooperation of rook and bishop is shown in diagram . white plays b-f , and there is no way for black to prevent the mate threatened through r-h followed by r-h . it is evident that the force of the rooks will increase as the board gets emptier through the exchange of men, for they will then find more open lines to act in. one of the most important lines for rooks to occupy is--especially in the ending --the one in which most of the attackable pawns of the opponent are standing, that is in the majority of cases the second or the seventh rank respectively. if both rooks cooperate with each other in this rank they usually decide the victory within a short time. following is an example which is taken from a master game. as far as the material is concerned the players are about even, as the queen is worth as much as the two rooks while knight and bishop are an approximate equivalent of the black rook and the pawn which black is ahead. the pawn a is rather dangerous for white, as he needs only three more moves to reach the first rank where he can be promoted into any piece. on the other hand the rooks doubled in the seventh rank give white so strong an attack on the black king that he forces the mate before black succeeds in realizing the advantage of his advanced passed pawn. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | #r | #k | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | ^r | ^r | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | ^p | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^p | ^b | |---------------------------------------| | #q | | | | | ^p | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . it is white's move. if black's queen did not protect the pawn f white would be able to give a mate in five moves, thus: (i) rxf +, k-g ; ( ) rxg +, k-h (not k-f on account of rc -f mate); ( ) rxh +, k-g ; ( ) r-g + and kt-g mate. therefore, white will try to interrupt the diagonal in which the queen defends the threat, and he can do so by ( ) kt-d . black being unable to keep f protected, must defend g or h , or he will be mated. in the game in question black played q-a + ; ( ) k-g , p-a . after ( ) rxf +, k-g it would not be good for white to take g , giving up the two rooks for the queen, as he would then have no more attack while black still has the dangerous pawn in the a-line. if possible he will rather interrupt again the diagonal of black's queen. this suggests the move ( ) kt-f +. after pxf white's rooks are at last free to act unmolested in the seventh rank, and they do it with deadly effect. white forces the mate through ( ) r-g +, k-h ; ( ) rxh +, k-g ; ( ) rh -g +, k-h ; ( ) b-f ! now r-g is threatened followed by r-h mate, and black has no defense. in the opening and in the middle game the main threat of a rook is the "pinning" of a hostile piece. what is meant by this is illustrated in diagram . supposing black, to save his knight f which white has just attacked by p-e , plays kt-g and after ( ) p-h takes the pawn e with the knight g , then white wins a piece by ( ) ktxe , ktxe ; ( ) r-e . this move "pins" black's knight to his place as the king would be exposed to white's rook if the knight moved. ( ) ..., p-d or q-e is not a sufficient defense, for white continues with ( ) p-f . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . pieces that can be used for pinning a hostile man are, apart from the rooks, the queen and the bishops; in fact pinning is the main activity of a bishop throughout the game. right after the first few moves one of the bishops, as a rule, finds an opportunity to pin a hostile knight. for instance: ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) kt-f , kt-c ; ( ) b-b and as soon as the pawn d moves in order to give an outlet to the bishop c , the knight c is pinned. or: ( ) p- d , p-d ; ( ) kt-f , kt-f ; ( ) p-c , p-e ; ( ) b-g and the knight f is pinned, as the queen would be lost if the knight moved. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #b | #q | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | #kt| | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | ^kt| ^p | | ^kt| | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^q | | ^p | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the disadvantage arising from having a piece pinned is often that the opponent might be able to concentrate more men to attack the piece which is pinned than can be gathered for defense. the position of diagram will serve as an illustration. two of black's men are pinned, namely, the knight f and the pawn e , and of both pins white can take advantage. the pawn e is attacked twice and defended twice. white cannot take pawn, as he would lose knight and rook but would get for it only knight and pawn. however, he can win the pawn by playing ( ) p-d . this attacks the pawn for the third time and although black can defend him for the third time with r-e , the defense is not serviceable as black would lose pawn, knight and queen for pawn, knight and rook. p-e in answer to p-d would not help either; for on e the pawn is twice attacked and only once protected as the knight f cannot be counted as protection on account of his being pinned by the bishop g . all white needs to do is to take the knight f first and then to capture the pawn e . it remains to examine whether in answer to ( ) p-d black can take the pawn with either bishop or knight. apparently this is possible as the pawn d is protected only by the knight f and the queen. indeed, the combination would be correct if the bishop d were sufficiently protected. as it is white wins a piece in the following way: ( ) p-d bxd ( ) ktxd ktxd ( ) qxd pxd ( ) rxe pxc up to this move an even exchange of pieces has taken place, but now black loses the bishop which is attacked by white's rook, because white can remove the knight which protects the bishop. ( ) bxf pxf ( ) rxd , etc. instead of playing ( ) p-d and taking advantage of the fact that the pawn e is pinned, white can direct his attack against the other black man which is pinned, namely the knight f . he can play ( ) kt-d and thereby attack the queen and at the same time the knight f for the second time. it will not be evident to the beginner that white can derive any advantage from this double attack, as black can answer either q-d or q-d keeping his knight twice protected. indeed, white does not gain anything on f , the square itself upon which the pin is effected, but he uses the pin to force an opening into the chain of pawns which protects black's king by exchanging on f , compelling black to retake with the pawn g . the advantage resulting from this break in black's pawn position will be explained later on when discussing the strategy of the middle-game. sacrificing a player is said to sacrifice if he allows a certain amount of his forces to be captured without recapturing himself an equivalent amount of his opponent's forces. he will not, of course, knowingly do so unless he expects to obtain some other advantage which will at least compensate for his loss of material. such compensation can only be afforded by a superiority of the position. in as much as a position can only be considered superior if it enables the mating of the opposing king or the obtaining of an advantage in material which will secure a win in the ending, it is evident that in sacrificing a player really never intends to give up more than he gets, but that on the contrary he expects to gain more than he loses. in other words, a sacrifice, if correct, is a sacrifice only temporarily, and very soon yields either the same, if not more material, or an attack on the king to which the latter falls victim. the less evident the way is in which a player recovers the material sacrificed or realizes an equivalent advantage the more beautiful the sacrifice is considered. if the effect of a sacrifice is a direct mating attack on the king, it is as a rule not difficult to foresee as long as the typical mating positions are known to the player, most of which have been discussed in the previous chapter. the following diagrams illustrate examples of such sacrifices which occur fairly often in actual games. in diagram , white on the move can play for a similar mate as the one explained in the discussion of diagram by placing his rook on g . the best protection against rxg which black has at his disposal is p-f . but if he does not know the mating position illustrated in diagram he is liable to play p-g , and then white forces the mate by sacrificing his queen on h . ( ) r-g p-g ( ) qxh + kxh ( ) r-h + k-g ( ) r-h + black could have prolonged the agony one move by interposing his queen on h on the third move. +---------------------------------------+ | | | #r | | | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #r | | #q | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #p | | | | ^q | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | ^p | ^r | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^b | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram in the position of diagram white institutes a mating attack by ( ) p-f . the only move to protect the mate on g is p-g . it will then be white's desire to enter with his queen on h again threatening the checkmate on g . he will, therefore, play either q-f or q-g . black has no other way to defend himself against white's threat than by k-h followed by r-g . but after k-h ; q- h , r-g white plays r-f and black is unable to prevent white from sacrificing his queen on h and mating by r-h . if black's queen were standing on c instead of b he could avert the mate by moving the rook f and playing the queen to f thereby protecting g . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #q | | #p | ^p | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^q | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | ^b | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | ^r | | ^k | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the mate with rook and knight demonstrated by the position of diagram is liable to occur in several variations of the play which might result from the following situation: +---------------------------------------+ | | | | #r | | #kt| | #k | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #b | #q | | #r | #p | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | #p | | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | ^p | | | ^q | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | ^p | ^kt| | ^r | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | ^r | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white starts his mating attack with ( ) kt-f . this threatens the sacrifice of the queen on h followed by r-g mate. white's knight move can hardly be called a sacrifice as it is quite evident that black cannot take the knight on account of qxh +, kt-h ; q-g mate. the only way to parry white's threat is ( ) ..., kt-g . however, this helps only momentarily as white continues ( ) r-h threatening q-g , rxh + and qxh mate, a threat against which black has no defense. white can very nearly force the mate by sacrificing his queen on h instead of the rook. but after ( ) qxh , pxh ; ( ) rxh +, k-g ; ( ) r-h +, k-f ; ( ) r-h + black does not take the rook as white would like him to do to enable the mate r-g , but he goes back to g with the king and white could not do any better than draw by perpetual check on h and h . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #kt| #kt| | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | #p | #p | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^p | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | ^b | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | ^kt| | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . in the position of diagram white can make an attack which will recall somewhat the play shown in connection with diagram . ( ) kt-g would not lead to anything, as black could defend himself by p-g or p-h . white has a much more direct way to attack the black king. this is by the sacrifice ( ) bxh +. after kxh ; ( ) kt-g +, k-g ; ( ) q-h black can protect the mate only by sacrificing his queen for white's knight. for ( ) ..., r-e with the view to escape with the king to e via f if attacked by q-h and q-h would be rendered futile by white through ( ) qxf +, k- h ; ( ) q-h +, k-g ; ( ) q-h +, k-f ; ( ) q-h +, k-e ; ( ) qxg mate. before making the sacrifice of the bishop white will, of course, have to make sure that black cannot save himself by evading altogether the attack which is threatened through q-h . black could, indeed, avoid this variation by going with the king to g on the second move instead of g . but in this case too white has a winning continuation. he would play ( ) q-g threatening to win black's queen by the discovered check ktxe . if black moves the queen, then white gives the discovered check in any case forcing the king to h and leading over to the variation which was originally intended. if, on the other hand, black tried ( ) ..., p-f , attacking white's queen and thereby rendering the discovered check ineffective, white would first take the pawn en passant and after ( ) pxf , kxf the queen mates on e . frequently a sacrifice is brought to maintain a pin which is bound to yield a piece in return sooner or later. the position of diagram is typical for cases of this kind. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | ^b | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . supposing black plays ( ) ..., p-h ; ( ) b-h , p-g to free himself of the pinning bishop. then white can sacrifice the knight f for the two black pawns and thereby maintain the pin with the threat to regain the knight immediately through kt-d . the ensuing play could be the following: ( ) ktxg , pxg ; ( ) bxg , bxc ; ( ) pxc . now white threatens to play p-f and pxe opening the line of his rook and thereby attacking the pinned knight for the second time. this threat cannot be effectively countered. black could try to unpin the knight by ( ) .... k-g ; ( ) p-f , q-e . indeed, black saves his knight in this way, but the exposed position of his king leads to a speedy disaster. for instance: ( ) pxe , kt-h ; ( ) b-f +, ktxf ; ( ) pxf +, k-h ; ( ) q-h +, k-g ; ( ) q-g +, k-h ; ( ) q-g +/-. black could not take white's queen on the th move because the pawn f was pinned by the bishop c . if black had moved his king to g or g on the th move instead of taking the bishop f , white would have forced the mate by sacrificing his rook on f , thereby cutting off the bishop c and giving his queen access to the square g . sacrifices with the view to utilizing a pin occur in various other versions which are essentially different from the one illustrated above. following are typical examples of the three most frequent cases. in the position of diagram black must not take the pawn e although he can protect the knight with b-f in case white pins him with r-e . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^r | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the way in which white would obtain the advantage is this: ( ) r-e b-f ( ) rxe bxe ( ) r-e through sacrificing one rook for the knight white has freed the square e for the other rook who now pins the black bishop without black being able to protect it. the position of diagram is somewhat related to that of diagram , as far as the possibility of a sacrifice for the sake of a pin is concerned. if white plays b-b + black must not interpose his bishop, for white will give up his rook for the bishop in order to force the rook d into a pinned position and then he will win the rook by r-d . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | #r | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #b | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^k | ^r | | ^b | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . in the position of diagram there is also a possibility of a sacrifice with the view to pin a piece that defends a certain threat as long as it is mobile. white plays ( ) q-d , and black dares not take white's knight with his queen for white would continue ( ) qxf +, rxf ; ( ) r-e +/-. what black could try is ( ) kt-h . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | #p | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | #kt| ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | ^r | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the pawn f would then be three times attacked and three times protected so that white cannot take him as now the pin of the rook resulting from ktxf , ktxf ; qxf , rxf does not lead to anything, the square e being protected by the queen. however, white can force the win by ( ) ra - e , threatening again the sacrifice of f , as he now controls the square e twice. if black replies ( ) ..., q-f , protecting f for the fourth time and thereby making impossible white's sacrifice on that point, white continues with ( ) r-e . this threatens rxf +, kxf ; ktxh + winning the queen. black cannot defend himself with q-g on account of ( ) b-d followed by bxh + and rxf , etc., nor can he play ( ) ..., q-f on account of p-g followed by qxd , attacking the defenseless rook f . a sacrifice with the view to enabling a mating attack through the cooperation of rooks and bishop somewhat similar to the examples discussed in the previous chapter is possible in the position of diagram which occurred in a tournament game in london in which the author conducted the black men. black's combination starts with the sacrifice of the queen on f . after ( ) ..., qxf ; ( ) pxf , b-h +; ( ) k-g white's king is held in an immobile position by the black bishop and a check with one of black's rooks in the g-file would be deadly. however, white can, for a while, protect himself against all mating attempts of black. if black continued ( ) ..., r-e , white would take the pawn d with the queen thereby defending the mate r-g . after giving up his queen for one of black's rooks white would still have an advantage in material. the correct way to carry on the attack is ( ) ..., ra -e , as then white cannot take the pawn d on account of r-e +; q-f , rxf +; rxf , r-e and r-g mate. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | | | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | #q | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | #r | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^k | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the main threat of black's third move is r-e -g mate. another threat is p-d followed by r-e +. the only way for white to defend himself is ( ) p-f . if now p-d , then ( ) p-f , r-e +; ( ) k-f affords a sufficient protection. and if ( ) ..., re -e , then ( ) p-f prevents the rook from going to g . however, by repeating the mating threat with ( ) ..., re -e , which forces white to protect, g by ( ) p-f black opens the second rank for a combined assault of the rooks similar to the one illustrated by diagram . what makes matters worse for white is that with ( ) ..., r-g + he is forced into the line of the bishop h so that he is exposed to a discovered check. after ( ) k-f , rxb discovered check; ( ) k-g , re -e white must give up his queen for the rook immediately, as otherwise black would mate in four moves by r-g +, k-f , rxh +, k-g , rb -g +; k-f , rxh +/-. although white is still ahead in material after ( ) qxe , rxe he cannot avoid the loss of the game on account of the continued threat which black exerts by the cooperation of his rook and his bishop. the only move which would save the rook a from getting lost through r-g +, followed by a discovered check with simultaneous attack of the rook by black's rook would be ( ) r- d with the idea of protecting the rook with the king thus ( ) ..., r-g +; ( ) k-f , r-d ; ( ) k-e ; but this plan fails as black checkmates with ( ) ..., r-e . a mating position which has not been discussed up to now but which occurs frequently enough in the actual game to warrant its special mention is one in which the king is deprived of all mobility by his own men who surround him and in which a hostile knight can check the king. diagram offers an example. +---------------------------------------+ | | | #q | | #r | | | #k | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | #b | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^r | | | ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^q | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | | | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white on the move can force the mate by ( ) r-d , a very surprising sacrifice indeed, for not only can black take the rook with either queen or rook but he can also take white's queen. in the latter case, however, he would be mated in two moves by ( ) rxe +, q-g ; ( ) kt-f . this is one example of the "throttled mate" by the knight. another one, which is really the typical one, occurs if black takes the rook instead of the queen. the mating process then is: ( ) kt-f +, k-g ; ( ) kt-h double check, k-h ; ( ) q-g +, rxg ; ( ) kt-f +/-. white could not have played q- g + right on the second move because then black would have taken the queen with the king, while he could not do so with white's knight on h . sacrifices made with the view of a direct mating attack are, as a rule, the easiest to figure out, as there is no guesswork connected with them. in those cases the player does not face the question as to whether the position attained after the sacrifice will be strong enough to insure a gain of material at least equivalent to the amount of material sacrificed, a question which to answer correctly sometimes requires a good deal of instinct trained by experience; all that is necessary if to ascertain whether the opponent can be mated in a definite number of moves or not. if the mate cannot be clearly foreseen, the sacrifice must not be made. the possibility of a sacrifice with consequent forced mate is always indicated if a greatly superior force is available for attack at the part of the board where the opposing king is located. an example is offered by the position reproduced on the book cover. [e-text editor note: the position on the book cover is: +---------------------------------------+ | #r | #kt| | | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #b | #p | #p | #q | | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | #p | #b | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^kt| | | ^q | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^p | ^kt| | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^b | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h ] this position occurred in a game between sir g. a. thomas of london and the author. black has just played q-e in order to protect the mate which was threatened by ktxf + followed by qxh . if in the position of the diagram white played kt-f +, black would retake with the pawn, thereby protecting the pawn h with his queen. however, white can force the mate with a neat queen's sacrifice which drives black's king right into the arms of the remaining white pieces. play continued as follows: ( ) qxh + kxh ( ) ktxf ++ k-h the king cannot go to h on account of kt-g mate. white now continually checks black's king in such a manner that he has only one square to go to until he is finally driven to the first rank, all white pieces participating in the chase. ( ) kte -g + in answer to ktf -g + black would play k-h ; ( ) b-g +, k-h ; ( ) p-g +, k-h and there is no mate. ( ) ... k-g ( ) p-h + k-f ( ) p-g + k-f ( ) b-e + k-g ( ) r-h + k-g ( ) k-d mate. white could have forced the mate in seven instead of eight moves by playing ( ) k-f , or ( ) o-o, for there was no protection against ( ) kt-h . iii general principles of chess strategy in reading the chapter on "elementary tactics" the beginner will have obtained a fair idea of the value of the different pieces and he will have gained an insight into the possibilities of their cooperation. however, the fundamental principle of chess strategy, the method of developing the inherent powers of the men so that they may be able to do all the work possible for them, will still be a secret to him. at the beginning of the game the knights are the only pieces which are able to move, and consequently the other pieces are worthless until openings have been created for them by pawn moves. now, the first thing the beginner should try to keep in mind is that only such pawn moves can be good as open lines for their fellow pieces or obstruct lines of opposing men. the reason is this: in any hand to hand fight evidently that player will get the better of it who has more pieces ready for action on the battlefield. when examining the typical positions discussed in the previous chapter the fact will strike the observant reader that the winning player always has a decided superiority of forces at his disposal where the actual fight is going on, so that in some cases he can even sacrifice a great amount of them and still have enough left for the final onslaught against the king. the same holds good in combinations where lesser objects than the king are fought for; the player who has more pieces ready to take part in the struggle will emerge victorious; the player who attacks with less pieces than the opponent has on the spot for defense, cannot hope to succeed. the important point, therefore, is to place the pieces so that they will be in readiness for concentration on whatever part of the board they are needed. moreover, it will be important to place the pieces on such favorable squares in the shortest possible time--meaning with the smallest number of moves--as wasting moves on maneuvers which do not further the mobilization of the troops will give the opponent an opportunity to gather a superior force somewhere on the board and make an attack with the best chance in the world to succeed before reinforcements can be brought up. with this aim in mind the beginner will readily see that it is by no means immaterial which pawn moves are made in the opening. the fact that a pawn move opens an outlet for a piece is not sufficient. if possible pawn moves will have to be found which enable the development of more than one piece for they will lead to an advantage in the mobilization unless the opponent, too, hastens the development of his pieces by equally good pawn moves. the only pawn moves which fit this description are moves with the king's or queen's pawns as they open lines for queen and bishop-- apart from an additional square for the knight--while the other pawns cannot free the way for more than one piece. whether the move with the king's pawn or the queen's pawn is better when beginning the game is impossible to say. in neither case can it be proved that white can obtain an advantage which is sufficient to win the game. with correct play on both sides it can be only white who gains an advantage, for he has the first move and so he is one move ahead of black in the development as long as he does not waste any time on maneuvers which do not increase the mobility of his pieces. by the mobility of a piece is meant the number of squares accessible to it. a bishop or a rook which stands in an unobstructed file is obviously worth more than one whose sphere of action is limited on account of his way being blocked. this does not mean, however, that a bishop or a knight to whom, at a certain moment, three or four squares are accessible, is more valuable than a rook who at the same moment can go only to one or two squares; for a few moves later the rook might be in possession of his full freedom while the action of the bishop or the knight might be hampered. it is, therefore, best to value the pieces according to their latent strength, that is, the strength which is likely to show in the ending after all temporary obstructions have been removed. the comparative values given for the different men on page will serve as good guide in most cases. it is not advisable though to give up a minor piece for three pawns or two minor pieces for a rook and one pawn as long as queens and minor pieces are on the board, as with a piece ahead the opponent mostly succeeds in winning through a direct attack against the king before the superiority of pawns becomes dangerous. in trying to place the pieces on squares where they have as much mobility as possible individual thought is required with each new game as it depends altogether upon the moves of the opponent which lines can be opened for bishops, rooks and queen and where a good field of action can be secured for the knights. however, it is possible to give a few rules which common sense tells us must hold good in the majority of games if both players play well. of course, if a player makes bad moves in the opening, that is, moves which do not aim at a speedy mobilization of all pieces, then the opponent may soon have a chance to win the game with moves which are not in accordance with those common sense rules either but which force an immediate issue in a maneuver of a kind that ordinarily does not occur in an opening but is characteristic of the middle game. this is a point which the majority of chess players overlook. they argue that--granted the value of general principles of strategy, which will greatly help to build up a safe position--cases occur in which a move may win which is not according to principles, and that, therefore, following the trend of a certain combination which seems profitable, is advisable even if the general principles are violated. even a chess master once said, that generalities are of no use in chess and that it is necessary to figure out every move in all variations to which it may lead to make sure that the move is good. as an example he offered the following opening: ( ) p-f , p-e ; ( ) p-g . now, he asks, should black omit to give the checkmate with q-h because it is against the general principles to bring out the queen at an early stage of the game? the shallowness of this argument is obvious. the reason for the general rule that the queen should not come out too soon is that she is liable to be attacked by the minor pieces of the opponent so that she has to move again and again and time is lost which could be used for the development of other pieces. of course, if the opponent does not develop his pieces, the queen may often come out without danger and she may do a lot of harm before she can be driven away. in formulating general strategical principles it is, then, assumed that both players will follow them, and it is taken for granted that if one player deviates from these principles and thereby weakens himself at some point, the other player is expected to exact the full penalty for this deviation with any means at his disposal. it will always be found that these means are also indicated by the general principles if only their meaning is intelligently applied to the position in question. as was stated before, the point of greatest importance in the opening is to develop the pieces without loss of time, that is, to place them on squares where they have as much mobility as possible without making any move which retards this development. there are different ways in which the development may be retarded, and which consequently must be avoided. for instance, no pawn move should be made which is not absolutely necessary to open a line for a piece; or, no piece should move twice as long as there are pieces which have not yet moved at all; or, no piece should be developed to a square from which the opponent can drive it away at the same time furthering his own development; or, the right of castling should not be foregone by moving the king or by any other way, as castling develops a rook and places the king in safety with one move while more moves are required to the same end if castling is not possible, and so on. the beginner who makes this great principle of development quite clear to himself has made the most difficult step on the way to mastership. the grasp of the far reaching influence of the mobility of the pieces in the opening upon the further development of the whole game is really what distinguishes the master from the average player. of course, it would be too difficult for the beginner to find out for himself what squares are the most favorable for the different pieces; at any rate, it would take him a long time to gain that knowledge by experience. fortunately, the experience of the masters of several generations is accessible to us and so it is possible to expedite considerably the process by which the mind of the student is adapted to the tactics required in every game of chess to carry out the principle of speedy development. to a great extent these tactics, too, can be simply explained from the point of view of giving the pieces their utmost mobility so that they will be readily understood by the reader who has followed the arguments given in the foregoing pages. there is a considerable difference in the constellation of the pieces depending on whether the game is opened with ( ) p-e , p- e or ( ) p-d , p-d . these two openings shall therefore be treated separately. all other openings are related to one of the above main branches and need little additional discussion. king's pawn openings after ( ) p-e , p-e the only pawn which both players have to move to enable the development of all pieces is the queen's pawn, which obstructs the queen's bishop. of course, it would also be possible to secure an outlet for the queen's bishop by advancing the queen's knight's pawn one step; but in the long diagonal the bishop is ordinarily not so well posted as the development of the queen's knight to his most natural square, that is c or c respectively, would block the way of the bishop. the queen's knight is best placed in the c-file because on the edge of the board, in the a-file, he has less mobility; less squares are accessible to him. in order to place him in the d-file it would be necessary to move the d-pawn, and as this would also give an opening to the queen's bishop the move of the queen's knight's pawn is superfluous. before moving the queen's pawn the players will have to make sure that in advancing him they will not block the way of any piece. consequently, white will not play p-d on his second move. he will first develop the king's bishop. of course, he will not place him on d , obstructing the queen's pawn and thereby the queen's bishop. neither will he play b-b , as black could drive him away from there immediately with p-c , opening another diagonal for the queen. the choice between the remaining squares, e and c , is not difficult. on e the bishop would be in the way of the queen and his way would soon be blocked by the king's knight, who for similar reasons to those given for the move of the queen's knight will go to f in preference to other squares. therefore, the only move to be considered in case the king's bishop is played at this early stage of the game, is b-c . white is not forced to develop this bishop on the second move by any means. he could either play ( ) kt-f or ( ) kt-c or ( ) p- d . the objection to the latter move, however, is that after ( ) ...., pxd ; ( ) qxd the white queen is exposed to the attack of the knight b , which means loss of time. kt-f or kt-c are probably preferable to b-c on the second move, because it is certain that the knights will not find any better squares on their initial move. the bishop, however, may have an occasion to be used on b instead of on c , and it is a good thing, generally speaking, to keep the option of moving a piece to different squares as long as it is compatible with the other requirements of the position. that the bishop may be used to advantage on b will be seen from the following variation. supposing white plays ( ) kt-f . then the pawn e is attacked. the only sensible protection is ( ) ..., kt-c ; for p-f does not come into consideration, as it is a pawn move which does not add anything to the development of the pieces; p-d blocks the bishop f ; b-d obstructs the queen's pawn and q-f or q-e hinders the development of the knight or the bishop respectively. now, it can readily be seen that after ( ) ..., kt-c white may want to place his king's bishop on b , for with this move he repeats indirectly his attack on the king's pawn through the threat to remove the protecting knight. it is true, that this threat needs no attention as long as white's king's pawn is not protected (for instance: ( ) ..., kt-f ; ( ) bxc , pd xc ; ( ) ktxe , q-d attacking knight and pawn at the same time and thereby regaining the pawn) but as soon as white has defended the pawn--with p-d may be--the bishop b is at work and black must seek additional protection for the pawn e . if white, on his second move, plays b-c , he attacks the pawn f . this pawn is protected by black's king and so he need not be defended any further; but black must be on the alert against a concentration of some more white men on f . white could try ( ) q-f or q-h . however, black would then have time to defend himself with kt-f or q-e respectively. therefore, on the second move, black may make any developing move; he could, of course, play ( ) ..., kt-f , preventing white's queen from going to h , but this is unnecessary, as q-h would be a very bad move, placing the queen on a square from which she is bound to be chased away very soon. for instance: ( ) ...., b-c ; ( ) q-h , q-e (not p-g on account of qxe attacking the king and the rook at the same time). now, whatever white plays, he will have to retire again with his queen as soon as black attacks her with kt-f , and so he loses his birth-right of attack; for it will be black who is a move ahead in the development instead of white, as it ought to be. if both players refrain from premature attack the game might develop as follows: ( ) b-c , b-c ; ( ) kt-f , kt-c ; ( ) p-d , kt-f ; ( ) kt-c , p-d ; ( ) o-o, o-o; ( ) b-g . this move is the first one with which white trespasses the "frontier" which may be said to run in the openings of all games between the fourth and fifth ranks of the board. the bishops are the only pieces for whom there is a field of action in the opponent's camp early in the game. they pin a hostile knight and thereby exert a certain pressure on the opponent who naturally does not like to see any of his pieces deprived of its mobility. the fact that black can drive white's bishop away with p-h does not lead to any loss of time for white, for the bishop can retire to h , still maintaining the pin, while black has not furthered his development by his pawn move; in fact, he has somewhat compromised his position and as explained by the discussion of the position of diagram the advance of the pawn g to g cannot follow without the risk that white will uphold the pin even at the cost of a piece and obtain an overwhelming attack. that the move p-h creates a weakness even if it is not followed up by p-g will be demonstrated later on in the discussion of the middle game. the correct answer to white's seventh move is easily found with the help of the principle of development. if white did not threaten anything black would certainly think of nothing else than the development of his queen's bishop, the only minor piece which has not yet moved. therefore, the first thing black should consider in countering the threat involved in white's last move is a protection with a move of the queen's bishop. white's threat is ( ) kt-d , attacking the knight f for the second time. although the knight is twice protected, black will naturally endeavor to prevent an accumulation of hostile pieces on the point f , and he can do that indeed very easily by playing ( ) ...., b-e with a view toward capturing the knight if he should move to d . the exchange ( ) kt-d , bxd ; ( ) bxd is manifestly not desirable for white, as it does not improve in any way the mobility of his men. on the contrary, white loses a move, as the result of the maneuver is only a change of location of the king's bishop who was already developed while the principle of speedy development demands that no piece should be moved twice in the opening until all pieces are developed. unless black's move involves a threat which needs immediate attention white should consider only such moves as will secure a possibility of development for his rooks, that is maneuvers which are liable to produce an open file somewhere on the board. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| #p | #b | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | #p | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . this can only be done by the exchange of a pawn and as the only pawn within easy reach is the pawn e the files which are liable to be opened first are the d-file and the f-file. in the position of the diagram it is not easy to find a way of opening either file mentioned without elaborate preparation. p-d cannot be played before the square d is three times controlled by white and if white tries to accomplish this by ( ) kt-e , black spoils white's plan by bxc without being bothered by the threat kt-d which existed as long as the knight was posted on c . if, on the other hand, white exchanges the bishop first on e he helps black's development by opening the f-file for his rook. to avoid these alternatives white could withdraw the bishop c to b and then play kt-e followed by p-c and p-d . but this maneuver involves two moves with pieces which are already developed and it is therefore preferable to place the rook a , who has to be developed, right away in the queen's file and then to proceed as suggested above. in other words, white does probably best to play ( ) q-d and ( ) ra -d . black, in the meantime, will of course, also aim at the development of his rooks. in the position of the diagram it is even less troublesome for him than for white to prepare the opening of the d-file, as there is no objection to his playing immediately kt-e with p-c and p-d . the only reason which might deter black from playing kt-e is the fear that white might answer bxf forcing black to retake with the pawn g and thereby tearing a hole in the protecting chain of pawns around the king. however, as will be explained in the discussion of the middle game, this maneuver need not be feared. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | --------------------------------------- a b c d e f g h diagram . the advance of the d-pawn, besides the possibility of opening the d-file for the rooks, has another very important purpose. it invites, and often compels the opponent to take the pawn with his e-pawn thereby losing control of "the center." what is meant by center in king's pawn openings will be understood from the analysis of the diagram in which only the pawn skeleton of a king's pawn game is given and in which it is assumed that black has exchanged the pawn e for the pawn d . this pawn formation offers an advantage to white because the pawn e , white's center- pawn, controls the two squares d and f while the two corresponding squares in white's camp, that is d and f , are not in the hands of black and could be occupied by white men. it is evident that it must be advantageous to have pieces placed in the center of the board as there they have naturally more mobility than towards the edge of the board where part of their radius of action is cut off. a knight, for instance, placed on d will possibly have an opportunity later on to go to f from where he helps an attack on g . the square f may be useful for the queen in an attempt to reach the king's wing speedily, thus accumulating on that part of the board superior forces. these and other advantages connected with the control of the center will be more readily understood after the discussion of the middle game maneuvers of which the center squares form the basis. it is necessary, however, to touch upon this matter at this time, as in many openings the player is confronted after the very first moves with questions in which the maintenance of the center-pawn is the point at issue. following are a few examples: supposing white, after ( ) p-e , p-e , plays ( ) p-d . then black is immediately threatened with the loss of his center-pawn, which he cannot defend with p-d as after ( ) pxe , pxe white would exchange queens and thereby deprive black of the possibility of bringing his rooks quickly into cooperation through castling. ( ) ..., kt-c is out of question too; not on account of ( ) p- d , which merely helps black in getting his knight over to the king's wing via e and allows him to maintain his center-pawn, but on account of ( ) pxe , ktxe ; ( ) pf , which secures the control of the center for white and does not leave black a chance to advance his queen's pawn to d with the view of depriving white of his center-pawn too. for these reasons black has no choice but has to play ( ) ..., pxd . true enough, black gives up his center-pawn with this exchange, but white cannot prevent p-d in the long run, so that he also loses his center-pawn and has no advantage over black in that respect. the following variations are typical for the line of play in cases of this kind. white tries to hold back black's queen's pawn as long as he can, but finally black enforces the advance. i. ( ) qxd kt-c ( ) q-e now p-d is not possible because of pxd check. ( ) ... kt-f ( ) kt-c b-e ( ) b-d p-d threatening to win a piece by p-d . ( ) pxd ktxd now white has no center-pawn either; black has a perfectly good game. ii. ( ) kt-f kt-c most players would be tempted to play p-c instead. but this must be bad as it is a pawn move which is not necessary. black does not need to defend the pawn d as he is a pawn ahead; and the development of the pieces is much more valuable than the advantage of a pawn. white would obtain a far superior position with ( ) p-c , pxc ; ( ) ktxc , after which black cannot hope ever to free his game by p-d . ( ) ktxd kt-f it would be bad to exchange knights on d because white's queen would be brought up into a dominating position from which she could not easily be driven away. ( ) kt-c b-b this attacks again the pawn e . relieving the pin by ( ) b-d would be no protection as black could exchange on c and then take the pawn. therefore, white must defend the pawn with another piece. the bishop f , which has to be developed in any case, offers himself naturally for this purpose, but b-d is not possible as long as the knight d has to be kept protected by the queen. hence, it is necessary first to exchange the knight. ( ) ktxc pb xc ( ) b-d p-d ! again black has succeeded in advancing his queen's pawn against the opposing center-pawn, and white cannot avoid the exchange. to advance to e would be against the principle that no pawn-move should be made in the opening which is not absolutely necessary. how easily ( ) p-e could get white into trouble can be seen from the following variation: ( ) ..., kt-g ; ( ) o-o, o-o; ( ) pf ??, b-c +; ( ) k-h , q-h ; ( ) p-h , q-g ; ( ) pxg , q-h mate. iii. ( ) p-c with this move white invites black to lose time in winning a pawn or two while the white pieces are rapidly developed. if black accepts the gambit [footnote: a gambit is an opening in which the sacrifice of a pawn is offered for the sake of a speedy development of the pieces.] the continuation might be. ( ) ... pxc ( ) b-c pxb ( ) bxb or ( ) ... kt-c ( ) kt-f p-d ( ) ktxc or q-b or o-o in all of these cases white has by far the freer game and he remains in the possession of his center-pawn. for this reason it is much more advisable for black to decline the gambit offered and to hasten his development by immediately advancing his queen's pawn, thus: ( ) p-c p-d ! ( ) pxd the advance of the king's pawn would be quite out of place, as it would not add anything to white's development so that black need not mind the loss of the move either which he sustains from the developing point of view in gaining a pawn by pxc . the future development of black is not any longer endangered as he has a pawn in the center and an outlet for his queen's bishop. ( ) ... qxd ( ) pxd kt-c ( ) kt-f b-g ( ) kt-c q-h and black has, no doubt, the initiative. if white, instead of playing ( ) p-d as assumed in the above examples, advances his f-pawn against black's center, black has ample time to make all preparations necessary to maintain his center-pawn, for white does not threaten pxe as long as he is not protected against q-h +, followed by qxe . black's best move is apparently b-c , so that he may be able to reply p-d to ( ) kt-f without blocking the way of the bishop. on c black's bishop is very disagreeable for white as he prevents his castling. the natural development of this opening would be about this: ( ) p-f b-c ( ) kt-f p-d ( ) b-c kt-f although this move blocks the diagonal for black's queen, making impossible a check on h , it does not enable white to win a pawn on e , because ( ) pxe , pxe ; ( ) ktxe would be answered by q- d . ( ) p-d kt-c ( ) kt-c b-g black has one more piece developed than white on account of the pawn move p-f which is a wasted move from the point of view of development, especially as white cannot very well castle on the king's side and make use of the open f-file for his rooks. the two principles mentioned--namely the development of the pieces without unnecessary pawn moves or other loss of time and the maintenance of a pawn in the center--are a perfectly sufficient guidance in all king's pawn openings, as no particular difficulty exists for any piece to be developed to a favorable square. even if black tries to avoid the well-known openings which result from the reply ( ) ..., p-e by playing ( ) ..., p- e for instance, or ( ) ..., p-c ;, or, in fact, any other of the twenty possible first moves, white will find the right way to mobilize his men if he strictly adheres to those two principles and resists the temptation to institute an early attack. a few examples will show how simple the application of the principle is. i. ( ) p-e p-d this attacks white's pawn and white has to decide whether to protect, advance or exchange him. the advance p-e and the protection p-f are out of question because these moves are pawn moves which do not contribute to the development and are, therefore, to be classed as mere loss of time. the protection ( ) p-d is not sufficient either as black, after exchanging on e , would hamper white's development by exchanging queens so that white would lose the right of castling. the protection ( ) kt-c cannot be recommended as black could deprive white of his center- pawn and obtain one for himself by pxe , ( ) ktxe ; p-e . for all these reasons white cannot do better than exchanges on d . at first sight this might seem a violation of the principles, as pxd is a pawn move which does not further the development of the pieces while black, in retaking the pawn, develops his queen. however, as was already pointed out on several other occasions, the early development of the queen is not desirable as she is sure to be exposed to the attack of minor pieces. indeed, white obtains the better game through ( ) kt-c , q-a ; ( ) p-d or ( ) kt-f , followed by p-d . black cannot get his king's pawn up to the center [( ) p-d , p-e ; ( ) q-h ] and in addition he is bound to lose some more moves with his queen as soon as white has developed his bishop to d threatening a discovered attack through a move with the knight c . ii. ( ) p-e p-e with this move black switches the center from the e-file to the d-file. ( ) p-d p-d now white need not hesitate to protect his king's pawn with kt- c , for black cannot, as shown in example , gain control of the center by exchanging on e and playing p-e . the advance ( ) p-e cannot be recommended for the reason explained in example i. of course, white, being a move ahead anyhow, can afford to make a pawn move which does not exactly advance his own development, if that pawn move hampers the development of the opponent to some extent. this would be the case after ( ) p-e , as black could not develop his king's knight to the most natural square, namely, f . however, the pawns d and e , though forming a strong center, as long as they are both in place, are liable to become subject to disagreeable attacks which black can institute with p-c and p-f , and if white cannot maintain his center, then the advance to e is mere waste of time. ( ) kt-c kt-f again white's king's pawn is attacked. the first continuation for white to think of would be ( ) b-d , developing another piece. however, black can then simply exchange twice on e and play p- c , so that white loses his pawn center. p-e does not seem very good either. it does not lose any time, as black too has to lose a move retreating with his knight. but the latter is well posted on d from where he assists the contemplated advance p-c against white's center. the best continuation is apparently ( ) b-g , which develops a piece and protects the pawn e through pinning the knight f . after ( ) b-g b-e white finally has to either advance the king's pawn or exchange him. the latter seems preferable. the drawbacks to the advance have been discussed before. after the exchange white can develop his king's bishop to d where he is considerably better posted than the corresponding black bishop. queen's pawn openings the same two leading principles apply to queen's pawn openings which were discussed in connection with the king's pawn openings; but there is one great difference between the two kinds of openings which is not obvious to the beginner. this is the fact that in queen's pawn openings, in most cases, neither player has a chance to open a file in the center of the board through the exchange of one of the center-pawns, and that, therefore, an additional pawn move is necessary in the opening stage to provide for an open file in which the rooks later on may have an opportunity of entering the battle. in addition, it is in most variations not easy to find a good place for the queen's bishop without further pawn moves, and it is here where the beginner is bound to err in the plan of his mobilization unless he has adequate instruction. in trying to open a file for the rooks it will be advisable--just as in the king's pawn openings--to aim at the same time at the clearing away of the opponent's center-pawn, and this can only be done by the advance of the c-pawn. therefore, it would mean loss of time if the queen's knight were developed into the c-file before the c-pawn has moved; the knight would have to be moved away again in order to enable the opening of the c-file. this consideration furnishes the key for the understanding of the most popular queen's pawn opening, which is ( ) p-d p-d ( ) kt-f kt-f ( ) p-c white offers a pawn to induce black to give up his center-pawn, hence the name "queen's gambit." if black could actually hold the pawn he would be justified in accepting the gambit unless it can be demonstrated that white's advantage in development yields a winning attack. however, white can easily regain the gambit-pawn, and so there is absolutely no reason why black should give up his pawn-center. the way in which white regains his pawn in the accepted gambit is this: ( ) ..., pxc ; ( ) p-e , p-b ; ( ) p-a , p-c (if black takes the pawn a , white captures the pawn c and then regains the a-pawn. ( ) ..., p-a , cannot be played on account of pxb , opening the a-file for white's rook so that black cannot retake the pawn). ( ) p-b , pxb ; ( ) pxb , pxb ; ( ) bxb + and qxb . now white is far ahead in the development and in addition he has an open file for his queen's rook in which the black pawn is bound to be lost in the long run. moreover, black has no compensation for white's strong pawn-center. for this reason the queen's gambit is hardly ever accepted and the following defense played instead: ( ) p-d p-d ( ) kt-f kt-f ( ) p-c p-e ( ) kt-c black has now the choice between either advancing his c-pawn right away or first developing the pieces of his queen's wing. in the latter case he cannot place the queen's knight on c as this would block the way of the c-pawn. he must develop him to d . this appears to be a bad move as it blocks the way of the queen's bishop, but this bishop will have to be developed in a different diagonal anyway as the pawn e cannot advance opening the diagonal c -h . i. ( ) ... ktb -d ( ) b-g the fact that white can develop his queen's bishop without difficulty while black cannot do so has made the queen's gambit one of the most popular openings. ( ) ... b-e ( ) p-e o-o ( ) b-d p-b ( ) o-o b-b ( ) pxd pxd ( ) r-c white is two moves ahead in the development, as black has still to move his c-pawn before he can get his queen's rook into play. in the meantime white can mobilize his king's rook with q-e and rf -d , with a view to opening the queen's file by pd xc . ii. ( ) ... p-c if white now plays p-e , holding his pawn-center, a symmetrical development follows on both sides. if, however, white takes his opportunity to develop the queen's bishop, a game of entirely different character ensues. the following variations show typical examples of the way these two variations are liable to develop: a. ( ) p-e kt-c ( ) p-a if white played ( ) p-b before castling he would get into trouble because black could pin his queen's knight with pxd and b-b . for this reason the maneuver p-a , pxc , p-b and b-b is usually adopted to develop the queen's bishop. it is true that this maneuver involves two pawn moves, which mean a loss of time, instead of only one, as for instance when playing ( ) b-d , ( ) o-o, ( ) p-b , ( ) b-b . but black can hardly avoid a similar loss of time. for if he plays ( ) ..., b-d , he loses two moves with his bishop through recapturing on c (after ( ) pxc ) and going back to d ; and if he first exchanges on d and then develops the bishop to d , white has an open diagonal for his queen's bishop and need not make any more pawn moves to develop him while black still must move his queen's knight's pawn to get his queen's bishop into play. ( ) ... p-a ( ) pxc bxc ( ) p-b b-d ( ) b-b pxc ( ) bxc p-b ( ) b-d b-b b. ( ) pxd pxd the idea of this exchange is to create a weak pawn on d against which later on an attack can be instituted. however, it is very doubtful whether the pawn on d is really weak. experience has shown that black wins just as many games as white in this opening; the reason is probably that white, in order to open the queen's file for attack on d , has to give away his center-pawn so that black has more freedom for his pieces in the center. ( ) p-g kt-c ( ) b-g b-e ( ) b-g b-e ( ) o-o o-o ( ) pxc bxc ( ) r-c b-e ( ) kt-d or q-a followed by r-f -d . instead of developing the king's bishop to g white can just as well play ( ) b-g or f , ( ) p-e and ( ) b-d . in either case the success depends rather on clever maneuvering in the middle- game than on an advantage inherent to the opening. what has been said of irregular replies which black may try in king's pawn openings holds good in queen's pawn openings too. there is no series of opening moves which needs to be memorized. the principles of speedy development and of the maintenance of a pawn center lead the right way in all novel openings which a player might try to avoid the well-known paths which have been studied out by the masters of many generations. following are again a few examples which show the application of the principles: i. ( ) p-d p-c ( ) p-e with pxc white would give away his center-pawn, and black would regain the gambit-pawn easily after ( ) ..., p-e . white could play ( ) p-d , thereby depriving black's queen's knight of his best developing square. but in doing so he would lose time with a pawn move which does not improve the mobility of his own pieces, and consequently ( ) p-e is preferable. ii. ( ) p-d kt-f ( ) kt-f the advance p-c , which, as explained, is customary in queen's pawn openings, serves its original purpose only if black has a pawn on d so that white can open the c-file. therefore, it is better for white to wait until black shows what intentions he has with his queen's pawn. ( ) ... p-d ( ) kt-c black's last move clearly indicates that he intends playing p-e and not p-d , and so white has no reason to expect that he will be able to open the c-file for his rooks. consequently there is no objection to his developing the queen's knight to c , blocking the c-pawn. ( ) ... ktb -d ( ) b-f this prevents p-e for the time being, and black has to make rather complicated preparations, such as p-c and q-c before he can advance the king's pawn two squares. in other words, white completes his development more quickly than black and he has consequently the better winning chances, provided, of course, he knows how to maintain his advantage in the middle game and in the end game. the middle game it is not possible to draw a distinct dividing line between the two stages of the game which are called the opening and the middle game. strictly speaking the opening comprises only such moves as are necessary for the development of the pieces, and any move which a player--without being compelled--makes with a piece that is already developed, ought to be regarded as a middle-game move. to give an example: if after ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) kt-f , kt- c ; ( ) kt-c , kt-f ; ( ) b-b black plays kt-d , he deviates from the opening and embarks on a middle-game maneuver; for the queen's knight was already developed. this does not mean that it is bad under all circumstances to make a middle-game move during the opening stage of a game. but only such moves should be considered in cases of this kind as a player is fairly sure to make at any rate within the further course of the game with a view to increasing the mobility of the piece in question. this is the main point. a second move made with a piece must improve its position, otherwise, common sense tells us, it is surely bad. for instance: after ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) kt-f , kt-c ; ( ) b-b , kt-f ; ( ) o-o, b-e there is no objection to white's playing ( ) r-e as the rook will very likely want to get into action in the e-file in any case, as soon as the development has progressed with p-d , kt-c , b-g , etc. but if in an opening like ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) kt-f , kt-c ; ( ) b-c , kt-f white plays ( ) kt-g for instance, or ( ) b-d , it is evident that he merely wastes time, for in the first case he places the knight on a square from which he is sure to be driven away again as soon as the direct attack involved in his move has been warded off, and in the second case he moves the bishop to a square which does not afford him any more mobility than the one on which he stood before. as a rule only rooks or knights are in a position, during the opening, to add to their mobility by a second move; the rooks by occupying a file which is liable to be opened by an exchange of pawns, and the knights by occupying a square in the center of the board. the knights are really more often under the necessity of making several moves in succession than any other piece, because they can never pass over more than one line at a time, and they may be required to hasten from one wing of the board to the other just as often as the other pieces. this is the reason why the most favorable spot for a knight is a square in the center of the board; there he is always ready for an excursion to either wing. the establishment of a knight in the center can more readily be effected in queen's pawn openings than in king's pawn openings. this will be evident from the following consideration: in queen's pawn openings the squares e and e are the ones which are aimed at by the respective knights. if the opponent exchanges the knight with either his queen's knight or his king's bishop, the pawn which takes the place of the knight in recapturing, gains control of two squares in the heart of the hostile camp. to illustrate this by a case which often occurs: if after ( ) p-d , p-d ; ( ) kt-f , kt-f ; ( ) p-e , p-c ; ( ) b-d , kt-c ; ( ) o-o, p-e ; ( ) p-b , b-d ; ( ) b-b , o-o; ( ) ktb -d , p-b ; ( ) kt-e black plays bxe , white in retaking drives black's king's knight away depriving the king's wing of an important protection and also creating a weakness on d , where white might be able at some later stage of the game to establish his knight. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | #kt| #b | #p | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | #p | ^kt| | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | ^b | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^b | ^p | ^kt| | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . another advantage of the position for white is that he can get his king's rook into play by p-f and r-f -h , while black's rook cannot get to f as long as white has his pawn on e . in king's pawn openings the situation is different. here the squares d and d respectively are the aim of the knights which normally are posted on c and c . however, as long as the opposing king's knight can exchange himself for the advancing queen's knight there is no advantage in occupying the center. the position of diagram is a typical example. if white plays kt-d he loses practically a move, as after ktxd , pxd he has in no way improved the mobility of his men while it is black's turn to move. in addition, white, by transferring his pawn to d , gives up his pawn-center and blocks a diagonal which his bishop could use, while black, in retreating with his knight to e , gains a move towards the efficient use of the knight on the king's wing. all the same, the advance of the queen's knight in the center is one of the most important maneuvers in king's pawn openings when it is properly prepared, and its consequences need thorough discussion. the proper preparation consists in first fixing the object at which the knight aims. this--from white's, the attacker's point of view--is the knight f . the developing move b-g serves this purpose in the most natural way, and a position arises similar to the one shown in diagram where black prevented any further accumulation of white forces on f by b-e . in the present case this move is of doubtful value as white, by p-d , can force black to give up his center-pawn. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^b | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . if black is ready to admit that kt-d is a disagreeable threat he will either exchange the knight for his bishop b or he will play kt-e in order to take white's knight should he go to d . ordinarily black plays first bxc and then kt-e . the reason is that this maneuver enables black to get his queen's knight over to the king's wing while white's bishop b is rather out of action, so that black has a good chance to enter the battle on the king's wing with one piece more than white. of course, white can get his bishop into play again by placing him on c . but he has to spend a move in doing so, which does not add to the completion of the development. in the position of diagram black would not take any steps to prevent kt-d unless a threat is involved in this move which cannot be counteracted by the most natural continuation, which is the development of the bishop c . indeed, there seems to be no reason why black should not answer ( ) b-g with b-g and ( ) kt- d with kt-d ; for the knight f , who after kt-d is attacked twice, is defended twice, and there is no possibility for white to attack the knight again. on the other hand, the attack on the bishop b is balanced by the attack on the bishop b , and if white were to withdraw his bishop to c black could withdraw his to c . however, in the position resulting after these moves (diagram ) white gets the upper hand because he is one move ahead in the attack on the opposing king's knight. the danger of the concentration of two pieces on this knight lies in the fact that black is obliged to retake with the g-pawn in case white exchanges on f and that thereby the squares f and h lose their natural protection. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | ^kt| #p | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | #kt| ^p | | #b | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . thus weak points are created of which white may find an opportunity to make use in a manner similar to the one illustrated by the discussion of diagrams and . on the other hand, black gains an open file for his rooks as soon as the g- pawn is out of the way, and the exchange on f should therefore not be made until preparations for the occupation of the resulting weak spots are completed. the following variations will throw some light on this rather complex problem. supposing white wants to try the immediate exchange on f , hoping that somehow or other he will be able to take advantage of the weakness resulting on f and h . in exchanging he can give up either his knight d or his bishop g . in both cases there are promising possibilities for attack, but black, with correct play, can sufficiently defend himself and even get the better. if white plays ( ) ktxf he has to lose a move before he can bring up other pieces to help in the attack, for after pxf he must first move the bishop g . the only good square for the bishop is h from where he maintains the pin on f which would become very dangerous for black if he could not prevent white's queen from entering on h or render the double threat on f ineffective in some other way. the logical continuation for black is to answer ( ) b-h with k-h in order to occupy the g-file with his rook as soon as possible. indeed, this is at the same time the best defense against white's threat, for if white now plays ( ) q-d ; black replies ktxf +; ( ) pxf , bxf ; and he is the first to take advantage of the open g-file as his king has already made room for the rook. it would be dangerous for black to play ( ) ..., bxf instead of ktxf . for white would continue ( ) q-h and the only way for black to prevent the disaster threatened on f is to give back the piece he just won: ( ) ..., kt-e +; ( ) k-h , bxg +; ( ) kxg , r -g +; ( ) k-h , r-g ; or ( ) ..., kt-f +; ( ) k- h , kt- g . in either case black's defense is very difficult. the play outlined in the last variation suggests a better method for white to institute the attack in the position of diagram . this is the preparatory move ( ) q-d . ( ) bxf is obviously not as good, as black can soon drive away the knight d by p-c , relieving f of all pressure. in answer to ( ) q-d , which threatens ( ) bxf , ( ) q-h , ( ) ktxf and ( ) qxh mate, black has three replies, namely: bxf or ktxf or p-c . that ( ) ..., bxf is not sufficient can easily be seen. white continues ( ) bxf , q-d ; ( ) kt-e +/-, and black must give up the queen for the knight as ( ) ..., k-h would be followed by ( ) bxg +, ( ) q-g + and ( ) q-f mate. it is interesting to note that it is just the one move which white is ahead in the development that gives him the win. if he tried to checkmate black by ( ) q-g , p-g ; ( ) q-h he would be checkmated himself by ( ) ..., kt-e + followed by bxg + and q-g +, etc. ( ) ..., pxf would not be of avail either. the consequence would be: ( ) q-h , kt-e +; ( ) k-h , bxg +; ( ) kxg , kt-f +; ( ) ktxf , pxf ; ( ) k-h , k-h ; ( ) r-g , r-g ; ( ) rxg +, qxg ; ( ) r-g and the mate can only be averted by the sacrifice of the queen for the rook. the second defense which black could try is ( ) ..., ktxf +; ( ) pxf , bxf . now ( ) bxf , pxf ; ( ) q-h would be fatal for white as black plays k-h and there is no protection against the threat r-g +. but white can again make a preparatory move which secures for him the victory. this is ( ) p-h , with the view to make room for the rook by k-h . the only way to counter white's threat is now p-c . however, after ( ) ktxf +, pxf ; ( ) b-h , k-h ; ( ) k- h , r-g ; ( ) r-g , q-e ; ( ) r-g black is unable to stave off defeat any longer. whatever he plays, white succeeds in attacking f for the second time while black has no second protection at his disposal. for instance, ( ) ..., b-h ; ( ) q-h , b-g ; ( ) r-f --or ( ) ..., rxg ; ( ) pxg and ( ) rf . the most interesting line of defense is the third one mentioned, that is ( ) ..., p-c . after ( ) ktxf +, pxf ; ( ) b-h a situation arises similar to the one discussed in the line of play commencing with ( ) ktxf +, but with the big difference that white is now one move ahead in the attack. this is the move q-d in answer to which black was forced to make the move p-c which does not improve the constellation of the black pieces in any way. this one move is sufficient to secure for white an easy victory. after ( ) ..., bxf ; ( ) q-h , kt-e +; ( ) k-h , bxg +; ( ) kxg , kt-f +; ( ) k-h , kt-g the position of diagram is reached in which white can force the mate, or win black's queen in a most ingenious manner. if white tried to win by ( ) r-g , threatening mate in four moves through rxg , qxg , q-h and r-g black could sufficiently defend himself with ( ) ..., p-d , unpinning the pawn f and enabling b-e , which would supply the much needed protection for the square f . however, white can frustrate black's intention by playing ( ) p-d !! if black takes with the pawn, ( ) p-e follows forcing pd xe after which black cannot any more intercept the diagonal of the bishop c so that there remains no defense against ( ) r-g . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | #p | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | #p | | #p | #kt| ^q | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | ^p | | | ^b | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | ^r | | ^k | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . if, on the other hand, black takes the pawn d with his bishop, white continues with ( ) p-c , b-c ; ( ) ra - d , again preventing the interception of the bishop c and threatening r- g . the consequence could then be: ( ) ..., k-h ; ( ) r-g , q- e ; ( ) r-d , r-g ; ( ) r-h , ktxh ; ( ) qxh + and ( ) rxh mate, or: ( ) ..., r-g ; ( ) r-f , ra -g ; ( ) bxf , q-d ; ( ) r-h and the mate on h can only be avoided by the sacrifice of the queen for the rook. the foregoing variations show conclusively that the position of diagram is lost for black. the attack which white obtains after creating a weakness on f by the removal of the pawn g cannot be effectively countered. the question arises, whether black was at fault when disregarding white's threat to place his knight on d and developing his queen's bishop or whether he had a chance to improve on one of the two following moves which led to the position of diagram . indeed, it lies near to try the same attack which white threatens to initiate by q-d one move earlier by playing q-d instead of b-c . the fact, however, that this bishop is not cooperating with the pieces on the king's wing makes a big difference and the most black can obtain is apparently a draw. the continuation could be: ( ) ktxf +, pxf ; ( ) bxf , p-h ; ( ) p-c , ktxf +, ( ) pxf , b-h ; ( ) k-h , k-h ; ( ) r-g , r-g ; ( ) r-g . if black's bishop were on c instead of b , white could not play r-g on account of bxf . he would have to make the preparatory move q-e and he would be lost after r- g , just in the same manner which was demonstrated in one of the above variations with attack and defense reversed. as it is black cannot enter on h with his queen without exchanging rooks and so he is unable to take advantage of the weakness on f . after ( ) ..., r-g , ( ) b-h , b-a or c , ( ) p-d and q-d the game probably ends in a draw as it is unlikely that white can realize an advantage from the doubled pawn which he is ahead. to the beginner the lines of play discussed in connection with diagrams and will have appeared rather complicated. this they are, indeed, even for the experienced player; but it is by no means necessary to memorize any of the variations. the important thing to realize is the fact that in a position where both players have castled on the king's side, a dangerous weakness is created if the g-pawn is forced to move, and if pressure can be brought to bear upon the two squares which through the move of the g-pawn have lost their protection; moreover, that a method to create such a weakness is the pinning of the hostile king's knight and the advance of the queen's knight in the center. another important point that the variations discussed will bring out to the observant reader is the order in which the different pieces take their turn in the battle. first come the minor pieces, then the queen and then the rooks. this, of course, is not a rule that has to be adhered to under all circumstances, but in most games it is a good rule to follow. the reason is obvious. the rooks have no opportunity of making themselves useful until a file has been opened, while the queen often finds an occasion to enter the battlefield on a diagonal. only in such games can the rooks be made to work at a comparatively early stage of the game, in which the players have not castled on the same sides of the board. for then the advance of the pawns in front of the rooks does not create weakness which endangers their own king. the following middle game from a match of two masters furnishes an example. after white's seventh move the position of diagram was reached, in which black continued with p-b with the view to playing b-g and kt-d . white replied ( ) b-b , b-g ; ( ) kt-e . better would surely have been b-e , which develops a new piece. to allow the exchange of f which forces the g-pawn out is dangerous because black may castle on the queen's side and storm with the pawns of his king's wing. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #kt| #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^b | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^b | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . from black's next move, q-d , it is indeed apparent that he has decided on a maneuver of this kind. the game continued: ( ) p- c , bxf ; ( ) pxf , q-h ; ( ) kt-g , p-h ; ( ) b-e . he cannot play r-e on account of bxf + followed by qxh + and qxg . ( ) ..., p-h ; ( ) kt-h , r-h and wins, for if white takes the rook, pxh opens the g-file and the other rook occupies it with deadly effect. in the last example it was easy for the rooks to take an active part in the battle because a file was open which enabled them to bear down on the opposing king. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | #p | #kt| #p | #b | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #kt| | #p | | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^q | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^k | ^r | | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . in the majority of cases no open file is available on the wing and the attack with the rooks is then much more difficult. there is little use in advancing the pawns on the wing on which the hostile king has castled unless one of them can be exchanged so that a line is opened which the rooks can occupy. as a rule such an exchange is only possible in case one of the pawns in front of the king has moved. in the position of diagram for instance, white is able to open the h-file by advancing the h-pawn and exchanging it against black's g-pawn, while black, who would like to use his rooks in an attack on the queen's wing, has little hope to open a file on that side of the board. if black's g-pawn were still on his original square, the advance of white's h-pawn would be of no avail. black would simply wait until the pawn has advanced to h and then he would play p-g so that white's own pawn would block the h-file for the rook. in the above position, which occurred in one of six simultaneous games played by the author in a blindfold-exhibition, the attack developed as follows: ( ) p-h p-b ( ) b-b kt-a ( ) p-h ktxb ( ) pa xb q-a black has succeeded in opening a line also, but he cannot get his rooks working in it. his last move threatens mate in two moves by q-a ; kt-b , bxb ; but white simply defends himself first against this threat and then proceeds with his attack on the king's wing which is irresistible. ( ) k-b kt-c ( ) pxg pf xg ( ) b-h r-f ( ) bxg rxg with this exchange white has weakened the defense around black's king who has now only the rook and himself to rely on for protection. ( ) kt-g p-d black opens the seventh rank in the hope that it will enable his queen's rook or his queen to come to assistance. but so great is the advantage afforded white by the open h-file that he can sacrifice his knight to break through black's chain of defense and force the mate before black has a chance to touch his queen or his rook. ( ) ktxh rxh if q-c or ra -a , white continues ( ) q-h ! rxh ?; ( ) qxg +, k-h ; ( ) q-e +, k-g ; ( ) rxh +, kxh ; ( ) r-h +, etc. ( ) rxh kxh ( ) r-h + k-g ( ) q-h + k-f ( ) q-h + k-f ( ) q-h + k-e ( ) r-h + k-d ( ) q-f + k-e ( ) p-f + k-d ( ) q-f + k-e ( ) r-h + k-d ( ) q-h and black resigns as there is no defense against q-f . diagram shows a similar example, the only difference being that it is not the advance of the black knight's pawn but that of the rook's pawn which gives white an opportunity of opening a file for his rooks. he will accomplish this by advancing his knight's pawn to g and exchanging him against black's rook's pawn. if he does not want to play p-g on the first move, because black could take the pawn with his knight, he can prepare the advance by r-g . but he need not really fear the loss of the pawn, because in taking him black would himself open the g-file for white's rook and white is sure to obtain an overwhelming attack. it would, of course, be futile for black to try and stop the advance of white's g-pawn by p-g , as white would then simply open the rook's file by p-h and pxg , quite apart from the fact that he could sacrifice his bishop e for two pawns, thereby depriving black's king of all protection. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | #kt| #b | #p | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | #kt| | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| ^b | ^b | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^q | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^k | ^r | | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the play might proceed like this: ( ) p-g , p-g ; ( ) bxg , pxg ; ( ) qxg +, k-h ; ( ) q-h +, k-g ; ( ) p-g , kt-e ; ( ) ktxe , pxe ; ( ) p-g , pxg ; ( ) qxg +, k-h ; ( ) r-g , etc. ordinarily both players castle on the same side of the board so that neither of them can advance his pawns in an attack against the opposing king without weakening his own king's position. only if a player holds more territory and has a greater number of pieces on the king's wing than the opponent he can embark on an attack which involves an advance of the pawns in front of his king. diagram offers a typical example. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #q | #b | #b | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | #kt| | #p | ^p | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | | ^b |^kt | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^b | | | ^p | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | ^r | ^kt| ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . black has a preponderance on the queen's side, while white has more mobility for his pieces on the king's side. considering that black cannot easily throw his men over to the king's wing, white can risk to loosen his pawns on this wing without fearing that black will be able to obtain a foothold on the weak points which are necessarily created by the advance of the pawns in white's camp. white will start the attack with ( ) p-g and ( ) kt-g . then he threatens to occupy the dominating square f with his knight, and black has hardly any other move than p-g ; for if he permits kt- f with the view to exchanging the knight with his bishop, he opens the g-file for white's rooks. p-g on the other hand enables white to open the h-file by advancing the h-pawn after the necessary preparations such as k-g , r-h , p-g , etc. in the vast majority of games files for the rooks are not opened on the side but in the center of the board, as was explained in the discussion of the openings. the many advantages arising from the control of a center-file by the rooks will be more fully analyzed in the illustrative games. generally speaking it is easier to get the two rooks into cooperation in the center than on the side of the board. this cooperation--usually effected by doubling in one file--is naturally very important and it is the main reason why it is desirable to castle as early as possible. between the rooks of a player who is prevented from castling there are, so to speak, no natural lines of communication and it takes so long to create artificial ones that in most cases the opponent can, in the meantime, force a victory through the combined efforts of his rooks. diagram gives an example. +---------------------------------------+ | | #q | | | #k | #b | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | #b | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #r | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^q | | | ^b | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . it is white's move, and he will naturally think of a rook's move as all the other pieces are already developed. the best move is probably ( ) rf -d . ra -d comes also into consideration but this rook might be needed later on the c-file while the king's rook certainly will have no chance to be developed in any but the d-file as long as the white e- and f-pawns are still on the board. black, in the game from which the above position is taken, replied b-c , and white continued with ( ) q-c , attacking the bishop c and the pawn g at the same time. black has only the choice between returning with the bishop to f or capturing on e . naturally, he chooses the latter move as he cannot improve his position by a retrogressive play which still further retards his development. after bxe ,( ) qxg , bxf +;( ) kxf , r-c +; ( ) k-g , r-f ; there is not much hope for black to bring his king's rook in contact with the other pieces, while white may be able to double his rooks in the queen's file, which would decide the victory as black has no possibility to counter the threat r-d + in the long run. white played ( ) kt-e with the intention to sacrifice the knight on f in case black should move his bishop. rxf would then be followed by q-g + and qxb or qxe mate. therefore, black had to withdraw his rook with ( ) ..., r- c and white simply played ( ) r-d threatening to double. black prevented this by b-a , at the same time threatening p-f , but after( ) kt-g , r-c ; ( ) r-d , q-c ; ( ) kt-f +, k-e ; ( ) q- g he resigned as now the square c is sufficiently protected while the threat kt-g ++ cannot be parried. the foregoing examples show that generally several moves are necessary in the middle game for knights and rooks to reach positions favorable for an active part in the attack. with the bishops it is different. they can usually be developed on their first move to the square on which they are needed in the middle game for either attack or defense. in king's pawn openings as well as in queen's pawn openings white's queen's bishop is, in the majority of cases, used for pinning black's king's knight on g and black's king's bishop is placed on e to relieve the pin. the pinning of the king's knight, however, is not advisable in positions in which the opponent has the option of castling to the queen's side. after ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) kt-f , kt-c ; ( ) b-c , kt-f ; ( ) kt-c , b- c ; ( ) p-d , p-d ; for instance white should wait with b-g until black has castled on the king's side. if he plays ( ) b-g , black will answer b-e ; ( ) o-o, q-d ; and now white would only hurt his own game by exchanging on f as the open g-file is bound to aid black, who will castle on the queen's side, in an attack on the king's side. in queen's pawn openings the move b-g is always good as black cannot very well castle on the queen's side on account of the open c-file in which white would soon obtain an overwhelming attack. another good square for the queen's bishop is in queen's pawn openings b from where the bishop supports the advance of the king's knight to e . in this case the queen's knight should be developed to d instead of c so as not to obstruct the line of the bishop. the same holds good for the development of black's queen's bishop. in king's pawn openings it is dangerous for the queen's bishop to leave the long diagonal in which he is originally posted as the opponent might threaten to gain a foothold in the f-line with a knight, provoking a weakening move with the g-pawn. the position of diagram , which occurred in a game between teichmann and rubinstein in the karlsbad tournament, , furnishes an instructive example. white played ( ) p-a , trying to make use of the advanced position of black's b-pawn for opening the a-file for his rook, and black replied b-b . this crosses white's plan, as after ( ) pxb , pxb ; it would not be white but black who would gain control of the a-line. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #b | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #kt| #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | #p | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^b | ^kt| | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^b | ^q | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . however, black should not have withdrawn the bishop from the king's wing, for white can now play his queen's knight via f and g or e to f unless black weakens his pawn position by p-g . the proper way to answer white's first move would have been either b-e or p-b . the latter is a pawn move, but in the present case it cannot be considered a loss of time as white, too, has made a pawn move which does not further his development. the game went on as follows: ( ) kt-f , q-c ; ( ) kt-g , p-g ; white's aim is accomplished. he has provoked a weakness which furnishes a mark for his attack. the way to conduct the attack-- after completing the development by b-g , will be to open the f- file for the rook by advancing the f-pawn. this advance can be prepared by p-h and kt-h . of course, white would prefer to do without the move of the h-pawn; but h is the only favorable square for the knight f , as neither from d nor from h he has an opportunity to help the attack while from h he may go to g , bearing on both of the weak squares f and h . black has little chance for counterattack. the only thing he can do is occupy the queen's file with his rooks and opening it by p- d and pxe . his queen's bishop, however, is badly placed in any case as he has no open diagonal to work in, and he will have to get back into play via his original square c . white's king's bishop is not well placed either and is practically condemned to play the role of a pawn by protecting the square d without, at the same time, attacking anything. there is, of course, a chance for him to be useful in the diagonal a -g . it may be said that in king's pawn openings white's king's bishop comparatively seldom has an opportunity to take an active part in the battle. he is mostly exchanged at an early stage of the game for black's queen's knight or queen's bishop. in queen's pawn openings, however, he finds a great field of action in the unobstructed diagonal b -h . in this diagonal he can also be used in all openings starting with p-e in which black does not advance his king's pawn to e , as white can open the diagonal at any time by playing p-e . generally speaking, bishops should not be placed in diagonals which are obstructed by pawns of their own army, and pawns moves should be avoided which close a diagonal formerly open to a kindred bishop. a striking illustration of the importance of this rule will be found in the play which developed in the position of diagram in a game between teichmann and dus chotimirski in the prague tournament . black, on the move, played ( )..., kt-e , disturbing the symmetry of the position to his advantage by opening the diagonal of his queen's bishop without allowing white to make a similar maneuver. after ( ) ktxe , bxe ; ( ) q-e , o-o; ( ) ra -d , q-e ; white yielded the temptation to drive away the disagreeable bishop e by ( ) p-f , a move which had to be followed up with the advance of the e-pawn who otherwise would have remained very weak, not being protected by another pawn. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | #q | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #kt| #b | #p | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | ^kt| ^b | ^p | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the game went on as follows: ( ) ..., b-c ; ( ) p-e , b-b +; ( ) k-h , rf -d ; ( ) b-b , ra -c ; ( ) rxd +, qxd ; ( ) r-d , q-e ; ( ) p-e . this opens again the diagonal of the king's bishop, but it closes that of the queen's bishop, and it is the advantage of the work done by his queen's bishop in the unobstructed diagonal which secures black the victory, ( ) ..., kt-d ; ( ) ktxd , bxd ; ( ) q-g , q-b ; ( ) p-f , r-c ; ( ) q-g , r-f !. white cannot capture the rook on account of bxg mate. ( ) p-f , p-g . there is now no defense against r-f which attacks g and b at the same time. ( ) b-a , r-f ; ( ) bxd , qxd ! and white resigns as he loses his bishop on account of the mating threat. it remains to examine typical middle-game maneuvers with the queen and with the pawns. little is to be said about the queen. on account of her tremendous mobility she is liable at any time to initiate a dangerous attack in conjunction with one or more of the other pieces, and most of the examples given for the typical rook's, bishop's and knight's maneuvers have also shown the methods by which the cooperation with the queen can be effected. the main field of action for the queen is the side on which the opponent has castled. in games, in which both players have castled on the same side of the board, and which, as stated previously, constitute the vast majority of cases it is dangerous to make excursions with the queen to distant regions away from the king, as her retreat might be cut off, making impossible an adequate defense against an attack which the opponent might be able to initiate on the king's side with the help of his own queen. +---------------------------------------+ | | #r | | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | #b | #b | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^q | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . in the position of diagram for instance, it would be very risky for white to take the pawn a . black would play p-c , cutting off the retreat of white's queen, and then start a violent attack with his queen in conjunction with the two bishops. another example is the position of diagram which occurred in a game between capablanca and bernstein in the san sebastian tournament . white played ( ) kt-e and black, in view of the threatening accumulation of white pieces on the king's wing, should not have risked to capture the pawn a , getting his queen quite out of play. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | #r | #r | | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #p | #b | | #p | #p | #k | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | #p | #kt| | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #q | | | | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^kt| ^p | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | ^q | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | ^p | | | | | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^r | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram he underestimated the danger and lost the game very quickly. the attack developed as follows: ( ) ..., qxa ; ( ) kte -g , qxc . in taking the second pawn black loses another move. he might have tried q-a , threatening to exchange queens with q-b . but it is doubtful whether he would have been able to save the game. white would, of course, have avoided the exchange by playing his king into the corner. ( ) r-c , q-b ; ( ) kt-h ; this prevents the queen from getting back into play via f . the threat is now r-c , cutting black's queen off from g , and then kth xg and qxh . black defends himself against this threat by ( ) ..., r-h with the intention to answer r-c with k-g ; but white's position involves so many threats that black cannot provide a satisfactory protection. ( ) r-e , q-e ; ( ) p-f , q-b ; ( ) ktf xg ! and wins, as ktxg is followed by ( ) kt-f +, ( ) ktxd and ( ) p-f or p-e with overwhelming attack. the most difficult problem in the conduct of the middle-game is the timely maneuvering with the pawns. although it is impossible to give a general rule which will apply to all cases it is a good principle to avoid pawn moves in the middle- game just as carefully as in the opening, at least in the early stages of the middle-game. in the opening the argument against pawn moves was the time loss connected with them from the point of view of development. in the middle-game it is mainly the weakness created by the pawn move on the squares which were protected by the pawn before he advanced. a square may be termed "weak" if it can be safely occupied by men which help the opponent in his attack, and this is generally possible if the square in question cannot any longer be defended by a pawn. the great danger involved in the occupation by hostile pieces of such weak squares is evident if they are situated near the king, and examples of how the attack develops in cases of this kind have been discussed in connection with diagrams , , and . it is less apparent why a pawn move should create a weakness if a center-pawn or a pawn on the queen's wing is concerned. in the latter case, the possibility of deriving an advantage during the middle-game is rare, indeed; but the weakness produced by the pawn moves invariably shows itself in the ending. in the position of diagram for instance, white wins on account of the weakness of the squares a , c , d and b from which his king can attack the black pawns as soon as the queen and the rook are exchanged. the following play may ensue: ( ) r-e , rxe ; ( ) qxe , q-f ; ( ) qxf , kxf ; ( ) k-d , k-e ; ( ) k-c , k-d ; ( ) k-b , k-c ; ( ) k-a , k-b ; ( ) p-a , k-a ; ( ) p-a , pxa ; ( ) kxa and wins the c-pawn. or: ( ) ..., p-a ; ( ) k-d , k-d . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | #r | | | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | #p | #q | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | ^r | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | ^q | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^p | | ^k | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . for the time being black has the opposition so that white's king cannot advance any further; but white has so many more pawn moves at his disposal than black that the latter is soon forced to move his king allowing white to break in with his king at one or the other side. for instance: ( ) p-a , p-a ; ( ) p-f , p-f ; ( ) p- g , p-h ; ( ) p-h , p-g ; ( ) p-f ; king moves, and white wins either the f-pawn or the b-pawn. this example brings out another reason why it is advantageous to keep the pawns of the wings back. in the ending positions frequently arise in which it is important to have some moves to spare in order to be able to maintain the opposition of kings; and the player whose pawns are farther back naturally has more spare moves. a disadvantage which is liable to make itself felt in the middle game as well as in rooks' endings as a consequence of pawn moves on the wing is the opening of an adjoining file for a hostile rook, as illustrated by the play in the positions of diagrams , and . in the middle-game this is also true of certain pawns, as for instance in the following position which arises after the opening moves ( ) p-e , p-e ; ( ) kt-f , kt-c ; ( ) p-d , pxd ; ( ) b-c , kt-f ; ( ) o-o, b-e . the proper continuation is ( ) r- e , protecting the center-pawn. the advance of this pawn is entirely uncalled for. not only does it enable black to open the f-file for his rook by advancing his f-pawn, but it gives up the greatest advantage connected with the possession of a center- pawn, that is the control of two center-squares. as long as white has his pawn on e , the two squares f and d are inaccessible to black pieces; as soon as the pawn advances, however, he does not do black any further harm, as the two squares which he controls after the advance are firmly in black's hands on account of the two pawns f and d . +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | #b | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | #kt| | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | #p | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . a game played with this opening proceeded as follows: ( ) p-e , kt-e ; ( ) b-d , kt-c ; ( ) ktxd , ktxd ; ( ) qxd , o-o; ( ) kt- c , p-d ; ( ) b-e , p-c ; ( ) b-b , p-d ; ( ) ra -d , k-h ; ( ) q-f , p-f . this decides the middle-game in black's favor. not only will he have superior mobility with his rooks, but his two bishops are much stronger than white's two minor pieces, especially as white's bishop is shut in. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | #k | #b | #kt| #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | #p | #p | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^q | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | | ^k | ^b | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . moreover, black has the better chances even in the ending, as he has a majority of pawns on the queen's wing. after all pieces have been exchanged, these pawns would finally result in a passed pawn, which white would have to stop with his king while black can leisurely attack the pawns of the king's side. a disadvantage due to pawn moves which up to now has not yet been discussed is the weakness of so-called "backward pawns." a backward pawn is one whose adjoining kindred pawns have advanced while he is unable himself to advance far enough to obtain their protection from a frontal or diagonal attack. in the position of diagram , for instance, black would make his queen's pawn backward if he played p-c ; for if white handles the game right black will never be able to advance the queen's pawn beyond d , making him an easy mark for an attack in the d-file or in the diagonal h -b , and also hampering the mobility of black's pieces in the center. the correct way for white to arrange his men would be to play p-c and after the development of the minor pieces to double the rooks in the d-file. white's queen's bishop will be placed best on f from where he helps pressing on d . diagram shows a position which occurred in one of the match games played between emanuel lasker and s. tarrasch for the world's championship in , and which furnishes a good illustration of the difficulties arising from a backward pawn. the game proceeded as follows: ( ) ktxd , pxd ; ( ) ra -d , q-f ; ( ) p-c , rf -e ; ( ) q-g (threatening q-d ) b-c ; ( ) r-e ; r- e ; ( ) q-g , q-e (threatening r-g ); ( ) p-h , r-d . black cannot protect the pawn d as many times as white can attack him. it looks as if he could have taken the pawn c with his queen, but he was probably afraid of the weakness white would have provoked with b-h , ( ) re -d , re -e ; ( ) b-h ! black cannot take the bishop on account of qxe . ( ) ..., q-g ; ( ) b-f and wins, as the pawn d as well as the pawn c are doomed. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | | #q | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #b | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #b | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^kt| | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^b | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | ^q | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . in a position like that of diagram on white could play p-f without making his king's pawn backward, as neither a frontal nor a diagonal attack on e is possible. of course, he would have to see that the possibility of such an attack does not arise later on. for instance, he would not be in a position to take the pawn c with the pawn d , as this would enable black to use the diagonal a -g for operations against e . the player who endeavors to adhere in all positions to the principles of chess strategy outlined in this chapter will rapidly improve his strength and acquire within a short time a much more intimate grasp of the game than others who have had years of practice without making clear to themselves the general laws which govern the outcome of every combination on the chessboard. the illustrative games analyzed in the following chapter do not teach anything new. they are merely examples of the application of the general principles to the continuous series of combinations which constitute a game of chess. the author has chosen games from his own tournament practice as this naturally enabled a more thorough annotation than would have been possible to offer for games of other players. iv illustrative games game no. played in the championship tournament of the western states, , at lexington, ky. white black jackson showalter. edward lasker ( ) p-e p-e ( ) kt-f kt-c ( ) b-b p-a as explained previously this move cannot be regarded as loss of time as white has to either retreat with the bishop, adding nothing to his development, or exchange on c , helping black's development by opening a line for the bishop c . ( ) b-a kt-f the move b-c which black might consider instead of kt-f is not to be recommended as white would reply p-c and then force the exchange of black's center-pawn by p-d . the complete control of the center which white would gain in the further course of the game would soon give him an overwhelming attack. for instance: ( ) ..., b-c ; ( ) p-c , kt-f ; ( ) o-o, o-o; +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | #k | #b | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | #p | #p | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #kt| | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^b | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | ^p | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . ( ) p-d , pxd ; ( ) pxd , b-b ; ( ) p-e , kt-e ; ( ) p-d , kt- e ; ( ) p-d , pxd ; ( ) pxd , kt-g ; ( ) b-g , etc. ( ) p-d it is customary for white to castle at this point. p-d is certainly a good move as it enables the development of the queen's bishop, but o-o is very likely better as it reserves the option of advancing the queen's pawn either one or two squares. when advancing the pawn two squares white has to avoid the following trap: ( ) o-o, b-e ; ( ) p-d , p-b ; ( ) b-b , pxd (not ktxd on account of ( ) bxf and ( ) ktxe +); ( ) ktxd ??, ktxd ; ( ) qxd , p-c followed by p-c winning the bishop. what white can try in this variation is the pawn sacrifice ( ) p- c , pxc , through which he obtains a considerable advantage in the development of the pieces. after ( ) o-o white threatens to win the pawn e by ( ) bxc and ( ) ktxe , as now q-d ; ( ) kt-f , qxe is not possible on account of ( ) r-e . black has various ways to counter this threat. he can either defend the pawn by p-d or play b-e with the view to capture the pawn e in case white should take the pawn e , or, finally, he can capture the pawn e at once. all of these three variations are playable for black although it appears that white obtains a slight advantage however black continues. this opening is consequently a great favorite in modern tournament play. [footnote: following are the two main variations which have been adopted in the practice of the masters: a. ( ) o-o, b-e ; ( ) r-e (protecting the pawn e so that black has to defend himself against bxc and ktxe ), p-b ; ( ) b- b , p-d ; ( ) p-c (preserving the bishop against the exchange threatened with kt-a ), kt-a ; ( ) b-c , p-c ; ( ) p-d , q-c . now the pawn e is sufficiently protected and black threatens to exert pressure on d by playing b-g and kt-c . it might seem that white can ignore this threat and as soon as d attacked either exchange the pawn on e or advance him to d . however, the former maneuver would open the d-file for black's rooks and the latter would not be very good either before black has castled; for the advance of the d-pawn closes the center-files permanently for the rooks so that black's king is safe in the center while white may have to face an attack on the king's wing which black might initiate by storming with the h and g pawns. for all these reasons white is justified in making the waiting move ( ) p-h , which safeguards the square d against the indirect attack b-g and at the same time prepares an attack along the lines of the one discussed in connection with diagram . after ( ) ..., kt-c ; ( ) b-e , o-o; white can safely advance the queen's pawn and then launch the attack referred to above. b. the second variation arising from the position of diagram is ( ) o-o, ktxe . it seems rather dangerous for black to take the pawn as long as his king is in the e-file which white can occupy with his rook; but after ( ) r-e , kt-c ; ( ) ktxe , ktxe ; ( ) rxe +, kt-e , white has not much attack and for this reason the opening is generally treated in a different way. as the strongest move is considered ( ) p-d . black can hardly take this pawn as r-e and ktxd would follow threatening to win a piece; but he may try to maintain his knight on the dominating square e by ( ) ..., p-b ; ( ) b-b , p-d . after ( ) pxe , b-e ; ( ) p-c (again providing a retreat for the bishop), b-e ; ( ) ktb -d , black's best continuation is probably ktxd ; ( ) qxd (not bxd on account of b-g ); kt-a or o-o. the maneuver ( ) ..., kt-c ; ( ) b-c , p-d , which was tried in several recent tournaments, is of doubtful value as black loses control of the important center-square e . white can use this square for an attack on the weak point c as follows: ( ) kt-e , pxc ; ( ) ktxc , bxc ; ( ) b-e , q-d ; ( ) q-c , b-d (in order to answer r-d with bxe ); ( ) b-g , and black does not seem to have a satisfactory defense. for instance ( ) ..., b-b ; ( ) ra -d , bxe ; ( ) qxe , q-e ; ( ) r-d or ( ) ..., bxe ; ( ) qxe , pxb ; ( ) ra -d , p-b (q); ( ) rxb followed by r-c .] ( ) ... p-b the simplest and probably best way to defend the pawn e against the threat bxc and ktxe is p-d without p-b . ( ) b-b p-d the alternative was b-c . white could then not have captured the pawn e by ( ) b-d , o-o; ( ) bxc , pxc ; ( ) ktxe on account of q-d , threatening mate on f and attacking the knight. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | #k | #b | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #kt| #p | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | | ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . ( ) kt-g this attack with two pieces in the early stage of the opening is contrary to the general principles of strategy. white wins a pawn but this cannot be considered an adequate equivalent for the time he loses in doing so. he neglects his development and he is bound to suffer for that sooner than he can make the weight of his extra-pawn felt. ( ) ... p-d ( ) pxd black cannot recapture the pawn as this would give white an occasion to initiate a violent attack starting with the sacrifice of the knight on f , thus: ( ) ..., ktxd ; ( ) ktxf , kxf ; ( ) q-f +, k-e (the knight d has to be protected); ( ) kt-c , ktc -e ; ( ) o-o, followed by r-e , p-d , etc. the exposed position of black's king is well worth the piece which white has sacrificed. +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | #q | #k | #b | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | | #p | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #kt| | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | ^p | #p | | ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . ( ) ... kt-d with this move black crosses white's plans by exchanging the bishop who was to play the main part in the attack, and, as a consequence, the knight g does not have a chance to do any useful work either. ( ) p-d opening again the diagonal of the bishop and getting rid of the advanced pawn by exchange before black has an occasion to capture him. ( ) ... ktxb ( ) pxc qxc +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | | #k | #b | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | | #q | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | #p | | ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #kt| | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | ^kt| ^b | ^q | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . black could regain his pawn by q-d ; ( ) pa xb , qxg ; ( ) q- f , qxf ; ( ) ktxf , b-b ; ( ) k-e , b-d and bxc ; but in doing so he would give up his advantage in development, which, as the further course of the game proves, is much more valuable. ( ) pa xb b-b ( ) o-o p-h ! if black proceeded to develop his pieces indiscriminately, his advantage would soon vanish. white needs only two moves--r-e and kt-e --to paralyze the effect of black's powerful queen's bishop and to regain control of the center where at present black has the upper hand on account of his center-pawn. ( ) kt-f b-d ( ) r-e o-o ( ) ktb -d ra -d ( ) p-c white does not risk kt-e as black, after ktxe ; ( ) pxe , can uncover the rook by b-b attacking white's queen and rook at the same time. white's only defense would be ( ) b-d or kt-d , but he would pin himself badly in either case and black would obtain an overwhelming attack by p-f , which enables his king's rook to join the fray. with p-c white protects himself against b-b and now actually threatens to interrupt the diagonal of black's queen's bishop. black will naturally try to prevent this and the first move which presents itself for the purpose is p-e , opening a line for the bishop d and the queen at the same time. at first sight the move does not seem playable as on e the pawn is three times attacked and only twice defended; but white cannot withdraw both the knight d and the pawn d from the queen's file on account of the threat bxh + winning the queen for rook and bishop. black can, therefore, safely advance the pawn. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | #r | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | #q | | | #p | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | #b | | #kt| | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^p | ^p | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | ^kt| | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^b | ^q | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . ( ) ... p-e ( ) pxe ktxe ( ) q-c now that the queen has left the d-file, unpinning the knight, something must be done for the knight e who is twice attacked and only once protected. two moves come into consideration. one is p-f which maintains the knight in the dominating center- position, as white cannot take him without opening the f-file for black's rook and losing the pawn h who needs the protection of the knight f . the other is ktxd , winning the pawn h right away no matter whether white retakes with the bishop or with the knight. which of the two moves is the better is difficult to say and is more or less a matter of temperament. a player who prefers a slow and sure advance will choose p-f . a player who likes a faster pace will start the hand-to-hand fight without delay by ktxd . it is the latter move on which black decides. ( ) ... ktxd white now faces the dilemma whether to recapture with the bishop or with the knight. if he takes with the bishop black exchanges on f , breaking up white's chain of pawns, and he regains his pawn by bxh . if he takes with the knight, black also wins the pawn h , but the other pawns in front of the king remain intact. the drawback to the latter continuation is, however, that white's development is delayed for another two moves, as the queen's bishop is shut in. for this reason white decides on bxd , probably also hoping that he will be compensated for the broken pawn position by an attack in the g- or h-file which black's maneuver opens. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | #r | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | #q | | | #p | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | #b | | | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^p | | | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^q | #kt| | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^b | | ^r | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . ( ) bxd bxf the fact that black has to exchange his well placed queen's bishop in order to win the pawn h was very likely another reason which induced white to retake with the bishop. ( ) pxf bxh + ( ) k-g +---------------------------------------+ | | | | #r | | #r | #k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #q | | | #p | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^q | ^b | | ^p | ^k | ^b | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^r | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . a general survey of the position shows clearly that black has the advantage. his rook d is ready to take part in the battle while white has to make several preparatory moves with his rooks before he can make use of them on the king's wing, the only part of the board where they have a chance to be effective. in the e-line which white's rook controls at present, there is no tangible object for an attack. moreover, white's king is rather exposed while black's king is safely entrenched behind his pawns. a good continuation for black, which presents itself at first thought, is r-d , enabling the doubling of the rooks in the d- line or the participation of the rook d in a fight on the king's wing. ( ) ... r-d ( ) r-e white cannot take the bishop h as rxd would win the queen. ( ) p-f would not be good either as black would reply q-d , threatening rxd as well as q-g +; kxh , r-g and mate in two moves. with r-e white attempts to protect his king by r-g against attacks in the g-file, and black naturally tries to foil this attempt. ( ) ... p-f ( ) r-h black has now to decide whether he should withdraw his bishop to e or counterattack white's bishop by q-d or q-d or rf -d . the counterattack looks better as it threatens to force an entrance for the rooks in the second rank, displacing white's queen and attacking the king from the flank. the withdrawal of the bishop would give white time to play his queen's rook over to the king's wing. the most forcible of the three moves available for the counterattack is q-d , which attacks the rook h too, thereby depriving white of the possibility to save his bishop by flight. ( ) ... q-d ( ) rxh rxd ( ) q-c white's queen has now hardly any mobility and in addition she shuts off the queen's rook from the king's wing. black, on the other hand, can easily get his rooks to cooperate by doubling them either in the d-file or in the second rank. he decides on the former alternative because the control of the queen's file keeps white's troops separated in two parts which have little or no communication with each other, while black's pieces are ready for concentration on the king's wing at any moment. ( ) ... q-g + ( ) k-h rf -d ( ) q-e with the intention to play q-e +, thereby gaining time to swing over the queen's rook to the king's wing. ( ) ... k-h ( ) q-c +---------------------------------------+ | | | | #r | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | #p | #k | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | | | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | #p | #q | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | ^p | | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | #r | | ^p | | ^r | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^q | | | | | ^k | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the queen cannot leave the first rank on account of the threat r- d +. it lies near for black to try to force her out by attacking the square d once more with the queen, thereby threatening to win the queen for a rook by the check on d . he can accomplish this by playing the queen into the d-file behind the rooks. ( ) ... r-d ( ) p-c apparently white does not recognize black's intention, or he would have played ( ) q-f in order to answer q-d with ( ) r- e , r-dl; ( ) k-g . but black would then also have had an easy win by playing ( ) ..., rxb and doubling the rooks in the second rank. ( ) ... q-d ( ) q-c the only alternative to save the queen was k-g , but then r-d would have won a clear rook. black now enforces a mate in ten moves: r-d +; ( ) rxd , rxd +; ( ) k-g , q-g +; ( ) k-h , r-g ; ( ) q-d , q-h +; ( ) q-h , qxf +; ( ) q-g , rxg +; ( ) pxg , p-f ; ( ) k-h , qxg +; ( ) k-h , q-g mate. this instructive game was not lost through a faulty combination but on account of loss of time in the opening which could not be regained. game no. played in the new york masters' tournament white black edward lasker jose raoul capablanca ( ) p-d p-d ( ) kt-f kt-f ( ) p-c p-e ( ) kt-c ktb -d ( ) b-g b-b ordinarily the bishop is developed to e as on b he is out of place as soon as white has castled. ( ) p-e p-c with this move black threatens q-a , attacking the knight c for the second time and unpinning the knight f who is then free to cooperate with the bishop b and the queen by advancing to e . in trying to counter black's threat white will seek to do as much as he can for the development of his pieces so as to combine the attack with defense. the king's bishop is not yet developed, and his most natural developing move happens to cover the square at which black is aiming with his knight. ( ) b-d q-a ( ) q-b +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | #kt| | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | #kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | #q | | #p | #p | | | ^b | | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | ^p | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^q | ^kt| ^b | ^p | ^kt| | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^k | | | ^r | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . white has to be very careful on account of the various exchanges possible in the center. black threatens for instance to exchange first on d and then to play kt-e so that the bishop g is attacked by the queen in case white takes the knight with his bishop, allowing the pawn d to clear the fifth rank. or he might play kt-e first and then exchange on d . considering that all these threats are based on the fact that the knight c is pinned as long as white has not yet castled it lies near for white to try ( ) o-o. it is true that black can then win a pawn by taking twice on c ; however, in doing so he would retard his development and white is bound to obtain a strong attack by getting all of his pieces quickly into action, while black's queen is separated from the rest of her troops. white's eighth move, q-b , has several drawbacks. first of all black could play p-b ! winning a piece for three pawns as white cannot do better than play ( ) pxb or pxd allowing p-c . secondly, black can make the combination indicated above which tends to open the fifth rank so that the queen attacks g . the same combination would be possible if white played ( ) q-c . ( ) ... kt-e ( ) o-o offering the pawn sacrifice ktxc ; ( ) pxc , bxc with the view to attacking by ( ) r-c , etc., as previously indicated. black prefers to direct his attack against g . ( ) ... ktxg ( ) ktxg pxd ( ) kt-b ( ) pxd would lose a piece on account of pxc , attacking the bishop on d and the knight on g . black could now win a pawn by taking on d , but this would be very dangerous as it would open the f-file for white's rook. ( ) ... kt-c +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | #p | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #q | ^kt| #kt| #p | | | ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | ^p | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^q | | ^b | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . the position is getting very complicated indeed. the first possibility which white will consider is ( ) kt-d +; but after k-e there seems to be no satisfactory continuation. for instance: ( ) q-c , ktxd ; ( ) ktd xf , r-f winning two knights for the rook. or: ( ) ktxc + ?, ra xc ; ( ) qxd , pxc winning a piece. therefore, white has no alternative but to retire the queen. ( ) q-c ktxd ( ) qxd p-a +---------------------------------------+ | #r | | #b | | #k | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #q | ^kt| | #p | | | ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | | #b | ^p | #p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^q | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | ^p | | | | ^p | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | | ^r | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . it is not easy for black to retain tide pawn which he has won. if he plays ( ) ..., b-e ; ( ) kt-f , pxe ; white can continue ( ) pxd with good attacking chances on account of the open files in the center of the board, of which black cannot yet make any use as he has not yet castled. by p-a black opens again the fifth rank in order to operate against the knight g . ( ) ktxd pxc ( ) qxc b-d ( ) kt-b a very bad move, as it violates the general principles of strategy. in withdrawing the knight from the dominating center square white decreases his mobility instead of increasing it. the logical continuation would have been rf -d or ra -c , developing one of the rooks. ( ) ... qxg ( ) qxb b-c black would not have been able to occupy this favorable square with his bishop, had not white withdrawn his knight from d . ( ) p-e p-a this forces the queen out of the diagonal a -f as the pawn e has to be kept protected. ( ) q-d qxd black demonstrates in a very simple manner that the exchange of queens is disadvantageous for white, a fact that white should have foreseen as the unprotected knight on d enables black to gain control of the d-file by castling on the queen's side. ( ) ktxd o-o-o ( ) kt-c white cannot play r-d on account of r-d , threatening rh -d . ( ) ... bxe ( ) rf -c this merely drives the black king to a safe place. ktxa was indicated. r-d could then have been answered by ( ) r-c + and ( ) r-c . ( ) ... k-b ( ) p-f again a move which helps the opponent as it drives the bishop where he wants to go. ( )... b-d ( ) ktxa r-c ( ) p-b this situation furnishes an instructive example of the importance of the rules governing pawn formations as previously discussed. by attacking the knight with the king black can force the exchange of the bishop for the knight on c . +---------------------------------------+ | | #k | #r | | | | | #r | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^kt| | | #b | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | ^r | | | | ^k | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . this leaves white with a pawn on c who is weak on account of his advanced position. black can attack him with the king and white's king is consequently compelled to stay on the queen's wing guarding the pawn, while black is at leisure to secure a passed pawn on the king's wing. these maneuvers are, of course, possible only with the rooks off the board. that is why black tries to force their exchange and why white should endeavor to prevent it. ( ) ... rxc + ( ) rxc r-c ( ) rxc + in view of the hopeless pawn ending it would have been best to give up a pawn by ( ) r-d , p-b ; ( ) kt-c , bxc ; ( ) pxc , rxc ; ( ) r-d in order to keep a rook on the board, thus obtaining a drawing chance. ( ) ... kxc ( ) k-f k-c ( ) k-e k-b ( ) kt-c + bxc ( ) pxc k-c ( ) k-d p-e black's strategy in this ending is clearly indicated. he will play p-f and advance the e-pawn as soon as white plays k-c . instead of the latter move white could play p-a which would also keep black's king from b ; but he would soon run out of spare moves with his pawns necessitating a king's move. for instance, ( ) p-a , p-f ; ( ) p-g , p-g ; ( ) p-h , p-h ; ( ) p-h , p- h ; ( ) p-g , p-b !; ( ) k-c , p-e ; ( ) p-f , p-e ; ( ) k- d , p-e ; ( ) kxe , kxc ; ( ) k-e , p-b . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | #p | #p | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #k | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^k | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | | | ^p | ^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . black needs now only six moves to queen the pawn b while white in the meantime cannot do more than capture the g- and h-pawns, and black's queen can naturally stop the white passed pawns without difficulty. the game proceeded as follows: ( ) p-g p-f ( ) p-h p-g ( ) k-e k-d black could just as well have captured the pawn c and permitted ( ) p-g , pxg ; ( ) pxg . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #k | | #p | #p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | | ^k | | ^p |^p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram . he would then have had a queen in another eight moves while white could not get farther with his pawn than to g , so that black easily wins. to march against the pawn b instead of the pawns on the king's side would not help white either, as he does not get back to the king's wing in time to protect his f- and g-pawn. ( ) p-f pxf ( ) kxf k-c ( ) p-h kxc ( ) k-e p-b ( ) p-a k-c ( ) resigns. v problems to offer an exhaustive treatise on the manifold varieties of chess problems is not within the scope of this book. the intention of the author is merely to make it quite clear to the reader that the chess problem, apart from the moves of the men, has no relation to the game and to illustrate the vast difference between problem combinations and positions and game combinations and positions by a few typical examples from the works of master composers. the mating methods and mating positions in the actual game very rarely embody an element of surprise. they are all known from previous experience and the question is merely whether the player concerned is familiar with them. with the problem it is altogether different. here the mate must be accomplished in a certain number of moves from a given position in some ingenious way which is not known from game practice, or, if the mating method is not extraordinary, the mating position must be surprising and unlooked for. moreover, a number of laws must be obeyed in problem composition, which by the general consent of problemists, or rather by natural evolution of a more refined taste, have become the standards by which the merits of a problem are judged. there is first of all the law of economy in material which demands that the idea of the problem should be expressed with the least possible number of men, and that no pieces should be added for the mere sake of increasing the number of variations. then, of course, a problem should have only one solution. a position which has more than one key move is not considered a problem, because the main point at issue in a problem is not the number of moves in which the mate is accomplished but the method in which it is accomplished, and of two possible solutions one will always be prettier so that the existence of the other must necessarily appear a blemish. a very important law is that the first move of white (who by general consent has always the attack) must not deprive the black king of a flight square, as this would be too brutal, too obvious a procedure. the more possibilities of defense are left to black the more surprising is the solution and the finer is the problem. many problem solvers are under the false impression that the first move in a problem must not be a check. this argument is valid only when by the check the number of defensive moves is limited, but this is not necessarily the case, as can be seen for instance in problem no. , in which black has to move his king anyway, there being no other black piece on the board. the position of diagram is an example of how a problem should not be constructed. there is a tremendous number of pieces on the board which have nothing to do with the idea of the problem. the latter is one of the most primitive ideas used in problem composition and has been expressed by many composers in charming forms, so that there was no need for the above monstrous addition to the problem literature. the key move is q-h so as to pin the rook f in case black plays k-d and to enable the mate ( ) rxf . however, if black replies ( ) ..., p-d or bxe , neither the queen nor the rook f are necessary, but the mate is accomplished by some of the other white pieces which are lavishly distributed over the board. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | ^q | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^kt| | | | #p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^p | | ^p | #r | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^b | | #p | #p | | ^r | | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | | #k | | | #p | ^kt| | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | | #b | | ^p | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^k | #kt| | ^r | ^b | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--mate in two moves a striking contrast will be found in the following problem which is based on the same idea but in which all unnecessary material is dispensed with. the key move is b-c , in order to mate with the queen on b in case black takes the rook a . if black moves the rook, white mates by qxb , and if the pawn b advances ( ) qxe is mate. +---------------------------------------+ | | ^k | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #p | ^b | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | #q | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #k | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^r | | | | ^b | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #r | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--problem no. . mate in two moves. in problem no. the mating maneuver does not involve a special trick; the idea of the composer was merely to arrive at an extraordinary mating position, and he added considerably to the value of the problem by producing the same mating position in several variations. the key move is b-b +. black has three moves in reply. if k-e , white mates by ( ) q-f , k-d ; ( ) q-f . if k- c , the mate is accomplished by ( ) b-b , k-b ; ( ) q-b ; and if k-d , white answers ( ) b-c , k-c ; ( ) q-c mate. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | ^k | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^q | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #k | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^b | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ^b | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--problem no. . mate in three moves. a favorite trick with composers is to provide a stalemate which they relieve by obstructing the way of one of the pieces involved in the stalemate. the move which is thereby allowed black's king exposes him to a discovered mate. the key move of problem no. is p-g (becomes knight). after p-b black is stalemate, but white relieves the stalemate by ( ) kt-e , allowing black to take the knight on b , and then mates by kt-c . in trying to solve a problem it is a good method to examine black's moves first. often it will be found that whatever black moves white can mate in reply so that all that is necessary is to find a first move for white, which leaves the position unchanged as far as the different mating threats are concerned. if black has one or more moves at his disposal in reply to which there is no mate, the way is indicated in which to provide for these defenses. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | ^b | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^kt| | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #k | ^p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^k | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--problem no. . mate in three moves. in problem no. for instance, it is evident that black has to keep the two squares b and b guarded on which the knight a threatens mate. of course, black can take the bishop f , relieving the mating threat but white can move the bishop to some other square in the diagonal h -c . still, black would have the defense q-f . this suggests as white's first move b-c , interrupting the line from f to b . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^k | ^kt| | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^kt| ^p | #k | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | #p | | ^b | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | #q | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--problem no. . mate in two moves the only square for black's queen from which to guard both b and b is then d ; but there the queen blocks a flight square of the king, freeing the knight b and enabling the mate kt-a . the most difficult problems, of course, are those in which no mate is threatened in the initial position and in which black can apparently foil all attempts to build a mating net. an example is the following position which illustrates the so-called "roman idea." +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^kt| | | #b | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^b | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^k | | | ^p | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #k | | ^p | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ^q | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--problem no. . mate in four moves. black's king is stalemate so that any check with the knight would settle him. however, black's bishop guards the squares c and d from which the knight could threaten a mate, and if white makes a waiting move with the queen in the second rank to force black's bishop from his defensive position, black replies b-g and takes the pawn e on the following move, relieving the stalemate. the same maneuver would foil white's attempt to checkmate by ( ) q- e , ( ) b-d and ( ) q-c , and the position really does not betray any other mating possibility. the key of this exceptionally fine and difficult problem is ( ) kt-d , forcing bxd . the idea of this sacrifice is to change the line of defense of the black bishop from the diagonal h -d to the diagonal h -b , so that he is compelled to defend the threat q-e , etc., indicated above by moving to f , that is to a square on which he can be taken. after ( ) q-e , b-f ; ( ) pxf the stalemate is relieved and black can take the pawn d . but a most surprising mate is now possible, which could not possibly have been foreseen in the original position, namely: ( ) q-e . problems in which no definite number of moves are stipulated for the mate are usually called studies or endings. they are nothing but game positions in which a maneuver forces the win that is so well hidden that it would probably not be found by a player in an actual game. the following two positions are examples of this class of compositions. the first move is evident. white must play ( ) p-c , as otherwise black retreats with the rook in the d-file and occupies the c- file so that he can be sacrificed at any time for white's dangerous pawn. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^k | ^p | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #r | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #k | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--white to play and win. after ( ) ..., r-d + white can neither go to b on account of r- d nor can he play k-c or c on account of r-d followed by r-c whereby black would draw. the only way to win is: ( ) k-b , r- d +; ( ) k-b , r-d +; ( ) k-b , r-d +; ( ) k-c . at last white has succeeded in guarding his rear, and it seems as if black could not any longer prevent the pawn from queening. however, black plays ( ) ..., r-d and if white queens the pawn he gives check on c forcing qxc which would stalemate the king. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | ^k | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ^p | | |---------------------------------------| | | | #b | ^b | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ^kt| | | #p | | #p | |---------------------------------------| | | | | #k | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--white to move and draw. this is the point where the problem-trick enters the game. white does not promote the pawn to a queen but to a rook, avoiding the stalemate and threatening mate on a . black's only defense is r- a and now white wins by ( ) k-b attacking the rook and threatening mate on c at the same time. in the position of diagram black threatens to queen either of his pawns. white can play ( ) kt-e + k-e ; ( ) bxh , but after kxe there seems to be no way of stopping the pawn f . +---------------------------------------+ | #k | #b | | ^q | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | #p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | #p | ^p | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ^p | | ^kt| | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ^p | | ^kt| | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | #k | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ a b c d e f g h diagram .--sui-mate in six moves again an ingenious trick is available which leads to an unexpected finish. white plays ( ) k-h threatening to queen his pawn and forcing b-d . then he gives up his pawn by ( ) p-g (queen) and after bxg he saves the game by ( ) b-g !! if black takes the bishop promoting the pawn to a queen or a rook white is stalemate. otherwise the draw is forced by either kxg or bxf . it remains to explain the meaning of the so- called sui-mates. a sui-mate is a problem in which white has to play so as to force black to checkmate him (white) in a certain number of moves. one of the most beautiful examples in the literature is the above six mover, the solution of which runs as follows: ( ) kt-b , pxb ; ( ) kt-a , pxa . one should not think that white can force black to checkmate in four more moves; but: ( ) k-d , k-b ; ( ) q-d +, k-c ; ( ) p-b +, k-c ; ( ) k-c and black has no other move except b-a , checkmating white. part ii the game of checkers i the rules of the game the game of checkers (english: draughts) is played on the black or white squares of the chess board by two opponents, each of whom has twelve men of the same kind. the object of the game is to capture all opposing men or to block them so that they cannot move. the original position of board and men is shown in diagram . it will be seen that the board is placed in such a way that the players have a vacant square at their lower right hand corner. this corner is called the double corner because two men are located in its immediate neighborhood while the left hand corner, the single corner, is occupied by only one man. the squares of the checker board are usually described by numbers as shown in diagram . this is a rather crude method when compared with the simple notation by means of a system of coordinates as used in chess, but as it is universally employed in checker books and checker columns in daily papers it will be adhered to in the following explanation of the game. the black men are placed on the squares to , the white men on the squares to . the first move must invariably be made by the player of the black men. +---------------------------------------+ | | o | | o | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | o | | o | | o | | o | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | o | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | * | | * | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | * | | * | | * | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | * | | * | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . the move of the checker men is a diagonal step forward, one square at a time. if a hostile man is in his way and if the square beyond the hostile man is vacant, he must capture him by jumping over him on to the vacant square, and he must continue capturing from the square on which he lands as long as this is possible according to the above rule. captured men are removed from the board. white +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ black diagram . if a man reaches the opposite edge of the board he automatically becomes a king and must be "crowned" by the opponent, who must place another man on top of him. a king may move and capture backward as well as forward. a man, who reaches the "king row" in capturing, cannot, however, continue capturing on the same move with the newly made king. the position of diagram may serve to illustrate the above rules. white, on the move, plays - . black must capture this man with the man on who jumps on to . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | o | | o | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | * | | | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . white then sacrifices another man by - forcing black to reply - . now white captures the three men on , and with his man on , and black, before making his next move, must crown white's man who has just reached the king's row. he will naturally move his man , as otherwise white would capture him with the king on . if a player overlooks the possibility of a capture his opponent has the right to remove the man who should have made the capture, from the board. this procedure is called "huffing" and does not constitute a play. instead of huffing a player may ask the opponent to retract his move and to make the capture. when neither player can force a win the game is considered a draw. when one side appears to be stronger and refuses to accept a draw offered the player of the weaker side can require the win to be demonstrated within moves; otherwise the game is drawn. ii elementary tactics the first thing a checker player has to know is what superiority in material or position is required to force a win in the ending. the most elementary case is the one shown in diagram , in which white wins by playing - . with this move white takes the opposition or as most checker players call it, white has the "move." whatever black replies he is forced to the edge of the board and finally he is obliged to let white capture his king. supposing black plays ( ) - , in order to reach the double corner, where he would be safe as he could indefinitely move from to and from to , then white continues with ( ) ..., - , preventing ( ) - which would gain the road to the double corner. after ( ) - , -l ; black has to retreat to the edge by - or - , and white, by playing - , or - pins the black king so that he cannot move without being captured. if it had been black's move in the position of the diagram, he would have gained the opposition by - and white would have been compelled to retire to the double corner and to draw by - , - , etc. +---------------------------------------+ | | oo | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ** | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . with one king entrenched in the double corner it takes two kings to force the win. in the position of diagram for instance white would win as follows: black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - in the ending three kings against two kings the most favorable spots for the weaker player are the two double corners; but the three kings will always win when handled right. +---------------------------------------+ | | ** | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | oo | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | oo | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . the method which has to be employed will be evident from the play in diagram . in order to win black must exchange one king; the position is then reduced to that of diagram . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | oo | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ** | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ** | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ** | | oo | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . if it were white's move, black would easily win; for after ( ) ..., - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , white cannot avoid the exchange. for instance: ( ) ..., - ; ( ) - . the problem reduces itself therefore to changing the move from black to white. this is accomplished by: black white ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - threatening - . white can only reply ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - , etc., as above. if the weaker side does not control both double corners the exchange can be forced much more easily, as an experiment will quickly show. +---------------------------------------+ | | oo | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ** | | oo | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ** | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ** | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . sometimes the stronger side has an occasion to give up two kings for one thereby forcing a position similar to that of diagram . diagram offers an example: black on the move wins in moves, thus: ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - x ( ) - x ( ) x and white is pinned. with three kings against four a player can sometimes offer prolonged resistance. but finally the stronger player will always be able to force an exchange which secures the victory. in the position of diagram for instance black will proceed as follows: ( ) - - it would not help to play - , as black would reply - and exchange on the next move by - . ( ) - limiting white's mobility. ( ) ... - in answer to - black would play - . ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | oo | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | oo | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | oo | | ** | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ** | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ** | | ** | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . not - on account of - . ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - and wins. if, on the th move, white played - instead of - , the game might proceed as follows: ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - x ( ) - x ( ) x these possibilities of exchanging "two for two" should always be looked for as they often occur, enabling a win within a few moves. iii the five fundamental positions while in the examples of elementary endings given in the previous chapter, the correct method of play was comparatively easy to find, positions with few men often occur which look very simple but which require considerable thought to be handled in the right way. the knowledge of these positions, of which there are five distinctly different types, is essential for any one who desires to become a fair player and they are, therefore, thoroughly explained in the following five characteristic examples. the first position it does not make any difference in the method of play whether the black man is located as shown in diagram or on , , , , , , or . the essential point is that he must not be able to march to the king row without being intercepted by white. the winning maneuver is this: white turns the black king out of the double corner in the manner shown in the play from the position of diagram and thereby compels the black man to advance, finally forcing an exchange which secures the opposition. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ** | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | oo | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | oo | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ** | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram .--white to move and win. this maneuver, as will be evident from a careful study of the position, is possible only in case white has the move. if black has the move the ending is a draw. black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - black cannot play - , as - would win a piece. ( ) ... - ( ) - again - is not possible on account of - winning a piece in three moves. ( ) ... - +---------------------------------------+ | | oo | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | ** | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | oo | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . white played - black would exchange by five - and draw the game. in the position of the diagram black has the choice between - , - , - or - , but he loses, no matter what move he makes as demonstrated below. (a) ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - (b) ( ) - - now black cannot play ( ) - because of the exchange - ; ( ) - would also lose quickly through - , ( ) - , - , ( ) - , - . the best try is ( ) - . against - black would now draw by ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . the only way to win is ( ) ... - after which black can do no better than ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - , etc. (c) ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - and white continues as shown before. (d) ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - and wins as before by - in reply to ( ) - or - in reply to - . the second position (see diagram ) white's advantage is that he can crown his two men while black remains with only one king and two men. the reason why black cannot use his two men to advantage is that they are pinned on the side of the board while white's men are located in the center where they have much more mobility. all the same white must have the move in order to win, just as in first position. black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | oo | | * | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | ** | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram .--white to move and win. ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - at last white has a position in which he can reduce the ending to one of the fundamental cases by exchange. ( ) - - ( ) - it will be noticed that through the exchange black gained to move. white regains it by a second exchange. ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - and wins. second position as a rule results from a "bridge position" like the following: black men on , , , black king on . white men on and , white kings on and . black to move: ( ) - - ( ) - - and white wins by "second position." the change of the move by the exchanges of men in the foregoing example the move was altered in each case. however, exchanges of pieces often occur which do not change the move, and as win or loss in a great number of endings depends upon which player has the move, it is necessary for the beginner to obtain a clear insight into the questions involved. an exchange always alters the move if the capturing piece is recaptured in turn. if a different piece is recaptured, it depends upon the relative position of the captured pieces, whether the move has remained with the same player or gone over to his opponent. for the purpose of calculating the move and its changes it is useful to imagine the checker board as being composed of two "systems of squares"--the black system containing the ranks starting with the squares , , and , and the white system containing the other four ranks. if each of the two systems contains an even number of men, the player whose turn to play it is, loses the opposition, that is: his opponent has the move. if the number of men in each system is odd, the player whose turn to play it is, gains the opposition, that is, he has the move. as the calculation of the move enters only into such positions in which both players have the same number of pieces, it is sufficient to correct the number of men in one of the systems to obtain the desired information. diagram furnishes an example. counting the men of a system, the black one, for instance, shows their number to be odd. therefore, the player whose turn it is to play, has the move, which in the present instance +---------------------------------------+ | | | | o | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | * | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . secures the win for white and a draw for black, thus (a) black to move black white ( ) - this is apparently black's best move; if he plays - , white replies - , obtaining a very strong position. ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - draw. (b) white to move black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - block. +---------------------------------------+ | | o | | | | | | o | |---------------------------------------| | * | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | * | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . from the above explanation it is evident that in the case of an exchange the move remains unaltered if the captured pieces were located in the same system, and that the move changes if the captured pieces belonged to different systems. exceptions to the rule sometimes occur due to a piece having no mobility, as for instance in the position of diagram where black, on the move, loses because his man on is blocked. the third position +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | oo | | ** | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | oo | | ** | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram .--white to move and win. white being a man ahead appears to have an easy win; but owing to the difficulty of getting the man crowned he has a hard task before him. if the kings on and were removed white would not be able to win at all, as the black king would go back and forth between and . it is, therefore, clear that in forcing a win from the position of the diagram the king on must cooperate. another point to be borne in mind is that the following position would be a draw with white to move. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | oo | | oo | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ** | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | ** | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . white is unable to make any headway because he cannot threaten an exchange. the method in which white threatens the exchange of the king on in the example of third position given in diagram is the following: black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - - would be of no use as - would force - again. ( ) - if - white wins by - ( ) ... - - would admit of a draw by ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , etc. ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - this is better than allowing the kings to get together. ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - if he moved the other king, black would draw by - . ( ) - - ( ) - black would lose easily if he allowed the man to advance ( ) ... - threatening to exchange ( ) - the only move to avoid the exchange. ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - and white cannot be prevented from getting another king. an earlier setting of third position is shown in diagram . +---------------------------------------+ | | o | | | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | * | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | oo | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . white wins by ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - , etc. the fourth position although white is a piece ahead he has great difficulties in winning on account of the weak position of the man on . black's man on holds +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | oo | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | oo | | oo | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | ** | | ** | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram .--white to move and win. him in check without being impaired in his effectiveness towards the center of the board. if black had the move, white could not win at all, as he would be unable to dislodge black's kings. as it is, he wins by means of a sacrifice which often occurs in endings with kings against . black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | oo | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | oo | | oo | |---------------------------------------| | o | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ** | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | | | ** | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . it would not help black to play - on account of - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - , etc. ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - this is the important move, which forces the win. ( ) - if - , white exchanges by - ( ) ... - only with this pretty sacrifice can white win the game. after ( ) - white plays - and should black answer ( ) - , white would get "two for one" by - . therefore, black can do no better than play ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , etc., and get a king in each double corner. white then wins as explained in the chapter on elementary endings. fourth position results in a draw only when the man is held on or , according to whether the weaker side is black or white. in third position it is useless to hold the man on the above squares, but sometimes a draw is obtained by holding him on or . in defending a game with two kings against two kings and a man, the weaker side must have the move in the system in which the man is pinned. the following position for instance is drawn with white on the move. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | oo | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | oo | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | ** | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | ** | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . black, on the move, would win by ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . in diagram the drawing move is - . the game ought to run like this: ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | ** | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | oo | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | oo | | ** | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram .--white to move. ( ) - - and white moves back and forth between and . in the position of diagram white draws by: ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | ** | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | oo | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | oo | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ** | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram .--white to move. changing the guard ( ) - - and black can make no progress. the fifth position white is on the move, and it is evident that he loses if he moves the man on permitting black to reply - . the only way to save the game is to sacrifice the man on by - . the following play would ensue. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | o | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | * | | * | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | * | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . ( ) - o - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - preventing - ( ) ... - ( ) - - k ( ) - - white cannot save the piece and so he runs his opponent. ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - drawn. white would lose by - , as after ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - he cannot gain the double corner. the following has been suggested as a suitable problem to be called sixth position. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | oo | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | ** | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | ** | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram .--black to move and white to draw. black plays ( ) - threatening ( ) - and ( ) - . white can prevent this only by ( ) ... - now - would only draw on account of - . ( ) - - ( ) - - again - had to be prevented. ( ) - - ( ) - - this time - would have lost, as black would have replied ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . ( ) - - avoiding - which would lose by ( ) - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - drawn. white has to watch - and to take care to play - at the right time so as to exchange - if - is played. at the same time he must beware of playing - when the black kings are on squares and or and , as otherwise black would reply - , - ; - , - ; - . iv general principles and illustrative games it is possible to apply general strategic principles to the game of checkers, just as well as the game of chess, even though there is not the scope in checkers for strategic maneuvers on the grand scale on which they can be carried out in chess. again it is naturally the principle of greatest mobility which should govern the plan of mobilization in any opening, and it is consequently more desirable to have the men work in the center of the board, than on the edge, where part of their range is cut off. the advantage of center squares over side squares is not so marked in checkers as it is in chess. there is no doubt that a piece has more mobility in the center, where there are two or four moves to choose from, than on the side where only one or two moves are possible; but a man on the side has an advantage in so far as he is backed up by the edge of the board so that he is safe from being captured until he moves. however, a player who keeps his men in massed formation in the center will in almost all cases be able to make them protect each other and to win the upper hand against an opponent whose army is divided into two parts, one on the left and the other on the right side of the board. when playing with the white men, it is advisable to occupy such squares as , , , , and , and it is not advisable to occupy and whenever the opponent has a man on or respectively, as in that case the men have a tendency to act as supports for the enemy instead of helping their own side. in the position: black , and ; white , , and ; for instance, white's man on supports black's man on and white, on the move, has to surrender a piece by - , to which black replies - . it is naturally a good thing not to touch the men of the back row mentioned above, as they will prevent the opponent from getting kings. white's man and black's man , however, are better off in the middle of the board, as the squares and are adequately guarded by and respectively. moreover, there is danger of the first position arising from openings in which a player keeps his man in the single corner. a formation which very often occurs in the middle game is the so- called "elbow." it consists of three men arranged like the white pieces in diagram . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | o | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . when adequately supported an elbow forms a solid position which cannot easily be attacked. an example of a strong elbow will be found in the following game: +---------------------------------------+ | | o | | | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | o | | | | o | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | * | | o | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | * | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | * | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | * | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . black white ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - the men on , , , , and form the elbow, the strength of which becomes apparent on the th move. ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - and wins. the danger involved in an elbow, which is not sufficiently backed up, is shown in the following game. black white ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) -l - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - and white wins through the threat to get two for one by - after the exchange. black cannot help the loss of a man. the reader, who has thoroughly acquainted himself with the fundamental endings, will have no difficulty in playing a good game of checkers, if he follows at every move the general principles discussed in this chapter. when playing over the countless variations, which are offered in the majority of checker books, he would find that they are merely illustrations of the application of those principles to the various openings. following are two examples from master play, the careful study of which will do more good to the student than the perusal of a great number of games that lack adequate annotation. black white ( ) - the best opening move is probably - , as this enables a speedy development of the man on , who, as previously explained, should not be kept in the back row. the variations resulting from - have been so thoroughly analyzed that it is practically impossible to defeat a player who chooses this opening and knows the possible variations by heart. it has, therefore, been found necessary to restrict the players in matches and tournaments by balloting the first move of black and white, in order to avoid too many draws. this is a serious drawback, as it curtails the freedom of decision, to which a player should be entitled in any game. ( ) ... - ( ) - it is hard to tell whether this move of - or - is the best. - and - are considered weak. ( ) ... - more aggressive than - , which can safely be played. ( ) - - or - or - are also good moves. black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - o ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - +---------------------------------------+ | | o | | o | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | o | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | | | o | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | * | | * | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | * | | * | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . at first sight, it might seem unwise to break up the king row, when - could be played; but the advantage of holding the man on , instead of allowing him to complicate matters by - , more than counterbalances the disadvantage of moving a back man. black could also play ( ) - , but this admits of the following strong attack: ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - ( - would lose), - ; ( ) - (again - would lose), - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - (probably the only move to draw-- - would lose on account of - ). black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - - could also be played. ( ) - - or - or - . ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - - would lose through ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . +---------------------------------------+ | | | | o | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | o | | | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | | | o | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | * | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | * | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | * | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | * | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - - cannot be played on account of ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . ( ) - - white can, of course, draw here by - ; but - also draws in spite of black's seemingly invincible elbow. black white ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - if - , white draws by - ; ( ) - , - . ( ) ... - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | o | | | | o | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | | | * | | o | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | * | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | * | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . playing for a brilliant finish. he could also draw by - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - . black white ( ) - - ( ) - - drawing, although two men down. the following game illustrates first position: black white ( ) - - this move is not considered as strong as - . ( ) - - ( ) - - can also be played. ( ) ... - ( ) - - - is another good move. ( ) - if - , white obtains a strong game by - . ( ) ... - considered best. - or - are also playable. ( ) - he could lay a trap by ( ) - . if white replies - or - , black wins by ( ) - . - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . black white ( ) ... - ( ) - - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | o | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | o | | | | o | |---------------------------------------| | o | | o | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | * | | * | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | * | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | * | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | * | | * | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . in answer to - , black would win by ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - or ( ) ..., - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . ( ) - - - or - are considered stronger. ( ) - - this loses. the only drawing move is - . black white ( ) - - ( ) - - +---------------------------------------+ | | | | o | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | o | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | o | | | | * | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | | | * | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | * | | * | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . four variations are possible here. if - or - , black wins by ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , etc. ( ) ..., - loses on account of ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . the sacrifice ( ) ..., - ; ( ) - , - is met by ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . black white ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - in answer to - black wins by ( ) - , - ; ( ) - ; but with - white can offer prolonged resistance, thus: +---------------------------------------+ | | o | | o | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | o | | | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | o | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | o | | o | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | * | | | |---------------------------------------| | * | | * | | | | * | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | * | | * | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | * | | * | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . ( ) ..., - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - . black has now received first position and wins. black white ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - white must give up a piece to get through, and black can then exchange at his leisure and win without difficulty. ( ) - , etc. v problems checker problems, unlike the chess problems, are intimately related to the game itself and do not enable combinations different in kind from those which occur in the actual fight over the board. problem no. . white to move and draw. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | o | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | o | | | | | | o | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . they usually represent an end game and are distinguished from ordinary endings only by an unexpected initial move, mostly embodying a sacrifice of several men. diagrams , and furnish some examples: problem no. . white to move and win. +---------------------------------------+ | | | | | | | | ** | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | oo | | o | | o | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | o | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | * | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | | | | | | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . if, in diagram , white tried to reach the king row with his man , black would win by first position thus: ( ) . . ., - , ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , - ; ( ) - , etc. the only way to draw is to sacrifice first the man on by - ; and then to continue as above. this enables white to play - , instead of - , exchanging the king for a man. the first move in diagram is - , to which black must reply ( ) - . white then sacrifices his three men by - and after ( ) - (or - ) plays - . black must take the third man, and white recaptures two men by - , pinning both of the remaining black men. problem no. . black to play and win. +---------------------------------------+ | | o | | | | o | | o | |---------------------------------------| | o | | o | | o | | | | |---------------------------------------| | | | | o | | o | | * | |---------------------------------------| | * | | | | o | | * | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | o | | | | o | |---------------------------------------| | o | | * | | | | * | | |---------------------------------------| | | * | | | | * | | * | |---------------------------------------| | | | * | | * | | * | | +---------------------------------------+ diagram . this is the longest stroke known to have occurred in actual play. the game from which the above position arose went as follows: black white ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - now the position of the diagram is reached, in which black wins by ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - completing a stroke, which removes pieces from the board. ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - to get the move ( ) ... - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - - ( ) - and wins. fen notation is an ascii representation of positions on a chessboard. to produce a fen file, remove the indicated lines at the start and end of this file. --delete this line and all previous lines. b k / / k / / q / / / b - - b k / / / / / qk/ / b - - b k / / / / / / q/ k b - - b k / / / / / / k/ q b - - b k / / / / / / / q k b - - b q k / / k / / / / / b - - b q k / / k / / / / / b - - b q k / / k / / / / / b - - b q k/ / k / / / / / b - - b q k/ / k/ / / / / b - - b r k / / k / / / / / b - - b r k / / k / / / / / b - - b r k/ / k / / / / / b - - b r k/ / k/ / / / / b - - b k k / q / / / / / / b - - b k q / / k / / / / / b - - b k q / / k / / / / / b - - b k q / / k / / / / / b - - b k r / / k / / / / / b - - b k r / / k / / / / / b - - b k q / / k / / / / / b - - b k q / / k / / / / / b - - b k r / / k / / / / / b - - b k r / / k / / / / / b - - b k q/ / k / / / / / b - - b k q/ / k / / / / / b - - b k r/ / k / / / / / b - - b k r/ / k / / / / / b - - b k / q k / / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b kq / k / / / / / / b - - b kqk / / / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / / k / / q / / / b - - b k / / k / q / / / / b - - b k / / / / / qk/ / b - - b k / / / / / / q/ k b - - b k / / / / / / k/ q b - - b k / / / / / / / q k b - - b q k / / k / / / / / b - - b q k / / k/ / / / / b - - b q k/ / k / / / / / b - - b q k/ / k/ / / / / b - - b q / k /k / / / / / b - - b q / k k / / / / / / b - - b q / / k / / k / / / b - - b q / / k / / k / / / b - - b q /k k / / / / / / b - - b qk / k / / / / / / b - - b r k / / k / / / / / b - - b r k/ / k / / / / / b - - b r k/ / k/ / / / / b - - b k q / / k / / / / / b - - b k q / / k / / / / / b - - b k r / / k / / / / / b - - b k q/ / k / / / / / b - - b k r/ / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k k/ q / / / / / / b - - b k k/ / q/ / / / / b - - b k k/ / r/ / / / / b - - b k k/ / / q/ / / / b - - b k k/ / / r/ / / / b - - b k k/ / / / q/ / / b - - b k k/ / / / r/ / / b - - b k k/ / / / / q/ / b - - b k k/ / / / / r/ / b - - b k k/ / / / / / q/ b - - b k k/ / / / / / r/ b - - b k k/ / / / / / / q b - - b k k/ / / / / / / r b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / qk/ / / / / / b - - b k / k/ / q/ / / / b - - b k / / / / / qk/ / b - - b k / / / / / / q/ k b - - b k / / / / / / k/ q b - - b k / / / / / / / q k b - - b kqk/ / / / / / / b - - b q k/ / k / / / / / b - - b q k/ / k/ / / / / b - - b r k/ / k / / / / / b - - b r k/ / k/ / / / / b - - b k q/ / k / / / / / b - - b k q/ / k / / / / / b - - b k r/ / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / / / / / qk/ / b - - b k / / / / / / q/ k b - - b k / / / / / / k/ q b - - b k / / / / / / / q k b - - b qk/ k / / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k / / / / / b - - b k / q / k/ / / / / b - - b k/ / / / / qk/ / b - - b k/ / / / / / q/ k b - - b k/ / / / / / k/ q b - - b k/ / / / / / / q k b - - b q/ / k k/ / / / / b - - b q/ / k/ k / / / / b - - b q/ / / k k/ / / / b - - b q/ / / k / k/ / / b - - b q/ / / / k k/ / / b - - b q/ / / / / k k/ / b - - b q/ / / / / / k k/ b - - b q/ / / / / / k / k b - - b q/ / / / / / k/ k b - - b q/ / / / / / / k k b - - b r/ / k k/ / / / / b - - b r/ / / k k/ / / / b - - b r/ / / k / k/ / / b - - b r/ / / / k k/ / / b - - b r/ / / / / k k/ / b - - b r/ / / / / / k k/ b - - b r/ / / / / / k / k b - - b r/ / / / / / k/ k b - - b r/ / / / / / / k k b - - b k/ k / q/ / / / / b - - b k/ k / r/ / / / / b - - b k/ k / / q/ / / / b - - b k/ k / / r/ / / / b - - b k/ k / / / q/ / / b - - b k/ k / / / r/ / / b - - b k/ k / / / / q/ / b - - b k/ k / / / / r/ / b - - b k/ k / / / / / q/ b - - b k/ k / / / / / r/ b - - b k/ k / / / / / / q b - - b k/ k / / / / / / r b - - b k/ kq / / / / / / b - - b k/ q / k / / / / / b - - b k/ q / k / / / / / b - - b k/ q / k/ / / / / b - - b k/ q/ k / / / / / b - - b k/ q/ k/ / / / / b - - b / b / / / / / k / k b - - b / b / / / / / / k k b - - b / k / / / / qk/ / b - - b / k / / / / / q/ k b - - b / k / / / / / k/ q b - - b / k / / / / / / q k b - - b / q / / / / / k / k b - - b / q / / / / / / k k b - - b / k /k / /q / / / b - - b / k /kq / / / / / b - - b / q / k / / k / / / b - - b / qk k / / / / / / b - - b / k / / / / qk/ / b - - b / k / / / / / q/ k b - - b / k / / / / / k/ q b - - b / k / / / / / / q k b - - b / k / / k / / q / / b - - b / k / / / / qk/ / b - - b / k / / / / / q/ k b - - b / k / / / / / k/ q b - - b / k / / / / / / q k b - - b / k k/ / q/ / / / b - - b / k k/ / r/ / / / b - - b / k k/ / / q/ / / b - - b / k k/ / / r/ / / b - - b / k k/ / / / q/ / b - - b / k k/ / / / r/ / b - - b / k k/ / / / / q/ b - - b / k k/ / / / / r/ b - - b / k k/ / / / / / q b - - b / k k/ / / / / / r b - - b / k / k / q / / / / b - - b / k / q / k / / / / b - 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